Beginning, Previous Section, Section XI, Next Section
Chapter 33
Part One When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London all that life can afford ~ Samuel Johnson.
"I don't want to go to London!" cried Lydia.
Lizzy and Jane blinked; this was not a sentence they had ever imagined Lydia ever saying. In fact it was a sentence that even Lydia had never imagined Lydia saying but it was so. She did not want to go to London, she had not flirted enough with the officers, and she had part of her mind to impart upon Mr Yeates.
"Lydia, we are leaving for London immediately, Lady Lucas has been most kind in offering to oversee the packing of our other belongings, but for our reputation I think it best we leave." Said Jane firmly and kindly.
Lydia gave an unladylike snort and angrily plumped the pillow next to her.
"Lydia, we will stay with our Aunt and Uncle, perhaps there might even be a ball or something." Said Jane trying to appease her sister.
"Jane, it is very likely that there won't be any entertainment, and its not use pretending to Lydia that it may be so. We shall stay with them, then we shall go to Longbourn." Said Lizzy disliking any attempt to appease Lydia.
"And we shall have to watch the endless preparations for your prefect weddings." Said Lydia in a sneering tone.
"That is enough Lydia." Said Jane a little more anger in her voice than was usual. "We are going to London. And if you haven't acted and looked like a common trollop last night then perhaps we would have delayed our leaving."
The room seemed to stand still, in shock that Jane of all people, had calmly and forcefully used that word.
Lydia pursed her lips. "I don't see how I looked like that."
"When a woman's' charms are on display for all to see, and are practically falling out of ones attire, one looks like a trollop." Said Jane.
"Well I didn't act like one." Said Lydia. "You can't know. You weren't there."
"Well a well brought up lady, does not go off or plan to go off into courtyards with unworthy men, who would shamefully impose themselves on her."
"Major Markby is no such man."
"I've heard things about him." Said Jane darkly in a voice that brooked no other opinion and her sisters were too shocked to say anything more. Lizzy looked at her elder sister in admiration and puzzlement. Lydia sulked.
Mary had only been half attending as she scrawled off a note. It was rather hard to write both quickly and secretly - as a consequence the note was extremely poorly spelled and illegible.
She folded it up and was about to address it when her father walked in.
"Ah and who are we writing to Mary?"
Mary started and glanced fearfully at her father.
"A lover perhaps?" said Mr Bennet, pausing, looking around the room and then gave a hearty chuckle.
Mary flushed at the implication that she could never have a lover and was on the brink of announcing her engagement before commonsense took over.
"Just a young lady I met several times at the Library, I am writing to excuse myself."
To make her point, Mary addressed the letter, beginning with Miss C. Montgomery.
"She lives in a lodging? The poor girl." Said Mr Bennet.
"She is quite poor. Books are her only luxury." Said Mary shortly, giving the letter to the butler, who gave her a surreptitious wink.
"Well my dears, the carriages are waiting and so are your young men, surely you shan't want to keep them with your mother too long." Said Mr Bennet jovially, in a strangely amiable mood.
There was a flurry of gathering pelisses and bonnets, as the girls rushed, or were pushed out of the house. By design or by fate, Lydia, Mary, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley ended up in one carriage and Mrs Bennet, Lizzy, Jane and Mr Bennet ended up in the other. Neither Lizzy nor Jane minded overly much being separated from their fiancé because this allowed them time to try and temper their mother's rambunctious tongue.
Misters Darcy and Bingley however were less than impressed at being separated from their fiancées but felt that anything was preferable to a long carriage ride with Mrs Bennet, even Lydia - though several minutes into the trip, both ordained that there was no discernible difference between Mrs Bennet and a sulking Lydia.
Mr Darcy sighed as for what seemed like the thousandth time, Lydia started to rant about how unfair everyone was to her, and how no one understood the meaning of the word fun.
"Enough Lydia." Darcy said in a stern tone. However Darcy's stern tone, which worked on much more powerful people than Lydia, did nothing to stem the torrent of abuse of all sisters and men named Mr Yeates.
"Lydia please! Mr Yeates and your sisters felt they were doing best." Said Bingley in a tone that could be almost described as wheedling. However Lydia was not to be placated; no man had ever stopped her from having fun before, and it was such a novel experience that it must be talked of.
"Lydia! Please. " said Darcy in despair. "I really do not see what Ash sees in her." He whispered in an aside to Bingley. However it was a stage whisper that Lydia easily heard. Thus Darcy managed to achieve his object, Lydia stopped talking, and she stopped talking and started laughing.
"What is so funny?" asked Darcy in a confused tone, somewhat offended for his cousin. "You laugh at my cousin's love? Did he not propose to you?"
This seemed to make Lydia laugh even more, and it also made Mary stare at her sister.
"Lord Ashbourne proposed to you? I thought - I mean I thought that - "
"You thought right Mary." Said Lydia hiccupping with laughter.
"Good." Said Mary relieved. "Really Mr Darcy it is not at all nice of you to confuse me, especially over such a serious subject. It is hardly the sort of subject you should joke about, think of your cousins feelings, feelings of the most tender kind!"
"Mary, I am not joking with my cousins feelings, I am rebuking Lydia for laughing at the great honour she was done."
"Honour? I was done no honour - I was dragged from a ballroom!" said Lydia suddenly remembering the cause of her distress.
"I did not mean that Lydia. I mean my cousin's proposal to you."
"What on earth did he propose to me?" said Lydia, innocently confused.
"Marriage." Said Darcy ominously. "My cousin would not propose anything else. He is not that kind of man."
"He did not propose marriage to Lydia, Mr Darcy, you should not say such things." Said Mary.
"Yes he did." Said Darcy.
'No he didn't." said Mary.
"Yes he did - Lydia and he said so."
"No he didn't."
"Yes - I shall not argue with you Mary, Lydia please tell your sister."
"But he did not Mr Darcy." Said Lydia with a smile.
"But you told Lizzy he had proposed to you." Said Darcy slack jawed.
"No I told her he had proposed. I just didn't say whom to."
"Then whom did he propose to?" said Darcy thoroughly confused.
"Miaow." Said Lydia.
"Miaow?" said Darcy. "Do I know a Miss Miaow?"
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Miaow - Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
"I am afraid I do not have the pleasure of understanding you Lydia. Of what are you speaking."
"Miaow." Said Mary joining Lydia, quite pleased to be confusing both Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley.
"Bingley," said Darcy in a resigned tone after several minutes of guessing and only receiving Miaow's in reply, "I don't have any idea what they are speaking of do you?"
"Darcy do not be obtuse. Ash obviously proposed to Kitty. And how you could think he would propose to Lydia is rather ridiculous considering he practically ran himself into a frenzy when Kitty was hurt. Lydia, I surmise has been somewhat of a go-between, or has been offering her opinion of men to him. Am I not right?"
"Purr-fectly Mr Bingley. How clever of you!" said Lydia with a smile towards Darcy.
Darcy put his head in his hands. "At least it makes more sense."
Sir Christian awoke to a rather insistent throat clearing. Sir Christian was recovering from a rather late night and the last thing he needed was to be awoken at what was obviously the crack of dawn.
"Go away Wadsworth." Sir Christian grunted assuming that only his valet would presume to try and wake him up.
"Sir..."
"No Wadsworth, I don't know why you insist on waking me up at the crack of dawn, I know you have to be, but it isn't in my job description."
Wadsworth had to bite back a stinging retort about how there wasn't anything in his job description about handling the affairs of a well-known rake, but he decided against it.
"Sir it is half-past 10, it is hardly the crack of dawn, and I really think you would like to read this letter." Said Wadsworth in a compelling yet mysterious tone.
"Unless it is a note from the Prince Regent himself I do not wish to know. In fact discount that, even if it is a note from the Prince Regent I do not want to know."
"Sir, it is addressed to a Miss C Montgomery."
Sir Christian blinked, sat up and took the letter from out of his valets hand. He glanced at the address before tearing it open.
"What the devil? - Can you make head or tail of that?" said Sir Christian peering at the scribble, before handing the letter back to Wadsworth.
Wadsworth, dutifully applied himself to trying to decipher the curious letter. At his masters prompting he began to read the letter out - warts and all.
Chistian,
"I assume that means me." Said Sir Christian nervously, wondering what on earth Mary was writing to him about in such hurried handwriting.
Am leving Brightn. Will be in London, stying with my Ant and Uncle Gardinr of Gracechirch Street which is not in Cheapside. Do not believe what Miss Bingley tells you .
"A very important fact I perceived sir, she has underlined it most prominently."
"Yes very well go on."
Oh youy probally do not know Miss Bingley - or Mr Bingley who is to be married to Jane mys ister whis is the reason we are leaving.
"Singular." Said Sir Christian quite bemused.
"Lydia almost disgraced herself at a ball last night, except Mr Yeates, a most kind penniless artist brough her home ebcfore she caused too much emabbarrassment.
"Hmmm, I wonder - does the letter say anything else about Mr Yeates, the kind and penniless artist?"
"No sir, not that I can see. Though the only Yeates I know of sir is - "
"Yes, I know that Wadsworth that is why I was asking about whether there was a further reference."
"However this means that I cannot see you before I fo because we leave immeadiately. I expect not to see you unless you come to take me to Gretna Green. If you come before hand I shall send yo away, because I cannot see yo before, as it would look extremely odd. "
"Trust Mary not to think that running away to Gretna was odd, only the fact that I should be seen before hand."
"A most remarkable woman I perceive sir."
"Yes, does she say anything else?"
"You knw that I live at Londborun in Hertfordshire, so it is frm their that I inisit on being taken from. I wish to collect my works of Fordye's sermons. I shall await yor arrival with some trepidation, but I have pleged myself to oyu and I shall not beak my worl."
Yors never Mary.
Sir Christian looked at Wadsworth. "I think she meant Yours ever sir."
"No No it is likely she meant what she wrote." Said Sir Christian taking the note back from Wadsworth. "Though how you knew what she wrote at all is beyond me."
"You forget sir that I used to work for Mister Bingley, until his sisters - er - took a fancy to me, or should I say a dislike of me? "
"The Mr Bingley in the letter?" said Sir Christian surprised.
"Yes sir."
"Then you shall want to make merry at his wedding, what an excellent notion." Said Sir Christian, throwing off the covers and making his way to his washbasin. "It will be a capital excuse to be in the neighbourhood."
"Er - No sir, I do not think that - " Wadsworth shuddered at the idea of again being in the same area as Caroline and Louisa Bingley.
Anne looked resolutely out of one carriage window, while Colonel Fitzwilliam looked resolutely out of the other. Lady Catherine sat opposite them with a small smile on her face. She did quite love it when two victims - people - were confined together in a small space with no chance of escape.
"I do love a long carriage journey." Said Lady Catherine to no one in particular. "It is so cosy and familiar! And I must thank you again for accompanying us Richard."
"It was my pleasure." Said Colonel Fitzwilliam shortly.
The conversation did not seem to prosper after that and Lady Catherine could not abide a silent room - or carriage as the case may be.
"Anne you are very silent?"
There was no response.
"Are you unwell? Richard give the girl your coat, she is plainly unwell."
"Mother it is not necessary!" said Anne flushing.
"It would be my pleasure." Said Colonel Fitzwilliam actually looking at Anne for the first time in the journey.
"Well it's not mine!" snapped Anne irrationally; after all she wanted Colonel Fitzwilliam - didn't she?
Lady Catherine sighed; it was going to be a long journey.
Part Two.
I am not young enough to know everything. ~ Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)
"Oh you must be exhausted after your journey!" said Mrs Gardiner in a kind soothing voice, as the travellers wearily trudged into her parlour. She then noticed that two strange men, who she assumed were Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, accompanied them.
"Oh my dear sister, I have never been so rattled and discomfited in all my life!" Mrs Bennet flung herself into full rant, without so much as realising her sister-in-law's discomfit at not knowing precisely the identities of two of the people she was ushering towards seats.
"Aunt!" said Lizzy in a gap of her mother torrent about the hideousness of inn keepers, "This is my betrothed Mr Darcy, and this is Jane's betrothed Mr Bingley."
The two men stood and bowed.
"I welcome you to my home, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley. I hope your journey wasn't too fatiguing."
Darcy and Bingley exchanged glances, their journey had indeed been fatiguing, though not physically but mentally. Lydia and Mary's conversation though at points both enlightening and rational, did wonders for a brain that needed excising.
"Ma'am it is a pleasure to meet you, but I fear we shall be discommoding you. Thus we shall take our leave, and with permission call tomorrow." Said Darcy bowing courtesy towards Mrs Gardiner.
"Very well, you are most welcome anytime in my home gentlemen." She replied escorting the gentlemen from the parlour.
Mrs Gardiner managed to deal swiftly with Mrs Bennet nerves, and sent Mr Bennet in search of her husband, leaving her to deal with her nieces.
"Mary, Lydia, you may share that room in there." Said Mrs Gardiner, hustling the younger girls in the direction of their bedchamber. "Now Lizzy and Jane."
Lizzy and Jane, blushing, sat on the edge of the bed in their chamber, waiting for the probing questions.
"Well?" said Mrs Gardiner looking searchingly at her favourite nieces.
"Well Aunt." Said Lizzy looking at Jane and then back at her Aunt trying to form words out of the tangled mess in her head.
"Lizzy.... did you give Mr Yeates his coat back?" said Lydia bursting into the room.
"Yes, I sent it back Lydia." Said Lizzy in an embarrassed voice.
"Why do you sound embarrassed Lizzy?"
"Because it is an embarrassing incident Lydia."
"But you weren't even there - it was I who was dragged from a ball by an odious painter."
Mrs Gardiner was looking lost. "He is a penniless odious painter - Mr Yeates that is." Said Lydia in an attempt to help her aunt.
"Lydia, we were trying to have a conversation." Said Lizzy painfully aware that her Aunt was probably getting the completely wrong idea.
"Oh well I daresay Aunt has all our visit to hear shocking love stories about you and your precious Mr Darcy, who is a little slow on the uptake if you get my drift." Said Lydia touching her forehead.
"Lydia!" said Jane and Lizzy together.
"Oh don't worry Jane, Mr Bingley is very quick to understand everything clearly. And Lizzy I do not mean Mr Darcy is a simpleton; once he understands something he is perfectly clever its just making him understand that is the hard part. Anyway I shall leave you to your conversation. "
Lizzy gaped at the door, and Jane tried not to laugh.
"Well Lizzy do you want to tell me about Mr Darcy, or am I to rely on your sisters very illuminating conversation?"
Once Mrs Gardiner had been filled in upon the true disposition and intelligence of Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, she was much reassured. Both the eldest sisters after unburdening their complete happiness continued in much the same vein as they normally did while visiting their Aunt, they asked her advice from anything and everything from the family to the latest fashions.
"You see Aunt, what are we to do?" said Jane.
"Well if these young gentlemen of yours object to any of your manners or your family then they are clearly not as in love with you as they should be. And why girls should your manners be unacceptable to society?"
" We are merely countrified fortune hunters did you not realise this Aunt?" said Lizzy sarcastically.
"How is this possibly different to town-bred fortune hunters?" said Mrs Gardiner. "And if some of the ton are to go by, being countrified to me seems a virtue. Much more of a virtue than for example £ 10 000!!"
Jane and Lizzy looked unconvinced.
"My girls, I understand that you wish to create a good impression, but if you go in thinking that their world is not your world you will be unhappy and you will not be yourselves for fear of not conforming to their rules. Obviously there are different rules to play by, but its one sphere, you are not quitting your sphere you are just off to a different part of it."
Mrs Gardiner still looked at the unconvinced sisters.
"Well my only advice is do not become too humble and obsequious but do not be condescending or patronising. Never think you are not worthy of anything, but never think you are above something. "
Annabelle looked at the room in which she would be spending approximately the next month. She only had time to rearrange some of her personal effects before Kitty burst into her room.
"We are in Bath Belle!" she cried.
"Bath is the most boring place in the universe Kitty." Said Annabelle sighing before dropping into the pretty love seat that overlooked the street. "I prophesise that it will be full of Bath misses too young to come out in London and therefore completely and utterly silly. I also prophesise that it will be full of portly old men with gout."
"Well to me, who before this year had never been anywhere - except for my Aunt's in London where we were not allowed to do anything - Bath is very exciting. And I thought you were learning to be a Prop."
"Yes, of course I am. " said Annabelle quickly, not wanting to actually admit that she was still thinking about such fun activities as balls and gowns.
"Belle, I don't believe you. You will never be a Prop to your Mama."
Annabelle didn't answer, she was staring out the window, lost in some thoughts of her own. "anyway Belle, I think Bath will be fun, and if it is full of old men with gout then I shan't get another marriage proposal. I think three in one year is quite enough."
"Three?" said Annabelle in shock, turning around to look at her friend.
"Did I say three? I meant two, of course I meant two." Said Kitty quickly.
'No you meant three, now who is the third? Collins, Teddy and who?"
Kitty sat down on Annabelle's bed and bit her lip. "Your brother?" she said quietly in a hesitant tone that to Annabelle sounded like a question.
