To Wish Upon a Star Chapter 21, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Thanks to all you guys who are reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! I so appreciate y'all! And thanks to my betas, Melliot and SunriseImagination who whipped this chapter into shape :) Oh, and thank you to DaisyG—your review was very encouraging! And came at the perfect time :)—and to the other guest reviewer who pointed out several inconsistencies and typos—I will definitely address those in my final draft! And thank you for being so encouraging as well :)

Since I can't reply to guest reviewers individually and since some of y'all may be wondering the same thing, I had a reviewer ask: "Also, I'm surprised that you're asking people for help in pointing out errors for you to correct. Multiple people have pointed out the error of using "Will" and "Charles" between Darcy and Bingley and yet you persist in continuing to do so. What's the point of asking if you're just going to ignore? "Will" and "Charles" *is* incorrect and your saying that they are 'brothers' still doesn't change that point."

It is likely that I will change the "Will" and "Charles" thing in the final draft, however, I don't have time to reimagine/revise their relationship and still post new chapters right now. Since there's only an occasional guest reviewer who seems to find the first names obnoxious enough that it's a problem, I haven't put the story on hold to revise it. If, however, I'm wrong and there is a silent majority of y'all who would prefer to put the story on hold for a couple months while I revamp their relationship and then re-post, please let me know! I don't mind doing that. I just figured more people would prefer I finish the story first and then do rewrites. I believe that posting a story creates a contract with your readers and part of that contract is to actually finish it without undue interruptions, real life permitting.

I don't have a background in Regency culture. I love the characters in Pride & Prejudice, but I haven't studied that historical period so I don't necessarily know when I'm breaking rules. I do believe that a good author breaks rules intentionally for the sake of the story they're telling. If we all followed all the writing rules, stories would be pretty boring ;) In order to break rules intentionally, I have to know when I'm breaking a rule. I really appreciate when people point out period mistakes. Most of the time, it's a mistake that doesn't particularly affect the story and is an easy fix (e.g., the reviewer who pointed out they drank brandy instead of whiskey). Sometimes, it's something that requires extensive rewrites (like changing Darcy and Bingley's whole relationship) and won't get changed until later (unless I put things on hold). Regardless, I really appreciate when people point out issues. You guys make the story better! :)

Darcy glared at the rain-streaked windows for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Even Fitzwilliam had been unable to tease him into a better humour. The sprinkling rain of the evening before had turned into a steady downpour overnight, leaving the fields dotted with puddles and the outdoors unfit for man and beast. Elizabeth would be similarly caged at Longbourne, and so he could not indulge in her presence this morning. This morning's rain had reminded him that it had rained for several days prior to the ball Before—he only recalled this because his attempts to politely avoid Miss Bingley had been severely curtailed without the excuses of inspecting the land and exercising Apollo.

To top off what was shaping up to be a foul morning, Miss Bingley had decided to grace them with her presence a full half hour earlier than normal. Rather than exchanging greetings with her in passing as he finished his breakfast and she began hers as was typical, Darcy was instead forced to endure her company.

"Charles! Are you listening?" Miss Bingley inquired shrilly.

Bingley winced. "Caroline, how can I not listen? I understand that you desire to hire extra servants for the ball from London, and, as I have already told you, I leave the ball preparations in your capable hands."

Miss Bingley flung out a hand towards the spattering of drops that continued to wash the windows. "If this weather does not abate in time, I shall be unable to do so! Mrs. Nicholls asked me this morning if I wished her to compile a list of locals to interview as the rains often last for days this time of year. As if this horrible backwater wasn't ghastly enough."

"I am certain the locals will perform excellently," Bingley replied. "They have certainly done so in caring for Netherfield thus far."

Miss Bingley scowled. "That is only because you rarely interact with them," she said icily. "I am certain Mr. Darcy, who is used to superior service, will support me. I have found them to be lazy, incompetent, and unable to grasp the smallest commands." She turned to Darcy with a smile. "Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"

"I do not agree, Miss Bingley. I have no complaints with the servants at this time," Darcy said.

