This chapter was already written before my carpal tunnel issues, and I'm managing a little better. Still have some use of my fingers but my left hand is still useless. But I'm just impatient. Thanks a lot for the support.
A lot of research went into this chapter, especially when dealing with the authenticity of the cuisine.
Chapter 15
On the evening of the Masin anniversary, all the Bingley family made their way down to the estate's cottages, where the Andreozzi family temporarily lodged. They stayed rent free for the duration of their contract with the Grove House, and amongst the more permanent tenants. Their first experience at their new home, dining out so to speak. Upon their first coming to the cottages where they stayed, all four were greeted by warm aromas: an outdoor fire, roasting meat, and fresh dough in ovens. For the special occasion, the family and nearby neighbours had helped to decorate with flower wreathes and hanging lamps. Dining tables had been borrowed and moved from indoors to out on the grassy common. Voices of both Italian and English were noisy and celebratory. This was hardly an exclusive affair. For it would not be fair to have excluded some. They came to find most of the tenants had come to join in the feast. And what a feast!
Ilaria spied out Kitty immediately. All the Andreozzi family heartily welcomed the master's family, but most particularly Signorina Katerina. Poor Kitty, at the bare beginnings of learning a new language, found herself up to her neck in it; everyone's tongue rattled off at high speed, one talked over the other, and so numerous the speakers, it was almost overwhelming. And yet, the energy and spirit of them was nothing but hospitable. One of the wives, whom she guessed to be Tomasso's wife, bid to Kitty to bid all the rest of the family to follow. Right after the honoured couple, the Bingley family was sat down at the best spot, nearby the cottage and close enough to be warm by one of the open fires. A fine tablecloth was spread, fresh candlesticks, and centerpieces filled with wildflowers: all the women's arrangements, rustic elegance. For as much as it was disappointing that Miss Bingley joined them, at the very least, they were all spared any sneering. If she came prepared to be revolted, she was to be disappointed.
Signora Andreozzi herself, a short and plump lady, whose amused cackle Kitty would never forget, bid them good evening and welcome. Her only English to them: "So glad you all come!" She whirled around to command her daughters-in-law hurry along. Trays were being placed onto the tables, and one of the delightful aromas summoning hunger from the distance now teased the senses. Bread! Sliced, propped up in circular fashion, with a thick sauce at its center. Following a brief prayer of grace, led by Signore Masin himself, everyone was scooping the sauce into the tiny dishes, laid with all the dishes and silverware before them. The serving part itself, was much the way of a common household. No servants waited on them, and Caroline realized after a moment that she was expected to reach for and pass the trays herself if she wished for a portion.
Though Ilaria herself sat on the opposite end from them, Kitty picked up on the little hints, how each dish was to be served and eaten. For the bread, with its soft, steamy interior and crispy crust, the family either spooned the sauce on top of their slice, or else served themselves a little puddle and dunked the bread slices. Jane and Caroline spooned their sauce. A very few of the women spooned it. The majority were tearing off pieces and dunking. Why not? On one occasion which a girl may be justifiably saucy, Kitty imitated the majority, spooned herself a puddle on the plate, and dunked the bread. Butter was offered but the bread and its complement needed no help.
"Ti piace?" asked Signora Andreozzi. She hoovered by their seats, an empty tray in hand.
"It's wonderful!" cried Jane.
"It's delicious, signora!" seconded Charles.
"Delightful!" replied Caroline.
"Ti piace? Good heavens—it's wonderful!" cried Kitty. "Magnifico!"
Forming a sentence was still a bit tricky. Single words by themselves came quicker to her than a full sentence, making her feel very much like Davy trying to babble words, expecting the world to understand. But even those single words, a great effort, pleased the old woman. Watching that stern face and heavy brow lift proved to herself her own success in this endeavour.
"I must say, Kitty, you are getting on well," commended Charles. "I'm very impressed. What made you just decide to take up Italian?"
"I can't say it was any one reason or another, honestly," pondered Kitty. "But I believe Signora Masin had something to do with it. She and I have become friends, after a fashion."
"Lovely family, all of them," agreed Jane.
