I’m finally making progress on my Hidden Desires rewrite. The process is slow and a bit painful, as my source material has more than a few shortcomings. To confess, when I wrote the novel I suffered from an excess of hubris and actually thought my story was well constructed. For those who read that first edition, I apologize and offer the completed, although unedited, first chapter. Although fairly long, it provides the setting and sets the mood for the remainder of the novel. As you read, keep in mind that I have only done a preliminary edit.

The image at the top is the original cover, which I am having redesigned. I used it in case someone needed their memory jogged.

 

Is it possible for a leopard to change its spots, or a man to change his opinion, regardless of how convinced he is of its truth? The answer to this conundrum would challenge Elizabeth Bennet’s view of life, although the hopelessness of either idea had her mourning the loss of her closest friend today.

Charlotte Lucas’ marriage to Mr. Collins caused Elizabeth’s spirits to plummet, and she missed having someone to confide in.

She could not ignore the truth that her rejection of the man’s proposal led to the wedding; that knowledge strengthened the melancholy threatening to overwhelm her.

The man, a hitherto unfamiliar cousin of her father, wrote to announce his plan to visit. The reason given in the message was a desire to resolve a conflict between his deceased parent and the now deceased master of Longbourn.

Unfortunately, the missive neglected to mention that he was also in search of a wife. This became clear when he extended a marriage proposal within an hour of setting foot in the house. He made no attempt toward making her acquaintance first and, to add insult to injury, Mrs. Bennet strongly encouraged him!

Moreover, he expected Elizabeth’s immediate acceptance and ignored her rejection of his revolting offer.

The memory of Mr. Collins’ smug, confident manner sent a shudder along her spine. Given his exaggerated self-importance, she could not, for one minute, consider accepting such a repugnant offer.

Her objection to a marriage of convenience, devoid of the slightest amount of affection, set her at odds with her mother. Mrs. Bennet spent the next few days trying to impress upon her daughter the advantages of such a union, along with the elevated social standing she would inhabit as a parson’s wife, to no avail.

With hope bordering on impatience, Elizabeth had eagerly anticipated the completion of Mr. Collins’ stay and his return to the Hunsford parish, minus the wife he planned to return with.

To Elizabeth’s horror, the failure of his laughable courtship sent Mr. Collins to Charlotte who, unlike her friend, valued security over love. In short order, he transferred his attentions to the poor woman, proposing, as he had with Elizabeth, on the day of his introduction.

Charlotte accepted his offer without delay, as it afforded her the stable future she had sought. Elizabeth looked on the union with despair, unable to believe that marriage would make the man less self-absorbed, even though she clung to a small hope.

She started her morning with a leisurely stroll around Longbourn, hoping that immersing herself in nature might lift her gloomy spirits. Where this activity had always helped in the past, today’s exercise did not bring the sought-after result. Giving it up for a lost cause, she returned to the manor.

She entered the sitting room, the sadness pulling her shoulders down, to find her mother hard at work on a challenging needlework pattern. Beside her, involved in embroidery of her own, sat her elder sister, Jane, a friendly young woman regarded as the prettiest in Hertfordshire.

“What is the matter, Lizzy?” her sister asked as Elizabeth sank into a chair. “You seem upset about something.”

That Jane remarked on Elizabeth’s despair instead of her mother came as no surprise. Mrs. Bennet, although a loving mother to her children, was not a perceptive parent. She often chose to ignore, or refused to acknowledge, her daughters’ personal turmoil.

Her determination to see that each of them married well had her presenting them as early as probity allowed. To her credit, the Bennet offspring conducted themselves as they should, apart from Lydia.

At the tender age of fifteen, she rejected the responsibilities which accompanied her entrance into the Hertfordshire social circle, such as it was. The girl’s refusal to accept what she referred to as “the chains of society” caused much contention between mother and daughter.

