Guess I'm getting a bit addicted to Pride and Prejudice fanfiction. This is Kitty's story as I see it (quite different from Mary's). It begins at the beginning of the book itself and continues throughout the original story. I hope you like this , yes and in my story the Meryton Ball takes place in winter. I hope you don't mind the change. Thank you for reading.

1:Snow

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I was sleeping at the window. The snowflakes were stuck to the pane. My arms were icy, but I preferred the slumber.

The dog howled in the yard. The wind brushed away the snow. My eyes were slowly opening. I saw two buckets filled with ice next to the kitchen door.

The hills and the sky were both white; therefore I could not tell them apart.

'Kitty! Your nether-stocks were under the bed! Always give them to Bertha for a good wash, you hear me?'

Mama was coming down the stairs. I heard the wood creaking. So many creatures lived under out staircase, I thought.

Her voice was always louder than necessary. I pretended to be sleeping again.

'Well now, run off and wash your face. The dress is laid on your bed. Do try and comb Lydia's hair, she won't manage by herself,' she told me, shaking my arm.

I wanted to pretend I was a bird, a red bird, a very pretty red bird which flew over Hertfordshire and reached the sea and there it would fall into the water and turn into a mermaid, like I had read in some books.

I would like living under the sea. I wondered if I could hear the clamour in the house if I was under water.

The chamber was open and the grey light coloured all the furniture. Lydia was sitting on the bed, putting on the frock.

'Well don't just stand there, Kitty. Come and help me.'

I helped her with the corset, I tied her laces and brushed her long, flowing hair that reached the ground. I wasn't apt to make pretty buns or tie ribbons, so I called Jane who always helped us with these articles.

My dress was blue, with lace at the neck and hems. I pulled it over my head and sat there in bed, waiting for someone to tell me to rise.

I could have fallen asleep like a princess, dressed for a Ball, with my hands clasped serenely over my chest and waited until hundreds of years passed to wake up. I would have found the world very changed. The towns, the streets, the carriages would have vanished and instead the lands would have sunk under the ground and everything would have been made of gold, bronze, silver and steel.

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Meryton was covered in a blanket of stars, so that none of the blemishes noticeable by daylight could spoil the view. The horses and the rooftops were sprinkled with white powder and the muddy road was now glimmering.

The Meryton Hall was a very dismal looking building from the outside, but when the doors opened for us I saw an array of red and yellow lights.

The rooms were filled with men and women, young and old, dancing and laughing. The fireplaces crackled and the music was streaming throughout the Hall.

Not before long, I lost my sisters. I couldn't find them in the crowd. I saw my mother and father talking in a corner with a family. My mother was waving a large white fan in front of her face. I was pushed and shoved until I caught someone's hand and was pulled in the dance.

We were like ducklings on a river, like the wine swirls in a glass. My partner was a young man with a dirty beard, then he went to the right and I caught another hand and now my partner had a red shock of hair, then the following had a very large neckerchief.

I was happy.

When you dance very fast and laugh and do not have time to breathe the lights go very fast around you and soon you think you are in a storm of lightning, but it's only the pleasant dizziness of pulling your feet from the ground for a moment.

And after the dizziness the voices no longer sound different, but they are all the same sound.

The melody always had a secret spell, because when it stopped, the charm ended and the guests turned away and sought food and conversation.

I gulped down a glass of wine and sank in a holstered chair, thinking about how I flew when I danced. If I ever grew up old enough I would harvest a vine and have many grapes.

I counted the lights in the chandelier. I wondered if all the worlds, like the ones in flowers or trees had Balls like ours. The insects never danced, nor did the animals; they all sang. The stars were philosophers and did a great deal of thinking, therefore only the flowers danced.

Lydia came rushing to me, barely breathing.

'Mama called us. We are to be introduced to Mr. Bingley.'

Their eyes were lifeless, I thought. I did not see the usual light and animation. Only Mr. Bingley had some colour. Did the rich live miserable lives in secret?

The lady on the right was very fair, but her face was very sharp. I was frightened by her sense of elegance. She could have very well been a beautiful witch and I recalled reading how they bathed in blood and wore skeleton necklaces round their necks.

I saw Mr. Bingley and Jane dance several times and he seemed to be fond of her. Mama was over the moon. Papa was somewhat indifferent. He was talking to Mary in a corner.

By the end of the evening, Lizzie let us know Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, Mr. Bingley's friend was a "pompous vain man with no sense of humour".

I had a strange feeling, sitting in the carriage, wrapping my shawl over me. I felt that whatever I did, it would prove futile in the long run. Why? Perhaps because every moment was just like the other and life was only one moment, repeated ad infinitum.

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I kept a small notebook where I wrote my stories, but since ink was a luxury I could not write very often. Papa had better use of it. When I did have half a bottle I was very glad.

I was writing about a little girl called Pansy who had discovered a new land in a tree hole.

I had once given some pages to Mary to read since I trusted her judgement and taste. She was so well-read that she would surely know what to think.

She told me it was the silliest, most nonsensical thing she had ever read and that I should not pursue such a trite story anymore.

I was upset with her for weeks; until I considered she might be right. But I tried not to. These stories were most precious to me and I could not let anyone tear them apart, no matter how daft they may seem.

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Early in the morning I was building a snowman in the back garden. Bertha had berated me for standing in the cold and damp for so very long but I did not mind.

I wanted to sculpt a princess now, a princess of ice.

I gathered large amounts of snow around me and pondered on what I was supposed to do.

'Kitty!'

Lydia was shouting from a window upstairs.

'We must be off to the Lucases, to discuss the Ball,' she said importantly. 'Come inside and get dressed properly.'

'Must I come now?' I said reluctantly looking at the bright, white snow around me.

'Yes you silly thing, else Mrs. Lucas will be off to town and we shall have no time for conversation. What are you making there?'

'Well, I'm not done here. Why must I go? I only sit there stupidly and drink tea and knit. It's very boring,' I commented.

'It shan't be boring today, we have so many things to discuss about the Ball. And of course we must take council whether Mr. Bingley shall give a Ball himself and what is to be expected from such an occasion.'

'Well – I still see no reason to come.'

'Fine then, I shall tell mama,' Lydia said sticking out her tongue.

Oh, she shouldn't have. Mama came out of the house ravished and angry and kicked off my snowman's head. She took me by the elbow inside the house. Oh, I disliked Lydia sometimes.