A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

True to form, Mrs. Bennet had somehow arranged for their carriage to be delayed by some fifteen minutes after everyone else had departed. Darcy recalled being annoyed at the wait and in agony over the necessity of avoiding Elizabeth Before, but, this time, he did not mind. Though Mr. Collins dominated the conversation, Darcy could smile at Elizabeth and receive her smiles in return.

  When finally the others were distracted by leave-taking, Darcy clasped Elizabeth’s hand in farewell. “I hope that Apollo and I may see you sometime soon. I am certain he will be very cross with me if I do not ensure that he has equal time to enjoy your company.”

  Elizabeth glanced towards the window where the moon shone in the sky, proclaiming the lateness of the hour. “Perhaps when you and Mr. Bingley next come to call.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “I have found that I am poor company if I do not get my morning ramble in even after such a late night as this, although I frequently wait until after breakfast to engage in it.”

  Darcy’s smiled widened. “I have discovered the same thing about myself.”

  Chapter 26

  The next morning Penn greeted Darcy with the news that Bingley had requested his presence in the study as soon as he was ready for the day. Since his friend had not indicated the need for any such conference the night before, Darcy was confused. However, he made quick work of his morning ablutions and met a bleary-eyed Bingley.

  “You are up rather early, aren’t you?” Darcy asked as he settled into a chair.

  “I have decided to leave for London early this morning rather than waiting until after everyone else is awake. Perhaps I can conclude my business tomorrow and return by Friday.” Bingley yawned widely and then gave Darcy a questioning look. “That is, if you think it wise.”

  “Of course, Bingley. I agree that the sooner you return the better.”

  “Good.” Bingley picked up a stack of papers and slid them into a case. “Unless . . .” He turned to Darcy. “Should I remain here?”

  Darcy frowned. “I thought your solicitor said it was imperative you come to London to sign the paperwork regarding your father’s factory.”

  “Yes, yes,” Bingley said, hurrying to continue his packing. “But I do not know how long it will take. You are certain nothing untoward will occur while I am gone?”

  Darcy spread his hands. “As I have said, I left Meryton the day after you did, however, Wickham did not abscond with the youngest Bennet girl until sometime after Easter. I do not think anything untoward will occur, but I can make no guarantees.”

  Bingley perched on the edge of his desk. “Caroline convinced you to follow me to London in your vision. Wasn’t that what you said?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “You will not—” Bingley cleared his throat. “You will not do so again, will you?”

  “I have already told you that I support you, Bingley. And I have told your sister that I support your relationship with Miss Bennet. No, I will not follow you to London.”

  “And you will not permit her to close Netherfield?” Bingley pressed.

  Darcy suppressed a sigh, reminding himself that he would be equally anxious if he was leaving Elizabeth—particularly if he was leaving Elizabeth when Wickham was scheming nearby. “Bingley, I have already promised to do my utmost to prevent her from closing Netherfield Park. I do not have the authority to prevent her if she is determined, however, I will certainly wait in Meryton at the inn if she does. I will not desert the Bennets.”

  Bingley frowned. “I don’t think she would leave if you stay,” he said, beginning to collect various books.

  “I find the scenario highly unlikely as well.”

  “And you will protect the Bennets while I am gone?” Bingley asked, once more halting his packing.

  “I will,” Darcy vowed.

  “I love her,” Bingley said quietly. “I do not think I can survive if I lose her to another.”

  Darcy nodded. “I understand. I will do my best to ensure Miss Bennet’s safety and her unattached status while you are gone.”

  “As soon as I return, I intend to ask for a courtship with her,” Bingley said, squaring his shoulders.

  Darcy smiled, glad to see his friend sounding more like the Bingley of Before—certain in his own opinions and ready to stand up for what he believed to be right. “I wish you well.”

  Bingley deflated. “What if she will not have me?”

  “Then you can endeavour to change her mind and ask again some time later, however, I do not believe she will reject you.”