"What is this sauce?" said Miss Bingley. "It's delicious. And the bread. It's just bread, but it's delectable. Unlike anything else I've had before." The first commendation Kitty had heard from her!
At that moment, Signore Andreozzi approached his mother, assisting her with the current tray but also devouring the final slice of bread on it. This earned him a minor slap in the arm and some half-hearted reproach.
"Signore Andreozzi," Kitty interrupted. "Did your mother and your brother's wives and cousins and sisters cook all this?"
"Naturally. Nobody else will do it for us, but nobody will do it better than they do," he vouched. "Oh, pardon me! You shouldn't have this bread without the wine. Marc! Puoi portargli la caraffa? Ha respirato?" His brother's answer was an affirmative. "Perfetto! It shall be here shortly."
"May I ask, signore, what is in this sauce?"
"It's mostly olive oil, with marinated garlic and minced mushroom with some other seasonings. You like it?"
"We were just telling your mother," said Charles, "it's superb. I think if I ate nothing else tonight, I'd be just happy with this."
"Big mistake!" declared Signore Andreozzi, laughing. "Save room for what's coming. For tonight, we have some of my sister's favourites: roast lamb, and a gnocchi with shrimp and asparagus, along with some roasted vegetables—Thank you, Marc. Shall I?" He offered to pour for Miss Bingley, in generosity, and did so likewise with Jane, Charles, and then Kitty on the other side of the table. "Personally, Mr. Bingley, in my opinion, you'll forget all about the bread when you get a taste of the gnocchi." The lips pursed, the fingers pressed to the lips, and kissed the air. "And if you like it, I warn you, it's very popular and goes quickly."
This raised their excitement. By the time he reached Kitty's chair, up next:
"And no dinner would be complete without dessert. As you get to know our womenfolk, signorina, come from different regions. So with them, they bring all sorts of cooking, and desserts included. Lord, they compete and try to outdo each other." Since Kitty's left side was vacant, he welcomed himself to it. "So another fair warning to all of you. Try to leave room for it. My sisters-in-law understand if you pass, but do not pass on my mother's dessert, or she takes it as an offense."
"Oh dear, which one is hers?" begged Kitty.
"Panna cota. It's a very simple-looking dessert, but sometimes, it's just simplicity which makes it superior to all others. We customarily serve it with some sliced fruit and a little chocolate."
Of course, that was not enough to satisfy appetite. Each one questioned him intensely on the upcoming parade to grace their tables, especially in regards his personal favourites. Though not a cook himself, judging from his descriptions and knowledge of seasonings and spices that go into the process, he was no stranger to the kitchen. As to the roast lamb, those honours went to Niccolo, one of the younger brothers. And as their visitors gazed about them, Kitty happened to observe their fellow diners at other tables. The tenants, those that lived near enough or contributed to the celebration with some fruits or vegetables from their own gardens, were just as wide-eyed and praiseworthy of the dinner. So many grazie from the old to the young, from the adults to the children. Among the Andreozzi family, the women encouraged their young ones to a corner near the fire, on a picnic blanket on the ground, with small dishes for themselves and smaller fare.
"I did not know your family also brought their children along," said Kitty. "How many? I see six."
"We have eight, actually," he informed her.
"Oh?"
"We have a baby in the house here. Francesca and Tomasso's third child. My brother Massim and Ginevra—their child hasn't joined us yet, if you take my meaning."
"Oh! And yet, she still works with…" In any other setting, Kitty wouldn't have hesitated.
"She's been regulated to very light duties for now, and the rest, she's here just watching the children. For a fact, these are not all my nieces and nephews. Five of them are children between my four cousins… And there are more, back home in Italy."
"What a large family! But wait, why are some of them back home?"
"These are the younger ones with us. They're not of age yet for schooling. The ones back home, are old enough, and they're keeping to their studies under the care of another aunt and uncle who cannot travel anyway. Viviana, Niccolo's wife, also has a widowed mother who lives with the family and stays with the older children."
"And I used to think mine was too large a family."
"So you see why we prefer working out of doors; it's the only way one can get a little peace and quiet sometimes."
"A beehive isn't exactly peace and quiet, signore."
"Well, compare a tame beehive to… your younger sister at five years of age."
