A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  Darcy stood, putting on a polite smile despite the rush of his heartbeat and the grin that threatened to break loose. “Your presence is not an unwelcome intrusion. Please, feel free to use the library.” His smile widened. “Such as it is.”

  Elizabeth hesitated.

  “If you are uncomfortable, Miss Elizabeth, I will leave you to your reading.”

  “I cannot chase you from the library in good conscience,” she said lightly.

  “Perhaps we may share the library then.” He gestured to the sparsely populated bookshelves. “Would you like me to find something for you?”

  “Find something?”

  “If you have not visited Bingley’s library before, you will note that the books are not organised according to any of the accepted methods.”

  Elizabeth turned to one of the shelves with a chuckle. “What method are they organised according to?”

  Darcy shrugged. “I have not been able to discern any sort of method. They may as well be organised by colour. However, I am familiar enough with the contents of his library, having browsed it several times myself, to recollect where various volumes are located.”

  “Does Mr. Bingley keep any Shakespeare around?”

  Darcy nodded, leading her to a shelf by the window. “Would that I could say he had more, but I believe this is the extent of his collection. If you wish to read the Sonnets, I have a copy in my room I can fetch for you.”

  “That is not necessary. I shall be perfectly content with Mr. Bingley’s collection.”

  Darcy returned to his seat and watched as Elizabeth ran her fingers along the spines, as though caressing them, before selecting a volume.

  Darcy gestured to the chair nearest him. “I fear Bingley’s neglect of a family library extends to the furniture in here, however, this is one of the more comfortable chairs.”

  Elizabeth nodded and perched herself in the chair.

  “Is Shakespeare one of your particular favourites, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy began.

  “Is he not one of everyone’s particular favourites?” Elizabeth returned.

  Darcy smiled. “Perhaps. However, I find that a person’s reason for enjoying Shakespeare may be as varied as the number of persons one asks.”

  “And why do you enjoy Shakespeare?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  Darcy sobered, recalling the many hours he had read the Sonnets Before, sighing over Elizabeth, mourning his own wretched state without her. It had been here, at Netherfield while Elizabeth was staying, that he had begun to read them with her in mind. “I find that Shakespeare speaks to both the mind and the heart.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed.”

  “And you?”

  “I am not opposed to the Sonnets, but I prefer his comedies.”

  Darcy attempted to raise an eyebrow. “Not his tragedies?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I dearly love to laugh. I rarely read tragedies.”

  “You do not find them food for your character study?”

  “I much prefer to study the people around me.”

  “As they are forever changing?” Darcy asked with a smile.

  “Yes.”

  Darcy hesitated. “Will you be glad to see your family?”

  Elizabeth considered. “I have missed my father.”

  “Ah, yes, you mentioned debating with him. You are close to him?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “We are more alike than any of the others in our family, so we often spend time discussing books.”

  “So it is he who fostered your love of reading?”

  “Very much so.” Elizabeth chuckled. “He was resolved that I should read Plato’s republic in Greek before I reached the age of ten.”

  Darcy’s head tipped to one side, trying to imagine the lackadaisical Mr. Bennet being passionate about anything. “My father was similarly impassioned about my education—however he determined it ought to include our family history. I hated having to recite the Darcy family genealogy and often created stories to match each predecessor’s name.” His lips curved up. “Rupert the Grim certainly was a ghost hunter—else why would he be so grim?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I shudder to imagine what tales you have contrived for your contemporaries.”

  “I must admit that I have never considered fabricating tales about the ton for my own entertainment—it would certainly make balls more interesting.”

  “Indeed. However, you might find it difficult to keep a straight face should you imagine something too ridiculous.”

  Darcy gave her a wry smile. “I have much experience with keeping a straight face regardless of what events unfold. Given the antics of the ton, I doubt any imagining will overset my abilities.”

  “You do not revere the ton,” she commented.

