Beginning, Section II, Next Section
So - we are to leave for the London Townhouse (it sounds very grand, does it not?) tomorrow. Today we finished our packing and then attended to more important matters - the waltz. It is all the rage in London, and Lizzy and I do not wish to appear as little provincials any more than can be helped. Although, I am not entirely sure that it is not more bother than it is worth, for if I have not been told a hundred times that I cannot dance it without the permission of a patroness of Almack's then ... then I am Bluebeard the pirate. Naturally today's lesson started with the same warning. Somehow I managed to keep my tongue in my head, but really. I am not deaf you know, and the temptation to stick said tongue out at my adored older sister was really very tempting! Maybe she is just nervous about going to London, I know I am - but it is also terribly exciting! Just think - all those officers! I think maybe I am regressing. A bad sign.
Then again, I might just be feeling a bit on edge today as we are expecting an arrival - Lizzy told me at breakfast that a certain Lord Thornfield is due at Pemberley some time this afternoon, and then we are to travel to London with him. Words failed to express my joy. Truly.
Why is he coming here anyway? And only for a night, what is Pemberley a new inn? Dratted man, I shall think no more of him...
...I wonder if he will be in uniform?
No!
Kitty stop, you have moved beyond this. One must rise above one's base desires, and even if one is to be obsessed by an officer, at least he should be nicer. Although I am not obsessed. And not with him. No.
I think I might quit while I'm ahead, I seem just to be digging myself a deeper hole.
Georgiana was called upon for the music, and Cousin Richard and Mr. Darcy were to be our tutors. I should point out that Mr. Darcy had work to do, indeed was attending to that work, when hearing of our proposed occupation and that his cousin had volunteered his services, decided to neglect it. I know - I was the one to tell him, the decision took all of thirty seconds. How predictable! Although I don't think that he appreciated me laughing at him - he became rather sulky, and was walking very quickly to the ballroom, I had quite a bit of difficulty keeping up. But then again, I was laughing at the same time.
The waltz seems to me to be a very daring dance. Perhaps Mary was correct to question it's morality. At any rate, it is very hard to concentrate whilst being held intimately in a man's arms (and this is only Richard!), well I no longer wonder why Lydia raves on about it so - it seems to me to be exactly the kind of thing she would love.
The waltz also seems to me to be very unfair - it is much easier for the gentleman than for the lady. I mention this to Richard as he whirls me headlong around the room. He, of course, promptly denies it, and so I challenge him to an experiment - a role reversal.
He accepts at once, I will say that for Richard, he is always good for some mischief.
We stop and attempt to determine where our hands should now go. That done, we wait till Georgiana comes back to the start of the tune.
I bow. He just remembers to curtsey (a truly meagre attempt, no matron would let him away with that) and we are off.
Believe me, the waltz is strange, but it is even stranger when I am attempting to lead, have a grip of Richard's waist and converse.
I put on a baritone voice, Richard squeaks his replies -
'I do not believe that we have been properly introduced, Sweet Child.' Richard admirably keeps his countenance. I think it has been some time since he was last called sweet child, it had quite an effect.
'No, Sir, indeed.'
'I am Lord Turnpike.' I announce grandly. Ahhh Careful Kitty. Too close.
'I am delighted to make your acquaintance Lord Turnpike, I have heard so much about you.' Oh, Richard is good! 'I am Miss Dorothea Saltwater.' I laugh at his demure look, and coy smile, quickly turning into a cough and a leer.
'Indeed, who could not know the name of such a beauty. I lose count of the number of times your name has been whispered to me as a paragon of all earthly and heavenly virtues. Why, even my beloved patroness, the most condescending Lady Catherine de Briory...' Laughter - Lizzy and Darcy have stopped dancing to stare at us in amazement. At my last conversational foray Lizzy has lost her composure, and stands with her hand clapped over her mouth, and eyes brimming with laughter over the top. I glance, with some trepidation at Mr. Darcy, only to find that he also is having difficulty in keeping a straight face. Georgiana has stopped playing, a look of alarm on her face, and Richard is shaking with laughter, but continues bravely.
'I am all astonishment, but surely you jest My Lord.' I deliberately misunderstand and draw a face of astonishment.
'Fie! I do not jest! Surely you have heard that I have had the honour to be noticed by such a condescending and worthy Lady? Lady Catherine is the epitome of good taste and breeding, and so involved in all that goes on around her. You could hardly take a better model should you aspire to her giddy heights, although I fear that all who follow her most celestial example can only ever be a poor shadow of imitation.' I make a doleful lament, shaking my head.
This is finally too much for Richard. He fails to cover his laughter with a cough and dissolves into whoops. The dance is now forgotten.
Grinning broadly I survey my handicraft.
Lizzy is now bent double, hugging her hips - she is making rather alarming choking noises. Mr. Darcy has wandered to the window, and is leaning against it, but I can see his shoulders quivering.
'Kitty!' Georgiana hails me. She is still looking concerned, but her gaze is not at me, but directed past me to the door.
I swivel and see none other than Lord Thornfield, hat in hand, cape still on and mouth wide open as he stares at me incredulously.
Before we go further, I should explain. Mr. Darcy and Richard convinced us that Lord Thornfield had not meant any harm or offense by his speech. Thus, instead of throwing him out of the house with all of his luggage and possibly a barrel of hot tar (my suggestion), poisoning him (Richard entering into the spirit of things), or forgiving him (Georgie's rather wishy-washy idea) we are to follow Lizzy's plan: we are going to laugh at him. She is convinced that he shall be not only discomforted, but repentant and it has the advantage of keeping us in the right. Settled.
In addition, I have decided that I shall be unfailingly polite to the dratted man. I'll show him 'provincial manners.' Hmph.
But at the moment, Lizzy's plan is just too good to pass up - I hear the little voice in my head which I am normally forced to ignore urging me on, and I am very happy to oblige.
I swaggered up to Lord Thornfield and made my leg.
He just stared, a kind of punch-drunk look in his eyes. For my part, I had enough difficulty keeping my own face straight, but managed somehow to control my voice.
'Good day M'Lord. I trust that you had a pleasant journey, but that you are not too fatigued.' A gentle mention of my overheard conversation. I don't think he noticed, in fact I don't think he noticed that I had spoken till my waiting look made some impact on his brain.
Further choking sounds came from Lizzy, I made the mistake of looking at her, and catching her eye. The laughter and delight in them causing me to lose my own countenance.
'Miss Bennet?' Lord Thornfield question faintly. There was rather a blank look on his face. I was now biting my lip to stop the laughter as I wondered quite who else he thought it would be.
He made as if to bow, but ended up just gesturing vaguely with his hand, and blinking convulsively.
This was too much for me, and I begged to be excused, Lizzy hastened to follow me.
As we stumbled out of the room I was aware of Georgie greeting Lord Thornfield. I wonder at her composure, although perhaps her sense of the ridiculous is not highly developed as a Bennets must be. Breathing now hurt, and I reached blindly for a door - the drawing room. Lizzy collapsed on a sofa, dropping her head into a pillow. I will not describe the very unladylike sounds which were emitted. For my part I did not care - I fell against the door, sliding down it and howling with laughter.
