Beginning, Section II, Next Section
Posted on Thursday, 15 March 2007
"Pemberley! I cannot wait," said Georgiana as she helped fold the clothes. "Except for the carriage ride."
Kitty looked up from the dresser.
"I am afraid long journeys make me quite ill."
Kitty smiled. She had never been on a longer carriage journey than Hertfordshire to London and that had not made her sick, so she could only presume that she would not become ill on the journey to Pemberley.
Georgiana seemed to require no response from her new sister and continued on in her happy thoughts.
Mr Darcy had warned Kitty of his sister’s reserved nature. It appeared to Kitty to be more of a warning to her not to upset Georgiana than a warning not to take Georgiana’s slights to heart.
Not that there were any. Apparently all Georgiana needed was company – or family.
Kitty noticed that Georgiana almost folded in on herself during the few visits to the Darcy townhouse that had occurred. Kitty had wished she could have folded in upon herself. It was obvious they had come to gawk. At least the majority of them confined themselves to subtle remarks. Remarks Kitty was sure she would not have even caught, if she had not been brought up listening to conversations between Mrs Long, Lady Lucas, Aunt Phillips and her own Mama.
While Mama was rarely subtle, and Mrs Phillips even less so, the other two ladies had a way with their words and since Lydia was often monopolising the attentions of the younger ladies, sometimes Kitty had the chance to properly observe. Not that it had done her much good; she had little idea of what to say to such remarks, and merely wished she was back at Longbourn where she could flee to the gardens and not have to greet any visitors that she did not wish to.
It had only been marginally better in Lady Matlock’s company. No one dared even imply anything in her company, but that Lady was coldly polite. It was clear she thought her nephew a fool and his new wife something rather worse. Every expression on her face showed that she expected Kitty to do something farouche or, worse, say something scandalous.
Kitty had not trusted herself to not accidentally say something inappropriate so she had confined her remarks to the weather and other such trivial and tedious subjects – and had not made them numerous.
Lady Matlock’s dinner had been worse. At the visits there were only one or two people to look her over; after dinner Kitty had felt as if she was the latest circus freak. This had not abated when she had had to disclaim any accomplishments.
Her only comfort was that if the ladies of society thought her some grasping country miss, they thought Mr Darcy should be locked up in Bedlam for being taken in by it.
At least now she would be at Pemberley away from the prying eyes, perhaps there she would feel more herself. Although how this was to be achieved when Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst were to be of their party.
It was apparently a long standing invitation to the Bingley family, to join the Darcy family at Pemberley during the winter. There was also a standing invitation to join them during the summer, so Kitty could only assume it was a standing invitation to sponge all year round. Although it was hardly Bingley’s fault he was no longer so welcome at his own home.
Kitty was not so blind as to have not seen the cooling towards Mr Bingley in wake of the whole series of events Kitty would rather not think upon. But Jane could not be so hard hearted for long; after all it was not even Mr Bingley’s fault. Not that it was Mr Darcy’s but Jane could hardly know that.
Kitty had wished to tell her the truth, for she did not want to cause her sister pain, but she had feared Mr Darcy’s reaction. Perhaps she could now write a letter to her, since Mr Darcy seemed disinclined to offer an invitation to any of her sisters to accompany them anywhere. Particularly Jane.
However he had shown himself capable of reading and taking her personal mail – Kitty had been looking forward to burning Collins’ letter herself! So it might not be wise to pen such a letter to Jane.
Kitty was pulled out of her reverie by Georgiana calling her name.
"I’m sorry. I was miles away."
"I was just saying that I hope some entertainment will be put on – it must be because everyone will want to see you! And William might let me go – do you not think?"
"I thought you did not like crowds?" said Kitty.
"Oh no, but I have known everyone surrounding Pemberley all my life and they would only be country hops!"
It was at this point Kitty caught on to Georgiana’s full meaning. "But there will hardly be anyone in the country…"
"Don’t be silly! We have so many neighbours and they will all be in the country for the sport! And because of the weather! Of course we are so close to Matlock and then there are the – "
Kitty turned away to compose herself in front of the mirror.
She was hardly escaping then.
The journey had been uneventful in the sense that the carriage had not overset itself, nor had the weather turned the roads into an impenetrable messs.
However it had been interminable. Kitty would have traded a hundred similar journeys shut in a carriage with all of her sisters and her mother for one such journey with Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst. They had fawned over Georgiana and had been less than subtle in their remarks to Kitty. Their mistake had been thinking that Georgiana felt the same way as them; it had only been some miles into the journey that Georgiana had begun to look distressed.
After ascertaining that Georgiana was not ill, Kitty could only surmise she did not like the sharp acidic comments flying around in the carriage. Kitty had not defended herself because how could she do so? Their comments were not necessarily undeserved, and she had no doubt that Mr Darcy would make some cutting comment to her regarding her ill manners if she pointed out any of the Bingley sisters’ failings. For she had no doubt Miss Bingley would run and tell tales.
Miss Bingley reminded her strongly of Lydia in that way. Kitty just hoped that she was not as persistent as Lydia in achieving her goals; otherwise Kitty might find herself pushed down a flight of stairs.
Kitty had done her best to reassure Georgiana and had even taken the step of informing Mr Darcy at one of the inns that if he did not want his sister heartily sick he would tell Bingley to control his sisters better. This had earned Kitty some looks from the sisters the next day, who clearly thought ill of tittle-tattle when it was not them running for support.
But they were at Pemberley now.
Kitty thought she would get lost in such a place. It was finer than any place she had ever seen. And she was supposed to be mistress of it all? It seemed ridiculous.
If Kitty had thought of marriage (and what girl had not?) her dreams had never taken her to such a place as this. All the wealth and servants it possessed, yes, but in her dreams she was never expected to do anything about them – they ran themselves. In her dreams her place was assured and taken for granted. There was no surprise in the servant’s eyes as she was handed down from the carriage. No speculating look or sly whispers.
Although this had only occurred on the first sight of her; after that everyone was nothing but courteous and efficient but those first moments had impressed on Kitty just how much everyone was judging her.
Her only ally appeared to her to be Sally, who seemed very devoted.
"Mrs Darcy."
Kitty turned to see Mr Bingley had entered the small sitting room.
"Kitty, please."
Bingley smiled, "Kitty. Are you lost or merely exploring?"
"Exploring," said Kitty, who thought it sounded better than hiding.
"I remember the first time Darcy brought me here, I was so utterly lost, that I wandered around in circles for what seemed like days, and I did not ask a single servant for directions for I felt above foolish."
Kitty laughed. Bingley was still the easy, open affable man she had, known, albeit barely, since he had little eyes for anyone but Jane.
"Well, I cannot ask anyone for directions either, but I shall employ you as my guide!"
"Darcy could not show you?"
Kitty turned away to examine one of the tables, "I believe he has much business."
The open conversation seemed suddenly utterly closed. It was perhaps this slight chill in the air that gave Kitty the confidence to ask about Jane.
A multitude of expressions passed across his face, so many of them that Kitty had no doubt he loved her sister.
"I am very sorry, Mr Bingley."
"Charles," said Bingley softly.
"I am very sorry, Charles."
He looked sincerely at her, "You have nothing to apologise for. I just wish – "
"I shall write to Jane and tell her the truth, though why she thinks any less of you –"
"I do not blame her, she is an angel. She must have been utterly hurt by the idea that I could keep such villainous company."
Kitty privately thought it just showed a lack of resolve in Jane to seek out what she wanted despite what everyone might think. She had to at least be gaining support from Mama who was probably bemoaning Bingley’s loss nightly.
"And you must not write. I know Darcy does not want the story to be known and I cannot encourage you – "
Kitty smiled. It was very like Bingley to think of her before thinking of himself.
"Perhaps I shall invite Jane to visit?"
