Image by Pexels from Pixabay

I seem to recall mentioning my intention to rewrite and improve one of my earliest publications, “Hidden Desires”. When I began, I thought, foolishly it would seem, that I could finish the modifications and get it published in time to mark the new year.

Today, I want to announce that I am fully committed to fulfilling that promise—twelve months later, but still in celebration of the dawn of 2025.

I’ll spare you the reasons for the delay. Let’s just say that my biggest, and ongoing, problem the past few months has been motivation. What with tearing my yard apart and putting in grass (which looks fantastic now), I set other, more important, responsibilities aside, thinking I would get back to them in a month or two.

Two months became four and the six, without any progress. It became easy to let my writing slide, while promising myself I would start again soon.

Well, soon escaped through an open window or door, it seems, and didn’t even offer a sympathetic goodbye as it left! But not to fear, I decided the time has come to focus on getting htis novel back in print (and eBook, of course). The plot is improved, with many of the holes in the narration patched and the dialogue more realistic.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixaba

Below is an short excerpt from the chapter I’m working on. In it, Mr. Bennet is discussing his concerns of Mary’s recent behavior and his worries she is taking after Lydia. She snuck off to Meryton the previous afternoon and thus far has refused to explain her subterfuge:

“He wanted to see you as soon as you came inside. If I were you, I would not keep him waiting. With his present mood, there is no telling how he might punish you if you delay.”

“I will, as soon as I have a bit of breakfast,” replied Elizabeth, turning toward the dining room with its promise of fresh scones and tea.

“Take my advice and go see him first,” answered Mrs. Bennet, taking hold of her needlework and bending to the task of pushing the needle through the fabric. “Your hunger can wait; I am not sure about your father.”

Elizabeth cast a longing glance at the dining room before heading in the opposite direction. She paused at the library entrance, its imposing door shut as if to shield its occupant from the cares of the world.

What does he want with me? How upset is he over Mary’s behavior? He cannot blame me for that. All I did was take her to Meryton once, since then she has gone with Lydia. Of course, I was the one who insisted she come, so it is possible he blames me for the way she changed.

What brought about such a difference? She has gone from a devout girl, who viewed the world as full of sin and needing her correcting influence, to one who sneaks away to Meryton late in the afternoon without asking permission. She acts more like Lydia every day.

Is this what has Papa so upset? He was concerned about her absence yesterday, but did not seem all that angry. Has he decided to punish me also? I cannot imagine that he would, but what other reason could he have for demanding my presence the minute I got home?

With a trembling hand she engaged the latch and pushed the door open far enough to poke her head into the room.

The sight of her father, seated at his desk with his head in his hands, shocked her. Slumping shoulders and the slackness in his eyes when he raised his head suggested weariness and disappointment, which the deep lines on his forehead did nothing to dispel.

“Mama said you wanted to see me,” said she to his beckoning wave, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

“Don’t stand there staring all day,” snapped he as she regarded his wretched appearance. “Come in or go away, but do something.”

Elizabeth nodded and moved forward, unease growing in her bosom. This room, where she came for solace and her father’s advice, now held an oppressive stillness, each of the floorboards she stepped on an creaking with an ominous echo.

Displeasure masked his face, the eyes narrowed, and his jaw set as he watched her cross the room. Her father’s unhappy mood filled the air, and Elizabeth clasped her trembling hands, her composure slipping under his piercing gaze.

“Mama said to come see you before I ate my breakfast,” said she, forcing a lightness into her voice that she did not feel.

Bennet lifted his gaze at the remark and turned his eyes on her. Out of habit she smiled, but the gesture seemed to deepen his sorrow, as his brows knitted together, and the ends of his mouth dropped to form a scowl.

“Sit,” said he, indicating the chair opposite him.  As she obeyed, he observed her in silence. A minute passed, then another, while a multitude of emotions played across his face, none lingering long enough for her to discern his thoughts.

Elizabeth shifted in her chair, then repeated the movement, but the furniture was not the source of her discomfort. The silence, along with her father’s obvious distress, weighed on her.

She inhaled, drawing the air to the bottom of her lungs and holding it as long as possible before letting it escape, hoping the sound was too quiet for him to hear. When her lungs emptied, she filled them again, using the action to calm her dismay at the agony she saw on his countenance.

“What was I supposed to do?” asked he, shaking his head and lowering it into his hands again.

“About what?” said Elizabeth, but he responded with another shake of his head, which deepened her concern.

“Talk to me, Papa,” pleaded she, a tickle of annoyance adding to her growing worry over his failure to reply. “Have I done something wrong? Is that why you wanted to see me? Tell me, so I can explain or make amends.”

Bennet lifted his head to look at her, his lips twisting in a crooked smile as he leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

“If not for your insistence that Mary accompany you to Meryton,” said he, shaking his head again, “we might have avoided this entire situation.”

Elizabeth shrugged and spread her hands in a gesture of innocence. “I asked her to come because I thought she needed to get outside and away from those books she reads. If I had to guess, I would say she has them memorized.”

