A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “I don’t think so. I saw them twice turn something an officer had said into an invitation to dance. I don’t think they would have missed even a hint of an invitation from me.”

  Darcy frowned. “Wickham?”

  “I don’t see how. It seems more likely that they are simply siding with the other officers who already mistrust me based on Wickham’s word.”

  “Lieutenant Pratt’s dislike was marked last night.”

  Fitzwilliam sighed. “I wish I could say his behaviour was uncommon. The officers stationed here may not cross into impoliteness but they certainly toe that line. Lieutenant Denny, who recruited Wickham, is one of the most respected and well-liked officers here. His introduction of Wickham has given that scoundrel a veneer of respectability, and his own charm has caused many to empathise with his supposed persecutions, particularly those who dislike the nobility already.”

  “Ah. The common man being persecuted by those who are born to advantage,” Darcy said bitterly. It was a ploy Wickham had often used.

  “Exactly.” Fitzwilliam’s brow furrowed. “I am not surprised that the youngest two Bennet sisters have joined their cause—they seem particularly enamoured with Lieutenant Denny and his friends, but, given your vision, I would prefer to keep them away from Wickham entirely.”

  “I agree. I am hopeful that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth can steer their sisters away from him.”

  “Well, if polite society rejects him, they are less likely to encounter Wickham.”

  “True. Perhaps I should ask Miss Elizabeth how the campaign of rumours is progressing.”

  Fitzwilliam grinned at him, then straightened his expression and spoke with mock solemnity. “I believe it to be of vital importance that you consult with Miss Elizabeth regarding the strategic rumours she planted and whether they have adequately spread or if alternative action ought to be taken. Therefore, I propose you go visit the lady tomorrow.”

  Darcy glowered at his cousin’s teasing visage.

  “Unless, of course, you happen to run into her prior to visiting hours tomorrow.”

  “Fitzwilliam, if you were not my second-favourite cousin, I would not allow you such liberties.”

  “Darcy, if you were not my second-favourite cousin, I would not take such liberties.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes. “Fine. We shall call on the Bennets tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” Fitzwilliam hesitated, watching him as though trying to decide how best to proceed.

  “Out with it,” Darcy commanded. “I recognise that look.”

  “Your vision has provided you with a glimpse of the future?”

  Darcy nodded. “It was as though I lived the months between now and September next before returning to two weeks ago.”

  “Detailed then?”

  “Very. You saw the details of the ball I provided. All the events were equally detailed.” Darcy raised a hand to halt whatever ridiculous question his cousin was poised to ask next. “There are some things I do not recall because they were unimportant at the time. For instance, I do not recall the weather most days except where it greatly affected my plans. Nor could I tell you what the cook will serve for any specific meal. Much as I doubt that you recall what you ate a month ago today.”

  Fitzwilliam made a face. “I do not wish to recall what I ate a month ago considering that I was likely eating army rations.” He leaned forward. “If you know all these details, why have you not changed more? Why are you not pre-empting problems rather than just reacting differently to them?”

  Darcy crossed his arms. “How so?”

  “For instance, since you knew Wickham would be arriving, why did you not go to Colonel Forster before he arrived and tell him that you had heard rumours Wickham might join and that, if he did, there were concerns. Or why not just tell me so that I could have kidnapped him several days ago? We could have shipped him off to the Indies,” Fitzwilliam said with a feral grin.

  Darcy gave him a disapproving look. “We do not need to antagonise Wickham into hurting Georgiana.”

  “I have already told you that he would not hurt Georgiana if I silenced him.”

  Darcy returned to his pacing. “Would you wish such a burden to be placed on Georgiana? You know that someday she would find out and she would feel responsible. Not to mention that you are discounting Wickham’s ability to change for the better.”

  “Because he has changed so greatly in the decades we have known him,” Fitzwilliam said scathingly.

  Darcy faced his cousin. “I had not changed for the better in the decades you have known me either. It was not until this past year that I became a better person.”

