What Kitty Did Next

by Carrie Kablean

  Kitty and Elizabeth read thus far in near silence. ‘There is more,’ announced Lizzy. ‘She has added to the letter.’

  I had not time to send the above before dear Mama called. She is well and asks after you both. She says she will write directly. Mama is a little bereft; I am concerned for her, I confess. Although she can now tell all of Meryton that she has four daughters well married, she feels the loss of our company dearly. She complains that Lydia does not write as often as she should – but that is just her way. It is well that we are close by and she is delighted to hear my own happy news. Quite a distraction for her poor nerves!

  I am glad to be out of London and here at Netherfield although I could wish you were not so far.

  Yours, affectionately

  ‘Mama will be a daily visitor to Netherfield,’ said Elizabeth, as she looked up from Jane’s letter. ‘I only hope Jane’s nerves can withstand her attentions. Mrs Mary Gregory! It sounds well, I suppose.’

  ‘I should not say so but it seems strange to think of Mary married,’ said Kitty. ‘It is so unexpected! But then I did not expect you to be married to Mr Darcy, so I am no seer of such events. Even so…’

  ‘I know,’ agreed Elizabeth. ‘Who would have thought a year ago that four of us would have changed our names. Mama will not know where to direct her attentions, or rather she will! It is as well that you are not at Longbourn. She will be impatient to find a suitor for you now!’

  Kitty knew the truth of that statement. ‘I know nothing of India and the work of missionaries. Do you? Will Mary go, do you think?’

  ‘I think she will. Mary is nothing if not determined once she gets an idea in her head. We will find out soon enough I have no doubt. Let’s go and find Georgiana. I think we would all benefit from a walk.’

  CHAPTER 32

  Although acutely aware that she was the only remaining Miss Bennet, Pemberley offered plenty of distractions. Within a few weeks, Kitty’s awe at its majestic proportions had given way to familiarity, and her room, her run of the house and grounds became the norm. Not that she was ungrateful; she was happier than she had ever been and her fervent wish was that nothing should change to remove her from her present idyll.

  Georgiana and she spent most of their days together, either in the music room, walking the woods or reading companionably yet separately in the library. Kitty refused all attempts to learn to ride but was persuaded to venture on sketching expeditions with Georgiana, often as not with Lizzy, when the sisters would take it in turns to read aloud while the artist was absorbed with her landscapes.

  Kitty’s introduction to archery, at which Georgiana was quite the Diana, was a day of much hilarity. Elizabeth’s prowess with a bow was no greater than Kitty’s, and Mr Darcy, watching, clearly found the experience highly entertaining – so much so that he laughed heartily. Kitty had never heard him laugh outright before and the day did much to break down barriers and establish an easier communication between them. She no longer feared to address him, as once she had, and he, who had not known he was such a forbidding figure, felt only benevolence towards this young woman who was at once his wife’s sister and his sister’s beloved friend. He seemed to have quite forgotten the wild child who, with Lydia, had so repulsed him at balls in Meryton. In short, a respectful and fraternal relationship now existed between Kitty and Mr Darcy – she could not imagine herself ever calling him Fitzwilliam, of course, which Elizabeth found amusing.

  Occasionally, a letter arrived from Lydia to which Kitty responded, tailoring her news as if to guard Pemberley and its inhabitants from her sister’s curiosity. Knowing what she now did about Wickham, coupled with her greater appreciation of Darcy’s role in rescuing Lydia from ignominy, stretched her loyalties to both parties. Distance, too, had given Kitty perspective in which to reflect on her reliance on and emulation of Lydia and often, when reading her sister’s invariably short and untidy missives, she was shocked by a turn of phrase or an observation she felt a little crude. Her sister’s reaction to Mary’s wedding had given Kitty pause. She had started to read the latest letter in the drawing room, where she had been sitting working with Georgiana and Lizzy, but the initial lines had been so unfeeling that Kitty had pocketed it and taken it upstairs to her bedroom for private perusal. As with so many things, Lydia thought the marriage a huge joke.