"… Fair point," Kitty chuckled.
"How do you like the wine?"
"Hmm… You know I'm not sure…" For dramatic emphasis, Kitty swirled her glass and took a sip, much slower and more measured than her normal gulp. Now was not a time to risk incorrect swallowing, and a violent spasms of coughs. Bad habit. It was better doing like Miss Bingley, drawing enough to wash comfortably across the palate, not so much that it started to fill her cheeks. With her eyes closed and a slight sigh: "Exquisite!"
With a bit of a bemused smile, he responded: "You seem to be developing quite a taste for Italy."
"It's an adventure. I'll probably never get to travel to the Continent. So this will have to do."
"Why ever not?"
"I don't see my family traveling there in the foreseeable future," Kitty shrugged. "After all, the war did not make for pleasant and easy traveling. But as to Italy… I have to say, signore. I've learned so much, so much about your home country. I've come across some pictures in my reading, and I envy you and your family. Even if it were the slums of Venice, it's Venice. Even if it were some cottage in Milan just falling to pieces, it's Milan."
"Now, that's a little too romantic a vision for my country. Believe me, slums are slums. It's just as bad in Venice as it is in London, especially during summer."
"Of course. I'm not talking about the living conditions. I'm talking about where you live in the world, that in of itself."
"If you ever get the opportunity, one day, I'd recommend visiting in the cities. Rome, Venice, Florence, Naples—They're all rich in history, no shortage of adventure for the intellectual. But I think someone like you would be happier with an excursion that takes you away from the crowd, something more pastoral than metropolitan."
"Well, perhaps. But I still want to see the great, famous cities. Just like I'd still love to go to London for the season, at least once, someday."
By the dance of the shadow from the table's candle and the subtlety of expression, though polite, did not agree with her. "I'm just judging from your spark of interest in the gardens. At first, when I initially encouraged you to study and read more on the subject, I confess I didn't expect much enthusiasm to come. I was wrong, and I think you're wrong. My conjecture is, you like the glitter of the city, but your heart belongs in the country. Your funny little strategy that you concocted with Ilaria, in order to win the contest planting trees faster, gives some indication."
"I think… I think that you think too much, about too many things… that you know nothing about," replied Kitty, in between a swallow of wine. "I think you like to play the tour guide. It makes you look smarter than everyone else. For if you couldn't have been a landscape architect, that ought to have been your profession. Professore Pisello Dolce."
That little retort wiped some smugness from his lips, which went sulky for a moment. Of course, he was also trying not to laugh at it. "I told you don't like that, in English or Italian." Empty threat from such a scowl that she laughed heartily; it took but a few minutes in earlier study to discover and translate sweet pea.
For the rest of the evening, the meal and its high promises from their host did not fail in the least. It was perhaps the best food ever in all of Kitty's recollection; of course, it was disclosed that not everything was perfect, by the standards of the women. For they had to make due without certain ingredients or else make some substitutions in other recipes. Signora Andreozzi also got to shine in that respect. While each dessert proved as unique and diverse as dance partners in a ball room, an old woman, a master of her craft for decades, was not about to be displaced by young daughters-in-law. It was not everyday, either, that they had non-native guests dining with them; such occasion was time for a little exhibition.
If the food was anything like Ilaria and her signore's marriage, they were a very happy couple indeed. Halfway through the dessert course, one of the cousins or some other, roused by a little wine, broke out into song right there at the table. His fellows on the right and left joined in, only to draw in more men. Signore Andreozzi himself included himself in the serenade. Signore Masin appeared to enjoy it, and could not hold himself out of it, though it was in their honour. The women began to clap to a rhythm. Kitty, Jane, and Charles united their clapping with theirs. The whole scene struck was so reminiscent of the picnic at Longbourn, nearly three years ago… The men singing beautifully, the women clapping in rhythm, with no help of instruments, smiles on every face…
"Kitty, are you well?" asked Jane.
