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Thorn directed me some distance from the terrace doors, his firm grip not really leaving much to discussion. I decided that on the whole it was best not to make an issue of it - Lord, if I were to do that we could well be here all night! We passed several couples as we wound our way along. One lady in particular seemed to be very distressed by our passing and promptly burst into tears at the sight of us, quite disconcerting for I own that I have never quite elicited that reaction before! Thorn snorted in disgust in her general direction, and indeed why should he not? Such a fainted hearted thing to do. Apparently, however, her Beau thought it a sign of 'sensibility' and murmured comfortingly. Humph, stupidity more like if you ask me, which of course they didn't.
We stopped by the balustrade at the far end of the terrace and were quite, quite alone. It was really quite dark, although we could still see the lights from inside. The fresh air was a welcome relief to my over warm cheeks and I tipped back my head to enjoy the feel of it on my face. I closed my eyes, partly to increase my enjoyment, but I must admit that it was mostly because I was wholly too aware of Thorn's unnerving stare. Thankfully he seemed to think it appropriate to allow me a moment of reflection. First I tried to calm myself for battle by thinking over what I knew of my adversaries. To begin: Lord John Thornfield, also known as the Earl of Thrapsten or (to some at least) Lord Thorny-Heels - male, tall, good looking and altogether rather too disturbing at points. Was in the army, although I shall not dwell on that for I may get distracted by images of him in a red coat. Mmmmm. Anyway, after an initially rocky start in which he duly insulted my family, my person and my good name (hmm, I don't believe I have actually called him to order for that - there's a point) he has now become a good friend. Still, he appears to have some difficulty appearing in public - he becomes all stiff and formal and boring. Very dull, although I have started the first moves in character reformation so all I want is time. Other points of note: he is very clever, and extremely stubborn, but otherwise fair. All in all a worthy opponent. Now, Mr. George Brummell. I frowned as some faint piece of knowledge told me that he had left university without his degree. Well, whatever, he then joined the army (setting, to my mind at least, quite a delightful trend). On leaving that hallowed profession he took up his position in society and soon became the leader of fashion. I, and thousands of others I am sure, am eternally grateful that the Beau encouraged the latest fashions: the sober clothes slimming even the most portly of figures by a few inches, and the extravagant neck-pieces providing much amusement for us ladies and focus for young pups. In short - he holds society in the palm of his hand. Oh Dear. I have no wish to hold society in such sway, although the chance would be a fine thing. I would like to point out that although I always wanted to come to London, and see London, I never actually wanted to be a big part in it all. It would mean such tedious things as complying with fads, being observed by those who had nothing better to do and having to be proper at all times. And being talked about. I hate that! If anyone has a problem with something I have done or said then I had much rather that they tell me straight out. In all fairness I may well cry, but I would prefer that to a secret whispering campaign. And, another thing, I can't afford it! It would mean a new dress for every occasion. Ah, now here is a tack that may make them see sense...except of course I am too proud to admit it, and Mr. Brummell would no doubt think it of no consequence - that I could recoup my losses with a good marriage. The very thought makes my stomach turn.
It would seem that I am in rather a pickle.
What to do?
I want to go home.
Thorn broke the silence at this point. Perhaps my face showed that I had hit rock bottom for when he did so it was in the tone of a schoolmaster to an unruly child.
'Now Kitty, take this time to calm yourself before Brummell comes out - believe me, you don't want to make a mull of this.'
I kept my eyes firmly shut, shrugged and replied truculently, 'As well sooner as later.'
'Kitten!' The tone of exasperation I knew well of old - Papa could match that tone. I opened my eyes, ready to defend myself, for this time I actually had a good reason for my stance and was not just being my normal stupid of thoughtless self. Oh the giddy sensation of righteousness!
'What?' Elegant Kitty, well done, show them what you're made of my girl.
Dolt. Idiot. Simpleton.
'Why are you acting like this?' Oh dear, Thorn has begun to pace - not a good sign. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. I followed him with my eyes but stopped when I begin to feel a bit dizzy. Well, looking on the bright side of it all I suppose that at least this time he is unlikely to wear a hole in the terrace, I inspected Lizzy's carpet after his last pacing extravaganza and did indeed fancy that I could notice a difference! True, it was very slight, but a worthy ammunition in any future argument.
Still, Thorn looks peeved. To go back to his question - I might very well turn it on its head, Lord Thornfield. Thus I challenged him.
'Why are you and Mr. Brummell living in cloud cuckoo land? What makes you think that I of all people could be a success?' Thorn had stopped pacing, and was now regarding me with a look of tired patience. I think he was trying to be reasonably and listen to my side of the story and did not realise that it is really very condescending of him and quite put my nose out of joint.
'I know you.'
'No you don't!' My scathing reply seemed to fire his quick temper as nothing else had this evening.
'Oh, I assure you I do, Miss Catherine Bennet,' he bit out my name like an insult. I gave him the reply that I felt he deserved and ignored him, turning away and folding my hands across my chest. Not a wise move - he just raised his voice. Glancing back at him I saw that his hands were bunched at his sides in fists, and his stare was now fixed. I was wholly unimpressed. 'I know you, that is why I know you can do this if you really want to, if only you are not too lazy or too ungrateful.'
'Ungrateful.' T'would appear that I have inherited Mama's ability to screech in high-pitched tones at moments of crises. I know that we agreed that friends are permitted to speak their mind but this is the outside of enough!
'Yes, Miss Bennet - ' Oh, ho - I have been further demoted, this time I will call him to order on that.
'Stop calling me that, if you know me so well...' My voice became even higher pitched, I would not wonder if glass would soon begin to break. Perhaps it was fortunate that I could speak no more for Thorn took offense at my words and continued unabated. He was even louder now so as to drown my voice out entirely. I was distracted enough to have a moment to realise that it was really a awfully good thing that we have wandered away form the door lest our fight be heard by all and sundry.
'Ungrateful,' he affirmed, just in case I had missed it the first time I suppose. 'How many women in that room would give their right arm that they were in your position now? Beau Brummell, the man who the Regent himself defers to, has singled you, Miss Catherine Bennet of Longbourn, out.' By this point Thorn had resumed his frenzied pacing and occasionally he punctuated his remarks by pointing his finger at me to emphasize a particular point. 'Brummell has talked with you, danced with you, and (note Kitten, for this is the most important of all) laughed with you! You! You, Miss Bennet, are the Belle of the season. You, Miss Bennet, are made.' He stopped his pacing and stared at me in a most disconcerting fashion. My rising panic would not permit me to acknowledge the truth of his words and I answered hurriedly as I felt that I would soon be suffocated by it.
'Well unmake me!' I accompanied it with a desperate wave of my hand and then I too began to pace. Perhaps it is contagious?
'Catherine!' A slight promotion? Once started I could not seem to stop pacing. It was really very comforting, and I imagine that it would be very satisfying to toss words at Thorn over my shoulder. But that would be too dramatic, and I have not taste for it. I stopped and turned to face Thorn, a few feet were all that was between us.
Well that, a lifetime of experience and a whole book of idealism.
Oh, and clothes of course.
'Thorn, think on it and you will realise that I just can't so it, I just can't.' Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I would not use them over him. I had given over to pleading though. So much for my much prided self-respect. I took a deep breath and considered my position. Losing my temper appeared to be gaining me nothing but lost time. He is an educated man - I decided to appeal to his intellect.
'I mean our very fashion is based n Grecian models, models of grace and of style and serenity like Georgiana or Jane or Miss Everly,' (a beauty pointed out to me by the gentleman I danced with, I think it was to prove my unimportance. Ha, the heady irony!) ' I am none of those things.' I was carried away by the cleverness of my Grecian metaphor and was actually quite excited by this point; 'if they are ladies of Olympus then I am ... an Amazon - '
'Small, fierce and riding a horse with a bow in hand ready to lop of the head of any unsuspecting male?'
I looked at Thorn and for the first time since our retreat there was amusement in Thorn's tone and look. In fact there was more than that - outright mirth was written on that man's face and his shoulders were shaking! Oh all right! I concede that if it had been anyone else making the comparison I would laugh too, but he cannot be allowed to ignore my meaning.
