A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  Bingley scoffed. “She has her own inheritance—”

  “Which you supplement out of your own pocket. When has Miss Bingley ever adhered to her allowance?”

  Bingley’s lips twitched. “I cannot remember when, but surely she has done so.”

  “Your solicitor could not find any evidence of such.”

  “I asked him?”

  “You prepared paperwork to cut her off. Not because you intended to rush into doing so, but because you wished to show Miss Bingley how serious you were. But more to the point, you are her entrée into society. She would cut off her right arm before she did anything to lose that.”

  “Caroline’s friends would ensure her invitations.”

  “Forgive my bluntness, but the only friends Miss Bingley has made for herself are women who are as harridan-like as she. They will not help her—they will laugh at her misfortune and gossip. And even if they were to supply invitations, they cannot supply her with the sort of invitations I procure for you. If she is cut off from you, she will be cut off from me.” Darcy blushed as his words filtered through his consciousness—truth was not arrogance, was it? He sounded as awful has he had Before . . . .

  “That is true.”

  “Also,” Darcy sighed, “Miss Bingley demanded that I help free you from your angel’s clutches today.”

  Bingley tensed, and his horse sidled. “What did you say?”

  “Of course I’m not going to help her! I told her I will support your decision—whatever that is.”

  “And if I decide to marry Miss Bennet?” Bingley asked without relaxing.

  “Then I would wish you well,” Darcy snapped. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that Bingley did not know this new version of him well enough to trust that he would support even a marriage with Miss Bennet. As far as he was concerned, Wickham would be the only real obstacle to Bingley happily marrying her. “However, if you wish to marry Miss Bennet, we cannot ignore Wickham’s machinations—whatever they may be. Have you arrived at any conclusions?”

  Bingley’s eyes widened. “I have not yet concluded anything—save that you should not be obvious in whatever you do. Perhaps if I were to act—although I believe even that might be traced back to you. What we need is one of Meryton’s inhabitants to denounce him.” Bingley leaned towards Darcy. “You would truly wish me well?”

  Darcy sighed again. “I would be a hypocrite and a fool to do otherwise. I cannot object when I would give everything I possess to become a member of the same family.”

  “You intend to offer for Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Perhaps. I will wait until she is ready to accept me before I offer for her, however.”

  “P-Perhaps you ought to consider the solution I had come to,” Bingley said hesitantly.

  “Oh?”

  “I intend to ask to court Miss Bennet. I will not offer for her yet—not until she is certain of my love and I have proven my constancy to her.”

  “Do you feel you need to prove your constancy to her?”

  Bingley shook his head. “But I do not wish Caroline to object on the grounds that I have not known her long enough—it is her favourite objection.”

  “It is a reasonable objection, and if I had not seen you spend the past year pining for her in my vision, I would have a similar objection. But yes, a courtship would alleviate those concerns.”

  “It might alleviate some of Miss Elizabeth’s concerns as well,” Bingley said.

  Darcy’s brow furrowed. “I do not believe Miss Elizabeth is concerned for her sister’s future with you—save that you will not follow through.”

  “I meant her concerns about you!”

  “Ah.” Darcy turned the idea over. It had merit. Certainly, Elizabeth would be less skittish about the idea. A courtship could be broken without loss of reputation to either party. And though her mother would be less than pleased if Elizabeth decided to terminate her courtship with Darcy, he could take the blame and Mrs. Bennet would not gainsay such a rich young man. “I believe I shall take your advice once I am convinced that she will not turn me down flat.” Though he would continue to woo her, his heart could not bear to have her reject him again. “Back to your sister, however—”

  Bingley sighed theatrically. “I dislike conflict, Darcy.”

  “I am aware of that, Bingley. However, you cannot avoid it forever. Better to confront Miss Bingley now—before she becomes even more fixed in her ways. Truly, it is a gift to be given the chance to know oneself more clearly, especially when one has become unlikable. Miss Bingley wishes for acceptance, yet her manner precludes affection.”