Her sister's hands had slowed, and the crestfallen expression shadowed a face that had been merry and joyful just a minute or two ago. But she revived in a moment, kept up the clapping, and the group's song concluded in delightful synchronization. No sadness, no tears. It wasn't so strong as that, but that old and familiar dullness gripped her heart. Perhaps it was that as she looked around the tables, at the tan and handsome faces of the Andreozzi family, she also saw the tan but light-coloured faces of men in scarlet uniforms… Regimentals meant so much to her then. Why did it never occur to her and Lydia that the colour of every soldiers' regimentals were also the colour of blood?
"Are you well, signorina?"
"I'm fine… I think I just need to get up and take a turn." Kitty felt fidgety and nearly bounded from her chair, almost tripping herself. Signore Andreozzi caught her at the arm, and steadied her. Jane noticed and offered to accompany Kitty, but the offer was declined. Without her shawl or any covering, Kitty stepped away from the table, the fires, the cottages, in favour of the climbing roses which grew in clumps and bush some distance away. They all started up on another song, while the warmth of the fire slowly left her body. The cooler air and the moonlight softened her rushing thoughts by degrees, which seemed to threaten, to creep up on her with intensity. With a few deep breaths, it passed altogether, even though the men continued to sing.
"Katerina?"
"Forgive me. That was rather sudden and clumsy of me, at the table," she sighed, trying to laugh at it.
"Is anything the matter?"
"No. Well, nothing really…" That wouldn't do for an inquisitive face. He kept a respectable distance, nothing overly familiar in the manner of approach, but despite the darkness and the respectability, concern was in his countenance and voice. And he called her Katerina. He was not to be dismissed by 'nothing.' "I just… had a memory and suddenly needed to be get up."
"Do you wish to be alone?"
"No… No. It's not as serious as all that. Just absurdity, honestly."
"A memory, you say? A happy one, I hope?"
"… A happy but painful one, I suppose… As I was listening to you and your men singing, I was remembering an occasion during which we had such entertainment in Hertfordshire. Only, instead of Italian workmen, they were soldiers… I was trying not to think of it. Ever since then, I've come to love how men sing in company. It's so different, unlike how ladies sing in company."
"Soldiers?"
"Yes."
"… I think I understand. Was there someone in particular?"
Now, the feeling suddenly returned, but it turned from dullness to a hot choke hold inside her throat. It took a deep breath to dispel it. Before she dared speak, she angrily swallowed. "Some in particular… Old friends, and one who used to be a sweetheart, you might say… Most of them are dead now. Fallen at Waterloo."
"Ah, I'm so sorry. The sweetheart too?"
"Yes, him too… Well, he was a sweetheart at the time, but it was broken off some time after the militia decamped from our home town. It's a strange feeling… I can still remember their faces, all their names, and at the time they came for that picnic, it was such a happy day. Everyone was in a jolly mood. Had no idea, on that occasion, that would be the last time I'd ever see them alive again. The last time I'd ever see Denny… Forgive me, it's silly to talk about it. After all, he wasn't all that nice to me. I don't mourn him, but I am sorry that he's dead. And Chamberlayne… and Colonel Forster." He did not reply immediately. For a personality made of nettles, tenderness was not a forte. The best that might be offered was a handkerchief, which he stepped closer to offer. Kitty accepted without a word, wiping her eyes and nose. With a few more deep breaths, she felt more like herself again. "I'm sorry. I do not mean to embarrass you."
"You don't embarrass me… I'm sorry for what you lost."
"Thank you. I'm actually sort of glad that he broke my heart, or else, this would be a lot more painful. There! I'm just fine now." With a sigh, she looked back up at him and smiled a little forcefully. "It's not worth all that. And it's not worth running away from it. I can still hear your brothers and family. All of you are wonderful singers!"
"I'm sorry that it's brought on such a gloomy mood."
"No, indeed! It's nobody's fault. Let's go back. I shouldn't like to spoil Ilaria's celebration."
