Chapter 21

When she looked out her window, seeing Davy and his nurse frolicking about the fountain and the orange trees, Kitty joined them instead of the others at breakfast. Her head ached after a very restless night of sleep. Though no little boy of two would understand such unpleasant physical sensations, his company was a balm to weariness. His nurse kept him more or less distracted by play. They were running between the hedgerows and the pots of orange trees. She'd hide a few seconds, until he ventured close enough, and out she popped, to his giddy surprise. She would run again, he would chase her, she would hide again… Had she been in better spirits, Kitty would've gladly folded up and cast aside her parasol to join them. While her body and heart weighed so heavy, the heart found light and tranquility on her stone bench, tucked a little out of sight, watching the cascade of the fountain.

Perhaps there was good reason the rich spent good money on procuring water, or going anywhere water was to be had. The ancient patriarchs in the desert had a great source of wealth with the possession of a well, as well as life. For it was death without it. Here at home, in her own world, society held a very high regard for Bath—on account of the waters, the health benefits. How many families, during the summer, made a pilgrimage to the seaside on holiday? Whether for sea-bathing, for sport, or the simple pleasure of walking barefoot in the wet sands, the gentle lap of the surf... Where was all business of importing and war conducted but at the seaports? Where did these goods come from? Over days and months of a journey over water. What made these great houses desirable? If a gentleman had a stream running through his property, he had rights to fishing. What purpose did fountains serve? If one did not have a stream or a lake or ocean to look upon, it offered a spectacle, to arrest the eye by the beauty of an arching shower. Mesmerizing, constant, and peaceful…

She needed peace, for all that her night's slumber failed to offer. Several times, during the tossing and turning of early hours, she longed to sit up, light her candle, and turn over and talk to one sister. Lydia. Kitty sought her, not so much for her ability to comfort and console, as she never really excelled in that regard. That station firmly belonged to Mary now. To Jane or Lizzy, she could turn for advice, but this was beyond Jane's grasp. Lizzy would fight for Jane, gladly, but she could never compel Jane to fight for herself. Jane and Lizzy always argued their point with persuasive reason; reason will not work here, not with Miss Bingley.

Early in the morning, she recalled the events of last night. "Lydia herself is a liar. She always got her way with our mother, and she always gloated when she did. But I will say one thing for my sister. Lydia was never so malicious, to derive pleasure from the pain and expense of others… Those were real tears in her eyes, so easily dried and smoothed over as soon as Jane left the room! She is not the least sorry. She played her! She accused Jane and Charles of cruel treatment! She confessed to Jane, all about London and Miss Darcy, that she had, indeed, lied to her! Lied out of jealousy for her brother's affection? She cannot go north to her family, cannot go back to Louisa because everyone is cruel, except Charles and Jane: what absurdity! And Jane knows it! Every time Jane tried to pin down her blame to the incident yesterday, Caroline talked herself out of any accountability, kept up her ridiculous sobbing, and kept pressing for Jane for the return of her riding privileges. I hope that Jane will do no such thing! Seeing what I saw between them at the bridge yesterday, and Charles' great anger after the pigs escaped, I am not inclined to believe they will give into her. Jane already had similar thoughts yesterday… I am worried for her."

She had a thought of going to the stables, waiting and knowing what would happen next. Would they give into her, or would Caroline be so audacious as to disobey? If she did by chance encounter the woman, Kitty felt she would not be responsible for her actions. Even last night, she fought the urge herself, to burst into Miss Bingley's chambers, and… do what? Throw the wash water on her? Take the ink pot from her desk, empty it on every gown in her wardrobe? Slap her? All were thrown out as not good enough and rejected for their own absurdity. Any such actions would bring consequences, on herself and on Jane. Kitty also considered seeking out Charles, in a private moment, to inform him of all that passed. He would not countenance it. He would most certainly take her word and his wife's over his devious sister. What would follow? What if Miss Bingley were turned from the house? She would have no choice but to return to someone… What if Louisa would not have her? What if her relatives in the north will not welcome her? Despite Jane's sympathetic revelations that Caroline had not many friends, Kitty also saw the lists of names, and the number of potential guests that she wished to invite for the ball. These couldn't simply be passing acquaintances…

