Page 15 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 21: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
“Good morning, sir. It is Tuesday, November 19, and the weather looks likely to remain fine all day.”
Darcy groaned. Curse Wickham! Why had the man not simply given up on Georgiana! The rage that customarily simmered deep within him heated even further at the thought that not even physical violence had deterred Wickham. The man was a monster! If only there were a way to appeal to his self-interest. Evidently threats were not enough.
That morning Darcy determinedly strode up to Wickham and again asked for a private word.
Wickham agreed, and they stepped away from the group.
“I doubt you will tell me what exactly you are doing here―”
Wickham smirked. “Joining the militia, did you not hear?”
“I cannot stop you from that course of action.” He hesitated, still trying to decide how best to reach Wickham. “We have never seen eye to eye, but I would like to talk to you about my sister.”
“And how is dear Miss Darcy?” Wickham asked, his lips curling even further.
Darcy forced his fists to relax, reminding himself that he could not behave in a manner contrary to a Darcy. He owed it to himself, if not to Wickham. And really, if he punched the man again, did not that simply inform Wickham that he had succeeded in ruffling him? It was tantamount to letting Wickham win.
“My sister is well,” Darcy said with forced evenness. “I would like to ensure that she stays that way.” He glared at Wickham, attempting to convey the danger the man would place himself in. “If you ever attempt to contact her again, I will do my utmost to ruin you.”
Wickham scoffed. “Darcy, you have done more than anyone for me. You would not actually ruin your father’s favourite.”
“That saved you while he was alive,” Darcy nearly growled. “It will not save you now. I hold several thousand pounds of your debts. It will be a simple matter to have you thrown in debtor’s prison, and should you even look at my sister, I shall do just that.”
Wickham paled before attempting to rally. “I will take that under advisement.”
“See that you do,” Darcy said severely.
Mrs. Engel was not in evidence, again, but Darcy hoped the immediate threat of debtor’s prison might stop Wickham’s machinations where fear of Fitzwilliam had not. The rest of the group had looked at them curiously when the two gentlemen had returned—none more so than Miss Elizabeth. Wickham excused himself soon afterward.
For a moment, Darcy allowed himself to gravitate towards Miss Elizabeth, to allow her presence to soothe the rage and anxiety. He and Bingley accompanied the Bennets to Mrs. Phillips’s again. Darcy did not bother to speak, knowing that Mr. Collins would usurp any conversational attempts. Fortunately, simply being around Miss Elizabeth was enough to set him to rights. Wickham receded into the background of his consciousness for a glorious few moments while he listened to her.
He could not prevent himself from accepting Mrs. Phillips’s invitation and the chance to be with Miss Elizabeth for the evening.
Bingley once more asked about his prior acquaintanceship with Wickham, but Darcy fobbed him off, not in the mood to explain the situation yet again. They “inspected” some of the fields, allowing Darcy to further dismiss the morning’s frustrations.
Dinner with Miss Elizabeth was a pleasure, as usual. He asked about her day and she responded with many of the events he had already heard about from her. It was not new information, but he still enjoyed simply listening to her speak.
By bedtime, he was in fairly good spirits; Wickham had definitely reacted to Darcy’s warning, and he had spent the evening with Miss Elizabeth.
Day 22: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
It was with a supreme effort that Darcy refrained from snapping at Hawkin for his usual rundown of the day. Darcy had long ago requested that Hawkin lay out the date and the plans for the day, and it had served him well for several years now.
That did not stop him from wishing he could rescind the request. Having the date lobbed at him like a powder keg every morning was unpleasant, to say the least.
Wickham had looked discomfited yesterday! Why could not the man simply leave Georgiana alone?
Once more, he requested a private word with Wickham and drew him far enough away that no one could eavesdrop. This time he skipped the query about Wickham’s presence.
“What are your intentions towards my sister?” Darcy ground out.
Wickham blinked at him. “I assume you have not changed your opinion, so they are no different than they were four months ago.”
Darcy took a step towards him. “I have already told you that if you so much as look at her, I will make your life extremely uncomfortable,” he snarled. “I cannot imagine that you would enjoy spending the rest of your life in debtor’s prison.”
