Page 29 of Hidden Desires

ALTHOUGH ELIZABETH WALKED A FAMILIAR PATH, serenity eluded her.

She lifted her gaze to the trees, whose graceful arches shaded the trail from the afternoon heat, but not even the soft rustle of their leaves eased the guilt tugging at her conscience.

Wildflowers edged the path, their bright petals standing in fair contrast to the deep green leaves.

She paused to breathe in their scent, her fingers brushing the blossoms.

I did not mean to cause trouble. Had I known why he asked, I might not have told him about the horse.

Or would I? Unlike Lydia, I do not lie to Papa.

To her, it is a game, but I see no point in lying when the truth always comes out.

She laughs at Papa’s punishment and carries on, while I value his trust.

What was Mary thinking, taking a horse without permission and running off like that? She must have known she had no chance of escaping notice, yet something in her shifted that day in Meryton, and nothing has been the same since.

Since then, she has asked about marriage and begged me to help her look more fashionable, as though something in her awoke during that encounter. Lydia’s behavior in town only adds to her unrest, flaunting the attention she receives while Mary stands ignored.

Maybe I should talk to her, if she has not decided to ignore me after Papa finished with her. She might feel I betrayed her and want nothing to do with me. Until then, I might as well enjoy my walk. Between speaking with her and entertaining Georgiana this afternoon, the day will not lack interest.

She smiled at the thought of Mr. Darcy’s sister, who, unlike Lydia, carried herself with poise and grace, her manners polished and unaffected. It was plain her brother had spared no expense on her education, and his love for her showed in everything.

And he seemed a different man than the one whose rude behavior at the assembly turned Hertfordshire against him.

What brought about this change? Instead of treating everyone as if they were beneath him, he now appeared kind and thoughtful. Did Mr. Bingley tell him how his conduct had been received?

At the assembly, he stood apart and ignored every overture, but yesterday he was the opposite, warm and attentive. The critical tone was gone, replaced by genuine praise and thoughtful compliments.

She could only hope the change was sincere and not adopted for his sister’s sake. He was handsome and pleasant without the usual air of superiority, but his cutting remark at the assembly had fixed her opinion, and nothing since had undone it.

I must be dreaming. He did not dance with anyone that night. Why would he have considered asking me? As I recall, I was tolerable, nothing more. The women in London must be magnificent if none in Hertfordshire are worth a second glance.

Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. This was a welcome diversion, but thoughts of Mr. Darcy could not keep her mind from the troubles at home.

As peaceful as the path might appear, her unease would not lift.

She pressed on, hoping the climb might clear her head.

At Oakham Mount, she stopped where the trail rose toward the summit.

This walk has done nothing to clear my mind. I have been out for hours and am no closer to knowing what to do, but it is time to return and face Mary. I do not believe I wronged her by telling the truth, though she may see it another way.

With a firm nod, she turned and hurried back toward the estate. Dawdling, though tempting, would not alter the outcome. Mary could speak to her or remain silent, but Elizabeth meant to settle the matter.

When Longbourn came into view, she quickened her steps, ran to the house, and stepped into the cloakroom to remove her bonnet.

A peculiar silence met her as she entered the hall. The house was still, too still. No loud complaints or laughter from her two youngest sisters, no sound of movement upstairs. Only the steady ticking of the entrance clock reached her ears.

Elizabeth paused, listening for a voice or the steps of a servant to prove she was not alone, but the silence offered nothing in return.

Where were her siblings, or the maids, chattering as they cleaned the breakfast dishes from the table? Had they all deserted the estate since she left this morning? If so, why? What had occurred in her absence?

A deep breath brought the faint scent of lavender, her mother’s favorite. Relief swept through her, bringing with it a laugh as she hurried into the sitting room, where Mrs. Bennet sat, frowning at a piece of needlework.

“Good morning, Mama. Where is everyone? The house is so quiet I thought I was alone.”

Her mother’s eyes lifted at the question, hardening as they rested on Elizabeth. “I sent Lydia and Kitty to Meryton,” she said, her brows drawing together in a scowl.

“Did Jane take them?” Elizabeth asked, noting her elder sister’s absence. “Papa does not want them going into town alone.”

