CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tuesday May 5
Oh diary, how busy I have been! Lizzy only got out of bed this evening and so Georgiana and I have been acting both mistress of Pemberley and nursemaid. Lizzy is still rather tired, despite the quick birth. It must be draining, giving birth. She doesn't mind a bit, and is quite happy, especially when Mr Darcy is there and they are both holding the babies and acting like little children themselves – gurgling and smiling and almost dribbling over Ernest and Isobel. I suppose I can't really blame them. I almost do so myself. I'm not quite so doting a parent that I think it's delightful and amusing when Isobel vomits on my shoulder. But she is so adorable that I forgive her very quickly. And I'm not quite so blind to their faults that I think Ernest is perfectly beautiful when he is screwing up his face and screaming. But when he is sleeping he looks so sweet and faultless that I forget he ever did scream.
Mr Darcy and Lizzy are truly dotty over these children. I'm sure it won't stay quite so extreme that they enjoy even the shrieks in the middle of the night forever, (last night was really a revelation to the entire household, and do you know how huge Pemberley is?), but I know without a doubt that Ernest and Isobel are very lucky to have parents that love them so much.
It makes me think about my own. Was I once a tiny little baby whom my parents adored and thought perfect? Probably not, because I was the fourth child, and another girl at that. I can't see Father with a ridiculous smile on his face like Mr Darcy has had all today and yesterday, making baby noises, and I can't see Mama's nerves holding up to baby screams for long. It makes me feel a little envious actually. It also makes me resolve to thank God and never stop thanking Him for any children I may or may not have. At this stage, 'may not' is more likely a bet, as I am likely to die an old maid (see below). However, if it is a 'may', I never want to take them for granted.
Diary, the truth has suddenly stunned me – I cannot marry any of the men here! I feel quite upset really, especially after being so sure that one of them would do.
Wednesday May 6
A few visitors came today, to congratulate Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, and to inspect the babies. Firstly, Mrs Brandon and Alice came, as Mrs Brandon thought she had a prime role in the drama in warning me of what was happening. She was most disappointed to hear that I got there too late. Alice was also announcing her engagement to Mr Winter. I congratulated her whole-heartedly. I don't think he and I would have suited anyway.
I have just read that paragraph over, and realised that I think of every single, eligible man I know as a potential husband. It is quite wicked. I wish I did not do so. I am as bad as Mama. How lowering a thought that is! I suppose Mama has her merits, (I cannot think of any on the spot), but I do not exactly want to become like her.
And then Louisa and Lady Posy came to visit. I didn't really talk to Lady Posy very much, on account of the last time I saw her being somewhat embarrassing, but after all, she did show me the bad side of Lord Gosford. And I am grateful that it happened then instead of after I was perhaps wed to him. But even though I was not feeling quite so aggressive towards her, I spent most of my time with Louisa, playing with Isobel while Lizzy showed off Ernest to Lady Posy. Already the twins share a bond with each other, I think. They lie in their cradles and look at each other, and if one picks Isobel up and carries her away, Ernest starts crying, and vice versa. I suppose it is comforting in a world of giants to have someone close by who is the same size as you.
And then Mr Wakefield came to visit, as he is the clergyman and will be christening the babies. He smiled and cooed over them appropriately, and then we had a nice long conversation.
"Yes, I am leaving in about three weeks now," I said breezily.
"Not staying?" he asked a little cautiously, and why cautiously, I do not know.
"Oh no," I said.
He got up. "I had better take my leave now, Miss Bennet," he said. "I have some parish business to attend to."
"Goodbye!" I smiled.
He paused, took my outstretched hand and instead of shaking it, gave it a small kiss. "Goodbye." He is very sweet!
I was most embarrassed when Lizzy came over to me as soon as we were alone. "Kitty dear, what is this between you and Mr Wakefield?"
"What is what?" I said. "You're not falling for the same foolish presumption Louisa seems to have fallen for as well, have you?"
"Kitty," sighed Elizabeth, "the tumultuous state of my own relationship with Mr Darcy before our marriage makes me determined not to allow anyone to remain similarly blind. Especially one of my own sisters. Although it does make a good story, much pain would have been saved if things had been a little different. In your case, you do not realise something about someone else, and you do not realise it about yourself, silly blind little Kitty! I feel bound, as your sister, to tell you before you mess it all up."
