A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “I know,” Fitzwilliam said with a smirk. “So I informed Miss Elizabeth. I also pointed out that there have been no other women in Hertfordshire who could have affected a material change in your character which supports your assertion that you have experienced a vision of the future.”

  “And what did she say to that?”

  “She argued that concern for Georgie may have resulted in out-of-character behaviour during your first month here, and that your true character was more in line with your recent behaviour, that you had not actually experienced a character reformation at all. I said that you were probably more hedgehog-like than usual, but that, if you were the sort of miscreant who would lie about experiencing the future, it was more likely that your behaviour for the past few weeks has been out of character.”

  Darcy looked at Fitzwilliam admiringly. “That is an excellent point.”

  Fitzwilliam grinned at him. “I rather thought so.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much. She just acknowledged my argument.”

  “How so?”

  “I believe her exact words were, ‘I had not considered that.’ ” Fitzwilliam shook his head. “It would have been much easier if you had simply been there, or perhaps I ought to have written down the whole conversation.”

  Darcy turned back to the window, his fingers tensing. No, he could not have gone with them today. Elizabeth had requested time, and he would give it to her—at least, within reason. If she was still avoiding him a week from now . . . well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Hopefully, Fitzwilliam’s testimony would convince her.

  “Darcy?” Fitzwilliam said hesitantly. “You know I was teasing, don’t you?”

  Darcy nodded without looking at his cousin. “I know. I am afraid it will be some time before I can contemplate the situation with any sort of levity.”

  “Miss Bennet seems hopeful that Miss Elizabeth’s ire will not last,” Fitzwilliam said as he moved to stand by Darcy.

  “Miss Bennet is hopeful about everything.”

  “It is nice to be reminded that there are people like that,” Fitzwilliam murmured. “Such innocence.”

  Fitzwilliam sounded almost wistful, and Darcy was once more reminded of his cousin’s experiences with the worst of humanity. He hesitated, unsure whether his cousin desired to speak of his troubles or not.

  “Miss Elizabeth excused herself before long, so I have nothing left to tell,” Fitzwilliam said, his gaze fixed on Darcy. “Will you be all right?”

  Darcy took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I will. If nothing else, I will begin anew with Miss Elizabeth. I do not relish the task, but her feelings have already transitioned from dislike to love once. I shall endeavour to facilitate a repetition of the journey if need be.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Fitzwilliam crowed. “Oh! You were right about Miss Lucas, by the way.”

  “I was?”

  Fitzwilliam chortled. “As if I would have to tell you, but yes.”

  Darcy’s heart sped up as though trying to imitate the beat of Apollo’s hooves when he galloped. “She is marrying Mr. Collins?” His last prediction had come to pass? And if so, would it convince Elizabeth?

  Fitzwilliam crossed his arms and settled into the windowsill as though settling in for a lengthy chat. “So I heard. Mrs. Bennet alternated between pressuring Bingley for assurances that they would not end up living in the hedgerows, gloating over Miss Bennet’s conquest, and complaints about ‘those artful Lucases.’ ”

  Darcy suppressed a shiver, recalling how close the Bennets had come to living in the hedgerows Before. Mrs. Bennet had good reason for her fears, no matter how ridiculous they sounded and no matter how vulgar her expressions of them were.

  “She blames Miss Elizabeth for Miss Lucas’s engagement,” Fitzwilliam went on. “I don’t think Miss Elizabeth would have stayed long even if we had not finished our conversation.”

  “You spoke about the future in front of her family?” Darcy asked incredulously.

  Fitzwilliam scoffed. “Of course not! What do you take me for?”

  “Then where?”

  “Bingley cajoled Miss Bennet into a walk in the garden, and I accompanied him with Miss Elizabeth. I wouldn’t talk about such sensitive topics in front of your future family.”

  “Forgive me. I am afraid this whole matter has overset me. I did not mean to imply that I do not trust you.”

  Fitzwilliam harrumphed. “I suppose I will overlook it this time, but you do know that you are cementing your place as my second-favourite cousin.”

  Darcy clasped Fitzwilliam’s arm. “A place I am more than happy to remain.”

  Chapter 35

  Apollo nickered as Darcy shifted for the thousandth time. He had awakened earlier than usual and had arrived at the path to Longbourn far earlier than he could reasonably expect Elizabeth. Truthfully, he had not slept well for the previous three nights, and the little sleep he had managed had been punctuated with nightmares of Elizabeth yelling at him, or dying in another carriage accident, or Darcy running through the halls of an empty Pemberley desperately trying to find her. But this Tuesday morning he had been too agitated to sleep even until sunrise.

  Penn had seemed unsurprised to see him awake and attempting to read. Rather than giving the usual lecture about burning the candle at both ends, he had simply gotten Darcy ready for his ride and requested the kitchen move forward his light breakfast.

  Apollo had been difficult as well, mirroring his rider’s unease with a generally cranky manner. After waiting an hour for Elizabeth at their spot, both horse and rider were even more agitated. Darcy had finally tied Apollo to a tree in order to stop his horse from trying to drag him down the path towards Longbourn.