  How I laughed at the thought of Mary, a book of sermons under her arm, preaching and prating to poor unfortunates. She would bore them to death! Of course the real wonder is that she is married at all! Her Mr Gregory must be a humdrum fellow! I can scarce remember what he looks like, but I would know him if he were handsome. And they are off to India, perhaps that is for the best…

  The remainder of the letter continued in the same mocking vein, unless it was something that pertained to Lydia or her dear Wickham, and quite disgusted her sister. Whatever Kitty felt about Mary’s decision, she respected it and was slightly in awe of the new Mrs Gregory’s dedication to helping the less fortunate. It was wrong of Lydia to belittle her for it, especially when her own conduct left so much to be desired. Her letters mentioned dances and card parties and accounts of insalubrious japes among the officers, always referred to as the best of fun. She would laugh at me, were she here, thought Kitty; and mock me for having no suitor and no assemblies to attend to find one. ‘Well,’ she said to her reflection in the mirror, ‘I am perfectly content here. What need have I of that sort of fun?’

  The social activities outside Pemberley into which Kitty was now drawn revolved around several families who lived in the vicinity. In general, the Darcys’ neighbours were interested and interesting people, whose hospitality was both refined and relaxed and, more often than not, they hosted dinners that progressed into impromptu musical evenings, often with dancing. It was on one such occasion that Kitty, before she had time to resist, found herself seated at the pianoforte with Georgiana playing one of the many pieces they had practised together. It was a pretty performance and well received in general, but what made it memorable for Kitty was Elizabeth’s commendation. ‘I had no idea your playing was so improved. That was very well done,’ she had said, and Kitty’s heart had swelled with pride.

  Not everything was entirely perfect, though. A consequence of Darcy visiting Lord Fothergill was an invitation for him and his family to dine at Pemberley, and so it was that Kitty found herself seated at the same table as an earl and his lady, an event that would once have caused her much nervous anxiety. There had been Fothergills at Fothergill Abbey for generations, she learned, and given that Lady Margaret had borne four children to her husband, three of whom were sons, the family line was in no danger of imminent collapse. Her ladyship had little conversation; her chief interest in life appeared to be her children and agreeing with everything her husband said, and what he said meant little to Kitty as he referred to people and places she knew naught of. Only two of the lesser Fothergills, as Kitty dubbed them, were at the dinner: Rose, a pretty but otherwise unremarkable young woman, and her younger brother Marcus, a resolutely silent youth. Despite the best efforts of the hosts, the conversation at that dinner table had not been stimulating. Kitty had watched Elizabeth feigning interest as Lord Fothergill gave forth on his ideas about agriculture, drainage and the need for a stern hand with poachers, while Darcy, not a man given to excessive speech, had bordered on the loquacious in his attempts to engage Lady Fothergill.

  ‘Good Lord, Mr Darcy!’ Lizzy had exclaimed, as soon as the doors were closed on their visitors. ‘Next time you are of a mind to invite that family, let us be sure that others are also at the table. Or was that a test of my endurance?’

  ‘Not intentionally, my dear,’ he had responded, looking a little pained.

  In the event, soon after that occasion, their family circle was expanded by the arrival of Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Darcy’s cousin on his mother’s side (and so, Kitty knew, the younger son of an earl), who habitually spent the summer months at Pemberley whenever his duties allowed. Kitty had heard much ab
out the colonel: from Georgiana, who revered him almost as much as she revered her brother; and from Elizabeth, who had first made his acquaintance a year previously when he and Darcy had been staying with their aunt, the formidable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, at her country seat of Rosings in Kent, and she had been visiting Charlotte Collins, whose parsonage adjoined her ladyship’s property.

  With such positive endorsement from both sides, Kitty was predisposed to very much approve of Colonel Fitzwilliam and she was not disappointed. He in turn expected to delight in a young woman who was at once the sister of Elizabeth, whose personality had charmed him from their first meeting, and the trusted confidante of Georgiana (who was also his ward, a responsibility he shared with Mr Darcy). All in all, one might have expected romance to bloom immediately between the good colonel and the newly demure damsel but life does not always present such easy enchantment. Colonel Fitzwilliam was handsome enough in his way, a couple of years older than Mr Darcy and steady in character. However, it should be remembered that he was only the second son of a lord, a gentleman to the core but a gentleman not about to inherit – hence his military career – and, as he had remarked to Elizabeth, somewhat candidly, the summer before, for this reason he was not at liberty to marry where he chose. Kitty, for her part, liked Colonel Fitzwilliam well enough, but he did not set her heart aflutter. She wondered about him in private, for he was a very eligible man and well qualified to win her heart but, she owned, in this regard he did not compare favourably to Henry Adams, whom she found herself thinking about rather too often and, as she constantly reminded herself, to no good purpose.

