AW-KITTY AND THE COUNT CH 1
Kitty Bennet sat on a chair in the great ballroom at Pemberley, catching her breath. She clutched a glass of lemonade that her last dancing partner, Mr Bentley, had brought her before leaving to find his next dance partner.
Kitty was disappointed she was so breathless. She had thought herself so much better since her sojourn in the warmer climate of Italy. Everyone had commented on the roses in her cheeks on her return. She was relieved there was no one lined up to dance the cotillon with her. Once she had drunk her glass of lemonade and somewhat recovered, Kitty decided to walk about the ballroom to gauge her fitness to dance again. She did not want to create an embarrassing scene by coughing or fainting during the next dance she was booked for.
Many guests in their evening finery crowded the ballroom. The flickering light of the beeswax candles made it difficult to see in the dim light. But as she pushed her way through the non-dancing guests, she caught sight of her brother-in-law, Fitzwilliam Darcy. He towered above most of the guests. Elizabeth wouldn't be far away from her beloved husband.
Kitty was right. Talking to them with his back to her was a gentleman. His size, height and shape put her in mind of the Italian aristocrat she had met in Florence in the spring. Count Castelfiore. The gentleman who haunted her dreams. But it couldn't possibly be him.
As she approached, the gentleman turned. He smiled at her. The dark eyes, the strong jaw, the glossy black hair. It was Count Castelfiore. Kitty gasped and her heart thudded in her chest. Her left wrist throbbed, where she had been bitten. Dizziness assailed her. She swayed and might have fallen if the count had not leapt forward and taken her arm to steady her.
'Thank you,' said Kitty.
'It is nothing,' the count said. His voice was rich and smooth with an irresistibly charming foreign accent.
'Kitty! Are you unwell?' Elizabeth asked.
'I am quite well, Lizzie,' Kitty told her. 'A momentary faintness.'
Elizabeth pursed her lips. Fitzwilliam frowned.
'Allow me to escort you to a chair,' the count said.
He led Kitty away to chairs at some distance from Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. They might have intervened but were stopped by some late arrivals greeting them.
'What are you doing here?' Kitty asked as soon as she was seated.
'Not the enthusiastic welcome I hoped for,' he replied, looking down at her.
Kitty's cheeks heated. 'I apologise for my rudeness.'
He sat beside her. 'Are you surprised to see me?'
'Yes,' said Kitty.
'You shouldn't be,' the count said, looking intently at her. 'You should have realised that I could not stay away from you.'
Kitty's cheeks heated again. She was conscious of a flutter in her chest.
'I'm not sure what to say to that,' she said honestly.
'You could say how gallant I am,' he told her.
'I would if I thought it true you had come to England merely to see me.'
'How can you doubt it?' he asked. 'You left so suddenly with no word of farewell.'
'We were anxious to return to England as soon as possible. My sister, Mrs Bingley, discovered she was expecting a child.'
Kitty had been grateful for a reason to leave Florence after her last disturbing encounter with the count, but she would not tell him that.
'I was distraught when you left so suddenly. Then I recalled that you spoke often of your sister and brother-in-law's palazzo and thus,' he shrugged, 'I decided to pursue you.'
'Pemberley is not a palace,' she said laughing. 'It cannot compare to your palazzo in Florence.' Then the import of the rest of his words hit her. 'Pursue is a strange word to use.'
'Forgive my choice of words. English is not my first language. Perhaps follow is a better word?'
Kitty found it hard to believe that the count had come all the way from Italy just to see her. And yet, here he was. Her left wrist still throbbed. A reminder of what had happened that night in Florence.
Kitty had travelled to Florence with her sister Jane and Jane's husband, Charles Bingley. They had kindly volunteered to accompany her to Italy when Fitzwilliam's physician recommended that Kitty spend a winter in a warmer climate rather than suffer the harsh English weather. They were doing the Grand Tour in a very limited way, and in easy stages.
Kitty had met Count Castelfiore through a salon arranged by an acquaintance of Charles's. She would never forget her first view of the count, standing, outlined against the black sky. He had been so handsome and so very exotic. The dark eyes of the count had widened when he saw Kitty and then he had smiled a brilliant smile, displaying his very white teeth.
She had been told Count Castelfiore was from an old noble Florentine family. He had only recently returned to the city, having spent some years at his estates in the south of the country. He spoke excellent English which he put down to having had an English tutor in his youth.
They often saw the count but only in the late afternoon or evening. He must have had many affairs of business to attend to. The count paid marked attention to Kitty, always seeking out her company as soon as he or she arrived at a venue. It became so marked that Jane ventured to warn Kitty in her gentle way.
'Perhaps you shouldn't encourage the count.'