In a mere moment, Jane perceived what might take Lydia hours or even days to discern, if she did at all. The two eldest Bennet sisters shared a closeness that extended to all aspects of their lives, including matters of the heart, openly discussing their successes and misfortunes.

“I was remembering happier occasions,” said Elizabeth, praying as she spoke that her mother would allow their recent disagreement to pass without comment.

“If you had accepted the offer of marriage from your father’s odious cousin,” said Mrs. Bennet, her voice rising with every word, “you would have no reason for sadness. Instead, I am forced to endure Mrs. Lucas’s smug satisfaction and listen to her bragging about the changes she plans when your father passes and the terms of Longbourn’s entailment come due. She must spend her evenings relishing the eviction she intends to fulfill without consideration for my grief at the loss of my husband.”

“But Mama,” said Elizabeth, “how could you want me to marry a man you hold such little regard for? And why are you so eager to force me into a relationship with someone like Mr. Collins, whom I could neither love nor find happiness with?”

“Am I selfish for wanting to remain in my home when your father is no longer with us?” replied Mrs. Bennet, her anger and frustration with Elizabeth rising once again to the fore. “Do you prefer to see me in the poorhouse, or is it your intent to laugh at seeing me begging for sustenance on the streets of London? With your father gone and Longbourn stolen, how am I to survive?”

“Believe me,” came a voice from the doorway. “I have no plans for passing from this life soon, although I will confess, sometimes the idea is not so distasteful.”

Mr. Bennet came into the room, wearing a look of amusement on his face. “Mrs. Bennet is still trying to convince you of my imminent demise, I see,” said he with a chuckle.

In response, Mrs. Bennet rose from her chair and left in a huff, all the while voicing complaints, none too quietly, about unsupportive husbands and ungrateful offspring.

“Papa,” chided his daughter, “you know how remarks like this upset her. Is it so difficult for you to hold your tongue? She is going to be angry for the remainder of the day and will look for some way to punish all of us.”

“Forgive me, Lizzy,” he replied. “I have a bad habit of disregarding your mother’s dire pronouncements, particularly those I deem most ridiculous. I do not go out  of  my way to upset her, but that seems the common effect when I try to add a bit of sense to the conversation.”

The entrance of Lydia and Kitty from the dining room interrupted Elizabeth’s reply. Following them, probably more by accident than design, was Mary.

Unlike their older sisters, neither of the two youngest Bennets rose early, preferring to lie abed until the morning was all but spent. As today saw them appear at barely a quarter of ten, Elizabeth knew there was a plan afoot. Her curiosity piqued, she waited for Lydia’s revelation.

“My two youngest and most insolent offspring,” said Mr. Bennet as he stepped aside for them to squeeze past him. “Followed by the daughter best known for her studious mien. I would bid you all good morning but, as usual, you are too late to celebrate the promise of this new day.”

“It is beautiful outside, so Kitty and I want to explore the estate’s trails,” Lydia replied, choosing to ignore her father’s gibe. “We think it’s a shame to remain inside when the weather is so pleasant and the joyful call of the birds so tempting.”

Elizabeth watched the two young girls as they waited for permission. Despite the accuracy of Lydia’s statement, for it was truly a wonderful day, she knew her sister’s explanation offered only the smallest portion of the truth, if it contained any at all.

Lydia, having discovered an attraction to the opposite sex, was determined to fully explore it. In her pursuit of this aim, she had voiced her excitement over the arrival of a regiment brimming, she believed, with dashing and gallant young men, that had taken up residence in Meryton.

Since their appearance, her imagination was filled with dreams of fearless officers defending her honor in duels to the death. The mere possibility of such an occurrence had her swooning over the possibilities and attempts to convince her otherwise failed to erase those images from her thoughts.

Although concerned over Lydia’s abilities to find trouble wherever it might hide, Elizabeth knew her father recognized this obvious wish to have free rein in the town, without the inconvenience of a controlling hand dampening her spirits.

