A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  Bingley and Darcy took their leave, and Miss Bennet collected her wraps.

  “I am glad you have returned, Mr. Bingley,” Miss Bennet said shyly.

  “As am I. It feels like only yesterday since I have seen you and yet an eternity as well.” Bingley flushed. “You grow lovelier every time we meet, if I may be so bold.”

  Miss Bennet smiled, her eyes cast down demurely.

  “Miss Bennet,” Darcy interrupted, “Is Miss Elizabeth not at home?”

  “Lizzy was not feeling well this morning,” Miss Bennet said.

  Darcy turned to stare up at the windows, trying to find some sign of Elizabeth as he attempted to guess whether she was truly ill or if she was merely avoiding him. “Is she ill?” he asked urgently. “Does she require a physician?”

  Miss Bennet studied him. “I believe she merely desires solitude.”

  Darcy’s heart sank. She was avoiding him! If she refused to listen to him, what could he do? His eyes turned to Miss Bennet consideringly. Elizabeth would not listen to him, but perhaps she would listen to another. He strode forward, stopping directly in front of her. “Miss Bennet, as I am sure you are aware, I love your sister, Miss Elizabeth. She does not believe me to be sincere, however.”

  Miss Bennet hesitated, a crease on her forehead. “Perhaps she has reason not to.”

  Darcy sighed. “She does not possess key facts.”

  “Perhaps you should speak to her then,” Miss Bennet suggested uncomfortably.

  “If she would listen to me, I would speak to her. But she is unwilling to hear what I have to say.” Darcy swallowed hard. “Please. Would you intercede on my behalf? I would willingly impart the information with you and Bingley present if that would set her mind at ease.”

  Miss Bennet scrutinised him. “I do not wish to see my sister hurt.”

  “Nor do I,” Darcy said fervently. “But she does not know the whole, and her ignorance will hurt her far more than that which I wish to tell her.”

  The crease on Miss Bennet’s brow deepened into a furrow. “I do not believe the information she has supports such a view,” she said quietly.

  Darcy’s mind spun in tight circles. He needed to convince Elizabeth, and he could not do that until she listened to him, and she would not do that until he convinced Miss Bennet to intercede.

  “Miss Bennet, I can assure you that Darcy does, indeed, have pertinent information to offer your sister,” Bingley said seriously.

  “She believes me to be in love with another when it is she herself that I have spoken of,” Darcy blurted.

  Miss Bennet’s expression cleared. “So it is naught but a misunderstanding.” She smiled. “Lizzy does tend to become somewhat set in her views until she is forced to see her error. I will speak to her.”

  Darcy exhaled a shaky breath of relief. “Thank you, Miss Bennet.” He hesitated. “May I request that you do so now so that I may speak to her today? I do not wish her distress to last any longer than it already has,” he said, hoping that his vision would at least alleviate some of Elizabeth’s distress.

  Miss Bennet nodded. “Of course, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Thank you, Bingley,” he said, turning to his friend as Miss Bennet glided towards the house. “I did not know how to convince her.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” Bingley said hesitantly. “You still have to convince Miss Elizabeth that you have seen the future.”

  Darcy bit his lip. “I know.” He began to pace. “But I cannot allow her to continue thinking that I am in love with another. Even if she rejects me, I shall at least be able to begin again in wooing her—I cannot do that until she knows the truth.”

  “A-and if she believes you belong in Bedlam?”

  Darcy swallowed hard. “I will provide character witnesses until she changes her mind. I will spend however long it takes to convince her of the truth.”

  Bingley’s gaze lightened. “So you will be staying at Netherfield for some time,” he said teasingly.

  Darcy returned Bingley’s smile with a half-hearted one of his own. “Yes. Unless you would prefer I stay at an inn.”

  Bingley waved the suggestion aside. “Of course not! You are welcome to stay as long as you choose.”

