Beginning, Previous Section, Section III

Chapter Thirteen

Posted on 2008-10-05

"I beg you, Miss Bennet, to make me the happiest of men, and agree to become my wife."

The words were spoken with affection and gentleness, but try as she might, Kitty could detect no force of passion behind them. She could not doubt his sincerity, either in his offer or his love, but she knew, with a sudden certainty, that she could not return his love, and moreover -- tears began to well in her eyes -- she could not accept his offer.

He was still watching her, puzzled at her lack of response, though he seemed to derive some small comfort from the wetness of her eyes. He still held her hand, and pressed it once in the hope of pressing an answer from her.

"Oh, Mr. Jamison," Kitty sighed, carefully drawing her hand out of his, "I am sorry. I am so very, very sorry."

This was, clearly, not the response he had expected. He looked at first very confused, and then rather angry. "Sorry, Miss Bennet? I don't have the pleasure of understanding you."

"I had almost decided," Kitty said sorrowfully, "I had almost determined on saying yes...I knew you were going to ask...but I cannot. I am so sorry!"

Mr. Jamison turned abruptly and walked away a few steps, his hands clenching uncharacteristically into fists as he went. He reached the end of the path, paused, then relaxed his hands and returned to where Kitty still stood, watching him miserably.

"You are not the type to trifle with anyone," Mr. Jamison said, leading to her seat nearby. "Your father made me no promises, and neither did you. I suppose I merely had more confidence in my abilities than was warranted." Kitty stared at him in surprise; he smiled sadly. "I am not so foolish as to believe that you must have refused me for any other reason than that you simply don't love me."

Kitty looked down at her hands. "I did try, Mr. Jamison, truly I did. But I don't think we are at all well suited, and..."

"You prefer him."

Kitty did not answer, but her silence was reply enough. Mr. Jamison, after a few moments' brooding, rose and offered to escort her back to the house. She accepted his arm; when they had entered the foyer he declined staying any longer, bowed gallantly over her hand, and quit the house immediately.

When Kitty entered the drawing room, her sisters could see immediately that something was amiss, especially as her loyal suitor had inexplicably disappeared from her side. The emotion in her eyes, however, stopped them from making any inquiries, and Kitty was relieved to be granted some reprieve. The evening passed in uncharacteristic silence, and though Kitty knew she had done the right thing, she wished that she had never had to do it at all.

The days and weeks that passed before Mr. Greerson returned were almost unendurable, in Kitty's opinion. Though they continued to visit, and be visited by the principle families in the area, Kitty felt that all of their parties, dinners, and excursions lacked something indefinable without his presence.

When he was finally known to be at the parsonage again, Kitty felt herself eternally grateful to Elizabeth, who suggested that the ladies visit him immediately and inquire after his family. The carriage ride to the parsonage seemed at once interminable and much too short. All too soon, and not soon enough, they were seated in the parsonage's small but tastefully appointed drawing room, cups of tea in their hands.

"You wrote of a family emergency, Mr. Greerson," Elizabeth said when all the niceties of welcomes and thanks had been dispensed with. "I hope all is well now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Darcy. My mother had fallen ill; her heart is not quite what it used to be, I'm afraid. She is well now, however."

"I think you said your sisters live with her."

"Yes, my two younger sisters, Beatrice and Cassandra. They had no indication that she would grow ill so quickly; they sent for me by express when they thought her to be in some danger. I hope you were not offended by my not taking leave."

"Offended!" Georgiana interrupted, sounding rather insulted herself. "How could we be offended in such an instance? Believe me, we felt nothing but concern."

Mr. Greerson smiled and bowed. Throughout the entirety of the conversation, though Kitty had not spoken a word, his eyes had been fixed on her with an expression of wariness and inquiry.

"I hope you will dine with us soon, Mr. Greerson," Elizabeth said. "We have missed your company."

"Have you?" he asked quietly, his eyes still on her sister. "I am honored."

Kitty felt her face turn red, and was so covered in confusion that she could not meet his eyes. She kept her gaze trained on her teacup. Mr. Greerson, attributing her bewilderment to some discouraging cause, dropped his own eyes to the floor and said little more for the rest of the visit.

When the visit was concluded, he walked them to the carriage. Elizabeth and Georgiana walked ahead and Kitty, reviving somewhat, turned to Mr. Greerson with a smile.

"I'm so glad to hear your mother is better," she said. "We were all very worried."

"I am grateful for your concern," he answered.

"You will accept Lizzy's invitation, won't you? I've missed our conversations, and I'm sure my brother..."

"I have been gone for some time, Miss Bennet, and there is a great deal of work which I must see to immediately. I assure you I will wait upon you all as soon as I can."

Kitty turned to him and scrutinized his face, which was grim and blank. "I hope you will. We have missed you."

Something seemed to flash behind his eyes, but it was quickly suppressed. "Thank you, ma'am," was the brief reply. He helped her into the carriage, bowed, and was walking back to the parsonage before anyone had the opportunity to say anything more. Kitty, more confused than ever, watched his retreating back and was hurt at his dismissal of her. She turned away, determined to think of it no more, and so did not see him turn at the door of the parsonage and watch the carriage disappear around the bend.

He had never had much hope, he knew. He now had none.

Philip Greerson, though not generally given to brooding, was doing just that in his study, watching the dancing flames in the fireplace wearily. When he had left for town at the urging of his sisters, he had known that Jamison would make the most of his absence. And Catherine Bennet, lively and free-spirited though she was, could not be expected to neglect her duty to her family and refuse such an eligible offer as she was certain to receive.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes when he remembered how she had determinedly avoided his eyes during her visit; how she had avoided, until the last moment, saying anything directly to him; how she had seemed hurt and confused when he had not responded to her overtures with any warmth. Her sisters had made remarks about missing him, but she had missed his conversation. Small comfort, that.

Greerson remembered, as though it had happened only the day before, their meeting at the inn. He had thought little of the encounter at the time, and had retained only a faint impression of beauty and good humor. Nothing had prepared him for the sight of the same young lady in his patron's drawing room, or the discovery that his memory had exaggerated neither her beauty nor her smile. He had been attracted to her almost immediately.

Miss Bennet was a strange mix of shyness and coquetry, intelligence and ignorance. Many in the neighborhood, he knew, considered her a good sort of girl, a kind of pale imitation of her clever and vivacious sister Mrs. Darcy. For his own part, he preferred her more hesitant wit and gentler sense of humor. Mrs. Darcy sometimes shone too bright: she was like the summer sun, while her younger sister had all the mild warmth of springtime. Miss Bennet could be counted upon to say something at once amusing and thought-provoking.

Though he could not bring himself to challenge or humiliate her suitor, Greerson felt that he'd been making tolerable progress. He thought he'd been able to detect a certain amount of warmth, and even tenderness, in her manner toward him of late. He might have gone so far as to think that she thought of him with a certain amount of regard.

But he had come too late, and she had accepted the other man. Nothing else could explain her reticence or her embarrassment. Perhaps if he had asked for permission to court her...perhaps if he had made his feelings a little more evident...perhaps if he had not insulted her beyond reasonable forgiveness in the beginning of their acquaintance...but "perhaps" was useless. There was nothing left now but to resign himself to her betrothal, and take the tenth commandment to heart.

Chapter Fourteen

Posted on 2008-10-12

Mr. Greerson did not call the following day. Georgiana, seeing Kitty's disappointment, reminded her how much work he must have had waiting for him when he returned after a two weeks' absence, and said quite reasonably that he must attend to his business before he could wait upon them. Kitty agreed to the rationality of all this, and entered into their daily amusements -- playing, reading, and trimming bonnets -- with her usual cheerfulness.

When he did not come the next day, Kitty attributed his absence to still more parish business; perhaps there were families to be called upon and babies to baptize. She scolded herself for being selfish, for coveting his time with others who must be more in need of it than she was. Did she not have enough company in the form of her sisters and the Miss Beechams? She knew she ought to be satisfied.

The negative reply to Elizabeth's dinner invitation, however, though politely phrased, was quite the last straw. Kitty could well imagine that he might be too busy to call in an informal way, but to refuse a dinner invitation! It was the outside of enough. She wondered at him, at his apparent unconcern for his duty to his patron. She worried for him at the same time, hoping that he had not fallen ill himself during his journeys. She recalled his behavior at the parsonage and wondered at that, certain that she had in some way offended him, and confused as to what exactly she had done.

Elizabeth, who had watched Kitty carefully since her refusal of Mr. Jamison's offer, could restrain herself no longer when a week passed with no visit from the rector. Kitty's face had grown more dejected by the day, and when she observed her sister sitting staring out of a drawing room window at the rain, her newest bonnet quite forgotten in her lap, Elizabeth decided that she had been cautious enough. She disliked forcing confidences, but her sister's behavior was growing quite alarming.

"Kitty?" Her voice was quiet, but Kitty started as if her sister had shouted.

"Oh! Hello, Lizzy. I was just...trimming this bonnet..." She looked at the torn-apart bonnet on her lap and the mass of ribbons and flowers on the table before her. "Oh..." she murmured, blushing.

"Are you quite well, dear? You've been quiet recently." Elizabeth sat on the other side of the table and began to sort through the ribbons.

"Of course! I have only been a bit tired."

"We have not really talked since...well, since Mr. Jamison's last visit." That gentleman had been quite conspicuously absent of late.

"I know I hardly need to tell you this...undoubtedly you have guessed it all," Kitty sighed, "but he made me an offer, and I refused."

"I did guess that," Elizabeth replied, disentangling a red ribbon from a yellow one. "Do you now...regret your refusal?"

"Not exactly," Kitty said thoughtfully. "I regret having refused him because I know that I disappointed him...but I just couldn't accept him."

"Did he behave...well?"

"I don't know what you mean. He always behaves well. I thought he might be angry, and perhaps he was, but he was very kind all the same."

