Darcy cursed. Bingley’s aunt had been away from home, and it had taken the express some time to catch up with her. She had rearranged her visit so as to return home but had requested Bingley that wait to send his sister north until she was there to receive her; Miss Bingley was scheduled to leave for her aunt’s on the morrow. The woman remained confined to her rooms—what possible mischief could she have gotten up to?
He only hoped that his aunt and uncle did not catch wind of it. After agreeing to withhold judgement on the way back to Netherfield three days ago, they had seemed pensive and Darcy could not tell if it was because they were considering his arguments on Elizabeth’s behalf or because they were considering how best to separate the two of them.
The Bennets had returned the call the day before yesterday, and conversation had proceeded much the same as it had during the first call; Darcy and Elizabeth continued to be separated by circumstance and Mr. Bennet’s machinations.
Unfortunately, the weather had not been cooperative as a spell of bitter cold made walks impractical, leaving Darcy dependent entirely on Bingley’s mercy. He had requested his friend hold some sort of dinner party or musical evening just so he could finally enjoy private discourse with Elizabeth. After teasing him for being so desperate that he would resort to an evening with all the neighbours, Bingley had agreed, but preparations were on hold until after Miss Bingley departed.
Georgiana had also been quiet, and they had not had an opportunity to speak privately, so Darcy was unsure what her thoughts on the matter were. They planned to bundle up and go for a ride together this morning before breakfast, and he was hopeful that he could gain insight into her assessment of Elizabeth.
“Have you heard nothing else?” Darcy prodded.
Penn’s brow creased. “Unfortunately, not at this time. According to one of the maids, Miss Bingley was seen out of her rooms last night, but I have not been able to ascertain where she went or what she did.”
Darcy cursed again. Damn that woman! Was she angling for a harsher punishment? Not that Bingley could be much harsher without exciting the very gossip they were endeavouring to avoid.
“Very well. Thank you for the forewarning.”
“You are most welcome, sir.”
Darcy smiled in acknowledgement, and Penn laid out his riding clothes and assisted him in dressing. He was dressed by the time Georgiana’s timid knock sounded at the door, and the two of them descended to the stables immediately.
Once they were away from Netherfield, Darcy pulled Apollo into a sedate walk and turned to Georgiana. She had been quieter than usual, and a frown puckered her brow. “Georgie, is something amiss?”
“Oh, no, Brother, it is only—” She took a deep breath. “Are you certain that Miss Elizabeth’s family is not desiring to gain access to your wealth?”
Darcy’s eyes widened. “Where did you hear that?” he spluttered out.
Georgiana lowered her gaze. “Miss Bingley said—”
“ ‘Miss Bingley said’? When have you spoken to her?”
“She was feeling well enough to come down after dinner last night,” Georgiana said. “She apologised most profusely for not welcoming us earlier and explained about her indisposition,” she added in tones of bewilderment.
Darcy growled.
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Brother?”
“Georgie, did Fitzwilliam tell you why Wickham kidnapped Miss Lydia?”
Georgiana shook her head. “No, only that he had done so.”
Darcy sighed. “Miss Bingley is convinced that her brother and I are in danger of having the Bennets ‘ruin our lives,’ so she took—drastic measures.” He shook his head, still wondering what had possessed the woman to act in such a manner—desperation, he supposed. “She paid Wickham to ruin the Bennets.”
Georgiana gasped.
Darcy hesitated. If he was going to explain why Miss Bingley had chosen Wickham for her plans, he could reveal his future vision. But ought he to? He could just as easily attribute the overheard conversation to a concern over rumours of Wickham’s presence . . . .
No, he had sworn to himself that he would not withhold information from Georgiana after his missteps with Wickham. He would not lie to her or omit the truth, and now was as good a time as any since they were guaranteed privacy. He turned Apollo towards one of the little groves he had discovered in his time here.
“What do you think of Miss Elizabeth?” he began.
Georgiana blinked at him. “She seems very nice.”
