“Perhaps it was moved. Can it not wait? Jane will be back soon; she always seems to know where everything is.”
“I promised Lydia I would adjust the hem on her dress; she has grown–again–and it has to be let down. We are all to visit the Lucas’ tonight–except Father of course–and it must be done before then.”
Nodding, Elizabeth scoured the room with her sister, though, aside from a lost ribbon and a surprising amount of crumbs where Lydia usually sat, nothing out of place could be found.
“Here,” Elizabeth suggested, “Jane would not mind you using Mamma’s. Or I can try to find mine–I think it is in the bottom of a trunk? I hope.”
“For someone who used it mere weeks ago, you ought to know where it is,” Kitty chuckled.
Smirking, Elizabeth handed Kitty their mother’s sewing box. “Says the person who used theirs last night and has already mislaid it–and you enjoy needlework a great deal more than I. Just use this. It is for Lydia after all.”
With a huff Kitty accepted the box and moved to the settee, the dress set beside her before she turned to the box. Hand shaking, she reached toward it, stilling as she did. “You do not think Jane will mind?”
“No,” Elizabeth said as she sat across from her sister. “Nor would Mamma.”
Dipping her head, Kitty lifted the lid, the fine blue silk of the interior complimented by the silver and ivory tools and the fine ebony and gold design on the boxes within.
As always, it was exquisite. Mother had had many fine things, but this one, which she had had since childhood, this was perhaps the finest of them all.
Even the daughter of an earl or a duke could not boast better! And Mother, a tradesman’s daughter, must have been proud to own such a fine piece.
“Elizabeth,” Kitty said slowly, “did you know there is a cubby under this little row of boxes? See, there is a silhouette of Father, five locks of hair, a jeweled brooch, and a letter.”
Setting the dress on a nearby chair, Elizabeth sat beside her sister, leaning toward her sister to get a better look. “Ours, do you think? The hair. And yes, you are right, that is a silhouette of Father. Is the letter from him, do you think?”
Setting the silhouette aside to better view the letter, Kitty squinted at the handwriting. “It does not look like PaPa’s, though it would be romantic if it were–it is still sweet that she kept a likeness of him as she did–but no, I… Here, I know a way to find out.”
“Kitty, we ought not,” Elizabeth began, her words lost as her sister opened the letter and began to read it aloud.
My Dearest Fanny,
I am at a loss when it comes to my father’s behavior. Indeed, were he not a man I have known and loved from my start, I could not now remain under his influence. As you know, I am to be married in the spring, and I cannot deny I long to depart this house we have all so loved.
The fun we had in the gardens hiding from one another. Long hours playing in my father’s study. These memories I return to. Memories of our joy, and of a father whose love for me and all of you was without measure. These I cling to, and in them I hope and pray he will one day accept what each of you did; understand that you have been as happy as he wished you to be. Even now, in his anger, I know he looks upon you all as his own.
I rejoice that you are soon to bring into this world a god-child for me to spoil when these dark days pass. Father’s anger cannot remain forever, the man I am to marry cannot always seek to appease him; surely, we will be able to write and see one another soon without all this subterfuge and trickery. Even now, it grows harder and harder to write you without their knowledge.
Please, do not think me too much a coward in staying with my father. In not fighting him or my intended more in this. I rarely ever managed to be as brave as you; in your Mr. Bennet you saw what you wanted and did not count the cost. Somehow, counting the cost is all I have ever done. Though, perhaps one day, I will find myself unhindered by the opinions of others. Will act in boldness. And behave as silly and absurd as our great-aunt with all of her eccentricities. For, then, I might hear you laugh; and discover my courage as well.
With all my love,
Your C.
Head tilted as she stared at the letter, Kitty lifted her hand before allowing it to fall. “Whatever can it mean? It. I.” Shaking her head, she turned her gaze to Elizabeth, “Do you understand this?”
A simple question. If only there were a simple answer.
“Not truly. I have an idea… I promised Jane I would leave it be, but in this I fear I must break my promise. Some time ago I overheard Sir Lucas talking to Father; he spoke of a cousin and uncle of our mother, which I assumed was a mistake, but Father did not correct him. In fact, he spoke as if it were truth. Jane knows nothing of it, but at the time the very thought of it upset her, so I let it be. Father was in no state to answer questions in any case, and though I might have gone to Sir Lucas, none of us were well and truly ready for what it might unearth.” Motioning to the letter Kitty held in her lap, Elizabeth lifted her shoulders, “It would seem the time has come. Wait until I have spoken to Father before showing this to our sisters. I would like to have answers beforehand.”
“Why would the existence of a cousin and uncle have been kept from us all these years?” Kitty wondered.
Lips pursing, Elizabeth’s gaze turned toward their father’s study. “PaPa sounded angry when he spoke of the uncle at least. Some falling out? Unscrupulous behavior? I suppose there are many reasons families avoid one another… let me ask Father. Wait here.”
Squeezing her sister’s hand, Elizabeth stood, fully ready to make her way to their father’s study before turning toward Kitty. “I suppose I ought to bring the letter. It is harder to deny what is written.”
Accepting the letter, Elizabeth squared her shoulders, her stomach reeling with each step.If it had been hidden from them for this long, it must have been dreadful. Did she really wish to know? Would Father push her away because she had the gall to ask?
Hand lifted to knock, Elizabeth hesitated for only a moment, curiosity and determination not to be hindered.
