She sank onto the seat, overcome by the manner in which all things seemed to be working together against her, and was further daunted by finding herself the object of openly critical regard. The girls’ eyes were not precisely hostile, but they conveyed a certain amount of discontent that she should have found her way into their carriage. She managed a faint query as to the location of Mr. and Mrs. Robinson, and Miss Robinson, after a moment in which it she gave no sign of having even heard the question, at length accorded Kitty the information that, “Papa never had intended to come; and Mama decided she had rather play cards at home than listen to some foreigner shrieking out ancient ballads.” The sisters then glanced at each other, and smiled, as if finding in the words a private source of amusement, which they alone could comprehend.
All manner of questions and protestations might properly have found expression here--but of course, Kitty expressed none of them. She rarely ventured a question without a deal of encouragement beforehand, and not even the most optimistic could have read, in the way Miss Robinson and her sister continued to silently scrutinize their guest, any slightest intent to encourage. Her attire interested them particularly, and having looked at it most carefully from neck to hem, Miss Robinson summed up their conclusions with the words, “Your dress is very plain. I suppose your family believes there is something sinful about pretty garments.” The exquisite wit and brilliancy of this observation was not lost upon either of the sisters, and they both burst into appreciative giggles; the puzzled and almost incredulous look with which Kitty received it, only added to their enjoyment, and their hilarity enlivened the journey for a considerable distance. Kitty was at first merely bewildered: it was true that her dress was simply cut, without ribbons or frills; but it was made of a very fine white muslin, and even Clive had noted that it looked well; and her shawl was a beautiful garment, not at all plain, given to her by her Uncle Torial upon his return from India. As for the other part of the remark, why, the girls had seen Mama and Julia when they came to dinner that time (and Julia had been wearing that lovely dress with the roses--Kitty remembered it clearly) so there could be nothing rational behind the words at all. In fact, the remark had been so entirely absurd, that, unless one postulated the fabulous theory of willful rudeness, the only possible explanation was that Miss Robinson had been joking--as, indeed, the sisters’ merriment confirmed. Having reached this conclusion, Kitty realized that she had been remiss, and belatedly allotted the jest a smile. It was a small and uncertain smile, but there could be no doubt of its good-humor, and, seeing it, her companions were made suddenly aware that the jest was really not as good as they had thought; they sobered with wonderful quickness, and even appeared somewhat disgruntled.
Kitty could only be glad, for she had found their laughter not at all infectious. But relief had scarcely arrived before it was banished again, as the sisters, perceiving that impertinence was thrown away on a guest of such surpassing dullness, began to speak to one another as if she were not there.
In any other company this exclusion would have delighted Kitty, and been seen by her as a merciful release from the anxiety of being any moment required to speak; but the Miss Robinsons so thoroughly ignored the presence of a third party, as not only to hold a tete a tete, but an exceedingly frank one. Their discourse was largely concerned with all manner of apparel and adornment--how much this item was desired, and how much that one cost, and how wretchedly Miss So-and-so had looked in one almost identical--and the parties Miss Robinson would attend next year, and the gentlemen she would meet, the dances she would dance. In dwelling upon the privileges of her approaching debut, Miss Robinson clearly sought to animate her sister to further heights of envy, and Miss Georgina was not one to cheat her, by failing to feel all that was proper in this respect. But seeing she could do nothing to hasten the coming of her own social joys, she made the best of her disappointment, by laboring diligently to diminish the pleasure the other took in her own. She, too, began to envision the come out, and found uncommon amusement in the thought of her sister, unaware that despite all efforts she looked a perfect fright, and unable to get any dances, except with elderly gentlemen who kept stepping on her feet, because they were busy looking across the room at someone else. Miss Robinson was induced by these predictions, to move the talk to an even more intimate plane, and responded with a devastating animadversion on her sister’s teeth, and the repellent structure of her nose. Miss Georgina replied in kind, and their speech became steadily more acrimonious, so that Kitty was made to blush, and blush again.
She was horrified, not only by the freedom with which they abused each other before a stranger, but at their doing so at all. The Parry siblings might have disagreements (though Kitty herself never did, and her entreaties were frequently the means of bringing quarreling factions to their senses); but never in this vicious fashion did they seek to cut up each other’s happiness, or sweepingly denigrate the judgement and taste of another. She marveled at the lack of shame displayed by the sisters; she would have as soon gone out with mud on her face, or come to dinner in her nightclothes, as imagine exposing the more unpleasant traits of her character in this way.
**
Chapter XVIII
They arrived at last, and such was Kitty’s state, that she was almost pleased. The Miss Robinsons interrupted a spirited exchange on the ugliness of each other’s hair arrangements, to clash over who was to descend first; and Kitty, having retreated well back into a corner until they had both scrambled out, had to hurry to catch up to them. They took no more notice of her than if she had been a gnat attaching itself to their party, and she passed through the door and from one terror to another, greeting a hostess who looked taken aback at their unescorted youth, and listened with open disapproval to the excuses Miss Robinson proffered on behalf of her mother. The sisters passed by, uncaring, but Kitty was ready to sink; she lingered, feeling as if some further apology was needed, and was promptly deserted by her companions as soon as she turned her head away. Mrs. M_____ was engaged in greeting the next arrivals, and, feeling herself assailed on all sides by waves of forbidding strangers, Kitty found a wall, a door, a connecting passage, a chair, and a small orange tree, as one finds bits of floating wreckage in turbulent waters; and from there she would not be moved. Had she chanced at that time to remember the metaphor so lovingly employed by Mrs. Robinson in description of the affair, she would doubtless have passionately deplored the perspective which could assess as “shallows,” what was manifestly an ocean.
