Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Frerichs

Cross-posted on elizabethfrerichs dot com and wattpad

Day 77/49

The following morning, Darcy shifted restlessly as he waited for Elizabeth just out of sight. The sun shone brightly, as it did every Tuesday, but his thoughts were clouded. Elizabeth had promised to give him a chance,yet that chance was dependent upon time resuming. More pressingly, he missed her. He had missed her from the moment they had parted ways yesterday and again after Mrs. Phillips's party. He missed her so keenly when they were apart that he could not imagine returning to their normal lives and having to go days without seeing her.

Yesterday had been a dream come true, and Darcy had been unwilling to rupture their accord by telling her the truth about Miss Engel's words. But now . . . he could no longer in good conscience keep the truth about her sister hidden.

He twisted the reins in his hand, wishing that the whole thing might be over. It would be—how did one even start such a conversation? A chocolate tart had introduced his feelings, however poorly, but what way was there to confess that he had practically lied to her?

Darcy sighed. It had seemed so logical before to wait, to allow Elizabeth to realise her own feelings. His heart leapt once more. Elizabeth had feelings for him! She was willing to be courted by him! And yet . . . . What if she changed her mind?

He could only hope that she would listen without losing her temper—or at least agree to listen after she lost her temper—and that Tuesday would continue until she understood his rationale.

The sound of a breaking stick sent him peering out of the trees. Thank God it was her! He had never seen anyone else this way, but he still dared not risk her reputation by coming any closer to Longbourn.

"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth," he said, bowing and managing to get the reins tangled. He flushed.

She graciously allowed only the amusement dancing in her eyes to show that she had noticed his faux pas. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy. Did you sleep well?"

Darcy nodded and held out an arm. "May I escort you on your ramble this morning?"

"You may," she said with a smile.

Once they began walking, he realised he had neglected to ask her about her own sleep. "Did you sleep well last night?" he asked in a rush.

"I did."

"Good. I am very glad to hear it."

Darcy opened his mouth and then closed it. Blast Miss Engel for not just telling the information to the both of them! Unless . . . perhaps she had spoken to Elizabeth? "Er, have you seen Miss Engel recently?"

"No," she said, turning puzzled eyes on him. "Have you?"

He shook his head. "Not since a week ago." He cleared his throat. "However, I—I have been thinking about hurrying Wednesday, and I believe there is something more I ought to share."

"Oh?" She raised one eyebrow.

"When I last saw Miss Engel, there was something else she said about reaching Wednesday that I believed would be premature to disclose."

"I see."

Darcy suppressed a wince, hearing the edge to her voice. "I believed it might cause more harm than good should I share it prematurely."

"And you believe now is the time to tell me?"

"I do." He took a deep breath. "Miss Engel imparted to me that Wickham will not become my brother by marrying Georgiana."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "He will not? Is that not what began the repetitions? I thought she told you he would."

"She told me he would become my brother by marriage, and I inferred Wickham would marry Georgiana. However, a week ago, she told me that was a mistaken inference."

"Then how?"

"He will marry one of your sisters," Darcy blurted.

Elizabeth blinked at him. "One of my sisters?"

He nodded.

"Mr. Darcy, that would make him my brother, nor yours."

"That is true," he agreed with forced tranquillity. "However, should my suit prosper, I shall acquire all your relations."

Elizabeth stumbled. Was Mr. Darcy saying what she thought he was saying? "Miss Engel informed you we would wed?"

Mr. Darcy nodded.

Her heart fell faster than if she had thrown herself off the top of Oakham Mount. No wonder Mr. Darcy was pursuing her. She had been so happy yesterday, shocked, but overjoyed that her feelings were not unrequited. He loved her. He wished to call upon her. It had been hard enough to tell him "not yet" when she had thought his feelings to be genuine. But now . . . no wonder his behaviour had changed so starkly after his conversation with Miss Engel. He had been uninterested until the woman had forced her preferences upon him.

