The problem with Kitty's plan was that she had no idea how to go about speeding up her recovery. She had a vague idea that if she exercised it more, and stretched her abilities, she would push her ankle to heal faster, but that was all. And she was afraid to ask anyone for help, for fear that they would ask her why she was pushing herself so hard, and she would not have a good answer for them. So she decided to press forward alone.
She arrived in the music room earlier than anyone else for a week complete to practice. She stayed well clear of the pianoforte and that more cluttered side of the room, but she was able to clear a little track around the perimeter which gave her pretty good exercise. Her ankle was sore by the end of these exercises, but it was nothing she could not manage. Overall, she thought, she was doing quite well, although she had not really set herself any goals by which to measure her progress. Her only real target was to be well enough to dance by the time the ball happened, whenever that was.
By the end of the week she could hobble along quite nicely with her cane, but she had not yet been brave enough to try walking without it. That was her goal for today. She was going to figure out how to walk without that assistance if it killed her, although she was fairly confident it would not come to that.
She started small, and took a lap around the room with her cane to get used to the exercise again. Then she decided that it was time to start trying to walk without it. She laid the cane gently on the armchair in the corner, and stood balanced on her good foot, trying to decide where she would go. It couldn't be far. Maybe the window nearby? It was probably three steps away. She might be able to make it that far.
She struck out, arms outstretched on either side of her. She moved slowly, all her attention focused on placing her injured foot down in such a way that she would not hurt it. She touched it to the ground, then put a little bit of weight on it. It seemed stiff, but it did not hurt yet. More weight, bit by bit—still no pain. A smile began to break out on her face through the expression of concentration she wore. She could do it! Most of her weight was on the ankle and there was a little bit of an ache, but it was nothing she could not handle. She swung her other leg forward quickly and stepped the rest of the way to the window. She had done it!
Of course, it was a far cry from dancing, but it was an excellent beginning. If she could have danced in celebration, she would have. She would be walking by the end of the week, and dancing was sure to follow soon after. She was almost through!
She rested against the windowsill for a few minutes, and looked around the room for her next objective. There was a writing-desk on the wall between her window and the next that might be close enough to walk to. It would be pushing it, but after the success she had just experienced, Kitty was feeling energized and was willing to try nearly anything. A door banged in the hallway, and Kitty turned back to the door to see if someone was about to come in and find her. Maybe she should go back to the cane instead, just in case. She really did not want someone coming in and finding out what she was doing, or they might find out that she knew about the ball and prevent her going. But when there was no other sound after that, and when there were no signs of anyone at the door, she shook her head and went back to it. She would not want someone to find her before she was ready, but she had to take advantage of this opportunity.
The writing-desk usually had a chair, but Kitty had removed it at the beginning of the week to make room for her walking. Now she wished she hadn't; she could have positioned it halfway in case she needed it. But never mind that. If she had to, she would lean on the wall. She stepped forward and began her slow progress toward the desk. One step—two, three, four, five—she wasn't so sure she would make it!—six, seven, eight, and she was there! She laughed with joy. She was doing wonderfully! She would be dancing yet.
But it had taken a lot more out of her than she expected, and she was going to have to rest before she tried it again. Her ankle was not used to supporting all of her weight any more and she could feel it straining against the work she had asked of it. She would probably only have one more walk in her that morning.
Could she make it all the way back to her cane in one try? It was easily twice as long as what she had just done, if she went straight there and did not stop at the window again. But it might be possible. She would try it, as soon as she got her strength back.
It took her longer to get to the point where she felt like she could try it this time. She would not have much time before the others joined her. Feeling rushed and not quite as sturdy as she had felt before, she took her first step forward. Her ankle was beginning to protest the strain. Another step. "Come on," she muttered, "just this one last push and that's all I'll do for the day." Another step. It really was starting to hurt. Another step.
"Kitty!"
Her father's sharp word startled her so badly that she jumped and let out a yelp, which turned to a cry when she landed on her ankle wrong and she crumpled to the ground. But someone caught her just before she reached it; she looked up and saw a smiling Mr. Johns.
"Oh," she said, somewhat stupidly. "Thank you." She looked around and saw, to her shame, that nearly everyone was standing around and watching her—only Mr. Darcy was not there.
Her father rushed over to her. "What on earth do you think you are doing, child?" he demanded, as the two gentlemen helped her right herself.
