Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Frerichs

Cross-posted on elizabethfrerichs dot com and wattpad

Day 43/15

The next day, Elizabeth nearly decided not to accompany her sisters to Meryton. She was exceedingly tempted to curl up with a good book in her room or to spend the day out of doors, rambling through the woods. Anything but endure yet another day of Mr. Collins's endless discourses. Only self-preservation from her mother's recriminations got her out of bed and off on her ramble. If today went as poorly as she expected, though, she might spend tomorrow "ill."

With some reluctance, she turned her steps back towards Longbourn.

Mr. Darcy's absence once again left a strange, hollow feeling. It was bad enough that she was stuck repeating Tuesday—everything that she tried to do felt entirely pointless—let alone repeating it by herself. She had spoken to all the tenants, and every morning she had begun the day by writing out their needs so that she would not forget once Wednesday came. Other than that, however, there was little else she could do today.

Mr. Collins seemed determined to haunt her steps, and she refused to spend the afternoon shut up in her father's library with him. Her two youngest sisters would be spending the day either chasing after officers or speaking of them. Mary would be occupied with her theological studies and pianoforte. Jane would be busy keeping their mother company . . . .

Nothing appealed. She recalled her instruction to Mr. Darcy—he had the opportunity of making mistakes more freely and could practise his skills at small talk. What did she have the opportunity to do that she was simply not seeing right now?

As she walked through the morning sunshine, she picked up a stick and began to swish it through the long grass on either side of the road. She had never really thought about what she might want to do with her life, save for being an excellent aunt to Jane's children.

Her mind turned the question over and over, like a puzzle piece that she was attempting to fit into place. She had challenged Mr. Darcy to practise his skills. Perhaps she ought to do likewise. The common accomplishments had just never seemed all that worthwhile; what were the odds that she would ever be in a position where she would need them?

But if Jane married Mr. Bingley, she might encounter someone whom she wished to marry. Said accomplishments would benefit her in that situation, and even if it did not occur, learning them would not hurt.

More importantly, she did enjoy playing pianoforte and had always intended to get around to increasing her proficiency. She could practise that this afternoon. This morning though . . . . French had provided an excellent "secret language" for Jane, Charlotte, and her when they had been younger. It had been a couple of years since they had spoken French regularly, but it would not be too difficult to pick it back up, would it? Italian, likewise, had fascinated her—far more than learning to play the actual operas that had inspired her interest. Her drawing, however, was dreadful.

Charlotte could draw. Perhaps she could start there this morning. And it would have the added benefit of avoiding Mr. Collins. That decided, she quickened her pace towards Longbourn.

Elizabeth had not realised how much she had missed Charlotte until the moment she greeted her. It felt like forever—and it had been more than a month in truth. "How are you, Charlotte?" she asked, giving her a warm hug.

"As well as I was two days ago," Charlotte said with a quizzical look.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Two days may be an eventful time. For example, Mr. Collins has come to visit—and two days spent in that man's company feels like an eternity."

"Oh?" she said, pulling her friend over to a settee.

Elizabeth shook her head. "It is something you have to experience for yourself—and as he intends to stay until Saturday, you will have ample opportunity to do so."

"I see."

Elizabeth took Charlotte's hand and moved to face her more fully. "I have been thinking about my woeful lack of accomplishments; will you teach me to draw?"

Charlotte's brow furrowed. "Teach you to draw? Are you ill, Eliza?"

"What does wanting to learn to draw have to do with being ill?" Elizabeth asked with a laugh.

"You have never seemed interested before. Did something happen? If Mr. Collins complained about your lack of accomplishments, or—"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, it is nothing like that. I just—I wish to learn, and I always forget to request your assistance." She gave her friend a rueful smile. "Not to mention that my mother cannot complain that I am avoiding Mr. Collins if I am increasing my eligibility."

Charlotte chuckled. "Ah, I see. I am nothing but your alibi. You do not really wish to learn to draw."

"I do, but yes, the circumstances of today have certainly provided the impetus for me to come over here today and ask." How little Charlotte knew the prominent part that Tuesday's circumstances played. A pang went through Elizabeth's chest at the thought that here was another person in whom she customarily confided but could no longer do so. Of course, she could take the time every day to explain her situation to Jane and Charlotte, but it felt . . . every time she had explained it to Jane after the first time, she felt more and more alone. She would rather just wait until Wednesday—at least for now. She dragged herself back to the present. "Would you be willing to spare some time now? My sisters and Mr. Collins will be stopping back by Lucas Lodge on their way to Longbourn, so you will have the opportunity to meet Mr. Collins then."

Charlotte smiled at her. "I suppose I might spare some time for you. Provided that you are willing to work at the skill and will not cast me aside the moment you no longer need the excuse."

Elizabeth returned her friend's smile. "I promise that I shall do my utmost to learn what I may today, and that I will continue my lessons after Mr. Collins is gone."

"Very well."

