A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “Yes, I’m very glad to see you. However, I do not wish to have horse slobber on this dress even if it is not my best,” she admonished.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said.

  “Why, Mr. Darcy, I did not see you there,” she replied with a twinkle.

  “Apollo has missed you sorely. I believe he would have pouted for days had we not run into you this morning.”

  “But of course. And we cannot allow Apollo to pout.”

  “Within reason,” Darcy said. “I agree with Mr. Collins that bringing him indoors would be giving excessive attention to Apollo’s desires.”

  “You are probably right, as little as he cares to admit it.”

  Darcy smiled at her, then sobered as fear slithered up his spine. Had she told him of her favourite path only to warn him away? “I hope we are not interrupting you.”

  “You are. However, it does not follow that you are an unwelcome interruption. Are you climbing Oakham Mount?”

  “I had intended to, yes. I am convinced the views there are one of the local beauties, and it would be a shame if I were to miss them,” he said with a smile. “However . . . .” Darcy hesitated, trying to think how best to phrase his concern. “I do not wish to intrude if you desire solitude on your ramble.”

  Elizabeth smiled up at him. “Apollo is quite welcome to join me.”

  “And I must wait at the base? Now who is giving excessive attention to my horse?”

  “Perhaps you are right. I suppose you ought to accompany us since he is your horse.”

  “Thank you for your gracious welcome,” Darcy said dryly.

  Elizabeth chuckled. “You are very welcome. Shall we?” she asked, gesturing towards the path.

  “May I escort you?” Darcy asked, holding out an arm.

  “No, thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am quite capable of making the climb without assistance. Despite having all my younger sisters out, I am not nearly as old as I seem.”

  “It was not a comment on your age or your abilities, Miss Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth flushed and began climbing the mount. “Well, I thank you for the offer then.”

  The pair walked in silence for several moments as Darcy basked in the pleasure of her presence.

  “Do you enjoy early morning rides?” Elizabeth eventually asked.

  “Apollo and I often ride in the mornings. I prefer to begin my day with quiet before I am pulled in the many directions my estate requires. And you?”

  Elizabeth huffed. “I do not ride. Horses and I are not friendly.”

  Darcy laughed. “I believe Apollo would disagree with you.”

  “He is the exception. Or perhaps I should have said that I am perfectly content to fraternise with horses as long as I am not required to ride one.”

  Darcy halted, then hurried to catch up. “You truly do not ride?”

  “I believe I have said that multiple times in multiple ways, Mr. Darcy. Are you certain you are quite awake?”

  “Yes, but—I would not have expected it of you. You do not seem intimidated by anything.”

  “Perhaps. I am sorry to disappoint, but I believe caution is the better part of valour when it comes to riding,” she said lightly.

  “It is not disappointment; I am merely surprised. You are so comfortable with Apollo, and he enjoys your company too.”

  Elizabeth smiled back at Apollo who was faithfully following them up the gentle rise. “I do like Apollo, however, I would not enjoy riding him.”

  “You have never ridden?” Darcy asked. He was almost certain she would love the thrill of riding once she learned. A young Elizabeth, who regularly climbed trees, yet avoided riding seemed incomprehensible. She was not afraid of heights or horses.

  “I see what you are doing, Mr. Darcy. You are certain that if I only tried riding, I would find it pleasurable, correct?”

  Darcy suppressed a blush at being so easily read. “The thought had occurred to me.”

  “You see, I have much experience with a riding enthusiast who has done her utmost to convince me of the error of my ways. However, if my sister could not do so, I highly doubt that you shall succeed.”

  “Your sister is a riding enthusiast?”

  Elizabeth laughed. “Well, perhaps ‘enthusiast’ is too strong a word, but rarely does Jane light up as much as when she speaks of riding.”

  “I did not realise it was such a passion of hers,” Darcy said, fascinated by this glimpse into the reticent Miss Bennet’s character. She seemed too soft to enjoy such an activity.