"I was trying to walk." Tears welled in her eyes, both from the pain of her ankle and the humiliation of getting caught in what seemed, at that moment, to have been something she shouldn't have been doing.
"I can see that, but what on earth possessed you to do it?"
Mr. Johns stepped back, but still hovered nearby.
Mr. Bennet shook his head, still chiding her. "You're not nearly recovered enough for that!"
Kitty squeezed her eyes shut and the tears began to drop onto her cheeks. Her ankle was screaming at her and she could hardly focus on what they were saying. "I just wanted to dance again," she whispered, hardly daring to glance toward Mr. Johns. He smiled a little bit at her, and she felt a little bit encouraged.
"Dance…?" He sighed. "Kitty, even if you hadn't injured yourself, you can't imagine I would have allowed you to go to this ball." She opened her eyes in time to see him wince. "You weren't supposed to know about that."
Kitty lowered her eyes again and wiped the tears off her cheeks furiously. Mr. Bennet gazed at her for a few moments. "You already knew, did not you? Thats why you were doing this to begin with."
Kitty only sniffed.
"Oh, Kitty," he said with a heavy sigh, and shook his head. He turned to the rest of the party. "May I have a word with my daughter?"
Mr. Johns handed her the cane and bowed, and followed the others out. Kitty glanced back toward her father, feeling a little lightheaded and very, very stupid. But she couldn't meet his eye. He would only be thinking the worst of her, she was sure.
He paced the room for a few moments, and neither of them spoke. To be sure, excuses and explanations were racing through Kitty's mind, but she couldn't hold on to one long enough to turn it into something worth saying. And Mr. Bennet seemed conflicted with himself.
"Papa," she ventured at last, "I just want to walk under my own power again."
"And to dance with every man you can find, I suppose," Mr. Bennet said, and rubbed his hand over his face and through his thinning hair. "Or, failing that, fall into their arms, apparently." Kitty blushed, but said nothing. "I do not know what to do with you, Kitty."
"I do wish I could go to the ball," she said, gathering her thoughts and speaking carefully, "but I don't see how that's going to happen. I don't even know when it is... I just overheard some of the gentlemen talking about it, and I thought... if I could get better before it happened, maybe…"
"The ball is next Friday evening. You are not likely to be recovered enough to be able to dance by then," he interrupted sharply. "And you would not have been permitted to go, in any case, so it hardly matters. I can completely understand wishing to be able to walk under your own power again, but what I will never understand is your constant need to make a fool of yourself to every young man you meet. Do you think that makes you more attractive to them? Because I can assure you it does not."
"I am not trying to make a fool of myself! I only want to have some fun!"
"My dear child, your version of 'fun' seems to come exclusively at the cost of other people's sanity. And falling on Mr. Johns like that! Are you trying to outdo your sister in stupidity, or scandal?"
Kitty flinched a little at this. Why did he always go out of his way to make her feel like the worst kind of daughter? And she never knew how to respond, so most of the time she did not. She wished she had Lizzy's quick wit. She always had a gentle retort to their father's quips that turned his pique into amusement. It was not a skill Kitty had ever picked up. "I did not know he was there," she said, her voice barely audible even to her. "I had not intended to fall on anyone. I wanted to walk, and you startled me."
"Well, for heaven's sake, next time don't try walking by yourself. If you had fallen without someone here to catch you, what might have happened?"
"I wouldn't have fallen if you hadn't scared me!"
"Do not take that tone with me, young lady. I'll have no more of this walking alone nonsense. If you insist on walking, ask your sister to help you. She will, no doubt, be more than willing." He sighed again and walked to the door, pausing just before he reached it. "I'll send the others in." Kitty made no answer, so he left.
So she was not going to be able to go the ball. She had vaguely sensed it all along, but she hadn't let herself acknowledge it. And she had made some progress, even if her father had come in and messed it all up after. She would just have to find another opportunity to dance with Mr. Johns.
It was only a few days, however, before Kitty found that she missed the exercise and sense of progress that her morning attempts at walking provided her, and she resumed her practice. However, she had set herself back quite a bit when she fell, and her first day was spent largely being frustrated at the stabbing pain with every step. By the time the others joined her, she was more than ready to be done.
The next morning she tried it again, resolved to move more slowly and take better care lest she injure herself yet more. But the pain soon became unbearable, and, expecting to have some time before anyone joined her, she sank into a chair and indulged in a bit of a cry. She was mortified, then, to be joined by Mr. Knott.
"Miss Bennet?"
