What Kitty Did Next

by Carrie Kablean

  To Kitty’s surprise and relief, she saw that Georgiana, once she had overcome her shock at the loss, was quite composed, even stoic. At breakfast the next morning, she seemed her usual poised self and when Kitty quietly enquired how she was, she replied, ‘Lady Fanshawe is right, I should not place such value on things. Besides, everyone has been so very kind to me, especially her ladyship, and you, and Mr Fanshawe.’ Her eyes drifted to Frederick as she said this, and Kitty saw him return her glance with one of his charming smiles.

  That morning saw the young people’s arrangements divided. Freddie Fanshawe had already let it be known that a prior arrangement would take him to a property near Pontefract, about twenty miles away; the vague reason given out to his mother when she had enquired as to the purpose of this trip was that there were a couple of horses he was interested in buying. Sir Edward had immediately expressed an interest in seeing them and then decided it would be capital if all the young gentlemen rode out together – if, of course, the ladies had no objection to them leaving? Kitty, whose heart was not engaged, could easily bear the deprivation of their company for a few hours; Felicia Fanshawe looked as though she might speak against the plan but did not, satisfying herself with a cool glance towards her elder brother; and Georgiana, so grateful to all for their concern and kindness over her necklace, would not have dreamed of objecting – even in jest – to any of the gentlemen’s arrangements. Accordingly, the four were ready to depart after breakfast.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Miss Fanshawe to Colonel Fitzwilliam. ‘Try not to let them lead you into any duels or affrays!’ He laughed at the thought, but promised to comply.

  Lady Fanshawe proposed a walk, the better to get to know her young guests and a pleasant hour followed as they toured the park and learned more of the house’s impressive history, and she gained more understanding of them. Discovering Georgiana played the harp, and that both she and Kitty were adept at the pianoforte, she pretended to chastise her daughter for keeping this knowledge to herself. ‘You shall hear them play then,’ replied Miss Fanshawe and it was to the music room the ladies repaired when they had tired of their outdoor exercise.

  Kitty had already tried the Fanshawes’ pianoforte and had not been surprised to find it an excellent instrument. The three took it in turns to play and sing, their music as pretty as the vignettes their performances presented. Lady Fanshawe spent the time smiling and clapping, and everyone was sure their afternoon was more pleasant than the one being enjoyed by the absent menfolk. Kitty liked Lady Fanshawe, who had a sharp mind but one that was ready to find delight rather than fault in the things around her. Her conversational enquiries were subtle and while Kitty knew that both she and Georgiana were being gently examined, she was comfortable enough in Lady Fanshawe’s presence for this not to matter.

  The gentlemen were not back by dinner time, which was a surprise only to Kitty and Georgiana, none of the Fanshawes seeming the least perturbed. ‘They will have found some distraction or perhaps gone on to York,’ opined Lady Fanshawe. ‘My sons have so many acquaintance between here and there.’ Sir Frederick expected them back before nightfall and saw no reason for concern.

  Kitty, not sure of the distance to York but believing it to be not that far, accepted this news while Miss Fanshawe shrugged and suggested they set up the card tables after dinner. ‘My brothers refuse to play vingt-et-un,’ said she. ‘They find such amusements a little tame, at least in this house. Our paltry stakes bore them, apparently.’

  Her friends were happy to play and Lord Fanshawe happy to excuse himself, despite mild protests from his wife. He was, Kitty had realised, an affable but rather quiet gentleman and, like her own father, quite pleased with his own company. Sir Edward’s absence had been notable at the dinner table; he was the one who kept the conversations robust, sparing his host the trouble of speaking too much.

  The four played their game with much hilarity and some determination, and without losing any fortunes. Kitty was quietly relieved to find the stakes were not high, and by winning some deals, was left neither poorer nor richer at the end of the evening. They had just finished when the doors opened and in burst the travellers. The two Fanshawes were the most jocular, full of their day and expressing delight at finding the ladies still up. Sir Edward greeted everyone in turn, commenting on the excellent dinner they had had at an inn on their way back to Danson Park, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was a little quieter, hoping the ladies had had a pleasant day and apologising for their late return.