'Thorn - ' He stopped my words by stepping closer and putting me off what I had been going to say entirely. His presence was really very disturbing.
'I think I had you pegged better than any Grecian beauty.' He is still laughing at me, the wretch! I made to hit him, but he caught my hand easily before any damage could be done, and taking the other one squeezed them warmly. I found myself somewhat assuaged.
'You are far more like a kitten, you know - playful, willful, slightly spoilt but bringing joy to all who know you.' Oh, what a lovely thing to say! He squeezed my hands once more and his eyes refused to let mine look away. 'I will not let you fall Kitten, I promise. You won't be doing this alone.'
I'm going to lose this fight, aren't I? Oh well, at least I can do so gracefully.
'Becoming a philanthropist Thorn?' Thorn shook his head and matched my smile, although his was warmer and lacked the self-directed mockery.
'And here was me thinking I was your knight in shining armour.' Exasperated, I cocked myself to one side and challenged him.
'Why is it you take every opportunity to flirt with me?'
'Why is it you always ignore me when I do?' Too easy, Lord Thornfield.
'Because you aren't serious.' Thorn sighed and rolled his eyes.
'I am so misunderstood.' I laughed at his lament, not believing a word of it - I am not so green!
'Ah, here you two are.' I turned and smiled at Mr. Brummell - he is so very funny and I suppose if he and Thorn are so determined then there is nothing I can do but concede and (in true dramatic form) cast myself upon the winds of fate. And now I sound like a tuppeny romance novel. Wonderful! Well, at least they'll never know what I'm thinking. Although, reflecting on it, that is rather a shame for I know that Thorn would find it highly amusing. The thought of his possible replies made my grin wider under the observant eye of Mr. Brummell. His glance then went to our hands, which were still joined. I let go and stepped back as if burnt, or a child caught with a hand in the biscuit jar. My cheek felt flushed but I dared not put my hands to them and so draw the attention of the gentlemen. Glancing at Thorn to see if he shared my mortification, I saw instead that to my amazement he was looking as pleased as punch. He had a most unbecoming self-satisfied look on his face, and was obviously delighted about something, although for the life of me I cannot see what! And they think that females are unpredictable creatures?
Men!
What is going on? Does he not understand that we are alone on the terrace of a party and we should not be caught holding hands for people have suspicious natures and they will not think that we have stopped there! Lord knows I never let the officers at Meryton do so much and I know that that makes me a tease; Lydia certainly told me so often enough. She didn't stop at handholding and passionate words. What am I saying, of course she didn't - she eloped for Lords' sake!
'You found us then?' Thorn's voice was wholly disinterested and I wanted to hit him. I don't know why, but I had the strange feeling that it might just dispel some of the tension inside of me.
'Apparently so.' So cool, so urbane, now that is why Brummell is untouchable.
'I take it that Miss Bennet is reconciled to her terrible fate?'
'Apparently so.' A conversation about me was going on in front of my very eyes and yet I was taking no part in it. What is wrong with this picture?
'Excellent. Well, this little protest is more endearing than troublesome. I feel that it shows an awareness of frailty and the fickleness of society that is very practical.' At the end of this soliloquy, Mr. Brummell turned to me. Well, about time too! 'I like you Miss Bennet. For the past couple of years the highlight of the season has been a sparkling blonde. A diamond of the first water who was just as hard as her namesake; a woman more suitable for a statue or a painting than an absorbing conversation.' Miss Everly is thus destroyed. Shame really.
I dropped a curtsey.
'Why I thank you for the pretty compliment sir.'
Brummell waved this away with a negligent motion of his hand, considering it to be of little consequence.
'Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I feel that I must ask - do you not like to have attention drawn to you?'
Now there is a silly question!
'Well of course I do! I'm the middle child in a family of five girls - one is an angel, another a scapegrace and another is a wit who is sure to turn into one of society's most sought after hostesses,' here I gestured inside, no doubt to where Lizzy was still holding court. 'But, and here is where the ruination comes in -' Thorn lifted his eyebrows at my novel use of the English language. Mr. Brummell had a more sympathetic smile and so I ignored Lord Thorny-Heels after giving him a brief fuming glare, 'how long do you think I can keep it up? You see I've never really succeeded at anything and now you want me to not to be scrutinised but microscopically examined every word, gesture, hat, glove affectation analysed pulled apart and ridiculed.'
I was getting carried away again.
'Kitty!' Thorn protested at this, I think he felt that his good work was being undone. Well I say pooh to him too.
'Let her finish.' Mr. Brummell commanded. Oh, do I sense a way out? I eagerly pounced on my opportunity.
'I'll make am mull of it! Please! All you have to do is ignore me!' I never thought I would say such words. Unless of course it was to Mr. Collins, or one of his ilk - that would be perfectly understandable.
'I'm afraid that it is all a bit late for that, if I ignore you people will wonder what is wrong with you, you see.'
'Oh!' frustrated, I stamped foot. My slipper did not really protect me very well and it hurt! I spoke to give vent to the pain. 'There must be a way out of this.'
'Your friends will stand by you, Kitty.' Thorn, quietly repeated the assurances of earlier.
Brummell concurred and put an end to it all - 'I think you anticipate more trouble than will actually occur - society will be too busy copying you to do much else. But the final decision rests with me and I really think that you are 'protesting too much'. Thornfield here seems to be able to impress on you that you will not be fed to the lions so we will leave it there. Now to more important matters - appearance. I am afraid that I can't have any protégé of mine being ill-dressed.'
Brummell made a lazy motion of his hand, asking, I presumed, for me to turn around. Obedient (although fast losing patience) I twirled.
Brummell considered me.
Thorn considered Brummell considering me.
I watched then both.
Brummell then fell to deep introspection. I sent a questioning look at Thorn and smiled at his comical face and wink, biting my lip to repress it when Mr. Brummell roused himself.
'Your basic sense of style is good,' I could not help but preen a bit at this, 'and I think that simple is best. You are a brunette so wear warm colours as well as pastels. Dresses of amber and deep rose etcetera as well as the normal array. White you should wear seldom - keep it for a special occasion where you wish to make a statement, your wedding perhaps?' Does he mock me? It was impossible to know for his face was unreadable, but his eyes sparkled with humour. 'Tonight - the cream with the red sash, very good it highlights your colouring nicely, your choice?' He paused hardly long enough for me to nod before continuing. 'Excellent, so it is your good taste and not that of your maid. So, Miss Bennet, your maxim - plain dresses, contrasting ribbon and NO LACE.' I stepped back quickly, stunned by the vehemence of his voice. 'It does not suit you. It will not suit you. Do not wear it! Simple jewelry only, flowers will also suit. Although, I suppose that we really do need something distinctive, something of a signature item.'
'Pearls?' Thorn opined, Brummell waved this suggestion away.
'I think not - I was thinking more of topazes, amethysts, garnets; or even a stylish bracelet.'
I had been thinking on this in my daydreams in the Mantua maker when Lizzy was looking at an exquisite hat that I just could not afford. Anyway, I was eager to get my oar in before it was decided that I should always carry a peacock feather or some other such absurdity.
'What about a coat?'
Thorn and Brummell turned to me, each had an aspect of surprise - I was sure that they have forgotten I was here, the cheek of it! However Thorn's surprise quickly gave way to an encouraging look that gave me the confidence to continue although I did talk very quickly as I was afraid that they would interrupt.
'Green, dark green in the style of the Rifles Regiment with black beading.' Here I gesticulated at my front. 'But still with the high waist that is the fashion and from there it can fan out and more braiding (subtle though, tasteful) at the cuffs.' Again I motioned to the area involved.
Brummell considered my proposal carefully. I waited on tenterhooks, and when I could not bear looking at him any longer, I glanced at Thorn. He was smiling again, nay he was positively grinning! Oh Lord, what have I done now? At my questioning look he decided to share the joke with me. Thorn is very generous that way.
'Rifles, eh?' Whatever I had expected him to say, it hadn't been that.
'Yes,' I looked at him, but the silly man was still just grinning at me! Someone should tell him that he should be careful - the wind might change and he will be stuck with the look of a village idiot. Exasperated beyond reason I called him to order-
'What?' My indignant tone just made him grin even wider. Brummell glanced at us in surprise, perhaps he had not thought we were on such easy terms with one another.
