Chapter 15 At the Edge of Destiny #3
Her answer prompted Mr Darcy to study her mien.
“I myself have had several dreams that were disturbingly real. In fact, you were present in nearly every one. However, in none of them were you so talented in swordplay as you were today. Thank goodness we were not using edged swords, or I might have met my Maker.”
“If one were a wit, one might suggest that you were at the edge of your destiny.”
“That is true in more than one sense,” Mr Darcy said.
“I have more than once felt dizzy around you, as if I were at the brink of a precipice, unsure whether I would teeter and topple to my death or experience the greatest happiness. I believe that Bingley is today on top of such a precipice, facing a turning point in his own destiny.”
Elizabeth gave Mr Darcy a wary look. “Why do you believe that? Did you explain that you advised him not to offer for my sister Jane because you were unaware of her preference for him?”
“It is not for me to explain Bingley’s business,” Mr Darcy said, sounding amused and unusually light-hearted.
“In my most recent dream, you and I had planned to take a morning walk together and make an effort to become friends. My losing to you at fencing was not part of the plan, but here we are, on a walk.”
Elizabeth sensed the change in Mr Darcy’s mood, and some tension she had not even been aware of eased. They did seem to be hovering near that precipice. “How extraordinary. I dreamt the same.”
They studied one another. Elizabeth swayed slightly, crossly thinking that she ought to have laced her stays more loosely this morning if she were going to be exerting herself so. Mr Darcy took her arm, face full of concern, guiding her to a fallen tree nearby.
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth as she sat on the log. “Do not be alarmed, Mr. Darcy. I am not about to swoon, but things have been so strange lately since I started to have these frighteningly realistic dreams. I fear I am losing sight of what was a dream and what is reality.”
“Elizabeth—I apologise, I meant no disrespect, Miss Elizabeth—I have the same fear. But perhaps you understand the problem.”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth whispered.
“I do not understand why these dreams are occurring, but it seems to have something to do with Jane and Mr Bingley, as we discussed yesterday, er, the last time we met at Hunsford. I have no memory of travelling home to Meryton, but here I am. And oddly, so are you.”
“Perhaps not so oddly, after all. Regarding Miss Bennet and Bingley, let us hurry on to Longbourn. We may be able to ascertain whether these dreams have led to a good outcome.”
“So, you did tell Mr Bingley you were wrong about Jane’s regard for him! And that his sisters hid Jane’s presence in London for months!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Yes, I did.”
That was all Mr Darcy needed to say. Tight stays be damned, Elizabeth was on her feet at once and continued home at a brisk pace.…caring not at all that she had already exerted herself significantly that morning. Mr Darcy had to increase his own pace to keep up.
Elizabeth and Mr Darcy arrived at Longbourn, slightly windblown and out of breath.
Within, they found the household in a happy uproar over Jane’s acceptance of Mr Bingley’s proposal.
Mrs Bennet fussed over Jane, who looked radiantly happy, and Bingley, who looked as much like a man in love as anybody could imagine.
Even Elizabeth’s father seemed to tolerate the clamour.
Elizabeth eventually managed to tear herself away from the commotion long enough to thank Mr Darcy quietly. “To be sure, one of our problems is solved. If I am unable to speak with you again privately before we next meet, I must express my gratitude for your part in my beloved sister’s happiness.”
“I believe I thought only of you.” Mr Darcy bowed over her hand. “I look forward to meeting you again under less competitive circumstances.”
Elizabeth was swept away again to bear witness to her mother’s raptures and attempts to begin wedding planning.
Indeed, Elizabeth did not have another moment to speak with Mr Darcy before the men rode away to Netherfield.
Still flushed with pride at her victory over Mr Darcy and feeling content with their rapprochement, Elizabeth felt that on balance, the day had brought nearly as much happiness to her as it had to Jane and Mr Bingley.
She was relieved that no one had commented on the bruise forming just above the bodice of her gown, but she still planned to tease Mr Darcy about it the next time she saw him.
Elizabeth, alone at last and feeling a strong need to calm herself down after the day’s excitement, chose a book from her father’s library: Unwitting Spellcasters by Jeff Bigler.
The title seemed a promising diversion from her confusing situation.
She escaped to her bedchamber, managing to avoid notice from anyone (especially her mother!), arranged herself comfortably in her armchair to read, and soon became lost in the story: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man or woman in possession of unknown magical powers must be in want of a way to control them.
Elizabeth nodded to herself, thinking that she would be grateful if her dreams turned out to be magical powers and if she could find a way to control them.