-tear- Why so scant on the reviews? I miss reading everyone's feedback. Anyway, these chapters have been focusing on Kitty a lot; and while I do plan to have some more about the cousins and such, I hope it doesn't bother you that Kitty will remain one of the main characters.

Chapter Four: Forming Suspicions

Consider for how much themselves shall gleam,
in the poised radiance of perpetualness.
When what's in velvet beyond doomed thought

is like a woman amorous to be known;
and man, whose here is alway worse than naught,
feels the tremendous yonder for his own—

—E. E. Cummings "A Connotation of Infinity"

Elizabeth found that her eyes involuntarily wandered to the window overlooking the drive the following day as she sat beside it and whiled away the time with some needlework. She had been curious about her new cousin, and was only the more anxious to at last meet the magical Lady Rosaline after hearing nothing but warm praise of her from her husband. She had observed he was disposed to like nobody, and therefore came to the conclusion she must be extremely amiable and pleasant. Colonel Fitzwilliam, too, she would receive great pleasure in renewing acquaintance; but the unknown is much more exciting than the known. At the sound of the door opening she started a little, her attention having wandered to conjectures as to what her new cousin looked like. Elizabeth envisioned a short but not slight lady, with all the distinguished features an earl's daughter ought to have; and with a smiling countenance not unlike Jane's, agreeably disposed, guileless and unafraid.

Had she been so absorbed in anticipation of Lady Rosaline's arrival that she had completely missed the carriage pulling up the drive, her being shown into the house, her approaching footsteps? No, it was only her sister Catherine, wearing a clean white frock and a broad smile. Catherine had worked herself up into quite giddy spirits, which had been a happy feeling she had not the pleasure of experiencing of late, shut up in quiet Longbourn with her sober company (she was not thinking of her mother when she gave her family this label, as it would certainly not do Mrs. Bennet justice to be called 'sober'). She was as eager to meet the mysterious cousins as Elizabeth was, and happily traipsed over to the window, resting her hand on the painted windowsill; and after studying for a moment the frosted wintry landscape, turned to her sister and said brightly:

"I am so pleased some of your Mr. Darcy's high relations are to come to-day. Mamma says one of the gentlemen may take an especial interest in me; and it has been so dull, you know, in Meryton, without anyone about."

Elizabeth set aside her needlework, saying with a small smile and a gently reproachful tone, "I would not take Mamma's word as absolute truth. Pemberley is not all about grand furnishings and my husband's high connexions."

"Oh, of course not!" said Catherine, blushing a little, as she had become more conscious of late as to other's remarks and expressions. She had no one to guide her, therefore she was left to guide herself; and her best guide at present was these subtle insinuations of others. "I dare say the grounds are very beautiful. I took a turn in them, as I am sure you recall—quite splendid." Pretty compliments never did anyone any harm, and it had the double purpose of softening Elizabeth's reproof. Catherine had half a mind to mention that she had met the parson and his pretty little girl on the way; but then recalling that she had promised not to tell, stopped short of making any comment. One of the things she prided herself in was her ability to keep confidences; after all, she had never uttered a word about Lydia's intended elopement, though that had gotten her into a bit of trouble; but now was not the time to betray her character merely for the purpose of making small-talk with Lizzy.

"Yes; though this cold December does not due them justice." Elizabeth reflected back to her first experience of Pemberley in the summer, and how everything had bloomed and throbbed with life, like the steady pulse of a living heartbeat. They sunk into silence for several minutes, Catherine languidly tapping her fingers against the windowsill, Elizabeth taking up her needlework again and concentrating on its minutiae as her needle weaved through the cloth.

"I dare say you've already met Colonel Fitzwilliam and his sister," said Catherine a little unceremoniously, giving the Colonel's name and not Rosaline's because the former was the one who had chiefly occupied her thoughts. Any report Elizabeth could give about them could no doubt embellish her already interesting fancies.

"I had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam when I visited Charlotte and Mr. Collins this Easter; but I am yet to meet Lady Rosaline. Apparently she has been studying on the Continent these past years, and has only lately returned to England."

"Has she? Just as a lady should!" exclaimed Catherine, followed by a slight wistful sigh, for she would give an arm and a leg to be a refined lady; then, recalling her primary goal, said, "and what of Colonel Fitzwilliam? What is he like? I dare say very handsome."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam is a very pleasant gentleman, and I fancy we became fast friends in Kent; but I would not call him handsome." Catherine was a little nettled at the thought of Colonel Fitzwilliam not being handsome, but soon shook off the feeling, deciding that Lizzy's idea of handsome was probably nothing like her own.