Early on in life, Kitty had discovered the efficacy of stillness in her continual quest to render her person invisible to the common eye, and she employed it now. She sat, unmoving, behind her never-sufficiently-to-be-appreciated tree, and so far effaced herself, as to be quite overlooked even by those few people who occasionally ventured to pass through her sanctuary. When the music began, and she was satisfied that she was indeed to be forgotten, she was even able to give some attention to the songs which came to her ears, and to think that it was, in truth, to the advantage of some of the voices, that she heard them only from a distance, and in a place where her countenance might reflect the judgement of her senses, without fear of offending the performers.
It was, of course, impossible that she should be entirely easy, for she was aware that at such affairs it was common for many to eventually seek relief from the heat of the main room, by drifting into adjoining hallways, and her gaze was kept fixed upon the doorway, to prevent any one coming out and seeing her, due to an unwary gesture on her part, made when she thought herself alone. It was thus that she saw the Miss Robinsons slip out, after the execution of only two or three pieces. Their steps were careful and soft, as befitted persons quitting a room in which scores of ears were presumably rapt in a glorious comprehension of harmonies; but once free of the door they lost all hesitation, and became full of purpose and haste.
Kitty had, almost from the beginning of their acquaintance, been forced to recognize that the Miss Robinsons app
eared to lack those amiable qualities most conducive to the promotion of lasting friendships; but they were still the means ordained to take her home, and she had no intention of losing sight of them, when she had no notion of their direction. Forsaking her tree with reluctance, she rose and hurried after them, catching them up as they approached the front door, and crying in breathless alarm, “Are you leaving? Are you leaving?”
They started; their vexation was plain. Kitty supposed they must have forgotten her. For a moment neither spoke, and then Miss Robinson achieved a smile, and said, “Yes, I fear we are. Georgina has the headache. But you need not come now. You must stay and enjoy the music. We will send the carriage back for you.”
This was not to be heard of. Kitty, roused to a greater degree of persistence than she usually commanded, by the threat of being even temporarily abandoned among strangers, without any means of transport, succeeded in convincing them that she was not to be left behind. Her heart swelled with gratitude toward the Providence that had visited such a timely indisposition upon Miss Georgina. The Miss Robinsons had been at some trouble to assure Kitty of their disagreeableness, and it speaks well of their success, that she now felt only the smallest twinge of guilt, for indulging such selfish thoughts, while Miss Georgina suffered; and that she did suffer was clear, by the small lines which had appeared around her mouth--and which must be due to pain--and the irritable way she implored her sister to come, as if every second’s delay caused her sharp distress.
It was deemed impossible that Kitty should take leave of her hosts. Georgina’s head would not allow it, even had they been near at hand, instead of in the next room, and surrounded by guests. To go in now would only create a disturbance, and as for waiting until the next interval, it was not to be thought of; if Kitty felt she could not leave without calling everybody's attention to the fact, she should by all means stay, but she must not expect to find the Miss Robinsons when she returned, for they would certainly not wait for her. And in any event it was nothing but self-conceit that made her think any one would care whether she thanked them or not.
With these and other similar persuasions, Kitty allowed herself to be talked out the door; so great did she feel the discourtesy, however, that she could think, hear, attend to nothing else. The gravity of it increased every moment, and her mind was so taken up with what she ought to have done, that she was hardly aware of what she did, and consequently found herself enclosed in a carriage and being rapidly borne along streets, with no memory of having made any effort to get there. Having settled it that the only thing she could do was write a humble note of apology the instant she reached home, and vow never to do such a thing again, no matter what was said, she was once more able to look outward, and to feel some of the joy and relief, which must always accompany her in any carriage bound for home and family.
She became aware of being closely regarded, and voiced the civil hope that Miss Georgina’s head was better.
“It is entirely well,” said she, and laughed, and looked at Miss Robinson. Miss Robinson permitted herself a smile. They continued to stare at Kitty, who rewarded their concentration by growing discernibly nervous, and glancing away.
Some time later she ventured, “Does it not seem to you that it always takes longer to return home, than it does to go any where?”
“No,” said Miss Robinson; and added, “and in any case we are not returning home right now. We are going to a masquerade.”
Kitty did not give way to panic, even though such forms of entertainment had been fixed in her mind as the epitome of all that was most to be abhored in fashionable society, ever since her first reading of Sir Charles Grandison; she thought she had not understood the words correctly, or that it was another obscure jest. She only looked, and her look received an answer, which had the unhappy effect of removing all doubt.
