It was two weeks before Kitty felt comfortable telling anyone that she had seen Mr. Johns, but she confessed it to Georgiana when they were out in the garden, cutting flowers to make an arrangement Georgiana had read about and wanted to try.
Georgiana was more angry about it than Kitty had been. "I can't believe that he came and sought you out after my brother specifically told him not to! What right did he have? How could he dare do such a thing when you are under our protection? Has he no honor?"
Kitty shook her head and knelt to see whether she could find anything worth cutting from the lower side of the bush, and to conceal her emotions. "I cannot account for it, except that he told me that he had come to Pemberley to apologize to me particularly. He was very repentant, or at least he seemed so."
"I think he has proven himself untrustworthy enough that you can easily disbelieve him." She jerked a flower toward her and swiped at its stem with her knife.
"Yes, and I do, largely. That is, I believe the outline of his story is true; I have no reason to doubt that he came here wishing to forget that he was married. He did an exceptionally good job of it. But I do not believe he regrets it as much as he claims to; I think he is rather pleased that he was able to inspire as much esteem in me as he did. Fortunately, it was not so much that I now find myself in any way heartbroken." She paused, and placed the posey she'd been gathering into the basket at Georgiana's feet. She did not let herself dwell on how true that really was. She still could not decide how much she'd really liked him, and his return had stirred up feeling in her that she would have rather forgotten. "I wish I could believe him when he told me that, had he been free to engage his heart, he would have given it to me. But I suspect that is nothing but flattery."
"You are probably better off without his heart or his hand, for that matter. Even if he had been free to bestow it, he has betrayed an insensibility to the feelings and impressions others that cannot recommend him. I do not wonder that his marriage is not a happy one, but I do not place all the blame for that at his wife's feet."
"No; although considering the way she flew at me, a complete stranger, I cannot place it all at his, either." Kitty shuddered at the memory. "I believe I pity him, for having to live with such a creature."
"It is his own fault; he was the one who had to make her an offer in the first place," Georgiana said.
Kitty looked at her, dropping her hand in her lap. "Georgiana, do you mean to tell me that you do not remember?"
"Remember what?"
"All those stories that Miss Pratt told us about her wild friend—Miss Camilla Irons—who forced a gentleman to compromise her and then offer for her? And Mr. Johns, introducing his wife as Mrs. Camilla Johns? Miss Pratt told me she recognized her. I am surprised that she did not also mention it to you."
Georgiana stopped what she was doing and put her scissors in the basket. "She did not say a word, and I never realized—my goodness, what a terrible woman! I believe I begin to see why you feel sorry for him." She shook her head. "But, Kitty, do not feel too sorry for him. No matter how bad his situation is, that does not give him the right to do what he did to you."
"I know." She picked up the scissors and handed them back to Georgiana. "That big pink rose back there looks promising for the centerpiece; can you reach it? Anyway, I do not suppose it matters at this point. I do not expect to ever see him again, except possibly in passing, so he will never have the chance to cause me more pain."
"I certainly hope not, for all our sakes." She pulled the rose out carefully, avoiding the thorns, and added it to her basket.
Kitty, for all her talk to the contrary, was not entirely pleased with the likelihood of her never seeing Mr. Johns again. Part of her wanted to meet him again just so she could feel her power over him again, and restore her confidence that she was attractive to more men than only Mr. Knott. And to torment herself by wondering about his final words: if I were free, you would have been my choice. But she would never mention that to Georgiana; she hardly dared own it to herself.
"Oh! Here is Elizabeth!" Kitty looked up at Georgiana's words to see her sister hurrying across the lawn toward them. She put down her scissors and stood up.
"Mr. Knott has just returned from London," she said, watching Kitty closely. "He means to join the party for dinner tonight."
Kitty felt that she ought to say something, but did not know what. "Ah. Mr. Knott?" Stupid!
"Yes; will you be all right, dear?" Elizabeth put her hand on Kitty's arm. "You look a bit unwell."
"I…" She shook her head slowly; she was beginning to panic and she felt stupid for succumbing to it. "I still don't know how I'm going to answer him! I'm not ready!"
"He isn't very likely to ask you today," Georgiana pointed out. "He has only just returned; you still have a day or two before he is likely to try."
"I can't decide in a day or two! What am I going to do?"
Elizabeth laughed. "Don't borrow trouble, Kitty! He has not yet asked you anything, and if he does, there is no harm in telling him that you would like time to think it over before giving your answer. That will be the time to panic, if it comes. Until then, be calm. Perhaps something may have occurred in London to make him unable to make you an offer anyway, and then it won't matter."
