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Kitty smoothed down her ball gown. It was a particularly nice one; pink silk. She was awaiting Sally, who was still to do her hair. Kitty had intended to match the dress with a circlet of flowers in her hair.
At Longbourn she would have more than likely had to do it herself, and find the flowers herself, because the only maids with any ability to dress one’s hair would have been busy with Jane, Lizzy and Lydia, not to mention Mrs Bennet. The circlet would have thus been crooked and uneven, and her enjoyment of the evening would have been partially spoilt. Now she had Sally, and an array of bouquets to choose from.
It amused Kitty to know that she had youthful admirers. It was also pleasant. It meant that she was unlikely to sit down for very long at any dance. Although it also meant she did have to suffer through their attempts at flattery and raillery. She rather suspected that she was a safe target for them to practice their flirtations upon. It was not painful to hear their stuttering declarations or their sometimes blunt comments; it was more a case of trying not to laugh.
Of course, Kitty wondered if they realised how little she had been the subject of such arts? She could only subtly direct them to more pleasing comments and actions because of her observations of how other young ladies had wished to be treated. But if they thought that she must have been the belle of Meryton she was not going to disillusion them.
She should tell them that their gifts of devotion – rather pathetic specimens of flowers – would have to be much improved before they could really fall madly in love with an eligible young lady. Sir John and Fitzwilliam had laughed at one of her wilting posies that she had deigned to carry to an event some weeks ago. Since then they had both proved their worth by sending their own contributions before balls, except Fitzwilliam must have forgotten his tonight – no, of course Fitzwilliam was yet again visiting Lady Catherine de Bourgh; even he could not have flowers sent up express from Kent! She should have remembered that as she had asked him to ask after Charlotte Lucas for her. Married to Mr Collins must be a fate worse than death, Darcy and Harrogate put together!
She had thought that Darcy also though her array of flowers a poor showing, when he had come to ask her when dinner would be served. He had made a particular effort to ask where the posies had come from.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” said Sally bustling into the room carrying a tray. “I was delayed downstairs, but it was a good thing that I was if you do not mind me saying so!”
“Of course I do not mind…” Kitty looked over her shoulder puzzled at her maid’s comments.
“For if I wasn’t delayed, I would not have known that the master had picked such handsome flowers for you, before I had started putting the others in your hair.”
“Oh.” Darcy had brought her flowers? He had never brought her flowers before. Kitty had thought that perhaps he was making more of an effort over the last couple of days; he had certainly been more attentive and questioning than usual. Making more of an effort to ask how her days had been and who she had met, and what sort of pleasantries they had exchanged. Some of these conversations had been overtaken by Georgiana who had taken it as a sign that Darcy finally wished to know all that she and some of her school friends, who she walked with in the park, discussed all day. Kitty merely hoped that did not prevent Darcy from continuing on this pleasanter path.
It was nice to feel able to talk about her friends without the risk of being disapproved of.
“Mrs Darcy?”
“I’m sorry, Sally? I was quite somewhere else.”
“I could see that, begging your pardon, but I was just saying how Mr Darcy seemed quite insistent that you wear or carry these, and that I thought it was a blessing.”
“Yes quite a blessing, considering some of these!” Kitty picked up one of the bouquets which she was quite sure had already been used; more than likely Mr Lewis had pilfered a bouquet his sister had carried already to some other ball. “I never thought that gentlemen had to learn how to be gentlemanly to ladies.”
“Well there is that, but I was thinking it was a blessing not to have to pull apart Sir John’s fine bouquet.”
“It is, though I shall have to tell him that red flowers would not have suited my dress at all! Though they shall look pretty in here.” It was not however Sir John’s fault that he had picked the very flowers that would have made her look extremely ill; he could not have known what she was planning to wear, firstly because she did not make a habit of discussing her attire with others and second because he had been visiting relatives in Surrey.
“There if you will turn your head.”
Kitty turned back to the mirror to allow Sally to work her magic.
Darcy had looked approving at dinner, though he had not said anything. That was left to Georgiana.
“Oh Kitty, you do look pretty.”
“Thank you, I think that most of the credit should go to Sally and the dressmaker though.”
Georgiana disclaimed this before continuing, “I do wish I could go to a ball, and I do not just mean our Pemberley country hops.”
“Do you really, Georgiana?” Darcy had sounded surprised. “I would not have thought you would wish to be presented so soon.”
“Oh, no I think I shall find it extremely frightening, but I shall have Kitty with me! And Miss Dears is out this season and she has been telling us all about the fun to be had.”
“I do not think you should be presented just because you wish for some fun and frivolity. Many young ladies, I believe, do so and the result cannot be said to have improved the tone of society,”
Kitty flicked her eyes between her sister and her husband. Georgiana looked as if she was about to voice her resentment at such a statement; Kitty knew how much Georgiana wished to be treated and thought of as an adult, not a silly chit. However much Kitty might think that Darcy was being incredibly untactful, or at least unconscious of the fact his sister was no longer a child to be cosseted, she could not but agree with him. It seemed ridiculous that she should do so, but there it was.
As far as she could see there was a group of young ladies in London society that resembled Lydia so much as to be frightening. For them flirtation, fun and frivolity was the order of the day. It was not wrong to wish for an evening’s entertainment but when it was the only concern Kitty could see the difficulty. The interrupting of others’ enjoyment, the exposure to ridicule – in short everything that she had not been able to see when it had been she and Lydia doing such things.
However she could hardly say that to Georgiana; she would be offended and rightly so. Kitty could not believe Georgiana would go to any public event and think only of herself, and it was surely a good thing that she was thinking of enjoying herself after what Wickham had surely done to her!
“Well I think that it is a pity that Lizzy and Jane will not be joining us tonight, Lizzy always manages to spot the most ridiculous goings on.”
This distracted Georgiana. “How is Jane?”
“Jane is very well,” Kitty gave a small smile as she ducked her head away to cut her meat.
“You know that is not what I meant!”
Kitty did know but she was not above teasing, “I cannot think of what you mean!”
“Jane and Mr Bingley!”
“Mr Bingley?” Kitty looked at Darcy to see if he was enjoying the joke as well, only to find him looking at her intently and Kitty could not perceive whether it was mere observation or censure. Blushing, she looked away in confusion, “I am sure that Jane is planning her trousseau as we speak.”
This moved the conversation towards a monologue as Georgiana babbled on about how exciting the wedding was sure to be, while Darcy was lost in his own thoughts and Kitty lost in trying to figure out what he could be thinking.
As Darcy handed her into the carriage, Kitty thanked him for the flowers, wondering if that had been the reason for his dinner table silence; perhaps he expected her to thank him for the gesture? But he merely nodded in response.
“Now I shall not have to break up Sir John’s beautiful bouquet, even though his flowers would have not done at all for my hair! Instead, they can sit on my dresser quite prettily.”
“Have you your dance card?”
Kitty blinked at this rather strange question thrown suddenly into the conversation, but as the carriage began to move she found the item in question in her reticule.
“There I have it.”
“May I see it?”
Kitty could tell this was not really a question but she did not see why he could not see the card. Why he would want to however was a more difficult question to answer.
She watched as Darcy flicked his eyes over the paper, “How is it that you have Sir John marked down for a dance when he has been away from London?”
“Oh that is our dance. We always dance it together, had you not noticed?”
The look on Darcy’s face rather said that he had not so Kitty plunged on, “I cannot dance it at all well, and he is the only person to whom I have confided that! Now I can dance it with equanimity because he knows to move his feet out of the way of mine.” Kitty laughed, but Darcy did not seem to find it amusing.
“You have just confided in me,” he remarked.
Kitty smiled, “Why should I not?”