Singing ceased momentarily, having finished another ballad. But then, one of the uncles, yelled out across tables. What all was said was lost except for one word, which Kitty could understand without her Italian study book, music! The resounding call for music roused a glad cheer. A couple of the young cousins rushed from one of the cottages, ran toward the empty common, and began to strum. This was quite different from their own assemblies, or opening the ball, in formal settings. Instead of giving warning, summoning dancers to take their places before the start of the music, the musicians did not wait for the dancers. The mandolins and tambourines commenced at once. The melody bid the dancers to come, not the other way around. And the dancing itself…
All previous sadness vanished at the sight. Ilaria and Signore Masin held hands as they rushed toward the common; he raised his voice to everyone, commanding all to come dance at once. They did line up as couples, but their dancing was quite a bit different from the jigs and the quadrilles she was all too accustomed to in the ballroom. Jane approached Kitty, inquiring again if she were well enough to stay. Assured that she had recovered her spirits, Kitty eagerly wished to stay. Was Jane and Charles to dance?
"Oh, you must signora!" insisted Signore Andreozzi. "There's nothing to it."
"It seems easy enough, but we've never learned these steps."
"Oh Lord, no…" The three looked up to see a bashful, somewhat perturbed Mr. Bingley, uncertain of his own skill, being led onto the common by Signora Andreozzi herself! She, first, pointed to him and showed him a few simple steps, to which he was encouraged to copy. After very little, very little instruction, she grabbed his hand again and pulled him out into the common with the rest of the dancers. Jane and Kitty were heartily laughing as he stumbled and did his best to keep up with the men who danced better around him.
"Well, I'm very sorry but I suppose your husband is already claimed, signora. Well, we'll make do. If you're going to dance, allow me to do a demonstration myself. I promise I don't dance like my mother."
"What do you mean, signore?" asked Kitty.
"I don't take my partner hostage, like poor Mr. Bingley."
It didn't take much to learn, especially when dancing was already second nature. Jane relied more on instruction, while her sister learned better from observation of those already dancing. And the music, very different from the fiddles or violins she'd grown up on, the young musicians of the family spirited them away to the Tuscan regions with their mandolins.
"Ah see! You've both got it! Tomasso!" he yelled out behind him. For this brother could not have been more than two years younger, perhaps the only son of the Andreozzi clan without a mustache. "Fratello, nostra madre ha rapito suo marito. Ballerai con lei? Mrs. Bingley, I've just engaged this ugly fellow for you as a partner. Forgive me, we've run out of good ones."
"Signore, you jest shamefully," chided Jane. "And he doesn't know what you say, does he?"
"I not ugly. He ugly," replied Tomasso. Jane almost blushed for their brashness, while Kitty was silently dying for lack of air. She was able to catch in his previous statement: brother, mother, and her husband. "Signora, my honour if you dance."
A new song was just beginning, perfect time for Jane to try out her first lesson and her courage.
"And you, will you dance?" asked Signore Andreozzi.
"Me?"
"Yes."
"You dance?"
He blinked. "I just showed you steps, didn't I? Yes, signorina, I can dance."
"Well, Ortiche, you don't seem the sort to like dancing."
"Why, what gave you that funny idea?"
"You work so hard on the estate, and you're good at it too. It's hard to imagine you enjoying something so frivolous and lighthearted."
"I beg your pardon!" A couple giggles came out of her, but she contained the rest. He made it very difficult to do so. "I'll have you know I take my leisure just as seriously as my work. All of us. And if you think dancing is a frivolous activity of life, you're absolutely right... and absolutely wrong! Come!"
Kitty did not tease or jest in her opinion that he should think dancing frivolous. Of course, she had been told for the last several years by a number of people that there must be more to her education than dancing. From thirteen to sixteen, it had been her forte; perhaps one aspect of her life, she'd been the equal or better of than Lydia. Only with time and years, and some heartbreak from Denny, could she acknowledge the folly of continuing in ignorance of the rest of the world. His last statement was rather stunning.
Ilaria spotted them from a distance, twirling along with her husband. "Katerina! Paolo, portala fuori! Danza!"
Though somewhat reluctant, her reluctance, unlike Jane's, was borne from the intimidation of the partner, not the new dance. Once they began, however, she did not regret it. Signore Andreozzi moved so lithely and graceful. She stood in the line amongst the women, very much like a reel, but something about their dancing… It was less about precision of movement, and more about the rhythm of the music. Also, the women held their skirts during the dance. Instead of the more rigid, fitted fashions of London, theirs accommodated any figure, and the skirts billowed. Twirling the skirts and holding a corner with one hand was both practical for the dance and artistically expressive. Kitty envied them, with their bright colours and larger plumage to allow for it. Doing the same with her own skirts would not work, and it was not designed for any lifting without risking immodesty.
