“Mary says—” Elizabeth’s voice trembled slightly despite her effort to steady it. “She says that Darcy, myself, and our children shall all go to hell.”
Mr. Bennet’s gaze shifted slowly to Mary. His expression hardened. “I believe,” he said evenly, “that I made my instructions perfectly clear on this subject.”
Mary lifted her chin. “I fear God more than I fear my father,” she declared with fervor. “If I were to remain silent while my sister binds herself to error, I would answer for it before the judgment seat.”
“Mary—” Elizabeth began.
But Mary pressed on, her voice rising with conviction. “This marriage is wicked. That man will be the destruction of us all!”
“Fitzwilliam is not going to hell!” Elizabeth burst out.
“Silence!”
Mr. Bennet’s voice cracked through the hallway like a whip.
Both sisters fell instantly quiet.
Elizabeth had never heard that tone from him before.
He stood very still in the doorway of his study, the color draining slowly from his face.
Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost eerie, he said, “What did you call Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth blinked. “Fitzwilliam. It is his first name, after a relative.”
“Fitzwilliam.” Mr. Bennet’s eyes narrowed as he repeated the name. “As in the Earl of Matlock?”
Elizabeth frowned in confusion.
“And Catherine Fitzwilliam?” he pressed.
Elizabeth glanced briefly toward Mary, who looked as bewildered as she felt.
“In a way,” Elizabeth said slowly. “His mother’s mother was the daughter of one of the prior Fitzwilliam earls. And his stepmother, Lady Anne, is his late mother’s cousin. She is the younger sister of the current Earl of Matlock. She has another sister named Catherine.”
Mr. Bennet said nothing, his face now chalk white. As the silence stretched on, Elizabeth felt a ripple of unease crawl up her spine.
“What does it matter?” she asked.
“It… it does not. Never you mind.” He turned his gaze to his other daughter. “Mary, release your sister and come into my study.”
Mary hesitated. “Papa, I must protest—”
“Now.” The word fell like iron.
Elizabeth looked between them, alarm rising in her chest. “Papa, what is going on?”
Mr. Bennet did not look at her. “Elizabeth,” he said quietly, “go to your room and place a cool cloth on your face. It is beginning to swell.”
Elizabeth touched her cheek again and winced.
“Do not concern yourself,” he continued in the same controlled tone. “I shall ensure that Mary fully understands the consequences of her behavior.”
He stepped back into the study and beckoned Mary forward.
Elizabeth remained rooted where she stood.
Something felt wrong.