“Why should you not indeed?” Darcy’s tone was light but Kitty could not help but think that he was forcing it to be. A change in topic was probably for the best if Darcy was not going to voice his true thoughts. But Kitty could not help exploring the possibilities for Darcy’s variable moods, even if last time she had done so she had only ended up upsetting herself.
“I meant to ask you how Lady Matlock was? I did not realise she had come to visit; Mrs Wilson thought I had known she visited earlier this week.”
Darcy turned to look out the window, “My aunt is quite well. I believe she is missing having your company on her morning visits.”
That was most certainly a lie, Kitty could not think of anyone less suited to accompanying the countess of Matlock on morning visits than herself. Most of the dragons of the ton, including the patronesses of Almacks, had been polite to her, some even were kind, but Kitty could not see the purpose of inflicting her company on them more than necessary. After all, from what she could see they already had to endure countless visits from overbearing mothers and their simpering daughters. She would no doubt have to join the circus that was the marriage mart when Georgiana came out, but she would not do so before then.
“And the business with Wickham.”
“Your father is standing firm; Lydia will not go to Brighton and I have every belief that he will go into the regulars.”
Kitty felt her heart twist, wasn’t this a reward? She did not know what Darcy had done when Wickham had turned his attention to Georgiana, but his punishment for what he did to her, and by extension to Darcy, was to be a reward?! She could not help asking if Darcy did not think this was a reward.
“Not if he gets shot, it’s not,” said Darcy grimly.
“Oh,” was all Kitty could reply, not sure she should be glad that she had more than likely got to the root of Darcy’s strange behaviour.
The ballroom was atrocious. It was the one thing that terrified Kitty when she thought of holding her own event, which she would more than likely have to begin to plan soon. She could cope with the idea of being a hostess, after all as long as she planned the refreshments correctly and primed her staff it could not be too different to being a guest; except for the idea that the guests would be oohing and ahhing at her rooms; or in the worse case – the one that terrified her – giggling at the set up.
Darcy had offered her his arm as they walked into the ballroom; he had dropped her arm because of the greeting line. This was quite usual, what was not was the fact he reclaimed her arm afterwards. His behaviour was confusing Kitty and she was beginning to wonder if there had been some hidden motivation in his beginning to speak to her more, whether there was something specific he wished to know but had not come out and asked it of her directly, but she could not think of what it would be! She knew him well enough to know there was barely a subject that he would not be direct about!
She pushed these musings aside in order to enjoy the evening, and was only pleased that she could squeeze Darcy’s arm in an unspoken command for him to lean down so that she could whisper how hideous the ballroom was.
Kitty looked up and saw that he was more than likely about to make some comment about how ungenerous she was, when the crowd parted someway and they were confronted with a rather indiscreet statue. Kitty tried not to giggle, particularly when she felt Darcy stiffen and saw a group of giggling young ladies who were without their chaperones, who would have clearly tried to shepherd them away.
“I believe I would like a drink,” Kitty commented.
“That is an excellent idea,” replied Darcy before firmly leading her away.
Kitty was happy when Darcy was distracted by several old friends; it allowed her to laugh more openly behind her drink. His sensibilities had clearly been offended, a great deal more than hers. It was just another thing to cross off her list of suitable ballroom decorations. Her sense of the ridiculous was provoked further by the sight of Miss Bingley on the other side of the ballroom.
Miss Bingley had the countenance of a young lady on the way to her death, a countenance she had worn ever since her brother had returned from Hertfordshire and proposed to Jane. Kitty had resisted all attempts to be thrown into her company; she knew that she was likely to bear the brunt of Miss Bingley’s disappointment. Although it could not be very long before Miss Bingley began to see the benefits of her brother being the brother-in-law of Mr Darcy.
“Lots in your thoughts, Mrs Darcy?”
Kitty smiled as she turned to see Sir John. The smile was partially lost when she saw Lord Snitterton lurking behind him.
“Was your trip a pleasant one, sir?”
“It was indeed, although I am always happy to get back to such good company.”
“Does that mean your relations are not good company?”
Sir John smiled, “No, it means they are relations.”
Lord Snitterton moved closer, “I must say I find these statues in the highest order of bad taste. They are entirely inappropriate.”
Kitty could not but agree with him, even though she detested the idea of agreeing with anything Snitterton said, so she only silently agreed with him.
“And it’s a crush. I find I can forgive anything but a crush,” said Sir John as he was jostled by another young gentlemen edging around the corner of the dance floor.
“But a crush means a success, surely you do not begrudge that success to our hostess?” asked Kitty.
Snitterton mumbled something which was more than likely a disavowal of wanting to do any such thing, but Sir John looked slight chastened, though Kitty suspected he was very good at looking chastened but not meaning it.
“Cousin,” said Snitterton, after having to press himself against a wall to avoid the overlarge headdress of an overlarge woman, “do you think you could approve of a walk along the balcony? There could be no wrong in doing so in my company.”
The idea did not appeal at all to Kitty; the walk on the balcony in the cool air did, but not the company. Not even Sir John could make up for listening to Snitterton for any longer than she had to, but the heat was becoming oppressive.
Kitty could not help breathing a sigh of relief when Snitterton was called back into the ballroom by some crony or other.
Sir John gave her an exaggerated look of relief which Kitty rather suspected was mimicry of her own expression. Or perhaps he was truly relieved that Snitterton was no longer walking up and down the balcony peering in at the windows commenting on all and sundry as they passed by.
This was rather confirmed when Sir John watching several couples and groups walking down the steps into the gardens.
“Shall we escape a little way into the garden? Take advantage of the full moon?”
Kitty smiled her assent.
The garden was pretty bathed in the moonlight, and very tasteful; they should have held the dancing out here, and now that they were alone the conversation was tasteful,l too.
Kitty sat down on a bench to watch the fountain and thinking that she should like a fountain at Pemberley, but where to put it?
“It is a pretty view,” said Sir John.
“Yes I cannot even imagine how anyone could make such a thing,”
“I meant you,” Sir John said in a silky voice.
Kitty turned to laugh, “Sir John! You’re worse than Mr Lewis and the others! You do not need the practice, I assure you!”
“I thought you might like a sincere compliment,” Sir John had spread his hands wide in a gesture of mock apology. “Unless…you get many from Darcy?”
An involuntary snort leapt from Kitty before she exclaimed, “from Darcy? Never!”
She regretted it the moment she said it, after all did he not bring her flowers that very night? And something tugged inside her at the thought of exposing Darcy to censure and ridicule even among his friends, he did not entirely deserve it after all. It was hardly his fault he was a taciturn man – she could not see him having the open and jovial temper required to flirt, even with a wife he loved.
“It is a great pity. Darcy usually does take the time to practice, does he not?” mused Sir John.
“But why do so on something unnecessary?”
“It is not necessary to provide you with comfort?” Sir John seemed puzzled.
Kitty wished to turn the conversation away from this difficult path it was taking. She had thought of this herself, and had come to no conclusion – she still did not know what she wanted, but she knew it did no good to dwell on such matters. Though how she was to work out what she wanted and how to get it without thinking about it she still did not know.
Sir John appeared to looking towards the path they had come by, as if he was afraid of being interrupted, which lead Kitty to believe he had not chosen this subject by chance. Sir John was like that: he liked to test out his path before taking it, he clearly wished to ask her advice on some matter and did not wish to be interrupted before he had finished.
No matter how open and gregarious Sir John was, this did not exclude him from having deeper serious feelings; it just surely meant it was more difficult to convince others of their existence.
Kitty felt a stab of guilt at not recognising this in her friend.
“Comfort is always necessary, but one should not rely on others for one’s comfort,” smiled Kitty. This was perhaps the only truth she could discern from her jumbled thoughts and circumstances. Impulsively she grasped his hands, “if you wish to speak to me on some sensitive subject, you may. You must know how highly I regard our friendship.”
