What Kitty Did Next

by Carrie Kablean

  No more was said, however. Georgiana was concentrating on her painting, leaving Kitty relieved and in peace to think about how much she did enjoy writing, if that was what she could deem her little musings. And Georgiana had said that she observed other people and their foibles. Was not that exactly what Jane had said about Elizabeth!

  Elizabeth was reading The Sorrows of Yamba, a paean against slavery authored by ‘A Lady’. She had picked it up, she said, thinking of Mary, though it pertained to Africa more than India. Kitty picked up the other book, which turned out to be Fielding’s Tom Jones, and silence ensued, broken only by the rustling sounds of summer in parkland, the turning of pages and Georgiana’s paintbrush swishing about in the water jar.

  The gentlemen arrived, full of energy from their exertions and extolling the virtues of the day and the weather. ‘What say you to an outing one day?’ said Colonel Fitzwilliam to no one in particular, as he lay down and stretched out on the grass. ‘Perhaps to Stanton Tor or the Black Rocks? Have you been there yet, Miss Bennet?’

  She had not and Colonel Fitzwilliam sat back up and feigned outrage on her behalf. How could Darcy have so neglected his charming guest, it must be set to rights immediately. She had not visited Matlock Bath or Buxton? He was appalled. Mr Darcy allowed himself to be castigated by his friend, Elizabeth made a show of defending him, Kitty protested she had no need to put anyone to any trouble and within no time at all, adding to the pleasures of the day, the five were planning day trips to see the sights nearby.

  CHAPTER 34

  The date of the summer ball – set as 12 August and a good seven weeks away – was close enough to anticipate but not so close as to cause anxiety or involve Elizabeth or the household in flurries of preparation. It was too early to send out invitations but she had notified Jane of the event, acknowledging the likelihood that her sister would be unable to travel and reiterating the wish to see her – and her family! – at Pemberley at Christmas. Jane’s letter in response affirmed her health was good but that she had been advised against long journeys, that their mother was a frequent visitor, their father well and that she and Mr Bingley were serious in their contemplation of Dapplewick Hall as a future residence. There had been correspondence with its owners and as a consequence Mr Bingley would visit the house soon, and given its proximity to Pemberley – and Jane had added an exclamation mark here – he hoped very much to be in their company within a week or so. She thought Mr Darcy might have more precise information.

  Elizabeth applied to her husband immediately and found he had been in touch with Mr Bingley on that very subject, having heard that other parties were also interested in purchasing Dapplewick. ‘I have advised Bingley to inspect the property as soon as he can,’ he told her.

  A letter from Mr Bingley arrived the following day, confirming his intentions to travel north. He would be accompanied by his friend Mr Bridgwater, whose wife was presently staying at Netherfield with Jane, and they expected to arrive at Pemberley the following Tuesday. He had, he wrote, made arrangements to view Dapplewick Hall and also planned to visit another property, Hazelton Place in southern Yorkshire, that Bridgwater knew of through his father-in-law, Sir Edward. He trusted Darcy would be available to accompany him and dared hope that Mrs Darcy would be amenable to joining them likewise.

  Elizabeth had no objection and daily expected a letter from Jane, requesting the same. To have the Bingleys settled close to her in Derbyshire would be such a happiness she hardly dared to speak the wish aloud. Kitty, when told, was considerably less elated and could only express a desire to be part of the viewing party and then Georgiana wanted to go also, so that the potential purchase of a Bingley estate acquired its own commission and became a small tour of the neighbourhood.

  Kitty was delighted to see Mr Bingley again, even if she did not care much for the reason for his visit. She was completely at ease in his company and could happily converse with him on a variety of subjects without feeling ill-informed or silly; he had, quite unwittingly, fallen into the role of her mentor. He, in turn, was as happy to see Kitty as he was others of the Darcy household and only sorry that his dearest Jane was unable to be with him to enjoy such convivial company.