Kitty shuddered. It was easy to tell Jane what she ought to do, what she ought not to tolerate. Throwing this girl out of the house was not the end of matters. She imprisoned everyone around her. For this reason, for the first time since her marriage, Kitty longed to confide in Lydia, to have her there… In the face of insult, perhaps there was some virtue in being too thoughtless to care, too indifferent to take it personally. Astonishing! One good quality that she'd come to appreciate in Lydia.

"Katerina?"

"Ilaria!"

The woman dipped a curtsy at her approach. She seemed a little tired, and more somber than usual. "Paolo thought I find you here. If you want to come, we are all to the south."

A sigh moved through Kitty, urging her up from her seat. She'd already come dressed for work in the garden, along with her sun hat. A little time alone desperately needed had done its work, and now, the sudden longing for happier companions made her spring to follow Ilaria. She was indeed, not so lively, but nothing in her demeanor told Kitty that she was cross or out of spirits. They spoke only a little in the lanes and on the general path. Perhaps it was too early in the day for their energies to attempt conversation in English or Italian. By the time they'd both caught up, the Andreozzi family was laying more gravel for paths, as well as stone-cut tiles. Signore Andreozzi was found already beginning a diverging walkway from the main path.

"Buongiorno signorina."

"Buongiorno… Is this where we are to start today?"

"Don't be so enthusiastic." Ilaria made her way to the carts and the gravel, leaving Kitty to her brother's interrogations. For it would seem that both were in the same mood. "What's the matter? Why the long face?"

"Are there any shrubs to be planted?"

"Once we work our way west. Why?"

"If you'll let me have one of the shrubs from the cart, I'll start on planting those."

"But we've not even dug the holes yet, Katerina."

"I'll dig the holes. Just tell me where you want them, and I'll dig."

"Alright, alright… Here, here's a smaller one, which should work for your height."

"Now, so that I do not make a mess, where shall I be putting the holes?"

"You see all that thicket over there? And you see all my little flags? You'll take one flag out, dig about three down, move onto the next one."

"Perfect! I shall have it done swiftly."

She set to the task, which put her several yards away from the main path. They weren't far away from the beehives, but they were settled far enough away that Kitty did not hear the constant hum. Why this little path? What did it lead to, except to a small patch of meadow near the marsh? A pleasant little corner of the estate. Eventually, as long as the seasons and the earth worked in harmony, this little courtyard or whatever it was supposed to be would thickly overgrown by box hedge and lavender in a short matter of time.

"I don't believe I need ask," he began. He'd managed to find his own shovel, took up the nearest flag, and began his own hole. "Based on what we all witnessed yesterday, I imagine the situation in the house is rather an uncomfortable one… It's none of my affair, and you do not have to talk of it. But, if it will do you good, I will listen."

"I almost wouldn't know where to begin, honestly."

"Well, from what I saw, it's probably safe to say you are not alone in your feelings. Mr. Bingley has good reason to be angry."

"… Yesterday was certainly nothing pleasurable, to anybody. The afternoon was absolutely disastrous, and the evening… the evening was wretched."

"Slow down a bit. You had a long ride yesterday. Don't tire yourself by tearing the ground ferociously… Your feelings for Mr. Bingley do you credit—"

"Signore Andreozzi, you are from a large family. You're the eldest of seven siblings, and they all have families. Your cousins all have families. Your uncles and aunts… I… This will sound rather an odd question. I'm not suggesting that any of them would do such things as… Well, Signore, have you ever had a family member or close friend… lie to you?"

"Yes."