Mr. Bennet said nothing, instead choosing to watch his youngest squirm in discomfort at his delay in answering. At last, when it appeared the girl would burst from anticipation, he spoke. “Would this walk include Meryton? I heard a rumor of a regiment newly posted there, and cannot help but wonder if you intend to go and throw yourselves at the attractive young men, whether such behavior is proper or not.”

He raised his hand to forestall her expected protestations of innocence and continued. “You may go, but only if Elizabeth is with you. If Jane wants to join you, even better. With her along, I won’t have to worry about the damage you are sure to inflict on the Bennet reputation as soon as you enter the town.”

Lydia opened her mouth as though to protest the edict. Her objection, though, died upon seeing the implacable resolve on her father’s countenance.

“I think we should ask your sister,” said Mr. Bennet, turning to Elizabeth. “Do you want to spend a few hours chasing your impudent sisters through Meryton?”

Elizabeth studied her siblings. The insolence that had bedeviled their parents since childhood danced in Lydia’s eyes. That attitude had caused their mother to wash her hands of the burden of discipline for her wildest child, passing the hopeless chore to Mr. Bennet. Beside her, Kitty wore the familiar placid expression which showed her readiness to follow her younger sister wherever she led. Blame for the resulting trouble, which rightfully belonged to Lydia, often attached itself to her.

Elizabeth knew that any trip to Meryton would cause unwanted attention, as Lydia resisted any attempts by her elder siblings to control her. Kitty would stand by in passive observation, content to follow the victor.

She contemplated refusing her father’s request, as she didn’t want to spend the entire afternoon chasing her sisters in her current state of mind. She opened her mouth to respond, but the sight of Mary watching their discussion, the common look of disapproval on her face, caught her attention.

“I will accompany them,” said Elizabeth to Kitty’s apparent delight, although the ends of Lydia’s mouth curled down. “But only if Mary agrees to come with us.”

“You have no need of my company,” responded Mary, raising her hands and stepping away from her father.

“The sinful activities that go on in Meryton disgust me,” responded Mary with a shake of her head. “I also have no desire to suffer my sister’s misguided notions of fun.”

“Why does Mary have to come with us?” came Lydia’s petulant whine. “She does nothing but lecture us on every sin we commit, which in her opinion includes the act of breathing. Her incessant preaching is tiresome.”

“You will behave yourselves,” stated Elizabeth, “or you can answer, first to me, and then to Papa when we return. Do you understand?” She directed her comment to Lydia, who nodded her agreement, although with little grace.

“But I don’t like going to Meryton,” insisted Mary, her head movements more determined, “and I tire of Lydia’s constant persecution. I prefer to spend my time studying and improving my musical skills.”

“It will do you good, child,” said Mr. Bennet, “to spend an afternoon with your sisters. Explore the neighborhood. I suspect you’ll have a good time.”

“Come with us,” urged Elizabeth. “We can see the newest fashions displayed in the shop windows and I love to examine the newest caps at the milliner. She lets me try them on while I dream of owning one.”

“I cannot wait to see Mary in a bonnet,” sneered Lydia. “She is so dowdy that even the prettiest will pale to drab insignificance on her.”

Kitty laughed, and Lydia soon joined. Mary, plainly hurt by the taunt, lowered her head in embarrassment and shame.

Elizabeth felt her heart would break as she watched Mary struggle to keep the tears in the corners of her eyes from spilling onto her cheeks. At this show of emotion, both Lydia and Kitty burst forth into new peals of laughter, taking delight in the hurt they caused.

The young woman knew well the heartache Mary suffered at the hands of her unfeeling sisters. It was not uncommon to find her in the garden, weeping after enduring cruel gibes from her heartless siblings. Though in their presence she acted like the hurtful comments didn’t bother her, Elizabeth saw the pain in her eyes.

