by Ney Mitch
Mrs. Forster’s asking Lydia to go, and not extending to offer the invitation to me as well… I believe it shows a deeper problem with my character. I feel as if—as if no one sees me. I am seldom invited anywhere; my words are never of weight to anyone. Faith, if I were to speak, does anyone even hear me?
Even a tree that falls in the woods, quite alone, has the right to be declared as making a sound. Yet, I feel as if I make no sound. Because no one hears me. Do I matter so little?
That is why I love the officers. They allow me to speak and therefore be heard. But I seem to be despised for it. Must I be shallow for wishing for an existence?
And now, to not be invited… in truth, it feels like a further confirmation of my non-existence. I seldom get invited anywhere. Our aunt and uncle love to invite you both to visit, but they do not see me. Perhaps they do not care for me. Do I make myself disagreeable? I thought I was always attempting to be pleasant enough.
I just desire… to be special in some way.
And I think—that I feel so alone, even when I am surrounded by others. What do you think that this pertains to?
Is there some way that, when you are to return home, you can ask Aunt and Uncle Gardiner if they are willing to offer me a visit? You can tell me how I can make myself more agreeable to them. I just wish… for someone to invite me somewhere, for a change.
Write to me soon. And do not dare call me foolish. Sometimes, what needs to be said is not unwise for being said. And I did indeed need to say that.
* * *
I am yours etc.
Kitty
When closing the letter, I looked at Jane.
“Kitty truly wrote that?” she asked, though the question was quite rhetorical.
“Indeed, she did,” I responded, and then I placed the letter down. “The comical side of me wishes to call her mindset frivolous and too much depending on others to give herself importance in the world, but that would be too hard, cruel and inaccurate of an assessment.”
“Yes, it would.” Jane leaned forward and took up the letter. “She is truly just writing the basic needs of the heart, and her heart is like any other. After all, Lizzy, consider, that we all do need attention.”
“Yes, we do. I just feel a little foolish. We all do need attention and I did not notice that perhaps much of her disposition stems from this entire lack of being allowed to discover her own identity in the world.”
“Well, she never has been allowed to really have an identity. Thinking on it, like us, she has too often suffered under the weight of being viewed as one-word labels.”
“And when you are forced into one way of being,” I furthered, “your personality will become quite shallow, because it was regarded as being such from the very beginning.”
“Yes. Yes, she and Lydia focus too much on the militia and lean too much on the crutch of gossip and scandal, but…”
“But we were not given much of an education, and therefore, how much exposure could they have been given to a wider acquaintance with the many intellectual complexities of life? They were not given much to set the foundations of their personality on, therefore, how could they have formed any personality above the vulgar trivialities of life?”
“That is just what I think. Besides, Kitty is neither vicious nor mean-spirited. She is, in truth, a girl who is perfectly willing to be cordial with people. She just needs more chances to be in the world.”
“Yes.” Hearing what Kitty was pleading for, I had quite made up my mind. “Do you think that I should ask our aunt and uncle if she may come and stay with them when we depart?”
“Here,” Jane said, taking the letter, “I shall do it.”
I was surprised at her taking the initiative.
“You will?”
“Yes. I will try to speak in a way that will make them see the necessity of her being made to feel special. In truth, I feel somewhat guilty for not seeing that Kitty was feeling such things all along.”
“You cannot blame yourself.”
Jane tapped the missive against her chin. “Actually, I can. The more that I look over the matter, the more I can recall moments of moroseness in Kitty’s nature, of not being allowed to speak and have anyone listen. Attention must be paid to a person eventually. Perhaps, it can start with me.”
“Are you and I both deciding to allow our natures to grow?” I asked, arching my brow, in jest.
“Lizzy, we are women without a father now. Our natures have every excuse to change.”
With that, she left me, to go and speak with our aunt and uncle.
The day continued and eventually, Jane, our aunt and uncle, as well as I, were dressed in our best attire as we were traveling by chaise and four to Grosvenor Street. Since we had all been preoccupied with getting ready for the evening, we had not had time to engage in a discussion over Kitty’s missive.
Now that we were driving along, and confined to one compartment, the present had felt like as good a time as any other.
“Your aunt and I did discuss the matter about Kitty,” Uncle Gardiner informed us.
“And?” I asked. “What decision have you reached?”
“We were surprised at Kitty’s desire to come and see us,” Aunt Gardiner asserted, “for we never considered ourselves to be favorites among Kitty. Therefore, imagine our surprise when, this whole time, she was the one who was feeling no special regard for her from us.”
“We never would have noticed that she would have desired a visit until she wrote this letter,” Uncle Gardiner added. “We decided that yes, it would be better if she were to come and visit when you left.”
“However,” Aunt Gardiner compiled, “I would recommend that one of you remain behind while she is here. Kitty is a very good sort of girl, but she is a bit of a follower. If one of you were to remain behind and be a companion to her, she would be following a good example.”
“Lizzy is better at guiding her than I,” Jane said. “I shall go home.”