"Thank you for your implicit trust in my judgement," I said, a little amused. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Kitty, Mr Wakefield is in love with you, and you are in love with him."
Blink wildly for a few seconds, gulp, stagger, and widen eyes. "What?!"
"You heard me."
"Lizzy – you are raving mad."
"No, Kitty, you are," she said calmly. "You have been trying to fall in love with all the other men while you've been here. You have failed with each one. You are so blind to your own feelings that you don't even realise that Mr Wakefield is another single man."
"Well, just because he is a single man doesn't mean I have to fall in love with him!" I said indignantly.
"No, Kitty, but that seems to be how you've been operating with all the other men." I made an offended face and was about to retort back but she continued, ignoring me. "And anyway, I've seen the way you talk to each other, the way you treat each other... Kitty, when he is with you, he is animated beyond what I have ever seen; he smiles, he treats you with the utmost gentleness, he discusses anything and everything with you – he kissed your hand before."
"So, he kissed my hand. He thus wants to marry me!"
"No, Kitty, I don't mean that." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It is just the combination of that and other things. And then there's you – every time the door opens you look up to see if it's him. If it isn't, you frown, and if it is, you burst into smiles immediately. You talk about him to everyone. Haven't you noticed how the other men always changed the subject when you brought up Mr Wakefield? If he thinks something, you think it is the gospel truth (though I am not insulting his very excellent judgement in any way). And when you are with him, the way you look up at him would almost put me to the blush if I didn't know you had no idea you were in love with him."
"Enough, Lizzy!" I said. "I get the picture, but I assure you I don't feel that way at all!"
She shrugged. "At least I tried."
I am getting very befuddled. I may have sounded decided in my last comment to Elizabeth, but now my heart is running like wildfire and my stomach is jumping up and down. Do I, do I not? I tried to ascertain my feelings by plucking the petals off a daisy saying, "I love him, I love him not," but then I lost track of petals, tore up the flower in frustration, and got even more confused. I must say that I don't think I do, for how can you be in love with someone and not even realise it?
Thursday May 7
Diary. I am finding it very hard to breathe today.
I went for a solitary walk in the woods because I was feeling very pensive and thoughtful, and who should I come across but Mr Wakefield. Just the person I really did not want to see until I had done some more thinking. We almost bumped right into each other, and both stumbled and started blushing. I had never thought I could ever see him blushing. "Miss B- bennet," he stammered as I whispered, "Mr Wakefield," at exactly the same time.
"May I walk with you for a while?" he blurted out after a short but nonetheless uncomfortable pause.
"Of course! Of course!" I said, trying to be normal but coming off sounding very hoarse and over-polite.
We walked silently beside each other for a time. He seemed to be moderately comfortable while I blushed and perspired and adjusted my bonnet. The woods were very pretty, all shades of green, shadowy and quiet, and I tried to breathe deeply and calm myself down.
Suddenly Mr Wakefield turned to me, and all my efforts for calmness were in vain. His eyes were not calm at all now. He was obviously nervous. "Miss Bennet, tell me –"He paused. "Do I have any hope? . . . Any at all?"
I didn't say anything, but I just looked at him, and all at once, in those deep brown, troubled eyes, I saw everything I had done with him and talked about with him over the last few weeks I had been in Derbyshire and my heart started to beat even faster and I knew that he did have hope. And I mentally kicked myself as hard as I could for my intolerable blindness but it didn't hurt very much at all because suddenly I was grinning and happy – oh, the superlative of happy – because I knew I was in love, and I knew that he, as unworthy as I am, loves me too. (Oh, I am an idiot! Again and again I ask myself, how could I have been so insufferably stupid!)
He saw the beam on my face and knew at once, of course, but I said it. "Yes. You have a lot of hope."
The smile that erupted on his face at that point was truly satisfying and complimentary, and so was the time that followed. We talked and talked and got everything out in the open and finally understood everything about each other.
