Sunday, 15 April 1813

When I was first given this small book on my eighteenth birthday three days prior, I scoffed at the idea, but upon giving it some thought, I considered it to be an escape from the real world, where I could write down all of my thoughts considering I could hardly share them with my sisters. I've so many, but perhaps I should start with an introduction, lest some historian centuries from now happens upon it and wishes to study it as we now do medieval documents and the likes.

My name is Catherine Madgelena Anna Bennet and I was born on the twelfth day of March in the year seventeen-hundred-and-ninety-five to Thomas and Martha Bennet. I am the fourth of five daughters, Jane Martha Bennet, Elizabeth Margaret Bennet, Mary Abigail Bennet, all older than myself, and Lydia Antheia Fleurette Bennet. My youngest sister has quite a name, does she not? I believe the story goes that she was named entirely by Mama and Mama now favours her over us all. Lydia was entirely her living poppet. Anyhow, my name is Catherine Madge-(scratched) I've already written my name, how silly of me! I have been called 'Kitty' my entire life by Mama, but the older I get, the more I realize that it isn't quite a name I enjoy. I have tried to persuade Mama to call me by another name such as 'Cathy' or 'Catie' or 'Cate' or even 'Catherine', but she insists on calling me 'Kitty'. All my life, I've been known as one of the silly little Bennet sisters and I had never quite known my purpose before, so just a month or so ago, I thought I would start trying things out. I tried to play the pianoforte, but I could never get a good tune. I tried to embroider handkerchiefs and pillows with Jane, but I only kept drawing blood from my fingers, no matter how many thimbles I wore. So I sat down at a desk with a piece of parchment and charcoal. I thought for a moment and twenty minutes later, I had a surprisingly good outline of a cat. I surprised myself, even, not having known I could produce something like that.

Elizabeth, whom I am more likely to refer to as Lizzy, has recently been married to a Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, north in Derbyshire. She is so far from us, but she is happy at least. Bless her for holding herself out for love rather than to marry that silly cousin of mine, Mr. Collins, but never mind him. Jane is engaged to a Mr. Bingley of Netherfield, which is not too far from my home of Longbourn - which, I forgot to mention, is in Hertfordshire - and my other sisters have yet to enter engagements, although Mary is clearly smitten on a young man from Meryton, a Mr. Casey whom has been assisting her in improving her skills on the pianoforte. Lydia, of course, is chasing after the militiamen still, while I have decided to improve my hand at drawing since Lizzy has married. Since she left and Jane spends most of her days at Netherfield, Longbourn has been lacking sense, and I thought that perhaps I might try and fill the hole left by them both.

The reason why I chose today of all days to write in this little book was because today was the day that I decided to make all of these changes. Truly, it was this morning, as we all broke our fasts; an unexpected visitor had come bearing terrible news...

Lydia and I sat in our usual places at the table giggling over the soldiers we were planning on seeing later that afternoon in Meryton when our manservant entered the dining room declaring that we had a visitor. "This early?" cried Mama in wonder. "But who would call on a family so early? Surely, not the Lucases!"

"No one in all of Hertfordshire would call on a family this early, my dear," said Papa from behind his newspaper, which he folded up and set down in front of him. "Did our visitor give you a name?"

"A Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir," said our manservant, and Mary smiled, while Lydia's eyes went wide at the mention of the man's military rank.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam! Papa, you must accept him! I met him while I was in Kent with Lizzy!" she exclaimed excitedly. Only a month prior, she had gone to Kent to visit our former friend and neighbour, Charlotte Lucas, now Collins, with Lizzy and developed and acquaintance with a Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter, Anne, both of whom enjoyed music. At least, I heard from Mary that Anne enjoyed her playing, while Lady Catherine seemed hard to impress.

"Very well, Mary, you may meet him in the drawing room," said Papa, then turning his attention to our manservant. "Thomas, do show our visitor to the drawing room." With a polite 'yes, sir', Thomas departed the room to carry out his orders as Mary abandoned her toast and eggs to tidy herself up. What for, I wondered, considering how she seemed so smitten on that Mr. Casey. He had been teaching her for quite some time, upon Mr. Darcy's request, as we found out later; he had been one of the young men that had asked to dance with Mary at the Netherfield Ball last autumn after Mr. Darcy, in an effort to impress Lizzy, asked her to dance. That was when I remembered that earlier that morning, I had left an unfinished and uncleaned work-in-progress in the drawing room, where Mary was about to entertain our guest.