Bingley turned away, "I cannot expect her to remain so constant for such a time – "
"Then go back to Netherfield. "
"My sisters – "
Kitty was close to rolling her eyes. Jane and Bingley were well suited.
Anything she would have said in response to this could not be said as Mr Darcy entered the room. He looked sharply between Bingley’s forlorn expression and Kitty’s own, and did not seem to be convinced by Kitty’s lame exclamation about the delightful view from the room.
Kitty clearly was so reduced to boredom that she was counting how many times she brushed her hair. She was close to a hundred, yet her hair did not suddenly glow, like Hill had tried to convince her when as a little girl Kitty refused to brush her hair. Instead it seemed to wish to fly away.
There was a knock on the door and Kitty assumed it was Sarah bringing her the shawl she requested. It was not. It was Mr Darcy.
Kitty stared at him. She supposed it was rude but it was rather surprising.
"I wish to speak to you."
Kitty bit back the retort of ‘well obviously.’
"I require you to stop tormenting Bingley with what cannot be."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," and Kitty did not. If he was speaking of Jane there was no reason why it could not be.
"Do not be obstinate; you know exactly what I am talking about. Bingley will be happy with another choice."
Kitty wondered if it was particularly bad manners to throw something at her husband.
Her day had been far from pleasant; it had turned out Mr Darcy had come to inform her, when he had interrupted her and Bingley, that his cousin Lord Snitterton had come to pay a visit.
It had not been a pleasant visit. Lord Snitterton was a wiry gentleman who strongly resembled a weasel and his mother (though of course Lady Matlock did not look like any member of the rodent family). His conversation was unpleasant and rude. He seemed to have no compunction in interrogating her and when Mr Darcy had been called away to attend something or other, no compunction in informing her he found her a fortune hunter and that it was his duty to rescue his cousin from her clutches.
Kitty had stared at him and wondered if too many novels had rotted his mind completely away.
His complete open hostility was so surprising, she had grown slightly accustomed to the cold civility, that Kitty had been dumbfounded. Also dumbfounded had been Lord Snitterton’s companion – a Sir John McDonald who clearly thought his friend had taken leave of his senses and had told him so.
Sir John had then attempted to steer the conversation into safer waters, despite Lord Snitterton rebuffing his rebukes and desires for him to apologise to her.
Kitty had spent the rest of the visit, which saw the return of Mr Darcy and the other denizens of Pemberley finally joining them, resolutely looking at Sir John. She could not be held responsible for anything that might happen if she looked at her husband’s cousin.
Sir John at least was very well to look at, being a tall gentlemen of resolutely good looks, and very easy to listen to, having a slight Scottish accent.
And now, after she had behaved so impeccably, did Mr Darcy dare come to her room – which he had not done since their first night of marriage – and tell her to behave! It was outside of enough!
"I shall take your silence as acquiescence," said Mr Darcy.
Kitty wanted to tell him to assume no such thing, but what could she do? She had never been one for open confrontation; she invariably lost fights with her sisters and could only cry and flounce away.
She could cry here, but not flounce. Well she guessed that she could. She could flounce away over the grounds and fall into a ditch and die and then he would be sorry. Except he would not be sorry, and her last act on earth would be to turn into her mother.
So she stayed silent and indulged herself by throwing her hairbrush at the door as he closed it behind him.
Posted on Thursday, 22 March 2007
"Darcy, " said Miss Bingley in a cooing tone, clearly feeling his marriage allowed her to be more free with his name, "Georgiana was just telling me of your favourite picnic spot, do you not think we should ride there today?"; Darcy stared at her, at the beginning of February? Granted the weather was particularly mild but no one in their right mind could think a picnic was a sensible idea.
"Caroline, a picnic in February?" said Bingley from the other end of the breakfast table where he was sitting with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Sir John McDonald who had ridden over from Matlock, in Darcy’s opinion, obscenely early in the morning. But one must make allowances for soldiers and Scotsmen, to whom the hardships of a Derbyshire morning must be merely a slight discomfort.
"Oh, I did not mean picnic, merely that we could ride out to that spot; I do wish to see the view."
Darcy wondered if this was her attempt at looking like a hardy adventurous woman, or more likely a stratagem to ensure she was alone with the gentlemen. After all, Louisa would not hinder her plans, Darcy was hardly likely to allow Georgiana to ride in his weather, and Catherine did not apparently ride at all.
"I would have thought we’d be having some sport today," said Mr Hurst in an annoyed tone.
"Fie, Mr Hurst. You cannot be thinking of your sport all the time," trilled Miss Bingley, "You must entertain the ladies some of the time!"
Mr Hurst snorted.
For not the first time Darcy wondered in horror if he was going to devolve into some creature like Mr Hurst.
"Mrs Darcy, do you not think it an excellent idea," asked Miss Bingley.
Darcy detested Miss Bingley’s tone. Miss Bingley had always reminded him of angles – her looks, her deportment, her mind, her speech. She had no understanding of the idea that sharpness did not attract. She used the basest of arts to insinuate her superiority when anyone would understand that true superiority did not need advertising. Her attempts were not even full of wit, something that in Darcy’s eyes excused blatant impudence.
The sad part was that Miss Bingley did not even realise her faults. He remembered a conversation of faults that he had had at Netherfield; he had owned to his there, not that Miss Elizabeth had thought him truthful. She had wanted to laugh at him and had been vexed when she could not.
Miss Bingley had cut off that conversation, clearly not relishing anything that she could not be a part of because of the meanness of her mind. Darcy wished he could think better of his friend’s family, but it appeared he was condemned to think ill of others’ families.
He was distracted from his thoughts by Catherine’s response to Miss Bingley’s question.
He expected her to merely look blankly at Miss Bingley, but instead she appeared to be smiling quite widely.
"I think it an excellent idea; anything that gets you out of the house, Miss Bingley, and into the fresh air will always find favour with me."
Miss Bingley frowned, and Darcy tried not to smile. He should not. No one should be rude to one’s guests after all, even if one of those guests was Miss Bingley. After all Miss Bingley was a tremendous support to Georgiana and had always been so, even if Catherine disagreed with him on that point. Although Darcy was sure that the demand to bring the sisters back into line had been intended to improve her situation, not Georgiana’s.
"It is a pity that more of us cannot ride," amended Catherine.
"Indeed, you cannot ride I understand?"
"Very poorly."
Miss Bingley smiled, "Tell me, Mrs Darcy what can you do?"
Darcy was only thankful that Georgiana was not at the table, having chosen to breakfast in her room. Bingley was staring in a horrified fashion at his sister, and most of the table looking extremely discomforted (apart from Mr Hurst, whose concentration was never going to be cleaved from his meal). Even Mrs Hurst looked shocked at her sister.
Catherine merely stood up and left the room.
Darcy thought the best solution was for him to do likewise. He was left in the untenable position of having nothing to say, even though he would have liked to have responded to the arch look Miss Bingley gave him as he stood.
Darcy put his hands on his desk and his head in his hands. It was particularly childish of him but he stayed there until he heard the door opening and closing.
He risked looking up. The Colonel was standing on the other side of the desk looking angry.
"What? I am in no mood to hear one of your sermons, Fitzwilliam."
"I do not care what you want, Darcy!"
"That is patently obvious, I am afraid I have business to attend to – "
"Indeed you do. Your behaviour was disgraceful."
"Are you in need of spectacles?"
"Excuse me?"
"I did not think that I looked anything like Miss Bingley. Her behaviour was disgraceful."
"Only, because she thinks you will permit it! And you certainly proved her correct. I did not think you had a partiality for Miss Bingley!"
Darcy attempted not to betray how sickened he was by that comment. His dearest friend was a friend beyond price, but that would never mean he enjoyed Miss Bingley’s attention or ill-bred remarks.
"What would you have me do? Sling her from the house? A pretty sight that would make."
"Well I would enjoy seeing it," replied Fitzwilliam. "But cannot you see your disinterest and behaviour make it easy for anyone to sneer at your wife? Is that not what a husband should do? Offer protection to his wife and family?"
