Page 31 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 43/15: Tuesday, November 19, 1811
The next day, Elizabeth nearly decided not to accompany her sisters to Meryton. She was exceedingly tempted to curl up with a good book in her room or to spend the day out of doors, rambling through the woods. Anything but endure yet another day of Mr. Collins’s endless discourses. Only self-preservation from her mother’s recriminations got her out of bed and off on her ramble. If today went as poorly as she expected, though, she might spend tomorrow “ill.”
Mr. Darcy’s absence once again left a strange, hollow feeling. It was bad enough that she was stuck repeating Tuesday—everything that she tried to do felt entirely pointless—let alone repeating it by herself. She had spoken to all the tenants, and every morning she had begun the day by writing out their needs so that she would not forget once Wednesday came. Other than that, however, there was little else she could do today.
As she walked through the morning sunshine, Elizabeth picked up a stick and began to swish it through the long grass on either side of the road. She had challenged Mr. Darcy to practise his skills. Perhaps she ought to do likewise. The common accomplishments had just never seemed all that worthwhile; what were the odds that she would ever be in a position where she would need them?
But if Jane married Mr. Bingley, she might encounter someone whom she wished to marry. Said accomplishments would benefit her in that situation, and even if it did not occur, learning them would not hurt.
More importantly, she did enjoy playing pianoforte and had always intended to get around to increasing her proficiency. She could practise that this afternoon. This morning though.... French had provided an excellent “secret language” for Jane, Charlotte, and her when they had been younger. It had been a couple of years since they had spoken French regularly, but it would not be too difficult to pick it back up, would it? Italian, likewise, had fascinated her—far more than learning to play the arias that had inspired her interest—and she could spend more time working on it. Her drawing, however, was dreadful.
Charlotte could draw. Perhaps she could start there this morning. And it would have the added benefit of avoiding Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth had not realised how much she had missed Charlotte until the moment she greeted her. It felt like forever—and it had been more than a month in truth. “How are you, Charlotte?” she asked, giving her a warm hug the moment the two of them were alone in Lucas Lodge’s drawing room.
“As well as I was two days ago,” Charlotte said with a quizzical look.
Elizabeth chuckled. “Two days may be an eventful time. For example, Mr. Collins has come to visit—and two days spent in that man’s company feels like an eternity.”
“Oh?” Charlotte said, pulling her friend over to a settee.
Elizabeth shook her head. “It is something you have to experience for yourself—and as he intends to stay until Saturday, you will have ample opportunity to do so.”
“I see.”
Elizabeth took Charlotte’s hand and moved to face her more fully. “I have been thinking about my woeful lack of accomplishments; will you teach me to draw?”
Charlotte’s brow furrowed. “Teach you to draw? Are you ill, Eliza?”
“What does wanting to learn to draw have to do with being ill?” Elizabeth asked with a laugh.
“You have never seemed interested before. Did something happen? If Mr. Collins complained about your lack of accomplishments, or―”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, it is nothing like that. I just—I wish to learn, and I always forget to request your assistance.” She gave her friend a rueful smile. “Not to mention that my mother cannot complain that I am avoiding Mr. Collins if I am increasing my eligibility.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Ah, I see. I am nothing but your alibi. You do not really wish to learn to draw.”
“I do, but yes, the circumstances of today have certainly provided the impetus for me to come over here today and ask.” How little Charlotte knew about the prominent part that Tuesday’s circumstances played! A pang went through Elizabeth’s chest; she could re-explain her situation to Jane and Charlotte every day, but every subsequent time she had to re-explain it to Jane, she felt more and more alone. She would rather just wait until Wednesday. “Would you be willing to spare some time now? My sisters and Mr. Collins will be stopping back by Lucas Lodge on their way to Longbourn, so you will have the opportunity to meet Mr. Collins then.”
Charlotte smiled at her. “I suppose I might spare some time for you.” She gave Elizabeth a mock stern look. “Provided that you are willing to work at the skill and will not cast me aside the moment you no longer need the excuse.”
Elizabeth returned her friend’s smile. “I promise that I shall do my utmost to learn what I may today, and that I will continue my practising after Mr. Collins is gone.”
“Very well.”