“I―”
“I hold sufficient debts to keep you there. And do you really think Fitzwilliam will let you live if you should succeed in marrying Georgiana?” he asked in a low voice. “Better that she become a widow than remain shackled to the likes of you.”
Wickham took a step back and stared at him. “You always have to do your best to ensure I do not receive my due—even when it is imagined wrongs that you are righting, do you not?” he nearly spat.
Darcy ignored Wickham’s faux innocence. “You pursuing Georgiana is no imagined wrong—it is in your best interests to stay away from her.” He took a step towards him. “I want your word that you will leave her alone or else I will send for proof of your debts today. I would hate to have to take further steps.”
“You are mad! I am not even in London!”
Darcy took another step threateningly towards the man.
Wickham raised both hands. “Fine. I will not pursue Miss Darcy so long as it remains profitable to avoid her—we can speak again closer to her presentation.”
Darcy growled at the man.
Wickham blanched and pushed past him to return to the group. Darcy took several deep breaths and then followed the wretch over to the Bennets.
The rest of the day continued much as the previous day had: once more, Mrs. Engel was absent, he and Bingley dined at the Phillipses’, and once more, he sat with Miss Elizabeth, allowing her presence to remind him that there were good things in the world.
Day 23: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
Darcy growled as Hawkin announced that it was still Tuesday. What more did Wickham require to simply leave Georgiana alone? The man was not an idiot—despite often behaving like one. It seemed impossible that the threat of debtor’s prison from Darcy or death at Fitzwilliam’s hands would not sway him to avoid Georgiana! What else would he have to do!
“Wickham,” he began the moment they had attained moderate privacy, “I know that you bear no love for me―”
Wickham sneered at him.
“—but I believe that somewhere in the depths of your soul you cared about my father. How could you not, considering how tenderly he watched over you?
“You have professed to miss him. I would ask then why you persist in injuring the one thing he held dear above all else: Georgiana. I cannot force you to change your ways, but I would hope that for the love you bear him, you would stop this pursuit.”
“I do not know what you are talking about, Darcy—you already prevented me from showering Miss Darcy with affection. And I think that he would have been glad to have his favourite son marry his daughter. He always treated me like family—why would he disapprove of our union?”
Darcy’s mouth nearly fell open. “My father would never approve of you marrying Georgiana—he wished her to marry someone of similar status and wealth. More than that though, he wished her to marry someone who would marry her for who she is, not for her wealth.”
“I would marry her for who she is—after all, becoming a Darcy would be a high achievement.”
Darcy glared at him. “You will never be a Darcy.”
Wickham took two quick steps towards Darcy, his hands clenched into fists, before coming to an abrupt halt and smiling, though the smile was pasted on at best. He glanced over towards the Bennets and Mr. Denny, nodded at Darcy, and then walked back over to the group. Clearly, Wickham was unwilling to show his true colours this early on.
Darcy smiled. Wickham had nearly lost control—something that only rarely occurred. That had to have worked, did it not?
Day 24: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
No, no, it did not. The next morning, Darcy groaned into his pillow, despite how childlike it was. Why? He wanted to protect Georgiana, but these damned repetitions were enough to drive him mad! Why could he not at least attempt something different on Wednesday instead of having to repeat the same conversations over and over and over again? At least he managed to avoid Miss Bingley the majority of the time. Darcy fidgeted with his coffee cup in between sips. What else could be done?
Was it possible that Wickham was not the solution? He had spent so long trying to change Wickham’s behaviour, but perhaps there was another angle to investigate. Surely Mrs. Engel would be in Meryton today—it had been five days since he had last seen her. If she was truly working to assist him, would she not give him further information soon?
Darcy’s knuckles grew white as he approached Mrs. Engel’s bench to find that she was, once again, absent. If she truly had enabled this unending Tuesday, why did she leave him to his own devices? She had given only the barest hint at what he needed to do to escape. What if Wickham was not the problem at all? What if this was some nefarious plot against Darcy himself?
No, that was ridiculous. Any being powerful enough to loop time was certainly powerful enough to simply take what it wanted from him. Her avowed purpose—that of taking pity upon him so that he did not end up tied to that wretch for the rest of his life—seemed the most likely. She had no reason to lie to him; no one would believe him, and time would reset regardless.