Kitty bit back the protest that rose to her lips. "You won't leave me alone with him, will you? Even if he hints?"
"Of course, Kitty. Mama is not here to embarrass you the way she did to Jane, and neither of us would think of doing such a thing to you."
Kitty could not help a sigh of relief. "Thank you! I will decide something… I will… somehow, I will make up my mind."
"It is not as hard as you are making it out to be," Elizabeth said gently. "Observe how he interacts with you tonight, and take your time to know your own heart. If you are going to spend the rest of your life with him, a few more days at this end will not do any harm."
Kitty tried to be reassured by these things, but she was in agony all day until dinner. She was continually alternating between excitement at seeing him again, and fear of seeing him again. What would she say? What would he say? She changed her dress three times, trying to find a balance between looking well, and not looking as though she had gone to extra trouble for his sake, and she was still not satisfied with the result when she finished. But it was too late to undress again; she was already certain to be the last one there.
She was not, however, the last one in the drawing room; Mr. Knott was not there yet, either, which gave her more time to steady her nerves as she greeted the others. She wondered, for one wild second, whether he was having the same difficulty in deciding how much care to put into his appearance that she had, but she dismissed the thought as soon as she had it. He was really not that kind of man, and she knew that he had more likely taken more time because he had just arrived and his trunks had not yet been fully unpacked. He was probably just searching for a missing shoe.
When he did arrive, her mental state was not much more collected than it had been when she came down; certainly she was not prepared for the anticipation and concern that unconsciously drove her greeting. But she was too shy to say anything else to him, and he did not seek her out for conversation either. The others were doing a fine job of keeping his attention, anyway, expressing their regrets about his mother and hoping that his affairs in town were resolved to his satisfaction. He gave all the correct answers to these questions, but Kitty thought she sensed that his mind was not fully engaged in them.
She did not know, when they went in to dinner, whether she wanted to be seated near him or not; and so when she found herself not remotely close to him, she did not know whether to be relieved or regretful. But she could not attend to any of the conversation around her, as every thought and feeling was for him: confusion, concern, pleasure, pain, all were wrapped up in what he was saying, or might be saying, at that moment. She was certain that she was a very stupid dinner companion, but as she was seated between her father and Miss Pratt, she did not imagine that anyone noticed much.
Elizabeth led them to withdraw far before she felt herself ready, but she dutifully followed the others out of the dining room and waited in silence for the gentlemen to join them. Georgiana sat loyally by her, saying nothing but remaining close, and Kitty tried to be grateful. The trouble was, she wasn't grateful at all. What if he wanted to talk to her? Did she want to talk to him?
Never before had she spent half an hour in such strange terror. She longed to see him—she had missed his friendship, and he had been so constantly on her mind. And she wanted to assure herself that he really was all right after his mother's passing. But what would she say to him? How could she converse with anything approaching composure when her mind refused to be still?
Her heart leapt when the gentlemen joined them at last, and even more when Georgiana left to help Elizabeth by serving the coffee, leaving the seat beside her open. But it was soon occupied by her father, who wanted Kitty to pass him the book that was laying on the table at her side, so he could point out a passage to Mr. Darcy. By the time he departed, Mr. Knott was deep in conversation with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Georgiana returned to her side before they were finished talking, and Kitty wondered if she ought to go interject herself into his conversation, just to be sure of a chance to speak to him. But she could not be so rude, and she had no idea what she would say, anyway.
Finally, when the tea and coffee things were cleared away and Elizabeth wondered whether anyone was interested in cards, Kitty saw her opportunity, and volunteered for whist in hopes that Mr. Knott would offer to partner her. She was terrible at whist—she had a dreadful time trying to keep track of her trumps and she always seemed to give them up too soon—but if it meant that she might be able to speak to him, she was willing to lose at anything. But Elizabeth was, apparently, determined to make good her promise to keep them apart until Kitty was ready, because she made up the table with Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy. Kitty did not scowl, and was grimly proud of herself for this accomplishment.
In the end, the only conversation she was able to have with him was in the few minutes before they retired for the night. He asked how her ankle was, and she was pleased to report that it was very much healed; that was all. Kitty could not settle with herself whether she thought that was a sign of his continued affection, or merely a polite inquiry. She did, however, stay awake half the night puzzling it over, for all the good it did her.