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“You and I are different sorts of people is all,” said Elizabeth. “I respect that you know what you want. So, what is it?”

“I have to admit I hoped deeply for a title,” said Caroline. “But now, I begin to worry I may be reaching too high. I do not know if I can manage that.”

“A title is more important than his annual income, I suspect?” said Elizabeth. “You want someone who can help you to rise, to bring you into respectable society.”

“I do,” said Caroline. “And there are dukes and earls out there in need of money. I do have a dowry. I think, if we feel it is not adequate, that we can prevail upon Charles to increase it just to make it so someone takes me off his hands.”

“Oh, I’m sure your brother wishes you to be happy,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Bingley is a good man.”

Caroline decided not to mention the fact that she had purposefully gotten on her brother’s nerves in order to force him to send her here to London. Certainly, Elizabeth would have come up with a more elegant solution than all that. She was much better at influencing people.

“Well, a title or someone connected to a title,” said Elizabeth. “Like Mr. Hurst, who had a baroness grandmother.”

“Better than Mr. Hurst,” said Caroline. “I can do much better than that.”

“Indeed,” said Elizabeth, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully. “All right, well, what sort of men might fulfill this? Who are the titled men out there in need of your dowry, Caroline?”

Caroline mused over this. “Well, there’s the Duke of Everlie, but he’s a bit on the old side, I suppose, and I would be his third wife.”

“How old?” said Elizabeth.

“Late sixties, I think,” said Caroline with a shrug.

“Absolutely not,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head.

“Caroline, I promised you would know what it was to fall in love, to be cherished and desired, and I cannot think someone old enough to be your father, who is still in need of money after going through the dowries of two wives, is going to do that for you. Indeed, he sounds like a very awful choice.”

“He’s a duke,” said Caroline.

“Oh, please,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes, but I would be a duchess,” said Caroline. “That is a balance against a host of other things.”

Elizabeth only blinked at her.

Caroline sighed. “He does already have an heir and a spare, of course, so… it wouldn’t be ideal. If I had children, they would not matter to him in quite the same way, so I su ppose I wouldn’t put him at the top of the list.”

Elizabeth eyed her, shaking her head. “Come now, Caroline, there must be someone who you want for some other reason besides his status.”

“I have told you before that this is what I want from a marriage,” said Caroline, feeling a little miffed that her friend was harping on it in this way.

“I suppose you have.” Elizabeth was resigned. “Is there no one else, then?”

Caroline listed other titled men, but it became clear that Elizabeth was looking for something else, some romantic interest, and she finally exploded that “you, yourself, Eliza, did not even feel that for Mr. Darcy until after you were married!”

Elizabeth looked stunned. “W-well… I suppose it seemed that way—”

“It was that way,” said Caroline heatedly. “I spoke to you the night before your marriage, if you remember.”

“Of course I remember. That is when we made our vow,” said Elizabeth.

“Yes,” said Caroline. “It was different, your attachment to him then and your attachment afterward.”

“True,” said Elizabeth, “but it wasn’t because I didn’t feel things for him before—well, I suppose it was, actually.

But I didn’t feel as if I could feel those things for him.

I didn’t feel as if I was permitted to feel those things.

I didn’t think I deserved it. I didn’t think anyone could love me. But he does.”

“Well, that’s you,” said Caroline with a shrug. No one loved her. Perhaps her father had, long ago, but everyone was loved by their parents, after all.

“OH, HEAVENS,” SAID Mr. Darcy that night at dinner. “We cannot go to a ball yet. You haven’t even met my sister. ”

“I know I have not met your sister,” said Elizabeth.

“And I should present you to the Matlocks first, I think,” said Mr. Darcy. “However, they are not in town currently, so it may not matter.”

Elizabeth was nervous, twisting her hands together under the table, waiting for his response.

“I thought we were happy enough just on our own,” said Mr. Darcy. “Do you have a hankering for society events now, Elizabeth?”

“I have told you before that I have plans to make a match for Caroline,” said Elizabeth.

He lifted his gaze to hers from across the dinner table. “This again.”

“I suppose you suspected I would drop it,” she said. “I know you don’t think matchmaking is even possible—”

“I am sorry about saying that,” said Mr. Darcy.