"You are saying I am a failure?" Darcy took offence. He was dealing with this whole sordid manner in the best way possible. The only way possible. He could have fled Hertfordshire with little visible stain on his reputation, society would have barely regarded it. Whether Darcy could have lived with himself is another matter. It was his fault, after all, that Wickham was on the loose and able to prey on young ladies.
Although that was less important now; his cousin had taken it upon himself to write letters couched in the most vague of terms to Wickham’s superior officers. Now they knew where he was, he had slithered away to who knew where after his attempted seduction of Georgiana, they could do so. Darcy was sure that Colonel Forster was keeping an eye on Wickham, although whether it would be successful or not who knew.
He realised Fitzwilliam had not spoken.
"Well?"
"You know I think it is pointless to engage in a matter and only see it half way through."
"But how can I? This is not what I wished for myself. An ignorant – " Darcy stopped.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
The Colonel didn’t speak, just looked at Darcy.
"I know," said Darcy in response to the Colonel’s unspoken reprimand.
Fitzwilliam merely helped himself to a drink.
"I wish I could sling Miss Bingley out of the house, but it is good to have her around for Georgiana."
This made the Colonel laugh, as if he had not heard a more amusing joke. "You do realise Georgiana is terrified of Miss Bingley? Now she is approaching herself again – " the reference to Wickham was not even needed – "I would even say she disliked Miss Bingley, if Georgiana could be said to dislike anyone."
"I meant more," Darcy waved his hand around, "for evidence of proper – " Darcy trailed off.
Fitzwilliam snorted," Yes, because it is your wife making snide references. Really, Darcy, I think if I were her, I would have said a great deal on the subject. Is that why you hold her in such dislike? Anything you’ve said on young ladies the last – oh I cannot say – decade, has not made me think you would dislike a mouse. Were you hoping for a fiery bride?"
Darcy rolled his eyes: a fiery bride? He would dislike that above all things. He detested above all things those people who felt it necessary to needle and poke and contradict, to laugh and find all manner of things gay when they should be serious. A tiny part of Darcy’s mind pointed out his attraction to Elizabeth Bennet; he suppressed it, labelling it mere curiosity, and perhaps some attention to her fine eyes. He found it was easier than expected to push her to one side in his mind; after all it would not have been a lasting attraction. The Bennet family were not of his sphere; Elizabeth no matter how pert, could not have met his requirements. Though these musings were ridiculous given the outcome.
"Darcy?"
Darcy shook his head, "You claim to know I dislike being bullied about, and yet here you are."
"I am your elder, and your cousin, it is my right," smirked the Colonel. If he had been in his regimentals he was sure that he would have pointed to his rankings.
"Of course, and I am glad for your intervention. It was timely. I shall attempt to correct my behaviour."
"You could start, since you feel unable to confront Miss Bingley, with speaking to Harold."
"Harold?" Darcy’s forehead creased on hearing of his eldest cousin.
Lord Snitterton and Darcy had never been close, even though there were not many years separating Snitteron and Fitzwilliam, and he and Fitzwilliam were as close as could be.
"He has ambitions, any taint on our family would spoil those ambitions. Sadly, you are not far enough removed to have a hasty marriage as far as Harold is concerned. He suspects Kitty anyway."
Darcy wondered when Catherine had become that ridiculous name in his cousin’s speech.
"Suspects her of what?"
"Fortune hunting – from what Sir John has told me, it seems he is convinced that she will cause a scandal."
"No scandal has erupted from my marriage. Idle talk and gossip but not scandal," said Darcy firmly.
"I think he was foreseeing the future."
Darcy could only flippantly respond to this, because it was not only Snitterton who held that fear, not that he could own that to Fitzwilliam who was always the champion of young ladies.
"Yes and my behaviour has probably convinced him I may do something rash like run off with an opera dancer just as he has attempted to finagle himself some high position."
The colonel laughed, "I should not doubt it; he is a weaselly little ferret. He is well aware of how my father has chosen to deal with the situation, yet he still acts as he did."
"What do you mean as he did?"
"I believe, again I only have my information from Sir John, that he spoke directly to Kitty."
"And said?"
"I do not believe Sir John chose to repeat it."
Darcy stared off, out of the window. He wondered how his cousin, Fitzwilliam, should be so affable, when he, Darcy,found himself awkward in public places; how Fitzwilliam’s sense of understanding of his place in society could bring no offence, when the same thing in Darcy seemed to only lead to errors in judgement – such as insulting a woman at a public dance, or leaving his wife open to mistreatment. But after he had finished comparing himself unfavourably to his cousin, he could console himself that the gap between his behaviour and the Viscount of Snitterton was cavernous. Darcy detested Snitterton for much the same reasons he had looked down upon Mr Collins. Snitterton, too, ran whichever way the wind was blowing.
"How is it that he and Sir John are acquaintances?"
Darcy only knew Sir John peripherally, although he knew that both his cousins had known him for years. Sir John had a Scottish estate, although he had an English mother who had died in his infancy, whose family had insisted her son be educated in England. He was undoubtedly a gentleman. The only stain upon his reputation was clearly his friendship with Snitterton.
"I believe they knew each other in Cambridge, much like you and Bingley, although I flatter myself that his continued acquaintance is more to do with my esteemed father’s and my company, and also the prospect of free living."
Darcy had almost become annoyed at the footman who stood in his front hallway, to allow guests in and out, when he informed his master that Mrs Darcy had taken a walk.
Darcy put on his greatcoat and hat, fetched his cane and went in search of her.
It was not particularly how he wished to spent his afternoon; walking about in the cold attempting to find an angry girl. He could not see how she could not be angry, or at the very least upset.
He had no doubt that her sister, Miss Elizabeth, would have been and would have said something arch and cutting back to Miss Bingley, which would have made the situation even more uncomfortable. Miss Bennet would have merely absorbed it, possibly taken it to heart.
It discomforted Darcy to think he was not sure how his wife would have taken the altercation at the table. But he had not thought of her much prior to his marriage. It was much easier to separate Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, and the mother. The three younger girls were just some meld of impropriety. Though he suspected the youngest had had a great hand in Catherine’s behaviour because Fitzwilliam was not incorrect. There was some irony that his prediction, as he told Mr Bennet an edited version of the events by the river, that the incident would prove to teach her a lesson. After all there had been nothing objectionable in her behaviour, apart from a wilful moment or two, since their engagement.
Even that he could forgive. He knew, deep in his heart, he was not fulfilling his obligations properly. Although he could wish his obligations did not mean he had to scour his own gardens in such a cold wind.
There was always the possibility that Catherine had wandered away from the extensive gardens attached to the house, and into the grounds. Since the park was more than ten miles round it was far too much ground to cover on his own.
He was loath to call out a search party, that would be publicly admitting to too much marital discord, but after almost three quarters of an hour, Darcy was coming to the opinion that he might have to.
Of course it could be that Catherine had returned to the house without his noticing. But he could see Mrs Reynolds at the windows every now and then, looking worried, and occasionally Mrs Annesley peered out over the grounds looking equally somber. Of course he could not have expected that the scene at the breakfast table would not have spread to either of these two formidable ladies.
He was about to return to the house and ask his footman to gather the outdoor staff, when he noticed that although he was crossing a garden he had looked into before, from this angle he could see better into the brick alcove that ostensibly was a vantage point from which to admire the garden, but was really used by those who wanted privacy, most notably couples.
Sitting in it was Catherine.
She had not appeared to have even put on her pelisse. Darcy felt relieved that she hadn’t wandered away, and annoyed that she had lead him on such a merry dance.
However any thought of reprimanding her flew from his head when he realised she had been sitting out here in the cold, and her countenance showed it. She looked quite ill.
"Come inside," it was less an order and more a request, but Darcy did not know if she could tell that.
