I started walking again. “I shall try, then.”
“Try?”
“To like you,” I said. “Well, within reason, anyway. You have done a number of very terrible things, you know.”
“Is this about Wickham?” He glanced at me. “Wickham is a liar, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, he said you’d say that.”
Mr. Darcy huffed in indignation. “I wonder if I kill someone if it sticks. Would he just be reborn tomorrow morning?”
“Kill him!” I said, horrified.
“Oh, Lord, Miss Bennet, you know nothing about Mr. Wickham, I must say. If I were to explain—” But he stopped talking because Charlotte and Maria appeared, cresting over the top of the hill just ahead, coming in off the road from town. He waved at them, cupping a hand around his mouth. “Mrs. Collins!”
Charlotte and Maria saw them and waved back, but they did not hurry themselves towards them, only walked in the general direction rather slowly.
Mr. Darcy, therefore, took off at nearly a sprint towards them.
I supposed I wished to know if Charlotte had, in fact, also started living Thursdays over and over like the two of us did. I went quickly as well, hurrying over behind Mr. Darcy.
“What day is it?” Mr. Darcy was saying as I caught up to them.
“Why, it’s Thursday!” said Charlotte. “What are you doing out here so early, sir? And what has become of your cravat?”
“What day was yesterday?” said Mr. Darcy to Charlotte.
“Well, it was Wednesday, obviously.” Charlotte turned on me. “Elizabeth, you’re out here with Mr. Darcy. You have no gloves.” She glanced at her younger sister as if she would like to protect Maria from the scandalous influence of me without gloves.
“It didn’t work,” I said to Mr. Darcy.
“Doesn’t seem so, no,” he said. “You don’t remember my asking you to marry you, do you, Mrs. Collins?”
“What?” Charlotte looked very worried indeed. “What’s come over you, sir?”
Mr. Darcy sighed heavily.
Charlotte gestured with her head to me, her expression severe. “Elizabeth, why don’t you come back with us to the parsonage, hmm? Let us leave Mr. Darcy to recover from whatever may be afflicting him, for it seems that he must be in the throes of some sort of illness. Perhaps you are feverish, sir? You should lie down.”
I glanced at Charlotte and then back at Mr. Darcy.
He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and was looking rather crestfallen. I supposed he’d been hoping that getting Charlotte to refuse his offer of marriage was going to work. But overall, I didn’t see how that would help us, if everyone were stuck like us. We needed to get to Friday, that was how to solve this problem.
“I shall come along by and by,” I said to Charlotte.
“No, Elizabeth, you should not be out here with him, not when he’s in this sort of state,” said Charlotte to me.
Mr. Darcy waved me on. “Go on, then, Miss Bennet.”
“But we should discuss this,” I said.
“What’s there to discuss?” he said, with a shrug. “I already knew it wasn’t going to work, anyway. Last night, after dinner, I got Anne to refuse my offer of marriage, though it wasn’t easy. I had to say all manner of terrible things to her, things I won’t repeat, because they are not meant for a young maiden’s ears, and you are a young maiden. But she did refuse me, and she didn’t remember it either. So, I already knew, but I let myself think…” He groaned. He bowed his head.
“What is he going on about?” said Maria, eyes wide.
“He’s feverish,” said Charlotte, looping her arm with mine. “We shall send a servant to deliver him back to Rosings. We ought to keep our distance or we might catch his sickness. Come along, Elizabeth.”
“I really am fine here,” I said to Charlotte. Mr. Darcy was the only person who seemed, well,real, somehow. I didn’t wish to be parted from him.
