What Kitty Did Next

by Carrie Kablean

  Georgiana’s startled expression was misread by Miss Bingley. ‘Yes, of course, you would find that quite remarkable but…’

  ‘Please excuse us, Miss Bingley,’ interrupted Mr Darcy. ‘We were just on our way to see the viscount. Feel free to accompany us if you so desire.’ So saying, he took Georgiana’s arm and led her towards his cousin, leaving Caroline temporarily marooned although far from desolate.

  Kitty, acutely aware of Georgiana’s feelings, thought to try and extricate the elder Fanshawe from Lydia and crossed the room ostensibly to chat with her sister. This action was misconstrued by Mr Darcy, who saw it as Kitty neglecting his sister by pandering to her own. She saw him frown and realised his assumption, but could do nothing about it. Meanwhile, Elizabeth, engaged in conversation by the Bridgwaters and the Hursts, was obliged to charm and be charmed, and was quite unable to see what was happening at her back.

  Lydia, of course, was oblivious to all of this. At dinner, seated beside Captain Morton, Kitty could hear her telling him that Wickham had lived at Pemberley, that he was the son of the late Mr Darcy’s steward and spent his youth here. Those within earshot who were aware of this circumstance politely ignored the reference; others, such as the Fanshawes and Mr Bridgwater, were left to wonder at this previously undisclosed family connection. Lydia, ignorant and devoid of tact, called across the table. ‘Colonel Fitzwilliam, perhaps you knew my dear Wickham then? When he was a boy? To think that he must have once roamed in these very woods, fished in these very streams!’

  Colonel Fitzwilliam answered that he had known Wickham, but not well and turned his attention back to Felicia, sitting to his right. Captain Morton broke the awkward silence that followed Lydia’s loud enquiry by asking her opinion of Newcastle, which allowed conversation to resume around the table but did not promise much in the way of intelligent discourse for the captain. Mr Darcy’s face was a mask of neutrality but Kitty marked the glacial expression in his eyes as he glanced towards Lydia, and also saw Elizabeth’s attempt at a reassuring smile in his direction.

  Despite the tensions felt by the immediate Darcy circle, the evening proceeded as convivially and almost as enjoyably as any other. So far Lydia was little more than a novelty to the Pemberley guests, not a wayward and unpredictable sister around whom clung the taint of scandal.

  When the ladies withdrew, Kitty brought Felicia Fanshawe and Lydia together so that the former could quietly ascertain that her sister’s behaviour was not specifically directed to Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had no doubt that Felicia would soon get the measure of Mrs Wickham. Elizabeth, she saw, had made sure Georgiana was seated with Amelia Bridgwater and Lady Mortlake. Someone suggested card tables be set up when the gentlemen joined them, an idea welcomed by a few and none more warmly than Lydia. Some deft manoeuvring by Elizabeth and Kitty saw their sister safely seated with Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Fanshawe and Captain Morton.

  Kitty immediately looked for Georgiana, with whom she had not spoken at all since breakfast. She found her with the Fanshawe brothers, who had decided not to join the card parties, and looking calm if a little tired.

  ‘Another renegade from vingt-et-un, Miss Bennet?’ asked Freddie Fanshawe, by way of greeting. ‘I thought you liked to play?’

  ‘Certainly I do,’ returned Kitty, ‘but the card tables will always be available, whereas we are not so fortunate as to have your society every day. I hope you are enjoying Pemberley as much as we enjoyed our time at Danson Park?’

  Answering for his brother, William Fanshawe assured her they were. ‘We are deciding whether to ride or fish tomorrow, both of which will deprive us of your company’ – he made an apologetic face to both Kitty and Georgiana – ‘so I fear our plans have not been well thought out.’

  ‘No indeed!’ declared Georgiana, bestowing a sweet smile on Freddie. ‘Well, we will have to bear your absence as best we can.’

  ‘I am sure you will manage very well without us,’ said Mr Fanshawe, who was not insensible to Miss Darcy’s attentions. ‘May I be of service in the meantime. A glass of wine, perhaps? Some other refreshment?’

  Georgiana declined prettily – Kitty likewise, but her smile was less coquettish, her eyes less downcast – leaving the gentleman to fetch port wine for himself and his brother.

