Page 74 of A Question of Character

Lydia’s cheeks became a color no ribbon could rival. “Just agreeable?”

“I have known him for half an hour.”

Her sister made a face. “That is plenty of time for you. You decide everything quickly.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. And then you pretend you have reasoned it all out.”

Elizabeth stared at her sister with reluctant admiration. “Lydia, when did you become so observant?”

“I have always been observant. You were away and could not notice.”

That answer deserved more credit than Elizabeth wished to grant it.

“He is very kind,” Lydia said, more carefully now. “And he does not laugh at me.”

“Many people laugh with you, my dear.”

“Yes, but some laugh because they expect me to be foolish.” Lydia looked down at her hands. “He does not like it when I am foolish. At least, he likes it a little, because he says I would be very dull if I became sensible all at once. But he says I must not let people think me silly because it is easier than requiring them to think me worth listening to.”

Elizabeth’s opinion of Mr. Wickham improved with uncomfortable speed.

“He said that?”

“Not exactly. Something like it.” Lydia twisted one ribbon between her fingers. “I remember the important part.”

“I believe you do.”

“He means to propose.”

Elizabeth nearly dropped her cup. “Lydia.”

“Hush. Not loudly. He said he will ask Papa properly when the time comes.”

“And when is that?”

“When I am sixteen. He says I am too young to marry before then, and he would not have anyone say he hurried me.”

That, at least, was sensible. Unexpectedly so.

“He told you this?”

“Yes. And Mama knows. Papa knows. Uncle Philips knows. Everyone knows except you because you were in Ireland looking at cliffs and scenery.”

“I see.”

“You must not look severe. I am going to be very happy.”

Elizabeth studied her sister. Lydia was earnest. Not merely excited, though she was that too. Beneath the brightness lay a seriousness Elizabeth had rarely seen in her. It had no great depth yet, perhaps, but it was growing.

“What does he have to live on?” Elizabeth asked.

Lydia glanced toward Mr. Wickham, who was speaking with Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Philips near the fireplace. “Uncle pays him very well. He says a man who can draft properly and speak to clients without making them feel stupid is worth paying. Mr. Wickham also has a small inheritance in the four percents.”

“Has he?”

“He used part of it to study the law. He has some left. Not a fortune, Lizzy, but I have none at all, so I cannot complain.”