Sir John looked down at the ground as though he was struggling with something, before looking again towards the path, then back at her.
“Kitty…”
“Yes?” Kitty was surprised that he should use her given name, he was usually so mindful of proprieties.
He did not respond in words, instead he placed his free hand on her cheek and before she could speak or draw back he had kissed her. Not the sort of kiss that she gave her sisters, either – but a kiss that one might read about in a romance novel.
Kitty could not sort out her feelings, and she did not have time to because a voice cut through the haze – “Cousin!”
Sir John broke away and Kitty turned her head to see Lord Snitterton standing there outraged.
Darcy read his cousin’s letter and sighed before running his fingers through his hair. He could not decide whether he had acted appropriately or not. But what was done was done, he could not undo it.
He had asked Colonel Fitzwilliam to find a place in the Regulars for Wickham and then he had financed the move. Wickham was going to a regiment that was likely to be put in harm’s way although Wickham himself did not know this - nay the regiment itself did not know – since the information came from the highest sources. Darcy had not read Fitzwilliam’s letter of recommendation to Wickham’s new commanding officer but he was sure that that man would have left no stone unturned to paint an accurate picture of Wickham’s character. Either that or he left him thinking Wickham was the type of man who should be given the most heroic jobs. Darcy hoped it was the former since he was not sure he could have Wickham’s death on his conscience for all that he had done, or how much Darcy made off hand remarks regarding it to Catherine.
But Wickham was out of the country and into a job where he might do some good despite his character. Lydia Bennet and other English girls were safe. So Darcy could sigh with relief.
Except it was short lived as Robert announced that Lord Snitterton wished to speak to him.
Darcy wondered if his cousin was paying the visit because he thought it right, or because his mother had informed him of how disbelieving Darcy had been. And disbelief it had been.
It was ridiculous. First to assume that he would not notice such a thing and second to think that Catherine had any opportunity to do such a thing! He presumed also that she would not do such a thing even with the opportunity. She could not be so very unhappy that she would risk the pain of another scandal. The first one had affected her so violently and changed the whole of her life. No, he might have had a poor opinion of her intellect before but now he had to credit her with the sense to realise anything of the sort of was out of the question.
Of course, Darcy knew households which were enlivened by such goings on, but it was never before children; and while he was sure Catherine realised there were such households she must realise it would be against everything he believed in, even if it did not go against her own beliefs.
Darcy had to admit to myself he had no true knowledge of Sir John’s character. He was quite firmly the friend of his cousins and had, he knew, appointed himself the champion of his wife. Darcy had had some misgivings but he had been pleased to know that he could abdicate the responsibility of dancing constantly with his wife and other societal responsibilities he had now as a husband. It also would be uncomfortable for Catherine and himself if she sat out every dance that was not with him, if she did not speak to anyone else but him. But while Darcy had watched Sir John, he had had very little interaction with the man directly. Sir John had not sought him out and Darcy found he had little inclination to do so himself; Sir John was the open gregarious type of man that Darcy rarely felt comfortable with. Bingley, of course, was an exception.
No, if Lady Matlock had visited him in order to arouse his anger she had certainly done so, but it was directed in an entirely different quarter than what she intended.
He did not stand as Lord Snitterton was ushered into the room, and his cousin had to seat himself for Darcy would not invite him to sit.
He looked clearly uncomfortable and Darcy found some part of him maliciously finding pleasure in it.
“I expect you know why I am here, Darcy?”
Darcy smiled, “Need more money, Snit?”
A cloud of anger crossed Snitterton’s face. He had only ever applied to Darcy for money once in his life and at the time Darcy had genuinely not held it against his cousin’s character. Sometimes there were emergencies and difficulty in laying one’s hand on money at the time that it was needed. It was better Snitterton came to him than a moneylender. But now he was glad he had something to hold against the viscount. After all, if Snitterton was obsessed with appearances he had to remember his was not so sparkling, and Darcy had heard some whispers that Snitterton was not flush in the pocket and was not able to ask his father to advance him more of his allowance for he would have to furnish his accounts of where his already considerable allowance had disappeared to.
“No, Darcy. It is about your wife.”
Darcy remained silent. He expected Snitterton to collapse in the face of his obvious anger, but if anything it seemed to buoy him.
“Yes, your wife and Sir John MacDonald, a man I have been stupid enough to call friend. They were together last night in the garden, I do not I imagine need to tell you what they were doing.”
Darcy tightened his grip on his pen. “You are rather late, cousin. If your mother had not run to me telling tales last week, I might have believed you. Or at least believed that is what you thought you saw, but I’m afraid you are hoisted by your own petard. I did not believe Fitzwilliam when he said you had spoken with such disrespect to my wife upon your first meeting, but I believe it now. You had formed your opinion and, not content with merely stubbornly not changing that opinion, you have decided to make it fact by your lies. I am very sorry you feel my marriage reflects badly upon yourself and thus hinders your advancement in the world, but you might think that I must say the same thing about you.”
Snitterton’s face turned red. “So you lend no credence to the fact that Mrs Darcy wished to leave so early in the evening and so obviously upset?”
“It was a crush,” said Darcy, not faltering. He had not given that much thought, at the time he was just grateful he did not have to stay a moment longer in that chatter – particularly since Miss Bingley had just attached herself to him, all but demanding a dance.
“I see you are determined to make a fool of yourself and your family. I can only repeat to you that I saw your wife kissing Sir John MacDonald where anyone could have – and probably did – see them. I do not need to tell you that it was clearly enjoyed. I always thought that my mother was right.”
“And what would she have been right about?”
“The fact that your wife was no more attacked by Wickham than I have been; you were cleverly played, Darcy.”
“I shall ask you to remove yourself from my house and not step foot in it again,” said Darcy in a low voice.
“Very well, but I shall know how to act if you will not.”
It took several moments for Darcy to stop seeing red and to wish that Fitzwilliam was not suffering through another visit to Kent (on his behest no less!). He needed someone to talk to that knew Snitterton and Lady Matlock.
A commotion in the hall brought him out of his reverie and he wondered for a moment if Snitterton had not decided to go upstairs to speak to Catherine.
However upon opening the door to the entrance hall, he was treated to the sight of Caroline Bingley and Mrs Hurst.
“Darcy! We have just been told that Mrs Darcy is unwell and thus unable to see us, and that Miss Darcy is unavailable too!” Miss Bingley’s tone seemed to imply that she expected Darcy to do something about it.
All he could do was give Robert an inquiring look.
“I am afraid, sir, that Mrs Darcy is still in her room and Miss Darcy is with her; I was told they were receiving no visitors this morning.”
“Well then there you are, Miss Bingley, I am afraid it was a wasted trip.”
Miss Bingley did not look too put out, she placed her hand confidently on Darcy’s arm. “I do hope she did not catch a chill.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“A chill, last night when she walked outside with Sir John; I thought at the time it was very foolish to go outside.”
“Though of course understandable, it was very oppressive in that room and we thought Sir John would take care of her,” tittered Mrs Hurst as they departed. Not even the Bingley sisters could suggest to visit alone with Darcy.
Darcy merely smiled as Robert shut the door firmly on the ladies. If he was the sort of master who exchanged looks with his servants, he would have done so with Robert at that moment.
Darcy turned to return to his study and saw Mrs Annesley on the stairs.
“Mrs Annesley, I hope Catherine is well?” He half suspected she had pretended to be ill so as to not see Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. He could not entirely blame her.
“I am afraid Mrs Darcy is not well, sir. She is dressed but not well enough to leave her room, Miss Darcy is with her.”
Darcy paused, his hand on the doorframe of his study. “I do hope you will not let Georgiana neglect her practice.”