She wiped at her eyes and sniffed, but there was no hiding it. He came and sat in the chair beside her, holding out his handkerchief. Kitty, hating herself, her ankle, and every wretched second she had spent trying to walk again, took it and tried to compose herself. Who would be next to walk in? Mr. Johns? Miss Pratt? Her father?
Mr. Knott waited in gentle silence for her to be ready to speak. Finally, she was able to gather herself enough to apologize. But he stopped her before she could get past two words. "No, there's no need. I have had a broken ankle before. I know how frustrating it is to find yourself completely incapable of doing things you had, to that moment, never considered being deprived of doing. You never appreciate the ability to walk, I've found, until the power of walking is denied you. Suddenly, walking seems to be the most powerful freedom available to man."
She sniffed and smiled a little bit. "Yes. And I miss dancing." She glanced at the door, but so far no one else was coming to join them.
"I would imagine so. Particularly when Miss Darcy and Miss Pratt are able to spend so much time practicing what their dance masters have taught them."
"Do you dance, Mr. Knott?" Kitty asked. She was immediately struck with the memory of Mr. Collins dancing at Netherfield, the last time she had watched a clergyman try to dance, and she could not help envisioning Mr. Knott doing much the same. She bit back a laugh. But then, he had not always meant to be a clergyman; perhaps he was a better dancer.
"Occasionally. I am not the worst dancer in England, I suppose, but I am certainly not the best. I have such trouble keeping all the dances straight, that I often begin doing one and end trying to do something quite different."
Kitty smiled and looked to the door again. Still safe, as far as she could tell. "Do not the leading couple help you to remember which to do?"
"No, though you are not the first person to suggest that they should. Never mind, though. I know enough to fumble my way through a dance, and really, isn't dancing more about getting to know one's partner that perfecting the forms?"
She shrugged. "I suppose, though I am happiest when I can do both. And some gentlemen are miserably boring, but dance very well, which is its own kind of trial."
"That I can well believe," he said, laughing. "Boring individuals are not found only amongst the males of the world, I promise."
"You don't need to tell me that. What do you think we do when we withdraw after dinner? Nothing but sit around and gossip or bore each other to tears. It's frightfully dull." Someone walked past the door, but it was only a servant. When would someone else join them? She had no idea how to talk to Mr. Knott, and as he was not Mr. Johns, she was but little interested in anything he had to say.
He smiled and did not respond, and they sat in what, to Kitty at least, was a terribly awkward silence for several minutes. Then, out of nowhere, he stood up and held out his arm to her. "Maybe I could help you walk. If you lean on me, I can provide you better support, and if you start to fall I would be able to catch you. That way you needn't hurt yourself again, but you can continue to make progress."
Several things popped into her head at once. What on earth did he mean by it? Why couldn't Mr. Johns have made her the offer instead? Should she accept? Would her father be angry with her if she did? But to walk again—she needed help, even if it was only someone there to stop her from going too far. "I—I suppose—Mr. Bennet may not—but if he does—"
"I will clear it with him and ensure we are properly chaperoned," he assured her. He glanced behind him. "In fact, I had thought we would be joined soon or I would not have remained unchaperoned with you this long. Shall I go and find the ladies to join you?"
"It is probably close to time to go down to breakfast," Kitty said.
He pulled out his pocket watch and confirmed that she was right. "In that case, allow me to help you down to the breakfast room." He held out his arm again, and this time Kitty accepted his help.
With Mr. Knott's help, she did make great improvements in walking on her own, but it was not enough to dance by the time of the ball. Kitty did not give up hope completely until that morning, but then even she had to own that there was no chance of her dancing that night.
"I still wish to go, however," she said resolutely to her sister.
Elizabeth frowned. "There will be little else to do but watch the others dance," she warned.
"There are usually card tables in another room, are there not? And there will be many people to talk to."
"Most of the young people will be dancing, dear, as you well know."
"Yes, but how am I to meet anyone if I do not go at all? I could watch them when they dance, and talk with them when they do not. And I could still have the pleasure of seeing my friends well-liked."
Elizabeth did not care for any of Kitty's arguments, but Kitty was determined to wear her down, and she spent the entire morning laying out every reason she could think of for why she should be allowed to go. Finally, her sister agreed to take her along.
"But you must promise to inform me as soon as you begin to feel fatigued. I need to be sure that you are not overtaxing yourself. I want to be sure that you will be well enough to dance at the next ball. And I do not wish you to leave my side unless you are with someone else of our party. I still do not believe that this is a very good idea."