"I'm glad to hear it." They were silent for a few more moments, while Elizabeth gathered her thoughts and arranged her words very carefully. "If you do not regret your refusal, and Mr. Jamison said nothing to upset or alarm you, may I ask what has caused you to be so melancholy this week?"

Kitty paused in her work, and refused to meet her sister's eyes. "It's selfish of me, I know, but doesn't it seem odd that Mr. Greerson hasn't called on us since he returned? I know he is busy, but I thought that your invitation...." She trailed off, afraid of revealing too much.

Elizabeth sat thoughtfully for a few moments before asking, "You are welcome to tell me to mind my own business, but I wonder...did you refuse Mr. Jamison because you felt more for another?"

"No!" was the hasty answer. Under Elizabeth's questioning gaze Kitty blushed, but persisted. "That wasn't the only reason, anyway. I didn't think we could be happy together. We like such different things; we don't even find the same jokes amusing." Elizabeth continued silent, and Kitty felt suddenly on the defensive. "Do you blame me for refusing him? He is rich, but we can't all have your luck, Lizzy!"

"I do not blame you," Elizabeth answered quite calmly. "I would have married Fitzwilliam regardless of his wealth, and rest assured that if I did not love him I would have remained single. But you haven't denied that you have feelings for another man."

"There is no point in denying it," Kitty huffed. "I believe everyone knows; even Mr. Jamison mentioned it. I can only suppose that he doesn't care." Despite the mixture of annoyance and dismissal in her voice, Kitty's eyes were suspiciously wet.

Elizabeth was silent, and regretted having begun such a painful subject. She did not understand what could have caused Mr. Greerson's sudden disgust for their company, and had no false cheerfulness to impart. Standing, she gave Kitty a gentle hug around her shoulders, and left her to herself.

Sunday came, and Kitty prepared for church, wondering at her anxiety. Mr. Greerson was bound to be at the church, after all, and he could hardly avoid her there. Disposed as he appeared to insult Mr. Darcy and his family, he would surely not go so far as to shirk his duties to his parishioners. With this cheering thought, Kitty chose a Sunday bonnet that she knew became her extremely well and practiced first her reverent gaze, and then her calm smile, in the mirror. She must not appear as if she had missed him this past week; that would be beneath her dignity. He would see her as he had seen her every Sunday: attentive and friendly, not blushing and nervous. A call from Georgiana made her start, however, and she hurried to downstairs to the carriage.

It did not escape her attention that the carriage ride to the church was more than usually quiet, or that Elizabeth and Georgiana appeared to be trying to observe her inconspicuously. They were failing spectacularly. Only Mr. Darcy appeared ready to treat this Sunday as no different from any previous. He was quite calm, and Kitty was grateful for it.

When they were seated in their pew, however, Kitty's nerves returned again, and it was with great effort that she kept her eyes fixed determinedly on the rector. If she felt anything at all in the rare event that his eyes met her own, she congratulated herself on concealing it very well. He spoke well, as always, but by the end of the sermon Kitty could not recall a single word. Her thoughts were all centered on the inevitable meeting that would take place in mere moments, though why it should be so important she could not explain even to herself.

The Pemberley family made their way slowly to the door at the conclusion of the service. Kitty hung back a little and watched as Mr. Greerson conversed politely with both Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, and even exchanged some words with Georgiana. It was now her turn. She stepped forward, her practiced smile bright on her face, her hand outstretched, a tease ready at the tip of her tongue. But he glanced past Georgiana and met Kitty's eyes, withdrew his own immediately, and turned towards another family as if he had not seen her overtures.

Stunned, Kitty stood quite still for a few seconds, unsure if he had cut her deliberately. Determined if possible to find out, she walked over to where he stood conversing with the Beechams and touched his shoulder. He turned with a smile, which faded when he recognized her.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Greerson," she said, with something of her accustomed playfulness, pretending with all her might that he had not greeted her properly.

"Miss Bennet."

"We have not seen you at Pemberley lately. I hope all is well."

"It is, I thank you."

No, she had not imagined it. He was being perfectly civil, but painfully cold and correct. "I am glad to hear it." He inclined his head, but appeared unwilling to say anything more. After a few more moments of silence, Kitty curtseyed and took her leave, her head and heart a turmoil of painful emotions.

Once she was safely back at Pemberley, Kitty could take no more of the silent solicitude of her sisters. The whole house seemed a cage, its walls oppressive, and soon after lunch she escaped to the gardens, where she could walk and brood and be silent, and receive no pitying glances. But even the gardens were too full of memories and feelings to be endured for very long, and Kitty soon struck out into the park, determined to outrun her troubles, if she could not outwit them.

Her troubles all seemed centered around one man; a man, at that, who at best was indifferent to her and at worst thought her a silly flirt. To be sure she thought that he had begun to pay her some attention, though not to the degree of Mr. Jamison, of course. But really she had preferred his quieter, more serious conversation to the extravagant compliments and delicate flattery of her former suitor. Futhermore, at least Mr. Greerson could be counted on to understand her. Having to explain herself during every conversation with Mr. Jamison had grown tiresome quickly.
It really was most unfair, she thought, that she had fallen in love with a man so clearly indifferent to her. She could hardly have expected better; he was a clergyman, and must wish for a serious, godly woman for a wife. How could he prefer Catherine Bennet, who had rarely had a serious thought or done a godly thing in her life?

With such heavy thoughts did Kitty wander about the park in no particular direction, and no regard for the time. She was just beginning to feel a little tired and hungry, and to wonder how on earth she would find her way back to the house, when a noise made her look up, and recognize the handsome figure of Mr. Greerson.

He was, clearly, surprised to see her as well. He started, turned red, and looked very much as if he wished to turn and walk away. There were no parishioners handy, however, to claim his time and provide him with an excuse, so he returned her curtsey with a low bow, and hoped the encounter would soon be over.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bennet."

"I did not know I had walked so far," she said. "Are we very near the parsonage?"

"Just around the bend," he replied, indicating the direction from which he had come.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then Kitty said, "I'm sure you are very busy, sir. I won't detain you."

His mouth a thin line, he made as if to pass her and continue down the path but Kitty, coming to a sudden decision, stayed him with a hand on his arm. "Mr. Greerson, please."

Slowly he turned to look at her, his face blank but or a look of mild inquiry.

"Have I done something to offend you? I think I have, but I don't know what it could be. I haven't even seen you since you came back from London, so how could I have done anything? Whatever it is, I am sorry! We were friends before you left; what have I done to lose your friendship?"

Mr. Greerson stared at her for a moment before turning away. "I'm sorry to have offended you, Miss Bennet. I had no intention of causing you any pain."

"Then you won't tell me? We cannot continue as we were?"

"I have no wish to do so, Miss Bennet. It would be neither honorable nor enjoyable."

His words cut Kitty to the heart. "I'm sorry if my company as ever been irksome for you, but I don't understand what you mean by ‘honorable.' What could be dishonorable about visiting and talking?"

Releasing a heavy sigh, Mr. Greerson turned to face her again. "Miss Bennet, I have known you to be spirited, vivacious, and teasing, but I had not thought you cruel."

"Cruel? What on earth are you talking about?" Kitty's eyes grew wide.

"It would not be fitting for me to visit you when you are engaged to another man, Miss Bennet, particularly in light of how I feel."

Kitty felt breathless; he could not mean what she thought he meant. "Mr. Greerson, I..."

"You cannot be ignorant of my feelings," he said, his voice growing more agitated. "Perhaps I haven't showered you with compliments or flowers, but I have done my best. I do not blame you for choosing Jamison, but you must allow me to follow my conscience in this. I can't continue visiting and conversing with you if I am to have any hope of forgetting you."

Kitty now felt distinctly faint. She tried to interrupt again, but he seemed to have gained momentum and showed no sign of stopping.

"It would be the height of dishonor to continue visiting you, and I am surprised that you can suggest it. Isn't the attention of your betrothed enough, or must you continue to be fawned over by two men in love with you?"

The happy dizziness that had nearly overtaken her disappeared entirely, and was replaced by an anger stronger than anything she had ever felt before.

"I wonder that you should have chosen to take the cloth, sir," she said frostily. "It appears your true calling would have been more along the lines of a gypsy fortune-teller."

His face turned pale with anger. "I wish you wouldn't blaspheme, Miss Bennet."

"I suppose you had the news of my engagement from some reliable source? Let's start with that accusation first. Who told you of such an occurrence?"

"It was evident enough from your embarrassment at the Parsonage. I knew Jamison would take advantage of my absence..."

"What a sense of self-importance you've developed! I wish I could say that you were wrong, but you are correct...at least, Mr. Jamison did make me an offer. As for the rest of your predictions, you must practice your omnipotence a little more, because I refused him."

It was now Mr. Greerson's turn to stare at her in wide-eyed shock. "Refused him? But why?"

"Perhaps you can tell me," Kitty snapped. "You know so much about my heart, after all. I congratulate you on your talents; I didn't know my heart myself, until a few days ago! If only I had thought to consult you!"

"Miss Bennet, I..."

"It might interest you to know that I have had the very great misfortune to fall in love with you," she said heatedly, her brown eyes flashing with anger and pain. "If I had only known it was happening, or could tell what pain it would cause me, I might perhaps have prevented it. It is too late now, but I am sure that thanks to your excellent plans, I'll be able to forget it all."

Turning abruptly to hide the tears now streaming down her face, she ran blindly down the path, bent only on reaching Pemberley as soon as possible. She thought perhaps he might attempt to follow her, but he did not. When she reached the house, she ran up the stairs and into her room without saying a word to anybody

Chapter Fifteen

Posted on 2008-10-18

After milling about in her room for ten minutes, Kitty at last ventured out into the house to search for her sisters. She had never enjoyed confiding in others very much -- Lydia had been too apt to laugh, and Mary had preferred to lecture -- but there were so many thoughts and feelings rolling about in her head that she felt that expressing them to another person might help her to understand herself. She knew that in Elizabeth and Georgiana, she was at least guaranteed a sympathetic audience.

