To one guest reviewer, sorry let me clear up the confusion. Mary has not suffered with an ovarian cyst all this time. It's a fairly common problem, and women can have ovarian cysts without knowing it. It's just because they're so small and insignificant they go unnoticed. But I've had a couple in my life that have caused problems. It takes a little time to get over them. I've never had it so bad as women with PCOS, but I feel for them. So even though I'm talking about a 'mass or tumor' in the story, I'm unclear whether there was medical terminology that differentiated between cysts, tumors, fibroids, and such. I'm describing a cyst but it's not identifiable yet. And you're right, from what I've read, surgery at the time was dangerous. It could still be done, but there was a much higher risk. I can't say I'd entirely blame Mrs. Bennet's phobia of doctors knowing what some doctors did, even unintentionally, during this era. Of course, can't sympathize with prejudice, but her fear, yes.

But for the moment, back to Kitty and the Bingley family...

Chapter 13

It had now become common with the Andreozzi family and extended relations to expect the sister of the mistress of the house to come find and join them in whatever their current endeavour. Several of them reacted in surprise to hear Kitty testing her basic words and sentences. To which, all the men touched their hats as she walked by, and the women, young and old, either bowed or called out greeting to her. On this particular day, work was divided between three sets: filling in the trenches for the new drain works, setting new tiles on the bottom of the fountain, and the rest planting and pruning. Great attention had been given this depression in the ground, now being called the sunken garden. Ilaria briefly pointed to the various stonework that should serve to tier the fall of water. At this point, it was still difficult to picture, in part due to the language and in part the imagination. Just like the muscles in her legs and arms, only recently experiencing more strenuous exertion, the power of creative thought also was slowly being exerted and trained.

Acquaintance progressed slowly with Ilaria, but there was now better progress. Not long ago, Kitty happened to catch the glimmer of a gold band on one finger. She did not always wear it, no doubt for its own protection, but on the occasion, Kitty was able to ascertain between that detail and the title of signora that Ilaria was a married woman—Signora Masin. She introduced her husband on that occasion, who was lifting a granite slab at the time. A bit shorter than Kitty might've expected, but an inch taller than his wife, but of all the crew, as Signore Andreozzi vouched, one of the strongest. With dark brown hair, a trimmed mustache, and dense build, Kitty was not surprised, and it pleased her, that her dear friend should have such a handsome man. Judging also, between the look of brother and sister, Ilaria was a younger sister, but not the youngest, ever more intriguing. Only now did Kitty finally find herself able to finish their earlier conversation.

"Quanti fratelli e sorelle?" How many brothers and sisters.

"Sette," answered Ilaria. When Kitty's face wrinkled, trying to decipher the number, the young woman smiled and held up her answer with fingers. Seven! "Sì. Cinque fratelli, io, mia sorella." To her scattered siblings across the sunken area, she pointed them out, starting with Signore Andreozzi: "Paolo… Tomasso… Marc… Niccolo… Massim… Luciana." There was a note of emphasis on her sister. "Il più giovane. Quella carina. Le affidiamo l'acqua ma nient'altro… The most young one. She bring us water. She do nothing else."

Kitty observed the aforementioned young girl, scarcely more than eighteen by her appearance. She sat on the grass atop the hill, with a pouting bored face resting on her fist. Her hair hung loose, while the other women tried their best to keep theirs closely tied up into their scarves. If she was a worker like them, she'd be keeping her hair up to keep cool. Obviously, she did not work, and did not seem to care. Looking lazily about, she suddenly jumped and became startled by a nearby bee. Noisily and frantically, her apron swung round repeatedly trying to shoo off its curiosity. In the process, she accidentally kicked over the bucket of water that had been beside her, so indifferently guarded. At this display, one of the older women, one of the aunts, began scolding Luciana.

Ilaria laughed. "Quella è mia sorella. Quello dolce. Quella carina. Il bambino di mia madre." This last remark was made with a sardonic, mocking, sympathetic pout, topped off with a roll of the eyes.

"I don't understand all you said… but I understand perfectly. Sì, capisco perfettamente."