She nodded, standing and walking back towards the house.
Darcy followed her, and noticed her steps falter. He grasped her hand in order to slip in into the crook of her arm. Yet he was shocked by how cold her hand was, and it was at this point he remembered the one thing that had made her distinct from her sisters. She was the delicate one. Not delicate to the extreme that was his cousin, Miss de Bourgh, but certainly more so than her sisters.
Darcy examined her face, and with alarm he noted she looked drawn, not just cold.
As far as he could tell it was imperative that he return her to the house as quickly as possible. So without asking for permission, or more accurately without warning, he picked her up into his arms.
Posted on Thursday, 29 March 2007
Kitty tried to glare the doctor, Mr Holmes, out of the room. She had never been subjected to such a rigorous examination by a doctor before. Not that he was disrespectful, it was just that the apothecary from Meryton tended to listen to Mrs Bennet’s opinion and then agree with it. The few times he did enter the chamber to examine the sick sister he would merely look over his spectacles.
Kitty could only assume the difference in methodology was that Mr Jones did not consider that Mrs Bennet would feel the loss of one daughter very keenly, and perhaps consider it a blessing, whereas the life of a Mrs Darcy was probably worth some purchase. Although Kitty could think of more than one person who would probably be more than happy to see her go into a decline and die.
Finally Mr Holmes left the room, without pronouncing his findings. Almost the second the door shut behind the good doctor, it opened again and Georgiana entered the room.
"Kitty, are you feeling most unwell?"
Kitty was feeling a great deal warmer, so she was no longer shivering, "No, I am not feeling the least bit unwell."
"Whyever did you go out without a pelisse? Why did you go out at all?"
Kitty wondered if she should pretend a sudden bout of absent-mindedness. Instead she decided to tell the truth. "Because Caroline Bingley is a spiteful, obnoxious, vile shrew and I would not spend another moment in the same house as her."
Georgiana gaped.
"And I as I do not have the ability to turn her from the house…"
Georgiana frowned at this, from her newly taken position at the end of the bed. "Kitty, you are the mistress of Pemberley, nothing can be done here that you should dislike!"
Kitty was tempted to say it would be most embarrassing if she ordered Miss Bingley from the house, and Mr Darcy went to fetch Miss Bingley back and made her apologise to the wretched witch. So she merely smiled.
"Would you like me to find your maid, so she can make you more comfortable?"
Kitty nodded her assent. Sally had fussed over her when she had been brought to her chamber, and it had reminded Kitty a little of Hill, except Sally was younger and not as gruff in her ministrations. Homesickness had over taken her at this point, and she had indulged in a hearty bout of tears.
It was strange how a crying fit could make her feel more herself than she had done in months.
She had had time to think about things outdoors. Away from the hustle and the bustle of the household and the constant feeling that she was inadequate and that she did not belong.
She might not belong, in the sense of not being of the aristocracy. But she had done nothing, nothing to offend anyone.
As for her inadequacy! Kitty had thought of Georgiana and she appeared to know about as much about running a household and other such wifely duties as Kitty did! Miss Bingley seemed similarly unconcerned with such things as charitable activities and visiting the villagers.
Yet the focus was on her! The fact she stumbled over what to say to the rector’s wife was frowned upon, when Georgiana had sat mute and Miss Bingley had sniffed. Of course she understood she was the lady of the house but she could not be given some understanding? Of course not because of who she was! Why was everything always her fault? Why did Mama always give Lydia everything that was hers?
She had accepted that her situation was of her own making, although Wickham had a hearty hand to play. She recognised Mr Darcy was the victim, but in an awful situation for them all, why was she being treated like some hideous leper?
Lizzy had often remonstrated with both her and Lydia about their behaviour. Mama had always supported them, and Papa merely ignored them, but her eldest sisters, no, they were always, to Kitty’s mind, carping on about this, that and the other.
Kitty had not seen the sense of half of their strictures – until Wickham – and still did not see the sense of the other half. Frivolity and laughter were not sins!
Completely alone and fearful of treading outside of some complicated system of propriety that had been completely absent from dealings in Mertyon and its surrounds, but seemed to come into play about five miles from London, she had tried so hard. Not that it was particularly trying simply to remain silent and agreeable!
And still she was insulted.
Her thoughts were turned from this upon the entrance of Sally and a tray.
"I have brought you some broth."
Kitty turned up her nose. She had never liked broth.
"You must eat it, ma’am. I should not like you to become ill."
"I feel fine," Kitty insisted.
"The doctor says you must stay in bed for some days," said Sally, looking at her doubtfully.
"He didn’t say anything of the sort to me!" replied Kitty. The broth looked better than what was served at Longbourn, but she didn’t think the displacement of several hundred miles was likely to change its essence.
"Mr Darcy told me that is what he said," said Sally mildly.
Of course, thought Kitty. He probably told Mr Holmes to prescribe bed rest.
Sally seemed eager to say something, so Kitty asked her if there was anything she wanted to say.
"Oh no, ma’am."
But it was clear that she did.
Perhaps this was what set her apart from the young ladies men like Mr Darcy were supposed to marry. The fact she and her maid had struck up – not a friendship – but at least a rapport.
Sally told her about her family, and Kitty told Sally about hers. Talking about the Bennet family caused contortions on Mr Darcy’s face, not to mention his aversion to discussing Jane, so Kitty had just ceased to do so in company.
Not that she had much news to tell; only Mama had written to her and Mama’s news was much better in person, where you could ask other people to fill in the gaps. Or give a truer account.
With Sally, Kitty could speak of the past as well.
Though she was careful not to disclose too much; even Kitty understood the merits of keeping a distance between herself and her servants. Mama had never understood it, and was then confused when everyone in the village knew her business. After all, Mrs Bennet wanted to know everyone else’s business; that did not mean that everyone should know hers!
"I just think it’s terribly romantic," said Sally as she tidied up the dresser.
Kitty did not understand her at first. Was she talking of some below stairs romance? Above stairs it could only be Miss Bingley (Georgiana would be utterly transparent) - was that the reason the Colonel, his Lordship and Sir John were riding over more than was apparently the norm? If one of them had a tendre for Miss Bingley she hoped it was Lord Snitterton. They deserved one another. Although the knowledge that her son was to marry a daughter in trade might very well send Lady Matlock into an apoplexy, this did not seem ill-deserved to Kitty.
"What is romantic, Sally?"
"Being carried up the stairs! I mean, you read about it in novels!"
Kitty was surprised that Sally read novels; she did not suppose it was the norm amongst lady’s maids, but Sally had been an orphan and raised by a rector before his passing had sent her into service at Pemberley.
"Although, I hope you do not mind me saying this, I am not sure if it counts if it’s your husband."
Kitty had to giggle at this. No, it most certainly did not count! Kitty had been surprised that Mr Darcy had stooped so low as to deign to carry his wife up the stairs.
Although it probably stemmed from less concern for her health and more concern for how long he would have to stand outside accompanying her back to the house, if she tottered along on her own.
Kitty wondered if it was a sign of an impending trip to Bedlam that she was contemplating counting the number of diamonds made out of the pattern on her shawl.
She had had no objections to remaining in bed for the rest of the day after her ‘adventure’, nor to remaining in bed the next day.
It meant she did not have to see Miss Bingley, and it meant she did not have to do anything. She could have a pleasant conversation with Georgiana, and be cosseted by Mrs Annesley, look through all the fashion magazines and re-read Mrs Bennet’s letter.
However, today she had nothing to do.
She had broached the subject of getting out of bed with Sally and had strongly been rebuffed; after all, apparently Mrs Annesley was feeling unwell and was still abed! It had taken all her cajoling powers to convince Sally that she would be quite well, moving into her adjoining sitting room to sit by the fire, properly wrapped of course.