  Having exhausted himself with his greetings, Freddie Fanshawe collapsed onto a nearby sofa and wondered about a glass of port. He is a little the worse for drink already, thought Kitty. She looked at the other gentlemen but saw nothing amiss.

  ‘Did you buy your horse?’ his sister enquired of him.

  Mr Fanshawe looked nonplussed at the question. ‘No,’ he recollected. ‘Wasn’t any good. Waste of time.’

  Georgiana was sorry to hear that; Miss Fanshawe wanted to know more.

  ‘Was it a chestnut, a grey? I do like a grey myself. What was it like?’

  ‘What do you mean, what was it like?’ said her brother, annoyed at being questioned. ‘You know what a horse looks like. It was a chestnut. You wouldn’t have liked it.’

  ‘You didn’t like it either, it seems. You seem to have no luck in your quest for horses!’ said Miss Fanshawe tartly, ending the topic. Sir Edward stepped in with an account of the market day at Pontefract, how busy it all was and so forth, and then turned the conversation to the ladies. How had they spent the day?

  ‘Most enjoyably,’ said Miss Fanshawe, and the others concurred.

  ‘They all three entertained me delightfully at the pianoforte,’ said Lady Fanshawe. ‘It is a shame you missed it. They all sing like nightingales.’

  The gentlemen looked suitably chagrined. ‘If the ladies would honour us with a performance now?’ asked Sir Edward.

  ‘Too late for that,’ announced Lady Fanshawe, getting up. ‘That horse has bolted.’ And laughing at her own little joke, announced she was retiring.

  Kitty thought to follow her, and the ladies all took their leave. She went to bed wondering about Freddie and Felicia Fanshawe. She had picked up tensions between them before and couldn’t decide whether this was just normal quibbling between brother and sister or whether some animosity existed. On the other hand, she surmised, nothing so very strange in siblings not enjoying each other’s company; she had her own family to look to for evidence of that and perhaps brothers were different.

  Sisters were different, too! Felicia Fanshawe was an adventurous spirit and would have put many a timid man to shame. Kitty found this out the next morning when the promised ride in the gig eventuated. They set off sedately enough, trotting along, and Kitty could see from the outset that Miss Fanshawe was confident and able in controlling the horse. She spoke to it, cajolingly and authoritatively, and Kitty, who had never been in a gig before, was completely at ease and enjoying herself.

  ‘I have been told I do not comport myself as a lady should when I ride,’ said Felicia, as they passed out of sight of the house and its occupants. ‘I do like to ride fast when I can. What do you say?’

  This was unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. Kitty had seen young men hurtling about in gigs but never thought to be in that situation herself. A thrill of anticipation enveloped her. ‘If you are sure it will be all right,’ was her qualified reply.

  ‘We will be fine!’ cried Felicia, spurring on the horse and calling on it to ‘Go! Go!’ Kitty hung on to the side of the gig as they gathered speed and raced across the open ground. Her hair, bonnet and ribbons flew backwards and the wind was fresh in her face. It was fun and exhilarating and like nothing she had ever done before. Felicia was shouting out instructions and Kitty found herself laughing in pure delight. They covered quite a distance and she was still laughing when they cantered and then slowed to a trot.

  ‘Oh, that was such fun!’ declared Kitty, wiping her eyes and adjusting her c
lothing.

  ‘As I said, not considered ladylike but where is the harm? If no one sees, then no one grieves – or more to the point, no one complains and forbids!’

  ‘You have to keep it a secret?’

  Felicia considered. ‘Not a secret exactly. After all, when I was young Freddie would take me out in the gig and do just what we have done. He would be a fool indeed if he thought I had forgotten how to enjoy it! I exercise discretion. I think that is the best way of looking at it. Besides, it is tiresome to always behave so very decorously, don’t you agree?’

  This sort of indecorum was new to Kitty, and she had no ready argument against it. It had been so very enjoyable, after all. She was at once slightly alarmed and completely taken with Felicia Fanshawe’s reasoning. Who determined what was ladylike anyway? No one could take her friend to task about her manners or appearance (even with her cropped hair), so did it matter if she enjoyed hurtling about in a gig?

  ‘My brothers do more or less as they please, and are not called to account,’ continued Felicia. ‘It can be excessively vexing!’