She found them in the music room, poring over some new harp music that Georgiana had ordered from town. Elizabeth had agreed, though reluctantly, to allow Georgiana to attempt to teach her the harp. These new pieces were to begin her education. When Kitty entered the room, however, they set the music aside and looked as if they did not quite know what to say to her.

"Where have you been hiding?" Elizabeth asked at last, with an attempt at her usual teasing manner. "We missed you for tea."

"I wanted a walk," Kitty replied. "I wish I had stayed."

Georgiana rushed to her side. "Did something happen? Were there gypsies?"

Kitty laughed in spite of herself. "What an imagination! You've been spending too much time with me."

"What's wrong, Kitty?" Elizabeth asked, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa.

Kitty paused to order her thoughts, wondering how much she should divulge. At length she decided that she could not hope for good advice if she did not tell them all. And it would really be a great relief to tell someone. She began the tale calmly enough, but the memory of his words and his expressions soon nearly overpowered her, and she ended her story in tears.

"Oh, poor Kitty!" Georgiana cried, wrapping her arms about Kitty's shaking shoulders. "What could he have been thinking, speaking to you in such a way?"

"You spoke correctly, at least," Elizabeth said, her mouth very tight. "You could hardly have been less fortunate in your choice."

Kitty stared at her, stung. "I did not choose to fall in love with him!"

"Of course not," Elizabeth said hastily. "That isn't what I meant at all. I only meant that it was very unlucky."

"But it was all a misunderstanding, after all," Georgiana said hastily. "He thought you were engaged to Mr. Jamison."

"He had no reason to think that. He didn't bother asking anyone! He merely assumed...as he has continued to assume everything about me from the very beginning!" After a short pause, she added, "How can he claim to love me when he thinks so badly of me?"

"Love is not rational," Elizabeth replied, joining her sisters on the sofa. "But there is a difference between being in love, and loving someone. He may be attracted, even infatuated, but I agree when you say that he can't love you with such a low opinion of you."

"Perhaps it was only his despair that made him say such awful things," Georgiana interrupted. "I am sure he can't have been thinking clearly."

"He is always thinking clearly," Kitty said sadly. "It's one of the things I admire most about him."

"No one is a paragon of level-headedness," Elizabeth warned her. "Particularly not in this area!"

Kitty smirked at her for the first time since beginning her story. "Not even your Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Especially Fitzwilliam!"

"But Kitty," Georgiana said eagerly, still caught up in the delightful world of tormented love, "what if he calls tomorrow to beg your forgiveness?"

The very idea seemed to horrify her. "I shall stay in my room, of course."

"But..."

"No!" Kitty's expression turned mulish, much more like the Kitty of Longbourn. "He's insulted me, and even if he asked, I wouldn't marry him now for...for...ten thousand pounds!"

Georgiana had certainly been gifted with remarkable insight, for the next day brought an even graver than usual Mr. Greerson to Pemberley. He seemed uncertain as to whether he would be admitted at all, or welcomed when he was shown in. Elizabeth and Georgiana received him, but Kitty, as promised, had run to hide in her room as soon as he had been announced. She left no message for him, and trusted that Elizabeth would be able to make her feelings perfectly clear.

Her absence was, to Mr. Greerson's mind, hardly unexpected. He had come to Pemberley with no expectations, and was only grateful that the butler had not been instructed to close the door in his face. The cold civility of Mrs. and Miss Darcy, however, did not make his reception any more enjoyable.

They sat together in total silence for three minutes before Mrs. Darcy observed that the sermon the day before had been particularly well delivered.

"Thank you, madam," Mr. Greerson said uncomfortably.

"I found your strictures on the nature of love to be particularly instructive," she said with icy formality.

He felt himself flush. "I have always been fond of Paul's letter to the Corinthians. Paul has been accused of cruelty and intolerance by many, but his description of love* is poetry in its purest form, to my mind."

"I have always had particular trouble with the warning against being moved easily to anger. I have a quick temper, and I'm afraid I let it loose far too often."

"We have all of us certain weaknesses," he said cautiously. "There are some of Paul's words that are particularly difficult to abide by. The description of love as always having hope, for example, is, I believe, difficult for many. There is much to destroy hope in the course of life."

"Indeed," Mrs. Darcy answered, a brow raised. "But I wonder if the circumstances that destroy hope and trust are not, more often than not, self-inflicted."

Mr. Greerson blushed more deeply. "That is certainly possible." After another moment or so of silence, he said, "I hope Miss Bennet is well. I notice she has not joined us."

Georgiana, her face a perfect mask, said quite coolly, "She is perfectly well, thank you, sir." He waited, but no polite explanation for her absence was given. He was unsurprised, but disappointed all the same.

He rose then to take his leave of them, and as he walked out into the hallway could not resist a peek at the hallway above. He half hoped to see a flurry of skirts whisk around a corner, as proof that the young lady felt at least some curiosity to see him. He was granted no such reprieve; the hallway remained perfectly silent and deserted. Mr. Greerson left Pemberley House no happier or surer of his fate than when he had entered it.

Kitty descended the stairs to the music room when she was certain the gentleman had gone. Elizabeth and Georgiana had returned to their harp music, and Kitty took up some embroidery that she had left on a table. She listened to Georgiana explain how the notes on the paper related to the strings on the instrument.

"You have such a talent for the pianoforte that I think you can't fail to succeed on the harp," Georgiana was saying in an encouraging voice.

"Your estimation of my talents is flattering, but hardly accurate," Elizabeth said affectionately. "You are too much like your brother in that sense."

Kitty's mind flew to a conversation she had had with Mr. Greerson about accomplishments and affection. He had insisted that affection made one think better of the beloved's performance. Georgiana and Darcy were the most vocal in support of Elizabeth's talents, but they were also her most ardent admirers, both of her personality and her beauty. Perhaps this affection made them the least credible.

Shaking her head clear of these thoughts, Kitty turned to her sisters and asked, "How did he seem?"

Surprised away from their conversation, Elizabeth and Georgiana exchanged glances. "He seemed very disappointed that you weren't here," Georgiana said, "but not very surprised."

"He's an intelligent man," Elizabeth observed. "I'm sure he expected no kinder welcome."

"He asked after you, if you were well," Georgiana told her, "but mostly we talked of his sermon. I think he is sorry."

"Perhaps," Kitty replied, but said no more, and her sisters were obliged to drop the subject. As Georgiana showed Elizabeth to sit at the harp, Kitty listened with amusement to Elizabeth's frustrated sounds as she attempted to place her fingers on the correct strings. Sometimes, she thought, despite all her wisdom and poise, Lizzy was very much as she had always been.

Chapter Sixteen

Posted on 2008-11-01

Mr. Darcy needed no one to tell him that something very strange had happened between his sister-in-law and his parson. The ladies had stopped teasing Kitty, and no one even seemed to expect Mr. Greerson to call upon them. Darcy still saw him about three times a week to discuss parish business, but he no longer headed for the drawing room when their business or chess game had been completed. Never the most talkative of men, Mr. Greerson had become taciturn.

Kitty herself, Darcy noticed, was not exactly cheerful either. She did not seem despondent or gloomy, but quieter and more thoughtful. She contributed but little to conversation in the evenings, when she had always been an active participant before. She had become nearly as introspective as Georgiana, though still not as shy. He was not certain, but he suspected either a proposal or a quarrel, or quite possibly both. A brief conversation with Elizabeth, who clearly wished to confide in him but feared betraying Kitty's confidence, convinced him that he was right.

As an experiment, Darcy invited Mr. Greerson to join them for dinner after one of their meetings. The invitation surprised him, but he agreed politely enough. Darcy kept a close watch on both of the principals throughout the meal. Kitty steadfastly refused to speak to the rector unless absolutely necessary, and Mr. Greerson seemed meekly to accept her decision. When they joined the ladies in the drawing room, they found Elizabeth and Georgiana employed at the harp; Kitty had excused herself with a head-ache.

When Mr. Greerson had gone, Darcy excused himself as well, and left a very puzzled-looking wife and sister behind him. He climbed the stairs swiftly and gained the hallway just as Kitty exited her bedroom. She started on beholding him, and blushed.

"I hope your headache is better, Catherine," he said rather ironically.

"I thank you, it is. I only needed some peace and quiet."

"No doubt."

She blushed again, and began to pass him, but he asked, "Might I have a word with you?"

Kitty was wary, but agreed, and he asked her to join him in the library. She was extremely quiet for several minutes, unsure what she had done to deserve what was certain to be a lecture.

"We missed you after dinner," Darcy opened.

"My head-aches are usually inconvenient," Kitty said.

"On the contrary, I was under the impression this one was unusually well-timed. I haven't noticed that you are particularly prone to head-aches."

Kitty refused to meet his gaze.

"I have been called obtuse in these matters; no doubt I am, but it hasn't escaped my attention that you and Mr. Greerson have had some kind of falling out." When she still did not answer him, he asked, "Am I right?"

"We are...currently not speaking."

"Has he upset you in some way? Should I speak with him?"

"There's no need for that," Kitty said, sounding alarmed. "We've merely had a disagreement."

"Elizabeth hasn't told me what happened, you know," he reassured her, "and I understand that I am not the most sought-after of confidantes. I won't make you tell me anything, but I would like to speak to you."

She nodded, but did not reply.

"I don't know what misunderstandings have come between you and Mr. Greerson, but I warn you to realize that no man is perfect." He paused, seeming to gather himself. "I don't consider myself worthy of your sister. In fact I never have, not in any way that truly matters. A man who falls in love is more often than not convinced that the lady in question is a prize beyond measure, and practically unobtainable."

"I'm sorry," Kitty interrupted, "but what does this have to do with Mr. Greerson and myself? He has never acted as if he particularly admired me."

