Jump to new as of October 2, 2005
Jump to new as of July 3, 2008
Jump to new as of June 21, 2009
Dedications:
Shem - thank you for beta-ing. Sorry it took so long to post after you edited it. I seemed to have dropped off the edge of the world again.
Lise - incredible chat, as always!
As fate would have it, it all happened on the night that marked the one year anniversary of my marriage to Thorn. And at the outset, whilst it would be untrue to say that I wasn't talking to the wretched man, it would be quite fair to say that I was somewhat put out.
Oh, don't get me wrong, Thorn remains quite simply the most wonderful man in the entire world and for the majority of the time I still can't for the life of me believe my luck in his, I believe inexplicably, falling in love with me. He is loyal, funny, sweet, kind, generous, honourable, etcetera, etcetera... but so protective that sometimes I want to shake him until his teeth fall out.
To explain: a couple of months before the ball I had a chill, a chill I say!
Well it may have been a cold, or a chest infection at the very most.
It was certainly not pneumonia.
Anyway, as far as I am concerned that is all semantics, and as such quite unworthy of my attention.
What is certain is that at first I enjoyed the solicitude I received - I was wrapped up cosily in my bed and had the husband I worshipped pandering to my every need. What more could a girl ask for? I could forgive Thorn for calling the physician that first time. We are, after all, fairly newly married; we don't have an heir yet. Naturally he could be forgiven for being over cautious and protecting his investment.
No, Thorn's initial reaction to my 'indisposition' isn't the issue here. Rather it is that the physician's visits had then become a twice weekly event, and that once I had improved enough to be up and about he (Thorn) had retired me to the country for two months during the height of the London Season allowing all of my intricate matchmaking plans to go awry. Also that he had forbidden friends or family to visit as it 'might prove too much for me in my delicate state of health' (and the poor man only knows the half of it!) is in my view inexcusable, unjustifiable and just plain annoying!
Thorn is remarkably unrepentant about the whole matter and refuses to be reasonable and at least apologise! Therein lies the rub.
It is not that we have fallen out exactly, in fact until I got Lizzy's letter about Georgie, Anne, Richard and Mary I was enjoying the excuse of spending so much time in Thorn's company and being smothered back to health. We had had a delightful honeymoon after our marriage but the demands of the Season and Thorn's responsibilities had meant that we had seen less of each other than we should have liked for the month before my illness. But then I had heard how Mr. Darcy was forbidding Lord Ardmore from going anywhere near Georgiana; how Lady Catherine de Bourgh had found out about Anne's fledgling romance with Thorn's friend Captain Alexander Cartwright and not so much nipped it in the bud as pruned it to within an inch of it's life; how my friend Tilly, Miss Matilda Watson, plain but dear beyond belief, refused to believe that The Colonel Fitzwilliam was actually serious in his intentions towards her; and how my sister Mary, poor dear Mary, had discovered Mr. Max Calder's, alternative profession as a social commentator for a popular political newspaper and exploded with indignant rage.
My carefully prepared plans were going up in smoke, and whilst some would be the work of but minutes to resolve I was unable to do so as I was rusticating in Kent getting 'the sea air'.
Sea air, my foot!
Thorn and I had several lengthy conversations about this. I was of the opinion that my presence was required in London. Thorn was of the opinion that I was not yet fully recovered and that they could manage their lives very well without me. I could not agree with this. I begged, I pleaded, dear Lord - I even cried! But Thorn was as immoveable as...as Brighton Rock. I had never fully appreciated how hard hearted he could be. I informed him of this point of view. This was possibly something of an error on my part for I received a somewhat short, pithy reply and relations between us deteriorated still further. Two weeks we stayed on after we got Lizzy's letter and although it remained summer and the sun still shined it was decidedly chillier for the Thornfield household. It was not, as I said that we weren't talking, it was just that I let my displeasure on the subject be felt.
Thorn's saving grace was that he allowed me to return for the ball that Lady Bellinger was throwing in honour of our one year wedding anniversary. In order to make it memorable she had requested that we all come in 'fancy dress'. I thought it a rather fun idea and so posted ahead my order for my costume to Mademoiselle's so that it might be ready for our arrival. Thorn and I did not discuss our intended costumes; although in point of fact this was when we were discussing very little indeed. We returned to London the day before the masquerade. Thorn spent the time following our arrival in his study. He claimed that he had to catch up on business but I rather suspect that he had also had rather a bellyful of his sullen wife. My time was spent on receiving a visit from Lizzy and 'resting'. By this point I was heartily fed up of resting, although I realised that once Thorn knew the true state of affairs I had better get used to it. There is one thing I will say in its favour though: it does give one plenty of time to scheme.
I dressed with care that night. It was my big return to the London scene and so I had to look the part. I was the Darling of the Ton and so certain things were expected of me. My costume was that of Cupid. Obviously.
I brushed over the part where Cupid is traditionally a boy. Details, petty, petty details.
I was just putting the finishing touches to my curls when there was a knock on my door.
'Come in.' I called.
The door opened to reveal my husband. Despite our present contretemps, I was gratified by the admiring look in his eyes. Too often there had been a look of concern, although I have to say that exasperation was rapidly becoming a fast favourite.
'You look stunning, darling.' There was no doubting the throaty sincerity of his tone.
'Thank you.' Pleased with his obvious admiration I dimpled as I received his embrace. 'Watch my hair!' I warned him. Thorn has a lamentable habit of upsetting my coiffure. He claims that it is because he likes the smell of my hair. Well, that is all very well, but not when I have spent so long teasing my rebellious hair into ringlets.
'Yes, Milady.' Thorn was obviously in good humour - there was a warmth to his voice and a softness in his eyes that had been missing of late. I considered it about the right time to bring about a proper reconciliation. Things had gone on long enough, and after all I had got my own way in the end. Sort of.
Besides, I missed him.
'And what do you think of the subject?' I stepped away and lifted my arms that he might admire me all the better. Thorn looked bemused.
'Cupid? I take it as a statement of your intent and I tremble in anticipation.' He looked nothing of the sort. In fact he looked as if he were becoming decidedly cross and his tone was rather curt as he added, 'Just do me a favour and try not to upset too many people tonight Kitty.'
'Thorn!' I protested. Annoyed, I turned away and surveyed my person in the looking glass one last time murmuring 'as if I would do such a thing!'