Fitzwilliam chuckled until Miss Bingley turned her gimlet eye on him. "Of course, that is a testament to the lady of the house," he quickly added. "My mother always said that a mistress sets the tone for all the household affairs, including the servants."

Miss Bingley nodded, settling in her chair like a hen allowing its feathers to unruffle. "Your mother is a wise woman. An attentive mistress is paramount for every estate." She cast Darcy a sideways glance. "I do not believe it to be to anyone's benefit for an estate to lack a mistress."

Darcy sent Fitzwilliam a warning glare as the Colonel appeared to be about to break out into laughter. His cousin immediately feigned a coughing fit.

Bingley cleared his throat. "I am certain the ball will go like clockwork."

Miss Bingley frowned. "Without servants who are well-versed in serving at balls, how can it?"

"Mrs. Nicholls would not suggest anyone who would do poorly," Bingley soothed.

"I hope not!" Miss Bingley said. "I desire to have everything sufficiently organised that I shall not have to be consulted and may instead make our guests welcome and dance as well.

Darcy suppressed a shudder, recalling the few times he had danced with Miss Bingley. He had thought it polite to dance with her at the Meryton Assembly and the Netherfield ball Before when he had not yet understood the depth of her commitment to snare him as her husband. He had spent those dances trying to maintain a proper distance between them while she endeavoured to grasp him tightly and pull him closer. It had been a lengthy game of tug-of-war.

Well, she was sorely mistaken if she thought he intended to dance with her again. It would be cruel to raise her hopes in such a way. In addition, he refused to grant such a favour to one who had maligned Elizabeth the way she had.

But what would Elizabeth say? She had taken him to task at Rosings for not dancing more at the Meryton Assembly. Would she be disappointed with him if he did not dance with more than just herself at this ball?

Miss Bingley cleared her throat. "As I said, I do not yet have a dance partner for the first set," she said loudly, her eyes fixed on Darcy.

Darcy met her gaze, and her glare melted into a simper faster than ice left out on a hot summer's day. He glanced at Fitzwilliam who was sniggering into his coffee. From the head of the table, Bingley grimaced at him in apology. Darcy hesitated, trying to decide what the polite response was.

"I am certain you will have plenty of partners, Caroline," Bingley said soothingly.

Miss Bingley glared at her brother but, before she could respond, the Hursts arrived and the topic shifted to the weather long enough for Darcy to finish his breakfast and escape.

"It's been ages since I've been so well entertained at breakfast," Fitzwilliam commented as he entered Darcy's room.

Darcy glowered at his cousin, wishing he could hide from the teasing that was sure to ensue as easily as the sun had hidden itself behind the rain clouds.

Fitzwilliam merely flopped into the closest chair and chuckled. "The look on Miss Bingley's face after you left!" he crowed.

"You will forgive me. I did not witness any such a look. And it is ungenerous of you to acknowledge that you did," Darcy scolded.

Fitzwilliam shrugged. "That woman appears to have set her cap for you, Cousin. Perhaps more than her cap. I've never seen a woman throw herself at you quite so forcefully."

"She believes she can change my mind."

Fitzwilliam leaned forward as though he were a hound catching sight of a fox. "Change your mind? Does that mean that she is aware of your disinterest?"

Darcy snorted. "I don't know how I could have made it plainer to her."

"Reaaallly?"

"Yes."

Fitzwilliam lifted his gaze heavenward. "What exactly did you say?"

"You are an insatiable gossip," Darcy said repressively.

"Not insatiable. I just enjoy a good tale!" Fitzwilliam chuckled. "And trying to imagine you juggling the lovely Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley's schemes has all the elements of a very good tale."

Darcy huffed. "I do not wish to speak of it. Miss Bingley has been less-than-welcoming towards the Bennet sisters."

"Of course she has! Anyone with eyes can see Miss Bingley considers you her personal property. I thought I would get indigestion trying not to laugh this morning when she attempted to hint you towards asking for the first set. It was like watching someone chop vegetables with a blunt sword," Fitzwilliam said, chuckling at the memory.

