Page 22 of A Stronger Impulse
“Not even a request to pass the salt at the dinner table. Mama persists in calling him wrongheaded and unfair. She claims her innocence and that she has always been loyal. Most days, I believe her. But of course, he never would. I think Mama mostly hates us both now, though she was better to me when I was younger.”
“I am sorry, Lizzy.”
“I did not tell you this to gain your pity but so that you would understand about the book.”
“The book?”
Lizzy excused herself for a moment, retrieving the tissue-wrapped volume from her chamber, handing it to Georgiana for perusal. “It is a first-edition copy of the first part of The Pilgrim’s Progress, signed by its owner, Lady Sarah Ashley, in 1678. Lady Sarah was once a lady-in-waiting to Catherine of Braganza, queen to Charles II, and she is my paternal grandmother, several greats past. Mr Bennet is an avid reader, and I wished to be as well. However, I knew I was not welcome in his book-room, and for years, I would only read those volumes which I thought I could appropriate without his notice. As I grew older, though, my choices grew bolder. I even believed that he probably knew of my borrowings, deciding to say nothing about it—a tacit approval, if you will. One day in my sixteenth year, I slipped in to return ThePilgrim’s Progress to its shelf when I thought him away, only to have him clap his hand upon my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin, I tell you.”
Georgiana shivered, but Lizzy remembered something besides fear. It had been a small triumph, for even if he would chastise her, it would be an acknowledgement of sorts.
“Were you punished?” she whispered.
“No,” Lizzy said matter-of-factly. “But that night at dinner, the conversation—as most of my mother’s conversations tend to be—centred on potential husbands and settlements, for it is the business of her life to see her other daughters wed. Papa looked right at me and said to her, ‘As to your second daughter, ThePilgrim’s Progress is all the dowry she will get from me.’ I am uncertain if she even heard him, for she only looked at him absently and continued talking. But just before I departed for Ramsgate, he handed me the book, Lady Sarah’s book. I knew what he meant by it.”
“But…if he hates you, why give you a Bennet family heirloom? It might be quite valuable.”
Lizzy shrugged. “I suppose it was the easiest way to communicate my utter repudiation, without saying a word to me. And probably he despises The Pilgrim’s Progress.”
“I am sorry, Lizzy. You must…he must—”
“I loathe him,” Lizzy interrupted passionately. “I hate everything about him. I hate him, and I would wish he were dead—if it would not leave my mother and sisters homeless.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened, and Lizzy found a smile, if a rather grim one. “And now you know my greatest fault as well as my deepest secret.”
“All the more reason I wish you were treated as a proper guest of Darcy House instead of practically held prisoner here,” Georgiana replied.
“You are the dearest girl in the world. I can never go home, Georgie. My great hope for the future rests with Jane and Bingley. I thank you for taking me in at all.” She made a better attempt at a sincere smile. “We will be prisoners together.”
Georgiana reached over the stacks of folded clothing and took Lizzy’s cold hand. “Prisoners together,” she repeated.