The younger sister, the sweet one, the pretty one, and mother's baby, which would make Ilaria the second to youngest. The youngest but one. And yet, despite the bickering and terse tones in everyone's conversation at times, they were bound by more than kinship and occupation. More often than not, one could hear laughter amongst them. Sometimes, the voices of the older women could be heard far into the meadows on a still, bright day. They did not sing loud, but it traveled far. Even when Kitty had retired to her chambers and prepared to dress for dinner, she might open her window and hear the old women and their Italian folk songs. Every so often, the rest of the family might join in. The men were not immune to the lilting voices and jolly intonation. Did all their countrymen do likewise, working in their fields and vineyards? Could a stranger walk through the rows of grapes or the olive groves, hearing and dancing to the music of their ancestry?

"Buongiorno!" Signore Andreozzi approached the two women, working diligently grooming the hedge trees. It didn't take a great deal of training, but a little instruction from Ilaria helped Kitty shape her hedges.

"Buongiorno, Signore!" Kitty responded. She did not turn round though, but kept up the clipping. Both he and Ilaria said something or other to one another. He withdrew another pair of hand pruners from a pocket, and begun work on the neighbouring hedge tree. Brother and sister spoke a moment or two in confidence before attention was turned to signorina.

"You're out here early."

"I was ready early."

"I wouldn't trim anymore on that one," he advised. Pointing to the hedge on his left, he asked: "Want to jump over to this one?"

"I suppose so."

"… Goodness!"

"What is it?"

"It's just a tree. Must you be so violent?" he protested. "Just shave off little by little."

"That's slower."

"You keep going like this, this poor thing will be bald."

"Do you have to be Ortiche today?"

"I'll take those pruning shears away from you."

"Leave her be," defended Ilaria. "Non va tutto bene. Triste."

"Ah…" Signore turned back towards Kitty. Instead of keeping up with his hedge, he started working alongside her own hedge. "Cosa c'è che non va?"

"What does that mean?"

"What's the matter? My sister says you are sad."

"Oh… I'm not sad."

"Are you?"

"No… Perhaps troubled, I'll say."

"Hmm, what troubles you, signorina?"

"I don't know if I ought to, but I've no one else to talk to about it. Miss Bingley is no friend of my family. I couldn't trust her." He neither encouraged or attempted to dissuade confidence. With the debate of a minute, Kitty decided for herself. "Well, I quit breakfast early. My sister and her husband were about to have a quarrel. I could just tell… I… Well, it was neither of their fault. It's my mother's fault. She wrote a letter, and Jane just received it this morning. She was very wrong about what she said, and Mr. Bingley was upset for what our mother said to Jane. He felt so strongly he wished to write her back himself. Jane begged him not to, and they each were disagreeing and… What are you laughing at? Signore Andreozzi, I don't find this situation at all humourous."

"I beg your pardon," he mumbled, stifling the laughter under his breath.

"It's not funny! I'm very troubled by it. Jane is not the sort of person to ever quarrel with anyone, and Mr. Bingley is such an amiable man."

"Forgive me, signorina. I am not laughing about it, but I can't help laughing at you. In case you're not familiar with the marital state, and you do not have to be married to know this, but vexation, quarreling, disagreeing are all very normal behaviours."

"It's not normal for my sister," protested Kitty. "Nor Charles. For they've never had a quarrel like this before."

"Now, I'm sure that is far from true. You've never observed them quarrel; that does not mean they never do. Well, so what if they do quarrel? If they're so kind, complying, and good-hearted, they'll get over it and forgive each other."

"Well, that's only part of it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. If I must confess feeling anything, I'm also very angry with my sister."

"With Mrs. Bingley?"

"No. My sister, Lydia. And my mother too. What Jane and Charles do for Lydia and her family, to help them, really is no business of my mother's! Lydia, that is my youngest sister, wrote to my sister almost a week ago. She had the audacity to ask Jane for more money, supposedly to hire a new servant. But Lydia is… Our sister is a conniving creature. I hate to speak ill of my own flesh and blood, but it's sadly true. She wanted to get married before any of us, and she got herself married. She wanted Mr. Wickham, and she succeeded. Now they live somewhere here in the north. He's an ensign with the regulars. They're always in want of money. They're always asking Jane or our sister, Lizzy. Well, apparently Jane's last letter was not satisfactory to her, so she goes and writes to our mother about it. So typical of Lydia! If she can't incite the guilt of my sisters, she'll get my mother to try and shame them into it. Well, I agree with Charles! I don't think they should give into her for anything… I have no sympathy for her! She's married to a man just like her, and sadly enough, her two little girls will probably grow up just like them."