Priceless!
If music be the food of love play on - Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
I did not see anyone else until dinner - once our laughter had run its course I went up to my room to finish my packing and write a letter to Maria Lucas. Lizzy had gone to wash her face and then join her guest. I think that she was a bit embarrassed about running out of the room like that, but I could tell when she remembered it because her eyes sparkled all of a sudden, and she made a grimace as if to stop herself from laughing again. Anyway, if she wants to feel better, all she needs to do is remember that she isn't the only one with a right to feel embarrassed - Lord Thornfield did an admirable impression of a nitwit, a memory that I shall treasure always.
I took care of my dress that night - I wanted to present the image of a demure young lady, and did not go down until I was satisfied with my appearance. Thus I was later than usual to reach the sitting room before dinner.
When I entered, the gentlemen rose. I must admit that they were all very handsome, and did present a very becoming picture. I dropped my eyes, partly as my role as a demure young miss, but mostly to stop myself from staring. When I had last seen Lord Thornfield he had been rather the worse for wear, this could not be said of him now, he cleaned up really rather well. No - must remember - do not like him, must make him suffer. But still...
Richard came forward, his dancing eyes and prim mouth telling me that he knew exactly what I was about, and intended to gain much amusement from tonight's entertainment. I looked superior in return - I considered it beneath me to retaliate at present. That can wait - I have more pressing business.
Lord Thornfield bowed and trusted that I was feeling better (Lizzy and I had agreed that it should be said that I had had the headache). I could not help but remember his 'headache' on our former meeting, and I could feel my eyes dancing as I answered: 'Tolerably so, I thank you My Lord.'
I welcomed the chance to laugh at him, I should not wonder that I could be in some danger if I stopped. It is just not fair that gentlemen who one attempts to despise looks like one's childhood fantasy of a hero come to save her from unlikely peril (such as being trapped forever in a basement, of contracting a wasting illness that requires a herb from the other side of the world which only he can get. I had a vivid imagination.)
On glancing about I noticed that Lizzy had wrappings in her lap and was holding a beautiful figurine, Georgiana was looking through some music sheets, and Mr. Darcy was perusing a book.
Lord Thornfield, following my eyes, seemed to become uncomfortable. This started my laughter again, but not on the outside. This time I only laughed on the inside, a nice kind of bubbly happy feeling. It is rather difficult to explain, although I might liken it to champagne.
'Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I had not expected for you to be still visiting Pemberley, I mean I thought that you would have returned home. That is...'
Stumbling My Lord? Embarrassed My Lord? I feel sublime inner contentment.
'That is quite all right My Lord.' I assure him grandly.
Round one to me I think.
Round two I awarded myself over dinner. I did this by being unfailingly polite and proper with our guest, but by being my normal, rather foolish self with all the other members of our group. This took some concentration, but was achieved although with rather surprising results. I had expected for Lord Thornfield to poker up and stiffen as he did at the breakfast so long ago. But he did not. Instead he presented the image of a perfect gentleman - he was unfailingly courteous, and was obviously perplexed, and acted not a little hurt by my manner to him. Had we met like this under normal circumstances I should have been putty in his hands, have told him my entire life story (such as it is), fancied myself madly in love and planning my wedding by now. I am confused. Why, when I had done nothing wrong had he said little short of slanderous things about me, and yet when I give him cause to go in a snit he gives an admirable lesson in how to charm the birds off the trees. Men!
Wait a moment, could this have anything to do with the Honourable Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam? Could he have hinted to his friend that he needs to make amends? I shoot daggers down the table at Richard. He looks surprised, and then gestures innocence. His face is a picture of bewilderment and confusion. It suits him, silly man.
But what explanation does that leave?
Lizzy was handing out tea in the Drawing room when the men joined us. They had not lingered over their port, and were all in high spirits when they entered. Georgiana was playing on the piano. I was just sitting. I was rather preoccupied, well actually I was feeling rather guilty. I am by nature a forgiving person and being nasty to Lord Thornfield was beginning to upset me. I mean, what had he done that was so terribly bad?...was it? Maybe I had just blown the whole scenario out of proportion? And, I mean, it wasn't as if Mr. Darcy and Richard hadn't apologised, and they at least seem to think that he had, if not a good reason, but ...Oh!
Frustrated by conflicting thoughts, I glowered at the gentlemen and then transferred by gaze to my teacup.
Mr. Darcy sat next to Lizzy (what a surprise!), and Richard took his tea before sitting opposite me, relaxed and at his ease - a gentleman of leisure ready to make me make a fool of either myself or his friend. It was all there in his look, the grin and the raised eyebrows were especially expressive (he is so transparent! I shudder to think what he will be like when he falls in love, a sick puppy probably, following her around endlessly) I glare at him in return. He makes a face. Will he never grow up? I hope that he sits on my embroidery needle, would serve him his just deserts!
Lord Thornfield joined Georgie at the piano. After much whispering, which I didn't even attempt to overhear (shows how out of sorts I was), they swapped places.
Intrigued, I sat up and watched as Lord Thornfield began to play. He started with a traditional German folk song which Mary had been murdering, sorry playing, just before I had left for Pemberley. Although I cannot play well (I am a mistress of understatement) I can appreciate the playing of others - and her was wonderful. He had a strong, deep voice, and even seemed to be singing with a slight accent. I was entranced, and hardly dare move lest I put him off.
Some obscure corner of my mind had the impudence to wonder, round three? I ignored it and listened to the music.
As the folk song ended he slipped easily into a comic song about a bumbling merchant and a leaky pot (quite suitable for his audience I assure you). I listened with delight. I hardly noticed my broad smile till me cheeks hurt, or my laugh till my throat hurt, or that I was staring at him till he stared back.
The song was over far too soon, and I applauded wildly. He smiled, rose and joined me. Georgie reclaimed the instrument.
'I think that perhaps we started on the wrong foot, Miss Bennet. Shall we begin again?' I was still dazed and smiling from the song, and so nodded my consent. He straightened himself and sketched a half bow. Face serious, eyes dancing.
'Miss Bennet, if you will allow me to introduce myself, I am Lord Thornfield, Earl of Thrapston. My friends call me Thorn, and although it is rather forward, I should be honoured if you would also.' He spoke with a wealth of charm.
Game. Set. Match. Damn.
I looked at Lizzy and saw her give me one of her 'significant' looks. Well, it is all right for some, and if I am a gullible wretch to give in so quickly to charm then so what? I defy everyone!
'My friends call me Kitty.' I prevaricate, not ready to use his name yet.
'Do you like music Kitty?'
'Yes, although I do not play as well as I should like.'
'Your talents lie elsewhere, I am sure.' See what I mean about charmer?
'Only in embroidery. I am afraid that I am not terribly accomplished.'
Lizzy joined or conversation at this point.
'Let us not talk of accomplishments, I beg you, it is too volatile a subject. Although I would not lament Kitty, for if Mr. Darcy's standards are to be upheld then there is scarcely an accomplished woman in England.'
