Kitty found herself with a moment to think halfway through supper when both of her dinner partners had turned to talk to the people on their other sides. She wasn't sure it upset her too much.
It was strange really – normally by this time in the evening her memories became slightly blurry and the specifics of events became less important; Punch was useful like that. Anyway, it wasn't that this was less fun – or more fun really. It was just different.
For the first time she felt as grown up as she was.
After all, she had always just been unremarkable Kitty Bennet, nothing more than the shadow to the youngest Miss Bennet.
And she had always had an awful giggle and worn less good dresses and ribbons than her sister – because Lydia always got what she wanted. Normally she and Lydia were as thick as thieves, hardly separated except when they were dancing.
Tonight she'd had conversations completely on her own – and it made her feel good. It was nice to realise that there were people who would want to pay attention to her without having Lydia's overwhelming personality there too.
She hadn't even giggled that awful cackle – which wasn't to say she hadn't giggled, she couldn't help that – but her giggles had all been more quiet and ladylike. She didn't think that they would grate on either her mother or her father's nerves – and that was saying something. And everyone was so nice to her as well. She wasn't sure that she'd ever realised how lovely normal people could be – she was always too busy with whatever foolishness she and Lydia had come up with to really notice.
Lydia seemed far less like herself than Kitty felt.
Kitty had always been quiet, and perhaps she did like to look pretty – and she wanted people to think well of her – but she never deliberately drew attention to herself. She had always let Lydia do that. It was just odd that people still seemed to come up to her, without having Lydia ordering them to do so.
Lydia seemed far more sarcastic today though – almost like their father in a way – she was being so overly polite at times that Kitty could hardly recognise her usually good humoured sister. But then Lydia would say something again, and it would seem fine. But it was odd to see her younger sister being so withdrawn – or at least, acting so quietly. For Lydia was still in conversation, but she wasn't regaling the entire table, she was just speaking quietly to the man who sat beside her.
One of the officers turned back to Kitty with a warm smile and asked her something inconsequential. Kitty would have happily fallen back into conversation, had it not been for the sudden sound of Miss Bingley's voice near behind them.
"Oh, Miss Lydia, Miss Catherine." The voice oozed charm and Kitty immediately looked up, surprised by the attention. She was sure that Lydia had offended the woman earlier in the evening but, perhaps Miss Bingley was kinder than she seemed. Jane had certainly seemed to think so. "Are you sure you would not like any more wine?" There was an intent and almost menacing look to the woman's features that Kitty couldn't make out though.
How could she make such a polite offer seem so worrying?
"You are too kind, Miss Bingley." Lydia's voice was far too sweet. Kitty knew that something was going to go wrong. Once Lydia had an idea in her head she was rarely persuaded to do anything else – and she had obviously got an idea in her head. "But somehow I'm sure we shall survive."
"Are you sure?" Around the table a couple of the officers had started to pay attention and Kitty found herself worrying about them causing too much trouble. Of course, it wasn't such an awful thing – had they been up to their usual antics, Kitty was sure they would be doing something equally mortifying – dancing around with some of the officers' swords or some such. Perhaps that situation would have been more favourable. "You do not seem in your normal high spirits..."
"Oh, you are kindness itself Miss Bingley." Lydia's smile was beginning to be quite worrying. Kitty cast her eyes around to see where her sisters were to help them. "But I am enjoying myself quite well enough. It is a talent of its own I suppose."
"Indeed." Miss Bingley was now openly sneering at the youngest Miss Bennet. Luckily, the event hadn't caused too much disruption to supper as a whole. Their mother and sisters seemed quite engaged - Mr Bingley and Jane couldn't tear their eyes away from each other, and Mrs Bennet – as was her wont – seemed to be occupying the attentions of her entire company. "I suppose you must count what you can Miss Lydia."
The smiles of both ladies had become very forced. Kitty felt a giggle rising up inside her – anything to diffuse the tension.
"After all," Miss Bingley considered. "Your eldest sister is so very sweet, and Miss Eliza so witty. Miss Mary is quite the most accomplished woman in the area – or so I have heard – and Miss Catherine the most unprovoking." Kitty wasn't sure what she felt about such a description, but there was little she could do to change it. "Which leaves you with what, Miss Lydia?"
"Perhaps you can tell, since you are so very accomplished yourself." Lydia bit back with no attempt at civility. "Why..."
Her words were abruptly cut off by a shriek across on another table. All of a sudden Lydia's dispute did not seem half so important.
.
Mr Bennet was standing in such a position that he could see the entire event. He had been trying to stay out of the way and surround himself with some of the more tolerable gentlemen of the neighbourhood – he never could deal with having to stand around all of the ladies and the loud mothers and the befuddled young men.
In fact, the supper hour was the only time he was expecting to be thrown back into the wide company – and even then he had sat beside some of the other men and was content to simply listen to their conversations instead of contributing anything of his own. His day would have been far more enjoyable, he was sure, had he stayed at home this evening. But his wife had said that that would be unpardonably rude – and who was he to argue with his wife. Despite all her silliness, she had always been better at making and keeping friends than he had.
Anyway, he had to be glad he had come – for otherwise he would have missed the commotion. And he knew the event wouldn't have been half as humorous had it been simply related to him after the fact.
For one second everything had been fine, and the next Mrs Lockwood was screaming and a number of the guests began to scramble out of the way in the most undignified haste – which had Mr Bennet chuckling internally even before he saw the two frogs leap onto the floor and quiver – evidently terrified by the circumstances they found themselves in.
It was all he could do not to burst into laughter.
