Dear Regina,
I realise this letter will come as quite a surprise as it has been some time since we last corresponded. I have come to realise that you were right when you left finishing school.
She paused and ink dripped onto the page, a blot spreading across it like the stain on her soul. She had no idea what else to say to Regina. “I’m sorry that I looked down on you”? “I’m sorry that I haven’t been a good friend over the past few years”? “I’ve behaved horribly and gotten myself into a mess and now I don’t know what to do”? “I’m a mess”?
Finally, she decided to just be honest.
I don’t know what to say, but I desire to return to our previous closeness. I have spent the past few years attempting to enter the ton and have come to realise that I am now just as wretched as our persecutors were. I recently paid a man to ruin the family of the woman Charles desires to marry. Though gentry, they are lacking in status, money, and manners, and the mother’s siblings are in Trade. I did not want to remind the ton of our own low connections. I did not want to bear the social embarrassment of having them as relations.
And the woman’s sister is in a courtship with the man whom I have long desired to marry. Although, perhaps that is a good thing as I cared nothing for him as a person. We would not have dealt well together.
A weight rolled off Caroline’s shoulders as she recognised that truth. Mr. Darcy preferred the quiet of the country to the entertainment of Town. If they had married, she would have had wealth and status but would have been bored out of her mind secluded in the country—her stay at Netherfield had certainly shown her that! All those years were naught but another case of fighting her way down the wrong path.
I believed that I was doing what was necessary to save our family name from social degradation, and now Charles is sending me to live with our Aunt Elaine. I have never cared for her as she has always seemed too content with her station in life as the wife and sister of mere tradesmen, but perhaps she will be able to advise me as well.
I do not know what to do. Last night, I was speaking to one of this man’s relatives, trying to convince her to intervene in his courtship (and hopefully cause him to intervene in my brother’s courtship) when her niece looked at me just as you used to look at our tormentors, and I could not get away from the knowledge that I had become just like them.
This man and Charles have told me that I am my own worst enemy, and I begin to see what they mean, but I do not know how to go on. I am well-versed and skilled in the art of social navigation, but a life outside of that is foreign to me now.
Caroline paused, her heart thumping. It was the truth. She didn’t know how to be anyone other than who she was now.
I am not even sure I know how to be a friend or how to have friends. But I would like to try. That is why I am writing to you. I need your help, Regina, and I beg you to lend your aid.
Her once dry eyes began to rain tears again, and she sniffed, leaning back so that the tears would not fall on the parchment. The letter was pathetic enough without adding tear stains, she thought with dark humour.
Finally, she managed to collect herself enough to add a final statement about where she could be reached and complete the closing. With a sigh, she decided to copy her letter (minus the ink blot) and sealed it, trying not to think about Regina’s reaction or how pathetic she sounded. It went far against the grain to reveal a weakness in this manner, but she needed help.
Exhaustion filled her bones, and she curled up on the bed, hoping she could still catch an hour or two of sleep before a maid came to wake her as Charles had instructed.
When Caroline awoke next, she could barely force her aching eyes open. The maid who had shaken her awake shrank back at once as though trying to avoid an expected blow. Caroline’s stomach rebelled as she saw the maid’s fear and recalled her reputation for punishing her servants. She rarely hit them, but she had thrown a hideous vase at one and flung pillows at two others. Nor had they escaped many tongue-lashings. Her prior maid had refused to assist her with Mr. Wickham and Miss Lydia until Caroline threatened her family, an act that now weighed heavily on her conscience at the thought of Regina’s reaction had she seen it.
Caroline sat up and cleared her throat uncomfortably, unsure what the right thing to say was—probably not to begin a litany of complaints about the servant’s behaviour as was her wont. “Thank you,” she said stiffly.
“Mr. Bingley requested I tell you that hot water is being sent up in ten minutes and that he had the kitchens prepare a light breakfast tray to be brought up in half an hour.”
“Very well.”
The maid scurried off, locking the door behind her. Caroline looked around her room, feeling almost displaced. Everything remained just as it had been the night before, but she felt so different after writing her letter to Regina that it seemed as though the emotional and mental whirlwind that had rearranged her ought to have left physical evidence.
Dread filled her at the realisation that in only an hour or so, she would see Charles and whomever else came to see her off. Unless—he had seemed so hurt last night; would Charles merely send a servant to bundle her into the carriage like so much unwanted baggage? A shudder went through her frame. Would she ever see her family again?
Heart heavy, Caroline began packing the few things left out in her room that she would not need this morning. Maybe if she did her best to prove that she did not wish to be the person she had become, Charles would keep his word about allowing her back into his life. Her fingers lingered on the writing case. Perhaps he would let her correspond with him.
Caroline Bingley stood surveying herself in the mirror, wondering what others would see. She had completed her morning toilette and dressed in travelling clothes. Some time ago she had sent a footman to notify Charles that she was ready to leave. Hopefully, he would come to escort her himself, but perhaps he could not bear to see the sister who had betrayed him. For once, Caroline was not studying her outward appearance, but rather trying to see past it, to see any change in the soul lurking behind her eyes.