  “No, perhaps it is due to my intimate familiarity with them—they are merely people and often not even as admirable as those who are not of the ton.”

  “You truly value character over status?”

  Darcy nodded. “It was a hard-earned lesson, but necessary. Status shifts with the winds of time and change, but character remains. Do you not feel the same?”

  “I do. I have met too many self-satisfied members of the ton to have any love for the group.”

  Darcy sat straighter. “You have?”

  “My uncle owns a shop in London that is patronised by much of society, including several members of the ton.”

  “Oh? Which shop?”

  “Gardiner’s emporium.”

  Darcy started. The Gardiners were not unknown to him, by reputation only. Given Miss Bingley’s objections, he had expected a less respectable business—not that it would have made any difference in his resolve to woo Elizabeth. “You are related to the Gardiners? I have heard nothing but good of them, though I have not had the pleasure of their acquaintance yet.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Yes. I grew up visiting them and have always loved walking through the store and warehouses. The curios have ever been fascinating to one who has never been more than two day’s travel from home. I drove the staff mad asking where items had come from, what they were used for, how they had been procured, how they had been made, and on and on.”

  “I can imagine,” Darcy said with a chuckle.

  “How very ungenerous of you to admit it,” Elizabeth riposted teasingly.

  Warmth filled Darcy’s chest as he realised Penn had been right: This Elizabeth was as light-hearted, witty, and principled as his Elizabeth had been. Regardless of the changes his Elizabeth had experienced in the year after they met Before, this Elizabeth was the same person in essentials. And he was just as much in love with her.

  Darcy opened his mouth to reply, then closed it as footsteps padded down the hall.

  Had Darcy been less alert, the noise would have gone unnoticed. Regardless of the lack of impropriety in their presence alone in the library—the door was open—he had no desire for their conversation to be overheard and bandied about.

  A moment later, Miss Caroline Bingley swept into the library. “There you are, Mr. Darcy! Would you care for a turn about the garden?”

  Darcy stood, one finger in his book to maintain his place. “No, thank you.”

  Elizabeth sent him a sideways glance as though surprised by his curtness, but Darcy could not regret it. Miss Bingley had been abominably rude to Elizabeth, and, although he was waiting for the end of Elizabeth’s stay to speak to Bingley, he would no longer tolerate her presence more than absolutely necessary.

  Miss Bingley’s smile hardened. She turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Eliza, perhaps you desire some fresh air?”

  Elizabeth smiled pleasantly. “I am afraid I ought not to. I have been away from Jane for too long as it is.”

  Darcy suppressed a shudder at the predatory look that crossed Miss Bingley’s face. He would not be remaining in the library alone with her. He ostentatiously checked the clock. “And I should find Bingley. We had intended to look at the north field.”

  Elizabeth’s smile widene
d. “Is Mr. Bingley going to rebuild the irrigation and drainage system in that area, or will you suggest he rotate the crops?”

  Darcy smiled down at her. “As yet, I do not know. Has your familiarity with the area suggested a solution?”

  Elizabeth considered. “The floods make that field unusable—no tenant has farmed the land since the owners began to let Netherfield. I am not as well-versed in farming as you are; however, I have often thought the soil would be most fertile if properly drained.”

  Miss Bingley scoffed, then simpered as the two turned to her. “I am certain you will devise an admirable solution, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy nodded. “Bingley and I shall do our best.”

  “Well, then”—Elizabeth curtsied—“I shall return to Jane. Good luck with the north field.”

  Darcy bowed. “Thank you.”

  Miss Bingley grasped his arm as though allowing him to escort her. “Are you certain you do not wish to tarry in the library?” she purred.

  Darcy shook her off. “I would not wish to treat Bingley’s time so lightly.”

  Miss Bingley grabbed his arm again. “He will not mind. Besides, I doubt he is ready.”

  Darcy tensed. “But I would mind. Bingley is one of my dearest friends, and I will not disrespect him so.” Nor would he allow Miss Bingley to enact any sort of liaison in the library. Perhaps it would be best to escort her out, lest she rush ahead and tell tales.