Mrs. Bennet sighed and shook her head. “Jane is at Netherfield, and Mary is out in the garden, weeping. I told Lydia to leave because I feared what Mr. Bennet might do if he saw her.”

“Why would he do anything? Lydia has not snuck off to Meryton in weeks, and Kitty will not go without her.”

Mrs. Bennet’s lips curled in a humorless smile. “After his argument with Mary, no thanks to you, I thought it best to keep him away from my baby.”

Her mother’s eyes widened in fear as a forceful tremor shook her, from her shoulders to her feet.

“In all our years of marriage, I have never heard him raise his voice in anger. If you had stayed quiet about Mary taking the horse, he might not have been in such a mood this morning. I could not hear her side of the conversation, but whatever she said upset him so much that he was almost apoplectic when their discussion ended.”

“Where is he now?” Elizabeth asked, unsure if she wanted an answer. If her father, the calmest man she knew, had lost control of his temper, what might he say to her? Should she avoid him and wait for his usual placid demeanor to return?

Although she found the idea tempting, Mr. Darcy and Georgiana would arrive soon, so it was better to face his wrath now than in front of their guests.

“Where else but in the library?” her mother said, a bitter laugh following her reply. “He wanted to see you as soon as you came inside. If I were you, I would not keep him waiting. With his present mood, there is no telling how he might punish you if you delay.”

“I will, as soon as I have a bit of breakfast,” Elizabeth replied, turning toward the dining room with its promise of fresh scones and tea.

“Take my advice and go see him first,” Mrs. Bennet answered, taking hold of her needlework and bending to the task of pushing the needle through the fabric. “Your hunger can wait; I am not sure your father will.”

Elizabeth cast a longing glance at the dining room before heading in the opposite direction. She paused at the library entrance, its imposing door shut as if to shield its occupant from the cares of the world.

What does he want with me? How upset is he over Mary’s behavior?

He cannot blame me for that; all I did was take her to Meryton once. Since then, she has gone with Lydia. Of course, I was the one who insisted she come, so it is possible he blames me for the way she changed.

What brought about such a difference? She has gone from a devout girl, who viewed the world as full of sin and needing her correcting influence, to one who sneaks away to Meryton late in the afternoon without asking permission. She is more like Lydia every day.

Is this what has Papa so upset? He was concerned about her absence yesterday but did not seem all that angry. Has he decided to punish me also? I cannot imagine that he would, but what other reason could he have for demanding my presence the moment I returned?

With a trembling hand she engaged the latch and pushed the door open far enough to poke her head into the room.

The sight of her father, seated at his desk with his head in his hands, shocked her. Slumping shoulders and the slackness in his eyes when he raised his head suggested weariness and disappointment, which the deep lines on his forehead did nothing to dispel.

“Mama said you wanted to see me,” she said in response to his beckoning wave, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

“Do not stand there staring at me all day,” he snapped as she hesitated. “Come or go, but do something.”

Elizabeth nodded and stepped forward, her gaze sweeping the room. Each floorboard groaned in protest, the sound echoing behind her like a warning. Once a sanctuary for quiet reflection and her father’s counsel, the library now carried an air of menace that pressed against her chest.

His eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as a faint twitch pulled at his temple. The weight of his displeasure filled the room, and Elizabeth clasped her trembling hands, her composure faltering under his piercing gaze.

“Mama told me to come see you before I ate my breakfast,” she said, forcing a lightness into her voice that she did not feel.

Bennet lifted his gaze and turned it on her. Out of habit she smiled, but the gesture seemed to deepen his sorrow. His brows drew together, and his lips turned down.

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair across from him. His gaze, fixed and unreadable, held her in place. A minute passed, then another. Expressions moved across his face, but each vanished before she could read its meaning.

She shifted in her chair, then shifted again, but the furniture was not the cause of her discomfort. The silence, along with her father’s visible distress, pressed on her chest like a stone.

She inhaled, drawing the air deep into her lungs and holding it before letting it escape in a slow stream, hoping the sound did not reach his ears. When her lungs emptied, she filled them again, using the rhythm to steady herself.

“What was I supposed to do?” he asked at last, lowering his head into his hands.