  CHAPTER 33

  June brought sunny weather that was warm enough for picnics in the park and painting en plein air. On one such day, the Pemberley party arranged to meet at the folly, an amusing if not particularly authentic rendition of a small Greek temple that a previous Darcy had been inspired to build after his Grand Tour and which now served very little purpose other than providing an attractive subject for painting and a little shelter from the elements. The ladies set off together on foot, having waved goodbye to Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had ridden off on horseback to make a circuit of the estate.

  ‘I have been informed,’ announced Elizabeth as they strolled beside the stream, ‘that it is incumbent on the mistress of Pemberley to host a summer ball. Mr Darcy has kept this obligation from me until now.’

  Georgiana looked at Lizzy, alarmed by her resigned tone, but Kitty knew her sister better.

  ‘Well,’ said she, ‘you had better make sure it is a good one. Your reputation is at stake here.’

  ‘Indeed, it is. I understand Lady Anne was renowned for Pemberley’s summer balls.’

  ‘You’ll manage, and manage very well,’ returned Kitty. ‘You know you will.’

  ‘Thankfully, I have Mrs Reynolds to help me. And you too, Georgiana. You shall not escape responsibilities here. You have the advantage of knowing how these balls go.’

  ‘I am afraid I cannot help you, dearest Lizzy. I have small recollections of rooms filled with flowers, and lots of candlelight reflecting on glasses, but I was too young to be allowed to stay up. I remember my mother looking quite beautiful in a green silk dress and I think that must have been for the ball, but I was but four years old, and it may not be a true memory.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You lost your dear mother at such an early age. She would be proud to see you grown into such a lovely young woman.’

  Kitty looked over to Georgiana. She could discern a faint blush at the compliment.

  ‘Perhaps,’ continued Elizabeth, ‘this ball could mark your coming out? It would be a fine thing to re-establish a tradition with such an event. But only if that is something that would please you.’

  ‘I had not thought of it,’ said Georgiana, her colour rising. ‘I mean, I would like to ask my brother. A summer ball would be enchanting but…’

  Kitty came to her rescue. ‘I think it all sounds perfectly divine, with or without your coming out. I am “out”, am I not, Lizzy? And it was quite painless. Although I was never in any danger of being presented at court. Just think, though, a ball in your honour among your friends in Derbyshire… so much easier than an equivalent affair in London.’ She was still surprised at Georgiana’s modesty and shyness.

  ‘You are right,’ said the latter, looking from Kitty to Elizabeth. ‘I suppose I must think of these things.’

  ‘Let us wait and discuss it with your brother,’ said Elizabeth, resolving not to pursue the idea. ‘You may decide that London is a better choice.’

  ‘When do you propose to hold the ball?’ asked Kitty, manoeuvring the attention away from Georgiana. ‘And perhaps it ought to be Mrs Elizabeth Darcy’s ball, first and foremost?’

  ‘In answer to the first, tradition has it that the ball is held in August. The full moon is in the middle of the month this year. As to the second, perhaps you are right. Do not look so worried,’ she said to Georgiana. ‘At present, it is just a summer ball and, as it must proceed – or so I am told – then we had better enjoy it, do you not think?’

  ‘Will Jane travel to Derbyshire?’ wondered Kitty.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I fear she will not, although I would dearly love to see her. She does not complain – when did Jane ever complain? – but Mama wrote and made mention of Jane being told to rest and I hope that means Mr Bingley will insist that she does. I do miss her so. I shall insist she comes to Pemberley for Christmas. We shall have three Bingleys to welcome by then.’

  ‘Ah, but there are already three Bingleys,’ said Kitty, looking arch. ‘You have not forgotten Caroline?’

