CHAPTER NINE
Thursday April 30
I went for a lovely walk with Georgiana and Mr Beaupays in the shrubbery today! Georgiana was a little shy of him and kept her distance, so we managed to talk voraciously without excluding her. He told me all about his family.
"My mother died when I was fourteen," he said, "and my father remarried two years later, and my stepmother's name is Cordelia. I must admit we found it hard to get along at first, as I missed my mother immensely, but now things are different. I have three sisters. The eldest is Laura, she is two years older than me at seven-and-twenty, and married to Sir William Carroll. They have a baby boy named Alexander. And my sister Viola is twenty, and unmarried. I think we are probably closer than I am to any other of my family. You see, Laura is sometimes quite vixenish, and Viola and I always used to form a gang against her! And my youngest sister is Elizabeth, and she is three years younger than you at sixteen, I believe, and only just out. I also have a stepbrother and sister; Jonathan is eight, and Rose, or Rosie as we call her, is two."
I am glad I talked to him about it, for he has such a soft spot for his family that I discovered a completely new side to him that you would never know just by looking at that fashionable exterior.
And then I told him about mine, and he thought the Bennet family story of the last few years was excessively amusing and fascinating – what with Lizzy hating Darcy, Mr Collins proposing to Lizzy and then marrying Charlotte Lucas, Darcy separating Jane from Bingley, Darcy proposing to Lizzy in Kent, (I know that because Lizzy told me the other day, blushing), her fiery refusal, the accidental meeting at Pemberley, Wickham running off with Lydia, Darcy playing the avenging angel, and then the happy ending when both Lizzy and Jane were united with the men they loved.
Oh, I do like him a lot! He is not all baubles and finery, and if you know me at all, you will understand that I enjoy frivolity. And he does go deeper, even though as soon as we had finished speaking of our families, we were back to the best colour ribbon to go with a straw bonnet. He amuses me excessively and I feel very mature when I am with him. I wonder when he will propose to me?
Saturday May 2
Hello again, diary! I was unable to tell more of the enticing, exciting adventures of Catherine Sophia Bennet yesterday, because I was so busy having fun! What a nice excuse for not being able to do something! Much, much better than 'I was busy organising Lizzy's new baby's life' or 'I had to see the doctor and was desperately ill' or something horrid like that. However! I had a good day yesterday. There were a few bad points, but they pale in comparison to the good points, I think. Firstly, I went for a walk with Mr Beaupays, even though I had wanted to visit Louisa. And it was worth it because he hinted five times that he wanted to marry me! It really does something for a girl's self esteem when yet another presentable gentleman wants to marry her.
And then Louisa and Alice Brandon came around, and Mr Darcy took us all for a picnic. It was very kind of him, for Lizzy is now very big indeed and cannot leave home, and I could tell he wanted to stay with her. But she laughed and told him to go with us, that she was fine, and so he did, reluctantly. And we had a wonderful time! We all rode there, and we stopped at the vicarage on the way and invited Mr Wakefield. I had wanted to invite Mr Beaupays, but no one thought of it, and I felt too embarrassed to just ask, outright, "Can we bring Mr Beaupays?" Georgiana would have giggled and Louisa would have rolled her eyes and Mr Darcy would have secretly smirked and I would have felt especially frivolous. But I do like Mr Wakefield, of course, and the lack of Mr Beaupays did not render the expedition completely without fun. Not at all! The weather was beautiful that day and the food delicious. I found it hard to look at Mr Wakefield for a little while, remembering the other day when Sir Thomas cornered me, but he had evidently forgotten it, or pretended to very well. So after a while we were chatting away like usual, all awkwardness gone, which was a relief.
"Miss Bennet," he said, "how long do you have left in Derbyshire?"
"Still a month," I said. "I have enjoyed myself so much here that even a month seems too short a time!"
"Yes," he agreed. "I have noticed that if you are away from home for a long time, as I have been, going home is very much a pleasure. But when I was younger and only went away for short trips, I always hated the very thought of having to go home, to normal life."
"Precisely!" I said. "That is exactly how I feel. Right now I cannot really understand how I would ever want to go home, after the wonderful time I have had here, and thinking about all the limits there are at home. But time diminishes faults, and magnifies the good things, until home seems a positive pattern-card of perfection."