  ‘What plans have you for the morrow, Miss Bennet?’ asked William Fanshawe.

  ‘I have promised Mrs Wickham a tour of Pemberley’s grounds tomorrow so perchance we will see you somewhere along the way.’

  Kitty knew the reference to Lydia would displease Georgiana and felt torn between her sister and her friend; she would have liked an opportunity to speak privately and explain that she was trying to do what was best for everyone, but it seemed the evening would not allow that possibility. When Frederick returned, it was clear that Georgiana intended to keep him in close conversation, and Kitty was happy enough to pass the time with William, who did indeed request the pleasure of the first two dances with her at the ball and amused both ladies, although not his brother, with diverting stories of their first dancing lessons and their lack of skill therein.

  ‘Please do not be too alarmed, Miss Bennet. We have improved,’ he concluded. ‘Well, at least I believe I have. I am not sure about my brother.’

  Kitty laughed. She liked William Fanshawe but often found that now the discussions on their mutual interests had run their course, there was little she had to say to him and vice versa. Moreover, his opinions, usually strongly expressed, where often at variance with her own with the result that she held hers in check. There would be more prudence than passion in any arrangement between them, she knew. Ever conscious of the need to marry, Kitty felt she ought to be encouraging him but her heart was not in it. She resolved to simply enjoy his company and try to clarify her feelings after the ball.

  A shriek of laughter from the other side of the room reminded her of Lydia’s presence. The card tables were breaking up and Kitty excused herself.

  ***

  The next morning, as promised, Kitty and Lydia started out on a comprehensive tour of Pemberley and its grounds. The day was not without its pleasures. The natural beauty of the woods and parkland were unparalleled and they spent some time locating the herd of deer that had so enchanted Kitty on her first journey into Pemberley. Lydia was full of curiosity as to the extent of the land, the hunting, how many times the Darcys entertained, with whom they dined, how many servants were employed, where Lizzy had her dresses made, and all manner of material enquiries, which Kitty answered as fully or as vaguely as she thought fit. Anticipating a barrage of questions, she had also seen fit to bid the driver stop the carriage so that she and Lydia could stroll without being overheard.

  ‘And these Fanshawe brothers,’ her sister now asked. ‘Is Miss Darcy out to get the elder one, Frederick? I would say so, what think you? He is most attentive to her, too.’

  ‘They enjoy each other’s company,’ said Kitty.

  ‘O fie! You must know more than that. You and Miss Darcy are firm friends, or so you told me!’

  ‘That is true,’ said Kitty. ‘But she and Mr Fanshawe have not been long acquainted.’

  ‘As if that counts for aught,’ scoffed Lydia. ‘From the moment I first saw my dear Wickham, I could think of no one else.’

  This was a statement that required no comment.

  ‘And you and William Fanshawe?’ she teased. ‘You are fond of him, I think? How very neat. You and Miss Darcy, both Mrs Fanshawes!’

  The thought made Kitty excessively uncomfortable. ‘I like him, Lydia. I am not fond of him. You overstate the situation.’

  ‘And you, Miss Bennet, have become rather grand! I “overstate the situation”. I say what I see. Are you blushing? Since when did we have any secrets?’

  ‘Since you eloped with Wickham!’ retorted Kitty sharply. ‘I would say from precisely that point. And no, I am not blushing.’ In fact, she was not.

  ‘Besides,’ she added, in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I am keeping no secrets fro
m you.’ It was maddening, she thought, to be challenged like this.

  ‘As you wish,’ replied Lydia, quite nonchalant. ‘I was merely asking. How are the Fanshawes acquainted with the Darcys?’

  Kitty told her.

  ‘I am sure I have heard the name before but I asked Freddie Fanshawe and he could think of no circumstance when we might have met. Perhaps he is known to my dear Wickham.’

