Page 75 of The Riches of a Life Well-Lived

Tuesday, December 17, 1811—28 Days after Tuesday

Elizabeth rubbed her forehead as she sat next to Kitty at the table by the window, sketching the vase of dried flowers in front of them. They had wanted to compare their methods and differing styles and so had decided to simultaneously sketch the same object. Her head ached, though. Lydia had been nearly impossible the past few days, swinging back and forth between listlessness and rage. William’s papers had definitely shifted her youngest sister’s perspective, but Lydia’s resentment and grief over the situation had not abated and she often lashed out at Elizabeth. At least—after Mrs. Bennet, Jane, and Kitty had spoken to Lydia about incomes and household expenses—her youngest sister had admitted that living on a lieutenant’s income sounded “gloomy.” It was progress of a sort. Either that, or Lydia was biding her time until everyone relaxed so she could get into some new scrape.

“A letter for Miss Bennet,” Hill announced from the sitting room doorway.

Mrs. Bennet looked over at Jane. “Who could it be from? Perhaps Miss Bingley is writing to congratulate you!”

Jane opened the letter but, as she read, her brow furrowed.

“Who is it from, my love?” Mrs. Bennet demanded as she wound a skein of embroidery thread.

The muscles around Jane’s eyes tensed. It was slight enough that most would have missed it, but to Elizabeth, it was clear that her sister was distressed.

“It is from Miss Bingley,” Jane said, refolding the letter and putting it in her pocket.

Mrs. Bennet picked up her embroidery hoop again. “Oh, good. I would not have expected someone like her to be backward in sending good wishes, but I am still glad she took time to welcome you to the family.”

Jane made a noncommittal noise.

“Did she say when she is returning?” Mrs. Bennet continued. “Really, I would have expected her and her sister back ages ago, but perhaps their society obligations are keeping them in London.”

“No, she did not,” Jane said, smoothing her dress.

Before Mrs. Bennet could investigate further, horse hooves sounded from outside.

“I suppose it is the gentlemen again,” Lydia said with a sigh.

Elizabeth glanced over at her youngest sister. “Mama, perhaps we could all go for a walk. Kitty and Lydia might like to call on Maria Lucas.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes brightened. “It has been some time since I called on Lady Lucas and Mrs. Goulding and, of course, my sister Phillips. I told her the good news on Sunday, but I would like to get her opinion on one or two matters regarding the wedding breakfast. You and Jane could chaperone each other, and Lydia and Kitty could come with me.” She glanced at the ceiling. “I doubt Mary and your father will emerge from his library for some time anyway.”

And so, not long after the gentlemen had arrived, Mrs. Bennet and her two youngest daughters left to call on the Lucases’, and Mr. Bingley, William, Jane, and Elizabeth set out for a walk.

“Gentlemen, might I prevail upon you for a moment of privacy with my sister?” Elizabeth requested, pulling William to a halt.

Jane frowned. “There is no need, Lizzy.”

“Jane, you are distraught.”

Jane sighed. “It is nothing that Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy may not know about. In fact, perhaps they ought to know and may be able to tell me what I should do.”

Elizabeth frowned. “I was not trying to force you to disclose anything you wish to keep confidential.”

“No, it is—I am distressed, but more because I do not know what to think than anything else.” She stepped forward to give Elizabeth a hug. “You are only trying to take care of me.” She stepped back and drew the letter from Miss Bingley out of her pocket. “I received a letter from Miss Bingley today—at least it looks like her handwriting.” Jane looked over at Mr. Bingley. “She wrote to tell me that you were definitely settled in London and had no intention of returning to Hertfordshire for the foreseeable future. Miss Bingley sent me your regrets for not saying goodbye to your friends here.”

Mr. Bingley frowned. “May I see the letter?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Bingley sighed as he perused the short missive. “It is Caroline’s handwriting,” he told William.

William gave a little shrug. “She does not know where you are.”

“She does not?” Jane asked, a slight crease in her forehead.

Mr. Bingley nodded. “She had concerns that you might be a fortune hunter.” He took a quick step forward and held out a hand beseechingly. “I know now that you are not, but I wished to have time to examine your behaviour for myself without her nearby, to form my own opinion—something I have been lax in doing until recently.”

Jane hugged herself. “I am sorry that my presence is causing strife in your family, Mr. Bingley.”

“It is not your presence, Miss Bennet, but my choices that are causing strife.” He straightened. “I wish to be a husband worthy of you, and that means making choices I believe are best for both of us. Marrying you would bring me great happiness and I intend to do everything in my power to ensure that you are happy as well.”

She looked up at him. “I believe I will be. I had despaired of marrying someone who appreciates the power of kindness, but you do.” Jane smiled. “Lizzy is always accusing me of seeing the best in others even when there is nothing good to see, but I would rather be disappointed sometimes than spend my life suspicious of others’ motives.”

William squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as she opened her mouth and then closed it. At least he agreed that giving everyone the benefit of the doubt was not always wise.