  “When we were both young, our father determined to teach us. Unfortunately, I was bored trying to ride the docile animal he had procured for our use.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “I managed to saddle my father’s stallion who was notoriously temperamental and disliked all but my father even in his old age. I did not, however, manage to ride him more than a bare two minutes—during which time, he did everything in his power to throw me. In the end, he succeeded, and I broke my arm.” She smiled up at him. “Being unable to climb trees for several weeks was punishment enough to ensure that I never repeated my folly.”

  Darcy returned her smile, despite the sorrow he felt for her child self.

  How had he ever been able to do aught else but smile with her? Weeks of maintaining a forbidding mien and building walls around his heart flashed through his mind. No wonder she had thought him disagreeable! With a mental wrench, he returned his thoughts to the present.

  “Most new riders can boast of a fall or two,” Darcy said. “Even experienced riders fall.”

  “True. However, I doubt most of them have had an angry horse try to ensure they do not ride again.”

  “I am certain that must have been terrifying at the time and am now amazed you are so friendly with Apollo.”

  Apollo nickered at the sound of his name, and stretched out his neck, his head fitting neatly in the space between Darcy and Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth gave Apollo another caress on the forehead as they continued walking. “Apollo is a very nice horse. In addition, my sister and my dearest friend are both enamoured with various horses in the area. After years of being dragged around to visit all the notable horses in Hertfordshire, I am no longer afraid of them. I have learned that I like horses. As I said, I simply dislike riding them.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, one horse enthusiast is enough for our family.”

  “None of your other sisters ride?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her swinging curls shining in the morning light. “No.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I am certain it will shock you to hear that we have never had a governess to oversee development of our accomplishments. Those of us who wished to learn could, and those who disdained certain common accomplishments, such as riding, were allowed to follow their inclinations.”

  “I did not suppose you did. Few governesses will allow young ladies to become proficient at tree climbing. It is not one of the first accomplishments,” he teased.

  “It is not?” Elizabeth cried in mock surprise. “Whatever shall I do? I was certain it was a necessary skill!”

  Darcy chuckled. “You will not hoodwink me this time, Miss Elizabeth. I do not believe you ever considered it proper behaviour for a young lady.”

  “My mother saw to that,” Elizabeth said dryly.

  “Ah. My father had very strict ideas as to what constituted proper behaviour for a Darcy.”

  “So I would assume since he made you memorise your family’s history.” She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “And how fares your evaluation of Netherfield for Mr. Bingley?”

  “I believe Netherfield will be a profitable estate for Bingley and has an excellent balance of established income and difficulties for Bingley to grow as an estate owner.”

  “I see. And how is your sister?”

  “My sister?”

  “Yes, you have several times mentioned your concerns for her. I am afraid I misund
erstood them previously, so I thought I would provide you with an opportunity to discuss her should you desire.”

  “Georgiana is—I believe she will recover, perhaps even stronger than ever. I am due a letter from her any day now.”

  They rounded the top of the rise and Darcy stood admiring the view. The fields and homes lay stretched out before them. Gauzy mist covered the areas still in shadow while the sun’s light kissed the land everywhere else. Much of the grass had browned, and scraggled remnants of autumn colour remained on some of the trees while others had shed their covering entirely. The dew at his feet sparkled in the morning’s light, and the air was clear. To one side of the sky, large clouds presaged an afternoon thunderstorm, but the morning was glorious. Elizabeth moved to a fallen tree and seated herself where she could observe him and the surrounding fields. Apollo stationed himself nearby.

  “I am now perfectly willing to admit that Oakham Mount has a beauty all its own,” Darcy said.

  Elizabeth’s gaze passed over the misty fields and the sun hovering above the horizon. “I am glad you can admit when you are in the presence of true beauty. I often find the memory of this view will soothe even when I am in the most trying circumstances.”

