Page 49 of Grief and Grievances
“Ah, therein lies the crux of our bargain,” Caroline purred, her eyes gleaming with cunning. “In exchange for your cooperation, I shall ensure that your financial troubles are resolved.”
Wickham hesitated, weighing the potential risks against the undeniable allure of escaping his current predicament. He thought of Elizabeth’s pride, her refusal to admit her own faults, and the satisfaction he would feel in seeing her humbled and lost to Darcy—for certainly Darcy would not marry Elizabeth under such circumstances. Yes, the pain such a loss would cause to Darcy would be well worth his trouble even without financial reward..
“Your silence is most intriguing, Mr. Wickham,” Caroline remarked, studying his face intently. “Are you truly considering my offer, or merely searching for the most polite way to refuse?”
“Miss Bingley,” Wickham began, weighing each word carefully, “I must admit that your proposition has given me pause. While I am not averse to the notion of exacting some measure of retribution upon those who have wronged me, I cannot help but question the wisdom of involving myself in such a scheme.”
“Think of it not as a reckless gambit, Mr. Wickham, but rather as a calculated move in the great game of life,” Caroline replied smoothly, her eyes never leaving his. “Surely a man of your intelligence can appreciate the potential rewards at stake.”
“Indeed,” Wickham murmured. “I will consider your offer and let you have my response in due time, Miss Bingley. A gesture of your good faith in me would perhaps be appropriate?” He gave her an ingratiating smile.
“Rest assured, Mr. Wickham,” Caroline replied, a sneer curling her lips as she fished in her reticule and produced a few coins. Not much, but likely all she had on her, and enough to satisfy the most pressing of his debts, perhaps. “You will have your due, and together we shall teach both Darcy and Miss Eliza a lesson they will never forget.”
As Wickham took his leave of Caroline Bingley, his mind raced with the implications of accepting her offer. He was well aware of the dangers that lay ahead; one wrong move could spell disaster for all involved, and the potential fallout was not to be taken lightly. And yet, despite the risks, he could not deny a certain thrill at the thought of besting his adversaries in such a bold and daring fashion.
“Wickham!” A familiar voice called out, interrupting his reverie. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Lieutenant Denny, who greeted him with a hearty slap on the back. “What brings you to this part of town? I thought you’d be drowning your sorrows at the pub.”
Unable to admit that he would not be able to drink at the pub until he paid his outstanding bill there, Wickham forced a carefree grin onto his face, “Ah, Denny, you know as well as I do that life’s setbacks are best met with a stiff upper lip and an unyielding determination to rise above them.”
“Indeed,” Denny agreed, eyeing him curiously. “And have you found a way to do just that, my friend?”
“Perhaps,” Wickham said cryptically, a twinkle in his eye. “But for now, let’s just say that fortune may soon favour the bold.”
“Bold, eh?” Denny laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, I wish you luck, whatever your scheme may be. Just don’t do anything too rash, alright? We wouldn’t want you landing in the stocks or worse.”
“Trust me,” Wickham assured him, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”
As he parted ways with Denny, Wickham’s thoughts once again turned inward, considering the ramifications of an alliance with Caroline Bingley. He could not afford to underestimate her cunning; she was a formidable opponent in her own right, and not one to be trifled with.
Continuing his walk, Wickham’s thoughts turned to Elizabeth Bennet, and the way her pretty eyes flashed with passion as she spoke. She had never quite fallen for his charms, despite his most strenuous efforts.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “Such a charming young lady, and yet so… infuriatingly obstinate.”
As he pondered her stubborn nature, the idea of compromising Elizabeth in order to spite Darcy grew increasingly appealing. She was, after all, the object of Darcy’s affections—a fact that both amused and enraged him. By ruining her reputation, he would not only be exacting revenge on Darcy for his past wrongs but would also be putting that insufferable girl in her place. It was a deliciously wicked plan, and one that seemed almost too perfect to resist.
“Ah, Elizabeth,” he mused, his eyes narrowing with determination. “I shall take great pleasure in humbling your pride, as well as teaching Mr. Darcy a lesson he will never forget.”
Though the thought of simultaneously compromising Elizabeth Bennet and devastating Darcy’s hopes were an alluring distraction, Wickham’s ultimate focus slowly began to shift to an intriguing and lucrative target: Caroline Bingley’s dowry of twenty thousand pounds. This considerable sum far exceeded anything he could hope to acquire from the Bennets or even Darcy, and it could be the key to securing his future. As Wickham leaned against the mantelpiece in his modest lodgings, he allowed himself a moment to envision the life that such wealth would afford him—a life of comfort, leisure, and respectability.
“Twenty thousand pounds,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with avarice. “With that fortune, I shall be a man of consequence.”
Becoming determined to secure both Caroline’s wealth and ruin Elizabeth’s reputation simultaneously, Wickham began to form a strategy. He paced the room, his mind racing, as he considered the intricate web of deceit he must weave to achieve his ends.
“First, I must convince Caroline of my loyalty to her cause,” he mused aloud, his voice low and resolute. “Once she is convinced of my commitment to her scheme, her trust in me will grow, and her purse strings will loosen, solving my current pecuniary issues temporarily.”
He paused, contemplating the next step in his plan. “Then, to ensure my continued access to Miss Bingley’s funds, I must make certain that she believes our alliance against Elizabeth is beneficial for us both.”
Wickham knew that the key to manipulating Caroline lay in exploiting her jealousy of Elizabeth. He would stroke her vanity and fan the flames of her envy until she was entirely under his influence.
“And then,” he said, clenching his hands in determination, “I will compromise Elizabeth Bennet in such a way that even Darcy cannot save her. Her humiliation will serve as a fitting punishment for her insolence, and will also secure my place in Caroline’s good graces. If I make sure it is only her word against mine, and deny strenuously my involvement, I cannot be forced to marry her. Then, I ensure that I am caught compromising Caroline Bingley, and for twenty thousand pounds… well, that will get me to walk down the aisle post-haste.”
As he plotted, an unsettling thrill coursed through him. He was aware of the potential consequences of his actions, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand, consumed by the tantalising prospect of wealth and revenge.
“Fortune favours the bold,” Wickham whispered to himself, a dark smile playing upon his lips. “And I, Mr. George Wickham, am nothing if not bold.”
By the following day, Wickham had meticulously crafted his first move in this dangerous game of chess. Ensconced within the cosy confines of Meryton’s most popular teahouse, he sat across from Caroline Bingley, the pair of them a picture of elegance and refinement that was not lost on the admiring glances of passersby.
“Mr. Wickham,” Caroline drawled, sipping her tea with an air of haughty satisfaction, “I trust you have considered my offer and come to the conclusion that we will both find our arrangement mutually beneficial?”