Darcy's mood lightened at the ridiculous picture Fitzwilliam had painted. "Suffice it to say that I have no desire to court Miss Bingley and she is fully aware of that fact."

"Ah, blunt as always, eh?" Fitzwilliam crossed one leg over the other, sinking further into the chair.

Darcy inclined his head. "Bluntness seemed to be the only option after diplomacy failed."

"What about Miss Elizabeth?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"What about Miss Elizabeth?"

"Have you asked her to dance?"

"I have asked her to dance the supper set with me."

Fitzwilliam whistled. "You are smitten."

Darcy nodded. "I love her. I intend to make her my wife."

Fitzwilliam shook his head. "You said as much before, but then why not ask her for the first set as well as the supper set? That would make your intentions very clear"

Darcy studied his hands. "I will not risk making her uncomfortable. Until she welcomes my advances, I will not press her."

Fitzwilliam snorted. "How can she welcome your advances if you make none?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed. "I have made progress," he protested.

"What about flowers or other tokens of your affection? Does she even know that you hold her in esteem?"

Darcy frowned. "I believe she is aware, however, her dislike of me has waned only recently. I will not risk awakening it again with a foolhardy course of action."

Fitzwilliam's eyebrows shot up. "Dislike?"

"Our first encounter was not under the best circumstances."

"Oh?" Fitzwilliam prodded.

Darcy sighed. "As you recall, I was not in the best of spirits when I left London."

"I'll say! Mother said she had to forcibly separate you and Georgie because you were feeding off each other's guilt."

Darcy nodded. "Indeed. Your mother is a wise woman."

Fitzwilliam gaped as though he had encountered a stallion strolling through town on two legs.

Darcy ignored his cousin's shock, knowing that rarely had he admitted his aunt's wisdom in the past—or that of anyone who disagreed with him. His pride had led him to believe he knew best how to handle his own life and to chafe under his aunt's kindly meant suggestions for his betterment, especially her determination to see him married. "My poor spirits did not abate when Bingley insisted we attend a local Assembly Ball," Darcy continued.

Fitzwilliam chuckled. "Even I could have predicted that. I'm certain you were your charming irascible self."

"I insulted Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said baldly. "Bingley was pestering me to dance, and I tried to end the conversation by telling him that he was dancing with the only handsome woman in the room. When he pressed me, offering to introduce me to Miss Elizabeth, I spouted some nonsense about how she was not handsome enough to tempt me."

Fitzwilliam gave a low whistle. "And Miss Elizabeth heard you?"

Darcy nodded.

"No wonder she disliked you."

Darcy gave a half shrug. "It was only the foundation for her dislike. She—rightly—believed that I treated others with selfish disdain, thinking myself above them."

Fitzwilliam made a face. "You are not—comfortable in crowds. I do not think you show yourself at an advantage—"

Darcy held up a hand. "She was right," he reiterated. "I have lived my life in a spirit of pride. I did not care how others viewed me because I did not care about them. I was polite, but only because I believed it proper behaviour for a Darcy, not because I cared for others' feelings."

Fitzwilliam settled back in his chair, continuing to study him. "You are much changed, Will. I did not believe it possible for anyone to change so fully in such a short amount of time."

Darcy hesitated, trying to decide whether to broach the topic of his vision and how to do so if he did.

"I am surprised that your Miss Elizabeth would speak of her dislike to you," Fitzwilliam commented.

That decided him. He could not allow Fitzwilliam to speak of his changed behaviour with Elizabeth until he himself had told her of his vision. Knowing Fitzwilliam, such a topic might occur. He could easily see his cousin trying to tease Elizabeth about the effect she had had on him in a quest to help Darcy's pursuit of the lady. Steeling himself, Darcy asked, "Richard, what do you believe about the supernatural?"

Fitzwilliam's eyes widened. "The supernatural?" He straightened. "Was it not Shakespeare who said, 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy'?"

Darcy nodded.

