A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “You consider Mr. Collins a ‘worthy young man’?” Darcy teased.

  “Well, he is certainly younger than some,” Elizabeth quipped. “In fact, he did join Mary’s moralising about the nature of beauty and how even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So one might argue that he is worthy—at least in some respects.”

  “True.”

  “I do not know that Mr. Wickham’s apparent incivility will make any impression upon Kitty and Lydia,” Elizabeth said, sobering. “Even the fact that he is the subject of rumours only makes him more interesting to them.”

  “You are worried for them?” Darcy asked.

  “Should I be?”

  “I believe they ought to be protected, yes. As I pointed out to your father, Georgiana was but fifteen when Wickham wooed her. I do not believe their youth or inexperience will protect them from his attentions.”

  Elizabeth straightened. “Well, perhaps Jane and I shall just have to interest them in other activities while Mr. Wickham resides nearby.”

  “Bingley intends to hold his ball on Tuesday,” Darcy offered.

  “That shall be a diversion indeed! But only for the next few days. After that . . . . Perhaps Colonel Foster will hold a ball too and exclude certain officers.”

  “I am certain Colonel Fitzwilliam will speak to Colonel Foster as soon as he arrives.”

  “We can only hope that it will be enough,” Elizabeth said.

  Darcy agreed, but vowed once more to himself that he would do more than hope; he would do everything in his power to protect the Bennets.

  From there their conversation wandered into literature and their favourite poets and through Plato’s Republic and the current political situation. Through it all, Elizabeth’s wits matched his own. Darcy could not help but imagine her at his side for the rest of his life. She would dazzle and delight those of the ton who could look past her parentage, and those who could not were probably not worth the effort it would take to charm them.

  Far too soon, Elizabeth confessed her need to return to Longbourn. Darcy begged leave to escort her to where their paths diverged, which she smilingly agreed to. On the whole, Darcy could not recall a morning he had ever enjoyed as much.

  Chapter 19

  Darcy suppressed a grimace as Miss Bingley clutched his arm as though she had become a human oyster. Good manners had prompted him to help her out of the carriage, but she had taken it as an invitation to escort her into Longbourn.

  This morning, after leaving Elizabeth, Darcy had returned to Netherfield where Bingley had announced that he intended to visit the neighbours and invite them to the ball on Tuesday. His sisters had complained heartily, but they had not moved Bingley—something Darcy was pleased to note. In an attempt to counteract the negative impression he had created in the neighbourhood, Darcy had requested to accompany them. Hopefully, by doing so, he could at least give some of the inhabitants pause if Wickham began rumour-mongering.

  In addition, he planned to request Elizabeth’s presence for the supper set. He had thus far refrained from dancing the first set with any woman lest he single her out and raise expectations. Despite his intention to court Elizabeth, he dared not request it lest she reject him. The supper set would give him the pleasure of her company for the dance and the meal and perhaps atone for his rudeness at the assembly. If others had heard his slight, this would make it clear that he did, indeed, wish to dance with the lovely Elizabeth.

  Mrs. Bennet twittered excitedly when they entered, practically shoving her eldest at Bingley. Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow at Darcy as though questioning his arrival. Darcy flushed, wondering if she was annoyed at his presence or merely curious why he had not informed her of Bingley’s intention to visit.

  “Miss Lydia, I have come to fulfil my promise,” Bingley began once they were all seated.

  “A ball?” the youngest Bennet girl squealed.

  “On Tuesday next,” Bingley replied. “You are all invited, of course,” he added, his gaze returning to Miss Bennet.

  “Why, Mr. Bingley! So kind of you to invite us. And in person! Wait until I tell my sister of your very generous attentions,” Mrs. Bennet gushed.

  “Yes, I am quite appreciative of your invitation, Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Collins said. “Though I have only recently arrived in this congenial area, you are gracious to include me, and—”

  “My dear friend!” Miss Bingley cried, leaning forward to gain Miss Bennet’s attention and deliberately ignoring Mr. Collins. “We have missed you! It has been an age since we have seen you. What have you been doing with yourself?”