A sob grew in her chest. Why had she let herself believe the fairy-tale? It had been painful enough knowing that Mr. Darcy would return to London and forget all about her. But to allow herself to imagine a life with him, to recognise all the ways in which they were a match, and to learn that it was all a mirage . . . .

He did not love her. What had he said? He wished to pursue her—that did not mean that he returned her affection. After all, had she not acknowledged that their very situation lent itself to a sort of false affection?

"Miss Engel told you we would marry," Elizabeth repeated, her voice hollower than she would have imagined possible.

Mr. Darcy halted. "Yes." He searched her face. "You are distraught; why?"

"What woman would not be distressed by discovering that the man who asked to call upon her was obliged to do so?" she asked, enunciating evenly, as though she were not about to rip out her own heart.

Mr. Darcy clasped her hands. "Elizabeth, no. I am not obliged to offer for you—in fact, I have taken great care to ensure that neither of us is obligated via compromise. You deserve the opportunity to choose."

"And yet you are telling me that the choice has already been made by some supernatural creature—"

"No!" He squeezed her hands. "My choice is my own. What man would not choose to pursue you? Your compassion and kindness, your wit and intelligence . . . . Elizabeth, you have ruined me for any other woman. I cannot imagine a better friend with whom to grow old, a better sister to Georgiana, or a better mistress at Pemberley. I do not want anyone else."

Elizabeth's eyes grew hot, and she clutched hold of the anger that simmered just underneath the surface lest she drown in anguish. "Yet it was not your idea to pursue me at all."

"Only because I had not dared to dream before Miss Engel's revelation." He sighed. "I am—you know I do not have a way with words." He shifted, the crackle of leaves proclaiming his discomfort. "I asked Miss Engel how to protect Georgiana from Wickham, and she asked me when she had ever said anything about Georgiana and suggested there was another way. It was then that I realised that the only woman I have ever dreamed of having by my side, day in and day out, is you. From there, it was easy enough to guess that Wickham must have married one of your sisters." He held her gaze. "I could not lose you—not even if it meant becoming a brother to Wickham."

Elizabeth searched his face, trying to decide how truthful he was being. Then again, once they had become close, Mr. Darcy had failed to hide anything from her. He had not even been able to hide this—not really. His changed behaviour had set off dozens of alarms. "I do not—" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. His desire to marry her was strong enough to endure, even in the face of becoming related to Mr. Wickham? "I do not know what to say."

"Say that you believe me," he said earnestly. "I did not withhold this information to pain you; I withheld it because I wished for you to have the choice to reject or accept my suit—"

"I have not given you my answer, sir."

Mr. Darcy nodded. "Of course. But you have taught me to hope, and that is enough for now." He tenderly rubbed his thumb across her fingers. "Do you not see, Elizabeth? Miss Engel's words, as they have always done, merely give us a glimpse into what may happen—or what would have happened had these repetitions not occurred. We still have the choice now, and I choose you. Knowing that I chose you before does not change my mind. It only increases my certainty.

"We are not the same two people as those who continued along without Tuesday. I am certainly not the same at all. We must make our own choice now. I could have chosen not to marry you, and Wickham would not become my brother. Perhaps that would have freed us. But I have gone many years without you, and I do not desire to continue doing so."

He lifted a hand and cupped her face, wiping the tears that had escaped, despite her best efforts. "Elizabeth, I choose you. Now and forever. Please believe me. Please choose me now."

Elizabeth merely breathed for a moment, her mind whirling. She had chosen to marry Mr. Darcy in that other future? Of course, she could easily see herself marrying this Mr. Darcy, the man who had grown so much over the past few months, the man who was so tender and yet so willing to admit fault and to work to rectify it, the man who was strong enough to stand up to Mr. Wickham and strong enough to resist the darkness inside himself. But to marry the Mr. Darcy of several months ago? The man who had so callously ignored everyone's feelings and left only a trail of annoyance and affront?

Mr. Darcy continued stroking her face for a moment longer, then drew his hand away, his expression falling.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand and held it to her face. "I would choose you today if I did not believe that you deserve the opportunity to change your mind once we are returned to our natural rhythms."