"Ash?" said Annabelle her jaw dropping. "Ash is in love with you? Oh how blind have I been. I threw you at Teddy, when all along Ash.... Oh another thing that was staring me in the face and I just couldn't see because I -"
"Because you got a notion in your head and your notions are very hard to dislodge." Said Kitty in a small voice.
"Oh Kitty." Said Annabelle moving to sit next to Kitty. "And I didn't even know. You refuse him I take it?" Kitty nodded, tears starting to well up in her eyes again. "Well he shall get over you, I am persuaded and everything shall be well again." Annabelle put her arms around Kitty.
"I do not want him to get over me. " said Kitty in a small voice.
Annabelle gave Kitty a quizzical look. "Then why on earth refuse him?"
"I'm not sure of my feelings, and well I want a proper courtship, I want flowers, I want to be sure. I don't want to be - " words started to fail Kitty.
"I know exactly how you feel. I wanted to be flattered and flirted with. I wanted a man to fight a duel over me. Kitty, promise me you won't do something silly like me will you? I don't want you to - "
Kitty understood what Annabelle was about to say, so she interrupted her friend to save her the pain. "I hope that I haven't already - Belle when you write to Scotland please send Ash my regards. "
"Of course, I shall send him your fondest regards!" said Annabelle before pausing. "No you better tell me exactly what to write I don't want to play matchmaker again, since I am so shocking at it."
"Why thank you Belle, you will write exactly what I want you to?" said Kitty in a sly tone.
"Of course Kitty. I know that...in the past...I have tried to direct people's lives for them, and I've treated people badly without thinking, but I will try to mend that."
"Well are you going to write now?" said Kitty, in an eager tone, that to Annabelle did not seem to be related to her brother.
"Well do you want me to write now? I mean it's highly unlikely that they have even reached Scotland by now?"
"Please Belle, for me?" said Kitty in a coaxing tone.
Annabelle pulled out some paper and looked at Kitty expectantly. "Very well, anything to make you happy, and my brother of course."
Kitty smiled deviously and started dictating.
"Dear Brother,
I hope that you are having an enjoyable visit with Lord and Lady Rupert. Give my love and affection to both, and of course to Miss Elinor and Miss Millicent.
Kitty, Grandmamma and myself, have arrived safely in Bath. As we have just arrived there is no news of any importance to impart, apart from the fact that we are anxiously awaiting Aunt Catherine's arrival. This I fear shall be the only letter of mine for some time, as I do not think I shall have anything to write about. Bath as you know is quite dull.
It makes me long for London, balls dancing and all that I hold dear. Which reminds me, do not forget to give my best wishes to Miles, I hope that he too is enjoying his visit to his grandfather."
Annabelle paused in her writing and directed a sharp look at Kitty who was assuming a position of cultivated innocence. "Am I speaking too fast for you Belle?"
"No, pray continue Kitty." Said Annabelle still frowning over the last paragraph.
"Kitty wishes me to send you her best wishes, and also entreats me to inform you that her sister received your letter and that they both quite understand it. Also she wishes for you to know that there was no reason at all to apologise for the emotions, and she accepts your apology about the timing. She also hopes to see you at her sisters' wedding.
I apologise for the shortness of this letter. But I fear I have little of interest to say. Of all the places to be, Bath is the worst. Though I hear you say - but sister dear - you asked to go to Bath didn't you. Well I did ask to go to Bath, and I'm sure you can divine the reason why - and if you can't, the answer is close by..."
Annabelle paused and glared at Kitty. "I'm not writing that."
"Yes you are, you said you would write what I said."
"But that has nothing to do with you - " said Annabelle in an upset voice.
"It is the truth Belle, why not write it."
"It is not the truth." Said Annabelle lying through her teeth.
" - the answer is close by. Anyway Bath is quieter, less people to scold and it will give me a chance for Kitty and I to become more like sisters.
Yours affectionately
Belle."
Annabelle signed the letter still angry at Kitty.
"There you go Belle, and your brother will not show it to anyone, I am persuaded of that." Said Kitty with a small smile, mentally adjusting her definition of anyone to exclude a certain Lord Upton.
Kitty stared at the embroidery - no it was still not completed - and staring at it seemed to have no affect. Annabelle was similarly staring at her harp - alas simply staring didn't make it play.
"I told you Bath would be boring!"
"Belle it's our first day here, and it was you who didn't want to accompany Cassie to the Pump Room!"
"Have you tried to drink the water in Bath?'
"I've never been to Bath Belle."
"Well it's awful. I went to school here. I didn't need to come back!"
"Belle no one made you come to Bath."
"I know, I know. Its just Bath brings out the worst in everyone." Said Annabelle gloomily.
Kitty laughed. She privately thought it might be self-pity that was bringing out the worst in Annabelle. Though Kitty couldn't deny that a sort of lethargy had fell over her too since arriving in Bath. However both girls managed to rouse up a great deal of interest after an unmistakable knock occurred on the front door.
"Aunt Catherine?" said Annabelle looking at Kitty, not a little concerned. Lady Catherine was not going to be the cure for Annabelle's ills.
But it was not Lady Catherine it was Miss Smart.
"Hello, my dear Miss Bennet and hello to you Lady Annabelle."
"Miss Smart - whatever are you doing in Bath?" said Kitty confused, after offering Miss Smart a seat, when it became obvious that Annabelle was not going to do so.
"I've been banished here. For allowing my engagement to Miles to be broken."
"Miles is it?" smiled Annabelle, in an unpleasant way.
"Yes, that is his name isn't' it? I hope I haven't been calling him the wrong name! It would be so like me!" tittered Miss Smart.
"Well I hope that you aren't suffering too much of a disappointment." Said Kitty kindly.
"Oh no! It was I who retracted it! I mean Miles would have done it, but he is a man he has no notion of how to go about such things." Miss Smart paused and giggled. "I mean I have no desire to marry Miles and Miles certainly has no desire to marry me."
Kitty flinched as she watched Annabelle angrily start to play the harp. It was hard to continue talking to Miss Smart who seemed to have no notion of what pain she was causing with her thoughtless words.
"So Mama, banished me to Bath, which I am quite happy of, because I find Bath delightful! And there shall be no Mama here to frighten me into being quite silly. Lady Upton is furious, but she cannot vent her anger on me, as she doesn't' like Bath, and she cannot vent her anger on Miles, because that would be foolish."
"Mmmm." Said Kitty helpfully, not know quite what to say, after all she had never experienced the full weight of being a hostess before.
"I mean I don't think he is at all the sort of person to anger, I mean I declare that I was quite terrified of him! But we understand each other now I think. Though still I think he can be quite - devilish - when upset don't you think? Which is quite a strange thing, considering what a fool of himself he made - well perhaps I shouldn't' speak of that." Miss Smart rambled on, wondering what on earth was empowering her to speak of such things.
"Cake!" said Kitty desperately, as Annabelle's harp twanged angrily, and several strings threatened to break under her angry fingers.
Both Kitty and Miss Smart looked up alarmed as Annabelle abruptly pushed her harp away. She stood quickly and practically ran from the room swiping something away from her eyes.
"Oh dear." Said Miss Smart looking at the slammed door. She then lowered her voice into a conspiratorial tone - "She does love him then? Well that's much better, not much interference needed then."
"Oh I wouldn't dream of interfering, in a relationship!" said Kitty in a slightly superior tone, that she hoped Miss Smart wouldn't notice as being put on.
"Neither would I Miss Bennet." Replied Miss Smart haughtily.
"Liar!" they both exclaimed at the same time, before dissolving in silent giggles.
Part Three
Life is a moderately good play with a badly written third act. ~Truman Capote
Lizzy sighed. Waiting for Lydia - Why did it seem that most of her life she was waiting for Lydia? The last couple of days had been filled with the meeting of Darcy's relations the Matlocks and then being taken firmly under the wing of Lady Matlock. Lady Matlock had taken pity on Jane and Elizabeth, cornered up in Gracechurch Street with Mrs Bennet and Lydia and had taken it upon herself to show the young ladies about the town, and make introductions to her acquaintance that were still in town.
Jane and Lizzy, liked visiting, it allowed Jane full range in her sweetness and it allowed Lizzy more studies in human character. However this morning Lady Matlock could not accompany them in returning a visit and had sent the Misses Bennet's in her stead exclaiming delightfully that soon Lizzy would be family and she would just have to do things like this for her poor old Aunt. Since Lady Wettenhall had appeared perfectly amiable Lizzy and Jane were perfectly ready to make the visit alone. This was of course until they discovered that they were to take Lydia with them. Mrs Bennet could not be moved in this, Lydia had had no fun, thus Lydia must be taken to see this grand Countess in her Grand townhouse.
Lydia literally bounced all the way to Wettenhall House. She had a great desire to see a grand townhouse, even if it wasn't to be full of handsome officers - or evil penniless painters. However one of her wishes was about to be fulfilled.
"My dear Misses Bennets." Said Lady Wettenhall, rising slowly from her chair, she was a sad invalid - and only ever left her house for particular friends, and for particular gossip.
"Lady Wettenhall." Curtseyed both Jane and Lizzy. "This is our sister Lydia." Said Jane, as Lydia made her curtsey.
Sitting town to tea and cake, Lady Wettenhall cursed the weather and explained that if a long carriage journey had not been thought injurious to her health that she would be far away in some more pleasing county.
"However having some bright young things about me, always cheers me up." She said smiling, particularly on Lydia who seemed to be having some problems eating her cake, because her neck seemed permanently craned as to see everything and anything in the room.
"Do you know any officers?" asked Lydia impulsively realising she was being regarded.
Jane and Lizzy looked alarmed, but Lady Wettenhall gave a little laugh. "Yes I know a great many officers, but you will think them grey and old, they were the beaux of my youth you see."
"Aren't officers just - " said Lydia breaking off in a reverent look.
"Oh yes, officers are always handsome and dashing, but you will come to see that looks are not everything and that most officers do not make good husbands."
Lydia was about to refute this when she thought of Harriet Forster. Colonel Forster certainly had not made her a good husband, then again Harriet was hardly a good wife.
"Now, Miss Elizabeth you showed a great desire to be shown around my house I believe? I am feeling quite energetic today so you must let me do so now before I lose myself in lethargy again."
However they were destined to get no farther than the next room. They passed through a small hall, where Lizzy and Jane both spied a miniature of a young woman that they both fancied looked very much like someone they both knew, however as the young women was dismissed by Lady Wettenhall as a very distant and impoverished relation, they decided they must be mistaken. Lady Wettenhall threw open the doors to the next room, which looked like a parlour used as a music room, and disturbed two young men. One young man was posing in the love seat, as the other behind an easel appeared to be painting him.
"Mr Yeates." Said Lydia in some shock, staring at the object of her anger for several days now, suddenly feeling that anger dissipate.
"Miss Lydia." Said Mr Yeates almost knocking over his easel.
"Oh." Said Lady Wettenhall, somewhat unperturbed by the scene that appeared to be unfolding in front of her eyes.
"This is my eldest son." She said waving her hand at the man in the love seat who hadn't lost his boyish charm - "Lord Winsford. And this - " Lady Wettenhall blinked at Mr Yeates. "And this - "
"Is Mr Yeates Mama. He has come to paint my picture. Do you not remember hiring him?" said Lord Winsford slowly and patiently.
"Hired him to paint your portrait? Don't be absurd Percy and why would I want your portrait?! There really are enough of them already!!!"
"Well then perhaps Papa hired him." Said the man pleasantly.
Lady Wettenhall looked blank for a moment and then said slowly. "Yes, of course. I do remember Ronald telling me he was hiring a painter - Are you going to take my likeness too?" she said directing this last bit at Mr Yeates.
"Of course Lady Wettenhall, if your ladyship chooses." Mr Yeates appeared entirely unruffled at his patronesses complete mental block over his appointment.
"Her ladyship does choose." Said Lady Wettenhall, before seeming to pointedly ignore both the young men and attempt to show the Misses Bennet's the room.
However Lydia had suddenly lost interest in the attractions of the room.
"Your painting doesn't look a think like him." Said Lydia looking at what Mr Yeates had drawn. Lydia despite constant years of perfection, wasn't being rude. Lord Winsford did not at any time look like a mountain range.
"Er - I was practising, showing my talents." Said Mr Yeates.
"Oh." Said Lydia. "It's very good, for lumps of dirt." Weren't women supposed to be encouraging about men's work? And Lydia had an overwhelming desire to be encouraging.
"Thank you Miss Lydia." Said Mr Yeates with a small smile on his face, before returning to his stool and a fresh piece of paper.
Lydia watched as Mr Yeates started to pencil in Lord Winsford's features. "I hope your coat got back to you intact." Said Lydia abruptly, watching in interest as Yeates' pencil skidded across the paper but she barely noticed the startled look on Lord Winsford's features.
"Yes thank you Miss Lydia." Said Yeates.
Lydia was wondering why he was being so abrupt as if he didn't want to talk to her - he was a lot more fun in Brighton she thought.
"But you didn't need to take me from that Ball, I was having such a good time."
"Yes I did Lydia." Said Mr Yeates under his breath, so that Lord Winsford would not hear what he said.
"You didn't! Everyone was looking after me! And why are you whispering?" said Lydia whispering back.
"It is much more interesting. And you are mistaken, no one was looking out for you and you were making a fool of yourself - and you looked like a -"
But Lydia cut him off. "Don't call me a trollop again, please!"
Lord Winsford caught himself just before he fell off the love seat.
Darcy and Bingley walked into Whites much relieved that it seemed quieter than normal. They settled down into comfortable chairs, and talked. There seemed to be a self imposed ban on all talk regarding weddings. They had had enough talk of weddings to last them several lifetimes. Neither man had ever though that a simple wedding would take so much to organise, or that acquiring a wife could be so much trouble. For instance Mrs Bennet insisted on being shown all over both the gentlemen's townhouses and took much delight in pointing out in a loud voice how her dear Lizzy or Jane could not possibly live with - what ever she had taken in dislike.
Consequently decorators were swarming all over both townhouses, and Darcy was thanking his lucky stars that Pemberley was such a distance away and Bingley was glad he had not actually purchased an estate - not that this stopped Mrs Bennet from planning to help redecorate Netherfield.
Their quiet coze together about what to do with a soon to be mutual mother-in-law however was disrupted by a group of young bucks crashing into the room nattering about upper-cuts and cross-buttocks and bloody noses. Darcy and Bingley had absolutely no desire to sit in the same room as a bunch of zealous popinjays - neither man excelled at the sport of boxing, and neither man liked as they said 'a good turn up' even Darcy with his cousins, rough-housing was all very well when you were still a green-un but really! Both gentlemen sidled out of the room, declining quite firmly to hear a description of how Gentlemen Jackson almost got his cork pulled.
Darcy rolled his eyes at Bingley wondering if they had ever been so childish - though come to think of it Bingley was still quite close to the young bucks age - why then was he so more mature? Was it the love of a good woman?
Bingley pulled Darcy towards a part of Whites, that while already occupied, was occupied with those who could be relied upon not to talk about blood. When they reached the enclave, there was a shuffling of feet, and a chair rocked wildly as though it was about to fall over before setting back down on the ground.
This was a strange way to enter a room. Darcy smiled somewhat suspiciously at the room's occupants.
"Lord Winsford. Sir Marmaduke." Said Darcy nodding at the two gentlemen. Sir Marmaduke had a strange look on his face, while Lord Winsford looked as though he was about to burst into uncontrolled laughter at any moment.
"I hope we are not interrupting something gentlemen?" said Bingley also wondering what on earth they had interrupted - had Sir Marmaduke and Lord Winsford smuggled a woman into Whites?
"No, No, you are not interrupting anything." Said Lord Winsford seeming to have regained control of his own features.
"Then may we join you?" said Darcy. There was a strangled cough, which appeared to come from Lord Winsford.
"Of course Darcy, Bingley, anytime, it has been too long since I saw either of you." Said Lord Winsford with a little too much enthusiasm for a casual acquaintance.
So Darcy and Bingley sat, a little nervously. However the conversation and strange atmosphere lightened when Lord Winsford revealed he had met the famous Miss Bennets. The conversation however came to a complete halt less than an hour later when another man joined the group.
"Hello Winsford! Marmaduke! Ah, my very dear Darcy and Bingley."
It was Sir Christian. Darcy turned an interesting shade of red and muttered a hurried apology before quitting the room. Bingley looked confused but after to offering his apologies he left the room.
"Well I sure know how to clear out a room." Said Sir Christian with a wicked smile.
Lord Winsford burst into unrestrained laughter. "What brings you to London Sir Christian?"
"Oh I'm not here for very long, I'm preparing to rusticate!"
"Rusticate? YOU? Where?" said Sir Maramaduke in a horror-struck voice.
"Hertfordshire - in a little town called Meryton."
There was a prolonged coughing, that Lord Winsford took up emulating just a little too late.
"Who is the lucky girl?" said Lord Winsford.
"Miss Mary Bennet!" said Sir Christian with a small smile. "But she would probably deny it."
"Bennet? What is it with these Bennet's? And where can I get one?" said Lord Winsford explosively.
"I think they are all taken." Said Sir Christian simply.
"What about the fourth daughter?" Said Lord Winsford. Sir Marmaduke looked confused, Lord Winsford seemed to know a great deal about these Bennets."