'You are twisting my words, Elizabeth.'
'I assure you that I remember your words perfectly, Mr. Darcy. I comprehend that your idea of an accomplished woman must sing, dance, read, know languages and have perfect deportment at the very least.' Lizzy ticked of her fingers with each virtue.
'You are not to be argued with.' Mr. Darcy settles back.
'Then you admit that I am correct!' Lizzy cries out in triumph. Mr. Darcy promptly deflates her.
'No madam, I merely admit to being to tired to argue with you.'
'Have you ever met any truly accomplished women, William?' I query. I certainly would fulfill none of his requirements.
'A few.'
'So little?'
'Certainly - you become truly accomplished is to seek perfection, thus only a small number shall ever succeed.' I think on this for a moment.
'Well, for my part, I think I shall rely on an old phrase.' I pause for dramatic effect.
'And what is that Kitty?' Lord Thornfield. I turn with wide eyes fixed on his face in innocence
'Why, that cracked china lasts longest of course!'
Appreciative laughter from all. Who would have guessed, but it would appear that I am a wit!
Georgiana says that she is tired, and is going to retire. I join in her goodnights. We have a long way to go tomorrow, and then...London!
The traveling to London passed on a blur. I shared a coach with Georgie and Lizzy with husband. Georgie managed to sleep most of the way, snoring almost continuously (but delicately of course). Lizzy and Darcy held a desultory conversation for part of the way, otherwise they read- Lizzy had chosen 'Much Ado About Nothing', and Mr. Darcy was ploughing through 'Morte d'Arthur'. Poor man, has he nothing better to do with his time? For my part I read a quite fascinating book on Henry the Eighth's six wives (I got quite a shock when I started it - I had previously thought that it was Henry the Sixth who had eight wives), stared out of the window or ate (that morning I had had the forethought to steal down to the kitchen and charm the cook. I had been suitably rewarded with goodies for the journey).
Richard and Lord Thornfield traveled in a coach behind ours and were delivered to their separate lodgings in London, although it had already been arranged for them to dine with us the following evening .
I blame the long journey for the reason that I slept late, although I should like to note that I was still up before half of London. According to Mr. Darcy I keep 'Country Hours,' but a few balls and soirees and I shall be rising in time for luncheon instead of with the birds. I think not.
Most of the day was spent ordering the house and Georgiana and I helped Lizzy as much as possible. Mr. Darcy was ensconced in his study for most of the day with his secretary. A Mr. Pitkin by name, a fresh faced young man. Perhaps it would be better to make that 'open-faced' for it was obvious at a glance that Georgie held his unswaying devotion. He reminded me of a love sick puppy - soulful eyes, vacant look of adoration. Makes you feel rather uncomfortable to think that a presumably intelligent man is reduced to such a sad state. He had best beware - I doubt that Mr. Darcy should find it uncomfortable, or even as diverting as I do. Georgiana is, of course, in blissful ignorance and when pressed seemed, well not unaware but ...indifferent to him. Poor Mr. Pitkin. Maybe he shall grow out of it, and at the very least it proves that he has good taste in women, even if it is slightly inappropriate.
Richard and Lord Thornfield joined us for dinner as promised, and it was a lively meal that followed. After dinner Mr. Darcy retired to a corner to continue with Arthur, and Lizzy began her next epic letter to Jane.
The rest of us pulled out the card table and settled ourselves around it. I was facing Georgiana, Lord Thornfield was on my left, and Richard on my right. Richard was expertly shuffling the cards, demonstrating various tricks for, one would assume, our entertainment. Georgie gasped. I refused to be impressed and put my chin in my hand and stared at him, eyebrow cocked in what I like to think of as an expressive manner. Richard duly recollected himself.
'Em, yes. Well, what would you ladies like to play?' I meet Georgie's eyes across the table and could feel the mischief rising in me. I shoot her an inquiring glance and take her slight smile as acceptance that she will play along.
'Snap.'
'What??' Both men jump up, turn to face me with their faces aghast. I fold my hands demurely in my lap.
'But... surely, I mean whist? Piquet?' Richard was practically gobbling. It was really very funny. I was enjoying myself immensely. Lord Thornfield took a more strategic approach.
'Georgiana.' Turing to face her, and smiling, 'surely you...'
'Oh no, I should love to play snap.' She said earnestly, then seemingly faltered. 'But, if you and Cousin Richard should prefer another game...' she trailed off wistfully. As I have said before, it is the quiet ones that you have to watch, and it would be very easy to underestimate Georgie.
Trapped by gallantry, well done Georgie - play to their weakness, snap it was.
It would appear that there was an unspoken agreement between Lord Thornfield and Richard that if they would have to play snap then they would at least win. This is a typical example of the male ego - schoolyard. I don't suppose that they ever grow up? No, that would probably be too much to hope for.
Georgies and I were not bothered if we lost the battles as we had already won the war. We were trounced in the first game, and narrowly defeated in the second. The men got all excited and forgot to mask their faces, the enthusiasm and eagerness to win was actually quite sweet. It reminded me of my Gardiner cousins - aged nine and six respectively. In the third game Georgie was out very quickly, and it was not long till I was left with but one.
Lord Thornfield played before me - a six. I held my breath, deliberately paused (they were staring at my card, bodies coiled in expectation) and then I turned the card over - a six!!
'SNAP!!' We shouted.
Georgie jumped, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy looked up, the three of us pounced.
Lost again.
Annoyed (after all I had played the card so you would think that I would be at least in second) I slammed my hand down on the pile of hands and cards. Note to self - do not pound a hand that has a stone signet ring - very, very sore. Kicking trunk is not comparable pain.
'Ow!' I cradle my wounded hand, and rub the palm to try and make it better whilst thinking dire thoughts on the subject of rings and card games.
'Kitty?' Lord Thornfield is kneeling by my chair looking concerned. Although as well he might - I could be scarred for life!
He takes my injured hand and prises apart my fingers before inspecting it carefully.
'It hurts.' I complain, although in truth it is not so bad.
'Where? Here?' he presses my palm with his thumb at the sore bit.
'Ouch!' I try to pull my hand away, but he won't let me. I look at him with wounded eyes and a pout.
He smiles patiently as if I were a child, and takes me completely by surprise by lightly kissing the palm. My heart gives a funny lurch, the pain I am sure. He then grins rather wickedly and curves my fingers around my palm.
'All better.'
I look up and realise that no one had noticed this little exchange. Lizzy and Darcy have not looked up, and Richard is showing Georgie to a seat., they have their backs to us. It would seem that Thorn is as teasing and provoking as Richard, I try hard not to smile at the pleasure the thought of being his friend gives me. I look at Thorn still kneeling by my chair.
'Thank-you Milord.' I inject as much irony into my tone as possible. I will not have him thinking that he has rendered me speechless.
'It was a pleasure.' He is laughing at me! Oh, not on the outside but with eyes and voice. I give in and laugh as well.
'Your game I think.' Thorn looks appreciative, then it is his turn to be ironic.
