What Kitty Did Next

by Carrie Kablean

  Her thoughts turned to Henry Adams; she could not imagine when or if she might see him once she had left for Longbourn, and that gave her pause but, with a little toss of her head, she attempted to dismiss his image from her mind. She found him most agreeable company but he had not shown her any particular regard, so there was little point in considering him as anything other than a friend. Rather like Sir Edward, she thought. There were the Fanshawes, too. She would not see them again either, which might be more of a loss. Her mother would be most dissatisfied to discover that she had made no conquests in London. She blew out the candle, lay down and gave in to sleep.

  CHAPTER 24

  When Kitty awoke it was to the sound of rain pattering steadily against the window and she pulled aside the heavy brocade curtain to see a sky that was grey and threatening. The first day of April and a day to match my mood, she thought, her head full of what had happened yesterday. Pulling a shawl tight around her, she sat down at the little table in her room. There was light enough to enable her to write and Kitty wanted to record her memories before she left London. It was as if leaving without tangible evidence of her stay would render the whole experience a dream; she would be back at Longbourn unable to believe it had happened at all – and such a lot had happened.

  I am enchanted with London and all that I have seen here. I have felt at times an outsider, an invisible person in the salons and theatres and concert halls, just observing such fashionable ladies, such sateens and colours, such feathers and headdresses. And the proud gentlemen – of all shapes and sizes, and not always so fashionable – especially the rotund Sir Merrick at Lady Bracken’s, such a very short man in stature but so very stout, his breeches so tight and buttons almost popping.

  Such a difference from our Meryton Assemblies; London manners, too, so very different from ours in the country. Would I want to live here for ever? I think only if Jane or Lizzy were here; it would be so daunting to make one’s own way in this society. So many new rules of etiquette to learn! Who knows whom, and who likes and does not like whom, who hates whom!

  Jane and Charles have been so welcoming; I shall never forget their kindness and for showing me so much that is new and exciting. I love Jane more than ever; she is so sweet and loving. She will be a wonderful mother. They are so suited, both so gentle. Charles has been excessively kind to me as well. Who would have known he was so passionate about music? He has been so encouraging; even playing a duet with me! At least they will be close by at Netherfield. Already I long for concerts, and theatres too!

  So many pleasure gardens in London, but Kensington Gardens is my favourite, for the Serpentine. And Hyde Park – what a spectacle that is with everyone parading and preening in their finest attire. Mama will be so pleased to hear of the people, the lords and the ladies I have seen. I have never asked her whether she likes London or not.

  And I have seen a bear! A poor forlorn creature tethered in Atkinsons, not so fearsome as I had anticipated although I did not want to go close, and I have no desire at all now to see the Royal Menagerie, but I am glad to have seen the Tower and St Paul’s and Westminster Hall and the Queen’s Palace, so many places. Lord, how small home will seem, but I must be resolute and know that I will escape in the summer.

  How happy Lizzy is with Mr Darcy; she is Lizzy still but even brighter and sharper. I shall be sad to see her go back to Pemberley as well. How fortunate for me that her visit was made early or we might have missed each other and I would never have met Georgiana. I hardly know Mr Darcy any better though; I am sure he disapproves of me although Georgiana says this is all my imagination. Dearest Georgiana. I am not sure which or whom I shall miss the most: London or Georgiana. To think: I thought she would be fearfully proud but she is become my best friend, she is like a sister to me. I should not think it, I know, but I feel closer to Georgiana than to Lydia now that she is gone away. I do not think Lydia thinks of me any more, which was hard at first but now I think I can understand. She is too busy in her new married life and will be surrounded by officers, all of whom she will want to impress.

  I think Georgiana and I comprehend each other well. How strange that she and Lydia are of the same age but how different have been their lives and how different their characters; she would do nothing to presage a scandal, of that I am sure.

  I should write to Lydia. There is much I can tell her now. I wonder what news she will have for me. Perhaps she will soon be in the same condition as Jane? Lydia as a mother, though, that I cannot imagine – it is indeed a wondrous thought.

