A Vision of the Path Before Him

by Elizabeth Frerichs

  “Charles—”

  “No! I have ignored your petty gossip and constant complaining, thus far, because I did not know how to check you—”

  “You cannot—”

  “—but I can no longer ignore your propensity to harm others and to harm yourself, regardless of what justifications you give yourself. What if the Bennets decide to bring charges against you? What if you are deported?”

  “Please,” she burst out, her eyes widening as though the reality of her situation was beginning to set in. “You would condemn your own sister to exile and poverty? I have done nothing worth such heavy measures. Surely, you are overreacting. If you would just—”

  Bingley glared at her. “Overreacting? I think not! What you did to the Bennets—” He took a deep breath. “This is for your own good, Caroline. I love you too much to allow you to ruin your life.”

  “You are the only one in danger of ruining my life!” she snapped.

  “Caroline, if word of your scheme should become public, you will bring shame upon our whole family and ruin your reputation! You will lose everything that you desire and solely through your own machinations.”

  Miss Bingley opened her mouth, but Bingley held up a hand. “You will be confined to your rooms until I hear back from Aunt Elaine, and I will be speaking with you further on the changes I expect you to evince before you can rejoin London Society.”

  “Charles! You must not let the Bennets ruin you! Perhaps I did not go about it in the manner you would have chosen, but this family is a true danger to you, whatever Mr. Darcy says. They will only give you their debts and lower our status in society! Do you not see that Miss Bennet cares solely for your money and position? You will ruin us if you do not turn from this course!”

  “You mean I will ruin your chances of being in the first circles,” Bingley corrected. “I imagine your behaviour has already ruined any chance of Darcy allowing you to ever become a member of the ton.”

  “Indeed,” Darcy said coldly.

  Without another word, Bingley strode to the door and called for a footman to escort Miss Bingley back to her rooms.

  Miss Bingley left, her head held high, but her lips trembled.

  Bingley slumped in a chair, his energy disappearing like hot air escaping from a ripped balloon.

  Darcy shook himself, trying to dislodge the disgust that had taken up residence in his throat. “You did well, Bingley.”

  “Did I?” Bingley asked, his head in his hands. “If I had done well, would she not have seen that her behaviour is unacceptable?”

  “Perhaps she will,” Darcy said, offering his friend a glass of port. He settled into the opposite chair with a glass of his own. “Or perhaps not. I have spoken to Miss Elizabeth about this very topic. She believes it has more to do with the character of the person being confronted and their willingness to grow than the skill of the one confronting.”

  Bingley shook his head. “I do not know. If I had said the right words . . . . I nearly yelled at her when she admitted to paying Wickham.”

  “Indeed. I was hard-pressed not to respond more forcefully myself.”

  “I shall have to hire a new maid,” Bingley said. “I cannot allow her access to one who might assist in her schemes.”

  Darcy made a mental note to speak with Penn regarding the disgraced Miss Bingley’s soon-to-be former maid. If the girl had been threatened into compliance, Darcy would offer her work elsewhere.

  “True.”

  Bingley sighed heavily. “Darcy, how did it come to this? You did not see any hint of this behaviour from Caroline in your vision, did you?”

  Darcy echoed his sigh. “No, I did not. I have asked myself that same question several times in the past 24 hours. Wickham was rather more desperate than I have ever seen him as well. I do not know.” He swirled the wine in his cup. “Perhaps some events may act as a—a wedge, a separating force between the person we are and the person we become. Miss Elizabeth’s frank assessment of my character was such an event for me. Perhaps having you embark on a courtship with Miss Bennet was a similar such event for Miss Bingley, or perhaps it was the strain of seeing my love for Miss Elizabeth. Or my confrontation of Miss Bingley may have exerted such pressure—though she does not seem to have taken my words to heart. I do not know.”

  “I just—I do not see how she could have thought this course of action acceptable.”

  Darcy grimaced. “Miss Bingley has taken those members of the ton who would not scruple to act similarly as her model of acceptable behaviour; such a model cannot help but corrupt.”

