Page 32 of Hidden Desires
Without waiting for a response, she crossed into the entrance hall, where Darcy and her father stood speaking. To her surprise, the gentleman looked at ease, a rare sight in her experience, while Georgiana’s expression brightened at the sight of her.
“Good afternoon, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, his tone carrying a warmth she had not heard before. “Georgiana was just admiring the beauty of Longbourn’s grounds.”
“I was,” Georgiana said, her smile faint but sincere, “and hoping you might continue showing me the paths we explored yesterday. They are a welcome change from London’s crowded parks.”
Elizabeth returned her smile, the irritation she felt earlier fading at her guest’s openness. “By all means. Are you ready?”
Georgiana looked to her brother with hopeful eyes. “May I, William? We had such a lovely time comparing the grounds to Pemberley, and I need more time to persuade her that Derbyshire is prettier than Hertfordshire.”
Darcy laughed. “Are you sure you want to try?” he asked, glancing at Elizabeth before returning his gaze to his sister. “From what I hear, she is quite stubborn when comparing this county to other, more deserving, ones.”
His eyes returned to Elizabeth, who resisted the urge to stick out her tongue and smiled instead. Her grin was crooked, and a flicker of mischief lit her eyes.
“There are no other deserving counties,” she said.
Turning to her father, she added, “Mary needs something to occupy her. May she join us?”
Bennet’s eyes shifted toward the door before he looked back at his daughter. “That is a marvelous idea.”
“Mary?” Georgiana asked, her voice polite but uncertain.
“We met her in the music room, remember?” Elizabeth said. At Georgiana’s nod, she added, “We were talking in the garden, and I thought it might be nice for her to join us.”
Her father raised his brows. “She has an interesting way of looking at things.”
“We had a good conversation,” Elizabeth said with a wry smile. She turned and gestured to her sister.
“Miss Darcy wants to walk the trails,” she said. “Come with us.”
Mary lingered in the doorway, her eyes moving to Georgiana, who greeted her with a gentle smile. After a short pause, she nodded and stepped forward. Together, the three set off, leaving Bennet and Darcy to their own company.
The gravel crunched beneath their feet as they passed into the garden.
Georgiana soon began speaking with Mary, her quiet, even tone drawing steady replies.
Elizabeth, walking beside them, listened with some surprise.
Her sister, so often guarded among strangers, appeared at ease in Georgiana’s company.
Perhaps this will do her good, she thought, watching Georgiana’s easy kindness.
Their conversation drifted to music, and Mary’s posture shifted.
“You told me you play,” she said.
“I do,” Georgiana replied, “though not as well as you, from what I heard yesterday.”
Mary glanced down and shifted a pebble with her toe before speaking. “I practice often but lack natural talent.”
“You are too hard on yourself,” Georgiana said, offering a reassuring smile. “In fact, I would enjoy playing together sometime. We could begin with your favorite pieces.”
Mary’s cheeks colored with surprise. “I would like that very much.”
Their conversation gave way to a quiet stretch as the three followed the narrowing path. Georgiana appeared content to study the trees crowding in around them, while a faint smile softened the lines of Mary’s face.
“I love these flowers,” Georgiana said, waving toward the blooms that lined the trail. “Please give your gardener my compliments. They are beautiful.”
“This path is not part of Longbourn,” Mary replied, shaking her head. “The flowers were not planted; they grow wild.”
“Forgive me. There are so many that I assumed they had been arranged with care. They remind me of the trails near Pemberley, where our gardener maintains not only the formal grounds but also the nearby paths. William insists that everything remain well kept, even beyond the garden walls, and I thought Mr. Bennet might do the same.”
“Papa has neither the time nor the inclination to concern himself with anything beyond Longbourn,” Mary said with a shrug. “He says the forest can care for itself.”
Georgiana’s smile faltered as she studied her companion. “Does he truly care so little for how the land appears outside the estate? What of visitors from town who might judge him for neglected roads?”
Mary pressed her lips together and looked away, her steps quickening. “Papa never said he worried how visitors might judge the road, though he did notice when I rode to town yesterday.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “You went to town? Alone?”
“Yes,” Mary said, lifting her chin though she kept her eyes on the path. “It was not far, and I had business there.”
“Business?” Georgiana asked. “I would think your father prefers his daughters remain at home unless accompanied.”
“He does, and had he known, he might have disapproved. But he was occupied, and I saw no harm in the journey. I needed a particular book from the church in Meryton, one our own parson did not have.”