  A chill wind blew through the nearly barren trees, and the sun hid behind a bank of clouds. Darcy shivered, hoping the cold would not keep Elizabeth indoors.

  “Although it is more likely that she will remain indoors simply to avoid me,” he told his horse.

  Apollo snorted as though agreeing, but then his ears pricked up and he tugged at the reins, his gaze fixed down the path.

  Darcy’s heart leapt as a feminine figure appeared in the distance. Elizabeth?

  The woman approached, and Darcy could soon see that it was indeed her, her gaze firmly fixed on the ground, her steps crunching through the leaves. Though he wished to rush to meet her or at least call out, his feet remained rooted to the spot and his mouth would not open, nor could he formulate a suitable greeting. What did one say to the woman one loved after she had avoided him for the past two days?

  “Good morning, Apollo,” Elizabeth called as Apollo whinnied excitedly.

  “G-good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy managed as his thoughts tripped over one another, leaving him stumbling over his words as though he were even more inept with women than a mere boy.

  Elizabeth nodded, still not meeting his gaze.

  Was she trying to communicate that she did not wish for his presence? But then, why had she come? The memory of Elizabeth saying that she disliked being cooped up flashed through his mind. Perhaps she had decided that he was the lesser of two evils?

  “Miss Elizabeth, if you desire solitude—” he began. He could not bear to complete the thought though, could not bear to even suggest that he could leave her alone. But no, he had promised to give her space; he would allow her solitude should she desire it—for now.

  “I could have taken another path, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, mirth peeking through her tone.

  A gust of relief escaped his lips before he could suppress it.

  Elizabeth untied Apollo and began walking down the path, his reins in her hand—a sign that initially had Darcy rejoicing until he realised that she had effectively designated Apollo as her escort.

  They walked in silence for some time as Darcy struggled to discern Elizabeth’s feelings. Then again, when had that ever worked? Only she could tell him of her feelings. And suddenly it seemed easier
to break the silence—if nothing else, he would gain a better understanding of the state of her mind. And a better understanding of her thoughts and feelings would only aid him in his quest to win her for his wife.

  “Apollo and I have missed you,” Darcy said.

  “And I have missed Apollo,” Elizabeth replied, reaching up to pat Apollo’s neck.

  Darcy winced.

  She sighed. “I suppose your cousin informed you that Charlotte is marrying Mr. Collins?”

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth’s gaze remained on the path ahead. “I did not want to consider such an occurrence. I still do not.” She gave a small laugh edged with bitterness. “I suppose Charlotte must take into account what she wants, rather than what I want.”

  “If it is any consolation, she seemed very content,” Darcy offered.

  Elizabeth kicked at some leaves. “It is not, but thank you for trying.”

  Darcy wasn’t sure how to reply, so he remained silent.

  “I do not like to think of my friend merely content when she could be happy.”

  “Perhaps she prefers the ease of contentment; happiness, after all, requires rather more work,” Darcy said, thinking of all the effort he had put into his character reformation, the strain of trying to win Elizabeth, the labour of struggling to curtail Wickham. He would never choose to return to the shallow contentment he had found in managing his estates well and telling himself that he was only lonely because there were so few people worth associating with, but it had certainly been easier.

  “But is it not worth the effort?” Elizabeth persisted

  “I believe so. But I can understand Miss Lucas’s decision. Contentment is much easier to attain and less risky in general.”

  Elizabeth sighed again. “Charlotte said that she has never been romantic and that she believes she will be as happy with Mr. Collins as she would be with anyone else.”

  Darcy allowed the silence to stretch out, trying to leave space for her to speak of whatever she wished.

  “She also told me that she has not yet set a wedding date.” Elizabeth glanced up at him. “You are certain it will happen in January?”

  Darcy grimaced. “I am certain that it happened in January in my vision. Events have primarily followed the same paths as Before unless I have affected them.”

  “How so?”

  “Conversations, actions, events—they have all unfolded as Before except where my response has reshaped them.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  Darcy considered, sifting through the events of the past weeks, trying to recollect something that had changed. “Do you recall when we were speaking of you visiting Lady Catherine?”

  Elizabeth blushed and nodded, an arrested look on her face. “Because you saw such a future?”

  “Yes, you visited Lady Catherine when you were staying with the Collinses; I do not think Mr. Collins would consider himself a good host had he not shown you the wonders of Rosings,” Darcy said, trying to lighten the conversation.

  Her eyes did not stray from the path ahead of them.

  Darcy sighed. “I said that you had told me that follies, whims, and inconsistencies divert you, and you said that you did not recall having said so, but that it sounded like something you would have said.”

  She remained silent.

  “We had that conversation Before, in my vision, on the night when you walked with Miss Bingley.”

  “The night when I walked with Miss Bingley?” Elizabeth asked with a frown.

  “When you were staying at Netherfield, one of the nights Miss Bingley invited you to walk with her around the drawing-room; it was the same night that she read the second volume of Plantinger’s set on crop rotation. I retired early, and the conversation did not occur in the same way.”

  Elizabeth’s frown deepened. “You believe that events are destined to occur in a certain way?”