  “Are you certain? What have you noticed? Do you think she likes me?” Bingley asked in one breath.

  Darcy suppressed a laugh. Bingley sounded like nothing so much as a child at Christmas. He forced himself to answer Bingley’s questions seriously. “First of all, I do not think that Miss Bennet would reject you even if she did not like you. She told me last night that she dances with others for the sake of not disappointing them even when she is desirous of sitting. Such a woman might do her best to prevent you from coming to the point, but I do not think she would have the heart to reject you outright.”

  “That is not very comforting,” Bingley muttered. “She will accept me even if she does not wish to.”

  “I would agree, had I not seen that her smile is slightly different when she is with you. Softer. She also appears to be more open with you.”

  “She is?” Bingley asked like a kennelled puppy faced with the prospect of a walk.

  “I believe so. Besides, if you enter a courtship and decide you do not suit, it will be to no detriment for either of you. I am certain that even Miss Bennet’s fastidiousness with regards to hurting others would not extend to lying if you ask her bluntly if she loves you, after you have courted for a while.” Darcy held Bingley’s gaze. “Bingley, you will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “Do not torment yourself with things that may not come to pass. I have confidence that you are the best person to discern Miss Bennet’s feelings for you. In addition, may I remind you that Before Miss Elizabeth said Miss Bennet’s heart was engaged by the time you left. I doubt your actions have changed so materially as to avoid gaining her affections this time.”

  Bingley subsided. “I suppose I am simply anxious. I do not like leaving you here alone, especially with Wickham on the loose.”

  “I believe Fitzwilliam and I can handle whatever Wickham may enact between now and Friday,” Darcy said.

  Bingley gave him a worried smile. “It is not that I doubt you. It is just . . . .”

  “You love Miss Bennet and wish to keep her safe.”

  “Exactly.”

  Darcy nodded. “I feel the same for Miss Elizabeth. I shall not allow anything to happen to the Bennets if it is in my power to prevent it.”

  Bingley nodded and then returned to his packing. “I am so glad you are here, Darcy. I don’t know what I would have done if you were not here to ensure their safety.”

  “Thank you, Bingley. I shall do my best. Have you informed Miss Bennet of your planned departure?”

  Bingley nodded. “I told all the Bennets last night when Mrs. Bennet invited me for a family dinner while we were waiting for their carriage.” He smirked at Darcy. “Perhaps you were not attending.”

  Darcy suppressed a blush. He had been paying attention to Elizabeth, and little of the conversation had filtered through to his consciousness.

  “Or perhaps you were only attending to Miss Elizabeth?” Bingley teased.

  “Perhaps,” Darcy said dryly. “Now, was there anything else you needed?”

  Bingley shook his head.

  “Then I believe I shall go for my morning ride.”

  Bingley waved a hand in farewell. “I shall see you when I return. If you need me to return early—”

  “Then I shall send an express.” Darcy held out a hand, and Bingley shook it. “Safe travels, Bingley. Fitzwilliam and I shall be waiting for your return.”

  With that, Darcy exited, his heartbeat speeding up as he turned to
wards the stables and meeting Elizabeth.

  Chapter 27

  Darcy paced back and forth, and Apollo nickered, apparently trying to calm his owner. They had been waiting for some time at the turnoff for Longbourn. Elizabeth had said she walked after breakfast the day after a ball, but this was rather later than he had expected her.

  At last, he heard hurried footsteps and Elizabeth came into view. She checked upon seeing him.

  “Mr. Darcy!” she exclaimed. “I am afraid this morning’s events have driven out last night’s conversation. I am not very good company,” she said, shifting uneasily.

  “Miss Elizabeth, are you quite all right?”

  Elizabeth’s jaw clenched and her eyes sparked, but she replied, “Yes, thank you.”

  “If you desire solitude on your morning ramble, I shall certainly oblige, however—”

  Elizabeth held up a hand and turned back towards Longbourn with an air of listening. After several moments of silence, she returned her attention to Darcy. “You are welcome to accompany me if you so desire, however, let us depart before my absence is noticed.” Without another word, she strode off down the path.

