Page 34 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Day 45/17: Tuesday, November 19, 1811

Elizabeth awoke with a smile on her face. She would see Mr. Darcy today!

She chuckled. How odd that someone whose presence she had dreaded for so long had become so essential. It took almost no time before she had spoken to Betsey and Cook (confirming it was still Tuesday) and collected her things so she could go on her morning ramble. How fortunate that she was repeating a day bursting with sunshine rather than a dreary one when she would have been confined to Longbourn.

“Miss Elizabeth,” a voice called the moment she stepped onto the path toward Oakham Mount.

Elizabeth spun toward the sound. Mr. Darcy stood partially concealed just inside the forest with Sisyphus tied nearby. She smiled at him, and the day seemed just a little brighter.

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a little curtsy.

Mr. Darcy bowed. “Miss Elizabeth. May I accompany you up the mount?”

“Of course.” Thank goodness she had yet to meet anyone on the path up the mount today!

Mr. Darcy drew near and held out an arm, which she took, glad of the extra warmth, and Sisyphus trailed along behind them.

“How were your trips?” she began.

He sighed. “Unsuccessful, as I am sure you surmised.”

“Well, I supposed that they were not successful in your ultimate goal, but I hope that you still enjoyed seeing your family.”

Mr. Darcy smiled down at her. “I did—somewhat. It was—difficult to repeat the same conversations with my aunt and uncle. And to see Georgiana returned to the forlorn state she was in prior to one of our conversations.”

She squeezed his arm in sympathy. “I understand.”

Mr. Darcy took a deep breath. “However, I believe I have—at least for now—ruled out speaking to my aunt and uncle as a solution to our predicament.”

“I think we shall have to continue our search for Mrs. Engel,” Elizabeth said. “I attempted to speak to Mr. Wickham while you were away, and―”

Mr. Darcy came to an abrupt halt and faced her. “You did what?”

“I merely pointed out the likely dangers of pursuing Miss Darcy and said we would hate to lose our newest community member. Unfortunately, the man is as hardheaded as a goat and as slippery as an eel.”

He reached out and clasped her hands. “Miss Elizabeth, please, please do not put yourself in his power.”

“I did not.”

Mr. Darcy squeezed her hands tightly. “What if Wickham eventually remembers these Tuesdays? What if he realises you are assisting me? If he pursued retribution on you or your family, I could not forgive myself.”

Elizabeth paused. “I appreciate your concern, but were the man to come after me as a result of my own actions, it would be my own fault.”

“Not when you are only trying to help me.”

“Mr. Darcy, you appear to have an exaggerated sense of responsibility. If I choose to behave in a certain manner, I alone am responsible for the consequences.”

Darcy shook his head. Were it not for his own foolishness, Wickham could have been hobbled years ago. He could have put the man in debtor’s prison or allowed Fitzwilliam to take care of the matter, or—there were so many things he could have done, had he acted sooner.

“Were it not for me, you would not even be a part of these repetitions,” he reminded her. “It is my failure to execute Mrs. Engel’s instructions that has driven you into this situation.”

Elizabeth snorted delicately. “What instructions? She has not given you sufficient instructions at all.” She frowned. “In fact, I have been wondering what precisely is the point of these repetitions without instructions.”

“Mrs. Engel does not seem given to torture, but I do not know her well, obviously.”

“Again, she has not given you the opportunity to do so.”

Darcy squeezed her hands once more in gratitude before realising how improperly he was behaving and dropping them at once. What must she think of him? He held out his arm again, eyes focused on the path ahead lest his embarrassment be plainly visible. “I thank you for your faith, but I failed to ask her questions those first few days.”

“I doubt you recognised what was truly occurring—I did not.”

Darcy nodded, though he did not entirely agree with her. “Perhaps.”

They walked the rest of the way up in silence. Darcy’s thoughts shifted through the various things he had discussed with his aunt and uncle—Elizabeth was the sort of woman who would shine, no matter her setting. He could easily imagine her navigating the ton, delighting many with her kindness and wit, and fully able to sting back should someone attempt to put her down. It was so easy to imagine, in fact, that he nearly asked her if she had already aggregated experience in that arena.

“Do you have a plan for finding Mrs. Engel?” Elizabeth broke into his musings.

He shook his head. “I do not believe that we will find her before she is ready to be found.” He sighed. “I have been―” The fingers of his left hand twitched towards his coat sleeve in an attempt to hide his fidgets. The idea had plagued him before Elizabeth had arrived, and now it had returned. He cleared his throat. “I have been thinking; what if we do not succeed?”