  Bingley sighed again. “Our parents taught her better before they died, I am certain.”

  “She still has the opportunity to change,” Darcy said.

  “I just wish—if only I had done something to check her long ago. Perhaps then she would never have dared to enact such a scheme. My inaction has hurt those I love best, including my sister.”

  “She may have responded differently, but as you told Miss Bingley, you cannot know the exact repercussions of any action. Nor will dwelling on the past assist you in living in the present. It will only sap your strength,” Darcy said, recalling the dark days when he had been trapped in his own remorse and horror over his pride. It had only been his resolve to live differently that had pulled him from his depression and allowed him to move forward. Had he continued revisiting his mistakes, he never would have grown into the man he was today and he would have lost countless opportunities to help others, subsumed in the tide of his regret.

  Bingley took a gulp of his drink. “I would never have expected you of all people to eschew the benefits of self-examination. Aren’t you a firm proponent?”

  “I am. But self-examination is only the beginning.” Darcy hesitated, trying to put his thoughts into words. “There is a—remorse that comes with the knowledge of having made mistakes, one that can give you insight into your character and propel you forward. But it is possible to allow that remorse to ferment into something more sinister, something that gives neither insight nor impetus, something that traps you and prevents you from moving forward.”

  He held Bingley’s gaze. “If Miss Bingley’s behaviour has exposed a fault in your character or behaviour, then you must make the necessary changes—something I believe you are already doing, else you would not have spoken to Miss Bingley so, nor would you send her to your aunt’s—but you cannot allow your faults to define you for the rest of your life.”

  Bingley ran a hand through his hair. “I do not know how to even begin to accomplish what you are suggesting.”

  “Bingley, it is as anything else: one step at a time. You have spoken to Miss Bingley and presumably sent a letter to your aunt?”

  “Yes, I sent an express this morning. I believe Aunt Elaine will welcome having a companion, and she will not be fooled by Caroline’s wiles.”

  “Then you need only to continue moving forward and to work to apply the principles you have learned in one relationship at a time.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Bingley said wryly.

  “Simple—not easy,” Darcy said. “Simple things are rarely easy.”

  “Very true! It is simple enough to say that we ought to guard Wickham and his men, but the execution has left me rather more tired than I had expected,” he said with an attempt at his normal good-humoured manner. “Of course, I do not know that I would have slept last night anyway,” he finished soberly.

  “Are you too tired to contemplate a walk with Miss Bennet this afternoon?” Darcy asked, half-teasing.

  Bingley straightened. “With Miss Bennet? I thought we had agreed to the necessity of avoiding Mrs. Bennet until our, er, decorations are healed?” he asked, fingering the livid bruise on his face.

  “We did; however, Miss Elizabeth has requested we accompany her, Miss Bennet, and Miss Mary on a walk this afternoon—I believe she is in need of a break from Mrs. Bennet’s recriminations towards Miss Lydia.”

  Bingley frowned. “I did not even thin
k to ask: how is Miss Lydia this morning?”

  “According to Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lydia half-believes she was indeed responsible for a great prank and has regained most of her equanimity. She is also confined to bed while her ankle mends, so there is no immediate threat of her spreading gossip.”

  “Her ankle was not broken?”

  Darcy shook his head. “Just a bad sprain.”

  Bingley sighed. “What are we going to do, Darcy?”

  “About what?”

  “Miss Lydia. If she believes her encounter with Wickham to be nothing more than an adventure, will she not repeat her actions?”

  “I do not know,” Darcy said. He echoed Bingley’s sigh. “I have concluded that there is little we can do until we are family to the Bennets. I am hopeful that, afterwards, we can pay to send the younger girls to a school or engage a companion who can help all the ladies of the house,” he said, thinking about how much Miss Mary desired instruction in music.

  “Even Mrs. Bennet?” Bingley exclaimed.