----

Mr. Mulligan had received the uncommon pleasure of being invited to lunch at Pemberley; and was all the more shocked at there being a special request enclosed that Edith might delight Mr. and Mrs. Darcy with her company as well. It is true that luncheons were seldom held at Pemberley, as the master was usually away; but now that he was married and settled, such dynamics were apt to change. There was also that the new mistress was a more sociable creature in general than her husband and that while he disliked anything akin to coarseness, and children being naturally coarse, any such parties were usually limited to adults. Elizabeth, however, had a great fondness for children, and did not take much delight in smart but dull gatherings where the most exciting topic broached was of the weather. So, with the established opinion that Edith was a sweet, passionate kind of girl, she had urged her husband to allow for some younger companions to the luncheon, reminding him he would probably have to get used to children if she ever had any. After all, Christmas was near, and 'twas the season for such generosity.

So Edith was dressed in her best frock, a silk gown of light lavender, with slight lace trimming round the neck. Alice was curling her blonde hair into neat ringlets, and she wore a bracelet round her right wrist which had been the late Mrs. Mulligan's, and was therefore a little too large and a little out of style. Indeed, it slid off her wrist altogether as she lifted her hand to rest it on her vanity, dropping on the floor with a faint clink. Alice took note of this, pausing in her careful work on Edith's hair to pick it up, and clasping the bracelet as the emerald jewels faintly glimmered in the pale sunlight, said:

"You are not big enough to wear this yet, miss. Well, no matter! It does not match very well anyway."

"It was so heavy, too.—oh, are you quite done with my hair? Mrs. Edwin and Simon seem to think going to a luncheon is quite the thing, but I do not see why I have to go. I do not think girls usually do. I would much rather spend the day outside than at whatever place I am going to." Edith made a point of grimacing so as to demonstrate her repugnance at being dressed up and having to behave as the picture of politeness for a day.

"Pemberley is the place of course, miss; and I think any girl should be delighted to go there—I know I would—it is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. I venture it is true that girls such as yourself do not usually go to such fine houses, but that should make the honor all the greater." Alice usually agreed with Edith, but she was of the general opinion that Pemberley was the closest thing to paradise there was, and her thoughts of it were wrapt in a shining, glowing aura which was as ambiguous as it was delightful. Edith thought for a moment, wincing slightly when Alice pulled on a curl, and then remarked:

"Oh! I remember Simon was chasing me around there the other day—he said something about it being called Pemberley too, but it looked like a bunch of woods to me—and then we met with a pretty young lady, and I liked her very much. I suppose I will not mind seeing her again."

"You met Mrs. Darcy?" asked Alice with unconcealed awe, the circulating description of her being something along the lines of 'a pretty young lady'.

"That's who Simon thought she was too. I dare say everybody thinks she is Mrs. Darcy, when she is not. No, it was her sister. I forgot her name. But she laughed when Simon thought she was Mrs. Darcy, and said that she would not tell we had been there. She and Simon seemed to think this was a bad thing, I suppose."

"Hmm," was all the reply Edith received to her musings, and then her coiffeur was declared to be just right. She leapt from her chair, anxious to have her little feet in eager movement again, and she hastily descended the staircase when she perceived Simon standing in the little entrance hall below. It was only after she had kissed her guardian and declared that she was quite ready to go did she notice Mrs. Edwin standing in the corner, giving her a very severe look. I suppose she does not think smart young ladies kiss people or run about, thought Edith as she took Mr. Mulligan's hand and they walked out together, going down the dusty lane while taking care they did not dirty themselves as they approached the town.

Mr. and Mrs. Darcy's coach had been ordered to collect them, along with a few of the other villagers, and the impressive vehicle was parked in the cobblestone street outside, the Darcy crest glimmering impressively in the December sunlight. A woman and a boy piled into the coach, Edith recognizing them as her neighbors from down the way; and she and Mr. Mulligan quickly followed suit. Soon they were being carried off to the splendor that was Pemberley, Edith with her eyes fixed on the window as the landscape changed from that of a tame country village to the wilder woody hills that cradled Pemberley House. And when the great stone building came into sight, she could not help but gape a little in awe. In her short eight years of life she had never seen Pemberley or any other great house for that matter. Her experience of dwellings had been pretty much limited to those in Lambton; and what were they compared to this? She supposed that Mrs. Darcy's kind sister must be very rich indeed! The coach pulled up the drive and slowed to a stop, the people contained within eagerly alighting from it and plodding up the perron. Edith stood close to Mr. Mulligan, tightly grasping his hand as he led her to the wide veranda paved with smooth stones, awed and intimidated by all of the elegance and grandeur.

