Wickham chuckled as he lit the cigar for himself. “Yes, of course, a terrible vice, particularly so early in the morning. But one I indulge in from time to time, especially when the opportunity is too good to pass up. Now, to the matter at hand.”
Darcy remained silent, his eyes fixed on Wickham as he exhaled a plume of smoke.
“I must say, Darcy,” Wickham began, his tone suddenly warmer, almost deferential, “I have always admired your influence, your standing. Few men have managed to maintain such a sterling reputation, especially in our circles. I probably never said as much, but it is something I have always looked up to.”
Ourcircles?So, Wickham truly thought them equals now, did he? And Darcy had not sufficient faculties at the moment to debate the man as he once might have. His head felt like someone had driven an ice pick into his eye socket, and the best strategy he could think of was to simply nod, keep his expression neutral, and listen to whatever Wickham wanted to say without giving anything away.
Wickham leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a more earnest note. “I find myself in a position where your support could make a world of difference. You see, Sir Anthony’s campaign is gaining momentum, but what we really need is an endorsement from someone of your calibre. Your name alone carries weight beyond Meryton—weight that could tip the scales in our favour.”
Darcy’s chest tightened. The request was not unexpected, but the directness of it still caught him off guard. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “I have never been one to involve myself in politics, Wickham. I prefer to leave such matters to those more inclined.”
Wickham’s smile faltered for a brief moment before he recovered, leaning back in his chair. “I understand your reluctance, Darcy; truly, I do. But this is about more than politics—it’s about the future of this community. I have seen how much you care for Pemberley and its people. Meryton deserves the same consideration, don’t you think?”
Darcy’s temple throbbed as Wickham’s words continued to flow, each one carefully crafted to appeal to Darcy’s sense of duty. The blighter certainly knew how to make him do as he desired.
“I did not think the election was even contested.” It was a costly effort, but Darcy had forced his tone to remain light and even, rather than accusatory.
“There is, in fact, a challenger, though he does not enjoy the same level of support as Sir Anthony.”
Darcy frowned. “It still does not sound as though you have any need for concern.”
“Oh, as to that, there are two or three sceptics—unfortunately, men of intelligence and influence. Mr Bennet, for one. I am sure you saw as much last night, and I daresay the fellow is twice as clever as his brother-in-law, so there is no help to be found from Philips in swaying him. I tell you, there is nothing like an intelligent man who fancies himself in the right. I doubt the Almighty Himself could change such a man’s mind.”
“Have you considered that there just might be a reason that such a ‘clever’ man would have withdrawn his support of your candidate?” Darcy asked… somewhat testily.
“I ask such things all the time, but in this case, I am sure of the cause. Bennet is old friends with the previous MP, and I’ve no doubt the fellow is sending bitter letters to anyone who will read them.”
“Perhaps he knows something that he feels the residents of Meryton should be made aware of,” Darcy retorted.
“And there, you have got it,” Wickham agreed.
Darcy blinked. Now Wickham was…agreeingwith him that something seemed wrong? “How so?”
“You see, people will say anything. And the more those things are said, the more they are believed, whether or not they have any basis in fact. You know this as well as anyone, I daresay.”
Darcy arched a brow. “I had a prime example to observe for many years.”
Wickham bellowed in laughter, his teeth clenched round that impressive Havana. “But I never could fool you for long!” He sighed and removed the cigar for a moment. “That is why I needyou, Darcy. You can see through the nonsense to the facts.”
“And what facts are those? Whoisthis Sir Anthony, and why are you so eager to support him?” Darcy shot back.
Wickham smiled. “Ah, Darcy, I thought you would have a little faith in me by now, but I see it is too early yet. Do you know,” he chuckled between puffs of smoke, “I shall never forget what your father used to say. I can still hear his voice in my head, clear as a bell.”
That was a peculiar topic shift. Darcy’s hackles raised a little more. “My father said a great many things. To which of them are you referring?”
“Why, it was the ‘Man of Principle’ speech. Surely, you recall. We both heard it often enough.”
Darcy frowned in thought. “There was no specific ‘speech’ of that nature.”
“Indeed, there was. Egad, how could you have forgot? He was always saying how a man can have excellent principles, but if he follows them in pride and conceit, then his good qualities truly amount to nothing. Youmustremember that. He only said it every time he disciplined us.”
Something caught and snagged in the dark recesses of Darcy’s memory. That phrase, ‘pride and conceit’… Good heavens, hehadforgot!
It was true, his father had not found it necessary to discipline his heir nearly as often as he did his steward’s son. But who could possibly treasure George Darcy’s words more than himself? And that particular maxim had slipped his memory entirely.
He truly was losing his mind. He drove his fingers into his temple, trying for all his might to look as though it were simply a thoughtful mannerism, but in reality, he could not resist the urge to try to mend whatever was broken inside.
Chapter Thirty-One