"Keep up, Katerina! Ready?" A new move was sprung on her, but it was easy enough. Their forearms locked together, and everyone skipped in circles with their partner. Hard not to notice the bounce of his hair; it looked a little better combed, less like a mushroom. Still, it danced with the body beneath it. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing."
"You laugh!"
Indeed, Kitty was laughing. "Forgive me. Some rude remark just crossed my mind."
"Oh no! You had a rude thought, and you're looking at me… What is it? Do I have a spot of sauce on my collar?" Their arms disengaged, and they started to loop between other couples.
"No!"
"Do I have something in my teeth?"
"No!"
"Well, you're laughing. You must be seeing something?"
"Can't you just leave my silly thoughts alone?"
"That's even worse than a rude thought. I'll take rude any day over silly!"
It didn't seem possible that he was laughing, and smiling. For Davy had managed it, but Kitty did not assume she would be capable of it.
"Oh no, I can't do this," Kitty fretted. The women paused and started to slowly tap and turn in place, without the men. All in a line. "I'm not exactly—"
"Don't think about the dress. Just turn." Kitty felt absolutely silly, trying to hold her own skirt and make the tapping revolutions. This was exactly where a full skirt would feel natural, but she attempted it, regardless whether he or any of his fellowmen laughed at her. As she made the full turn and faced him again, he and all the men were clapping to the beat of the tambourine. When their revolutions had completed, the men also did a little dance themselves, weaving between the women in their line, while the women stood clapping to the tambourine. Even the musicians themselves could not keep still and apart. The tambourines, on the outskirts of the main dancers, were also dancing. Upon recalling her family, Kitty observed both Jane and Charles, likewise, stumbling through but thoroughly enjoying themselves with their respective partners. She almost laughed at Signora Andreozzi, so enthusiastic and light on her feet, giving her skirt as much twirl as the younger ladies. As the song ended, she finished with a greater flourish and some sort of yell that sounded like brava.
Applause filled the common, and nothing but pure joy could be heard.
"I want to know," demanded Signore, as the clapping quieted. "What were you laughing at?"
"… Your hair," replied Kitty, blushing. "I was trying not to look at it, the way it bounces as you dance."
"Ah, my hair—what's the matter with it?"
"Oh nothing is wrong with it, but after you've been working in the gardens even half the day, you take off your hat, and you look like a mushroom."
"Do I now?"
"Are you happy now? I told you it was rude and silly. Now, you'll be cross and won't dance with me anymore."
"Not so fast, Katerina!" He reached out and grasped a hand before she could saunter away. "I really have been too easy on you. Ortiche, Pisello Dolce, a mushroom—I warn you. If you can be so liberal with your name-calling, then I ought to be allowed to exercise a little liberty."
"The other two, that's your own fault! You put the idea in my head, but I'll grant you, the mushroom was of my own origination. Of course, you can't be cross over that. You demanded to know what I was laughing at," argued Kitty. "Come on, Ortiche. Dance!"
"Our mama give him that name," explained Ilaria, who just approached and entered their conversation. "Not because he rude. Because of his hair. As a boy, she could never run comb through." To this, Kitty desperately wanted to laugh but feared, already, his sister had gone too far.
"I pity Signore Masin, Katerina. She was always a quarrelsome creature."
Without giving him an ear, she declared: "You dance beautiful, Katerina! You both dance again?"
"I suppose, but I don't wish to be tiresome," replied Kitty.
"Yes, you are very tiresome, but you dance very well," he agreed. Taking her hand, he guided her back into the foray, where the dancing commenced upon another song.
Just as it began, Kitty cried in disbelief. "Good Lord! How did he do that?"
"Beg your pardon?"
"Your cousin, Angello. Look!" Down, far down the row of dancers, they observed his cousin Angello: a young man who could not have been more than twenty, a bit shorter than the others, and a little scrawny, leading Miss Bingley to the row of dancers! "Either he's very persuasive, or she must've fallen on her head."
