A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “Why did Miss Bingley approach you?” Darcy asked, suddenly realising the incongruity of Miss Bingley seeking out someone so intimately connected to him that she had never met.

  “She didn’t say.”

  Darcy stared at Wickham, making it clear that he desired more information.

  “She only said that she had heard I could be useful in ruining the Bennets.”

  Darcy and Bingley exchanged a look. Where had Miss Bingley heard such a thing? Darcy almost hit himself as he recalled her penchant for listening at doors. He did not know exactly when she had obtained the knowledge, but evidently, she knew something of their worries regarding Wickham and the Bennets.

  “Anything else?” Darcy murmured.

  “About what?” Wickham snapped.

  “Anything that you know which we ought to be apprised of.”

  Wickham looked about to spew epithets regarding Darcy, but, as Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, he subsided. “No,” he said sullenly.

  Darcy straightened, looking around at Fitzwilliam and Bingley. “I believe Mr. Wickham is entitled to a nice long holiday in the cottage.” He returned his attention to Wickham who looked as though Darcy had just proposed to amputate both his legs. “Perhaps it will give you time to consider your behaviour and how you might better yourself in the future.”

  “No!” Wickham cried. “You promised that you would not leave me here. What about the Navy?”

  “I will not leave you here forever,” Darcy said firmly. “Just until I can arrange a suitable situation for you.”

  Wickham paled. “Suitable?”

  “Cabin boy, perhaps?” Fitzwilliam suggested.

  Wickham straightened again, drawing bravado around him like a cloak. “I am sure Darcy would never do such a thing to his father’s beloved godson; I will be nothing less than a—a lieutenant or a captain,” he suggested.

  Darcy did not answer, merely turning away and walking out the door even as Wickham began entreating him in a voice edged with panic.

  Chapter 42

  Apollo shifted restlessly as Darcy fingered the bump on his head, wincing as it throbbed again. Both Fitzwilliam and Bingley had suggested he forego his morning ride after the events of yesterday, but he could not. He needed to ensure Elizabeth was well. If she did not appear for their morning walk, then he could return to Netherfield. Fortunately, the stress of the prior day had resulted in little more than soreness and exhaustion. The six of them had returned to Netherfield in stages, leaving three to guard the captives at all times. Penn, Baker, and Roberts were even now at the north field, keeping watch.

  Darcy had spoken to Tommy about Wickham’s accomplices as Penn had suggested, and, as they did have a habit of poor behaviour, Darcy, Fitzwilliam, and Bingley had decided to send them to the colonies. They did not wish anyone with knowledge of Miss Lydia’s adventure to remain in English society. All that remained was to find suitable transportation for them, something Fitzwilliam believed he could do through his military contacts. In hopes of speeding the process along, Fitzwilliam would be taking Wickham, Mr. Havener, and Mr. Nimbleton to London today under heavy guard. Darcy had already written a letter to his secretary authorising payment for whatever Fitzwilliam deemed necessary in pursuit of their goals.

  He and Bingley would speak to Miss Bingley today—something he was not anticipating with joy. His jaw tightened. He had warned her of the dangers of attacking the Bennets; she had not heeded him, and now she would pay for it. He had already informed Bingley that he would no longer allow Miss Bingley entrance into any of his homes, nor would he secure invitations on her behalf. If she pressed the matter, he was prepared to withdraw his support even more publicly.

  Bingley had remained morose throughout the night, still convinced that his failure to rein in Miss Bingley had caused Wickham’s behaviour. Darcy tried to remind his friend that he did not control his sister, but that he could learn from the event and get better at handling her. Bingley appeared unconvinced, and Darcy hoped that his friend would not stay mired in guilt—a lesson he had had to remind himself of numerous times in the past day.