"Hmm… If you ask me, I'd say they have good reason to quarrel. Perhaps, it will do your sister, Mrs. Bingley, a world of good."

"Do her good? What is so good about a quarrel?"

"It's a relief for her feelings. And Mr. Bingley too. You must remember, quarrels doesn't necessarily indicate a husband and wife's feelings for one another. It doesn't mean they hate each other. They're just angry. It's human nature to be angry about something else, and in our confusion, we turn and snap at an innocent victim. It's also human nature to be angry with your loved one, but still love them."

"Just like you do?"

"Foremost offender," he retorted. "Of course, I do! Who doesn't?"

"… I just don't like seeing quarrels. I don't like being in a room when two people are angry with each other… Of course, it's unavoidable in a family. But Jane was never that way. She was nothing like our mother and father. Endlessly patient. Even when our mother was just so tiresome saying 'do this' and 'you must do this, Jane', even when Lydia just insults her openly… she was the epitome of goodness. And she was so brave about it too! In such cases like that, I could not be so brave as her, turn the other cheek, swallow pride to keep peace… As you've seen, I can be a quarrelsome creature myself. It distresses me that our mother and sister have finally worn her out."

"That is a predicament," he agreed, nodding, keeping up his trimming. "I do not know your sister Jane so well, and while she seems to me, a lovely and generous person, nobody should expect her to be an angel. Judging from your observations, I'd say this was a long time coming. Everyone has their limits to tolerance. Instead of expecting her to hold to an image of perfection, give her some credit for honestly expressing her feelings for a change."

"I suppose so. I'd like to help them if I could—"

"Oh no, no, no! Miss Bennet, no! Trying to interfere in a marital dispute, you might as well stick your hand in the fire."

"Well, if there's something or somebody that could help the Bingleys, it would be Caroline. Charles' sister. If she's not happy here, I'd like to tell her she can go make her home elsewhere. Lydia is really only half the problem here. Caroline is the other half."

"Hmm, that bad, is she?"

"Well, she's been tolerable lately, almost civil. But she's an insolent, spoiled girl. I'll put up with Lydia any day over her! My conniving sister over her—now that says a great deal."

"You may say what you like, signorina. Of course, in my position, it's not my place to speak ill of superiors. No use bringing trouble."

"Even if you did, do not worry. I shan't tell either. And I must set you straight on one thing: Miss Bingley is vastly everyone's inferior, especially yours and Illaria's and all your family… Beg your pardon. I must sound rather spiteful and conceited today."

"Well, you have a way to relieve your own feelings."

Kitty shrugged and smiled at the hedge. "I guess it is a relief. I don't speak like this to everyone… You know, I never knew your name was Paolo."

"Immaterial, don't you think?"

"Though I think ortiche suits you well."

"If you mean that as a witty dig, you'll be disappointed. I've been called that and worse for many years. I didn't rise in my profession by being a sweat pea… Well, I'm glad that's cheered you up, but why do you laugh so hard? It's not that funny."

Kitty was leaning into the hedge, desperately trying not to show it, with contained tears. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, no. That is… You? No sweat pea, you say?"

"Of course. And proud of it!"

"Well, I'll keep that in mind, signore. If I really wish to annoy you, call you a sweat pea."

"Now if you're going to take that attitude with me, you're banned from all further work with us in the gardens." This threat apparently held no weight, for Kitty laughed like she had not laughed in a long time. "I mean it."

"Very well, very well, be ortiche as always!" retorted Kitty.

"Now, that's better! This side looks decent, so just finish that side." He moved from the other side of the hedge, onto the next tree. "So what are you curious about my name for?"

"I'm not. Ilaria told me, and named all her siblings in succession."

"Fairly common name back home. Nothing special I'm sure. I'm sure your name is nothing special… What were you christened?"

"That is true. Nothing special… It's Katherine, K not a C. But all the family and most people call me Kitty."

"Hmmm, Kitty…"

"All well and good but I don't know if I want to be called Kitty at sixty years old. I feel like I've outgrown such a pet name, but I do not like Katherine."

"Really? What's wrong with Katherine?"