  As Darcy turned towards Elizabeth, intending to quietly inform her of Bingley’s sudden declaration and to introduce the topic of dancing, Miss Bingley rushed to include Elizabeth in the conversation.

  “And Miss Eliza! It has been—some time since we have seen you as well,” she said, her voice loud despite a marked lack of enthusiasm in her manner.

  “Yes, what have you been doing with yourself?” Mrs. Hurst asked Miss Bennet.

  “Well, we have visited Meryton,” Miss Bennet began.

  “Oh, Meryton!” Miss Bingley said. “The shops are dreadful! I have told Bingley that we shall have to send to London for candles and such for the ball.”

  Mrs. Hurst agreed, prattling on about how inferior Meryton was to London.

  Once again, their rudeness struck Darcy. How they could aspire to the first circles was a mystery. Although many of the first circles were as rude, society would excuse their foibles on the grounds that they had breeding and/or money behind them. However, the Bingley sisters’ lacked breeding, and their fortune was not enough for the ton to overlook such behaviour. Even if Miss Bingley succeeded in marrying into the first circles or in marrying Bingley into the first circles, her manners would win her no favours.

  He opened his mouth to speak to Elizabeth, but Miss Bingley interrupted Mrs. Hurst, asking Elizabeth if she would attend the ball. Elizabeth replied with equanimity that she intended to do so.

  “How wonderful,” Miss Bingley said sourly. She stood. “Well, we must be going as we have many other neighbours to invite and much to do to prepare for the ball.”

  The rest of the group stood as well. Before anyone could further interrupt him, Darcy turned his back on the rest of the room and faced Elizabeth. “Miss Elizabeth, since you plan to attend the ball, would you do me the honour of dancing the supper set with me?”

  Elizabeth coloured. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. It would be my honour.”

  A hiss sounded behind him as though Miss Bingley were a teakettle on the verge of boiling over.

  With a smile, Darcy returned his attention to the rest of the group. Miss Bingley appeared to be trying to slay Elizabeth with a look, however Bingley smiled at him.

  “Miss Bennet,” Bingley began, “may I have the honour of the first dance?”

  “Of course, Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet said breathlessly. “My daughter would be honoured!”

  “Yes, Mr. Bingley, I would be glad to dance the first set with you,” Miss Bennet added quickly.

  Darcy suppressed a grimace, reminding himself that Mrs. Bennet had every reason to be desperate to marry her daughter off to someone as rich as Bingley.

  “Charles, we have many visits to make today,” Miss Bingley said, her voice taut. She gave a forced smile. “We do not wish to be remiss in inviting anyone in a timely fashion.”

  “Of course!” Mrs. Bennet said.

  “I look forward to seeing you all at the ball,” Bingley said and bowed.

  “As do I,” Darcy added, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth’s cheeks still pink, she gave him a shy smile. A smile that gave Darcy hope.

  The rest of the calls were far less enjoyable, yet Darcy suffered through them with good grace. When they returned to Netherfield, however, welcome news met him: Fitzwilliam had arrived and awaited him in the study. Darcy invited Bingley to join them.

  “Good God, Darcy! Accompanying the Bing
leys to make invitations to a ball? Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?” Fitzwilliam demanded as they slapped each other on the back.

  Darcy grinned at the towheaded man who was practically a brother to him.

  Bingley followed Darcy into the study. “He is rather changed, isn’t he?”

  “Bingley!” Fitzwilliam cried and wrung his host’s hand. “It’s good to see you again! Is there something amiss in the water or, ah, it is a woman, isn’t it?”

  Bingley smiled. “Perhaps.”

  “You have only just missed being greeted by our hostess due to her fatigue from the afternoon,” Darcy said.

  “Yes, my sister sends her regrets. She will welcome you at dinner,” Bingley added.

  “Thank Heaven for small mercies,” Fitzwilliam replied. “I shall be glad to be welcomed at dinner,” he added upon Darcy’s disapproving look.