Darcy’s lips quirked up. He had never remarked on the similarities between his sister and Miss Bennet, but ‘nice’ seemed to be one of Miss Bennet’s favourite adjectives.
“She has been kind to me, as have her sisters, but I . . . .”
Darcy remained silent, trying to give Georgiana room to collect her thoughts.
“I—I do not know what to think. Miss Elizabeth is not like Miss Bingley.”
“Oh?”
“I have often believed that Miss Bingley has sought a friendship with me out of her fondness for you . . . . Miss Elizabeth does not seem insincere . . . .”
“I suspect you are correct. Or perhaps it would be better to say that Miss Bingley has desired a friendship with you to strengthen the ties between our families in hopes of securing me as her husband.”
Georgiana gasped. “Brother! That is very—”
“Honest?”
“Perhaps, but it is not polite to speak so.”
As Darcy considered how best to answer his sister’s charge, he pulled Apollo to a halt and dismounted, then helped Georgiana down. “Sweetling, after everything that happened with Wickham, I promised myself that I would no longer withhold information from you on the pretense of being ‘polite’ or protecting you from things I wished you did not need to know. I sheltered you too much, rather than allowing you to make your own mistakes; I did not even tell you of the mistakes I had made.”
Georgiana stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Mistakes?”
Darcy sighed and offered her his arm. “I have made a great many mistakes. With Wickham, I knew what a cad he was, but I did not wish his behaviour to grieve Father, and so I ensured that Wickham’s transgressions were hushed up—the necessary people paid off, his victims cared for.”
“His victims?” Georgiana asked in a thready voice.
“Yes. Wickham has long had a habit of—pursuing women and ruining them. He has also run up many debts far beyond his ability to pay, thus creating hardship for the shopkeepers he swindles.”
“Oh.”
“Unfortunately, my actions only further convinced him that he would never suffer the consequences of his bad behaviour,” Darcy said, once more wishing he had known better. “It is part of why I wish for you to consider how your behaviour contributed to the negative consequences that you have faced. As Miss Elizabeth put it, not until you recognise your part can you gain a measure of control over the situation and prevent it from recurring.”
Georgiana sniffled. “I know it was my fault.”
“Georgie, that is not what I am saying. You were deceived by a practiced deceiver.”
“But I knew that I ought not to be left alone with a man, and I did not object when Mrs. Younge began leaving the room during his calls.”
Darcy suppressed a shudder thinking of Wickham trying to beguile his darling baby sister into forgetting everything she had been taught, and his stomach curled as he considered the similarities to his behaviour with Elizabeth. He had told himself that it was not wrong, because he had no intention of taking advantage of her, but if someone had seen them together, Elizabeth’s reputation would likely have been compromised.
Darcy took a ragged breath and cleared his throat, trying to collect himself for Georgiana’s sake. “That is true. However, you will know better the next time.”
“I knew better before,” Georgiana said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Darcy pulled her into a hug. “I know. Sometimes we do not always act as we
ought, do we? Particularly when we do not see the reason for the rules we are ignoring. I was a complete dolt to Miss Elizabeth when first I arrived in Hertfordshire.”
“You were?”
“Yes. I knew proper behaviour, but I did not think it worth the trouble to be polite to those so far beneath me, particularly when I did not wish to be attending a ball in the first place. I was a bear to Bingley and insulted Miss Elizabeth, and she overheard me.”
“But she does not seem to dislike you.”
Darcy smiled. “I do not think she does dislike me—not anymore.”
“Anymore?”
He sobered. “I believe it would be best to tell you this story from the beginning.” His shoulders tensed, and he forced himself to relax lest he scare Georgiana. “It is a fantastic story, but a true one.” He cleared his throat. “We were raised to believe that the Darcy name has a weight to it—one that carries privileges and responsibilities. I took pride in our family and grew to see others as less important. I had a habit of sitting back and looking for the flaws in the people around me, rather than having any expectation of pleasure in their company or finding ways to set them at ease.”
“But, Will, you have never behaved so with me,” Georgiana protested.