'Yes, I was always good at snap, it was so kind of you to suggest it.'
Lizzy calls to me to write to Jane what I wish so that the letter might be sent tomorrow. Thorn and Richard take their leave of us, but they are to come for dinner again tomorrow so I will have ample opportunity of reaping my revenge.
The following morning, once everyone was up I might add (Lizzy and Darcy are such lie-abeds sometimes!) we all went out to visit Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
They effaced delight at seeing us, and were obviously well acquainted with Mr. Darcy and Georgiana, this was explained then I remembered that they had spent Christmas at Pemberley. Georgie and I played with the children (not snap) for part of the visit to allow the 'proper adults' as they think of themselves, some time to talk on 'important' matters. Unfortunately we had to leave earlier than we would have liked as the local minister was coming to visit, but it was settled that they should join us for dinner.
That evening I wished to impress upon Uncle and Aunt Gardiner that I had finally grown up, so I wanted to present the right image and spent quite a while arranging my hair which would not go just right. I asked, I argued, I finally pleaded, but the lock of hair just refused to sit straight. It finally succumbed, however, under the ministrations of my maid, Agnes, and victory was mine. When my toilette was complete I stood for a moment to look at myself in the mirror. The reflection was that of a proper young lady, elegant almost and certainly ready to take her place in society. My face smiled sadly back. I don't really know why, but all of a sudden I wasn't quite sure who I was or where I belonged. I could not think on it now - I was already slightly late.
So it was in this rather serious state of mind that I descended the stair. I dislike being in am ill humour, and unlike Mary, introspection and I do not suit. The answer to this seemed to be to take it out on someone and exorcise it. Luckily (for me) Thorn was giving the butler his hat as I passed the door. He stopped what he was doing and stared at me, really quiet disconcertingly. This was quite the wrong thing to do and settled his fate as my victim.
'Lord Thornfield.' I descended the final few stairs and held out my hand imperiously.
'Miss Bennet.' It would seem that he is still in his good humour form yesterday, and kissed my hand lightly, smiling down at me afterwards. I remained wholly unaffected.
'I trust that you are prepared to be charming tonight, I know that you have previously been ... challenged in this area.'
Raised eyebrows.
'Miss Bennet, gallantry requires that I give a standard reply, such as 'who could not be charming in the face of such beauty.' But I think that you and I are beyond such ...' he chose his word deliberately, 'inanities, and so I defy convention. Tell me, why should I suffer to exert myself thus?'
He can even trade insults charmingly! And it is obvious that he has not taken offense, what a friend! I begin to feel happier inside, my ill humour dispelling, though I would not have him win this battle of words.
'My aunt and uncle are visiting us for dinner.' I pause, and remembering my sisters-in-laws disdain decide to give his lordship a little test. 'They did not have to travel far, my uncle is in trade and they live in Cheapside.'
I was surprised, perhaps unfairly, by the sincerity of his response.
'The ones who were at Pemberley for Christmas? Why ,we have met briefly already, and I look forward to furthering my acquaintance with them. Shall we?'
He extended his arm to me, but lowered it as I just stood. He looked at me quizzically.
'What have I said now to make you smile?'
'Nothing my Lord.' I shake my head to dispel my daze. Thorn's whole demeanour suddenly changes, it seems as if he pulls himself upright, and becomes stiffly formal.
'I have faults enough, Miss Bennet. Snobbery is not one of them.' He looks stern, and disappointed. I feel a twisted guilt in my stomach.
'I'm sorry.' I raise my eyes to his and although I generally dislike the phrase, I will admit that I was pleading. He begins to look a little less stern, and I rush to explain. 'I was wrestling with a rather tricky problem you see, and things were not quite going my way. I'm sorry that I took my bad temper out on you.' I lowered my eyes to the floor, attempting to look like a child and thus possibly avoid a scolding. I would swear that I heard him call me 'minx' under his breath, but did not question it and chose to dimple instead.
He looked at, shook his head, and offered me his arm again. This time I took it.
'You remind me of a kitten that I once had - she was playful too, and prone to spiteful outbursts.' I refused his bait.
'And what happened to her?'
'She is now my faithful and devoted companion, and much to my inconvenience bears a litter of kittens with surprising regularity. Normally in the middle of my bed!' I laughed at his face as he looked decidedly put out.
'The it would appear that the similarity is only slight.' We reach the door of the drawing room.
'Oh Kitten, I wouldn't say that.' He said in a conspiratorial voice.
He called me WHAT? I was outraged!
'Kitten?!' And what exactly was it supposed to mean? Baffling.
'Any objections?' Oh, it's all right for him, from his smug look anyone can see that he is enjoying himself. Hateful man.
'Where do you want me to start?' I wind myself up, ready to begin insulting his character, lineage and possibly even hair style, but am thwarted as he stops any further comments on my part effectively by opening the door and ushering me into the room. Humph, well he may have won this round, but I will get him back if my name isn't Catherine Alexandra Bennet!
The following day we ladies shopped and attained all the niceties that town provides and which small villages lack. After breakfast, Mr. Darcy called me into his study and told me that Papa had left a sum of money with him in anticipation of my enthusiasm for London's boutiques. Mr. Darcy would be my banker in this, and would warn me when I become close to being overdrawn (we were both realistic enough to recognise that this was almost an inevitability). However it would appear that it was not an insubstantial sum. On my expressed surprise Mr. Darcy explained that my father now had two daughters at home instead of five and could afford to be more generous. Whatever the reason, I was happy to be independent of Lizzy, not that I think that she would begrudge me the money, but a girl has some self-respect!
After I learned this I ran up to my room, fetched my bonnet and coat and returned to the morning room to be ready to leave whenever Lizzy was ready. Which, considering I was now in funds could not be soon enough.
While I waited I decided that I should consider how best to make Thorn pay for his ridiculous nickname for me. Kitten indeed! I am nearly nineteen years old, and I have been out for an age! I'm no schoolroom miss. He has no right to undermine my adult status in such away, and just when everyone was beginning to take me seriously. Kitten, bah! Now, let me see...the whole snap thing worked quite well, but it would need to be original - keep him on his toes.
Whilst I was considering this the object of my perusal gamely entered the room and swept me a bow. Damn. I'm not ready yet, and to defer punishment would be akin to conceding defeat. Never mind, I would have to be spontaneous and would take any further cue from him. Consequently I watched then criticized.
'That was too low, I am not a Duchess you know.'
'Good morning. Thank you, I had a lovely nights sleep, and yes the weather is very fine this morning. Oh, and my cravat? Why no, it hardly took anytime at all.'
I giggled. He can be really very silly, but so very nice as well. I concede round one.
'Good morning Lord Thornfield.'
'Kitten. Are you off out?'
At the nickname I remember that I am not at all pleased with him. A perceptive man, he noticed at once.
'Ah, bee in your bonnet?'
'And what is that supposed to mean?' I round on him. He puts his hands out in front of his chest as if to warn me off.
'All right, calm down, don't bite my head off.'
I take a deep breath.
'I am calm!'