"Very profound, Miss Bennet!" he laughed. "But you are perfectly right. I miss my parents and my sister at home in Yorkshire so much right now, for I have not visited my home since September last year. But I think when circumstances change, these longings change too."
I wrinkled my brow. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, as of this time, the vicarage is not really home to me. There is only myself there; no family, no friends. But I think if I got married, this would change. I probably would not long for home so much anymore, because I would be perfectly satisfied with my home in Derbyshire. And the same with you; for instance, if you stayed in Pemberley forever, you would miss your home very much after a while, but if you got married and stayed here, you would be quite content, most of the time."
I laughed. "Most of the time?"
"Oh, married people always have their little disagreements," he smiled. "I should know, being a clergyman. I am sure that Mr and Mrs Darcy have arguments now and then?"
I raised my eyebrows and gave an expressive, "Yes!"
He laughed. "Be that as it may, they love each other very much – it is obvious. I doubt Mrs Darcy ever wishes she was back home in Hertfordshire, meaning no offence to your home, of course. She is just perfectly happy with her situation, especially because of the approaching birth, and no petty little argument with Mr Darcy will change that."
"That is very true," I said thoughtfully. "I hadn't ever thought of that before. I hope I can ever love a man that much."
He was giving me a rather odd smile as I looked up at him again. I don't know why. He looked . . . oh, I can't explain it. I'm useless at writing anyhow. But he seemed, without being bitter, to look at me as if . . . I give up. I cannot explain it, no matter how hard I try, and I have sat thinking at my writing desk for at least ten minutes trying to discern how it was that he was smiling. I don't think there is a single word in the English language which describes it even partially.
We came to the river finally, sore from the saddle, and relieved to get down and EAT. I am afraid none of us were very dignified at all, but extremely ravenous, shovelling food down our throats as if there were no tomorrow. And it was delicious – anything eaten outdoors does seem to stimulate the tastebuds more than indoor fare, don't you think?
The two men ended up going for a swim down the river around the bend, after sternly adjuring us not to walk that way, (we giggled and they couldn't help smiling), and we stayed behind, swinging our bare feet in the water and talking. It was lovely, I felt like a child again, barefoot and free. Close to nature, and happy, and careless. To my disappointment, Louisa again misinterpreted Mr Wakefield, and started teasing me about the way we had ridden together almost the whole way to the river. Honestly, she can sometimes be so blind. We are only friends – nothing more. I refuse to write any more about this particular topic because it is so ridiculous. I mean, can you imagine me falling in love with a clergyman?! Or, still more ridiculous, he falling in love with me?!?!
I suppose it would be more possible than it used to be. My sister Lydia would burst into laughter at such an idea, but people who know me now may not.
However, it has not happened.
The worst part of the picnic was when I went for a walk in the forest by myself to look for flowers to pick for Lizzy. To my utter embarrassment, I came upon Mr Wakefield, who had gone into the forest to get dressed again after his swim. He was shirtless and wet, and stupid, idiotic me skipped carelessly into a clump of bluebells, and froze at the sight of him, as did he. I am sure I have never gone so red, and my brain was screaming, "Quick! RUN, you dolt!" But my body refused to obey and I stood there, stock-still, staring at him, and right now as I write, a day later, my face still goes beetroot red at the very thought of it. Finally, he said, "Miss Bennet," his face as red as mine, but with a little smile on it, and I said in a tiny voice, "I – I – I am sorry," and rushed off. It took me a while to breathe again, and I had to sit down by the river and splash my face with water a little before I could go back to the girls looking semi-normal.
He is a very handsome man, as I think I have mentioned before. It would be a wonder indeed if my breath was not caught in my stomach and if my eyes did not boggle at the sight of him and if my heart started to beat a little (or a lot) faster, and it does not diminish my love for Mr Beaupays in the least.
It was totally impossible not to surrender to heightened colour when he and Mr Darcy came back, and although he would have seemed as unruffled as usual to anyone who was not particularly watching, he did seem a little red and conscious. Everyone noticed I was uncomfortable, of course, and asked annoying questions that I did not want to answer or be asked in the first place. How is it that I can be reduced to a stuttering, red-faced mess when something like this happens, and he can look as calm and ethereal as always?
That part of the picnic is something I want to forget as soon as possible, and just get back to my usual calm, unworried existence.