"I believe the supernatural exists, though I do not quantify it."

"And prognostications?"

Fitzwilliam let out a bellow of laughter. "Fortune-tellers? They are naught but souls who trade upon the gullibility of others. Soldiers are a superstitious lot, and, of the many fortunes my men have received, only the most general come true." Fitzwilliam waved his hands in imitation of a fortune-teller consulting a crystal ball. "You will encounter a stranger before the next full moon," he intoned. "Rubbish! Everyone encounters someone they don't know over the course of a month. It would be more of a fortune not to encounter a stranger."

"What of visions?"

Fitzwilliam frowned. "Visions?"

Darcy straightened. "I have experienced a vision of the future. One that has proved correct in every particular thus far."

Fitzwilliam's frown deepened. "Are you well, Cousin? I know that this business with Wickham has been—difficult, however…."

"I am quite well. Better than I was before my vision, in fact. I went to bed the night before as proud, self-righteous man who had little care for the concerns of others and who was determined not to debase myself by pursuing a woman of meager holdings and poor social standing with such indecorous relatives. I awoke a new man, one who has learned that such things are trivial compared to wisdom and love."

Fitzwilliam remained skeptical.

"Richard, I know how implausible it sounds. I would not have believed such an event possible if I had not experienced it myself, however, I have experienced such a vision and, as you yourself have said, I am a changed man because of it."

Fitzwilliam crossed his arms. "And what did the future hold?"

"Elizabeth's death," Darcy said hoarsely.

Fitzwilliam's eyes widened, and he leaned forward. "What?"

"in my vision, although I proposed to Miss Elizabeth, she rejected me—rather forcefully confronting me with my flaws in her explanation of why I was the last man she would ever agree to marry. Bingley had, er, removed from Netherfield, so I lost track of what was happening in Meryton. I could not bear to have Miss Elizabeth look at me with such loathing again, so I stayed away. Wickham managed to run off with the youngest Bennet girl, leaving the family disgraced. Mr. Bennet died from a heart attack*, and Miss Elizabeth was sent to London to stay with relatives. Her carriage overturned. She did not survive," he said, trying to still the shaking in his voice.

"Will, are you certain it was more than just a nightmare? I am sorry you experienced it, of course, and it sounds wretched, but nightmares can often feel very real and—"

"It was not a nightmare," Darcy broke in. "The events of Before are repeating. Wickham arrived on the day he did in my vision. Conversations remain nearly the same except for the things I have changed. It is as though everyone else around me remains the same, while I am a year older."

Fitzwilliam sighed. "I know you are not one to prevaricate or exaggerate, however, you have been under a great deal of stress."

Darcy frantically rifled through his memories of Before, trying to recall a conversation or event which would support his claim. The state of Rosings could be verified, but he preferred to use something closer to hand. The rain!

"It will rain until the day of the ball," Darcy blurted.

Fitzwilliam waved aside the prediction. "Rain often lasts for several days around here this time of year—or so I am told."

"Yes, several days. However, I can tell you that the rain will last until Tuesday morning, and Miss Bingley will be forced to hire local servants. That is more than a vague 'several days.'"

Fitzwilliam frowned. "Perhaps you could foretell other events less prone to accidental prediction?"

Darcy rubbed his chin. "I have many events that happen later, but few that occur in a reasonable length of time." Perhaps if he enumerated the events of the ball? "At the ball, Mrs. Bennet and her youngest two daughters will overindulge in punch, resulting in Mrs. Bennet's loud rejoicings over the imminent match between Bingley and her oldest daughter. The youngest two girls will become giggly when full of punch and what little decorum they possess will disappear; at one point, the youngest daughter will prance through the room holding a sword she has appropriated from one of the officers. The middle Bennet daughter, Miss Mary, will play two songs—both of which she plods through with a pedantic air. Mr. Bennet will interrupt her playing by suggesting that she has 'delighted everyone long enough' and that she ought to 'let the other young ladies exhibit.'"

