Page 51 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived
Day 109/81—The Last Tuesday
Elizabeth’s fingers shook as she dressed for the day. Mrs. Engel had not lied to them yet, but Tuesday had lasted for so long she almost could not conceive that today would be their last November 19, 1811.
The day passed much as many other Tuesdays had. Elizabeth had not dared to tell Jane the truth, intending to save that conversation for Wednesday. Instead, she had tried to behave as her family would expect, though she could not help the wide smile that claimed her lips the moment she met Mr. Darcy’s gaze. His eyes sparkled as he greeted her with an answering smile and bowed over her hand, his fingers clasping hers for only a fraction longer than polite.
Meeting Mr. Wickham also went as it had many other times, though Elizabeth resolved to speak to Mr. Darcy about how much she could share with the neighbourhood. She did not wish for any of the local merchants to suffer after the militia’s removal, for they must eventually leave. Perhaps a word in her uncle’s ear?
If Wednesday truly came, there were quantities of things she wished to do: hug Jane and tell her how deeply she appreciated her sister’s support and friendship, thank Charlotte, spend more time with her sisters.... Oh! and there were the matters with their tenants that ought to be taken care of. She had faithfully written them down day after day, more in the nature of a reminder to herself that Tuesday would end sometime than out of concern that she would forget, and it would be ridiculous if she neglected them now.
Mr. Darcy raised one eyebrow in inquiry as they reached Aunt Phillips’s and the rest of the group was distracted.
“Woolgathering. Trying to think of everything I wish to do tomorrow,” she said in answer.
“Wednesday,” Darcy said fervently. “I do not believe I shall ever take the passing of days for granted again.”
“No, indeed. There have been benefits, and there is no one with whom I would rather spend the day, but....”
“Quite,” he agreed. There were so many things one could not explain about the tedium and confusion of repeating time. He had not aged. His beard had turned to stubble every Tuesday morning, regardless of whether he had shaved the day before or not. A frozen world was disconcerting in ways he could not articulate, even to himself. “As you may recall, Bingley intends to hold a ball soon. Afterwards, I plan to return to London for a short while; I wish to see Georgiana.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth hesitated. “And will you attend social events while in London?”
“I had not considered the matter.”
“I think it might be best if you went to a few; it is, after all, a normal part of your life, is it not?” she murmured.
Darcy nodded, his stomach sinking like a hot-air balloon run out of fuel. Attending social events would prolong his visit past the two days he had initially intended. But if that would convince Elizabeth that he truly wished to marry her and that he was not merely speaking as a man living without consequences, he would attend a hundred events.
“What are your plans for this afternoon?” he asked, hoping she might suggest an afternoon spent together.
“I believe I will ask Mary if she wishes to practise a duet.”
They would see each other again tonight and as many times before the ball as they could manage, he reminded himself. It was simply the prospect of leaving for London that left him missing her already.
“What about you, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“I do not know. I suppose I might actually finish touring the fields with Bingley. Or I may go for a ride.”
Wednesday, November 20, 1811—1 Day after Tuesday
The next morning, Darcy woke early and warily left his bed. Looking out the window, there was nothing immediately proclaiming that it was no longer Tuesday. As the sun rose, he sat and watched it, waiting for Hawkin to arrive.
Finally, the sound of hushed voices drifted under his door, and his valet and a maid opened it. Hawkin paused at the doorway upon noticing that Darcy was already sitting in the chair.
“Good morning, sir,” the lithe man said, the tension around his eyes betraying his concern. Once he had arranged Darcy’s things and dismissed the maid, he returned to Darcy. “Are you well, sir?”
Darcy had managed by the merest thread not to pace the room like a caged lion. He leaned forward, gripping the arms of the chair to keep his hands still. “What is today’s date?” he demanded.
A minute furrow appeared on Hawkin’s face. “It is Wednesday, November 20th, sir.”
Wednesday! Wednesday! Tears pricked Darcy’s eyes, and he took a shaky breath. Wednesday. He could see Georgiana, talk to Bingley, put Wickham in debtor’s prison... marry Elizabeth.
Hawkin stilled. “Sir?”
Darcy remained silent, his voice caught in his throat.
“Is there anything you require?”
Darcy shook his head. What more could he require? He had linear time! What a precious commodity—one he had never valued the way he ought to. His valet continued to eye him, so Darcy cleared his throat. “Yesterday was quite long.”
“You did seem wakeful last night. Perhaps you will sleep easier tonight.”
“I believe I will, Hawkin. I believe I will.”
The moment he had cleared Netherfield’s grounds, Darcy urged Sisyphus into a gallop. He could not wait one more moment to see Elizabeth. Once he reached their traditional meeting place just outside Longbourn, he flung himself from the saddle and waited, fidgeting with the reins and pacing the tiny confines of the clearing. Before long, Elizabeth skipped down the path, meeting him with such a wide smile that he could not help swinging her around in an ecstasy of joy.
“It is Wednesday!” he exulted.
She laughed. “Yes, it is, and if you do not put me down right now, you will undo all the good that Mrs. Engel succeeded in. Not to mention that you are making me quite dizzy.”
Darcy laughed too. “Of course.” He gently set her down and held out an arm. “May I escort you on your morning ramble?”
Elizabeth looked up at him. “You may walk next to me, Mr. Darcy,” she said primly. “After all, people might talk if we were seen.”
Darcy sighed theatrically. “I suppose you are correct.” Awareness of others was like an old suit grown too tight that he was now trying to shrug back on.
“It is strange, is it not?” she asked as they began walking down the path towards Oakham Mount, Sisyphus trailing along like a faithful dog.
“Very. I hardly remember what life was like before Tuesday.”
“A lot has happened.”
He barked a laugh. “That is an understatement. Tuesday held an entire universe of changes. I hardly know how to absorb them all.”
“Nor do I. But we have time to do so now that we are free of Tuesday.”
“Indeed.”
Elizabeth slowed. “I do not wish to cause you pain, but I must ask: what do you mean to do about Mr. Wickham?”
“I intend to speak to my uncle about that very matter when I go to London. I am inclined to send him to debtor’s prison.” Darcy’s stomach twisted at the thought of anyone ending up in such a plight, let alone one his father had so loved. “It is not in Wickham’s best interest to continue on as he has been, and I desire to give him an opportunity to change. Perhaps, if he is forced to endure consequences, he will take that opportunity.”
“Or perhaps Mrs. Engel will interfere.”
“I hope so.”
She hesitated. “I should like to speak to my uncle about warning the merchants and suggesting that the militia ought to be carefully chaperoned. Though it will not be long until you return from London, I would hate for anyone to be harmed in the meantime. Besides, Wickham cannot be the only miscreant in the whole of the militia.”
Darcy gave her hand a brief squeeze. “That is an excellent idea, and if you would like me to speak to him with you, I am more than willing. I, too, would not like anyone in Meryton to be harmed.” The weeks of practising small talk had made many of the people in town his acquaintances, and he hated the thought of them suffering due to Wickham’s machinations. He would have to ensure he paid any outstanding debts after he dealt with Wickham.
Elizabeth considered for a moment. “Unfortunately, a visit from you would not go unremarked by my aunt. I think I should speak to him first, but I will refer him to you for further details.”
“Very well.”