"Not in the way of the Mr. Jamisons of the world, to be sure. He does look at you a great deal, call on you often, and listen attentively to your conversations when he can't converse with you himself."

Kitty opened her mouth to protest again, but closed it quickly when she realized that he was right. She had never quite been able to understand Mr. Greerson's frequent calls, still less his silence during his visits. Could Mr. Darcy be correct?

"That doesn't explain his words," Kitty protested. "I can't bear to repeat all he said, but...he thinks so little of me! He thinks me vain and selfish and...and all manner of terrible things!"

"Perhaps," Mr. Darcy said, "he spoke defensively. Perhaps he would rather imagine you unworthy of his regard, than really indifferent to him. I highly doubt he actually thinks so badly of you." Kitty looked doubtful, and he continued. "I was determined to believe Elizabeth ineligible until I became convinced I could not do without her. I was made to see the error of my ways and I'd like to believe that we are as happy a couple as any. I only want you to think on what I've said; I shan't direct you anymore." Kitty nodded, but made no move to leave the room, so Darcy quitted his own library, leaving his sister-in-law to her thoughts.

At first there were too many to enumerate, so Kitty tried to focus on one thought at a time. The first, that Mr. Darcy had actually taken her aside to plead Mr. Greerson's cause, was rather amusing, and she was glad to laugh. Whoever would have taken her brother-in-law for a matchmaker? Then her thoughts turned naturally to his words themselves, and she was serious again.

She threw a speculative glance over the whole of their acquaintance, and was forced to admit that Mr. Darcy had made some very good points. Mr. Greerson's actions did seem to speak of admiration now that she thought of it, and she had mistaken his reticence for indifference, or worse, contempt. And even if she had never spoken to Mr. Greerson of her unsavory opinions, she had at many times labeled him proud, arrogant, and even insufferable, rather than believe him indifferent to her. Could he not be guilty of the same error, of trying to think the worst of her rather than admit her lack of interest?

It was all hopelessly tangled and confusing, but so were all of their dealings with each other. They had never had a conversation without some veiled meaning or misunderstanding. But this largest of misunderstandings could easily lead to their most perfect understanding yet. He had admitted to loving her, and she had done the same. The availability of each was perfectly established; there could be no further confusion there. What was there left to do, after all, but go forward?

The very next Sunday, Kitty approached the church with greater equanimity than she had ever possessed. She had now no doubt of her reception, and attended to the sermon with ease and calmness of purpose. When the sermon drew to a close, she approached Mr. Greerson and, as agreed to earlier by her brother and sister, asked him how he did, and cordially asked him to dine with them that evening, if he had no previous plans. Astonishment and relief were apparent on his face, and he accepted readily.

He was punctual, everyone was pleasant, and everything was as it should be. No words passed between them about either their quarrel or their reconciliation, but no one could be in doubt of their good understanding. He talked and laughed more than had ever been his custom, and she was more than willing to tease whenever the opportunity arose. Their good spirits affected the rest of the party, without anyone's knowing exactly how it was done, and when he departed, everyone knew that such a lengthy separation would never occur again.

Mr. Greerson was, most definitely, a fixture at Pemberley once more.

Chapter Seventeen

Summer had never seemed lovelier to Kitty. The season was fast approaching, and Derbyshire, she was assured by Georgiana and Darcy, was second to no county in the beauties it afforded. Every day the green of the grass and leaves grew deeper and more vibrant, and the sun began to shine with more courage. Flowers were blooming in the gardens, and Kitty was now well-versed in every lane and avenue those gardens possessed. She was still not a great walker, but took pleasure in her little strolls all the same, particularly when in the company of her favorite clergyman.

That gentleman's presence at Pemberley had been so firmly established that Mr. Darcy, who was progressing every day in the study of teasing under Elizabeth's excellent tutelage, sometimes talked of giving him a room and inviting him to stay. Kitty always blushed furiously, but was too gratified by the attentions that inspired this wit to be offended. Mr. Greerson, faced now with no rival and no crippling uncertainty, was nearly as open as her heart could desire, and neither ever wasted an opportunity to better their understanding of one another.

"Have you had any further news of your mother?" she asked one day as they strolled about the garden a respectable distance from the house. "I hope there is no fear of a relapse."

"She is no longer young, but she is as healthy as can reasonably be expected," he replied.

"You said that your sisters live with her? Are either of them married?"

"No, neither. Cassie has a few suitors, I understand, though I certainly don't know whether she prefers any of them. Bea prefers to stay at home and help our mother; she has never had much patience for London and its more frivolous diversions."

"I daresay she and Mary would get along very well," Kitty mused, and then blushed at the implication that their sisters would ever have occasion to meet.

"Bea and Cassie have their differences, certainly, for Cassie is rather passionately fond of balls and musicales and the like, but they are united in wishing me at home with them again. In fact, they were rather tenacious about it when I was there."

Kitty laughed. "I wondered that you should remove so far from your family. I thought nothing of it at first, when Lizzy married Mr. Darcy and came here, but after a month or so everything was dreadfully dull without her. And Jon is always somewhere else. Yes, I understand your sisters."

"But you have two sisters still at home, I understand, and from what Mrs. Darcy has said, I thought Mrs. Bingley wasn't settled very far from your home."

"Yes, I do have Mary and Lydia, and Jane is not far off," Kitty said thoughtfully. "But we are all so different. Mary always has her books and her music, and Lydia..." she sighed. "It's strange, but Lydia was once my best friend. At least, I thought she was. We were always together, and we thought alike about everything. And now she is at Longbourn with no one but Mary and Mama for company. I do wish she could have come with me."

"Was she not invited by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy?"

"No," Kitty said hesitantly, "there is some...rather bad blood between her and Georgiana. Lydia wasn't entirely to blame, but that didn't make it any better...I'm sure she suffered as much as anyone afterwards...I'm sorry!" she exclaimed on seeing his very confused expression. "I really can't share all the details, but Lydia was dreadfully deceived by...someone...and caused Georgiana a great deal of pain and trouble. Poor Lydia. She was so sure."

"And so to spare Miss Darcy the memory of that pain, Miss Lydia was excluded from the invitation to Pemberley?"

"Yes," Kitty sighed. "I'm afraid I was dreadfully unkind when I received my invitation. I crowed and boasted like anything. I'm so ashamed of it now, but it was the first that anyone had ever preferred my company to hers. I suppose I've been a very bad sister."

"Miss Lydia is your older sister?"

"Oh, goodness no. Mary is older than I am, but Lydia is younger. That's what's so terrible about it. I should have been an example, like Lizzy and Jane. I haven't been very good to Lydia at all," Kitty ended sadly.

"I cannot have any opinion on that matter," Mr. Greerson said cautiously, "as I don't know your sister and have never witnessed your treatment of her. If, however, you believe that you have wronged her, it is certainly in your power to correct it."

Kitty smiled despite her rather depressed spirits. "There are so few people," she said, "who would have answered me that way instead of exclaiming that I must not be so hard upon myself and that surely I had done all I could."

"If it pleases you I will say that, but I seem to remember that you dislike polite protests."

"Passionately. I far prefer your honesty."

They smiled at each other before consciousness overtook them, and when he next spoke it was about something trivial and lighthearted.

These conversations were the brightest spots in Kitty's life, but always left her rather frustrated. His every look and sentence spoke of admiration, approval, and respect, but she felt that they had already established their affection for each other. What else could be left to say? What more could he desire? In short, why had he not yet made her an offer?

She refused to believe that he feared rejection. She had made her preference for him abundantly clear, and all her blunders that could lead to a declaration and proposal were not entirely accidental. But no matter how many times she commented on her love of Derbyshire, her admiration of the parsonage, or her envy of her sisters and their husbands, he remained continually composed and insensitive. She began to fear that if he said nothing within the next month or so, she might disgrace herself and her entire family by making an offer herself. Her visit at Pemberley was rapidly coming to a close, and soon he would be entirely out of her reach.

Jane and Bingley were due to arrive at Pemberley within the week, stay for a month, and take Kitty back to Longbourn with them at the end of June. Elizabeth, who missed Jane acutely despite her delight in her husband and home, was full of plans and schemes for the entertainment of her favorite sister and brother-in-law. As she was relaying all these plans to Kitty one afternoon, Mr. Greerson appeared in the music room, having been released from a rather disastrous chess game with Mr. Darcy. He saw Mrs. Darcy all animation and Miss Bennet, who had heard these ideas three times over at least, trying valiantly to remain attentive.

Elizabeth was forced to pause in her recitation and greet him, and then laughed. "She may seem all calm smiles and politeness," she said, indicating her sister, "but I'm sure Kitty has been praying for your appearance for at least an hour. I've been boring her to tears, and she must need a diversion."

"Nonsense, Lizzy," Kitty said unconvincingly. "I was very interested!"

"I wouldn't wish to interrupt a conversation," Mr. Greerson said with a smile. "I can call another time."

"Oh, no!" Kitty cried hastily, and blushed when both Lizzy and Mr. Greerson smiled. "I'm sorry, Lizzy. I was trying to be interested, truly I was."

"I understand your sister Mrs. Bingley is to visit soon," Mr. Greerson said to Elizabeth. "Mr. Darcy told me of it."

"Yes, and I am very much looking forward to it, as you may have guessed. I will never quite forgive Mr. Bingley for taking my Jane away from me."

"They seem particularly well-suited," Mr. Greerson observed.

"Yes, indeed; Mama never tires of exclaiming over their suitability."

"You mean her success," Kitty said with a smile. "She still believes that she was somehow involved in their engagement."

"She was certainly an ardent supporter," Elizabeth sighed.

"I don't think she had their suitability in mind when she made her plans," Kitty pointed out, but thought it best to drop the subject in Mr. Greerson's presence. He was looking suddenly rather grim.