Darcy took a deep breath as he was announced to his aunt. Lady Margaret Matlock was alone in her sitting room; presumably, Georgiana was in the music room and his uncle was in his study once more.
“William! Are you well?” his aunt said, rushing to his side and clasping his hands in hers.
Darcy smiled at her. “Yes, Aunt Margaret.”
She gave him a stern look. “You did not send word that you would return today.” Glancing at his travel-stained raiment, her nostrils flared. “Apparently, you have only just arrived.”
“Yes. I did not write because my visit was unexpected.”
“Well, sit down then and explain precisely why you rode all the way here,” she said, gesturing to a wooden chair and ringing for tea.
“Unfortunately, Wickham has arrived in Meryton,” Darcy said as he sat down.
Lady Matlock’s eyebrows shot up. “That wretch! How dare he show his face!”
Darcy nodded, his hands tensing in his lap. “Those were my sentiments as well. I do not believe Wickham knew that I would be in Meryton—he seemed surprised to see me, though that could be entirely feigned. One never knows.” He cleared his throat. “Regardless, I am concerned that Georgiana may be in danger.”
“If he is in Hertfordshire, I do not see how he can reach her here.”
Darcy hesitated. “That is part of what I wished to discuss with you: is there any way he might succeed in marrying Georgiana? Whether through guile or force?”
Lady Matlock frowned. “Are you concerned that he might attempt to make the truth known and force a marriage?”
“I do not know. I do not believe there is enough evidence to do so, or else he would not have simply left Ramsgate. But I cannot be certain.”
His aunt’s frown deepened. “Of course, a reputation is a fragile thing and Georgiana has certainly put hers in jeopardy, as I have already informed her. Still, if he were to attempt anything, it would be easy enough to discredit him. I imagine if the truth about the living at Kympton were to become common knowledge, his attempts would be disregarded as nothing more than sour grapes.”
“I had not considered making that information public.”
His aunt fixed him with a beady stare. “I realise that you wish to protect Wickham for your father’s sake. But if he continues to prove troublesome, your father would not have wished you to allow him to disrespect you.”
“Are you certain?” Darcy asked. “Wickham has always maintained that he was my father’s favourite. And I—I do not know that I can disagree with him.”
Lady Matlock reached over and gripped his hand tightly. “Your father was hard on you, William, but it was because he loved you and because he did not know how to go on without Anne to help him. As for Wickham―” She scoffed. “He is mistaken about what constitutes favouritism. After all, if he was your father’s favourite, your father would have taken the time to educate him himself, rather than simply spending leisure time with him and paying for his schooling.” She squeezed his hand. “I always told George that it was a mistake to invest so much in the boy. But I believe it was a chance for him to simply enjoy someone without having any burdens to bear.”
Darcy grimaced.
“Not that you were a burden, dear—just someone who required his attention, and, as he had a great many people to whom he wished to attend, it... well, I believe that he always felt inadequate. He could not fill the role of both mother and father entirely. He did his best, but he always worried that it would not be enough. And seeing you children reminded him of his deficiencies.”
Though he had considered that perspective previously, Darcy still hated it. He had several chores that he felt the same way about, and it did not sit well that his father had felt that way about him.
“You do not look soothed, but truly, William, your father loved you.”
“Of course.”
“And he certainly would not have approved of Wickham’s behaviour as of late. That ‘gentleman’ has far exceeded even what your father would have tolerated.” She sighed and folded her hands in her lap. “When George began spending more time with him, I worried that he was raising the boy’s expectations in life—it must have been difficult to have been treated virtually as a Darcy and then to lose those advantages when he became an adult. Obviously, Wickham could have utilised the advantages to obtain a near independence. But he was unwilling to settle for such a position.”
Darcy snorted. “More likely, he was unwilling to do the necessary work.” Had he ever seen Wickham exert himself, save in pursuing some scheme or other?
“Well, either way, exposing Wickham to the world would not be at all outside your father’s wishes should Wickham approach Georgiana again.”
Darcy leaned forward, the wooden chair creaking as he shifted. “You cannot think of any other way he may succeed? Do you believe any of your servants would assist in kidnapping her or perhaps turn a blind eye to Wickham’s schemes?”
Lady Matlock stiffened. “Certainly not! You know they have all been with us for many years or come highly recommended by someone we know well.”