"I knew you had no idea I was rapidly falling in love with you," he said, "and you cannot imagine how painful it was watching men who obviously did not deserve you," he laughed, "getting your attentions."
"I'm so sorry," I said sorrowfully. "You know I didn't even give you a thought, for some obscure reason. The very idea of Kitty Bennet in love with a clergyman would have thrown me into spasms of laughter just a year ago, and even though I knew I had changed quite a lot, this knowledge had obviously not passed into all parts of my brain. I believe if I had thought about it even in passing, I would have soon realised that you were the one I loved. But instead of thinking about it, I ran after the wrong men. Maybe it was some subconscious feeling that I did like someone; I just didn't realise who. It took Louisa and my sister to first suggest the idea to me, and then today . . ." I smiled and shrugged.
"You found out?"
"Yes."
He smiled at me for about the fiftieth time in the last two minutes. "I am so happy, Kitty," he said impulsively. "I suppose I must say Miss Bennet, but you know I cannot call you that now. And as for myself . . . my name is Henry. If you want to call me that?" he said, suddenly adorably unsure of himself.
I smiled. "Henry is wonderful. I love Henry." I gulped, realising suddenly again that I actually was in love.
Henry didn't smile but instead moved towards me, taking my hands, with an unusually intense look in his eyes. My heart started pounding as I realised he was going to kiss me, and for one stupid moment I was scared, (yes, I am a peacock, but I have never kissed a man before), but it was beautiful.
He drew away slowly, grinning in the most ridiculous way which made me grin even more stupidly than he. "Will you marry me, Kitty?"
I stopped smiling. All at once my inadequacies and foolishness came pounding in upon me. "Henry, I don't think I am good enough for you," I said quietly. "You are so smart and wise and good, and I am silly and foolish and sometimes even wicked."
"Not good enough?" he asked, astonished. "Kitty, I am often grumpy and unsociable and I am not at all rich. The thing always holding me back was my inadequacy. Finally I conquer that and you tell me that I am the superior one? You are wonderful and you are fun; you are natural and sometimes profound and you are cheerfulness itself. And I can talk to you about everything. Please marry me!"
How can one refuse such a plea?
Tuesday May 5
Oh diary, how busy I have been! Lizzy only got out of bed this evening and so Georgiana and I have been acting both mistress of Pemberley and nursemaid. Lizzy is still rather tired, despite the quick birth. It must be draining, giving birth. She doesn't mind a bit, and is quite happy, especially when Mr Darcy is there and they are both holding the babies and acting like little children themselves – gurgling and smiling and almost dribbling over Ernest and Isobel. I suppose I can't really blame them. I almost do so myself. I'm not quite so doting a parent that I think it's delightful and amusing when Isobel vomits on my shoulder. But she is so adorable that I forgive her very quickly. And I'm not quite so blind to their faults that I think Ernest is perfectly beautiful when he is screwing up his face and screaming. But when he is sleeping he looks so sweet and faultless that I forget he ever did scream.
Mr Darcy and Lizzy are truly dotty over these children. I'm sure it won't stay quite so extreme that they enjoy even the shrieks in the middle of the night forever, (last night was really a revelation to the entire household, and do you know how huge Pemberley is?), but I know without a doubt that Ernest and Isobel are very lucky to have parents that love them so much.
It makes me think about my own. Was I once a tiny little baby whom my parents adored and thought perfect? Probably not, because I was the fourth child, and another girl at that. I can't see Father with a ridiculous smile on his face like Mr Darcy has had all today and yesterday, making baby noises, and I can't see Mama's nerves holding up to baby screams for long. It makes me feel a little envious actually. It also makes me resolve to thank God and never stop thanking Him for any children I may or may not have. At this stage, 'may not' is more likely a bet, as I am likely to die an old maid (see below). However, if it is a 'may', I never want to take them for granted.
Diary, the truth has suddenly stunned me – I cannot marry any of the men here! I feel quite upset really, especially after being so sure that one of them would do.
Wednesday May 6
A few visitors came today, to congratulate Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, and to inspect the babies. Firstly, Mrs Brandon and Alice came, as Mrs Brandon thought she had a prime role in the drama in warning me of what was happening. She was most disappointed to hear that I got there too late. Alice was also announcing her engagement to Mr Winter. I congratulated her whole-heartedly. I don't think he and I would have suited anyway.