  Kitty wondered if this was an allusion to their arriving back so late the previous evening, but her companion did not elucidate.

  ‘One day, Kitty – may I call you Kitty?’

  Kitty nodded.

  ‘Well, of course you must call me Felicia! One day, and do not tell anyone this, I am going to dispense with the side-saddle and ride my mare astride. Not in public, of course. But it cannot be so very shocking surely?’

  Again, Kitty was not sure. It seemed to her the height of daring! Felicia, not needing a reply, had turned back to the house and quite soon Miss Fanshawe and Miss Bennet were back in the drawing room, taking tea and behaving impeccably. That too was pleasant, but Kitty could not easily forget the feeling of the wind in her face and the sensation of speed as they careered around the park. She smiled every time she thought about it.

  They saw little of Sir Frederick except at dinner but Lady Fanshawe and Sir Edward were excellent company; neither was ever short of a word and could be very amusing when relating anecdotes from their childhood. More than once, Kitty found herself thinking that, for all his bonhomie and bluster, Sir Edward was lonely. He was always most attentive to her, but then so he was to Georgiana and his nephews and niece. Nonetheless, it was with Kitty that he held long discussions about literature and with whom he shared his knowledge of contemporary novelists. She never found her conversations with Sir Edward dull or uninteresting. In that he was unlike his nephews.

  Their time at Danson Park passed quickly and pleasurably, picnicking and strolling around the grounds by day; music by night, and even charades after dinner on the last evening, when Miss Fanshawe, helped by Sir Edward, had shamed her brothers into joining the game. Kitty would have gladly accepted another ride in the gig, but the opportunity did not present.

  Apart from the loss of the cameo, nothing else untoward occurred to cause distress or alarm and by the end of their stay, Kitty, Georgiana and Felicia had established themselves as dear friends and nothing, absolutely nothing, could prevent the three of them from meeting again soon. It was deemed fortunate indeed that Pemberley was fewer than fifty miles distant.

  The menfolk, who had no need to express themselves so volubly, had rubbed along well enough and were content with that, leaving Sir Edward to sum up the week as ‘Capital, capital!’ Lady Fanshawe was pleased with herself for having thought to invite her guests and had cast a benign eye over the developing friendships between her daughter and the colonel, and her eldest son and Miss Darcy. Lord Fanshawe would be informed of her thoughts later.

  CHAPTER 41

  There was an air of expectation about Pemberley, thought Kitty on their return to the great house, as if it knew a house party and the summer ball were imminent. This intangible feeling was reinforced by a greater number of servants than was usual going about their duties, carrying supplies and making the guest wings ready. The first visitors would be arriving in a week.

  There had, Kitty discovered, been no shortage of post during their absence. In addition to replies to invitations to the ball, Elizabeth had received correspondence from Jane, Mr and Mrs Bennet, Charlotte Collins and Aunt Gardiner. ‘There is a letter for you from Miss Bingley,’ she told Georgiana as they sat down on one of the terraces, looking out over the lawns to the lake, ‘but nothing for you, Kitty. Oh, except Mr Darcy has received some music scores, sent to him from Mr Adams, who wrote he had ordered them on your behalf when we were all in London but that they had arrived after our departure. He hoped you would appreciate them. Most thoughtful of him, I think.’

  Kitty agreed it was and hoped her face did not betray the feelings that this gesture generated. Not only was it unexpected, it meant that Henry Adams was still thinking of her. She had not dared hope for that.

  ‘You will be more interested in Jane’s letter and the one from father,’ Elizabeth continued. ‘Jane writes that she is in good health, and that Bingley intends to go ahead with the purchase of Dapplewick Hall. She hopes they will take possession at the end of the year.’

  This was no real news to Kitty, who had anticipated such a decision. As such, she accepted it with equanimity. ‘It will be wonderful for you and Jane to be so close,’ said she, sincerely.

  Elizabeth smiled back. ‘And you will continue to visit both of us. Jane will insist on it, and so too will Georgiana and I.

  ‘Jane also writes that Mary and Mr Gregory are gone to Portsmouth and are waiting on a ship to take them on their journey to India. She says their destination is Calcutta and that they think to be on-board by the second week of this month.’