“Jane,” I began to argue, despite that I truthfully did wish to remain in London. “You are the eldest. She listens best to you.”
“Are you truly going to tell me that you do not wish to remain in London?” she asked me, pointedly.
I did not reply immediately, and Jane continued speaking before I could.
“I believe that you want to stay,” she pursued, “therefore, I am giving us both what we desire. You have a cause to remain behind, and I know that Kitty will be safe with you. Besides, I want to return home, for I wish to check on our mother and Mary. I worry about them being left for too long to their own counsel and company. Father is not there, and our mother does not do well on her own.”
“No, she does not.”
“You are wholly obliging and that is very good of you,” Aunt Gardiner complimented her. “Your mother will want for nothing better than to have you to be her company.”
“Thank you,” I whispered to Jane.
“You are welcome,” Jane replied, looking out of the window.
While she did not say that, I could tell what she was thinking. She was offering me my best chance with Mr. Darcy. When we were alone, I would thank her more warmly.
We arrived at Mr. Darcy’s home five minutes early. When we stepped out of the carriage, the front door opened, and a doorman appeared.
Uncle Gardiner greeted him, and we were allowed entry. When entering the vestibule and the front hall, Mr. Darcy was already there to greet us.
I smiled and curtsied. “Mr. Darcy. We come a little early, we confess.”
“I have been waiting this half hour,” Darcy responded, “so this earliness is most welcome. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, welcome to my home.”
“It is a lovely home and displays the proper sort of taste,” my Uncle complimented, “from what I have seen of it, so far. Forgive me for being too early in my praise, but I gather that you are the sort of man whose front hall is a strong indication of how he furnishes the rest of the house.”
“I thank you f
or the compliment,” Mr. Darcy responded. He then turned to Jane, Aunt Gardiner, and me. “Mrs. Gardiner, you look remarkably well this evening.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Aunt Gardiner’s cheeks burned pink.
“Now, may I be granted permission to compliment your nieces? I have a great desire to say pleasant things about them.”
“We grant you all the permission in the world,” she said with a chuckle.
Jane and I stood before him.
“If we are hideous,” I voiced, “please, lie to us.”
He appeared to hide a smile at that comment. “There is no need for deception. Never till this day has my home seen two finer young women step in it—excluding my sister. Yet, what brother can find his sister beautiful? Pray, it seems impossible. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, you are most welcome. For, I can firmly declare that you are two of the handsomest sisters in London.”
Jane blushed. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”
“You see,” I began, “we are strong enough for your compliments. And we shall endeavor to live up to them.”
“You do already, I can assure you.”
He and I looked at each other for a brief second, but I felt significance to it. I dared to hope, to believe, that perhaps… he could learn to love me a little. At the very least, a little.
Next, we remembered ourselves and then we looked away from each other quickly.
“Now,” Mr. Darcy said, turning to us all, “let us go into the parlor, for I have been wise enough to have company for our dinner party.”
“Oh, we are always interested to meet someone new,” Aunt Gardiner said.
“Mrs. And Mrs. Gardiner, the acquaintance shall be new for you and Miss Bennet, yet for Miss Elizabeth, he is known already.”
“Wait,” I deduced, “might I try and guess who it is?”
“Yes.”
“Would Colonel Fitzwilliam be behind that door?”
Mr. Darcy gave me a teasing look that became him quite nicely.
“I was hoping to surprise you.”
“You invited us to Grosvenor Street. That was enough of a surprise as it is. Everything else is just an added delight.”
We entered and Colonel Fitzwilliam stood up to greet us.
“At ease, soldier,” I announced, laughing as I saw him.
“Always at ease,” he responded, “that is why my soldiers love me, and my superiors despise me. Miss Elizabeth, you look quite sublime this evening.”
“And you and your cousin are the handsomest men in England, so the pleasure belongs to my company, more than anything else.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Jane and the Gardiners.
“And this must be family of yours.”
“It is indeed,” I confirmed, then turned to Mr. Darcy, so that he could make the introductions.
“Richard,” Darcy began, “allow me to introduce Miss Jane Bennet, and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They are Miss Bennet’s and Miss Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle.”
“Ah,” Colonel Fitzwilliam began, “forgive me for imposing myself on your dinner with my charming cousin, but I was keen for the company of being here, and also because I was curious to see what any family of Miss Elizabeth’s would look like.”
“And now that you see them, what do you think?” I asked him.
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Jane.
“With you, Miss Bennet, I would know you as Miss Elizabeth’s sister anywhere. You both have the same exquisite charm about you.”
“I thank you, sir,” Jane responded, “but my sister possesses the wit. I only learned how to smile at the right moments.”
“You are too modest.” Next, he turned to our aunt and uncle. “I have an immense desire to like you both, for you appear as the sort of people who are very worthy of being acquainted with.”
Aunt Gardiner gave him a sly look. “You are a very pretty speaker. And I am not so old as to not appreciate goodhearted charm.”
“We are delighted to meet you, sir,” Uncle Gardiner responded. “I hope that we do not disappoint you.”
