A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “Well, you have to speak to her in order to convince her,” Fitzwilliam said briskly. “And preferably in private so you do not convince her parents that you are mad and not a son-in-law they would wish for despite your wealth and connections.” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “It is still incredible to me that your Miss Elizabeth would reject you despite your status and resources. I wager she is the only single woman in England who would do so.”

  Bingley looked affronted. “I do not believe Miss Bennet would marry Darcy if he asked her.”

  Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Perhaps I should have said ‘unattached,’ though I daresay there are many attached young ladies who would willingly unattach themselves for the sake of snaring one of England’s most hunted bachelors.”

  Darcy made a face.

  “I suppose it shows how very principled your Miss Elizabeth is,” Fitzwilliam finished.

  “She is. She will not marry me unless she loves me and I love her.”

  “Then you need only tell her that you do love her,” Fitzwilliam said.

  “But when? And how?”

  Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean to tell me that you will not see her tomorrow morning?”

  “Tomorrow morning?” Bingley prompted.

  “Darcy has been meeting Miss Elizabeth on his morning rides since the day of the ball.”

  “Darcy, you are not putting her reputation in jeopardy, are you?” Bingley asked with wide eyes.

  Darcy sighed. “We are on a public path though I have yet to see anyone on it during the morning hours.”

  “Just be careful,” Bingley cautioned. “Perhaps Miss Bennet and I should accompany you as chaperones.”

  “You are welcome to do so,” Darcy said, suppressing a chuckle at Bingley’s blatant attempt to spend more time with his beloved Miss Bennet, “if you are willing to join me at 6:30.”

  “6:30?” Bingley squeaked.

  Darcy shrugged. “I have always been an early riser, and Miss Elizabeth seems to share that trait. I did not ask her to meet at such an early hour—rather, I have merely chosen to ride towards Longbourn on my regular morning ride.”

  Bingley spluttered. “But, 6:30?”

  Fitzwilliam barked a laugh. “Miss Bennet may not appreciate you volunteering her for such an undertaking if she is not an early riser as well.”

  Bingley’s eyes went wide.

  “I am certain Miss Bennet would enjoy walking with you at whatever time, Bingley, but perhaps it would be wise to choose a more suitable hour,” Darcy suggested.

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “You could call on the Bennets this afternoon and suggest the lovely Miss Bennet go for a walk with Bingley, accompanied, of course, by Miss Elizabeth and Darcy as chaperones.”

  “I do intend to call on the Bennets today. I wish to ask Miss Bennet for a courtship,” Bingley said determinedly.

  “Excellent! I wish you luck, Bingley,” Darcy said.

  “Well, I intend to visit the barracks again,” Fitzwilliam declared. “I believe I have nearly completed my assignment, and you will do well enough on your own.”

  “What if the other sisters decide to accompany us?” Darcy asked.

  “You could avoid asking them.”

  Darcy stared at him, attempting to change his cousin’s mind.

  Fitzwilliam sighed theatrically. “Oh, very well, I shall accompany you, but if no other sisters join you, I shall go to Meryton rather than accompany you the four of you on your walk. I have no desire to watch two besotted couples making eyes at each other.”

  “Thank you, Fitzwilliam!” Darcy said. He had immediately begun conjuring scenes where Miss Mary was determined to speak to him and he could not refuse her out of concern for her feelings—not that he did not wish to speak to Miss Mary, but he needed to speak to Elizabeth.

  “The things I do for you,” Fitzwilliam grumbled. “I’m going to go eat breakfast.”

  At breakfast, Miss Bingley arrived partway through the meal as had been her habit of late. She pulled up short on the doorstep.

  “Charles! I did not expect you back so soon! Did you not leave some of your business undone? Perhaps you ought to return to London to ensure all is as you desire it.”

  A mild frown crossed Bingley’s face. “I am certain Jorret can oversee the situation. I have signed the paperwork in question and left things in his capable hands.”

  “But—” Miss Bingley looked around wildly as though searching for another excuse to send him back to London.