Kitty had attempted not to gasp the first time she had stepped into what was to be her room (or should she say rooms) – another dead woman’s room but she could forgive that – for it was luxurious. One might be willing to put up with a great deal to occupy these chambers. In fact, apparently one did have to put up with a great deal!
Yet, there was little to do. Kitty detested embroidery or fringing. She liked making hats, but apparently the mistress of Pemberely did not make her own hats.
She had requested Georgiana to run down to the library and find her a novel – a sign of how bored she was. Kitty was not a great reader.
But that had been what seemed like hours ago. Georgiana had probably been intercepted by Miss Bingley or Mrs Hurst.
There was a knock at the door; Georgiana peered in.
"Come in, Georgiana!" said Kitty, wondering why she was just hovering in the doorway.
"Will you allow Sir John to come in?"
Kitty was not sure what Mr Darcy would say about it, but there could be no harm. She was married – she could not be ruined twice! – and she was hardly undressed. Even if she was just in her nightgown, she had a dressing gown and a shawl on top of that. What’s more, Georgiana would not leave them.
"Of course."
Georgiana opened the door more fully to reveal Sir John.
Sir John bowed. "Mrs Darcy, I do hope you forgive this intrusion."
"Not at all, Sir John, do come in."
Sir John stepped into the room. Kitty could not help reminding herself how handsome he was. He was particularly resplendent in his blue jacket and fawn pantaloons.
"I hope you are feeling better?"
"Very much so."
"I was in the library when Miss Darcy came to fetch you a novel and I remembered how fatiguing it is to read when you are ill, so I have come to volunteer my services."
"Sir?"
"To read to you. If you should not think it an imposition."
Kitty smiled. "It is very kind of you to think of me. I am surprised, however, to see you here so many days in a row! I should think you had taken up residence! Not that I mind, you understand."
A brilliant smile crossed Sir John’s face. It was an entrancing smile, and it had been quite some time since Kitty had seen someone quite that open about their feelings. Even Colonel Fitzwilliam had some of his cousin’s reserve about his face. "Your husband has extended an invitation to remain at Pemberley now that Lord Matlock and Lady Matlock have removed themselves to a house party in Devon. Three bachelors in one house is never an attractive option."
"I expect Mr Hurst would have fled happily to Matlock if he had been invited. I suspect nothing but sport would be his idea of heaven," laughed Kitty.
"Well it is not mine. Particularly when the sport is so trifling!"
"Fie! Mr Hurst shot a hat yesterday I am told, isn’t that the sort of tale men like after a day of shooting? I confess I don’t know, my father was more fond of his books."
"Well I would have enjoyed the tale of capturing a hat, if it had not been mine!"
Kitty gasped as did Georgiana. Sir John could have been seriously hurt.
Sir John’s eyes danced as he took in her shock. "I have to confess the hat was not on my head."
Kitty laughed, "I afraid I have been rude, please sit down."
Georgiana had curled herself up in the armchair with its back to the door, leaving Sir John to take the chair next to Kitty’s and closet to the fire.
"You do not wish to sit closer to the fire? I do not wish for you to be chilled."
"I chose this seat so I would not melt! I have already been wrapped up in so many layers and scolded severely into not taking any of them off."
At this point Georgiana interjected herself into the conversation, "What did you bring to read to us?"
"You did not let Georgiana choose?"
Sir John tried to look abashed, and failed. "I found her choice curiously wanting!"
"That is most unkind of you, sir!"
But Georgiana did not need Kitty’s defence for she was giggling. It was a nervous girlish giggle, one coming from someone who had not had much experience in conversation with personable young men. Kitty had seen many young ladies, including herself and she wasn’t entirely sure she was past that stage, go through it, and could only be happy that Georgiana’s openness and candour was not destined to be constricted to her close family forever.
"I am afraid I chose a book of Edmund Burke’s."
Kitty had no idea who Edmund Burke was and was afraid her face expressed this.
Sir John, however, did not look at her as if she should know who Edmund Burke was.
"He was a philosopher; he wrote a book, among other things, condemning the French Revolution even while others were supporting it, this was, of course, before noble heads started rolling!"
"Oh," Kitty did not know what to say. Should she say she would not rather read such a book, but she did not wish to appear completely frivolous.
"I did not think it was quite the thing to read to someone who was recovering from an illness." Sir John paused, "In fact I am not sure I would read it to anyone. I found it tediously hard going."
Kitty smiled.
"So what will you read to us instead?" said Georgiana.
"I have brought up the Castle of Oranto! I am quite surprised Darcy has it in his collection. I would not think he would fancy such a novel, but I am told young ladies adore it! It is quite gothic."
"I have heard of it, but never read it," said Kitty. Georgiana also shook her head, and Sir John rewarded them both with a smile.
"I chose well! I shall of course read dramatically."
He was not lying. He did indeed read characters’ voices in a different tones and at the right moments he attempted to scare his readers by including the various noises that the characters were hearing.
Kitty had shrunk away, not because she was not entranced by the story but because she was so affected by it. Georgiana had wide eyes and had curled up even tighter in her chair.
Sir John had broke away from the story to laugh at her, and he made a point of leaning forward, his forearms on the arm of her chair, whenever a spectre or some other such thing appeared.
He was in the middle of one such spectre when the door opened suddenly.
"Oh I do apologise. I did not realize I was interrupting," and then Lord Snitterton was gone as quickly as he appeared.
Kitty blinked. What a completely ridiculous fellow he was, what did he mean bursting into her sitting room and then bursting out again?
Kitty turned to question Sir John, but Sir John had still leaning forward arched one eyebrow and had an amused look on his face.
"This can be no evil spirit," he said gravely.
Georgiana and Kitty burst out laughing.
Posted on Friday, 6 April 2007
“Inviting Snit?” Fitzwilliam was just looking at him.
Darcy wished his cousin wouldn’t refer to his brother in such a fashion. Of course Darcy didn’t mind shortening of names; he often called Georgiana, Georgie.
But Snit? It was just not seemly, even if it might be an accurate reflection of the character of the viscount.
“My uncle felt with the riding to and fro, not to mention that Pemberley is closer to any engagements, that it would be a sound idea.”
Fitzwilliam just raised his eyebrow. “After what I told you?”
“I also thought that some exposure to my household would disabuse him of any false notions he might have. “ Darcy looked intently at the papers on his desk, hoping that his cousin would see it as the dismissal it was intended to be.
No such luck.
“And have you spoken to Kitty?”
“About?” Darcy still firmly kept his eyes on the papers involving rent. He didn’t like being told what to do, nor being interrogated over his actions. It presumed some doubt over his conduct. Fitzwilliam had already done that once this week and Darcy had corrected himself.
“Do not be ridiculous,” said the Colonel.
Darcy sighed before looking up, “She is ill. I will broach the subject with her when she is recovered.”
“I believe she is recovered, at least certainly able to be spoken to!”
“I shall not disturb her.”
Fitzwilliam looked at him; he appeared to be about to object so Darcy put up a hand.
“Fine.” His cousin threw one of his legs over the side of the chair he was lounging in. Another thing Darcy wished he wouldn’t do. It looked entirely like he was about to begin throwing chicken bones over his shoulders or something, or insist upon his droit seigneur. “Have you accepted Mrs Middleton’s invitation?”
“Provisionally yes.”
“Hmm?”
“Of course if Catherine is not well enough to attend, I cannot attend without her. You and the others may, of course, attend. I am sure Miss Bingley would wish to attend.”
“You will not go if Kitty cannot?”
“Of course not. You were the one commenting on my behaviour. I think it would look singularly odd if I attended an evening party when my wife was ill.”
“I would have thought that would be reason enough to send you up to bully her into hysterics.”
Darcy frowned. He was hardly a bully.
Fitzwilliam clearly saw his frown, “After all, if she has a relapse you will be saved from having to spend an evening next to Mrs Middleton, or praising her daughter, or fending off the devotions of the son!”
Darcy smiled.