The very night after this conversation, the reason for his silence burst upon her like a lightening bolt. Her mother! Mama had been horribly obvious in her rejection of him as a potential suitor, and a staunch supporter of Mr. Jamison. Her mother's opinions held little sway over her own, but what if Mrs. Bennet refused her consent? She was not yet of age; she must abide by her parents' decision, and she feared her father would not deem her happiness worth the bother of quarrelling with her mother. She had never been of much importance to him.

Jumping instantly from her chair, Kitty ran to her desk and scrawled a very hasty, and not very elegant, letter.

Dear Papa,

You might remember Mr. Greerson from your visit at Easter. He is courting me now and I think, I hope, he wishes to make me an offer. But I remember everything that Mama said and did last Easter and I think he is afraid of your disapproval. Papa, please tell me that you will not refuse your consent whatever Mama may say. I love him so very much! We have never been great friends but I beg you to help me. Do say you will!

Yours,
Kitty

Kitty dared not even read the letter over, lest she lose her nerve, but instead sealed it and took it immediately to her brother to frank.

For ten days she awaited his answer, praying that he would sense the urgency of the situation and answer immediately. Jane and Bingley arrived, but Kitty was too distracted and anxious to pay them much mind. When the answer did come, however, she found herself more confused and nervous than ever before, for it consisted of but four words:

Leave all to me.

Chapter Eighteen

Posted on 2008-11-08

Kitty could make neither heads nor tails of her father's note, if such it could be called. Perhaps he would publish a premature announcement in the papers? A letter to Mr. Darcy? Did he intend to visit Pemberley and confront Mr. Greerson personally? The questions promised to drive her mad.

She shared the contents of her letter and the note with all of her sisters, hoping that either Jane or Elizabeth, who knew her father better than she, would be able to shed some light on his possible plans. Her elder sisters, however, were equally flummoxed.

"He surely would not do anything so rash as come to Pemberley and confront Mr. Greerson," Jane said reassuringly.

"No, indeed," Elizabeth agreed, "it would be far too much trouble. I think he might write Fitzwilliam, though what Fitzwilliam could do I have no idea."

"I wish I'd never written that letter," Kitty said fretfully. "I'm sure I've done more harm than good!"

"No one thinks quite clearly in circumstances like these," Elizabeth said gently.

Kitty smiled but did not feel much better.

Mr. Greerson's visits continued, and Kitty checked the post discreetly every day to see if another letter from Mr. Bennet showed itself. There were none, addressed to herself or otherwise, and after three days Kitty began to breathe freely again, and feel that perhaps she had worried over nothing. Perhaps her father's note had been a joke meant to amuse him while he imagined her anxiety over his meaning.

Three days after her receipt of this note, Mr. Greerson called at Pemberley. This, of course, was not in itself unusual, but everyone was quite at a loss to account for his extremely high spirits. He greeted them all in the most cheerful manner, and entered readily, even loquaciously, into the conversation.

"Mrs. Darcy, are you persevering with the harp?" he asked, on seeing that instrument standing in the drawing room instead of its usual post in the music room.

"I am, but I find it most frustrating. Georgiana is the most patient creature in the world, or I'm sure she would have given me up long ago."

"You don't find that you make much progress, then?"

"Not at all. I believe I can now pluck one or two scales without missing more than three notes."

"She won't let anyone near her while she practices," Kitty offered, "except Georgiana. I daresay she's afraid we will laugh at her."

"Afraid!" cried Elizabeth indignantly. "I most certainly am not!"

"It is very unkind," Mr. Greerson smiled, "of her to suppose such meanness in you."

"It's not at all unkind," Kitty laughed, "because I probably would laugh, and then she would laugh with me, and then the lesson would never get on at all and poor Georgiana would be cross with me."

Miss Darcy shook her head with a smile.

Elizabeth, still smarting a little from the implication that she should be afraid of laughter, teased her sister, "And how do you get on in the study of drawing, Kitty? I have yet to see any of your sketches."

"Oh, don't talk to me of drawing!" Kitty cried, her face reddening. "I can never make the pencil do as I wish, and everything I draw looks just like everything else!"

"Perhaps you draw things as you think they should be, Miss Bennet," Mr. Greerson said gallantly. "Uncomplicated and undistinguished."

Kitty made a very unladylike noise that sounded like "Harumph!" and refused to speak more about drawing. When the conversation lagged a little, Mr. Greerson expressed a wish to walk in the gardens; Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Kitty agreed immediately, but Jane desired to stay behind.

Georgiana, eager as ever to promote her friend's happiness, insisted upon walking at a pace that would have been envied by the slowest snail, and keeping Elizabeth firmly pinned to her side. Such a pace was nearly intolerable to Elizabeth, but observing how intent Mr. Greerson appeared to be on conversing with Kitty in private, she felt that she could sacrifice her own enjoyment for the sake of her sister.

"You are in excellent spirits today," Kitty ventured, nervous in spite of herself.

"I've had an uplifting morning," Mr. Greerson replied cheerfully. Reaching into his coat, he produced a small envelope addressed, Kitty saw with a sinking heart, in her father's handwriting.

"Oh, I knew this was a terrible mistake," Kitty sighed.

The gentleman smiled. "The letter is brief but to the point. How could you possibly have known...you are gifted with more insight than I. Several times in the last few weeks I've wished...but I needn't explain."

Amused, Kitty felt her embarrassment begin to subside. "You couldn't have thought I shared my mother's opinions."

"No...you had made yourself perfectly clear. I worried, I confess, that she might withhold her consent, without which I would not have been comfortable proceeding."

"And what did my father have to say that has made you so happy?"

"Merely that he would support anything that secured his daughter's happiness."

"Oh?"

"Well," Mr. Greerson's smile broadened, "he also complimented me on my taste, but scolded my lack of action. He warned me that I must not count on your patience."

"I have virtues enough," Kitty sighed dramatically, "but patience is certainly not one of them."

"You have been more than patient with me," he replied, his voice growing tender. "I have not deserved your forbearance or your friendship, and you have offered both. I should perhaps not desire anything more, but I'm afraid I do." They had stopped walking without realizing it, and Mr. Greerson took her hand in his. "Will you grace me with your companionship and love in a more permanent fashion, Miss Bennet? Will you marry me?"

Kitty's answer, and Mr. Greerson's happiness, may be guessed, and it was fortunate for the reputations of both that Elizabeth and Georgiana joined them in the next moment. Nothing was said, but Kitty's sparkling eyes and Mr. Greerson's broad smile told their story for them. They all walked in companionable silence back to the house, with Kitty on Mr. Greerson's arm, and if they walked a little closer together than necessary, no one remarked upon it.

Chapter Nineteen

Posted on 2008-11-16

When they returned to the house, Mr. Greerson went immediately to Mr. Darcy's room to apply for his consent. Kitty remained in the drawing room with her sisters, and scarcely had she drawn breath to acquaint them with her news, when Georgiana flew at her and embraced her so tightly she thought her ribs might crack.

"Oh, Kitty!" she cried, sounding close to tears. "I am so happy for you! To think after all everything has worked out exactly as it should! And you will be so close to Pemberley that I can see you every day! Could anything be more wonderful?"

Kitty laughed, though not unaffected herself, and returned Georgiana's embrace. "I should have known you knew exactly what I was going to say. Mr. Greerson and I are not very discreet, are we?"

"No, not at all," Elizabeth replied with a smile. "We knew the moment we rounded the bend that you had come to an understanding. I give you joy, Kitty; I hope you will be very happy."

"I'm sure I will," Kitty said confidently.

Mr. Greerson returned from his conference with Mr. Darcy with a very smiling aspect. He accepted the congratulations of Mrs. and Miss Darcy with alacrity, and approaching his fiancée kissed her hand so tenderly that the other ladies turned away in amusement and embarrassment. Elizabeth gently took Georgiana's arm and led her to the sofa on quite the other side of the room and talked to her most determinedly. Mr. Greerson and Kitty stayed by the window, engrossed in their own conversation.

"Though Mr. Darcy has given his consent, I mean to write your father this afternoon," Mr. Greerson said when he had released her hand.

"Papa?" Kitty asked incredulously. "Whatever for?"

"I must have his blessing, you know," he replied, but Kitty continued to stare at him in disbelief.

"He has already given it," she reminded him. "Wasn't that the reason you asked in the first place?"

"Of course not!" He looked surprised that she should think so. "I intended on making you an offer today at any rate. Your father's letter gave me hope and encouragement, it's true, but I don't consider his letter consent."

"I am sure he does," Kitty warned, "and you are more likely to amuse him by sending another letter."

"Nevertheless, I shall send it. It was not I, after all, who applied for his consent!"

With this Kitty felt she could not argue, and he soon afterwards left them to attend to this pressing business. When he was gone, Mr. Darcy joined the ladies in the drawing room. He said very little beyond offering Kitty his congratulations, but his whole demeanor announced his satisfaction, mixed with no small feeling of pride. He had, after all, given both his parson and his sister-in-law some most constructive advice. Let anyone call him obtuse in matters of love now! Elizabeth saw his feelings, and resolving to tease him about his matchmaking, when they were alone said immediately,

"I believe you need congratulating, husband. A job well done indeed!"

"I?" he replied, feigning astonishment. "I am unaware of anything for which I may be congratulated."

"I feel as if I should purchase you a lace cap," Elizabeth continued. "When my mother comes, I shall certainly inform her of your considerable talents. She will be delighted, I am sure, to consign Lydia and Mary to your care, so that you may find husbands for them both. Five daughters married! She will go distracted."

"I trust there will be no need to mention my efforts to her. I rather doubt that she will be overjoyed with Catherine's choice, after all."

"No," Eizabeth mused. "It's unlikely that she will consider a clergyman a proper match for the sister of Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy. Well, I suppose you are safe. I am disappointed."

Elizabeth fervently hoped that her father's support of the match might be enough to sway her mother's opinions. Mrs. Bennet had made her views for her younger daughters perfectly clear, and Mr. Greerson, though amply able to support a wife through the Pemberley living, was not nearly grand or well-connected enough to quiet her ambition. On her father's good sense and powers of persuasion they must all rely.