"Not little, naughty things, though; not like you stole sweets as a child, or stole money off the plate when it was passed. I mean, have you ever been betrayed by someone you trusted? And not unintentionally, but they did so deliberately and felt no shame that they did so?"

"… Is Miss Bingley spreading lies about you?" His voice bristled.

"N-No. Well, as far as I know, she has not, but I wouldn't put it passed her now. As if what happened at the tenants' cottages wasn't bad enough, what she said to my sister last night was abominable… I'll admit, I did a childish thing to stand by a closed door and overhear a private conversation, between Jane and Miss Bingley. She… She was crying the whole time, accusing Jane and Charles of being so cruel to her. How could they treat her so, especially when all the rest of the family has treated her so badly? She begged Jane to intercede, to let her have her horse back and go out riding again. Jane kept resisting her, kept trying to put her right. Any argument she tried to make, every effort at reason was absolutely pointless! I watched Jane leave in such agitation. When I peaked in on Miss Bingley, just a hair's breadth opening through the door, she was perfectly serene, dried off her tears like she were putting powder to her face… I never saw a better actress, and I was so disturbed by it that I could scarcely sleep."

"That grieves me, indeed."

"Do you remember that bridge up above the falls, up in the grove? We found out yesterday, during our riding, that Caroline would ride over that bridge every day. Everyday since she's been here! And Charles has told her, every one of us, to keep off it. Jane insisted she refrain, and she did it anyway! And… Well, I must say, and please forgive me, for I did not wish it. While Jane insisted on crossing the river by a safer route, Mr. Murray crossed over and escorted me across the bridge too."

"What?"

"I know what you told Mr. Bingley. I know the importance of it. I'm really sorry. I had no real say in the matter—"

"I'm not angry at you, but knowing this, I shall speak to Mr. Bingley about it."

Kitty turned terrified, away from her digging. "Oh please, don't be angry with him. He has been dutiful and warned us diligently. Caroline Bingley is the one at fault—"

"I'm not angry with him. But this does very much concern me. As I told you once before, if our working conditions pose any hazards to the family, or if I neglect to warn of these hazards, we are legally held liable for injury or death… That... stupid, stupid girl!" He plunged his shovel back into the ground. "I'm going to speak to Mr. Bingley today. If he or Mrs. Bingley relent and let her go on riding, I'm packing up the family and leave today! Our contract, null and void."

With a shock, like a plunge into ice water, Kitty heard this declaration, with no doubt of the integrity of his intention. Leave? The whole family? No! They couldn't possibly, but in such a case, what was there she could possibly do to stop them?

"Y-You wouldn't really, will you?" Kitty muttered.

"I'll do what I must, to protect my family. We do good work. This is our livelihood. My grandfather, my own father and his brothers, between all of us, we've build a good reputation, which took years. I'm not about to let it be tarnished by a lawsuit, because Miss Bingley fails to abide by our terms of contract. And you give me good reason to be afraid, that she is so adept at deception. If she suffers some accident, then she'll not scruple to take us and her injuries to court."

"Well, I cannot blame you in the least…"

"Forgive me. I do not mean any ill-will towards your family."

"No. I know. You have every right to be upset… I should hate to think that such an unworthy person would rob you and your family of the compensation you deserve."

"Let me tell you something, Katerina. Look at me… I'm sure your brother-in-law and your sister are looking after you. But if there any slanders, if Miss Bingley is doing you harm and it goes unchecked, I… Of course, I cannot really do anything to protect you, unfortunately. But I will not tolerate it. I will not work for a man who cannot treat his family fairly. If that does not change, I will void the contract for that."

"Can you really do that? I can understand your other terms, but—"

"It will hurt me a little, but it will not make Mr. Bingley look good as a man of business. Now, I do not want that. I think him a decent man. But your sister deserves better than that. You both deserve to be treated with dignity and respect."