  “You are too hard on yourself! Yes, you were a bit prickly and uncomfortable with people, but being shy is not a failing.”

  “But it is a fault to ignore my fellow man’s well-being, to lack compassion and empathy, to think meanly of all the world, to let my pride prevent me from seeing truth, to force my will on others—Fitzwilliam, I was not a good person. I was not a gentleman in the truest sense. And if I, who had every area of my life arranged for my own comfort, save Miss Elizabeth, can change, then why cannot Wickham, who has a multitude of incentives in the form of bill collectors, loan sharks, angry fathers, husbands, and brothers, and poverty, change for the better?”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head. “I understand that you have some affection for Wickham, but—”

  “The affection of my childhood is dead,” Darcy interrupted. “That Wickham is gone. It is compassion that pulls me towards a different solution than permanently silencing him.”

  “And what if your compassion is the death of you?” Fitzwilliam asked in a hard voice. “It happens on the battlefield, you know. Men pretend they require help and then shoot those who respond to their cries.”

  A sharp pang filled Darcy’s chest as he realised the sorrow and suffering his cousin must have seen. “I am sorry you have had to witness such horrors, Fitzwilliam. But I cannot let others’ poor behaviour change my own. What kind of man am I if I let the possibility of another’s betrayal prevent me from being a gentleman?”

  “A wise one?” Fitzwilliam quipped, his eyes full of shadows.

  “Perhaps, if my goal is survival. But I am no longer content to survive without truly living.” The changes he had made flashed through his mind: Excruciating weeks of trying to get out of his shell, to reach out to others, to unbend around strangers. Weeks of small joys and small victories, of seeing others more comfortable, of Penn’s delight, of a new closeness with Georgiana and Bingley, of feeling his soul blossom under the new conditions, despite the uphill battle to practise. No, he could not return to the emptiness of before. “Miss Elizabeth has taught me the value of love, and I will practise love towards my neighbour even if I am rewarded with betrayal. I cannot return to a life without it.”

  “You have changed.”

  “Yes.”

  Fitzwilliam remained silent, and Darcy’s gaze shifted once more to the window, his thoughts swirling around like autumn leaves whipped by a blustery wind. Had he made a mistake in not being more proactive? In the beginning, he had been disoriented and doubted his opportunity to change things. Later though . . . he had been focused on helping Bingley grow and making his own character reformation clear to Elizabeth.

  Fitzwilliam was right: he had been responding to events as they had happened, rather than attempting to create entirely new events. Perhaps, due to his love for the Elizabeth of Before, he had been unwilling to lose the series of events that had led to such profound change.

  But he had not remained in that place—he was staying at Netherfield, not following Bingley to London, and that would spawn an entirely new chain of events unless Fate or God or whoever had sent him the vision had also written the events in stone. So many of the conversations and events of Before had repeated themselves, even when he had attempted to change them. Did that mean he could not change them? Was he destined to be rejected by Elizabeth? Was Elizabeth destined to die in a c
arriage accident, her family in ruins due to his inaction with Wickham?

  His hands tightened into fists. No, he would fight Fate—he would die before allowing Elizabeth such ruin. Besides, why had he been gifted the vision if not to prevent the events contained therein?

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “I am afraid I do not yet quite know what to do with this new Darcy.”

  “Nor do I,” Darcy said with a smile. “But I believe he is here to stay. And I would like to continue being your second-favourite cousin.”

  “I do not see how you could cease to be my second-favourite cousin,” Fitzwilliam said with a glimmer of humour. “Though I love Cousin Anne dearly, I do not believe she would be of any use hunting pirates and ogres.”

  “Perhaps not.”

  Fitzwilliam held Darcy’s gaze. “But, Darcy, you cannot keep reacting. You have the tools to be more proactive. Pursue Miss Elizabeth. Challenge Wickham. Do not keep trying to untie the Gordian Knot.” Fitzwilliam stood. “Now, I believe I shall go for a walk myself. I need to stretch the kinks from these old bones.”