“Yes,” Aunt Gardiner replied, “for we have started so high in your estimation, that how can we live up to it?”
“By not trying,” Colonel Fitzwilliam responded. “Just be yourselves, and I shall be glad.”
Mr. Darcy looked puzzled. “And I stand here, not knowing what to say.”
“You have spoken well thus far,” I helped him.
“Not as well as my cousin. I feel as if I am the one who is certain to disappoint.”
“Never, Fitz,” Colonel Fitzwilliam remarked, patting Darcy on the shoulder. “You have the looks and the talents. Allow me to have the words.”
“I missed seeing you both together,” I admitted, and then I realized that I was speaking in too vulgar a fashion. Blushing, I looked down at the floor. “Forgive me. That’s a strange thing to say.”
“Not at all,” Colonel Fitzwilliam responded. “We have always made an odd couple of cousins. And because of such, no one could resist looking at us. For we were unafraid of being erroneous.”
After speaking more in this manner, we all went into dinner.
As we sat down to eat, Mr. Darcy had arranged it so that he sat at the head of the table. I sat down to his left, and his cousin sat to his right. Next to the Colonel, Jane sat, and our aunt and uncle sat at the end.
“Also,” Mr. Darcy began, as the first course was served, “since our conversation started in a wonderfully eccentric manner, I never got around to asking, have you both been enjoying your time at Cheapside? For it is a delightful sort of area in London.”
“Oh, we have, very much,” Jane said. “A chance that we get to come to London is always a blessing. It is diverting. Also, it gives us a peace that cannot always be achieved when in Hertfordshire. It is always quite interesting how, despite that we live in the country, noise can always find us.”
“I cannot agree more,” Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed, amazed by her. “I suppose it is the way with family. The relationship that we have with each other can sometimes tend to us vexing and aggravating each other. And then our voices collide together, and we create noise. So much noise everywhere.”
“The way of family.”
“Aye, the way of family.”
“But that is the oddest thing sometimes,” I added. “We often say so much, but then sometimes, we still know so little about each other. For example, Jane and I have recently received a letter from one of our sisters, Kitty. In it, she expressed isolation and a feeling of being unwanted, and her voice never being heard. In truth, I feel as if she was saying that we see her, yet we do not see her at the same time.”
“Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner chided me, “that is a private matter. Perhaps Kitty would not wish for you to speak of it.”
“I was quite swept away with the comfort of the company,” I admitted, seeing the wisdom of her words. “I felt a kindred spirit all around, and I felt able to tell our hosts anything. I suppose that I just wished for their advice on the matter. After all, they are family men. Also, I know that they are the sort who would not mention Kitty’s feelings to anyone outside of this circle. And yet, I just realized that you are quite right. I am overstepping myself.”
I continued to eat my food, wondering how I could recover from this situation. To my surprise, I saw Mr. Darcy begin to speak, from out of the corner of my eye.
“Well,” he began, “while I understand the need for discretion when it comes to family, I am acquainted with Miss Kitty. And I would not ridicule her feelings, for my sister has felt similarly before.”
“She has?” I asked.
“Yes, she once mentioned something like that to me. Despite that she and I see each other often, I had not known she had ever felt that way.”
“That is what Jane and I have been going through ever since Kitty sent us the letter,” I added. “We wondered why we had never seen Kitty’s feelings until now.”
“I had felt the same way, initially,” Darcy echoed, hi
s voice relieved, “so, your feelings are quite natural. Yet, over time, I realized that it was not my fault. Sometimes, we people can keep so much from each other, and we can be a secret to those who are close to us. Therefore, you must forgive yourselves. For it is the way of life. If you would confide in me, I would not spread Kitty’s feelings around and leave her to the tides of gossip. And I can vouch for the Colonel, he would not say anything.”
“Nay, I would not,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, still looking at Jane. “We are fine with hearing the difficulties of sibling connections. I would not judge your sister for feelings that we all have at some time or another.”
Jane and I looked at our aunt and uncle.
“What is the right thing to do?” Jane asked them.
“Well, since the gentlemen do not object,” Uncle Gardiner said, “and Mr. Darcy is acquainted with Kitty, I suppose no harm can be done.”
I gave them an exaggerated sigh. “I have permission to be impertinent now. Good. For impertinence seems to be the only way that real communication can be achieved.”
“When our sister, Kitty, wrote to us,” Jane reported, “she was upset from the news that one of our other sisters was invited to something that she was not. Next, she recalled that she was never particularly invited to ever go anywhere.”
“And this shook her confidence,” I added, “for she wondered what about her was meant to feel so invisible, so unworthy of receiving any particular regard. She was beginning to wonder what her place was in the world.”
I continued to give details about Kitty’s letter as we ate.
When Jane and I spoke of it, Darcy’s face had mostly been passive the entire time. Yet, when we finished, his expressions began to change as he elaborated his views on the matter.
“Well,” Darcy began, “I stand by what I said before; there is no way you both could have known what Kitty was feeling. However, it runs deeper than that.”