Beginning, Section II, Next Section

Author's Note: While writing this fan fiction, I discovered that I had to use other Jane Austen plots. Thus, in different parts of today's post, careful readers will notice that I have interwoven plots allusions to--and even borrowed some lines from--Mansfield Park and Persuasion.

Minuet ~ A Stately Dance to Bath

Town in the early spring was wet and dreary. There was not much amusement to be found other than the usual, and often, dining at Uncle Albert and Aunt Margaret's home, the frequent disputes with Colonel Fitzwilliam and, on more than one occasion, the presumptuous appearance of and conversation with Captain Grantley. By April, I had very well learned of the naval officer's character. His entire person was a cliché. He was what one could expect of a well-off young gentleman, sent off to the navy at a young age. He was handsome, wealthy, and responsible, to be sure, but he never said anything quite worth thinking over. There were occasions when he would say things that irritated my spirits, such as his notion of education and employment of young women, but still, these were only an expression of commonly held principles. I was not to be impressed by them. If what one said were original and unique, even the irritation of my sentiments would not effectively quell my interest. After all, I must acknowledge that there are two kinds of irritation-- One arouses positive curiosity, while the other extinguishes all attention and regard.

It was, therefore, of no small relief when May arrived, a pompous and glorious month, and the preparations for the trip to Bath finally promised of fruition. Kitty, who had been staying with the Bingleys was pleased to hear that at last, she would see the place. (Georgiana overcame her disappointment by becoming excited over her promised visit to see her good friends, the Delisles.) The town house, too, would soon be closed up for the spring to autumn months, as Fitz and Elizabeth prepared themselves for the return to Pemberley. Glorious Pemberley! How little I had thought of that haven these last few months! It would always wait faithfully for me, even though I was no longer its mistress.

How the Fitzwilliams managed at last to bring Kitty and me to Bath was exceptional, for the whirlwind of plans and orders had lost me far behind. It was not until the famous white glare of the city greeted us from outside the carriage window that I finally realized: we had arrived in Bath.

Uncle Albert informed us that he had hired lodgings at Sydney Place, a reputably beautiful and fashionable residence in the city. The mere fact that it was situated by the Sydney Gardens was a recommendation in itself. When Aunt Margaret told us that there were frequent concerts and illumination and fireworks in the evenings, Kitty and I could hardly contain our excitement--illumination shows hold numerous possibilities to the imagination. For a while, I felt nearly as giddy as a child.

As soon as we had settled comfortably in our rooms, Aunt Margaret brought us with her to meet her friend, her former governess, who had been a young, pretty Miss Cooper, but was now a matronly Mrs. Quarrie, suffering from gout. Had Aunt Catherine de Bourgh, with her fine notions of her ancestry, known of us seeking out a renewal of acquaintance with Aunt Margaret's former governess, she would have lectured us for a month. However, Lady Catherine did not trouble herself with us, not since Fitz and Elizabeth's wedding, and it pleased me greatly to know that Aunt Margaret was unlike her sister-in-law. She valued the good in people, and never forgot those who had been kind, patient, or generous to her.

Mrs. Quarrie was, by no means, in an impoverished state, despite her beginnings in society. She had married well--to a man whom she loved, and whom she could also depend on to provide a comfortable life. Mr. Quarrie had been a barrister and they had led a good living in London until three years ago, when Mr. Quarrie suddenly passed away. When the final testament was read by his partner of the firm, it was discovered that Mr. Quarrie had large investments and holdings of shares in several very profitable banks and companies, all of which were to be presented to his widow. Moreover, artworks and jewels that Mr. Quarrie had accumulated over the years, were all given to Mrs. Quarrie, and ordered to be auctioned, sold or kept as his widow pleased. In short, Mrs. Quarrie had become quite a wealthy woman, and with this new found wealth, and she could live independently for the rest of her life. Her present state of health gave her one perfect excuse to reside in Bath, the one and only place which she claimed she had "always dreamed of living in."

Although their union did not see the birth of any offspring, they were not considered childless. Mrs. Quarrie had a younger sister, who had am infant son. The sister died in childbirth, and the sister's husband, a lieutenant to the major, died shortly afterwards, in battle. In consequence, the child was given up to his paternal grandparents; but, it was through the finances and the love and care of the Quarries that had allowed the child to receive a good education and proper upbringing, and later on, to join the militia. On why the child had not been sent to the navy, Mrs. Quarrie explained, was that neither the Quarries, nor the child's grandparents approved of sacrificing his education at so early an age. They reasoned that should the child one day become a successful military officer, his education would still be necessary to his learning and quick thinking under stress.

"He has indeed benefited," observed Aunt Margaret.

"Indeed he does," said Mrs. Quarrie. "I know of no young man who is as good and generous as he is. And he has all the uprightness and intellect that all young people should have."

"Then there is truly one worthy young gentleman," said Aunt Margaret. I began to think the same.

"He is a great comfort to me. As I grow old, he often returns to be by my side," said Mrs. Quarrie with a serene expression on her face. "My little Davy is all that I have now, and he brings me the greatest joy. There is a little bit of my husband's noble thoughts in him too, I might add."

"Is he to return to Bath then?" asked Aunt Margaret. "It would be gratifying indeed to make acquaintance with him."

"Oh, that must all depend, Miss Margaret," said Mrs. Quarrie. "I do not know when he might come to see me. Very often, it is a surprise, because I tell him that surprises are delightful, like receiving pleasant gifts that were wished for, but not expected."

Bath promised of more delights than Kitty and I had anticipated. In the mornings, we accompanied Aunt Margaret and Uncle Albert to the Roman baths, where my uncle bathed for an hour. He confided that he was suffering from aching joints, and that it was what his surgeon had ordered for him to do. Meanwhile, my aunt, Kitty and I went to the Pump Rooms for a drink of the water. The water there was said to be beneficial to the bodily health, and we were eager to try it.

As for the rest of the morning, it was spent in socializing with different acquaintances in the Pump Room. It amazed me that there were so many of Aunt Margaret's acquaintances there. On some occasions, my aunt introduced us to her friends. Our relationship with her, the Countess of ________ certainly eased the introductions greatly.

During the late mornings, Kitty and I roamed the streets of the city. Perhaps one thing that struck us immensely was that the entire society there was entrenched in a consciousness of fashion. We took to walking, and looking, and shopping on Milsom Street, where we frequently made stops to enter shops and point out latest dresses and accessories.

On one occasion, Kitty showed me a delightful blue dress, hung alluringly at a shop window.

"Oh, do look at that, Viola," she said. "Look at the patterns on that dress. It looks almost like another layer of lace over it."

"I think it is muslin," I said, also admiring the same dress. "I have often tried to embroider such patterns at the hem, but they never turn out well."

"Shall we enter, to see it closely?"

I nodded, and we walked into the shop.

We stood there for a long while, still staring at the dress, when the shopkeeper came to us and asked whether there was anything she could do to help us.

"We would like to see the cost for this dress," said Kitty as calmly as she could, but I could see her eyes were shining with excitement.

The shopkeeper named the sum, a reasonable amount, but Kitty's expression fell. Immediately, I offered to buy it for her.

"I couldn't possibly," she said.

"Of course you can," I exclaimed. "I depend on treating you quite like my own younger sister, you know. I insist on buying the dress for you."

"Well, at least let me pay you back after," said Kitty.

"Thank you," I said, turning to the shopkeeper. "We will take this one."

"Would you not want to try it on first?" she asked uncertainly. "I can quickly make the necessary alterations." So saying, she showed us into an inner room, where I quickly urged Kitty to try on the dress.

It was too loose on her. The waistline sagged a little, and the tucks were not quite well in place. I suggested making adjustments.

"Never mind," Kitty said quickly, "It would not look quite well on me that way. But you have a well-formed figure. Why don't you try it?"

We followed that scheme and the dress did fit on me perfectly as if it had been tailored specifically to my measurements.

"Oh, do buy it for yourself then," exclaimed Kitty as we both looked into the mirror. "It is such a beautiful dress, and it brings out the blue in your eyes." She laughed. "I would have liked to have this dress, but the next best thing is that you had it."

"Yes," said the shopkeeper, "And it was just finished and displayed this morning. No one else has entered the store yet this morning but for you."

It was true that we had never seen the dress displayed at the window before today. The light blue silk of the inner layer could be seen through the soft, fine layer of muslin. The sleeves were cut just above the elbows, and were not trimmed with ridiculous decorations, but had little white-on-white embroidered designs. A simple, but delicate dress.

"Alright then, I will buy it," I said at last, giving way to temptation. "Will you wrap it up for me, please?"