'Oh, I think you would.' I ignored the edge to his tone with all the dignity that a year's experience of being a countess gave me. It was then that I noticed something that I should really have paid attention to before.
'Thorn! You're not dressed!'
Thorn's eyebrow, as eloquent as words, lifted in enquiry as he surveyed his evening clad self.
'Oh, you know what I mean. Why are you not in costume?' He shrugged.
'I suppose I could say that it was because I don't like getting dressed up but the truth is that I don't feel the need to play a pretence.' He looked at me, his gaze traveling over my face, and the warmth in his look was back. I found myself smiling. 'I am quite happy in the role of Catherine Thornfield's husband.' He smiled in return and carefully tucked a wayward curl behind my ear. The look of tenderness in his eyes caused my heart to swell. 'I don't think that it is a part I shall ever tire of.'
'Oh Thorn!' I wailed as unexpected tears started to slide down my face. I found that I had been rather emotional of late. Thorn blamed it on my recent illness. At any rate, curls or no I was quickly hauled into my husband's embrace.
'Oh God Kitten, don't cry.' This was growled into my ear.
'It's just that you say such nice things when I know that I've been perfectly beastly to you for weeks! I don't deserve you!'
A kiss was pressed into my neck and then he eased back to gently wipe my eyes with his fingers. 'Kitten you have to stop crying - we'll never get away if we have to wait for your nose to stop being that most becoming shade of beetroot it turns when you cry, and I won't have you accusing me of sabotage this time tomorrow.' Despite myself I smiled at his raillery. Thorn gave me an approving look. 'That's my girl.' This time the kiss was on my cheek. I raised my hand to touch the spot.
'I'm so sorry.' Thorn's look told me that my apology was unnecessary, that if anything he was more pained by my obvious current distress than by the cold shoulder treatment that I had dolled out for the past few weeks. I knew that Thorn hated to see me cry. Despite this I felt that he was owed a full apology, and tried to do it properly. 'I was horrid to you...'
'Hush. I have broad shoulders. I coped. It is just...' he sighed and leaned his forehead against mine, 'I was so worried Kitten. You were so very ill and I felt that there was nothing I could do. Then when you started to get better the huge string of well wishers exhausting you made my blood boil. You are everything to me. If I lost you...' his look of pain was too much for me, and I became the comforter. I stopped his lips with my finger.
'Quiet. I'm fine now. I'm well again. I swear. You don't need to wrap me up in cotton to protect me anymore. I shan't break.' Thorn smiled.
'No, Kitten, you shan't break.' Thorns look promised more but we were already late and there was business to be attended to. We couldn't afford to be distracted just yet. Now, of course, they do say that a problem shared is a problem halved... I wound my arms that little bit tighter.
'Thorn...?' Thorn's slow smile told me he knew exactly what I was up to. I didn't mind, as long as he agreed to help.
'Kitten...?'
'You know that I have some, well, plans for tonight?' I walked my fingers up his jacket front and found that they were quickly grasped by a warm hand.
'What you playing the role of Cupid for just about every unmarried person we know? Yes Kitty, I had guessed as much.'
'Hmmm, yes that. Well things would go much smoother if I had some help.' I should explain that Thorn had been acquainted but not actively involved in my matchmaking until this point. He had declared that it was woman's work and that he could not look his friends in the eye if he knew that he had been party to their entrapment. Despite this I must say that he had had some excellent suggestions. He had disapproved of Georgie and Lord Ardmore just at first, due to the latter being somewhat of a rake in his former days, but I do believe he had come around when he saw that the man was genuinely reformed and certainly heart and soul in love with our Georgiana.
'Are you asking me to help with your scheme?' Thorn's look was decidedly playful. I tilted my head, considering the gauntlet that he had cast at my feet.
'You want to be persuaded?' I guessed. Thorn's smile widened.
'Well I think a little cajoling wouldn't go amiss.' I was pulled closer and Thorn started placing kisses on my neck.
'Please' I whispered. In case he had misunderstood me I added: 'Please help me, Thorn.' My now freed hand coaxed the lapel of his coat.
'That wasn't quite what I meant, Kitten.' I shivered as this was breathed into my ear.
'I know, but we haven't the time for proper cajoling now.' I don't know quite where I got the willpower to pull out of his embrace, but somehow I managed it. I am sure that my colour was high, and certainly I was having difficulty getting my breath. Thorn seemed to enjoy watching my loss of composure whilst he, the wretch, appeared to be hardly affected! Men!
'Very well.' He gave me a bow 'As my lady commands. After all if our friends cast you off then I may as well be part of it because I wouldn't be seeing them again anyway.'
'A very sensible viewpoint, My Lord.' I congratulated him as I fanned myself. I had not realised that it was so unduly warm for this time of year. Thorn gave me his arm to escort me to the carriage.
'You will be very disappointed if your victims decide not to attend.' Thorn observed.
'Oh, they will attend.' I replied with utmost confidence. Thorn turned to look at me and I dimpled at his suspicious look. Thorn laughed.
'The poor souls. They won't know what has hit them!' My dimple became an outright grin. My husband really was an exceptionally good looking man, especially when he looked so...carefree. I eyed him speculatively and decided we that perhaps we could afford to be a little late.
'Thorn?' Thorn recognised my tone from old, and I found that I was once again in my husband's arms, exactly where I had hoped to be.
'Yes, Kitten?'
'Perhaps one more kiss for the road?' I asked, smiling.
'Perhaps one.' He agreed. A very agreeable man, Thorn.
One for the road turned into two for the road. Or, indeed, three. I was unconcerned: it is, after all, fashionable to be late and I for one am a firm believer that one should always encourage fashions which allow for the opportunity of proper reconciliation between warring spouses.
As one kiss had become two then three, Thorn and I were indeed 'fashionably late' for the masquerade. We were, however, in high spirits having reaffirmed our mutual regard for each other in a most agreeable manner.
As perhaps could be expected, as soon as we arrived we were swamped by friends and acquaintances inquiring after my health and congratulating us on the healthy state of our union. Such was the deluge of well-wishers that it was impossible to get anything done with regards to my matchmaking plans. I had filled Thorn in on events to date in the carriage and outlined my plans of attack. I could, I suppose, have sent Thorn off to get started on his own, but in truth I enjoyed the sensation of having my handsome husband by my side too well to part from him. And anyway, on reflection, I am unconvinced that he would have been persuaded to leave my side until the deluge had lessened somewhat; he seemed to be worried that I would be trampled by the masses.