  Darcy nodded, but his throat tightened as though an invisible hand had begun trying to choke out his life as he imagined spending months, maybe years trying to convince Elizabeth, watching her be wooed away by another. He would at least secure her safety and happiness by protecting her family from Wickham. She would be alive even if she would not be his. It would be worth any pain on his part if he could ensure that.

  Chapter 33

  After several minutes of silence, quick footsteps approached them and Elizabeth appeared from around the hedge, her face darker than a rain cloud and her steps thundering like a runaway horse’s. Miss Bennet trailed helplessly behind her.

  “How dare you convince my sister of such nonsense!” Elizabeth hissed. “How dare you take advantage of her sweet—”

  “It is not nonsense! You are the woman of whom I spoke. I knew you were not ready to hear of my feelings, but—”

  “I have never confronted you about your poor behaviour,” Elizabeth said hotly. “I may have censured you in my mind myriad times, but I have never spoken to you of such things, sir. I see that our friendship means little to you. You are not the man I thought you were.”

  Darcy’s breath caught in his chest as she so swiftly abandoned everything they had built between them.

  Miss Bennet cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should listen to Mr. Darcy’s explanation first,” she murmured. “I am certain there has been a misunderstanding somewhere.”

  “It is a lengthy explanation,” Bingley said. “Would you ladies care to sit somewhere?”

  “As we are together, I am sure it is perfectly proper to sit on the benches by the hermitage,” Miss Bennet told her sister.

  Elizabeth huffed but allowed Miss Bennet to draw her forward and take her arm.

  As Darcy and Bingley followed them, Darcy’s mouth turned into a desert; if he bungled this, it would be some time before he could make another attempt. His gaze settled on Elizabeth’s tense shoulders and marching steps. She was unhappy. How could he convince her that she was the woman of his dreams?

  The knot in his stomach tightened as his thoughts trod the well-worn path of losing Elizabeth. If only his vision had included the result of his letter; had the Elizabeth of Before grown to think more kindly of him? Would Elizabeth be willing to change her views now?

  “Darcy,” Bingley prodded after they had sat down.

  Darcy started, his thoughts so fixed on Elizabeth that he hadn’t even realised they had reached the benches, let alone that Bingley had sat down next to Darcy, nor that Miss Bennet and Elizabeth were seated on a bench opposite, Miss Bennet having arranged the ladies so that she was across from Bingley and Elizabeth faced Darcy. He took a deep breath. “What do you believe concerning the supernatural?”

  Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow. “The supernatural?”

  “Yes. Do you believe there is more to life than that which we are aware of?”

  Both ladies appeared puzzled.

  “I believe that there is that which we cannot explain through natural means, if that is what you refer to,” Elizabeth said.

  Darcy nodded. “And what of”—he swallowed hard—“future knowledge?”

  A frown spread over Elizabeth’s features, and she crossed her arms. “I did not expect you to be a man who turned to superstition to lie about your activities.”

  “Miss Elizabeth, I beg you to allow me to complete my tale as it is somewhat convoluted and lengthy. I know that parts of it are fantastic, but I swear that I will speak nothing but the truth as I know it. You may ask whatever you will.”

  Elizabeth studied him for some time, then finally gave a tight nod.

  “Are you referring to fortune-tellers, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bennet asked.

  Darcy grimaced. “Not precisely.” He squared his
shoulders, his limbs quaking as he prepared to take the leap. “Nearly three weeks ago I had a vision of the future. In it, I lived through the days from the day when Miss Bennet took ill at Netherfield until almost a year later.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed.

  “I am certain you recall that day, Miss Elizabeth. It was the day you arrived at Netherfield to take care of Miss Bennet. I was—distraught as I had learned of your demise only the night before in my vision. It was like coming alive myself to see you again, though I believed you were an apparition.”

  “Lizzy’s demise?” Miss Bennet questioned worriedly.

  “Jane, I doubt my death is imminent given that this was in a vision of the future Mr. Darcy claims to have had,” Elizabeth said scathingly, her tone clearly aimed at Darcy.

  “I can attest that Darcy’s vision has proven accurate in every detail thus far,” Bingley put in.