Only the first of the assemblies we attended in the Upper rooms was loosely filled.

"The season here has not entirely picked up yet," said Aunt Margaret. "I suppose not all the important people have quite arrived."

"If you do not mind my saying so," said a Mrs. Sinclair, "You are one of our most important guests here so far."

Aunt Margaret did not expect this kind of praise and begged that she would not allude to it again. "We come here only to enjoy ourselves," she said. "And to show my niece and her friend the city. I do not intend to be treated specially."

"Certainly you do not," cooed Mrs. Sinclair. "And if I may say, there is a dashing young man just arrived yesterday who makes his entrance tonight. He has been here in previous seasons, you know, but he has just been promised the living in some village in Derbyshire, and he is still a single man."

"Does he come from a good family?" Aunt Margaret asked.

"Oh, a very good family indeed," Mrs. Sinclair said, greatly pleased to be asked. "What do you think of the name Clarence?"

"Oh, if you mean the Clarences of L______" said my aunt.

Her companion nodded her head furiously. "Of the direct branch of the family. A good fortune there, except that the gentleman come is a second son, and his older brother is already married. However, Felix Clarence is entitled to a small inheritance, you know."

"Indeed?" asked Aunt Margaret, casting humourous glances at me. I pretended to not notice. "Do you know the gentleman?"

"Yes, by my good fortune, I do," said Mrs. Sinclair, "And I shall seek an introduction for you." She excused herself to find Mr. Clarence and complete that very deed.

She soon returned with a well-looking man by her side. He was a young gentleman of no more than five and twenty, of average height, with light coloured hair, warm brown eyes, and a cheerful, dimpled smile. When he was a child, he must have been quite a cherub. I noted that he was immediately taken up with Kitty, and I did what I could to secure them some dances together.

For my part, I danced with some gentlemen whom I had met before in London. Some were interesting, some were earnest, but none could quite match both interest and earnestness together for a pleasing balance. I liked them all well enough, but where the acquaintance ended, I was perfectly happy to let it die.

At nine, a bell was rung, and we were summoned to the tea rooms for a light refreshment of sweetmeats and jellies.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" I asked Kitty as we assembled together.

She nodded, her face flushed. I understood.

"Mr. Clarence, he is very attentive to you," I said, looking over at where he was conversing with another gentleman. He was occasionally glancing our way, and smiled whenever he caught Kitty's eyes turned towards him.

"He is a very nice sort of gentleman," said Kitty. If it was at all possible, she looked even more flushed than before.

"And has he been entertaining you with interesting stories?" I asked teasingly.

"He is well-versed," said Kitty. "He told me all about his childhood and his younger sister."

I nodded in approval. "He has not tried to dull you with speeches and lectures, then?"

Kitty smiled. "Goodness, no indeed! One would never think that he would be taking orders in Kympton. Not that he is vulgar--Indeed, he is most well mannered--But he is very diverting."

I repeated the name to myself. Kympton--was that not the village near Lambton, in Derbyshire? Yes, it was. And luckily, it was not given to George Wickham as had been formerly planned by my poor father.

The evening rounded off at eleven, when the Fitzwilliam carriage arrived to take us back to Sydney Place. Riding home, we each of us sighed in our turns. Kitty was the most spirited and happy of us, and Uncle Albert the most disagreeable, through no fault of his own--The inflammation in his knee had bothered him all evening.

"I swear I will not attempt to attend another assembly again," he grunted in fatigue.

"Nonsense, Albert," said Aunt Margaret. "And do not swear. It sets an ill example for others."

[Letter from Colonel Richard M. Fitzwilliam, Rosings Park, Kent , to Miss Viola Darcy, Sydney Place, Bath.]

Viola,

Made a mad dash to Rosings Park. It was done on a whim, but now I am a happy, cheerful, good-natured man, for I am now back in Aunt Catherine's good books, and you understand what that must mean.

I left London quite in the shape that it is always in, with a few minor changes. You know Darcy and Mrs. Darcy have set off for Pemberley, and that the Bingleys are still in town. Miss Caroline Bingley, I did not see much of, but she appears to be disappointed in love. She is often with her consoling friend, Miss Grantley, but I wonder what kind of good that will do, considering it is Miss Grantley's brother who disappoints Miss Bingley. It is nothing very serious, and I put the stress on very, because what Captain Grantley has done, actually, is quite drastic. Let me rephrase: He has resigned his commission, and no longer serves the navy.

What sort of surprise this brings to you, I hardly know. I don't know enough of your feelings towards the man to discern your share of exclamations on this piece of news. I do not believe that Mr. Grantley will be poor without this employment. He does have his property in the West Indies to consider, and his family is believed to be quite well off. So, even without his former title, I do not think that should be any great hinder to his life. In fact, since he no longer needs to serve for the navy, he has perhaps even improved his life--or his chance of surviving longer on the face of this earth.

Why I tell you all this in this hurried manner is simply because Mr. Grantley expressed a wish to see Bath. I shall not tell you why. However, he has relations here, a cousin, I think, and a few friends and other connections. He does come, nonetheless, to Bath.

Col. Fitzwilliam. (With no inclinations, whatsoever, of doing something so remarkably silly as resigning my post.)

I grimaced. What was that letter all about? What Captain/Mr. Grantley did to himself was of no concern to me. My cousin really was getting to be unintelligible in the way he linked two separate pieces of news together. Rosings and Grantley--there was no relation!

"Would you like to go to the Theatre tonight?" asked Aunt Margaret. "The theatre is just the thing for me, I think. They are showing a play this evening. Shakespeare, I think."

"Which play?" I asked, as Kitty tried to hide her pout. (Unlike me, Kitty had no taste for Shakespeare, which was one, and luckily the only sad thing that I, so far, discovered about her.)

"Why, the one you like," said Aunt Margaret. "Hamlet."

"Oh, I must go and see it then," I said enthusiastically. The last time I had picked up the play was, unfortunately, in the Netherfield drawing room, when Elizabeth Darcy and I had been discussing books and reading. "Do we have the tickets?"

"There are three," said my aunt. "Your uncle does not want to go, and--" glancing in Kitty's direction--"it seems it is only you and me."

"What do we do with the third?" I asked.

"Oh, I suppose I shall give it away to someone, either Mrs. Sinclair, or Mrs. Quarrie."

"Please, do offer it to Mrs. Quarrie," I said. "There is not another acquaintance of yours in Bath whom I have found more agreeable."

"She did have a great tolerance for the theatre," said Aunt Margaret. "I don't know if she will want to go though."

"One's health should not interfere with one's leisure," I answered. "Please do ask and see if she will come, Aunt."

Mrs. Quarrie gave quick reply to our dispatched message. It was an acceptance of our invitation.

The actor playing Hamlet was magnificent. For a long while, I was in awe, and could not believe that he was not the melancholy Dane. As he delivered his speeches, surrendered himself to tears and passion, held up that skull, or fought Laertes to Ophelia's grave, I could feel shivers and thrills run through every part of my body and soul.

The night was ruined for me as we left the theatre.

We had met Captain/Mr. Grantley. He greeted us civilly, and was especially attentive towards Mrs. Quarrie. Mrs. Quarrie accepted his friendliness without exception and explained it all to us as our carriage took her home.

Mr. Grantley was her nephew's acquaintance.

[Excerpts of a letter from Miss Georgiana Darcy, Kendelwood Park, ____shire, to Miss Darcy, Sydney Place, Bath.]

...I am so glad that you are enjoying your time. I agree, that Mrs. Quarrie's nephew sounds quite secretive, and the friendship between Captain Grantley and this nephew sounds equally mysterious. I do not know what to make of it. I have not heard much from Caroline Bingley, and so, I cannot tell you what her views are towards Captain Grantley's resignation.

...There is some good news in certain quarters. Elizabeth wrote that a letter, a very brief epistle, was received from Aunt Catherine. It is almost certainly a congratulatory note to her and Fitz. You may imagine their surprise at receiving it, for I myself was surprised to hear about it.

...Yes, Kitty must enjoy her time. The assembly rooms sound simply splendid. The elegance astounds me. I should be quite jealous of your place if the Delisles were not quite so kind to me. My time here is always well spent with entertainment and useful employment...

Scherzo ~ A joke of a relation

"We wondered where you were," said Aunt Margaret taking her arm in a friendly way. "We were beginning to think something happened. Did you enjoy the theatre Tuesday night?"

"Oh, readily I did," said Mrs. Quarrie. "You know that I have always approved of Shakespeare." She sipped a bit of her glass of water. "But you shall know why I have not been here these past two days. I was bedridden, on account of my gout."

"Dear me," cried Aunt Margaret, "I hope you feel better today. You should have tried the roman baths."