“Of course not, Mr Darcy. I shall sit with Mrs Darcy while she does so.”
“Oh I do not think there is any need for that, I think she would rather not be cosseted.”
“As you wish.”
Darcy nodded his dismissal at the older lady before closing his study door. It would better if Catherine was alone when he spoke to her, and this way it would not look like he was seeking her out particularly – at least not to Georgiana. And while he waited for Georgiana to start her piano practice he would continue with his business. His steward was overdue a letter and he should write a formal note of congratulations to Bingley.
He’d only got half way through his letter when Roberts interrupted him.
“A letter for you, sir, the boy delivering it said it must come direct to you.”
“Is an immediate response required?”
“The boy did not say, so I suspect not, sir.”
“Thank you, Robert,” said Darcy, accepting the letter.
He did not recognise the handwriting. But if it had been personally delivered it was urgent.
He unfolded the letter; it was addressed to him.
This is not the letter of a coward. I will be at home awaiting anyone you wish to send to wait upon me. I have not called upon you for I have no wish to further upset your wife.
A heavy feeling settled in Darcy’s stomach and he had to almost force himself to continue reading the letter.
But at this point in time you must not be unaware of what occurred last night. Either your wife has informed you or your cousin. If Mrs Darcy did, then she can only have spoken the truth, but if it was Lord Snitterton then I can only assume he has misled you grossly.
Darcy gave a deep breath and felt a cold sense of anger run over him. A sense of anger and a sense of shame that he had been so foolish and not to see what was in front of him. His Aunt had been correct: he was a fool.
Mrs Darcy is innocent of any wrong-doing and I can only assure you that the blame lies square upon my shoulders, my -
He could not read any further, his whirling mind distracting him. The clear sounds of a piano echoing through the house brought him out of this distraction, allowing him to think clearer as he dropped the letter onto his desk.
He opened the door to his wife’s bedchamber. Mrs Annesley had been correct in saying that she had dressed herself. She had also wrapped herself in a shawl and was staring into the fire. She did not look well but Darcy could not find it within himself to care.
He had put his reputation and his family on the line, in order to prevent her from the utmost degradation and this was how she repaid him? His behaviour for which he had been heartily sorry, his rebuffs and reproofs of her attempts at creating familiar harmony – neither of these deserved such punishment.
It could only be extreme stupidity or some sort of wilful defect of character that could have lead her to this path. Though he had only the word of Snitterton that any attentions had not been forced upon her; there was still a chance that he had misread the situation.
“Catherine,” he was surprised at how calm his voice sounded.
She turned to him and appeared to attempt to raise a wan smile.
“Please tell me it is not true – “ he could not even voice his request more fully. Not wanting to give credence to it all by putting it in words. Surprising himself by how much he wanted her to tell him it was not the case.
She turned away and pulled the shawl tighter around herself. It was an admission, no matter if it wasn’t verbal.
He crossed the room and turned her towards him, his fingers more than likely digging into her shoulders. She was crying now, but this time her tears failed to move him.
“How could do you this?” He was surprised at how calm and controlled his voice sounded. He had been told though that the angrier he got the calmer he appeared, except that looking at him closely betrayed his fury. He was sure it must be reflected in his face now, except she did not shrink away from him. But he did not know whether that was courage or the realisation that she could not.
“It was all my fault. Mine.” she whispered and Darcy felt a hot stab of something, and he released her as if she had scalded him. He had never become violent with a woman and he never would, he turned away from her running his hand across his mouth.
Well he knew what he had to do now, he strode towards the door, but before he could reach it, he felt a hand tugging at his hand.
Catherine had followed him, and was looking at him pleadingly, “Please do not! Please.”
“Are you pleading for him? To me?” Darcy could not believe it, and it was like a floodgate had opened. “To me? Who gave you shelter when I did not have to? Who risked everything?”
He was no longer coldly quiet, he had raised his voice, and raised it further when he had to speak over her sobbing. Everything he had ever wanted to say but had kept it restrained and bottled up flowed out. He was not even sure what he was saying.
“William!” He had not heard Georgiana enter the room; he hadn’t even heard the piano cease. His sister rushed across the room to put her arms around his wife. “What are you doing, William?” She had never seen him lose his temper before. There were several moments when they appeared frozen in tableau like that and Darcy could only look at his sister and think – but I have done all of this for you! I wanted you to be able to stand tall and proud!
When Darcy could look away from his sister he saw Mrs Annesley standing in the doorway. “Mrs Annesley take Georgiana to her room.” He made the utmost attempt to control his voice.
“William, I cannot not leave you here like this!”
“Mrs Annesley,” Darcy repeated slowly and carefully, that woman crossed the room slowly to tug Georgiana away, speaking softly and soothingly. Georgiana seemed reluctant to leave, and Darcy could feel the shreds of his composure slipping out of control.
“Go!” Darcy all but barked and the sound made the three women jump and Mrs Annesley find the strength to pull Georgiana out of the room.
Catherine had stopped crying.
“Please Darcy, Please.”
Darcy put a hand up to cup her face, roughly but not in a gesture of anger, but rather as a means to make her look at him. It was perhaps not necessary because she had appeared to pull herself together and had been looking at him steadily perhaps for the last minute or two.
“You are in love with him!” Darcy tried not to sound incredulous, or to let some bitter laugh rip from him. He could not fall in love, that was denied to him, yet she thought that she did not have to suffer thusly? Selfish!
“He is a good friend to me, he has been kind. It was my fault. I must have – “
She broke off there and Darcy wanted to tell her how foolish she had been. She thought that she must have somehow caused Sir John to lose her head. That she had the capability of making an honourable man give into temptation!
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that Sir John had been no friend to her, when he reconsidered. As he had watched her confirm that she had betrayed him last night, somewhere in the upper reaches of his mind he could not help but think of Lord Snitterton. That he had controlled and manipulated the circumstances, but he could not have done that without Sir John’s help or by the happy coincidence of Sir John and Catherine’s mutual growing feeling. Darcy never believed in happy coincidences – he could believe in his wife’s decision to betray him, but not in the fact that at the same time an honest and honourable man could also give into such feelings.
Of course, after manipulating the situation so that his wife would submit right when witnesses could be found – Darcy had the sinking feeling that Snitterton would have made sure that he was not the only witness. Although Snitterton could never have been thought to be an intelligent man; it was possible he was simply relying on Darcy confronting Catherine armed with both his information and Sir John’s. If that had been the plan, it had surely worked.
Yet Sir John’s letter was curiously genuine. In the circumstances Sir John could not place the blame on Catherine for the situation to appear truthful and not contrived but he would have expected more waving in Sir John’s wish to take responsibility and insinuation of the mutual decision making and desire.
“You stupid, stupid girl.”
She had brought up a hand to grasp his arm and nodded, “Yes. Please – “
“Please what? Forgive you?” Darcy was incredulous.
“No,” she shook her head, “do not kill him.”
“You would miss him too much, I expect,” he mocked. It felt beneath him to be so cruel.
“You would have to leave the country. Georgiana needs you.”
Darcy dropped his hand from her cheek, and stepped back.
“I don’t care what you do with me, but please do not do anything that you would regret.”
He did not answer her. He left the room and strode out of the house.
Sir John MacDonald’s lodgings were not in the most fashionable part of town, and they did appear to be tiny. Darcy rapped on the door with his cane and wondered if it was wise for him to have come here himself. He had not thought about it, instead left his house in a blind rage.
But on the walk over, his anger had cooled; it was more than best that he confront the baronet himself. He could hardly ask Lord Snitterton to act on his behalf. Nor was there a worse time for Fitzwilliam to still be in the country. And it would be a monster indeed that dragged Bingley into an affair that might end one misty morning on a deserted heath.