  ‘Miss Bingley and Mr and Mrs Hurst usually spend some weeks with us during summer,’ said Georgiana before Elizabeth could respond. ‘Mr Bingley too, of course, as he and my brother are such great friends. It will be strange not to see him here this year but I suppose his sisters will come without him.’

  ‘I daresay they will,’ said Lizzy, resolving to speak with Darcy on the subject at the first opportunity. She had quite forgotten about Miss Bingley and receiving her as a house guest was a prospect as welcome as snow in July. Snow would be warmer, she thought.

  Kitty’s thoughts were running in tandem. The Bingley sisters would not want to miss Elizabeth’s first summer ball and they would be at Pemberley without their brother’s genial presence to check them. Aloud, said she: ‘Will you invite Mama and Papa?’

  ‘Of course, and I would be delighted if they accept. I am not convinced, however, that they will come.

  ‘Mama is not one for travelling,’ she explained to Georgiana, ‘although she will very much want to see where I am living and meet you. To Papa, the journey would present no problem but he only goes to balls under protest. If he comes, I would not be surprised if he contrives to have himself locked in the library for the duration and not discovered until the following day.’

  ‘Mama may not want to leave Jane, either?’ suggested Kitty.

  ‘You are right, I am sure. I will let them know when the ball will be and we will see. It may be that everyone prefers to come here at Christmas. Aunt and Uncle Gardiner as well.’

  ‘Last Christmas was so joyful,’ said Georgiana, smiling at the memory. ‘I cannot recollect one better. I enjoyed it so much more than being in London. You will see, Kitty.’

  Kitty hoped she would. There had been no discussion as to quite how long she would stay at Pemberley and she felt a little nervous every time an opportunity arose that might indicate a return to Longbourn.

  They reached the folly, where Georgiana’s easel was already set up, and made themselves comfortable. The painting, half completed, showed promise. ‘I wish I were so talented,’ said Kitty. ‘I cannot paint and can only draw a little. You do everything so well.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said her friend. ‘I do some things reasonably well and then only because I am determined that I shall achieve a satisfactory result. You have not seen me in despair beca
use I had got an angle quite wrong, or because I had spent days, wasted days, trying to achieve an effect of light.’

  ‘Very well,’ laughed Kitty. ‘I am scolded, but I think you have a talent for painting that I do not possess. Moreover, I think you enjoy it, and perhaps that is the difference.’

  ‘I do enjoy it, that is true. Just as it is true of playing the pianoforte and harp, where again it is necessary to practise to improve. You would agree with that, would you not?’

  ‘I do,’ said Kitty, ‘and I am happy to practise at the pianoforte, as you well know.’

  ‘You are a better player than me now,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Father would be astonished at your proficiency.’

  Kitty was happy to accept such a compliment.

  ‘Besides,’ continued Georgiana, stepping back to survey her work, ‘each of us has our own talents. I prefer to paint and play and sing, it leaves less time for netting and petit point, which I do not like at all.’

  ‘No more do I,’ said Lizzy and Kitty simultaneously and in exactly the same tone.

  Georgiana laughed with them. ‘I could wish,’ said she, ‘to be more like both of you. You are each so witty and at ease in company, and you are both such avid readers. You quite put me to shame.’

  ‘I am not witty,’ protested Kitty.

  ‘But you are,’ insisted Georgiana, loyally. ‘You have such a flair for observing others’ foibles and imitating them. You know you do. And what of the song you wrote? I have never composed a song.’

  Elizabeth looked askance at Kitty.

  ‘It was more of a little poem, really,’ said she, embarrassed. ‘Nothing to be commended.’

  ‘I should like to hear it sometime,’ said her sister, opening one of the books she had brought with her.

  Kitty held her breath, hoping Georgiana would remember to say nothing of the short story she had written, which she had shared with her under pledge of secrecy. It had come about after the dinner with the dreary Fothergills and Kitty had amused herself by putting some adventure into that family’s lives. She had enjoyed writing it – and was quite pleased with the finished tale – but although Georgiana had laughed and found it all most diverting, Kitty feared Elizabeth would disapprove of such a mordant rendition of their neighbours.