  Darcy hesitated. “I had not considered that outcome, but yes, the right woman could, discreetly, help Mrs. Bennet as well.” He shifted in his chair, his mind in a whirl. This companion would have to be an exceptional woman indeed.

  “Would Mr. Bennet agree?”

  “I do not know, but I intend to speak to him on the matter as well as the state of Longbourn. I wish to offer my assistance in looking over the estate, if he will allow it. Perhaps enough improvements may be made that the estate could afford to hire such a person.”

  Bingley nodded thoughtfully. “Do you believe he will accept assistance? He does not strike me as someone who would take such an offer seriously.”

  “I do not know, but I must try for Miss Elizabeth’s sake as well as for the rest of the Bennets,” Darcy said, thinking of Mr. Bennet’s distress when speaking of being a younger son. Perhaps, if he could educate the older gentleman on how to run the estate he had inherited, Mr. Bennet would feel less helpless and be more inclined to take an interest in his own life. He hoped Elizabeth’s father could be brought back to the land of the living through such means, even if he did not take his daughters and wife in hand. Although . . . he had punished the youngest two girls, according to Elizabeth. Perhaps the events of yesterday would have further reaching consequences, rather than being a mere flash in the pan as Darcy had feared.

  “I will assist you in any way I can,” Bingley said fiercely. “They will be my family too.”

  “I look forward to that day, Bingley,” Darcy said with a smile. “And, if Mr. Bennet is willing, I will suggest we speak about improvements together. Three perspectives will be better than two.”

  Bingley smiled. “Thank you, Darcy.”

  “Of course, Bingley! Now, returning to our previous topic: do you desire to accompany the elder Bennet sisters on a walk this afternoon?”

  “Of course! I would never turn down an opportunity to see the lovely Miss Bennet.” Tension appeared around his eyes. “Miss Bennet is so good that I doubt she will blame me for my sister’s actions—she did not appear to do so yesterday—but I hope that her outlook has not changed upon reflection.”

  “I doubt it has,” Darcy said comfortingly. “After all, you do not blame her for Miss Lydia’s actions do you?”

  “Not at all!” Bingley exclaimed, his hands coming up to gesture wildly as though Darcy were trying to argue that he had blamed Miss Bennet. “Miss Bennet could not have stopped Miss Lydia as she did not know what her sister was planning. I am certain that, if she had known, she would have done her best to protect Miss Lydia from Wickham. No one can blame her!”

  Darcy gave his friend a pointed look. “Do you doubt that Miss Bennet will have a similar view regarding your sister’s actions?”

  “No, I—I suppose not,” Bingley said, subsiding into a troubled silence.

  “Regardless, I do not blame you and, if Miss Bennet were to blame you, perhaps she is not the woman you believe her to be.” Nor the woman I believe her to be, Darcy added mentally. Miss Bennet seemed unlikely to blame anyone if she was, as Elizabeth had said, struggling with her inability to absolve Wickham. He doubted that she had even considered blaming Bingley.

  “I suppose that is true.”

  “I do not think that you need to worry, Bingley,” Darcy said firmly.

  Bingley straightened. “Yes, well, I believe I will speak to the housekeeper and then retire for some much-needed rest.”

  Darcy inclined his head. He intended to make the most of the free time he had as well, but he was too restless for sleep just now. Perhaps he could complete some estate business and then rest as well.

  Chapter 45

  Darcy shifted uncomfortably on Apollo. His faithful steed had been disgruntled all morning and had shown his displeasure with a much choppier gait than was his wont. He knew Apollo was annoyed at being left behind the previous afternoon, but he had not wished to take his already exhausted horse out once again after having just returned. No matter how much he had tried to make amends with his horse, Apollo remained obdurate in his resentment.

  In addition, Darcy felt distinctly rumpled. Though he was more self-sufficient than many gentlemen of his acquaintance, it had been some time since he had readied himself for a call without Penn’s assistance. Penn, however, was still sleeping after his night of watching Wickham, and Darcy would not wake him for such a trifle. Nor did he wish to call attention to his valet’s unusual behaviour by requesting assistance from someone else, and so he had simply dressed himself, leaving him feeling at sixes and sevens.