I have just read that paragraph over, and realised that I think of every single, eligible man I know as a potential husband. It is quite wicked. I wish I did not do so. I am as bad as Mama. How lowering a thought that is! I suppose Mama has her merits, (I cannot think of any on the spot), but I do not exactly want to become like her.
And then Louisa and Lady Posy came to visit. I didn't really talk to Lady Posy very much, on account of the last time I saw her being somewhat embarrassing, but after all, she did show me the bad side of Lord Gosford. And I am grateful that it happened then instead of after I was perhaps wed to him. But even though I was not feeling quite so aggressive towards her, I spent most of my time with Louisa, playing with Isobel while Lizzy showed off Ernest to Lady Posy. Already the twins share a bond with each other, I think. They lie in their cradles and look at each other, and if one picks Isobel up and carries her away, Ernest starts crying, and vice versa. I suppose it is comforting in a world of giants to have someone close by who is the same size as you.
And then Mr Wakefield came to visit, as he is the clergyman and will be christening the babies. He smiled and cooed over them appropriately, and then we had a nice long conversation.
"Yes, I am leaving in about three weeks now," I said breezily.
"Not staying?" he asked a little cautiously, and why cautiously, I do not know.
"Oh no," I said.
He got up. "I had better take my leave now, Miss Bennet," he said. "I have some parish business to attend to."
"Goodbye!" I smiled.
He paused, took my outstretched hand and instead of shaking it, gave it a small kiss. "Goodbye." He is very sweet!
I was most embarrassed when Lizzy came over to me as soon as we were alone. "Kitty dear, what is this between you and Mr Wakefield?"
"What is what?" I said. "You're not falling for the same foolish presumption Louisa seems to have fallen for as well, have you?"
"Kitty," sighed Elizabeth, "the tumultuous state of my own relationship with Mr Darcy before our marriage makes me determined not to allow anyone to remain similarly blind. Especially one of my own sisters. Although it does make a good story, much pain would have been saved if things had been a little different. In your case, you do not realise something about someone else, and you do not realise it about yourself, silly blind little Kitty! I feel bound, as your sister, to tell you before you mess it all up."
"Thank you for your implicit trust in my judgement," I said, a little amused. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Kitty, Mr Wakefield is in love with you, and you are in love with him."
Blink wildly for a few seconds, gulp, stagger, and widen eyes. "What?!"
"You heard me."
"Lizzy – you are raving mad."
"No, Kitty, you are," she said calmly. "You have been trying to fall in love with all the other men while you've been here. You have failed with each one. You are so blind to your own feelings that you don't even realise that Mr Wakefield is another single man."
"Well, just because he is a single man doesn't mean I have to fall in love with him!" I said indignantly.
"No, Kitty, but that seems to be how you've been operating with all the other men." I made an offended face and was about to retort back but she continued, ignoring me. "And anyway, I've seen the way you talk to each other, the way you treat each other... Kitty, when he is with you, he is animated beyond what I have ever seen; he smiles, he treats you with the utmost gentleness, he discusses anything and everything with you – he kissed your hand before."
"So, he kissed my hand. He thus wants to marry me!"
"No, Kitty, I don't mean that." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It is just the combination of that and other things. And then there's you – every time the door opens you look up to see if it's him. If it isn't, you frown, and if it is, you burst into smiles immediately. You talk about him to everyone. Haven't you noticed how the other men always changed the subject when you brought up Mr Wakefield? If he thinks something, you think it is the gospel truth (though I am not insulting his very excellent judgement in any way). And when you are with him, the way you look up at him would almost put me to the blush if I didn't know you had no idea you were in love with him."
"Enough, Lizzy!" I said. "I get the picture, but I assure you I don't feel that way at all!"
She shrugged. "At least I tried."
I am getting very befuddled. I may have sounded decided in my last comment to Elizabeth, but now my heart is running like wildfire and my stomach is jumping up and down. Do I, do I not? I tried to ascertain my feelings by plucking the petals off a daisy saying, "I love him, I love him not," but then I lost track of petals, tore up the flower in frustration, and got even more confused. I must say that I don't think I do, for how can you be in love with someone and not even realise it?