  Kitty stopped writing. She could hear sounds that meant breakfast would soon be on the table and she was not yet dressed. She put away her papers and made herself ready.

  Breakfast at Brook Street was always a relaxed affair and was today even more so – given the wind and the rain outside, neither Bingley nor Jane was in a hurry to go anywhere. Kitty gave them a fine account of the play the previous evening, and also raised the subject of seeing the exhibition at the Royal Academy with the Darcys (a plan that was readily agreed to), but forbore to mention the tentative invitation to Pemberley in Miss Bingley’s presence. Fortunately, that lady wasted no time in commandeering the carriage in order to call on the Hursts, and took her brother with her, leaving Jane and Kitty at leisure.

  ‘That will be another adventure for you,’ said Jane, pleased. ‘I had thought I would see Pemberley this summer but now you will see it before me. I really must write to Mama this morning to tell her we will be at Netherfield soon. What trouble I shall be in if Aunt Phillips sees the servants arriving in advance of us! I have not mentioned my condition yet; she would be chiding me for being in London if she knew.’

  ‘Or calling for Papa to come here directly and bring you home! You will be responsible for quieting her nerves! Well, at least I hope so. What is it Papa says? A “return to querulous calm”? Well, I shall write to Lydia then, and perhaps she will return the favour.’

  Both settled into the drawing room and began their correspondence, straightforward for Jane and a little more complicated for Kitty, who was determined not to write too long a letter and was therefore deliberating on what to leave out and what would impress most. It was odd to be writing to Lydia more out of duty when once they had chatted about everything and everybody without giving it a second thought. There was no doubt her perspective on Lydia had shifted. Jane’s revelation about the circumstances of her wedding almost made her feel sorry for her, but it was difficult to feel too sorry for Lydia, especially as she seemed perfectly happy being Mrs Wickham. I am the one who has changed, thought Kitty. I am the one who now sees more and wants more than to be married to just anyone! Is this a good or a bad thing though? There are things I cannot change! They were hard questions to answer, so she satisfied herself with giving her sister, among other things, a brief account of the play and of her invitation to Pemberley that summer.

  She had just finished the letter and sealed it when the sounds of a carriage coming to a stop outside brought her to the window and, peering discreetly, she ascertained it to be carrying the Darcy livery. Moments later Georgiana was shown into the room looking almost agitated. She allowed herself to be greeted affectionately by Jane and Kitty, both of whom were about to enquire whether something was wrong when Georgiana spoke: ‘Forgive me for arriving at this hour but I could not wait a moment longer. Kitty, I have spoken with my brother and Lizzy and we would all be most obliged if you would do us the honour of accompanying us to Derbyshire next week.’

  Her request made, she stopped and caught her breath, looking at Kitty as if there might possibly be a negative response. She was sorry, she said, that the journey would be direct, that they would not be making diversions to Oxford or other places of interest. Kitty was all astonishment, but of the happiest kind, and she found she had to sit down. What cared she for Oxford or anywhere else? The matter was settled within an instant: with her father’s approval – and she doubted not that it would be forthcoming. She would write immediately! –
Kitty would be travelling north in just a few days and all her anxieties about leaving London, until that moment the most alluring place on earth, simply disappeared.

  CHAPTER 25

  Happily ensconced in the Royal Academy Exhibition Room, Kitty was studying one of Thomas Lawrence’s portraits so intently that she did not at first hear the voice at her elbow. Eventually she turned to find herself looking at a familiar face. ‘Sir Edward,’ she smiled. ‘How very pleasant to find you here. Oh, and Mr Fanshawe, as well.’ Taken by surprise by the sight of both Sir Edward and his nephew Frederick, Kitty was momentarily disconcerted. She had not expected to meet either again so soon. ‘How do you do?’ she said, collecting herself. ‘Please allow me to introduce Miss Darcy.’

  The two gentlemen bowed. ‘A pleasure indeed, Miss Darcy,’ said Sir Edward. ‘There are a great many people here today, are there not? Driven inside by the weather no doubt, what?’