Darcy stood impatiently waiting in the entrance hall. They would be late for Mrs Middleton. Not that he minded any kind of reduced exposure to Mrs Middleton. He tried to tell himself that she was an excellent woman who knew his parents well, but he could not convince himself.
At least she could hardly expect him to flirt with Miss Middleton now that he was married. It was one saving grace. Although Fitzwilliam was correct that this would not stop Gervase Middleton asking him impertinent questions. When he had asked Darcy which opera singer was his, after returning from his first trip to London, Darcy had not known where to look. He wondered if Mrs Middleton knew what her son was doing with his allowance!
Catherine had defied the doctor’s orders and only spent two days in bed; he had made no comment. She surely should know when she felt well enough to leave her chambers. Though he had wondered what her reaction would be if he begged her not to rise from her sick bed to save him from this engagement.
“Where are they?” said Mr Hurst in an annoyed tone. Darcy suspected he would also not complain if there was some sudden crisis that prevented them from attending, but now that it seemed they must he also saw no reason for delay.
“The young ladies are dressing,” said Bingley rather unnecessarily.
“Indeed,” said Snitterton.
“Perhaps I should go and bestir them?” asked Sir John.
Darcy looked sideways at the Scotsman. He could not make Sir John out. He was an even tempered, open sort of man. As Fitzwilliam said, it made little sense for him to be close friends with Snitterton. Not that Snitterton was reserved or shy, just that whereas Snitterton tended to focus on the ills of the world, Sir John clearly preferred to see the positives. He was not a rake, but he was a charmer.
Darcy wondered if he should be worried about Georgiana being in close contact with him, considering she was not out and what had occurred with Wickham. For Sir John had struck up a particularly friendship with Georgiana and Catherine, while he was only civil to Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. This was also a point in his favour, but there was something…not that Darcy could put his finger on it.
“No, I shall go and see what is keeping them,” said Darcy.
Darcy took the stairs two at a time, and was surprised to see Catherine pacing in the corridor of the East Wing.
He supposed he should say something about her attire. He could hardly be expected to have said anything at his wedding; it was all he could do to stomach the occasion, and similarly he was too concerned to notice at his Aunt’s dinner.
He knew she had shopped for dresses in London, he had received the bill. He had been surprised, for while Georgiana was hardly the type to spend exorbitantly, he had assumed that Georgiana’s bills for such items were typical for a young lady that was not out, and thus Catherine would cost him a great deal more. He had, on the suggestion of his attorney, put off giving her her own pin money until the second quarter. Mr Gardiner had agreed as his niece had never had her own income.
He wondered what she would do with it all, if she did not spent it on clothes, which she didn’t appear to be able to do, if a spree in London could cost so little. Perhaps she was overwhelmed.
Yet, as far as Darcy could tell, and he did not follow the fashions of the ladies (hardly seeing the difference between a Hungarian Mantle, and the one above his fireplace), she did not look wildly different from any other young lady of fashion.
He coughed to get her attention, and she stopped short, almost stepping on her train.
“Oh, you startled me.”
“We are waiting for you in the hall.”
“Oh.” Catherine looked surprised but walked towards the stairs, where she had placed her reticle and shawl. “Is there another set of stairs from Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst’s rooms?”
“No,” said Darcy, confused.
“Then how did they get past me to be downstairs?”
“I meant we were waiting for all the ladies.”
“Well I was waiting for them! Miss Bingley said she would be five minutes, so that I might as well wait! I think it has been closer to half an hour. What she can be doing I do not know.”
“We might as well wait downstairs, they must be aware we are waiting on them.”
Catherine nodded and began her descent. Darcy stopped her, before holding his arm out to her.
She looked puzzled but took it.
Correcting his behaviour indeed. thought Darcy. That and with that train he did not relish the thought of her falling down the stairs.
Mrs Middleton had gathered as many people as she could find in her now rather confined rooms. In normal circumstances they would be considered spacious.
The Darcys had never mixed a great deal, in his father and mother’s lifetime, with the villagers from Lambton or the other nearby villages. A complicated stratification of society occurred just as much in this part of Derbyshire, as it did in London. It still existed to this day.
However, the younger Middletons, and the younger generation of surrounding families, had grown up with the children of the lower gentry in the nearby villages and thus at their parties such mingling was now likely to occur.
Snitterton appeared to find it slightly distasteful.
“Why, pray, do they think it wise to invite so many people, and of such a nature?”
“A squeeze is a success,” said Darcy in response. He was inured to it, he could only assume his cousin, a far brighter matrimonial prize must be even more aware and used to such situations. It seemed pointless to complain about something that just was.
“I do hope you will hold steady against your wife’s future plans to hold such events in London.”
Darcy turned his eye on his cousin. He had not spoken to him about his behaviour. This was primarily because he had only heard accusations passed to Fitzwilliam from Sir John. Sir John may have been mistaken, Fitzwilliam may have misunderstood. No, to accuse his cousin of such actions would be wrong, unless he had proof. Although he admitted that it would be like his cousin to harbour such thoughts privately, but to express them out loud and purposely to the object of your disdain? It was unfathomable.
Unless the object was capable of defence.
“Darcy?”
Snitterton looked at him, clearly expecting an answer.
“I do not believe Catherine has many acquaintance in London – “ Darcy did not mention the gaggle of relations in Cheapside, they could not be invited to anything a Darcy held – “I rather doubt it would be a squeeze.”
“I fear, she would know enough people, or rather will know enough,” said Snitterton gesturing to where Catherine was playing some card game, with young Middleton clearly giving her advice on which cards to play. Snitterton,was suddenly signalled by one of the elderly matrons on the other side of the room; Mrs Rogers was more than likely wanting to discuss some perceived incroachment of the Matlock estate upon her own. It meant Snitterton would be caught up with prize roses for the next twenty minutes at least.
Darcy was relieved; it allowed him to think, and a reprieve, unless someone came to claim him, from making light conversation with those in the room.
Mrs Middleton had greeted them warmly, and Darcy had felt some slight alarm when she split the group and introduced them to the other guests. But it had been for naught, Miss Middleton was brought nowhere near him.
This had not prevented the fear of being ambushed by Gervase Middleton, but clearly he found Catherine more interesting than her husband. Darcy remembered being Gervase Middleton’s age. At that point, young matrons were attractive, because it was not possible to find yourself suddenly engaged if the young lady in question was already married.
Not that Darcy had practiced any flirtations with young matrons; that had been his contemporaries – Fitzwilliam being one of the prime offenders.
He sipped from his glass and watched the card game.
What Snitterton had said was true; he would no doubt see half of these people in his house in London. He had not an open temper that attracted people. He had also never had occasion to give a party – bachelors did not give parties, they attended them. He could have found a hostess such as his aunt Matlock, but Darcy found such events tedious in other people’s houses; he could not conceive of enjoying such an event in his own home.
He enjoyed the society of those he knew best, and those were a select few. He did not understand how one could appear to their best in such a situation. You were constantly being moved to different people, and then there were dances and card games and musical interludes distracting everyone and making intelligent conversation completely impossible.
He remembered attempting to converse with Elizabeth Bennet at Netherfield Ball, a prime example of a failed conversation. The dance had separated them so much that she was unable to grasp his warning about Wickham, or his attempt at illuminating his own character.
But he should not be thinking of such things.
Catherine appeared to have won a hand, and was looking delighted. Gervase Middleton whispered something at her, which appeared to shock her. She looked intensely uncomfortable, and as Darcy was about to put down his glass and rescue her, Sir John McDonald intervened.
Darcy saw Sir John deftly extract Catherine from the game, clearly giving no offence to the table, or to Catherine, but somehow still appearing to impress the gravity of the situation to Mr Gervase who deflated and looked rather embarrassed.
Darcy was glad, he was almost sure he would have made a scene. He did not have the skill of being dexterously and disarmingly charming. He was certainly capable of rescuing ladies and giving damning set downs but not in a way that did not direct some ire his way, even if he would have been in the right.
