Page 57 of The Scarred Duchess
“Militia be my first guess.”
Bennet turned to face him. “So, five or six months before Meryton is inundated with young men swaggering about the streets in their fine red coats.”
“I imagine the very youngest of the ladies will be quite taken with them.”
Bennet raised an eyebrow. Legget was observant—and correct. He sighed. “Of course. Recommendation?”
“Stay as we are. You be wanting to arm yourself, should you leave the estate.”
Bennet agreed. “We shall see how many sons of the gentry purchased substitutes.”
Legget nodded and left. Bennet resumed grooming the mare.
Jane awoke, and as she did every morning, she began her medicinal ritual. Cautiously, she ran her oiled right forefinger down the ridge of her nose. She stopped at the halfway point; she felt her own touch through the scar ridge for the first time in years.
Not daring to hope, she cleaned her hand and reached for the tincture. She held her breath as she expected the dull ache to announce itself. She exhaled in relief; she felt no pain. Eyes wide, she pressed harder as she ran her fingers down the length of her scar.
“Can this be real?” she whispered.
Fear warred with excitement. She walked to her dressing table and pulled the shroud from the covered-looking glass. She sat but purposely averted her eyes. For years, she had dreaded her reflection. Taking a fortifying breath, she announced, “Now is not the time to be missish. I am the daughter of Colonel Thomas Bennet.”
She opened her eyes.
From behind his news sheet, Bennet welcomed his eldest. “Our birthday girl has decided to join us…”
Bennet’s quip was interrupted by a chorus of gasps. He allowed the right corner of the paper to fall as he looked towards Elizabeth and Mary and found them staring in wonderment. He lowered his reading material to see Franny, her hands pressing over her mouth, her expressions shifting from fear to hope and back.
He looked to his left and there was Jane.Without her veil.Bennet froze. A moment later, he stood.
“Jane, on the celebration of your majority, may I serve you tea?”
Jane’s smile was indescribable. The room erupted with joyful cries as her sisters surrounded her.
His wife closed the door to his book-room and sat. The joyful expression she had worn the past hours had changed to an anxious one. He joined her in the opposite chair and waited for her to open their conversation.
“I am worried,” she said. “Jane wishes to go to Meryton with her sisters. They plan to have tea and celebrate Jane’s majority.”
He nodded. “We must trust that Jane knows what she wants.”
Her concerned frown remained. “I fear unkind comments will give her cause to shut herself away again.”
“Her scars have greatly faded,” he assured her. “They are no longer her most prominent feature.”
“But—”
“Tell me your fears, love.”
“Jane has always been beautiful.”
“Without a doubt,” Bennet confirmed with a nod.
“That is our opinion,” Franny stressed. “The opinion of loving parents.”
“It is our honour to love our children; our duty to protect them.”
“We cannot protect them from unkind gestures and spiteful words.”
“That sounds like something jealous women would do,” he said.