The masquerade theme had been a triumph for Lady Bellinger and London had done itself proud. There was, however, a degree of rivalry over whose costume was most elaborate and original. I am sad to say that there was more than one Elizabeth the First, Diana of the Hunt and King Arthur. Thorn's lack of costume drew some comments, but it was generally accepted that a man of his stature does not run with the common crowd. I could actually hear the groans of admiration that came from the group of young puppies that were his followers as they realised that Thorn had eschewed the theme of the ball. In their eyes at least it confirmed his inimitability. For my part I did not mind in the slightest - Thorn made such a handsome figure in his evening attire that I would've been hard pressed to find a costume as attractive. Perhaps a uniform of some sort...
Eventually we managed to have a moment to ourselves in a secluded corner. I could see by the look in Thorn's eye that he was hopeful of a renewal of our previous employment. We had too much to do, however, to allow for such self-indulgence.
It was mightily tempting though.
Worried that I might be persuaded, I resorted to a brusque, business like manner.
'Well husband, to work!'
'I am my lady's servant to command.' Thorn's tender look was nearly my undoing, but I would be strong - for my friends I would be strong.
I took a very deep breath in an attempt to control my feelings, watched, I must say, by my decidedly unhelpful husband who seemed to find some amusement in my predicament. Well, I would soon wipe the look off his face, he could just wait until we got home and then I would show him the limits of his own self-control!
'Well I think we should start off with the easy one and work our way up.' I said, considering the matter for a moment after successfully resisting temptation.
'Good plan.' I eyed Thorn suspiciously as I suspected him of teasing, but there was much to do and we couldn't afford to become distracted by trifles. I made a mental note of it, however. It would all be added to his tab and his account settled at the end of the day.
'Good. So you find Richard and beat it into his thick head that Tilly loves him, she just needs a demonstrable sign of affection, and perhaps a marriage proposal. I will go and tell her to stop being such a goose.'
'I wouldn't phrase it quite like that if I were you.' I treated this suggestion with the contempt it deserved and entirely ignored it.
'Now Richard is dressed as Othello, which is somewhat unfortunate but cannot be helped. I think I saw him disappearing in the direction of the card rooms. So go and speak to him and send our star-crossed lover in the direction of the green room once you are finished. I will make sure that they are given a chance to meet.'
'Yes, milady.' Thorn was all obedience.
'And less of that.' I made a shooing gesture as Thorn made no move to leave me but continue to look at me with that most distracting look in his eye. 'Well get to it man!'
Thorn touched his forelock for one last touch of impudence.
'Ma'am'.
I let that one go - generosity being the soul of nobility. Really though, one does hope he will grow out of it at some stage.
'Thorn!' Richard's greeting was as warm as one could hope. I am glad to say that his mind was not yet so far gone that he could not find pleasure in my company.
'Richard.' My salute was more laconic.
'How is the Kitten?' Richard seemed keen to be diverted from his thoughts. I allowed him this luxury...for a moment.
'Frolicsome.' I shrugged, 'Better I think. She had me worried for a spell.'
'She is well now?' Richard asked with quickened interest.
'I think so.' I frowned as nagging doubts came back to me and the heavy sensation of worry settled again thickly in my stomach. With an effort I shook it off. 'There is something not quite right, but I can't quite put my finger on it.' I smiled reassuringly as Richard looked concerned. 'But I do believe that she is well. How are you?'
'Well.' This was said hastily, and to one who has the pleasure of intimate friendship with Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam for many years, not at all truthfully.
'You look it, old man.' I let my sarcasm sit in the air for a moment before adding - 'I don't suppose you want to talk about it?'
'You suppose correctly.' Said Richard grimly, reaching for the decanter. I moved it out of his grasp.
'Best not if you are going to speak to Tilly tonight.' Richard gave me a dire look.
'Since when did you become a matchmaker Thornfield?' he demanded. I shrugged nonchalantly.
'Since Kitten became upset about her friend getting upset about you.'
'Upset about me? She rejected me Thorn!' Richard was then aware that he had said this in too loud a tone of voice. He quickly looked about to make sure we hadn't attracted any undue attention and then leant forward.
'She rejected me, Thorn.' He gave a short, bitter laugh. 'I've barely been sober since.'
Ah, it was a feeling I remembered well. I shuddered as unwanted memories, or indeed the lack of them came back to me. Almost a week of my life I had lost in a drunken haze. The irony was that I was aiming to forget Kitty in drink, but the more inebriated I got the more I would think about her, the more I couldn't stop thinking about her. I had eventually realised that I was doing my sanity no good and so had dried out and bent my mind to thinking of plans to get Kitty to be mine. I smiled as I made a mental note to tell Kitty of them at sometime - some were really most improper, others just plain farcical. With difficulty, I recalled myself to the task at hand.
'Well Kitty says that Tilly is madly in love with you.' Richard perked up at this information, but apparently was unwilling to be cheered as he then resumed his brown study.
'Why did she turn me down then? Second son not good enough for her?' There was a nasty, bitter look on his face as he drained the dregs of his glass. I stiffened at this insult to the absent girl.
'Do you really think that she is that kind of girl?' My tone was glacial. Richard looked up in surprise, but then had the good grace to look ashamed.
'No.'
'Good.' I knew what I wanted to say but felt damnably awkward. Hang it all, this wasn't a man's place. Still, if it would stop Kitten worrying away at it, 'Look Richard, forgive me for saying so but I have it on the very best authority that Tilly refused you because she didn't think that you were in earnest.'
'Not in earnest. Good God man, I proposed!' I grimly ploughed on.
'Again, forgive me for asking, but did you actually ask her to marry you, or did you use words to that effect? Words that might, in a modest, self-deprecating young lady, be mistaken for something else?' Richard started to deny this.
'Well of course I... Oh Lord, that's what she thought I meant!' As Richard was struggling with his revelation I had a sudden thought and a pained expression crossed my face.
'Richard, please tell me that you at least remembered to tell her that you love her!'