Mr. Bennet's reply was received in good time, and contained all the well-wishes that the couple could hope for. Unknown to Mr. Greerson, Kitty had also received a letter from her father on the subject of her engagement. She found the contents too characteristic of her father to be made public, but she treasured it all the same. It was as follows:

My dear Kitty,

Your young man has seen fit to do what you have already accomplished, and while I am pleased by his thoroughness, it took some restraint to answer him with the solemnity he would no doubt deem appropriate. Have no fear; I believe I comported myself admirably. I might once have been inclined to congratulate him on engaging the silliest girl in England, but I fear you are no longer deserving of that peculiar distinction. I shall have to defer my congratulations until Lydia finds a husband. Be that as it may, I am happy for you and send you all the good wishes in my power.

On a less pleasant note, I understand that your mother intends to write as soon as possible to explain her feelings about the match. Do not make yourself uneasy, and if I could, I might urge you not to read her letter at all, but I know you will be too curious to heed my advice. Understand then, in advance, that you have the support of myself and both your brothers, and if my persuasions prove inadequate, I am sure the united efforts of Bingley and Darcy will win the day.

I remain, my dear, your affectionate father.

This letter could not but cheer her, and until her mother's letter arrived, Kitty felt that nothing could affect her happiness. On perusing Mrs. Bennet's agitated, angry lines, however, she felt her good humor evaporating. Her nervous complaints, she said, had returned in full force thanks to this latest proof of the disobliging nature of her fourth daughter. How could she refuse such a fine gentleman as Mr. Jamison in favor of a dull clergyman whom nobody cared anything about? She continued to abuse Mr. Greerson, accusing him of everything from social climbing to dishonorable advances, until Kitty felt as if she might explode from anger.

Kitty kept her mother's letter a close secret, but the language affected her so that it was nearly impossible for her to appear as cheerful as was her wont. Jane, Elizabeth and Georgiana tried, sometimes singly and sometimes jointly, at different times to wrest from her the cause of her loss of spirits, but Kitty remained silent and grave. Mr. Greerson too was worried, and after two or three days of silence, begged her to reveal what had troubled her so.

"I don't wish to tell anyone," Kitty said shortly, turning from him. "It would only worry them, and perhaps hurt you."

"Clearly someone has hurt you, and I would wish to help you. We cannot have secrets from each other, Kitty. Marriage requires a great deal of communication; how are we to help and support each other if we cannot talk?"

Kitty paused, and then explained about her mother's letter, relating all the sentiments, if not all of the expressions, that had most pained her. "She declares that she will never be able to accept you as a son-in-law," she concluded sadly, "and will not see me again if I insist on disobliging her."

Mr. Greerson was disappointed, but not surprised by this turn of events. "I am sure your father will be able to talk her around to his way of thinking, and when she sees us together she will be unable to doubt our mutual regard and happiness."

"I must hope that will be the case," Kitty sighed, "else I will be miserable enough. I am only glad Lydia has not seen fit to write about her feelings. She will hardly be kinder than my mother. Oh, Philip," Kitty exclaimed, in her emotion using his given name for the first time, "how can you bear it? How can you bear to connect yourself with people like my mother and Lydia?"

"I can bear it all very well as long as I have you by my side," he reassured her, taking her hand in his. "I will do my utmost to convince Mrs. Bennet of my eligibility, and I will have your brother's support, you know. She is very much awed by him, I believe. At any rate, she is only concerned for your welfare. I cannot think badly of her for wishing you to have the very best in life. We are alike in that, I believe."

"You are much too good," Kitty smiled.

"Not at all. I mean to marry you, and I have no qualms about doing everything in my power to bring it about. Furthermore, she is your mother, and will become mine, and as such deserves my respect and love. I love you; I must love your family as my own."

Kitty had no words to describe her ideas of his goodness, and so merely rewarded him with a very bright smile. Her return to Longbourn would occur within two weeks, and she hoped by that time her mother might be so reasonable as to accept the marriage as inevitable, even if she could not be persuaded to believe it desirable. And if she was not, she concluded, her fiancé was more than capable of charming her mother into submission.

Chapter Twenty

Posted on 2008-11-29

The news of her sister's engagement came as quite a shock to Lydia. If she were to choose one sister likely to marry before herself, it would not have been Kitty. Jane and Elizabeth's marriage had been nothing too shocking; they were both very popular with gentlemen despite not being nearly so good-humored as herself. To be sure, Jane was very beautiful, which she supposed accounted for a good deal.

But that Kitty, who had always been teased as being Lydia's shadow, and who had never inspired any lasting admiration in any of the officers of the ---shire regiment, should catch a husband before Lydia herself, was almost incredible! Lydia had never been fooled; she knew that Kitty was considered, in a general way, to be prettier than herself, but she was so insipid, and so irritable, that no one had ever paid her much notice. How could it have happened? Lydia could not understand it at all.

She determined to quiz Kitty most thoroughly on her beau. Hadn't they laughed over Mr. Collins, and pitied any fool who felt compelled to marry a clergyman? What could have induced Kitty to accept a clergyman after all? Kitty was due to arrive at Longbourn at any moment, and so soon all suspense would be at an end.

Mrs. Bennet, having been ordered into composure by her husband, prepared to receive her fourth daughter with all the querulous serenity she could command. She still felt herself very ill-used, and considered the engagement a most unfortunate one, but was not yet without the hope that Kitty might be persuaded to call it off. Mr. Greerson, she understood, would call on them within a week or two, and she resolved that, if Kitty could not be worked upon, Mr. Greerson might be induced to take his presumptions elsewhere.

Mary, in whom this family drama excited no interest whatsoever, prepared to greet her sister with perfect composure, and Mr. Bennet was all anticipation over the imminent reunion.

The carriage approached, the steps were descended, and for a moment neither Lydia nor Mrs. Bennet were certain who the young lady was. Kitty, though not much physically altered, stood before them positively glowing with happiness and pride, and the smile on her face was so serene and unaffected, and her joy in seeing them all again so sincere, that for a moment they did not know what to do. It was not until after she had returned her daughter's embrace and witnessed her receiving a kiss from Mr. Bennet, that Mrs. Bennet recalled that she was supposed to be angry with Kitty. Her husband, however, seemed to anticipate her ill-humor, and tucking Kitty's hand in the crook of his arm, led her into the drawing room.

"Everything went well," Kitty was saying as everyone entered the drawing room. "Jane and Charles are amusing traveling partners."

"And how is that second daughter of mine? I haven't had a letter from her in weeks."

"Lizzy was in perfect health; everyone at Pemberley was."

"Excellent. How is your young man, then, Kitty? Did he swear to languish until he could return to your side, or at the very least shun all society unless he could see you once more?"

Kitty laughed. "He promised to come as soon as possible, but otherwise I'm afraid he was wretchedly calm about everything."

Mrs. Bennet, her mouth a thin line, sat in fidgety silence until her husband's ingenuity was at an end, and he had no more questions with which to monopolize his daughter's attention. Before his wife could rouse herself, however, Kitty approached her and sat next to her.

"I didn't want to leave Pemberley, I confess," she said, "but now I find I'm glad to be home again. When Mr. Greerson comes I shan't have anything left to wish for."

Mrs. Bennet frowned. "And when will he come?"

"He hopes to be at Longbourn within a fortnight; he has to find someone to do his duty at the church."

"How does Mr. Jamison?" her mother asked. "He seemed a very pleasant sort of gentleman."

Kitty blushed. "I have not seen him for some time, Mama; I could not say."

"I suppose he was frightened away by all this foolishness with Mr. Greerson," Mrs. Bennet sniffed. "I hope you will be able to set it all right when it is all over..."

"All over!" Kitty exclaimed. "Whatever do you mean, Mama?"

"Oh, Kitty, you know you are not the kind of girl a clergyman wants. You are too lively! He would do much better for Mary, I think. Or perhaps he will not come at all, and then you can..."

"Mama!" Kitty had jumped to her feet, her face red. "I refused Mr. Jamison because I do not love him. I am engaged to Mr. Greerson because I do love him! I must beg you not to speak of him this way!"

"Oh, but Kitty..."

"Enough, Mrs. Bennet," Mr. Bennet interrupted with a most stern aspect. "Let it rest. I have given my consent, and Darcy has assured me of his upright character and his ability to provide for a wife. Moreover," his voice rose when she appeared about to interrupt, "for the sake of our daughter he is quite prepared to advance the young man's career in any way possible. For all you know, Mrs. Bennet," he said with great finality, rising to his feet, "Kitty may be engaged to the next archbishop." He then headed for his library, confident that this new idea would silence all of Mrs. Bennet's objections.

For several minutes Mrs. Bennet was absolutely silent. When her voice returned, she did not allude to Mr. Greerson, but began to discuss with her fourth daughter the great deal of work before them before the wedding. "I am very glad that dear Mrs. Bingley is returned, for she will be able to help me with everything," she said in an accent determinedly cheerful. "I suppose you have already been thinking about the color of your gown, have you? We shall have to order it quite soon."

"Shall we go to London, Mama?" Lydia asked eagerly.

"No, that won't be necessary," was all the reply she received, and whether this strange decision was made because her husband had declared it to be so, or because she did not feel that Mrs. Greerson's wedding must be as fine as Mrs. Darcy's and Mrs. Bingley's, no one could ever quite determine. Certain it was, however, that she no longer appeared to stand in opposition to the match.

Lydia, however, was not to be so easily worked upon. She cared very little for the future consequence of her sister's husband, and was quite sure that Kitty, when she had accepted him, had not cared a straw for it either. Determined if possible to find out, she soon cornered Kitty and demanded to know all.

"I suppose he seemed the best choice," Lydia said, "for Mr. Jamison was frightfully ugly, but really, it is such a joke! You, married to a clergyman! How I laughed when I heard it!"