  Without removing her hand, Darcy moved towards the doorway. “And what do you have planned for today, Miss Bingley?”

  “As I said at breakfast, I intend to enjoy this last day with dear Jane and to help her prepare for her departure.”

  “Ah, yes,” Darcy said, continuing down the hallway. It sounded as nonsensical now as it had at breakfast. Not only was he aware of her disapproval towards Miss Bennet, but what did she need to arrange for the Bennet sisters’ departure? The maids would pack their trunks, and Bingley had already arranged for them to borrow one of the most comfortable carriages, so his angel would be taken home in comfort after the Sunday service.

  “Will you and Charles be gone long?”

  “I do not know.” After all, Bingley had put off the outing every day since Miss Bennet had been present. Truly, he had no other expectation for today, but perhaps he could persuade Bingley to take a short ride even if they did not inspect the north field. What had he suggested Before?

  After several moments’ silence, Miss Bingley began again. “Mr. Darcy, I am very worried for my brother.”

  “Oh?” he asked, continuing to draw her along the hallway.

  “He is in danger of throwing everything away on a—country chit!” she snapped. “He has always listened to you though,” she said with a tremulous smile.

  Darcy suppressed a sigh. Why had she begun this speech now? She hadn’t expressed concern until after the ball Before. “Bingley’s decisions are his own,” he said firmly.

  Miss Bingley pulled them to a halt and faced him, her eyes shining with tears. “But you are his dearest friend—if you cannot save him from ruin, who will?”

  “Why are you certain his infatuation with Miss Bennet will lead to ruin?”

  Miss Bingley dropped her pretense of supplication and glared daggers at him, her hands balling at her sides. “You have seen her family! The degradation and social censure that will surely result should anyone discover their vulgarity and connections—it is not to be borne!”

  “Miss Bingley, may I remind you of your own connections to trade—which are much closer than those of the Bennets,” Darcy said in clipped tones. “Society’s censure rarely lasts and, even if it did, would not Bingley’s happiness be worth more than any censure?” He held up a hand as Miss Bingley opened her mouth. “Besides, marrying into a landed family will only increase Bingley’s status.”

  “Not if anyone meets any member of that family,” she ground out.

  “The ton is full of such oddities,” Darcy said flatly.

  “That are accepted because of their impeccable pedigree and connections. As you have pointed out, we have neither,” she said sharply.

  “You are correct; however, I was speaking of the fact that the ton has no room to judge, nor is their censure worth taking to heart.”

  Miss Bingley reared back as though he had stabbed her. “Mr. Darcy, the ton decides who shall be accepted and who shall not! Without their approval, many doors will be closed to you!” She flushed. “To Charles,” she corrected.

  Darcy drew himself up. “Miss Bingley, your brother’s decisions are his to make and I will not connive with you to change his mind.”

  Miss Bingley glared at him, then softened. “I am not trying to persuade you to change his mind, but rather to help him see the likely consequences should he continue on the course he appears to have set.”

  Darcy suppressed a scoff. Miss Bingley would do whatever was necessary to further her own agenda. How had he ever tolerated her? Nor had he missed her slip—apparently the conversation had little to do with Bingley’s well-being.

  He took a deep breath. “I am certain that Bingley is aware of the consequences of his actions. And if not, he will learn from the experience. Now, as I have said, I do not wish to keep your brother waiting.”

  Miss Bingley sniffed, but allowed him to resume their walk.

  Chapter 11

  Fortunately, Bingley had indeed been ready—though Darcy sensed an excuse hovering on the young man’s lips. He forestalled any delay, however, by the simple expedient of excusing himself from Miss Bingley and rushing off to Apollo. Bingley had taken their ride with ill grace, but Darcy had waited only until they were out of sight and earshot of Netherfield before pulling Apollo into a walk.