  “You made good time,” Darcy said.

  Fitzwilliam gave a predatory grin. “I managed to be in London on business in hopes that Wickham would show his slimy face. Mother was, of course, thrilled to have me visit.”

  “How is Georgiana?” Darcy asked.

  Fitzwilliam glanced at Bingley.

  “He is aware of her situation,” Darcy said.

  “She is well. I have a letter for you.”

  Darcy itched to read it at once. The old him might have done just that, but the new Darcy would not take his cousin’s friendship for granted. He would spend more time with Fitzwilliam, listen to the things important to his cousin, and then explain about Wickham. He had not yet decided when he would reveal his vision though he was inclined to wait until after his cousin asked more about his changed behaviour.

  “And how are your parents?” Darcy asked.

  Fitzwilliam studied him. “As well as they were when you last saw them, I expect. Mother loves having Georgie around to shower with feminine attention. She said to tell you that she is already making a list of this season’s debutantes for you to meet. I think she just wants another woman in the family.”

  Darcy suppressed a grimace. His Aunt Matlock regularly introduced him to the season’s debutantes in hopes that he would end his bachelor ways. Then again . . . he nearly smiled as he imagined his aunt’s reaction to the news that he had found someone on his own. She would adore Elizabeth once she got over the fact that she hadn’t introduced the two of them.

  He refocused on his cousin. “And you? Are you well?”

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “Are you well, Darcy?”

  “Yes,” Darcy said simply. Regret welled up in him. He had not been a bad man, nor impolite per se, but his pride had tainted even his relationships with those closest to him. Fitzwilliam had acted as a confidant to him for many years, wriggling his troubles out of him and listening to whatever Darcy wished to share, and yet he had rarely reciprocated.

  Bingley gestured for them to seat themselves and went to the sideboard. “Something to warm you?” he asked Fitzwilliam.

  “Brandy, please.” Bingley handed him a glass, and Fitzwilliam gave a contented sigh as he sipped his drink. He leaned forward. “Now, tell me about this woman!”

  “That can wait,” Darcy said. “Wickham is the more pressing problem.”

  “Ah, but would he be a pressing problem if not for the girl?” Fitzwilliam asked with a sly smile.

  “Less of a problem, I would imagine,” Bingley said.

  Darcy glared at him.

  “It is true, Darcy,” Bingley protested as he sat.

  Darcy sighed. “Very well. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is from a poor, but respectable, family. Her father is the owner of one of the small estates in the area. She has four sisters but no brothers, and the estate is entailed on a distant cousin.”

  “And?” Fitzwilliam prodded.

  “Though not a classic beauty, I find her lovely beyond compare. She is witty, energetic, and wise.”

  Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows shot up. “High praise coming from you! How many women have set their caps at you over the years?”

  Darcy glowered. “Far too many.”

  “And the lady returns your affections?” Fitzwilliam waved his comment aside. “What am I saying? Of course she does. Who would not jump at the chance to be Mrs. Darcy? Especially if her circumstances are as precarious as you have said.”

  Darcy shook his head. “I do not know if she returns my affections and, I assure you, she would not accept me if she does not. She is more than capable of putting me in my place should I not find favour with her.”

  “Oho! A woman who will not fall all over herself to catch you. This I have to see.”

  “And so you shall,” Bingley said. “The Bennets will attend the ball on Tuesday if you can stay that long. You are, of course, welcome to stay as long as you desire.”

  “Thank you,” Fitzwilliam replied, toasting Bingley with his nearly empty glass. “I have some business to complete with Colonel Forster while I am in the area. After I have done so, I have been given two weeks leave to resolve my ‘family affairs’ and then I am due back in London.”

  “Thank you for coming, Fitzwilliam,” Darcy said. “I am grateful.”

  Fitzwilliam set down his glass and rubbed his hands together. “So, what have you done to strike the fear of God into that scoundrel?”

  “Nothing,” Darcy said.