'I was in the Rifles.'
'Oh.' How sweet, he looks all proud of himself. Still, I didn't know quite how to take this. What would people think if I then started wearing a Rifle's greatcoat - that I was wearing the willow for Thorn, that I was in love with Thorn? Such a thought is not to be borne - he is my friend for goodness sake! But, and here I regress quite a bit, I must admit that I was disappointed that he had never worn red. I was about to question him further on this (I mean he must have worn a redcoat at some point, mustn't he, else why join?) when Mr. Brummell again took charge of the conversation.
'I approve, see that it is done.' By the tone of command you would know that he had been in the army too. 'It would seem that you are aware of what could be de rigeur.' I felt my cheeks flush with success, and I dropped my eyes in modesty. Perhaps it is time to lighten the conversation again, I smiled to myself but between my bowed head and the darkness I am fairly sure they could not see it.
'Oh, no - I just have the occasional flash of inspiration, genius is not one of my faults.'
'Modest Kitty?' Thorn knows me well and fell easily into our normal idiotish banter.
'No, merely not setting myself up for a fall.'
'We shall review you at the next town outing. Let me see...' Brummell was in no mood for our funning, and was all business.
'The Raleigh Party.' Thorn put in quietly, all amusement gone. Why? What is it I don't understand now?
'Ah, yes - famous for its attendance by the eligible men of society.' Ooh, now that sounds promising. Brummell was eyeing Thorn in amusement. He then started a conversation that was bizarre in the extreme. Initially I did not notice as I was distracted about what Georgie and I should wear to this party that had lots of men at it, so my attention was obviously divided and I did not pay attention as I ought. That could explain my subsequent confusion, but still - what time is this to be talking of racing?
'So Thornfield, you are entering The Race this year.'
'As you see.'
'Well, I suppose you have bided your time and waited for the right filly, can't blame you really - but you really ought to have made your move by now, do you really expect no competition?
'What, George? Don't tell me you are joining us on the field?' Brummell cleaned his quizzing glass deliberately. He does that quite a bit - I wonder how many he goes through in a year?
'I understand that the prize money isn't up to much, so it rather remains to be seen whether the prize alone isn't worth the winning.'
'I feel that I should warn you, Brummell old chap, that it is a race that I have no intention of losing.' I have no idea what they are talking about, but I must admit that I got quite a thrill to hear Thorn talking so authoritatively to Mr. Brummell - and if he is prepared to stand up Brummell, is there no one that he is afraid of?
'You will need to see how the competition lines up and how the course goes, for until then, unless I am very mush mistaken, it is an open race.' Thorn was standing almost to attention so straight was his back; he also had that closed look on his face that I detest. Brummell was still looking entertained more than anything else. And I? Well, by now I was bored of them talking like sphinxes. Boys with there toys! Really!
'I think that we had better go inside now, to stay outside much longer must bring rise to comment.' Brummell looked approving. Thorn still looked pole axed and haughty 'in extremis'.
'Very true, Miss Bennet, permit me to offer you my arm.' I look the proffered limb and Thorn was forced to follow behind. I rather fancy that he was sulking. Poor boy, but what could I do?
'May I have that honour of the supper dance?' Brummell asked, and although I was aware that the Beau would then lead me into supper I felt that I must object.
'I am sorry, sir, but I am afraid that I have already promised the dance to Cousin Richard,' blank look, 'I mean Colonel Fitzwilliam.' I smiled to ease the heavy blow. 'I think that he was taking pity on me and was seeking to ensure that I got at least one dance.'
'Kitty...' Thorn made a move to protest although whether at my refusal or the suggestion of pity I know not.
'No, old chap, it is well. I admire a woman who can hold to her purpose.'
By this point we had returned to the main room and were again under the watchful eyes of the dowagers. Brummell then took my hand and kissed it in full view of everyone! There was almost an audible gasp. More cynical than those around me I considered this the first shot in his campaign to 'make me'.
'I had a delightful evening and anticipate with pleasure the chance of seeing you again at the Raleigh's.' Well that secures my invitation! Brummell continued in a lowered tone of voice, meant for my ears only, 'Let us see if we cannot raise the Ton from its complacency to character attributes, Miss Bennet.' I smiled, not quite sure if that was a compliment - have I no physical attributes?
'Thornfield.' With that, and a curt accompanying nod, Brummell took his leave making for the door, and I fancy, his club. A string of young men followed him - a worshipful look in their eyes. Their mothers, however, regarded me and I began to feel rather hunted. To dispel the feeling I turned to my companion to start a conversation. Any conversation.
'My Goodness.' Thorn smiled, but was still distracted and rather strained looking. I want to make it better but I don't understand what caused the pain in the first place. I touched him on the arm gently, and quietly questioned -
'Thorn, are you well?' I receive a weak smile, but more of his attention.
'Yes, Kitten, I'm fine.' A pause, and still he looked unwell. The next sentence had me forget pity, however, in indignation. Whether that was his design I know not, but if it was it worked. 'Promise me you won't forget about us in your new found celebrity.'
'Thorn!' I protest loudly, my ready indignation bringing a genuine smile to his face
'Just checking.' Cheeky so and so! We stood in companionable silence watching the dancers. I then became aware of a middle age woman in pearls swooping down on us. On one side of her was, I presume, her daughter - a whey faced creature in white satin and lace and her son who appeared to have some difficulty with his upper lip - I think it was supposed to be a moustache. Thorn saw them too, and while I racked my brain for a way of escape Thorn was quicker witted and turned to me. Apropos nothing -
'Dance with me?'
'I thought you don't like dancing?' I wanted to accept - I wanted to dance with Thorn, but I felt that it was my duty just to make sure that this really was what he wanted. Meanwhile the trio were getting closer.
'I know, but I'm good at it and I feel the need to show off - so I'm afraid that I'm not giving you the option any more - come along, Miss Bennet.'
I laughed at him, and the look of frustration on the Pearl Woman's face. Our joint pleasure allowed me to be put to ease, and he did not lie - he really was an excellent dancer. I found that I could stand and hold my head up high not caring who was talking and looking at me.
We did not talk much in that set, or the next - mostly because the pattern did not allow it, although when we were brought together we were more often silent than not. At the end of it I curtsied and thanked him. Thorn smiled, his look directed over my shoulder. Turning, I saw that it was Lizzy, William and Georgie. I wanted to run over to them. Indeed, I would have done had Thorn not read my intention and grabbed my arm, leading me slowly to them.
'Now, now Kitten. It wouldn't do to appear too eager.' He is mocking me again! All is right, but I won't let him off so easily.
'You just want me all to yourself.' A surprised look came over Thorn's face, but he was given no chance to reply for we arrived at our destination.
William looked bemused and was eyeing me in disbelief. Georgie looked as pleased as punch. I think it was the first time I had ever seen Georgie grin, not just smile.
And Lizzy?
'Well, Kitty. What have you done this time?'
Her good humoured remark with all its memories from scrapes at Longbourn had me laughing as nothing else would.
Oh Lizzy, you have absolutely no idea!
All in all the next week turned into something rather hectic and, I know not what the others thought but to my mind at least, was more akin to Piccadilly Circus than a sober townhouse. Most un-Darcyish. In all fairness I probably had more time for reflection than the others as I had the decided knack of day-dreaming in conversations with people that I have no conscience of labeling as boring. True this often leads to some embarrassment on my part, but I have found that as long as you agree with the person you are conversing with they generally don't notice. Now the real trick is not to agree to something that you don't want. For example - if one is in conversation with a gentlemen and he proposes to you (most unlikely I admit: you would want something of a courtship in way of warning) the very fact that you have been daydreaming would seem to indicate that you are perhaps not best suited. Therefore, in cases like these caution is required and a discrete 'Pardon?' and a little laugh before excusing 'I'm so sorry, my mind was miles away!' is more than appropriate and should be an ample means of escape. This did actually happen to me once - in Meryton with Sanderson. Poor man, on my begging his pardon he asked would I like a stroll around the gardens, but I am sure that he asked me to marry him the first time, I'm sure of it! When I felt the need to confide in someone and told Lydia she had just laughed at me and called me a silly goose. She said that I should have said yes for it would let me get away from home and I would be an officer's wife. In Lydia's eyes this seemed to be the finest things in life; I seemed to remember that even at that stage I wanted a bit more. I'm rather proud of that - shows a depth of character even at a time when everyone thought I was one of the silliest girls in England. Anyway, I seem to remember that I got rather annoyed at Lydia at this point and we had a fight in the course of which I duly insulted the dress she was going to wear to Mr. Bingley's ball that night. Unfair perhaps, but at least she had left me alone as she had gone running to Lizzy for reassurance.