  Darcy squeezed his cousin’s shoulder in acknowledgment of the sentiment. Fitzwilliam’s eyes remained shadowed, but he gave the ghost of a smile before he left.

  Once alone, Darcy’s thoughts turned to the problem of how to use his future knowledge to be more proactive.

  ◆◆◆

  Darcy had ensconced himself in the study in order to peruse the latest reports from his steward when Miss Bingley arrived.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy,” she began.

  Darcy stood and returned her greeting, hurrying to the door so that he could ensure it remained open while pretending to usher Miss Bingley in. His mind raced. She had most likely sought him out to convince him to follow Bingley to London as they had done Before. The question was: how could he be proactive with that knowledge?

  He had already decided to stay at the Meryton Inn if she left, something that would surely rankle her desire to be a hostess of the first order. He could not prevent her from leaving or even prevent her from interfering with Bingley and Miss Bennet’s budding romance, but he could ensure that she did not leave the Bennets with the impression that Bingley wanted nothing to do with them, which led back to calling on Elizabeth and her family tomorrow.

  “I am certain, after witnessing the events of last night, you have at last come to your senses,” Miss Bingley said, breaking into his thoughts.

  “To which events do you refer?”

  “The Bennet family’s behaviour, of course,” she said coldly.

  “Their behaviour?”

  Miss Bingley huffed. “Surely you were not so lost to propriety that you did not notice Mrs. Bennet’s practically obscene comments, Mr. Bennet’s rudeness, the middle girl’s ridiculous playing, and the younger two girls’ flirtatious behaviour. Though Jane is a dear,” she continued, “I have never blushed so for a friend’s behaviour. The way she hung on Charles was practically scandalous.”

  Darcy suppressed a sigh.

  “You cannot mean to support such a ludicrous match. Charles can certainly do much better. I could not—he could not hold his head up in society if he married dear Jane and had to deal with her ‘relations,’ ” she said with a sneer.

  Darcy noted that Miss Bingley seemed to think prefacing someone’s name with an endearment showed fondness, despite her shredding of her “friend’s” character. He straightened. “I do mean to support Bingley if he desires to marry Miss Bennet. If the Bennets’ behaviour does not dissuade him from the match, who are we to argue?”

  Miss Bingley’s eyes went wide. “You cannot mean that! You are his dearest friend. He depends on you for counsel and protection.” She removed a handkerchief from her sleeve and sniffed. “If you do not save him from himself, I do not know who will.”

  Darcy crossed his arms. “Miss Bingley, though the Bennets’ behaviour is not above reproach, few of us can boast of perfect relatives. I do not think anyone who matters will hold Miss Bennet’s embarrassing relations against her or Bingley.”

  Miss Bingley gasped as though he had just professed an urge to give away all his money and become a monk. “You cannot mean that. The ton is merciless in this area, particularly for those who are not born to the gentry.”

  “As I said, I doubt anyone who matters will hold Miss Bennet’s relations against her,” Darcy said, dismissing the ton’s hypocritical notions.

  “You cannot be serious! The ton’s approval is essential for social success.”

  Darcy uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “Miss Bingley, when has your brother shown any inclination to achieve social success?”

  “Charles does not always want what is best for him—that is why we,” she gestured between the two of them, “must save him from himself.”

  “Miss Bingley, you can only save those who wish to be saved.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Miss Bingley agreed a trifle too quickly.

  Darcy eyed her suspiciously.

  “However, I do not think you would wish Charles to rush into anything.”

  Darcy remained silent.

  “And, despite what my brother thought, I believe his business will take several days. Why do we not return to London? We can open the London house so that Charles will be more comfortable. If he still desires to see Miss Bennet, we can return to Netherfield. The distance should provide him with time to think and, if he is still determined to pursue Miss Bennet by the time we return, I will fully support him.”