However the secondary emotion that flooded him was harder to define. Snitterton had commented on his wife’s seemingly easy manner in making friends. From what he could remember she, and her younger sister, had seemed to have innumerable friends; any discomfort pertaining to her marriage seemed to be slowly melting and that same character re-emerging.
She was smiling at Sir John, who had led her over to a couch and was now gesticulating wildly with his hands, clearly entertaining her with some wild tale.
Darcy’s attention was claimed by one of the local squires, but Darcy chose to look one last time, searchingly at his wife and Sir John. He had a feeling, one that he could not pinpoint, but he was hoping that Sir John was not going to be a problem, or maybe he meant he hoped his wife would not be one.
“I cannot conceive of why Mrs Middleton insisted on inviting the Broadtons – did you say that was what they were called, Charles? – one would not meet them in town.”
Miss Bingley was holding forth on her ideas about the company of that evening. Darcy rather wished he was in the other carriage, but if he had not taken this spot, Sir John would have, and Darcy felt some prompting to prevent that from happening.
Bingley frowned – “I thought them pleasant people. Some of the young ladies were charming.”
Darcy could tell that while the first statement was sincere, the second was only added because Bingley felt it was something he should say. Bingley was still keenly feeling the loss of Jane Bennet, and it pained Darcy to see Bingley in this fashion, with a constant reminder in his face; perhaps he should not have insisted that Bingley keep his engagement with them at Pemberely. It would have been kinder on him not to have done, but Darcy had wanted to keep an eye upon him, and had little motivation to want to remain alone with his small family.
Miss Bingley however did not seem to catch her brother’s insincerity and looked alarmed. “None of the young ladies there were prettier than Georgiana! She is so refined and elegant. She quite puts everyone to shame. I do hope you shall be bringing her out soon, Mr Darcy?”
Darcy had not even thought about bringing Georgiana out, he supposed now she should be launched under the aegis of Catherine which as far as he was concerned would be like shooting lame ducks – supremely unfair.
Even if Catherine was au fait with the ton, Darcy did not know if she would be capable of presenting Georgiana in the sort of way Miss Darcy of Pemberley needed to be presented.
Darcy wondered why she did not have any response to this query of Miss Bingley’s. Catherine had barely spoken two words to Miss Bingley since emerging from her sick room. He could not entirely blame her. He just hoped she would remain civil. He had attempted to explain to her the importance of civility when he had haltingly explained to her that he understood Miss Bingley’s behaviour had been the height of rudeness. Fitzwilliam had asked him to repeat the substance of their conversation, and Darcy had claimed it was private. He did not think it had entirely been a success, and he could guess what his cousin’s opinion would be.
Looking next to him, it was obvious why Catherine had not responded with some comment about how she wished Georgiana was out; she was asleep.
He could have allowed the seat to Sir John.
Posted on Wednesday, 11 April 2007
The Middleton’s party had opened the doors for Kitty to pay visits in Lambton.
She could of course have gone before, she knew some acquaintance of her aunt still lived there. She had not been perfectly sure it was Lambton, but she had asked Mrs Reynolds if she had known of any of the ladies that her Aunt had known as a child, and the housekeeper had confirmed they were denizens of Lambton.
Yet, Kitty could not feel comfortable visiting without so much as a by your leave. Aunt Gardiner had not written to her to entreat her to visit her friends, nor had she so much as mentioned them at the wedding. She may have done, conceded Kitty, since she had been distracted that day; equally the subject of Lambton had not come up during any London visit.
Nor did she feel comfortable visiting as Mrs Darcy; Georgiana had not thought her mother visited at the village and Mrs Reynolds had confirmed that. Kitty did not know why Lady Anne had never visited, because it had not been so in Mertyon and Longbourn, the gentry had visited with those in the village, even beyond family lines such as Mrs Bennet and Mrs Phillips. Although there were still boundaries, they were far more flexible than they appeared in Derbyshire. Kitty had not wanted to embarrass anybody, particularly herself!
However, the introductions at the Middleton party, and the subsequent visits of young Mr Middleton and Miss Middleton, as well as others, had meant Kitty felt more secure in paying a visit in the village.
She had not even gone to look at the Lambton shops before now. In fact, apart from several fraught visits to London modistes where, while Kitty knew her fashion, she was terrified of asking for something that would be the equivalent in price to the Regent’s income, she could not think of a time in her life, not since a very small girl, that she had gone so long without at least merely gazing through shop windows.
The visits had been a success. Most likely because Kitty had not had to tell anyone of the visit, apart of course from Mrs Reynolds and those who brought the carriage around!
For the first time since her marriage she did not feel as though she were being examined and found wanting. No one seemed to find it at all strange that she should be Mrs Darcy. They treated her with kindness, but not pity. If anything they merely regarded her as being blessed with fortune.
Miss Almesbury, one of Aunt Gardiner’s childhood friends, had spent most of the visit talking of her dear Madeline’s childhood, and how sad it was that she moved away, but how blessed her union with Mr Gardiner was.
Kitty was only able to comment that her Aunt and Uncle were well, and hoped that Miss Almesbury should not pry much further to reveal that she was not her Aunt’s favourite niece and would hardly be privy to a great deal of information regarding her life once she left Lambton.
Though Kitty realised if she had paid more attention to her Aunt and her sisters who did receive letters, then she would have been in a position to answer more questions and provide reassurances. The visit she had paid Aunt Gardiner in London had not even provided a great deal of information to pass onto Miss Almesbury, that visit had been stilted by Aunt Gardiner’s reluctance to talk about much besides the weather.
The second visit Kitty made to one of the ladies she had met at the Middletons’ party had provided a slight awkwardness.
Although she was admitted to the parlour, it was quite full; clearly Mrs Calens was holding some sort of informal meeting. Kitty was unsure whether she should apologise for interrupting. But Mrs Calens stood up and warmly welcomed her.
“We were just discussing the charity school.”
Kitty smiled, hoping that her smile wasn’t too vacant, she had no idea Lambton had a charity school!
“We were hoping to open one,” said Miss Almesbury, passing Kitty a cup of tea.
“Oh,” replied Kitty, and let the conversation and organisation wash over her.
Of course she knew that visiting the sick and poor, and helping them in other ways were important tasks for any gentlewoman. Jane and Lizzy had done them at home. Mary was prevented from helping because, as Lizzy exclaimed on more than one occasion, it was bad enough that they were sick they didn’t need to hear about pestilence and sin from Mary!
Mrs Bennet had always claimed nerves and her sickly disposition prevented her from doing any of the visiting. But then Mama had always strongly protested when Lady Lucas, or one of the other ladies, had organised anything charitable without her help.
Kitty had never actually thought about charitable activities actually being designed to help others, rather than provide something for which to fill in the day!
After dinner, the whole Pemberley party sat in one of the grander rooms. Miss Bingley was strolling about the room arm and arm with her sister, conversing with Mrs Hurst, and taking the opportunity to draw anyone else into their conversation as they passed them by.
Georgiana was providing some musical entertainment, but upon Sir John requesting a certain piece Georgiana had exited the room to go in search of the sheet music.
Everyone else were merely sitting (except Mr Hurst, who was in what someone politely might call a semi-recumbent position, and those more frank would say lolling about unconscious) and talking about whether there was to be any cards.
Kitty was staring at a piece of paper.
She had offered her assistance with the charity school, so it had been asked of her if she would write to the rector of Chapel-en-le-Frith, to ask his advice in the establishment of a charity school. They had had some success there with a school.
Now Kitty had to write a letter on behalf of the ladies of Lambton. She had never written a formal letter to anyone in her life! Indeed she had rarely written letters beyond scribbling notes to be delivered by servant to her friend’s in Meryton or the surrounding houses. Who would she need to write a proper letter to?