“I should hope not!” He sighed. “And yet, my pride has affected our relationship as well. I did not bother to disclose the truth about Wickham to you before on the grounds that it was not for polite ears, however, I was also unwilling to lower myself by explaining my actions, even to you. And, as you yourself can attest to, I was not happy, nor was I a pleasant person to be around much of the time.”
Georgiana’s frown grew. “I do not deny that you can be somewhat—austere, at times, but you have been the best of brothers to me.”
“I am glad you think so, sweetling.” He cleared his throat as the many ways he had failed Georgiana paraded through his mind, clogging his ability to speak. “When I arrived in Hertfordshire, I expected merely to assist Bingley and then to return to Darcy House. Our aunt and Bingley had convinced me that a change of scenery would do me, as well as you, good. When Bingley dragged me to an assembly mere days after arriving, I was annoyed. Within moments, whispers of our wealth and position began circulating the ballroom—something I was perhaps a bit sensitive to after our experiences with Wickham.
“When Bingley insisted I dance, I refused—I did not think anyone present was worth dancing with, nor did I desire to raise expectations. He offered to introduce me to Miss Elizabeth and, rather than demure or explain, I told him that she was ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’ Miss Elizabeth overheard,” he said, his gaze fixed on the path ahead, the warm rush of shame pouring into his chest as he recalled Elizabeth quoting those very words back at him and the harm he had caused.
“Brother!” Georgiana gasped.
“I know, Georgie. I ought not to have said it in the first place. I had barely glanced at Miss Elizabeth, and likely would have said the same thing regardless of which woman Bingley had suggested. It had nothing to do with Miss Elizabeth, and everything to do with trying to reject Bingley’s entreaties so thoroughly that he would not continue to pester me.”
“But—you—you are never impolite.”
Darcy chuckled mirthlessly. “I would say this event proves otherwise.” He glanced down at Georgiana. “What is worse is that I have been polite because that is how Darcys behave, not because politeness is merely kindness in practice. I did not care about offending others or hurting their feelings—I cared only for upholding the Darcy name.”
Georgiana did not say anything, but the furrow in her forehead returned.
“Miss Elizabeth rightly disliked me. She saw my pride and arrogance, my selfish disdain of the feelings of others. She wanted nothing to do with me and wasted no opportunity to needle me for my flaws.”
“Miss Elizabeth does not seem so petty as that,” Georgiana said cautiously.
Darcy hesitated. Some might see it as petty, and perhaps some of it was, however . . . “I believe it was my fault for continuing to force my presence on her. I saw her wit as flirtation, to my embarrassment, rather than a true dislike. I enjoyed our debates—so few women treat me as a person rather than an object of wealth and status to be won.” His lips turned up as he contemplated Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth’s wit is only biting to those who, through stupidity or pride, bring her wrath upon themselves. At the time, I was such a person.”
Georgiana faltered. “At the time?”
“Yes. You see, I—” Darcy hesitated; it was so much harder to tell Georgiana than Fitzwilliam or Bingley. She was so precious to him, and the thought of losing that trust and love that even now lit her gaze was like a rapier to the heart. “Well, I changed. Providence gave me a unique opportunity, and I hope I have seized it with both hands. Shortly before Wickham arrived in the area, I was given a vision of the future as it would have been had I not changed my character.”
Georgiana’s fingers trembled on his arm. “A—a vision of the future, Brother?”
“Yes, I experienced almost an entire year. One moment I was going to sleep in September of 1812 and the next I awoke in November of 1811. I promise you that I have not lost my sanity, nor am I imagining things. Fitzwilliam can attest that I was aware of the particulars of events before they occurred.”
Georgiana remained silent.
Darcy paused but decided to finish his story before attempting to address the reality of his vision again. “In my vision, the day after Bingley held his ball at Netherfield, he left for London to conduct some business. I could see Bingley’s partiality for Miss Bennet was far beyond any inclination I had witnessed from him, and, as the Bennets are neither rich nor models of propriety, save for Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, I was concerned that any union between Bingley and Miss Bennet would only bring sorrow for him. In addition, I had witnessed no partiality on Miss Bennet’s side and did not wish Bingley to enter into a loveless marriage, so I agreed with Miss Bingley’s suggestion that we follow Bingley to town.
