Memory: Volume 1, Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) by Linda Wells Read Free Book Online

Anne. 
     
    Darcy sat back in the chair and set down the pen.  He had been stoic and strong over the past days.  George Darcy was an exceptional man; no further proof was needed than the scores of men who came to bid their last respects.  Numbly Darcy shook countless hands, putting faces to names he had previously known only through letters.  Each one had an anecdote, speaking of a time when his father had aided them or given advice.  And others came with stories of his mother.  For some reason those were even more painful to hear.  It was the child who lost his mother and never understood why she left him so suddenly who received them.  It had taken every bit of his willpower to stand and listen without emotion.  Like a man.  And now he was alone in the silent house, Georgiana gone away with their aunt and uncle, and still he could not grieve, he was a Darcy, he must be strong. 
    Slowly he turned back the pages of his journal, reading his thoughts over the past three months, until he found the entry for that first day, when he had learned the news.  He read it over and felt that first wave of shock flow over him again, then read of the girl, and heard her laugh, and closed his eyes, remembering the warmth in hers.  What are you doing now, Lizzy of Longbourn ?
    A knock startled him from his thoughts.  “Come.”
    “Mr. Wickham is waiting to speak to you, sir.  I was not sure if you were receiving visitors . . .”  Mrs. Reynolds paused, she knew of the men’s animosity towards each other, having witnessed or heard of Wickham’s cruelty to the young Mr. Darcy enough times over the years.
    “Send him in, Mrs. Reynolds.”   He said tersely.  Watching her go he sat up in his chair, and remained seated when his beaming friend entered the room.  He glanced at the extended hand and kept his fingers laced.  “What brings you here, Wickham?”
    “Well well, only a week and your new power has quite gone to your head, Darcy!”  Wickham smirked and took a seat across from him.  “I have come for my inheritance.”
    “My father is barely cold and you come here demanding . . .”
    “No more than any creditor does to a widow the moment they hear their pigeon has died.”  He laughed at Darcy’s frown.  “Come now, I know that I have been left something, what is it?”
    “A thousand pounds,” he ignored the sound of disappointment from the ungrateful leech, “And when the living at Kympton Parish becomes available, and If you take holy orders, you will receive that position.”
    “The church?”  Wickham said in surprise.  “ When it comes available?  When might that be?”
    Darcy shrugged.  “I have not heard any news of the pastor wishing to retire.  I cannot remove him from the position without cause and he has served competently for years.  You may have years to wait.”
    “Here now Darcy, I will not wait around for years to get my due!”  Wickham grew infuriated with the impenetrable mask that had slipped over Darcy’s face.  “What is your game?”
    “There is no game; this is the condition of the will.  The thousand pounds should last quite some time if you are prudent.”
    “You do not want me to have this living.  I am sure of it.”  Wickham rubbed his jaw and regarded him closely, trying to see a crack in the visage and failed.  “Look, I do not wish to be a pastor any more than you want me to be a pastor.  I want to study law.  What do you say if you give me the value of the living now, and I will relinquish any further claim.”
    Darcy contained his satisfaction.   “And the value?”
    “Ten thousand.”
    “Are you insane?”  He laughed.  “I will offer you three, not a pound more.  And you will sign papers certifying that you have relinquished it.”
    “Five.”
    “My, what a precipitous drop.  Three.  Do not attempt to claim more.”  The men’s eyes locked, and Wickham was the one who looked away.
    “It seems that I have no reason to complain