Wickham.
I am sure of it. [After a short pause.] Mr. Darcy and I were born in the same parish. My own father, who, to be frank, was steward of the Darcy estates, gave up everything to serve the interests of the Darcy family. Mr. Darcy's father was excessively attached to me:—indeed, I was his godson. He meant to provide for me amply, and thought he had done so. I was destined for the church and Mr. Darcy's father left to me a most valuable living. But the present Mr. Darcy chose to ignore his father's will and gave the living to another man. This closed for me the career for which I was most fitted and left me with almost no means of support.
Elizabeth.
Good heavens! But how could that be? Why did not you seek legal redress?
Wickham.
There was an informality in the terms of the will which gave me no hope from the law. Mr. Darcy's father had relied implicitly upon the honour of his son.
Elizabeth.
But—this is quite shocking. Mr. Darcy deserves to be publicly disgraced!
Wickham.
Sometime or other he will be, but not by me. Till I can forget his father, I can never defy or expose him.