  ‘Or perhaps to see these wonderful portraits, sir,’ said Kitty. ‘The colours are so rich and the faces positively vibrant. Miss Darcy and I have been trying to decide which we prefer but have not reached a conclusion as yet.’

  ‘You are here with Mr and Mrs Bingley?’

  ‘Indeed we are. I believe you will find them in the next room.’

  ‘Capital, capital,’ declared Sir Edward. ‘Must find him, splendid fellow, but first, Miss Bennet, I should be pleased to know how you liked the Maria Edgeworth novel?’

  ‘I liked it very well indeed, I was quite taken with the plot and the characters. You were right to recommend her. I thank you. I have been remiss in returning it to you but I shall remedy that at once. Miss Darcy and I will be leaving London tomorrow for Derbyshire.’ Kitty felt a surge of happiness in speaking those words.

  ‘That is grave news indeed, Miss Bennet,’ returned the ever-gallant gentleman. ‘The book I can do without but it is very remiss of you to deprive us of your company.’ He turned to Frederick Fanshawe for affirmation.

  ‘I agree, it is most disappointing news! Especially as we have only recently become acquainted. We shall have to make the most of your company today. What think you of the exhibition, Miss Darcy? My uncle and I have only just arrived. Perhaps you and Miss Bennet can direct us to the paintings we should see first?’

  Slightly flustered by this appeal, Georgiana nevertheless managed to acquiesce and she and Kitty retraced their steps to show their companions the portraits they favoured.

  ‘Your home is in Derbyshire?’ enquired Mr Fanshawe of Georgiana as they stopped to consider a very large portrait of an aristocratic lady.

  ‘That is so. I am in London with my brother and his wife.’ She paused, hoping Kitty might further the conversation, but she and Sir Edward had stopped to consider another artwork. ‘And you, Mr Fanshawe?’ she continued. ‘You are here for the season?’

  ‘We were here earlier in the year, but for the past few weeks my brother and I have been visiting relations in Bath. We decided it would be entertaining to stay awhile in London on our journey home to Yorkshire but I am not sure when we will start that journey. There is always some good reason to postpone it! I wonder we have not seen you about town. We had the pleasure of meeting Miss Bennet and Mr and Mrs Bingley at the Philharmonic last month.’

  ‘It preceded our arrival,’ said Georgiana, as they moved along the gallery. ‘I believe it was an excellent concert.’

  ‘It was very good. No doubt you play and sing yourself? I am sure you do!’

  Miss Darcy was forced to admit she liked to play the pianoforte and the harp. Kitty, still engaged by Sir Edward and following a short distance behind, could see that Georgiana was flattered by Frederick Fanshawe’s attentions and making an effort to overcome her shyness. She likes him, Kitty thought, and why not? He did cut a fine and imposing figure. Across the room, she caught sight of Mr Darcy who, with Elizabeth, was contained in a knot of people who looked to be discussing the merits of one of the paintings. His attention to the group was not complete, however; his expression stern, he was keeping a close eye on the gentleman talking to his sister. Kitty thought this quite endearing – if only he didn’t look so severe! – but her own attention was distracted by William Fanshawe, who had arrived to join Sir Edward and herself.

  ‘I think you will find me a better critic of art than of music,’ he said to Kitty, after he had expressed his pleasure at seeing her again. ‘I have been looking at the portraits in the other room. Some very fine ones. I wish I could paint half so well.’ Then, noticing his brother, he asked, ‘Who is that lady with whom Frederick is speaking?’

  ‘My friend and sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy,’ said Kitty, quietly proud. ‘Shall we join them?’ It was but moments later, when the little group of five was studying a portrait of Queen Charlotte, that Darcy strolled over and more introductions were made. He is not come for conversation, thought Kitty; he is here to chaperone Georgiana. She was right, of course, but it was lightly done and soon the Bingleys and Elizabeth arrived to swell the party.

  Sir Edward had quickly made the connection between the name of Darcy and the estate at Pemberley, which provided him with much conjecture as to which acquaintances they might have in common in that part of the world. It was an avenue Mr Darcy seemed loath to pursue – he was not a man to make his private life public – and the more Sir Edward talked the more Mr Darcy withdrew until the only comments that came freely from him concerned the artworks.