"Oh that reminds me!" said Sir Christian feigning a sudden recollection, "On an entirely different subject - I always meant to ask you, in relation to our duelling conversation of some months ago, just how you felt about the idea of facing Lord Ashbourne with a pistol in hand."
Lord Winsford grimaced. "Oh, I understand, I certainly would not enjoy that. It is a pity, but I still want to know what it is about these Bennets."
"Well if Yeates can come out from behind that curtain, perhaps together we can explain it to you." Said Sir Christian calmly.
Yeates sheepishly came out from behind the curtain, dropped into a vacant chair and was suddenly racked with laughter.
Chapter 33, Part 4
Do not condemn the judgement of another because it differs from your own. You may both be wrong. ~Dandemis
Miles reined Balthazar in as he looked up at the house they were approaching, house was entirely the wrong word - it was a castle. An old partially ruined castle but a castle never the less. It looked dark, cold and forbidding - it did not look at all habitable let alone comfortable. It was the kind of place described as having atmosphere.
Ash pulled up Count and looked at Mayfield Castle. He looked at Miles then back at the Castle again. "Any particular reason we have stopped out here, in what I must say is - a frightfully cold wind?" Ash's tone suddenly changed, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. " Is the weather always this bloody awful up here? Have you lured me up here under false pretences?"
Miles laughed. Ash liked his creature comforts. "Of course I have! You wouldn't have come otherwise."
"Oh you sodding ..." said Ash, his last word lost as he kicked Count into a gallop. Balthazar easily caught up, so that Miles could still yell through the howling gale like wind at Ash.
"Should warn you - It's not like London." Ash looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "And if you thought your family fought then - " But the words were carried away with the wind.
Ash got off Count, in a seriously unimpressed mood. He wasn't the type of person who found howling draughts, smoking fireplaces and cold dinners character building. However he was interested in seeing Lord Rupert and Miss Mayfield again and this time in their own domain.
The doors flew open and a happy portly man waved them inside.
"Don't worry Rogers will take care of the horses, it is so good to see you my lord." The portly man fawned over Miles.
"Thank you Buxton, this is Lord Ashbourne."
"My lord." Said the portly man bowing very low before returning his attention to Miles. "Everyone awaits you in the Small Purple Parlour."
Buxton then toddled off, no doubt to attend to the running of such an establishment.
Ash looked around the hall, his lips pursing.
"Are you not coming Ash?" said Miles several steps down the hallway.
"Very funny Miles. Very funny." Said Ash looking at the blazing fireplace then around at the comfortable furniture.
"Well Ash, did you really think I'd ride - for how ever many miles - just to be uncomfortable? Let alone let you do it - I like my head where it is thank you very much! May I remind you just how long I have known you?"
Ash rolled his eyes and followed his friend to the small purple parlour.
The room was by no means small, and though it did have lavender wall coverings it was hardly overwhelmingly purple. A young woman sat on one side of the fire, and Miss Elinor Mayfield sat on the other side of the fire. They both looked up at Miles and Ash's entrance.
"Oh Miles!!! Come give your Grandmamma a kiss!" smiled the younger one who was obviously Lady Rupert, while Elinor frowned.
Miles happily obliged, kissing Lady Rupert on the cheek - from Ash's point of view she looked kind of disappointed.
Elinor hrumphed "No kiss for your aunt then?"
"Of course," said Miles smoothly giving his aunt a kiss and whispering something in her ear which made her turn almost as bright red as her hair.
"You must be Lord Ashbourne," smiled Lady Rupert, standing and motioning for Ash to take a seat near her.
"Lady Rupert, Miss Mayfield," bowed Ash, before taking a seat near Lady Rupert. This earned Ash a glare from Elinor and a smirk from Miles, who took his seat near Elinor. It distinctly reminded Ash of facing your opponent across the battlefield.
The silence was broken by Miles - "Where is Grandfather?"
"RIGHT HERE M'BOY," shouted a voice, connected to a large man, hitherto hidden by the large armchair he had been sitting in. The voice made Miles and Ash spring to their feet.
Ash blinked, but quickly remembered that Lord Rupert was just one to shout not for any emotional disturbance or for any reason of deafness (to the contrary when a child Ash found him to be amazingly omnipotent when it came to hearing whispers) - he just shouted because he wanted to.
Lord Rupert engulfed his grandson in a large hug, and then turned his attention to Ash.
"SO M'BOY HAVE YOU GOTTEN SHORTER?"
"No M'lord, I am just not wearing my thick soled boots."
"GOOD, GOOD, AS LONG AS YOU HAVEN'T LOST YOUR THICK SKIN - HA HA. I Like THE FACT YOU HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOUR - SO FEW MEN DO THESE DAYS!"
Ash smiled, used to Lord Rupert's strange way of greeting guests. He quickly took advantage of the fact he was standing to relinquish his chair to the older man and step out of the battle zone.
"WELL M'BOY AS MILES HAS NO DOUBT TOLD YOU WE DON'T STAND ON CEREMONY HERE," Lord Rupert said before giving his wife a loving glance, which despite what appearances may lead you to believe she returned. Ash looked about and found that Miles had sat himself down in an empty armchair, and was now lounging quite comfortably while smiling at his friend.
Ash coughed, "Yes he did tell me something of the sort, m'lord."
"OH DON'T CONTINUE TO CALL ME THAT M'BOY - YOU CAN CALL ME SIR!"
Lady Rupert gave a laugh which could be described as tinkling, "Don't say such things Rupert. Lord Ashbourne isn't ten years old anymore." There was a pause before she shot an interesting glance at Elinor - "Is he Elinor?"
Elinor gave Lady Rupert a depreciating glance. "No. He isn't"
"Lord Ashbourne - " Lady Rupert began.
"Call me Ash, most people do," smiled Ash.
"Very well, if only you will call me Julia. Now Ash, Elinor described you quite ill you know. You are nothing like her description."
Elinor turned a purple colour. "I was quite accurate in my description I assure you."
"Oh but you must be biased Aunt. After all I know you still blame poor Ash for the accident to Pug last time we met," Miles inserted himself into the conversation with a wicked grin.
"He stepped on Him. It was hardly an accident. He lifted one of those quite horrid Army boots of his and Stamped upon poor Pug."
Julia's eyebrow's rose. "You assaulted poor Pug?!"
"I assure you Madam - Julia - That it was quite an accident. The fact that 'poor little Pug' had quite literally eaten my best slippers is probably neither here nor there. Is this not so Miss Mayfield?"
"If you had fed him properly then he would not have done so!" exclaimed Elinor. "And don't' call me Miss Mayfield - if she is Julia - then I am Elinor."
"It was hardly up to me to feed him! It was Miles' house!" exclaimed Ash.
Miles began to see that the conversation was rapidly about to turn towards a long winded condemnation of his treatment of guest dogs, so he deftly engaged his Grandfather in a protracted conversation about their combined extended family. This way his Aunt had no choice but to stew in silence or join in heartily. Not being the type of woman to remain silent when she had something to say, she joined in.
Ash sat back in his armchair, somewhat left out of the conversation but hardly minding. He rarely wanted to talk about his own family, let alone someone else's Great Aunt Muriel. He did however notice the rather insistent rivalry between Julia and Elinor, it even managed to insert itself into a rather innocuous conversation about Great Aunt Muriel.
"Great Aunt Muriel? Oh the one who didn't like the Southern Guest Room?"
"She didn't like it because you had it redecorated. If you had only asked my advice on where to put her there wouldn't have been any problems! I could have told you that she did not like Green and Cream!"
"I did ask your opinion Elinor. You told me that I should put her in the pumpkin patch!"
Elinor gasped. "I said no such thing!"
"You have a pumpkin patch?" said Miles with interest, but he was ignored.
"You did! Just like when I asked you what I should decorate Millicent's room with, you replied - 'lots of sticky things she will feel right at home!' "
"Well I declare that child gets stickier every time I see her!"
"You keep giving her sweets! I declare you spoil her rotten Elinor! Like you do that horrid Pug!"
"Don't talk to me about Pug, Julia! I saw you preparing that steak for Pug!"
"STEAK FOR PUG?!?" said Rupert alarmed. "I DON'T GET STEAK AND THAT WRETCHED HEARTH RUG GETS STEAK?"
"It's bad for your health dear," soothed Julia before glaring at Elinor "Pug was off colour he needed some steak, and you've upset your father."
"I've upset my father, you mean you've upset him!"
"Well I suppose you want him to die then!?"
'Of course not! I totally agree with the strict regime that you and Dr Bailey have put father on!"
"There then, what are you arguing about?"
"I'm not arguing about anything! It's just that well I think that Dr Bailey may be giving Papa the same regime as Uncle Horrace!"
"HORRACE - THE DOCTOR IS GIVING ME THE SAME DIET AS THE DOG?"
"No dear the pug's name is Hortence. Uncle Horrace lives with Cousin Margaret and resides in the Attic!" said Julia.
"The Attic?" exclaimed Miles suddenly interested.
"Yes, but we don't like to speak of it." Replied Julia sternly.
Ash blinked at this family conversation, and once he tore himself away from the fascinated enrapture that it held him in, he heard a sucking sound. Looking behind his chair, he saw a small child with blonde ringlets - Millicent he assumed. She looked up with wide eyes at him while attacking something sweet but indistinguishable.
"Hello Millicent. I'm Ash." He said holding out his hand. She took it immediately and with a speed only known to small children crawled onto his lap, leaving a sticky trail.
It had the effect of stopping the conversation around the fire.
"Oh, how adorable he looks Rupert!" cried Julia.
"Oh yes, Adonis with Child!" said Elinor.
"Adonis?" said Julia.
"Well I never said he wasn't very handsome, just very unpleasant to pugs," said Elinor unruffled.
"Oh what a picture!"
"YES M'BOY MAKES YOU LONG FOR CHILDREN OF YOUR OWN I DARE SAY!" said Rupert with a teasing look.
"Oh no doubt, lots of small children about him, is just what Ash is thinking of right now," said Miles with a laugh.
In fact Ash was thinking about how expensive his coat was, and how his valet was going to get the stickiness out.
"No he will be thinking of - who did you say it was Elinor - Miss Bennet?"
"Oh yes! Miss Catherine Bennet! Miles I was quite upset that you couldn't contrive to bring her with you! Is she a dear?"
Ash stiffened much to the consternation of Millicent who thought that perhaps Ash would feel better if he had some of her sweets. Ash tried to avoid this sweet, while giving Miles a pleading glance.
Miles studiously ignored his old friend and gave a small smile. "She is undoubtedly a treasure. But I do think Ash may need some help in his courtship of her."
Ash groaned. Millicent laughed and pulled his nose. However strangely enough Ash had grown used to her presence and didn't wish to push her off, instead he found himself laughing with her.
"Well have you tried flowers Ash?" said Julia.
"Have you tried not to assault her pets?" said Elinor.
"A GOOD LOOK AT YOUR FINANCIAL STATEMENTS USUALLY DOES IT," said Rupert.
"Thank you for the advice, but I am not the single gentlemen in this room who needs help with his love life," smiled Ash oh so innocently at Miles.
Miles should have known; Ash had always been a master at deflecting things back to him. He tried not to shudder when six pairs of enquiring eyes turned towards him.
"No thank you. I like my love life as it is. Non-existent." However he knew his audience, they would not be satisfied with that, so he took the opportunity to quit the room with the excuse that he needed to brush up after his journey.
"You sister has a lot to answer for," said Elinor looking at Ash.
"Most women have a lot to answer for." Replied Ash calmly while bouncing Millicent on his knee.
The subject of women and their relation to either Miles or Ash did not arise again in the next couple of days. Ash was impossible to bait on the subject and Miles looked far too vicious. Instead both the Mayfield women, set out to try and coax both men out of whatever they were engulfed in, and Rupert enjoyed with them some sport and shouting in general.
After a morning of sport, Ash lounged in a chair in the billiard room, clad only in a shirt and breeches with one leg hooked over the arm twirling a cue stick in one hand, trying desperately to put Miles off his shot, when a footman entered the room.
"A letter for Lord Ashbourne."
"Thank you Robert." Said Ash taking the proffered letter. Recognising the lettering, he forbore announcing to Miles who it was from.
He smiled at the contents especially one part:
"Kitty wishes me to send you her best wishes, and also entreats me to inform you that her sister received your letter and that they both quite understand it. Also she wishes for you to know that there was no reason at all to apologise for the emotions, and she accepts your apology about the timing. She also hopes to see you at her sisters' wedding.
He could just picture Kitty carefully dictating that particular section to his sister. Perhaps all would be well after all?
"Are you going to tell me what is in that letter?" demanded Miles.
Ash blinked up at his friend, who had two hands placed on the billiard table and his eyebrow firmly raised.
"What makes you think it is anything of importance?" said Ash trying to make his tone neutral.
Miles reached up one hand to push the hair from his face, and after doing so, pushed up his shirt sleeve. "Only the fact that you cannot stop grinning like an idiot. You look fit for Bedlam."
Ash wiped the dopey smile off his face and replaced it with a lazy one.
"Oh, I wouldn't even dream of bothering you with this Miles," he drawled.
"Fine." Said Miles shortly. "I don't particularly care what your sister has to say."
Ash rolled his eyes, when a man could recognise a lady's handwriting from that far away and then denied he felt anything for her, heaven help him!
"And don't think I recognise her handwriting. It is only natural that she should write to you. I made deductions because only news of Miss Bennet could make you smile so." Miles angrily aimed his cue, and missed horribly.
"I think Lord Rupert likes his felt, attached to the table," said Ash in a smug tone. He was not above liking to best Miles at Billiards.
"Oh shut up." Snapped Miles.
"No you shut up," sniped Ash back at his best friend. " For the past couple of days, you have been in the worst mood I have ever seen you in! I thought this whole trip was supposed to be fun! But you! I mean what happened when Kitty had her accident? You had gone off after Annabelle - that much I managed to work out - so what did she say to you? What did you say to her? Come on man you can trust me - something must be making you absolutely unbearable."
"Unbearable am I? Right, I shall remove myself from your presence."
However Miles was not fast enough as Ash leapt to a standing position and grabbed his friend's shoulders. He forced him down into the chair he had just vacated and thrust the letter at him.
"Read the damn letter. Work out your problem. Then take whatever beast is gnawing at you out into the wood and shoot it until it is quite dead. Now do those things and not necessarily in that order, and I am going to take my shot."
Miles put on a sulky look for a few seconds before looking at the letter. He didn't want to admit that his last real encounter with Belle, where they had said such terrible things - correction he had said such terrible things and where she had run away from him - was really troubling him.
It makes me long for London, balls dancing and all that I hold dear. Which reminds me, do not forget to give my best wishes to Miles, I hope that he too is enjoying his visit to his grandfather."
Did Belle really mean that she held him dear?
but sister dear - you asked to go to Bath didn't you. Well I did ask to go to Bath, and I'm sure you can divine the reason why - and if you can't, the answer is close by..."
Was he the reason she went to Bath? But why? Did she find his presence disturbing like she had done in the Season? Or was it for another reason? Miles sighed and leant back in the chair.
Miles sighed as he hefted the picnic basket in his arms once more. He tried to remember why he was doing this again when he saw Annabelle move out of the trees laughing. Right, that was why he was doing this.
He had, for the umpteenth time, organised an outing solely for the benefit of Lady Annabelle Fitzwilliam. This no doubt was giving rise to speculating talk about his intentions towards the lady, but this gossip was baffled as to his subsequent actions towards her. Hell, Miles was baffled about his actions.
There was a rather large conflict occurring between Miles' brain and his heart. His brain told him quite firmly that this was the sister of his best friend. The girl he had taken around Bath, the girl whose horse he had had to shoot and who he had rescued from drowning. He had protected her from the very first moment he had ever known her. And his brain told him that what Belle needed was someone else, that wasn't him. He should stand aside and allow a worthy man to court her. However his heart had other ideas...
"Miles?" Belle sashayed up to him bonnet swinging in one hand. "You have the food don't you?"
"Yes," he said blinking himself out of his reverie.
"Then make yourself useful and do something with it."
Why was she taunting him? Or why did it always feel like she was taunting him? Did she know? It was the most bizarre feeling, he was sitting there watching the young rogue that Belle had invited to accompany the party like - like a dog. He had to get her out of his system. But he didn't seem to be able to do it. He couldn't just take himself out of her circle, because every time he pushed himself to do it, he felt himself being pulled back in. But it could never be. It just couldn't.
So he just sat there on the edge of the rug, just looking at her. He realised what a pathetic picture he must make, how unlike his usual self. After all anything he did seemed to be acceptable to women, Miles wasn't stupid, he did have a fair idea about his 'reputation' with the fair sex and he knew it wasn't all to do with the money and the title - quite a few men could boast both and not have his reputation. If he was himself - would he win her? What if he didn't? What would happen? He wasn't' sure he wanted to know.
"Miles?"
Miles blinked out of his memories and looked at Ash.
"Oh my turn."
"Yes it's your turn," said Ash.
Miles got up slowly, giving his muscles a stretch, before looking at the game in progress.
"You realise that if I get the next shot, it's pretty much all over for you - don't you?"
"You think you'll get this shot - you have such a high estimation of your talents," mocked Ash.