"I was in such pain that I could not venture out of my own lodgings," explained Mrs. Quarrie. "It seems to have been less severe this morning, so my nephew and his friend drove me to the baths this morning, and now I do feel much better."

"Your nephew?" asked Aunt Margaret, as Kitty and I eyed each other in interest. "Has he come to Bath at last?"

"Yes, Davy arrived at Queen Square, yesterday afternoon. We met his friend on Tuesday night, if you recall, on our way from the theatre."

We nodded. "I would be gratified to meet your nephew," said Aunt Margaret. "He has done much good things for you."

"I shall. I have always wanted for you to meet him," agreed Mrs. Quarrie. "Why do you not all come to Queen Square this afternoon? I will admit that it is not expected to be as fashionable as Sydney Gardens, but I believe it is a pretty, respectable place."

We were eager to accept the invitation.

Aunt Margaret handed the butler a card and we waited at the door until we were shown in. The door of the drawing room was opened, and the butler announced our names,

"Lady Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy, and Miss Bennet."

We were instantly greeted by a cheery, bright room, tastefully decorated with watercolours of the river Avon, and of paintings of circuses and other Bath recreation. However, as my eyes quickly scanned the different artworks hanging on the walls, they were arrested on no other gentleman but Captain Denny!

"Lady Fitzwilliam," said Mrs. Quarrie, introducing us, "This is my nephew David."

"We have met before," said Aunt Margaret graciously to Mrs. Quarrie's surprise, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance again, Captain Denny."

"Then you have all known each other from before," said Mrs. Quarrie, clapping her hands together in rapture. "I am so glad. And you have met Mr. Grantley here. This is his sister, Miss Grantley. You have met her also? Oh, then we can all be good friends."

"Yes, without the trouble of introductions," said Captain Denny, gazing at each of us. I looked uncertainly at Kitty, but she seemed not to be affected by him at all.

We soon collected in our own arrangements, Aunt Margaret sitting with her friend, and the rest of us gathered in a circle by the sofas and the sewing table.

"I have seen very little of you," said Miss Grantley to Kitty as she picked up some needlework. "It is a nice surprise to see you here in Bath."

"The last time we met was in London, I believe," said Kitty.

"Ah, Miss Darcy," said Miss Grantley, turning now towards me, "I do long to hear you play. Your fingers are really quite exceptional, and so Miss Bingley writes to me."

"Miss Bingley exaggerates my talents," I said, trying to like her despite her relations and acquaintances. "I consider myself the commonest of all performers."

"If I had received the chance to learn, I am sure I could not have played as well as you," continued Miss Grantley.

"Ah, Miss Darcy is unusually modest," said her brother. "She does not wish to acknowledge her many talents."

"You do not need to praise me," I said, casting a glance towards him. "I do not deserve such compliments, and I do not have many talents."

"Miss Darcy is not just modest, she is humble," cried Mr. Grantley, immensely enjoying himself. "She dances, plays, draws, and reads. Tell me, did you enjoy the play Tuesday night?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Captain Denny start, but I answered as carefully as I could, "I have always liked Hamlet."

"It was especially touching when Hamlet jumped into Ophelia's grave," said Mr. Grantley, leaning towards me as he spoke. "I thought it was quite melodramatic but sincere."

"What epigrams you speak," I exclaimed, distancing myself. "I do not see how 'melodramatic' and 'sincere' can quite go in the same phrase with the same meaning."

"Perhaps you were not so touched as I was, then," he answered with a smile on his face. "Tell me, are there other Shakespeare plays which you enjoy greatly?"

"Oh, let us not discuss plays, they are so very dull," said Miss Grantley, in interruption. "Miss Bennet and I have no footing at all in this conversation"--wherein, her brother told her nicely to begin a conversation elsewhere.

"As I was saying," said Mr. Grantley, "Why do you not like other Shakespeare plays?"

"I have not said that I don't like others."

"Then is there another particular one you do like?"

"The comedies," I answered.

"The comedies?" he repeated.

I drew my chin up. "Is it so remarkable that I should? I know, it does not sound entirely scholarly, but I do like the comedies."

"No, Miss Darcy, I do not reprimand you. I only express my surprise. Do not a good speech please you more instead?"

"I do not think one ought to assume that Miss Darcy does not enjoy a good speech because she professes a preference for comedies," spoke Captain Denny suddenly. "Comedies are witty, and beneath the humour, there is a lot of depth and truth to its words. Moreover, speeches are by no means rare in a comedy."

"And I like them for their ability to point out our weaknesses and faults," I added, "And for its ability to make things all right despite many misunderstandings."

"That is present in all the plays," said Mr. Grantley. "What else can you say in defence of your thesis?"

"Comedies are the most likely plays to drive its point home. Do not think that the general public would understand enough to enjoy a play of great depths without first studying it--and comedies require the least study."

"And yet, you like Hamlet?" Mr. Grantley persisted.

"We are all paradoxes, Mr. Grantley," I said at last. "What sort of uniformity can be found in humans?"

"None, perhaps, in the fair sex, but we have plenty of constancy in ours."

"I would quite disagree with you," I exclaimed. "I do not believe women deserve such censure. We are not born inconstant, as you imply. It is the society formed by men that fashions us into the dependent individuals that we are today." I paused. "What I mean to say is, we are all equal in the beginning, but depending on our upbringing and the society in which we are brought, we become what we are; this society is so entirely oriented towards male education and male employment that we women hardly have a place to stand but in the home."

"I shall not dispute with you today," said Mr. Grantley, sitting back. "You are determined to disagree with everything I say today."

"I do not disagree on account of the speaker, merely the words spoken," I answered. "But I am glad this conversation is ended. No discussions between us ever do any good for either party."

"It is unfortunate that we have not a pianoforté here," remarked Mr. Grantley by way of changing the subject.

Captain Denny, who had been silent during the last exchange, now stood up. "Does anyone wish to take a walk through town?" he asked.

A walking party was quickly formed between us, the youths. I took care to not walk with Mr. Grantley or Captain Denny. Of course, the former was done much more out of feeling, and the latter out of my sense of pride and propriety, but I could not forget that Captain Denny had come to my defence once.

Little of the Grantleys was seen the next day. However, as I was seated in the lounge of the lending library one afternoon, I heard the voices of the brother and sister discussing something in hushed voices between bookshelves, soft enough to know that they did not wish to be heard, but loud enough for quick ears to pick up the conversation.

"How do you think I mean to amuse myself, Mary, on the days that I spend here?" Mr. Grantley was saying. "I have a plan for the intermediate days, and what do you think it is?"

"To walk and ride with me, to be sure," Miss Grantley answered.

"Not exactly, though I shall be happy to do both, but that would be exercise only to my body, and I must take care of my mind. Besides, that would be all recreation and indulgence, without wholesome labour, and I do not like to eat the bread of idleness."

I could not help smirking at that remark. This he says, and coming from he who resigned from the navy?

"No," continued Mr. Grantley. The next thing that he said quite shocked me. "My plan is to make Viola Darcy in love with me."

"Viola Darcy!" his sister exclaimed, as if echoing my silent sentiments. "Nonsense! No, no. You ought to be satisfied with Caroline Bingley."

"But I cannot be satisfied without Viola Darcy, without making a small hole in her heart." There was a pause as I heard the sound of a book pages being flipped. "You do not seem properly aware of her claims to notice. When we talked with her at Queen Square, you none of you seemed sensible of the wonderful improvement in her looks. She is quite a different creature now that she is in Bath. In town, she was merely a common looking girl with very regular features, but now, she is absolutely pretty. There is a decided beauty in her."

"Phoo! Phoo! This is only because there were no other women to compare her with, and because she has got a new gown and fan, and you never saw her so well dressed before," laughed Miss Grantley gaily. I heard the sound of something drop, and then a rustle of fabrics as she presumably picked up the item from the ground. "The truth is," she continued, "that she was the only healthy, unengaged girl in company for you to notice, and you must have a somebody. I have thought her pretty--not strikingly pretty like her sister, but 'pretty enough' as people say; a sort of beauty that grows on one. Her eyes should be hazel, but she has a sweet smile. But"--and here, she laughed again--"you have nobody else to look at but her, and therefore, if you do set about a flirtation with her, you never will persuade me that it is in compliment of her looks, and that it proceeds from anything but your idleness and folly."

"I do not quite know what to make of Miss Darcy," said Mr. Grantley after another pause in the conversation. "I do not understand her. Is she solemn? Is she queer? Is she prudish? Why did she draw back and look so grave at me? I was never so long in company with a girl in my life--trying to entertain her--and succeed so ill! Her looks say, 'I will not like you, I am determined not to like you,' and I say, she shall."

