2016 School Magazine
A RELUCTANT COMPROMISE A rare break in the clouds allowed the sun to shine briefly onto the streets of London before the dun curtain closed again. As Mr Darcy strode down the grey cobblestones of Eagle Street, he pulled out his timepiece. It wanted five minutes to the hour: he was early, and unsurprisingly, Wickham had not yet arrived. As the minute hand slowly ticked closer towards ten o’clock, hurried footsteps echoed off the cobblestones and Wickham turned the corner. Strangely, Mr Darcy noted, Wickham was far from his normally elegant self that so impressed women upon first appearance, with his hair slightly dishevelled and cravat awry. Darcy led the way to the back room he had booked at the Rose and Crown. Of course, he could have secured rooms at his club but knew Wickham would take advantage of the connection at the first opportunity. Soon, the last of these tedious meetings with Wickham would be over and he would be able to sleep, knowing the Gordian Knot of Wickham and Lydia’s elopement had been unloosed. To his surprise, it was actually Wickham who started the discussion on this occasion, enquiring, “Well Darcy, shall we begin?” “By all means,” replied Mr Darcy, “though I am somewhat disconcerted by your willingness to get down to business, given that in past discussions you have cavilled at my every suggestion.” Turning, he settled into an easy chair, one leg crossed languidly over the other. The decanter on the side table contained a tolerable burgundy, of which he poured a large measure into a glass and raised it to Darcy in mock salute before tossing it back. He gave the appearance of being perfectly at ease, yet Darcy sensed an underlying tension in his tone. Given that he did not wish to prolong the interchange any more than was necessary, he made an offer. “I will cover your debts, both in Meryton and in Brighton, and there will be an annuity for Lydia. That is my final offer and more than you deserve, given the profligate waste of the inheritance you inveigled from my father.” He turned away as if the very sight of Wickham repulsed him. “Come, come Darcy, I never knew such an one as you for holding grudges. Why the annuity for Lydia when I am the one who will have to provide for her? She’s not cheap to maintain, you know, despite all evidence to the contrary,” Wickham rejoined. Fists clenching as he thought of how this man had ruined Lydia, and had come close to destroying the chances of her sisters and his own, Darcy ground out, “Take it or leave it Wickham, I am losing patience.” “Ah well, I suppose this is as good an offer as any. Though I have had my eye on a plump little partridge who recently came into twenty thousand pounds…” Wickham ruminated. A tidal surge of bile rose in Darcy’s throat. He was both shocked and disgusted by his indifference toward Lydia, who quite obviously was deluded enough to believe that Wickham was as fond of her as she of him and was adamant that they would be wed someday. If Wickham indeed managed to find a moneyed prospect who would have him, then Lydia would be left on the streets of London with no money or means of protection. Darcy was shaken from his thoughts as the church bell chimed, signalling the quarter hour. Frowning, he observed Wickham’s startled twitch at the sudden noise, which again conveyed a sense of some unease. He seemed as close to bolting as one of the nags he bet on so pointlessly at Newmarket. “Wickham, what the devil is the matter with you today?” Darcy demanded, and then added, “Certainly I do not flatter myself to think that it is I who has you so on edge.” As they stood in strained silence, a breathless messenger arrived. Seemingly oblivious to the tense standoff, he asked which of them was Mr Wickham. Wickham’s face blanched but he reluctantly replied that he was that gentleman. The messenger brightened and with a knowing smirk, handed him a letter. Turning away in an attempt to conceal the shaking of his hands, Wickham slowly broke the wax seal as if it were a package of live munitions, before unfolding the crisp white missive. Though Wickham’s back was turned, Darcy could hear how his breaths became laboured, until Wickham, reaching the end, seemed to slump like a haystack after rain. He strode quickly over to Darcy and paused before saying resignedly, “Pay my debts and you shall have my word that I will marry Lydia forthwith.” Curious as to why Wickham had given up on extorting more money from him, Darcy enquired, “To what do I owe my thanks as to this sudden change?” Initially denying that the letter had anything to do with his sudden turnaround, Wickham was taken aback by Darcy’s doubting stare and relented. With an air of defeat, he admitted, “If you really must know, it is from a rather unsavoury character to whom I owe a few pounds – a mere trifle.” Despite his sangfroid, Darcy could sense that Wickham feared this creditor rather more than he pretended. He sighed; much as the idea of Wickham suffering harm appealed to him, he knew that to allow this to happen would be to damage his chances of marrying Elizabeth irreversibly, just when he had begun to hope. Therefore, it was with great reluctance that he agreed to pay Wickham’s debts, starting from the most pressing: his debts of honour from his stay in Meryton. Though the desire burned inside him for Wickham to receive his just rewards, he knew that if he subjected himself to humiliation by helping Wickham, and by association, Lydia, only then would he be able to show Elizabeth that he had truly changed for the better. Preoccupied with thoughts of his dear Elizabeth, he stiffly bade Wickham farewell and set off for the Gardiners’ residence. An end was in sight and his steps seemed lighter but even more purposeful. FRANCES CHANG (12L) “Yes, well, I don’t want to be too much the eager bridegroom; I prefer to be wooed,” said Wickham. “Stuff and nonsense,” Darcy exclaimed. “I have yet to encounter a less eager bridegroom than you.” Wickham returned his stare, stating sardonically, “That may be so, but as you know, I have my price.”
068 / CREATIONS
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