  Bingley frowned. “I do not think that I am the proper person to give her such a mirror. Perhaps—could you—she might take it better if it were from you.”

  Darcy barked a laugh. “She is not going to take it well from me either. Listen to the man she has been pursuing all these years when he tells her that she is a harridan?”

  Bingley reared back. “You would tell her that she is a harridan?”

  “Not in those words—although I might, depending on how closely she is listening. Miss Bingley’s behaviour needs to change, yes, however, her deepest need is for a true reformation of character. She needs to understand that her current character cannot get her the things she desires, no matter how hard she tries. It is the lesson Miss Elizabeth taught me.”

  “Miss Elizabeth’s rebuke helped you so much—would not your rebuke help Caroline more than mine?”

  “You are assuming Miss Bingley loves me—”

  “She seems to.”

  “No, she seems enamoured with the trappings of my position. You ought to have heard her speaking about how she would dress once she is Mrs. Darcy.”

  Bingley cringed. “I am truly sorry, Darcy. She ought to have more discretion than to speak so.”

  “She did not know that we could hear her since we were in the garden nook.”

  “Did she at least apologise for her behaviour?”

  Darcy looked uncomfortable. “I did not make her aware of our presence.”

  “Darcy! You must have a care for Miss Elizabeth’s reputation.” Bingley hunched his shoulders as though bracing for Darcy’s rebuke, then straightened. “I am not yet in a position of protector over the Bennets, but I will not have you compromising Miss Elizabeth’s reputation in my house.”

  “I have no intention of compromising Miss Elizabeth’s reputation.”

  “Why were you in the nook then?”

  “Because I did not wish to speak to your sisters. I was enjoying my conversation with Miss Elizabeth. We were in the garden—anyone could have seen us through the upstairs windows. I would never compromise her. I wish to marry her only if she desires to marry me—I will not force her into marriage.”

  Bingley ducked his head. “See that you don’t,” he muttered.

  “I will.” Darcy flushed, recalling their tête-à-tête in the library. The door had been open, but with his interest in Elizabeth clear this time, their presence alone in a room could have been remarked upon. Perhaps Miss Bingley’s interruption had been a boon, despite his annoyance at the time.

  Bingley cleared his throat. “I do not think it wise to confront Caroline while Miss Bennet—and Miss Elizabeth—are in residence.”

  “I agree.”

  “Caroline would certainly lash out at them and—”

  “I said I agree, Bingley,” Darcy said gently.

  Bingley swallowed hard. “I hope you will think more on this matter. You are far more experienced in conflict, you have had the benefit of Miss Elizabeth’s confrontation, and Caroline listens to you. I will, of course, be present, but I truly believe you would have a better chance of getting through to her.”

  Was he the right person to speak to Miss Bingley? Something about it seemed wrong to Darcy, but he could not put his finger on the source of his unease. Bingley had taken her to task in the future-past, but this Bingley had not yet gained the confidence necessary to do so.

  I
t was true that Miss Bingley did not listen to her brother—she did not listen to anyone unless it was to her benefit to do so. Only her desire to be Mrs. Darcy made him one of the few people she did listen to. And she only listened to him when she desired to do so. She never noticed his disinterest or his disgust for her manners. Though he had to admit the disgust was new—a result of the growth he had experienced in his vision. He could not see the world as she did any longer.

  “I will consider it,” Darcy finally conceded.

  “Good!” Bingley turned his horse back towards Netherfield. “Now, I would like to return to my house and to my angel.” He glanced back at Darcy. “If that is acceptable to you?”

  Darcy smiled at him. “As I said, I am your guest and friend, and I shall support your decisions. The north field can wait, however, I did tell Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley we intended to inspect it. If you wish to defer said inspection, what reason for doing so do you propose to offer?”

  Bingley grinned. “That I changed my mind?”

  “Though a valid reason, I do not believe it would offer Miss Bennet proof of the constancy of your character.”

  “That is where you are wrong—it will prove I cannot bear to be away from her. That is a constancy all its own.”