"Foolish fellow!" cried his sister in delight, "And so that is her attraction after all! That is what makes her 'absolutely pretty' and cause her the 'great improvement in her looks'. I will not have you plunge her deep, for I dare say she is as good a little creature as ever lived."

"It can be but for a fortnight," said Mr. Grantley, "And if a fortnight can kill her, she must have a constitution which nothing could save, and you understand that she is a proud, stubborn Darcy. No, I will not do her any harm, Mary. I only want her to look on me, to give me smiles as well as blushes, to keep a chair for me by herself wherever we are, and be all happy animation when I take it and talk to her."

"In short," interrupted Miss Grantley, "You want her to try to keep you longer in Bath, and feel, when you go away, that she shall never be happy again."

"I want nothing more," agreed Mr. Grantley.

I had heard enough of their conversation to sicken me. Gathering my purse and fan with me, I quickly and soundlessly left the building.

Hornpipe ~ Last Chance at the Ball

At the close of a fortnight, a ball was heralded for the Upper Rooms. It was to be something much more lavish than the assemblies that we had hitherto attended, and for days, fashion became a great matter of discussion.

Kitty, as we dressed in my room, was humming a little melody in her head.

"Mr. Beveridge's Maggot," I said immediately.

"Oh yes," answered Kitty. "I like that dance. I hardly know why I remember it though. It was never played at the last assembly."

"It was the first one that Fitz and Elizabeth danced to," I added with a smile of recollection. How antagonistic towards each other they were at the time!

"At Netherfield, you mean?" asked Kitty, experimenting with a necklace. "Do you think this looks quite right?" I shook my head and she put it down, rummaging for another one. "I remember Lydia and I were at odds with one another at the Netherfield ball. You will never guess that we had set our hearts on dancing with Mr. Wickham. Of course, I would not have been so eager had I known of his character."

I started a bit.

"Oh, I mean, his character in permitting him to elope, and justifying it," said Kitty, watching me struggle with the clasp of my dress. "I do not think any proper gentleman would do such a thing. It hasn't done Lydia any harm in the end, but I think Mr. Wickham should have known better than to take Lydia with him to London like that."

"All is past," I said, relieved that it had nothing to do with Georgiana's reputation, "And it worked out for the better, as you have said. Let us not dwell further on that." Kitty helped me fasten the hook at the back of the dress and smoothed out the front.

"There, that looks quite beautiful," she said, standing back. "If neither Mr. Grantley nor Captain Denny pays you any attention, then they are simpletons indeed."

Smiling a little, I told her never to mention their names again.

The maid came in with two nosegays, each addressed to us.

"These came from...oh, they are from Uncle Albert," I said, reading the card that came with it. I laughed. "What a dear thing for him to do. I suppose he feared that we should be quite indecorous and unfashionable if we did not carry these."

"Fans seem to be more greatly favoured," Kitty observed dubiously. "I do not know of anyone so far who has carried nosegays to a Bath assembly."

"Oh, they shall be fashionable as soon as we attend the ball tonight with them," I said, picking a rose from the bunch and fastening it into my hair.

"Can you do that for me too?" asked Kitty, eyeing my action. I assented readily, and picked another rose out of my nosegay and nestled it into the curls of her brown hair.

"You know, Kitty," I observed, "We could nearly pass for sisters now. We have the same hair, the same flowers, and move in the same circle."

"You are taller than me, and your hair is a shade darker than mines," Kitty said, but she smiled. "But, I feel as though we were sisters, you and I. I have nearly as much fun and entertainment with you as I did with Lydia, except, of course, my time with you is much more rational and calm."

"That makes me sound rather dull and old," I said, pretending to frown. "Are you implying that I am too old for you, that I am quite a spinster and should not be harrowing your lively youth with my presence?"

"Oh, Viola, that is not what I meant!"

"I know that, my dear. I was only teasing a little." I pulled out my watch from my purse. "Dear, it is five thirty. The ball starts at six o'clock. I wonder if Aunt Margaret is ready for us. You know, they are starting the ball with the minuets and court dances, and I believe I like those best."

"For my part, though," Kitty was saying, "I like a lively country dance. It is the more fun to watch and the best to participate in."

"Has Mr. Clarence secured his first two dances with you?" I teased.

Kitty blushed. "He leaves tomorrow for Kympton."

"That should be no obstacle," I said. "On driving to Pemberley from the village of Lambton, one is sure to pass by Kympton. If we have a proper chaperone, such as Fitz, I am sure we may call on the parsonage."

"I do not think he means much by his attentions to me," said Kitty. "I have noticed that in Bath, any number of ladies and gentlemen will pay their regard to you, and no sooner has one turned one's back, the recollection of the meeting is gone entirely."

"Gone, only until the next social gathering," I corrected her. "In any case, you may be joyous over Mr. Clarence's attentions, even if it is only to last until the end of tonight. Meanwhile, I have to dance the first two dances with Mr. Grantley, which will be intolerable, and there is no way out of it."

"Why do you dislike Mr. Grantley?" asked Kitty. "What is there to disapprove of him? He is in a good disposition and has charming manners and style."

"There is more to a person than their style or their disposition. I have a great objection to his character. He indulges too much in his own idleness and vanity. What other reason could there possibly be for his departure from the navy? It can hardly be the action of a sensible man."

"If that alone is the only cause of your dislike of him"--Kitty began.

"As I have said. He indulges his vanity too greatly. Mr. Grantley is the sort of man who holds little value to the merits and importance of the human condition." I linked arms with Kitty. "And that is a sorrowful flaw of character indeed. Come, shall we go to see if my aunt is ready?"

Kitty reluctantly nodded her head. "I must thank Lord Albert for the flowers also."

The Upper Rooms were filled with people. We were introduced to the Earl of Mamesborough and his wife; the Honourable Francis Knight and his family; Lady Gilford of Glowervale and her sons; and too many others for me to remember. It was the largest ball that I had ever attended, and the number of guests to whom I was introduced astounded me. Not many there had heard of Pemberley, and I had to be introduced as "Lady Fitzwilliam's niece". For Kitty, it was worse, for she was in the awkward position--She had to be introduced as --"a younger sister-in-law of Lady Fitzwilliam's nephew Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Derbyshire."

"And you are Fitzwilliam Darcy's sister then?" asked Lady Gilford. She had, standing by her side, her second son, a man of thirty. He was very plain--so plain that he could nearly have been called ugly--but he had a pleasing smile, and the fact that he did not put up airs as being the second son of a viscount impressed me tolerably. After the excruciating two dances with Mr. Grantley, it was refreshing to dance with the Honourable Clement Gilford, and then with his younger brother, Aidan. None of the Gilfords, I saw, were very handsome--It was the large, hooked nose that did the trick really--but they were all charming and witty in their own ways, so that I really felt no awkwardness with them. They were also quite at ease with me, though why, I hardly know. Perhaps because the Darcy name seemed to have little importance in Bath was one of the benefits of that. Another thing was that because they were younger sons, they had evidently more ease in associating with different people. If they had been the heirs to the Viscount of Glowervale, I am certain that they would not have had the liberty to weave about the company and converse with anyone they pleased throughout the ball.

By eight o'clock, the dances had progressed to a lively tempo of the country dances, and Kitty and I joined the same sets with our partners. Aunt Fitzwilliam did not join us, preferring instead to chat with her friends. I saw that despite her gout, Mrs. Quarrie had taken the efforts to come. She was now sitting along the side with her nephew nearby. He did not dance, in order to better attend to his aunt. Once or twice, on passing other couples in the set, I heard young ladies whisper amongst themselves and discuss the appearance of, "Mrs. Quarrie's handsome, mysterious nephew."

Supper of cold chicken, light soup and various other refreshments were served at nine. Grateful for the break--I had not been able to sit out for any of the dances yet--I hurried over to the punch table.

"Allow me to help," said Mr. Grantley, rushing by my side.

"Thank you," I said, wanting to keep the conversation as brief as possible. I had no desire to have myself wooed and won over by a man who would not have otherwise set interest on me had I not been some unattainable parcel to him.

"I see that the dances have tired you," he said.

"I have not sat out for any," I pointed out.

"Well, perhaps now, there will be quality time for rest and talk," he said, handing me the glass.

I took it from him and thanked him politely. However, inside, I was hollering to have him go away.

"May I compliment you on your gown," said Mr. Grantley. "It looks very well on you."

"Thank you," I answered. Quickly, I changed the subject. "I have not had an opportunity to see Miss Grantley. Did she not attend tonight?"

