Page 43 of Elizabeth and Caroline
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 Idofeel 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 whybotherdoing right when it seems that it doesn’t matter.”
“Well, that isn’t whyyoudo 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 itisright, 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.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MISS GEORGIANA DARCYreminded Elizabeth of some kind of frightened small animal, perhaps a chipmunk or squirrel, eyes wide, looking about, ready to run at the first sight of danger.
She laughed in a high-pitched nervous way and she looked about the room all the time as if she was worried something was on its way in, something horrid. She smiled at Elizabeth, but her eyes looked frightened.
Elizabeth was worried that something very bad had happened to the girl, and she resolved she would speak to her husband about it when they got home. But just then, she told her sister-in-law that now that they were acquainted, she must call upon her whenever it struck the other girl’s fancy.
“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Georgiana, looking around as if frightened a blow was coming. “I would not wish to intrude.”
“You wouldn’t be intruding,” said Elizabeth. “After all, we are practically sisters now, are we not?”
“Well, I have not felt as if I should leave,” said Georgiana.
She was running this household, but she did have a companion—not the duplicitous Mrs. Younge, but another woman, this one also a widow. She had not joined them for dinner, claiming another engagement, but Elizabeth supposed this woman was really an employee, and this wasfinally a night off for her, to conduct her personal business, whatever it might be. Her name was Mrs. Stiles.