'I didn't mean to offend you.'
'Oh really!' and if I believe that then I am a blue monkey from Afghanistan.
'No, it is a term of endearment.'
Hmmm, now where is he going with this one? Seeing that I am no longer about to go for his throat, Thorn quickly expands on the topic.
'If you really don't like someone then you don't abuse them to their face very often, do you?'
I remember Mary King and shake my head.
'Whereas if you like someone, and are friends then you are able to take liberties with them that you could not take with a stranger, don't you?'
I remember 'borrowing' Georgie's new bonnet whilst her back was turned, and nod.
'Well then, that I call you Kitten is just a sign that we are friends, a way of verbalising it.'
'I don't suppose that you could find a less... derogatory name than 'Kitten'?' I practically spit the name out. Thorn mocks surprised at my vehemence, even going so far as to rock back on his heels.
'No. I quite like it actually - Kitty ...Kitten. Obvious connection. Playful, sweet. I think it suits you. What do you have against it?' When he puts it like that it doesn't sound so bad I suppose. But I defend my corner.
'It is babyish - it makes me sound as if I am just out of the nursery, and when I am only just now properly out...' He is laughing at me! Oh! I aim a cushion at his head, which he catches easily. Stupid man, has he not the wit to stand still!
'No one would mistake you for a baby or a Bath Miss, Kitten, I promise.' The thought seems to give him some amusement. Well, we shall see about that.
'Very well, Lord Thorny-Heels, I will take you at your word. But please - not in public.'
'Pardon?' He looks taken aback. I am suitably smug and superior.
'Why, a simple request not to be called Kitten in public - I feel that it would affect my image.'
'No, not that bit.' He gestures impatiently with his hand.
'What? Lord Thorny-Heels? But it is a term of endearment - Thornfield ...Thorny-Heels. Obvious connection I would have thought. And it so suits you when you are in a snit - all prickly. I think it suits you!'
Thorn looks amazed, then laughs and motions defeat. I must admit, in the privacy of my own mind, that at first I was a bit disappointed that I had not annoyed him. So far I had been woefully bad at provoking him. But his good humour was infectious, and I was glad to have evened the score so that we might be friends again without the tiresome business of trying to best him.
'Touché Kitten! Well done, throwing my own words back at me - very sophisticated.'
'Why thank you.' I drop a low curtsey.
'So - back to my original question, are you off out?' I suddenly remember where we are off to.
'Yes we are for the shops!'
'A prospect you obviously view with enthusiasm - your eyes are all sparkling.' He is laughing at me again, but I don't care and poke my tongue out at him.
'Very elegant.'
'I don't care - I'm going shopping!' I can't contain my happiness and do a quick dance around the room.
'Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come out for a ride to the park, but I have good sense enough never to stand between a woman and her shopping.'
'Very wise.' I stop in my dance and pull a serious face and nod, then a thought occurs to me and I get all excited and bouncy again - 'You could come with us if you like!'
'No, no - I also have the good sense never to join a woman on her shopping.'
'Spoilsport.'
'No, merely sensible.' I make a face at him, which he ignores. ' Now don't spend too much Kitten, this is just your first day. You have an entire season to run up debts.'
'I always spend too much.' Then put a bit of a damper on things. Maybe I should budget this time?
'Well, please ensure that it is on inane and ridiculous fripperies. It is not fashionable to buy practical things in London.' I gave a gurgle of laughter (a trick Lydia taught me), my mood restored and economy forgotten.
'Then I think I shall fit in just fine!'
There was a knock on the door, followed by the butler - Purves.
'Excuse me My Lord, Miss Bennet. But Mrs. and Miss Darcy are waiting for Miss Bennet in the hall. I believe that the carriage has been called.'
'What?' I get a fright - they can't leave without me! I grab my bonnet and coat, I shall put them on in the carriage.
'Kitten?'
'Yes?' I was half way out of the door, and was loath to stop.
'Thorny-Heels?' He is frowning, I laughed in response - so I had got to him.
'Yes! Suits you!' I shout over my shoulder as I make good on my escape.
Our shopping was extremely successful. If Papa had been there he probably would have said too successful, but the damage was done and that night we crowned our success with a parade of our purchases which scared the gentlemen into a retreat to the billiards room.
The following evening the six of us embarked on our first social appointment - a musicale at Lady Bellingers. This lady, an intimate friend of Mr. Darcy's mother Lady Anne, had called on us that morning and invited us personally. She did not quite fit my expectations of a member of the peerage - opposite me sat a plump jovial woman who had embraced us to her not inconsiderable bosom. In the case of Lizzy and I this had been purely figurative turn of phrase. Georgie was not so lucky. She emerged form her rib-cracking embrace with a very red face. Whether this was form lack of oxygen or embarrassment I don't know, and knowing Georgie she wouldn't say. Anyway, after listening to Lady Bellinger's excited speech for above half an hour (she held the conversation on her own and interrupted herself constantly) I decided that I had not been so well entertained in an age, and that I liked her. It also transpired, with no help from Lizzy I might add, that Georgie and I were to play tonight. I mean - Lady Bellinger asked, and Lizzy looked at us and what could we say - Lizzy had just been enthusing on Georgie's playing and how she had been teaching me so we could hardly refuse! Trapped by the niceties of convention. Again. Sometimes I think life was a lot easier when I was a hoyden. Less rules at any rate.
The though of playing in front of so many people gives me no little alarm. Wild excuses run through my head - ill? Eloped? Locked in room? Abducted? Lizzy calmly accepts for us and I want to hit her over the head with something very heavy. It is fine for her - she can actually play and sing, not that she will be expected to of course. Lady Bellinger has already said that she wants her musicale to be a haven for young ladies to practice playing in society without the pressure of a critical audience. Ha! A little naïve I think!
Once she had gone a terrified looking Georgie reassured me that we would play a simple duet which we had practised together many times, in return I reassured her that everything would be fine. I'm not sure if either of us felt any better, but it had to be said.
My confidence was boosted by my toilette going smoothly. For once I was satisfied with my appearance. Simple yet demure is my new maxim, although please note that this is in appearance only. And looking around the hall before we left it was easy to see that we scrubbed up rather well. I felt a little thrill of pride, and for the first time I thought that it might just be possible for everything work out all right.
At the party the gentlemen assisted us from the carriage and we duly paired up - Lizzy and Mr. Darcy went first as is proper, Georgie and Thorn went next, rank first although Richard insisted that it was age before beauty, and Richard and I made up the rearguard. Richard was in high spirits and chattered on about how much I would enjoy myself and how long I must have been looking forward to this, but on the whole I think 'terrified' is probably a better description of my emotions (although in a twisted kind of a way I am actually quite pleased by this, for it means that although I have been out for an age I am not yet 'jaded by society' as Papa warned me I was bound to become. Then I remember that I am to perform and I quake in my dancing slippers. Oh dear!)
'Once more into the breach, eh?'