Kitty barely heard these stipulations, but she agreed to them and hobbled as quickly as she could to her room to change. She had not had the chance to get any new dresses made, and her best looked rather shabby when she considered what the other ladies would almost certainly be wearing. But she was determined that she would not allow it to matter; she was going to go and meet as many people as she could, and hopefully in widening her acquaintance in the area, she would be able to open opportunities for more parties in the future.
But she needn't have worried about her gown. Miss Pratt knocked on her door and came in bearing a silky blue dress that was every bit as elegant as her own.
"Mrs. Darcy said that you probably did not have much to wear," she said, "and I thought, since we are close to the same size, that you could borrow one of mine. It's last year's fashion, I'm afraid, but it's very pretty and I think it would suit your color."
Kitty did not know how to express her joy, but she did her best and thanked Miss Pratt at every moment. When they had gotten her into the dress and pinned it in place, they were both very pleased with how it looked.
"Now, you should take this shawl, and drape it so—" Miss Pratt arranged the fabric carefully—"and you must wear those slippers, and put this in your hair." She produced a little pearl and sapphire comb, and tucked it into Kitty's braid. "There!"
"Oh, how I wish I could dance! How well I look!" said Kitty.
Miss Pratt laughed. "You do look very well, but it is probably better that you can't dance. This dress doesn't fit you well enough to stand up to an evening of dancing without forcing you to run off to re-pin it every time you sit down, and that would be very tedious. But you will look very well tonight, and distract every person you meet into forgetting about your poor ankle altogether."
"Yes," Kitty said mournfully, "up until they ask me to dance, and I must turn everyone away."
"Never mind that; I will not dance either, unless a very particular gentleman should ask me." This was easily interpreted even without the significant look which accompanied it and Kitty, very sensible of the sacrifice her friend was offering to make, could not be more grateful.
They went down to meet the carriage together. The others were all gathered in the front hall already, waiting for them. They were as complimentary of Kitty's dress as she could have wished, particularly Mr. Johns.
"Miss Bennet, if you could but dance, I would secure your hand for every dance you could spare," he said, bowing over her hand. "Of course, by this point, they would all be snatched up by other young men, and I would have nothing to do but watch from my place in the set, neglecting whichever poor creature I coerced into standing up with me."
She giggled. "I doubt that, sir, but I appreciate the thought."
"Well, we must agree to disagree. At any rate, all I can offer you is my assistance into the carriage, if you will accept it?"
Nothing could be more agreeable to her. She climbed into the carriage with the highest of spirits and the greatest anticipation of the delights of the evening before her.
They arrived slightly late, and the first dance had already begun. Kitty stayed close by Elizabeth's side and eagerly greeted every new acquaintance, and as they made their way into the ballroom she felt that it would have been a pity, indeed, to miss this night. Every face that passed before her was a potential friend; every whispered word a piece of the choicest gossip; every glowing smile a portent of her own happiness to come, even if she could not dance at all.
To further her delight, Kitty found in her sister an excellent chaperone. Mrs. Darcy was careful to introduce Kitty to a number of young ladies with whom she was likely to get along, and several gentlemen as well, which gratified Kitty very much. There was a weak sort of pleasure in being obliged to turn down requests to dance on account of her ankle. She entertained some impossible fantasy of some of them being so taken with her that they insisted, on learning of her condition, of sitting down with her for the dances which they would have bestowed on her; but of course that did not happen. Several of them did indeed seem very disappointed to find her unable to honor them, and with that she was determined to be content. After all, she had already received the sweetest compliments from the man whose attention mattered the most, hadn't she?
Miss Darcy and Miss Pratt kept to her sides and helped her take some of the weight off her ankle, and when they at last reached a chair into which Kitty could lower herself, they posted themselves beside her and kept up a constant chatter about the dancers going by. Miss Pratt knew more about the individuals than Miss Darcy did, if she knew them at all, but Miss Darcy recognized more of them. Between them both, though, and Elizabeth's interjecting what she knew at times, the first set passed in such enjoyment for Kitty that she hardly remembered to regret her injury.
The Colonel, who had disappeared at some point after their entry, rejoined them shortly before the conclusion of the first set to ask his cousin to dance with him for the next. Kitty thought that was exceptionally good of him since Miss Darcy was so shy, and would be best off beginning with someone who knew how to keep her at ease. But Miss Pratt was not pleased, and Kitty could not blame her for that, either.
