Page 161 of Companions of Their Youth
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The cold air caught in Elizabeth’s throat as they stepped into the fading afternoon. The flurries had turned heavier, brushing against her lashes, clinging to the hem of her cloak. Mark tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and they set off along the narrow gravel path that wound toward the hedgerow beyond the garden.
She waited until they were out of sight of the windows before speaking.
“Now then,” she said briskly, “tell me therealreason you came.”
Mark arched a brow at her. “Thatwasthe real reason. My twin sister nearly died in a violent altercation and is now engaged to a taciturn man who once insulted her appearance in a fit of pique. Forgive me if I felt the need to see it all with my own eyes.”
Elizabeth gave him a look, but her lips twitched.
Mark pressed on, his voice softer. “You hardly wrote. Everything I heard came from others—scattered letters, reports through the Gardiners, whispered gossip from acquaintances. And then suddenly you are engaged. I needed to be sure you were safe… happy.”
She sighed and leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. “I am.”
They walked a few steps more, the snow crunching faintly beneath their boots.
She told him everything—Wickham’s arrival in Meryton, his lies, the night of the ball, and the terrifying confrontation that followed. His expression darkened as she described the pistol, the poker, and the moment when she believed she would die.
“And Darcy—he and Colonel Fitzwilliam burst in just as…” She shook her head. “I do not even know what might have happened if they had not come.”
Mark exhaled. “I cannot decide whether I wish to shake his hand or punch him for letting things go so far.”
Elizabeth smiled. “You may do neither. It truly was not his fault.”
They walked in silence for several minutes, then he said, “There is one other thing I wish to discuss, but I am uncertain as to how to broach the topic—it is not entirely fit for a lady’s ears.”
She gave him a dry look. “You forget to whom you speak. We were naked in our mother’s belly together.”
He chuckled once, then sobered. “It’s about Father. And Stephens. I… I have no proof, only suspicions, but—”
She turned sharply to face him. “Youknowabout Papa and Stephens?”
Mark blinked. “Wait.Youknow?”
They stared at one another for a long moment. “What… what exactly do you know?” he finally asked.
“That they are… more than master and servant.”
“And Papatoldyou this?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No. I discovered it—by accident. Do you remember the day Cousin William pushed you from the tree, and I ran to find Papa to get help?”
Mark’s brow furrowed. “Of course I do.
“Well,” she said softly, “when I ran back, I did not knock on the door to the study—I simply burst in. I did not mean to interrupt, but I was panicked. And I saw them… kissing.”
Mark went still, stunned into silence. At last he said, “We were only ten.”
“Yes, and Papa did not explain anything until we turned fifteen. He knew I was not old enough to understand.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… had my suspicions. Looks, glances. The way they spoke in quiet tones when no one else paid attention. But I thought perhaps I imagined it. Or that it was only on one side.”
“It is not,” Elizabeth said gently. “They are careful, but they are devoted.”
Mark looked away, then back at her with narrowed eyes. “And you have kept this from me for ten years?”
She raised a brow. “And how long have you kept certain things fromme, dear brother? Such as what happens on your late nights in town with certain ‘school friends’?”