Darcy took a deep breath as he was announced to his aunt. Lady Margaret Matlock was alone in her sitting room; Presumably, Georgiana was in the music room and his uncle was in his study once more.

"William! Are you well?" his aunt said, rushing to his side and clasping his hands in hers.

Darcy smiled at her. "Yes, Aunt Margaret."

She gave him a stern look. "You did not send word that you would return today." Glancing at his travel-stained raiment, her nostrils flared. "Apparently, you have only just arrived."

"Yes. I did not write because my visit was unexpected."

"Well, sit down then and explain precisely why you rode all the way here," she said, gesturing to a wooden chair.

"Unfortunately, Wickham has arrived in Meryton."

Lady Matlock's eyebrows shot up. "That wretch! How dare he show his face!"

Darcy nodded, his hands tensing in his lap. "Those were my sentiments as well. I do not believe Wickham knew that I would be in Meryton—he seemed surprised to see me, though that could be entirely feigned. One never knows." He cleared his throat. "Regardless, I am concerned that Georgiana may be in danger."

"If he is in Hertfordshire, I do not see how he can reach her here."

Darcy hesitated. "That is part of what I wished to discuss with you: is there any way he might succeed in marrying Georgiana? Whether through guile or force?"

Lady Matlock frowned. "Are you concerned that he might attempt to compromise her?"

"I do not know. I do not believe there is enough evidence to compromise her, or else he would not have simply left Ramsgate. But, I cannot be certain."

His aunt's frown deepened. "Of course, a reputation is a fragile thing and Georgiana has certainly put hers in jeopardy, as I have already informed her. Still, if he were to attempt anything, it would be easy enough to discredit him. I imagine if the truth about the living at Kympton were to become common knowledge, his attempts would be disregarded as nothing more than sour grapes."

"I had not considered making that information public."

His aunt fixed him with a beady stare. "I realise that you wish to protect Wickham for your father's sake. But if he continues to prove troublesome, your father would not have wished you to allow him to disrespect you."

"Are you certain?" Darcy asked. "I—Wickham has always maintained that he was my father's favourite. And I—I do not know that I can disagree with him."

Lady Matlock reached over and gripped his hand tightly. "Your father was hard on you, William, but it was because he loved you and because he did not know how to go on without Anne to help him. And as for Wickham—" She scoffed. "He is mistaken about what constitutes favouritism. After all, if he was your father's favourite, your father would have taken the time to educate him himself, rather than simply spending leisure time with him and paying for his schooling." She squeezed his hand. "I always told George that it was a mistake spending so much energy on that boy. But I believe it was a chance for him to simply enjoy someone without having any burdens to bear."

Darcy grimaced.

"Not that you were a burden, dear—just someone who required his attention, and, as he had a great many people whom he wished to attend to, it . . . well, I believe that he always felt inadequate. He could not fill the role of both mother and father entirely. He did his best, but he always worried that it would not be enough. And seeing you children reminded him of his deficiencies."

Though he had considered that perspective previously, Darcy still hated it. He had several chores that he felt the same way about, and it did not sit well that his father had felt that way about him.

"You do not look soothed, but truly, William, your father loved you."

"Of course."

"And he certainly would not have approved of Wickham's behaviour as of late. That 'gentleman' has far exceeded even what your father would have tolerated." She sighed. "When George began spending more time with him, I worried that he was raising the boy's expectations in life—it must be difficult to be treated virtually as a Darcy and then to lose those advantages when one became an adult. Obviously, Wickham could have utilised the advantages to give him nearly an independence. But he was unwilling to settle for such a position."

Darcy snorted. "More likely, he was unwilling to do the necessary work." Had he ever seen Wickham exert himself, save in pursuing some scheme or another?

"Well, either way, exposing Wickham to the world would not be at all outside your father's wishes should Wickham attempt to marry Georgiana again."

"And you cannot think of any other way he may succeed? Do you believe any of your servants would assist in kidnapping her or perhaps turn a blind eye to Wickham's schemes?"

Lady Matlock stiffened. "Certainly not! You know they have all been with us for many years or come highly recommended by someone we know well."

Darcy nodded. "I thought so; however, we—I have been unable to come up with any other means by which he might seek out Georgiana."

Lady Matlock eyed him. "You have shared the nature of Georgiana's interactions with Wickham?" she asked sternly.

If only he could stop thinking about Elizabeth—then he would be less likely to bring her into conversation. Or perhaps it was only that he had lost some of his self-control over these many repetitions. It had been nice, not having to watch every little thing he said. He was still cautious and aware, generally, but he felt less constrained.

He cleared his throat. "Yes."

"Who is this person?"

A/N: I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger there, but the chapter lengths would be crazily long if I didn't break up the conversations with the Matlocks, so... c'est la vie. Thanks for reading and engaging! I really love hearing your thoughts :) Thanks to Emme for beta-ing this chapter! As always, do let me know if you see something that can strengthen the story. I think I've said it before, but even though I don't always have time to make those changes in the current version, I always look at them for the final version. See you tomorrow!