"No I have an accurate one," smirked Miles tightening his hold on his cue stick, bending over he took careful aim - but a memory, an old one, that he had though banished forever reared its ugly head...
Miles stood on tiptoes trying to aim the cue. He chewed on his lip as he lined up the shot. Hair fell into his face, but he ignored it, he was going to make this shot! He pulled back the cue and -
"Miiiiiiiiiiillllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss."
Damn! "Ophelia! What is it? You made me miss that shot." Miles stood back and surveyed where the balls had ended up and frowned. "How could you interrupt me like that?" He stalked around the table, to where the voice had come from.
A little girl of six, with long sandy hair, clutched a ragged doll stood in the doorway looking up at him. "I want you to come play with Emily and me."
"I can't play with Emily and you. Because Emily is a doll - she isn't even alive!"
"She is too! She just doesn't like talking to you! Because you hid her in the water closet!"
"I did not!" retorted Miles in an indignant tone though not too indignant because he knew that he was lying.
"Well someone put her in the water closet!!! Are you going to tell me it was Mama?"
Both children stopped at this thought of their mother skulking about the water closet, then rejected it as impossible.
"Well anyway I can't play with you and Emily - the inanimate doll!"
"What does inanimate mean! I'll tell Mama what you just said, you aren't to say rude things!"
"Inanimate isn't rude! It means dead - not alive - not living."
"You killed Emily!" shrieked Ophelia shaking her doll.
Miles groaned throwing down his cue stick. "I did not kill Emily! She was never alive, now GO and play someone else, you are a brat."
"I'm not a brat!"
"You are too!"
"I am not!"
"OH I'm not playing this game," said Miles as he pushed Ophelia out of the room, she protested all the way.
"You never play with me, you are a hateful beast and I hate you and I'm going to find someone else to play with!"
That was the last time he saw her, well saw her alive anyway. She had wandered off to find someone else to play with. Unfortunately she had found one of Grandfather's horses that he had recently bought from Newmarket. The unbroken stallion had not taken kindly to Ophelia wanting to play and the grooms had been brought running by the little girl's screams.
Miles remembered his grandfather coming down the stairs heavily, as though even lifting up his feet was a trial. The look in his face had told it all. So did the tears in his fathers eyes. And Lord Upton never cried. His mother had been taken ill with hysterics and the whole house was in confusion. And Miles knew it was his fault. If he had just played with Ophelia she wouldn't have gone to find something else to do.
It was his fault. He had been a horrible brother. And his parents knew it, they hardly spoke of Ophelia once she had been buried, in a quiet corner of Carlon place, Miles hardly remembered the journey back there. His mother had held him tightly and refused to let him go anywhere, she had even tried to convince his father not to let him go to Eton. She couldn't lose another child. But Lord Upton's sense of tradition, duty and education overrode his grief, and Lady Upton never forgave him. She never forgave him for what she saw as putting their now only child in danger. Anything could happen to him at school, he was only 10 and Ophelia was only dead a month!
That was the last time she invoked her name. Miles, hiding in the stairs saw his fathers anger. - Don't use that name to get what you want Aggie! Don't do that to her memory. Just don't. And don't pretend you don't know whose fault this is!
The couple had continued to snipe at each other as Miles slipped away. It was his fault, and Miles knew it.
"Miles? Could you come back from wherever you have gone please?" said Ash, as he watched his friend, seemingly frozen into a permanent position of aiming.
"What?" said Miles quickly straightening up. "I was - if you will forgive the pun - miles away." Miles attempted a ghost of a smile.
"What is the matter with you?" said Ash a frown of worry crossing his face.
"Nothing," said Miles slamming the cue down on the table, underestimating his strength, then finding himself looking at a hopelessly broken cue.
"Oh that sure looks like nothing," said Ash.
"Oh go to hell," snarled Miles storming out of the room.
He ran up to his room and breathless, leant on the door. Why had those memories come back? Why now? He had been to his grandfather's countless times since and never had those memories. Why - when he should be thinking of his feelings for Belle - did he start to think about his sister?
Miles pulled on the bell rope and called for a bath, perhaps that would distract him?
Oh god. Was that the problem? He had substituted Annabelle for Ophelia - he could look after Annabelle when he had failed Ophelia?
Miles angrily stripped off and climbed into the bath. But sinking into the warm water seemed to call up more memories.
Miles looked at the lemonade. It was frightful stuff, especially when he'd prefer to have a gallon of brandy. However under the pretence of refilling his glass, he could easily keep an eye on Belle.
Whatever possessed him to leave her alone with Mr Hargrave?! The man was an Utter Cad. And his friend, Lord Marcus was a rogue if ever Miles saw one. And Belle just encouraged them. She flirted with them, she never flirted with him, instead she baited and teased him. But he would still come running, because he swore he'd always look after her.
He looked over and saw Mr Hargrave walk off and leave Belle alone with Lord Marcus. Miles frowned and walked closer. Lord Marcus gave him an imperious stare, which startled Miles. Miles was not a person that you gave looks to. He was the person to dish out the looks. Young men just 'on the town' were known to run back to the country if Miles looked at them. Now he seemed to be getting the feeling that he should run back to the country. What had he been reduced to? A Laughing Stock?
Why? Miles knew it was because he had for the last two seasons, been running after Belle. He had to look after her, but inside he knew the possessive instinct wasn't brotherly - if it was, he would be acting like Ash, allowing Belle to do as she wished, but making sure she didn't get into a scrape. However he couldn't admit this to himself. He hardly ever let people, well women get close to him - and he couldn't... something seemed to be stopping him actually putting his feelings, that he wouldn't admit to having, into words. But he still acted on those feelings, the result being that he appeared to everyone else as having totally lost his head and sanity - he was branded a foolish man.
Moving much closer to the couple he over heard Lord Marcus ask playfully of Annabelle, "Is Lord Upton your sheep dog?"
This didn't worry Miles, he knew that was how everyone thought of him but it was Belle's answer that struck him.
"Oh Lord Upton...you know he would go Miles for me. He is the perfect escort when one cannot find someone one really wants to go with." "
Miles almost choked on his lemonade. It had hardly even registered with him that Belle herself might mock his attentions. How could she do that?
He turned away angrily and stormed back to the lemonade. He took his time filling it up, willing himself not to look at her. But when he did, he wished he had looked at her before. The Rogue was leading her towards a secluded balcony.
Miles slammed down the glass, and stormed over to the couple. He roughly pulled Lord Marcus into an obliging wall, and felt some triumph at the swift look of fear that replaced the lust and conquest.
"Miles!! What are you doing?" shrieked Belle. "You have no right!"
"No right?" yelled Miles at her.
"None! Now let go of poor Lord Marcus. We are just going out onto the balcony for some fresh air!"
"You want to go out on the balcony with him?" Miles knew they were attracting attention, the fact that Miles had most of Lord Marcus' coat twisted in his fist, had led most of the onlookers to realise that an altercation was taking place.
"If I do, it's no business of yours," replied Belle haughtily. "I mean really can't you find some other girl, to pad about after?"
"Pad about after?! I'm I'm - " he wanted to say protecting, but it didn't come out of his mouth. Instead he planted a fist right in Lord Marcus's face.
Belle shrieked and clawed at him then ducked as Lord Marcus punched back. The scuffle was broken up in minutes by Ash and Darcy.
"What the hell is going on here!?" cried Darcy, holding Miles back, as Ash deftly turned Lord Marcus out onto the Balcony and into the pond below with a smart - "Don't come near my sister again."
"Nothing," hissed Miles.
"You aren't her brother you know," said Darcy forced to release the stronger man.
And that's when Miles realised he wasn't and never was.
Miles pulled himself out of the bath, dried himself off and shrugged into his dressing down. Tousling his wet hair, he dismissed the servant and walked into his bedroom to find Ash, lazing in his favourite armchair.
"Can't you ever leave me alone?" said Miles.
"You are lucky I didn't walk in on you in the bath!" retorted Ash. "Now why don't you tell me what is going on?"
Miles shrugged and sat in the opposite armchair. "All right. What do you want to know?"
"What happened with Belle? When Kitty had her accident."
"We had an argument and I told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of her."
"You told her you loved her?"
"Er - Not in so many words - malevolent spite and jaded piece of baggage featured quite a lot. Then she claimed I loved Miss Dew and ran away. Then she refused to see me."
"Ah - okay. I'm not asking how you joined those pieces together, I'm just going to assume they are the pertinent points."
Miles nodded. To Ash it seemed as though the fight had gone out of him.
"We've never really discussed this before - but when did you realised you loved my sister?"
"I don't know - when I saw her at her come out ball? But I didn't admit it to myself until I punched Lord Marcus."
Ash gaped.
"Then what in the world were you doing in the meantime?"
"Trying to work out some old displaced guilt?"
"Excuse me?"
"I had a sister," said Miles quietly.
"Ophelia?" said Ash scrunching up his nose - remembering a little portrait in Carlon Place.
"Yes, she was killed, playing about with horses, and the last time I saw her, I was telling her to go away and find someone else to play with. I thought that if I had looked after her better... had played with her more... then she wouldn't have wandered off and decided foolishly to make friends with a unbroken horse. I think I thought I should look after Annabelle better ...do better than I did with Ophelia...I suppose... ... It seems kind of silly when I think of it."
"It's not silly. I mean the brain and the heart are strange organs I sometimes thing they were purposely designed to screw men over."
Miles smiled. "I don't know what I was doing when I acted like an utter fool, I just couldn't think that I could be the best person for her. I still don't know whether I am, in fact I'm not sure I want to know. She doesn't love me."
"Well at least you aren't like me! Blazing in, and then getting rejected horribly."
"No I hung around like a sad individual not knowing what I was really doing, trying to be brotherly and suitor-ly at the same time, then I got rejected horribly."
"So what are you going to do? I mean you aren't happy Miles."
"I'm not sure, but I'm not going through that again, I'd rather be boiled in oil - no wait spend an evening with Miss Bingley!"
Ash laughed shaking his head at his friend.
"And you?" asked Miles smiling albeit a little wanly.
"I think I'm going to have to realise sometimes you can't get what you want when you want it, and sometimes you have to be patient."
"Does this mean you are about to go haring off to Bath."
"No, that would be being impatient. I will wait until we got to Hertfordshire for the wedding."
"We?"
"Of course you are coming with me. Just because you have decided to cut yourself free from whatever Shakespearian Tragedy you were enacting over Belle, does not mean you can use avoiding her as an excuse to avoid a wedding, especially a Mrs Bennet organised wedding. Besides Miss Bingley will be at the wedding, perhaps you can have that evening alone with her."
Chapter 34, Part One
"There goes my hero. Watch him as he goes. There goes my hero. He's ordinary." - Foo Fighters "My Hero"
Miles was curled up in his favourite armchair, which unfortunately was also his grandfather's favourite. However Lord Rupert was off showing little Millicent the pretty horses that had recently been brought over from Ireland. Elinor was of course then outside telling Lady Rupert how irresponsible it was to allow her daughter anywhere near the horses, with the name Ophelia only whispered under her breath.
Miles shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Even Shakespeare's sonnets weren't improving his mood. He didn't quite know what he should be doing. Should he be deciding to go to Bath? Or should he forget about her? After all she wasn't the only woman in the world and wouldn't marrying her be a cliché?
Did cliché's really work in real life? He had as a child read his Aunt Elinor's circulating library novels and more recently Julia's Gothic Romances. In those books the older brother's friend always ended up with the heroine and lived happily ever after. But was Annabelle a heroine? And how much did books correlate to real life?
It was maudlin thoughts like this that occupied Miles' waking moments, and it was really starting to bother him. He wasn't normally the brooding type and it frustrated him that he was allowing any woman to do this to him.
These thoughts propelled him out of his chair. Grabbing the brandy decanter and two glasses he went in search of Ash.
Ash turned out to be in the room set aside for fencing. It was an old decrepit room that had also been Miles' haven when he was a teenager visiting his grandparents.
"Working out your problems?" asked Miles leaning against an old unused mantelpiece, upon which he set the decanter and glasses.
"Problems? I thought we had decided we had no problems."
"No you decided that I had resolved my problems, and you decided that you would wait until you got to Hertfordshire to do anything."
"Are you drunk?" asked Ash leaning on his buttoned foil.
Miles' forehead creased. "I'm not sure. I might just be confused."
"Well there's such a small difference between the two!"
Miles looked at the full brandy decanter. Then back at Ash. "If I have a drink then the gap becomes closer."
"Your logic astounds me."
"So I take it you wouldn't like me to pour you one?"
"I didn't say that. "
Ash put his foil away and joined Miles who had slid down the wall and was currently sitting knees bent, with a glass balanced on them.
There was a silence for a few glasses.
"Did you know you were the person to introduce me to the world of drunkenness."
"Really?" Miles looked to the side, his vision slightly blurred. Perhaps he had had been drunk before, but he really didn't remember. Had he drank before trying to read Shakespeare?
"I was thirteen, you were seventeen."
"So I was an old hand," said Miles who had crawled over to inspect the boarded up fireplace. He yanked at the old rotting timber; it came away easily in his hand.
"And as the French say Voila." he pulled out a few bottles opening them all "I knew I was a incorrigible boy."
Ash laughed. "And you would never let me finish a story!"
Miles blinked. "Of course I do."
"No. You are an impatient drunk. Which is why I ended up throwing up all over your Mother's rug."
There was another session of blinking while Mile's fuddled mind tried to sort out the logic in Ash's statement.
"So what are you doing to do about my sister?"
"And you sir, are a tactless drunk."
"Well I'm not drunk," said Ash smiling. "But you are, and you do tend to reveal things while drunk."
"I don't wish to comment on anything at this moment," said Miles seriously. "But I want to ask you something."
Ash inclined his head in agreement.
"Why can't I fall in love with someone like Kitty?"
Now it was Ash's turn to blink. "Someone like Kitty?"
"Someone nice."
"Did you miss the horrible rejection scenario?????"
"But that was because you were being your normal selfish self."
Ash winced at the word selfish. "You are being a little too honest for my liking."
"Well that is your problem: you won't listen to anyone whose opinion doesn't count for anything in your eyes. And there are so few of us who you will listen to, that you tend to just be self-centred. It's a fault. We all have them."
"And what makes you so certain you are one of the people I'll listen to?" said Ash an edge creeping into his voice.
"Because I am." This was said so certainly that even Ash didn't feel like contradicting him for the sake of doing so. Miles had ended up lying on his side head propped up by his arm. Miles continued his rant.
"And well you fall in love, finally, just when everyone had written you off as an old decrepit bachelor for life, because you had never shown any committed interest since you were well I can't remember when. And you have the gumption to fall for a perfectly acceptable and perfectly perfect woman. And you go and charge in there like you are actually worthy of her."
Ash frowned. Where had this spiel of Ash-bashing come from? He looked at Miles who seemed to be fascinated by the design of the wall edgings.
Miles rolled onto his stomach and looked at the fencing foils. Then he turned to Ash.
"There are fencing foils and this is a fencing room and there are two of us."
"Can you stand up?" said Ash sardonically suddenly realising what Miles was doing. He had done it himself on occasion. If ripping his character to shreds was what helped Miles exorcise his demons then so be it.
"Of course I can stand up," replied Miles, proving himself right and managing to drag himself up with barely a wobble.
"I don't think sharp objects are a good idea," laughed Ash.
"They aren't sharp. They have buttons on them. Or are you just scared that I could beat you drunk?"
Ash stood up, noticing with concern the fact that he was covered with dust. "I'm worried that you might end up stabbing yourself in a fit of maudlinness."
"Well it would make a good novel don't you think? The hero gets drunk and accidentally stabs himself to death while fencing his ghosts."
"We really need to work on your reading habits," replied Ash flexing his own foil. "Well are you going to try to beat me or not?"
"En garde!"
The dramatic pose that accompanied this was enough to send Ash into a fit of laughing. Miles took advantage of his friend's distracted state and pinked him in the arm.
"See I told you I was the better fencer."
Ash rolled his eyes.
"Look at that!" he waved his arm in the general direction of the door. Miles of course turned his head and as soon as he did so, Ash pinked him in the chest.
"Now who is the better fencer?"
"That was called cheating."
"No worse than distracting your opponent by being hideously drunk."
"Well if you aren't going to play fair!" mock-sulked Miles before laughing. "I feel about three."
"Well is feeling three such a bad thing. Just think of all the problems you had when you were three."
Miles looked strangely at Ash. "I didn't have any problems."
"Exactly. Now En garde."
The ensuing drunken fencing match did as much to release months of built up tension as visit to Gentleman Jackson's boxing saloon would.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE M'BOYS?!"
Miles whipped his head around to look at his grandfather, whose expression vacillated between amused and annoyed. "Haven't you ever seen two people fencing? Now I did know that you were getting on in years but I did think you still had your mental faculties."
Lord Rupert started to turn an interesting shade of red before the amusement running through his veins took over. "WELL IN MY DAY FENCING WAS DONE SOBER. IT WAS RACING THAT WAS DONE DRUNK."
Miles rolled his eyes. "Well that is also an option."
