Page 45 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Day 77/49: Tuesday, November 19, 1811

The following morning, Darcy shifted restlessly as he waited for Elizabeth just out of sight, Sisyphus contentedly standing next to him. The sun shone brightly, as it did every Tuesday, but his thoughts were clouded. Yesterday had been a dream come true and Darcy had been unwilling to rupture their accord by telling her the truth about Mrs. Engel’s words. But he could no longer in good conscience keep the truth about her sister hidden.

He twisted the reins in his hand, wishing that the whole thing might be over. How did one even start such a conversation? A chocolate tart had introduced his feelings, however poorly, but what way was there to confess that he had practically lied to her?

Darcy sighed. It had seemed so logical before to wait, to allow Elizabeth to realise her own feelings. His heart leapt once more. Elizabeth had feelings for him! She was willing to be courted by him! And yet.... What if she changed her mind?

He could only hope that she would listen without losing her temper—or at least agree to listen after she lost her temper—and that Tuesday would continue until she understood his rationale.

The sound of a snapping twig sent him peering out of the trees. Thank God it was Elizabeth! He had never seen anyone else walking this way, but he still dared not risk her reputation by coming any closer to Longbourn.

“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing and managing to get the reins tangled. He flushed.

She graciously allowed only the amusement dancing in her eyes to show that she had noticed his faux pas. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Did you sleep well?”

Darcy nodded and held out an arm. “May I escort you on your ramble this morning?”

“You may,” she said with a smile.

Once they began walking, he realised he had neglected to ask her about her own sleep. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asked in a rush.

“I did.”

“Good. I am very glad to hear it.”

Darcy opened his mouth and then closed it. Blast Mrs. Engel for not just telling the information to the both of them! Unless... perhaps she had spoken to Elizabeth? “Er, have you seen Mrs. Engel recently?”

“No,” Elizabeth said, turning puzzled eyes on him. “Have you?”

Darcy shook his head. “Not since a week ago.” He cleared his throat. “However, I have been thinking about hurrying Wednesday, and I believe there is something more I ought to share.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow.

“When I last saw Mrs. Engel, there was something else she said about reaching Wednesday that I believed would be premature to disclose.”

“I see.”

Darcy suppressed a wince, hearing the edge to her voice. “I believed it might cause more harm than good should I share it prematurely.”

“And you believe now is the time to tell me?”

“I do.” He took a deep breath. “Mrs. Engel imparted to me that Wickham will not become my brother by marrying Georgiana.”

Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “He will not? Is that not what began the repetitions? I thought she told you he would.”

“She told me he would become my brother by marriage, and I inferred Wickham would marry Georgiana. However, a week ago, she told me that was a mistaken inference.”

“Then how?”

“He will marry one of your sisters,” Darcy blurted.

Elizabeth blinked at him. “One of my sisters?”

He nodded.

“Mr. Darcy, that would make him my brother, not yours.”

“That is true,” he agreed with forced tranquillity. “However, should my suit prosper, I shall acquire all your relations.”

Elizabeth stumbled. Was Mr. Darcy saying what she thought he was saying? “Mrs. Engel informed you we would wed?”

“She implied it.”

Her heart fell faster than if she had thrown herself off the top of Oakham Mount. No wonder Mr. Darcy was pursuing her. She had been so happy yesterday, shocked, but overjoyed that her feelings were not unrequited. He loved her. He wished to call upon her. It had been hard enough to tell him “not yet” when she had thought his feelings to be genuine. But now... no wonder his behaviour had changed so starkly after his conversation with Mrs. Engel. He had been uninterested until the woman had forced her preferences upon him.

A sob grew in her chest. Why had she let herself believe the fairy tale? It had been painful enough knowing that Mr. Darcy would return to London and forget all about her. But to allow herself to imagine a life with him, to recognise all the ways in which they were a match, and to learn that it was all a mirage....

He did not love her. What had he said? He wished to pursue her—that did not mean that he returned her affection. After all, had she not acknowledged that their very situation lent itself to a sort of false affection?

“Mrs. Engel told you we would marry,” Elizabeth repeated, her voice hollower than she would have imagined possible.

Mr. Darcy halted. “Yes.” He searched her face. “You are distraught; why?”

“What woman would not be distressed by discovering that the man who asked to call upon her was obliged to do so?” she asked, enunciating evenly, as though she were not about to rip out her own heart.