  “Not at all. Rather, I have concluded that it is the characters of the people around us who determine events. They behave in the same ways that they did in the past because their character is the same. My character is different so I behave differently, thus leading to a different set of events in my life and in the lives of those who are affected by my changed behaviour.”

  Elizabeth shivered, drawing closer to Apollo, and Darcy was unsure if it was the wind or the topic that had caused her discomfort.

  “I do not like to think that I have so little control of my own life,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps that is why it is difficult to believe that you have seen the future. Not to mention the unlikelihood of such an event.”

  “I do not dispute that,” Darcy hurried to say. “If I had not experienced it myself, I would have discounted the idea entirely. In fact, when I first awoke after having my vision, it was several days before I believed that I was not in a dream and that I had somehow experienced the future.”

  “If it were not for Charlotte . . . .” Her fingers tensed around Apollo’s reins, leaving her knuckles white. “Your cousin spoke of other predictions that have come to pass.”

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot imagine that you would have conspired to predict such events between the two of you—not unless you are far more insincere than you appear.”

  Darcy blushed. “I—I apologise if Fitzwilliam’s words, if my predictions, distressed you. I was not trying to distress you. As I told Fitzwilliam, I simply chose the first few events that were outside of my control. Since our conversation occurred just before the Netherfield ball, the events of the ball seemed to be the best way to convince him.” He hesitated. “I do not believe in executing practical jokes regarding such a serious topic, and I have been the victim of too many schemes to enjoy engaging in them.”

  Elizabeth turned startled eyes on him.

  “Broken reins, misplaced handkerchiefs, forgotten parasols—all these have been used to gain entrance to my home. There are few things that women have not stooped to use for the sake of trying to gain my interest. I cannot prove that this is not an elaborate hoax, but, as I said, what motive would I have to trick you into accepting a courtship?” He held her gaze. “I believe you are one of the most handsome women of my acquaintance, but if I desired a trophy wife, I could find another. I would not be here, trying to win your love.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “I have not been able to make sense of this situation. I would not have thought it possible, but you were correct about Charlotte’s engagement—something I never would have dreamed of. I just wish . . . .”

  Darcy waited for some time, but she did not finish her sentence.

  Elizabeth studied the path ahead of them, her lips pressed tightly together. “I do not see how I could have been fooled by Mr. Wickham. I have seen the validity of your argument that you would not have made up such an uncomplimentary lie. Given your obvious sincerity, I do not see how you could have been lying, however, I also do not see how such a thing could have occurred. Nor do the events contained in your vision seem likely.” She sighed. “Or perhaps I merely do not wish them to be likely.”

  “They are difficult events to accept. I am very glad that they have not occurred.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “But what if they do occur? I tried speaking to my father yesterday about Lydia and Mr. Wickham.”

  “Oh?”

  “I suggested that perhaps he ought to keep a closer watch on Lydia and Kitty. They have been spending much time with Maria Lucas lately, and I am concerned about what they might be doing during that time.”

  “And how did he take such a suggestion?”

  “He laughed at it, arguing that Kitty and Lydia are too poor and too silly to get into any real trouble.”

  “I am sorry. I have tried to speak to him on that subject also, but that has been his response to me as well.”

  Elizabeth huffed. “Why can he not see that their behaviour could cause serious harm to our family? Though I have not decided whether I believe your vision, I do see that Lydia is thoughtless enough to elope w
ith an officer, particularly as her head has been full of little else for the past weeks since the militia arrived and she does not give credence to the rumours about Mr. Wickham.”

  “She does not?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, her curls bouncing. “Lydia is convinced that someone as handsome and charming as Mr. Wickham could not be half so bad as gossip is painting him.”

  “His manners and looks have often won him favour.”

  “I still do not see how I could have been duped by him in this or any version of events,” Elizabeth said tightly. “Though he is charming, there is a sameness to his remarks and manners—they seem put on like a set of clothes rather than reflecting his true character.”

  Darcy hesitated. “As I have said, I do not believe you would be at fault for believing Wickham as he is a practiced deceiver. What other parts of the vision seem equally unlikely?”

  “I am worried for my father,” Elizabeth confessed. “I do not see how he could have died in such a manner.”

  “Severe mental stress can cause stress to the heart. I do not know how long he looked for Miss Lydia and Wickham before returning home.”

  Elizabeth looked troubled. “Do you know when they supposedly eloped?”

  “Bingley did not say. He was distressed with Miss Bennet’s situation and had only given me an overview of the events that led to such a change before my vision ended. Sometime after Easter of next year.”

  “Mr. Darcy, may I ask why you believe your vision to be accurate?”

  “Certainly. My reasons are the same as Fitzwilliam’s and Bingley’s reasons: my character is markedly changed, and, as I have said, many events have reoccurred as they did in my vision.”

  “You have been acting oddly, or you were acting oddly before,” Elizabeth agreed. “I simply do not know what to believe.”

  Darcy hesitated. “I do not know what else to say to convince you.”

  Elizabeth slowed, studying him. “Perhaps you cannot convince me.”

  “I cannot?” Darcy asked, the chill creeping into his bones as though he had forgotten to wear a coat. Was she telling him it was hopeless?