Page 21 of Hidden Desires

Kitty’s eyes widened and she swallowed hard, then darted after Lydia, who stormed away with clenched fists.

“Please forgive her,” Mary said, still avoiding his gaze. “She is young and foolish. I am sure she meant nothing by it.”

He watched them disappear around the bend. “Does she not understand how dangerous those kinds of invitations can be? Your sister is fortunate she said that to me, because another man might not care whether she was serious.”

“She does not understand,” Mary replied, shaking her head. “I try to set an example, but they resent advice and see every caution as criticism.”

Mr. Wickham nodded. “Someone must explain what could happen if she does not change. The next man who hears such a thing might act, and she would have no way to stop him.”

“I have warned her more than once,” Mary said, watching Lydia vanish from view.

She turned and offered a faint smile. “Thank you for handling her behavior with grace. If she does not change, Papa will find out, and that will be far worse for her.”

“I am not the kind of man who takes advantage of innocent young women,” he said as she turned to leave.

“That is a relief.” She raised her hand in parting. “Please excuse me, but I must rejoin my sisters.”

Mr. Wickham returned her wave with a quiet laugh. “You had better hurry. From the look of her, she may be halfway back to the estate already.”

“If I know Lydia, she is waiting just beyond that curve,” Mary said, lifting her skirt to run. “Thank you again for overlooking her foolishness.” With a nod, she started down the road.

“Wait,” he called, stopping her before she had gone ten feet.

“I cannot,” she said, pointing ahead. “She will not stay there long.”

“When are you coming back?” he asked, spreading his hands in mock supplication and stepping to her side. His voice fell to a whisper, his breath warm against her ear. “I enjoyed our visit and would love to see you again.”

A tremor passed through her as he placed his hand gently on her arm. Her pulse surged, her breath caught, and her legs weakened beneath the weight of longing. For a moment, she let herself imagine his lips on hers.

Then clarity returned.

“I–I must be going,” she said, turning from him, her cheeks hot with shame. “Mama is waiting for me.”

She hurried away, her steps uneven, hoping the distance between them would quiet the storm now rising within her.

Wickham laughed and called out a cheerful goodbye.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Denny said, stepping from the corner of a building where he had stayed hidden through the exchange.

“What do you mean?” Wickham asked, his gaze fixed on Miss Mary as she hurried to rejoin her sisters. “Is there something wrong with showing a delightful young woman some kindness? From the way she took to my compliments, I may be the only man who has ever paid her any real attention.”

Denny’s loud laugh caught him off guard, and Wickham paused, watching for any sign that Miss Mary had heard.

She continued to run, as though the devil himself were at her heels, but just before vanishing around the bend, she twisted to glance back.

He raised a hand and waved again, which seemed to fluster her further.

“I suppose you have some plans for the poor girl,” Denny said with a sigh as Wickham joined him. “You do realize that if you harm her, you might have the whole county up in arms.”

Wickham chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do not worry. I only mean to have a little fun. By the time anyone questions my motives, I will be off to another regiment. And if Miss Mary finds me too much to handle, Miss Lydia is willing. At least, that is what she told me a few minutes ago.”

Denny groaned and shook his head. “Just be careful. I do not want to be the one assigned to dig your grave.”

Wickham’s laugh echoed between the buildings and carried down the street. “Your concern is noted, and your wish is my command.”

* * *

The sound of Mr. Wickham’s farewell drew Mary’s attention, and she stumbled but caught herself, grateful he could not see the red rising up her neck. She hurried on, desperate to find her sisters and escape the near-irresistible pull that threatened to undo her last thread of self-control.

She lifted the hem of her dress higher, surprised she had kept hold of the fabric through the unsettling exchange.

With it raised above her shoes, she ran to the corner and rounded it at full speed.

At the last moment, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. Wickham still standing where she had left him.

He waved, and the gesture set her heart to pounding.

“At last,” Lydia complained as she appeared. “I was just about to send Kitty back for you. What happened? Was Mr. Wickham’s smile so enchanting you forgot about us?”

Mary drew a long breath and straightened, scowling at her sister. “No. I took a moment to apologize for your disgraceful conduct,” she said, moving closer. “I have half a mind to report your behavior to Papa when we get home.”

Lydia backed away, her chin raised in defiance. “And tell him what?” she asked, her sneer forcing Mary to lower her gaze.

