Page 30 of Hidden Desires
“About what?” she asked, but he gave no reply.
“Talk to me, Papa,” she pleaded, folding her arms across her chest as her foot tapped in growing impatience. “Have I done something wrong? Tell me what I did, so I can explain or make amends.”
Bennet lifted his head and looked at her. His lips twisted in a crooked smile as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.
“If not for your insistence that Mary go with you to Meryton, we might have avoided this entire situation.”
Elizabeth shrugged and spread her hands. “I asked her to come because I thought she needed a break from those books. She must have them memorized by now.”
“And at the time, I agreed with you,” he said, a dry laugh escaping with a small shrug of resignation. “But the girl you brought back was not the same one who left that morning.”
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked, her thoughts pulling back to that day. Lydia had disappeared. Mary had returned quiet and withdrawn. “She is still the Mary I have always known, quick to judge and slow to forgive.”
Bennet sighed and leaned back in his chair. Taking a handkerchief from the desk, he wiped his brow, catching the moisture before it could run down his face.
“I doubt she could change that part of her, even if she wanted to,” he said, his voice flat, his shoulders slumping again. “Since that day, she has taken Lydia to Meryton every morning, though I doubt she had any difficulty persuading the foolish girl.”
Elizabeth nodded. “But I told you about that,” she said, studying her father’s expression for any sign of his intentions. Was he going to punish her for the unintended result of an innocent suggestion?
“And as I recall, you were in favor of my idea. If you had said no, or given any reason for her to stay home, we could have left without her. Remember, she refused my invitation at first. It took both of us to convince her.”
“Please do not remind me,” he said, spreading his hands in surrender. “This is my fault. I never imagined Lydia might corrupt my pious middle daughter, but after yesterday, I see I was mistaken.”
“What do you mean? Did you confront her about going to Meryton?”
He brought his hands to his face and rubbed hard, as though trying to wipe away his anguish, but the set of his shoulders gave him away.
“I caught her on the stairs,” he said, voice low, his gaze fixed on the desk before him. “When I asked where she had been, she claimed she had spent the afternoon in her room, reading.”
“What did she say when you told her I saw her leaving the estate?”
Bennet gave a brittle laugh that broke the silence.
“I did not tell her you saw her. When I said the maid could not find her, she admitted taking the horse but claimed she went to Meryton for a piece of lace, and held it out as proof. I took it from her, sent her to bed, and said we would speak in the morning.”
He exhaled and slumped back, his shoulders heavy with regret. “It was such a transparent lie, I had no choice but to send her away before I lost my temper in front of the others.”
The sorrow in his face stopped Elizabeth cold. She cleared her throat, swallowed, and tried again before finding her voice.
“What do you mean? Did she act like her sister and deny the truth, even when it was plain? Please tell me she did not laugh and dismiss your questions.”
Bennet raised his eyes and spread his lips in a failed attempt at a smile, the expression more grimace than anything else.
“No, she didn’t laugh, but she refused to discuss the matter, even when I demanded an explanation. She sat in that chair for fifteen minutes without saying a word; her only response was that she had nothing to add.”
He dropped his gaze to the desk again, his shoulders slackening. “Why would she do that, when she takes such pride in her honesty and reminds us of it every chance she gets? Even when confronted with proof, she still insisted I was wrong.”
His eyes lowered again, and he wrung his hands. “I shouted at her, something I have never done before.”
“According to Mama, you made the walls shake.”
Bennet glanced at his daughter, but the smile she allowed herself at the small jest did nothing to ease his obvious agony.
“I chased her from the room rather than raise a hand. She started to speak, but I warned her of the consequences, so she turned and fled. Instead of stopping her and apologizing for my temper, I told her she was confined to the estate until she was ready to tell me the truth.”
Elizabeth tilted her head and gazed at her father, who straightened and returned her inspection.
“But you did not see her take the horse, Papa, so why claim that you had? Without me, you might not have known she was gone.”
For the first time since she entered the room, a genuine smile appeared on his lips.
A chuckle followed, along with a sly look in his eyes.
“She does not know I lied, and I have a good reason for that. I want you to uncover the truth she is so desperate to hide.” He chuckled again, but the laugh carried a harsh edge and gave way to a frown.
“I cannot allow her to become another Lydia.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned on the desk. “One daughter like that is enough. Two would send me to Bedlam.”
Elizabeth nodded as an image of her father pounding on the doors of that infamous institution, demanding admittance, rose unbidden in her mind.
“I am not sure how much help I can offer,” she said, fighting to hide her amusement. “If Mary does not know I told you, she will soon enough. Lydia will see to it.”
“That is why I want you to speak to her now, before that happens.”
“But what can I say to her? We have never been close, and I doubt she wants my company now.”
Bennet shrugged and smiled. “Was it not you she asked for help with her appearance?”
“Yes, but the choice was not an easy one. I offered to remake a few of my dresses after we finished with her hair and face, but she thought it better to wait than risk making changes she might regret.”
Bennet turned to the desk and picked up a scrap of lace.
“It seems she has grown comfortable with the change,” he said, holding the delicate fabric between thumb and forefinger.
“According to your sister, she needed this for a dress the two of you are sewing and had to reach the shop in Meryton before it closed.”
Elizabeth took the piece from her father. She turned it over in her hands and rubbed it between her fingers, noting its vivid color and smooth texture.
“I will speak to her, but she might ignore my questions or refuse to acknowledge me at all. You know how stubborn she becomes once she sets her mind.”
“Stubborn? That does not sound like the Mary I know.” He chuckled, then sighed. “Please do your best to learn what she is up to. My sanity rests in your hands, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand to his cheek and smiled, then leaned in to place a soft kiss against it. “Leave this to me. Mr. Darcy will be here soon, but I will do what I can. You and I can speak again after they leave. And your sanity fled a long time ago, Papa, so I would not worry.”
She giggled at his agreeing nod and turned to the heavy oak door.
“Your compliments leave much to be desired,” he said to her retreating back. “Let me know what happens. Worrying about Mary is new to me, and I cannot say I welcome it.”
Elizabeth slipped through the door and pulled it closed. Before it shut, she poked her head back through the opening and gave him a devilish grin.
“One person’s tragedy is another’s amusement,” she said, laughing at the scowl it earned her. “Never change, Papa, at least not while I am at Longbourn.”
She closed the door and crossed the hall to the garden entrance. If Mary remained outside, a few kind words might raise her spirits and encourage her to talk, whereas demanding answers would ensure failure.