  Cold slithered into his chest as he considered Miss Bingley. Somehow, he had precipitated her actions even if he was not responsible for them. Why hadn’t his confrontation with her helped? He had been so sure that telling her the truth about her unpleasant personality would change her the way learning unpleasant truths had changed him. Elizabeth’s rebuke had been pivotal to his own growth—how had he managed to have the opposite effect on Miss Bingley?

  Elizabeth appeared on the path, and Darcy rushed to her, Apollo at his heels. She appeared wan and tired.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, not even bothering with greetings.

  She gave him a small smile. “I am glad to get out of the house.”

  Apollo nuzzled her, and Elizabeth greeted him, leaning into the horse as though she lacked the strength to remain upright.

  “Are you sure you want to walk this morning?” he asked, frowning at her evident exhaustion.

  Elizabeth nodded. “Yes. I am tired, but I will go mad if I do not stretch my legs and remind myself that there is more to life than Longbourn.”

  “Very well.” Darcy offered his arm. “What has occurred at home, if I may ask?”

  Elizabeth took his arm, and they began to amble down the road, Darcy allowing her to set the pace while Apollo followed after.

  She sighed. “Little that is unexpected. My mother is distressed that Lydia is not to marry and that my sister did not take into account her nerves. Lydia still seems unwilling to accept responsibility for her actions and, I believe, has nearly convinced herself that it was a prank and that she was very clever to have executed it.”

  Darcy frowned. “Perhaps she is unwilling to face the distress she felt. It could not have been pleasant being tied up in that cottage knowing that Wickham could do whatever he desired to her.”

  “True,” she said, staring meditatively down the path. “I just wish—if she does not recognise her own culpability, how will she ever be free from that fear?”

  Darcy almost stopped in his tracks. Elizabeth’s response nearly mirrored that which Georgiana had told him: that only by accepting her own part in creating the situation had she been able to move past it, knowing that she had some measure of control in preventing such an event in the future. “Georgiana has said the same thing about her own experiences with Wickham.”

  Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Did you not say that she was still coming to terms with those events?”

  “She is. She said it Before, in my vision.”

  “Ah.”

  “Perhaps she shall come to that conclusion sooner this time—I have tried to help her see that truth in my letters and to apply it to my own life. Miss Lydia may learn that lesson as well, particularly with you to help guide her.”

  “Mr. Darcy, I truly believe that you have an exaggerated view of my capacity to change other people’s beliefs. Perhaps my words were instructive in your,” she hesitated, “vision, but I believe you are the exception, not the rule. It is a testament to your own character that you embraced the opportunity for growth—not my prowess in confronting others,” she said looking troubled.

  “You have not had other similar experiences?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not at all.”

  Darcy hesitated, trying to recall her conversations and actions with others. “Perhaps it was the fact that you treated me so very differently than I was accustomed to being treated and so differently than you treated others. Your kindness and compassion is evident in the ways you relate to others: I have seen you encourage young people at every gathering we have both attended, helping them feel more comfortable and confident. You have ensured young ladies have dance partners—”

  “Only so that I do not have to dance with some of the gentlemen who appear about to ask me.”

  Darcy smiled at her. “But do you encourage those gentlemen towards a young lady who would not appreci
ate dancing with them or with whom they would be miserable dancing? Or do you introduce them to someone with whom they will enjoy their dance?”

  “The latter. I cannot see that the former would be to anyone’s benefit.”

  “Exactly. You help ensure that both parties enjoy the experience. Not only that, but you speak with everyone, young and old alike. You treat everyone like they matter: servant, tenant, or landowner.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Are they not all just people?”

  Darcy chuckled. “Yes, they are. I wager you would treat the Prince Regent himself in the exact same manner.”

  “I do not believe I would go that far. I would be too afraid of offending to not give deference. Fortunately, I will never have to meet the Prince Regent,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

  Darcy squeezed her arm. “If you consent to marry me, you shall.”

  “What?” she asked, blanching.

  “Elizabeth, you know that I am a person of some standing,” Darcy said in puzzlement.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide. “I know that you own half of Derbyshire.”