  “We do not have to inspect the north field today, if you desire to remain close to Netherfield,” he said gently.

  Bingley brightened. “Are you certain?”

  “What would you prefer?”

  Bingley frowned. “Is there reason to attend to it today?”

  “Other than removing ourselves from Netherfield?” Darcy asked ruefully. “It will be difficult to put any improvements into place during the rain or once the ground is frozen, however, two days’ delay will not be of consequence.”

  “Is that why you insisted on leaving today? I would have expected you to prefer to stay close to Miss Elizabeth.”

  Darcy considered. “I do wish to remain close to her, but I am attempting to woo her carefully.”

  Bingley rolled his eyes. “What is there to be careful about? You are not still thinking of Wickham, are you?”

  “I am not certain that I ever stop thinking of Wickham,” Darcy said wryly.

  Bingley hesitated. “Have you considered that your vision may not have been real?”

  “I would be a fool not to consider it. However, my vision has proven accurate in every detail so far—save those which I myself have altered. Even the responses of others around me have remained remarkably similar, despite my attempts to change the tone of conversations.”

  “Such as your arguments with Miss Elizabeth?”

  Darcy chuckled, recalling how fiery Elizabeth got when defending a position. It was no wonder Bingley categorised them as “arguments.” “Truly, Bingley, they are but friendly debates—at least on my part. I enjoy interacting with a woman who has such different ideas than mine.” He pulled Apollo to a halt and held Bingley’s gaze. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable though. Would you prefer that I withhold such conversations when you are in earshot?”

  Bingley stared into the distance. “You have changed, Darcy. It almost makes me believe in your vision.”

  “I have not been a good friend. I greatly value our friendship, but I have never told you so. Nor told you how much I appreciate your social acumen. You have smoothed many uncomfortable situations for me.”

  Bingley flushed. “Now I know you have gone mad.”

  “Not at all. Merely speaking what ought to have been said long ago,” Darcy said lightly.
r />   Bingley signalled his horse into a walk. “Perhaps now that I know you do not dislike your arguments with Miss Elizabeth . . . .”

  “It is your house, and I am your guest. You certainly have the right to gainsay behaviour you dislike.”

  “Even going for a ride when I had no desire to leave my home?” Bingley quipped.

  Darcy hesitated, detecting an edge of uncertainty to his friend’s question. “You are right. It was high-handed of me to insist. I ought to have asked first. I was in need of air, but it did not follow that your presence was required.”

  Bingley sent him a questioning look. “Oh?”

  Darcy sighed. “I had intended to wait until the Bennet sisters were gone to speak to you. Miss Bingley’s behaviour has gotten—more intense.”

  “How so?”

  “Yesterday, Miss Elizabeth and I overheard her speaking to Mrs. Hurst in the garden. It was naught but what she has said outside the Bennets’ presence, however, I am concerned it was hurtful to Miss Elizabeth.”

  Bingley looked worried. “Was Miss Elizabeth all right?”

  Darcy shifted in the saddle, causing Apollo to huff at him. “Though she rallied admirably, I do not believe she would have been open with her feelings to me.”

  “Do you think she told Miss Bennet?”

  “I do not know. Even if she did, I am certain Miss Bennet would not hold your sister’s behaviour against you. You do not hold her sisters’ behaviour against her, do you?”

  Bingley’s eyes widened. “Certainly not! It is not her fault that her sisters are so lively—whatever Caroline says.”

  “I doubt Miss Bennet will feel any different. However, if you do not check your sister’s behaviour, no one else will.”

  Bingley hunched in on himself. “Darcy, you know that she has always been—difficult, and I—”

  Darcy held up a hand. “Forgive me for interrupting. You speak as though you are not capable of checking her, but I have seen you do so.”

  “In the—future?” Bingley asked uncertainly.

  “Yes. You had begun pressuring her to modify her behaviour. After all, you hold the purse strings and her access to the ton.”