I turned my interest from our surrounds to the Social Butterfly, for that was her costume for the masquerade, so inelegantly blowing her nose next to me. Miss Matilda Euphemia Honororia Watson, to give Tilly her full name, had been my closest London friend in my first season. She had been reported to be a blue stocking but I had found this to be far from the truth for that to me implies a certain...dullness of character. Tilly was nothing of the sort. True, she tended to be frustratingly practical at times but I would argue that commonsense was a virtue and that her delightful shy wit would surely disqualify her. She did, in fairness, look the part - glasses, messy hair, book in hand in the middle of a Society ball. Perhaps this was why she had made it to her third season without receiving an offer. Unfortunately her time in the capital last year had been cut short by the death of her grandfather. When Tilly had returned to London for this season I had quickly taken her in hand. I may not have many talents, but a taste in fashion is an undoubtedly strength of mine. A new Tilly was thus presented to the masses. The whole effect was decreed to be positively charming.
At least so Richard had thought.
When he had first met the 'new' Tilly, she had been visiting me for the day. Richard had had entirely failed to recognize her and, without waiting for an introduction had proceeded to lavish all of his quite inconsiderable charm on poor Tilly. He had talked with her for above half an hour before thinking to inquire as to her name.
This was the point where things had got a little concerning.
Richard made rather a fool of himself - he refused to believe her, you see, when she admitted who she was. He had denied it loudly and vehemently. Thorn had eventually had to come and take him aside. Luckily for Richard, I think Tilly was more flattered than offended. I rather suspect that she had held a tendre for the dashing Colonel Fitzwilliam for some time and, at that time at least, had been willing to put up with his inanities. Their re-introduction had given Tilly the upper hand if nothing else, and Richard had been gentle and constant in his attentions since then.
I snorted with disgust - a Carte Blanche indeed!
'Now Tilly I am very sure that that is not what he did.' I told her firmly once her storm of weeping was finished.
'I beg your pardon, but I was there. He said that he...' the sentence was interjected by another loud sob, 'he wanted to look after me, what else could that mean?' There was something very strange in facing an indignant butterfly. I found her choice of costume rather heartening for Tilly had told me in her letters how Richard had often referred to her as such, referring of course to her transformation from mouse to sylph.
'Well...' I struggled for a moment.
'No, Kitty, it wasn't that he wanted to look after me forever. He didn't say that he had any special regard for me, he just said that he had enjoyed the time that we had spent together, that he wanted it to continue and that he wanted to look after me. What was I supposed to think?' I sighed.
'It is undoubtedly true that he has made a mull of it. There can be no question of that, but Tilly dearest, a man of Richard's character does not go about the place offering Carte Blanches to young ladies of fashion.' Tilly refused to be cheered.
'Maybe he does to ladies that are in the fourth season and who are hardly diamonds of the first water.'
'Nonsense.' I said stoutly. 'He is just inept. All men are really, it is just that some are better at covering this shortcoming than others. And really he is in very good company - Thorn made a mess of courting me, William hardly had a smooth time with Lizzy and even Charles was less than perfect to Jane.' Tilly's jaw dropped slightly at this last piece of news.
'No! Mr. Bingley...'
'Made a mull of it. Nearly broke poor Jane's heart.' I declared roundly. 'So you see dearest, you really are not the only poor female to have to endure this indignity.'
'Well I am sure that Lord Thornfield did not offer you a Carte Blanche!' That was it; that was the straw that broke the camel's back. I recognised that Tilly's reaction stemmed not from a lack of feeling for Richard, but from a deep seated lack of self-confidence, but enough really is enough.
'You are being a goose, Tilly.' I told her vigourously. Oh that Thorn could see me now! 'Are you really willing to lose the man that you love just because of a small understanding and some trivial insecurities?' Tilly sat with an open mouth at my strict tone. My tone and mien softened as I continued. 'Happiness like this only comes along every so often; we have to find the courage to risk a little. The reward is more than worth it, I assure you.' I squeezed her hands comfortingly. Tilly looked away, but not before I had seen the sheen of tears and deep uncertainty in her eyes. She looked back.
'I suppose. Oh, but Kitty I am so afraid!'
'We all were, dearest.' Tilly was about to reply when a look of abject horror settled on her features. Her fingers became as a vice about mine as she gripped for dear life in her terror.
'Lord, Kitty. He is coming.' Tilly turned back to face me but there was that blank look on her eyes that told me that she wasn't really seeing what she was looking at. She seemed to give herself a little shake and then proceeded to panic. 'Oh what shall I say? How do I look?' Her words were falling over themselves.
I smiled. 'Lovely.' I squeezed her hands in encouragement and then Richard was upon us.
'Lady Thornfield.' I was greeted and then dismissed from Richard's attention. He did not wait for my reply.
'Miss Watson.'
'Colonel Fitzwilliam.' Tilly had herself more in hand than I had thought for she quite deliberately presented Richard with a demure picture of femininity - her eyes becomingly downcast, a slight blush on her cheeks. The only sign of her inner agitation were her fingers, which were pure white as they gripped mine.
I was most surprised by what Richard proceeded to say next. I mean, I expected him to propose, of course, but I would've thought that he would have at least waited until they were alone!
'Forgive me, Miss Watson, but I have been most remiss. Permit me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. I cannot put a date or place to the start of these sentiments, but they have grown in me such that your happiness and comfort are now of paramount importance in my life. I would be honoured if you would please consent to be my wife.'
Richard, it would seem was not a man to beat about the bush when he had something on his mind.
'I, I...' There was a wild look in her eyes. I think it was all moving a little fast for poor Tilly. Still, one could not pass up such opportunities when they land in one's lap...
'Say 'yes' you idiot!' I whispered into her ear. Tilly looked up with a jolt.
'Yes, oh Richard, yes!' And with that my shy and retiring friend threw herself into her now fiancé's arms. Unnoticed I slipped away and joined my grinning husband in the hall. Deciding that he merited some reward for his good work, I slipped into his arms and gently kissed his cheek.
'Congratulations Lord Thornfield.'
'Congratulations Lady Thornfield.' This was growled in my ear before Thorn decided that he merited a better reward than a paltry kiss on the cheek.
I sighed with contentment as I was thoroughly and expertly kissed to pieces by my husband.
One down, three to go.