"I'm not surprised. Angello is a young, unmarried man. He's one I worry about sometimes; don't want him being too bold and familiar with families of our contractors."
"I see. Well, not to worry. Caroline will not let him make any advances, but I'm surprised he's managed to get her up to dance. Even then, she still looks her usual self, so imperious."
Just like she was, that first assembly they all met in Meryton, she looked quite above the company, and she thought herself more than a cut or two above them. While the women twirled their skirts, she made no effort to imitate them. Of course, she was graceful and kept in step with her partner and the other dancers, but it did not belong, did not suit. Caroline's movements reflected her taste and preference for the ballroom. It such a setting, that would look normal, but here, she was out of place, overdressed, and ridiculous. No other woman present was wearing a parure, except for the bride of the celebrated couple. And Ilaria's jewels were simple pearls.
"Wait until you dance with Angello," he teased. "He's a better dancer than me, but another ugly fellow to be sure."
"If he and your brother, Signore Tomasso, are ugly, then you're just as ugly."
"I never said I wasn't, Katerina. But I'd say I'm the least ugly."
"If you say so, ortiche." In her opinion, mushroom would've been more appropriate, but she'd not learned that word yet.
Kitty had the privilege of the hand of all Signore Andreozzi's fair brothers during the evening. Angello, in all eventuality, begged a dance from her, and by turns, she circulated through all the cousins, uncles, brothers-in-law, and some more distant relatives that did not bear the Andreozzi name. Tenants of the estate, likewise, summoned courage to try dancing, and enjoyed the evening exceedingly. Though it did not last so long as most balls, their dancing went on late. The tenants were offered to take the surplus of food from dinner, and any dessert that remained. While walking back, Charles led the ladies by a lantern. Marc and Niccolo almost insisted on walking them back, but he thanked them and declined. For most of their walk, up until the paths near the house, were unlit.
"What a delightful evening! And I've never been treated to such superior hospitality," declared Charles. "Jane, when we start sending out invitations to the first ball, what do you say? Let's have the Andreozzi family come."
"Charles!" gasped Caroline.
"I was going to suggest that myself," agreed Jane. "They certainly were under no obligation to have invited us to a special family occasion. I thought it very kind. I tried to offer some assistance when the women were gathering up the dishes, and that Signora Andreozzi almost took offense."
"Well, naturally Jane," said Caroline. "She should not expect you to wait on them. We're guests at their event."
"But they had no servants themselves. You can tell, a lot of the domestics are cared for by the women of the house."
"They're an admirable family," said Charles. Then, being recalled to earlier events, he began to laugh. "Good heavens, Signora Andreozzi. She is a fiery woman. No nonsense, she'll tolerate none. And what a dancer!"
"We quite enjoyed watching the pair of you," added Kitty. "Didn't we, Jane?"
It was talked over until they reached the terrace, where brighter lights waited and one of the maids met them, relieving them of shawls and pelisses. The lantern was left by the entrance.
"Aren't you two coming in?" asked Caroline.
"Actually, I think I'd like a walk," declared Charles. "I'm not too fatigued. Jane, would you like to join?"
"Charles, it's late for that!"
"I've been meaning to take a walk. I'd like to see some of the features of the gardens during the night hours."
"Aren't you going to take the lantern with you?" asked Kitty.
"We'll be fine," shrugged Jane. "It's a nice warm evening, after all. And full moon."
It struck both women at the door rather peculiar, but off went the married couple, back down the terrace, and into the hedgerows—no different than if it were noon. For though cool, the temperatures were beginning to feel more like summer. The idea of a stroll in the moonlight, by the fountain or even the waterfall, tickled Kitty's more romantic fancies. Of course, such things could never be permitted in courtships, but in marriage, what a wonderful, spontaneous notion, taking a walk in the moonlight…
"Did you enjoy yourself, Miss Bingley?"
"Tolerably."
"I saw you dance a couple dances. And the food was delightful, wasn't it?"
"It was an excellent meal, but the dancing was nothing extraordinary."
"On the contrary, I'd say. If anything was extraordinary, it was that you danced at all."
The sharp look was earned, and probably deserved. In the Andreozzi family, such remarks would've brushed off the shoulders or been teased in return. They began to walk down the hallway, towards the staircase.