  Darcy followed her, bemused by her attitude, Apollo at his side. Did she wish for his absence? Her words said one thing, but her manner seemed to indicate the opposite. And whom did she expect to follow her?

  Elizabeth marched forward, each step sounding firmly as though verging on stomping. Some minutes of silence passed before she spoke again. “I apologise for my poor temper this morning.”

  “As you have endured my poor temper on several occasions, I shall be glad to pardon you,” Darcy said lightly.

  Elizabeth gave him a weak smile.

  Apparently tired of failing to gain her attention, Apollo sped up and nuzzled Elizabeth’s back.

  Elizabeth slowed and turned to give him a smile. “Good morning, Apollo. I beg you will forgive me for my poor temper as well.”

  “I am certain Apollo is merely glad to see you, Miss Elizabeth, regardless of your temper.”

  Elizabeth sent Darcy a grateful look, and their pace settled into something less frantic. Darcy allowed her to walk in silence and gather her thoughts. Though he enjoyed their conversations, he thought she might need room to contemplate whatever had occurred this morning, and even the pleasure of walking in silence with Elizabeth was one he savoured.

  When, some twenty minutes later, they reached Oakham Mount, Elizabeth smiled up at him. “Thank you for not pressing me, Mr. Darcy.” She gave him a speculative look. “You seem to know just what I need.”

  “As we have discussed, I myself regularly utilise the serenity of nature to gather my own thoughts when my emotions are in turmoil. Having someone press me before I am ready to speak of a matter has only added to my turmoil. I surmised that you might feel similarly.”

  “I do.”

  “I do not wish to press in where I am unwanted, but if you desire to speak of the cause of your agitation, I am more than willing to listen.”

  Elizabeth sighed and stroked Apollo’s forehead. “It is a delicate matter.” She frowned at him. “Why do men believe that women do not know their own minds?” she burst out.

  Darcy hesitated, unsure of the context behind her question. “Perhaps some men have had experience with the type of females who seem to change their opinions at every turn,” he said uncertainly, thinking of the various women who espoused whatever they thought his opinion to be.

  “It is mean of a woman to vacillate so.”

  “Many of the arts women use are mean,” Darcy said slowly, “but one cannot use sweeping statements such as these to describe the sex as a whole. To the best of my knowledge, you have not changed your opinions like a flag shifting with the wind.”

  Elizabeth chuckled. “I thought I professed opinions not my own.”

  Darcy smiled. “You do. I have often thought you are merely testing an opponent’s mettle.”

  “It is probably a result of years of taking the opposite of whatever position my father held during my discussions with him. I hope I am not contrary for the sake of being contrary.”

  “That has not been my experience,” Darcy said cautiously.

  Elizabeth sighed gustily. “This morning, I have had a lengthy conversation with a gentleman who would not believe my response to his question to be genuine, no matter how many times I uttered it.”

  Darcy froze, recalling Mr. Collins’s assiduous attentions. “And what was your response?” he asked hoarsely.

  Elizabeth crossed her arms. “I do not believe that to be any of your business.”

  “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Forgive me.”

  She inclined her head. “The point is that he would not believe that I knew my own mind!” She threw her hands in the air. “I am fully capable of speaking what I think, and I am not the sort of woman to lead a man on for my own amusement.”

  “Of course not,” Darcy assured her. He had, after all, experienced her blunt honesty even in a most delicate situation. Darcy shuddered as he imagined Elizabeth married to Mr. Collins. No! It must not be. He would rather risk everything to propose to her now than allow her to marry that pompous sycophant. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as Elizabeth spoke up.

  “Do all men believe women incapable of making up their own minds?” she asked curiously.

  “I believe some men see women as children who need to be guided as such, however, there are those who have seen women’s capabilities in their own mothers, sisters, wives, and daughters. I am thoroughly convinced women are capable of knowing their own minds,” he added, hopeful that she was asking out of a request for information regarding his own beliefs.