  ‘She really is going then,’ said Kitty. ‘I still can hardly believe it.’

  ‘She is indeed. I have written to them, wishing them well and sent your good wishes. I did not want to wait for your return in case it was too late. Our mother, though, is not taking this news at all well. Jane tells me as much, and so too does our father.’

  ‘Poor Mama. Has she taken to her bed?’

  ‘Not entirely, for Jane says she visits Netherfield most days but your surmise is not inaccurate. Jane called in at Longbourn last week to see Papa and find out a little more about Mary’s situation, and he told her that Mama often kept to her room and caused Hill much exercise in running up and downstairs to tend to her.’

  Kitty began to feel a little sorry for her mother, although she suspected her concern for Mary, though real, was only part of the problem. Mrs Bennet had lost her favourite daughters to husbands; Mary had found a mission in life and her mother, whose sole aim had been to see her daughters wed, had lost hers. There is still me, of course, thought Kitty, but she seems to have forgotten that. ‘Has Jane told her they are quitting Netherfield for Dapplewick?’ she asked.

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘She dreads breaking that news. She wonders about talking to Papa about it first, although I am not sure of the benefit there. Poor Jane. She does so hate to cause any concern and in this she is bound to disappoint.’

  ‘And the other letters?’

  ‘No other particular news from Mama, apart from a reference to Aunt Phillips calling in and wishing she heard more from Lydia. As for Papa, he writes that, as much as he would like to dance the night away at the ball and wear out his best shoes, he must decline our invitation. He referenced Mrs Bennet’s disinclination to travel at this time as an excuse – a very convenient excuse! I did not expect otherwise!

  ‘And Charlotte Collins wrote to say she has become mother to a baby girl, to be called Elizabeth.’

  ‘Elizabeth!’ exclaimed Kitty. ‘After you? How lovely! But surely Catherine or Anne would have been Mr Collins’s first choices. How very imprudent! Impudent, even! What does Lady Catherine think of this disregard?’

  ‘That I do not know,’ laughed Elizabeth. ‘Perhaps Mr Collins can say it is his mother’s name? In the event, I believe the little babe is to be christened Elizabeth Anne – that is Lady Catherine’s daughter’s name so
there is some room for flattery!

  ‘So now I have told you my news and you must tell me yours. How was Danson Park and are we to invite the Fanshawes to be our house guests?’

  ‘Most definitely, yes!’ replied Georgiana, uncharacteristically forthright. ‘We have had a wonderful week, have we not, Kitty?’

  Kitty nodded in agreement, although she was quite astonished that Georgiana’s partiality for Frederick Fanshawe had eclipsed – at least for the moment – the loss of her missing cameo.

  ‘Well,’ said Elizabeth, ‘I am going to ring for tea and you must tell me all about it.’

  CHAPTER 42

  To say Pemberley was bursting at the seams would be a wild exaggeration – in truth the house had capacity for ten times as many guests as now filled its elegantly decorated confines – but as house parties go, the one hosted by Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy in the summer of 1813 was larger than in previous years. Kitty described it to herself as a London or (as she imagined) a Bath season in miniature. Where, just a week ago, she had Georgiana, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth and Darcy for company, now there was an ever-changing cast of characters to be met every time she turned a corner or entered a room. Previously quiet salons were filled with lively discussion and chatter and, more often than not, music – some of the musicians engaged for the ball had been brought in to entertain the guests on one evening, and on other occasions there were plenty of opportunities for the ladies in residence to demonstrate their abilities on the pianoforte and harp. These days Kitty only needed the mildest persuasion to display her own musical skills.

  The three Fanshawes had arrived, not at all concerned at the late invitation. Colonel Fitzwilliam had introduced his friend Captain Henry Morton, with whom he had served, a pleasant-looking man of middle height, noble bearing and twenty-eight years, who, it would soon be discovered, had been widowed a year previously. Mr and Mrs Bridgwater, Miss Bingley, and Mr and Mrs Hurst were happily ensconced in Pemberley once more, enjoying the prestige that went with the Darcy hospitality. Last and certainly not least, Mr Darcy’s eldest cousin and his wife, the Viscount and Viscountess of Mortlake, were in attendance, ostensibly adding an air of nobility to the proceedings.