"It's not my custom to use my dress for dancing. Dress is for covering, not for fanning like a peacock."
"Oh, don't put that image in my mind," giggled Kitty. "That's just too amusing. I won't be able to get it out of my mind."
"Can't you speak at all without lapsing in decorum?"
"I'm teasing you. Goodness! There's nothing wrong with their dancing. If we lived in Italy instead of England, that tradition would be quite the standard."
"You seem to be learning a lot about Italy these past weeks. Any particular reason why?"
"No. But it is practical in communicating with our contractors."
"If we lived in Italy, just like in England, you'd still be expected to contain your socializing to those of your own sphere. Signore Andreozzi has good manners, but the contractor and his family are, nevertheless, common society."
"There's much good to be said for common society, Miss Bingley. Regardless of one's country of birth."
"Your friendships with the Italian family are a bit close, don't you think? Why are they all calling you, Katerina? It should always be Miss or Signorina Bennet."
"The more you talk, the greater my desire for common society." Kitty reached the submit of the stairs and started to depart for her chambers, leaving Miss Bingley to separate to hers.
In her next diary entry, Caroline's last words were recalled.
" 'Be careful, Miss Kitty. I better not see what I believe I'm seeing.' She said no more but turned and departed for her chambers. I wonder what she meant by it. I didn't care to hear any explanation. For neither Charles or Jane would take her side in it, if she means to put a stop to my associations with the Italian family.
But that aside, I can honestly say, this night was the most fun, the most wonderful time I've ever had in my life. I don't believe I could've been as happy or enjoyed myself more, even if I were at Almack's in London. All previous occasions, even with the officers, were not to be compared. At first, I almost despaired for remembering all our old acquaintances from the –shire and their time in Meryton. Thankfully, Signore Andreozzi snapped me out of gloomy memories before I found myself lost. Upon my word, I do regret how I've misjudged him, just because I was foolish and reckless on first meeting the family. It's difficult to imagine why... For all his brothers and Ilaria are already married. Luciana, being unmarried, does not surprise me. She's a great flirt. Almost every farmer or son, anyone that appeared unattached at the gathering, she did not hesitate. But I cannot imagine why their eldest brother would not be married already. In spite of his salty temper and manners, his rough-edged exterior conceals a very cultured mind, a very respectable man. For even in the darkness, somewhat apart from the gathering at one point, he never offered an arm in politeness and stood far beyond arm's length. I thought it odd at first, but he's far more aware of his professional and personal situation to risk even the appearances of impropriety. If I'd had more of his mind, in my past experiences, I might have spared myself much embarrassment, with regards to Mr. Denny.
Cultured—I never really understood that before, when someone says of someone else: They are so cultured. It doesn't always follow that they are highly educated, or they went to this school or that, nor necessarily that they are clever. Though, I daresay, he's a clever man. But a man or woman of culture… It's a broad education, not narrow-minded. It's more about curiosity, appreciation for things that do not belong to you personally, admiration for others and the work of others without any connection to oneself. Cultured, in practice, seems to me is having good taste, but being able to appreciate high and low society—for a fact, viewing neither one as high or low.
It's after midnight now. I should be fatigued from the dinner party and all that dancing, but confess, I am not very tired. Jane and Charles suddenly decided to take a walk when we returned, and they're not even come in yet from the gardens, or wherever they walked off to anyway. One of the blooms from my orchid has dropped but two other buds are coming in on the same vine. Ilaria has given me more specifics on its maintenance… I wonder if Signore has ever given another girl an orchid before. Ilaria has never told me anything about another girl, and I hear no chatter from the family about a letter going back home to someone in particular… Overall, he seems a good man. Very full of nettles, certainly, but I think he takes some perverse liking to giving that impression to people. But I do not dislike him for it, not anymore. For it must say something of a man, to be so endeared to his family, and treat his own so… And he called me Katerina, just like the rest of the family. He made me feel like a different person. Tonight, I felt like we were all dining and dancing in Menaggio instead of Nottinghamshire. That's the family's home town, Menaggio."
I'll say this one was a fun one writing. I hope you enjoyed it.