Page 46 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

“P ardon?” Jane asked, the slight widening of her eyes betraying her extreme confusion.

Elizabeth suppressed a sigh. Perhaps she had been too blunt. “I have already lived this day forty-nine times. As proof of my claim, today we will meet Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley on our way to Meryton. Once there, we shall encounter Mr. Denny and his friend, Mr. Wickham. Aunt Phillips will then extend an invitation to her card party tonight to Mr. Collins, and whomever else accompanies us to her house—Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, most likely. The gentlemen will all accept the invitation.”

Jane blinked at her.

“It is the truth, Jane. We can discuss it further later; I merely wished to prove my claim before this afternoon.”

“Lizzy, are you certain you should go out? You must be ill indeed.”

Elizabeth grabbed Jane’s hand and brought it to her forehead. “Not a trace of fever. I may sound mad, but I assure you I am perfectly hale. If the events of this morning are not sufficient to convince you, I would like to play the pianoforte for you this afternoon.”

“Play the pianoforte for me?”

“You heard me play recently, did you not?”

“Of course, when you practised last week, but―”

“My skills have improved far beyond what is possible in a handful of days.” She held Jane’s gaze. “Do not judge now. Wait, and we shall discuss this further this afternoon.” Elizabeth glanced at the door. “I do not doubt that our sisters will be clamouring to be off sooner than we can be ready anyway.”

“Very well,” Jane agreed reluctantly.

Elizabeth gave her sister a quick hug. “I promise I am not mad. You shall see.”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulled herself from Jane’s embrace and flew down the stairs, wraps in hand. Tears pricked her eyes. Despite having steeled herself for Jane’s disbelief, it had hurt. Not to mention the way her heart had lurched upon embracing her sister—how long had it been since she had hugged Jane? Normally, they were quite physically affectionate, but somehow, even Jane had faded into a shadow over the past weeks. Her solid hug had made Elizabeth realise just how deeply she yearned for her sister’s presence and good sense.

Throughout the day, whenever one of Elizabeth’s predictions proved accurate, Jane turned wondering eyes upon her. Elizabeth did her best not to draw attention to the situation. She did inform Mr. Darcy that she had decided to tell Jane that afternoon, and his understanding had soothed the lingering ache from Jane’s earlier disbelief.

Finally, they returned home and Elizabeth pulled Jane into the music room.

“How did you know what would happen, Lizzy?” Jane asked, a slight furrow between her brows.

Elizabeth’s lips quirked up. “Magic.”

“Lizzy, do be serious.”

“I am sorry, Jane. As I told you, I have lived this day many times over, and the events seldom vary much.” Despite the temptation to go off and do something entirely different, they still worried that time might resume one of these Tuesdays. Even if Wednesday tarried, who knew when someone else might remember the repetitions? Or what if everyone remembered all the repetitions once Wednesday arrived, much as she had? They simply did not have enough information to take such a chance.

“That does not make any sense,” Jane said gently, studying Elizabeth as though she were liable to suggest they fly out the window. “How can anyone live a day more than once?”

“This day, November 19th, 1811, has happened many times already. I believe Mr. Darcy said he has experienced it seventy-seven times now―”

Jane came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the room. “Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth nodded. Sitting down at the pianoforte, she chose one of the more complicated pieces she had been working on and began playing it. “I believe it would be more useful were I to begin at the beginning.”

Jane made her way over to the pianoforte to stand next to Elizabeth, her eyes wide. “I have never heard you play so well.”

“I have never had occasion to practise as much as I have lately. Seventy-seven days ago, Mr. Darcy encountered an old woman in Meryton. After that encounter, he awoke the next morning to find that it was, yet again, November 19th. Mr. Darcy lived through several November 19ths before he eventually realised that the old woman, Mrs. Engel, was the source of the repetitions.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and then began explaining the supposed purpose of the loops, how she had been drawn into the loop, how she had remembered previous repetitions, and how she had begun trying to assist Mr. Darcy.