"It's long… It's formal, imperious… My mother said I was named after a queen, except for the change of spelling. But that queen was the first wife of Henry XIII: the wife that was disappointing and dismissed from favour. Our father has read some of their history to us... I don't really want to be Kitty forever, but I'd prefer that over Katherine."

"Back in our country," said Ilaria, "we have no Katherine."

"She's right," agreed signore. "That is, we do have it, but it's pronounced differently. Katerina."

"Really?" Kitty's eyes widened. She'd never heard such a name before, even if it sounded but slightly altered. The sound of it. "Say it again."

He smiled, looked at her. "Katerina."

"… I like it."

"Well, what does it matter? We can't call you Katerina; you're the sister of the mistress. We, as contractors, don't take liberties with superiors. Sometimes, even when the master of the house authorizes social liberties, it's best to proceed with caution; for anybody can simply change their mind."

"What about out here? No master or mistress of the house, no social conventions, just—What if we were in Italy? Could you or Ilaria, could anyone of the family call me Katerina?"

He chuckled, with a shaken head. "I like how your accent suddenly changes when you get to the name. It's adorable, trying to be Italian."

"Answer the question, signore," bid Kitty, narrow-eyed, returning his condescending smile.

"No."

"I call you Katerina," said Ilaria, "if you wish."

"Thank you." More snipping, more trimmed bushy fingers fell from the hedge.

More firmly than friendly now, Signore Andreozzi reaffirmed: "Signorina, you know I cannot do so, and should not. Whatever you may think of our country, we still address women properly: signora or signorina."

"Then, let it be Miss or Signorina Katerina, whichever you please. For I'm really not called Miss Bennet. I have an older sister who bears that title."

"Very pert and stubborn, aren't you? Why do you care?"

"Or if you insist on formality, I'll insist on Signore sweat pea then."

This caused a bit of a growl in the throat, uttered with some unintelligible Italian frustrations. His sister certainly appreciated the humour more so. "Fine!" he consented. "Miss Katerina, then. But only out here in the garden. In the house, in public, it's Miss Bennet."

"That sounds like a fair compromise."

"Tell me, though, why does it matter what we call you?"

"… Maybe I like the sound of Katerina." There was no uncertainty about her liking it. "It sounds more grown up. More romantic."

"Dio nel cielo. Romantic? Must you?"

"I like it, Paolo! You should," insisted Ilaria. "No matter. I will, Katerina. We are woman."

"True."

"Do I say it right?"

"Not quite, but I understand. How is my Italian?"

With a staggered tongue: "You have work to do." The both laughed at each other's ignorance, easier done with equality. With a few minutes, left alone and without further teasing, the ruffled signore also had his ruffled feathers smoothed. For it was plain to see now that his vexation was a matter of amusement to the English foreigner. As long as she was allowed to pretend herself to be one of their equals, abominable pet names were not uttered. Before long, this conversation and its result circulated through the family. Everyone from Signora Andreozzi, his mother to little Luciana was taking to the English girl's new Italian name. Of course, the men, fortunately, held to Signore's example by calling her Miss Katerina. There was some nervousness, whether his younger, unmarried cousins would be more forward; for if any were not inclined to do so out of propriety, they did so out of fear and respect of their own direct superiors.

Quite contrary to novels read in the past, Kitty's honour was in no more danger with Italians than amongst English gentlemen in a ball room. Though their women worked, it was seen with admiration what respect and courtesy they were treated. Certainly a way of life and a culture in which she was the foreigner. When old Signora Andreozzi or one of her sisters grew a little tired in their tasks or standing on their feet, Signore, or any one of his brothers, were quick to sit them down comfortably or else walk them back to the cottages where they currently lodged on the estate. And anybody like Luciana, the indolent, indifferent person with a distaste for work, was given less respect than someone who pulled their weight. In this world, in such a family as this, her own sister Lydia would receive no sympathy from her mother; she'd be passed the bucket and sent to the wells or river to draw water for everyone else. Everyone in the family deserved what lot they choose. Fair is not always equal, and equal is not always fair. If Mrs. Bennet had ever understood that concept, Jane and Lizzy would not have to bear harassment, and Lydia would've learned her lesson long ago.