  Kitty thought this highly unlikely but held her tongue. Lydia enquired about Captain Morton. Was Kitty interested in that quarter? She was not; she thought the man was still grieving for his late wife. But it has been more than a year, insisted Lydia. Kitty began to talk of Jane and Bingley and their intended purchase of Dapplewick Hall, safer ground for discussion. That in turn led to Jane’s impending motherhood and they amused themselves by naming the unborn baby. They had regained the carriage by now and were almost back at the house when Kitty remembered that Mr and Mrs Collins were now the proud parents of a daughter. ‘Lord!’ exclaimed Lydia. ‘I hope the unfortunate child resembles her mother, not her father!’

  ‘As do I,’ said Kitty. ‘Mr Collins came to see us at Longbourn, you know. Earlier this year. Mama was almost apoplectic!’ She gave Lydia an account of the visit and followed it with an impersonation of their very dear cousin. As a result, both were rendered almost insensible with laughter as the carriage stopped at the house. Lydia misjudged her footing as they alighted, causing her to trip and clutch on to Kitty, which was further cause for mirth. Kitty was still laughing at Lydia when she looked up to see Mr Darcy coming down the steps. That he was unimpressed by their overt merriment was obvious to her.

  ‘Mrs Wickham. Kitty,’ he said coolly, by way of greeting, and continued on his way.

  CHAPTER 47

  Four days had passed since Lydia had irrupted into Pemberley, and the world still turned. Preparations for the ball were proceeding, quietly and without fuss. Chatter, music and genteel laughter emanated from the drawing and dining rooms and the summer continued fine. Underneath the surface, however, there were fissures and hairline cracks.

  Georgiana had reacted by devoting all her time and attention to Freddie Fanshawe, in mute defiance of her uncle’s caution. Mr Darcy, whose misgivings about Fanshawe’s character and intentions were unvoiced and unchanged, thought him the lesser of the two evils presently under his roof and in dealing with one neglected to speak with Georgiana about the other; he would do so after the ball and Lydia’s departure. Elizabeth, whose expectations of Lydia’s gaucherie were only slightly diminished with each passing day, was making herself busier than was necessary in preparations concerning the ballroom, musicians and menus (all of which Mrs Reynolds had completely under control) and in entertaining her other guests. Colonel Fitzwilliam, enamoured of one Fanshawe and distrustful of another, was often beset and thwarted by Lydia’s attentions. Kitty, who had spent more time with Lydia than anyone, was fatigued.

  What am I to think and do? she wrote in her journal before breakfast. Georgiana needs me and I have no opportunity to speak with her. I think she wishes she had not told me her secret about GW. I do not want that to come between us.

  Elizabeth asked me for help, now that is a miracle! She is tense, I can sense it. I hope she does not develop nerves, like Mama! How would I feel if I were Elizabeth? Would I be ashamed of Lydia or angry? Is it more that she is worried about what Darcy thinks? Lydia has broken into her perfect world. Is that world so very fragile?

  Mr Darcy looked so cross when Lydia and I came back from our tour of the park. Very disapproving, just as he did when we first met him. As if it were wrong to laugh. Lydia has certainly ruffled some feathers. But when I think about Georgiana, how lucky for everyone that that event did not occur! Where would that Darcy pride be now? I cannot think about that. Georgiana is too dear to me!

  And Lydia? She is dear to me, of course. I do see her differently now, though, I admit it. She thinks only of herself; and I suppose that was always so but I did not notice. How strange, how sobering, to think that at one time I thought she could do no wrong. Now – and I should not say this – I find she can be quite coarse and I wonder at myself for the criticism. I have changed, not she.

  Lydia means no harm; she is just ignorant.

  ‘Oh Lord!’ cried Kitty. ‘How can I say that? That is what our father says!’

  She put away her writing and went to knock on Georgiana’s door. There was no answer. She sighed; she really did want to talk to her and see how she was coping with Lydia’s presence. It was still early and she made her way to the music room where she found the scores that Henry Adams had sent: two concertos by Cramer, some sonatinas by Pleyel and the music for Robin Adair. Kitty’s heart skipped. She knew the popular Irish song. ‘What’s this dull town to me,’ went the first line, ‘Robin’s not here.’ It was an ode written by a lady to the man her family had forbidden her to see. Kitty could not decide whether its inclusion was odd, deliberate or simply a way of varying the selection. Whatever the answer, she was pleased.