“But you dislike Mr. Darcy,” Jane put in.

Elizabeth shook her head, amused by how much had changed. “I disliked Mr. Darcy’s pride; however, I have learned that his pride was nothing more than a mask. He was ill-at-ease among strangers, but he has changed.” She smiled widely. “Truly, his willingness to change is one of his best qualities. Once convinced that he is in the wrong, he embarks upon a program of self-reformation that is—breathtaking.” She stopped playing and shifted to face her sister fully. “He is one of my dearest friends now; circumstances forced us to bond, and we discovered much about each other that we had overlooked.”

Jane studied her. “I almost believe your story based upon that evidence alone. I cannot believe that you would ever speak so highly of him. It was less than a week ago that you discoursed at length about his flaws and how unpleasant he had been at Netherfield.”

“He does take delight in a good debate, rather like Papa, and his pride was certainly pronounced. However, I have learned to see beyond his facade and he has learned to let others see him.” Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. “Besides, were you not one of his staunchest supporters? You were right: he was not at his best on the night of the assembly; he has since apologised for his behaviour.”

“He apologised?” Jane asked, incredulity threading her tone.

Elizabeth nodded.

Jane sank onto the chair closest to the pianoforte, then took a deep breath and looked up at Elizabeth. “So do we—do we have this conversation every day then, if you have repeated it so many times?”

Elizabeth sobered, her gaze dropping to where her hands were clasped in her lap. “I have―” She took a deep breath. “This is only the second time I have disclosed the repetitions.”

“Why?”

Elizabeth forced herself to meet Jane’s eyes and took one of her sister’s hands in hers. “You are my dearest friend, Jane—more than a friend, you are my sister. I was not strong enough to tell you what was happening, gain your support, and then to lose it again the next day over and over. Once I—once I learned the repetitions were real and why they were occurring, I stopped telling anyone about them.”

“You tried telling someone else?” Jane said, her hand limp in Elizabeth’s.

Elizabeth studied her sister’s face, trying to decipher Jane’s emotions. Hints of hurt and confusion peeked through Jane’s serene countenance. “No. I did not think anyone else would believe me, nor did I wish to take the trouble to convince them.”

“Why are you telling me today then?”

Elizabeth stood and began pacing. “When Mrs. Engel told Mr. Darcy that he would gain his tormentor, Mr. Wickham, as a relation, he believed such an event would require Mr. Wickham to marry Miss Darcy.”

“Mr. Wickham? A tormentor?” Jane’s brow creased. “But he seemed so gentlemanly. Are you certain there was not some misunderstanding on one side or the other?”

“I am certain. The man is a wretch of the first order,” Elizabeth said firmly. “It is not my tale to tell, but truly, he is vile beyond anyone I have ever known. Mr. Darcy was understandably distraught by the idea of Mr. Wickham marrying Miss Darcy and of gaining a permanent association with him.”

The crease deepened as Jane considered. “What does that have to do with telling me? I am happy to help Miss Darcy, though I do not know how I may do so.”

Elizabeth tensed. “According to Mrs. Engel, Miss Darcy is not the sister Mr. Wickham will marry. Supposedly, Mr. Wickham will become Mr. Darcy’s brother through marriage to Mrs. Darcy’s sister.”

Jane’s head tilted to one side as she studied Elizabeth. “This entity included you in the time repetitions?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Does that mean you will become Mrs. Darcy? It would not make sense to include you if you are not involved in some fashion.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “I wish you had been around to tell me that long ago.” She came to a halt in front of Jane. “He has proposed, but I have refused.”

“It does seem as though you esteem him, do you not?” Jane asked, looking up at Elizabeth.

“I do. Very much. I believe I love him.” She flashed her sister an arch look. “I even like him better than Mr. Bingley.”

Jane refused to rise to the bait. “Yet you rejected him?”