Posted on Wednesday, 30 March 2005
Anne de Bough, in the guise of a milkmaid, was accompanied to Lady Bellinger's ball by her mother dressed, funnily enough, as Catherine the Great. I assure you that this did not go unnoticed or uncommented upon by the haut Ton. By and by, I might note that this caused me to wonder whether this might signify perhaps a sense of humour on behalf of her Ladyship, a small awareness of society's view of her and a slight willingness to laugh at it. Very slight of course. A few moments in her company were enough to assure me that my thoughts were mistaken. Lady Catherine was as bombastic and unaware as ever.
It had been a thought though.
It may be wondered by those who do not know the background how it was that the sickly Miss de Bough was allowed so rough an ordeal as a London Season. Well Lady Catherine had, I think, been inspired by William's success at the Herculean task of marrying me off and so had sent Anne for her Season under his care. Apparently her presence at Rosings had been too pivotal to allow Lady Catherine to supervise this event personally. She would direct from afar, with the assurance of twice weekly updates from her harassed nephew, an arduous task as he is a reluctant letter writer at the best of times.
Anne had joined us in Town, not the easiest place to get acquainted on a good day but we had done our best. In the weeks that Anne had spent with the Darcy's we had got to know her quite well, and I at least was pleasantly surprised by what we found. Her health was indeed felt to be delicate (a fact which I confess I had been unconvinced of) but she had a gentle nature that was totally dominated by her mother's more boisterous spirit. Free of this influence she had proved herself to be thoughtful, kind and to even have more than a modicum of intelligence. She was want to be slightly more selfish than we perhaps might have liked, and slower to trust than other girls her age but it was only natural given her upbringing and they were habits that we appeared to be quickly breaking. I had predicted early on that, with a new hairstyle and some new dresses, we should have no difficulty in finding some fine upstanding young man who would wish to shelter and protect her. So it had proved and neither Thorn nor I were happier when his good friend Captain Alexander Cartwright had shown an attachment.
Alex and Thorn had apparently a long history of rather obscure beginnings. Alex has an estate in the north but had entered the navy in order to escape the tender ministrations of his mother and six sisters. This was a fate that few should have to endure. Or so he claimed. The navy recognises men of talent and Alexander Cartwright had been made Captain early in his career. He had everything in his favour - birth, occupation, looks, and character. Nothing could be found wanting. In fact, as I once told Thorn, it was just as well that I hadn't met him first or else who knows what might've happened? My reward for this remark was a rather cold shoulder, although it was poor Alex who bore the brunt of it. I believe that Thorn felt much better after soundly trouncing him at cards and in the safety of our own Townhouse I hastily assured Thorn that his jealousy, whilst most gratifying, was really quite unnecessary. There could only be one man for me - I was soundly hooked. He had agreed with this with alacrity and I have the strongest suspicion that it was the resultant accord that might well explain my current delicate condition.
Anyway, to return to Alex and Anne. Unfortunately this impressive list of credentials wasn't enough to satisfy Lady Catherine. Darcy had made the error of writing of the impending engagement to Lady Catherine, an error which Lizzy assured me she had since discussed with her husband at length. I doubt that she had read beyond the word 'sailor' before immediately assuming the worst. Anne had been plucked from the Darcy townhouse and returned to Rosings in a whirlwind. Lizzy and William had been away on morning visits, Anne having pleaded the headache, when this had happened so there was no one at home to correct Milady's assumptions that Captain Cartwright was just an officer on the make. Anne, I am sure would have been shouted down had she tried to explain, and really one cannot expect that she would break the habits of a lifetime and not submit to her mother.
One can hope, but it would be rude to expect.
Despite this lack of backbone shown by my friend I was determined to help her. One cannot chose one's relatives after all (only look at Mr. Collins) and Lord knows I would imagine that I would have difficulty standing up to Lady Catherine as well. We cannot all be as brave as Lizzy.
My plan on this front was simple - all I had to do was publicly endorse a prospective union. What Catherine Thornfield, Countess of Thrapsten and Darling of the Ton approved of could not be gainsaid by any Lady Catherine de Bough of Rosings, even if she is the daughter of an earl. Thorn thought this strategy might just work as long as the engagement wasn't a prolonged one. The longer the engagement the more chance we give that old witch of sticking her nose in, were I believe his exact words. My case is of course strengthened by the approval of not only Mr. Darcy but also the Earl of Matlock. My opportunity had come because the Earl had persuaded Lady Catherine to come to Town on the pretext of his throwing Anne's coming out ball. Thrift, if not motherly affection, had caused her to accept. My stage was set.
This would, I thought be really quite simple. I had reckoned without the honourable Captain Cartwright.
It was then not without misgiving that we located Lady Catherine de Bough. The sight that greeted us quite literally took our breath away.
We had halted in the middle of the door, quite blocking the entrance to the room but unable to move so surprised were we. It took Mr. Wooster's less than subtle cough to realise that we were inconveniencing people. Thorn pulled me over to one side of the room and whispered urgently in my ear. The look of sheer horror on his face was truly comical. I had begun to recollect myself and laugh a little, but it would seem that my suave husband was not yet himself.
'Kitten, I think that it has finally happened; I think that you have finally stolen what little good sense I had left. Please tell me that I didn't see what I think I saw.' My humour had started to be piqued by his reaction and I peeked round behind him, fully knowing what I would see. I smiled but quickly smothered it and turned back to Thorn with a straight face.
'No, no I think you are definitely seeing what you think you are seeing.' I told him solemnly. Thorn closed his eyes and swallowed as if in pain.
'Alex is flirting with Lady Catherine de Bough?' I glanced again, just to make extra sure.
'So it would seem.' I told him with no little relish. Thorn started to massage his temples.
'Darcy's aunt?'
'Yes.'
'The mother of the woman he loves? The same woman, in fact, who was so scandalised by the idea of her daughter marrying a sailor that she interrupted her daughter's one and only London season to drag her back to rural Kent?'
'The very same.'
'O Lord!' He moaned and leaned his poor head against the wall, his eyes closed against the sight that so offended his sensibilities. Curious to see how they were getting on and keen to know more, I looked again.
'If you don't like that idea then don't look now for I think Lady Catherine is blushing.' As I watched I saw her duck her head coyly in response to something Alex had said. She then blushed and fluttered her eyelashes at him!
A low groan escaped my beleaguered husband, who had been unable to resist a glance.
