Darcy's Match Read online

  “So?” said Lydia.

  “It then goes on thus: We intend to commission carriages for all our guests. We therefore understand that as Lydia Wickham may wish to come alone, then she may wish to join her family beforehand in order to share the journey with her father, mother and sisters.”

  “Why do they believe I wish to come alone?”

  “It’s a cut, Lydia. They evidently are not extending the invitation to me. It is clear that they do not want my presence at their precious Pemberley.”

  “I’m sorry, George.”

  “So, how shall we proceed? Send a strongly worded letter to Darcy? Ignore the invitation altogether. Go anyway and hang the consequences?”

  “Well, I’m going, George.”

  “You’re going, Lydia? Didn’t you just hear what I said?”

  “Yes. And it’s very clear that I am invited.”

  He put down the letter and looked at his wife, his mouth open in shocked surprise, or as close a facsimile as his casual manner could manage.

  “Lydia...” he said, wounded.

  “It’s my sister’s wedding anniversary. Her first. I think it’s important that I go.”

  He put his hand to his brow and tried to summon a tragic manner.

  “Well, if you choose to abandon me,” he said.

  “Oh, George, don’t be so melodramatic.”

  Before he could reply the servant entered the room with their breakfast. Mr Wickham ate very noisily, scraping his knife and fork on the plate. Despite his distress however, he fell to with relish and when he had cleared his plate, he ordered a second breakfast.

  After he had finished eating at last, his moody petulance had turned into a kind of cool indifference.

  “I think you should go, Lydia. I really don’t care. I will find plenty of diversions here at home. In any event, I’m sure it will be the same dull mix of persons there at Darcy’s dull place.. His insipid sister, your parents and sisters, your precious Uncle Gardiner, the wretched Mr Collins. I’m rather glad I’m not going.”

  Lydia didn’t much care by now. She had determined that she was going, with him or without, whether it was the same dull mix of persons or not.

  Chapter 2

  Mr John Hammond sauntered into a tavern one warm summer evening. The tavern was located on the north side of Blackfriars Bridge, a few yards from the sluggish river Thames, which flowed past, black and dirty. The inn was brilliantly lit with many lamps and candles. It was also a little dishevelled, in need of cleaning and airing. The furniture and fittings, including the long bar itself, were highly polished but in one or two places betrayed the early signs of damp and rot.

  In a way, Mr Hammond resembled the inn. His teeth sparkled brilliantly, but he was in want of a shave. His elegant hair shone with diverse lotions and oils, but his hat was dusty and worn. His clothes were fashionable but patched in places and in want of cleaning and his conversation had an engaging surface but could be said to lack substance.

  He sauntered over to a small table in a secluded little corner, wiped the wooden seat with his yellow handkerchief and sat down. He eyed a plump, overworked waiter and beckoned him over.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Oh, come now, Wardle,” he said in his easy, ingratiating manner, “you know me. You don’t have to call me sir. You can call me Jonny. If that’s too informal, call me Mr Hammond.”

  “Very well, Mr Hammond.”

  “That’s better, man. Now, would it be possible to fetch me a small brandy?”

  “I can try, Mr Hammond, but you know what Mr Allen said last time.”

  “Oh, you know Allen,” said Hammond breezily, “he says all kinds of things.”

  “In this instance he said you were to receive no more drinks on credit. Not one drop. Sorry, Mr Hammond.”

  “Perhaps I should summon another waiter?”

  “It won’t do you any good, Mr Hammond. Mr Allen spoke to all the waiters yesterday. Not one drop, he said. Not now, not ever.”

  “Well, could you at least ask him one more time.”

  “I’ll try, sir,” said Wardle with a sigh.

  He left to consult the owner of the inn and returned a few minutes later. He carried a tiny glass of brandy on a wooden tray.

  “Wardle,” said Hammond, “you’re a marvel. I don’t know what you said to him, but God bless you for whatever it was.”

  “I didn’t need to. I merely told him you were here and that you asked for a glass of brandy and he poured it himself.”

  “How odd.”

  Wardle disappeared to serve other customers. Hammond picked up the glass. He frowned. There was barely a thimbleful of brandy at the bottom, but he drank it anyway. He sat for some moments, trying to understand Mr Allen’s change of heart. He entered the inn with little hope that Allen’s attitude would have softened, but he was a gambler by nature and practice, and he determined to take his chance. He decided to ask Allen himself. He picked up his little glass and walked over to the bar.

  “Mr Hammond,” said Allen, a brawny man with long limbs and a short manner.

  “Good day, Allen.”

  “Did you enjoy your drink?”

  Hammond eyed the tiny glass.

  “Yes. Thank you, I feel quite refreshed now. But…er…I understood that my credit was exhausted.”

  “It was. However, your account has been settled. Early this morning.”

  “Settled? But how? By whom?”

  “Settled. In full. In fact, he paid a little extra, so you’re actually in credit. The gentleman said he was your brother.”

  “My brother? But my brother resides in the Midlands somewhere. I haven’t seen him for some time. I believe he considers me the black sheep.”

  “Well, I don’t know anything about sheep, black or otherwise. But that’s what he said. Came in early this morning and asked if Jonny Hammond owed money here.”

