5. Chapter 4: Bad Company Corrupts

Ch 4: Bad Company Corrupts Good Character**

Darcy stood outside his study and sighed. Tipping his head back, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he drew a deep breath. He struggled to calm his gnawing frustration. First, guests arriving on a day's notice now, Wickham showing up unexpectedly rocked his usually neatly ordered life.

The study door was open. Within he could see George Wickham standing at the window. The young man's face was drawn in a familiar expression. He's scheming again. Trying to figure out what he can get out of me I 'd wager. How many times did I cover for his misdeeds back at school? How many times did I shelter him from the consequences of his own actions? Funny. I think somehow that taught him he would not pay the price and taught me that I would always have to. Perhaps it's time for this to change. I am so tired of the way it has always been.

He watched as Wickham moved from the window to Darcy's massive dark wood desk. Purposefully, the steward's son began rifling though the papers left neatly there. A moment later, he paused, apparently finding something of interest. His long fingered hand deftly retrieved a small ledger book bound in red leather. His eyes narrowed as he quickly scanned the pages.

How dare he? He had no business in my private papers! That ledger has records of all the accounts my father established! What could he want with that?

Wickham set the papers down and began searching the remaining material on the desk. Finally Darcy could take no more. He strode angrily into the room.

"Would you care to explain yourself, Mr. Wickham?" Darcy demanded angrily.

Wickham concealed his surprise, turning smoothly to his boyhood companion. "Quite formal today, are you not Darcy?" He chided. "I just suppose it is a habit of my father's coming out, old friend. You keep his desk quite a fright." He smiled ingratiatingly.

The master of Pemberley choked back the bile that rose at the sight of the familiar expression. "Your father was an honorable man. He did not go rifling about another man's papers!" He snarled. "You will not be permitted in my study unaccompanied again. If I ever even suspect you have touched my private papers or any private family records again I will have my footmen throw you out of the house and you will never be permitted on my property again." His fiery glare left his companion unaffected.

"Temper, temper Darcy." Wickham laughed dismissively. "Has your favorite horse turned up lame?"

Glaring again, Darcy stalked to his chair and landed there heavily. "What do you want Wickham? You never darken my door without a list of demands. What is it? Creditors coming knocking at your door? Or is it gambling debts this time?" He rubbed his temples hard.

"What a dim view you have of me, indeed! What would your father say to hear such things?" George Wickham chuckled, draping himself over a nearby chair.

My good father never saw you for what you were. He was so blinded by his love for you…I still don't understand. "What would it have done to my good father to see you being chased down by your gaming companions."

"You still hold that against me! How long can you carry that grudge? It was a bit of harmless fun…"

"Harmless fun that nearly cost me…"

"Cost you nothing! You know with your father's standing and your Uncle Matlock's rank you would never…"

"That is not the point!" Darcy's large hands slammed the desk as he jumped to his feet.

Wickham's lips drew into a wry grin. That's the Darcy I know. You are so easy. "Relax, Darcy."

Grinding his teeth, Darcy growled. "What are you here for, Wickham? My patience is wearing thin."

"Since you asked, old chum." Wickham's smile broadened. "I'm here about the living your father promised me."

Unable to control his disgust, Darcy's head fell back against the leather of his chair and he rolled his eyes.

"I have heard tell that you, the dutiful son and heir have chosen to disregard your father's dearest wish and given that old curate of yours the living your father promised to me." Wickham schooled his features into the picture of a mistreatment.

"I suppose you mean to tell me you intended to take orders?" Darcy's heavy brows rose high on his forehead.

"In exchange for a life of a gentlemen's son, taking orders seems like a small thing." The steward's son shrugged and folded his arms over his chest.

The image of George Wickham in pulpit flashed through his mind, sickening him. "Well, it is a moot point. The living belongs to John Bradley now."

"You have disregarded your father's wishes, does that not mean something to you?" He challenged scornfully. "I thought you honored your father's memory." A dark brow quirked over flashing eyes.