'Kitten, I think I need to sit down.' I linked my arm through his and turned him towards the door. Thorn needed me more than Anne and it would seem that Alex had things more or less in hand.
'Poor darling. Supposing that we find get you a nice strong drink? Then you will feel much more the thing.' I told him coaxingly. Looking over my shoulder for one last glance I saw that which I had most hoped to see.
'Thorn,' I tugged insistently on his arm, 'look!'
Lady Catherine had beckoned Anne to join the conversation and we saw a look of endorsement on her face as Alex lifted Anne's tiny hand to his lips for a kiss. Apparently Captain Cartwright was more than capable of managing his own affairs.
'Well I think that our work here is done.' I said with satisfaction. Thorn looked at me in askance.
'Now Kitten, we can't take any credit for that.'
'Nonsense, of course we can!'
Posted on Friday, 3 June 2005
With half of our task complete we took a moment for Thorn to compose himself once more. We managed to find a more subdued, I dare not say sober, part of the room where refreshments were made available for her Ladyship's guests. There I plied Thorn with brandy and soothing words. The poor man was really quite shaken by what he had seen of Lady Catherine. For fully five minutes he could do nothing but shake his head and the only coherent sentence he managed to say was: 'I did not believe that Alex had it in him' and something muttered which sounded suspiciously like 'nerves of steel, I could've done it if I'd tried'. For a while I toyed with the idea of leaving our task incomplete and taking Thorn home for rest and recuperation, however Thornfields have a strong constitution and he soon rallied. Then we were off again. Our couple this time: Mary Bennet and Mr. Max Calder.
Mary had come to London with William and Lizzy, the same as I had done the year before. Mama had originally wanted to accompany her on the Season but Father, upon hearing of Mama's plans, had declared that with the house empty he had decided to go on a tour of literary locations in the North and that he simply could not manage it without Mama. It was unclear whether this was out of concern for his pocket book, Mary's chances of attaching a husband or the risk of general ridicule at Mama in society but with such an entreaty she was trapped and to Scotland they went. Papa's self-sacrificing act was greeted with no little appreciation from his offspring and admiration from his sons in law.
Thus it was that Mary, after a couple of months at Pemberley with the Darcys and at Thrapsten with Thorn and I, was thrust upon the London scene. I had thought that the Darcys had more than enough to deal with having to introduce both Anne and Georgiana for the Season, I therefore invited Mary to stay with Thorn and I. My idea had been shouted down by William before it could be shared with the family at large. He had felt that Thorn and I should enjoy our time alone as we were so newly wed. With a new baby, a sister and a cousin to escort he argued that a sister-in-law was hardly an extra burden. I will admit that I did not put up much of a fight. In fairness to me, whilst in London I did try to take the three girls off Lizzy's hands for a fair proportion of the time though. Georgie and I were old friends, of course. Anne had, as I said, proved to be a more than pleasant companion. Mary, well Mary had changed.
When all five of us had been living at Longbourne Mary had been, well... to be honest she had been puritanical, narrow minded and just down right boring. I had entirely different faults but was hardly any better. Do not judge me harshly for I am not trying to disparage Mary but am just trying to point out the difference in my sister. Shortly before my marriage we had taken Mary to London for the first time. I had gently introduced her to society. She had found her niche amongst the bluestocking set, but we were pleased rather than discouraged. There were some ladies of sense to be found there, and they helped to open Mary's mind to more sensible and sympathetic points of view. Mary had spent the intervening year in study and furthering of her social skills (the former a matter of choice, the latter a matter of necessity to appease Mama). Her time had not been wasted - she did not solely quote from the Bible or Fordyce's anymore; now her repertoire was much more extensive and more fluently expressed.
Mary was thus, although in the essentials unchanged, greatly improved. She remained serious, yet now was able to smile; she remained silly and yet was no longer laughable; she remained extremely sensitive and yet was no longer wholly introspective. Also of improvement was her attitude with others - she was more aware of the feelings of those around her and more willing to engage with them.
Thus was her character on arriving to London. There was no little interest surrounding her arrival; she was after all the remaining unmarried sister of the Bennet's of Longbourn, of whom, excepting perhaps one whom no one had ever seen and who had married a soldier, had all married extremely well. By and large Mary coped very well with the attention. I am sure that she was pleased with the fuss after having been so overshadowed by her sisters for years. She had a small number of courtiers as well, and to these she was mostly ambivalent. That all changed when one morning Mr. Max Calder came to call on me.
Mr. Max Calder had been a firm friend of mine during my first season. He had at one time rather fancied himself in love with me, but that fit had passed and we remained friends. His background is largely known - he was the second son a baronet, his brother now holding the title. By the virtue of having had the good fortune to be bequeathed a large sum of money by some uncle or other and also being the heir to his brother's title he was something of a catch on the marriage mart. What was not so widely known was that he supplemented his income by being a correspondent on Society matters for a popular political newspaper. In this role his pseudonym was renowned for his insight, knowledge of gossip and cruelly accurate caricatures of members of the Ton.
Mary had been visiting when Mr. Calder had called that day. And I can honestly say that I have never seen Mary act in such a fashion in her entire life! What had started off as a routine visit had escalated, from I know not what, into an argument of gargantuan proportions. Mary, who normally avoids such confrontation and will often take refuge in a prim superior attitude actually stormed out in high dudgeon when Mr. Calder had suggested, mostly in jest I am sure, that women would never be able to hold positions in society such as a lawyer or a doctor as their minds were not suited to it. Mary had later declared him to be a horrid man in whose company she had no wish to be. It was then that I had started to be intrigued, but had not interfered. I did not forget though, the look of interest and humour in Mr. Calder's eyes at Mary's dramatic exit. Despite all of Mary's declarations to the contrary she received him when next he called, and I at least thought that I recognized a look of pleasure, quickly suppressed on her face.
And thus it had begun.