  Darcy chuckled at his friend’s antics. “Very well, Bingley. Lead on.”

  ◆◆◆

  Though Miss Bingley ensured Darcy’s distance from Elizabeth at meals, he was once more able to sit near her at tea. She had ensconced herself by the window, and Darcy followed her, despite Miss Bingley’s bids for attention.

  “And how did you find the north field, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

  Darcy smiled ruefully. “I am afraid we did not find it.” His eyes flicked towards Bingley. “Someone decided there were more important enticements at home.”

  Elizabeth’s lips quirked up. “I am certain such enticements will not last beyond tomorrow.”

  “As am I.” Darcy sobered. Once the Bennet sisters left, he and Bingley would have to speak with Miss Bingley, and there would be few enticements to remain within Netherfield’s walls. Most likely, her subsequent temper tantrum would drive both men to the north field.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Merely thinking of unpleasant duties to be done.” He straightened. “Forgive me. I should not squander time in such pleasant company with such unpleasant thoughts.”

  Elizabeth considered him. “I am certain many unpleasant duties are normal when running an estate.”

  “They are. But I was thinking of unpleasant duties done in the service of a friend.”

  Elizabeth stiffened. “You believe there are unpleasant duties to be done with regards to Mr. Bingley?”

  Darcy watched her with concern. She had withdrawn and now seemed to be bracing herself. Why? He reviewed his words. What possible connotation could she put on them that would result in such a change in attitude? “Bingley is beginning to take charge of many things at this stage in his life. I do not relish helping him make difficult decisions.”

  “Do you believe that you are the proper person to assist him in making such decisions? Do you not believe that some decisions are best left to the people they affect?”

  “I do not know,” Darcy admitted. “It is why I am conflicted. I may not be the best person to assist him, despite my experience in the matter. Bingley believes that I am and has asked for my assistance.”

  Elizabeth reared back. “He has asked for your assistance in such a personal matter?”

  Darcy set his tea down. “What decision do you believe that I am assisting Bingley with, Miss Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to where Miss Bennet and Bingley sat ensconced by the fire. “I supposed you were speaking of matters of the heart.”

  Darcy sighed. “I hope I have learnt not to interfere in such matters. In any event, Bingley’s decisions are his own. I can only inform. I will not make his decisions for him.”

  Elizabeth lowered her needlework to her lap as she contemplated him, once more studying him as though he were a mystery to be solved. “You are not at all the person you first appear to be, Mr. Darcy.”

  The damn assembly! He had intended to speak of it, in private, however, she had brought it up in a roundabout fashion. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and held her gaze. “I—a difficult situation arose with my sister this past summer. I am afraid that when I arrived here, I was in rather poor spirits and took it out on others. It was unconscionable of me”—his lips curled up, recalling the fire with which Elizabeth had taken him to task—“and I have learned better. I hope that you will forgive me for being so difficult these past—this past month.”

  Elizabeth took up her needlework. “There is nothing to forgive. Though I am certain Sir William will enjoy not having his attentions rebuffed,” she said with a glint of mischief.

  “I will do my best to make amends to him,” Darcy replied gravely. It was as near the topic as he wished to go in the presence of an interested Miss Bingley. Though he doubted she could hear their words, he had no desire to bandy about his previous insult lest it become a weapon in her hands. Nor could he reassure Elizabeth of her beauty—yet.

  Chapter 12

  “Are you certain this is necessary?” Bingley asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

  “Yes!” Darcy snapped, pacing like a caged tiger, his ire over Miss Bingley’s latest machinations demanding a physical outlet. Bingley had spent the previous fifteen minutes trying to talk Darcy out of confronting his sister, arguing that she might change of her own accord and bemoaning the fact that he’d ever allowed Darcy to talk him into either of them speaking with Caroline—but Darcy was resolute. His friend might dislike conflict, but this could not wait. He could not allow Miss Bingley to treat his beloved Elizabeth so poorly. And so, upon finishing lunch, Darcy had dragged Bingley to the study and demanded something be done about Miss Bingley. After much soul-searching the previous night, he had even agreed to speak to Miss Bingley. Perhaps, in some small sense, it would atone for his inaction with Wickham.