"BUT MORE LIKELY TO BREAK YOUR NECKS. NOT THAT THAT WOULD WORRY ME IN ANY WAY." There was a pause. "THOUGH IT MIGHT UPSET THE LASSIES."
Ash laughed. "Don't mention women!"
"OH ITS LIKE THAT IS IT?! WELL, I'LL TELL YOU A STORY."
Miles groaned. His grandfathers stories tended to be the sort that began off explaining in-depth why his generation was strong and extremely interesting and ended with a diatribe about the pointlessness of the current generation.
"WELL IF THAT IS YOUR REACTION I MIGHT JUST PICK UP THAT FOIL AND SHOW YOU A THING OR TWO ABOUT FENCING."
Ash raised his eyebrow at Miles and then turned to Lord Rupert.
"I'm sure that in our condition, and considering your skill, you would probably be able to best us with one arm behind your back, so speaking on behalf of your grandson and myself we would love to hear your story."
Ash was almost sure that Miles mouthed "Toad-Eater" at him before flinging his foil down and collapsing in an antiquated chair that looked like it had once been part of a dining room set.
"RIGHT! WELL! WHERE WAS I?"
"You weren't anywhere," said Miles in a sardonic voice, which was belied by the fact he was trying not to smile. "You hadn't started."
"WELL IF YOU'D LET ME GET ON WITH IT I WOULD HAVE STARTED!"
Ash could see this was going to be a long story and found himself perching on the window seat.
"AS I WAS SAYING. I WAS EXPLAINING WHY WOMEN ARE WORTH THE EFFORT."
Miles muttered something under his breath. Ash had a fair idea what it was, and he didn't think Miles meant to be so misogynistic. It was a fair mix of alcohol and heartbreak.
"WELL AS YOU KNOW I'VE BEEN MARRIED TWICE."
Lord Rupert appeared to be the type that was going to pace excessively during his story. He seemed to be unable to talk and not stand still. It was movement that was engrossing for two rapidly sobering men.
"MY FIRST WIFE MY DARLING JENNIFER WAS SUCH A SWEET THING. BORN AND BRED IN FRANCE IN A CONVENT!! BUT SHE WAS ENGLISH. YOU CAN'T THINK SHE WASN'T ENGLISH.... ALWAYS MARRY AN ENGLISH GIRL. NEVER MARRY A FRENCH GIRL THEY ALWAYS WANT THE LATEST FASHION! AND I KNOW OUR ILLUSTRIOUS MONARCH COMES FROM GERMAN STOCK BUT IT IS A WELL KNOWN FACT THAT GERMAN WOMAN ARE ANTIDOTES."
There was silence in the room.
"ANYWAY AS I WAS SAYING.... A SWEET THING, MY JENNIFER. SHE HAD HARDLY A CLUE WHAT CROPS WERE. HAD A HEALTHY APPETITE BUT SHE HAD NEVER SEEN GOOD HEARTY FOOD BEFORE EITHER - "
"Grandfather, I know about Grandmother," said Miles gently trying to get Lord Rupert back on the real subject of his story.
"WELL THAT YOUNG WHIPPER-SNAPPER DOESN'T! BUT I WILL MOVE ON. IT WAS AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE AND I WAS QUITE YOUNG. SO WE GOT MARRIED."
Lord Rupert paused.
"That's it?" exclaimed Ash, quite involuntarily.
"NO I WAS JUST CATCHING MY THOUGHTS. JENNIFER TOOK YEARS TO COME AROUND OF COURSE SHE HAD THE CHILDREN TO LOOK AFTER AND ALL THAT BUT WE HAD A COMFORTABLE MARRIAGE - "
"So what you are saying is that we should do is go and find comfortable women to marry and ignore our true loves," asked Miles slightly confused.
"NO! YOU WERE NOT LISTENING. JENNIFER WAS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND I WAS HERS IT JUST TOOK HER A WHILE TO FIGURE IT OUT. THE POINT IS....THE POINT IS....YOU HAVE TO FORGE ONWARDS LET THE WOMEN FIGURE THEMSELVES OUT!"
"What about Julia? Was it fair marrying her as she is not the love of your life?" asked Miles wondering what his grandfather would say to that.
"WELL I'M THE LOVE OF HER LIFE AND IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO FIGURE OUT THAT SHE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE. SO SOMETIMES IT TAKES THE MAN A WHILE TO FIGURE THESE THINGS OUT. BUT IT IS MUCH RARER BECAUSE OF COURSE WE ARE MORE IN TOUCH WITH THESE THINGS."
"How can you have two loves of your life?" asked Ash even more confused.
"WELL IT IS OBVIOUS!"
"No it isn't," stated Miles.
"I HAVE TWO LIVES! NOW QUIT COMPLAINING ABOUT WOMEN WHEN YOU REALLY HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED YET!" With this Lord Rupert left the room, somewhat torn between going to view the portrait of the first Lady Rupert, which hung in his bedroom, and going to find the second Lady Rupert.
Miles and Ash were slightly bewildered about how to take that last comment, and spent the next five minutes staring at each other in confusion.
Chapter 34, Part 2
A man is as good as he has to be, a woman is as bad as she dares. Elbert Hubbard
"Well, I must say Bath is very repetitive," said Kitty, yawning as she spent yet another morning in preparation to receive guests, even the guests were repetitive. They invariably were Miss Smart, Anne and Lady Catherine. Lady Catherine would disappear off with the Duchess, and the girls were left, supposedly in readiness for more guests that never arrived.
"I told you it was boring," said Annabelle as she tried to calmly sew a sampler. But as she had never ever thought it would be possible that she would want to sew a sampler she had never learnt the patience required to complete one.
"It isn't boring Belle!" replied Anne. "It's just as Kitty says - repetitive. I mean there is only so much parading at the Pump room that one can do, even if the people there change everyday."
"I wish I had Lizzy's interest in studying human folly," sighed Kitty, idly playing with the fringe on the sofa.
"Aren't we supposed to be surrounded by a large number of beau's?" Asked Miss Smart as she munched on a scone.
"What beaus?" scoffed Anne. "Ricky ran away back to wherever and there aren't any eligible men as far as I am concerned."
"I was so desperate yesterday at the concert Aunt took me to, that I almost extended an invitation to Mr Astaird to come and explain the concert notes to me!' exclaimed Miss Smart with a shudder as she formed a mental picture of the lecherous man.
"Well it seems to me, that Rosamund and I are the only ones interested in beaus anyway." Said Anne with a pointed look.
Kitty looked at Belle and sort of gave Anne a 'be quiet would you' look, before trying to change the subject.
"Well at least we have an assembly to look forward to!?"
This statement didn't seem to attract much attention, especially as Annabelle had realised she had left the H and the R out of her sampler, so it now read "Home is were the heat is." Angrily she threw it aside with the disgusted look.
"Looks like you will have to get married now Lady Annabelle," said Miss Smart sweetly.
"What?" snapped Annabelle, not in the best of moods.
"Well if you can't sew a simple sampler, you can't be a governess or a Prop to your mother, you will only be fit to be a gentlemen's wife."
Annabelle simmered.
"Oh this is utterly ridiculous," said Kitty. "We are not simpering bath misses! We should be able to have fun! We should be able to make new friends and enjoy ourselves. Bath is not a wholly unpleasant place, there are many nice walks to be enjoyed if one takes an umbrella and I am sure there are some people in the place whose society would be companionable, if we took the trouble to seek them out. Instead of sitting here like four women condemned to the gallows. I mean I must admit that I wish a certain gentlemen was here, but he will not be pining for me, so I refuse to pine for him. I have no idea what you are pining for Miss Smart, but desist, and as for you Anne why don't you just stop thinking about Ricky! And Annabelle, I thought the whole purpose of coming to Bath was to forget about Miles? Well, forget about him then! "
Kitty gave a long breath after this impassioned speech and waited to see the affect of it.
Miss Smart seemed to move first, swiftly standing up she looked about the room and announced. "If my mother thinks that banishing me to Bath with my horrible Aunt is going to make me acquiesce to her every demand she has another thing coming, I will enjoy myself. I will!"
"I'll make Ricky realise what exactly he has lost by being so selfishly male!" agreed Anne.
"I'm not sulking after Miles," said Annabelle in what sounded suspiciously like a sulky voice. "But I will stop being in such a horrible temper, and I will continue on my quest to become a prop!"
The girls smiled at each other, and nodded in agreement.
"Well then, I suggest a walk to Sydney Gardens?"
Kitty's suggestion was taken up, and the girls gathered in the hall to put on their Spencers and gather their umbrella's.
"My lady," intoned the butler as he silently ascended the stairs from below.
Annabelle jumped at his voice and turned around, "Yes?"
"A letter for you from I perceive Lord Ashbourne."
No sooner had the butler pressed the letter into her hand and departed, had the other three women descended upon Annabelle.
"Oh Belle, does he say something about me?"
"Does he mention Ricky???"
"Does he mention anything about what Miles has said about my mother and his mother's reaction to our broken engagement?"
"Do you think he will come to bath?"
"Does he give a reason for being so hideously rude to me?!"
"Am I to be banished to Bath forever?!"
" Please!" shrieked Annabelle trying to keep a hold of the letter. "What ever happened to our being mature women, who needed nobody?"
"Oh Belle, of course that can wait until tomorrow!" said Kitty.
Lydia looked out at Meryton's main street. It was utterly boring. How on earth had she ever thought this was the centre of the world's social sphere! Everything was drab. The only consolation was that she had been to Brighton, thus the other girls all wanted to know about the newest fashions and all her elegant beaus. In this Lydia had the advantage of Mariah Lucas who had also gone to Brighton, but who had not attended Military functions and was too shy to make much of impression on anybody.
Aunt Phillips always did host generous parties, but Lydia could not help but compare the restricted company with the large and varied one of Brighton. Also Lydia was feeling quite put out that they had left London so early. Lizzy and Jane had wanted to leave London before they had been fully ensconced into the social set that Lady Matlock seemed determined to trap them in. Not that Lydia thought of this in terms of entrapment, but her sisters did and she did not understand her sisters, nor did she think she wanted to.
"So Lydia...," said Miss Goulding, "which officer was the most handsome man you have ever seen?"
Lydia's brow furrowed. Why did officer and most handsome man have to be exclusive? Then she paused, why did she just think that? She had never had that particular thought before!
"Well, Ethel I think, I think that...." For once Lydia was cursed with an inability to talk.
"It was without a doubt Lord Ashbourne," interjected Mariah eagerly. "He was here in Meryton for a while, and he was in Brighton."
"Oooh!" was the group reaction to this revelation.
And for once Lydia did not seem to be the centre of attention and for once she didn't seem to care.
She resumed her study of the main street, lit up here and there by lights; occasionally she rolled her eyes at Mariah's exaggerated description of Kitty's brush with death. She should by rights be revelling in this party, but Lydia could not, it was as though something wasn't quite right.
She even resorted to flicking through the books that Aunt Phillips kept on tables throughout her parlour, to show guests how educated she was. Lydia idly picked up one and as if it was enchanted the book seemed to open, revealing a sketch of a beautiful palace underneath in flowing script was written; 'The Taj Mahal.'
Lydia sighed.
Mary bit her lip. She had avoided going to Aunt Phillips' party by claiming she had a headache. Which was partially true. She did have a headache; unfortunately her headache had a name. For those few days in London Sir Christian had seemed to pop up all over the place.
She had expected to enjoy London, but this enjoyment was substantially reduced every time her fiancé managed to somehow run into her party. Mary had thought to revel in her wickedness, but it was sort of hard to do when her wickedness kept manifesting itself and rolling its eyes at her.
Having always been a 'good' girl, Mary had wanted to do things the 'wrong' way, however the stress of this might just kill her. Several times she had almost suspected that her father might have guessed her secret, but this she knew was ridiculous. It was the result of her overactive and guilty mind.
This was part of the reason that she had not wanted to accompany her family to Aunt Phillip's, she would spend the night obsessing over the fact she might be letting something slip. Every time she thought about it, she couldn't help but curse Christian, it was highly unfair that he made being 'bad' look so very easy. There should be a law against it! All he had to do was smile and he was 'bad', Mary however had to see whether it was possible to go against an entire lifetime.
There was a tap against the glass. Mary looked up sharply and almost screamed. Almost. Instead however she moved to the window and opened it - just a fraction.
"What are you doing here???"
Sir Christian had been slinking around the house, though not as some may think, looking for Mary, however since he found her he was not averse to taking advantage of the situation.
"What am I doing here? What kind of a question is that! I'm here for the wedding."
"The wedding!" gulped Mary.
"Yes your sisters' wedding."
"Oh, my sisters wedding." But that is not for a while an inner voice prompted.
"Yes, and our own of course."
Mary glared at him.
"Are you going to let me come in?"
"No why would I do that?"
"Because of the goodness of your heart? Either that or because it's easier to hide a man behind a couch then it is to hide a man standing in a flower bed?"
Mary rolled her eyes and let Sir Christian climb in through the window.
"Now Mary..."
However Sir Christian's amorous intentions were cut off by a sudden string of noises that implied that the house was not as empty as it had once been.
Mary turned a shade of white and thrust Sir Christian back out the window. He landed rather heavily on his posterior spluttering, at both the insult to his pride and the insult to his person.
"Shuuuush." Hissed Mary trying to close the window, but Sir Christian cleverly stuck a foot up on the windowsill preventing her from doing so.
"Mary, we have to talk."
"Not now."
"Would you prefer me to speak to you at your sisters wedding?" asked Sir Christian sardonically.
"Yes, yes, do that" said Mary in a fluster pushing Sir Christians foot roughly away from the windowsill, ignoring the fact that to do so, would contort his body against the laws of nature, and slammed the window shut. She was just in time.
There came a howl from outside, which Mary covered with what she hoped sounded like an excited squeal.
"There you are!"
Mr Bennet raised his eyebrow in amusement, while the rest of his family asked Mary if she was feeling quite well.
Chapter 34, Part 3
The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do.
Walter Bagehot
Things weren't just repeating in Bath, time felt like it was in a loop. This of course was impossible. Time was passing, but the same things occurred over and over again.
The girls went to the pump room every morning and dutifully drank the water which Kitty maintained was perfectly fine - at least for the first half glass - she wasn't sure how she would deal with the two glasses the Duchess was prescribed to drink daily for her health.
However Kitty noticed that quite frequently it was the very happily situated plants in the tearoom that acquired the healthy properties of the water.
"Why do you purchase the water if you don't drink it?" asked Kitty under her breath one day.
"Shhh - someone might hear - and I buy the water because I drink it - or at least I am seen to," replied the Duchess in a tone that implied she was revealing state secrets.
"Oh so you do not actually have to do something, only to be seen to do it?"
"Of course Kitty, that is how society works. This is how it has always worked".
"That is hardly - well - honest," said Kitty.
"No, do not think of it that way, think of it as a set of particularly complicated rules to a game that no one really understands.
"So no one knows all the rules?"
"Not really."
"Then if one acts as if one has discovered a new rule..."
"I always knew you were a smart girl Kitty," smiled the Duchess. "Try to teach Annabelle that rule would you?"
Kitty nodded and looked over at her friend who seemed to be doing the dutiful thing and conversing with the local clergyman on the evils of greed.
" Annabelle," sighed Kitty.
Lizzy looked at the white lace. It seemed to be all white lace as far as the eye could see. She could hear Jane speaking to her she just couldn't see Jane! Possibly Jane had been consumed by the white lace.
"What do you think Lizzy?"
"What do I think? What I think is that there is far too much lace."
"It's a trousseau, I think it's required."
"But why does it have to be so - I don't know - involved? I don't remember Betty's trousseau being quite so involved."
"Betty married a vicar!"
Lizzy looked cross.
"If you keep looking like that - the wind might change and you will never change back."
"Jane I seem to remember a time when you were such a nice girl. Charles is a bad influence."
"I'm still nice, I just, found myself."
"Well I wish you'd find yourself enough so I could see you!"
Jane popped out from under a tablecloth. "Sorry. Now what were we talking about?"
"Charles obviously being a bad influence on you, next thing we know you will be taking to the evils of drink."
Jane laughed. "Well I am rather drunk!"
"Jane!"
"On love!"
"That was completely -" Lizzy was lost for words.
"I don't particularly care," giggled Jane.
Lizzy was quite shocked to see this side of Jane. She would be more shocked in the following moments.
"Lizzy..."
"Yes?" replied Lizzy as she tried to fold a wieldy bed sheet into a manageable size.
"Last night, on our walk..."
Lizzy smiled as she remembered the previous night, when after an interminable dinner where Lydia sulked, Mary jumped every time a branch tapped against the window, her father smirked a lot and the less said about her mother the better, the happy young couples escaped for separate moonlit walks. The dinner had been atrocious, but the walk had been glorious, the moon, the stars the way Darcy pointed out the constellations.
Lizzy stopped smiling dreamily when she realised that Jane hadn't finished her sentence and instead was looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary.
"Jane? Are you going to add to that thought?"
Jane shook her head. "Oh but it is so very wicked of me! But you must know what I am subtly referring to!?"
"No I don't think I do."
"Well didn't you think it was a bit odd that I had grass stains on my dress?"
"It is so easy to get grass stains on the hem of muslin," replied Lizzy confused.