Just when the fountain was nearly assembled to completion, Kitty was found by Mr. Bingley. He, too, had come ready for work in the garden, sun hat, gloves, and all. But before anything, Kitty was taken aside into one of the hedgerows.

"I want to apologize to you, Kitty, for what happened in the dining room."

"It's alright, Charles—"

"No, it's not alright. There was no account for me losing my temper. I was rather upset about the letter from your mother, and my concern for Jane was meant kindly. Neither she or the Darcys should have to put up with that. I was very upset, and I only wish to set Mrs. Bennet right."

"Of course—But I do agree with you. Please, don't listen to our mother. I love her too, but she's wrong!"

"Now Kitty, calm now. Jane will actually be joining us shortly. Once we've both had a chance to do a little work, clear our heads, we'll handle the matter."

"I am glad to hear that."

"Hopefully, I did not make you too uncomfortable."

"If anything, Jane rather shocked me more than you did," she confessed timidly.

"I'm sure she's frustrated, for good reason, especially in regards to what she said of Caroline. We're not blind to both our families' faults, Kitty. I'm doing my best to address Caroline's behaviour. It's a difficult balance between love and duty. When we were first married, neither Caroline or Louisa were welcome at Netherfield for a time… I hope that my sister has not been treating you ill."

"Well… I can't say we are friends, or ever will be friends. I've tried. But do not concern yourself. I can take care of myself with regards to her, I assure you."

"Please tell me, though, if anything is amiss. You will, won't you?"

"I did, once, observe her being unduly harsh with Davy's nurse. She can't do anything to injure me, so I don't complain for myself. But she knows, I'll defend others, if I catch her out."

Charles nodded sadly. "Thank you, Kitty. For being so patient, and so tolerant. But next time, if anything like that should happen again, come straight to me. Understood?"

"Yes sir… Does Caroline—perhaps I'm being impertinent, but why does she treat you all so? Why does she stay here if she's miserable, and make you both so?"

"She's not always been this way. When we were all younger, very young, before being sent off to school, the three of us actually got along quite well… I wish I knew, Kitty. If there were something I could do that would make her happy, I'd gladly try. But lately, she's not happy anywhere. Both she and Louisa have remained much closer, until recently, and now she won't even talk to her. She won't confide in me or Jane about it… I almost wonder." Then, hesitation.

"You wonder?"

"I almost wonder—if it's possible that even Caroline doesn't understand what's troubling her."

As neither one wished to dwell on it, Charles and Kitty rejoined the workers. Jane came some ten minutes later. Earlier tensions between them had all disappeared, as predicted by Signore Andreozzi, resolving the crisis without indication of real injury to each other. The garden was rosy once more, except for the thorns living amongst them all. Suddenly, one of the younger brothers, Niccolo, shouted out for attention. All the family eagerly looked towards him, and towards something nobody could see from the sunken garden. Ilaria bid the three of them to follow.

"It is ready!" she proclaimed. "Ready to turn on."

"What is?"

"La fontana!"

Niccolo, a long-haired and bushy fellow of medium height, summoned the three, while other members of the family paused in their current task. All hope and sorrow seem to lay with a metal wheel, connected to the ground, none other than the pump. In his sweetest, broken English, he asked who should like to turn the pump. After some short debate, Jane volunteered, knelt down, and gave her greatest effort. Though it had replaced the old rusted pump, it still did not give easily. Before her husband could bend down to assist, Kitty threw herself down beside Jane. It did not turn at first, but finally, with their combined strength, the pump wheel loosened. They turned slowly until Niccolo called for: "Fermare!" One of Kitty's basic words already learned in her studies, she bid Jane to stop at half a little over half a turn.

Nothing happened, for a moment. Everyone waited in silence, staring into the air, as if the sound might be seen instead of heard. Then came a low rumble from the ground, which grew as loud as a groan, and burst hissing from the fountain! While Charles assisted the ladies to their feet, they watched in awe as the water from each spout, hissed, sputtered, and began to form into mists and showers. Through the Andreozzi family, their voices raised in celebration. For it wouldn't be the last fountain to need repair on the estate; neither was this the very first or the last in all their careers. Just that it was completed finally, with much labour, deserved the applause.

"Congratulations! Well done!" Charles called back to Signore Andreozzi. "What do you think, Jane? Kitty?"

"Oh Charles, it's spectacular!"

