He tucked his head in over hers as she leaned in beside him, feeling her sigh echo in his own chest, trapped somewhere in his ribs at this situation. So much had changed already and yet it felt that nothing had, that they were barely any closer than before. (At least this kind of closeness was a comforting change.)
Her mother might not be pleased with her, but that wouldn’t be enough to change Elsie’s mind. She was more stubborn than he often gave her credit for, Tybalt allowed. As determined as he was. “Mmm,” he hummed, in murmured appreciation for it.
He kept quiet after that, wishing he had more ideas of use to offer her, but having no better answers than her. Perhaps she might tell her suitor the truth, that there was someone else? But then if that got back to her parents, she would have to explain who and then it would be down to what her parents thought of him. Which was what it would always be down to, in the end. Because if her parents didn’t approve, there was nothing left. Elsie had said it once, herself. How could she walk away from her family? (The answer was of course she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, and Tybalt wouldn’t let her in any case.)
So that was why he was following Lucinda’s advice, making sacrifices, having plans. That was a start, surely, it must guarantee him some credit, but it was not enough, and it would be too soon to even ask, he knew that. Give it a couple more years, when he’d shed the last of his youthful idiocy, and owned more than a rented room in a boarding house, and could stand there and look like a man one could admire and respect.
It felt like a reach, even thinking it. But he couldn’t say that and wouldn’t let on if he felt it, and he was grateful that Elsie seemed to be surer of their chances than he did, even now. But the longer Tybalt took to turn himself into the person he was trying to be, the more chance there was of Elsie having to turn down other options. Oh, he knew he’d made sacrifices for her sake, he didn’t argue that, but suddenly this situation seemed less like a difficulty, and more like a sacrifice. This would be Elsie sacrificing a whole other life for the flimsy potential of one. (This way round, it was more than he deserved, and it terrified him.)
With his thoughts still far away, Tyb’s next question was absent-minded, and not entirely sequential to the conversation. Still. “Do you like him?” She didn’t know him well, she’d already said. But the question remained. Did she?
Her mother might not be pleased with her, but that wouldn’t be enough to change Elsie’s mind. She was more stubborn than he often gave her credit for, Tybalt allowed. As determined as he was. “Mmm,” he hummed, in murmured appreciation for it.
He kept quiet after that, wishing he had more ideas of use to offer her, but having no better answers than her. Perhaps she might tell her suitor the truth, that there was someone else? But then if that got back to her parents, she would have to explain who and then it would be down to what her parents thought of him. Which was what it would always be down to, in the end. Because if her parents didn’t approve, there was nothing left. Elsie had said it once, herself. How could she walk away from her family? (The answer was of course she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, and Tybalt wouldn’t let her in any case.)
So that was why he was following Lucinda’s advice, making sacrifices, having plans. That was a start, surely, it must guarantee him some credit, but it was not enough, and it would be too soon to even ask, he knew that. Give it a couple more years, when he’d shed the last of his youthful idiocy, and owned more than a rented room in a boarding house, and could stand there and look like a man one could admire and respect.
It felt like a reach, even thinking it. But he couldn’t say that and wouldn’t let on if he felt it, and he was grateful that Elsie seemed to be surer of their chances than he did, even now. But the longer Tybalt took to turn himself into the person he was trying to be, the more chance there was of Elsie having to turn down other options. Oh, he knew he’d made sacrifices for her sake, he didn’t argue that, but suddenly this situation seemed less like a difficulty, and more like a sacrifice. This would be Elsie sacrificing a whole other life for the flimsy potential of one. (This way round, it was more than he deserved, and it terrified him.)
With his thoughts still far away, Tyb’s next question was absent-minded, and not entirely sequential to the conversation. Still. “Do you like him?” She didn’t know him well, she’d already said. But the question remained. Did she?