  During dinner that evening, Mr Bingley dispensed details of the daily routines of Netherfield House, Meryton and its environs, interspersed with what news there was to offer, which in brief was that one of his favourite horses was lame; that Sir William Lucas was suffering from gout and thought to go to Bath; and that there was a new proprietor of the inn in the village, but he could not remember his name. From Mr Bridgwater, they gleaned details of Hazelton Place, constructed some sixty years ago on the site of what had once been a sixteenth-century palace.

  ‘A palace!’ cried Kitty. ‘How romantic.’

  ‘Romantic, possibly,’ said Elizabeth, ‘but I think a sixteenth-century palace would not be very comfortable now.’

  ‘Sir Edward says the new wings are modern, with quite a number of guestrooms,’ said Mr Bridgwater, returning to his theme. ‘He attended a house party there a few years ago. We will have to discover the rest when we get there, but I do know the village is very picturesque and that some of the families nearby have been there for generations.’

  ‘How is Sir Edward?’ enquired Kitty.

  ‘Quite well, I thank you. He is staying with his sister Lady Fanshawe presently, so we shall see him at Doncaster. On Lady Fanshawe’s behalf, as I have told Darcy, he has invited us all to dine at Danson Park and will not hear of our returning to Pemberley until the following day.’

  Kitty merely nodded, although she was wondering whether Frederick and William Fanshawe would also be in residence. She had not thought to see the brothers outside of London and was a little surprised at the feelings this news excited. She risked a glance at Georgiana, who gave her to understand by the smallest flicker of her eyebrows that the information had indeed registered.

  The conversation reverted to the merits, as so far known, of Dapplewick Hall, about which Mr Bingley was pleased to discourse, with reference of course to the superior knowledge of his friend, Mr Darcy.

  ‘I hope to make a decision before I return to Netherfield,’ he informed all those at the table, ‘and I have a request to make of you, my dear Elizabeth, that comes directly from your sister. She says that you are to be her eyes in this matter and that she is sure that if you approve of Dapplewick or Hazelton then she is sure to approve also.’

  ‘Dear Jane,’ responded Lizzy. ‘You know I will give my opinions only too readily. I hope you will have some choice in the matter as well!’

  The business of choosing began the next day and Dapplewick was under appraisal three hours after the party had set out from Pemberley. Built of grey stone, the house itself was quite modest in appearance but it was charmingly situated among meadows and grasslands, with some fine copper beech and oak trees adding to the picturesque scene. Despite the fact she wanted Jane and Bingley to remain in Hertfordshire, Kitty could see that the house and its surrounds were quite delightful. Perhaps it will be too small, she said to herself, but then remembered that most country houses were going to appear small in comparison with Pemberley.

  They wandered around the apartments, which they found to be large, lofty and well arranged, and no fault could be found with the proportions of the drawing room, nor the dining room. The wall and ceiling decorations were approved, as were the mahogany doors and the large windows, and the building itself was in good repair, it being less than thirty years old. Kitty imagined herself living in it, placing furniture in various alcoves, ordering fabrics for curtains. Would she have her portrait painted? She couldn’t quite decide.

  ‘What do you think?’ appealed Bingley to Elizabeth, after they had strolled outside again, and were in sight of the stables.

  ‘It is charming,’ she replied, ‘and the pastures and woods around about have much to recommend them, too.’

  ‘But will your sister like it, do you suppose?’ He spoke to Elizabeth and
Kitty, but she knew that it was Lizzy’s opinion that mattered.

  Elizabeth considered. ‘On the whole, I think so. The house is compact but there is land enough to build on should you want to add a wing, and the aspect is superb.’ She thought Jane would be happy to be mistress of such an estate, especially given its proximity to Pemberley, but she was loath to make a decision on Mr Bingley’s behalf. She took his arm and they returned inside; Elizabeth wanted to assess once more the views from the principal rooms. Kitty and Georgiana followed.

  ‘It does have good acreage,’ said Mr Bingley, as he gazed out at the surrounding countryside. ‘I declare I like it better than Netherfield already. What say you, Kitty? Georgiana?’

  ‘It is a fine house,’ Kitty heard herself saying. ‘I can picture you and Jane living here.’