"Shall we shut it off yet?" asked Kitty.

"Oh no, no, let it run!"

"You shall not be saving it for entertaining?"

"Of course not. Kitty, all these improvements are for our enjoyment, not for dazzling visitors. Just imagine, as it gets warmer, you and Davy may come down here and splash about the pool, cool yourselves down."

"Really?" laughed Kitty. "I was never invited to splash in a fountain. It was never a proper thing."

"It's one of the naughty things we used to do as children," shrugged Charles. "Signore Andreozzi, I am very impressed with your work. You brought this about all so quickly, almost without trouble, though I'm sure it was a lot of trouble."

"I work hard, Mr. Bingley, but my family works the hardest. I like your choice. It certainly reflects the spirit of the Renaissance. The young man, styled like a Greek, looks like a god ready to strike but absent of common exaggerations of divinity."

"What is he supposed to be doing?"

"It's a sculptor's lesser replication," explained Signore Andreozzi, "of the statue of David. The real statue was merely a standing figure, very serene looking. This sculptor, a colleague of mine from Genoa, likes to mimic Michelangelo. He's not very imaginative, but he's popular… You see the sling, signorina?"

"Oh yes! Like King David, I see!"

"I can understand why he's popular," remarked Charles, shaking his head. "Whether it's like the original or not, he's a talented man, your friend… Signore Andreozzi, my wife and I have been talking, and as you and your family have done such great work thus far, we'd enjoy it very much if you'd dine with us tomorrow evening. I already have an engagement this evening, but we'd be honoured."

This certainly raised eyebrows for Signore Andreozzi, one who did not believe in taking liberties. Kitty watched the reactions interested. How would he behave with an invitation?

"Thank you very much, Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Bingley. I'm honoured, but my family already have arrangements made for tomorrow… I should probably explain. Tomorrow, it's my sister's and her husband's wedding anniversary."

"Oh, how delightful! Well, of course," declared Jane, "you mustn't forsake them. We'll have dinner on another night."

"… Of course," he shrugged, pondered, pursing the lip, "I also had the thought. Would your family like to join us for dinner? It's certainly a different style… much simpler arrangements, down at our cottages, but there's plenty room for guests. And my mother, my sisters, my brother's wives, they cook enough to feed an army."

"We shouldn't like to intrude, signore. But if your mother and your family will not mind us as additions—"

"No, no, not at all! Ilaria should be very pleased too, if you come, signorina."

"If it gives her pleasure, I'd be glad to!"

It was settled quickly. Signore Andreozzi communicated the new development to his sister, to which, she also testified to the truth of his statement: the Bingley family would be most welcome to join in the celebration. The couple were not about to protest too much, but in the face of such enthusiasm and Kitty's raptures at the invitation, nobody was truly inclined to refuse.

Just as a side note, with no significance, probably my favorite OC,in Kitty's realm, that I've been writing so far is Ilaria. It's just a lot of fun, the funny bickering and bantering between her and her brother. Mary is in a much bigger pond. It's a been more of a challenge to develop the OCs in Mary's realm when there's so much plot going on with her. I don't want to minimize or rush her time. I'm a few chapters ahead, and I feel like that's improving bit by bit. I don't know. Do you have a favorite OC? Really like them? hate them?

To r1965rd: Probably not what you were wanting in this chapter, but I'm getting to that slowly, with Jane, Lydia, Caroline (that whole triangle).

To the other guest reviewer: I thought your comments were innovative, make both families go on strike against the Wickhams, make this Mr. and Mrs. Bennet's problem. But you are correct, Jane Austen didn't write these characters that way. (I laughed at your description of constipated.) Going back to topics and reviewers from earlier chapters, I'll venture a possibility. Jane's poor ability to communicate effectively, especially under pressure and tension, I say could also be the faulty upbringing of her parents. She wasn't badly treated like Mary or Kitty, or even Lizzy from her mother at times. But having to live in that tense atmosphere, with dysfunctional communication between her parents, all their arguments, can sometimes make kids adverse to confrontation. She was also set up, as firstborn and the 'beauty of the family,' to set a high standard for all her younger sisters. Even Lizzy, sometimes, viewed her as an angelic ideal, which probably didn't do her any favors. So, not trying to break her from character, but just give her a chance to be human.