But I get caught up in my memories, the flurry of activity following Almacks was mostly due to the dramatic increase in the number of morning visits and evening engagements. Now whilst, as Brummell's latest protégé, I would like to take all of the credit for this fairness demands that I give credit where credit is due. Or to be more accurate, I shall share the blame for the loss of our humdrum existence with the others, I do miss having nothing to do but edge my bonnet and pick fights with Thorn. I have my reasons for sharing the blame, and really it is not so surprising when you stop to consider it - Lizzy has finally received her rightful place in society, and by this I mean the one she deserves because of who she is and not just because of who she is married to. She also has the added gift of having married a (wealthy) hardened bachelor, what loving mother could fail to be interested in the technique employed? Then we have Georgie - a beautiful, modest young woman who just happens to be single and a great heiress. And finally, our party's coup de grace - Thorn and Cousin Richard. Two of the most eligible men in London, Thorn for obvious reasons and Richard if by looks, lineage and a red coat, if not by fortune. Poor William, nobody is interested in him!
And then there is me, no show without Punch and all that.
Or is that I? My grammar is appalling and was oft lamented by Papa who pronounced that I could be proud of five split infinitives on one page paper. At this point I seem to remember that I ran out of the room crying. When I dried my tears I went to find Lizzy to get her to explain what a split infinitive is and just why they are so undesirable. I came to the following conclusion: it seems to me that grammar is like Society - filled with silly rules based on tradition that nobody knows what they are there for anymore, but we all have to humour anyway. Very, very annoying. Both of them I mean, the grammar and the proprieties.
To get back to my point, despite my becoming show of modesty I must own that it seems that I have become something of a celebrity. Whether, however, I am merely a seven day wonder remains to be seen. As does whether I wish it to be so for I find that I have developed a newfound sympathy for Richard and Thorn for like them I am beginning to feel hounded - I cannot go anywhere but a gaggle of vapid girls follow, smile and simper trying to integrate themselves with me. According to Thorn they are basking in my reflected glory. I think he was mocking me, the tone he had said this in was certainly mocking, but he might have a point and was only pretending to mock me. Well, whatever the reason and Thorn's intentions, I declare that it is slowly driving me wild - I sometimes feel that I could shout and scream and they would still just smile and inquire after idiot things - 'how is my cat?'
Aaaarrrrggghhhh!
Had this been a week ago they would have turned their noses up at me, indeed they did turn their noses up at me! Thus I will dub them all hypocrites and toadies and waste no more thought on the lot of them.
Having complained about all of this is not to say that there were not good points, indeed I never wanted for a partner in a set and for what feels like the first time in my life I can enter a room and know that they do not whisper that I am a loose cannon, or the black sheep of the family ready to go the way of her younger sister. But I will not let this go to my head.
Although, my final complaint, I promise - I am heartily tired of people agreeing with me! Past experience has taught me that I am more often wrong than right so why the vacant stares and the nodding heads, unless...no, they couldn't be day-dreaming when they converse with me? No, I am not so dull...but I think I will watch for that the next time I am at a party all the same. It wouldn't do to be given some of my own medicine. What am unpleasant thought, I will think on it no more!
The whole 'Unfortunate Though Funny Incident About A Coat', as I dubbed it to Maria Lucas in my letter, developed a few days after Almacks. You see I had fully intended to purchase the Greatcoat described so eloquently to Mr. Brummell but I had been biding my time so I could do my figures and decide how much it would actually set me back out of my funds. The sums were not promising, however I resolved that this was for the best and tried to reassure myself that the pain of parting with such sums of money would be momentary.
Someone else had other ideas.
To explain further: I had come in from visiting my new intimate friend, Miss Matilda Watson at her home for a gossip and a giggle. I had met her at Lady Joanna's Card Party, this was the Ton's follow-up to her aunt's musicale. I was happier at the card party one for it meant that no-one expected me to perform on the piano, instead I spent much of the early part of the evening talking with Mr. Calder. He initially complemented me on my good fortune (although he said that it was fully deserved and he was not at all surprised) but when I pointed out how matters really stood and the trials such a position would force me to endure he duly commiserated with me. He then turned the subject away from me, a most welcome change I can tell you for if I was vain then the happenings of the last week would suit me down to the ground - all anyone wants to talk about is me, can they not see how dull a subject that is? But Mr. Calder and I fell to discussing books of all things, moving swiftly on to humorous anecdotes when it was apparent that I had read very little. Soon he had me laughing my head off and I was once more on the receiving end of stares. I think Thorn was trying to warn me that I was acting in a unladylike manner, but I cannot see how, for all I did was laugh. It was certainly nothing to justify the black looks he sent me for over half an hour before he stalked out of the room. What a temper that man has! Unfortunately for me, it was not long after this that Mr. Calder was pulled away by a friend to make up a table for whist. Alone for a while I welcomed the peace and quiet. It could not last long and as I saw a young gentleman, who from the look of him was fresh from Oxford, approach I made a hasty retreat. Glancing quickly around I saw a friends' face in the crowd and, carefully picking my way through the groups of people, I made my way to Lady Bellinger's side. We talked of inconsequential things for a moment and then it was she who then pointed Tilly out to me. Lady Bellinger said she was a notorious blue stocking, having pleasure in very little else but books. I had never seen such a creature (Mary is a Moralist you see, an important distinction) and was instantly curious. I considered Miss Matilda. Blue-stocking, eh? She looks it - glasses, messy hair, book in hand in the middle of a Society ball. She had better be careful for she looks more like a stereotype than a person. Then again, to be fair, I am considered a Belle of the season anointed by none other than Brummell himself (he is not here tonight, but I wear dark green. Thorn assured me that I looked very well) I gathered more information from Lady Bellinger - apparently she is the youngest of four sisters each of whom were famous beauties and had married very well. While the older siblings were launched into society Tilly was raised by her crusty old grandfather (who was now sick, but her mother would not allow Tilly to return to the country - quite the scandal of the season so far.) The grandfather is a well known Roman of Greek scholar, Lady Bellinger was rather hazy on this point but it does not matter for I had never heard of him, and it is generally believed that some of his crustiness wore off on Tilly along with the bookishness. This is her third season and her mother is quite in despair of her. It was this last phrase that had me hooked. I decided on the instant the it must see what this blue-stocking is like. With a bit of luck she may just argue with me.
To cut a long story short, we got on famously and I finally had a female friend in London (I don't count Lizzy and Georgie for they are family). Her mother was delighted. Surprised, but delighted. I was her adopted daughter and was allowed to visit there house at any time - I was to think of it as my own. I met Tilly's eyes at this point and we were in complete accord as she rolled hers dramatically. Unfortunately her mother glanced at her at his point and Tilly had to pretend to have something in her eye. In my opinion it serves her right for not being careful. I could not help but wonder though how quickly this would be withdrawn if I were to lose my position in Society. At a guess I would say faster than the eye could see, but I am becoming cynical now and that always puts me in an ill humour.
Anyway, it was on my return from visiting Tilly that I was waylaid by the butler and told that there had been a parcel delivered for me and that the package had been taken upstairs.
My curiosity knew no bounds and I rushed up to my room with no heed for ceremony. On my bed was a huge box. I quickly doffed my gloves and bonnet before carefully opening the box. Perhaps I am a simpleton but I had not in a million years expected it to be the coat as described to Brummell. It was as I had imagined it down to the last braid and button. It was only on lifting it gently out to lay it full length on the bed that I saw what else was in the box - there was also the thoughtful addition of ribbons and braids 'for bonnets' apparently. And a note - as a general rule I try to avoid cliché, but it was written in a bold male hand. No signature, but then there really didn't need to be for I had known who had sent it as soon as I had opened the box.