“I left Hertfordshire and convinced Bingley that Miss Bennet did not have feelings for him—”
“But, Miss Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked, wide-eyed.
After a moment’s consideration, Darcy deduced that she was aghast he would so easily leave the woman he purported to love. “I was fighting my attraction to her, Georgie. I did not wish to lower the Darcy name by allying myself to a woman who, though full of intelligence and compassion, does not possess the wealth or status expected of the future Mrs. Darcy.”
“I was a bit—surprised when you began a courtship with someone outside of our circle; I do not think Aunt Matlock approves,” Georgiana said hesitantly. “But Miss Elizabeth has made you so happy that I cannot understand why Aunt would not give her approval.”
“Miss Elizabeth does not move in the same circles that we do, but I have come to believe that those values are not worth holding. I once believed that whomever I married ought to have wealth and status as that was what the Darcy name deserved. I now believe such things are fleeting, and so few of the ton possess those qualities which truly matter: kindness, compassion, intelligence. There may be a woman who possesses such qualities in addition to being a member of the ton—after all, Aunt Matlock is proof that such a thing may occur, even if she is subject to the conceits of our class—but this mythical woman would not be Miss Elizabeth.
“I have been dragged to social events for almost a decade now and have had every eligible female flung in my direction for nearly as long. I have never met a woman of Miss Elizabeth’s worth. I would be a fool to give her up, even if our aunt and uncle never approve.”
Georgiana’s eyes went even wider. “You would marry her without their approval?”
“I would. I love Miss Elizabeth, and I will not be swayed by their disapproval when it is based on values I do not wish to uphold.”
The muscles around Georgiana’s eyes tensed.
“Miss Bingley probably accused me o
f being bewitched by Miss Elizabeth, didn’t she?”
Georgiana nodded, looking down.
“It is all right, Georgie. I am glad you care about me enough to ensure that I have not been snared by a fortune hunter,” he said, gently lifting her chin so she could see the sincerity in his eyes.
“You rescued me from Mr. Wickham, and I—I cannot stand by if you are in need of rescuing,” Georgiana said hoarsely with a shudder.
“I am in no such need, but I am very proud of you for trying to rescue me. You have grown into quite the young lady, haven’t you?”
Georgiana’s gaze went back to the ground, though Darcy thought he detected a faint blush.
Darcy considered. How best could he alleviate Georgiana’s concerns?
“Do you know the characteristics of fortune hunters?” Darcy asked conversationally.
Georgiana’s brow furrowed. “I believe, after my experiences with Mr. Wickham, that they will try to convince one to flout the rules of propriety.”
Darcy nodded. “Often. They also are more interested in the contents of one’s pocketbook than the contents of one’s thoughts.”
“You said that in your letter.”
“And it is still true,” Darcy said with a teasing glint. “Miss Elizabeth has never asked the extent of my estates. It was not until after she had agreed to a courtship with me that she became aware that I am related to an earl. In fact, I offered to pay for a companion for the younger Bennet sisters—”
Georgiana turned shocked eyes on him. “You did?” she breathed.
“Yes, I believe that Miss Mary could benefit from musical instruction, and the younger two girls appear to need of further attention.”
Georgiana nodded hesitantly. “I believe that Miss Mary would greatly enjoy such instruction, and—I have spoken to Miss Lydia regarding Mr. Wickham, but she does not seem interested in listening.”
“Perhaps she finds it difficult to speak of being kidnapped.”
“I do not know. She seems to regard the whole thing as a grand adventure and has cast Mr. Wickham as a villain of the blackest kind.”
Darcy sighed. “I am hopeful that she will understand the ramifications of her actions at some point.” Soon, Heaven willing! It was too bad that he could not arrange a future vision for her.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 53