Richard had a warped sense of humour and were I less preoccupied I should hit him. I would like to note, however, that he does look incredibly dashing in his uniform, he is undoubtedly a heartbreaker amongst the Ton and so I wouldn't like to spoil that! I had forgotten how well a uniform becomes a man. Oh Lord! It would appear that under pressure I regress, so we shall move swiftly on.
Anyway, we were hardly divulged of our coats and hats when Lady Bellinger swept into the room and voraciously accosted us:
'My dear Fitzwilliam! Kiss your auntie!' She displayed a cheek which Mr. Darcy dutifully pecked (rather he than I, but I should explain that he had been out when Lady Bellinger had called) before bowing more formally over her hand.
'Aunt Amelia, you are as radiant as ever, and have not changed a whit!' She was always that, well ...fat?
'Dear boy.' She clucks and heaves her not inconsiderably bosom, and yes, I do believe that she is blushing! That is quite sweet actually, I will forgive Mr. Darcy his highly unoriginal attempt at gallantry. Maybe I should get Richard or Thorn to give him a few lessons?
'But you have changed my dear, for now you are a married man!' (please, as if he did not know!) 'Elizabeth you look lovely - I may call you Elizabeth may I not? Despite your husbands gallantry,' a smile at Mr. Darcy, 'I really am old enough to be your mother.' I don't mean to be nasty - Lady Bellinger is a very nice person, but this is a bit sickly sweet, I much preferred her when she was being funny.
'Of course, although my friends call me Lizzy.'
'Lizzy it is! And I am Aunt Amelia, everyone calls me that.' That is more the thing - she actually bounced with enthusiasm!
'Georgiana,' as she turned to Georgie, her whole demeanour changed now she dashed a tear away and clasped Georgie's hands, 'so like your dear departed mother. She would be so proud of you.' Oh, now that is lovely! Georgie kissed her cheek, tears don't look to far away for her either. Oh! Has anyone a handkerchief? Lady Bellinger talks to Georgie for a few moments in a low toned voice. I don't like to pry and try not to listen, so belatedly hit Richard in the stomach, subtly of course- we are in public!
'What was that for?' He look aggrieved.
'The awful joke you made.'
'Which one?'
Dumbfounded, I just look at him. Men!
'Lord Thornfield! Dear boy, it has been so long!.' She holds out her hand with every sign of pleasure on her face.
'Lady Bellinger.' Thorn does the faintest of bows over her hand. What? Nothing more, no pleasantries or charming words? I am confused, and more so by the fact that Lady Bellinger seems to see nothing amiss. I glanced at Thorn and was transported back to the breakfast room on my first day at Pemberley. Somehow, between the carriage and here he has meta-morphisised into a cold, hard-eyed stranger, and I don't like it.
'I am so happy to see you back, such a surprise when we all thought that you would stay away this season. Lily Hampton has only just now returned to the country you know, oh but of course you know! Star-crossed love!' What is this? I was given no time to register anything but my shock for Lady Bellinger continued to enthuse, 'And to think, your first appointment is at my musicale! Why, you shall turn me into a desirable hostess - goodness I shall have morning calls galore for this! As, I assure you, shall you Lizzy dear.' Lizzy, looking thoroughly confused, managed to smile but Lady Bellinger had already turned on Richard and so did not notice.
Thorn, if possible looks even more cold and bored. Hmph, well I shall see to that, I don't care about any 'Lily Hamptons' I want my friend back - I formulated my plan of attack, checked to see if anyone was looking and then stood on his foot and murmured 'buck up old chap'.
Thorn turned and gave me the most horrible look, oh I can't describe it - it was degrading and nasty and, and oh, almost condemning! He had a white line around his mouth, and was like a total stranger, as if he hated me! I felt tears prick at my eyes. No. No, I no longer require everyone's approval. I don't. Despite these reassurances, I could feel my confidence shrivel. The Kitty of six months ago would have cried, I will not. I raised my chin and glared back. At the blink of surprise and raised hand I realise that I must still have tears in my eyes. I ignored him and turned to the front, I will not be moved by softened eyes and repentant looks.
I don't understand what could have happened to him. Who is Lily Hampton, and what has she to do with the price of salt? And why is he taking it out on me?
So we have fallen out again. Recently it seems as if I have spent half of my time laughing with Thorn, whilst plotting revenge with the other half. This is different though, this is no light-hearted game, and I for one feel the sorrier for it.
Lord what a disaster, and the party is only beginning!
Lady Bellinger, perhaps sensing Georgie and my nervousness, was wonderful. She stayed with us and introduced Georgie, Lizzy and I to fully half of London (well no, I am sure it was not, but that is what it felt like!) Mr. Darcy stayed with us, and while he was silent for the most part, for his particular friends he did make something of an effort. After a few halted attempts at conversation, and some uncomfortable moments, Thorn persuaded Richard to join in going to talk to an old general with one leg who appeared to be drunk and quite literally was propped up by the drinks table. I was glad when they left - I no longer felt as if my every move and reaction where being assessed, or that I had to be careful to avoid his eye. Silly, annoying, infuriating man. I shall think no more of it. Or him.
Nevertheless, the names and faces passed in a polite blur - I could feel myself getting frustrated at my inability to concentrate, and I fear that I must have appeared very empty-headed and vague. Not that they noticed, from what little I did pay attention to it was obvious that the empty-headed look must be in fashion, for all of the other 'young ladies' of society wore it also. And they all giggled. Not laugh, a normal expression of humour, but a giggle, a false expression of flattery.
Bah! I want to go home. I don't want to sing in front of all of these people, or have friends change their personality every two minutes, or make the acquaintance of high born twits.
All right, I know that that is unfair, but I suppose whoever it was that said 'be careful what you wish for' was right (and by that I don't mean Papa - someone must have said it before him, although he certainly says it enough!)
My miserableness (I don't care if it is a real word or not) is settled when Lady Bellinger calls us all to the music room for this evenings 'entertainment'. Georgie looks awful, and I feel guilty - I should be thinking of her instead of obsessing about that silly man and a woman's name. I squeeze her hand and receive a grateful smile in return. I straighten my back, and raise my chin - I shall meet my fate head on. I must note that one part of my brain is hoping that the piano will miraculously cleave in two so that we will regrettably be unable to perform. Unlikely I know, but stranger things have happened.
Needless to say, I was out of luck.
Georgie and I took our turn at the piano forte. While Georgie settled the music, I looked at my audience. Lizzy was smiling encouragingly, Lady Bellinger was beaming at us from the front row, Richard was leaning back, relaxed in his chair looking like a man expectant of being pleasantly entertained. I think he thought that this would help. It didn't. Next to him was Thorn, I didn't mean to meet his eyes but I could not help it, and his look held me - I got the rather fanciful notion that he was trying to see into my head. I was not in any frame of mind to contemplate the meaning of this and quickly moved my eyes away. They found Mr. Darcy. He also met my eyes, and he looked so proud and conveyed a surety of our success that I felt, and I am being fanciful again I know, but I felt so much better, calmer. William thought that we could do this and I would not be the one to prove him wrong. It was that simple
The piece went smoothly enough, Georgie managed to cover my deficiencies and I think that although we were by no means first class, we did ourselves no harm. We received a round of applause, and Lady Bellinger wiped away a tear. I was just glad to reclaim my chair next to Lizzy. Thank the Lord that is over.
