Mr. Bennet's words had jarred her a bit. Was Mr. Warde such a bad match? He was certainly not as exceptional as Mr. Darcy or Mr. Bingley. Even Mr. Wickham outranked him. But he was handsome, and secure in his situation—she would be no worse off than her Aunt Phillips, and the would not be so bad, would it? Besides, she wanted him to fall in love with her. She still held the right to refuse his proposal, if she thought she could do better. She had time to determine what she wanted.
Fortunately, her mother's dinner was fast approaching, and Kitty intended to take full advantage of the opportunity it presented. It had somewhat widened in scope and was now a small dinner-party, rather than the family dinner that Mrs. Bennet had initially proposed, but Kitty did not imagine that would be much trouble. She would have an easier time distracting Mary with someone else if there were more people there.
Mr. Warde was deep in conversation with Mr. Phillips when they arrived, but before Kitty was able to approach them, Blanche stopped her and wanted to chat. Frustrated, but with no way out, Kitty was drawn into her conversation. Worse, Mary suffered no such impediment and went directly toward Mr. Warde, who soon noticed her and detached himself from his conversation to greet her. Kitty seethed, and wondered whether she ought to go try to interrupt and rescue him. Maria's arrival in her party gave her the perfect opportunity to sneak away and try it, and she had no trouble taking advantage.
As she drew near to her sister she could hear their conversation; it was mostly Mary, talking about the music he had brought her. Kitty scoffed under her breath. Who on earth cared about Mary's terrible taste in music? There wasn't much point in allowing that conversation to go on any longer. Mr. Warde would probably thank her for rescuing him from such tedium.
"Hello Mr. Warde; how are you this evening?" she asked cheerily. "Has my sister bored your ears off yet?"
He looked over at her with less eagerness than Kitty would have liked. "Miss Catherine. Good evening. Your sister was telling me how she is getting on with the music I brought her. Since I asked her about it, you cannot truly imagine that I am bored."
"I wish you would call me Miss Kitty; everyone does, and it feels so dreadfully formal when you call me Catherine, as though we hardly know each other."
He raised one eyebrow and glanced at Mary, whose expression did not change from mildly irritated. "Forgive me, Miss Catherine, but we do hardly know each other, do we not?"
Kitty shrugged, but she was smiling. "I suppose you could make that argument now, but surely it will not be long before it is entirely unnecessary. There is a simple solution to your dilemma: simply take the time to know me better." She adjusted her stance to show off her figure in a more flattering light.
"Kitty, Mr. Warde and I were talking; it is very rude of you to interrupt unless you had something particular to say."
There were many particular things Kitty wished to say to her sister, about taking a hint, and letting others ever get a word in, and monopolizing handsome young men, but she said none of them. Instead, she smiled. "I was only hoping to become better acquainted with Mr. Warde; you and he have spent so much time talking together that I feel quite left out."
"Forgive me, Miss Catherine," said Mr. Warde, "but I was not under the impression that you and I would have very much to say to one another. You have introduced no topic of conversation thus far but my boredom, and I have assured you that it is not at issue."
Kitty realized too late that their conversation had drawn the attention of most of the room; only the giggles around her alerted her to the situation. She looked between Mary and Mr. Warde with a growing sense of desperation. What would Lydia say? She did not know—could not think. "That is only because thus far we have not spoken more than ten words to each other!"
"Ten words is enough in some cases. I am aware of your preference for dancing, and fashion. As I have absolutely nothing to say to either interest, and since you have demonstrated no knowledge of my own interests, it seems to me that there is no reason for us ever to embark on a more intimate acquaintance than we currently enjoy." He bowed slightly and turned away, Mary following his lead with a self-satisfied smirk.
Kitty did not know how to react. She was aware of the gazes upon her, of the gossip that even now would be racing through their acquaintance, that Kitty Bennet had made a fool of herself to a man who preferred her sister—the plain, boring, obnoxious Mary! Her face burned and her breathing grew more frantic. She had to find Jane. They could go home. They would have to go home.
She scanned the room. But instead of her sister, it was her mother hurrying toward her.
"Kitty! My dear Kitty!" Mrs. Bennet took Kitty's arm and led her to a chair where she could sit. "Oh, my poor dear," she fussed. "I am sure no one would have imagined—how he could be so rude—to prefer Mary, though! Well, for her sake, I hope he offers for her—I am sure no one else will—but for yours…"
Kitty's stomach gave a funny jolt at that thought. If he made an offer to Mary, she was sure that Mary would accept. And that would mean that he would be her brother. How could she stand it! And for Mary to find someone to marry her before she did! It was impossible, plainly. There was no chance that Kitty could hope to find anyone if Mary found a husband first. That was something Kitty had always clung to. Her sisters might all have been more beautiful and accomplished and flirtatious than she was, but not Mary. They might all have been married before her, but never Mary. If any Bennet sister was going to be an old maid, it was going to be Mary, not Kitty.
