Page 71 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

M rs. Bennet looked up anxiously as Darcy entered the sitting room. “Mr. Darcy, you were up there for some time. Were you able to speak to Mr. Bennet? Does he seem well? I hope he was not rude.”

“I did speak to Mr. Bennet. His head does not seem to be bothering him,” Darcy said. Though it would certainly prove problematic should the man continue his drinking. “He requested further time in solitude, but I hope that he will come down later today.”

“You must stay for dinner,” she told the two young men.

Darcy and Bingley shared a look and then accepted with alacrity.

“How was my father?” Elizabeth asked once Mrs. Bennet was engrossed in a conversation with Mr. Bingley.

“Pensive. I was unable to discuss anything in particular. He is not, however, suffering from any new health issues.”

“Oh?”

Darcy glanced around at the group of young ladies. “I will tell you later.”

She nodded and then pulled Miss Mary into a conversation about the merits of reading fiction. Darcy interjected from time to time, gradually drawing Miss Kitty in. Miss Lydia listened, though she refused to contribute even when Elizabeth asked her opinion.

Once the three of them were occupied, Darcy turned to Miss Lydia. “Would you care for a game of checkers, Miss Lydia?”

She stared at him, clearly confused by his offer. After several moments, she nodded.

A desultory game of checkers ensued, Miss Lydia making several obvious mistakes in her distraction.

“Were you really telling the truth yesterday?” she finally asked, her tone more wilted than week-old flowers.

Darcy nodded. “Every word, including my offer to show you the pertinent documents.”

Miss Lydia bit her lip. “I think I would like that.”

“I will bring them tomorrow.”

When dinner was announced an hour later, Mr. Bennet appeared in the dining room, his eyes still bloodshot and baggy, his complexion pale, and a serious expression upon his face. “Good evening, everyone. I see you are still here, Mr. Darcy,” he said wearily.

Darcy nodded. “Always.”

It was both a promise and a threat, and he held the old man’s eyes to make that clear. Mr. Bennet looked away first.

“Dinner looks excellent as always, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bennet said.

His wife stared at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Now, what have you all been engaged in today?”

After William and Mr. Bingley had departed, Mr. Bennet had sent Betsey to request Elizabeth join him in the library. Now, Elizabeth waited outside the library door, her stomach twisting as she envied William’s detachment. He had spoken to the man and returned perfectly at ease.

She bit her lip, staring at the closed door. If only she could ignore her father’s summons, ride off on Belle with William and be free. If only things could go back to the way they had been before. Elizabeth winced as her lip protested and forced herself to relax. She put a hand to her chest where the ache of this rupture resided. If only the distance between her father and her could be erased. Yet, the distance was there for a reason. Neither of them could erase the past, at least not without Mrs. Engel’s help. Her father had hurt her, in more ways than one. And he had failed to rein in Lydia, despite the numerous attempts she and William had made to convince him. Now that they were out of Tuesday, she could not continue to ignore those things.

Yet she still loved her father. She was so disillusioned because he had always seemed wonderful, and now she was discovering he was only human, just as flawed as anyone else. She was hurt because she had expected his loving care and he had disappointed her.

After several moments, the library door opened and Mr. Bennet gestured for her to come in.

“You wanted to see me, Papa?” she asked.

A slight smile crossed his face as he settled into one of the chairs by the window. “Sit down, please.”

She perched on the chair opposite, and his expression grew pained.

He took a deep breath. “Lizzy, I owe you an apology. I am sorry that I refused to listen to all your warnings about Mr. Wickham.”

Elizabeth frowned. “My warnings?”

“Mr. Darcy informed me that you repeated Tuesday a great many times,” Mr. Bennet said.

Elizabeth started. “He did what?”

“Or rather he confirmed it,” Mr. Bennet continued. “Yesterday, I remembered several conversations that occurred over the course of approximately two weeks of Tuesdays.”