Darcy nodded. “I thought so; however, we—I have been unable to come up with any other means by which he might seek out Georgiana.”
Lady Matlock eyed him. “You have told someone the nature of Georgiana’s interactions with Wickham?” she asked sternly.
Darcy froze, internally cursing his slip of the tongue. If only he could stop thinking about Elizabeth! Or perhaps it was only that he had lost some of his self-control over these many repetitions. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Who is this person?”
Darcy hesitated, trying to decide whether to discuss Elizabeth with his aunt. He knew the duty he owed to his family name, but last night while he was lying in bed, he could not help but imagine a world where he was free to marry Elizabeth.
“Aunt, did you ever wish to do something that society would not approve of?”
Aunt Margaret examined him. “Frequently, why?”
Darcy’s eyes went wide. “You frequently wish to do things society disapproves of?”
Aunt Margaret sighed heavily. “I frequently do things society disapproves of—one cannot live one’s life solely for the sake of others’ approval. Besides, society includes many people with many conflicting desires. The moment I step outside my door, a wide array of people disapprove.”
“Then how do you decide when to baulk at society’s norms?”
“Well, I try to ensure that I do not behave in a way that I will later regret—regardless of society’s opinion.”
“But what about the duty you owe to your family name?”
Aunt Margaret stared at her hands in her lap for a long moment. “There are times when what one owes to the family can be conflicting. For example, I owe honesty to my family name, do I not? The Fitzwilliams have been renowned for generations for not beating around the bush. However, I also owe politeness, and love towards my niece and nephew. Were I to say precisely what I think, that would not always be polite. And if I were to expose Georgiana’s folly to the world, I would not be working for her best interest, even though it is not precisely honest to hide the truth.”
“You are not lying to anyone,” Darcy said stiffly.
Aunt Margaret nodded pensively. “But I would, if it would protect Georgiana. As it is, I am fully prepared to divert suspicion in any way possible.”
Darcy’s stomach churned. He would lie for Georgiana, too. The same conflict existed in him.
His aunt turned to him, taking his hand in hers. “My point is that you will always have to weigh the duty you owe to your family name against what you believe to be best. And sometimes they will conflict, and you will have to choose what is best overall, even when it is difficult.” Aunt Margaret smiled. “Trying to discern what is best is part of the difficulty and freedom of being an adult.” She patted his hand. “Your uncle and I are so proud of the way you have shouldered your burdens with grace and tenacity. But you do not always have to be perfect, William. We will still love you.”
“Even if you disagree with my choices?”
His aunt nodded. “Though we will certainly do our best to ensure you are aware of our reasons for disagreeing.”
“I would expect no less.” He took a deep breath. When else could he speak so frankly about Elizabeth to his aunt? “There is a young lady in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh?”
“She is―” Darcy swallowed hard, trying to wet his dry throat. “She is an excellent young woman—kind, witty, industrious. She cares for her father’s tenants and has proven to be intelligent and wise. We have spent much time together as Bingley is enamoured with her older sister.”
“Her father has tenants, so I assume he is a gentleman,” Aunt Margaret said.
Darcy nodded. “They have a moderate estate which is entailed upon a distant cousin. I—when I first met her, all I could see were her family’s improprieties and her poor status, but....”
“Now you believe her other qualities outweigh those things.”
“Yes.”
“What are her connections? And to what improprieties do you refer?” his aunt asked carefully.
Darcy nearly refused to answer the question, but he could not get an honest response if he did not provide full information. “One of her uncles is in trade, the other uncle is a solicitor, and her distant cousin is Aunt Catherine’s rector.”
Lady Matlock froze, merely blinking at him for several moments. “William, I―” She took a deep breath. “I can see that you care deeply for this young lady; however, I cannot approve of her family. In trade? And related to your aunt’s rector? You know that Cathy would be exceedingly displeased and would do everything in her power to ensure that society never accepts this young lady.”
“I do—but Aunt Catherine will be upset if I marry anyone except Cousin Anne. More than that, though, I believe Miss Elizabeth, or someone like her, would be a magnificent sister to Georgiana, an exceptional mistress of my estate, and an excellent wife.” He leaned towards his aunt. “She pushes me to be a better person.” His lips quirked up in remembrance of her stern admonitions to practise small talk. “And she has brought laughter back into my life—I did not think that was possible after Mother’s death.”