  Bingley held up a shaking hand. “I do not wish to return to London right now, Caroline. Am I unwelcome in my own home?”

  Miss Bingley tittered. “Of course not! It is only that I do not wish you to have to return to London in a few days. Of course, we shall all be leaving for London soon to spend the Christmas holiday in town.”

  Darcy exchanged a glance with his cousin who then covered up a bark of laughter with a cough. Since he had met her, Miss Bingley had never celebrated Christmas unless it was by attending an event to which notables might be invited.

  Bingley’s frown deepened. “I desire to spend the Christmas season here. You and Louisa are free to return to town if you so desire.”

  Miss Bingley’s titter rang out once more. “You cannot be serious, Charles! We all desire to spend Christmas together as a family in London. We have traditions for Christmas.” She mock pouted. “Besides, it would not be Christmas if we did not go to service at St.——’s. I am certain you will agree. We have always attended the service there on Christmas, and we ought not to throw away our family traditions simply because you have leased a country estate.”

  “But what of new traditions?” Bingley pointed out. “Having a house allows us to do different things than has been our wont. Perhaps we should hold a Christmas ball.”

  Miss Bingley made a face. “I do not believe a ball would be an appropriate way to spend the day. Not to mention that I have already arranged one ball for you.”

  “Do you find ball arrangement fatiguing, Miss Bingley?” Fitzwilliam asked with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

  Miss Bingley cast a worried glance at Darcy. “Oh, no, of course not. Any society hostess is well-versed in the art of throwing parties. It is a necessary part of being in the ton.”

  Darcy suppressed a chuckle, knowing that Fitzwilliam had already won the argument. Miss Bingley would do whatever she could to appear competent in front of Darcy.

  “If you are not capable of such a strain so soon after holding the last ball, perhaps I can ask Louisa if she would be willing to arrange a Christmas ball,” Bingley added.

  Miss Bingley’s posture grew rigid. “I am certainly capable of such a thing!” She arranged her face into a semblance of a sweet smile. “I was only thinking of our guests. I would not desire to intrude upon their peace and quiet. We have already forced Mr. Darcy to dance at one ball—perhaps he does not desire to endure another so soon.”

  “I appreciate your concern, however, I am not opposed to the idea,” Darcy replied.

  Miss Bingley subsided like a snake that had learned to be patient. Darcy had the uncomfortable feeling that she was merely biding her time until she could strike.

  He rushed through the remainder of his eggs and toast, attempting to match Bingley’s rigorous pace, just as eager to reach Longbourn. Though his darling Elizabeth was stubborn, he dared to hope that he would be a match for her stubbornness. He would make her listen if it was the last thing he did.

  Chapter 32

  When the three gentlemen arrived at Longbourn, however, the family was not present, all save Mr. Bennet having left to pay calls. Disappointment spread through Darcy like the bogs that grew during the spring rains. Was Elizabeth avoiding him? Bingley appeared similarly downcast as the three of them followed a maid up to Mr. Bennet’s study.

  Mr. Bennet was once more comfortably ensconced behind his desk, a book in hand. He laid the book on his desk, one finger inserted between the pages to mark his place.

 
; “Good morning, gentlemen,” Mr. Bennet said, bobbing his head in response to their bows of greeting.

  “May I introduce my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Darcy said, indicating Fitzwilliam. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Bennet.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded while Fitzwilliam bowed.

  “I am certain you did not call simply to introduce your cousin,” Mr. Bennet remarked. “Then again, perhaps I am only a poor substitute for my elder daughters?”

  Bingley blushed. “Not at all, sir,” he began.

  Mr. Bennet chuckled. “My daughters are certainly lovelier. My wife will be distraught when she hears that she and Jane missed your call and will likely require everyone to remain at home the entire day on the off chance you might repeat your visit tomorrow.”

  “I believe we shall come again tomorrow,” Darcy said, convinced that Bingley could not stay away—not that he could stay away either.

  “I will relay the message,” Mr. Bennet said lightly.