After supper and further mindless hobnobbing I took refuge form the polite inquiries into Hertfordshires' weather and Lizzy's marriage (not that they are connected) in an inconspicuous window seat. I kept my eyes on the ground in the hope that I may finally be afforded a few moments of peace. This is not to be, I am there for not two minutes before a pleasant voice interrupts my day-dreaming.
'Miss Bennet?'
Just for a moment I contemplated a pithy retort to the effect of who else he was expecting? But I managed to resist, I am in company after all.
'Yes.' Reluctantly I looked up and see a very smart gentleman smiling down at me, nice eyes. Out of habit, I find myself smiling back.
'May I join you?' he gestures at the space beside me.
No, leave me alone!
'Of course.'
'Thank you.'
It is as he is sitting down that I realise that I have not the slightest clue as to who he could be. It is perfectly possible that we have been introduced, and as he knows my name it would seem likely, but I cannot recall. Oh dear, this puts me in a rather awkward position. To pretend or to admit, I know not what is the correct etiquette. Well I do - you should not to talk to strangers, but I think we are a bit beyond that.
He turns to face me. He has the same polite smile on his face that I have seen all night, it seems to be uniform amongst the Ton (except Thorn and Mr. Darcy who scowl), it feigns interest but conceals a sense of superiority. This is going to be a barrel of laughs.
'How are you enjoying the party Miss Bennet?'
Oh terribly much, and all the better for you sitting next to me and interrupting the only rest I have had all evening. That probably wouldn't go down too well, I must be more diplomatic.
'My enjoyment increased once my performance ended.' I smile, then catch myself and stop. I have enough bad habits of my own without picking up others. Instead I assess my companion and come to a decision.
'Sir, I am sorry, but I am afraid that I have forgotten your name.'
Astonishment, then to my relief laughter. Although, after being laughed at for a couple of minutes I begin to think that perhaps I have made a massive faux pas. We are starting to get strange looks.
'What? No, I mean - pardon?' Careful, manners Kitten.
Kitten? Oh. Dratted man!
'Nothing.' Seeing that I am upset, but misinterpreting the reason he sobers a little, 'I am sorry but it is rather singular to admit that.'
'I have made a faux pas!' Oh no, and I promise Lizzy faithfully!
'No, no. In fact you are being much more polite by admitting that you don't know me from Adam than if you were to hold a conversation pretending to know who I am
'Well, that is true.' I was much struck by this point of view.
'I am Max Calder by the way.'
'I am charmed to make your acquaintance Mr. Calder.'
The next half an hour passed very pleasantly indeed. Mr. Calder turned out to be a delightful companion and far from asking dull questions about the weather in Hertfordshire, instead he demonstrated a shrewd understanding of human nature and had me greatly entertained by pointing out various members of society. He did not leave it at simple identification, no - that would be too easy, instead, as an 'aide memoir'(or so he said) he commented on each either with a sardonic note on their character, their history or their foibles. During this I gathered several things about my companion - it would seem that Mr. Calder was the younger son of a country Baronet, the title of which his brother inherited but five years ago. Said brother, Sir John Calder, was a prolonged object of our study. He struck me as being like a caricature from 'Punch', Papa's political magazine, in appearance: he was red faced, very portly, and very, very good humoured. Quite the opposite, in fact, from Mr. Calder, who was trim, neat and rather quiet, although he does possess a wicked sense of humour. Unlike several of our fellow guests, Sir John Calder did not receive the sharp edge of his brother's tongue. Instead Mr. Calder marveled at his brother's good nature and ever present optimism on the goodness of his fellow human beings (I decided not to tell him of Jane, I think the knowledge that there was another as cheerful and nice as his brother would have been too much for my cynical friend, he may have had an apoplexy). Mr. Calder illustrated this by telling me of how, when he had inherited his fortune from an uncle who had worked in trade his brother had been delighted for him, and declared it: 'capital', and 'couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke, eh?' Apparently it had not crossed his mind that he, Sir John, may have inherited and when Mr. Max Calder had pointed it out to him he had looked aghast (Mr. Calder did an excellent impression for me to illustrate this point) and had exclaimed 'What would I want with it, got the title ain't I? No, much better you.' This struck me as very ironic, for in a money orientated society Sir John acted as if it were a bad thing, and had me in whoops of laughter, so that I received a depressing stare from a purple turbaned Dowager in the corner. I did not care, for this was the funniest thing I had heard in an age, and I was very pleased with myself - three months ago I could not have spelt ironic, and yet now I was recognising it in others. It is a shame that there is no one to share this with who would be suitably impressed. However I must admit that I was slightly, well not put out, but I did think that it might not be the wisest of things for Mr. Calder to do - tell me he was moneyed I mean, for that would make him a catch on the marriage mart and he strikes me as the type that wouldn't be very happy to have young girls chasing after him (as Mama would undoubtedly have me do if she were to know). Little does he appreciate his luck, for I am not on the marriage mart.
Anyway it would seem that he, Sir John I mean, is married to Lady Bellinger's niece. To hear her talked of one would think that Lady Joanna had much of her aunt's disposition, indeed Mr. Calder described her as 'a fat woman in a thin woman's body'. This was not perhaps well judged for it set me off into gales of laughter. Again.
When I had mastered myself once more, I looked up and my eyes met those of none other than Lord High and Mighty Thornfield. I managed to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at him, the room at large already thought me a provincial for laughing too much and I would not compound their impression, but really - someone should tell him to relax a little in company and he may enjoy himself more. And so I met his eyes defiantly before looking resolutely away.
I continued in my conversation with Mr. Calder (who became less sarcastic and more agreeable as time went on), but to my frustration remained aware of each of the people Thorn talked to, all of whom seemed to be female and of a marriageable age. I was glad when he left - there are too many ladies in this room who would only be after his fortune, and I although I am currently annoyed at him, I would not want to see him trapped into marriage before my very eyes. I realise that this is unlikely as he is in a public place, but you can never be too sure with these conniving hussies.
I then confided in Mr. Calder my fear of embarrassing Lizzy in society. In return he listened, contemplated and then assured me that I had best not worry, that the only way I would embarrass my sister would be in trying to be something I was not (he illustrated his point by pointing out the purple-turbaned Dowager who purported to be a lady of consequence, and yet who's advice, I was assured, was merely a subject of amusement for all).
'And so Miss Bennet, you see that you had better be 'true to yourself' as all the poetry and literature tell you, and you shall shine amongst the other, really rather dull debutantes.' He said this in a tone meant, I am sure, to raise my spirits. I attempted to depress his by refusing to accept this flight of fancy. Me? Kitty Bennet? Shine? Hah! Thank you for the compliment, but only in my day dreams.
'But Mr. Calder, the poetry and literature were written, on the whole, by laudable men who, because of their art, where detached from society. So I fail to see how this can be relevant to a young lady embarking on a London season under the scrutiny of the Dowagers and Patronesses.' Mary would be proud of me for that, it was almost a philosophical argument.