  She sat down to sing and play the song, and to think about the last time she had seen Mr Adams. It was four months ago, she realised, but she could picture him so very clearly. Lost to herself, she sang the Irish air again and then turned to the other pieces, which were new and more complicated. An hour passed before she knew it. Left to her own devices, she would have stayed at the pianoforte all morning; it was a safe refuge from the tensions prevailing elsewhere.

  On her way to breakfast she made another detour, this time curious to see how things were progressing in the ballroom. The large doors were open and at the far end she could see housemaids making sure the already clean windows and mirrors sparkled. A number of musical stands were in position on the platform to the east of the room, where another pianoforte – not the one that belonged to Georgiana – stood. The well-known John Gow band from London had been engaged. She counted the stands: at least three would be for violins, another for a violoncello, perhaps a French horn, but that still left two more. The crystal candelabra and girandoles, at present only reflecting sunlight, looked magnificent. Many other candles were piled on another table, waiting to be placed on smaller tables that had yet to be arranged along the sides of the room beside the chairs.

  The most arresting sight, however, and the one which Kitty had come to see, was the chalked floor. The wooden floorboards, polished and in perfect condition, needed no disguise, but when she was in London Elizabeth had been delighted by the fashion for decorating ballroom floors. Instead of chalking feet to prevent dancers sliding, someone had thought instead to chalk the floors. The two artists now on their knees at Pemberley were completely absorbed in covering the ballroom floor with an intricate pattern of repeating motifs of the sun, the moon, shooting stars and planets. They were three quarters of the way through their ephemeral task. Kitty marvelled at it, at the same time thinking it sad that such a beautiful work of art would disappear under whirls of dancing feet. She watched from the doorway for a few minutes more, revelling in the anticipation of being present at such a distinguished event as the summer ball. She intended to dance every dance.

  When she finally arrived at the breakfast room, only William Fanshawe and Captain Morton were still at the table, both absorbed in newspapers but not displeased at being interrupted.

  ‘Your parents arrive today, I think?’ enquired Kitty of Mr Fanshawe, as she helped herself to some chocolate from the sideboard.

  ‘Indeed, they do. With my uncle.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing them again. Two other families are also arriving today, whose names are unknown to me. They, too, live half a day distant. I believe we shall be twenty-four at dinner tonight.’

  ‘And after dinner, Miss Bennet. May we prevail upon you to sing?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ joined in Captain Morton. ‘Please do say you will.’

  ‘I shall consider your request, gentlemen,’ said Kitty, airily. She would sing, she had already decided. She had new music to play.

&
nbsp; CHAPTER 48

  The day of the ball dawned and still the fine weather held. Everyone agreed it was a glorious summer, an excellent portent. Mindful of the activities ahead, most of the guests, certainly all the gentlemen, were content to pass the time quietly – reading, writing letters, playing chess or backgammon and perhaps venturing as far as tea on the lawn – but for some of the ladies there were more pressing concerns.

  Kitty had already seen the dress Elizabeth would be wearing; she had been fitted for it when they were in London and had worn it but once. An elegant creation of cream silk trimmed with touches of emerald green, it perfectly complemented the jewels she would be wearing and there was no doubt in Kitty’s mind that Mrs Elizabeth Darcy’s appearance would command attention at the ball.

  She had overheard Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst and Mrs Bridgwater discussing the necklaces and gowns they had brought with them for the occasion and did not doubt there would be displays of finery from them. She and Georgiana had discussed their own gowns of course, but that was weeks ago and Kitty was most anxious to find her friend and examine the subject afresh, and in minute detail. Moreover, she felt that Georgiana had become a little distant with her and wanted to find out what was troubling her, to allay her concerns. She discovered her in a little-used morning room, alone and engaged in correspondence.

  ‘At last! I have been looking for you everywhere,’ cried Kitty. ‘And you are by yourself! We have so many things to talk about.’

  Georgiana looked at her a little warily, but relaxed when it became clear the most important subject to be aired was that of dressing for the ball that evening. Her letter was abandoned and the pair hastened upstairs.

  ‘I have my new white gown, the one with the French lace,’ said Georgiana, as they entered her room, ‘but I have been thinking that the blue silk might be better. You shall give me your opinion.’