Page 22 of The Sole Love

For the first time, his voice trembled.

“The son of our hosts. Harold.”

“Did you love him?”

“No…yes…I do not know. We were so young, and—”

“Did he force himself upon you?”

Mrs Bennet looked at him in shock.

“No.”

“Then why did you not marry him?”

“We never even discussed such a possibility. He was to marry shortly, as were we. It was stupid. It was nothing like the love described in novels. No. It simply happened.”

“It simply happened?”

His sarcasm returned with full force.

Then Mr Bennet remembered an April morning when Mr Gardiner and his son had come to Longbourn before setting out on a shooting expedition in the North. His wife was not expected to give birth for another couple of months, so he had gone with them. When they returned, Jane was already there.

She had been beautiful. Perfect.

They had told him the child had come early, which was hardly an extraordinary occurrence.

“We always treated her with enormous care because she came early. She was fragile. But in truth, you loved her more than any of our other children.”

“No!” Mrs Bennet cried. “You cannot say that. I forgot completely. I never thought of her as not being—”

“Mine.”

“I swear to you, it never came to mind. It was not important to me.”

“Well, madam, it is important to me. Not because of Jane, but because you lied to me for three-and-twenty years. Our marriage was founded upon a monstrous lie, and you sustained it every day…every year…until now.”

“It should never have arisen again. In truth, nobody can know for certain that Jane is not yours…she could simply have come early, as so many other children do.”

“She is the only one born at seven months,” Mr Bennet said with immense sadness.

“She still could be yours,” Mrs Bennet murmured.

Mr Bennet turned back towards the garden, looking at his wife only occasionally.

Then, suddenly, all colours left his face.

He sat down.

“My God.”

Mrs Bennet stared at him.

“That young man Jane likes could be her half-brother. That is why you told me.”

His anger vanished beneath something far more immediate: horror and concern.

“We shall leave for London immediately,” he said, his voice barely recognisable.