"I'm sure you did," Kitty sighed, wishing that she had gone for a long walk rather than trim bonnets.

"I almost thought that perhaps it all was a joke, and you would come home and reveal it all, and it would have been very clever."

"Lydia, I hope you won't talk like this when Mr. Greerson comes," replied her sister. "You were quite rude enough to him at Easter."

"Well, how should I know that you liked him so much? You declared that you couldn't admire him at all!"

"I spoke too hastily. There is much to admire in him."

"He is very handsome, I suppose..."

"I would love him if he were plain as a hound!" Kitty exclaimed, frustrated. "He is kind and clever and good, and he does not treat me as if I haven't a brain in my head. He does not act as if I am nothing but your sister, or nothing but Jane's sister, or nothing but Lizzy's sister. He admires me and loves me, and is ready to love both you and Mama as his own family! I am sick of hearing how foolish I was to accept him! When he comes, if you cannot be polite, I wish you would at least be silent!"

Lydia stared as her sister stormed away and, though she would never have admitted it, began to feel the faintest twinge of shame. It is not to be supposed that the feeling lasted very long, or that she felt any remorse for taking up her sister's discarded bonnet and beginning anew, but it was enough to prevent her from teasing Kitty any further about her choice of husband, or his choice of occupation.

Mary, of course, had very little interest in Kitty's choice of husband, and so soon became that sister's most frequent companion. The chance to sit in complete silence, and endure neither good-natured teasing nor ill-humored suppositions, with the knowledge that the other person was completely absorbed in her own affairs, was the greatest relief for Kitty. She had had visits from the Lucas girls, the Harringtons, and the daughters of every other family in the vicinity, and everyone had expressed their astonishment one way or another. Whether this astonishment was at her being engaged to a clergyman or at her being engaged at all, she found it difficult to bear, and spent more time listening to Mary's playing or reading than ever before. She found, with some astonishment, that Mary sometimes said something worth listening to, though very often she felt that her notions of propriety tended to err on the side of severity. Sometimes she amused herself with the idea of inviting Mary to visit her when she was married, and imagined her sister's response to such an invitation. She would certainly not accept with alacrity.

Chapter Twenty-one

Posted on 2008-12-08

The second week of Kitty's return brought with it a most welcome addition to the Longbourn party. Jonathan, who had been sent to Town on a matter of business, returned to them, ostensibly to meet Kitty's betrothed, but really to hear all the news he could of his second sister and Miss Darcy. Though young Mr. Bennet had managed not to inherit most of his father's less pleasant qualities, he was still woefully and inherently negligent in the area of correspondence, and had heard little of Miss Darcy since Easter but what his mother and Lydia chose to read aloud from their letters. Mrs. Darcy's letters to her father and brother were perhaps more detailed and entertaining, but none of them gave the intelligence that he desired, and Jonathan hoped that Kitty, blessed as she was with that young lady's intimate friendship, might be prevailed upon to speak of her.

His inquiries into the health of his in-laws were favorably, but not explicitly answered, and after sitting with Kitty and Mary in the sitting-room, reading to them as they worked, for nearly a half hour, he was almost ready to concede defeat. He recalled how, nearly two years ago, he had relished holding hostage information of the utmost importance to his sisters, and thought he could discern in Kitty's looks a sort of triumph in such revenge. After regaling him with tale after tale of his sister and her husband, Kitty finally seemed to take pity on him.

Mary had left them alone, probably to ferret out another ponderous book for Jonathan to read aloud as she and her sister sat embroidering the seemingly endless amount of linens Mrs. Bennet declared quite indispensable for a trousseau.

"You haven't asked me what you really want to know," Kitty opened conversationally, taking care to choose exactly the right shade of pink for her hem.

"You are mistaken. I did ask, and you answered me quite satisfactorily."

Kitty glanced at him and smiled. "You're sulking, Jon."

"I most certainly am not!" he cried indignantly.

"I'm sorry, but Georgie never spoke about you," Kitty said, setting aside her teasing for the moment. "She has been fairly immune to the charms of the neighborhood gentlemen, though."

"Fairly?"

"Well, she isn't exactly a flirt, you know. It's difficult to tell when she is being shy and when she is being aloof."

"You are extremely reassuring, dear sister." Kitty smiled, and Jonathan watched her as she returned to her embroidery. "When do I make Mr. Greerson's acquaintance again?" he asked after a few moments.

"He wrote to Papa, and he will be here by the end of the week," she replied. "I depend on you to help me protect him from Mama."

"My impression at Easter was that he could fend quite well for himself," Jonathan remarked.

"Perhaps he can, but he shouldn't have to. In fact, if Mama and Lydia don't speak to him at all for the duration of his stay, I'll be perfectly content."

"Little chance of that."

Kitty tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps I could find some way to make sure they are never in the same room?"

Jonathan laughed, but grew sober again when Mary arrived with a book that, if dropped, would surely wake the dead and, once read, would definitely lull them back to sleep.

The end of the week did finally arrive, and Kitty sat nervously in the drawing room, imagining every moment that she heard the wheels of a carriage in the drive. Her mother had inquired into Mr. Greerson's favorite dishes, and Kitty had been forced to admit that she did not know them. The ensuing scolding - for how could she make anyone a proper wife if she did not even know his favorite foods? -- had given her the head-ache, but not for the world would she abandon her fiancé to the mercies of her family.

At length the carriage was heard, and Kitty, her heart pounding within her, followed her father and mother out into the drive to greet the newcomer. Mr. Greerson alit from the carriage with a ready smile, shook hands most cordially with Mr. Bennet, and swept Mrs. Bennet's hand to his lips with a gallantry that made her flutter with pleasure. He favored Kitty with a gentler smile and more tender kiss of the hand, and greeted his siblings-to-be with perfect courtesy. As they walked into the house, Kitty, with her hand tucked firmly in the crook of his arm, wondered that she had thought of this moment with so much anxiety.

They were soon all seated in the drawing room, and Mr. Bennet and Jonathan seemed determined to monopolize as much of his conversation as they could. Whatever remarks or questions Mrs. Bennet had prepared, they must be spared until dinner. Mr. Greerson spoke with them all most agreeably about the weather and the roads, and conveyed the love of all the Pemberley party and the compliments of his own family, with whom he had broken his journey in London.

"My sisters were overjoyed," he said, turning to Kitty. "I hadn't informed them of our engagement, so when I told them where I was going and why, they could scarcely express their happiness."

"And your mother?"

"She looked ready to weep. I daresay she despaired of my ever marrying."

"I quite feel for her," Mrs. Bennet interrupted. "My nerves have been worn to shreds with the business of marrying my children. To be sure we were quite lucky to have Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy come to the neighborhood. I don't know what we would have done if they had not."

"It seems certain that the Lord has been very watchful of you, madam," Mr. Greerson replied. "He has blessed both Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy with gentlemanlike, affectionate husbands. You must be very grateful."

"Indeed I am, sir," Mrs. Bennet smiled, "though I could wish..."

"No doubt we could all wish for something," Mr. Bennet said, "but it would never do to question His plan, would it?"

"Oh! well, as to that...no, there can be no question."

"We have been instructed not to worry, for God cares for all, down to the ravens and the lilies," Mary intoned from her chair by the window.

"Indeed, He does," Mr. Greerson replied with a smile, "though we have also been warned to be ready to do His will, however unexpected."

Mary looked rather surprised at having her words attended to, and wished to speak again, but could think of nothing to say.

"Mary is always reading," Kitty said, when her sister remained silent.

"Oh, Lord, yes, and we must all suffer for it," Lydia laughed, not noticing or caring when Mary's face turned a dull red.

"Not everyone finds literature as dull as you do, Lydia," Kitty replied.

"Don't put on airs, Miss Kitty," Lydia cried, pokering up immediately. "You were always as ready as me to laugh at Mary, and you know it!"

"I was indeed," Kitty said stiffly, but refused to enter into an argument, and taking courage from Mr. Greerson's smile, changed the subject to one less volatile, though Lydia continued to stew.

Over dinner Mrs. Bennet was determined that Mr. Greerson should acknowledge the superiority of her table. She called for his opinion on every dish; he answered her with unfailing politeness, and she was delighted when he admitted his predilection for venison. He spoke of her table and her housekeeping in terms of such gentle, yet sincere, gallantry that by the time she led the girls into the drawing-room she was in high spirits.

"Well! Your Mr. Greerson is such a handsome, pretty-behaved young man!" Mrs. Bennet enthused to her daughter when they had taken their seats. "I declare he is much handsomer than I remember him being at Easter. It's such a pity that he hasn't more money, but as your father says...a few years with Mr. Darcy's influence, and possibly even his uncle the Earl's...yes, it may turn out that you have done well for yourself after all!"

"Thank you, Mama," Kitty replied with as little sarcasm as possible.

Mrs. Bennet continued in this congratulatory manner until the gentlemen joined them. They had been at cross-purposes: Mr. Bennet, from long habit and instincts of self-preservation, had been trying to delay as long as possible, while Mr. Greerson, who had not seen his fiancée for two weeks, had been at some pains to hurry the others along. Jonathan, who truly did not care whether he went or stayed, was content with laughing to himself at the scene.

Mr. Greerson took a seat near Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet began repeating herself to Jonathan, taking the opportunity also to marvel at how well they looked together, his blonde head and her chestnut curls, their dark eyes, and their easy smiles. Kitty, to whom her voice was perfectly audible, was embarrassed, but not more embarrassed than astonished that she and Mr. Greerson should have won their point so easily. The longer her mother spoke, the more she seemed to talk herself into a positive enthusiasm for the match, and before the end of that first evening, she was quite as ready to call him her son as anyone could wish.

After about a quarter of an hour, Mrs. Bennet recollected that their guest might be fatigued, and prevailed upon Jonathan to show him to his room. Mr. Greerson was grateful for her attention, and Jonathan took the opportunity, as they were walking up the stairs, of commending him on his management of his intended mother-in-law.

