Page 158 of Companions of Their Youth
Mrs. Bennet gave a sharp little breath—not quite a laugh. “Well. A little bit, yes. But not so… aggressive, so animal-like… At least not between couples who love and respect each other.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Oh.”
Her mother leaned forward slightly, clasping her hands atop her knees. “Mr. Darcy seems to be very kind. Attentive. I have seen the way he looks at you, Lizzy. I think you will find that when there is affection—real affection—it can be very enjoyable.”
Elizabeth’s blush deepened.
“I know many mothers,” Mrs. Bennet went on, her tone dropping conspiratorially, “who tell their daughters to lie still, not move, and ‘think of England.’” She grimaced. “A more wretched bit of advice I have never heard. That is a recipe for resentment… and worse. For infidelity.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened.
“I am serious, Lizzy” her mother said softly. “A man in love who does not feel loved in return—who senses coldness where there ought to be warmth—may begin to believe that passion itself is shameful. Or else he seeks it elsewhere.”
Elizabeth was quiet, absorbing this.
“The marriage bed,” Mrs. Bennet continued, more gently now, “can be one of passion and love and true fulfillment—but only if you can talk to each other. Even if it’s awkward. Even if you feel foolish saying the words. You must tell him if something frightens you. Or if something pleases you. You must trust him enough to be honest.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, feeling a heat in her face that had nothing to do with shame. “I heard… I have overheard matrons in the village say it was wanton. For a wife to be… too eager.”
Mrs. Bennet let out a soft sigh. “Unfortunately, that is what most women believe. And in some marriages, it may be true. There are men who prefer quiet, dutiful wives who do nottrouble their pride. But you, Lizzy—” she smiled, “—you are not marrying such a man.”
Elizabeth swallowed against the tightness rising in her throat.
“The reason I bring this up now,” she added, looking everywhere but directly at Elizabeth, “is because… well… you are in love. And you are a passionate girl.”
Elizabeth turned crimson. “Mama! I would never—!”
“I know, I know,” her mother said with a wave of her hand and a slightly amused smile. “But love does not always wait politely. Kisses lead to more. Soon, holding hands will not be enough, and you will long for more than chaste glances and carriage rides. And those feelings are not wicked—they are natural. But it is dangerous, and there is a reason they should be kept under control until after you are safely married. Otherwise, you could end up as an unwed mother.”
Jane.
Most of the time, Elizabeth did not even consider the fact that her sisters were not, in fact, her full siblings. The recollection that Jane was conceived with a soldier who abandoned her mother hit her with full force.
She opened her mouth to protest, to say that Darcy would never abandon her. “But—” she began.
Mrs. Bennet cut her off. “Yes, yes—I know. Mr. Darcy is honorable. You think he would never leave you. But, Lizzy…” her voice faltered, “what if there were an accident? A fall from a horse. A fever. A carriage overturned on a country road. Things happen. And if vows have been anticipated before a church and aring, and then something prevents the wedding…” She shook her head. “The disgrace would fall on you. On all of us.”
Elizabeth sat very still. She wished to apologize, to say she was sorry for bringing up such unpleasant memories, but she could not.
If she spoke now, her mother would know thatshe knew.Their relationship would be irrevocably changed, and most likely not for the better.
So she said nothing.
Mrs. Bennet took a shaky breath and continued, “I only mean that it is worth waiting. You will have your whole married life for passion. But the foundation—that must be built first. On kindness. Compassion. Trust.”
Something in Elizabeth’s chest cracked open. She stood quickly, walked across the room, and bent to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Idounderstand. And I promise—I will take every precaution. I will not be alone with him before the wedding.”
Mrs. Bennet smiled then—a little teary, but pleased. “That is all I ask. I want you to be as happy in marriage as I have been. Because passion alone, though compelling, is not enough. But love with friendship and respect…” She nodded. “That can last.”
“Yes, Mama. I understand—that is what I want as well.”
Mrs. Bennet hesitated, then added, “You usually confide in your father. Or Jane. But if there is anything… anything at all… that you would rather not speak to either of them about, I hope you know you may always come to me. Or even Mrs. Gardiner—she and I have spoken enough for me to know her mind on these matters. No questions would be too awkward. No judgment. Only a mother’s love.”
Elizabeth swallowed against the tightness rising in her throat. Mrs. Bennet rose from her seat and hugged Elizabeth tightly, then pulled away with a brisk sniff and straightened her shawl.
“I shall leave you now. But remember—you may come to me. Anytime.”