  “And he said he was my brother?”

  “Now I think of it, he does resemble you somewhat. Perhaps a little fuller in the face, a little more tidy, a little less…well, you know.”

  “Did he give a name?”

  William, he said his name was.”

  “Well, my brother’s name is William. Must be him then. In that case, Allen, thank heavens for my brother’s generosity. Did you say my account was in credit?”

  “That’s right.”

  “In that case, fetch me another brandy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Hammond looked at the glass with distaste.

  “And bring me a larger glass. In fact, just leave the bottle.”

  Hammond returned to his seat. In due course, Mr Allen brought an excellent bottle of brandy and a decent sized glass. He poured a large glass and returned to the bar. Hammond drank the amber liquor and was warmed by the sweet, spicy flavour. He finished the glass in two large sips and poured himself another.

  He couldn’t understand why his brother had settled his account. He lived over a hundred miles from London and they saw each other infrequently. He was a few of years younger than his brother. In their youth they were good friends. They went to the same school and played football and cricket together. They also played real tennis on occasion. William was a decent enough player, a little stolid, but improved by practise. Jonny on the other hand rarely practiced but had a natural flair for any sport he played. Both on the field and in the company of women.

  William had long admired his brother’s natural ability, not only in sport but in other areas of life too. If only, he often thought, Jonny would only apply himself and show a little dedication and commitment, then he might achieve great things. Or at least be a happily married man like himself.

  Jonny often received long letters from William, asking how his life was proceeding and offering gentle advice. Jonny rarely read them but kept them bundled up in a little packet somewhere. He wondered if William had travelled from the Midlands to offer advice in person.

  Perhaps he was still here in London somewhere. Will
iam always hated London. He came rarely and never stayed more than two or three days. He said the great city was like a glittering cesspool. There were other drinking establishments with hefty tallies, thought Jonny. Had he paid those too? Was he going from tavern to tavern, asking if money was owed by a certain J Hammond Esq.?

  He was about to pour himself a third glass of brandy when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned.

  “I’m glad to see you brother,” said a man with a warm smile.

  Jonny stood up and shook the man’s hand.

  “William. It is you.”

  William glanced at the bottle, at least one third empty now.

  “Yes, it’s me. And I see the friendly proprietor has established your credit once more?”

  “Allen? Oh, he’s not so bad. Have a drink?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  Jonny drank his third glass.

  “When did you arrive?”

  “I got here from Derbyshire a couple of days ago.”

  “So why, Will? Why did you settle my account? Or is it accounts? Have you been to other places too?”

  “Yes. But we’ll discuss the whys and wherefores later.”

  They talked long into the night. They talked about their time together at school. They talked about their mother and father, now sadly deceased. They talked about their young sister, recently married, whom they both adored. William talked at length about the beauties of the Derbyshire peaks and valleys and how the place differed from the squalor of London. Jonny countered by telling his brother that London was vibrant and exciting when compared to a tedious life in the countryside.

  “According to Dr Jonson,” he said, “he who is tired of London is tired of life. He who lives in Derbyshire is just tired.”

  William laughed warmly. For all his faults, his brother was always amusing company. It was just a pity that he had fallen so far from grace since he moved to London a few years ago…

  It was late now. Jonny picked up a bottle and poured the last trickle of brandy into his glass.

  “So, William,” he said, “don’t think it hasn’t been pleasant talking to my older brother and reminiscing about our time as boys. But why are you here?”

  William looked down and gave a nervous little laugh.

  “It’s Darcy.”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy? Our old school friend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good heavens, I haven’t heard from him for years.”

  “I know. He told me.”

  “Told you?”

  “Yes, we write to each other on quite a regular basis. I see him from time to time. He lives in Derbyshire too.”

  “Of course, he does. And what does he want?”

  “It’s his wedding anniversary later this month. His first.”

  Jonny lifted his brandy glass to his mouth. He threw back his head and drank it down in one gulp.

  “Darcy’s got himself married, has he? Damned fool.”

  “Yes. I haven’t met the lady but from what he says in his letters, she’s held in high regard. It’s strange, even in his letters his manner seems to have softened a little. He seems a little less proud, a little less rigid.”

  “Well, I’m happy for him,” said Jonny. “But how does his marital status affect me?”

  “He’s hosting an anniversary celebration down at his place in Derbyshire. And he wants us to come.”

  “Us? You and me?”

  “Yes. Tess and I and you as well. He knows you’re not married.”

  “Derbyshire, eh?”

  Jonny smiled. This was good fortune indeed. There were a number of creditors in his pursuit. Not merely irritated landlords either. These were potentially serious; gambling debts which had lingered for some time and which might, if not settled, lead to physical harm. What better time to get out of London for a while?

  His brother knew him well and could read his thoughts.

  “You do know you’ll have to come back sometime and face the music one way or another?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said Jonny. “But I wouldn’t mind spending a little time in the country.”

  “There is going to be a cricket match. And he wants us to play. He knows I’m a mere journeyman, but he also remembers how good you were. You had real talent, Jonny. He mentioned it in his last letter. And that’s why he wants you to go up to Derbyshire with me and play in his match.”