"She has a bit of a weakness for a handsome face and good manners," he added, "so perhaps you are less to be congratulated and more to be pitied. You will undoubtedly be a favorite with her from now on."

"I believe Mrs. Bennet has little more than the happiness of her family in view, and if she can be made to believe that I will do as well as any gentleman with five thousand a year, that is all I ask."

"She has got it into her head that you may be the next archbishop, so I pronounce you safe," Jonathan laughed.

When they had parted, Jonathan was forced to review his prospective brother-in-law's words and admit that, though they had the stamp of the optimist, Mr. Greerson might be gifted with rather more insight than himself. He had never seen Mrs. Bennet's matchmaking attempts as acts of love, but so they must be. Her only error was in presuming that her children required the same things as herself to make them happy, and when no one had been at any pains to correct her judgment or improve her mind, how could she be blamed? It was too late now, indeed, to attempt any reformations, but he resolved within himself to show her a little more attention, and a great deal more gratitude, in future.

If Mr. Greerson could instill the same ideas in the rest of her children -- he quite despaired of his father -- Jonathan thought as he retired to his own room, this match might have been heaven-sent.

Chapter Twenty-two

Posted on 2009-01-11

One difficulty for which Kitty was quite unprepared was the choosing of her bridesmaid. Before her adventures at Pemberley, Lydia would have inevitably been her first choice, but her sister's behavior to Mr. Greerson was such that she could not overlook. Lydia had comported herself with admirable restraint, considering everything, since his arrival, but she was still too apt to ridicule him and his profession, and too ready with ill-natured remarks on his solemnity and dullness, to induce Kitty to grant her any extraordinary honors. She wished more than anything that Georgiana might be her choice; Jonathan was not far from her thoughts as she pictured the four of them standing up as a most picturesque quartet.

But against having Georgiana as a bridesmaid Mrs. Bennet was resolutely set. Though she genuinely liked her as a sweet, polite, and pretty young woman, and despite having high hopes for a match between Miss Darcy and her son, Mrs. Bennet's maternal solicitude and affection would not allow her youngest daughter to be so slighted. Whenever Kitty raised the point of its being, after all, her wedding and no one else's, save Mr. Greerson, Mrs. Bennet would remind her of the benevolence of Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley in allowing all of the sisters to be bridesmaids. The difference between that wedding and this seemed not to matter to her. In matters of dress, flowers, and table, Mrs. Greerson's wedding would naturally be inferior to Mrs. Darcy's and Mrs. Bingley's, but allow Kitty to exclude Lydia from the wedding party she absolutely would not.

Lydia was occasionally involved in these discussions, and once declared her intention of not attending the wedding at all, if Kitty was going to be so tiresome about it, but Mrs. Bennet was so overset at the idea that even Lydia had been forced never to mention such a solution again. Mr. Bennet heard the complaints of his wife every evening, and observed with his usual detached amusement the rift that had separated two sisters once almost indistinguishable from each other. Jonathan began to fear that there would be no wedding at all at this rate, and tried once or twice to speak with Lydia about her behavior, but as Lydia had long ago ceased attending to him, he was forced to admit defeat.

After a particularly loud and violent disagreement, Kitty escaped to the gardens, where she was shortly joined by Mr. Greerson. He heard her complaints, and then walked very quietly beside her for a few minutes until Kitty broke the silence with a sigh.

"You think that I should let Mama have her own way."

"I think you should do what makes you happy," was his prompt answer. "It is, after all, your day. But you don't seem particularly happy, so perhaps a change of mind or approach is required."

"I don't think Lydia deserves to be a bridesmaid."

"You have said so several times," he continued calmly, "but do you think you deserve to have your sister and, once, your best friend as your bridesmaid?"

Kitty paused, never having thought of it in that way. "Well..."

"Whatever your decision is, I will support you wholeheartedly, you know that," Mr. Greerson said, taking her hand in his. "But you did say, not very long ago, that you felt you had wronged your sister by not setting her an example."

It was much too easy, Kitty thought sadly as they walked on in silence, to fall into her old petulant ways. At Pemberley she had learned to be gracious and forgiving. But what if Lydia got up to her usual tricks? Kitty's mind was overrun with images of Lydia yawning or giggling during the service and making eyes at any single gentlemen in the congregation -- and she saw herself, standing at the altar with Mr. Greerson, completely overshadowed, as she had been her entire life, by the antics of her youngest sister.

And that was the shameful, prideful, selfish truth of it, Kitty suddenly realized. She was not reluctant to have Lydia as a bridesmaid because she wished to discourage her sister's bad behavior, but because she wished that, for once in her life, she would be the center of attention, the center of the world. That, she knew, was not a good enough reason, however reasonable the wish might be. She excused herself from her fiancée and left to find Lydia.

Lydia, these days, was not a difficult person to find. As there was no longer anyone with whom to walk to Meryton, she spent nearly all of her days employed in sitting in the drawing room with a bonnet, pulling petulantly at the ribbons and flowers. When Kitty entered, Lydia gave a most unladylike snort and turned her back on her sister.

Kitty stopped, rather put off by this display of hostility, but knew that her courage must not fail her. She approached and sat at a chair near Lydia and took up a small daisy, tucking it absently behind her ear.

"Daisies would never do for your hair," Lydia snapped. "It is much too dark."

"Oh, I know," Kitty replied, keeping her calm with difficulty. "I don't much like daisies, anyway."

"They look well on me," Lydia said defiantly, as if Kitty had offered her a grave insult.

"Of course they do. You are livelier than I am; wildflowers suit you better."

"What do you want?"

Kitty took a deep breath. "I want you to be my bridesmaid."

Lydia stared at her, then snorted. "No, you don't. You've told Mama that a thousand times, I'm sure. You are only trying to make me feel better."

"We were once friends, you know, Lydia. I would like to be friends again."

"You are not my friend," Lydia said, and suddenly the sharp edge was gone from her voice, replaced with something rather more bitter. "You don't talk to me anymore, and you spend all your time with that dull clergyman of yours."

"I wish you wouldn't call him dull," Kitty replied out of habit, and noticed that her sister rolled her eyes and turned away.

"He is all you talk about, too. Mr. Greerson this, and Mr. Greerson that. You are worse than Jane and Bingley."

"I'm sorry," Kitty said softly. Lydia turned to look at her in surprise. "You're right. We haven't done anything together since I came back."

"Because you came back engaged to...him. And it's all you've thought about and all you've talked about since." Before Kitty could respond, Lydia continued. "It was dreadfully dull here after you left, you know. Papa wouldn't let me go to Meryton alone, and Mary spends all her time reading. I always thought Mama was a bit of a laugh, but after we visited at Easter, she couldn't stop talking about dear Kitty and her rich beau, and won't it be wonderful to have three daughters married."

Kitty stared at Lydia, unable to believe her ears.

"And now you want me to be your bridesmaid so Mama will stop bothering you and you can have your wedding and go off to Derbyshire with everyone else. I know you don't like me. No one does. Jane hasn't asked me to stay though she lives only three miles off, and Lizzy wanted you and not me, and Little Miss Perfect Georgiana probably won't even look at me. I don't want to be your bridesmaid. Leave me alone."

By the end of this speech Lydia was nearly in tears, and when she finished she stood and hurried out of the room.

Lydia was not a bridesmaid. How she convinced her mother to allow it to be so, no one was ever quite sure, but when the wedding day arrived Miss Lydia Bennet stood stiffly in the family pew with her mother, father, and elder sister while Miss Georgiana Darcy stood at the altar with the bridal couple and her brother, who had agreed to act as groomsman.

Kitty was unhappier with the result than she had imagined she would be. Her attempts to make things right with Lydia had only made them worse. Lydia no longer had any insults to offer Mr. Greerson or Kitty; instead she spoke to neither of them, and never allowed herself to be left alone with either for any length of time. Kitty had spoken to Elizabeth and Jane, hoping to receive some advice.

Jane had proposed being kinder than ever to Lydia, and had decided to invite her to stay at Netherfield after the wedding. When the invitation was made, however, Lydia was not to be imposed upon; she knew that Kitty was somehow behind this sudden burst of sisterly attention, and refused unconditionally. She would have no one's charity, thank you. Elizabeth, who could not lament her decision to have only Kitty at Pemberley, had attempted to tease Lydia out of her foul mood, but was met with snappish remarks.

Kitty was left to half-enjoy her own wedding, knowing that the happiness and companionship she would find in Mr. Greerson would also mean a separation from her once-favorite sister. The wedding breakfast was a remarkably subdued affair, and Kitty was hard-pressed not to resent her sister for, after all, effectively ruining what ought to have been the happiest day of her life. When she glanced at Lydia's face, however, hard and reserved, with a telling lack of light in her once laughing eyes, she could feel nothing but guilt and regret. They had all done Lydia a great disservice.

When the wedding breakfast was over and the carriage was about to drive from the door, Elizabeth ran up to take her sister's hand.

"Don't worry about Lydia," she said, pressing the hand affectionately. "I will speak to our father; perhaps he can do something. But enough of that. I wanted to tell you...I have told no one else...I am waiting until you are safely on your way to tell them all...but I believe next year you will have a niece or nephew to play with when you visit us."

"Oh, Lizzy!" Kitty cried, leaning out perilously to kiss her sister's cheek. "Thank you, thank you for telling me!"

"Congratulations, Mrs. Darcy," smiled Mr. Greerson as he attempted to stop his bride from falling out of the carriage.

"And congratulations to you, too, Mr. and Mrs. Greerson," Elizabeth replied, and walked away to join her husband.

"I suppose it was unreasonable of me," Kitty sighed as the carriage pulled away, "to expect a perfect day. But really, all things considered, it was not so terrible, was it?"

Mr. Greerson smiled. "Any day on which I can call you my wife, Mrs. Greerson, will be a perfect day for me."