“That you were so eager to come to Meryton you lied about his absence so we would not change our minds and stay home? Or that you hid what Elizabeth did to your hair just so you could show it off to Mr. Wickham?”

She laughed and jabbed an accusing finger into Mary’s chest. “I knew all along Papa was expecting Mr. Darcy today, but you were so anxious to see Mr. Wickham that I chose not to expose your lie. After all, why not take advantage of your eagerness and come along to meet the new, handsome members of the regiment?”

The words sent Mary’s heart to her feet. Her eyes moved to Kitty, who laughed along with their sister.

“Do not expect her to defend you,” Lydia added, amused by Mary’s silence. “She knew what you were doing before we left this morning. You rushed us out before noon so Papa would not catch us leaving, so go ahead and tell him. When he asks, I will say Kitty and I were only following you.”

She stepped back and folded her arms, her mouth curled in mockery and her eyes narrowed in challenge.

Though her instinct was to retreat, she knew she could not, for to yield now would mean surrendering Lydia’s respect forever. She drew herself upright and smiled, nodding slowly as the curl vanished from Lydia’s lip and a frown appeared in its place.

“I have an idea,” she said, copying her sister’s look as best she could despite little practice in such expressions. “When we get home, go straight to Papa and tell him everything. Let him know how I deceived you both and dragged you to Meryton against his wishes. Will you promise to do that?”

Lydia’s brows pulled together, and her eyes dropped to Kitty, who gave a small shrug. She bit her lip and raised a hand to rub her cheek, the confidence slipping from her shoulders as Mary stood firm.

Mary turned away, satisfied with the result, but Lydia found her voice again.

“And what if I do?” she asked, disdain creeping back into her tone. “Are you going to throw yourself on Papa’s mercy and promise to be the perfect daughter forever more?”

She tossed her head, amused by what she took for victory. “Please do it in front of us, if you don’t mind. I would love to watch Papa hand down your punishment. What you don’t realize, dear sister, is that I’ve tried that before, you know, confessing everything; it never works.”

She tugged Kitty’s sleeve and turned toward Longbourn. “I look forward to getting home,” she said, pulling her sister along behind her.

“So do I,” Mary said, her voice steady as she halted their steps.

Lydia turned.

“After your confession, Papa is sure to ask about your accusations,” Mary said, her voice even. “And I will tell him the truth; that you came to Meryton to throw yourself at any officer who would look at you.”

She watched the superiority vanish from Lydia’s face. The younger girl glanced at Kitty, whose expression betrayed a sudden desire to remain uninvolved.

“Or perhaps I should tell him what you said to Mr. Wickham,” she continued.

“That you asked if he knew of diversions after dark and hinted he might meet you somewhere alone. What do you think Papa will say when he hears about your wanton, sinful manner? I doubt he will care that I came into town. After all, he trusts me. Can you say the same, or will you lie again and risk divine judgment for blasphemy?”

Lydia lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, trying to reclaim her former posture, but Mary laughed.

“Shall we continue?” she said, turning back toward the road.

She heard them follow and smiled in triumph. Winning an argument with Lydia was rare, and she would remember this one for a long time.

“Hurry,” she called when their steps slowed. “We do not want to keep Papa waiting.”

Lydia muttered a curse, but quickened her pace. Mary smiled again. For all her defiance, Lydia would not risk the consequences of their father’s disappointment.

Longbourn soon came into view, and Mary breathed with relief.

Though Lydia had remained quiet since their quarrel, she would realize soon enough that Mary was not the sort to shift blame to escape punishment.

In every instance, she had accepted their father’s judgment, even when the fault had not been hers.

Mr. Bennet stood waiting in the entry as they approached, arms crossed, one foot tapping.

“Did you enjoy yourselves in Meryton?” he asked, casting each of them a narrow-eyed glare.

“We did,” Mary answered, adding a note of enthusiasm. “Would you like to hear what we did and who we met while we were there? I think you might enjoy the tale.”

Lydia gasped, but Mary gave her dress a tug and shook her head just enough to silence her.

Bennet’s scowl faded, and he sighed. “No, let it remain your little secret,” he said, stepping aside to let them pass.

Lydia and Kitty ran into the house as though hoping to escape before more questions followed. Mary started after them, but Bennet caught her sleeve.

“I think we should talk about your habit of leaving the estate without telling me or your mother,” he said, the scowl returning. “Come see me in the library after supper.”

With a gentle pat to her shoulder, he turned and walked inside, leaving her alone at the threshold.