The gentleman frowned.
“No, no. It seems clear enough that he gave you ample cause for fighting. Do not say that you would have let it pass, not unless you would have.”
Now his eyes refused to meet hers. “I needed to defend my sister’s honor.”
“Well. Well. Well.” Elizabeth picked Emily up. She hugged the girl tightly enough that Emily squealed. “You shot him. I see. I see. Well. Done is done. It was always going to end badly for him. Poor Wickham. Of course, a duel. Exactly the way I would have guessed he would have died if I had tried to guess—Poor, poor Mr. Wickham. Can I hope you hit him solid, and there was not much pain?”
The man looked down. “The bullet went through his heart.”
A flash of memory: A handsome face. Glowing with happiness.My heart will always be yours.
And now what would become of them all.
Should she try Papa at last? He’d dosomethingfor her if she applied. When she saw him after George’s birth, he told her that he would help her if she ever realized that he had been right all along about Wickham.
George walked up to the sobbing girl and patted her on the knee. “Don’t be so sad. Mama always says that tears don’t help anything. You should think of something to laugh about.”
The girl nodded her head. “I should. But I can’t.”
“Mama,” George insisted. “You need to make her laugh.”
He never would have a ‘Papa’.
“It’s not always a proper time to laugh.” Elizabeth said solemnly.
How could she explain this to George? That the father he could not remember at all was dead. Until now Wickham had on infrequent occasions sent impractical presents to his son, often flashy clothes that were fitted to a child either much smaller or much larger than his George.
At least Emily was young enough that she simply could not understand.
“Oh.” George turned back to the young woman. “Then you had best find a task to do. Mama, she needs you to tell her to do something.”
From the mouth of babes.
Yes. When something bad happens, laugh. And then find something useful to do.
“Here.” Elizabeth handed Emily to the young woman. “Hold her, while I look at your brother’s dressing—I am going to change it.”
The startled girl took the child.
Surprised at being given to an unknown adult, Emily reached for Elizabeth and whimpered, “Mama!”
“Bounce her up and down,” Elizabeth told the girl who’d instinctively stood up at having a small child pressed into her arms. “Keep her moving. She likes to meet new people.”
This worked well enough for Emily to stop sobbing. Soon, she grabbed at the woman’s necklace. The young woman half smiled at Emily through her tears and pulled the necklace up so that it was easier for Emily to fist.
Elizabeth turned to the gentleman.
He pushed himself further back into the sofa as she stepped closer. “I do not wish any help.”
“I can see. I assume you have not hired a regular nurse?”
The gentleman’s eyes were quite serious.
She thought she could be easily intimidated by his gaze. Or fall into his eyes. They were quite deep.
With an effort of will, Elizabeth turned her eyes onto the bandage. “How long have you worn this—I know that the doctor must have orderedfor it to be changed more frequently. Unevenly wrapped, and too tight. Don’t you know that the wound needs to be able to drain?”
“This is not any of your business.” He then looked at her again, with that serious, intent gaze. “If there is any aid in my power to give you, I will happily give it. I keenly feel the guilt of what I have done.”