"Oh, of course she has come," said Mr. Grantley, "Mary would not miss the chance for being here. I do not think she would be satisfied to miss a ball such as this."

"Unfortunately I have not had the chance to meet with her tonight," I said. "Perhaps later tonight, I will seek her out."

"We speak of her, and here she comes," said Mr. Grantley. "Perhaps she looks for a glass of punch as well."

"Ah, Henry, here you are," exclaimed his sister, coming up to us. "Here is where you have run off to. Miss Darcy, I am heartily content to see you. What an enchanting dress you have on tonight. I can see that it is new. Tell me, was it tailor made? You must tell me who the seamstress is."

"It is bought from a store on Milsom Street," I corrected her, hoping to silence her on that subject.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Oh! bought from a store! Certainly some alterations had to be made to it?"

"No alterations were made."

"Hmmm," she mused, turning me round. "It does fit you well. But then, you do have such natural grace. You know, your dress would indeed look to be a perfection with an appropriate necklace. You should have called on me this morning, for I can think of the perfect chain and diamond to go with."

"I could not have possibly done that," I said, "My aunt does not approve of one wearing pearls or diamonds in the morning."

Miss Grantley's expression did not at all falter. She merely laughed. Taking her brother by the arm, she said, "And now, Henry, I think we must attend ourselves to the table. I believe our seats have been assigned to us." I did not like the way she had eyed me over and talked to me in an excessively friendly way, and for a moment, I felt as though I had just been conversing with Caroline Bingley.

It may be attributed to providence, for at supper, I sat with Aunt Margaret and Kitty at the same table as Mrs. Quarrie and her nephew, and the Gilfords. Lucky relief in some aspects, and anxieties in others. I shocked myself a bit by noticing that Captain Denny had shaved his ridiculous moustache away--funny that I had not seen that before--and now looked more like a part of Bath society. Perhaps if I had not been so occupied with avoiding him at Queen Square, I may have noticed more.

"How long do you intend to stay in Bath?" I asked him when I at last gathered the nerves to speak to him. As he was seated at my left, conversation could not be avoided unless I wished to appear uncivil.

"I stay as long as my aunt needs me," said Captain Denny. "I have the written leave of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I do not think that at the moment, I am needed for any duties."

"Have you found your duties much changed, or more burdensome, now that you are a captain?" As soon as I said the question, the stupidity of it was instantaneously apparent, and I flushed. (Why could I not be more calm and practical in these situations?)

"Certainly. I have more responsibilities."

There was an awkward pause, as I could not think of what else to say.

"Your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam was quite well when I last left him," said Captain Denny. "But he told me that he too was taking a momentary leave, to visit his relatives in Kent. Does he go there often?"

"Frequently, yes."

"I believe you have extensive amount of relations there as well. I have heard it mentioned that you often go to Kent for visits and holidays."

I laughed a little. "I have an aunt and cousin there, the same ones as Colonel Fitzwilliam's. My aunt is very demanding and controlling, and likes to have us with her as much as possible, but recently, she has taken more to Colonel Fitzwilliam than myself." I paused. "I was there two Christmases ago."

He paused before answering. "Yes," he said to my surprise. "I know." On noting the wonder on my face, he added, "Miss Bingley told me that you had left."

"Miss Bingley?" I repeated. "Did she tell you that my Aunt had wanted me directly?"

There was another pause. "Yes, but she told me something more."

I waited for him to continue.

"She told me that you wanted to leave Hertfordshire, and to never return again."

"She told you that?" I exclaimed. "What else did she say?"

"Oh, I shall not repeat it again, for it was so long ago," he answered with a laugh, though he did not look merry. "Moreover, circumstances have quite changed since that day. Is your family in good health?"

I would have pressed the matter further, but he had so effectively extinguished all chance of inquiry, that I replied to his question instead. Lady Gilford called to me from across the table, and I had to attend to her inquiries about my brother and sister, and about Pemberley, "which I have just learned from Lady Fitzwilliam is your country home." I tried to be as pleasant as possible to her ladyship and her sons, but the curiosity within me that concerned Captain Denny's visit to Netherfield was almost too much to bear clandestinely.

When the dancing resumed, Mrs. Quarrie immediately pressed her nephew to dance. "I will not have you hanging by my side like an awkward boy," she pretended to scold him. "You must dance."

"Oh yes, do look at all the young ladies who are want of a partner," said Aunt Margaret without a pause, "It would appear quite improper if a young gentleman, especially an officer, were not to dance at least one dance."

Captain Denny took the cue and turned to me, with a gesture of the hand, which bore no mistaking that he was asking me to dance with him.

He spoke with surprising ease. "Have you had a chance to visit the lending libraries here?" he asked, leading me into the set, and thus launched a pleasant conversation on books, art, and music. I discovered that he liked Hamlet because of its complexities and the play within the play; that he knew very little about art except for what he liked, and that was the landscape paintings of John Constable; and that as a child, he had had a little training in music, namely that his uncle Mr. Quarrie gave him lessons on the violin, but by the age of fourteen, he had given up entirely due to his uncle's ailing health. He could still read music, and sometimes sang and took charge of the military band, but that was all his modest talent could allow for.

I knew that he had not just said those things to please me, for he could truly quote from Hamlet--the little speech expressing the wonder and awe of man, and hummed some tunes of Beethoven that he especially liked.

"Beethoven is a difficult person though, I believe," he said. "Some of the more musical men in my barracks believe that it is because he is German, but I think it is because he has the true genius' temperament. We shall hear many more great things from him in the years to come."

"You know so much about music, despite the length of your musical education," I observed.

"You expected an army officer to know very little of the craft, you mean."

I blushed and admitted that that had indeed been what I thought.

"Well, it's no matter of gravity," he said. "I will allow for it, for I must own to be one of the least talented of all men. I am not exactly one of those who can be readily called a gentleman since I do not have other talents or employments, besides what I do now, and I do not think officers will always be acceptable in society."

"That cannot be true," I disagreed, "Society look to you men as heroes. And to women who do not have fathers, brothers or husbands fighting a war, you are not savages, but something more than heroes, for through your sacrifices, their men may remain at home in security."

"Do you speak with the voice of society?" asked Captain Denny with a wry smile.

"Yes, I think I do. Good society, that is."

At the conclusion of the second dance, he walked me to a chair by the side and it seemed to me that he had interest in continuing our conversation. I felt all the more eager to pursue the same.

"I have been here in Bath for more than a fortnight and yet I have still to attend a concert," he said with a little laugh. "Tell me, Miss Darcy, are there any performances which you can recommend to me?"

There was no mistaking his meaning, and I was about to reply that my uncle would be taking us to hear a string ensemble perform Mozart when I felt another person steal up behind us

"Good evening again, Miss Darcy," said Mr Grantley with a bow. I felt Captain Denny's eyes on us, and it was a look of both amazement and distrust.

"Mr. Grantley, we meet again," I said, trying to figure out how to extricate myself from a tête-à-tête with Mr. Grantley. "Captain Denny and I were just discussing the concerts in Bath."

"Ah, Captain Denny, you take an interest in music?" said Mr. Grantley.

Captain Denny nodded. "I once took lessons in music, and have always had the highest respect for it."

"That, I never heard you mention before," commented Mr. Grantley. "Colonel Fitzwilliam himself is not a musical man and quite declared to me that none of his men were either."

"I do not see how music and the army cannot go hand in hand," said Captain Denny. "From my experience, the two are certainly quite compatible together."

"I suppose if I were to play any instrument, it would be the pianoforté," said Mr. Grantley. "That, I believe, if I am not mistaken, is the only instrument permits the performance of two players simultaneously. But I have never had the benefit of music lessons, and so I must admit myself to be quite 'tone deaf', as one would say. Do you not agree, Miss Darcy?"

I was horrified by this undue remark crafted so specifically for me. "I do not know what you allude to, Mr. Grantley, but I have never been in company with you long enough to determine whether such was really the case."

"You are entirely too modest, Miss Darcy," said Mr. Grantley, practically purring. "Perhaps some day, you shall teach me something about music."

I jumped away from him. Turning quickly to Captain Denny, who had developed a curiously hardened expression on his face, I said carefully, "Concerning concerts in Bath, there will be a delightful performance in the assembly room tomorrow evening, which my uncle intends to bring Miss Bennet and me to hear. It is to be a string quartet, playing chamber music by Mozart."

"I wish you a good time tomorrow evening then," said Captain Denny, the look on his face of withdrawal.

"I think I must go. My aunt may be quite tired now," he added, not waiting for my next words. "Good evening to you, Miss Darcy." As he spoke, I felt an axe had severed a tie between us, yet again. Did he--Good Lord--surely Captain Denny could not be jealous of Mr. Grantley? I had to think of some kind of remedy quickly.

