What Jane Austen Didn't Tell Us!. Austen Alliance
a fervent evangelist to young Fitzwilliam. Their family had declined again to three, with no more additions to be expected in this generation. George exacted rigorous oaths from his son to take care of his little sister.
Darcy Senior all but left the management of the estate to the Wickhams as he continued this familial indoctrination. When his sister-in-law, the Lady Catherine de Bourgh, arrived to offer aid, George Darcy quickly sent her off. Her family, the Fitzwilliams, were of good blood, as no doubt were others with the Darcy surname. But none of these lesser breeds bore the name Darcy of Pemberley. That honor and responsibility fell to George himself, his son, and the infant Georgiana.
After the funeral, the boy returned to Derby. Still grieving, he immersed himself in his studies and applied himself as stringently to sport, hoping through exhaustion to hold sorrow at bay.
He did his best to live by the customs of the school with a good grace. The practice of fagging, where the younger boys performed as servants for their older schoolfellows, went hard against young Darcy’s pride. Preparing toast for a sixth-form boy he would do, but bullying was another matter.
Darcy was tall for his age, strong, and in no mood for impositions. When a bishop’s son appeared at morning prayers with a blackened eye, Darcy stoically accepted a birching from the older students for his infraction of the rules. But that did not deter him—he continued to thrash would-be bullies until they steered clear of him.
He was an acceptable scholar, but not one for team sports: excelling at fencing, riding when he could, and rowing in a single scull. An unexpected excellence was his ability at the dance—the footwork needed in the fencing salle aided his agility, confirming the old saw about the best swordsmen being the best dancers.
In the all-male boarding school, Darcy heard many tales from the older boys about the fairer sex. He heard the same sort of stories from the Pemberley lads when he came home for summer. The boys he had led to reenact the exploits of Sir Giles had moved on to other adventures, it seemed.
Though not lacking in confidence, Darcy felt a certain self-consciousness around young ladies, which he hid behind an almost gruff manner. His fellows might tease him for this reserved style, but he maintained it for the rest of his time at Derby.
With the passage of time, Darcy moved on to Cambridge, following family tradition once again. He arrived at the University with a reputation for wealth, for sporting prowess ... and for pride. Many of his fellow scholars sought to cultivate his society, if only because he had a ready purse for a pint, a meal, or any other entertainment.
But Darcy fairly much trod his own path until George Wickham came up to Cambridge, thanks to the generous financial support of Darcy Senior. At first, Darcy embraced the friend of his youth. He could not, however, miss the changes in Wickham’s character—or perhaps, the tendencies already present from childhood that now found full expression in the relative freedom of University life.
The laxity of the officials had turned the great Universities into schools for scandal. Classics, Divinity, or Mathematics were no competition for drink, cards, dice, and the pleasures of the town.
Darcy freely tasted these pursuits on his arrival at Cambridge, but he also pursued his studies.
Wickham, on the other hand, plunged into this raffish society whole-heartedly, ignoring lessons or tutorials and surrounding himself with a collection of disorderly personages. After a term of this behavior, Darcy began prudently to distance himself from Wickham and his ramshackle admirers.
However, Darcy himself narrowly escaped disgrace when he found himself inebriated, abandoned by his fellows, and locked out of his College. Happily, he was rescued by an undergraduate whom he had never met before, one Charles Bingley.
Gratitude for the timely assistance and Bingley’s congenial nature overcame Darcy’s habitual reserve, and they embarked on an association that soon became a friendship.
Wickham, on the other hand, managed to embroil himself in scandal. Caught on the stairs between a tutor and a porter, he was forced to fling a sheaf of scurrilous engravings out a window to avoid being caught with them. The pictures, of females in various states of undress, fluttered throughout the forecourt of the College.
Such crass conduct forced Darcy to curtail his association with Wickham. Since he had no wish to expose Bingley to such a character, he arranged that the two never met.
Instead, it was Bingley who accompanied Darcy into Society at University and in London. While Darcy provided entrée to high-flown social circles, Bingley’s convivial spirit and charming manner carried the day.
The friendship was firmly established when Bingley prevailed upon Darcy to visit Yorkshire and meet his family. Darcy’s first dinner in the Bingley house took him somewhat aback, however.
“Mr. Darcy.” Charles Bingley Senior pronounced Darcy’s name as if he were tasting it. “You are most welcome indeed. Whatever you require, merely let me know and it shall be provided, every jot and tittle, I say!”
His voice took on a gloating tone. “Mr. Darcy of Pemberley at my table will knock many a fine neighbor off his high horse.”
Darcy wondered at this outburst, so full of tradesman’s references. But Mrs. Bingley recovered the situation—with a weary but genuine smile. “Forgive us, Mr. Darcy. To my husband, you represent the latest chapter in a long, long tale entitled Vengeance on the Peacocks of York.”
Now her husband and children protested, but Mrs. Bingley faced them all. “I do not believe our guest will take a bit of plain speaking amiss.” She turned to Darcy. “For my part, sir, I honor you not for any regard you may bring our family, but for your friendship with my son.”
While Darcy learned forbearance for Bingley’s rough diamond of a father, it was Mrs. Bingley’s openhearted warmth that won his estimation. He found her to be a modest lady of gentle manners, every bit the model of her son’s glowing descriptions. Bereft of his mother for some few years, Darcy found himself warming to this good lady as he had to few others.
As Bingley’s time at University came to an end, Darcy and Bingley enjoyed exploring the pleasures of Society. Several years passed in routs and Assemblies, house parties, and travels to picturesque corners of Britain. Together, Darcy and Bingley cut quite a swath, reveling in the entertainments available, though Darcy took care to avoid the numerous snares laid in his path by mothers hopeful of securing an impressive husband for their daughters.
Then, in the winter of 1808, a letter came to Bingley that his mother was unwell. He and Darcy returned to York, and the diagnosis—lung fever. After a long, lingering illness, Mrs. Bingley passed away. Young Charles was heartbroken. Darcy found himself keenly touched by the loss of that good lady. But Mrs. Bingley’s death affected her husband most of all. Worn and ill after caring for his wife, he seemed to lose all interest in life and soon followed her into the churchyard and the new family tomb in Yorkshire.
Not long after the funeral, Darcy received a visitor at his family’s London house. Charles’s sister, Caroline Bingley, was dressed in black crape, crimped and styled into as fashionable a version of mourning clothes as he had seen.
“I was at Weatherly’s, the jeweler, to collect the mourning rings Charles had commissioned. Papa wanted you to have one.” She imperiously gestured to the footman accompanying her, who produced a small box.
Darcy opened it to find a finely wrought ring featuring a miniature painting of an antique column with the initials “C.B.” on it, the whole surrounded with tiny pearls. The outer side of the ring itself was covered in black enamel, and within he saw the name “Charles Bingley” engraved.
“It is very handsome,” Darcy said.
“Papa especially ordered that you should have it,” Caroline said. “And I took it upon myself to see that this bequest was promptly carried out.”
“I would have expected your brother to undertake this responsibility,” Darcy responded.
“Ah, Charles.” Caroline started a dismissive wave of her hand and then thought better of it. “He