Theirs had not been a smooth or traditional courtship but it was touching none the less. As I watched I saw the amusement in my friend's eyes become accompanied by a deep tenderness. I saw his teasing become more personal. I saw my sister, usually so well controlled in her emotions lose her temper on several occasions and recognized this as a sign that he in turn touched her more deeply than most. I saw before she did how she would seek him out in a crowd. How her shoulders would be stiff until she saw him, and then they would lessen somewhat when assured of his presence. Before my enforced absence I had left Mary still in total denial of her feelings, but if things had carried on as before she could not have been in doubt for very much longer. Apparently whilst I was away Mr. Calder had shared with Mary his secret alternative profession. On reflection this had been somewhat of a mistake. Another fight of gargantuan proportions had ensued. On reading Lizzy's updates I had reflected that theirs would not be a quiet marriage and thought that this, like their other altercations, was merely a sign of their deepening feelings and that it would soon blow over. It had not. For the last three weeks Mary had refused to see Mr. Calder and had deliberately avoided all functions that she thought that she might meet him. According to Lizzy, Mr. Calder had even come to a lecture on Woman's Rights only to be sent away with a thick ear; his tail well and truly between his legs. She burned his letters. She gave his flowers to the serving girls. She was implacable; I was despairing.
Sending Thorn off to begin his half of our agreed plan, I found my sister, as expected, moralizing at the edge of Lizzy's set of admirers. I could tell by the glazed look in the young man's eyes that she had obviously been at it for some time. On seeing me approach the Unknown Soldier sent me a beseeching look. Little did he know that it suited my purpose to play guardian angel and so I detached fair Joan of Arc (Mary) from her poor musketeer and begged a word with her in privacy. After a moments hesitation, she assented and we wound our way round the couples.
As could be expected for so large a social gathering, private venues were rather hard to come by, and I was rapidly running out of options. My instinct, however, that the library would be in short demand proved to be correct. The servants were so busy that it was somewhat neglected and the candles had been allowed to burn so low that many had gone out. The lighting was therefore very poor which suited my purpose ideally. Mary, I am sure, had some insight into the topic of our discussion and was so distracted that she did not seem to notice that I did not pull the door fully closed. So much the better. The scene thus set I turned and properly looked at my sister.
Never known for her statuesque curves, she had lost weight since I had seen her last. Her look of strain showed mostly in the thinness of her cheeks, which was emphasized by the severe hairstyle necessitated by her costume. The shadows under her eyes suggested that she was having some difficulty sleeping. I am no physician but even I recognized the signs of her malady. I snorted with amusement. Joan of Arc indeed! How like Mary to identify herself as a victim and heroine at one and the same time. As her sister I saw it as my duty to try to correct her misapprehensions. That Lizzy had tried and failed only added to the excitement of my challenge. I smoothed the cloth of my costume and smiled at the aptness of my choice. After all, I was Cupid, when did my arrow ever fail to hit its mark?
Posted on: 2009-06-21
I reached Thorn's side but where he was jubilant I was distracted and anxious. He did not notice at once. The light was poor and he quickly embraced me as I reached his side.
'A job well done, I think. A quick kiss to congratulate ourselves and then we will go and find Darce.' It was only then that he got a look at my face.
'Kitten!' before I knew it I was whisked away and found myself in a quiet room with a glass of wine pressed to my lips. I took a sip and then pushed the glass away; I had no desire to lose my wits. Or rather to lose my wits any more than I had already. 'Delicate' condition is about right to my mind. The glass was again held to my lips and to placate him I took another sip. I was aware that my self control, always poor of late, was in danger of disappearing altogether. I was anxious to compose myself. I could see that I was worrying my poor husband: Thorn was crouched by my chair with his hand grasping mine overly tight. The concerned look was back and I could see that unless I acted swiftly I would be packed off home. I caught my breath and tried to distract us both by marvelling at Lady B's architect. And how on earth had he managed to find us this, yet another private, room? A poor scheme, rather unsurprisingly it did not work, Thorn was not to be swayed.
'I asked Lady Bellinger to have a room set aside for you to rest in. She gave me the directions and the key at the beginning of the night.' A very thorough man my husband. The glass of wine was again pressed to my lips. 'Have another sip, Kitty. Then I will have the carriage called, and Dr Meddings summoned. You are not well. You don't have a cough, do you?'
'Thorn! No! Indeed I am well.' Thorn looked unconvinced. 'I am just…' I felt my control come crashing down – I was so downright weepy of late I was quite disgusted with myself. What a milksop! Nevertheless such insight did not help my feelings of misery and I threw my arms around him as I succumbed to the tears that had been threatening. 'Oh Thorn,' I wailed, 'what if she hates me?'
'Who, Mary?' The question was asked into my hair and I felt the glass of wine being rescued before there was an irreparable wardrobe mishap.
'Yes!' Much the rest of my speech was incoherent and sobbed into his poor abused jacket. Such words as 'insupportable' and 'never forgive me' surely gave away the gist. Thorn was patient and waited the storm of weeping out. When he was quite sure I was finished he pulled away and offered me his handkerchief. I dutifully wiped my eyes and cheeks before blowing my nose in a most unladylike manner. As Thorn said, I did not cry elegantly. It was only when he was quite sure that I was more myself that he spoke.
'Kitten I would not have helped in this madcap scheme if I had not thought that it was the right thing to do, or indeed if I had not been convinced that it was what they both wanted.' I gave him an uncertain look. Thorn smoothed my hair back and kissed my forehead. 'It is done, Kitty, and it was done out of love and for the best. She is your sister and no matter what the outcome she will continue to be your sister.'
I considered this a moment and saw some sense. And it was true - what was done was done. It had not been undertaken lightly. Now we could only hope and crying would not change that. I gave a rather watery smile.
'I am being a goose, aren't I?'
'A little, Kitten, but it is not unattractive.' Thorn plucked his handkerchief out of my hands and sequestered it in a pocket. 'Feel better for your cry?' I thumped his arm in protest and had it caught. 'Kitty…you aren't going to like what I have to say but please, hear me out. Since you have recovered you have not…been yourself. I know that we had our period of … disagreement. But do not think that I did not notice that your spirits have been low, your mood changeable. You are crying very easily. And you are still not eating properly Kitten, why you hardly ever break your fast before noon nowadays.' How glad I was that neither mama nor Lizzy could hear this summary – the game would be up! But my poor dear Thorn, he looked so anxious about me. It quite broke my heart and it was all I could do not to burst into tears again. 'You have refused to see a doctor in weeks and Kitty you must, promise you must otherwise I swear I will be in Bedlam before the month is up! It cannot go on like this.' I could not longer contend with the anxious earnestness in his beloved face. I was aware that by confessing my delicate condition I was effectively signing myself up for several months of tortuous mollycoddling and unnecessary fussing but I considered that Thorn had been put through quite enough. Besides, should we manage to settle all romantic accounts then my friends would be otherwise engaged for a while. Complaining to Thorn about his over protective behaviour would fill the free afternoon hours nicely.