Hints of despair shadowed her expression. She did not know what she would do if Regina refused to help her. Fear that Charles and Louisa might hate her, that she might have thrown away the only family she had without even realising it, lurked around the edges of her gaze. A glimmer of hope shone through from time to time as she considered what a life free of scheming for social success might look like. Guilt more than anything burdened her expression, from the droop in her shoulders to the dullness in her gaze. She had—unintentionally—tried to prevent Charles from taking the happiness and acceptance that was nearly in his grasp; she had tried to make the Bennets (and countless others throughout the years) feel just as those horrid girls at school had made her and Regina feel. She had become someone as dreadful as they.
A knock sounded.
“Come in,” Caroline called, her voice rusty from all the tears she had shed the night before.
Charles opened the door.
Caroline dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to meet his eyes and to see the rejection she was sure filled them. She licked her lips and tried to think of something to say.
As she stepped forward, she noticed another pair of boots—Mr. Darcy’s. Her stomach lurched, and her pulse leapt. She had wronged him as well. Was he here to enact a greater punishment than he had already promised? Her throat closed.
Without a word, she took Charles’s outstretched arm and walked with him down the hallway. Though she tried several times during their march toward the carriage, she could not think of what exactly to say. Nor could she make her numb lips say half the words that crowded behind them as though their very weight made them impossible to set free. Words like: “I’m sorry.” “Do you hate me now?” “I wish things were different.”
In the end, she remained silent and so did Charles. Only when they reached the carriage was she able to find her voice. “You will write, won’t you, Charles?” she begged hoarsely.
>
Charles’s eyebrows shot up as though she had just requested him to commission a horse made of cheese. “Of course, if you wish me to, Caroline.”
“I do,” she said quietly.
A frown crossed his face, but he handed her up into the carriage. “I wish you well, Caroline.”
“And I you, Charles,” she replied, her eyes prickling with tears yet again. She knew he would not believe her, but someday, she would prove to him that she truly meant it.
Tears coursing down her cheeks as the carriage pulled away, Caroline turned her attention ahead, to the future. The letter for Regina was stowed in her reticule, and she intended to mail it as soon as possible.
Hopefully, in a year, she would see her brother and sister again. Hopefully, by then, she would have thrown off the personality of all those wretched school girls and become someone more like Regina.
Epilogue
Although Darcy never could explain the origin of his vision, nor did he or anyone in his circle of family and friends ever experience anything of a similar ilk (as far as he knew), those who knew of his vision continued to be grateful for the changes it had wrought—both in Darcy and in them. Darcy, too, thanked heaven that he had been given the gift of a second chance and worked every day to take advantage of it.
As he had expected, Elizabeth stepped into the role of Mistress of Pemberley with aplomb, and the tenants loved her attentive care. Nor was she averse to his daily habit of stopping by the mistress's study to steal her away for some time out-of-doors. Apollo, too, was quite pleased with that turn of events. Pemberley once more became a place of laughter and joy for Darcy and Georgiana (and for all five of Darcy and Elizabeth's children).
Georgiana loved having Elizabeth as a sister (and frequently told both Darcy and Elizabeth so). She grew past the shame and pain of her past mistake with Wickham and acquired some of Elizabeth's confidence in dealing with people. After living with Darcy and Elizabeth for five years (and being "out" for three of those years), she fell in love with a gentleman of 5,000 pounds a year who loved music as much as she did. They were married and settled a mere 50 miles from Darcy and Elizabeth.
The ton, though initially quite disapproving of the match, were won over by Elizabeth's vivacious personality and Lady Matlock's support. Lady Matlock had industriously circulated rumours of Darcy's bride's lively wit and loveliness. Though the young ladies of the ton resented Elizabeth's victory in securing Darcy, whispers of the couple's deep love for each other spread throughout London, and Elizabeth became a sort of Cinderella-figure for all those who wished to find love and happiness despite their social position. Even among those of the ton, more than one young lady sighed over Darcy's loving care for his wife.
Lady Matlock considered Darcy's marriage a resounding success and congratulated herself ever afterwards for having chosen such a wonderful woman for Darcy to marry. In fact, she had demanded his thanks on several occasions for having managed his life so well. Both Lord and Lady Matlock remained attentive and often visited Pemberley on the thinnest of pretexts so as to spoil their adopted grandchildren.
Fitzwilliam kept his word, allowing Darcy and Lord Matlock to set him up at an estate of 4,000 pounds per annum and retiring from army life to raise horses. Eventually, he married a rich widow whose father and first husband had not been kind and whose life of sorrow gave her a great compassion for and understanding of the invisible scars Fitzwilliam bore from his time in battle. Together, they found peace and happiness. Travel between Ravenhurst, Fitzwilliam's estate, and Pemberley was frequent.
Lady Catherine grudgingly accepted Darcy's marriage—on pain of being estranged from her older brother. She never warmed to Elizabeth, and had it not been for Elizabeth's amused forbearance with Lady Catherine's frosty manner, Darcy would have broken with her permanently.