“It is difficult to find a balance, is it not?” Mr. Bingley said. He glanced back down at his sister’s letter. “Caroline is ignorant of my location, but she has not been entirely truthful with me, most likely because she wishes a different outcome for herself.” He gave Jane an apologetic look. “Caroline has felt our lower status most keenly and hates the thought of not rising above it. Her ‘friends’ are quick to point out her recent social rise. It does not excuse her, but she has reasons for reacting the way she did.”

“As do we all,” William said.

Elizabeth nodded.

Mr. Bingley took Jane’s hand. “We shall have to discuss how best to address her behaviour. I had always planned on allowing her to stay with me until she was wed, but if she is going to scheme to get her own way behind my back, I do not know if I can trust her.”

Jane gave him a sad smile. “Limits may be necessary.”

“It is for the other person’s benefit as well, Miss Bennet,” William put in. “I have learned the hard way that relationships without limits only create heartache and brokenness later on. Sometimes an unplaced word is just as damaging as a misplaced one. If I had not taken away all of Wickham’s natural limits, we would not be where we are today.”

Elizabeth pushed aside a thin branch that stretched out onto the path and it whipped back into place with a painful snap. “A little pruning is sometimes in order.”

“How are you?” Darcy asked as they walked down the stream and settled onto a fallen log, Jane and Mr. Bingley having occupied a bench several yards away.

Elizabeth shrugged. “Tired.” She smiled up at him. “Happy that you are with me.” The smile slipped from her face. “Still confused about my father.” She took a deep breath. “Ready to marry you and to begin our life together.”

He squeezed her hand. “As am I.” He rubbed a thumb across her knuckles. “Did your father tell you about Mrs. Engel?”

“Only that she appeared to him. He did not say what she told him. Oh, and that he remembers our attempts to convince him to protect my sisters from Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy nodded. He rubbed her hand for a moment longer, hesitating between telling her the whole and waiting to let Mr. Bennet tell her himself. In the end, he decided to give her the choice; eventually, it would be the two of them against all comers—even her father, should it become necessary. “Do you wish to hear what Mrs. Engel told him?”

Elizabeth sighed. “Do I? Or will it merely cause another bout of wild goose-chasing?”

Darcy chuckled. “Well, even if it did, it would be your father who was responsible for chasing down the goose—not us. Mrs. Engel appeared to him and did not reference any need for assistance, at least not that he told me. According to him, on her first visit, Mrs. Engel told him that he was at a crossroads and that he could either start pursuing his family or he could lose them all. To me.” He bowed his head, hoping she would not blame him.

“ First visit?”

He nodded. “She visited him a second time on Sunday night. He called at Netherfield early Monday morning. Apparently, she showed him that future and it lit a fire in him. He is now determined to do whatever is required to prevent it from coming true.” Darcy hesitated. “Mrs. Engel also trapped him in a repeating minute to give him time to consider his options.”

Elizabeth shuddered. “I never thought I would be grateful that we had so much time.”

“Nor did I.”

“Why would my father lose my family to you ?”

Darcy took a deep breath. “I do not know precisely. Presumably because, after our marriage, I would gradually take over caring for your family. We have already discussed the possibility of sending the younger girls off to finishing school, and we would likely suggest they visit us on their breaks.”

“I think I have had enough supernatural interventions for a lifetime,” she said. “My father apologised without really knowing what he was apologising for on Friday.”

Darcy chuckled. “Is that not how apologies often begin?”

She huffed. “It is all well and good if they begin that way, but if he remains content with a vague blanket apology or does not rectify his mistakes, the apology is meaningless.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps it is all he is capable of offering at this moment. Only time will tell. It is evident that he is trying, and that is more than I have seen him do.” Darcy shifted to face her. “It is not the same, but I hope you will not bind him to yourself as I did with Wickham. Those cords feel as though they are mending the pain of the past, ensuring you do not repeat it and giving you some kind of control, but they only keep you tangled up.”

“I shall do my best,” Elizabeth said, squeezing his hand. “I wish we did not have so little time together. Do you think my mother will ever be done with her plans for our wedding?”

“Eventually. If nothing else, the day will arrive and we will be wed regardless of whether she is content with her plans.”

Elizabeth groaned. “When she started arguing the merits of different varieties of lace trimmings, I nearly threw myself out the window.”

“I am glad you did not,” he said, threading his fingers through hers and wishing that time would speed by. “At least the days are moving. We could get caught in another time loop, and then where would we be?”

“Hush! From your lips to God’s ear. Let us not give Mrs. Engel any more ideas.”

Darcy grinned. “I doubt she needs to intervene any further.”

“Speaking of intervening, Lydia may never forgive me for my ‘interference’ with Mr. Wickham.”

Darcy shifted to look her in the eye. “It does not matter. You still did the right thing. We will simply do our best to manage the repercussions one day at a time. Besides, she seemed quite thoughtful during the brief snatches that we have discussed my evidence.”

“Thank you, William.”

“For what, Elizabeth?”

She smiled at him, love shining in her eyes. “For being you and being here. For showing me another way of doing things. For being willing to grow, even when it was difficult. You inspire me to be a better person.”

He scoffed.

“No, it is true. I have been trying to manage Lydia the way you are, and it seems to be going better than anything else I have tried.”

“Well, I am happy to assist whenever I may, and I intend to be at your side for the rest of our lives.”

She squeezed his hands. “As do I.”