  “Not half of it,” Darcy said with a laugh. “You have been listening to gossip,” he teased.

  “And what of it?” Elizabeth asked archly. “Do you have anything to fear from gossip?”

  “Not at all. Not from you. I have already told you the truth and, if you have any questions about anything in my life, I am an open book.”

  “I shall keep that in mind.”

  “Good. Now, as a person of consequence, I have met the Prince Regent several times—primarily due to my uncle, the Earl of Matlock.”

  Elizabeth remained silent.

  Darcy was certain he had told her that his uncle was an earl quite some time ago, but perhaps she had not considered the ramifications of said relationship? Or perhaps he had only thought of telling her and had not actually spoken the words?

  “Do not tell my mother until the last possible moment,” she said with a sigh. “Can you imagine the wedding she will insist upon if she knew you were related to nobility?”

  “I shall remain silent on that matter,” Darcy promised with a grin, his heart lighter than air; Elizabeth was already considering a wedding with him.

  She blushed. “That is—if—if you were to propose, and if I were to accept, and if we were to be married.”

  Darcy laughed. “I would propose today if I believed you ready to accept.”

  “You do not believe I am ready to accept?” Elizabeth asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “I hope you would accept, but I would rather wait until you are content with the realities of my vision and we have settled any other concerns you have before I ask.” Darcy pulled her to a halt and held her gaze. “I already know that no woman alive can match your wit and kindness, your intelligence and compassion. I will wait as long as it takes for you to be ready.”

  Elizabeth looked down and gave a shaky laugh. “You sound as though you are prepared to buy property in Hertfordshire.”

  “If that is what you desire, I am.”

  She shook her head and moved forward, pulling him along. “Not at all.”

  Sensing that she did not wish to continue that line of conversation, Darcy asked her whether her mother had fully accepted the story about Miss Lydia’s letter being a prank.

  “Yes, especially after Papa said that Lydia would no longer be allowed to attend social events, including balls, as punishment for her prank. Mama changed tack from her lamentations to arguing that surely a prank would not necessitate such a heavy punishment.”

  Darcy frowned. “I would have thought she would be glad he had taken her nerves into account.”

  “I believe it was rather the shame of having a daughter punished in such a manner over which she was distraught. While it was fortunate that the punishment solidified the prank story for my mother, it has, unfortunately, also resulted in more turmoil.” Elizabeth sighed. “Mama fluctuates between lamenting Lydia’s behaviour and berating her, and trying to change Papa’s mind and lamenting the injustice of Lydia losing all her fun.”

  “I am sorry. It sounds—difficult.”

  “It is.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “And normally, Jane would be able to calm Mama down, but she herself is so distraught that she has been able to do little.”

  “Miss Bennet is distraught?”

  “Yes. She was upset about the danger Lydia and Mr. Bingley were in, but I believe she is almost more distressed over Mr. Wickham’s behaviour.”

  Darcy gave her a quizzical glance. “Why?”

  “Jane always sees the best in others. She has not yet been able to frame Mr. Wickham’s behaviour in such a way that it can be justified.”

  “Justified?”

  Elizabeth hesitated. “You see, Jane has always seen how others’ poor behaviour might be only an exaggeration or a misunderstanding, or she can find compassion for the circumstances that drove them to that behaviour. Of course, she has known of truly evil people—one cannot read the newspapers without encountering such knowledge—but it has not affected her as much as Mr. Wickham injuring Lydia. There is no justification for his behaviour, no reason that Mr. Wickham could give where his actions were for the best, and I believe, I know, that it has shaken her.”

  “I am sorry to hear that. I would not wish such distress upon anyone.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes took on a faraway cast as though she were looking through the forest and into Longbourn itself. “Am I a horrible person for disagreeing with you?”

  “I doubt it. Why do you disagree?”