'Whatever do you mean?' Kitty tossed her head. 'I'm sure I do nothing to encourage him.'
'I saw you smile at him as he entered the ballroom last night.'
'Good God, Jane, would you have me scowl at him?' Kitty pretended to be shocked.
'No, of course not. But perhaps a little less enthusiasm? After all, you do not know his intentions. He is an Italian count, and you are a young English lady, far from home. Why is he so interested in you?'
Kitty was hurt. "Why should he not like me?' Her face burned. 'You mean that I am not good enough for him?'
'No, that is not what I meant––' Jane began but Kitty stormed out of the parlour.
Kitty found it very flattering to be wooed by someone as elegant and worldly-wise as the count. Lydia thought she was the exciting sister. The count's attentions proved her wrong. Kitty's heart leapt with anticipation whenever she entered a room, hoping that he would be there. Then beat faster whenever he was.
One night, they stood alone on a balcony, looking at the stars with the city spread below them, and music and the hum of conversation behind them. The pale dome of the Duomo, Florence's cathedral could be seen in the distance.
'How beautiful the stars are and how beautiful Firenze is. I remember a night long ago when I stood on this same balcony, looking at Firenze with a young woman from Sorrento. She was very pretty and lively. You remind me of her.'
'She had the same colouring as me? Dark hair and eyes?'
'Yes, but your complexion is paler.'
Kitty's breath caught in her throat at the reply. This then was the reason that the count was attracted to her. She reminded him of another woman. Jane had been right. She remained silent, willing tears not to well up in her eyes.
The count continued, 'Her name was Angela Capaldi.'
Kitty stirred. 'How very interesting. I do think it is time I returned to the others.' Her tone was cold. She would have nothing more to do with the count.
She turned to go. The count seized her hand, preventing her from leaving.
'What is wrong? Have I offended you in some way?'
Kitty forced a laugh. 'It is not so very flattering to be told that you are valued for your resemblance to another.' She attempted to pull her hand away, but the count's grip was very strong. 'If you please, milord.'
Count Castelfiore did not release her. 'I have offended you,' he exclaimed. 'I would not do that for a thousand worlds. You think I care for you only because I see Angela's likeness in you? How can I show you that you are wrong? That I want you for yourself?'
He raised Kitty's left hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to it. Then he turned it over and kissed her wrist where the blue veins showed. Kitty had the urge to throw herself into the arms of the count. Then she felt a sharp pain in her wrist and a sucking sensation. Then a delicious pleasure stole over her, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. She wanted nothing than to remain like this forever.
But all too soon the count stopped. Kitty looked down to see blood welling from her wrist. Then he licked Kitty's wrist which should have horrified her, but she was only mildly interested. The count raised his head and moved away from her. The blood stopped and then only two small pink punctures marked the spot.
The eyes of the count glowed amber. They reminded Kitty of a piece of amber she had once seen, with small insects and seeds frozen inside.
'Now, I have marked you as mine,' he said triumphantly.
A moment later, the glow faded from his eyes. 'My apologies,' the count said. 'I thought you were displeased with me, and my feelings overcame me.'
They stared at each other.
'Kitty! Kitty!' It was Charles's voice.
They turned to see him hurrying towards them. 'Kitty, we must go. Forgive me, milord but my wife has been taken ill.'
The count bowed. 'Of course.'
Kitty felt his heavy gaze on her as they quitted the room.
'Kitty! Mr Davenport is asking where you are. I'm afraid you must lose your companion, Count Castelfiore.' Elizabeth's voice disturbed Kitty from her memories.
'Thank you.' Kitty rose. 'As the next dance is about to begin, I must find my partner.'
'I hope you will keep a dance for me?' the count asked.
'Oh! Certainly, if I have any dances free.'
His expression darkened but he said nothing. Kitty walked quickly away from him and from Elizabeth's puzzled stare.
Count Castelfiore claimed her for a dance later. To Kitty's consternation, it was the waltz. She did not want to be so close to him and feel his arms around her. She was worried not only what he might do but what she might be tempted to do.
'Are you trying to make me jealous?' the count murmured into her hair as they danced. 'But you know that you are mine.' Her tiny scars throbbed as in agreement.
Kitty decided to ignore his remark despite the way her heart fluttered at his words. 'Will you be staying long in the country?'
'As long as it takes to persuade your father to agree to our marriage.' Kitty missed a step. The count adroitly steered her back into the waltz. 'You are not normally so clumsy, my dove.'
'Marry you?' Kitty gasped.
'Of course. But this is not the place to discuss such things. Let us talk about it tomorrow.'
They were receiving several curious glances by couples waltzing nearby. Kitty held her tongue with difficulty.