“William, be reasonable. If you are estranged from society, how will Georgiana find a husband?”
Darcy sighed. “I have considered that very problem again and again. But if you were to support my pursuing Miss Elizabeth or someone similar, I believe that the ton would eventually accept her.”
“Your family name―”
“Would be better served marrying someone like Miss Elizabeth than one of the ton’s misses who will never be satisfied with my wealth and position. I do not wish to spend my life catering to society’s whims!” he said, realising just how true that was as the words came out of his mouth. “If I marry one of the ton’s darlings, I shall spend the rest of my life poorer than I am now. Yes, I may accrue connections and status, but I shall have to endure a lifetime of misery. Aunt, which of the ton’s ladies even cares about her tenants? Most will simply put minimal effort into caring for those we are responsible for and then spend the rest of their energy chasing after society’s approval.
“I care more for our family’s honour than for society’s approval, save for how it will affect Georgiana if I lose it. Miss Elizabeth is honest and principled. She will not squander any benefits she obtains, regardless of whether or not she marries me.”
His aunt held up a hand, her eyes going heavenward as though praying for patience. “I appreciate that you care about family honour, William. And you are right that the Darcy name has always been synonymous with principles. But―” She speared him with a look. “There are young women in the ton who would be similarly principled―”
“Name one.”
“—I beg your pardon.”
“I apologise for interrupting you, but, Aunt Margaret, I cannot recall one woman whom you have introduced me to who has sparked any interest on my part and who possesses even a tenth of Miss Elizabeth’s principles. The ladies of the ton are taught to excel in surface skills like painting tables and netting purses. Miss Elizabeth has had to develop more substantial skills, such as her ability to understand people, her intelligence, her kindness, and her wit. She is—she is not like other young ladies—and not just because of my feelings for her. I do not believe that high society provides inducements to develop these more important skills.”
His aunt sighed. “I do not dispute that disproportionate emphasis is placed upon one’s accomplishments, but I believe you are forgetting some of the key traits that such accomplishments showcase, such as creativity, perseverance, and dedication. Regardless, you simply have to be patient until you meet a suitable female among your set.”
“For how long?” Darcy asked, the prick of tears surprising him. He had not realised how lonely he had been on a regular basis until he had been trapped in this loop and rescued from that loneliness by Elizabeth. “Wait until after Georgiana has married, so that my choice will not negatively impact her options? Wait until I am old and have borne the burdens of managing an estate and raising a sister on my own?” He cleared his throat, trying to clear away sudden tears. “I cannot—Aunt Margaret, you are the best of aunts, but I wish to marry―”
“As I have been telling you for some time! It is high time you choose a wife. Preferably not Anne, as I do not think she could bear you heirs no matter what Cathy says, but there are plenty of eligible young women in our set.”
Darcy shook his head. His aunt seemed incapable of considering his arguments. He did not want to marry someone from the ton. He did not want to simply exist, to enter a loveless marriage for the sake of his family’s name. It was not his duty to be miserable. Or if it was, he could no longer perform it adequately.
“We shall have to agree to disagree—at least for now,” Darcy said, trying to smile.
His aunt put a soothing hand on his arm. “Do not be cross. I am certain that everything will turn out just perfectly well. You need only be patient. I have in mind several young women to whom I wish to introduce you once the Season begins. If you are determined to marry immediately, I can send invitations to some of them for our Christmas ball.”
He loved his aunt, he reminded himself as a maid brought in the tea things. She was passionately committed to doing what she believed to be best for him and Georgiana and for their families. She simply could not see what he had gradually come to realise because she had not had all these outside influences stripped away. For the first time, he was grateful for the repetitions. Though his daily activities were largely composed of keeping up with his estate and fulfilling his social obligations, these endless Tuesdays had shown him that there was more to life and that he wanted that more. He did not want to live a life trapped in the endless rounds of social necessities and chores—it would be even more enervating than being trapped in this Tuesday for the rest of his life. He hesitated before smiling at his aunt as she handed him a cup of tea. “Tell me how Georgiana is doing.”