Thorn.
Well let us see what the silly man has to say for himself.
The note read as follows: Dear Kitten, as a Major in the Rifle's I feel it is my duty to provide those in my regiment with decent kit. So here is your uniform. As your Commander I shall give you your first order: never stop arguing with me.
Well there was never any chance of that! I was about to put the card down when I saw that there was more writing on the other side. The style was quite different - now it looked hurried and was blotted in several places, quite distinct from the bold characters on the other side, although the hand was obviously the same. To me at least it made little sense:
And as your equal I must ask that you don't thank me for this trifle: to gain your gratitude isn't my goal.
Quite what that means I have little idea. Of one thing, however I am certain: this will never do.
Before sorting out the mess that Thorn's well intentioned gesture had dropped on my lap I could not stop myself from trying on his gift. It was exquisite! For all my faults, and I am aware that they are numerous, I am not normally a vain person, but I stood in front of the looking glass fully ten minutes just staring at myself. It was perfect in every way, made for me! I looked de rigueur and a proper fashionable lady but still jaunty - still Kitty. I had to force myself to remember my pride and self-respect: I cannot accept such expensive gifts, even from a friend. Why, just think of all the conclusions everyone would jump to! I hardened my heart and lovingly put the coat back in the box.
Now to battle. If I know Thorn, and I do, then he won't take it back easily so I'll need to be ready for him. I went slowly down the stairs, turning the problem over in my mind trying formulate a line of attack. Problem number one - where is the dratted man? Luckily that is easily solved for Richard will know I am sure, and he is normally lying around the house at this hour. Goodness knows what he does at work, or why he gets paid, for as far as I can see he does very little! I really must remember to ask him about that at some point, now not being the time. But first to locate him. I stopped a maid in hall, racking my brain for her name - 'Cathy, isn't it?'
'Yes Miss.' She bobbed a curtsey and flushed with pleasure that I should remember her, but there was no time for that.
'Who is in?'
'Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are in the study, Miss, looking over the accounts. Miss Darcy is resting in her room and I believe that Colonel Fitzwilliam and the Earl of Thrapsten are playing billiards.'
'Excellent! Thank you, Cathy.' That was all I needed to know. I flashed her a quick smile and moved swiftly on.
I had never before dared to enter the male bastion of the billiards room, so I hovered outside uncertainly for a few moments. Now is the perfect time to speak to Thorn - I can get him on his own and we can have a reasonable adult discussion in which I can calmly set out my views, all I have to do is get rid of Richard. Simple. But still I held back. I was in no mood to consider proprieties, but when they are instilled from a young age they are difficult to break. I tried to console myself with the thought that they are silly things anyway. Besides, in the comfort of one's own home they surely need only be paid lip service, it would not do to follow these invisible rules to the letter in all circumstances... would it?
My musings were interrupted by a shout of laughter. It was Richards' voice and he laughed so loudly that I heard him quite clearly in the hall. This quite distracted me and I was at once curious to know what men talked about when women are not present. I realise that this is very naughty indeed, but I could not help myself. I stealthily looked around before stepping closer.
The conversation was hardly enlightening. This much I gathered - they disagreed about something.
'Come on man, why wait longer?' Richard.
'Because she isn't ready yet.' And Thorn, so Cathy was right. But who are they talking about? Lily Hampton? The name came unbidden to my mind and festered there. I don't know why but the thought pleased me not at all.
'Kitty is more ready than you think she is.' Naturally, I am not to be so underestimated! I bristled with indignation. Admittedly I haven't a clue what they are talking about, but still.
Thorn apparently gave no sign of a reply for Richard further urged - 'Just ask, the worse she can say is no!'
'That is rather what I am afraid of.' Thorn's tone was laced with irony. For my part I was highly skeptical. I cannot imagine Thorn being afraid of anyone, far less me. Or is that I?
'Thorn!' Richard is very tenacious.
'No!'
'But...' Thorn had had enough and did not let him finish.
'No, Richard, and that is an end to it. Leave be.' There was a pause while Thorn made sure that he was obeyed before he continued, 'Besides, I don't think Miss Catherine will be feeling very charitable towards me at his moment.'
'Oh?' Richard echoed my thought. Suddenly interested, I pressed my ear closer to the door, waiting on tenterhooks.
'Mmm, well you see I bought Kitty the coat that she wants.'
'She won't like that, independent little thing that she is, but I hardly think she'll fall out with you over it. Damned ungracious if she does.'
'Well no, you see as I left Madame's I bumped into Mrs. Crawford who inquired as to the purpose of my mission there.'
'Crawford? The gossip?' Low whistle. 'You really are in the dog house now old chap! Now society will have you married within the month, well that is if Kitty lets you live that long of course!' Thorn gave a low laugh. I was speechless, rooted to the spot and incapable of anything more than an unseemly gobbling.
'Yes.'
'For someone who hates gossip you look remarkable unfazed.'
'Believe me Richard, I can hardly conceive of a worse fate than being married to Kitty within the month.' Thorn's tone was so heavy with irony that it would sink like the proverbial balloon. I hardly noticed, and did not bother to think what his true meaning could be. I was filled with righteous indignation! How dare he! First he starts this bother, then he calmly discusses it as if it were no moment and then, then he insults me in the worst possible way! At this last thought it was a close run thing whether I would burst into flames with rage, or tears. Luckily the former won.
Well it resolved one thing - I wouldn't knock. I would give Thorn no warning shot, he deserves no such advantage. And if I get told off for being unsportsmanlike then pooh to him I say!
So, without warning I burst into the room to surprise the inhabitants... Richard and Thorn were by the table, they had their coats off, and they were laughing. At me. I squared my jaw.
Richard was obviously taken aback at my abrupt appearance, but being Richard still found time to tease - 'Hallo Kitty, are you after lessons?' To my mind that merited no answer. I eyed Thorn with distaste. And do you know what he did? He just leant on his cue and smiled at me. He knows, I could swear that he knows that I was listening! Wretched man!
I smiled at Cousin Richard, although it was something of a mockery, as it was obvious to one and all that it was barely more than a perfunctory gesture designed to get my own way. Thus I quickly abandoned any attempt at subtlety and, without taking my eyes off his Lordship, proceeded to get rid of the impediment that stopped my argument with Thorn - 'Would you mind leaving us alone for a moment, Colonel?'
For a moment Richard didn't move. Dim wit that I am, I thought that he was surprised by my formality of address after so informally entering a room which society demands is strictly out of bounds, but then a look of what he thought to be understanding flashed into his eyes and I knew that he was on completely the wrong track. He then made a great play of looking from Thorn to me with a knowing look. I gritted my teeth. Sometimes I don't know how Richard ever rose to the rank of Colonel when it is obvious to me that he is a silly twit who continuously jumps to erroneous conclusions! I suppose ours is not to wonder why, but still. However, In response to my glare Richard obviously felt that it behooved him to behave himself, and consequently he became all amenable and made a poker face.
'No problem at all.' And then he proceeded to get his coat from a nearby chair. He took his own sweet time in putting it on I can tell you! I felt my temper fray and my impatience rise at this further delay. Some of my feelings must have shown on my face for Thorn now backed me, and said with a tone of finality, 'Goodbye Richard.'
'Goodbye Thorn.' The mockery that that man can put in one sentence, even at a moment such as this I was all admiration! Richard ambled slowly to the door knowing that were we to point out how insufferable he was being would only further delay the long awaited moment of his departure. Thorn and I were by now somewhat distracted as we had entered into a battle of stares - mine annoyed, his amused. I heard Richard open the door but it would seem that he could not help but leave with a quick flash of wit, 'Now don't fight children, and be good!' I turned my glare of daggers to him but all I saw was his back. Normally I would not let him off so easily and would say something pert to him but I may have a limited reserve of smart replies and I wouldn't want to waste them on Richard.
Instead I decided to waste no time with Thorn, and to open on the attack.
'Well?' I demanded. Thorn casually cocked an eyebrow. Not a move designed to improve my mood.
'Well what?'