Mr. Darcy clasped her hands. “Elizabeth, no. I am not obliged to offer for you—in fact, I have taken great care to ensure that neither of us is obligated via compromise. You deserve the opportunity to choose.”

“And yet you are telling me that the choice has already been made by some supernatural creature―”

“No!” He squeezed her hands. “My choice is my own. What man would not choose to pursue you? Your compassion and kindness, your wit and intelligence.... Elizabeth, you have ruined me for any other woman. I cannot imagine a better friend with whom to grow old, a better sister to Georgiana, or a better mistress at Pemberley. I do not want anyone else.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew hot, and she clutched hold of the anger that simmered just underneath the surface lest she drown in anguish. “Yet it was not your idea to pursue me at all.”

“Only because I had not dared to dream before Mrs. Engel’s revelation.” He sighed. “You know I do not have a way with words.” He shifted, the crackle of leaves proclaiming his discomfort. “I asked Mrs. Engel how to protect Georgiana from Wickham, and she asked me when she had ever said anything about Georgiana and suggested there was another way. It was then that I realised that the only woman I have ever dreamt of having by my side, day in and day out, is you. From there, it was easy enough to guess that Wickham must have married one of your sisters.” He held her gaze. “I could not lose you—not even if it meant becoming a brother to Wickham.”

Elizabeth searched his face, trying to decide how truthful he was being. Then again, once they had become close, Mr. Darcy had failed to hide anything from her. He had not even been able to hide this—not really. His changed behaviour had set off dozens of alarms. “I do not―” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. His desire to marry her was strong enough to endure, even in the face of becoming related to Mr. Wickham? “I do not know what to say.”

“Say that you believe me,” he said earnestly. “I did not withhold this information to pain you; I withheld it because I wished for you to have the choice to reject or accept my suit―”

“I have not given you my answer, sir.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “Of course. But you have taught me to hope, and that is enough for now.” He tenderly rubbed his thumb across her fingers. “Do you not see, Elizabeth? Mrs. Engel’s words, as they have always done, merely give us a glimpse into what may happen—or what would have happened had these repetitions not occurred. We still have the choice now, and I choose you. Knowing that I chose you before does not change my mind. It only increases my certainty.

“We are not the same two people as those who continued along without Tuesday. I am certainly not the same at all. We must make our own choice now. I could have chosen not to marry you, and Wickham would not become my brother. Perhaps that would have freed us. But I have gone many years without you, and I do not desire to continue doing so.”

He lifted a hand and cupped her face, wiping the tears that had escaped, despite her best efforts. “Elizabeth, I choose you. Now and forever. Please believe me. Please choose me now.”

Elizabeth merely breathed for a moment, her mind awhirl. She had chosen to marry Mr. Darcy in that other future? Of course, she could easily see herself marrying this Mr. Darcy, the man who had grown so much over the past few months, the man who was so tender and yet so willing to admit fault and to work to rectify it, the man who was strong enough to stand up to Mr. Wickham and strong enough to resist the darkness inside himself. But to marry the Mr. Darcy of several months ago? The man who had so callously ignored everyone’s feelings and left only a trail of annoyance and affront?

Mr. Darcy continued stroking her face for a moment longer, then drew his hand away, his expression falling.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand and held it to her face. “I would choose you today if I did not believe that you deserve the opportunity to change your mind once we are returned to our natural rhythms.”

He beamed at her. “That is enough for me. I look forward to the day when you can freely make that choice without reservations.”

“As do I,” she murmured, taking a step closer.

Mr. Darcy drew her into his arms, resting his head atop hers even as Sisyphus nickered his annoyance at the continued halt. “Let us hope that the day comes soon.” He took a deep breath. “When Mrs. Engel told me about Wickham and your sister, I was frustrated that she had allowed me, allowed us , to spend so much time wracking our brains, trying one thing after the next, all for the purpose of saving Georgiana, when that was not at all necessary.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks were on fire, but she could not draw herself out of his solid embrace. Indeed, her traitorous arms had risen to clasp him back, and she only hoped that no one other than Sisyphus saw their intimate position. She huffed, mildly annoyed that the man could simultaneously cause the storm and yet still soothe her far more effectively than anyone else.

Mr. Darcy shifted to look down at her.

She cleared her throat, unwilling to share her ruminations. “It is infuriating,” she agreed.

He chuckled. “It would have been far more infuriating had she shared that information at the beginning of my quest. Frankly, I would have rejected it entirely.”

She nearly pulled herself from his arms in mock affront.