Her impulse at these times was to put her arms around her sister and hold her. Out of love she did not, although her heart ached in sympathy with Mary’s desire to keep her sorrow hidden behind an outward appearance of nonchalance.

“Enough!” thundered Mr. Bennet, his voice brooking no disobedience. In shocked surprise, the room fell silent. Lydia and Kitty quieted, their mirth dying at the anger they saw on his face.

“Let me remind you,” said he, an ominous tone in his voice. “It is only with my permission that you may leave the house. If you want to visit Meryton at all, change your ways at once or stay at home with me while Mary and Elizabeth go. Do you understand, or should I plan your afternoon for you? There are no end of things I can find to occupy both of you. Mrs. Hill mentioned she saw weeds in the garden, or the scullery maids can always use help with the laundry.”

Silence ruled the group while Mr. Bennet waited for an argument from either girl. When both remained silent, he nodded his head. “That is better,” said he finally. “Mary is your sister and deserves your love and respect, not this continual mocking and derision.” Turning on his heel, he gave his daughter an affectionate wink before walking from the sitting room, leaving the girls alone.

“Please join us,” Elizabeth pleaded. “I don’t think they will repeat their behavior; if they do, Papa might never allow them off the estate again.”

“But nothing in town interests me,” insisted Mary. “If I come along, you are sure to regret your invitation. Nothing at the dressmaker’s appeals to me, or the thought of trying on new hats at the milliner.”

“What about Mrs. Phillips?” said Jane. “I know she would welcome your visit, as it has been quite a while since she last saw you. We can spend part of the afternoon with her.”

At the mention of her aunt, Mary’s countenance brightened, and her eyes rose to meet theirs. She drew a great breath and threw back her shoulders, as if preparing for battle.

“I will come with you,” said she, her voice firm with resolve. “But let’s go now, before I change my mind.”

Lydia and Kitty hurried to prepare themselves for the walk while the other three waited in the garden.

 

The sight of her father standing in the entrance hall, his visage once again wearing a placid expression, brought Elizabeth up short. The stern gaze which had so frightened her unruly sisters was gone, replaced now with the look of gentle mirth she knew so well.

“Is your anger gone?” she asked, somewhat hesitant to venture the question.

Mr. Bennet responded with a mild chuckle, as though the incident had already left his memory. “Forgive me,” said he, shoulders rising, “but it was necessary to remind both Kitty and Lydia of their place in this family. I regret showing my emotions and using that tone of voice, but I feel vindicated by the change it brought about. It is too much to hope that realizing the harm they do might inspire them to treat her with kindness, but let me have my dream.”

Elizabeth chuckled. “They will treat Mary with politeness, I promise. The shock you gave them should have both showing Mary some respect, if only for this one afternoon.”

“And I will help protect her from the scorn and contempt Lydia likes to heap on her,” said Jane. Her firm tone and the set of her mouth surprised both Elizabeth and her father, coming as it did from the gentlest of his five daughters.

“Make sure you watch them,” Mr. Bennet warned as they passed through the door to join the others waiting on the drive. “Lydia’s fascination with that regiment troubles me. She may choose to ignore your attempts to keep her away from them. Less than a minute of inattention is enough for her to slip away; the consequences of such an oversight might ruin the Bennet name and reputation. Don’t let her do something that might cause future problems for you and Jane.”

“I will not make that mistake,” promised Elizabeth. “Remember, Papa, we have Mary to help. I believe together we can keep them from finding trouble, no matter how hard they try.”

“I trust you, Lizzy,” said her father as she joined the group and led them to the roadway.

“Wait,” he called, halting them as they left the property. “Mrs. Bennet wanted me to remind you to stop at your aunt’s home. It will make your mother happy if you pay her a visit. Mrs. Phillips is fond of you.”

“We plan to call on her,” said Elizabeth with a wave as she resumed walking. “Tell Mama not to worry. We could not think of going to Meryton without stopping to visit.”