Thursday May 7
Diary. I am finding it very hard to breathe today.
I went for a solitary walk in the woods because I was feeling very pensive and thoughtful, and who should I come across but Mr Wakefield. Just the person I really did not want to see until I had done some more thinking. We almost bumped right into each other, and both stumbled and started blushing. I had never thought I could ever see him blushing. "Miss B- bennet," he stammered as I whispered, "Mr Wakefield," at exactly the same time.
"May I walk with you for a while?" he blurted out after a short but nonetheless uncomfortable pause.
"Of course! Of course!" I said, trying to be normal but coming off sounding very hoarse and over-polite.
We walked silently beside each other for a time. He seemed to be moderately comfortable while I blushed and perspired and adjusted my bonnet. The woods were very pretty, all shades of green, shadowy and quiet, and I tried to breathe deeply and calm myself down.
Suddenly Mr Wakefield turned to me, and all my efforts for calmness were in vain. His eyes were not calm at all now. He was obviously nervous. "Miss Bennet, tell me –"He paused. "Do I have any hope? . . . Any at all?"
I didn't say anything, but I just looked at him, and all at once, in those deep brown, troubled eyes, I saw everything I had done with him and talked about with him over the last few weeks I had been in Derbyshire and my heart started to beat even faster and I knew that he did have hope. And I mentally kicked myself as hard as I could for my intolerable blindness but it didn't hurt very much at all because suddenly I was grinning and happy – oh, the superlative of happy – because I knew I was in love, and I knew that he, as unworthy as I am, loves me too. (Oh, I am an idiot! Again and again I ask myself, how could I have been so insufferably stupid!)
He saw the beam on my face and knew at once, of course, but I said it. "Yes. You have a lot of hope."
The smile that erupted on his face at that point was truly satisfying and complimentary, and so was the time that followed. We talked and talked and got everything out in the open and finally understood everything about each other.
"I knew you had no idea I was rapidly falling in love with you," he said, "and you cannot imagine how painful it was watching men who obviously did not deserve you," he laughed, "getting your attentions."
"I'm so sorry," I said sorrowfully. "You know I didn't even give you a thought, for some obscure reason. The very idea of Kitty Bennet in love with a clergyman would have thrown me into spasms of laughter just a year ago, and even though I knew I had changed quite a lot, this knowledge had obviously not passed into all parts of my brain. I believe if I had thought about it even in passing, I would have soon realised that you were the one I loved. But instead of thinking about it, I ran after the wrong men. Maybe it was some subconscious feeling that I did like someone; I just didn't realise who. It took Louisa and my sister to first suggest the idea to me, and then today . . ." I smiled and shrugged.
"You found out?"
"Yes."
He smiled at me for about the fiftieth time in the last two minutes. "I am so happy, Kitty," he said impulsively. "I suppose I must say Miss Bennet, but you know I cannot call you that now. And as for myself . . . my name is Henry. If you want to call me that?" he said, suddenly adorably unsure of himself.
I smiled. "Henry is wonderful. I love Henry." I gulped, realising suddenly again that I actually was in love.
Henry didn't smile but instead moved towards me, taking my hands, with an unusually intense look in his eyes. My heart started pounding as I realised he was going to kiss me, and for one stupid moment I was scared, (yes, I am a peacock, but I have never kissed a man before), but it was beautiful.
He drew away slowly, grinning in the most ridiculous way which made me grin even more stupidly than he. "Will you marry me, Kitty?"
I stopped smiling. All at once my inadequacies and foolishness came pounding in upon me. "Henry, I don't think I am good enough for you," I said quietly. "You are so smart and wise and good, and I am silly and foolish and sometimes even wicked."
"Not good enough?" he asked, astonished. "Kitty, I am often grumpy and unsociable and I am not at all rich. The thing always holding me back was my inadequacy. Finally I conquer that and you tell me that I am the superior one? You are wonderful and you are fun; you are natural and sometimes profound and you are cheerfulness itself. And I can talk to you about everything. Please marry me!"
How can one refuse such a plea?