"At this rate, I shall never be able to dance," she said to Kitty, in a mournful undertone.
"It is only the first full set that we are here," Kitty answered, smiling. "You have the whole ball before you. Stand up with someone else, when you may, and when he sees you going down the line he will likely realize that he wishes to ask you next."
"Do you mean it?" asked Miss Pratt. "I promised you that I would only leave your side to dance with him."
"Of course. This is in order that you might dance with him, and anyway, if I cannot have the pleasure of dancing myself, you can afford me the pleasure of watching you dance a set or two over the course of the evening, and one of them is bound to be with him. Then, when you come back to me, we can talk over every moment. You must pay very close attention and promise me that you will remember everything, for the only dancing I shall do tonight is through you."
"Thank you, my dear friend!" And she applied to Elizabeth immediately for an introduction to a suitable partner.
Kitty was not long left alone to watch their progress, for Mr. Knott soon joined her, offering punch. She would have preferred Mr. Johns, but as he was dancing with a Miss Bell, and Kitty was otherwise quite alone, she was not inclined to send him away. She accepted the punch gladly and asked him if he did not mean to dance.
"Not for this set, at least," he said. "I observed that your companions have all left you, and I thought you would be happier with some company. It is dreadfully lonely, being entirely alone in a crowd."
Kitty could not deny that she did not prefer to be left alone, particularly at a ball, so she thanked him heartily and sipped her punch. It tasted watered down and too bitter, and she soon lowered the cup to her lap and kept it there. Without the exertion of dancing to raise her thirst, poor punch was not at all pleasing.
She watched Miss Pratt join the set just a few couples down from Miss Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and she smiled. That would give her friend a good chance to impress him.
"…Mr. Johns, since our arrival?"
Kitty blinked and turned to Mr. Knott. "Forgive me; I missed the first few words of your question. Mr. Johns?"
"Yes; I only asked if you had seen him since we arrived. I think he has vanished entirely."
She shook her head sadly. "I saw him taking his place in the set, but I do not see him now. I was so hoping for the chance to see him dance. Or he could come and talk to me for a time, as you did, if he is not inclined to dance." Elizabeth rejoined them at this point and freed Kitty to look about the room, but there was no sign of Mr. Johns.
She did not recognize Miss Pratt's partner, but he seemed very attentive to her, and she seemed to be enjoying it. She danced very well: graceful, light, and easy. She would pair the Colonel's gravity beautifully, when they finally were able to dance together. But too quickly, the dancers moved down, and her friends were lost from view. She turned her attention to her friends instead, but not without some inward sighs and regret. If only she could have danced with him!
"And you really did have a cousin come back from the dead just to inherit it!" Elizabeth was saying, her eyes twinkling. "How very novel!"
Mr. Knott laughed. "Yes, exactly! It is not so unusual, however, for a man to flee to New York when he feels that it will benefit him, and not so unusual for a man to come home on learning unexpectedly that he has a large inheritance waiting for him."
"How did he learn of it?" Kitty asked.
"A friend of the family had travelled to New York on business, and happened to stop for coffee at my cousin's cafe. He recognized him and, in his astonishment, immediately revealed that the inheritance that should be his was about to be settled on me. My cousin took the next ship he could find back to England—going to some trouble, as I understand it, as he was obliged to go to Canada to find a captain willing to take him."
"And all this time, you knew nothing of any of it?"
"His ship had gone down in a terrible storm; we had thought that no one aboard had survived the passage. And he never wrote to us to tell us otherwise. We found out afterwards that he believed it was best that way, as it would allow him to make a clean start."
"Why…?"
"He'd had a truly dreadful argument with—well, to own the truth, with his elder brother, who was originally first in line to the inheritance. The family had sided with the brother, and so he took a cue from the parable of the prodigal son, took what money he had coming to him, and fled. His mother was heartbroken."
Kitty sighed over the romance of the whole story. Who would have thought that plain, boring Mr. Knott would be connected with such a history?
"And has he now reconciled with the rest of the family?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh, yes. The old quarrel was immediately forgotten, of course. He has since admitted that he was in the wrong, and too young and full of his own worth to admit it. But he has been established at Rookwood Park for some time now, and is very respectable."
"You must not like him very well," Kitty said. She could imagine how he felt, robbed of his inheritance by so undeserving a cousin, who had run away in such a manner!