  Mr Bingley beamed. Kitty smiled back. As fond as she was of Charles Bingley, she knew, as anyone who knew him well knew, that he liked to canvass opinion rather than make his own. At least his sister isn’t with him to dampen his enthusiasm and find fault with everything, she thought.

  The gentlemen were now conferring with the owner’s steward but no decision would be made today. They would be setting off for Yorkshire and Hazelton Place on the morrow.

  The business concluded, the party split up: Bingley, Bridgwater, Darcy and Elizabeth returned to Pemberley directly; Colonel Fitzwilliam, happy to accompany the two young ladies, made good on his promises to show Kitty new places and landmarks thereabouts, and declared they would take the more circuitous route via Matlock Bath.

  CHAPTER 35

  The following morning Kitty woke early, full of conjecture about the day ahead. She hardly knew which to anticipate most: the journey itself, through parts of the country she had yet to see; the anticipated meeting with the Mr Fanshawes (she had discussed the possibility of their being there with Georgiana and both agreed, largely because this was what they both wanted and no other conjecture was pleasurable, that their presence at the family home was probable); or the opportunity to view another grand country house, of which her sister might soon be mistress.

  Opening the window, she found the day was already warm. It hadn’t rained for weeks but the lawns she could see were quite green and the borders full of summer flowers. In the middle distance, she caught sight of Colonel Fitzwilliam coming back from his early morning ride but he soon disappeared from view, no doubt making his way towards the stables. How charming he had been yesterday, she reflected, so concerned for her comfort, and of course of Georgiana’s. Nothing in his demeanour or looks had hinted at any romantic interest though, and Kitty was not sorry about that. She would be pleased to count the colonel as a friend.

  The house and grounds were still quiet as she made her way downstairs and outside, heading towards the rose garden, one of her many favourite places in Pemberley. She thought she would have it all to herself but one of the gardeners was already there, clipping and pruning, a basket of dark pink blooms by his side.

  ‘Good morning. What a fine day,’ said Kitty by way of greeting, bending her face down to smell a cluster of lilac-pink roses. ‘What are these?’ she asked.

  The gardener, one of the newer members of the Pemberley household and one more at ease with horticulture than charming young ladies in white morning dresses who appeared out of nowhere, nevertheless managed to reply. ‘Early Cinnamons we call those, miss. And them over there are Common Provence.’

  Kitty resolved that one day, no matter what, she would have a rose garden and she would know the names of all the roses in the world. She flitted around the beds, asking more questions, her enthusiasm gradually wearing down the young gardener’s resistance, so much so that he began to volunteer information. Kitty chatted on and by the time she was ready to leave, John – for she had ascertained his name – had selected a sizeable bunch of roses, of all the varieties she admired, for Miss Bennet to carry back to the house. ‘Best pick them now,’ he said, ‘think it will storm later.’

  ‘Do you really?’ said Kitty sceptically, looking up at a brilliant blue sky.

  ‘Too warm,’ said John, by way of explanation, turning back to his work and leaving Kitty to skip – in a way she thought Elizabeth might skip, if no one was watching – back to the house in time for breakfast.

  The party duly set off in two carriages, the road taking them through Chesterfield and a number of hamlets and then on to Sheffield, where they stopped to rest and refresh themselves. The sun was still high in the sky when they resumed their journey towards Doncaster but within an hour clouds had appeared on the horizon and Kitty, travelling with Mr Bingley, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana, began to wonder if the gardener had been correct in his prediction of rain.

  They passed through the small village of Hazelton, with its Norman church, and soon after arrived at Hazelton Place itself, an imposing residence made largely from limestone ashlar and much larger than Dapplewick Hall. Two low wings flanked the house’s seven-bay frontage. It was still smaller than Pemberley, Kitty realised, but excessively grand nonetheless.

  A couple of carriages were stationed outside Hazelton’s entry porch and Kitty recognised the stately figure of Sir Edward, evidently waiting for them.

  ‘Good afternoon, to you all,’ he boomed as, one by one, the travellers stepped down from their carriages. ‘Mrs Darcy, delighted to see you again. Mr Darcy.’