“You mean, what if she has set an impossible task?” Elizabeth asked, her brow furrowing.

Darcy swallowed hard and nodded.

“I do not believe she would do that—what would be the point? If she is prone to torturing people, would she not remain to witness our distress? And why would she tell you how to break the spell?”

“Spell?” Darcy asked, his eyebrows raised.

Elizabeth waved a hand vaguely in front of them. “Miracle? Whatever you wish to call it. My point is that she took a great deal of trouble to ensure you possessed that information.” Her frown deepened. “I do not know precisely how changing your future would benefit her, but if we accept that she has the power to halt time, it seems likely that she has other information about time—such as knowledge of future events. And such a being would hardly need to trouble themselves with causing difficulty for mere mortals. Truly, save for motives of amusement or kindness, there is little reason to place us in this situation.”

“Perhaps it is both,” Darcy suggested.

“Then why has she not shown herself?”

“I do not know.”

Elizabeth squared her shoulders and stepped away from him as they reached the top of the mount. “Nor do I. There is little we can do, save accept her instructions as accurate and attempt to change events.”

“Georgiana is so heartbroken by Wickham’s desertion; I do not believe she will ever again accept his attentions. Nor has Wickham made a habit of pursuing where he has been rebuffed. I simply do not understand how they would end up married.”

Elizabeth shifted, biting her lip. “I do not wish to suggest....” She sighed. “What about a forced compromise?”

“Georgiana is closely guarded. How could such a thing be accomplished?”

“That is a question for Mrs. Engel.”

“Indeed.” Darcy studied her as she stared out over the winter-bare forest. “Have you considered what you would do if—if we are unable to resolve the situation appropriately?”

“I do not know. Mrs. Engel appears to have provided a method of escape. But if—if we were to experience a great many more Tuesdays....” She glanced up at him. “There are several books I have been wishing to read—and I suppose one might utilise the time to develop one’s skills.”

“Such as horseback riding?” Darcy suggested, one corner of his mouth curling up.

Elizabeth made a face. “Once was not enough?”

“Not if you wish to become an accomplished horsewoman,” he said with a chuckle. “I believe we ought to continue keeping a schedule of rest days, lest we go mad.”

“That seems reasonable. What would you do if we were to continue repeating Tuesday?”

Darcy clasped his hands behind his back. “I have been asking myself that question; I do not know. Bingley has few books in his library—and I have had difficulty in concentrating sufficiently for reading. I have already ridden many of the local trails, and riding farther afield holds little appeal.” He tapped his right index finger against the palm of his other hand. “I have lately come to realise that duty to my family name has defined me. Every activity, every acquaintance—all are filtered through what will bring honour to the Darcy name.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, scrutinising him. “Is that so? What of Mr. Bingley?”

“Bingley?”

“You must forgive me for being blunt: he is not one who would be accepted by the ton, is he? Would your family honour be satisfied by befriending the son of a tradesman? Staying in his house even?”

Darcy nodded solemnly. “You are right that it is not—my father might not have approved. My mother would have, though; she always judged people based on their character rather than their status.” He smiled softly. “I remember her talking about how one of our tenants had the soul of a gentleman.”

Elizabeth studied Mr. Darcy. This was the first time he had spoken of his mother, and the gentleness on his features was one she never would have expected to see on this somewhat severe young man. He wore it well, though.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I have spent my entire life thinking first of what society expects of me, what the Darcy name would be honoured by, and not enough time considering what I desire or what my mother would be proud of. Long ago, I concluded that I did not wish to become just like my father, but I believe I have failed,” he said, the words sounding as though they were dragged from the depths of his soul.

Elizabeth merely waited, leaving room for Mr. Darcy to speak.

“I do not know what to do now. I feel as though my mistakes are—I cannot even see a pathway beyond where I am now,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the forest below them. He glanced over at her. “Do you never feel constrained by the expectations placed upon you?”

She studied the view. “I cannot say that I have the same expectations that you have borne, but at times I feel—smothered by my family. My father wishes for a daughter in his own image, and in many respects, I am more than content to be that. But my mother.... She is not like your mother was, apparently,” Elizabeth said with a wry twist of her lips. “I cannot fulfil her expectations—not without losing myself entirely.”

“Yet you have been strong enough not to lose yourself. How?”

“I cannot claim any great wisdom or strength—it is probably due to sheer stubbornness on my part.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile. “Jane has long deplored my unwillingness to bend with circumstances. I am just too stubborn for my own good.”