"Not like him?" repeated Mr. Knott, one eyebrow raised. "Of course I like him! We were great friends as boys, and if any man is well-suited to running Rookwood, it is he. I daresay he'll do a better job of it than I would have done, so it all turned out for the best in the end."
"But… you were left with nothing, after expecting everything!"
"An education and a good connection are hardly nothing," Elizabeth said firmly.
"And I hardly expected everything. It was only two years or so that I was thought to be first in line to inherit the estate." Mr. Knott sipped his punch and shrugged. "Honestly, the church suits me much better."
Elizabeth asked him some question about his education, and the conversation moved on. But Kitty could not help dwelling on Mr. Knott's situation. He had been on the verge of gaining a respectable establishment, and to give it up so cheerfully to this ungrateful prodigal cousin seemed to her to be hardship beyond endurance. Of course there was nothing he could do about it now—and he was talking to Mrs. Darcy, whose husband had a vicarage to bestow that had just opened up several weeks ago. Perhaps he was only pretending this cheerful resignation for the sake of obtaining that living. But Kitty still believed him ill-used, and she thought it rather disingenuous of him to pretend that he did not feel at least a little bit as though he had been robbed of his rightful place.
And would this set never end? How long had they been dancing, anyway? They were still out of sight, and Kitty entertained visions of them both being whisked off by their partners to be romanced all night—visions somewhat checked by her sudden remembrance that Miss Darcy was dancing with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was of course destined for Miss Pratt.
But what if Miss Pratt fell in love with whatever gentleman she was now dancing with, and left the poor Colonel to nurse a broken heart?
Of course, if that happened, Kitty could step in. Watch Lydia crow over her when her husband outranked Mr. Wickham, anyway!
But then, what about Mr. Johns? Would she throw him over for an officer, even if it meant less money to live on?
"Lizzy, who is Miss Pratt dancing with?" she asked suddenly. She had to know his name so she could plan accordingly.
Elizabeth looked at her with an expression of astonishment; Mr. Knott muttered something about punch and walked away. Elizabeth leaned in. "Kitty, that was very rude! Mr. Knott was speaking and you interrupted him."
"Was he? I'm sorry—I didn't notice."
"Kitty!"
"Oh, don't look so scandalized. Poor man. I do feel badly for him, of course, and I will apologize when he comes back but I must know everything about Miss Pratt's partner before he returns."
Lizzy sighed. "His name is Mr. Rackham, and he is a friend of Mr. Darcy's from school. He is very gentlemanly, and I believe that his conversation will entertain Miss Pratt, but I do not expect anything to come of the acquaintance because I have reason to believe that his heart is engaged elsewhere. So let's have none of your nonsense about seeing them married before the end of the summer. You are far too much like Mama in that respect."
"But—"
"No. Mr. Rackham is perfectly respectable, and you do not need to think of him any more than that. And when Mr. Knott returns, I will expect you to either listen to him and participate in the conversation, or keep quite silent and not interrupt when others are speaking. You will either mind your manners or I will take you home. Is that quite clear?"
Kitty seethed, but she knew that she must acquiesce. "Yes."
"Thank you."
They sat in silence until Mr. Knott returned with more punch for all of them. Kitty set her old, still-full glass well under her chair, where it would be out of the way and less likely to be kicked over, and forced herself to sip at the fresh cup slowly. She did not even allow herself the tiniest wince at its bitterness.
Mr. Rackham and Colonel Fitzwilliam brought the ladies back when the set ended, but both were immediately claimed for the next set, and Kitty was left to face the prospect that she was likely to spend the evening listening to her sister and Mr. Knott discuss the most boring subjects imaginable. Suddenly, coming to this ball seemed like it had been a spectacularly bad idea.
One of the gentlemen to whom Elizabeth had introduced her on their arrival walked by, and Kitty thought, for a moment of heart-fluttering hope, that he was coming to talk to her. But he was only coming to claim the hand of a young lady sitting nearby whose name Kitty did not know. She could not help watching them darkly as they moved to take their places in the set, particularly when his place turned out to be immediately beside Mr. Johns. It was the only time she saw him that night.
In fact, she saw very little of anyone except her two constant companions. Miss Pratt seemed to take her release for a dance or two to mean the whole evening, and even when Miss Darcy sat with them for a set, she was usually in conversation with someone else, and Kitty could not find a way to interject. By the time the others were ready to go home, Kitty had long repented of her desire to come at all, and wanted nothing more than to get away from all of them.