Page 67 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“How’s this extortion?” he muttered.
“But you want more money than that,” she said. “And I know why. You think, if you have enough money, they’ll accept you again, but they won’t. They never will. Bedding me was likely the first mistake you made. Allowances were made, because I’m me, and everyone in the family is aware something is wrong with me, but even so, it was a misstep.”
“I’ve thought this,” he said glumly.
“Have you ever thought that the reason they rejected you was because you started acting badly, not because of some elusive defect within yourself?”
“What?” he said.
“I’m only saying that if your requirements for acceptance are that people must like you in spite of all your awful qualities, of which there are many, than it’s little wonder you don’t have anyone liking you,” she said. Then she grimaced. Oh, Lord, that could apply to herself, couldn’t it? Dash it all.
“Fitzwilliam will never accept me again,” said Wickham. “Not after Georgiana. That’s done.”
“Right,” she said. “You know this, and yet, you hold out hope, even so. My giving you money will not make you a gentleman, Wickham.”
“So, you’re saying no,” he said.
“I don’t think it’s what you really want,” she said.
“Well, if I marry her, we’re going to have a very rough time of it,” he said. “It shan’t be easy for us to be together.”
“Nothing’s easy,” said Anne, attempting to blow out a smoke ring and failing.
“If I get myself into a scrape with owing things for gambling, though? You’ll give me money then, because you’ve done that before.”
“Oh, damnation, George,” she said. Sometimes she feltsorry for him, she had to admit. Sometimes, she wondered if she was wrong about herself, if she had some stupid, girlish crush on him. There was a reason she’d chosen him to surrender her virtue to, after all, and it hadn’t simply been proximity and convenience. He was a very handsome man. “I don’t know what I shall do when it comes to you.”
“I can’t count on you, then.”
“No one can count on anyone,” she said. “Here endeth the lesson.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WHEN EVERYONE CAMEback from Rosings, Elizabeth was bursting with her news, but no one came to look in upon her because they all thought she was abed with a headache. Her first thought was Jane, and she took an oil lamp and ventured down the hallway to Jane’s bedchamber, but when she knocked on the door, she got no answer.
Then she sought out Charlotte. However, Charlotte was not in her room, which meant she must be in her husband’s bedchamber, and Elizabeth considered that with a sort of horror that could not be fully experienced, so she ceased to think of that by sheer force of will.
She knocked on Jane’s door again on the way back to her room, and this time, she was received inside by a flushed and overly excited Jane.
“He’s here, Lizzy,” said Jane by way of greeting when she came inside.
“Who is?” said Elizabeth.
“Mr. Wickham,” said Jane. “He came to my window and I climbed out and walked with him. I am only now back here. He has asked me to elope with him. What should I do?”
“Elope?” Elizabeth put her hand to her chest.
“I know, I know. I told him that Papa would have no objection to our union. He has dined at our home so very many times. He and Papa even get on well, I think. Mama loves him. She would be overjoyed. He will be welcome atLongbourn, so there is no need to elope, I said. He says he has just now got his nerve up to do it, and if we don’t act, he will lose the nerve.”
“That sounds wretched,” said Elizabeth. “No. He either marries you properly or not at all.”
“Oh, you would say that.” Jane wrung out her hands.
“Attend to me, Jane, I have spoken to Mr. Darcy about Mr. Wickham—”
“What? When?” Jane drew back. “Oh, Lord, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy was not hurt from riding, was he? He came here.”
Elizabeth nodded. She spread her hands. “I’m engaged.”