  Bingley had not regained his usual good spirits. His friend remained morose, growing paler and paler as they approached Longbourn. By the time they halted at the turnoff, Bingley’s abstraction had progressed into deafness toward Darcy’s attempts to reassure him that Miss Bennet would not blame him for his sister’s actions. Darcy frowned as the lane remained empty, despite it being the hour he and Elizabeth had agreed upon for their afternoon outing. Devoid of distraction, his thoughts returned to running in tight circles, trying not to worry that something would yet go wrong with Wickham’s removal or with Miss Lydia’s penchant for gossip.

  Not to mention that waiting for Elizabeth only left him aching to have her in his life permanently. He did not wish to wait outside her father’s estate for stolen minutes of her company; he wanted her close at hand and to luxuriate in her presence at leisure. He could not help but picture her in the mistress’s study at Pemberley—a room that had been vacant for many years, untouched in memory of his mother—bent over books and willing to be rescued by her husband, who would whisk her off on a drive or a ride or a walk, simply to get out of doors. Elizabeth would love the grounds at Pemberley—he could not wait to show her all his favourite haunts and for her to discover her own favourite places.

  Darcy frowned. He had hoped that they would be at least engaged before Wickham’s behaviour added any obstacles to their courtship, but, no, Wickham had to interfere now. He sighed. How long ought he to wait before proposing? Elizabeth was likely to be distraught over her sister’s situation for some time—not to mention that he was still uncertain whether she had yet accepted the reality of his future vision.

  Bingley’s startled exclamation drew his attention at once. Coming down the path were four people, Mr. Bennet walking with Miss Mary at the head of the group. Darcy suppressed a grimace. Though he needed to speak to Mr. Bennet, he had anticipated having another day or two of healing before seeking the man out, rather than having Mr. Bennet seek him out.

  Darcy dismounted and waited for the group at the gate. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bennet, ladies,” he called when they were near enough.

  The ladies curtsied, and Mr. Bennet gave a small bow.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet replied. “Mr. Bingley,” he greeted.

  After they had exchanged the obligatory greetings, Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy. “I felt a heretofore unknown urge to join my daughters on one of their walks today.
I hope you do not mind the presence of another on your outing.”

  “Not at all,” Darcy said politely, trying valiantly not to think of all the quiet moments with Elizabeth he would now miss.

  “I assume we wish to keep to less well-travelled paths this afternoon,” Mr. Bennet commented.

  “That was my thought, Papa,” Elizabeth said. She walked over to Apollo, casting Darcy an apologetic smile. She curtsied to the horse. “Hello, Apollo. Would you be my escort?”

  Apollo leaned forward, nuzzling Elizabeth’s shoulder, before happily following her.

  Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed as his gaze flickered between Elizabeth and Darcy before he sent Miss Mary forward and asked to walk with Darcy.

  “Of course, sir.” Darcy hesitated; now was an opportune time to offer his assistance to Mr. Bennet with Longbourn, but how best to phrase the suggestion escaped him.

  “Jane and Lizzy told me that you and Mr. Bingley were injured in the fight with Wickham. I am sorry to see that they were correct,” Mr. Bennet said as they began walking.

  “It is nothing,” Darcy dismissed. “No one was seriously injured, thank Heaven, and we shall be recovered before long.”

  “Still, I am grateful beyond words for what you did to rescue my Lydia.”

  Darcy smiled. “You are welcome. I could not have done otherwise.”

  “To the contrary, you could have done a great many other things, and more easily too, but still, thank you for seeking her out. How did you discover her whereabouts?”

  Darcy hesitated, unsure how to answer the question without bringing in Miss Bingley’s involvement, but then recalled that Elizabeth had most likely imparted that information to her father already. “A stable boy mentioned that he had seen Wickham at the cottage in the past, and that he had also seen Miss Bingley’s maid bringing food up there yesterday.”