  He took a deep breath, halted his pacing, and looked at Bingley. “Miss Bingley has not modified her behaviour in the many years since she has been out. Unless someone speaks to her about it, she will continue in her—rudeness.”

  Darcy’s jaw clenched as he remembered Miss Bingley’s behaviour from the morn. As it was Sunday, the Netherfield party had attended church in Meryton. Darcy had intended to ride in the carriage with Bingley and the Misses Bennet in hopes of further conversation with Elizabeth. Miss Bingley, however, had arranged for the carriage to leave without him, forcing him to join her and the Hursts in the second carriage. Miss Bingley had also managed not only to sit next to him and constantly require his attention, but she had also “allowed” him to escort her out of the church, sabotaging his opportunity for a more private farewell. For the entirety of the day, her stratagems had kept him from speaking to Elizabeth.

  He had tolerated her behaviour over the past several days for Elizabeth’s sake as he did not wish to make her stay at Netherfield uncomfortable. If Miss Bingley took the upcoming rebuke in the same spirit with which he had taken Elizabeth’s, she would likely be furious for several days, perhaps longer. And, knowing her character as he did, he was certain that she would ensure the misery of everyone in the household—most especially the Bennet sisters. In addition, if he was being honest with himself, he did not wish Elizabeth to think ill of him. Whatever lies Miss Bingley might spread during the separation of the sexes would certainly not help his wooing.

  “She cannot be allowed to continue,” Darcy finished. “Besides, you asked me to speak to her. If you would prefer to speak to her yourself, you have only to say so.”

  Bingley’s face fell. “But Darcy, perhaps we ought to wait until—”

  “Truly, Bingley, we are doing her a kindness. Were it not for Miss Elizabeth’s rebuke, I would not be the man you see now.”

  “You are very di
fferent,” Bingley admitted reluctantly. “It is one reason that I believe your story about the future—your character has been fixed for as long as I’ve known you, and you could not otherwise have changed so much in such a short time.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy said.

  His stomach churned in anticipation of the coming scene, and a thread of fear wove through him as he considered that this conversation might be Miss Bingley’s saving grace. What if he botched it? He had, of course, confronted workers for their poor performance—although most of those conversations had resulted in either a new understanding of their situation on his part and the appropriate accommodations being made or with their dismissal—and he had negotiated with tenants and other landholders. He was no stranger to conflict or to intransigent people.

  This, however, was an entirely new experience. He had never confronted anyone for being someone they ought not to be. Truly, had Elizabeth not done so for him he would not have even considered the idea. But all his castigations of Wickham for his deplorable behaviour had done little in the years they had known each other—perhaps because his actions said something contrary to his words, Darcy thought with a start. While he had been telling Wickham that the man couldn’t continue with his poor behaviour, he had simultaneously communicated the opposite by ensuring that Wickham faced no consequences.

  Bingley poured himself some brandy, and Darcy noted his friend’s fingers shook as he threw the lot of it back in one gulp.

  Had his fear of somehow ruining the confrontation been behind his reluctance to speak to Miss Bingley? Certainly, Darcy had been concerned for his beloved’s peace of mind, but perhaps the fear had been lurking under his thoughts all this time. After all, he had only Elizabeth’s example to follow. Even Before, he had never had such a conversation with anyone. And without Bingley’s urging, he would not have considered taking on such a task. In the early hours of the morning, he had realised, however, that as dear as Elizabeth had been to him Before, he had not been dear to her. She may have detested him quite as much as he currently detested Miss Bingley. Had Elizabeth wished that she could have done more to chase him off? Had she tried to make her disinterest plain to him in a hundred different ways, just as he had done with Miss Bingley? Had she wished to throw off his arm every time he had escorted her on their many walks at Rosings? The thought had tortured him for hours.