A stone cold mask descended over Darcy's face. "My father promised you nothing. Nothing. Have you forgotten that I was the executor of my father's will? I know all his last requests and orders. Had he truly wanted you to have that living he would have left you the advowson# in his will and you would have been able to appoint yourself to the living. My father was not a careless man. Had he intended to see you in the living, he would have left nothing to chance. It would have been provided to you in his will." Darcy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

A look of alarm crossed Wickham's face for the first time as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Your father was quite clear when he told me…"

"He told you he hoped you would take orders and find your way into a respectable life. He said he would like to see you in that living some day. That can hardly be construed as a promise."

"Darcy, you owe me the value of that living!" The lanky young man leaned forward in his seat. "At the going price for advowsons that would be three thousand pounds at least!"

Nodding knowingly, a small smile crept over Darcy's face. "So it is about money after all."

"I just need some help to get started. Your father would have wanted that…"

"What about what my father left you? I recall his will provided you with a thousand pounds. The interest alone should have been sufficient…"

"Can you not forgive the indiscretions of youth?" Wickham's dark eyes widened to affect innocence. "He would have forgiven me."

"Good Lord Wickham! It has been less than a year!"

"I've learned my lesson Darcy. I have. Truly I have." Absently, Wickham rose and walked to the window. "I have seen the error of my ways old chum. I finally understand the love your father lavished on me, the undeserving son of his steward. He could not give me the life of a gentleman as he wished, but he loved me like a son and wanted to give me a better life." A sad note filled the young man's voice.

Darcy stared at his old companion. I've never heard him talk like that before. Could he understand, finally what he has done? I would truly honor my father's desires if I thought…

"I have wasted that chance, and I know it, Darcy. But I'm begging you, give me another chance." He turned from the window to look at Darcy once again. "Does not that vicar of yours teach of forgiveness? Am I not the prodigal son, returning to the fold?"

The warmth that had risen in Darcy's chest suddenly turned ice cold. How can he make the words of the Good Book sound so vile? "What do you know of the teachings of my vicar? I don't remember you often darkening his door." Scorn filled his voice.

A disdainful sneer lifted his upper lip. "Since when have you turned into a church mouse Darcy! Has that vicar finally turned you into a religious man?" When he received no response, Wickham could not contain his laughter. "He has! He'll have you taking orders soon! So when is your japanning+ Darcy? Are you eyeing the living for yourself after the passing of your vicar?"

The young gentleman gritted his teeth and drew a deep breath. I know better. I will not allow him to push me down to his level. "This interview is at an end, Mr. Wickham."

"Darcy! No! Please." Genuine alarm filled his voice. "Truly Darcy, help me this time and I will never darken your door again. On my honor."

What I would do for that promise to be true! Perhaps this would rid me of him forever. Darcy sighed and glanced toward the locked drawer that contained his bank orders. An odd check in his guts stayed his hand. Three thousand is no small sum. I need advice. I know what father would have done. I know what Uncle Matlock would say and I am still no better off. What does Bradley say? With many advisers plans succeed.* I'll make not decisions now. "I will consider your request, Wickham."

"Thank you Darcy…" He rose to offer his hand.

"I said I would consider it, nothing more. Do not thank me yet." He countered severely, rising to his own feet.

"I heard you are celebrating your new vicar with a dinner tonight." Wickham quickly changed the subject. "May I be so forward to ask if I could join you? I should like to meet the man who is filling my…ah…the living."

With a heavy sigh, Darcy acquiesced. "All right. I shall inform Mrs. Reynolds. However, do not expect guest rooms to be prepared for you. My staff has already been inconvenienced enough."

Since when has Darcy ever cared for anyone's convenience? "I have a room in Lambton, never fear, old friend, I shall not impose further on your hospitality." He bowed stiffly and turned to stride out of the room.

Darcy watched them retreat down the hallway, shaking his head. Squeezing his temples he wondered what to do with George Wickham's demands.

Wickham sighed as he sauntered down the long corridor. What has happened to Darcy? He has changed somehow. He used to be so easy.