  Darcy studied the woman in front of him. How had he ever been taken in by her deceit? She had made a similar argument Before, playing the trump card that she knew Miss Bennet did not really care for Bingley.

  “Besides, Jane has told me that she does not care for Charles beyond common politeness,” Miss Bingley continued. “I have tried to explain that Charles can, at times, read more into responses than are there, but she is too nice to be firmer in her own responses to him.”

  And there it was—the primary reason he had agreed to the deceit Before. Miss Bingley’s “inside information” matched with what he himself had observed. Without the benefit of true knowledge regarding Miss Bennet’s feelings, he had been persuaded. Darcy shook his head. “I am sorry, Miss Bingley, but I told your brother that I would be here when he returns.” He forbore to point out that Miss Bingley herself had only moments ago complained of her friend’s ‘scandalous behaviour’ regarding Bingley in hopes that Miss Bingley would leave sooner.

  She gave him a coy smile. “You know Charles. He will not mind at all when we explain that we have come for his comfort. As I said, we will return should he desire it.”

  “But I do not desire to leave Hertfordshire. I suppose, if you and the Hursts wish to return to London, Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will take rooms at the Meryton inn.”

  Miss Bingley’s face contorted in a grimace as though he had just forced her to swallow a lemon. “You obviously care for the Bennets,” she said with some distaste. “Do you not want what is best for Miss Bennet? She is ruining her reputation by chasing after Charles.”

  Darcy nodded. “I do care for the Bennets, and I do want what is best for Miss Bennet, however I believe that people have the right to make their own decisions and even their own mistakes. I will not run Miss Bennet’s life for her. Nor will I do so for Bingley. He is my friend, and I will not so betray him.”

  Standing abruptly, Miss Bingley swept towards the door without a word, her fists shaking at her sides. Darcy surmised she could not speak past the rage she felt—or perhaps she was too wise to betray her feelings to someone she saw as a potential suitor.

  “Miss Bingley,” he called.

  She halted though she did not turn around.

  “If you continue to try to separate Miss Bennet and Bingley, you will only hurt yourself. I will not allow you to harm the Bennets.”

  Silently, Miss Bingley left.

  With a sigh, Darcy returned to his paperwork. Would Miss Bingley and the Hursts decamp
to London? He did not believe so, but perhaps his own self-importance kept him from seeing the situation truly. He wished he could explain the whole mess to Elizabeth and get her clear-eyed perspective.

  His thoughts drifted back to their conversation this morning. Elizabeth had seemed more receptive to him than in the past and yet she had turned the conversation every time he expressed his feelings towards her. Would she accept a courtship from him?

  After his conversation with Fitzwilliam, he was determined to ask. Perhaps he could find—no, perhaps he could make an opportunity tomorrow.

  Chapter 29

  “I swear, Darcy, if you do not pursue Miss Elizabeth today, I shall pursue her myself,” Fitzwilliam said as they approached Meryton.

  Darcy had waited at the turnoff on the path from Longbourn to Oakham Mount for almost two hours this morning before deciding he must have either missed Elizabeth or she had not gone on her morning walk . . . or she was avoiding him. And so he and Fitzwilliam had gone to call at Longbourn this morning, only to find that the Bennet sisters had decided to visit Meryton today.

  Darcy glared at him. “I have already promised to try to ask her for a courtship. I do not know what else you desire from me.”

  “I desire you to actually go through with your intentions and not get sidetracked by something else.”

  “I cannot control circumstances,” Darcy pointed out.

  In truth, he knew it was a weak excuse. One could not control one’s circumstances, however, one could absolutely control how one handled said circumstances. If he let circumstances prevent him from asking for a courtship, it was because he had let those circumstances impede his plans and because he was unwilling to devise an alternate route around them. In business, it was easy to put those principles into practice. In pursuing Elizabeth, it was far harder. He felt like he was walking on a knife-edge—one step too far to the right or to the left and his chance with her would be destroyed.

  Fitzwilliam snorted. “That’s nonsense, and you know it.”