Luckily for my general wellbeing, Mr Darcy was anxious to get back to Elizabeth, and so we left at once. I rode at the back of the party with Georgiana and tried never to catch his eye, but sometimes it was impossible. He didn't stop being as kind as normal, and I am very impressed with how he behaves when embarrassed like that, but I really wished that I could just get back to Pemberley and into my bedroom so I could blush as much as I wished, in PRIVATE, and think about everything that happened.
That night Lizzy started having pains. Mr Darcy panicked and called the doctor as soon as they happened, but when he got there, they had ceased. We spent the whole evening after that giving Lizzy massages and rubbing her feet, which are a little swollen. I am inclined to think she enjoyed the massages so much that she only pretended she needed them, but that is a very uncharitable way to think and I am sure that is not so. She also claimed she was craving chocolate cake and grapes, but when she said this, she had such a mischievous look in her eye that not even Mr Darcy, anxious to do everything right, was fooled. However, it was very enjoyable, because Lizzy was in a good mood, and we laughed the whole evening long – except for Mr Darcy, who was feeling nervous, inadequate and worried.
Today – well, all of this morning pales into insignificance and I cannot gather up the patience to write it all down, for I have just received a note from Mr Beaupays that he is going to come around in but half an hour. The anticipation is enormous. Somehow I know, diary, that he is going to propose today!!!!
Later
Mr Beaupays called around here punctually, and took me out for a walk in the shrubbery immediately. He seemed rather discomposed which made me feel very smug, because men are always discomposed when they are about to propose.
He sat me down on a stone chair, and stood in front of me, breathing quickly, and he said, "Miss Bennet, I have a certain proposition to lay before you. I beg you will not think me impertinent, but it has been in my mind almost as soon as I met you."
I was finding it very hard to breathe normally, being in a flurry of nervous anticipation of the proposal that must follow.
He sat down beside me. "Miss Bennet, my sister Viola is coming to visit me soon, and when she comes, I would like to have a surprise for her."
My heart beat even quicker. How sweet of him! He wants to propose to me so that he can introduce me to his sister as his fiancée when she comes!
"Will you decorate a bonnet for her?"
I cannot believe it, diary. I had such great hopes for him, and when he said this to me, it was as if suddenly I was seeing him for the first time. Does he think of nothing but fripperies, and how they relate to everything? There is no way on earth I can marry such a man. There would be no romance in such a marriage, no mystery, no safety! It suddenly became wholly borne in upon me that a marital relationship with this man would be disastrous for my own happiness.
It was such a shock, diary, as I had been so sure of everything before then. I just sat there with my mouth open. I stammered a little, then politely refused and ushered him out of the garden and back to his phaeton, refused his offer of a drive, and went inside to sit on my bed in horror at myself and my foolishness. Now that I think about it, I have deceived myself into being in love with three separate men over the last month. It is too much to accept. I must be crazed – destined for Bedlam, that's me. Fickle, fickle Kitty.
I really don't want to go home, diary. Now my only chance of marital happiness is with Mr Montgomery. I could always try to cut Alice out and get Mr Winter, but it would be cruel, I suppose. Besides, they are pretty nearly engaged, and I doubt he would permit Alice to be cut out.
I am going to cultivate my acquaintance with Mr Montgomery. I do like him. I have not had much to do with him over the past few weeks, and I think if I should get to know him better, I may very well fall in love with him. But this time I will be sensible and get to know him again before I declare myself in love with him.
Oh diary, I feel dreadful. I don't much care about breaking Lord Gosford's heart, seeing what he did to me, (the scoundrel), but I know Mr Beaupays does like me a lot, and Sir Thomas did too. Am I a monster? I feel one. I am completely and utterly decided that there is no way in heaven or earth that I could ever marry any of those three now, but I led them on and flirted and acted just like the peacock Captain Harper called me. I don't think I shall ever be fit to marry anyone, the way I'm behaving. I hereby solemnly resolve never to flirt or lead anyone on or chase anyone again – ever.
I wonder will Mr Montgomery be in the village on Monday? Of course I will see him at church tomorrow, but I have a feeling much of that time will be spent being civilly disdainful to Mr Beaupays. I could sit by the tree outside the smithy reading a book from the lending-library at the fashionable time and corner him if he walks past. We will see.