He beamed at her. "That is enough for me, for now. I look forward to the day when you can freely make that choice without reservations."

"As do I," she murmured, taking a step closer.

Mr. Darcy drew her into his arms, resting his head atop hers. "Let us hope that the day comes soon." He took a deep breath. "When Miss Engel told me about Wickham and your sister, I was frustrated that she had allowed me, allowed us, to spend so much time wracking our brains, trying one thing after the next, all for the purpose of saving Georgiana, when that was not at all necessary."

Elizabeth's cheeks were on fire, but she could not draw herself out of his solid embrace. Indeed, her traitorous arms had risen to clasp him back, and she only hoped that no one saw their intimate position. She huffed, mildly annoyed that the man could simultaneously cause the storm and yet still soothe her far more effectively than anyone else.

Mr. Darcy shifted to look down at her.

She cleared her throat, unwilling to share her ruminations. "It is infuriating," she agreed.

He chuckled. "I believe it would have been far more infuriating had she shared that information at the beginning of my quest though. Frankly, I would have rejected it entirely."

She nearly pulled herself from his arms in mock affront.

"You know what a fool I was: too steeped in society's values and the desire for my father's approval, despite the futility of that quest, to see what was right in front of me. Fortunately, I have learned better."

She sighed. "I suppose I cannot fault you for your foolishness, as I was similarly afflicted. If Miss Engel had revealed our possible connection at the beginning, I would certainly have rejected it too."

"You would have been right to reject me."

Elizabeth shook her head. "You are a far better person than you realise, Mr. Darcy. Though you did not make the best first impression, you have not changed at all in essentials."

"I shall not argue with you, though we both know that you are too forgiving."

"I am not at all sure of that," she said wryly, thinking of how firmly she had held to her first opinion merely because her vanity had been wounded. "Let us agree to disagree."

"Very well. I would not wish to mar the day with an argument anyway."

Elizabeth snorted. "Mr. Darcy, for someone who dislikes arguments, you certainly provoke debates with alarming frequency."

Darcy forced himself to step back, wishing that he could hold Elizabeth for the rest of the day and for every subsequent Tuesday. However, he intended to prove that he was serious about allowing Elizabeth a choice. He offered her his arm once more. "Debates are entirely different from arguments, as you are well aware of," he said lightly.

A smile played around Elizabeth's lips. "Would you not agree that debates are a form of argument?"

"Oh no, my lady, you will not trick me into beginning that debate." He smiled down at her. "As delightful as it would be, I believe we ought instead to discuss how to utilise Miss Engel's information."

Elizabeth's smile vanished. "I suppose you are right. I am—I apologise for my family."

"One cannot apologise for another's behaviour, not really. Remember, you have told me that about Wickham several times now."

She glared at him. "Turning my own words against me." Elizabeth sighed. "Very well. Still, it is—on the one hand, I can easily see my youngest sisters pursuing Mr. Wickham, and I am sorry that you may have to be related to such silly girls."

Darcy put a hand over hers. "Georgiana gave in to his wiles, too."

"Yes, but I do not doubt that Mr. Wickham laid siege to Miss Darcy; my sisters would gladly throw themselves at the man even without encouragement."

Though he agreed, it would not have been politic to do so aloud, so Darcy merely hummed in response.

"I still do not see why Mr. Wickham would marry one of them. Frankly, I cannot see him doing anything that would not further his own agenda. Marrying a penniless country girl seems rather out of character."

"Indeed. I have spent some time considering the matter, and I believe it is more likely that he would pursue one of your sisters out of revenge." He cleared his throat delicately. "If it was a choice between ensuring he married your sister and watching your family suffer ruin, I would certainly move heaven and earth to bring such a marriage to pass."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and engaging! I hope you guys are enjoying the sweet bits with our characters :D Thanks to Stephanie Aimee for whipping this chapter into shape! See you guys tomorrow!