"But they weren't on the hem! They were on the back!"
Lizzy blinked. Then turned bright red. "Jane!"
"Oh it is going to be such fun to be married!"
Ash looked at Lord Rupert. Lord Rupert looked at Ash. Ash looked at Lord Rupert.
'WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT BOY."
"You," replied Ash calmly.
Lord Rupert could not think of a response to this, thus they were both at an impasse.
"WELL AT LEAST YOU AREN'T DRUNK!"
Ash was rather put out by this. It wasn't his fault he was trapped in an isolated Scottish castle with a love-lorn fool.
"Don't you mind Papa. He is just worried about Millicent. The doctor is in with her now," soothed Elinor, who had noticed the escalating situation.
"YES! WHERE IS THAT DOCTOR?"
"He is in with her now!" said Elinor shaking her head. Men! They never listen.
Lord Rupert glared at his daughter and stormed up the stairs, very nearly overbalancing a maid on the way up.
Outside his daughter's room, Lord Rupert paced, got bored very quickly and decided to glare and alternatively hover right in front of the door.
Lord Rupert continued to glare at the oak panelling of his youngest child's room, until he reached the point where he was examining how long it would be before it needed re-varnishing. Before he could commit to a definite answer, the door swung open.
"Ah - Er!" The doctor was quite overwhelmed to find himself being peered at by Lord Rupert.
"OH DON'T WORRY M'BOY, I WAS ONLY LOOKING AT THE VARNISHED OLIVE BRANCHES."
The doctor blinked.
"WELL HOW IS MY GIRL?"
"Girl? Oh Miss Mayfield! She has a touch of the influenza, and should be kept a bed, but she will make a fine recovery."
The doctor bid a hasty departure, but not before he looked in the nearest mirror to make sure he did not resemble an olive branch, varnished or not.
"Well I wonder how he expects me to keep an active child in bed?" said Julia hand on one hip.
"HHHHMM? MY DEAR?"
"Millicent. In bed. It's just not done!"
"WELL I ONCE HAD A HORSE THAT WOULDN"T STAY STILL."
"Yes?"
"WE TIED HIM UP!"
Julia blinked. Some days she just had to ask herself one question - Why?
"I don't think that would work grandfather," said Miles ambling up the corridor.
Julia sighed. Once again saved by Miles.
"WELL WHAT WOULD WORK? SHOULD WE KNOBBLE HER?"
Julia spluttered.
"Again, not such a wise idea."
"WELL STOP SHILLY-SHALLYING ABOUT AND COME UP WITH SOME WISE SUGGESTIONS, I MEAN WHAT DO THEY GIVE YOU A TITLE FOR?"
Miles blinked. "Er? I don't think they actually give you a title for anything per se..."
A new voice entered the fray "Lord Rupert? If you don't mind my interrupting, perhaps some sort of entertainment for Millicent would be in order. Some of the maids and footmen could dress up and act out a play for instance."
Miles sent a look of utter gratitude to Ash, while nodding his head rapidly. Now if he could just back away slowly from the area, he and Ash could go have a quiet smoke and sigh about girls.
"YOU THINK I PAY MY SERVANTS TO GAD ABOUT? HAVE MY MAIDS AND FOOTMEN DRESS UP AND ACT OUT A PLAY! WHAT A STUPID IDEA!"
"Well - sir - it was just an idea - " started Ash and got no further.
"HAVE MY MAIDS AND FOOTMEN DRESS UP AND ACT OUT A PLAY! HA HA HA HA! NOT WHEN I HAVE TWO LAZY SODS SUCH AS YOURSELVES HANGING AROUND MAKING NUISANCES OF YOURSELVES! YOU WOULD LOOK VERY GOOD IN A DRESS ASH!"
Miles laughed so much at this he almost coughed up a lung. Julia had been wondering where this conversation had been leading, and now that it had ended in a satisfactory way of keeping Millicent in her bed she was quite content.
Ash however had turned an interesting shade of puce.
Ash glared at the mirror. "This wig does not suit me."
Miles blinked. "Only the wig? I'd say the entire outfit didn't suit you."
Ash looked down. He had strongly represented his objections to the idea of him dressing in the first Lady Matlocks clothing, but this hadn't stopped Lord Rupert from bullying him into some of the clothes he had from his youth. They were a little moth eaten, but on the whole they still preserved their original look, which for Ash was not a good thing.
Miles smirked. Then turned his smirk into a particular smile.
"Don't look at me like that! The last time I saw you smile like that, you told me you had figured out something, then you ran across Brighton, severely damaging that cane I bought you, a damn fine cane if you ask me, and wrote my father about my love life, or lack there of. So whatever you are thinking right now just cease immediately."
Miles tried to compose his features into what he hoped was an appeasing face - it didn't work.
"Look, how was I to know that you would go and make such a cake of yourself and the whole situation? I just thought it would prod you in the right direction."
"What? Having my father write a letter that practically winked at me was going to make me rush out and propose?"
Miles rolled his eyes. "Well I didn't think you were going to propose in such a shoddy manner, and may I remind you that I sent the letter before you make a fool of yourself!?"
Ash muttered darkly into a powered curl that had sprung loose from the wig.
"What did you just say?" said Miles in a darker tone.
"Nothing." More muttering.
What could have had descended into a childish display of tongue poking, was cut short by Elinor sharply reminding them from the doorway that they had a play to act out for an actual child.
The child in question - Millicent - was bouncing up in her bed, gold ringlets flying she had been promised a play by her nephew Miles and his friend Ash.
Julia sat quietly in a chair next to the bed, ostentatiously there for the child's sake, but really she wouldn't miss this for all the tea in China.
"Julia, don't you think it would be better if we left them alone?" said Elinor pointedly from the doorway as she ushered the men into the room, quite like one would shepherd sheep, particularly disgruntled sheep in this case.
"No. If Millicent becomes overexerted I - as her mamma - must be on hand."
Elinor sniffed. Now there was no way that she could stay and watch, no matter how much she would like to, it would seem contrary of her. So she had to settle with sneaking into the antechamber that led to Millicent's long suffering nurse's chamber, and peaking through a crack in the door.
"So what is the play about?" asked Julia calmly, the uproarious laughter all on the inside.
Miles and Ash did look a treat after all. Ash had a particularly lurid blond wig whose curls had a disconcerting way of popping out all over the place. However the wig managed to draw attention from the rather interesting shade of paisley that characterised both his waistcoat (with whalebone stiffened tails) and his breeches. Miles had managed to convince his grandfather that his wig was lice-ridden and therefore could not be worn, but this had not prevented him being inflicted with puce as the main colour of his wardrobe.
"About?" questioned Miles.
"Yes - aren't plays supposed to have a plot?"
"Right yes a plot! Ash - what is this play about?"
This turned out to be a foolish question.
"Well, I'm glad you asked that question! This play - well I'm the hero - I'm playing a rather foolish character. You see I fall in love with the sister of my greatest friend, and for the entire play I make such a fool of myself, mooning and reciting poetry all over the place, then I realise I have no hope and I fall into such irreparable doom, and I mope and recite poetry all over the place. It's a thrilling tale which should be available in a nice three volume set, superbly bound in tooled leather."
"And who is Miles playing?"
Miles gaped. But before he could lodge his protest he was interrupted. "Miles will of course be playing the sister, a heartless wench!"
"She is not a heartless wench!" protested Miles.
"Shush! You are spoiling the play, which I need not remind you is a work of fiction!"
"She is not a heartless wench!"
"Right - shall I start the prologue? I of course will also be the narrator," declared Ash with a triumphant bow.
"That sounds like a very good idea, " said Julia warmly. She always knew she had married a genius, sometimes she doubted it, but it was always re-impressed upon her in some fantastic way like this play! Rupert had the best ideas!
"It was a dark and stormy night...when Abigail the wench threw herself at our illustrious hero Niles."
"It was not dark and stormy!" protested Miles who did not look as though he was going to throw himself at anyone.
"She wrapped him around her little finger and he like a dog followed her around with cake."
"I am not a dog and I never remember giving Annabelle cake!"
"What part of the word fiction is not seeping into your brain?"
"Well I'm not going to stand here and let both myself and your sister be humiliated!"
"You take yourself so damn seriously! I have never in my life seen someone take themselves so seriously!"
"I have one word for you - Darcy!"
There was a pause.
"And another thing Ash - I hate to be the one to enlighten you, to reality but you take yourself quite seriously! And you aren't the only one acting like a fool over a girl! A girl who refused you! At least I haven't had quite that honour."
"Only because you didn't ask!" retorted Ash. "And I have every confidence..."
At this point, both the actors appeared to have forgotten they had an audience.
Julia was amazed that during this highly charged shouting match, Millicent had managed to fall asleep; she was less amazed when Elinor slipped in through the antechamber door.
"Don't you feel that we should stop them?" Elinor asked.
"No, it is probably doing a world of good, allowing them to vent their frustrations."
"On each other."
"I'm sure their friendship will survive will survive untarnished. Men are like that."
"I can't help but feel you have an ulterior motive for allowing them to fight, like children I might add, in my home."
" My home you mean - and yes I will admit it is frightfully amusing to watch." Julia smiled candidly
"This is the only right way to pack trunks - according to grandmamma."
Kitty sighed. "Its also the most time consuming, most pointless way of packing trunks. I really think the Duchess asked you to pack that way out of sheer exasperation!"
"Exasperation at what?" asked Annabelle carefully picking up the muslin dress.
"This terrible bore you have turned into. A prop to your dear mamma, or whatever elderly woman is around! I mean the old Belle would most certainly have not heeded a word anyone had said about trunk packing, and if she had would not attend to it herself, what are maids for?"
"I was spoiled and selfish!"
"And now you are dull and boring! There is such a thing as taking things to extreme!"
"Well it was your idea to go back to Meryton earlier, and I acquiesced didn't I?"
"Yes." Replied Kitty shortly, musing on the fact that her mother would take great pains to show the lovely Lady Annabelle - her Kitty's dearest friend - about the village. Of course the village already knew Lady Annabelle, but not of course as dear Kitty's friend.
"Kitty?"
"Yes?" Kitty was startled out of her reverie, or should that be nightmare? After all her mother would not be pleased with her after losing both Mr Collins and Lord Holling.
"Thinking about a certain brother of mine are we?"
"Yes I was wondering whether I'd see Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at the wedding."
"Do not be facetious Kitty, it does not become you. You know to whom I refer. Have things changed on that front?"
"Yes, I think they have."
"What?!" Annabelle rapidly sat down, crushing several of her dresses in her shock. "You mean that exile to bath, has really cured you of - of - love?"
Kitty laughed. "I didn't say that! I just said a few things have become clearer!"
"Oh. Anyway I thought that this trip was supposed to cure me!"
"Its hardly an affliction Belle!"
"Well maybe not to you..." Annabelle sighed dramatically.
"Have you ever thought perhaps a career on the stage, would be a better alternative than being a prop ?"
"You really aren't humorous Kitty."
"I wasn't trying to be!"
"Girls! I had thought these trunks had gone out before breakfast!" The Duchess looked around at the room strewn with dresses.
"Mine have, however Belle had a crisis of confidence, or conscience over the state of her trunk." Replied Kitty.
"But for goodness sake girl, no one can see inside your trunk! That is what all the fancy woodwork and leatherwork is for! Also its what a good maid is for, they can stuff trunks faster than you and I, it's a god-given talent!"
Annabelle sulked. "Anyone would think that you didn't want me to look after you and Mother in your old age."
The Duchess blinked. "I am assuming you are not talking about my old age. "
"Of course not Grandmamma, I was speaking, you understand, metaphorically."
The Duchess gave a smile; well at least it looked like a smile- it might of course have been masquerading as a disapproving frown.
"Of course." She replied shrewdly.
"So when will your trunks be ready to be taken out to the carriage?"
"Oh mere minutes." Said Annabelle. Kitty and the Duchess groaned inwardly, Annabelle's minutes were everyone else's decades.
"I think I'll go downstairs." Said Kitty.
"Wise idea child. Leave me to deal with Belle."
Kitty tripped down the stairs lightly, feeling more buoyant than she had in quite some time. She had almost come to a decision. Almost. Plus she had decided it would be better to act upon impulse after all she had never been a person for much inward reflection, that was better suited to any of her older sisters.
"Miss Smart?!"
Miss Smart was standing on the threshold handing her very á-la-mode bonnet to the butler.
Kitty smiled at her, before giving the young woman a friendly and warm hug. All and any tension between the girls had disappeared. In fact Miss Smart and Annabelle even found that on certain occasions they had remarkably similar thoughts. This alarmed both women, but they had learned to cope.
"What ever am I going to do in Bath all alone now that you are leaving earlier than I expected?"
"Well Anne will still be here for several more days! And Teddy is coming to visit Lady Catherine. Though why he feels incumbent to visit Lady Catherine, who can only be tenuously called a relation of hers." Kitty pondered for a moment. "However it is Lady Catherine, and she has a very wide definition of relation!"
"Is not Lord Holling attending Darcy's wedding?"
"No he isn't."
"Why ever not?"
"I think - well I'm sure it sounds terribly presumptuous but I do not think he wishes to see me."
"That's understandable. You were engaged."
"Oh but that was a hideous entanglement!"
"I do not think Lord Holling is hideous!"
"No! Teddy is a dear! Just the situation was hideous. The poor man, I do hope he finds someone that - well loves him!"
"Well he is a Duke, I fear love rarely comes into their marriages. Just like young women of quality."
"Well perhaps you can kill two birds with one stone."
Miss Smart frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Well you were awfully quick to defend Lord Holling. And you are a lady of quality, and he is a Duke."
Miss Smart frowned, and then gave a small smile.
"Well we shall see! That is if I have any time left over from crocheting for my Aunt. Now she is a hideous person!"
Kitty led Miss Smart into the drawing room and called for tea.
"Well you seem awfully comfortable as the lady of the house!" said Miss Smart, half teasing, half something that sounded like jealousy. "Perhaps we should not be talking about my romantic encounters!"
Kitty looked at Miss Smart sharply, before looking about the room. She had automatically taken the chair that the Duchess used; automatically reached to summon the servants, she had even automatically taken the same kind of position and stance that she had seen the Duchess use over and over again.
"I didn't mean it as a slight Kitty." Said Miss Smart worriedly. "I just meant that, you who have not grown up in this world, seem to have taken to it like a duck to water, with far more confidence than I."
Kitty released a short breath she had not realised she had been holding. Perhaps she wasn't as out of place as she thought she was.
Part Four
We met Dr. Hall in such deep mourning that either his mother, his wife, or himself must be dead.
Jane Austen
Darcy threw the green coat at his valet. "No, No that is entirely unsuitable for a wedding, man!"
Bingley sighed in the background. It was a beautiful day, and all he wanted to do was take his beautiful Jane for a nice romantic walk, but no he had to stay indoors with someone who was rapidly working his way into an early grave.
"But Mr Darcy, respectfully sir, this coat isn't green, it is black."
"I have eyes, man, it's green."
"Very well sir." The valet took the coat, made a big show of putting it back in Mr Darcy's appointed wardrobe, then pulling it out again and presenting it to Darcy. Darcy who was too busy looking at his waistcoat did not notice this but Bingley was having a hard time trying not to choke.
"Oh yes, man, that is better. In fact yes that is perfect. See this is black."
Darcy looked suspiciously over his shoulder at his friend who appears to be trying to stuff his mouth with his walking stick.
"Charles?"
"Nothing, Nothing!" Bingley managed to start breathing again before continuing. "I mean - what are we doing cooped up in here? It's a lovely day! Too lovely to be trying on thousands of waistcoats and coats!"
Darcy looked annoyed, but his valet sensing an argument quickly jumped into the fray. "Well sirs, it is very close to the happy day, it would not be amiss if either of you gentlemen would be feeling nervous! "
"Nervous!" scoffed Darcy.
Bingley rolled his eyes.
"Would you go down and check with the housekeeper about how the arrangements are coming along for the wedding?" Darcy's valet bowed and followed his master's directions.
This time Bingley blinked. He looked around. Yes he was not dreaming, they were at Netherfield, where he was the master.
"I say Darcy! Look here, this is my home, leased or not, and I do wish you'd allow me to give the orders around here!"
Darcy looked momentarily stunned. "But you've never held a wedding before? How would you know what to do?"
"Excuse me, I was involved in Louisa's wedding. Not highly involved, I'll admit. And how many weddings have you attended or organised."
Darcy gaped. "Well more than you I dare say."
"Well that is neither here nor there, this is my home and I hope you will accept that."
Darcy did not look best pleased, after all he was used to Bingley deferring to him on most, if not all occasions.
Bingley frustrated with Darcy's non-response stood up and left the room in somewhat of a sour mood.
Bingley found his house in uproar, flowers were being, from his point-of-view somewhat pointlessly carried about from one room to another and people were bustling and milling about. He found his sisters in the drawing room, looking as though something had died in there.
"Ah, Charles, we have just arrived and what is to be done?"
"Done? About what?"
"About all this - " Miss Bingley gestured about at the uproar.
"Well I'm not sure - "
"I mean surely Mrs Bennet realises she cannot simply take over such a house as Netherfield!" said Miss Bingley contemptuously, with Mrs Hurst nodding her ascent.