Thursday April 30
I went for a lovely walk with Georgiana and Mr Beaupays in the shrubbery today! Georgiana was a little shy of him and kept her distance, so we managed to talk voraciously without excluding her. He told me all about his family.
"My mother died when I was fourteen," he said, "and my father remarried two years later, and my stepmother's name is Cordelia. I must admit we found it hard to get along at first, as I missed my mother immensely, but now things are different. I have three sisters. The eldest is Laura, she is two years older than me at seven-and-twenty, and married to Sir William Carroll. They have a baby boy named Alexander. And my sister Viola is twenty, and unmarried. I think we are probably closer than I am to any other of my family. You see, Laura is sometimes quite vixenish, and Viola and I always used to form a gang against her! And my youngest sister is Elizabeth, and she is three years younger than you at sixteen, I believe, and only just out. I also have a stepbrother and sister; Jonathan is eight, and Rose, or Rosie as we call her, is two."
I am glad I talked to him about it, for he has such a soft spot for his family that I discovered a completely new side to him that you would never know just by looking at that fashionable exterior.
And then I told him about mine, and he thought the Bennet family story of the last few years was excessively amusing and fascinating – what with Lizzy hating Darcy, Mr Collins proposing to Lizzy and then marrying Charlotte Lucas, Darcy separating Jane from Bingley, Darcy proposing to Lizzy in Kent, (I know that because Lizzy told me the other day, blushing), her fiery refusal, the accidental meeting at Pemberley, Wickham running off with Lydia, Darcy playing the avenging angel, and then the happy ending when both Lizzy and Jane were united with the men they loved.
Oh, I do like him a lot! He is not all baubles and finery, and if you know me at all, you will understand that I enjoy frivolity. And he does go deeper, even though as soon as we had finished speaking of our families, we were back to the best colour ribbon to go with a straw bonnet. He amuses me excessively and I feel very mature when I am with him. I wonder when he will propose to me?
Saturday May 2
Hello again, diary! I was unable to tell more of the enticing, exciting adventures of Catherine Sophia Bennet yesterday, because I was so busy having fun! What a nice excuse for not being able to do something! Much, much better than 'I was busy organising Lizzy's new baby's life' or 'I had to see the doctor and was desperately ill' or something horrid like that. However! I had a good day yesterday. There were a few bad points, but they pale in comparison to the good points, I think. Firstly, I went for a walk with Mr Beaupays, even though I had wanted to visit Louisa. And it was worth it because he hinted five times that he wanted to marry me! It really does something for a girl's self esteem when yet another presentable gentleman wants to marry her.
And then Louisa and Alice Brandon came around, and Mr Darcy took us all for a picnic. It was very kind of him, for Lizzy is now very big indeed and cannot leave home, and I could tell he wanted to stay with her. But she laughed and told him to go with us, that she was fine, and so he did, reluctantly. And we had a wonderful time! We all rode there, and we stopped at the vicarage on the way and invited Mr Wakefield. I had wanted to invite Mr Beaupays, but no one thought of it, and I felt too embarrassed to just ask, outright, "Can we bring Mr Beaupays?" Georgiana would have giggled and Louisa would have rolled her eyes and Mr Darcy would have secretly smirked and I would have felt especially frivolous. But I do like Mr Wakefield, of course, and the lack of Mr Beaupays did not render the expedition completely without fun. Not at all! The weather was beautiful that day and the food delicious. I found it hard to look at Mr Wakefield for a little while, remembering the other day when Sir Thomas cornered me, but he had evidently forgotten it, or pretended to very well. So after a while we were chatting away like usual, all awkwardness gone, which was a relief.
"Miss Bennet," he said, "how long do you have left in Derbyshire?"
"Still a month," I said. "I have enjoyed myself so much here that even a month seems too short a time!"
"Yes," he agreed. "I have noticed that if you are away from home for a long time, as I have been, going home is very much a pleasure. But when I was younger and only went away for short trips, I always hated the very thought of having to go home, to normal life."
"Precisely!" I said. "That is exactly how I feel. Right now I cannot really understand how I would ever want to go home, after the wonderful time I have had here, and thinking about all the limits there are at home. But time diminishes faults, and magnifies the good things, until home seems a positive pattern-card of perfection."