“And at the time, I agreed with you,” was his reply, the dry laugh and shrug of his shoulders exposing his regret. “But the girl you brought back was not the same one who left the estate that morning.”

“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth, thinking back to that day and Lydia’s disappearance. “She is still the Mary I have always known, quick to judge and slow to forgive.”

Bennet sighed and leaned back in his chair. Taking a handkerchief from the desktop, he wiped it across his wet brow, removing the moisture before it ran down his face.

“I wish I knew,” he answered, his voice a monotone and his shoulders slumping again. “Since then, she has gone to town with Lydia almost every day and I doubt she had any difficulty convincing the foolish girl.”

Elizabeth nodded. “But I told you about that,” said she, unsure of her father’s thoughts on the matter. Was he going to punish her for the unintended consequences of her innocent suggestion?

“And as I recall, you were in favor of my idea. If you had said no, or offered any reason for her to stay home, we could have left without her. Remember, she refused the invitation at first. It took both of us to convince her.”

“I remember,” said he, spreading his hands in surrender. “The fault is mine. I never imagined Lydia might corrupt my pious middle daughter, but after yesterday, it seems I was mistaken.”

“What do you mean? Did you confront her about going to Meryton?”

Her father brought his hands to his face to give them a vigorous rub, as if trying to remove all traces of anguish, but the rounding of his shoulders betrayed him.

“I caught her on the stairs,” he mumbled through a heavy sigh, his eyes

“What did she say when you told her that I had seen her leaving the estate?”

Bennet laughed, a harsh and brittle sound that disturbed the previous quiet of the conversation. “I didn’t tell her. Her answer was such a barefaced lie that I sent her to her room, rather than lose my temper and rebuke her in plain sight of her mother and sisters.”

He shook his head, then gave a scornful laugh and raised tortured eyes to regard Elizabeth. “A lot of good that did me. I asked her this morning about taking the horse without permission. She denied doing any such thing, even when I told her I saw her leave and return.”

The misery on her father’s countenance took her aback and she struggled to find her voice. She cleared her throat and swallowed, then cleared it a second time before speaking.

“What do you mean? Did she act like her sister and deny the truth, despite the proof in front of her? Please tell me she didn’t laugh at the accusations and dismiss your attempts to correct her.”

Bennet raised his eyes and spread his lips, but the attempt to smile failed, the expression appearing more a grimace than a look of happiness.

“No, she didn’t. In fact, she refused to discuss the matter, despite my demands that she explain herself. She sat in that chair and said nothing for fifteen minutes, offering no explanation for her disappearance yesterday. Other than insisting I was mistaken, she refused to answer my questions.”

Elizabeth tilted her head and gazed at her father, who straightened in his chair and returned her inspection. “But you didn’t see her leave, Papa. If it were not for me, she would have returned without notice.”

For the first time since entering the room, she saw a genuine smile appear on his lips. A chuckle followed as a sly look came into his eyes.

“She doesn’t know I lied, and I have a good reason for that. I want you to uncover the truth she is so desperate to hide.” He chuckled again, but she heard a diabolical edge in the laugh, which changed to a frown in quick order.

“I cannot allow her to become another Lydia.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned on the desk. “One daughter like that is enough; two of them would drive me to Bedlam.”

Elizabeth nodded as a vision of her father, pounding on the doors of that infamous institution and demanding admittance, came unbidden to her mind.

“I’m not sure how much help I can offer,” she replied, fighting to hide her amusement. “If Mary doesn’t know that I was the one who told you, she will when she talks to her sister—Lydia will make sure of it.”

“That is why I want you to go and talk to her now, before that happens.”

“But what am I supposed to say? We have never been close, so why would she want my company now?“

Mr. Bennet shrugged, but with a sly grin. “Weren’t you the sister she asked to help improve her appearance?”

“Yes, but her choice was not easy. I offered to remake a couple of my dresses after I finished with her hair and face, but she thought it was better to wait, rather than making indiscriminate alterations to her clothing.”

Bennet turned to the desk and picked a scrap of lace from the surface. “It seems she is comfortable with the change,” said he, holding the delicate fabric between thumb and forefinger. “According to your sister, she needed this for a dress the two of you are sewing and had to get to Meryton before the shop closed for the day.”

Elizabeth took the piece from her father. She turned it over in her hands and rubbed it between her fingers, noting the vivid color and smooth feel of the scrap.

“I can talk to her, I guess. She might not answer any of my questions, or acknowledge my presence. You know how stubborn she is when she sets her mind to something.”

“Stubborn? That doesn’t sound like the Mary I know.” He chuckled, then let out a heavy sigh. “Please do your best to find out what she is up to. My future sanity depends on you, Lizzy.”

 

I hope you enjoyed this part of my story. With hard work and a bit of luck, I’ll have it out in a few weeks. Feel free to offer any suggestion, criticisms, etc. I appreciate your opinions.