  Darcy smiled at her, tempted to tie her comment into his ability to recognise her beauty, regardless of what his mad past self had said at the assembly. “When I am in London, I sometimes imagine that I am sitting on my favourite bench by the river at Pemberley. Georgiana did a painting of that spot, and I had it hung in my study at the London house so that I can gaze upon it and retreat from the noise and bustle of London when I need to.”

  “The imagination is a wonderful thing.”

  “It can be,” Darcy said, thinking of how difficult his previous nights’ sleep had been, interrupted by nightmares of failing to stop Wickham in some other insidious scheme and Elizabeth dead once more, of being trapped as an observer and unable to interfere as history repeated itself exactly, of Georgiana snared in her guilt and unable to recover, and of Wickham’s laughing face as he told Darcy that he had married Elizabeth.

  “You have not found it so?”

  “I have already said that I find the imagination wonderful. However, one’s imagination is just as capable of producing horrors as wonders.”

  “I suppose that is true. Particularly if one has had horrors in one’s past . . . . I have wished to say—that is, I am sorry for Mr. Wickham’s betrayal. I cannot imagine if Charlotte—Miss Lucas betrayed my family. It would be,” she took a deep breath, “difficult.”

  Darcy’s eyes widened. “I appreciate your sympathy, Miss Elizabeth. It was difficult. However, as Wickham’s betrayal happened long after I stopped trusting him, perhaps not as difficult as if Miss Lucas betrayed you.” He moved to sit on the other end of the log. “I remember him as a friend, however, I find it best to separate the old Wickham from the man he became.”

  “Best?”

  “Easiest, anyway. I—” He searched for how to explain the morass of feelings Wickham engendered in him. “As I said, I have had a recent character reformation of my own. I can see how my faults were not much different from Wickham’s. Though my reasons were very different, I too treated others callously. I wonder if I had not been forced to see my flaws if I would have become someone as unfeeling as him. Wickham does not have morals because he sees no value in them whereas I maintained certain morals out of pride rather than out of concern for my fellow man.”

  He shook his head. “I know Wickham to be a scoundrel, yet I cannot help but desire a better life for him. If he were made to see his flaws, he could still become a better person. He has virtues and cleverness—he could be a force for good if he so desired.” His features hardened. “Yet he squanders the gifts my father gave him and the gifts he was born with on his own selfish ambition. When I remember the look on Georgiana’s face, I wish only to send him to debtor’s prison and to leave him to be forgotten.”

  “You sound rather uncertain of what you aim to accomplish.”

  “No, I am certain that I wish to give him an opportunity for character reformation, despite my dislike for him. However, I do not have the faintest idea how to accomplish that.”

  “And if he rejects the opportunity you offer?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Then I wish for his depredations to cease and for him to be someone else’s responsibility.”

  “Could you not threaten debtor’s prison to motivate him to reform his character?”

  Darcy shook his head. “As I said, he would only counter with a threat to ruin Georgiana’s reputation. No, I need something more effective. Preferably a threat I do not entirely control.” Darcy frowned, his mind teaming with possible avenues to explore. “I sent an express to my cousin. You will be pleased to hear that Colonel Fitzwilliam will be arriving any day now,” he added, recalling how well Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam had gotten along.

  Her brow furrowed. “Colonel Fitzwilliam is your cousin?”

  Elizabeth’s confusion jolted him back to the present. Darcy cleared his throat, stalling for an explanation as to why she would care about Fitzwilliam’s presence and internally calling himself every kind of fool. He could not afford to slip up!

  “Yes, he is a colonel in Her Majesty’s army. He will be arriving any day, and I am hopeful he may have the military influence or knowledge to advise me.”

  “I see. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s presence sounds as though he will make our task easier.”

  Darcy let out his breath in a huff of relief. She had provided a reason for him. “Indeed. He may be able to convince Colonel Foster to keep an eye on Wickham or get Wickham transferred to a more watchful Colonel elsewhere.”