"Caroline, Mrs Bennet has nothing to do with these arrangements, though I'm sure her arrangements at Longbourne as just as furious, this kerfuffle you see if all down to Mr Darcy."
Caroline got the look one gets when one has bit into a lemon but she then recovered herself. "Of course, I should have known! Mr Darcy does so enjoy becoming involved in things, and well it's hardly taking over the house!"
"I - er- think that Darcy would become involved in his own wedding Caroline."
"Of course, but who knows if it will actually happen! I mean so many tragic accidents happen to young women these days."
"Caroline!" said Bingley quite shocked.
"What? I was not suggesting that anything should happen to dear Miss Elizabeth, but only that it could!"
Bingley was about to say something quite cutting, before Mrs Hurst sensing a fight, put her bib in.
"Charles, we have hardly seen you for months, the amount of time you spend with dear Jane, why on earth are you not there now, so close to the event and all."
"Oh, Darcy didn't want to go." Bingley cursed himself for the stupidity of that statement. "I mean he felt that because Mr Bennet has popped up to London overnight, it would not be proper to go visit."
"Why ever did Mr Bennet go to London?"
"Something about needing a hat fixed, I'm not quite sure really, but he went early yesterday and should be back today - in fact I don't see why I shouldn't go over there now. In fact I will! Damn Darcy and his green coat!"
And so Bingley went.
Sir Christian looked at the church. It was a lovely country church, which meant it probably had a lovely country church parson. This was going to be difficult.
He looked at the parsonage next door and bravely went to rouse the inhabitant.
The Parson was an elderly rotund sort of man who seemed to be rather alarmed at Sir Christian's request.
"But my dear sir - "
"No!" Sir Christian flung up a hand in protest. "It is all organised, there is nothing for you to do but to turn up and officiate!"
"I shall need to see the special licence you do realise. I cannot consciously marry the young girl to you until I see one."
"That will be no problem, I shall bring it to you once it is acquired!"
"Well then, I see no problem is officiating your wedding my good sir. Will it be such a grand affair as is occurring very soon?"
"Oh no it shall be a very quiet affair. Very quiet."
"Well that shall be a pleasant occurrence, between Mrs Bennet and Mr Darcy, I am simply rushed off my feet!"
"I promise I will not afflict any person resembling either Mrs Bennet or Mr Darcy upon your good self." Said Sir Christian in a placating fashion.
The Parson nodded. Sir Christian was pleased.
Ash looked at his valet. "So will it be difficult to pack everything on such short notice?"
"No sir. Though I was under the impression that we were staying a day or so more." Hayden looked most put out. Most likely thought Ash, he had been carrying on an intrigue with one of the female staff members; he hoped that neither Julia nor Elinor caught wind of it.
"No. We shall be leaving in the morning."
"Ash." A voice came from the doorway. Ash turned it was Miles. Hayden ever the perfect gentlemen's gentlemen, very quickly and quietly ran from the room.
"Yes?"
"Look I apologise. Though why I am apologising to you I'm not sure. But I do realise I have not exactly been the most - "
"No you are right, I should apologise, but I assure you it will never happen again."
"Your interminable needling, or an apology?"
"An apology of course."
"So are you still leaving early?"
"Yes. I think I will go insane if I'm trapped up here just thinking about myself."
"Never thought I'd here you say that!"
Ash shot Miles a look. "I was never completely selfish!"
"True, but your loyalty would only been given to those who had completely proven themselves."
"I don't think that has changed."
"Really? You are willing to marry a girl, and to do that you have to have a certain amount of loyalty to her family. Have they proven themselves?"
"Well at least I don't have to prove myself to myself!"
Miles frowned. "What on earth do you mean by that?"
"Well it seems to be that innately somewhere inside you, you seem to be trying to prove something to yourself." Miles leaned against the doorframe and looked at his oldest friend.
"And what would that be?"
"I don't know, do I look like you?"
"So am I allowed to come with you?" he asked after a pause, and an obvious decision to change the subject.
"Of course. Though why you would want to be back at Netherfield days before what is likely to be the most over organised event ever seen by man."
Miles raised his eyebrows in a puzzled way before his brain caught up with him. "Oh Darcy of course."
"Yes. So if you do come back with me, you do realise that you will be knee deep in panicking people!"
Miles shrugged. Panicking people he could cope with he guessed.
Lydia sat outside on the swing. She half-heartedly swung herself. It was no fun. She needed a pusher. She wistfully remembered when there had been half a dozen red coats clamouring for the job.
Now she just wished for someone, even a strong breeze would do!
This entire wedding planning and organising was frustrating Lydia. For once she was certainly not the apple of her mothers eye. In this chaotic environment for once she was nobody's apple!
And to top it off, she wasn't speaking to most of the young ladies of the district. Not after they had preferred to listen to Maria Lucas rather than herself! She had not been worried about this, but she realised this was most unlike herself, and she didn't see any reason to suddenly change, Taj Mahal or no Taj Mahal. Not only this, but she couldn't walk into town by herself, because soon to be sisters-in-law of the noble family of Darcy and Bingley, did not do such things.
All in all the wedding was a bore, her elder sisters were bores and everything was boring. And because Lydia couldn't think of anything better to do, she did the one thing that in the long term was the best for her, she ensconced herself in the library, hiding from her father when he wasn't prancing off to London, reading. Because she was bored.
They were almost upon Netherfield and Miles had hardly said a word since they left the inn that morning.
"I'm not sulking Ash."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking it."
"No I was - " Ash stopped, feeling that it was beneath his dignity to sink into what would inevitably turn into a childish tangle.
"Look Miles, Can we have your happy face or at least not your 'death-oh-death'* face? It is supposed to be a joyous occasion after all."
"Do you like my joyous face?" asked Miles making his joyous face.
"I'm afraid that doesn't say joyous to me".
Miles frowned "What does it say to you?"
"It says 'hello I kill for a living'"
Miles looked shocked for a second then burst into laughter.
"You try having a joyous face"
"I will!" Ash composed his features into a joyous face.
Miles laughed, "Now that says 'Hello I enjoy killing for a living!'"
* Shamelessly stolen from Cassandra Claire, who stole it from someone else.
Chapter 35, Part One
I can't believe how much this is going to make me sound like I'm in love with the guy.
Lydia sighed. She had been banned from the upper rooms. Her mother had something of great importance to impart upon her older sisters. Something that could not be spoken to Lydia about - this was the crunch. As far as Lydia was concerned there was nothing that could not, not be discussed with her.
So instead of sitting with Mary downstairs sewing samplers, she had her ear pressed up again the door of her mother's room.
She could have stood across the hall way and still heard what her mother was talking about. Subtly and discretion weren't Mrs Bennet's strong points.
"Now girls! This is something very important! Once you are married you have a DUTY!"
Lydia straightened herself into an upright position while she raised her eyebrow at the closed door. She should have guessed what this conversation would be about. It was nothing Lydia didn't already know. Not personally though. Harriet had been far too descriptive and sometimes those officer balls got slightly out of hand.
Instead of walking away, Lydia remained. Perhaps it would be of some amusement to hear what her mother had to say. After all it would mean when she was married, she'd be able to keep a straight face.
"Mama?" she heard Jane query. Jane did not sound as though she had guessed the subject matter, which Lydia found pretty laughable. After all they did live in the country, they had animals.
"Now, you must keep this in the strictest confidence, and not tell a soul until you impart the knowledge to your daughters upon their marriage."
There was a pause.
"You must promise."
"Of course mama." Answered Jane and Lizzy, confusion heavy in their voices.
"Now I always think that actions speak louder than words."
Lydia giggled. Minutes later when a strangled yelp and a surpassed snort came from Lizzy and Jane respectively, Lydia exploded with laughed and ran down the stairs.
Mary poked her head out of the library.
"What is it Lydia? Thundering down those stairs! I am trying to sew straight."
Lydia grabbed the banister gulping for breath. "Never mind Mary. Never mind."
Kitty stuck her head out the window of the carriage as it approached Longbourne. She blinked at it before returning to her seat with a bump.
"I thought we were supposed to go to Netherfield?"
Annabelle shrugged looking forlornly out the window. She was still sulking because the Duchess had stuffed all her dresses into a trunk, using her booted foot to make them all fit.
"Miss, I beg your pardon, but your mother insisted that the coachman take you both to Longbourne first."
Kitty shot the poor maid who had been sent to accompany them from the posting house a dark look. She knew her mother would be like this. They already had adequate chaperones in the form of the two footmen clinging to first the private carriage taking them as far as the posting house and now clinging even more precariously to the smaller Bennet carriage.
However her mother, had sent poor Sarah along to protect her girls, but of course Mrs Bennet would much prefer it if Sarah then ran along and gossiped to other servants in the area about how her daughter was great friends with a Lady.
The Carriage slowed and stopped in front of the portico, from which Mrs Bennet in full formal regalia emerged.
"My dear Kitty. Home at last. I have been telling all about how you were the guest of a Duchess. I didn't tell them of course that you could have been a Duchess. Most distressing. You didn't by any chance meet another Duke did you?"
Kitty blinked.
"No Mama, and Lord Holling is not actually a Duke."
"But he will be one and then where will you be? And old maid! When you could have been a Duchess."
Annabelle emerged from the carriage at this point, refusing the help of both footmen, and thus spared Kitty from the further ramblings of her mother.
"Ah, my dear Lady Annabelle. I was quite sure, and I see now that I was correct in thinking you would like to stop off for some tea, in the comfort of the bosom of your friends instead of being landed in a friendless Netherfield."
The logic of Mrs Bennet did not stand up to scrutiny, but as she had bustled back into the house, it did not need to.
Annabelle collapsed upon Kitty bed and sighed.
"Your mother speaks entirely too fast."
"I know."
"I would, no offence intended, rather be at Netherfield."
"Really? When Lydia tells me that Miles and Ash have arrived?"
Annabelle bolted upright.
"They are here? I thought they would remain in Scotland for much longer! I hope that nothing is wrong?! " fretted Annabelle.
"Worried about your brother - how sisterly of you," said Kitty with a small smile.
"Oh be quiet Kitty - You can't even claim sisterly worry."
"Ah but I don't need to lie to myself about my worry."
"Aha, you are worried!" said Belle triumphantly.
"I never denied it," said Kitty with a giggle as she watched Annabelle flounce out of the room.
Well - thought Kitty - I haven't been entirely truthful about the reasons behind my worry.
For it was to be the first time she would come face to face with Ash since that rather highly emotional incident. How would he act? His letter suggested, - but that was over a month ago - he could have reconsidered or his feelings could have thawed. But even though she desperately wanted to see him again to judge his feelings - she still wanted a proper courtship not just a rushed declaration of love. Not to mention her realisation in Bath that she was most certainly not just the naïve girl she had always thought herself to be, and thus not worthy of all the attention bestowed upon her.
Now if she only could be certain that it would all go according to plan - which plan she didn't know but she knew there had to be a plan.
Mary sighed and tried to make herself inconspicuous on the couch. Surprisingly Lydia was joining her in the endeavour. Both girls were absolutely sick of the word wedding. And both were quite happy to let Kitty as the newly returned sister now bear all of the weight of their mother's frantic wailing.
"Would you elope Mary?" asked Lydia innocently.
"No!" said Mary shocked but also secretly pleased her sister thought she could even handle the question. "Why do you ask?"
"I'm considering it." Said Lydia.
"With whom?" said Mary shocked. Surely she would know if her sister had some beau waiting in the wings. Well perhaps not, considering her attention had been distracted for some time by her own beau.
"I was speaking hypothetically, when I decide to marry... I could not cope with this!"
"I rather thought you would like the attention."
Lydia rolled her eyes. "There is such a thing as the wrong kind of attention."
"How mature you have become Lydia."
The sisters gave each other small rueful smiles.
There was a pause of some minutes as each girl returned to her respective book and daydreaming.
"Mary?"
"What?"
"Why did you seem so vehement when I asked about eloping?"
"Because - it's morally wrong."
Lydia snorted, morally wrong indeed. Then she paused, "That wasn't your moralising tone."
"Wasn't it?" Mary tried to sound neutral as she hid behind her book, trying not to invite more questions. But what did Lydia suspect?
"No, it was more like one of my tones."
"You have a moralising tone?" Mary tried to defuse the situation by setting the conversation off on another course.
Lydia tried to study her sister's face, but it was quite difficult to do that when she was hiding behind a weighty tome.
Mary frowned when Lydia cherubic face peered over the book and down at her.
"What?"
"I don't have a moralising tone, it was more like the voice I use when I've been caught taking Kitty's best hat."
"Well I've never taken Kitty's best hat."
"That's because you don't look half as well as I do in it."
Mary glared.
"But that isn't the point Mary, the point is, I think you are up to something. I know you are up to something."
Mary tried to put on her best air of innocence, but it didn't seem to be fooling Lydia. All Mary could hope was that Lydia wouldn't entirely work out what was going on.
Part Two
A man is as good as he has to be, a woman is as bad as she dares. Elbert Hubbard
Ash and Miles surveyed the chaos that was Netherfield. Their arrival, a day ago, had merely been a blip on the horizon. For Netherfield was poised ready for marriage, and nothing would sway the household from this.
"Perhaps we should have stayed in Scotland?" Miles said neatly sidestepping a large floral bouquet.
"But Miles, we would have missed all this." Said Ash in a sarcastic tone.
The men managed, after some searching and some frantic hand waving from servants, to find a room that appeared untouched by the wedding preparations. Unfortunately it was also the linen cupboard.
Miles fumbled in his pockets and pulled out a cigarillo and the necessary equipment with which to light it.
"I hope you have another one in there," said Ash pointing at Miles' seemingly infinite pockets.
Miles shook his head, before proceeding to light the sole cigarillo. Ash snatched it out of his hand and took a puff, before returning it.
"Now, Ash, I'm not the most experienced wedding attendee, but is this not an awful lot of fuss when the wedding is over a week away?"
"It is more than too much fuss, for any wedding, no matter how far away it is, " replied Ash, taking the cigarillo from Miles proffered hand.
"Has the wedding been moved forward?"
"It might have done. I think Mrs Bennet was worried about the wedding clashing with the -" Ash paused, "I don't know but something."
"Mrs Bennet?" replied Miles taking back the cigarillo, "Have you snuck over to Longbourne and not - "
"Mrs Bennet is here Miles," said Ash grumpily. "I have not snuck anywhere. I have no desire to sneak anywhere."
"You my dear sir are a terrible liar."
Ash growled as he watched Miles do a rather accurate impression of Ash's behaviour over the last 24 hours. Unfortunately his hand gestures were rather grand and as a consequence he set the linen on fire.
Darcy was furious. That had been the linen that was supposed to be on his wedding bed.
"I cannot believe..." Darcy was spluttering, at the completely un-chastised men in front of him.
Bingley was watching the situation with both apprehension and delight. Even Bingley himself was surprised at how calmly he was approaching his wedding with Jane; one would have thought that Darcy would be the unflappable one. He should, he thought detachedly, be in a complete rage about the constant set backs and disasters that were befalling the wedding. But he wasn't. All he could think about was the fact he would marry Jane and all would be well so, hang the floral display.
"Darcy, look you aren't even spending your wedding night here at Netherfield! You are going to that inn," said Ash.
"How do you know that?" said Darcy, shocked his secret plans had been revealed.
Ash looked surprised. "Was I not supposed to know that? And were you planning to take linen with you?"
Darcy glared.
"You were planning to take linen with you!" laughed Miles.
"Look when you get married, you will see what it is like and I shall laugh heartily at you!" snapped Darcy before storming out of the room.
"He always was highly-strung, even as a child," apologised Ash to the room in general.
The wedding crept closer. Mrs Bennet had almost permanently taken up residence at Netherfield. Mr Bennet had to install a new lock on his library door as Mrs Bennet, when she graced Longbourne with her presence, had worked out how to pick the old one. Lydia was pining, and denying it vehemently: Men pined over her, not the other way round. Kitty was entirely too busy running the household, as everyone else thought it could run itself. Annabelle was helping, choosing not to stay at Netherfield where she might, nay would, run into that man. Mary was looking out of windows and checking the flower beds every day and would, when queried about her strange behaviour, flounce off in a highly un-Mary manner. As for Jane, she was serenely calm as usual; it was Lizzy who displaying a highly evolved set of nerves as her big day approached.
Her nerves went unnoticed by the family in general until, while sitting calmly in the sitting room after dinner, she shrieked when Jane simply asked her if she had seen the spare thread for her embroidery.
Mr Bennet was up in the attic. He had not been up in the attic for years. Considering the amount of dust and terribly bad fashions he was finding, this was a good thing. However no matter how many carefully packed trunks he opened, he could not find what he was looking for. It was a pity for it would have been perfect.
Opening his thirty-fifth, and he swore the last, trunk, he gave an exclamation of triumph. Clasping his prize in his hand, he surveyed the attic, now covered with the contents of thirty-five trunks. Well that was what daughters' and maids were for. After all it was their fault he was rooting about for his grandfather's cloak and hat in the first place.