“I think you are abundantly intelligent, vibrant, and delightful, my darling. I would never deny you anything that gave you pleasure. If you wish to be a matchmaker, by all means.” He gestured with both hands.

“But I can’t say finding someone willing to marry Miss Bingley is going to be very easy. ”

“No, I know this,” said Elizabeth, sighing. “And, of course, I don’t suppose I realized how much I was not going to be accepted in society myself, which only makes it all harder.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Fitz,” she said, “do not pretend that you are ignorant of all of it. You have hidden me away to protect us both, and I will know this.”

“Hidden you away? Hardly. I’ve been, erm, preoccupied.” His face turned red.

She felt her own cheeks heat up and a smile tugged at her lips. “All right, well, granted.”

“Yes, I have had a number of letters from my sister,” he said.

“She is less than pleased. She has her own household here in London, and she wishes us to visit her. She says she cannot write directly to you until you have been introduced, which is proper, of course, and it is my own fault for not introducing you. My sister feels rather isolated, and I think she thinks I am punishing her—well, this is neither here nor there, of course.”

“Punishing her?” Elizabeth sat up straight. “For what?”

Mr. Darcy sighed heavily. “You will say nothing of it to her. Swear it to me?”

“Well, I don’t know what it—”

“Swear.”

“I swear,” she said.

“My sister was involved in a situation that doesn’t look entirely proper from the outside of it. I don’t think anything actually happened, but it is difficult to say. A man attempted to elope with her.”

“Isn’t your sister only fifteen?”

“Well, she was when this happened last summer,” he said. “She has lately turned sixteen.”

“Fitz, you missed your sister’s birthday?”

He winced.

“Did anyone go to her?” said Elizabeth. “You are punishing her.”

His lips parted. Then, he pressed them together. He said nothing.

“Did she encourage this man? I suppose he wasn’t an appropriate match for her?”

“This man is someone you know, actually, someone you have met, someone you spoke of to me.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Elizabeth’s eyes widened as understanding crashed into her. “Mr. Wickham.”

“Quite.”

“He’s the son of your steward.”

“I well know this.”

“Did your father really wish him to be a rector in Derbyshire? Did you prevent this?”

“I didn’t prevent it,” said Mr. Darcy. “He didn’t want it.”

“Who didn’t? Your father?”

“No, my father wished it, of course. He would have liked Georgie Wickham settled and grateful and dependent upon him. I’m sure that if my father had been alive, there would have been no questioning of it all.

It would have been as my father wished. That was the way it always was with my father, you see. ”

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “So, Mr. Wickham did not wish to be a parson?”

“He thought he could just have the value of the position.”

“Just pay him for not working at all?”

“We settled on three thousand pounds,” said Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Really. And he still resents you so. I don’t rightly understand that.”

“He must blame someone. He never blamed my father, of course,” said Mr. Darcy. “So, he blames me. But what he says I have done, it’s almost never true. He lies quite a lot.”

“Yes, I could sort of sense that,” said Elizabeth. And sense something else, though, something that she was ashamed of, because she had been drawn to Mr. Wickham as well, despite the fact he seemed dangerous. Perhaps because of it.

“Could you?” Mr. Darcy arched an eyebrow. “Sensed he was lying, Lizzy?”

“Well, I don’t know what I sensed,” she said. “But something about him… Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I don’t see why he’d go after your sister, then. Were they desperately in love or something? She seems young for it.”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Darcy. “He spent all that money I gave him.”

“All three thousand pounds?” said Elizabeth. “Truly?”

“Well, that is what he said, anyway,” said Mr. Darcy. “And I think it must have been true or why else would he be taking on someone’s commission in the regiment?”

“Oh, true, I suppose he must be in need of an occupation,” she said. “He thought to have your sister’s dowry, you think, then? He was motivated by money.”

“There could be nothing else to motivate him.”

No, Mr. Wickham was not motivated by money, and this she knew somehow, deep down.

What he was motivated by, she could not say, entirely, but it was something other than money.

“It sounds to me as if your sister was taken advantage of,” said Elizabeth.

“One must only have a conversation with Mr. Wickham to understand what he is like. She cannot be blamed for it, I don’t think. ”

“What is he like? What do you mean?”