'Very true, but it is the spirit of the thing.'
'Oh really?' I remained wholly skeptical.
'Yes.' He seemed to take stock before continuing, in a different tone of voice, 'Miss Bennet, please believe me when I tell you that you have no need to worry. You are a welcome breath of fresh air to the more jaded members of society. You laugh, not giggle, and are not afraid to admit when you are wrong or ignorant. To see you transformed into a talking doll like other debutantes would be a crime, and so I ask you not to change yourself for anyone else.'
This was said in a very matter of fact manner so that I discounted flattery and instead thanked him for his advice. He thanked me for thanking him and what could have been an interesting conversation on the demands of society spiraled into the ridiculous.
At length it was decided that he should call on me tomorrow morning to take me for a drive, to 'further our acquaintance'. I'm not quite sure what he means by that for it was said in a jesting tone, but I like him, he makes me laugh, and is not at all uncomfortable on the eye, so I accept. I am told that the normally these drives are taken in the 'Fashionable Hour', but he admitted to being a very bad driver and so we thought that it might be wiser to go early in the day when there would be less traffic. I naturally laughed at him, and told him that he would not do well for he was not at all accomplished. He told me, rather condescendingly, that not even he could be expected to excel at everything. I looked at his eyes, and the laughter there belied the prim set of his mouth. I grinned widely at him, and slowly his face cracked into grin. His face then changed as he saw something over my shoulder. I then felt a touch on my arm and turned to find myself being coolly surveyed by Thorn.
To my surprise, and contrary to his earlier behaviour and rather forbidding appearance, Thorn smiled gracefully enough and, if one did not look to closely at his eyes, then one might almost mistake his demeanour for awkwardness. I refuse to be impressed, or fooled. His overall behaviour tonight was inexcusable and he was acting like a pompous ass. I can say this only to myself, to give voice to a phrase like that even in private would be to receive a stern reproof from Georgie or Lizzy on my manners.
'Excuse me, Miss Bennet, your sister is looking for you. I understand that Miss Darcy is fatigued and is desirous of leaving. If you are ready, then I should be honoured to escort you to where your party is waiting for you.'
I refrained from rolling my eyes at him. What a bore. Not having to leave the party, but for Mr. Calder it should have been an insufferable evening. No - I mean Him, how to mangle the English language in three easy to follow stages. Still the sooner we have our argument, sorry discussion (I can almost hear Lizzy saying 'Ladies don't have arguments, Kitty, they discuss!' I suppose that she would know), the sooner all will be mended, and we can go back to being as we were.
'Mr. Calder,' we rise, and I give that gentleman my hand, 'I am afraid that I must away.'
'Miss Bennet,' he bows, 'Thank you for enlivening my evening. I look forward to our ride tomorrow.'
'Till tomorrow.' I take Thorn's proffered arm. He puts a hand over mine on his arm and nods, rather disdainfully, at Mr. Calder.
'Calder.'
'Thornfield.' Mr. Calder just looks amused and raises his eyebrows. I have a nagging feeling that I am missing something as I watch this by-play, but am given no time to think on it as my interrogation begins as soon as we were in the hall and out of earshot of our fellow guests.
'What was Calder saying to you?' Ah, it would seem that the gloves are doffed, and with it the prosy language. I welcome that, although naturally take offense at being addressed in such a manner. I'll show him.
'Mr Calder was being thoroughly charming, and was exceedingly diverting in pointing out various members of society and their...eccentricities.' I replied loftily. I hoped that he caught the irony of my statement, but I doubt it for he just snorted. (I think that that is the problem with irony, so often it goes to waste as the person does not understand your true meaning. It is really very frustrating.)
'Yes, he would!' And what is that supposed to mean. Infuriating man - now he talks like a sphinx! Again I am given no chance to think of a suitable comeback as he launches into another quick fire question.
'Is he taking you for a drive tomorrow?'
'Well really!' This is the outside of enough, and I am getting really very exasperated now, and am beginning to lose my patience. I shoot him a speaking look, although by his hard-eyed stare I rather think that I am not the only one.
'Yes, if you must know.' Rather petulant, Kitty. I am regressing again, although he deserves it! Thorn's next statement succeeding in taking my breath away.
'Then you had better cancel it. Calder couldn't drive a wagon to a cattle market without overturning it. I'll take you instead.'
I was rendered stunned and speechless. (This is no mean feet for it had not occurred in the eighteen years I had spent at Longbourn, and so I had thought myself wholly immune. Apparently not.)
I could merely stare at my haughty companion, and belatedly remembered to close my mouth.
The arrogance!
Incredible, absolutely amazing. I am beyond anger and instead am reduced to reluctant awe of such pigheaded, arrogant, misguided, domineering, condescending and infuriating manner.
I gobbled for a moment before regaining the powers of speech.
'Thank you for your more than generous offer' he is not the only one to be sarcastic, 'but I prefer to keep my prior arrangements.'
'What?' A disbelieving Lord Thornfield? It would appear that he has lost the ability to understand plain English. I will help him.
'I want to go out with Mr. Calder. It is all arranged and settled. There is no need for your oh so chivalrous offer.'
Oh, he doesn't like that! There was a small group of people moving into the hallway, and he seemed to realise that we would soon be in the way and so pulled me into a side room and shut the door. I considered the impropriety of our situation for a moment, then decided that the argument was more important.
'Calder can't drive a carriage in the park in the Fashionable Hour, you'll have an accident and be humiliated in front of the Ton, is that what you want?'
'Ha! We aren't going in the 'Fashionable Hour',' I pointed out triumphantly, 'we are going in the morning when the 'Fashionable People'' I made a face at him just to make sure this time that I included him, 'are still safely ensconced in their beds.'
No answer. He is just staring at me. Sensing that I have won, I try not to look too pleased, but I can feel a dimple peaking out and I am getting that happy bubbly feeling inside again.
'Concede?' I question rather pertly. He still looks a bit annoyed, but his eyes soften, and his mouth twists into a reluctant smile.
'You look like the kitten who has got the cream.' I ignore that - sticks and stones and all that.
'Very well, but be careful - don't talk when he is coming to corners or at busy traffic, and if it looks too dangerous then promise me that you will just walk home. Promise?'
'I promise - see, I am graceful in victory.'
'Indeed, and you can drive with me in the afternoon.' This arrogant statement makes me remember his earlier behaviour and the look he gave me, and the closeness that I had felt with him is suddenly gone. The happiness is had felt was replaced by sadness, but I just couldn't let him off the hook so easily - he hadn't apologised and so it would not be right.
'Thank you, but if I go out in the morning then I believe that I shall be too fatigued to go out again in the afternoon.' I was coolly formal, Thorn could hardly fail to notice the change.
'Too fatigued?' I think he thought I was funning.
'Yes.'
Now he realised that I was not. I think he ground his teeth, certainly there was no sign of a smile now.
Then something occurs to me.
'Who is Lily Hampton?'