"Are you leaving already?" I asked, with my face flushed, and trying to not sound eager. "Will you not stay for one more dance? The musicians will be wounding down the tempo. The Hornpipe by Handel is to be the next one. Is that not worth staying for?"

He stood for a moment, looking from Mr. Grantley to me uncertainly.

"No," he said at last, casting a glance towards Mr. Grantley's direction. "There is nothing worth staying for." And with that, he turned on his heels to find his aunt.

Accelerando, then Ritardando

"My brother left Bath yesterday for Charlescombe, you know," said Miss Grantley taking me by the arm in a friendly way as she followed Kitty and me on our walk. Kitty and I had hoped to ramble to Becon Hill, which overlooked a pretty, green valley. "He had hoped to call on you, but you had all left for a concert. However, he wishes to assure you that he will return tonight in time for the fireworks and illumination show."

"He was soon tired of the place, was he?" I asked. "I never knew any gentlemen to tire of one scenery."

"Ah, he does not tire of the scenery, I can assure you."

"Then it must be because Bath does not afford him the pleasure and diversion which he sought for in coming. A watering place is not much of an entertainment, I must own, for a man who has served in the navy before. The fountains and rivers must seem a sad counterfeit beside his remembrance of the seas and oceans," I said nonchalantly.

"If that is so, Henry certainly has never told me," she answered. "For my part, I do believe there are unheralded benefits and advantages to Bath. I cannot think of any other place at the present time that quite brings up my spirits as much."

"Bath shall be very pretty if the meadowland next to Sydney Place is truly developed into the hexagonal gardens," Miss Grantley continued.

"There is ample amount of diversion in Sydney Gardens already," I replied. "It would be unnecessary to create more. It would destroy the meadowland."

"Oh, I do not think so. There could never be too much entertainment in Bath," said Miss Grantley. "Only yesterday morning, I was looking for some kind of employment of my time. My brother Henry was so good as to take me to the Pavilion, but that was all we did the rest of the day."

"How unfortunate--I have not yet failed to find amusements for myself."

"You are resourceful then, Miss Darcy."

"No, I am self-sufficient, and happy to remain so, and that is all."

"Oh, we are here," exclaimed Kitty as we slowly trudged up the slope. "At last we are here. I wonder how much of the view we can see from here." Laughing, Kitty and I raced each other to see who would first arrive at the peak.

We had stood there more quite some time before Miss Grantley followed us, breathing hard and quick.

"You do look undone, Miss Grantley," Kitty said, "You must not over-exert yourself."

"I do not over-exert myself," replied the woman as best she could. "I am only a little fatigued. It was the hill, you know, so very steep. I have never once walked up so steep a slope. You have quite a constitution, to be able to run up at your pace."

"Come, Miss Grantley, you are young yet," I said, taking her arm, and helping her up to a better view. "Do look at the valley--it is not sweet and breathtaking?"

"Breathtaking," was all she was able to repeat.

Kitty and I glanced at each other in amusement.

"I dare say it was tiring running up," said Kitty, "But what do you say to running down, Viola?"

"Shall we race?" I asked. Turning to Miss Grantley, I said, "Do join us please. We shall see can run fastest down the hill."

"I am not sure that that is a lady-like thing to do," said Miss Grantley, still somewhat breathless. "I think I shall pass this offer."

"It is very exciting to feel the rush of wind against one. And we shall be returning to Bath, to see the Abbey, as soon as we are down."

Miss Grantley quite stared at us in disbelief. "So soon?" her expression seemed to say, "Without a break?"

"I shall meet you later in town," she said. "You and Miss Bennet go first."

Joyously, Kitty and I were off, like two excited children on a Christmas morning, celebrating our freedom.

We were at Laura Place, sitting down by the fountain, when Kitty finally ventured to inquire about Miss Grantley.

"Oh, why does she tag along so?" Kitty asked, half laughing, half catching her breath. "Has she got the idea that perhaps the two of you are intimate friends?"

"I would rather not be her intimate friend. I like her well enough as an acquaintance, but I cannot say that I want our acquaintance to become any more close."

Kitty giggled. "It must be all the attention that her brother is paying to you, Viola. You know how attentive Mr. Grantley has been to you since we arrived in Bath. Perhaps he is in love with you and intends to propose!"

"There is hardly an explanation for it, except that it is all a game with him," I replied. "He does it for sport, in order to satisfy his vanity. There is hardly any seriousness to him, and I can't approve of a man who loafs about as he does."

"Mr. Grantley was in the navy though. He cannot be so very idle."

"That is all passed now. He lives very much for pleasure, and without Miss Bingley near him, he cannot help but amuse himself with some other pursuit, and that, I am afraid, I must hold in contempt against him. He is one of those sort who makes out lightly the marriage, and the marriage estate should be one that is honest, true, and noble."

"But you do see how he was to you at the ball?" said Kitty. "He was so ardent in his attentions."

"Overly so. I should rather have a suitor in his right and just mind, than a dozen foolish men who flies into passions at whim."

Kitty sighed. "I should like to have a string of suitors who will all admire me wildly."

"When such a time comes," I replied, smiling a little at her youthful hopes, "You shall wish sincerely that you had never asked for such a thing. You ought to be pleased enough with the attentions of Mr. Felix Clarence."

At this, Kitty blushed. "He does not return to Bath the rest of the season."

"He did, however, ask to pay a visit to my brother and your sister, which, I think, is a compliment in itself."

"It is still yet to be determined whether he will go to Pemberley, or if he will go there when I am there."

While Kitty said this, my mind was reluctantly brought back to Captain Denny, when he was just an obscure soldier in the militia, asking in his simply way whether he may call on Netherfield some time. I suppose that it was all very silly, and I should never have thought much of it at the time. But hadn't Captain Denny himself tell me, at the ball, that he had indeed called on me? And that Caroline Bingley had informed him, perhaps even given him the impression, that I did not wish to stay in Hertfordshire, even so soon after giving him permission to see me? It was all very frustrating, and the fact that the captain would not enlighten me further on the subject seemed to me a very clear indication that he no longer wished to further dwell on the issue. To add to the confusion, Mr. Grantley persistent presence was enough to try all our nerves. Each time I endeavoured to place myself on good footing with Captain Denny, Mr. Grantley was unhappily there to intrude. To have lowered myself to ask Captain Denny whether he would dance the Hornpipe with me, and then to be refused was nearly too much to be borne. Had I been more sensible, I might have felt more mortification from his refusal, and never dared to think on him again. Yet I could not. Regardless of what I did--and I truly had to acknowledge now that I indeed admired him--it seemed to me as though I was too late.

A Cadence ~ The Last Scene of Importance in Bath

Kitty and I arrived at Sydney Place, laughing and breathless. As we struggled out of our bonnets, Kitty said,

"Viola, did you see the expression on Miss Grantley's face when you said we were to race down the hill? She was positively aghast at your suggestion!"

"I cannot say that I have enjoyed a better moment in her presence," I agreed, trying to catch my breath. "What indulgence!" And we collapsed into another fit of laughter.

Footsteps approached us in the front hall, and soon, a bewildered Aunt Margaret greeted us, with eyes so round, they looked as though they had seen a pair of ghosts.

"Dears, dears," she exclaimed, "Do calm and quiet yourselves! What is the meaning of this entrance?"

Pulling a serious face on, I apologized and explained to her the best I could of what had happened. "I know it was a horrendous thing for two young ladies to do, but I really could not resist the temptation at the time. I know that tonight, when I see Miss Grantley again, I shall reproach myself severely, but at the time, it was delightfully cunning and fulfilling."

Aunt Margaret shook her head, though our tale had placed a small smile on the corners of her lips. "Well, you and Kitty may come to the drawing room once you have recovered from your little 'exercise'. Captain Denny has been to call on us this morning."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, suddenly feeling hot again. I cleared my throat. "What did he call for?"

"Mrs. Quarrie cannot come to attend the fireworks display tonight, and had sent her nephew to come tell us so. You know her gout is rather sporadic and never strikes conveniently."

"I dare say it is an inopportune attack," I said awkwardly. Aunt Margaret shuffled us up the stairs and into the drawing room, where, upon opening the doors, I saw Uncle Albert in a deep conversation with Captain Denny. I heard the mention of "Locke" just before they saw us and Captain Denny stood up.

"Good morning," he said, more his cheerful self. This was the sort of gentleman I had known at the Netherfield Ball.

Kitty and I made a proper curtsy, and took our seats. I could not help noticing that Captain Denny looked oddly at me, and I wondered, what had I done now to offend him? Did he still think of the night at the Upper Rooms when Mr. Grantley intercepted our conversation?