"Very profound, Miss Bennet!" he laughed. "But you are perfectly right. I miss my parents and my sister at home in Yorkshire so much right now, for I have not visited my home since September last year. But I think when circumstances change, these longings change too."
I wrinkled my brow. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, as of this time, the vicarage is not really home to me. There is only myself there; no family, no friends. But I think if I got married, this would change. I probably would not long for home so much anymore, because I would be perfectly satisfied with my home in Derbyshire. And the same with you; for instance, if you stayed in Pemberley forever, you would miss your home very much after a while, but if you got married and stayed here, you would be quite content, most of the time."
I laughed. "Most of the time?"
"Oh, married people always have their little disagreements," he smiled. "I should know, being a clergyman. I am sure that Mr and Mrs Darcy have arguments now and then?"
I raised my eyebrows and gave an expressive, "Yes!"
He laughed. "Be that as it may, they love each other very much – it is obvious. I doubt Mrs Darcy ever wishes she was back home in Hertfordshire, meaning no offence to your home, of course. She is just perfectly happy with her situation, especially because of the approaching birth, and no petty little argument with Mr Darcy will change that."
"That is very true," I said thoughtfully. "I hadn't ever thought of that before. I hope I can ever love a man that much."
He was giving me a rather odd smile as I looked up at him again. I don't know why. He looked . . . oh, I can't explain it. I'm useless at writing anyhow. But he seemed, without being bitter, to look at me as if . . . I give up. I cannot explain it, no matter how hard I try, and I have sat thinking at my writing desk for at least ten minutes trying to discern how it was that he was smiling. I don't think there is a single word in the English language which describes it even partially.
We came to the river finally, sore from the saddle, and relieved to get down and EAT. I am afraid none of us were very dignified at all, but extremely ravenous, shovelling food down our throats as if there were no tomorrow. And it was delicious – anything eaten outdoors does seem to stimulate the tastebuds more than indoor fare, don't you think?
The two men ended up going for a swim down the river around the bend, after sternly adjuring us not to walk that way, (we giggled and they couldn't help smiling), and we stayed behind, swinging our bare feet in the water and talking. It was lovely, I felt like a child again, barefoot and free. Close to nature, and happy, and careless. To my disappointment, Louisa again misinterpreted Mr Wakefield, and started teasing me about the way we had ridden together almost the whole way to the river. Honestly, she can sometimes be so blind. We are only friends – nothing more. I refuse to write any more about this particular topic because it is so ridiculous. I mean, can you imagine me falling in love with a clergyman?! Or, still more ridiculous, he falling in love with me?!?!
I suppose it would be more possible than it used to be. My sister Lydia would burst into laughter at such an idea, but people who know me now may not.
However, it has not happened.
The worst part of the picnic was when I went for a walk in the forest by myself to look for flowers to pick for Lizzy. To my utter embarrassment, I came upon Mr Wakefield, who had gone into the forest to get dressed again after his swim. He was shirtless and wet, and stupid, idiotic me skipped carelessly into a clump of bluebells, and froze at the sight of him, as did he. I am sure I have never gone so red, and my brain was screaming, "Quick! RUN, you dolt!" But my body refused to obey and I stood there, stock-still, staring at him, and right now as I write, a day later, my face still goes beetroot red at the very thought of it. Finally, he said, "Miss Bennet," his face as red as mine, but with a little smile on it, and I said in a tiny voice, "I – I – I am sorry," and rushed off. It took me a while to breathe again, and I had to sit down by the river and splash my face with water a little before I could go back to the girls looking semi-normal.
He is a very handsome man, as I think I have mentioned before. It would be a wonder indeed if my breath was not caught in my stomach and if my eyes did not boggle at the sight of him and if my heart started to beat a little (or a lot) faster, and it does not diminish my love for Mr Beaupays in the least.
It was totally impossible not to surrender to heightened colour when he and Mr Darcy came back, and although he would have seemed as unruffled as usual to anyone who was not particularly watching, he did seem a little red and conscious. Everyone noticed I was uncomfortable, of course, and asked annoying questions that I did not want to answer or be asked in the first place. How is it that I can be reduced to a stuttering, red-faced mess when something like this happens, and he can look as calm and ethereal as always?
That part of the picnic is something I want to forget as soon as possible, and just get back to my usual calm, unworried existence.