Sir John’s retainer let him into the house with barely a word. That man was old and decrepit and Darcy was sure probably would not hear a word that was spoken, even right in front of his face.
He was ushered into a room with only the barest of furniture. Sir John stood up from the room’s only lounge upon his entry. But Darcy did not notice the state of the limited furniture; after all he could not help but notice the packed valises that were standing near the door.
“I am the worst kind of villain, I assure you that I will delope.”
She had spent all night trying to piece together the events of the evening, and trying to decide what she should tell Darcy. It seemed so strange that while other young ladies could go through their lives unaccosted, it should happen to her twice.
Though to be fair to Sir John, she had hardly minded it this time, she had not been frightened, and if hadn’t been for Snitterton she would have merely told Sir John she was very grateful but he should not comfort her like that again. But Snitterton had arrived, and the look of triumph in his face was more than Kitty could bear. She’d been looking at him in horror, knowing in her heart of hearts he would find the worst construction to place on what he was seeing, and knowing that he might be right. She’d been so focused that she almost missed the curious look on Sir John’s face. It was an apology, which was understandable enough, but it was more than that.
He’d done something stupid, she just had a feeling. But she could not tell from that brief look that was now emblazoned on her mind, whether it was as simple as falling in love with her, or something much more complicated. Either way she should have seen. She should have seen what was happening in front of her very eyes and it was her fault.
She should have done something. These things did not happen to other girls, so it must be her.
She’d spent all night considering it and was no further along than she had been at the start, except to know now that she should have spoken to Darcy immediately; it had made everything that much worse that he should have found out from someone else. She had thought she would hear Lord Snitterton if he came to the house and be able to intercept him, but she clearly had not.
Of course Darcy believed his cousin’s every word, and in this case he had been right to, Snitterton did not have to exaggerate and give his own poisoned version of events. Every word he had said while sitting opposite her that day at Pemberley had come true.
Kitty knew she had to shake herself out of this …because what else could she do? For Georgiana’s sake at the very least.
“Mrs Darcy?”
Kitty turned to see Sally hovering in the door and it suddenly dawned on Kitty that the whole house must be in uproar. The master yelling, the mistress sobbing and Miss Darcy more than likely taken ill to her bed! So Kitty tried to smile reassuringly. “Sally would you be so kind as to find Robert and ask him to bring down that large travelling case we took to Pemberley?”
Sally bobbed a curtsey and thankfully did not ask any questions. Kitty was not sure whether she’d be turned from the house, it seemed a dramatic turn of events that Darcy would not wish to engage in; however she would give him that option at least. After all, Kitty did not know how many people had seen her, or what Darcy was going to do, stalking across town. Everyone in the ton might already know, in which case how could he sit by and do nothing?
Kitty knocked before opening the door to Georgiana’s room. As expected, Georgiana was lying face down on the bed and Mrs Annesley was attempting to soothe her.
“Mrs Annesley? Could you fetch Miss Darcy a strong cup of tea?”
“Shall I fetch you a cup also, Mrs Darcy?” asked Mrs Annesley rising from the bed.
“No, I shall be fine,” but seeing Mrs Annesley’s disbelieving frown, she relented, “Bring a tray.”
Once the door had been shut, Kitty joined her sister on the bed.
“Georgiana?”
Georgiana turned over before sitting up and enveloping her in a tight hug, “Kitty?”
“Of course it’s me, who else do you think it would be!” said Kitty lightly.
Georgiana drew back and looked at her searchingly, “Where is William?”
“Gone for a walk I expect.”
Georgiana looked disbelieving, “How can you be so calm?”
“Why should I not be?” Kitty prayed that her façade of calm would hold out.
“I have never seen – “
“An argument before? Don’t be so foolish, Georgie!”
“But he did not sound as if he loved you at all.”
Kitty did not know what to say to that. She wished she could explain this all to Georgiana and explain that of course Darcy did not love her. But she would not do that. Georgiana seemed already powerfully affected as if she had seen Darcy in a way she had never contemplated, a way that was wholly unpleasant.
Kitty could not believe that Georgiana had never seen her brother raise his voice in anger or lose his temper. She had seen all of her sisters, with the exception of Jane, lose their tempers at one point or another. She had also seen her parents do so. Of course everyone became angry in different ways. Mary, for instance, would never shout, but her very voice became tight and of a higher pitch and she quoted more verses than ever. Verses that would attempt to catalogue the faults of those she was angry with.
It had never been a method that had affected Kitty very much because she did not care much for verses. Whereas anything Lydia said in anger could cause Kitty to cry almost immediately.
Kitty squeezed Georgiana’s hand, “Of course he did not. He was angry.” Georgiana would erroneously assume those two statements had much in common, but it was not as if Kitty was lying to her.
“What had he done to upset you so much?”
Kitty, despite how hollow she was feeling, almost laughed. The sister who could have, not six months ago, never contemplated the idea that her beloved brother could be to blame for anything, now assumed he must be at fault.
“Nothing.”
“But you were so upset.”
“Yes, I did something very foolish,” said Kitty.
“What?” Georgiana’s earnest entreaties were far harder to ignore than all of the times her sisters had ever tried to wheedle something from her.
“It does not matter.” Kitty shook her head. “It does not.”
Georgiana looked as if she would have said more but Mrs Annesley had returned with tea.
“I have brought hot chocolate as well,” that worthy woman confided.
Kitty unfolded Jane’s letter. The Gardiners’ boy had just delivered it and Kitty was glad of the distraction.
She felt useless just sitting there, but what else could she do? Nothing. Anything she could do would just make things worse. She did not know what Darcy’s reaction would be if he returned home to find her not there, or where he would presume her to be.
Jane’s letter was all lightness. Her love for Bingley almost shone out of every loop of her penmanship. Kitty was so pleased for her. Her elder sister deserved every happiness in life.
A thought suddenly gripped her, causing her to crease the paper; what if she had spoiled it all? Jane and Bingley had only just found each other again after the rift that she had caused between them. Was she about to do it again? The announcement had been sent to the papers, but Jane could cry off if she felt forced or obliged to do so.
When she had told Darcy he could do with her what he liked, she had not been thinking of Jane specifically; but now she was even gladder she had said it. She hoped Darcy could think of his friend through his anger. Kitty could not bear it if her stupidity meant –
Kitty refused to think about it any more, instead she focused on the rest of Jane’s note.
It was ostensibly about crying off from an engagement they should have had that afternoon to visit a dressmaker with regards to Jane’s wedding dresses. Jane had wanted do to so before Mrs Bennet’s insistent notes from Longbourn had made her feel obliged to return home to share her joy with her mother. Kitty had not blamed her. She had not minded at all what Mrs Bennet had picked for her trousseau for she had not minded anything at that time. But Jane would wish for her trousseau to be exactly how Jane wanted it, not Mrs Bennet.
Jane and Lizzy should have come to the ball last night. They had been invited, but had had to choose between a prior, yet casual invitation for dinner with friends of the Gardiners and the ball. Kitty had agreed with them that it would not do to insult any friend of the Gardiners, and that dinner would more than likely be a more pleasant evening than a ton crush primarily full of strangers. Now she wished she had been selfish and asked her sisters to accompany her.
But no, she had to be truthful to herself and admit it had not been selflessness and virtue that had made Kitty press Lizzy and Jane to keep their engagement. Kitty liked being out of their watchful eye. She knew both of them had accepted her growth and position as Mrs Darcy, but they were still her older sisters who had seen her play many a practical joke with the young ladies of Mertyon and exposure everyone to ridicule.
If only they knew she had not grown past that stage.