Mrs. Bennet remained overjoyed by her success in marrying her least eligible daughter off to one who was so wealthy and well-connected. Though, in Darcy's opinion, Mrs. Bennet did not lose her silliness, nor her penchant for gossip and shrillness, her nerves were considerably steadier with the assurance that she and her daughters would never have to live in the hedgerows. Mr. Bennet had even commented that, if she changed much more, he would have to look outside his family to find the silliest women in all of England.
Mr. Bennet often fell back into habits of desultoriness, but, little by little, Longbourn became more prosperous through his efforts. He was able to set aside money for his remaining daughters' dowries and for his wife, so that when he died at age eighty-three, Mrs. Bennet was not required to live in the hedgerows. Until his death, he too was a frequent visitor to Pemberley.
After much hard work, Mrs. Morehead and Mrs. Annesley were able to curb the worst of Miss Lydia's wild ways and, at age 21, she married a colonel who appreciated her lively spirit, thus ensuring she was able to enjoy countless balls filled with red-coated gentlemen.
Miss Kitty had continued her improvements, becoming a very accomplished young woman (both in the traditional sense and in her ability to grow as a person). She and Georgiana remained fast friends throughout their lives, supporting each other through the ordeal of being presented to the ton, and Kitty settled a mere twenty miles from Georgiana, marrying a Mr. Neal of 2,000 pounds per annum.
Miss Mary was a frequent visitor at Pemberley and, during one of her visits, met a Mr. Parsons, the rector at Kympton—a younger son who had chosen to go into the clergy rather than rattle around society. The thoughtful theological discussions they enjoyed provided a rather unusual courtship—one that ended with their marriage. Both Darcy and Elizabeth were thrilled to have Miss Mary settled so nearby.
Miss Bennet, too, had settled nearby with Bingley. Despite having grown in their ability to be firm with others, Bingley's lease of Netherfield did not last as neither of them desired the continued stress of Mrs. Bennet's frequent visits to Netherfield. Though their experience with Wickham had shaken both parties and made them more cautious, their kind ways brought them favour wherever they went.
Mr. Collins would never be a favourite of Darcy's; however, Elizabeth grew reconciled to her friend's choice and Mrs. Collins became a favoured guest at Pemberley. When the Collinses did finally take possession of Longbourn, Elizabeth ensured the tenants were still well-cared-for in the person of Mrs. Collins.
Miss Regina Samuels was overjoyed to assist Miss Caroline Bingley in her character reformation and, in the person of her Aunt Elaine, Miss Bingley found a wise and willing ally. Though Bingley offered to allow her re-entrance into London Society after a year, she refused, unwilling to return to a life of social climbing. Instead, she happily settled into Miss Samuels's circle of tradesmen friends and eventually married a Mr. Robert Samuels—Miss Samuels's older brother—and settled permanently in Cheshire, something both Mr. and Mrs. Bingley found, to their surprise that they were glad of. Bingley had initially expressed some hesitance at her nearer proximity after he settled in the north, but Miss Bingley had changed so much that the Bingleys and Hursts enjoyed a warm relationship with her and her husband.
George Wickham never reformed. Captain Archer reported that he refused to cease his dissolute ways at every turn, despite the harsh navy discipline, and was eventually lost at sea as he had refused to follow orders during a storm and was washed overboard.
Though there was sorrow and difficulty aplenty in their lives, Darcy's vision had taught him that even the most painful sorrows and the most difficult hardships could become seeds for something beautiful, and that, by examining himself first and undertaking a reformation of whatever defects he found, he could transform both his life and the lives of those around him. After all, the pain of his vision, of Elizabeth's rejection and her death, and the arduous task of living that year over again while trying to rescue the Bennets had sown seeds that bloomed into a life far greater than anything he could have wished for.
Acknowledgments
This book would never have happened without the involvement of many people:
My wonderful husband, who supports me in everything I do, listened to countless versions of chapters and provided feedback and encouragement throughout the process. Thank you for the many ways you made this book possible, love!
My daughters were of immense help as they provided feedback and spent more than a week listening to me read the final edit aloud. (Plus, it was more fun getting to read to them ;) Thanks, M & J, for all your help!
My amazing betas, Sara McGrath, Dawn Erickson, Kamelli Mark, and Stephanie Frerichs faithfully edited their portions of this manuscript and read for continuity, and this story would not be nearly as readable without all their hard work. You guys know that you have made this book so much better than what I started with! Thank you for sticking with the process even when it was tedious!
Rebekah Black provided tons of amazing feedback about cover art—thank you so much for doing that!! The cover would not look half as amazing without all your help!!
And, last but certainly not least, thank you to all the readers at fanfiction.net who engaged with the story, correcting my historical errors, challenging me, and providing oodles of encouragement! I so appreciated all of your involvement, and this book would not be the same without you!
About the Author
Elizabeth Frerichs is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Southern IL with her amazing husband and two wonderful daughters. She fell in love with Pride & Prejudice as a teenager and has been reading it regularly since then as a reminder of the power of wholehearted repentance. She is fascinated by Darcy's and Elizabeth's determination to change and how character-change changes the world around us.
http://elizabethfrerichs.com
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 61