After getting a rudimentary brush down from the butler, who moonlighted as his valet, Mr Bennet stashed the cloak and hat in his wardrobe and slipped stealthily down the stairs. Mrs Bennet had made it known at breakfast today - which consisted of far too much gooseberry fool for his liking - that she would be at home today, to make sure that her girls were thoroughly prepared for their wedding and marriage. From the pale look that crossed his Lizzy's face and the amused one that crossed Jane's, Mr Bennet surmised that Mrs Bennet had already broached that delicate subject with the girls. Heaven knew what she had terrified them with.
As a consequence, Mr Bennet decided to slip over to Netherfield, after all it was only a mile or two, he would be dirty, but he would be fit to see his two prospective son-in-laws (or should that be three? He mused) which was all he cared for.
He was dirty and possibly insane. There was a cow lurking about Meryton, which seemed to take a dislike to everyone and everything and had chased him into a ditch. After which Mr Bennet, sick of being pushed around by every person, animal, vegetable and mineral, had chased it into a ditch by waving his walking cane about. He was now worrying about his sanity. However upon arriving at Netherfield and taking in the general chaos, he decided one more lunatic in the asylum wasn't going to make much of a difference.
He found Miles and Ash playing bowls on the lawn behind Netherfield.
"Where pray tell are my son-in-laws?"
Ash looked up, thus missing Miles cheating, "I wouldn't count your chickens before they are hatched."
Mr Bennet raised an eyebrow.
"Darcy is in a bit of a flutter, he feels his wedding night will be a disaster."
Mr Bennet's eyebrow threatened to get lost in his hairline.
"Well perhaps I should go speak to him?"
"That might be just the solution sir." Replied Ash.
Miles watched the departing Mr Bennet as he surreptitiously moved the Jack away from Ash's bowls. "You know Ash, you probably should have told him that Darcy's fear was related to his burnt linen, not well - "
"Darcy needs all the help he can Miles." There was a pause. "Stop cheating."
Darcy felt himself sink into the comfort of the armchair that was placed perfectly in relation to the fire and the door. He was not too hot and not too cold, and completely obscured from the door.
However a cough proved to him that his plan of hiding from both his slowly arriving guests and the wedding preparations, had not been fully realised.
He turned ready to snap at the interloper, when he realised he was his prospective father-in-law. Not the person Darcy needed to snap at.
"Darcy."
"Sir."
"Call me Thomas please." Mr Bennet sat himself in the opposite armchair and regarded Darcy keenly.
After several minutes of this complete scrutiny, Darcy despite himself began to squirm. "Was there something you wished to talk to me about sir?"
"I had heard, Darcy, that you were worried about your wedding night, and as you have no father, I thought I might offer myself in that capacity, if you have any queries or worries?"
Darcy did not think it was humanly possible to flush from head to toe, but he was proved wrong.
Part Three
and now it's your turn, To cry, cry me a river ~ Justin Timberlake
"What?"
Mrs Bennet looked at Hill, shocked.
"That is what it says Ma'am."
"Are you sure? Read it again!"
Hill scanned the paper and even turned it over and upside down to make sure. "It has not changed Ma'am"
"Give me that!" Mrs Bennet ripped the missive out of her housekeeper's hands. She had known from Lady Lucas that Charlotte had remained in Brighton with new-made friends, after her family had removed. But this! This!
"Girls! Lizzy! Jane!"
Only Lizzy, Jane and Annabelle answered Mrs Bennet's cry.
"What is it Mamma!" exclaimed Jane seeing her mother's pale face.
"It is not Fitzwilliam! Tell me nothing has happened..." cried Lizzy.
"Oh for ...everything is not always about you Elizabeth," snapped Mrs Bennet, allowing both Annabelle and Jane to help her into a chair. "It's Charlotte Lucas, that hussy! She is married."
"Married!" came a trio of voices.
"To who?" said Lizzy in shock.
"Mr Collins! She will have this house when your father is dead! Oh that I should live to see to she her taking over this house."
Annabelle tried to contain a snort. "Mr Collins."
"Yes! Mr Collins. I cannot believe Kitty let him get away!"
Annabelle tried to soothe Mrs Bennet, while attempting not to gag over the idea of Kitty married to Mr Collins.
"Charlotte has married Mr Collins?" said Lizzy in disbelief.
"Yes she has, the sly hussy. I thought I could lure him back with my arts and allurements and marry one of you to him!"
"Kitty almost drowned because of him, Mamma." Jane tried to reason with her mother, but it was impossible.
After several failed attempts to stem her mother's vitriol, Jane picked up the letter from Lady Lucas and read it.
"Read on! Jane! Read it out loud." Begged Lizzy.
"It is of little import, but she does say that Charlotte and her new husband will be coming to the wedding."
Lizzy was not sure how she felt about this development, she had not even begun to cope with the fact that her dear friend was married, and to .... him ... did she want them at her wedding? Could she have Charlotte without her husband? She very much doubted this.
"When will they arrive?"
"The day of the wedding" replied Jane, as Mrs Bennet dissolved into sobs and curses that the new Mrs Collins would spend the wedding breakfast fawning over what would one day be hers.
Annabelle decided it would be wisest if she helped Mrs Bennet to her chambers, after all she knew guests were arriving in preparation for the wedding, and it would not do for them to visit Longbourne and find the mother of the brides having an apoplectic fit in the parlour.
Lizzy closed the parlour door after them.
"How could she marry a man like that Jane?"
Jane did not answer.
"How could she bind herself to a man, who has shown himself to be a dangerous, supercilious but with little intelligence and altogether a coward!"
"Marriage brings security," replied Jane.
"Would you marry such a man?"
"No, I am marrying Charles, but I am lucky to love a man who can also provide security for myself and my family."
"Security! What is that when you are making such a decision?"
"Sadly Lizzy, it is foremost on all women's minds. We cannot marry without regard to it, we cannot earn our own living, at least not respectfully."
"But would you marry Mr Collins...just to secure yourself?"
"No."
Lizzy sank back on the sofa. "To think...Charlotte has to perform marital duties with Mr Collins."
A look of disgust passed over Jane's face. "Do not worry about Charlotte Lizzy, she made her own choice, focus on yours, you cannot make choices for others, all you can do it make sure your own are correct.
Lizzy closed her eyes. Yes her choice, her marriage and it was upon her before she could blink.
Kitty coughed piteously as a cloud of dust rose around her. "Is this my penance?"
"Well to be penance you would have had to have done something terrible." Replied Mary heaving several candelabras back into their trunk.
"Mamma, would say it was my refusing all those proposals." Kitty righted a mirror, and looked at her dust-reddened face with a sigh. "So what did you do to deserve this?"
Mary eye's widened. "Nothing!"
"Do not sound so alarmed, I was only teasing. After all, you are the pious sister, you could have done nothing to deserve cleaning up this attic."
"To be frank, I think neither of us have, and I know the only reason I'm up here is because I am avoiding Lydia. What's your reason?"
"Avoiding Belle."
Mary coughed as she struggled to roll Grandmother Bennet's price-less rug, that was moth-eaten, but Mr Bennet was sentimentally attached to, thus it remained in their attic.
"Why are you avoiding Belle? I thought you two were getting along famously?"
"We are, but I'm distracted by her distractions."
"What is she..." Mary paused. "Oh Lord Carlon, of course."
Mary rolled her eyes as she recalled Annabelle's vehement refusal that she wanted to talk about Miles, when in fact it had been she who had begun the conversation in that direction.
"Exactly, Mary, and if I have to submit myself to one more 'new' hairstyle, that Annabelle is teaching herself to style, I shall go completely mad."
"Why does Belle need to know how to style hair?"
Kitty sighed. "Because she will never marry and needs to learn how to be a prop to her Mamma and other such women."
"Oh what utter - " Mary stopped. She had almost been betrayed into an utterance that certainly would not have been sanctioned by Fordyce. Fordyce! She had not thought of him for some time. Was she really this corrupted?
"Mary."
Startled, Mary looked up, plainly puzzled.
"You didn't finish your sentence?"
"Oh, I was going to say what utter rubbish. Belle is suffering from a bruised heart."
"You would not say it was broken?"
"No, because her situation is clearly of her own making, and no one would willingly break their own hearts."
"That's very profound," said Kitty in admiration.
"Thank you." Replied Mary smiling.
"How is Mama?" asked Lizzy, peering into the room shared by Kitty and Annabelle.
Annabelle looked up from the ribbons she was folding. "She is lying down with several bottles of smelling salts and some fake laudanum."
"Fake...?"
"It's just a glass full of water, but she thinks it is laudanum, so it shall make her feel better."
Lizzy smiled. "Well you seem to have everything in command."
"Yes, I do," replied Annabelle pleased with herself. "So I think you owe me something."
Lizzy frowned. "What exactly do I owe you?"
"Several hours, so I can dress your hair? Please? Kitty keeps running away."
Lizzy decided that perhaps several hours of pampering would improve her spirits. Which were decidedly low, between the upsetting news about Charlotte and anticipation about her marriage.
"So where shall you be going after the wedding?" asked Annabelle as she unpinned Lizzy's hair.
"We are spending the wedding night" here Lizzy paused, turning a scarlet colour, she wasn't sure if she was more mortified or angry about her mother's discussion, how she wished her aunt or some other responsible female was available.
"Yes?"
"Oh yes, we are spending the wedding night in a local inn, then travelling west to take a little tour of the Western Counties, such as Somerset, Dorset and Devon and a brief London visit Georgiana, who shall not be attending the wedding, before returning here to Longbourne to really take leave of my family, then we shall be travelling to Pemberley."
Lizzy drew a breath.
"Gracious! You shall have a lot to look forward to then!" Annabelle privately thought that the tour to Bath and a visit to London solely to see the groom's sister was a pretty pathetic honeymoon. Annabelle failed to see the attraction of Bath (and after a month, Annabelle considered herself an expert on Bath) and as much as she loved Georgiana there were much better things to do in London than simply see her!
Lizzy tried to overcome her desire to nibble nervously on her fingernails; instead she looked up at Annabelle who was attacking her hair viciously with a hairbrush. "What would your honeymoon be like?"
Annabelle froze. She wasn't going to have a honeymoon; she had blown any chance of that happening. But what would she do if she did get married?
She knew several months ago, her fantasy would have involved countless shopping excursions on her new husband's money. But now?
Jane smiled as she saw Bingley creeping up the path towards her.
"I thought we had decided that we should not see each other before the wedding?"
Bingley sat next to her on the small stone bench. "Yes we had decided that, until Netherfield became the new Bedlam."
Jane smiled. "Longbourne is not much better, and I cannot be away for too long, we expect relatives and well-wishers at any moment."
"Why did we not elope?" said Bingley sounding quite downtrodden.
Jane raised an eyebrow, "Because that would not befit the reputation of either of us?"
Bingley sighed, so there was nothing to do but wait, and hide from Darcy.
Part Four
You left a stain on everyone of my good days ~ Matchbox 20 "Disease"
"Miss Mary?"
"Yes Hill?" Mary looked up from her book. She was currently curled up in a window seat that afforded a good view of the entrance to the house.
"A young boy delivered this letter for you."
Mary stared at the letter being proffered to her. "But no one has come to the front door."
"He came around the back," replied Hill apologetically.
Mary cursed. She should have known that if Christian was going to contact her, he wouldn't saunter up the front lawn.
She took the letter from the housekeeper.
"Thank you Hill," Mary wished she had some money to give Hill, wasn't that what you are supposed to do in these situations - hush money?
Hill hesitated, obviously torn about giving the letter to her young mistress and then leaving her.
"It is all right Hill, it is quite proper."
Hill backed out of the room frowning.
"Ah there you are Hill!" Hill turned around to see her Master returning from Netherfield.
"Oh sir I'm glad you are here - "
Mary turned the letter over in her hand. She was about to open it and peruse it, when she heard her father's voice in the foyer, her mother's voice on the stairs and a carriage in the drive. She quickly left the house, ignoring any calls for her attention.
She almost interrupted a private moment between Jane and Mr Bingley in a secluded section of the garden, so Mary did a very quick retreat and 3-point turn before coming to stand next to a high stonewall, which hid her from any and all prying eyes.
The letter was indeed from Sir Christian.
Darling Mary,
Everything is well in hand.
Yours forever
Christian.
Mary turned the paper over. That was it?
She was terrified that someone would find out what she was intending to do, and he, was completely nonchalant about the whole thing, skipping into her house through windows, sending her letters via her housekeeper. And not even a decent letter.
The letter told her nothing. Nothing. Not what he was doing in the area! Not when she would see him again. Nothing.
She was more than incensed; she was enraged.
She was lying to her family.
She was turning her back on a life full of morals and Fordyce.
She was suffering from a weight pressed on her.
A secret she longed to tell.
And she was doing this all for a man who appeared to not care what he was putting the woman he supposedly loved!
Well that was it! She would not take this anymore.
She was going to write him a strongly worded note.
Until she worked out that Christian had not even given her a return address!
Mary sank down upon a nearby tree trunk.
Her anger dissipated. Where was he? She was madly in love with him, and he was nowhere to be found.
Mary paused. She had finally recognised her emotion for what it was, and she was in part ashamed of it, because she had never been one for being ruled by emotions, in fact many did not even ascribe emotions to Mary.
Lydia smiled at the guests who were now patiently listening to Mrs Bennet who, upon realising she had a captive audience to which she could tell all her woes and delights, felt much better.
They were a family of Meryton, who had not been long in the neighbourhood, or else they would have acted like the other denizens and simply sent a note saying that they wished Mrs Bennet and her family well and would be delighted to attend the wedding. This family, however, came to give their replies in person and thus were trapped.
One of the party was a young man, of around Mary's age, a callow youth, but one who wore the ensign, that Lydia had so loved.
Lydia who was demurely embroidering a handkerchief, noticed that that young man was attempting to flirt outrageously with her.
His parents were frowning slightly at this, but seemed more cheered by Lydia's lack of attention, and turned back to hear for the fortieth time about Mrs Bennet headache.
Lydia stared at the young man, who was smiling knowingly at her.
How long had he been looking at her? She had not even noticed! This was appalling. She never missed a man who was willing to flirt. Now someone she had completely overlooked one who had been trying for the best part of an hour to gain her affection.
What was the matter? Embroidery could not have held her attention in such a manner six months ago.
She could only arrive at one answer - Mr Yeates. She had to admit that if she had to list the men of her acquaintance he would be at the top. Surely however simply finding him an engaging man would not mean she was not open to other equally engaging men?
She frowned.
"Miss Lydia," said the callow youth, "You are frowning, have I offended you in any way."
Lydia wanted to scream, "Yes you have offended me! Go Away! You are not Mr Yeates." But instead she spent the next ten minutes demurely assuring the young man she was not offended.
Lydia sulked for the rest of the afternoon. It was not fair; she had always thought any man that held her attention for more than an afternoon would be a handsome officer, not a penniless artist.
Lizzy looked at her hair. She had to admit Annabelle had done a fabulous job. Though listening to Annabelle's tales about the various social functions she would have to attend as Mrs Darcy and the people she could expect to meet there, had given her more than something to think about.
"Lizzy child there you are."
Lizzy cringed. If there was something she did not need at the current time it was her mother.
"Mama," replied Lizzy calmly.
Mrs Bennet sat down on the window seat nearest to Lizzy's dresser. She sat down with both a flourish and a knowing air, it was quite a difficult feat to pull off but she managed.
"Now, you must not let Mr & Mrs Collins spoil, or overshadow your wedding Lizzy. After all what is Mr Collins to Mr Darcy!?"
"It is not just my wedding Mama."
"Of course not, but Mr Darcy has more consequence than Mr Bingley, and I cannot find Jane."
Lizzy sighed. Of course, Jane would make herself scarce when their mother was on a rampage. What had happened to the Jane that always presented herself to receive the full brunt of their mother's excitement and foolishness? Lizzy had never realised how much Jane had taken upon herself, and how much infinite patience and wisdom Jane must hold to endure what her mother often said.
"Mama, I doubt that the Collins's," how she hated thinking of Charlotte in that manner, "will be attempting to spoil Jane's and my wedding."
Mrs Bennet turned a puce colour. "Oh yes they will! And when then return here for the wedding breakfast they shall be looking at everything, that will one day be theirs. Oh I cannot stand it! Oh that Mr Bennet had changed the entail."
"Mama, it is impossible to change an entail, you must understand that."
"Understand it! No I shall not! Once you are Mrs Darcy you must make sure that is it broken. I shall not have Charlotte Lucas in this household, crowing over the death of my dear husband -"
"Mama, she is Charlotte Collins now, and Charlotte would never crow -"
"And Lady Lucas shall be here, telling all Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley's fine London friends, that her daughter will inherit this house, and that we shall all be cast out into the Hedgerows. Then no one will speak to us. Lizzy!"
Mrs Bennet at this point broke off to clutch her heart and attempt to swoon against the window pane.
"Mama, do not overexcite yourself!" Lizzy stood up trying to fan her mother with her hands.
"But my child, you must make sure that his friends like you, that they do wish to speak to you, after all we need all the help we can get."
"Help Mama?"
"When your father is dead, how shall I cope? I shall need you, and Jane, to - I shall need you!"
Lizzy groaned. She didn't think marrying the man of your dreams was supposed to be this difficult or confusing.