The only thing that brought a smile to Kitty’s face was the fact that apparently a Mr Devinsham had insulted Lizzy. Jane was assured that it had been unconsciously done, and it was this insistence on the part of Jane that brought a smile to Kitty’s face, not that Lizzy had been insulted. Although it sounded as though, even reading beyond Jane’s pleasant view of the world, Lizzy had managed to punish him properly for any insult – meant or not. She was glad to know that Jane would still at least, if she heard about the impropriety of the night before, find excuses for her, although it might, this time, take her some time. Nevertheless, she hoped neither of her sisters would ever change.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon.”
Kitty looked up to see the townhouse’s newest maid flushing with embarrassment.
“Yes?”
“I shall come back – “ the young girl – Kate – made to flee.
“Kate, what is it that you need to do?”
“I forgot to properly check that grate, ma’am.”
“Then you better do so, do not mind me.”
Kate moved to examine the fireplace and Kitty returned to her letter.
“I wonder why the master pays the post office.”
Kitty looked up, confused, “I’m sorry?”
“I should not have said anything,” Kate looked cowed. Kitty wondered if she would be happier at a household more like Longbourn where the servants were not expected to be quite so formal.
“No, what do you mean?”
“Just that’s two letters today that have not come by the post. One for you and one for the master.”
“When did Mr Darcy’s letter come?” asked Kitty. She had not heard Snitterton’s entry to the house, perhaps he had written and that is why she had missed it. She had not thought he would write a letter, she had thought his very nature would mean he would wish to see the look on his cousin’s face.
“Oh much earlier, before – “ Kate broke off in confusion.
“Thank you Kate,” Kitty took pity on her. She knew what Kate was referring to, she didn’t need clarification on that point.
If one had to rank her actions of the past months with regards to the level of perfidy displayed this would have to rate near the top.
Kitty had never entered Darcy’s study before. There had been no reason to do so before, and in Kitty’s mind it was Darcy’s private sanctuary. It had not seemed fair to her that he should have so many places she would not venture into, and she’d had no problems entering his study at Pemberley, but this room she associated with those first weeks in London.
But it was not the being in his study that was the offence, it was what she planned to do.
Rifle through his desk.
She had to know what that letter said. There were so few excuses she could offer for her behaviour and she was not going to try and excuse herself, but she needed to know what evil slant Snitterton had placed on the events. He had said little yesterday evening, or if he had Kitty had not stayed to listen to him. She’d rushed from that garden and straight to be asked to be taken home. It had been cowardice, but she could not have borne it if Snitterton had revealed her actions then and there, so publicly. It would have quite sunk her and it would have humiliated her entire family.
In the end she did not need to do anything but pick up the letter from the desk where Darcy had clearly dropped it.
Kitty was surprised; it was not from Snitterton, but from Sir John. He took all the blame and made no real mention of what precisely had passed between them. From the tone of the letter they could have merely been seen walking together in the garden –
Kitty walked into the entrance hall. “Robert?”
“Did this letter come for Mr Darcy before or after his cousin visited?” For Darcy had not seemed to be a man who was unaware of the circumstances, Snitterton must have visited.
“After, Mrs Darcy.”
Kitty folded the letter in her hands before thanking Robert.
She returned the letter, but not quite where she found it. It did not seem to be prudent to leave such a letter lying where any servant, though she did not suspect any of them to do such a thing, could read it. She placed it inside one of the account books Darcy had left open clearly while in the middle of checking them.
So he had not believed Snitterton? It could be the only explanation, if he had not sought her out until he had read Sir John’s letter. In many ways this made her feel worse, she had always assumed that Darcy had placed every action of hers in the worst possible light. That he had always been judging her and blaming her. His tirade before had certainly confirmed that in her mind. But it seemed that he had believed in her over his cousin and had been wrong.
Kitty was glad the events of the morning had exhausted Georgiana and that it had not been hard to convince her to take dinner in her room. Kitty had joined her there for her own dinner where the only difficulty was trying to divert the girl’s mind from Darcy’s continued absence.
She thought that she had succeeded but she hadn’t succeeded in diverting her own mind. So she had picked the dullest looking book and curled up with it in front of her fire. She’d asked for a message to be sent down to the kitchens to ensure that there was something for Darcy to eat when – or if – he returned home. He may have eaten somewhere else or had no plans to return, but Kitty could not simply make an assumption.
Sir John’s letter had confused her. She had trusted him implicitly. She had thought after Wickham that her judgement of character had been much improved. Even though he was friends with Snitterton, Colonel Fitzwilliam counted him as a friend as did, she thought, Darcy. Sir John had been accepted into their family circle – and why would Darcy knowingly expose Georgiana (again!) to any one he even slightly doubted?
“Going somewhere?”
Kitty looked up to see Darcy standing in the doorway, looking at the travelling trunk that had been placed by the door.
“Only if I am told to,” said Kitty softly. She didn’t add her thought that it might save time; it sounded weak and as though she was attempting to draw sympathy from him.
“I think your absence would draw some comment,” said Darcy, stiffly closing the door behind him.
Kitty didn’t know what to say. It would be better to let him speak, but she had to confess that she had read the letter. “If you are looking for Sir John’s letter I put it in one of the account ledgers, I did not think it should be lying in the open.”
“Wanted to ensure he had written what you told him to write?”
Kitty blinked, “No. I thought it was from your cousin, and I wanted to know what he had accused me of.”
Darcy walked to look out of the window; the moon was still at its height. “So you knew what to deny?”
“Yes,” said Kitty.
Darcy’s shoulders tensed, “At least you are honest now.”
“But I will only deny what I did not do,” said Kitty.
“It does not matter,” said Darcy.
Kitty looked at her hands. Of course he would say that. It would not materially affect him. People would of course talk about Darcy, but he could stay in this house and enjoy its luxuries. She would be the one punished by both him and society. If she thought she was entirely responsible she would have to accept it, but she was beginning to have doubts.
“Why is Sir John friends with Lord Snitterton?”
Darcy turned to look at her, “Why do you ask? Is it not customary to be married to the man before you attempt to detach him from his friends?”
“I would not know, I have not tried,” replied Kitty, attempting to keep some of the ill-used feeling out of her voice. “I ask because I do not understand it.” Kitty stood up and walked towards Darcy, who had turned away from the window, his hand playing with his signet ring. “I know you do not wish to hear this, but Sir John is a good man. I’m not in love with him, but I cannot believe that he behaved maliciously; neither did I. It was a mistake,” she paused, thinking. “Your cousin is not a good man and this is why I cannot understand why he and Sir John are friends.”
“Sir John a good man?” Darcy sounded disbelieving.
“Yes. You know that. You thought so of him too, can you not trust your own feelings?”
“I did not trust him.”
Kitty blinked. She had not been expecting that. He had not shown it.
“No. I knew there was something wrong about him. So no do not say that I did not suspect. My error lies in not suspecting you.” Kitty did not know how to react to that. “He inherited an impoverished estate, and is unable to sell off any portion of it. Snitterton likes having someone handsome and well mannered around him. You might have noticed he likes appearances. However, to keep up these appearances – “
“He has to spend a great deal of money?” said Kitty. “Doesn’t Lord Matlock have a great deal of money?”
“He does not give it to Snit.”
“I do not blame him,” Kitty paused. Was Darcy implying what she thought he was implying? That Sir John had had no real feelings for her, which was as Kitty had been sure he must, even if those feelings had been tempered by something else, and that he was financially dependent on Snitterton and had always been part of some plan of Lord Snitterton’s.
Darcy watched his wife’s countenance change rapidly as she appeared to digest his words.
“Was he to ask money from you to keep my indiscretion secret?”
Darcy was surprised she managed to make the connection; he had not come to it until he had been standing in Sir John’s rooms.
“But you have not said what that indiscretion is?” Darcy did not wish for her to voice it, but it must be said. There was too much unspoken between them and it had caused too much confusion and pain. “Do not say that I know what it is.”