  “What was your mother like, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Like you, she saw the value in others, regardless of their station,” he began, recalling the moment after his transformation when he had realised that his mother’s kindness towards the servants had been borne of compassion rather than duty. “She had a strong sense of right and wrong, but I never heard her moralising to anyone. Rather, she was more likely to make small comments that made you think about the consequences of your actions.”

  “That is a virtue,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “You must miss her very much.”

  “I do. I wish that I had the guidance of my parents in various matters. I wonder what they would say about the changes I have made to Pemberley and the ways I myself have changed. It was a subject his thoughts had returned to often after he had begun his character reformation. “I wish for my mother’s guidance regarding Georgiana. I believe she needs a woman’s help, but I do not know how to provide the right sort of person for her.”

  “Having a mother does not guarantee that she will provide useful assistance in the process of growing up,” Elizabeth said bleakly. She caught herself. “Not that I am implying anything about your mother. I am certain she would do an excellent job.”

  “I did not think you were trying to comment on my mother’s capabilities,” Darcy hastened to assure her.

  Elizabeth shifted uneasily as though she were a deer about to take flight.

  “My mother was also excellent with the tenants,” Darcy quickly added, hoping to prevent Elizabeth from retreating.

  “Oh?”

  “She believed that happy tenants made for more prosperous holdings.”

  Elizabeth’s expression darkened. “And so they do! If only others understood that as well. I cannot countenance those who believe in squeezing the last ounce of work from their tenants and ignoring their tenants’ needs in the name of profit and keeping the tenants in their place.”

  Darcy nodded, recalling Mr. Collins’s pontification on the dangers of tenants taking advantage of kindness.

  “I cannot understand how anyone can hold such a view,” Elizabeth continued. “Of course, if one has not the benefit of practical experience, perhaps that might account for it. However, holding such a view is still unconscionable, especially in one who professes to be responsible for the well-bei
ng of others.”

  Elizabeth began to pace, her words tumbling out faster and faster as though some internal dam had suffered a catastrophic failure. “I ought not to be bothered by such a person, and I cannot account for my agitation at all. I am certain that Papa will address the issue even if my mother does make life uncomfortable for some time with her lamentations, and he is not worth the energy of being this agitated. Even if Mr. Collins is correct about my prospects, I am perfectly content to be an excellent aunt to my sisters’ children. I do not need my own establishment. And I will not marry such a person. I refuse to be bound in such an unequal marriage!”

  Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides. “If I ever marry, I shall certainly do so to a man who is willing to listen to my views! And proposing after I had given no encouragement to him beyond common politeness!” she muttered.

  Darcy suppressed a gasp as her last sentence pierced him to the heart. Had she intended to hint him off? Was he another suitor whom she had given no encouragement to save common politeness? He pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on Elizabeth and her problems rather than allowing the pain of his broken desires to swallow him up.

  As he considered Elizabeth’s other words, Darcy was unsure how to respond. He wished he could carry some of her burdens for her. The thought of her mother berating Elizabeth for refusing such a poor match was not to be borne. Perhaps Mr. Collins was acceptable in terms of his financial prospects, but could not Mrs. Bennet see that Elizabeth would be miserable in every other respect should she marry such a person?

  Then again, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s marriage was not a picture of domestic felicity. Perhaps Mrs. Bennet had considered nothing but finances in her own marriage and did not know that any other sort of happiness was possible. Darcy’s parents’ example, and, to a lesser degree, that of his Aunt and Uncle Matlock had determined him against marrying anyone who did not meet his standards—of course, he had initially adopted society’s standards as his own and measured women against these. Or at least he had professed such views to himself; it was why he had been so unwilling to propose to Elizabeth when she was his social inferior. He had never put those standards into practice though. He could have married any number of debutantes but had always found them lacking. It was not until Elizabeth that he had realised society’s standards did not make for a felicitous marriage.