She shrugged, picking up her fork and poking through food on her plate. “He has a certain… I don’t know. A charisma, I suppose.”

Nothing from her husband.

She looked up at him.

His face was white, that white, drawn expression she’d seen every time Mr. Wickham was mentioned.

She set her fork down with a clatter, surprised. “He was correct. You are jealous of him.”

Mr. Darcy let out a disbelieving noise. “Ought I be?”

“Ought you…?”

“How do you know him, anyway? What happened between the two of you?”

“I had one conversation with him, one conversation only.”

“During which he accused me of jealousy?”

“Amongst other things,” she said. “He doesn’t like you either, but I’m sure you know that.

What I can’t determine is why. I think you’re telling me the truth, and that he was lying, and he doesn’t seem to have any reason not to like you, so it’s all a puzzle.

He’s very puzzling. I can’t make sense of him. ”

“You spend time thinking about him?”

“See?” She gestured. “You are jealous. But I don’t think it’s as he said.

I don’t think it’s about your father. You seem to have a different opinion of your father than he did.

He was quite admiring of your father, and you seem…

” On the other hand, maybe her husband had grown angry with his father over the favoritism shown to the son of a servant.

It seemed too petty for Mr. Darcy, who was so willing to forgive her so many things, who was so concerned with nobility, however.

“Trust me when I tell you that I was never jealous of the way my father treated him,” said Mr. Darcy.

She hesitated. Then she picked up her fork. “All right. ”

“You are pointedly not telling me why you think he’s charismatic.”

“Oh, did you ask me that?” She speared a carrot with her fork, brought it to her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed. “I don’t know if I can explain. The charisma is simply there. I don’t know where it comes from. You want to believe him or feel sorry for him, perhaps?”

“Feeling sorry for him, maybe I understand,” he said. “Why do you feel sorry for him, however?”

“Well, I don’t know if I do feel sorry for him,” she said. It’s more of a sense of admiration, she thought, which was worse, and she knew to keep that to herself. She didn’t even want to really admit it. She must convinced herself that it was not even true.

“I am not jealous of that man,” he said. “But I do find myself wondering why it is that things work out for him so well when he does everything wrong. It’s enough to make a body wonder why bother doing right when it seems that it doesn’t matter.”

“Well, that isn’t why you do the right thing, Fitz,” she said, shaking her head at him.

“You don’t do it for personal gain. Often, you do it in spite of personal gain.

You do it only because it is right, even if it doesn’t benefit you.

That is the way you are. You’re not concerned with personal gain—”

“I believe I am at least a bit concerned,” muttered her husband.

“Well, Mr. Wickham lives only for himself.”

“Except, if he does, why does he go through the money so quickly? He must see that is not the best way for himself?”

“He doesn’t seem to be able to rein himself in, does he?” said Elizabeth.

“He doesn’t even try,” said Mr. Darcy. “He is abundantly self-destructive, and for that… well, it may not be my fault, I suppose, but I do wonder why he is that way, and I wonder if it’s entirely his own fault.”

“Who else’s fault could it be?” Elizabeth was quite confused .

Her husband only shook his head, saying nothing.

It was quiet for a moment.

She speared another carrot. “Well, never mind him. He is back in Hertfordshire, and he is with the regiment. We shan’t see him. Let’s speak of your sister.”

“Well, she has invited us, more than once, to dine with her. We should go,” he said with a sigh.

“You are punishing her,” said Elizabeth. “Because you hate him, and you blame her for being taken in by him. But she’s young, Fitz. You must forgive her. And she did not elope with him, did she? What happened? Did she change her mind?”

“She did, yes. She wrote to me and I went and collected her. It was not all her fault. Wickham had gotten to her companion as well, a Mrs. Younge, who had somehow been twisted to his purpose, I know not how. Mrs. Younge was dismissed, of course, without a reference, and I understand she now runs a boarding house in London.” He shook his head.

“This is neither here nor there. You are right. I should not blame my sister.” He sighed.

“But when I think of Wickham, I feel…” His face went white again and he could not finish the sentence.

“And now, your sister makes you think of Wickham,” said Elizabeth in understanding.

He nodded, looking ashamed of himself.

“Well, the only way to break that association is to see more of her, I should think,” said Elizabeth.