Page 146 of Twice Chosen

Perhaps because he rode more. Perhaps because he laughed less bitterly. Perhaps there was no reason at all.

He remained at Longbourn into his seventies.

Mrs. Bennet continued declaring every mild illness fatal.

He survived them all.

One autumn Elizabeth stayed at Longbourn while Darcy traveled briefly to London. She found her father in the library, spectacles low on his nose, Kitty's original sketch still hanging above the desk.

"You keep it," she said.

Mr. Bennet looked up. "It is my house. Am I not permitted to keep pictures of it?"

Elizabeth smiled and sat across from him.

They spoke of the grandchildren. Mary. Lydia's latest letter. Whether Mrs. Bennet had really required a new drawing-room carpet or merely wanted one.

Then Mr. Bennet grew quiet.

"You always seemed older than the rest."

Elizabeth froze.

Her father smiled weakly. "Not in face."

"Papa."

"In patience. Eventually."

Elizabeth forced a laugh. "That is the first time anyone has accused me of that."

"Liar."

Her heart stopped.

He closed his eyes briefly.

"Whatever happened to you, Lizzy..."

Elizabeth leaned closer.

His voice was faint. "I am glad it did."

She cried for a long time after.

She never told him.

Perhaps she should have.

Perhaps not.

Some mysteries were a kindness.

Mr. Bennet died the following spring with all five daughters near him.

Mrs. Bennet survived him by seven years.

She complained about him nearly every day.