"Is it not beautiful, my blossom?" was all he whispered into Edith's ear, and all she did was nod in reply. As they were shown inside, she was shocked to see all of the servants that went through the halls, when they kept but three; and how high the ceilings were, and how beautiful the various tapestries and furnishings!

Into the guest parlor they went, Edith barely conscious when they had reached their destination; but soon she saw the impressive personages assembled to receive the 'commoners'. She saw a handsome young lady with thick raven tresses and a gray silk gown; a younger girl, also with dark hair, but taller and stouter; a middle-aged woman with a great, white feather bobbing about her hair—and—there was the young lady she had met in the woods! She did not look nearly as wild as she had then, her hair neatly done and her white dress unwrinkled and clean, with a pale blue ribbon secured about the waist; and so her eyes fixed on her, being the only face she recognized.

Introductions were being made, and Edith learnt that the lady in the gray silk was Mrs. Darcy, the tall girl was Miss Darcy, the older woman Mrs. Bennet, and her previous acquaintance (she remembered the name once she heard it) Miss Catherine Bennet. There were several others as well, whose names she did not have the privilege of remembering—a Lady Rose-something, a colonel fitted out in a brilliant coat of scarlet, a beautiful blonde lady and her husband, Mrs. Bennet had a husband, Mrs. Darcy had a husband, another Miss Bennet with an appearance much more stern and much less inviting than Miss Catherine's. How was she to remember who was who! When she shook hands with Catherine, they greeted each other quite affably, and Catherine and Mr. Mulligan exchanged a knowing smile as a tacit allusion to their previous meeting.

While Edith was being ushered along in this rather confusing way, Elizabeth was standing aside, greeting all of her guests, and pleased that everybody seemed quite contented. She had learnt it had been the late Lady Anne's custom to condescend to invite the villagers to luncheons such as these, and she meant to honor this tradition; and she occasionally looked to her husband to see how he was faring, to discover pretty much what she had expected: that he did not seem particularly pleased, but neither did he come off as disagreeable.

Yes, she had met Lady Rosaline, who had arrived a few hour's prior. She was surprised at how uncommonly pretty she was, well-grown with large blue eyes and flowing yellow hair. Though her air could not be described as grave, she was very quiet, only exerting herself to speak when necessary, and never smiling; but if her husband's personality was any clue as to what the rest of the family was like, she was probably not at ease around strangers. Nonetheless, she was quite the lady, very compliant, and with her own quiet kind of artlessness. Elizabeth had rather wished her family would not have been gawking at Lady Rosaline the whole time, but came to the conclusion that she ought to have expected no less from them. Well! Her ladyship's character was undoubtedly of the complex nature, and would take some time to work out (she was more wary than she used to be about judging by her first impressions).

Catherine was standing several feet away from Elizabeth, engaged in much the same activity. She had been intimidated by Lady Rosaline, interpreting her quietness not as shyness, but as carefully wrought-out reserve. And then Colonel Fitzwilliam! Well, she was quite disheartened that he was not handsome at all, and that perhaps her taste was more like Elizabeth's than she had imagined heretofore. He was single, yes, and in the military, yes, and undoubtedly quite rich and good-humored—alas that he should fall short of being handsome! If not for that one major flaw she would have been completely besotted with him; but as it was, her highly piqued interest had sunk only into something just a level above indifference. Well, she could console herself with seeing Mr. Mulligan and his 'charge' again; and indeed, she was glad to see that they did not seem to have forgotten her judging by their significant looks in her direction.