  Under the watchful eye of her brother, Georgiana had a pleasant afternoon in the company of the elder Mr Fanshawe, and Kitty similarly enjoyed the conversation of his brother, William. When they left the Academy, Miss Bennet’s and Miss Darcy’s imminent departures were lamented by the gentlemen, and all looked forward to meeting again, whenever or wherever that might be.

  Intrigued by Sir Edward’s attentions to Kitty, Elizabeth detached her sister from the others in order to speak to her privately.

  ‘Sir Edward takes quite an interest in you,’ she remarked.

  ‘I suppose he does,’ said Kitty. ‘He is interested in everything and everyone, I think.’

  ‘What do you know of him?’

  ‘Sir Edward? He is the father of an old school friend of Miss Bingley, whose name is now Mrs Bridgwater, and he has been a friend of the family for some time, I believe.’

  ‘I hear he has a property in Yorkshire. There are a number of grand old families in Yorkshire but I have not heard the name Quincy.’

  ‘Nor I,’ said Kitty. ‘He did tell me once that his sister lives near Doncaster, but as to his own estate I have no knowledge of that. I don’t think he spends much time there, wherever it is.’

  ‘I wonder he did not marry again,’ Elizabeth observed, blandly.

  Kitty knew she was being interrogated, but for once she was not concerned. She was quite happy to assuage Elizabeth’s curiosity about Sir Edward. As far as she was concerned he was a perfectly pleasant, if rather old, gentleman.

  ‘I have never thought about why that might be,’ she said. ‘It is not a topic that has ever been discussed! Although I do think he is lonely and London life diverts him. He had two sons, you know, and both died within a year. The eldest was in the Navy and perished in the West Indies, I do not know the particulars; the younger died soon after in a riding accident. Amelia is his only surviving child. He is inordinately fond of his nephews.’

  ‘They appear to be fine young gentlemen.’

  ‘Yes, they do indeed, but I hardly know them. It is only the second time we have met. Neither can I tell you,’ she added, sotto voce, ‘their incomes or prospects!’

  ‘I am sorry,’ laughed Elizabeth. ‘I have no wish to sound like Mama! I am interested, that is all.’

  ‘Miss Bingley may know the family better. You could ask her,’ suggested Kitty sweetly.

  ‘I am not that interested,’ retorted Elizabeth and, having caught up with the rest of their party, she was obliged to drop the conversation.

  CHAPTER 26

  Kitty was not qu
ite ready when Henry Adams’s arrival was announced for what would be their last meeting at Brook Street. Although neither had acknowledged anything other than a mutual interest in music, Kitty always took singular care about her appearance whenever she was to see him. Dissatisfaction with her hair was the cause of her trouble on this particular morning and she hurriedly adjusted it as she went downstairs. She had tried dismissing her attraction as a silly little infatuation and intended to forget all about him as soon as she had quit London.

  He greeted her in his habitual warm and polite manner and Kitty took her place at the pianoforte.

  ‘I trust, Miss Bennet, you have been practising as instructed,’ he said with mock severity.

  ‘Indeed sir, I would not dare do otherwise,’ returned she, coquettishly.

  ‘Very well. I am pleased to hear it. Shall we proceed?’

  Proceed she did, and whether it was the desire to impress or the result of application – who could say? – Kitty’s fingers fairly flew over the pianoforte and she forgot about everything except the sound of the sonata as it filled the room.

  ‘Bravo!’ cried Mr Adams when the last notes had reverberated into silence. ‘Miss Bennet, you are without doubt one of my best pupils, and I have been teaching some for a much longer time. Your progress has been quite remarkable.’

  Kitty felt herself blush at the compliment and hid her face behind the music sheets as she murmured her thanks. She was of course thrilled at the praise.

  ‘I have been thinking what would be best for you to try next,’ said Mr Adams, looking at his protegée, ‘and I will have new scores within a few days. I think you are quite ready to move on to more complex pieces. I trust you agree?’