Page 28 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

T hat evening, Darcy sat with Colonel Forster rather than next to Miss Elizabeth, despite how much he would have preferred to stay by her side.

“Colonel, may I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course!” the man replied genially.

Darcy stiffened his resolve. The thought of being so open about Wickham went against every habit he held. Clearly, however, his previous methods had failed entirely. “Today I encountered someone with whom my family is connected, a Mr. Wickham, and he informed me that he had joined the militia under your command.”

The colonel nodded. “The name sounds familiar. I do not meet the new recruits the day they join, but he was on the list that Simmons brought me.”

“Yes, well, I hesitate to bring this to your attention as it is possible that the man is attempting to turn over a new leaf, but I would not be doing my duty as an Englishman were I to leave you unaware of the potential pitfalls.”

A slight furrow appeared in Colonel Forster’s brow. “Oh?”

Darcy’s stomach squirmed. “Mr. Wickham is the son of my father’s late steward, so I have known him all my life. Unfortunately, he does not have strong moral fibre. In fact, he has a habit of profligacy―” He leaned closer. “—both with women and with money,” he said in low tones. “I do not have the documentation with me, but I can send for it should you desire.”

Colonel Forster frowned. “You have proof, you say?”

“Yes,” Darcy said with a firm nod. “I hold many of his debts as a favour to my late father and have taken several women into my household to assist them. I am hopeful that he is attempting to change, but if he is not, I would not wish for his poor behaviour to cast suspicion upon the rest of the militia members. Or for the neighbourhood to turn against you simply due to the actions of one man.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Colonel Forster said. He pursed his lips and his gaze grew distant. Finally, he nodded to himself. “I will give him the chance to prove himself, but I shall keep a close eye on Mr. Wickham. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention.”

“Certainly, Colonel.”

Day 34/6: Tuesday, November 19, 1811

Elizabeth resigned herself to another day spent with Mr. Darcy. It had not been all bad. She chuckled; due to Mr. Collins’s verbosity, she had only witnessed bits and pieces of Mr. Darcy’s interactions with Mr. Clarke, but truly, the man was as awkward as a newborn foal attempting to find its footing.

Mr. Collins. The smile slid from her face. Given her mother’s behaviour, she was definitely up to something. And after the man’s satisfied expression when Elizabeth had stood listening to him natter on about theological works, she suspected Mr. Collins and her mother had already spoken.

She would need to discourage the man, but that would have to be a problem for Wednesday.

The day passed much as the previous days had: they met up on the pathway to Meryton, Mrs. Engel was nowhere in sight (though Mr. Darcy did walk up and down the street, carefully looking in shop windows), and Mrs. Phillips once more gave Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy an invitation to her dinner.

Elizabeth then dragged the group to another shop and introduced Mr. Darcy to another stranger, leaving him to practise his small talk.

The only variation came when Mr. Darcy asked if she intended to visit Oakham Mount this afternoon.

“That might be arranged,” Elizabeth murmured, wishing she knew precisely what he was thinking. Fortunately, she did not have to wait long.

“I do not know what else to do,” Mr. Darcy burst out the moment Elizabeth reached the top of the mount.

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean you are uncertain who else to speak to?”

Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I do not know whether I may have simply botched the conversation with Colonel Forster or whether I should have written something else to my aunt and uncle. Mrs. Engel said only that trying to change Wickham, Georgiana, or Fitzwilliam is futile,” he said, pacing back and forth across the muddy ground. “That means that I may be able to change anyone else—perhaps it is simply a matter of finding the right words. Perhaps we will not know how to succeed until we have tried a hundred times—the possible permutations of every conversation are legion! How am I supposed to discern which is the best outcome, short of spending years in this Tuesday, trying one thing after another?”

Elizabeth blinked at him. This was not the cool, controlled Mr. Darcy she was accustomed to. “I have been wondering if you ought to speak to your aunt and uncle in person; although, attempting to find Mrs. Engel might be the better option.”

Mr. Darcy waved her suggestion away. “If Mrs. Engel does not want to be found, it will be impossible for us to find her. The woman can disappear into thin air!” He frowned. “Perhaps going to London.... I did speak briefly with my aunt and uncle when I went to London to see Georgiana, but I did not go into detail, nor did I request their further assistance in the matter.”

“I still think Mrs. Engel must be nearby—how can she know what you have tried if she is not watching?”

“That may be true; however, I believe we are more likely to succeed in speaking to my aunt and uncle than in searching for a phantom.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Mr. Darcy, you have just elaborated on why you are dooming us to months or years of reliving this Tuesday if we do not get further direction. Mrs. Engel is the only one who can provide that further direction. Our course of action seems clear.”

Darcy’s jaw tensed as he wished that Miss Elizabeth was not quite so stubborn. His heart softened as she stood, her arms crossed, arguing that he was wrong, her eyes flashing fire, and her mouth firm. Her stubbornness was part of what attracted him so strongly. His lips turned up in an involuntary smile as he considered how beautiful she was when she was passionate about something.