'I swear.' He looked taken aback that he had won so easily.
'What, really?'
'Yes, dear. I promise I will see whatever doctor you want in the morning.' I quickly clarified this. 'and by morning I do mean after eleven o clock!'
'Thank you, Kitten.' In truth he looked much relieved. 'How are you feeling?'
'Much better, I thank you.' I sighed and smoothed my skirts. 'I take it I am to go home now?' I was resigned but could not hide my disappointment. I had so desired to put all to rights on the one night.
'Well…' Thorn looked uncharacteristically uncertain. 'You are sure that Ardmore is leaving in the morning?' Surely he could not imply that we stay?
'I have it on the best authority.' I assured him, now openly curious. Thorn was silent for some moments, before breaking his meditation.
'Damn it but why couldn't Georgiana have chosen someone else!' Thorn exclaimed. Not, I am afraid, for the first time. Unlike on other occasions, I held my tongue. 'But we can't let her be abandoned over misplaced pride.'
I perked up. 'Why? What is your plan?'
Thorn grimaced. 'Much as it had been earlier. This will not be the work of an evening, but if we can at least get Darcy talking and stop Ardmore from running away that would be something. '
'Indeed, I think you would be my hero.' I said, eyes glowing I am sure. Thorn smiled and tugged – in a moment I was in his lap and could not have told you how I came to be there. A skilful man, my husband.
'I thought I was your hero anyway?' I wound my arms around his neck and lifted my lips for a kiss.
'Oh yes dear, did I not say even more my hero.'
'Humbug Kitten!' Thorn put some space between us. 'But after that we shall leave them to their own devices and you' and a steely glare was accompanied by a pointed finger 'you, my Lady, will be a witness to this evening's events and nothing more. No more excitement, you will leave it up to me. If you so much as look as if you are about say a word or get distressed then we are going home.' With this injunctive I was lifted and deposited on the sofa. A nearby rug was placed over my legs.
'I will be the very definition of lack of sensibility, I assure you.' I primly folded my hands in my lap. Before a dreadful thought occurred to me.
'But Thorn - I look a mess!' I gasped. Thorn looked up from straightening his necktie in the mirror.
'I know, it has been incorporated into the plan.' I did not consider that he took the matter seriously enough. I made it clear.
'Your plan cannot work. I cannot go out there.' To which I received a positively rakish smile that set my pulse racing.
'Then, my dear, they must come to us!'
As the Kitten is merely taking on the role of observer for this final round of infernal matchmaking I shall again take up the narrative reins. The lurid purple room that Lady Bellinger had assigned us for Kitty's care was well stocked with paper and after penning a few notes I found a handy servant to deliver them.
I shall fill in the time before our guests arrive by laying the history of the case before you.
In short I think it would be fair to say that Georgiana could not have chosen a more awkward or objectionable mate from amongst the Ton. Kitten might protest to me saying this all she likes but that is the plain truth in the matter. But no one understands better than I how the act of falling in love with a lady above your touch can be improving and it would seem that Ardmore is a like case.
But I get ahead of myself.
Lord James Ardmore has a history which ladies like to consider romantic and gentleman damnable – especially when his interest is attached to a female of your family. He was what my mother would've called 'born to be bad' and was the second son of the Duke of Sale. A miserly and bitter man in his prime, age did not improve the father. His first marriage did not beget and heir and on being swiftly remarrying following the loss of his first wife it was appear that he was finally met with success. His first son, Thomas, however was born early and was a sickly and slow child. James was born within 15 months of his brother and was everything he was not. They lost their mother a few years later I believe but I cannot remember the circumstances. What I do remember is that by the age of twelve James had been expelled from his first school, by fifteen his fourth and by seventeen was raising merry hell as a young buck in London. Following an infamous incident with the wife of a Marquis there was a near fatal duel. There was some talk at this time of the old Duke perhaps disinheriting Ardmore, or Lord James as he was then. but perhaps aware of how frail his heir was and knowing he could not lose his 'spare' it would seem that instead he stripped him of all his assets in an attempt to gather a measure of control over the hellion. In response to this Ardmore jumped upon a ship to India with nary 20 pounds in his pockets, if accounts are to be believed. He was not yet eighteen.
The stories of the next 15 years beggar belief but if even one story in ten are true then he must surely be one of the most debauched men in Europe. There is apparently not a night that he was sober, not a rule he hasn't broken and not a woman who was safe. However, even if he made only one tenth of the money he is supposed to then he is still one of the richest men in England.
Ardmore returned to England and London almost five years ago with a dark skin and a heavy purse. Whilst away his brother had died to a winter fever. I was present at Whites the first night of Ardmore's return. Although briefly attending the same school, Ardmore had been my senior in years and beyond the pleasantries I kept away. I heard his response however, on being told of his brother's death.
'So he succumbed at last! Poor Tommy.' Never a man of many words he raised his glass in salute, downed his whiskey and that was that. It is well known in London circles that the old duke made overtures for a reconciliation but that there were repeatedly rebuffed by Ardmore. Over the following years he showed no filial respect for his father and turned his back on his responsibilities. Pleasure, it would seem, was his business now. There was the usual horses, boxing, the tables, wild fancies and of course, women. In his favour he never gambled in excess and the wilder bets stemmed from boredom rather than malice. Or so I now hope. There were also an endless stream of women through his bedroom door. They were drawn I suppose to his looks and a certain edge of danger, which are I am assured by my lady wife, are not unattractive. Initially he was pursued by the mamas on the marriage mart but unafraid to snub young debutants and with his other wild behaviour it was soon clear that he was not a suitable mate for a young lady. After the second season of his return not even the most ambitious of mothers let him near her daughter. He took a string of high profile mistresses and broke the rules – he drove with them in the park; had extravagant gifts sent to their houses; accompanied them to parties which their husbands were known to attend. On reflection however, although flagrant in flaunting his paramours he did hold to a certain code - all his women had three things in common. They were all beautiful. They were all married. And they were all fully aware of what they did. In fact I cannot remember him showing even the slightest bit of interest in an eligible young single woman…well, until Georgiana.