  Something about the way Mr. Bennet spoke sparked visions of a small boy waiting for his sister to discover the frog he had placed in her pocket, and Darcy wondered if their message would be twisted beyond recognition by the morrow.

  He dragged his thoughts back to the present, reminding himself to treat Mr. Bennet with patience and kindness despite the man’s eccentricities. “I also thought you might desire an update as to the situation with Mr. Wickham.”

  “Mr. Wickham?” Mr. Bennet asked as though he had never heard the name before.

  Darcy suppressed a huff of annoyance. “The person who recently joined the militia whom I warned you about.”

  “Ah, yes, I recall something about that. If you desire to give me such an update, I have no objection to hearing it,” Mr. Bennet said, leaning back in his chair.

  Darcy ground his teeth. Did nothing make an impression on this man? His daughters’ futures were at stake, and he couldn’t even bother to recall Wickham’s name. He gestured to Fitzwilliam to provide the update.

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “Upon arriving, I met with Colonel Forster and warned him of Wickham’s tendencies. Unfortunately, Wickham had already ingratiated himself to the point that Colonel Forster was unwilling to listen to any evidence I attempted to proffer.”

  Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows went up. “I did not peg Colonel Forster as one who would willingly discount information. Hmmm, I must speak to him more. People who avoid hearing that which challenges their beliefs are often the most interesting conversationalists.” He smiled. “You never know what may come out of their mouths next. Perhaps Colonel Forster believes in a flat earth or some other such nonsense.”

  Fitzwilliam cleared his throat again. “Regardless of his beliefs about the nature of the earth, he will do nothing to curtail Wickham.”

  “I am hopeful that the gossip will prevent the worst of Wickham’s excesses,” Darcy interjected. “However, he has circulated an alternate theory—one that your two youngest daughters subscribe to.”

  “Oh?”

  Darcy’s shoulders tensed. “That I have ‘followed’ Wickham to Hertfordshire to persecute him and ruin his chances in the militia just as I have ruined his chances in the clergy.”

  Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Ah, the folly of men. It never ceases to amuse.”

  “I am afraid that Wickham’s gossip has won his fellow officers’ support,” Darcy said tersely. “They were unhappy that Bingley did not invite Wickham to the ball at Netherfield and blamed me for instigating his exclusion.”

  “Well, I suppose you did instigate Mr. Bingley’s distaste for Wickham—not that it is unwarranted given his past behaviour,” Mr. Bennet mused.

  “He certainly did not!” Bingley protested. “It is my concern for your family that has caused me to avoid Mr. Wickham.”

  Mr. Bennet gave him a patronising smile. “I doubt such concern is warranted. As I have told you, the younger girls are too silly, too poor, and too young to attract the attention of a man such as Wickham. My Lizzy and Jane will not be taken in by him, and Mary cares nothing for society so I doubt she will even meet him.”

  “Mr. Bennet, only yesterday my cousin and I encountered your daughters making small talk with Wickham in Meryton,” Darcy ground out.

  “I assume, since you encountered them, that they were in public.”

  Darcy frowned, but nodded.

  “I doubt Mr. Wickham is one to do anything untoward when others are watching him, or so it seems from your characterisation of the man.”

  “I agree, however, I am more worried about what he will do when no one is watching him,” Darcy snapped.

  Mr. Bennet smiled whimsically. “If no one is watching him, then my daughters will not be present, and I doubt there is any danger to them.”

  Fitzwilliam leaned forward. “Mr. Bennet, Wickham is a slimy scoundrel who would sell his own mother to pay his debtors, and the man has a silver tongue that could convince a farmer to buy rain in spring; you do not want him near your daughters.”

  Mr. Bennet waved the objection away. “I am not concerned for their safety. As I have said, they are neither rich enough nor old enough to be at risk.”

  “May I remind you that Wickham targeted my fifteen-year-old sister?” Darcy snapped. “He is not above pursuing those who are hardly more than children.”