  Jonny called over the waiter.

  “Another bottle,” he said tersely.

  He poured a large glass and drank it in one.

  “I told you, Will. I’ll never play cricket again. I couldn’t. Not since that game in Sussex. I could have killed that poor fellow.”

  “I know. But it was an accident. Gibbs knows that. He bears you no ill will.”

  “Easy enough to say that, but I can still hear the sound of the ball against his skull.”

  “It could have been anybody, Jonny,” said his brother kindly.

  “But it wasn’t. It was me. No, I said I wouldn’t play again, and I won’t.”

  “Fair enough. Mind, you do owe Mr Darcy a debt, don’t you? We both do.”

  “What debt?”

  “You remember. That day at Cambridge. We both could have been sent down for what we did, or even expelled permanently. And then what would have become of us? When the beaks spoke to Darcy about it, he didn’t give us up did he? They even hauled him before the dean, and he didn’t crack. They were quite aware he knew something, but they couldn’t get it out of him. Without his testimony, they had nothing on us, and the matter was dropped in the end. We would have been kicked out, but we weren’t thanks to Darcy.”

  Jonny leant back on two legs of his chair and eyed his brother coolly. After a few moments he broke into a grin.

  “You know something, Will? You really don’t play fair, do you?”

  “Not when there’s something I really want, no. So, you’ll play?”

  “What about Gibbs? He always wanted to be a lawyer, you know. But all that time recovering from the injury meant he couldn’t take his articles.”

  “I know. He took a commission instead. Did rather well in the war, I hear.”

  Jonny looked down at the table and pondered the matter.

  “Look at it this way,” said his brother, “it means there’s one less lawyer in the world.”

  In spite of himself, Jonny gave a little chuckle.

  “One less lawyer. Very well. I’ll come up to Darcy’s place in Derbyshire.”

  “And you’ll play?”

  “I didn’t say that. I’ll go up and meet Darcy again and see how I feel about it then. It will be nice to see him again after all this time and meet his new wife.”

  “I wonder what his in-laws are like? I’m lucky, but mothers in law can be difficult. So I hear anyway.” said William.

  Jonny laughed.

  “I’m sure his mother in law is a charming and humble woman. Come on, let’s have another drink.

  The next morning, Jonny awoke in his lodgings near Bluegate Fields. His head ached but he forced himself to get dressed. He quickly packed a leather valise. It was small but easily held his meagre possessions; a few threadbare garments, a gin flask (empty) a pair of dice (loaded) and a deck of cards (marked).

  He left the dinghy house, treading carefully past his landlord’s room and headed north west on foot. He looked at the scrap of paper on which he had scribbled his brother’s address while in London. He reached Camden and found the house easily enough. He went up the stairs and knocked on his brother’s room.

  “Jonny,” said William with a broad smile, “come on in.”

  “So, when do we leave, Will?”

  “I am pretty much ready to go. My case is packed, and the carriage is ready. I was waiting for you to arrive. Well, not so much waiting as hoping.”

  Jonny spread out his arms and grinned.

  “Here I am, Will. Ready to leave London.”

  Shortly thereafter they left by carriage for
Derbyshire without a single glance back at the dazzling, gloomy, vibrant, wonderful, noisy, dreary, terrible city.

  Chapter 3

  Mrs Bennet began to make early preparations for the visit to Pemberley. She fussed around the house trying on new things then discarding them and moving onto something else. First a pair of shoes that she said would be perfect and then moments later, ‘simply would not do’. Then a parasol that she had altered with elaborate embroidery and many buttons and ribbons and then decided was too plain. Mr Bennet looked on with amused detachment.

  She looked at herself in the glass one morning.

  “Mr Bennet, Do you think I need a new bonnet?”

  “A bonnet, Mrs Bennet?” said her husband.

  She put her bonnet on and looked again in the glass.

  “Yes. I seem to have been wearing this old thing for the longest time.”

  “A few weeks at least, I should think,” said Mr Bennet.

  “Don’t be facetious, Mr Bennet. It’s a special occasion, so I want to look my best.”

  “But, my dear, you always look your best, whatever the occasion,” he said gallantly.

  “You think so, Mr Bennet?” she said with her girlish simper which he found charming once.

  “Certainly. However, it is the first anniversary of our daughter’s marriage. So perhaps you should get a new bonnet, Mrs Bennet.”

  “Splendid. I’ll go into town and get some new material and some ribbon and things while I’m there.”

  “You’re making your own dress?” he said.

  “Heavens no. I’m going to order a new one for me, or at least get a gown and let Mrs Russell the seamstress add some embellishments. I meant for Mary and Kitty. And they can make their own, they’re capable enough. Did you raise your eyebrow, Mr Bennet?”

  “I don’t believe so, my dear.”

  “I must say, I am looking forward to visiting Pemberley again. Mr Darcy is an excellent host.”

  “Yes, I am too. I do enjoy a game of cricket. I was rather a good batsman in my youth.”

  Mr Bennet stood up and rehearsed an elegant shot with his stick.

  “You should have seen my square cut, my dear.”