“If you have your information from Sir John or from Snitterton you cannot know what it was. I walked in the garden with Sir John, escaping from Snitterton, and we spoke about comfort, whether I was given any or not. And Sir John kissed me and I let him. If Snitterton had not walked into the garden, I would have merely told Sir John not to give me that sort of comfort again. It most likely would have been a happy memory.”
“Do you tell me that to cause me pain?” Darcy did not mean that it would hurt him that she would enjoy to kiss another though that did not do his pride any good, merely that it was painful to hear her be so flippant about so serious a matter.
“No, because you asked me to tell you the truth and you wish for me to be honest.”
“You said before it was your fault.”
“Yes. I should have seen what he was about, that he was – “ She broke off and looked troubled. “You wish for me to think ill of him, like I hate Wickham, but he is not Wickham. But I still should have seen it, or I should not have been so foolish to walk alone with anyone, knowing that your cousin dislikes me so and would be happy to see me ruined. I have not done anything to him and still it is so.”
Catherine sensed he was not going to respond but she didn’t seem to be going to continue. That irked Darcy as it seemed he was going to have to work to resolve the situation. Although she might simply be waiting for his decision, rather than wish to make him feel as if he was in the wrong.
“I have been to visit Sir John.”
That made her look up from the rug, “Have you challenged him?”
Darcy was about to ask her what she knew about duels and challenges, but then he remembered seeing her often with romance novels. “No,” he responded dryly.
“Why not?”
“Perhaps I don’t find your honour worth defending.”
“I had thought duels were about a man’s honour, nothing to do with the woman.” Darcy should have sworn she’d raised an eyebrow at him.
Darcy suddenly felt defeated and tired; he sought comfort in one of the tall backed chairs by the fire. She was right. Duels were never about the lady’s honour. A lady only had honour connected to a man. A father, a brother, a husband. If he had challenged Sir John, as much as he might have protested otherwise, it would have been to punish Sir John for his behaviour towards himself. To punish the fact Sir John had come into his household and seduced his wife. Except he had not.
To seduce one had to lead someone away from something, and what did Catherine have to be lead astray from? She felt no tie to him and he had hardly encouraged one. No, she was hardly seduced.
“Why did you not challenge him?”
Darcy looked up, “Do I owe you an explanation?” Darcy rather felt he didn’t.
“Yes.”
That certainly captured Darcy’s attention and even made him laugh. “Do I? Why, pray tell?”
“Because I am alone and friendless. I cannot speak to your sister because I would not break her heart. I cannot speak to my sisters because I would not betray you. I did betray you last night, but not in the way you think. I spoke my feelings regarding you to Sir John and that was wrong.”
Darcy found that interesting: she classed the betrayal of emotions and thoughts above those of the body. Society certainly did not think of it that way. It was probably not surprising she thought that way; after all, it was gossip that had caused their marriage. She might have seen it as innocent then, but afterwards she could have hardly missed the hidden poisoned sting of such tattle tales.
Then he had a thought, “I see you do not class your revelation to Miss Bennet as a betrayal of me.”
“It was not. I told her the truth of the events; I told her that which would make you a hero in her eyes.”
“So it is revealing weaknesses which is a betrayal?”
“Yes, particularly those that would lay one open to censure or ridicule.”
Darcy would not retort that he had no weakness that would result in that, because his treatment of her in private, and sometimes even in public, certainly would.
“You would have me believe you have acted to protect me?” Darcy was incredulous that she should think that he needed protecting. He knew that emotion leaked into his voice, and that she would more than likely suspect he meant that he needed no protection. His pride made him feel that certainly, but he was more incredulous that she was capable of such feeling towards him.
“I cannot make you believe anything, and I have told you why you must tell me why you did not challenge Sir John.”
“Perhaps I am protecting you,” replied Darcy. She looked troubled by this response and Darcy was angered that she should be so upset that Sir John was a villain. “Perhaps I did not challenge him because I am a coward.”
Catherine smiled, “I know you can fence. Mr Lewis is quite enamoured of your style; he has told me more than once he was sure you could pink a man in minutes.”
“Do you even know what that means?” questioned Darcy.
“I imagine it is something to do with managing to best your opponent, and can only think that it must be touching your opponent with your sword. If you can do that, you could win such a duel.”
“Fencing is rather out of fashion for duels,” commented Darcy who was struck by the absurdity of discussing fencing at such a time.
“But it is not unheard of, besides it is irrelevant; I know you own duelling pistols.”
“You seem to know a great deal,” Darcy was surprised by this. She must listen more than he thought. It only made him think of all the things he failed to pay attention to or absorb. Catherine did not respond, instead moved across the room to curl in the opposite arm chair. “I have answered you, if you choose to disbelieve my answers then…”
“So what shall you do with me?”
Darcy did not like that phrase. It reminded him forcibly of some gothic novels he had once read. He did not like being cast in the role of abductor or gaoler. They way she said it made him think she thought he was going to lock her up in an attic, and he said as much.
“You mean you would not?”
Darcy had been looking at the fire and felt a different sort of heat come over him but it diffused when he looked over to his wife. She had been teasing him. He rather thought that he should be more annoyed at that, that she should be chastened and humble; but he was more relieved she did not think him such a monster. Except…
“You got down your travelling case.”
“Turning me from the house is hardly the same.”
“It is not something I would do.” His tone was firm.
“I was not thinking properly.”
“Do you ever?”
Later, Darcy could not help but see the injustice in that statement. He had thought her lacking in sense and she had had the sense to piece together the events and hide them as best she could from his servants and Georgiana. He had suspected her of selfishness and she had not abdicated her responsibility; instead she had taken it all upon herself and thought of others.
Most of all he had credited her with having no thought in her head worth having, and she sincerely believed she had betrayed him by speaking to a friend about their marriage.
He had never thought she was struggling with the same feelings as he had been. He had thought she was happy to have the freedom and the money to spend as she liked. But although she had not confided as much in him, it was if a curtain had been lifted and he could see more clearly. She had a far more open temper than his and it must have been a considerable restraint and effort to remain so outwardly unaffected and he, who had great depth of reserve and was justly proud of it, had been unable to prevent himself in confiding various thoughts and feelings to his cousin, uncle and friend.
Darcy could only believe that someone who knew her well, (and had she not confessed that neither of her elder sisters were close to her?) would have seen that she was struggling with something. Or perhaps it was a case that someone with no preconceived notions of her character would just assume that she must have such deeper feelings. Sir John certainly had.
He had been so angry when he had entered Sir John’s lodgings, not even knowing what he was going to do. His first thought upon seeing the packed valises was that Sir John was going to flee, not from Darcy seeking revenge but from the outcome of the duel; that Sir John was lying about deloping.
Then Darcy had wondered how he could have the temerity to roll his eyes at young ladies and their gothic novels, he had clearly been reading too many to believe that such a plan was afoot. He might disbelieve Sir John’s character, but he did not believe he was such a man as to kill another in order to run off with his wife, or to kill a man for some plan of Snitterton’s.
Darcy looked at the half finished drink in front of him; he was deliberately sipping the drink, his second. He had decided to sip it when he had realised he had poured his second in as many minutes; he would not turn into Mr Hurst. It was doing nothing to clear his mind. If his mind was not clear, Darcy did not know how he was going to sort out this mess.
Of course there were many easy ways to solve his problems, but those solutions invariably meant that only he himself would be saved. If he challenged Sir John only his own honour in the eyes of society would be restored, it would materially change nothing about the situation in which he and his family found themselves. If he banished Catherine from the house, then the situation was certainly solved and his honour restored, but then the story would affect the Bennet family; it would affect Bingley through Jane. His sister would be affected for she would not believe him if he said Catherine had merely gone on a holiday to the seaside. If he did nothing then Snitterton threatened. His illustrious cousin had not said what he planned to do, only that he ‘knew how to act’. It was not just the kiss, Darcy was sure Snitterton had plenty to say about Catherine’s actions – all of them innocent unless told with a poisoned tongue. He knew just how actions could be tainted by the teller. If anyone but Mrs Long had found him by the creek that morning, the tale they had told might have lead to a completely different ending.