Georgiana’s brow creased. “That was bold of you. I suppose he has not yet learned of your trip?”
“Oh, he learned,” Mary said, her tone clipped. “He made his displeasure known the moment I returned, though I had seen no need to trouble him beforehand over something so trivial.”
Georgiana nodded, though her thoughts seemed elsewhere. “I would never have the courage to do something like that. Still, did you consider the risks? Even a short distance can be dangerous, especially for a young woman alone.”
Mary’s mouth curved in a faint smirk. “I doubt the dangers on the road to Meryton compare with the tales told of London. Besides, the only soul I passed who might have threatened me was an old man with a cart of turnips.”
Georgiana laughed, though Mary did not. After a pause, she said, “Your independence is rare. I suppose your father worried for your safety. I know William would if I ever did the same.”
“Maybe,” Mary said, her tone softening. “But sometimes a little risk is worth the freedom it brings.”
The trail widened as they left the trees, and Longbourn’s open fields stretched before them. Elizabeth watched Georgiana study Mary’s profile, noting the quiet strength now visible beneath her sister’s usual restraint.
“I envy you,” Georgiana said at last. “I wish for more freedom but seldom dare to seek it.”
Mary turned toward her, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. “Perhaps you should, Miss Darcy. One does not find freedom by waiting for permission.”
Elizabeth, trailing just behind but close enough to hear, raised her brow at the remark. This reference to a book clashed with the tale of lace she had heard earlier. She lengthened her stride and caught up as they reached the edge of the wood.
“How fortunate,” she said, her voice light though edged with suspicion, “that your trip to town served so many purposes. Lace one day, a book the next. Perhaps there is more to this tale than you have shared.”
Mary’s steps slowed and she shot her sister a guarded glance. “I did not think my errands required such scrutiny.”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth answered, her eyes sharp with curiosity. “I only marvel at how the purpose of the errand seems to shift. Tell me, was it lace you sought, or had you other reasons for going to Meryton alone?”
Mary pressed her lips together and said nothing. Georgiana glanced between them, her expression uncertain.
“I needed the book,” Mary said at last, her voice steady though a faint blush touched her cheeks. “The mention of lace was... an embellishment.”
Elizabeth’s brow arched higher. “An embellishment? Curious, considering how often you rebuke Lydia for her exaggerations.”
“I am not Lydia,” Mary snapped. “I do not invent stories for amusement. I said what I had to say to avoid questions.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Questions from whom? Papa, or me?”
“From everyone,” Mary said, her voice rising. “If I had stated the truth, I would have earned a lecture from Papa and a warning from you. I wished to avoid the fuss, that is all.”
Georgiana placed a hand on Mary’s arm. “I understand. Sometimes a small omission feels like the only path forward.”
Elizabeth’s tone softened at Georgiana’s words, though her curiosity remained. “You should not feel you must hide your intentions, Mary. But when your story changes, you must expect it to draw attention.”
Mary lifted her chin. “I did what I felt necessary. Whether you approve or not matters little.”
Elizabeth paused, unsure whether to press further or let her sister’s declaration stand. In the end, she said nothing. The path opened before them, and Mary walked on ahead, her stride purposeful, leaving Elizabeth and Georgiana behind.
“She has changed since we left the house,” Georgiana murmured.
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, though whether the change promised growth or danger, she could not yet decide. Still, the exchange had pierced some of the distance between them.
When they returned to the house, she saw Darcy standing near the steps. His posture remained stiff, but his expression softened when he caught sight of his sister.
“Welcome back,” he said, stepping forward. “Did you enjoy your walk?”
“Very much,” Georgiana answered. “Elizabeth and Miss Mary were wonderful company, and our conversation was enlightening.”
He inclined his head toward Elizabeth. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I see my sister is much improved by your influence.”
Elizabeth offered a faint smile, unsure whether the words carried praise or simple observation. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Darcy. Your sister is a delight. Please visit anytime you wish. I enjoy her company, and my father is not one to turn friends away, either.”
Mary, standing a few paces away, watched the exchange with quiet interest, as though the day’s conflict had faded in the face of something unfamiliar.
She turned to Elizabeth, lifting her brows in silent inquiry, and received a small shake of the head in return, a signal that said not now.
This moment belonged to Darcy and his sister, their affection plain and sincere. And though Elizabeth could not yet name the feeling it stirred within her, she knew the afternoon had not been wasted.