  Mr. Bennet leaned forward. “And why did he pursue your sister?”

  “Because he wished to take revenge upon Darcy and to gain her dowry,” Fitzwilliam snarled.

  Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation. “I do not believe he has any such incentive to pursue my daughters.”

  Darcy pressed his lips together tightly lest any of the uncharitable things he was thinking should erupt of their own accord. The cavalier way this man was treating his daughters’ safety rankled. Then again, he had not warned Georgiana—but he would have warned her had he known of Wickham’s presence at Ramsgate.

  Bingley sighed. “Would you be willing to at least warn them?”

  “Clearly, you do not have daughters, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet remarked. “Or you would know that to warn them is merely to wave a red flag before a bull. The man’s mystique will attract Kitty and Lydia were I to do such a silly thing as to warn them. No, it is far better to allow them their fun. Wickham will quickly tire of them, if he is at all interested.” Mr. Bennet began shuffling books around on his desk, apparently tired of the conversation.

  With a sigh, Darcy suggested they take their leave and return on the morrow. Mr. Bennet agreed readily, supporting Darcy’s suspicions that his daughters’ well-being was a subject he did not take an interest in and that the man could not pay attention to anything that so bored him.

  He could not wait until he had secured Elizabeth and could protect her, could intervene and support her in all the ways her father had failed to do. Elizabeth was very fond of her father, and Mr. Bennet, on the surface, was equally fond of her. Yet he could not see what drew Elizabeth to the lackadaisical old man. He only hoped that Mr. Bennet’s predictions about Wickham’s responses came true.

  ◆◆◆

  The following day the three gentlemen returned to Longbourn, Darcy cursing himself for being every kind of fool. Elizabeth had not appeared for their morning walk—not that they had planned to meet, however he had expected to be able to speak to her. Later, when he had complained to Penn, his valet and friend had suggested he see the situation through Elizabeth’s eyes, something Darcy had yet to do.

  From her perspective, he could understand why she was so determined to avoid him. She had run away rather than allow him to destroy their friendship, though she likely felt he had severely damaged it. It was not unexpected that she had eschewed her normal morning ramble. And, by leaving a message for the Bennet ladies that they would return today, he had practically guaranteed she would find somewhere else to be.

  What if she avoided him forever?

  The whole situation clawed at his insides, leaving him aching and resolved to do whatever was
necessary to effect a material change in Elizabeth’s perspective. Fitzwilliam and Bingley had agreed to stand as character witnesses and to confirm their belief in his sanity should such a thing be required.

  As they rode up to Longbourn, both Bingley and Darcy’s horses were restive, their riders’ tension leaving the horses uncomfortable. With shaking fingers, Darcy straightened his coat and removed his gloves. A servant led them to the room where the ladies were situated. Mr. Collins was absent, and Darcy assumed he had returned to Kent as planned.

  The men bowed, and the women curtsied.

  “Oh, Mr. Bingley! So very good to see you! I am so glad you made it back to your friends safely,” Mrs. Bennet gushed.

  The anguish in his chest grew as Darcy realised that Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. Fitzwilliam nudged him.

  “—still visiting,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Bingley replied. “I have been fortunate to have Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam continue to be my guests.”

  Mrs. Bennet simpered. “And it shows that you are an excellent host.”

  Either Bingley foresaw an afternoon of Mrs. Bennet monopolising the conversation or he took pity on Darcy’s distress, because, after casting his morose friend a sympathetic glance, he turned to Miss Bennet and suggested a walk in the garden.

  “Oh, yes! Show Mr. Bingley the pansies, Jane dear. They have been especially lovely this year,” Mrs. Bennet said.

  Bingley turned to his friend. “Would you care to join us, Darcy?”

  “Oh, I am sure the cold would not—” Mrs. Bennet began.

  “Certainly,” Darcy said. “It sounds invigorating.”

  Mrs. Bennet wilted, but she apparently did not dare gainsay him. Fitzwilliam seated himself with a sigh and began attempting to conduct small talk with Miss Mary.