But she persevered. She had scratched out something approximating what she wanted to say in pencil first, and now she was going to write it up in her best hand.
Of course any time she had written anything up in her best hand, she may not have had a governess but Jane had entreated her to practice her writing by copying passages of novels, she invariably smudged her writing.
“Studying too much for words of four syllables, Mrs Darcy,” Bingley still, quite rightly Kitty supposed, kept her Christian name for private use.
Kitty turned, surprised by Bingley’s remarks, he was smiling, but not entirely at her.
“Why should I search for words of four syllables when words with less will do just as well?”
Bingley laughed, and seemed to keep his eye on Mr Darcy who stood abruptly from where he was sitting and stalked over to the otherside of the room to stare out of the window.
What had she said? Kitty shook her head; she did not know, and was unlikely to find out the private joke. Except whatever it was, Mr Darcy clearly did not like it. She saw Miss Bingley’s arch look at her and still did not care about her misjudgement. She had answered as she found and she could not do any more or less than that.
“Very well answered,” said the Colonel who turned from his position on the sofa nearest hers.
“Thank you,” replied Kitty before turning back to her letter.
“But who, my dear cousin, are you writing to?” continued the Colonel.
Kitty put down the pen, she was clearly not going to get the letter written at quite this moment, and she was certain she would have to mend the pen first.
“I am writing to Reverend Spinney,” replied Kitty.
“That answers the letter of the question, but not the spirit. Come now, Mrs Darcy! Unless of course you plead privacy!” Sir John was laughing at her, but Kitty did not mind.
“Not at all. I am writing on behalf of the Ladies’ Committee for the Charitable Education of the Poor of Lambton and its Surrounds.”
“You do not need to search for letters of four syllables or more if that is the title of the committee!” said Bingley.
Lord Snitterton coughed, “And what are you hoping to achieve with your letter?”
“Advice,” replied Kitty simply.
“And you think this plan, a good idea, Darcy?”
Mr Darcy turned from the window, Kitty wondered if he would admit to having no knowledge of any of this. She had not thought to tell him; why on earth would he want to know about a Ladies’ Charitable Committee?
“You have something against the education of others, Snitterton?”
Lord Snitterton looked uncomfortable, “No, I merely wonder if it is a good use of Darcy resources.”
“It is a good use of my resources” said Kitty hotly.
Lord Snitterton looked at her as if he could not conceive of her having her own resources.
“Indeed, Mrs Darcy,” said Lord Snitterton, “I beg your pardon. I am just hoping that you have not engaged to do more than you are able.”
Kitty felt like dashing the ink pot over him; out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr Darcy move away from the window towards the rest of the party.
“I am so glad that I am not a man, Lord Snitterton, for if you had attended you would have heard that I was asking for advice, is that not what someone does when they have little experience? Or is it more sensible to pretend? I had always thought that was the way to squander resources.”
Upon this, she saw Sir John and Colonel Fitzwilliam smirk, Bingley look distinctly uncomfortable at confrontation, and Mr Darcy and the young ladies stop short in their tracks. Kitty did not wait to see Lord Snitterton’s reaction, which appeared delayed by shock; she turned back to her letter.
The pen did need mending and Kitty attacked it viciously with the knife. How dare he imply that about her. Officious, ill-bred – Kitty could not think of a masculine word for harpy.
Over her annoyance she did hear the door opening and Georgiana exclaiming she had found her music, allowing her to continue with the evening’s entertainment.
However it was hardly soothing and she had almost cut herself with the knife several times when a hand closed over hers. She had not heard Mr Darcy come up behind her and take the seat next to the writing desk.
He took the pen and knife out of her hands.
Kitty swore to herself that if he said something, she really would dash the ink over him.
“I cannot, in good faith, have you squandering my pens,” was his remark, and Kitty seethed as she turned to face him, but was confused by the smile that was on his face.
“I cannot mend pens,” was her quiet response.
“I could see that. Should you not have asked for advice?” It was still a lighter tone of voice, one she could never remember hearing before.
Kitty could not help but smile, “But that would be taking my own advice, I cannot do that!”
He did not respond to that.
Kitty looked at her pencil scratchings, and had a slight idea, one that would save her writing what was more than likely going to be a highly embarrassing letter.
“You could write to Reverend Spinney!”
“As a member of a Ladies’ Charitable Committee?” Mr Darcy sounded as though he had never heard of a more ridiculous notion.
“I meant on my behalf.”
“I fear the letter would be rejected.”
“Why?”
“Too many four syllable words.”
Kitty burst into laughter.
Kitty found it odd that despite so many people being in residence, it was possible to be entirely alone. At Longbourn, one had to almost shut oneself in a closet to find some peace.
Not that Kitty had wanted peace, after all peace did not provide excitement and gossip!
But she was happy now to be alone, it meant she was able to concentrate on Jane’s letter.
Jane apologised for having not written before; Kitty could see the reasoning written between her sister’s lines. It had been difficult for Jane to know what to say, and what would be well received by her now married sister.
Kitty could understand that.
Jane and Lizzy were to go to London, they might already be in London judging by the date on the letter. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner had invited them.
From what Mama had written before, and what Jane was writing now, Kitty could clearly picture Mrs Bennet’s wailing about Bingley. Of course it was a delight to be able to brag about her daughter, Mrs Darcy, but if she could also tell everyone in earshot about Mrs Bingley - well then!
Kitty thought she could detect a thawing towards Bingley in Jane’s letter. She had asked about him specifically. Well she had asked also about the Bingley sisters but Kitty would not focus on that, who would want to know about their health!
There was a rather elliptical comment about not judging those by who they associate with, that was mentioned in the middle of discussing how they would be of help to Aunt Gardiner with the children.
Kitty was not fooled.
Jane talked of staying in London some months, which would surely mean they would be there when they returned to London for the season.
Unless they were not returning. Kitty had not thought upon it, well if she had it was probably some vague plea that they not, so that Kitty would not have to sit awkwardly in any more interminable visits.
But even if Bingley and his sisters returned to London, there was no certainty that they would be thrown into the same circles as Jane. In fact Miss Bingley would probably do the upmost to keep them separated.
If she was in London however, how natural would it be for her sisters to visit with her, and how natural for Bingley to be at the townhouse.
Kitty would throw herself into the lions’ den for Jane’s happiness. She must have a happy union, she deserved it. Kitty realised she was being overdramatic, but she knew she could not hide in the countryside forever.
She was accepted by those surrounding Pemberley (well almost all) it gave her some confidence that she could be accepted in London. Or at least some other scandalous union was bound to occur that would distract everyone!
Of course, Kitty’s plans would be disrupted by Darcy. But even he must admit that Bingley was not himself. He must have caught Bingley looking at her on occasion with some modicum of sadness and regret. It could only be Jane. There was some degree of understanding between her and Darcy, at the present time; she must use it, even if it meant a breaking of it.
He was in his study, and only briefly looked up as she entered.
Kitty had decided some sort of directness was needed.
“Shall we be going to London?”
Darcy looked up and frowned, “What? Now?”
“For the season,” He looked still baffled as to where this question was coming from, that Kitty almost continued – “You remember a lot of dancing…” but she did not think that would put him in charity with the idea.
“Of course, did you think we would not?”
“Georgiana is not coming out – “
“No, but,” he broke off, “Lady Matlock will be of great assistance to you.”
He moved some papers on his desk, so missed Kitty screwing up her nose at the mention of his aunt.
There appeared to be nothing more to say than to ask when exactly they would be leaving – apparently not for several weeks but before Easter, and to apologise for interrupting him.
As she was about to open the door, “Catherine, I do not suppose Miss Bennet will be in town when we arrive, shall she?”
Kitty turned and tried to look nonchalant. “I believe Jane and Lizzy are visiting with my Aunt and Uncle.”
He did not look happy. But that could not be helped, with a lighter heart, and yet another purpose added to her life Kitty left the room.