Page 20 of Companions of Their Youth
“I do not know,” Mr. Bennet said. “But something must change. That much is certain.”
He opened his eyes again and looked at her—really looked. “Lizzy, we must speak about what you saw earlier…when you opened the door.”
She flushed and looked down at the ground. “I am sorry, Papa. I know I should have knocked.”
His voice was softer now. “Yes. But that is not what I am asking. What do you think you saw?”
There was a long pause as she hesitated, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “It looked like… like you and Stephens were… werekissing.”
Mr. Bennet did not move for a moment. Then he sighed and leaned back, one hand pressed against his forehead. “I see.”
“I did not mean to—I would not have—” Elizabeth stopped, twisting her hands in her skirt. “I was not spying, I swear.”
“I know,” he said. “I believe you.”
Another pause. The clock ticked three times.
“I imagine you are confused,” he said quietly.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“What you saw… was not a mistake. And you are not wrong about what it was.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes to his face. “But… I thought… you love Mama.”
“I do,” Mr. Bennet said. “Very much. Your mother is a kind and good woman. She has been a blessing to me and to this house. I would do anything for her.”
“Then why—?”
“Because… there are different kinds of love, Lizzy. Some that the world sees and praises. Some it does not understand.”
His voice was gentle, careful. “Stephens is… someone I have cared for, for a very long time. Longer than you have been alive. I have known him since he and I were about Mark’s age. He has stood beside me through illness, grief, loneliness. And sometimes, we forget how to be only friends.”
Elizabeth stared at her shoes. Her heart beat so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
“Does Mama know?”
He hesitated. “Not everything. But she knows that Stephens is dear to me. And she has never had reason to feel unloved.”
“Is it wrong?” Elizabeth whispered.
Mr. Bennet was quiet for a long time. “That, my dear, is a question for the ages. And one that I would like to discuss further with you, but not at this time. You are not quite old enough to understand all of it. When you are fifteen years old, we will discuss this again.”
“Yes, Papa.”
“In the meantime, Lizzy, I need you to promise me,swearto me, that you will not tell anyone what you saw.”
“Of course, Papa.”
“I mean it, Elizabeth Marie.”
She knew he was serious; henevercalled her by her full name. “I will not tell anyone, Papa.”
He slumped back in his chair, the firelight flickering across his face, casting deep shadows beneath his eyes.
“Good girl,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the hearth. Then, after a long pause, he spoke again—his voice lower, and steadier.
“Lizzy, you must understand something else. What you saw today… if others knew of it, Stephens and I—” He hesitated. “We could be arrested. Put on trial.”