'Don't play stupid!'
'Who's playing stupid? I am stupid, Kitten surely you know this?'
I was speechless and resorted to childishly stamping my foot in rage, something I also blame on him.
'Thorn!' I appealed. I received a wide eyed response
'Kitten?'
His innocent act cut no ice with me! Every other lady in London may fall at is feet because but I will not! I sent him yet another fuming glance and if looks could kill... It worked though, finally he conceded and answered my unspoken question.
'I can afford it you know.' His gentle tone assuaged my temper and I found that with him I was as quick to cool as I was to anger.
'Surely you have better uses than that - the coat was not cheap you know - satin lining, the finest cloth, the buttons...' For some reason this exasperated Thorn and I was not allowed to continue.
'Kitty, you are not going to stand there and list every attribute of that damned coat are you?'
'Language.' Like the lady I sometimes purport to be I was properly shocked!
'Oh, I beg your pardon.' He was cutting and so I roundly told him off.
'Well don't mock me! And don't change the subject!' Thorn made a face and then leant to take a shot. I felt some triumph when the ball bounced off the cushion. A sign of a small mind perhaps, but I don't care. As he straightened I broached my primary objection.
'What will everyone think?'
'For God's sake, whatever they want to!' I was about to protest further when Thorn interrupted me. Again.
'It is just a coat, it would seem that you are turning an item of clothing into a marriage proposal.'
Someone very wise once said that knowledge was power, and whoever he was he was right. With one short sentence Thorn had cut me to the quick and I found myself embarrassed beyond words. I couldn't' face him, and in turning away caught a glance of my reflection in the mirror. My complexion was reminiscent of beetroot soup.
Covered in blushes I could but stammer - 'No, but...'
'Ah, I see you want me to dun you for money?'
At once I brightened immeasurably, relieved that he is finally seeing sense - 'Yes!'
'Kitten.' He growled. Now it would seem that it is Thorn that is annoyed. I really don't see why, after all it was his suggestion. I followed it up.
'I can afford it - Papa left me some money with Mr. Darcy.' I conveniently ignored the fact that I would be bankrupt. Still, he doesn't know that..
Thorn had face of long suffering, closed his eyes and heaved a sigh. 'Why can't you just be simple like other women and just accept a gift. Most women would be asking for diamonds and you won't even accept a greatcoat!' I smirked, finally I had the feeling of the upper hand.
'Charming, I am sure! But thank you for saying I'm not like other women.'
'You are being very tedious about this you know.' He took another shot and fell to contemplating the table as the black ball edged towards the pocket. I stopped it with my hand and he turned a frowning countenance to me. 'Right. Let us try to be logical.' He carelessly threw down cue and paced by the edge of table.
'Oh, so we are to be businesslike now?' I don't know why I laughed at him, after all was this not what I had wanted from the beginning? Unable, and perhaps unwilling, to break old habits, I fell into an attitude of mock despair. 'Please Thorn, I am but a feeble woman - to be logical, why I declare that the very idea throws me into a fit of nervousness.'
Thorn gave me a no nonsense look.
'Don't be silly Kitty. You aren't a fool.'
I preened at this complement.
'For all that you may act like one.'
Now why did he have to say that? Couldn't he just have left it at the nice complement? But no, Lord Thornfield once more goes for the cheap laugh. Ha ha. Very funny. I stuck my tongue out at him to let him know that I appreciated his wit. My notions of grandeur thus depressed I fell silent, content to watch Thorn think.
Suddenly he brightened - 'Birthday!' he declared apropos nothing. I think it was supposed to mean something to me for he then looked at me in a manner that can only be described as expectant.
I was a blank.
'When is your birthday?' He spoke slowly, being careful to enunciate each word clearly. Well, there is no need to be rude!
'June.' I could not conceal the triumphant look, even should I have tried. Thorn looked disgruntled. Consequently I cheered as I pointed out the obvious - 'That is two whole months away, so it'll never do!'
'You're enjoying this, aren't you!' Thorn accused.
I shrugged nonchalantly - 'Well what is good for the gander is good for the goose...'
He stopped his pacing opposite me and smiled. 'That would be food for the gander then?' About to make a pert reply I looked up and was surprised by the tender look on his face. Even more surprising were the feelings that suddenly started to rush around my body - I felt all warm and flushed and something more... but I could not dwell on this, for uppermost in my mind was a sense of panic. I looked away and hurriedly tried to think of a reply. So I turned tail and retreated to my high horse. When my answer came it was rushed, as if by talking I could rid myself of my confusion.
'Possibly, but I like to think that my version was a new and interesting variation, and that you are just being stubborn and narrow-minded.'
'Says who?' Still he had that tender look, and still I was uncomfortable.
'Me, I? Oh you know what I mean. Be a dear and stop being obtuse you silly man! All you seem to do is laugh at me, earlier...'
'Oh Kitten, you should have seen yourself! When you stormed in here you were...'
'Careful!' Thorn's face was now merely amused. I was relieved and able to breathe easily again, even if the joke was at my expense.
'...Magnificent!'
'When are you going to stop trying to take a rise out of me each time we see each other?'
'When pigs fly?' I opened my mouth to give a tart reply. I wasn't sure what I would say, but something would come to me and I couldn't leave it at that - I had take the smug look off his face. But it was never said for the clock in the hall struck the hour catching me completely unawares and causing me to jump guiltily. It reminded Thorn of our business and he was stern once more.
'Now Kitty, to work. If you want this to be fixed then you will have to stop distracting me!'
'Charmed.' I merely murmured this reply, and I don't think he heard anyway. He roused after a moment to suggest -
'Well what about if we make it a thank you gift?'
'For what?'
Thorn thought on it for a moment. 'Hmmm, well what about in exchange for coming out driving with me?' I was not impressed.
'Ha ha. Very funny.' Thorn shrugged.
'Well you think of something then.'
Aware as I am of the superiority of women I was in little doubt that I would think of something...soon. But nothing came into my mind, and Thorn's superior look was grating on my nerves. Flustered I challenged him -
'You got us into this mess, so you sort it out!'
'All right Kitten I will.'
'You have an idea?' I leaned forward eagerly, encouraged by his firm tone and dependable appearance.
'Yes, I do. But let me get this correct first - you will not accept the coat for nothing, but want the gossip stopped.'
'Yes!'
'Very well, I will deal with Mrs. Crawford,' Thorn held up a hand imperiously as I made to interrupt, 'But I want something in exchange.'
'What?' At this point I would have agreed to just about anything.
'Oh a simple thing really!' He was teasing me again, the provoking man. But somehow this was different, there was a serious undertone and it was with a straight face that he told me his terms.
'I will sort it out in exchange for a promise.' I waited, nervous (although I know not why) and expectant. 'A promise that you will NEVER lie to me.'
'Thorn!' I protested, not because I would not swear to this but because I do not think that friends should lie to one another.
'No Kitty, think on it for it is no light thing I ask. You are still allowed to refuse to answer, to tease and prevaricate but not downright lie. Is that acceptable?' By the grave look on his face I knew that he thought this no whimsical idea. Consequently I did not treat it as such but turned the thought over in my mind for a few moments. Thorn waited, the line of his body bespeaking his tenseness. Finally I looked up.
'I agree.' Thorn smiled warmly and reached for his coat.
'Excellent! Well now we have that sorted, why don't you feed me?'
I shall not attempt to bore one and all silly by reciting in detail the happenings of the next month. The occurrences of some meaning can be found below but I think that it is enough to say that my days were a succession of busy nothings, pleasurable at the time but of no real importance. As such I am sure that instead of an essay a quick summary shall suffice.
I shall start with The Family.