  “Colonel Foster seems like a reasonable man,” Elizabeth offered.

  The corner of Darcy’s mouth quirked up. “But is he a reasonable man who has listened to Wickham?”

  Elizabeth looked troubled. “I do not know. You are recalling the officers’ strange behaviour last night?”

  Darcy nodded. “Wickham has a habit of telling pieces of our history in such a way that I am cast in an unfavourable light. He is so earnest and pleasing that others find it easy to believe him. Our schoolmasters learned that his representation of events was but a poor likeness of the truth through much hard experience.”

  “That must be difficult.”

  Darcy considered. “It used to bother me less. I did not care if he told his tales of woe because I believed I had fulfilled my duty and more, and that whatever imagined miseries he had endured at my hand did not nearly stack up to the many times I extricated him from self-induced dangers.”

  “And now?”

  “His tales have sometimes turned those against me with whom I wished to establish friendly relations,” he said carefully. “In addition, I learned that I had helped people to believe his stories by being so unapproachable. They were ready to believe the worst of me because they could not see the best of me—much as it has been in Meryton. I do not know how to redeem my reputation among the townspeople. My pride and disagreeableness will leave them ripe for Wickham’s machinations. That I regret.”

  “I still believe everyone is responsible for what they themselves believe.” She held up a hand though Darcy had remained silent. “If the townspeople choose to believe Wickham, it is not your fault. It is Wickham’s fault for lying. Yes, you can warn them, but that is the extent of your duty.”

  “How long do you think it will take for the gossip to spread throughout the area?”

  “Three days at most, I would imagine. Weather permitting,” she added, casting an eye towards the cloud bank.

  “Have you had many opportunities to use the—gossip chain?” Darcy asked curiously.

  “Not at all. I have had many opportunities to see it in action as my mother and aunt are some of the principal links.”

  “Was your mother suspicious of your story?” Darcy asked.

  “No.” Elizabeth smiled. “I think she cares more for the entertainment that gossip prov
ides rather than its veracity,” she said with a thin edge of bitterness to her voice.

  Darcy hesitated. Rarely had he seen Elizabeth bitter about anything. Then again, if she had anything to be bitter about, it would be her family. Watching her father yesterday had been an eye-opening experience. It was a miracle that such parents had raised his Elizabeth.

  “Perhaps she shares your father’s preference for an observer’s point of view,” he suggested cautiously.

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I had not considered it from that perspective.” A mischievous smile danced across her face. “My father would not appreciate the comparison.”

  “He does not seem inclined to enjoy it.”

  “My father is a worthy man, Mr. Darcy. He has many good qualities.” She bit her lip. “I know he is not the most—involved father, but he does care in his own way.”

  “I did not suggest otherwise. As I have said, I am not one to throw stones while I live in a glass house. I believe we all have room for improvement in our character. Life is a process of growing, becoming a better person, and then growing some more.”

  Elizabeth considered him before nodding. “In any event, my mother will pass the gossip along eagerly. She was thrilled to have a new scandal to spread.”

  “Did you tell her of Wickham specifically?”

  Elizabeth sighed theatrically. “Perhaps you would like a detailed account of my conversation with her?”

  Darcy blinked at her. “I am not questioning your methods, merely curious what tale you spread.”

  “And I was teasing you,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “I told Jane, in my mother’s hearing, that I have heard from a very reliable source that some of the officers are not as honourable as their looks might suggest. Even someone as handsome as Mr. Wickham might be untrustworthy. Jane helped the story along by asking for specifics, and I replied that rumours of unpaid debts and ruined young women appeared to have some substance.”

  “Ah. And your mother inferred that Wickham was the officer in question?”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Or at least that he was one of the officers in question. Of course, that was after she questioned all of us about Mr. Wickham, and Kitty and Lydia protested that he could not be wicked since he was so handsome and well-mannered. To which, I pointed out that he declined escorting us on our shopping trip even though other worthy young men volunteered.”