“You really should not have come,” said Miss Robinson. “We told you to stay. We would have returned for you in an hour or two, and taken you home. But having thrust your company upon us, you have only yourself to blame, and must not expect us to alter our plans to suit your convenience. Have you never been to one? I dare say you will like it extremely. Of course, we have not got a ticket for you, but I expect you will be able to slip in behind us without too much difficulty, for you are such an unnoticeable little creature.”
“She does not have a mask, either,” added Miss Georgina. “But that does not signify--she can stay as she is, and go as a mouse.”
This witticism sent both girls into fits of laughter, to which Kitty paid no attention, but said, with tolerable steadiness, “Surely your parents cannot like you to go to such an affair without them, or at least a party of responsible persons!”
“No, of course not,” said Miss Robinson, controlling her merriment and raising her brows, as if wearied by the babblings of an idiot. “That is why we are going tonight. Our coachman is very reliable--it is he who procured the tickets for us. He will do any thing we wish as long as we pay him enough, and Mama is very generous with our pin money. There is no danger of his telling what he ought not.”
Kitty was silent before the perversity of this speech. She saw that their minds were fixed--they had armed themselves against the objections of conscience, and were determined not to be touched by any tiresome questions about the rightness or wisdom of their actions. Argument, at least from such an ineffectual quarter as herself, would be worse than useless, and only aggravate the offense. There was therefore nothing to be said, except, “I have no desire to go to a masquerade. Please take me home first.
Miss Robinson showed impatience. “Pray, do not be silly. If we were to take you home now, it might come to Papa’s ears that you had arrived home much earlier than expected, and if he thought to ask how it was that we were so much later, and took it into his head not to believe our explanations, there would be a great deal of bother, and an end to all our freedom. Even Mama would not be able to say any thing to him. No, there can be no talk of one of us returning home without the others; we must all go. It is entirely respectable, you know: you must have seen the notice for it yourself, listed in the Times, and addressed to ‘the Nobility and Gentry.’ We will drink some punch, and dance a few dances, and see if we can recognize any of the fine beaus, and then we shall all go home, and no one the wiser. Come, you are not going to pretend you have not often wished to throw off all the ridiculous restrictions your family sees fit to heap upon you! Think how amusing it will be, the next time your parents are prosing on and on about the improprieties and dangers of this and that, to know that you have already done this wonderfully daring thing, and they have not the slightest suspicion!”
Whether Miss Robinson thought it advisable to coax their unwilling guest into taking a more favorable view of the proceedings, or whether she was merely seeking an ally to strengthen her own rebellion, is uncertain. Whatever her motive, she was clearly under the impression that her words would conjure up a thrilling picture of Tyranny, Bravely Subverted. Alas, she spoke to one who was so benighted, as never to have felt anything but discomfort and misery when caught up in any sort of deception; and the alluring portrait drawn, of affectionate parents tricked and betrayed, unaccountably failed to provoke in Kitty anything but revulsion. She gazed at Miss Robinson in amazement, and suspected her of irony--a thing of which, I hasten to add, that young lady was quite guiltless.
“No,” said Kitty, and one doubts she could any longer refrain her voice from trembling. “No, I wish to go home. Please, take me home.”
The Miss Robinsons could not but be exasperated by this senseless repetition. They perceived that there was no point in wasting further speech on such a one, and shook their heads, and cast up their eyes, and became engrossed in one another. Kitty might fret and weep all she liked: it would do her no good, and would certainly not hurt them. In their first meeting, they had summed up her character, and knew her for the timorous, persuadable weather-vane that she was, without force of mind, or any ability to stand up for hersel
f. It was on this summation that they had gambled, when faced with her insistence on joining them; and they were in no doubt whatever, that the irresolution of her character would see the secrecy of their current escapade suitably preserved.
It was the Miss Robinsons’ misfortune, that they should have failed to mark the distinction, made by Kitty, between allowing herself to be bullied into doing something she felt to be right, or at least innocent, and something she knew very definitely to be wrong. It accordingly came as a most dreadful shock to them, to hear their negligible companion, whose futile tears they had been every moment expecting, stating instead, in a voice low and distressed, but nevertheless containing an unmistakable note of sincerity, “I cannot prevent you from taking me wherever you wish, but I will not get out of this carriage, and if you think that any consideration will stop me from telling this whole evening’s history to my parents, you are very greatly mistaken. I have never lied to them in my life, and I certainly shall not do so for you.”
Kitty then fell silent, worrying that she had perhaps placed a needless emphasis on the last word, as would imply that she held the sisters in contempt.
Her companions could not well have been more astonished. They saw their cherished scheme menaced at the very threshold of success, and menaced by such-a-one! They felt all the injustice of it, and showed their outrage in bitter speeches, which halted between threatenings and reproaches. Kitty neither quailed at the one, nor answered the other. Having screwed up her courage to say what must be said, she had no more words to offer, even had she thought them necessary. She closed her eyes, and folded her hands, and would only say, when all the sound and fury of her opponents ceased, “I wish to go home. Please, take me home.”
Friendship and Folly: The Merriweather Chronicles Book I Page 12