  “Nothing?” Fitzwilliam asked incredulously.

  “We have spoken to Mr. Bennet. However, he was not very helpful,” Bingley said.

  “Wickham has been in Meryton for three days; surely the blaggard has committed some wrong!”

  “It would not surprise me, however, as you know, he does not begin with egregious sins but instead cultivates the good opinion of those around him,” Darcy replied. “He has committed nothing that would give us leverage, and, as I have told Miss Elizabeth, I require outside leverage.”

  “Outside leverage?” Fitzwilliam asked.

  “Suppose I threaten him with debtor’s prison. What will Wickham do?”

  “Counter with threats to Georgie’s reputation,” Fitzwilliam muttered. He made a face. “You know him too well.”

  “However, if he were transferred to a regiment with a watchful colonel—or if Colonel Forster were sufficiently motivated to keep an eye on him . . . .”

  “Do you propose to bribe Colonel Forster to watch Wickham?” Bingley asked.

  Darcy considered. “I hope to motivate him with the information I requested from my secretary. It is not to his benefit if Wickham makes the militia anathema to the townspeople.”

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “True. A good commander needs the support of the locals.”

  “What do you know of Colonel Forster?” Bingley asked, his gaze fixed on Fitzwilliam.

  Fitzwilliam shrugged. “He has a reputation for being a fair man, but he has never seen battle.”

  Darcy’s brow furrowed. “How did he become a colonel without such credentials?”

  “Connections,” Fitzwilliam said shortly.

  Darcy nodded. Well-connected officers were the bane of his cousin’s existence. Some realised all their connections were for naught when they faced battle, becoming decent officers. Others relied on their connections to advance far beyond what they were suited for.

  “Colonel Forster is well-liked in Hertfordshire,” Bingley offered.

  “Perhaps that will be sufficient motivation,” Fitzwilliam said. “I shall speak to him—today, if possible.”

  “Did you happen to bring the papers I asked Samson for? I assume he is how my messenger found you so quickly,” Darcy said.

  “I did indeed,” Fitzwilliam said with a smirk. “Despite having risen above the rank of messenger boy, for my second-dearest cousin, I am useful beyond measure.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Second-dearest?”

  Fitzwilliam spread his hands, a picture of innocence. “Georgie is my ward. It would be negligent of me were she not my favourite.”

  Darcy chuckled. “Very well. Perhaps I have just realised th
at your brother Frederick is my favourite cousin.”

  “You wound me!”

  “Not at all,” Darcy said lightly. He sobered as his thoughts returned to Wickham. “The papers should help, however, Wickham may have already spread tales,” he warned.

  The smile dropped from Fitzwilliam’s face as he leaned forward. “Already?”

  “You know his methods as well as I. Some of the officers have treated me differently since Wickham’s arrival.”

  Fitzwilliam scowled. “The man is a menace. I ought to have taken care of him this summer.”

  “I should have taken care of him this summer,” Darcy countered.

  Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows shot up. “You were the one who stopped me.”

  “I am partly responsible for the people he has preyed upon since I let him go free,” Darcy said. “I did not know what I ought to have done, and I still do not favour killing him, but we could have held him and requested your father’s assistance or consulted someone else.”

  Fitzwilliam’s fingers twitched as though itching to strangle Wickham. “You are certain you do not desire a more permanent solution?”

  A shudder went through Bingley’s frame.

  “I am positive that I do not,” Darcy said repressively. “I have contributed to warping him; I do not wish to add to my wrongs by working towards his death.”

  Fitzwilliam’s mouth fell open. “Darcy! You have done more for that worm than anyone—far more than he deserves!”

  “And far more than I ought to have done. There is a reason he believes he can continue his dissolute ways. If I had not followed him around, mitigating the consequences of his actions and ensuring that he did not suffer the loss of my father’s favour, Wickham might have become a very different person.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?” Fitzwilliam repeated incredulously.

  “You did the best you could, Darcy, and you are ultimately not responsible for Wickham’s actions,” Bingley reminded him.