Page 9 of Companions of Their Youth
A soft sob escaped her, and he heard the rustle of fabric as she obeyed, hasty and humiliated.
She turned to leave, her hands fumbling for the doorknob, but he rose quickly. “Wait.”
She froze, her back to him, shoulders shaking.
He walked to her side and gently took her hand. “Come,” he said, leading her to the edge of the bed. They sat down in silence, her fingers still trembling in his.
Remembering his own undressed state, he hastily shrugged on his discarded shirt before once again taking her hand in his. He patted it gently and asked in a tender voice, “Now, now. What brought all this on?”
She choked back another sob. “I know I am supposed to give you an heir. But you never come to my room… you never touch me… I—” Her voice faltered. “I know I did wrong, letting him… I know I am not as pretty as I was before Jane. But I want to give you a son. I want to do right. Do you… do you find me ugly? Or disgusting, because of what happened?”
Mr. Bennet stared at the fire, his chest tight with guilt and confusion.
“You are not ugly,” he said. “And I have never thought you disgusting. I only wished to give you time. You were very young when we married. You still are. And I… I am old enough to be your father. That is not a thing easily set aside.”
She wiped her cheeks, still looking down. “But I am a woman. Not a child. I love Jane dearly, but I should like more children. A boy, if I could.”
He swallowed. “It would be hard on your body, at your young age. Perhaps we could wait a little longer.”
“But what about your own age? If something were to happen, Jane and I would be without a home.”
“Well, you do have the ten-thousand-pound dowry your father left. I have not touched the principal, or the interest. It would be quite enough for you both to live on in a cottage.”
She nodded reluctantly but did not speak, choosing instead to look down and pick at a stray thread on her gown. After several moments, he broke the silence. “Is there something more?”
She nodded slightly, then hesitated. “When my mother died,” she said, “no one ever held me again. My father… it was only pats on the head or brief squeezes of the shoulder. And my brother left…and Agatha was not interested in spending time with a silly sister…”
He looked at her, puzzled. “Surely you know they care for you? Your father loves you deeply.”
“I suppose,” she said, her voice shaking. “But when Colonel Millar—whenheheld me, took me in his arms… and kissed me… it was the first time I felt loved. I think I gave more than I wanted to because I was so afraid he would stop. I did not even like it. But I did not want him to pull away.”
His eyebrows raised high on his head. “That is quite profound of you to recognize.”
She shrugged. “I have had quite a lot of time to think about it. I am not as silly as I once was.”
He sat very still, waiting for her to continue.
She turned toward him, her eyes red but clear. “I think… I would very much like to be held by you. You are kind. You are patient. And I trust you.”
He inhaled slowly, willing his thoughts to still. “Fanny,” he said, “I am an old man. I am not… virile, like your colonel. It has been many, many years since I have been with a woman. And… the fact that you did not enjoy it with him gives me pause.”
She blinked, then looked away.
“It is not that you are undesirable,” he added, quietly. “It is that I do not want to hurt you. I see you more as—” He stopped short, not finishing the word.
“A daughter,” she said glumly. “I know. It is all the old matrons could say when they began calling after the wedding.”
“I am sorry,” he said lamely, uncertain of how to fix the situation.
“But I amnotyour daughter; I am yourwife,” she burst out. “Everyone else talks about how their husbands will not leave them alone. They pretend to have headaches to escape. But for us, it is the opposite. And it hurts.”
The words were simple. Honest.
And they broke his heart.
He took her hand again and held it between both of his. “Would it help,” he said slowly, “if I came to your room each night? Only to hold you. Until you fall asleep.”
She blinked in surprise. “You would?”