Luckily for my general wellbeing, Mr Darcy was anxious to get back to Elizabeth, and so we left at once. I rode at the back of the party with Georgiana and tried never to catch his eye, but sometimes it was impossible. He didn't stop being as kind as normal, and I am very impressed with how he behaves when embarrassed like that, but I really wished that I could just get back to Pemberley and into my bedroom so I could blush as much as I wished, in PRIVATE, and think about everything that happened.
That night Lizzy started having pains. Mr Darcy panicked and called the doctor as soon as they happened, but when he got there, they had ceased. We spent the whole evening after that giving Lizzy massages and rubbing her feet, which are a little swollen. I am inclined to think she enjoyed the massages so much that she only pretended she needed them, but that is a very uncharitable way to think and I am sure that is not so. She also claimed she was craving chocolate cake and grapes, but when she said this, she had such a mischievous look in her eye that not even Mr Darcy, anxious to do everything right, was fooled. However, it was very enjoyable, because Lizzy was in a good mood, and we laughed the whole evening long – except for Mr Darcy, who was feeling nervous, inadequate and worried.
Today – well, all of this morning pales into insignificance and I cannot gather up the patience to write it all down, for I have just received a note from Mr Beaupays that he is going to come around in but half an hour. The anticipation is enormous. Somehow I know, diary, that he is going to propose today!!!!
Later
Mr Beaupays called around here punctually, and took me out for a walk in the shrubbery immediately. He seemed rather discomposed which made me feel very smug, because men are always discomposed when they are about to propose.
He sat me down on a stone chair, and stood in front of me, breathing quickly, and he said, "Miss Bennet, I have a certain proposition to lay before you. I beg you will not think me impertinent, but it has been in my mind almost as soon as I met you."
I was finding it very hard to breathe normally, being in a flurry of nervous anticipation of the proposal that must follow.
He sat down beside me. "Miss Bennet, my sister Viola is coming to visit me soon, and when she comes, I would like to have a surprise for her."
My heart beat even quicker. How sweet of him! He wants to propose to me so that he can introduce me to his sister as his fiancée when she comes!
"Will you decorate a bonnet for her?"
I cannot believe it, diary. I had such great hopes for him, and when he said this to me, it was as if suddenly I was seeing him for the first time. Does he think of nothing but fripperies, and how they relate to everything? There is no way on earth I can marry such a man. There would be no romance in such a marriage, no mystery, no safety! It suddenly became wholly borne in upon me that a marital relationship with this man would be disastrous for my own happiness.
It was such a shock, diary, as I had been so sure of everything before then. I just sat there with my mouth open. I stammered a little, then politely refused and ushered him out of the garden and back to his phaeton, refused his offer of a drive, and went inside to sit on my bed in horror at myself and my foolishness. Now that I think about it, I have deceived myself into being in love with three separate men over the last month. It is too much to accept. I must be crazed – destined for Bedlam, that's me. Fickle, fickle Kitty.
I really don't want to go home, diary. Now my only chance of marital happiness is with Mr Montgomery. I could always try to cut Alice out and get Mr Winter, but it would be cruel, I suppose. Besides, they are pretty nearly engaged, and I doubt he would permit Alice to be cut out.
I am going to cultivate my acquaintance with Mr Montgomery. I do like him. I have not had much to do with him over the past few weeks, and I think if I should get to know him better, I may very well fall in love with him. But this time I will be sensible and get to know him again before I declare myself in love with him.
Oh diary, I feel dreadful. I don't much care about breaking Lord Gosford's heart, seeing what he did to me, (the scoundrel), but I know Mr Beaupays does like me a lot, and Sir Thomas did too. Am I a monster? I feel one. I am completely and utterly decided that there is no way in heaven or earth that I could ever marry any of those three now, but I led them on and flirted and acted just like the peacock Captain Harper called me. I don't think I shall ever be fit to marry anyone, the way I'm behaving. I hereby solemnly resolve never to flirt or lead anyone on or chase anyone again – ever.
I wonder will Mr Montgomery be in the village on Monday? Of course I will see him at church tomorrow, but I have a feeling much of that time will be spent being civilly disdainful to Mr Beaupays. I could sit by the tree outside the smithy reading a book from the lending-library at the fashionable time and corner him if he walks past. We will see.