Well to begin with, Jane is still fixed at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley. Perhaps I should explain that, after a drought of some weeks, last Tuesday Lizzy and I received a whole pile of letters from home and that amongst the reams of paper we found that Jane had taken the time to write to each of us separately. Now, even though I know that it may be considered slightly immature of me, I must admit that I was so pleased that I quite thought that I might burst with happiness, or at the very least my face would split in two from my compulsive grinning - it was so thoughtful! I know that Lizzy is her particular confidant (well everyone knows that!), but we all love Jane to bits, she is such a dear. It was a small piece of happiness that I cheerfully hugged to myself, although I caught Thorn's considering look across the breakfast table and I think that he at least guessed at my thoughts. Anyway, according to Jane her pregnancy is progressing normally but she is still being sick every morning, she said 'off colour' but let us not mince words - sick was what Jane meant. The upshot of this is that Mr. Bingley is to take her to Bath to take the water in the hope that this might help her symptoms. Reading between the lines I think that it is more likely that she has been prescribed peace and quiet by the London physician, something which, for all its size, is impossible to achieve in Meryton. Jane had other small pieces of local news, nothing really to signify - oh, except that Miss Bingley is coming to London with Mrs. Hurst in a few weeks for The Season proper. My opinion of this news? A heavily sarcastic 'lovely. Perfect. What could be better?' In the privacy of my own conscience I can freely admit that I heartily dislike my sisters in law: they are condescending to those who they consider to be beneath them (which seems to be most people), and obsequious to those who are 'above them'. As if there was such a thing, indeed, are not all men created equal? Well apparently not if you believe the Superior sisters. Really it is very strange that their brother has turned out so well, no one could fault his manners or generosity. Anyway, I don't think Lizzy likes them either for she pulled quite a face at the mention for their visit. In fact now I come to think on it no one looked overjoyed - William grimaced, Richard audibly groaned and Thorn mentioned something about visiting his interests in the Indies, which was very funny but as I pointed out is perhaps going a little too far! I paused dramatically and then assured him that France would suffice and received quite an applause for my wit - going too far, distance versus taking the joke too far, get it? Well anyway it says something that even Georgie, who is normally the most politically correct of companions, couldn't raise a smile. Perhaps not so popular then? Well maybe they won't be so fast to look down their nose at me anymore now that I am something of a celebrity...Urgh, I don't like the direction that my thoughts are taking and will move on.
Mary also enclosed a missive but whereas Jane's letter was a light delight Mary's was an essay containing maxims of self control and dire warnings of the destructive nature of fame and glory. I believe that on reading this I drew some attention to myself by giving a very unladylike snort. But really! I mean - pfffff! Life is meant to be enjoyed after all, a view on which Mary and I have agreed to disagree. But the tone of the letter was such that I rather fancied that I could almost hear Mary reading it aloud. At the end there was a nice bit about how it was quiet without me, which is Mary's way of saying that she misses me, but on the whole I was forced to realise that it is probably just as well that she 's not here for we would only fight. Besides, it also gives me some time to think of suitable replies instead of resorting to incoherent noises of rage that is my normal defense.
In fact now I think on it just about everyone wrote to me! Mama declared herself overjoyed by everything that has happened (except Jane leaving, although it turned it into a soliloquy on Mr. Bingley's attentiveness.) Five pages were not enough to contain her thoughts and feelings on my sojourn in London. I was warned that I should hold out for a title, she is of the opinion that I can now get a Duke or an Earl at the very least! I was declared to be her favourite child (not to be cynical but I believe that I have heard that before, and not directed at me!) and ended with a polite enquiry as to whether I need a mother's guiding hand to help me through this difficult time? It took no time to decide that I will (tactfully) decline and to realise that I am most heartily glad that father hates town. Oh no! I do not mean to make it sound as if I hate Mama, indeed she is a dear and I would not change her for the world! It is just that she is rather single minded on the notion of matchmaking and were she here then no holds would be barred from finding me a 'suitable' (or not) mate, and she does not always employ the subtlest of manners - well I mean everyone knows what happened with Jane and Mr. Bingley! I rest my case.
Papa enclosed a quick line at end with I will repeat verbatim: Dear Catherine, I realise that whatever your Father says you will do the opposite - so always listen to your Mama and only marry for money. Take Charlotte Lucas as your example, Love Papa.
The silly man!
Lydia? Well I am working on the principle that no news is good news and the least said the better.
That is all that is to be said about home. Now for London.
I will start with Tilly for hers has certainly been the hardest lot and I still miss her sorely. I shall explain: for the first three weeks I was so happy - I finally had a girl friend in town outside of Georgie and Lizzy who, as is natural of course, each have their own group of friends and their own special interests. Anyway, Tilly and I got on like the proverbial house on fire, it was as if I had known her for an age already. She listened to my giggles at party and responded to my conversation and confidences with a dry humour and commonsense that I found both comforting and refreshing. Sadly though, but last week we received the news that her Grandfather had died. If you remember, Tilly had practically been brought up by her Grandfather and was inordinately fond of him so of course upon hearing this news we rushed round to her family's townhouse to offer our condolences. I say 'we' for Georgie and Lizzy kept me company, Georgie for she felt she ought and Lizzy expressed the hope of being of some comfort to her mother (although she is a silly vain woman. I think Lizzy mainly went to keep me company, but also because she knows that it is expected of her). I was anxious to make sure that Tilly was all right; she had been so close to her Grandfather that the news could only affect her deeply. Thus it was that we saw her the morning before she left for the country. On entering we saw that her mother was holding court, and that the Drawing room was full to busting point even though it was supposed to be 'intimates only'. Seats were very hard to come by, although space was quickly made for the new Mrs. Darcy. There was plenty of conversation in the room but Tilly had her black dress and gloves on and sat quietly in the corner with a tear stained face. I saw this at once and made my way to her, elbowing several matrons on my way. I did not want to draw attention to Tilly's distress in front of everyone, or heaven forbid make her feel worse, so I just sat next to her without saying anything at all. Indeed in truth I knew not what to say - what is appropriate at times like these? I had so little experience of loss that I hoped that my presence would be comfort enough, I do not think that Tilly would want me to waste words on polite conversation or vain regrets which could be construed as only purposeful in seeking her gratitude. Thus it was that I had ample opportunity to listen to the nattering of those around me and, to my great astonishment, found that many of the ladies were almost congratulating Tilly's mother on inheriting the Grandfather's money! I was still dumbstruck by this when a young debutante leaned close to me and made some comment on Tilly's tearful looks - something to the effect that she should not appear thus in public. Needless to say I smartly put the girl in her place, but Tilly had heard and quickly excused herself. Unmindful of propriety when my friend was upset, I followed. We then spent half an hour in comfort - talking when she wanted, quiet when she desired. I hope I was of some assistance. She promised to write but has not yet done so, well it has only been a week!
And so not all that has occurred in the last month has been for the best. In addition to all of this Richard has developed a new habit which is most vexing - he has taken to matchmaking. And the unlikely subjects (or should that read victims) of his schemes? Thorn and I! It is rather amazing, and all started after the billiard room incident. At first I didn't realise what Richard was making such a fuss over; then I thought he was just teasing; and then as it continued and he became more persistent and not any more subtle, I was mortified. How embarrassing! My cheeks flush just to think on it, but I assure you that it is not for myself that I feel so deeply, for after all the matchmaking attempts of Mama I am more immured to the suggestions and hints than the average debutante, but poor Thorn! What must he feel? He comes to our house to get away from all of that nonsense and now he cannot even be comfortable here, indeed he spends fully half his time glaring at Richard! I think that Thorn may have spoken to Richard about this in a 'forceful manner', as Mama would say, as roughly two weeks ago Richard was in a foul mood and very quiet and this I took to be thwarted ambition. I was immeasurably relieved. Then Richard did a most dastardly and underhand move - he roped Georgie into his schemes! I am most upset with him for although the sly looks and comments have stopped, now he is always contriving to throw Thorn and I together. My one consolation is that Thorn must realise that none of this is my fault and that designs like Richard's are the furthest thing from my mind. I even tried to assure him of this once - we were walking and Richard had pulled Georgie away to look at some rose or other. Thorn was very curt with my hurried explanation and gave it short shrift before picking up the pace, leaving me even more breathless than my garbled explanation had left me and heartily annoyed at Richard to boot! But I took Thorn's reaction to be a sign of how uncomfortable he is and instantly forgave him. Still I cannot see how anything can be said without appearing to make a great fuss over nothing. Oh dear. Anyway, both men still eat with us and I begin to wonder if they do indeed have homes of their own anymore for their daily routine is now fixed: they sit with us at breakfast, wander out to their club or business or accompany us, and then are back in time for their preprandials and are settled till bed time.