  Miss Bennet scooted closer to her sister and put an arm around her as though she could shield her from whatever tragedy Darcy was about to impart.

  “But that future will not happen,” Bingley said soothingly.

  “I agree,” Elizabeth snapped, her arms still crossed.

  Darcy’s eyes slid closed as he once more considered how best to show Elizabeth the truth. “As my vision does not cast me in the best light, I hope that you will see I am telling the truth.” He took another deep breath. “When Bingley went to London earlier this week, in my vision, we—that is, myself, Bingley’s sisters, and Mr. Hurst—followed him. To my shame, Miss Bingley convinced me that you did not have feelings for Bingley, Miss Bennet. My concern for my friend was such that I believed it best to separate you so as to prevent him from marrying into a family so lacking in prospects and propriety.”

  Elizabeth hissed as though she were a teakettle on the verge of boiling over. “That is precisely what I would have expected of you! Given your behaviour at the assembly and every event thereafter until—”

  “Until my vision,” Darcy said. “I am a different man now. I deserve any recriminations you wish to offer; however, these were the actions of, as you put it, a proud, selfish man who was disdainful of the feelings of others. Though I was that man, I am not now that man, as I am certain you know.”

  “Unless you have been lying since Jane’s illness.”

  “What motive would I have to lie? To pretend to be a better person?”

  Elizabeth looked down.

  “If you believe I am lying to gain your affections, why would I not put forth a better lie—one that would cause you to be favourably inclined towards me? Nor do I need to connive to gain a bride with status or money; I do not require more money or status and marrying you would add little to what I already possess of these worthless things—”

  Elizabeth straightened as though bristling at this harsh truth.

  “However, you would add infinitely to the things of real worth: love, character, kindness. These are the things you possess in abundance, and I would be richer in those things than I am in material matters were I to obtain your love,” he said earnestly, wishing the benches were close enough that he could reach out and touch her.

  Miss Bennet smiled at him.

  Darcy turned to her. “I have already apologised to Bingley, but I owe you an apology as well, Miss Bennet. I was wrong to act as the arbiter of your relationship with Bingley. I was wrong to separate you or to believe you shared your mother’s fears regarding your future, and I am heartily sorry.”

  Miss Bennet remained silent for several moments. “As you have done no such thing, I do not think there is anything to apologise for,” she said finally.

  “Jane!” Elizabeth snapped.

  “Besides, I am certain that, whatever you did, it was done out of love for your friend,” Miss Bennet added. “I would act similarly out of love for my sisters.”

  “Thank you.” Darcy cleared his throat. “Though I told myself that leaving Netherfield was for Bingley’s benefit, I was already fighting my feelings for you, Miss Elizabeth, and thought leaving would be best. I did not think such feelings could survive a separation and, as I had not yet experienced my character reformation, my pride led me to value those things which society values and to disdain those things which are more important.

  “I determined that I must merely be in need of a wife, and so I threw myself into society, allowing my Aunt Matlock to introduce me to her favourites for the position of Mrs. Darcy. None of them compared to you—none could compare to you.”

  A blush suffused Elizabeth’s cheeks as though his words had pierced her anger.

  “By the time my Cousin Fitzwilliam and I left for our annual trip to review Lady Catherine’s estate over Easter, I was nearly ready to despair of ever finding the right woman and had convinced myself that I had made you out to be something more than what you are. I had determined to put the whole thing behind me—until I met you once more. You were staying at the parsonage, visiting your friend, Miss Lucas, who had married Mr. Collins.”

  Miss Bennet gasped. “Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas? But Mr. Collins was pursuing another.”

  Elizabeth looked troubled. “This is why you believe Mr. Collins and Charlotte will marry?”

  Darcy nodded.

  “Then you have seen no indication of interest on either part?”

  “No.”

  Elizabeth scoffed. “No wonder I had not seen any indication of interest either! Charlotte would never marry such a person.”