“I could not in good conscience agree—not when we are the only two aware of the repetitions, not when he may change his mind once the press of duty recurs.” Elizabeth returned to the pianoforte bench, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “What if we marry and, later, he resents me for the rest of his life? I will not trap him in a marriage. If he wishes to marry me once we have returned to our normal rhythms, I will gladly accept him. I love him too well to accept him now, though.”

Jane took her sister’s hand. “Mr. Darcy is a grown man; I do not believe he is so inconstant as to change his mind. If he was confident enough to propose, then I am certain he considered the matter thoroughly.”

A smile flitted across Elizabeth’s face. “He does consider things very thoroughly. Still, I cannot explain to you how desperate one becomes for any sort of interactions that will be remembered the next day. It will break my heart if he changes his mind, but it would be excruciating to watch his care for me turn to resentment.” She straightened her shoulders. “I will wait.”

“Is that what you wished to discuss?”

“Though I have often wished to speak to you about Mr. Darcy, I believe I will save that conversation for Wednesday; our time is too limited at the moment.” Elizabeth turned around and began to tap the keys. “I wished to ask for your assistance with our sisters—as of this moment, one of them is fated to marry that wretch, Mr. Wickham, or someone equally horrid. I do not know how to change it, but change it we must or Wednesday will never arrive.”

Jane joined her on the bench. “How can I assist you with our sisters?”

“I do not know. Frankly, I have not the faintest idea of how to begin.” Elizabeth held her head in her hands. “Lydia is too wilful to be dissuaded from any man she sets her sights on—though I cannot imagine that she would seriously pursue anyone just now; she is having too much fun flirting. Kitty will go wherever Lydia leads, even if that is straight into disaster. And Mary is—I cannot conceive how she might end up married to anyone like Mr. Wickham, and I am tempted to simply rule her out, but I do not actually have sufficient information to do so.” She gave her sister a wan smile. “In fact, given the paucity of our information, one could conjecture that you might be the sister who marries someone of Mr. Wickham’s ilk—of course, knowing you, that is entirely unlikely. But still, you see my dilemma: I do not know on whom to concentrate, nor do I have any idea how to change our sister’s mind.”

Jane started. “Mrs. Engel did not tell you which of our sisters is at risk?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “For all I know, the changes Mr. Darcy and I have already made may result in a plethora of possibilities and any of our sisters may be in danger.”

“You said that you have to change the situation in order for Wednesday to come?” Jane asked, her shoulder brushing against Elizabeth’s.

“Yes.”

“By how much?”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth shifted to look at her sister.

“How much do you have to change the situation?” Jane asked, holding Elizabeth’s gaze. “Does it have to be wholly resolved, or cannot Mr. Darcy simply warn our parents about Mr. Wickham?”

Elizabeth snorted. “I cannot see how that would do any good—and I do not wish for Mama to spread Mr. Darcy’s private affairs about the countryside.”

“My point stands though: do you have to resolve it entirely?”

“I do not know.” Elizabeth huffed. “It is so frustrating trying to move forward with so little information. Not to mention that ensuring none of our sisters ever marries poorly would require facilitating complete character overhauls. Lydia will do whatever she wants to do—and neither of our parents will ever check her.” Elizabeth’s jaw grew tight. “And even if they did, I would not be at all surprised if she climbed out of her window and ran off with an officer the very day that Mama and Papa were to circumscribe her behaviour.”

Jane shook her head. “Lydia is not that bad.”

Elizabeth did not reply. There was no use trying to convince Jane—her sister refused to see the bad in anyone. Besides, she wished for advice, not another debate on the likelihood of their sisters behaving poorly. “What do you think we ought to do?”

“I do not see how you can effect sufficient change in one day. Honestly, I do not know how you could effect such a change at all. We—none of us—have many prospects. And if Mr. Collins—oh, Lizzy! What will you do if he proposes?”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. She had noticed Mr. Collins’s attentions, but how had Jane done so?