"Mama, I want to go back to Netherfield," Kitty whispered. "Please."
Mrs. Bennet glanced over at Mary, who was still in conversation with Mr. Warde and, Kitty thought, looking abominably self-satisfied. "I will talk to your sister," she said after a moment's deliberation.
She vanished to find Mrs. Bingley, leaving Kitty to the scrutiny of the room. Kitty wished desperately to vanish from their view; she knew they were all laughing at her and she could not bear to sit there and let them stare at her. She was entirely miserable.
But it did not last forever, and Jane came back with the news that she would take Kitty home. Kitty was so relieved that she was going home that she did not bother to be offended that Mary would be staying, undoubtedly to give her more time with him. She couldn't let herself think about it; she only followed her sister out to their carriage and rode home in silence.
Tomorrow, when she felt better, she would confront Mr. Warde. There was some kind of misunderstanding, she was sure—and if not, she was absolutely certain that she was owed an apology.
The problem with her plan, of course, was that she was not sure how she was going to find Mr. Warde, and once she found him, have any opportunity to speak to him. Mary would be watching her closely, of course, and it appeared that Mr. Warde was not very keen on speaking to her at all, which would not help matters. Jane was not to be counted on for anything, and Kitty was not quite sure whether she would be wise to go back into town.
She spent the next three weeks in agony. She only saw him in passing, when she went into town, and he barely condescended to bow to her. She was furious with him for the slight, and with herself for having formed any designs on a mere under-clerk, and with everyone else for encouraging the match between him and Mary. So when he arrived at Longbourn three weeks later, while she and Jane were there visiting, the only thing she really wanted was to prove to him that he was missing something exceptional in her.
It was not going to be easy to get the chance to demonstrate it to him, though. Everyone seemed to be conspiring against her to keep her as far from him as possible, and though she understood why, she couldn't help being frustrated about the whole situation. She did not want to try to flirt with him, or throw herself on him; she only wanted an apology—she wanted him to acknowledge what he had done to her. But she was beginning to fear that she would never get it.
They sat in the parlor awkwardly together, looking around at each other, and Kitty was suddenly, sickeningly reminded of a certain visit of Mr. Bingley's. Mrs. Bennet was not yet winking at anyone, but that was probably only a matter of time.
"Have you had much chance to practice your new music since we last spoke, Miss Bennet?" he asked, glancing around the room.
"Yes, a little; I took your advice, and am rather pleased with the result. Would you like to see?"
He said that he would, and Mary hurried away to collect the music sheets that she had been scribbling on.
This was probably Kitty's best chance. "Mr. Warde," she said, and flinched when everyone looked at her with a severity completely unwarranted by the situation. She cleared her throat and tried again, her confidence shaking as much as her hands. "I wanted to say… that is… I am sorry for making you uncomfortable, the other night." He opened his mouth as though he wished to reply but Kitty was already too far in to allow him to interrupt her. "I do not entirely understand how I made you uncomfortable, when we have barely spoken to each other, but it seems that I have done so, and I am sorry. But pray, tell me, what did I do to you to deserve such treatment?"
"Kitty!" exclaimed Jane. Mr. Bennet coughed to cover a laugh.
"I cannot believe you would say something like that!" Mary said, bustling back over to his side. She thrust the music sheets at him, and turned to glare at her sister. "He does not need your harassment, Kitty, and if you need to know the reason why he said what he did, you may wish to investigate your own behavior toward him."
"I have done nothing that warranted a public set-down!" Kitty exclaimed.
"If you have not done it before, you are doing it now! Go away and leave us be, if you cannot be civil."
Kitty wanted to stand her ground. She did. But her mother stood up next and grabbed her arm, and nearly dragged her from the room, with Jane following and already quietly trying to calm her mother, and she found that she did not have the energy to resist. Mr. Bennet excused himself behind them, and Kitty knew, with a sinking feeling, what was going on in that room.
Jane took her home immediately, and Kitty did not argue. She said nothing as they went to the carriage, and Jane must have sensed that she did not want company, for she said nothing. Kitty did not think she could bear even sympathetic comments at this point. How on earth could any man choose Mary over her? What had she done so wrong that she could not attract the attention of such a handsome man, but Mary could? She wasn't sure which surprised her more, that she had failed to attract him or that Mary had succeeded.
There wasn't much point in avoiding a trip to Pemberley now. As miserable as it would be to go live under the scrutiny of Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, it would be worse to stay here and live through Mary and her mother planning a wedding, and she would never convince her father to let her go to Newcastle now. The arguments that were sure to arise were already giving her a headache just thinking about them.
To Pemberley she would go, then.
She heard her mother's joyful cries ringing through the house as they pulled away, and knew she had made the right choice.