"Ah, good, my dear Viola," cried my uncle at once. "Here is one person whom I know shall properly put Captain Denny and his opinions in rightful place." He proceeded to tell me at once the issue of their discourse, and then asked me, rather hopeful that I would side with him on the matter, whether I thought John Locke an impossible philosopher.

"John Locke?" I repeated. An impossible philosopher? I was reluctant to voice my opinion in so direct contrast to what my uncle wished to hear.

"Come, Viola, there is know need to be modest. I know you indeed to be an opinionated person. Do not you think that Locke's philosophy of deposing the monarchy an absurdity?"

"I think," I said, "That whatever your opinion may be, it should not matter what mine is. I do not want to sway either side. It would be unfair."

Aunt Margaret shook her head. "I do not think that your Uncle Albert will hold your opinion against you."

"You will all think me a terrible anarchist," I answered with a laugh, which I hope would pass as a jest. "But I do not see why humans cannot be considered reasonable by nature. And, Locke says, 'The ruling body, if it offends against natural law, must be deposed.' I do not think that actually means that he is against..."

Uncle Albert grunted and leaned back in his chair. "I thought you would be more sensible than that. Recall, Thomas Hobbes argues that humans in the state of nature is bound to cause wars."

"Oh, Uncle, do not be cross. I do respect the government, and I do respect having a government. At any rate, my knowledge of Locke's philosophy is so limited as to make my opinion of barely any importance," I said, making amends.

"Miss Darcy, you are certainly more well read than you own yourself to be," said Captain Denny. He turned to me with renewed interest. "Tell me, Miss Darcy, did you learn all this in school?"

I blushed. "I never went to school. It was only Georgiana who did."

"My niece was educated by a tutor, and then a governess," said Aunt Margaret quickly. "At first, she had her brother's tutor, and when dismissed, she received the teachings of her governess. And when her mother passed away, her education was quite a finished thing."

"Thank you, Aunt," I said, a little furious that Aunt Margaret had gone ahead and published my education history so precisely. Thank goodness she had failed to mention the reason for the tutor's dismissal, or I should truly have buried my head in the lawn.

"You governess must indeed have been well educated," said Captain Denny. "I suppose it was from her influence that you read of John Locke?"

"Oh no, not from Miss Tattersworth," I shook my head. "Unfortunately, I believe she thought it unladylike to read of such writings. I cannot help but ridicule what my education has been--A little French, a little geography, a little sewing and embroidery, and a little music. It was only from my impertinence and curiousity, as well as my brother's indulgence that I had the opportunity to read the little number of books that I could read in secrecy."

"Have you read any other philosophers? How about Burke, or Voltaire?"

"Only a little of each. But, you know, for my part, I could not agree completely with either men. Edmund Burke supported the American Revolution, not because of the principles so much as it was because they had traditionally been free. I remember him saying that we ought to leave the Americans as they anciently stood, while opposing the French Revolution because it was an 'unjustified' break with tradition. Does that not place too much of an emphasis on tradition? Suppose tradition is not always right?"

"Tradition is undoubtedly backwards at certain times, but I think in some respect, convention can be considered important."

"In what issue is convention important?"

"In the matters of family and relationships. We could not afford a rebellion within the ordinary structure of family and relationships--in society."

I warmed. "Unless the conventions are reasonable, should conventions not be averted?"

"Then you support the revolutions in France and the colonies?" asked Captain Denny, changing the issue with a wry smile on his face.

"No--but may I say I support the principles that led to the revolutions?" I darted a glance towards the rest of the company, and realized that they had all lost interest in what we were saying. "Shall I merely conjecture that I do believe that all humans should have natural rights? I do think that we are all entitled to some form of equality, be it in life, health, liberty or possessions."

"Perhaps you do not support the fighting on the continent then? You do not agree with the wars."

"I do not agree with Napoleon's ambition to remove Britain's power, but I do think that in some respects, it can be thought that he has done a good thing for the weaker nations on the continent. But no, I do not support Napoleon either, and Britain must fight to defend our rights."

" 'Man did not enter into society to become worse than he was before, not to have fewer rights than he had before, but to have those rights better secured'," he quoted in agreement.

"No, nor woman neither."

We stopped and looked at one another, and I felt a coolness, a thrill, run down my spine. Slowly, we brought the conversation round to the concerts and the weather.

"We are now thoroughly returned," said Aunt Margaret, "And I shall take this opportunity to say to you, Captain Denny, that you are most welcome to join us this evening to watch the fireworks show, and you must send my best regards to your aunt on her speedy recovery. Will you take tea with us?"

"Oh, no, indeed, I have stayed far too long," he said, standing up quickly. "I shall have to be on my way, for I do need to pick up several other items for my aunt as well. Thank you for the invitation for tonight--I shall try my best to come."

He bowed and said his farewells to each of us and took his leave, though he did not do so until he had given me one quick glance over his shoulder. Was I being over sensitive, or had I not mistaken the meaning?

"Oh, Viola, I have been meaning to catch your attention this past thirty minutes," said Kitty sighing, coming up to me. "Do look at your hair. It is an utter mess!"

In surprise, I jumped to the mirror over the fireplace and gasped. My head indeed looked like a wild bird had flown through it in a frenzy. Dark curls knotted and twisted according to its own fancy, and locks of hair had escaped from the back, creating a disheveled, unkempt look--I would have done better to look at myself in the mirror after our walk before I entered the drawing room.

"It is no matter, I am sure he did not notice it," said Aunt Margaret, oblivious that Captain Denny had indeed cast me a strange glance both at my entrance, and his exit.

"Have you ever watched a fireworks show before?" asked Kitty excitedly. I owned that I had not.

"Oh, I shall love it, love it," said Kitty. "It is hard to believe that at last I am to see one. Do you know, Lydia quite died when she realized that she had missed a similar display in Brighton because she had eloped?"

"No," I said. "I think we had better try to mention Lydia as little as possible."

"She does owe herself to Colonel Forster and my uncle," said Kitty. "I know that had Colonel Forster not been informed of her elopement, my uncle would never have been able to find and pay Wickham to marry Lydia."

I was eager to correct her, that indeed, had it not been my brother's interference, Lydia Wickham would have been a lost woman, but I kept silent.

"It was a very kind thing of Captain Denny to come today," Kitty added. "He has always been so attentive to us in his own way."

"Attentive?" I repeated. "How so? Why have I never heard you mention it?"

Kitty looked surprised. "Why, I thought it was nearly common knowledge, and therefore I said not a word of it. You do know that it was Captain Denny who informed Colonel Forster of the seriousness of Lydia's elopement? Had Captain Denny never revealed to the Colonel of Wickham's lack of intention towards marriage, my sister, and our name, would have been quite ruined? (Of course, we have all kept it quite quiet from Lydia, but even if she knew now, she would not quite care.) Therefore, we do owe a great deal to Captain Denny."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I never knew."

"No, how could you have known," said Kitty. "I suppose I did fail to mention it, and you were never told of it by Jane or Elizabeth. But really, it puzzled us exceedingly. Perhaps Captain Denny had some feelings for Lydia. He was always Lydia's professed 'favourite' before Wickham came along."

I felt a little dizzy at hearing this. After all, had it not been for Lydia's enthusiasm to see her "Mr. Denny" when the ___th regiment was stationed at Meryton, I would never have met the man himself.

A knock came on the door as I was just getting dressed for supper. "Come in," I called out, as I struggled with the clasp. The communications of the afternoon had quite put my self out.

"A letter for you Miss," said Jenny, the little maid with a curtsy. She was ready to scurry away when I asked her when had it arrived. It was not the time for the post to arrive.

Her little face scrunched into a timid, sensitive sponge that was ready to cry at any minute. "Please Miss, do not be angry with me."

"Dear, no one will be angry. Will you please tell me when this arrived?" I said, changing my tactic. "I promise I will not make a scene, and you will not be in trouble. Now, have I ever made a scene out of anger before?"

Little Jenny shook her head and took a deep breath. "It arrived this morning, when you and Miss Bennet were out on your walk. I had placed it in my apron, planning to take it to you, but I had forgotten all about it until just now, when I dirtied my apron and Cook sent me back to my room to change into a clean one."

I smiled, despite myself. "Well, I am no grand lady, so I do not see the need to fly into a fury over a late-delivered letter, but in the future, especially if the letter were expected by the Countess or the Earl, you must try to deliver it directly instead of letting it collect dust in your apron." With that, I kindly sent her off, after first handing her sweets from my tin jar, which Fitz had given me before. Jenny dashed off with a rapid thanks, and I closed the door, still smiling.