Jane looked down at her hands, cheeks flushed. “Mama told me this morning that she hinted Mr. Collins towards you, lest he scare off Mr. Bingley.”

Elizabeth glowered. She doubted any woman could be content with such a prosy parson. “I shall refuse him.”

Jane’s eyes flew to hers. “But that will give such offence!”

“You cannot be suggesting I marry the man!” Elizabeth’s lips firmed into a thin line. “Mama would not listen to me if I were to speak my mind now and Papa will just tell me to wait until it becomes a problem. I shall just have to do my best to avoid any proposal from that quarter. I wonder if Mr. Darcy might be willing to drop a hint about his aunt’s preferences.”

“You would tell Mr. Darcy?” Jane asked incredulously.

“He is Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s nephew, as unbelievable as such a connection appears to be, given Mr. Collins’s descriptions of that lady. Mr. Collins esteems him as a representative of that family, and if he were to hint that Lady Catherine might be displeased if he married such a headstrong person as myself... or something of that nature.” Elizabeth tucked the thought away. “More importantly, though, what about our sisters? How can we convince them to stop running after every redcoat?”

Jane hesitated. “Why do you need to convince them that all redcoats are unsuitable?”

“I do not wish to convince them that they are all bad, just....” Elizabeth stared off into the distance. “Jane, that is it! What if we were to convince them that marrying a soldier is tantamount to signing up for a life of privation?”

Jane looked unsure. “How would you accomplish that in the space of one day?”

Elizabeth frowned. “If they knew how much it costs to run a household―”

“You know that Papa keeps the books. Even Mama does not know how much it costs to run our household.”

“Yes, but if we could make them see what a discrepancy there would be between the cost of living and one’s income, they might realise how foolish such a step would be.”

“Perhaps,” Jane said dubiously.

“What other ideas do you have?” Elizabeth asked, leaning forward.

Jane chuckled. “As that was not my idea in the first place―”

Elizabeth waved aside her objection.

“I think you need to ask Mrs. Engel if the change has to be entirely effected today or if it may be merely begun today,” Jane said. “If they are on one path, it would only take a small change for that path to be entirely different a year from now.”

“I suppose you are right. The trouble will be in trying to find Mrs. Engel—she only occasionally appears.” Elizabeth shook herself. The woman would appear or not. In the meantime, they could only do their best. “Jane, Mr. Darcy suggested that we establish a way of quickly proving the repetitions.”

“What do you mean?”

“It would be more convenient if I did not have to inform you of the day’s events in advance as proof. Mr. Darcy’s uncle shared privileged information, and it allowed Mr. Darcy to prove the veracity of his words. I do not know what story or phrase might work, as we have few secrets between us, but perhaps you know of something that would convince you?”

Jane stared at her for a moment. “I see.” Her eyes dropped to the rug, studying it as though it held all the answers in the world. After some time, she looked back at Elizabeth. “Mr. Drake kissed me, though I did not invite it and asked him to behave in a more gentlemanlike manner.”

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. “What? You told me he did not behave improperly in the least!”

“I did not wish to cause trouble, and I knew that you would be distressed. It happened long ago—truly, the memory does not bother me any longer. No one else knows.”

Elizabeth took her sister’s hands. “Are you certain you are well? Did he hurt you in any other way?”

“No. You made sure I was never alone with him after that,” Jane said with a smile.

“You were so uncomfortable around him, and I did not wish for you to suffer discomfort, despite Mama’s matchmaking dreams.” Elizabeth sighed. “I wish you had told me.”

“I did not need to disclose the full truth for you to still protect me, and no other suitors have been as insistent.”

“Well, that is something.” Elizabeth smiled. “Mr. Bingley certainly seems amiable. What do you think of him?”

“He is kind.”

“And he has the good sense to have Mr. Darcy as his dearest friend—something that speaks well to his character.”

Jane chuckled. “Your perspective on the matter has changed a great deal.”

“It has. Sit with us tonight and you will see.”

“I believe I shall take you up on that offer.”