“It seems like the sort of thing that one cannot prove.”
“It is difficult—particularly as events have changed so drastically that I do not believe anything else will happen as Before.”
“Oh?”
“I left Hertfordshire Before. Remaining here is a large change, one that I believe will prevent most other events, that involved you, from happening.”
“Is there anything else you intend to change?”
Darcy stopped. “Anything else?”
“Besides not departing Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said, halting beside him and caressing Apollo.
“I—I will try to be more prepared for the spring flooding,” Darcy said slowly. “I know which bridges upon my property need to be shored up or demolished.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “I suppose I am looking for something more concrete and measurable now.”
Darcy held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “If you desire a better prediction, I do not have one. The only events in Hertfordshire that I know of are the ones that have already occurred and Mr. Collins’s marriage to Miss Lucas.”
Elizabeth sighed. “I do not know that a further prediction would help anyway.” She studied him again as though trying to see his very soul. “After all, those who trust you will be inclined to believe you and those who do not will be unwilling to be convinced, regardless of the truth of the matter.”
“And which are you?” Darcy asked, holding his breath as he waited for her answer.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said, drawing Apollo forward. “I thought that I knew you and could trust you. Now, I find that I am unsure.”
Darcy remained silent, trying not to beg her to reconsider lest it backfire and set her against him.
“You are well-respected by your friends, and your concern for Mr. Wickham’s depredations have shown a man who is conscientious—perhaps a little too conscientious—and compassionate. Your care for those below your station is evident. You love your sister.” Elizabeth bit her lip again. “I cannot reconcile your behaviour and manner these past weeks with the man whom I first met. But I also cannot accept that you have seen the future.”
“I understand that; as I said, if it had not happened to me, I would not believe such an event either.”
“I can accept that you have had some experience that radically changed you,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I believe I can even accept that you believe it to be a vision of the future.”
“What are your concerns then?”
“Besides not wishing to join my life with one who may end up in Bedlam?” she said flippantly. Elizabeth sped up as though attempting to distance herself from her feelings. “Can you not see? If you are not a liar, if you are the man I think you are, then you are attracted to some—phantasm, not me.”
Darcy suppressed a sigh of relief. This was something he could address. “As I have told you, I once thought as you do. I found myself missing the Miss Elizabeth of my vision and mourning the fact that you would never be her because you will not have the same experiences. But, before long, I realised that you are in fact the same woman I fell in love with, the same woman I love today. Were you put in those situations, you would respond in the exact same way. You are the same in essentials.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because I have heard you repeat conversations, have seen you treat others with the same compassion—you are yourself, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow, and Darcy blushed to realise he had used her first name, but as she did not object, he did not apologise.
“Mr. Darcy, perhaps you could offer a more concrete example.”
“Do you deny that you would have rejected me had I proposed after leaving Hertfordshire a week ago? Particularly if you became aware that I had aided Miss Bingley in separating Bingley and your sister?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Would you not have described my character in the same way—as one who was proud, selfish, and disdainful of the feelings of others? Would you not have seen me as the last man you could ever marry?”
Elizabeth blanched. “Did I truly say that?”
Darcy hesitated. “You were sorely provoked.”
“What exactly did you say?”
Darcy stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “I do not recall my exact words, but I spoke about the impediments which had long prevented me from admitting my feelings: the inferiority of your connections, the lack of propriety displayed by your relations, the censure certain to fall upon me from both family and society for lowering myself. In fact, I spoke rather more of those things than of why I wished to marry you. I then told you that I had long fought my feelings, but I could no longer continue to do so.”
He swallowed hard. “You were justly enraged and tasked me as to why I had chosen to tell you that I liked you against my will, my reason, and my character and then proceeded to elaborate why I was the last man in the world you would marry, primarily due to my interference with Miss Bennet and Bingley and the misfortunes Wickham had supposedly suffered at my hands.”
He dragged in another lungful of air past the choking sensation in his throat. “I retorted that you might have accepted my proposal had I concealed the struggles I had overcome and flattered you instead, but you replied that the manner of my proposal had affected only the manner of your response, not the substance of it. I will never forget how you looked when you said that the mode of my declaration had only ‘spared the concern which you might have felt in refusing me had I behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.’ ”
Elizabeth halted, staring at him with wide eyes as though she could not believe his account, and Apollo nuzzled her. “I—I do not know what to say.”
“You do not have to say anything. I deserved every word you said, and I am infinitely grateful for your bravery in speaking the truth to me. I am a better man because of it.” His thoughts slid back to the moment after she had said that he had failed to be a gentleman. “You cannot know how that phrase haunted me,” he said hoarsely.
“I had always believed myself to be a gentleman in all respects and far better than the rest of the ton. I had never engaged in those behaviours which plague so many of my class: I have always tried to manage my inheritance responsibly and to ensure the well-being of those for whom I am responsible. I—your assessment of my character, that I was arrogant, conceited, selfishly disdainful of others’ feelings—it changed me. I began to see that you were right. I had done the right things, but only out of family pride, not out of care for others. I was arrogant. I was conceited.” His head bowed as though he were a penitent begging for her absolution.