I have found out more about Richard's family though: it would seem that he is the third child (named by his mother for Richard III, I found this very funny and laughed at him for quite a while, much to Richard's displeasure. Poor Richard!) Thorn joked about it as well - he suggested that Richard was going to kill his nephews to get the title. Richard's humour was tickled by this thought but he pointed out that the plan was flawed as he doesn't have any nephews yet. It turns out that his brother is something of a mad scientist, more interested in experiments than girls. Richard says that this is very frustrating for his mother and that if he wasn't the heir then he would be quite the black sheep of the family! Furthermore it is the reason that Richard is not serving on the Peninsula any more - his mother feels that his brother is running out of time and that they may need the spare to beget the heir if you see what I mean. And if that phrase is vulgar then blame Richard, not I! In addition to all of this, Richard begged that if we were ever to meet the Countess that we did not mention this to her as she was liable to get most fractious. I could not help inquire if his mother hadn't at least tried to interest him in marriage. Thorn laughed and Richard snorted. 'Oh yes! At one time she even tried cousin Anne, but Seb drives Aunt Catherine wild! She's actually scared of him - clever you know, scatterbrained but doesn't stand for her, so Anne is saved from yet another cousin.' I looked blankly, but followed Richard's eyes and saw William trying to ignore him. 'Don't tease him, Richard.' This admonishment was from Lizzy who was knitting a shawl for Jane's baby. 'Oh dear, I appear to have dropped a stitch. Kitty dear...' And so I rescued Lizzy's shawl and the conversation turned to more general topics.
Oh! Another letter arrived, this time from Charlotte Lucas, sorry Collins! I only mention this because I overheard Lizzy and William (I know I shouldn't eavesdrop - it is really very bad of me. But I really cannot help it! I think that it is a habit ingrained from childhood as I was someone who got told nothing at home, and had to have my own methods of finding the news out. When I put it like that it even seems resourceful of me!) Anyway, the gist of the conversation was that Lizzy couldn't understand how Charlotte can be content with such a fool - apparently Lizzy believes that marriage should be between equals. The first ten minutes of the 'conversation' was Lizzy on a philosophical one way discussion on the merits of marriage, William seemed content to let her run out of steam before he pointed out the practical points of the union. Lizzy wished that Charlotte could be as happy as them and it all went down hill form that point. I left in disgust. The news that Lizzy shared with us was that Charlotte will be in London shortly running errands for Lady Catherine and may try to pop in. I think Lizzy would like that.
Now for me (arguably the most exciting bit!): Mr. Brummell is still taking an active interest in my affairs and I think I may now call him a friend. When we drive out (which is not often for he is a busy man and has many demands on his time) he is a charming companion and has broken me into the finer points of Town ways. At parties he is a constant companion and since I have found out that Mr. Brummell is loathe to dance I do not often hold him to his word, instead we take a stroll around the room and I exert myself to be amusing. It certainly works - my word does he have a loud laugh! He has occasionally stretched himself and partnered me for the supper dance and I am feverently assured, well perhaps not feverently exactly as this is Brummell in his Languid period, but... sincerely assured, that he is my devoted servant etc etc.
Other friends? Well I must admit that in recent weeks I have quite stopped riding out with Mr. Calder. This is not because I now feel too self-important to get up early feel that my image would be damaged by being seen with him, for even were the latter my objection then I would be a fool for no one could possibly object to Mr. Calder, quite the opposite in fact! Indeed I find that I now cling to those friends who I know to be sincere in their affection, but I feel that it is not fair to Agnes as she was getting so scared that her teeth would rattle. And a funny thing happened - the park was getting too far busy, even before the Season was approaching. It seemed that all of a sudden it was quite the thing for couples to take a morning stroll there, and seemingly there was a dramatic increase in the number of men from clubs sleeping on benches through the night. Now there is a certain rumour that has come to my attention about a new bet that is going around and I have my own suspicions about the origin of this deluge. Thorn (a reputed card player might I add - I am told that he does not play often; but when he does he wins) denied everything but I saw Richard's look which quite confirmed my theories. I didn't really need it for I didn't believe Thorn anyway. I suppose that is his idea of protecting me! Silly man! So now Mr. Calder and I meet at parties and occasionally for walks.
But not all of my male acquaintances are so charming or so safe, indeed I now have a league of followers - mostly sonnet writing puppies, but there are a few elderly widowers with children about my age. The most persistent of these suitors is Sir Augustus Chesterton. Now from his name it sounds as if he should be fat, bald and fifty. Perhaps if I add that his friends still call him Gussie (as does his mother, even in public!) that allows anyone who does not know him to realise that should actually still be in his leading strings. Perhaps I would be able to find humour in this if Gussie were not so damn persistent! And I am sorry for swearing but I have quite reached the end of my tether! I have even had to dodge out of his way and hide behind handy pieces of foliage to avoid dancing with him, and I am sure that but for the timely interventions of Thorn and Richard that I would have been proposed to at least twice this week! I have no wish to break the poor boy's heart, but I am slowly coming around to Thorn's idea that it may be better to refuse him now than to drag out the courtship much longer. Oh please do not think that I have encouraged Gussie! I have done everything up to and including telling him that I would never marry him, but it would be nice to remain friends. But he will not listen. Oh, and do not think that I solicited Thorn's advice on this matter - that was given unsolicited in the middle of a country dance. I spluttered and stumbled somewhat, and eventually replied to enquire what business of his was it? I nearly choked when he went on to demand was I going to accept Gussie? Well I couldn't answer that! It is not the done thing for a girl to discuss her proposals, especially when they have not been forwarded yet. Thorn was then in a bad mood for the rest of the evening as I recall, but what could I do? Anyway, I initially had some hope for Gussie's mother doesn't approve of me at all, an attitude I encourage although from her looks I gather that she suspects this to be treachery. I didn't understand this until Gussie explained that he thinks that it is very romantic and talks of attempts for a 'wedge to be driven between us'. I think I may have groaned out loud at this for he then enquired as to whether I had a cold. AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I have lost my temper with Gussie more than once to no avail - normally about his compulsive poetry writing, for they are truly awful, so awful they are funny, and I receive at least six poems a day. I really don't understand where he gets the time! The problem is that I feel guilty about it all for if I were to show them to Richard and Thorn (and I am often sorely tempted), they would laugh so very hard and probably rib the boy endlessly. I have a soft heart and find that I don't want Gussie to become a subject of ridicule because of his tendre for me, he is harmless enough after all, and so I am forced to hide his poems. This has been misconstrued and lead to significant looks from various members of my family, a quiet word from Lizzy, and much ribbing being aimed at me! Mostly from Thorn and Richard. Nasty men!
Oh and do not think that in the midst of all of this Georgie sits alone at the side of the ballroom, a permanent wallflower, indeed she is positively surrounded by young men! But let us just say that William approves of them all, ergo they are all deadly dull. I think that they are sometimes even too much for Georgie, for I swear that I have seen her eyes glaze over when she talks to them. Personally, I think that she will need someone with a ragged edge to satisfy her, a real blackguard to cosset her. But then that is just my opinion. Many of her followers are young and, unlike some of mine, are actively encouraged by their Mama's who find Georgie's dowry a very attractive feature. They also approve of her unquestionable honour and reputation, although Georgie is very uncomfortable with this. I wonder why? Anyway, one of Georgie's music friends is already engaged - this was a real feather in her Mama's cap - she boasted about it at every gathering for a full week! The surprising upshot of this however was that William got a real shock and started eyeing us very carefully. It was soon after this that I noticed our bodyguard and minders- at each function we attended, no matter what, Darcy, Richard and Thorn split it so that at least one of them was within sight and watching us to make sure we were not get into trouble - they have even followed us to the Powder room and lounged casually outside! It is nice for it makes me feel protected, but an interesting point is that while Richard splits his time about equally between Georgie and me, William spends more time on Georgie, as is natural, (and I like think that it shows that he trusts me) but Thorn mainly watches me. It is most curious and I cannot ask him about it for it would reveal my knowledge of their mindership.
And that is everything.
Well, now that that is done, I think I will go and buy a hat.