Page 21 of Companions of Their Youth
Her head jerked up. “But… why?”
“Because in the eyes of the law,” he said carefully, “affection like that between two men is not only considered immoral—it is illegal. The punishment is not a fine, or a scolding.” He swallowed. “It is prison. And sometimes… worse.”
Elizabeth’s face went pale.
“They have hanged men, Lizzy. For far less than a kiss.”
Her breath caught.
“Which is why I need you to promise me, not just as your father, but as someone who loves you more than anything in the world, that you will never speak of what you saw. Not to Jane. Not to Mark. Not to Mama. Not even when you are grown.”
She nodded at once, her voice tight with fear. “I will not. I swear, Papa.”
He looked at her, his eyes full of a weariness that did not belong to the quick-witted, sardonic man she had always known. “Say it.”
“I swear I will never tell anyone what I saw,” she said. “Not ever. I promise.”
“Not even in anger,” he pressed. “Not even if we quarrel. Not ever, Lizzy.”
“I will not,” she whispered.
“I mean it, Elizabeth Marie.”
There it was—her full name again. She straightened, placing her hand on her chest like she had once seen her father do when he made a promise to her mother. “I swear on my name.”
His eyes closed briefly, and he nodded. “Thank you.”
There was a long silence.
Finally, he said, “You are too young now to understand everything. But one day—when you are fifteen—we will speak again. And I will answer whatever questions you have. Until then, I trust you to keep this safe.”
She nodded solemnly. “Yes, Papa.”
“Good,” he said, and slumped back in his chair. “Now go tell Cook to make something nice for supper. I imagine your brother will want pudding.”
Elizabeth turned to go, but paused at the door. “Papa?”
“Yes?”
Her voice trembled slightly. “I do not care what the law says. I still think you are good.”
His head dropped, his eyes closing again—but this time from something very near to grief. Or gratitude.
“Thank you, my Lizzy.”
And then she was gone.
∞∞∞
Five years later…
The dining room at Longbourn was aglow with candlelight and laughter, the air sweet with the lingering scent of roasted meatsand plum pudding. A small but lively celebration was underway, for Elizabeth and Mark had turned fifteen years of age that very day.
At the head of the table, Mr. Bennet raised his glass in a dry, understated toast. “To two children who have somehow managed to reach this milestone with all limbs intact, despite trees, fences, and one particularly disastrous encounter with the beehive.”
Laughter rippled around the table. Fanny Bennet dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, smiling fondly at her grown children. Kitty, now twelve, and Lydia, ten, bounced with excitement as they proudly presented their homemade gifts—an embroidered handkerchief from Kitty for Mark, and a lumpy but charming candle from Lydia for Elizabeth.
Mark accepted his gift with a warm grin. “Thank you, Kitty. I shall treasure it. Especially when my nose is in dire need of help.”