She raised one eyebrow in question.

Darcy walked towards her until they stood less than an arm’s length apart. “I do not agree, but perhaps you need to see the truth for yourself. Therefore, I propose that we spend the next six days attempting to find Mrs. Engel. If we do not find her in that timeframe, we will spend the seventh day in rest and then I shall go to London.”

“Why the seventh day in rest?”

Darcy gave her a pained look. “Trust me, Miss Elizabeth, once you have experienced this Tuesday a myriad of times, you, too, will require a respite from your normal activities. Personally, I have found it quite soothing to leave Hertfordshire, but you may prefer a different method.”

“I do not ride, so I believe I will have to modify your method.”

“Ah. I had forgotten. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to teach you.”

Miss Elizabeth took a step towards him. “I will agree to the seven-day time limit if you will agree to utilise the repetitions we have to the fullest.”

“Pardon?”

She shrugged. “You have already mentioned your need to improve your small talk. Perhaps we may each consider what other opportunities we may avail ourselves of.”

“I see.” He frowned. “I still do not understand small talk. Could you—might you provide me with some further direction?”

Miss Elizabeth’s eyes went wide for a moment before she nodded. “What topics do you normally raise?” She hesitated. “Or what do you desire to use small talk for?”

“Small talk has a use?”

Miss Elizabeth stared at him in astonishment. “Mr. Darcy, as a man of status, do you not have to forge connections for the good of your family?”

“Not particularly,” he admitted. “My aunt manages our connections, and I simply present myself at the events she decrees are necessary. Other than that, I have a few acquaintances whose events I regularly attend.”

She studied him for a moment. “Then you primarily avoid small talk or respond in kind to whatever topic is introduced?”

He nodded.

“It is no wonder that you dislike it then. I use small talk to discover common interests. One may find kindred spirits everywhere. Barring that, I ask questions that illuminate a person’s character.”

“And people respond well to this?”

She gave a small shrug. “People like to talk about themselves, so if you can ask intelligent questions about their hobbies, they will immediately take to you.”

“I see. I have never considered small talk to fulfil such a function. Or really any function, save that of politeness.”

Miss Elizabeth chuckled. “I believe politeness is only the form of small talk, but the function is to bring people together. Without the function, the form becomes dull indeed!”

“Very well. I shall spend the next six days attempting to practise those skills.”

Miss Elizabeth smiled. “Excellent.” The smile dropped from her face, and she began to tap her fingers against her leg. “I shall have to consider how best to utilise these repetitions myself.”

DayS 35/7-40/12: Tuesday, November 19, 1811

The six days that followed were like something out of a dream for Darcy. He could not recall when he had last enjoyed his life so much. Miss Elizabeth’s quest to find Mrs. Engel caused her to study the windows of each shop on the street, and they went into several shops every day, dragging the group into any number of places Darcy would never have dreamt of entering. After all, why would he be seen in a milliner’s shop, particularly without Georgiana? Yet, he had gone into the milliner’s, looked at the hats (and missed Georgiana), and spoken to the proprietor about the benefits of small-town millinery.

In fact, now that he had begun applying Miss Elizabeth’s suggestions for small talk, he had begun to dread it much less. It was easy enough to ask about a person’s interests, and they were more than content to steer the conversation with only minimal input from him.

More than that, he found himself actually interested. Miss Elizabeth had begun a kind of game where they guessed at what a person’s hobbies might be before he asked about it. A smile spread over his lips as he recalled their exchanges—as they looked through a shop’s window, if someone was visible, they would each list their guesses in a low murmur. Once Mr. Collins had noticed and once Miss Bennet had heard them, but other than that, they had avoided detection.

During the afternoons, Miss Elizabeth visited her tenants and Darcy rode the surrounding areas, looking for Mrs. Engel and generally enjoying the sunshine and lack of responsibilities.

The only dark spot was the hatred that shot through him every time he saw Wickham. He would have expected that exposure might dull the strength of his response; it did not. Some days, the hatred was hot, and it was only having Miss Elizabeth nearby that kept him from throttling Wickham. Some days, it was so cold that he was surprised he had not methodically ruined the man’s life or even plotted murder, despite Mrs. Engel’s admonishment.

Either way, he was glad that Miss Elizabeth was nearby every time he saw Wickham. It was not anything that she said or did—simply her presence reminded him to keep his wits. He might glare at Wickham and wish that the man would simply die on his own, but he did not seek Wickham out, nor did he ever lose control.

Evenings were spent at Mrs. Phillips’s house with Miss Elizabeth. He had been afraid to spend too much time with her and had even told himself that, now that she knew about the repetitions, he would have to be doubly guarded. But his resolve never lasted past seeing her.

If only she had been born a member of the ton. A week had not been sufficient to obtain a surfeit of her presence—in fact, every day spent with her left him wishing for more and a part of him was thrilled by Mrs. Engel’s continued absence. He had laughed more in the past six days than he had since his mother’s death. Tomorrow would finally be their rest day, and Elizabeth had agreed to spend the entirety of it with him.