“You know what a fool I was: too steeped in society’s values and the desire for my father’s approval, despite the futility of that quest, to see what was right in front of me. Fortunately, I have learned better.”

She sighed. “I suppose I cannot fault you for your foolishness, as I was similarly afflicted. If Mrs. Engel had revealed our possible connection at the beginning, I would certainly have rejected it, too.”

“You would have been right to reject me.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “You are a far better person than you realise, Mr. Darcy. Though you did not make the best first impression, you have not changed at all in essentials.”

“I shall not argue with you, though we both know that you are too forgiving.”

“I am not at all sure of that,” she said wryly, thinking of how firmly she had held to her first opinion merely because her vanity had been wounded. “Let us agree to disagree.”

“Very well. I would not wish to mar the day with an argument anyway.”

Elizabeth snorted. “Mr. Darcy, for someone who dislikes arguments, you certainly provoke debates with alarming frequency.”

Darcy forced himself to step back, wishing that he could hold Elizabeth for the rest of the day and for every subsequent Tuesday. However, he intended to prove that he was serious about allowing Elizabeth a choice. He offered her his arm once more and they resumed their walk, Sisyphus trailing behind. “Debates are entirely different from arguments, as you are well aware,” he said lightly.

A smile played around Elizabeth’s lips. “Would you not agree that debates are a form of argument?”

“Oh no, my lady, you will not trick me into beginning that debate.” He smiled down at her. “As delightful as it would be, I believe we ought to discuss how to utilise Mrs. Engel’s information instead.”

Elizabeth’s smile vanished. “I suppose you are right. I am—I apologise for my family.”

“One cannot apologise for another’s behaviour, not really. Remember, you have told me that about Wickham several times now.”

She glared at him. “Turning my own words against me.” Elizabeth sighed. “Very well. Still, I can easily see my youngest sisters pursuing Mr. Wickham, and I am sorry that you may have to be related to such silly girls.”

Darcy put a hand over hers. “Georgiana gave in to his wiles, too.”

“Yes, but I do not doubt that Mr. Wickham laid siege to Miss Darcy; my sisters would gladly throw themselves at the man even without encouragement.”

Though he agreed, it would not have been politic to do so aloud, so Darcy merely hummed in response.

“I still do not see why Mr. Wickham would marry one of them,” Elizabeth said as they began to climb the mount. “Frankly, I cannot see him doing anything that would not further his own agenda. Marrying a penniless country girl seems rather out of character.”

“Indeed. I have spent some time considering the matter, and I believe it is more likely that he would pursue one of your sisters out of revenge.” He cleared his throat delicately. “If it was a choice between ensuring he married your sister or watching your family suffer ruin, I would certainly move heaven and earth to bring such a marriage to pass.”

Elizabeth’s fingers tightened on Darcy’s arm, though her gaze remained fixed on the path as they crested Oakham Mount. “Yet another reason why you might wish to reconsider your hasty proposal,” she said lightly.

“Never,” Darcy said fervently, his attention fixed on the wonderful woman beside him despite the vista spread out in front of them. “We have been given an opportunity to change the future. Even if we do not succeed, I would not for the world regret my proposal. Saving your sister is merely another reason to be grateful for Tuesday’s repetitions.”

Elizabeth nodded, her shoulders tensing as though already burdened by the task ahead. “I suppose you are right. Very well, what do you suggest?”

Unfortunately, he did not have the foggiest idea, so Darcy merely requested she tell him more about her family as they settled on a fallen log at the top of the mount.

He had been so certain that one of her parents would be their best ally, however, as Elizabeth unfolded her parents’ disinterest in raising their daughters, that certainty was shaken to pieces. For the first time, Darcy looked at the younger Bennet girls with pity instead of revulsion. Yes, they were wild and their behaviour was scandalous. However, they had no one to tame them; no one to care whether they behaved well or ill, who would see the best in them and encourage it, as his mother had done for him. No wonder they would have ended up with a man like Wickham.

“Mrs. Engel did say that killing Wickham would not help the situation, as I would likely only end up with an equally odious brother,” he mused aloud.

“Pardon?”

Darcy started, realising he had not told Elizabeth that bit either. He sighed. “It was before you awoke. I was―” How to describe that wretched period? “I was desperate. Both to end the repetitions and to save Georgiana. Killing Wickham seemed like a straightforward solution.” He swallowed hard, hoping his love would not think less of him. “I—I could not do so. Mrs. Engel came to me before I could enact any plan and chastised me for considering the matter.”