"I've just remembered the mess I left in the drawing room!" I cried, jumping up and racing out of the room as quickly as I could. I rounded the corners that led to the entrance hall and into the drawing room, where I stopped and froze with an expression of sheer terror on my face as I found our visitor bent over the sketch I had left leaning against a chair. He was dressed as any wealthy gentleman would, as I was sure he was, of course, of the higher class if Mary had met him while visiting Lady Catherine. His hair was longer and a dark reddish-brown colour and he was short in stature, but nonetheless very handsome from behind. He must have heard my rushed footsteps and my heavy breathing, for he stood erect and turned to face me; I found him not to be the most attractive man, but when he smiled, he seemed very friendly, welcoming and approachable.

"Good morning, madam!" he said politely with a bow, to which I responded with a curtsy. "I must assume that you are one of the lovely Bennet sisters that Miss Mary has told me so much about in her letters?"

"You correspond with my sister?" I asked, confused on exactly what Mary's intentions were.

"Lightly, yes, and in friendship," the Colonel replied. "Forgive me, I haven't introduced myself! I am Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, but Colonel will do fine for acquaintance. And you are?" I smiled lightly, deciding to toy with him a bit.

"If my sister has told you so much of us, perhaps you'll be able to guess," I replied.

"Hmm... For one, you are certainly not Mrs. Darcy... You look rather young, so you must be one of Miss Mary's younger sisters, yes?" I nodded. "And I'm assuming that you were rushing into this room to hide this drawing from my view, yes?" Again, I nodded. "Ah, then you must be Miss Kitty. Miss Mary informed me that you were quite the artist."

"Very clever, Colonel! I suppose there must be a reason for that title," I declared. "I am only somewhat of an artist, and not a very good one. My skills are still developing. Do please forgive me for the mess, I was up quite early to finish it and I had forgotten I had left it here."

"And I am quite sure your family was not expecting any guests, Miss Kitty." I nodded gently. "Forgive me, have I said something wrong?"

"I beg your pardon, sir?" I asked, confused.

"The expression of disgust you gave after I said your name, madam. Do you perhaps not wish to be referred to as 'Miss Kitty'?" I paused, a little stunned that he would notice something so subtle, or even give it a single thought.

"Well..." I struggled to think of the proper words, then I let out a sigh; somehow, I felt far more comfortable around this man than I ought to have. "All of my seventeen years, I have been called by a name I despise. The name 'Kitty' has always been a pet name for me, and is a shortened form of my Christian name, Catherine. I've been asking my sisters to refer to me as Catherine or Cathy or even Cate or Caty, but they do not seem to wish to."

"I don't wish to call you by a name that disgusts you, madam. Do tell me, which do you prefer?"

"I suppose anything other than 'Kitty', sir."

"Then perhaps I shall call you Miss Caty? It seems a name most suitable for a girl such as yourself." I gently smiled and nodded.

"Yes, that does sound quite wonderful," I replied.

"Then Miss Caty it is," said the Colonel, returning the smile. At that moment, Mary had entered the room fully refreshed and looking as if she were to visit Meryton and she stalled before us, taking in the scene.

"Hello, Colonel! I see you've met Kitty," she said, sounding a tad bit disappointed.

"Yes, and Miss Caty was showing me the sketch she did this morning," said the Colonel, holding up my sketch. It was of Lydia's cat, Fable, whom she barely took care of. I tended to the poor thing for most of his life and he rather enjoyed sleeping on top of the pianoforte, but he always fled when Mary entered the room knowing she would chase him off.

"Miss Who?" asked Mary, confused at the Colonel's different address for me.

"Never you mind, Mary. I was just about to take this sketch to my bedroom," I said as I crossed the room to take the sketch from the Colonel. As I grabbed the sketch, his fingertips brushed the side of my hand and I only slightly jumped, but it was not slightly enough for the Colonel to miss. He gave me an inquisitive look as I backed away, my face perhaps showing yet another expression of sheer terror. "Forgive me, I should have cleared this out this morning. I'll leave you two alone, then." I curtseyed to them both, the Colonel returning it with a bow, and I departed the room.

I cannot possibly explain what happened this morning, but it was most unusual. The Colonel came to tell us, in person, of an illness that Lizzy has developed, insisting that with bed rest, she will be fine; he gave his word that his cousin would have her in the greatest care, even though Mr. Darcy was in London to settle some legal things. He also mentioned another cousin, a young girl, who had very good hands and would also be tending to Lizzy. I knew that Lizzy was in good hands and truthfully, I believe all members of my family believe this to be true. Mama has asked the Colonel to stay for a bit and he will be living in the spare room beside mine and Lydia's, of course. I am sure he is here for Mary, and I do believe that he and Mary would make a very fine match.

Yours,

Kitty Bennet