“I”—Elizabeth took a deep breath—“I am glad that I met this Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly. “You are correct that you are a very different person now; I cannot imagine you saying such things to anyone, least of all to me.”
Darcy’s eyes flew to hers. Unshed tears pooled in her gaze.
“I would not have proposed to anyone else,” he murmured. “And I am very grateful for your intervention.”
Elizabeth shook her head and opened her mouth, clearly about to disagree.
“Yes,” Darcy interrupted. “You are the woman who has changed me. Do you deny that this was your assessment of my character after the assembly?”
Elizabeth coloured. “I cannot deny that you did not strike me as someone I would desire to spend time with.”
“Exactly. Even if my vision were not accurate, it would still be you who had inspired such an imaginary conversation. I have never met anyone who has seen underneath my behaviour to the pride lurking there and who has made their position so clear in the way they treated me. From the beginning, you have been unwilling to flatter me. If your dislike was strengthened by the knowledge that I had kept Bingley away from your sister and the belief that I had wilfully condemned someone you cared about to poverty, you would have responded in the same way.”
Elizabeth held his gaze, searching it for something.
He took a step towards her. “I cannot prove my vision, but all I ask is for the chance to prove my character and my love. Let me court you. Let me prove to you that I love you, not some fantasy woman.”
Elizabeth turned away.
Darcy stepped closer, following her. “Elizabeth, though our experiences shape us—I am certainly proof of that—there is a part of us that remains the same. It is that part of you I have fallen in love with. I believe that you have feelings for me, and I have feelings for you.” He gently raised her chin, bringing her gaze to meet his. “Life is precious and short. I do not believe that these events will repeat themselves as I have done my best to ensure that they do not. However, I do not want to waste even a moment with you.”
Tears sparkled in Elizabeth’s eyes, and she appeared as lost as Darcy had felt when he recalled life without her. “I do not know if I can believe you,” she said quietly.
“I am not asking you to believe me. I am asking you to give me a chance to prove myself. I am not the man I once was, and I am not in love with a phantasm.”
“I—I do not know if I could bear to break off such a courtship,” she said honestly.
Darcy attempted to raise an eyebrow.
A ghost of a smile crossed Elizabeth’s face. “You already hold so much of my heart. If—” She took a deep breath. “If a courtship did not prosper . . . .”
Darcy took her hand, tenderly squeezing it. “If such a courtship did not work out, it would only be if both of us were unwilling to work at it, and I do not believe that is a likely outcome. A month ago, a friendship between us did not seem likely, did it?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“And yet, here we are. We cannot avoid living our lives simply because something unfortunate might occur.”
Elizabeth gave a watery chuckle. “And there is the wisdom I have come to expect from you.”
“I could have decided to protect my heart,” Darcy said passionately. “I could have decided that pursuing you was not worth it in case you do die while we are still young. I have often thought that watching my father’s melancholy after my mother’s death has influenced my unwillingness to give my heart to another.” He daringly brushed a curl from her cheek. “But I did not give my heart to you. You stole it—most unwillingly at the beginning. And when I awoke from my vision, I almost relinquished what was in front of me in the midst of mourning for what I had lost. But then I realised that my regret would outweigh any protection I gained from not pursuing you. You have captivated me, body and soul, and I would not choose otherwise.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around his even as she held his gaze. After an eternity of silence, she gave a slight nod.
“You will consent to a courtship?”
Elizabeth nodded again. “The past few days have shown me that I do not wish to lose you from my life.” She took another deep breath. “I would be a fool to throw away our friendship for the sake of something I cannot prove one way or the other.”
“You believe me then?”
“I—I do not know.” Elizabeth looked down. “I do not understand how such a thing is possible, but every word you spoke rings with truth and you were correct about Charlotte and Mr. Collins. I think that—yes, I think that I am inclined to believe you, but you are right: a courtship will give us time to know our own feelings.”
Darcy grinned, buoyed by her willingness to let him in. Even the fact that she remained unconvinced that he was in love with her, rather than a phantasm, faded into insignificance in the face of her agreement to be courted. “I will do my best to prove to you that I speak the truth.”
Chapter 36
A smile refused to leave Darcy’s face for the remainder of that day, despite the fact that he spent it listening to Mrs. Bennet’s continued exultations regarding Miss Bennet’s courtship with Bingley and her quest for a wedding date. Elizabeth had requested they wait to inform Mrs. Bennet of their courtship until a later date as she had no desire to endure her mother’s wedding planning, and so he had not been able to draw her aside the way that Bingley had been able to converse with Miss Bennet; but even the fact that he and Elizabeth had little time to speak privately did not diminish his joy. Nor had Miss Bingley’s sour expression throughout the evening managed to wipe the smile from his face. Darcy felt as though all his dearest wishes were on the cusp of coming true, and he could not hide that fact.