* * * * * * *

"George!" A new voice called from the stairway. Dainty feet pounded down the steps until Georgiana's innocent face peered into the Wickham's. "I thought I heard your voice! It's been so long since I've seen you! Oh have you seen my brother yet? Is it good to have you here with us again!" She smiled brilliantly, her blue eyes glittering with youthful joy.

"How you have grown Miss Georgiana!" Wickham bowed over the girl's proffered hand. "You have quite the look of a lady now." He smiled broadly at her. "I should like to take a turn about the grounds with you, for old time sake. What say you, Miss Georgiana?"

She frowned, prettily. "Oh, George, I will have to ask my brother. He is so awfully strict with me; I cannot see how he would be willing…"

"Do you truly think he would mind? It has been ever so long since I have been here and I do not know when I shall return again."

"Well, you used to take me for walks when I was such a little thing. You and me and Fitzwilliam and Richard…" she murmured, biting her lower lip thoughtfully.

"That's right. I remember those days so fondly now. How could he possibly object to what we used to do?" Wickham smiled wistfully.

"No, he couldn't possibly object to that. But I must mind the time. I am being permitted to join them all at dinner tonight. My first dinner in company! Brother has told me this is a special honor. It would not do for me to be late." Excitement danced in her eyes.

"Of course, I could not allow you to risk your brother's ire. We will mind the minutes carefully!" He gushed, offering her his arm, he escorted her out to the gardens.

"How you have blossomed, Georgiana!" Wickham gushed as they strolled past the blooming spring plants. "You have become quite a beautiful woman."

The blonde girl giggled and blushed prettily. "My brother doesn't seem to think so."

"What? Has he criticized your beauty? I will call him out!" He dropped her arm and stood akimbo in the path with mock outrage on his face.

"No! No!" Georgiana laughed, laying her hand gently on his arm. "My brother is the best of men. He has never said such a thing. It's just that he doesn't see me as a lady…" The disappointment was clear in her voice.

"I understand, my dear, dear Georgiana." Wickham consoled, squeezing her hand encouragingly. "I understand. He sees me as no gentleman. So we share than in common."

"Oh, George! What has he done? My brother is so good..." Her delicate brow knit in consternation.

"My dear girl, you are a lady, you have no need to listen to the troubles of a man such as me." He took her arm once again and led them through the garden.

"No, no, please tell me! Maybe there's something I can do. I know he would never do anything wrong knowingly."

"You are so innocent, my dear girl. But the sad truth is that your brother has always been very jealous of me. But really, I should not tell you such things. I am sorry…"

She stopped in the middle of the path. "George! My brother jealous? How can you say that?"

"It is not something you should hear…"

"I am almost a woman now. I should hear these things!" Outrage filled her blue eyes. "Tell me!"

"Your father loved me, very dearly, Georgiana. I was named for him. But your brother didn't like sharing your father's affection. He has always been jealous. Now that your father's gone, he means to deny me what your father wanted me to have. He gave my living to your curate and I am left with nothing." Wickham sighed heavily, shrugging. "But that is not something for a lovely young almost woman to concern herself with. I would not have you creasing your lovely brow with worries not befitting a lady."

Stepping toward the distraught young man, she laid a warm hand on his. "I'm so sorry, George. I can't believe he would do this to you. It is not like him at all. I will talk with him, I will make him understand…"

"No, no, my dear. You leave such worries out of your pretty head. These are things far too much for you. For tonight is your first dinner! That is indeed a special event. I am so glad I am here to share that with you. It may be the last such event I am permitted to spend with you. I wish to make sure it is special for you. So tell me everything, who is to attend, what you are to wear. Take my mind off my troubles with your good fortune." He smiled bravely at her.

"Oh George, you are too good."

He took her arm once again and guided her through the tranquil park as the young woman excitedly detailed her expectations for her first dinner.

#Advowson: right of presenting a clergyman to a living, viewed as a form of property. A few of the clergy were so much a part of the gentry that they owned advowsons and could lawfully appoint themselves to a living.

+ Japanned: ordained, to put on black cloth from the color of japanware which is black.

* PR 15:22** 1CO 15:33