It was the most diverting occurrence he had seen in a good twenty years, and it was only made worse by the fact he had to attempt to keep a straight face while the footmen scrambled about trying to find the frogs.
His eyes unconsciously shifted to his wife – wondering how she would take it. She seemed remarkably composed really – with a slightly mischievous glint he hadn't noticed from her for at least ten or fifteen years. He had to be glad that she wasn't having hysterics as he had half expected, and indeed, she actually seemed to be looking around with curiosity. Lydia and Kitty both looked alarmed, but were surrounded by plenty of officers. He'd have thought that they might be able to protect his daughters from the terror of the frogs, but most of them looked paler than either of his daughters.
Nonetheless, Mr Bennet couldn't resist but to head towards his wife – and his daughter – to tease the former – and because he had no doubt that Lizzy would already have suspicions about who might have planned the trick. It was hard for him to guess – he didn't socialise enough perhaps, and anyway, the last person he'd known to do such ridiculously reckless things had been...
Well, it didn't seem likely that they were responsible for this.
"Why don't we have some music?" Mr Bingley's loud and warm voice had people quieting and sitting down, now that the frogs had been herded away.
Miss Bingley still seemed quite pale after the – incident. Elizabeth supposed she shouldn't be surprised by that. Miss Bingley didn't seem like the type of person who would have been exposed to such a lack of polite manners very frequently. But that meant that she was not immediately heading to display her talent.
"Mary, do you not wish to play that piece you have been practising all week?" Mrs Bennet sounded slightly distracted, but her effusions quickly came back – even if they were slightly more muted than was her wont. To be honest though, Lizzy had been quite surprised by her mother; she had hardly done anything too awful all evening. She hadn't once mentioned Jane and Mr Bingley – no matter how many times her eyes had flicked towards the pair with a satisfied air.
Mary for her part looked slightly worried. Her eyes darting between the music which she had managed to bring into the room with her and Lizzy and Mrs Bennet. Elizabeth suddenly realised that her sister hadn't done her normal preparation for the ball – Mary would have normally spent even more hours at the instrument so that even they would know the pieces she would perform by heart. But recently Mary had been drawn into conversation more frequently and had been reading quite intently.
Half of her recent practice had been with Elizabeth – because Mary had said that she wanted to rehearse some duets she might play with Georgiana.
Now that Mary was giving her an intent look, Lizzy realised that her sister might have been being a little more cunning than she had supposed.
"Will you not play a duet, Lizzy?" Her voice had its characteristic disinterest, but her eyes seemed to be pleading Elizabeth to give in.
"If you insist." Lizzy allowed, rising to her feet. What else was she supposed to do? "But I'll only play one."
Mary's smile was broad and bright, and Mr Darcy seemed to approve too – Elizabeth couldn't comprehend why. The poor man had been forced to endure her playing before and had to know how terrible it was.
The Bennet sisters had no sooner left than their father sat down taking Elizabeth's place. Darcy tried to smile at the man, and not be upset by the fact that the gentleman had unwittingly blocked the direct line of sight he had to Elizabeth as she played.
Mr Darcy couldn't help that he had given up trying to refer to her by anything other than her given name. Miss Elizabeth just didn't come naturally inside his head.
"So, gentlemen," Mr Bennet said with the beginnings of a grin. "What do you think of our sport for tonight?"
Richard expressed his confusion before Darcy had a chance to speak.
"I refer, of course, to poor Mrs Lockwood..." Mr Bennet said, his eyes glimmering with laughter.
Darcy was hardly surprised. He supposed he should have expected as much from the man who seemed to take so much amusement from everyone else's misfortunes and inconsistencies. And he couldn't begrudge Mr Bennet the response either – after all, when the event had occurred Darcy hadn't been sure whether to laugh or to pity the poor woman. It seemed like the kind of thing that Richard, George and he would have done when they were much younger – for they had always caused the most mischief when Richard and his family had visited.
No doubt that had been what Richard had been about to share with everyone.
"Poor Mrs Lockwood indeed." Mrs Bennet's voice was suddenly sour. It was strange to see the woman who was usually so dramatic being so simply sullen. "I daresay she deserved it."
"Mrs Bennet," Mr Bennet's eyebrow raised as his face twisted in surprise. "You didn't?"
Darcy met Richard's eye in confusion. His cousin seemed to have as little idea of what had happened as he was.
"It wouldn't be ladylike." Mrs Bennet said crisply, preening slightly. "I am a mother now, how could you suppose I would do something so terrible?"
"When my wife was younger, she had an unfortunate tendency to..." Mr Bennet drifted off even as he was speaking conspiratorially to Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He seemed not to have noticed that his daughter had just begun to play. "Cause trouble in a similar manner to this event."
"There is no evidence for such a thing." Mrs Bennet objected, somewhat stiffly – almost as though she were offended by the remarks. "I'm sure that none of my daughters would do something so unrespectable either, but my dear Mr Bennet does love to vex me." She smiled despite her words and Darcy could tell that she was about to burst into some long description about her daughters. He supposed that that at least showed that she cared about them.
"You see, Mr Darcy." Mr Bennet said, leaving his wife to speak to Richard. "My wife was always very good at not being caught." Mr Darcy couldn't help but give a small smile at that, even though it seemed so strange for the woman that he knew. Unfortunately, Mrs Bennet seemed to have heard her husband's comment – but Darcy stopped listening to their discussion. He had just realised that if he sat in a particular position he could watch Elizabeth play.
Somehow that seemed more important.
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I know it's not clear – but there's not going to be anything more from the Netherfield ball – I hadn't expected it to drag on for so long. Still I suppose what can I do? Feel free to review :)