Fitzwilliam's expression had steadily grown more incredulous. "And this is a family you desire to marry into? I never would have believed the great Fitzwilliam Darcy desirous of such connections."

Darcy flushed. "In the past, I was too proud to tolerate such improper behaviour, however, I have realised that no one is without folly. Others must tolerate my foibles. Why should I not tolerate theirs?"

Fitzwilliam watched him in awe. "Perhaps Bingley is right: you are very different. Far too different to have changed in only the past two months." He hesitated, then gave a firm nod as though deciding something. "I will suspend my disbelief for the moment. What else occurred in your vision? I am shocked that Bingley managed to drag himself away from his angel."

Darcy looked down, unable to meet his cousin's eyes, unwilling to see the disapproval fill them. "He did not do so on his own. As you have said, I could not countenance such a match for myself," he took a deep breath, "or for Bingley. I believed that Miss Bennet merely tolerated Bingley's attentions for mercenary reasons, and I did not wish him trapped in such a marriage. Nor did I wish Bingley to become responsible for the Bennets after Mr. Bennet's death. When Miss Bingley requested my help to save her brother from such a future, to my shame, I agreed. Bingley went to London on business the day after the ball, and we closed up Netherfield and followed him. I convinced Bingley that Miss Bennet did not return his affection. After that, it was the work of a moment to keep him away from Netherfield."

"And so you did not hear of the Bennets misfortunes," Fitzwilliam finished.

Darcy nodded, his gaze still fixed on the gaudy rug Miss Bingley had furnished his room with. "Miss Elizabeth's cousin, Mr. Collins, who stands to inherit the Bennet estate, is Aunt Catherine's new rector. Elizabeth was at Rosings during Easter, and that is when I proposed. And that is when she informed me of her sister's broken heart."

Fitzwilliam whistled again. "What a mess!"

Darcy nodded, finally glancing up to see that Fitzwilliam was studying the ceiling as though it contained the mysteries of the universe. "I am determined not to repeat the same mistakes. I will protect the Bennets, and I will woo Elizabeth rather than expecting her to seize the chance to marry me without having first won her heart." A soft smile lit his face. "She would not be a woman worth wooing if she did not have to be won."

Fitzwilliam leaned forward. "I understand why you desire to be cautious with your Miss Elizabeth, however, 'faint heart ne'er won fair lady.'"

Darcy shook his head. "I refuse to be a suitor who ignores her desires. She has a mind and heart of her own. I will not press her as she has made it clear that she is not ready."

Fitzwilliam eyed him speculatively. "And how exactly did she make it clear?"

"I was speaking of Georgina and how she would benefit from some of Miss Elizabeth's younger sisters' liveliness. Miss Elizabeth assumed I was leading up to a proposal or declaration of some sort and quickly brought the conversation to a halt on the grounds that I was either trying to insult her family or 'hinting towards feelings that were not returned.'"

"And how long ago was this? You said only lately has her dislike been tempered."

"Approximately a week ago."

"Ah."

"Indeed."

"Well, I still say women enjoy being wooed. You ought to make your interest clear. You needn't propose yet," Fitzwilliam said. "How did you woo her before? Despite being unsuccessful, you must have learned some of her preferences."

Darcy made a face. "I learned that she enjoys long, solitary walks and a good debate. Otherwise, I did not woo her. In fact, I did my utmost to conceal my interest from everyone, including her."

Fitzwilliam chuckled, then sobered as it became apparent that Darcy was in earnest. "One would think you have learned naught about how to woo a woman!"

Darcy sighed. "My father and I did not speak of it. During school, I was too shy and too preoccupied with classes to participate in the dalliances many young men of our station engage in."

"Well," Fitzwilliam rubbed his hands together, "I am here now, and I will offer you the benefit of my extensive experience."

Darcy shook his head in exasperation. "You have extensive experience in minor flirtations. Name one woman you have wooed with the intent of proposing to her."

"I cannot, as you well know, however, I am skilled in charming women and will do my best to assist you." Fitzwilliam straightened, assuming a mantle of mock superiority. "And, as your professor of love, I believe you ought to make your interest clearer."