No, if he did nothing then Snitterton would create a scandal anyway. Why he would do so was troubling Darcy. He thought he had the answer, even though he was not sure the source was credible, but the answer made no sense to him.
It was not that Darcy credited Snitterton with a better character, but that he credited himself with more perceptivity.
Even if he took the well tested country retreat option to wait until any scandal might blow over, and to stop any malicious gossiping; he doubted that would satisfy Snitterton.
He had failed with Wickham, and with Miss Bennet, and even with Catherine, but he could not believe he did not know his own cousin. That he could be so fooled was a blow to his pride, far worse than an errant bride.
Darcy gulped the rest of his whiskey and poured himself another. He knew he would be unable to sleep. When something troubled him he had to resolve it before he could rest. He would stay up all night in order to put his thoughts in order, to explain if necessary. Mulling it over in his mind never did any good; he had to decide upon a course of action and take it. It led him to be impulsive occasionally surprising those around him.
Fitzwilliam was not here to discuss the problem with, and nor was writing a letter to anyone going to help. He was devoid of options. There were so few people, who knew the tale, and those that did were either not here or Darcy could not trust himself around them.
Except perhaps one. He had told himself, promised himself, that he would resolve their situation, and he had not. He could not help but think it was a contributing factor to the current crisis. He had not wanted to own to his faults and the result was chaos.
He opened the door to his room and closed it; Edwards had clearly decided to retire for the night. Darcy was sure if he rang for him that his valet would promptly appear, but it was best that he had gone to bed.
It was the first time that day Darcy contemplated his servants. He had certainly thought of Georgiana and her reaction, though not as deeply as he should have. He had lost control in front of her and he worried he had permanently removed his sister’s rose coloured view of the world – or rather of himself. Something he had, and would have, moved heaven and earth to keep intact. But now he had to think of what the rest of the household was thinking. He had always been proud of the way he was held in such high esteem by those who worked for him. For him their good opinion was worth more than many peers of the realm. He felt it reflected better upon himself and was a much more worthy aspiration than those held by other masters.
Darcy shook these thoughts from his head and moved towards the connecting door to his wife’s chamber. He only realised how late it was when he opened that door. Edwards must have only recently retired because the fire was still burning in his grate. In Catherine’s room the embers were almost cold. Darcy had to return to his room to light a candle in order to see. He must have spent some time in his study thinking. Darcy wished he could say the quick passage of time was a blessing.
The sudden light in her eyes must have woken her, or she had not truly been asleep.
“Mr Darcy?”
It was not to be wondered that she sounded surprised and he did not once think for a moment the surprise was that she expected someone else. No she just had not expected anyone at all.
“You wished for me to answer you when you asked me why I did not challenge Sir John.”
He thought she looked calm, “Very well.”
Darcy put the candle down on the table next to Catherine’s bed, moving the book she was reading out of the way. He idly glanced at the title, “The Man of Feeling.” He thought that might explain their interactions, and her attraction to Sir John.
“Is this what you wish for?”
Catherine looked confused until she saw him fingering the book.
“I think it would be hard on the washerwoman,” at his baffled looked she continued, “a man of feeling such as written there must go through a great deal of handkerchiefs. I should like a man of feeling without the weeping.”
“Indeed.” Darcy would have thought of himself as a man of feeling. He certainly had a great depth of thought, and he cared a great deal. But it was not indiscriminate caring and he had been brought up to think a great deal too much about how people viewed himself and which people’s views to care about to become the man of feeling in that novel.
“You asked me why I did not challenge Sir John. I did not do so because it would be beneath me.”
“Many men do not think so,” replied Catherine hugging her knees. “Do you not think you could wound someone?”
“I do not see the point of it, but I suspect I might if I was avenging purely honour. But in this case what would it serve? Sir John would delope, or maybe he would not, but all it would mean would be the ton discovering something had taken place. I have been taught to do good, but in pride and conceit. I had meant to apologise to you.” He expected her to interrupt him, but she did not. “My behaviour has not been that of a gentleman. However I did not wish to own to my faults so I thought it would be best not to speak of it. I was wrong.”
“I did not mean to do wrong; but I do it so frequently.”
“I had faulty guidance, you did not have any guidance at all.”
Darcy wondered if she would defend her parents.
“There was guidance there if I chose to look for it; Jane and Lizzy have no fault of character.”
“No one has no fault of character,” replied Darcy quietly. “One is always finding them. I thought I was a good judge of character.”
“You said you had suspected Sir John. You cannot fault yourself there.”
“I was not speaking of Sir John. I was speaking of my cousin. You asked me before why they were friends. I thought it was self evident at least from Sir John’s point of view; an impecunious Scotsman and the heir to a wealthy earldom. Snitterton’s motivations have always been less clear. But my cousin has always thought highly of status, wealth and flattery. In this he is supported by a great deal of the ton. Except Snitterton has no charm and no address. Neither do I, but I have never wished for it. My cousin however wishes for the rewards he thinks comes with being able to dazzle society. I can only assume that is why Sir John became an attractive associate to Snitterton. Snitterton neither possesses tact nor subtlety – not that he would tell you so. I was blinded by his blunt nature – his openness in his dislike of you was immaterial because I thought I knew his faults. He would run whichever way the wind blew despite whatever he might have said. ”
Darcy looked at the support of the four poster bed and inspected the carvings. He had almost never entered this room when it had been his mother’s. She had visited him in the nursery when it had been appropriate; his father had been more open with his study and chamber. He moved around the bed examining it as much as the light would allow, it gave him something to focus on as he chose his words.
“I assumed I could read my cousin. I did not think him devoid of deviousness; I just thought he could not hide such from me. Perhaps I could not conceive of his feelings of inadequacies, for who could not feel inadequate next to a brother like Richard and a father such as my esteemed uncle? If I could not envision those feelings then how could I realise what they might make capable of? At first I did not believe Fitzwilliam when he said that his brother had such a feeling of dislike towards you. Then I did not regard the idea that it could be anything more than dislike.”
“I gave him opportunities enough to list my faults.”
“More than that; he planned, plotted and engineered situations. My only consolation is that I was not the only one fooled.”
“Who has told you this about your cousin? He can not have admitted to deliberately trying to – He did not. I kissed Sir John willingly.”
Darcy flinched.
“Sir John believed his friend to merely be ranting. He didn’t believe for a moment that Snitterton meant to carry them out – “
“You believe him?” Now Catherine sounded incredulous.
“His address and charm make him a likely suspect. He is open, honest, forthright. He acts on his feelings. He wished to – “Darcy was not sure he could speak the words when it came to it. “- his feelings overtook him and he acted upon them. He is at fault. But I do not suppose him a true villain. “
“Except he – we - gave your cousin the opportunity he was looking for.”
“Indeed.” Darcy was suddenly tired and sank down upon the bed. “Now somehow I must silence my lord Snitterton, prevent his machinations, ones that I have on the whole missed. His manipulation of me, of you – to a lesser extent of Sir John and his mother.”
“Do you not think you are making him into a greater villain than he is? After all he is not saying anything that is untrue – “
“Yes, he has,” said Darcy firmly. She did not know that his poisonous tongue had been let loose much earlier than her indiscretion. There would have been a crisis without any action on her part. It was this conclusion that heartened him in some respect, at least with regards to what he was to do about his marriage. What he was to do with his cousin he still did not know.