“Oh.” Cold filled her lungs and the dancing candle flames began to whirl.

“‘Oh’ indeed.” He rubbed his forehead. “It was like having a knife driven through my skull.”

She nodded, remembering the pain and disorientation of regaining her own memories.

“Mrs. Engel appeared in my library this morning and informed me they were true experiences. You and Mr. Darcy attempted to warn me, and I failed to listen.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It has exposed some truths about my behaviour. I have held myself too aloof from my family and you all have paid the price for my sins. Mr. Darcy has rather pointedly reminded me that I can either change and make the future a better one—or lose you.” He cleared his throat again. “I never meant to hurt you, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth stared at him, a lump in her throat as her thoughts skittered around like a flock of birds flushed from their hiding place by a ravening hound.

He took her hand, holding her gaze. “I am not a paragon like your Mr. Darcy,” he said, bitterness and amusement warring in his tone, “but I intend to do my best to change.”

“I am glad to hear that,” she said collectedly.

Mr. Bennet stood abruptly and went to look out the window. “Am I too late, even with you?”

“To what do you refer?”

“He said you wished to marry him. Is he correct?”

Elizabeth frowned. “Mr. Darcy?”

Mr. Bennet nodded, though his gaze remained on the night sky.

“I do wish to marry him.”

“Then you no longer need me.”

Elizabeth shook her head, trying to bring the conversation back into focus. What in the world? “I do not follow your reasoning. Mr. Darcy will be my husband. You are my father. These are different roles.” She took a deep breath. “I have always needed you to be my father and I imagine I will always need you. Perhaps the outward trappings of that need will change as I age, but the need remains.”

He turned back around, and she was startled to see tears in his eyes. “Then you will forgive me?”

Elizabeth hesitated, so off-balance that she did not know what to think, let alone what to say. “For what?”

“For being a poor father. For not listening to you when you warned me of the danger Mr. Wickham posed.”

Heat flashed through her, and a fury she had never acknowledged flamed white-hot. How dare he equate those two!

She took a deep breath, staring down at her clenched hands, tracing the whiteness of each knuckle. “I do not think those are equal, Papa. Nor do I know what you mean by ‘being a poor father.’ If you truly wish to mend things between us, you will show that you have changed and then we can continue this discussion,” she said evenly.

Mr. Bennet stiffened, and she realised it was the first time she had not rushed to comfort him when she had inadvertently injured his feelings, the first time she was not bending before his whims.

“Very well. I shall do my best to prove myself as worthy as Mr. Darcy,” he said roughly.

Elizabeth looked up. “Papa, you are your own person. You do not have to be like Mr. Darcy. Do you know what I admired about him, almost from the first, when we were caught in the repetitions?”

Mr. Bennet shook his head.

“He recognized a fault in himself and took pains to address it. Mr. Darcy worked near-tirelessly to rectify his poor behaviour. That is worth more than any professions of change or the ability to laugh at every situation. When faced with adversity, he grew stronger, strong enough to thrive even in its midst. If Mrs. Engel appeared to you, she must believe that you are capable of the same thing. That is what makes a man good: recognizing your mistakes, taking responsibility for them, and working to repair both the pain they have caused and the underlying character flaw that created them.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “You hurt me, Papa, when you did nothing about Mr. Collins until after he had proposed. It hurts to see the way you treat Mama or my sisters. It hurts because I know you are capable of so much more. I have seen your kindness and intelligence. I wish you would show that kindness to them too. I wish you cared about what happens to all of us.”

Elizabeth stood, tears pricking her eyes even as the fire of rage burned and straightened her spine. She took another deep breath, reminding herself of how Mr. Darcy had managed Lydia. “I hope that you take to heart whatever Mrs. Engel has recommended. If you will excuse me,” she said, nearly flinging herself out the door before she said something she should not or broke down in front of him.

Barely keeping the tears at bay, she fled to her bedroom.