Darcy sighed. "I do not think I could bear another rejection," he confessed quietly. "I have already lost her twice Before—once when she rejected me and once when she died. My soul cannot survive a third time."

"But if you do not engage her interest, someone else may," Fitzwilliam pointed out. "You cannot rely on a vision that may or may not be true to guide you. Even if it is true, there is no reason to adhere to those events now."

"Perhaps not. However, I still believe that allowing Miss Elizabeth time for her feelings to change is the right course of action."

Fitzwilliam waved his objection aside. "Women change their minds all the time! And it does not take them long to do so." He held up a hand as Darcy objected. "I will observe her behaviour with you and then I can advise you on the best course of action." He paused, brow furrowing. "What of her sisters?"

"What of her sisters?" Darcy asked, bewildered by the sudden topic change.

"Do not tell me that you have not spoken of your interest in Elizabeth with them."

"Why would I speak to them?"

"Will!" Fitzwilliam cried in exasperation. "They know what tokens of affection Miss Elizabeth is most likely to enjoy. They are your best allies—at least, whichever sisters are closest to her will be."

Darcy's chin tucked under as he imagined attempting such a conversation—he would rather face his Aunt Catherine at her most fearsome than speak to Elizabeth's sisters of his feelings, even Miss Bennet who would be unfailingly kind.

"You look like I've just given you a death sentence," Fitzwilliam said lightly. "Are her sisters worse than Father on Quarter day?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Should not Miss Elizabeth be the first person I speak to about my affections for her?" he suggested.

Fitzwilliam sighed gustily. "If you would ever broach the topic with her. However, since you are determined to woo her at a snail's pace, her sisters will prevent your efforts from stalling entirely while you gather details as to whether she prefers lavender to roses." He threw up his hands. "I say just give the girl flowers! Trust me, women do not expect you to know the breadth of their preferences until you are well-acquainted."

Darcy fidgeted. "I do not think I can initiate such a conversation with Miss Elizabeth's sisters. I would not know where to begin."

"At the beginning? You desire to woo Miss Elizabeth, and would they please tell you what her preferences are?"

Heat flooded the back of Darcy's neck. He could not be that blunt with anyone. Even telling Charles and Richard of his love for Elizabeth had been uncomfortable. However, he reminded himself, he was working on being more open with others. If Charles married Miss Bennet and he married Elizabeth, he would gain her as a sister whom he would see regularly. Perhaps attempting to speak to her more would not be a terrible idea. After they had established a rapport, it would not be so difficult to discuss Elizabeth with her.

"Will, you cannot woo a woman if your affections are a secret even from her," Fitzwilliam said earnestly.

Darcy's eyes slid closed as he recalled how shocked Elizabeth had been when he proposed at Rosings. No, he would not make that mistake again. Perhaps he had erred on the side of too much caution. Fitzwilliam was well-versed in the rules of flirtation, despite his disinterest in settling down.

Gratitude for Fitzwilliam's care spread warmth through his veins. He could not imagine being so open about the results of losing his father at such a young age with anyone else, save Bingley. He opened his eyes to see his cousin staring at him, worry shining from his eyes. "Thank you, Richard."

Fitzwilliam started. "What?"

"Thank you," Darcy repeated. "I am grateful beyond measure for your friendship and support. Thank you for helping me with Miss Elizabeth as you have done with so many other things over the course of our lives."

Fitzwilliam nodded. "Of course."

"I have taken you for granted in the past, and I am heartily ashamed of that."

Fitzwilliam waved aside his apology. "You have supported me many times as well."

Darcy suppressed a protest, recognising his cousin's discomfort with the topic. He had supported his cousin financially. However, he had failed to support Fitzwilliam in the many ways his cousin had helped him. He would do better though.

With a groan, Fitzwilliam roused himself and left, proclaiming that he intended to take a carriage into Meryton in hopes of completing his business as quickly as possible. Darcy let him go without further conversation, his mind full of how best to woo Elizabeth.