“Frankly, I am surprised you have not considered it long ago. If someone had treated Jane the way Mr. Wickham has treated Miss Darcy, I would not be complacent about the matter,” she said fiercely.

Darcy smiled down at her. “You are as protective of your sister as I am of mine.”

“Well, perhaps not equally so—after all, you are Miss Darcy’s guardian and I am but Jane’s younger sister.” She speared him with a look. “Now, what exactly did Mrs. Engel say?”

He frowned, trying to recall what else the old woman had told him. “Looking back, I believe her uncertainty was due to how Wickham’s death might affect my pursuit of you.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed. She said that she could not yet see the outcome of my choices. I wonder—is that because this time is outside of the normal flow of life, or is it because we had not yet begun our friendship?”

Elizabeth smiled ruefully. “Your guess is as good as mine. Regardless, it sounds as though the cords are one issue and my sisters are a separate issue. We shall have to save them from themselves more than from Mr. Wickham.”

“I believe you are correct. It must be hard for them to have two parents who do not care enough to discipline them.”

“I am certain it is.”

Darcy flushed. “I did not mean to imply―”

“No, it is all right.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am my father’s favourite, but that does not mean that he disciplined me either. Truthfully, I followed his few restrictions out of care for him, rather than out of any consequences he enforced. And I did not always follow them anyway.”

Elizabeth had suffered from a lack of discipline, and he had suffered from an overabundance of it. Both of these methods had wounded them, and neither provided a good foundation for the future.

Darcy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, regardless, I have been considering whether finishing school might provide an appropriate avenue. What do you think?”

Elizabeth stood up and turned to face him. “Longbourn cannot support tuition for―”

“Bingley and I would sponsor them.”

She crossed her arms. “Mr. Darcy, you cannot simply volunteer your friend for such an undertaking—not to mention that it is not your place―”

Darcy held her gaze, trying to convey his sincerity. “It is not my obligation —it would be my pleasure to do so. Let me help. There is little enough I can do to assist―”

“I greatly appreciate your desire to help, your care for me and for my family,” Elizabeth said. “I cannot agree, though. Even if I were to agree, Wednesday’s advent would then be entirely dependent on you—on our marriage, and―”

“I would be willing to sponsor them regardless of your answer to my proposal,” Darcy protested.

She lifted one eyebrow. “You would open up yourself and my family to accusations of impropriety?”

“No, of course not.”

“Such accusations would follow, however, should the matter become known.”

“I have no intention of making my private affairs public,” he said stiffly.

She sighed gustily. “ You may not; my mother is a different kettle of fish.”

Darcy frowned. “Even if she knew it was in your best interest to remain silent?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Very well. For the moment, we shall defer that option and begin by spending time with your sisters.” He hesitated. “Would Miss Bennet be a likely ally? If she knew the truth?”

Elizabeth’s eyes slid closed. “Yes. she would, but―”

Darcy stood and took her hands in his. “It is difficult to explain the repetitions, particularly to do so more than once. I wonder if she herself might provide you with the key to convincing her.”

“How so?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy rubbed his thumb across her fingers. “My uncle was kind enough to tell me something he had not told anyone, thus providing a means of proving my words the next time we spoke.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I shall consider the matter.”

Elizabeth’s thoughts were muddled as she bid Mr. Darcy farewell. Her heart was as confused as her thoughts—exultant that Mr. Darcy loved her, worried that Wednesday might never come, distressed by the distance that would certainly result when it did, and concerned that he might still change his mind (despite the fact that he was one of the most constant men she knew). Now, with this latest revelation, a host of other worries had descended upon her like a horde of locusts. If one of her sisters was doomed to marry Mr. Wickham or someone like him, bringing disgrace upon the entire family.... Mrs. Engel was giving them a chance, and yet, how could they take advantage of such a chance?

One day hardly seemed like enough time to effect any major change.

Mr. Darcy’s suggestion of telling Jane the truth seemed more reasonable as she considered it. It was only her distaste for the pain of watching Jane forget their conversations, of gaining and losing a confidant over and over, that left Elizabeth hesitant to attempt the enterprise. Yet, if they were ever to reach Wednesday, ever to save her sisters, might it not be necessary?

Elizabeth grimaced and straightened her shoulders. Miserable it might be, but she could do what was needed. Over the course of the past months, she had many times daydreamed of telling Jane again, and she had eventually landed upon a method of doing so. Now she just had to implement it.