"Well, it must certainly be a letter from Fitz," I exclaimed to myself. "But dated from yesterday! It has arrived fast." I continued to read the letter.

...I bring joyful news, for soon, in six months' time, Georgiana and you shall both be aunts. I am, to say the least, proud. We do not mind at all whether the child should be a boy or girl--we only hope that the child shall not take either parent's presumptuous pride or prejudice...

...Come as soon as you can, for Elizabeth will be in need of some comfort as summer arrives, and she is, in my opinion, in need of some dear friendship from 'the Darcy sisters'...

"Viola!" she exclaimed, watching me in horror. "You are half dressed, dancing about like a madwoman, and laughing at nothing. Do you know that supper is waiting for us, and that the fireworks begin at ten o'clock?"

"Kitty," I said, trying hard to be serious, "Do but read this." I thrust the letter into her hands, and she read, speechless.

Soon, both of us were dancing about my room in ecstasy, laughing and calling each other "Aunt Kitty-cat" and "Aunt Violet". We both started as we saw Aunt Margaret's figure standing at my door.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" she asked in alarm. She placed a hand over my forehead as though to take my temperature. "Kitty-cats and violets? It seems we have already gone through a similar episode earlier today. Viola, are you quite alright?"

"I am, and so are everyone I know and love. Fitz is to be a father. You will be a great-aunt in six month's time!"

There was a look of amazement and pride on Aunt Margaret's face as I handed the letter to her. "Of course, that means that you will have to return to Pemberley soon," she said.

"Oh yes, quite soon," I agreed. "Elizabeth and Fitz may be wanting an extra pair of hands to help about at home."

"Nonsense, that is what the servants will be for," said Aunt Margaret, "But your presence there will make it all much more comfortable for the young mother, I can assure you. I never forgot what pain I felt to think I were alone and no one wanted to be by my side when I had Richard."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, you mean?" asked Kitty, giggling.

"My cousin is a terrible nuisance even today," I jested as Aunt Margaret came over and helped me with the clasp on the back of my dress.

"There, you do look remarkable," said my aunt. "If only you would accept Mr. Grantley."

I stared at her. "Now, you do not need to tie Mr. Grantley's name into the matter. He does not deserve our time."

"How can you say that when he has been so very attentive to you?" asked Aunt Margaret. "You cannot deny that he has indeed been very good to all of us, particularly to you. He returns tonight, in time for the fireworks show, you know, and I believe he has the intention of sitting by us, and I know why."

"You do not know why," I corrected her. "And pray do not have your hopes up, Aunt Margaret, for if anything arises, I will be sure to decline it."

Aunt Margaret sighed. "I shall not force you, for you are of age, and I am not your guardian, but only think of what an advantageous match it would be. That is all I am trying to make you see."

"I do see, but the more advantageous it is, the more apparent it becomes that I must refuse any offers from the man. If one more word of his advantages is mentioned, I promise you that I will do worse than refuse him."

"There, you will be unreasonable, and it does not become you, for you are the most rational niece that I have got." Turning to Kitty, Aunt Margaret said, "Well, I shall not disturb you two, but do hurry. Supper is ready, and we mustn't be late to Sydney Gardens."

"It is only just cross the road," I laughed. I gave my aunt a kind of conciliatory hug. "Do not worry yourself over me. If no one makes an offer of marriage to me, perhaps I shall do my own proposing, but seeing as that is quite out of the picture for a young lady of good fortune, I shall resign my love to my little niece or nephew, and reconcile myself to spinsterhood."

Clearly, Aunt Margaret had given Mr. Grantley the impression that I might perhaps return his 'admiration'. I did my best to avoid anything more than the necessary conversation, but truly upon consideration, his behaviour was so much improved that there was nothing which I could snub without appearing ungracious and ill-bred.

The night was cold, and I felt glad that I had thought to bring my wool cloak with me. Kitty, meanwhile, jumped about, trying to keep warm, and upon telling her to bring hers also, Kitty told me miserably that she had not thought to bring one to Bath. It was undoubtedly a misjudgment on my friend's part to not pack one with her, but I could not very well let her catch a chill, so I untied mine and threw it over her shoulders, and told her that I would run back to the lodgings and grab one of my shawls. Luckily, as the three of us were quite apart from my aunt and uncle, and Kitty was the youngest between us, I instructed Mr. Grantley to watch after her. For a moment, he nearly protested, but seeing the light in my suggestion, he resigned himself to his post while I ran back to Sydney Place.

It was scarcely five minutes before the fireworks began that I found myself back on the grounds. The sky had grown very dark by then, and I could just barely make out the people. I wondered miserably to myself whether I had indeed been foolish as to let myself run off alone. Now I would never find the rest of my party, and I would be left to watch the illumination by myself. Solitary viewing of fireworks could hardly be considered agreeable! At ten o'clock, I knew it was useless to hope I would find them, and I acceded myself to my dilemma--It was of course all my doing--The one comfort I could have was that at least Kitty would not freeze to death.

The sky suddenly cracked open and the most dazzling gold lights ripped through the black sheath of night clouds, announcing itself with the pomp of a king. Everywhere, people held their breath at the blinding sight. I was not even aware that I myself had made an exclamation until the gentleman beside me, with the low, deep voice I knew so well, answered, "I have never seen anything so dazzling either."

I may have jumped a metre or so at hearing Captain Denny's voice, but luckily upon that moment, another loud crack was heard and the sky above us showered of reds and oranges. We turned to each other and smiled. For long minutes, we watched, our faces tilted up so hopefully at the sky, at the confetti of lights that mottled it, and the generations of people before us who must have felt the same towards the inventions and creations that they were first exposed to. The drops of fire at times seemed to rain on us, and at other times, drifted harmlessly away in a riverbed of gold.

As the fireworks drew to a close, I tilted my head down, for my eyes had begun to sting. I hardly knew why, but they felt uncomfortable, as if some dust or particle had entered it. Only then was I aware that I had been leaning quite on his arm throughout the show, and a thrill went through me as the realization came. Quickly, modestly, I separated myself from him.

"What is the matter?" he asked in concern.

"Nothing," I stammered, looking away as I felt my face flush. "...There is some dust in my eyes."

"It must be fallout from the fireworks," he said. He held my face between his two hands as he inspected my eyes, and as I looked back into his dark irises, all the time sensitive of the coolness of his palms against my warm face, I thought, Mary Wollstonecraft would never approve of this silliness--but she has probably never felt this way before! Captain Denny spoke again. "Be sure to rinse your eyes with some fresh, clean, cool water. That should remove some of the stinging sensation. It is what one should do when there are foreign particles in the eyes."

"Thank you," I whispered, withdrawing myself. I knew I was not rational, that I was in a flutter of spirits, and the longer I stayed with him, the more likely I would be ashamed of it the next morning when I woke up.

The show had suddenly ended, and everywhere around us, people were holding lamps, and candles, and milling about, looking for their friends. "Miss Darcy," someone shouted, running towards us. "Miss Darcy, there you are. We have been looking all over for you and--" Mr. Grantley paused. "I see you have been in good hands."

I felt warm again--Mr. Grantley could not have known the full justice of what he had said! "I was just preparing to look for you," I said quickly, casting a glance at Captain Denny. "Where is Kitty? Where are my aunt and uncle?"

"We were over there, by the pond. Did you not see us? We thought that you might have been lost in the crowd on your way back, or that you had decided to stay indoors after all."

"I was lost," I replied. "But then the show started, and I couldn't very well find you."

"No," answered Mr. Grantley grimly, "I see you could not."

"Well, excuse me," said Captain Denny, taking the other gentleman's hint, "I shall take leave of you now, Miss Darcy. I do not know when I shall next see you. I return to the militia tomorrow, and will soon be joined by Colonel Fitzwilliam."

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Yet you never spoke a word of it before."

"I did not think it was of great importance. Actually, I have known of it since the day of the ball in the Upper Rooms, but I did not find any convenience in communicating it then or afterwards."

"No, you could not have."

"Perhaps, if time and fate allows, we may cross paths again," he said lightly. "Good night, Grantley. Good night, Miss Darcy."

"Good night," I answered, watching him turn and walk away into the darkness. I could not turn my gaze until I had satisfied myself in seeing his tall, broad silhouette swallowed up by the sombre shadows of the night, feeling, with sinking hopes, that I should never see him again.

"Come, it is getting cold," said Mr. Grantley, breaking the silence. "You ought to return to your lodgings. Shall I walk with you?"

"No," I said tensely, "Thank you, but I am capable of walking on my own. Good night, Mr. Grantley, you had better return to your sister."

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