Page 119 of A Question of Character

He looked back at her, and for a moment she thought he might smile. Instead, his face stiffened. “I am not certain reform is so easily accomplished.”

The answer struck too near the subject she had come to discuss.

Elizabeth stepped off the path and came a little nearer, careful of a patch of loose stones. “Then perhaps the attempt ought to be encouraged when it appears sincere.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are we speaking generally?”

“No.”

His mouth pressed into a flat line. “Then I must beg your pardon. I am poor company this morning.”

“You were poor company yesterday morning as well, though your arrival gave Mama enough material for an hour’s speculation, so the visit was not without benefit.”

“I behaved badly.”

“You behaved alarmingly.”

He accepted the correction with a small movement of his head. “Yes.”

Elizabeth folded her hands before her. “Mr. Darcy, I do not ask out of idle curiosity. Mr. Wickham is much with my family. He is courting my sister. Whatever lies between you cannot be unimportant to us now.”

A bird rose from the hedge and startled the horse below. Darcy glanced toward the animal, then back to Elizabeth, as if the brief interruption had spared him one second and no more.

“Wickham possesses happy manners,” he said. “He can make friends wherever he goes.”

“That is a compliment delivered in the tone of an indictment.”

“He is less capable of keeping them.”

Elizabeth drew in a slow breath. “You imply he is duplicitous.”

“I do more than imply it.”

The bluntness made her lift her chin. “Then say plainly what you mean.”

Darcy moved from the rock, hat still held in one hand. “He betrayed my family in the worst way.”

“Yesterday you said your acquaintance was of some duration. I assumed there had been a quarrel.”

“A quarrel suggests injury on both sides.”

“And you claim there was not?”

“I claim George Wickham has lived by taking whatever affection, generosity, or trust was placed before him and converting it into advantage. How he came to Meryton—how he came to your family—is beyond my comprehension.”

“He came to work for my uncle Philips in July,” Elizabeth said. “My uncle is an attorney in Meryton. Mr. Wickham had studied the law and was seeking a respectable position. He formed an attachment to Lydia after becoming known to us.”

Darcy’s expression hardened. “Miss Lydia Bennet is certainly not his usual target.”

Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Target?”

“He favors wealthy women.”

“That is an ugly word.”

“An accurate one.”

“Lydia has no fortune.”