He, Wickham, would have hacked off his arm to have an heiress worth twenty thousand pounds. Hisrightarm.
That is of course if she offered sufficient appeal to the eye that his marriage to her would not lead to other gentlemen thinking less of him — but while he had not seen her before her attempt to seduce Darcy, everyone had agreed that Miss Bingley was a fine, elegant creature. Fashionable and ladylike, and the officers had generally agreed amongst themselves when no women were present, that even though she had a disdainful expression on her face when she spoke with them, none of them would have refused the opportunity to roll around on a sofa with her.
Wickham had seen her about town since she had taken a house in Meryton two months prior, and he had to agree with that general officerial judgement. He’d take her to bed with more than usual alacrity.
Such a prize!
Darcy. Damned two fortuned Darcy had not even deigned to care when such a creature threw herself at him.
It was therefore chiefly the third consolation that kept him in Meryton: The first day of exercises, when he ordered the enlisted cottager lads up and down in the march. The right to command them. To stand at the lead of a group, and to harangue anyone who did not show sufficient attention in the drill.
That thrill!
Women watched him with all admiration in their eyes, and he was able tocommand— like had always been his purpose and his right.
He was employed in a way a gentleman ought to be.
And the best part of the whole was that none of it was honest work.
Certainly marching up and down — especially now that the weather had turned hot — was a task to be completed. But Wickham’s fancy had not yet ceased to be delighted withbeing in chargeof lesser and lower humans.
Or with the red coat, provided for by the purse of his majesty, and improved with what money and gifts Wickham had been able to finagle.
Notenoughmoney of course.
He’d once had enough money. Four thousand pounds. In the extreme poverty he now suffered under — barely able to make a display of himself when it was his turn to provide for the officers mess, barely able to improve his clothes, unable to drink and lay about as he’d like — Wickham imagined that would have been enough money.
How had he managed to spend so much so quickly?
Four thousand pounds? How had any ordinary man contrived to spend such a fortune in only three years?
So he did not mind.
The regiment provided a little ready paid out on regular intervals, and he fulfilled his true purpose in life, leading others, and the friendship of the officers assuaged his sense of general ill use. That smile which had always been of the greatest service to him had not failed him here.
Eventually almost all the neighborhood had forgotten what Colonel Fitzwilliam accused him of. The men here did not despise him simply because one aristocratic officer — a man in the regulars — had declared that they should.
But he was still Cash Out Wicky:
“Ha, ha, ha! Course I can’t cover your portion of the cold cuts. Cash Out Wickham.”
“Ah, dear sir, I would very much desire to extend you a line of credit, but my present distressing circumstances make it impossible for me to serve your business on any lines but through the immediate receipt of cash.”
“Can you meet the bet? Cash out Wickham.”
Never once did anyone offer him even a tuppence of credit.
Not except for Lydia Bennet, and she wanted a tuppence of tupping in turn.
In London days, during his honest and honorable quest for the finest things in life that were oft denied to him, George Wickham had in the end failed to make payment of more than a thousand pounds of credit.
He could act to anyone like the wealthy, careless gentleman who would obviously be good for what he agreed to pay sooner or later.
Later.
Much much later.
He’d also then had enough money that he could pay enough, and often enough, that merchants trusted him, and let him go more deeply into debt than they would with someone who'd not proven his surety before. And he had aristocratic friends who would discourage them from bringing suit against him for his eventual failure to pay.
