Page 53 of Near Pemberley

“I warned you,” she said, her voice trembling despite every effort at steadiness. “I warned you before Lydia went to Brighton. I told you her behaviour would end badly. I told you she was too young, too foolish, too uncontrolled.”

Mr. Bennet’s face hardened faintly. “Yes. You did.”

“But you laughed at me.”

The words fell into the room with painful force.

For once, Mr. Bennet made no attempt at irony.

Elizabeth continued before she could stop herself.

“You laughed at everything. At Lydia’s silliness. At my mother’s indulgence. At Kitty’s foolishness. At all of us.” Her breath shook now openly. “And now-now everyone suffers for it.”

A long silence followed.

Mr. Bennet turned away first. “You speak very harshly, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth pressed one trembling hand against the desk. Once, she would have repented such severity. Now misery and disappointment had worn her patience almost beyond its former gentleness.

“Do I speak falsely?”

He did not answer.

The silence itself became answer enough.

For one moment, Elizabeth almost relented. The sight of her father – older, unexpectedly wearier, diminished by failure and humiliation – awakened tenderly the affection which even now she could not entirely extinguish.

But then her eyes fell again upon Darcy’s letter.

Unanswered. Forgotten among scattered papers.

For a moment, she could not speak.

“He wrote to help us,” she said more quietly now. “And you left the letter lying here as though it signified nothing.”

Mr. Bennet looked towards the paper at last.

“You think highly of him.”

Elizabeth looked away. Too much lay concealed within that simple observation.

“I think,” she answered after a pause, “that he acted honourably.” The simplicity of the word concealed far more feeling than Elizabeth herself yet fully understood.

Mr. Bennet said nothing further.

Nor did Elizabeth trust herself to remain longer.

She folded the letter carefully, her fingers lingering for one brief moment upon Darcy’s signature.

Then, instead of returning it to the desk, she held it firmly in her hand.

Mr. Bennet noticed at once. “Lizzy?”

Elizabeth lifted her eyes to him then, and there was in her expression a steadiness very unlike her usual playful warmth.

“You neglected it, sir,” she said quietly. “I shall not.”

Before he could answer, she turned and walked from the room carrying the letter with her.