  Elizabeth looked down. “I worry about Jane. I love her goodness, and I am in awe of her ability to see the best in others, but what you said the other day—that she does not live in reality—it has made me think this shock, painful as it is, might be for the best.”

  “Bingley has suffered a similar shock, and I must admit, I have been glad of his awakening to reality.”

  “Perhaps then, as difficult as this has been, good will come from these events.”

  Darcy squeezed her hand. “Perhaps it shall.” He hesitated, thinking of other hoped-for character improvements and wondering how much of his conversation with Mr. Bennet he ought to reveal. “And how is your father?”

  “I do not know,” Elizabeth said with a frown. “I have never seen him so attentive to his family; he actually stayed with us in the drawing room for the whole of yesterday evening. And, in addition to speaking with Mama about why Lydia’s prank cannot become common knowledge, he has relegated Kitty back to the schoolroom as well and asked Mary to begin a conversation about literature.”

  Darcy’s lips turned up as he considered the possibility that Mr. Bennet had taken his words to heart. Of course, it was equally likely that Mr. Bennet’s changes were the product of a moment and might melt away like glittering icicles in the sunshine, but he hoped the man would continue in his new behaviour. “I am glad to hear that he remained present last evening. I hope he shall continue to do so,” Darcy said. “How is Miss Mary? I have missed speaking with her.”

  “Perhaps we shall have to take her with us on our walk this afternoon,” she said.

  “Our walk this afternoon?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said firmly. “I doubt my mother will be in any fit state to entertain callers, and even if she were, I am not certain Jane or I will be in any fit state to manage her and callers, nor to remain indoors all day with Lydia and Mama. And, after all, you are not in a fit state to be seen by my mother if we desire to maintain the fiction of Lydia’s prank. Ergo, you and Mr. Bingley ought to go for a walk with us. We will take Mary and Colonel Fitzwilliam for chaperonage.”

  “Fitzwilliam will be otherwise occupied, but,” Darcy smiled down at her, “I believe Bingley and I would be glad to rescue our fair maidens.”

  “Good. To answer your question regarding Mary, I am not certain how she is handling this newest development. She joined our sisterly chat last night but seemed confused as to how she ought to reac
t to yesterday’s events. Though she remonstrated Lydia several times for her poor behaviour and even pointed out that, had she succeeded, she would have ruined all our reputations, Mary has also been . . . quieter. The old Mary would have not ceased haranguing Lydia until someone forced her to stop, but once Mary had said her piece, she did not continue to pester Lydia. Well, I suppose we shall see what she does today. After all, we have only had yesterday evening and night to react.”

  “True. Perhaps Miss Mary is considering whether constant berating might be detrimental to Miss Lydia’s response to this situation.”

  “Perhaps,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Also, I believe Papa wishes to speak to you.”

  “Does he intend to call today?”

  “I am unsure.”

  “Well, as you have said, I am in no fit state to be seen by your mother or the servants at Longbourn, so I cannot call on him until I look less—” he waved a hand towards his face.

  Elizabeth halted, gently pulling Darcy to a stop beside her. “Thank you.” She lightly brushed the bruise on the side of his face. “You did not have to risk yourself to rescue Lydia, but you did.”

  The side of his face tingling, Darcy reached up and grasped her fingers. “Elizabeth, I have already told you that you are the most important person in my life. Rescuing Miss Lydia so that you are free to accept my proposal, when I make it, or to reject it of your own free will, so that Miss Bennet and Bingley may marry without any taint of scandal, so that your family will not have to suffer the loss of your father—how could I do otherwise? I love you. I could not do anything other than risk myself for Miss Lydia.”

  Elizabeth looked down, took a deep breath, and returned her gaze to his. “And because I love you too, I would prefer you find other means of avoiding such a future than the cost of your life.”

  Darcy grinned. “Perhaps we should both work to avoid such situations.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, resuming their stroll.

  Darcy joined her, his feet merely brushing the ground as her love buoyed him on.

  “Will you write Georgiana today?”