Work Text:
Fifteen seconds
Their eyes met, and though Darcy’s expression might have appeared merely cold and haughty to one who knew him less well, Wickham could plainly read the surprise and anger in his countenance. He was not best pleased himself. It was exceedingly inconvenient to find his past waiting for him here, in a town where he had hoped to make a fresh beginning.
But he was not one to freeze in the face of awkwardness. When living chiefly on one’s wits, as he had for the past years, one must learn to be bold and take the initiative where one could.
Thus, he touched his hat, doing his best to affect nonchalance. Darcy returned the gesture with obvious reluctance before looking pointedly away – but he did return it. There would be no public scene, then, not that Wickham had truly expected Darcy to lower himself so far. Darcy was too proud and too cautious of his sister’s reputation to risk exposing his private affairs.
The wordless exchange had lasted no more than fifteen seconds. Still, Wickham had learned much, and he meant to make use of it.
Fifteen minutes
It took but a quarter of an hour to turn Miss Elizabeth Bennet entirely against Darcy. She was as eager to dislike the man as she was to admire Wickham. His words, carefully curated to present the matter to his advantage, could scarcely have fallen into more fertile ground.
Darcy had never understood – had never needed to understand – how easily a few smiles and flattering words could buy one new friends, nor how easily such friends could be steered to do one’s bidding. Today, that was to be Wickham’s gain and Darcy’s loss.
Fifteen hours
He had received his pay that morning. By the time he stumbled into bed, he had lost more than half of it. Denny had had the most devilish run of luck at the card table and had cleaned out several of his fellow officers. Wickham had been no exception.
Well, he consoled himself as he drifted into a liquor-laced sleep, he would win it all back tomorrow.
Fifteen days
Mary King’s heart was conquered in two weeks and a day. Unused as she was to being admired – for she was a quiet, plain little thing – delight and gratitude at being singled out soon overthrew caution.
Wickham bore the ribald jests of his fellow officers philosophically. Let Pratt and Chamberlayne laugh at him for exchanging the lively, pretty Miss Elizabeth for mousy, freckled Miss King. For the sake of the girl’s fortune, Wickham would gladly tolerate their mockery.
Fifteen months
It had been fifteen months, give or take, since Wickham had formed his plan to elope with Georgiana Darcy, a plan which would have gained him thirty thousand pounds and a pretty wife in the bargain. It had been fifteen weeks since he had engaged himself to Mary King for a third of the sum and a rather less pretty face. Yet both girls had slipped out of his grasp, and so had their fortunes.
His debts in Meryton were growing at an alarming rate. The local tradesmen had not become suspicious yet, but Wickham was beginning to feel the snare tightening about his neck. The next quarter’s pay would scarcely be enough to clear his debts of honour. There would be nothing left over to appease the tradesmen.
He had enjoyed his stay in Meryton, but it was time to be gone. The regiment’s move to Brighton could not come soon enough.
Fifteen years
Fifteen years, Wickham reflected, was a remarkable age. At no other time in life could a girl be so entirely ignorant of the world around her, yet so utterly convinced of knowing everything there was to know.
He turned an indulgent smile on Miss Lydia Bennet, who was eagerly assuring him that she thought Mary King a deplorable ninnyhammer.
“I should never have let a mere uncle tell me what to do! I am sorry you were ever taken in by such a cowardly creature.”
Wickham affected a sorrowful look.
“Ah! You are very kind, Miss Lydia. How glad I am to know that I will have at least one true friend by my side in Brighton.”
The girl preened, shifting closer to him on the settee. Wickham took her hand and pressed it. To be sure, she had no fortune, but her admiration was still flattering – and one never knew when one might have use for a gullible young friend.