Elizabeth saw Mr. Bennet enter the house as they turned the corner. He would spend the day in the library, she knew. Her father was a creature of habit, and his love of the printed word took him to that room most days. The man would stay there until supper, unless an unavoidable issue demanded his attention.

With an inward laugh, she turned her attention to the road stretching in front of them. The afternoon was pleasant and Elizabeth, always mindful of the beauty of her environment and the sounds of the woodland creatures they encountered, lifted her face to bask in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

“What a glorious day,” said Jane as they walked. “Like you, I love our surroundings, but I must confess, not to the same extent.”

“How can you not appreciate this wonderful scenery?” Elizabeth exclaimed, sweeping her arm round about her to encompass the forest growing close on either side of the road, as if to protect them from unwanted intruders.

“Look at them,” said she, pointing at the oak trees they passed. “That is the prettiest shade of green I have ever seen, and it goes on for miles. The grass sprouting from the edge of the forest and continuing to the lane is so luxuriant it feels like a thick carpet, and the smell of the daisies is wonderful.

Jane laughed and shook her head, laying a hand on her sister’s arm. “While I agree with you, I rarely pay much attention to trees or plants, unless they are flowers Mrs. Hill picks to add some color in the sitting room. Forgive me, Lizzy, but I don’t prefer the outside like you. My interests tend to go in other directions, especially over the past few days.”

Elizabeth smiled at her sister, her memory returning to the previous week’s spring assembly and the newly installed tenant of Netherfield, an estate which had lain vacant for more than a few years.

“Does this interest extend to our newest neighbor, Mr. Charles Bingley?” asked she in an innocent tone of voice. “I saw the attention he paid you that night, which everyone in the building saw you returned in kind.”

“Your imagination suggests something that did not happen,” answered Jane with a smile. “Mr. Bingley was the perfect gentleman, who showed the same consideration to everyone.”

“You are correct,” agreed Elizabeth, “until Mr. Lucas introduced you. After that, he forgot about everyone else. Your beauty captivated the poor man.”

“You are mistaken,” insisted Jane. “He spent no more time with me than good manners would allow and as I recall, he danced with many partners.”

A soft laugh escaped her mouth and she turned to her sister, a smile tickling the ends of her lips.

“I am more interested in the attention you attracted from his handsome friend,” said she, stopping in the middle of the road, her hands resting on her hips. “More than one person mentioned his preoccupation with you.”

“They should learn to control their imaginations,” responded Elizabeth with a dismissive toss of her head. “As I recall, he considered me tolerable, which is not much of a compliment.”

With a laugh, she added, “You are the only person, in all of England if I had to guess, that could take such an insult and hear undying love in the words.”

Jane’s lips twisted up the tiniest bit at her sister’s jest. “If you insist,” said she, although the smile playing at the corners of her mouth suggested she was not about to forget this conversation.

“Nonetheless,” said Elizabeth, her nose lifting in dismissal of the man, “according to you, he left Mr. Bingley and returned to his home, so I doubt any interest he might have felt from our brief meeting will continue. But what about you? Poor Mr. Bingley is besotted, and I expect him to find some excuse to call on Papa in the next day or so, just to get another glimpse of you.

“You are placing too much importance on a simple introduction,” said Jane. “I have no claim on the man, and he showed no sign that he wants to further our acquaintance.”

Jane’s response pulled a cheerful laugh from her sister. “I would love to see the world through your eyes, if only for an hour. Only you would interpret his interest as mere politeness when everyone realized he was taken with you.”

“Nonsense,” came Jane’s reply, accompanied by the widening of her smile. “He was acting the part of a gentleman, nothing more.”

“Time will tell,” Elizabeth nodded and pointed at their youngest sister. “We can finish this discussion later. Meryton is just ahead and unless I take control of Lydia, she will abandon any bit of common sense she might possess once she catches sight of any man wearing a uniform.”