Darcy chuckled. Too stubborn for her own good indeed. Her unwillingness to learn to ride was a perfect example of said stubbornness. And yet—her stubbornness was part of what he found so alluring. To have someone who could stand against the tides of society when he had in many ways given in to them.... He had never considered himself to be a conformist until the past few days. Society’s expectations were both insidious and unavoidable. He could not escape them. But he could choose which of those expectations to fulfil and which to disregard.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

“I was just thinking that your stubborn unwillingness to learn to ride has certainly been against your own good,” he said, turning to face her.

Elizabeth huffed in mock annoyance, crossing her arms. “You may argue that riding is in my best interest, but I would ask you to consider how unlikely it is that I shall ever have access to a riding horse on a regular basis.”

“Well, you shall, for as long as we are in Tuesday.” He hesitated as a thought struck him. “I wonder—might the conversation require both of us?”

“Which conversation?”

“Whatever conversation saves Georgiana, sets me free from Wickham, and allows Wednesday to come.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I cannot see how riding with you to London would at all benefit the situation. It is unlikely that your aunt and uncle would be receptive to a strange woman joining you in their home.”

“True. However, Mrs. Engel said she would send me the person who would best be able to assist. Perhaps I have failed because I have spoken to these people alone.”

“Perhaps.” She fell silent for several moments before shaking her head. “I would rather not risk the talk that would result—particularly if Wednesday should come. Let us first attempt to find Mrs. Engel.”

“Very well.”

Elizabeth shifted back and forth before finally looking him full in the face. “You know, Mr. Darcy, you have been speaking of expectations as a detriment. But there are many expectations that benefit a person—the expectation that they make something useful of themselves, the expectation that they work hard... I do not believe that duty and desire are mutually exclusive. Rather, I see them as teammates or two parts of a whole—like the two sides of a horse’s reins. Both are necessary to get where you would like to go. The trick is to utilise both instead of simply one or the other.”

He frowned, trying to think his way through her statement. “I have never heard them so described.”

Elizabeth’s lips curved up. “Well, you may accept the analogy or not, but I believe that neither duty nor desire will lead you aright on their own. After all, a life void of desire is entirely monochromatic. And without the structure of duty, one is left with pure hedonism—which seldom leads to a fulfilling life. Desire is, after all, rather fickle.”

“I shall consider your words.”

Talk then turned to the minutiae of what they had experienced over the past three days, and Elizabeth found it incredibly soothing to unburden herself to someone who could remember her concerns. The only things she did not share were her growing worries about Mr. Collins and how all-encompassing the loneliness had become.

Though she did require solitude, three days of speaking only to people who were unlikely to recall any of their conversations and yet hardly ever being alone, had left her entirely out of sorts. She was so thankful that Mr. Darcy was here now and she could not fathom how he had endured the many days all on his own before she had entered the repetitions.

It must have been so lonely.

“Have you noticed that though others may vary their phrasing slightly, Mr. Collins says the same things in the same manner?” Mr. Darcy asked while they were discussing the topic of how his absence had affected the repetitions.

Elizabeth chuckled. “Shortly after his arrival, he informed us that he practises several compliments and niceties in order to be able to utilise them as needed. I have wondered if he might, perhaps, practise more than compliments, considering how exact his repetitions are.” She cocked her head to one side. “Or perhaps he simply has spent so much time thinking of how to phrase things that he has landed on the ‘perfect terms’ and has no desire to ever change them.”

“I did not know that; but I must confess that it appears to match his personality perfectly.”

“Indeed.” Elizabeth’s smile grew playful. “Perhaps we ought to make a wager—I believe I can force him to deviate from his prepared speeches at least three times today.”

Mr. Darcy studied her. “And what would be the stakes?”

“Honour alone.”

He grinned. “Very well. I will attempt to do the same, and whoever creates the most deviations wins.”

Elizabeth held out her hand solemnly, her curls dancing in the slight breeze.

Mr. Darcy shook it.

“May the best person win,” Elizabeth said with a smirk. She squinted over at the sun pointedly. “I should return. They will be concerned if I do not, and we might be late to Meryton. I would not wish to delay our wager.”

“If you were riding, you would have more time to linger,” Mr. Darcy pointed out.

Elizabeth shook her head in fond exasperation. “If I were riding, I would have had to return the horse nearly an hour ago. I am quite content to use my own legs for transportation.”

“Sisyphus and I will walk you back to Longbourn’s land then.”

She curtsied deeply to Sisyphus. “I thank you fervently for your kind offer, my dear horse.”

Mr. Darcy’s lips turned up, and, wordlessly, he held out an arm.