Rosaline's thoughts were much more wearying and of much more gravity than Catherine's. She had principally spent most of her time thus far at Pemberley with her eyes glazed over with a cloudy expression, her mind reeling and her heart beating thick in her chest. When she had read her cousin's reply to her last letter with news of his marriage to a Miss Bennet from Hertfordshire, she could not have been more shocked; but the shock soon faded, only to be renewed again and with double the intensity upon actually meeting Fitzwilliam's young bride. And then she was back in England after being gone for so long! And then—well, she was not at leisure to peruse any more thoughts, as the guests from the village were arriving for the luncheon. She was surprised when she saw a familiar face among the crowd; and the recollection of how she recognized it did not immediately strike her; but when it did, she thought her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed some lump that had been building in her throat before hastily looking away.

So the villagers were introduced to the Pemberley party, and then a snack of cold meats was brought in, Edith not hungry, but finding that eating was the best way to avoid making eye contact with any of the grand people she was surrounded by. Soon, however, she perceived Miss Catherine sitting on a plush sofa in the corner and aloof from the rest of the party; and she found this encouragement enough to join her there. She swallowed her morsel of cold chicken, and then ambled over to her fine friend and sat beside her.

"Do you like being here then?—at Pemberley, I mean?" asked Edith, glancing around at the paneled walls decorated with various windows and draperies.

"Very much; shouldn't you like staying here?"

"Oh, Alice and everyone else tells me I ought to; but I think I would be afraid."

"Are you afraid now?"

"Yes, a little," said Edith in her honest way. And why shouldn't she have been afraid, with everything so big when she was so small, and used to the small?

"I don't think there is anything I like better than places like this. I feel like a queen when I am here. I just want to walk through the rooms, and pretend that it is all mine—though it isn't really, but I would like it to be."

"I feel like a grain of salt in the sea." Catherine laughed.

"Do you? Well, I suppose it all seems larger to you, since you are shorter."

"And poorer!"

Catherine looked over the rest of the party, her eyes particularly searching for Mr. Mulligan, as she supposed where his little girl went he was bound to follow. She saw that he was sitting in an armchair, apparently talking to no one, though staring very intently across from him. Across from him was seated Lady Rosaline, who was apparently not noticing this earnest gaze (or more likely, avoiding it), but rather seeming very fascinated with her hands. She studied this scene for a while, Edith still transfixed by the décor, till Mr. Mulligan abruptly looked up, at last seeing herself and his ward sitting together in the corner, switching his expression from one severe to one all friendliness and affability. He seated himself across from Catherine and Edith.

"Well, Miss Catherine, this is quite a nice gathering that your sister has planned."

"Oh, of course! I would not know what to think if it was not nice, or even splendid. Mamma (gesturing to Mrs. Bennet, who was engrossed in chatting with one of the more distinguished ladies from the village) even helped in the planning."

"I dare say it is beyond splendid; 'quite nice' does not do it justice at all, I assure you miss. And you did not do anything? Perhaps those lilacs there are your arrangement?"

"Indeed no, I am no good at those sorts of things. Lizzy got the lilacs from the conservatory. It is quite the room, and I would show it to you, but I do not think we ought to abandon the party."

They chatted in this good-humored, light way for some time, till Catherine's attention was caught by Lady Rosaline once more when she walked past, and she likewise observed Mr. Mulligan's affected countenance. Well, here was something interesting to ponder and conjecture at! As she did not feel intimidated by Mr. Mulligan, she really did not have any reserves in speaking to him; so once Lady Rosaline had reseated herself and seemed out of ear-shot, she remarked:

"I cannot help but notice, Mr. Mulligan, how often your eyes are directed towards Lady Rosaline."

She thought the natural thing was for an explanation to follow; undoubtedly it was to be a good one; and one which would excite the aspect of her personality that liked to be the sole confidant of a secret; but at first he said nothing, his look now unwontedly grave. Even Edith was a little surprised at Simon's stony expression, and thought she might say something to make him feel better; but before she could think of any such thing, he parted his lips as if to speak; but then closing them again, stood and moved away. It now dawned upon Catherine she may have offended him; and, blushing profusely, said to Edith:

"Pray apologize to Mr. Mulligan for me. I am very sorry if I have said something wrong."

"Well, you certainly did say something; but I don't know what. You were quite right about his looking at that pretty blonde lady, Lady What's-her-name; but I will tell him, and I dare say he will forgive you. But I am your friend either way."

Catherine thanked her young friend, and then Edith moved away, allowing Catherine to enjoy mainly Mary's company for the remainder of the party. But even when the coach had come to take away the visitors again, and she bid Edith and Mr. Mulligan a modest good-bye, she had not taken leave of her suspicions.