  “Miss Lucas will marry Mr. Collins the beginning of January next,” Darcy said gently. He did not desire to pain Elizabeth, but he had no other proofs to fall back on. As Mr. Collins had already returned to Kent, Miss Lucas must not have made her engagement public yet. He just hoped events played out as they had Before.

  Elizabeth glared at him. “Mr. Darcy, as such a future is not likely, we will pass over it.”

  “Please continue your tale, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said quietly.

  “When I saw you once more at Rosings, I knew I could no longer resist you. I began, I thought, to court you. I escorted you on many walks because you informed me that certain paths were your favourite and that you enjoyed solitude on your rambles. I mistakenly believed such information to be an encouragement rather than a deterrent.”

  Elizabeth turned away, her gaze fixed on the ground.

  “The parsonage members were expected for dinner one night, and you remained at the parsonage with a headache. I believed you were wishing for my addresses and had contrived a moment alone as I had intended to return to London on the morrow. So I went to you and proposed. My internal turmoil overflowed in a proposal so offensive that I still cringe to recall it. You responded by enumerating my flaws—my pride, my selfish disdain of the feelings of others—and by taking me to task for the harm I had done to others. You declared that you would never accept a man who had been instrumental in ruining your beloved sister’s happiness, that I had exposed both Bingley and Miss Bennet to the world for caprice and disappointed hopes. You also argued vehemently on behalf of Mr. Wickham. I do not know what he had convinced you of, but you firmly believed that I had ruined his life.”

  Darcy’s throat tightened again, and his chest ached as though Elizabeth’s words were once more poison-tipped darts being shot straight into his heart. He had barely been able to stumble back to Rosings, his mind unable to comprehend her words, one part arguing that he was better off without her, and the larger, wiser part mourning the loss of someone whom he could never replace.

  Sometime in the middle of the night the idea of correcting her misapprehensions in the form of a letter had come to him, borne of desire to prove her wrong, to show her what she had thrown away, and to protect her from whatever machinations Wickham might attempt.

  “Darcy?” Bingley prompted.

  Darcy opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them. “I—I am sorry,” he said hoarsely. “It was a difficult time for me, and it was some time before I could admit the justice of your rebuke even to myself.�
� He cleared his throat. “I did not wish to leave you in ignorance of Wickham’s true nature, nor did I desire to leave you thinking so poorly of me. So I wrote a letter and gave it to you on your morning walk. When Colonel Fitzwilliam and I took our leave, you were not at the parsonage although Fitzwilliam waited nearly an hour for you to appear.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “I cannot believe that I would side with Wickham. You were right, Mr. Darcy, you ought to have come up with a more believable tale.”

  “And I could not believe that I would leave Miss Bennet,” Bingley said hotly. “But then I recalled the times when I have been swayed by the opinions of others.” His gaze fixed on Miss Bennet. “I might have left her without even a promise of return if I did not intend to remain away, and, if I believed her feelings did not match mine, I would have had no reason to return, as you are all that ties me to Hertfordshire,” he said earnestly to Miss Bennet.

  Miss Bennet’s cheeks went a vivid red. “I would not be—I would be distressed were you to leave Hertfordshire permanently.”

  “And I would be a fool to leave so easily.”

  Darcy caught Elizabeth’s gaze. “It is no detriment to you that you believed Wickham. I imagine he spread a tale similar to the one he is even now circulating. And why should you not have believed him?”

  “I would never have believed such a scoundrel!”

  “You would if you did not know him to be a scoundrel.” Darcy sighed. “I did not offer you any information. I believed Georgiana’s reputation more important than protecting anyone else. Wickham’s story stood unopposed, and he is a practiced deceiver. In addition, you did not like or trust me. We are all predisposed to accept the worst about one of whom we think ill. If we can misjudge those closest to us, why is it not possible to misjudge others?” he asked, subtly reminding her of her missteps with Miss Mary.

  Elizabeth’s hands fluttered in her lap as though the unsettledness of her spirit was on display. “I—but he—I am not my sisters and—Mary is—” She closed her mouth, and Darcy thought he caught a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.