  ‘Bridgwater, my dear fellow,’ he said to his son-in-law, shaking his hand with some vigour. ‘Here we are again! Ah, here’s the man for the horses. Now, who have you brought with you? My dear Miss Bennet, how well you look. I am very pleased to see you again.’

  ‘And I you, sir,’ responded Kitty, although her reply was lost as Sir Edward’s roll-call of greetings continued, culminating in an introduction to Colonel Fitzwilliam. The civilities over, he looked around for the owner’s steward, commandeered Mr Bingley, and the inspection of Hazelton Place began.

  It was built on top of an Elizabethan palace, Kitty remembered as she and Georgiana stepped into the entrance, noting the palatial proportions and the fine iron balustrade on the main staircase. They paused at the huge library to the left with its Corinthian columns and then turned into the right wing to see the ballroom, which, like much of the house, was denuded of furniture although the windows still had curtains and, here and there, a sofa or table remained, marooned in a sea of elegant emptiness.

  Kitty could hear Sir Edward praising Hazelton’s architecture to Mr Bingley – ‘James Paine, don’t you know? Essentially Palladian’ – and giving him chapter and verse as to Hazelton’s history as well as recalling the times he had stayed there. The steward was no match to interrupt him. Mr Bingley, meanwhile, was nodding at everything Sir Edward said. ‘Poor Charles,’ she whispered to Georgiana. ‘He will know every member of the family by name at this rate. I think he looks a little lost in this house but I am trying to imagine it with furnishings. I wonder how many rooms there are?’

  ‘Do you think Mrs Bingley would approve?’ asked Georgiana, looking over to Elizabeth and Darcy, who were moving towards Mr Bingley and Sir Edward.

  Kitty followed her gaze. Lizzy was wearing an interested expression, one that Kitty knew she adopted when she wished to mask her real thoughts. The party reassembled and Sir Edward led the way to the second storey. Kitty had already made up her mind. She much preferred Dapplewick Hall and would say so if Jane asked her. It wasn’t just that the house was so large – and, she felt, a little forbidding, almost Gothic – it was also its setting. It lacked charm, she decided, and charm was necessary for both Charles and Jane. She said as much to Georgiana and the pair drifted downstairs and into the gardens.

  ‘It is going to rain,’ said Kitty, looking at purple-blue clouds on the horizon. ‘I think there may even be thunder.’

  Georgiana looked at the sky and, ignoring Kitty’s comment, remarked in a quiet voice: ‘I heard Sir Edward tell Mr Bridgwater that his nephews and niece will be at dinner this evening.’ Such a revelation eclipsed any pred
ictions as to the weather or any finer point of detail about Hazelton’s fireplaces or cornices, its stables and cellars. The pair exchanged conspiratorial smiles, linked arms, and walked around the house, ostensibly examining the gardens as they waited for the others to finish their deliberations.

  In the carriage on their way to Doncaster to dine with the Fanshawes, Hazelton and its merits were under discussion. ‘It is a fine house,’ said Mr Bingley, as if trying to convince himself. ‘Its architecture is impressive. The grounds are extensive. Not sure about the hunting.’ He fell silent and looked troubled.

  ‘Do you like it better than Netherfield?’ prompted Kitty.

  Mr Bingley looked surprised at the thought. ‘Oh, no!’ he said decisively. And Colonel Fitzwilliam and Kitty looked at each other, looked at Mr Bingley, and laughed.

  ‘What?’ said the would-be landowner, baffled. ‘Oh, I see! I suppose there is nothing more to be said, then.’

  CHAPTER 36

  Three fine country homes in as many days, thought Kitty as the carriages slowed and stopped in front of Danson House, a magnificent red-brick and stone gabled residence approached through acres of woodland and the landscaped grounds of Danson Park. It was, she would learn, Jacobean in origin, dating back to 1616, although the downstairs part had been extensively modernised but fifty years before when a previous Fanshawe had inherited the property. Sir Edward was unstoppable on matters of architecture. As she stepped down from the carriage, Kitty began to wonder whether she should start compiling a compendium of the grand homes of middle England but her thoughts were interrupted by a clap of thunder, and Bingley, offering her his arm, hurried her inside before the inevitable rain began.