Now, almost twenty-four hours after Elizabeth had agreed to their courtship, his smile continued. Even Apollo seemed less restive as they awaited Elizabeth’s presence. The morning had dawned on a chill, cloudy day, but, as rain did not appear imminent, Darcy surmised that Elizabeth would not avoid her morning ramble. And so he had taken Apollo, once again leaving rather earlier than his customary hour lest Fitzwilliam stop him.
His cousin was ecstatic for Darcy and had delighted in teasing him about his lady love. Despite this, Darcy had almost expected Fitzwilliam to have sabotaged his morning in some fashion, preventing him from seeing Elizabeth simply for the pleasure of watching Darcy squirm. But he had escaped without hindrance and was now waiting impatiently for his beloved. They had not spoken of their intentions for the morning, but he hoped that she would come.
Apollo whinnied, breaking Darcy from his abstraction. He grinned and dismounted as Elizabeth skipped down the pathway, her cheeks already blossoming with a delicate pink.
“Good morning, Apollo,” she called, curtsying to Darcy’s horse and reaching up to stroke his neck.
Darcy stepped forward. “One might think you prefer the horse to his master,” he suggested teasingly.
Elizabeth raised her chin in mock hauteur. “You have only yourself to blame for my friendship with Apollo. I had no intention of befriending a horse, but you were determined.”
“Yes, but it is not the horse who is courting you.”
“But I do not believe in forsaking the entire rest of my life merely for a courtship,” Elizabeth retorted. “I should be a poor friend if I did.”
Darcy bowed extravagantly. “Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, for suggesting such a thing. Shall I depart and allow you and Apollo some privacy?”
Elizabeth laughed, holding out a hand. “Mr. Darcy, I would welcome your company this morning.”
“Thank you for taking pity upon my lonely estate,” Darcy said with mock-seriousness. He took her hand, drawing her near and kissing it. “May I say that you are looking particularly lovely this morning?”
The blush on Elizabeth’s cheeks grew. “You may.”
He gestured to the path in front of them and held out an arm to escort her. “Shall we?”
Walking along, Apollo at their heels, Darcy breathed in the damp gloom as though it were delicately perfumed spring air. “I have missed talking to you,” he admitted.
Elizabeth looked at him quizzically. “We spoke a great deal yesterday morning, and I am nearly certain that we spoke yesterday when you called on us with Mr. Bingley.”
“Yes, but neither event truly allowed us to speak, not in the way I mean.”
“Ah. Yes, I missed being able to converse freely as well,” she said shyly.
“Was the remainder of your day satisfactory?”
“Yes. My mother appears resigned to Mr. Collins’s choice of wife, but only because, when she spoke to Lady Lucas, she argued that Jane’s conquest is much superior and that Mr. Collins’s prospects are hardly worth bothering about as Papa may live for some time yet.” Elizabeth chuckled. “I have never seen my mother argue that my father may live long enough that the entail is of little consequence.”
“So she is not aggrieved with you anymore?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “She has forgotten her distress for now. After Jane and Mr. Bingley’s courtship comes to fruition, she may recall her annoyance as she turns her attention towards settling me in my own establishment as well.”
“Or she may not, if your courtship should bear fruit before she turns her attention towards you.”
“Tru
e.” Elizabeth looked up at him. “And was your evening satisfactory?”
Darcy’s smiled widened. “Yes. Despite Miss Bingley’s attempts to corner me—I assume in order to speak of Bingley’s courtship, again—I sequestered myself in my room and wrote a letter to Georgiana informing her of our courtship.”
Elizabeth’s steps faltered, the crunch of leaves that had attended her movement falling silent. “And how do you expect she shall respond?”
“Georgiana will be ecstatic,” Darcy said, imagining his sister’s joy at his letter and wishing that he could tell her of Elizabeth in person. He had written much about the kind of person Elizabeth was, and he knew that she was just the sort of woman Georgiana would like, but he wished to see her excitement.
“You do not think you are being overly optimistic?” Elizabeth said skeptically. “She has experienced a singularly difficult year, and she would not be human if her ability to trust others has not been damaged.”
“That is true, however, Georgiana has long wished for a friend, and I believe you will satisfy that desire admirably.”
“You know this?” Elizabeth asked hesitantly.
Darcy’s brow furrowed as he tried to imagine what might prompt her disquiet.
“Your—foresight has predicted it?”
He grimaced. “I do not have foresight.”
“But your vision?”
“I cannot account for that. It is an aberration in the natural order that I have never experienced before or since.”
Elizabeth appeared relieved. “So there is no chance that you shall awake a different person tomorrow?” she asked lightly.
Despite her tone, Darcy detected a tenseness around her eyes that seemed to indicate a very real fear. “Though I cannot say there is no chance as I had no control over the event in the first place, I think such an occurrence unlikely. It has only happened once in my seven-and-twenty years.”
“Then I shall not expect extreme character shifts to be a common occurrence with you.”
Darcy hesitated, trying to decide how best to raise her spirits. “And what about you?”
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 38