Page 30 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

“W illiam! Good heavens, what are you doing here?” his uncle asked, standing from behind his desk. “Peg did not tell me that you were returning today.”

“That is because I did not tell her I would be here today. Nor do I intend to stay for long,” Darcy said, gripping the top of the chair in front of his uncle’s desk as hope and exhaustion warred within him. The long ride and London’s perpetual gloom had not bolstered his spirits.

Lord Matlock poured them both a drink and gestured for Darcy to sit. “What can I do for you?”

“Georgiana is well, is she not?” Darcy asked as he sat down. When he had come to London several weeks ago, she had been unharmed, but he could not stop himself from asking.

His uncle nodded. “As far as I know. You could probably find her in the music room—Peg complains that she has to drag Georgie out of there all the time.”

“Good.” Darcy took a deep breath. “Uncle, I have come because I am worried about Georgiana. I spoke to Wickham yesterday—he has enlisted in the militia in Hertfordshire.”

Lord Matlock’s expression darkened. “I doubt that man will survive long at the military life.”

“I will not be at all surprised should he desert,” Darcy agreed. “However, I have reason to believe that he will renew his attempt to marry Georgiana.”

His uncle scoffed. “I doubt she would take him back—Peg says that Georgie is very penitent.”

“She has been very penitent since the day I arrived in Ramsgate. But....” Darcy frowned. “Can you think of a way that Wickham would succeed in gaining access to her without our knowledge? Might he not write to her under the guise of one of her friends or―” He made a face. “I do not know. Something.”

Lord Matlock leaned back in his chair. “I know you blame yourself for what happened to Georgie, but really, it is not your fault.”

Darcy raised a hand to halt him. “That is not what I wish to discuss. There is blame enough to go around. I simply―” He leaned forward, wishing that he could explain the whole mess to his Uncle Stephen, that the man would immediately believe him and provide sound advice, that perhaps Darcy would be less alone in this mess. Miss Elizabeth was wonderful, but he longed for the advice of an older, wiser person. “Is there any way that Wickham could contact her?”

“We cannot guarantee that he cannot find a way,” Lord Matlock said, studying Darcy carefully. “But it is highly unlikely. Georgiana does not go out by herself—she is always accompanied by a maid or Mrs. Annesley or your aunt. I suppose he could bribe a servant to pass a note to her, but there are few servants who have not known and loved Georgie for many years. They would be more likely to bring any note to me than to give it to Georgiana.” Lord Matlock stood and walked around the desk, sitting on its edge and facing Darcy. “Is there something else going on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Darcy asked, gripping the chair arms to keep from fidgeting.

Lord Matlock held his gaze. “William, you rode all the way to London today, supposedly to ask me if I thought that Wickham might be able to speak to Georgiana. What is really going on?”

Darcy hesitated. “You will think me mad.” He gave a bitter chuckle. “Not that it will matter in the morning,” he muttered.

His uncle raised one eyebrow.

“I have been experiencing—divine intervention, I believe. Someone who appears to be not human—perhaps an angel? Perhaps a magical being of some sort?—has caused time to function in a series of repetitions rather than in its a normal linear fashion.”

Both eyebrows went up sharply.

“When I asked her about it, the woman told me that I was condemned to have Wickham as my brother if I followed the path I was on, but that she wished to give me an opportunity to escape this fate.”

Lord Matlock studied his nephew, and Darcy did his best to hold his uncle’s gaze steadily.

“You have been working too hard,” Lord Matlock finally said, shaking his head mournfully.

“Uncle, I know how it sounds. However, it is the truth. Today is the forty-second time I have lived Tuesday, November 19, 1811.”

His uncle’s disbelief did not relent.

“This is only the second time I have spoken to you in the past many Tuesdays, so I have little that I can say to prove it to you.” Darcy thought furiously, trying to recall if there was anything that might convince his uncle. His aunt had informed him that he was welcome to join them for dinner tomorrow, as their current engagement had been unexpectedly cancelled. “The Langfords will cancel your dinner with them tomorrow due to his lordship’s illness.” Hopefully, his uncle had already received the news. If not... well, his aunt could corroborate.

His uncle’s arms fell to his sides. “How did you know that?”

“Aunt Margaret mentioned it when I was here last.”

“You could have discovered that when you arrived; have you already spoken to Peg?”

Darcy shook his head. “If you tell me something I could not learn any other way, I will gladly return tomorrow with confirmation that I am speaking the truth.”

The man studied him for some time, then chuckled ruefully. “I cannot believe I am going along with this, but you never were the sort to prank someone in this manner, nor can I see you believing a hoax. Now, what did this woman say?”

“She told me that I was on a path to have Wickham as my brother and that she wished to give me an opportunity to change that fate.”

Lord Matlock stood and poured himself another drink. “I do not see how it can be so. Georgiana would not let such a wretch back into her life―”

“What if he kidnapped her?” Darcy suggested.

Lord Matlock shook his head. “Too difficult. The house is full of servants who have been with us for years. No one would assist in kidnapping her—nor would they turn a blind eye should someone else make the attempt.” The man began to pace. “I suppose I can speak to Watkins and ask him to re-examine the servants.”

“I would very much appreciate it,” Darcy said fervently. He cradled his head in his hands. “I have tried over and over again, and I cannot account for how else Wickham could get to Georgiana.”

Lord Matlock put a hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “William, you are one of the most capable men I know. If these repetitions are truly occurring, I believe you can navigate them.” He squeezed Darcy’s shoulder for a moment. “I shall speak to Peg, Watkins, and Mrs. Boyle today.” Lord Matlock hesitated. “And should we need to repeat this conversation, you may tell me that I nearly got sent down from Cambridge for taking the king’s sceptre.”

“You took the king’s sceptre?” Darcy asked in disbelief.

His uncle cleared his throat. “It was a schoolboy lark that seemed eminently reasonable at the time.” He fixed Darcy with a glare. “No one else, save my schoolmates, knows the truth, and I would prefer to keep it that way.”

Darcy nodded solemnly. “Of course, Uncle.”