"… Thank you. That is… I'm sorry." Kitty turned her face the opposite way, trying not to let the tears and the crumbled distortion of her face show. For no one had ever said that before. It was overwhelming, but with it, also came an flooding sense of relief. Signore Andreozzi passed over a clean handkerchief. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to…" she sniffled. "I hate crying. I feel like I should be better than that by now."

"Foolishness. These are tears of strength."

"What do you mean? I don't feel strong... I feel like I am just useless in the face of all this."

"You're crying because you're feeling the pain of others. That is not weakness. That stems from the depths of strong feeling… You have something valuable to offer that your sister is in desperate need of, think of that."

"What… What is that?"

"You don't see your sister as all your family does, not anymore. She's no angel, is she? She's flesh and blood like all of us. You have opened eyes; your empathy could be a real source of help, to both of them."

"Me? Help them? Help my older sister?" Kitty swiped the handkerchief across her cheek once more, and cleared any remaining tears from the nose. "That's a little hard to believe. It's even just hard to picture, a little sister being help to an older sister."

"Yes," he insisted. "There is a saying: not by age, but by capacity, is wisdom acquired. Have you ever heard that? Sometimes, in the face of life's trials, it takes a younger, brighter one to see clearly what the older ones cannot see. It's these brash and bright-eyed ones that knock sense into the older heads around them. Just ask my sister, any one of my brothers. If my mother told me I was wrong, I didn't always care, but that was me, at fifteen—a bit of a brat. But if my brothers or sisters told me I was wrong, oh, that really hurt. But they were the ones that taught me a lesson. Just ask Ilaria."

"Ask me what?" she said.

"Am I a brat? Marmocchio?"

"Of course," she shrugged.

"You see! As the eldest of my own siblings, I speak from experience, you come into the world thinking because you figure out the world first, that you are smarter. Now, the problem with that, you walk around knowing everyone is thinking: you need to be the smart one, the one who knows it all, does the right thing, says the right thing, all the time. 'You should know better, you're the older one.' Ever had that said to you?"

"Oh yes! I was the fourth of five, but I still had that one."

"It's been my mother's favourite weapon. 'You should know better!' 'You come when I call for dinner. Nobody eats until you start…' 'How is it all your brothers, your sister, all get married before you? It's not that hard. How about I get Niccolo or Massim to find you a wife.' She would pick my two youngest brothers."

"I am very sorry for such misfortune, especially having your own prospects compared with the younger."

His head shook, as if to clear the head. "Forgive me, that was distracted. My point, Katerina, you are younger, less experienced, true. But having your support may mean a great deal to your sister, more than you may even realize… You are not useless, signorina."

A shiver ran the length of her body, an icy sensation in the bloodstream. Her mother, a memory, like a blood cot that rushed to the brain. "Clumsy child… Must you be so hateful and shred my poor nerves to pieces? If you wished to be helpful, Kitty, you ought to have gone to Brighton with her… If you're not going to be of use to anybody, get out!"

"Regardless…" sighed Kitty, trying to flush out the pain. "Regardless what I do, I hope—sincerely hope it does not come to that. I'm certain that they will not relent. After that whole incident at the bridge, Jane was already very angry with her; she mentioned to me that she would speak to Charles about more drastic measures. Caroline merely spared her the trouble of doing so, and Charles made that decision anyway… I hope this will not result in your all going."

"We can only hope as much, and I will make that clear to him."

"It was surprising to me, yesterday, for all this, why they do not just turn her out of the house. But it's my understanding that Miss Bingley had some falling out with her older sister. There's Mr. Murray's family, but she refuses to go to them. They're a tradesman's family, and beneath her dignity. I'd say it would be just punishment, but for that family, it would be most unjust. If they turn her out, she has to go somewhere. If she has nowhere to go, then Charles is the cruel, unfeeling brother that refuses to grant his sister the honour of his protection and home. They may be free agents, but such a radical choice… It's going to hurt them, their reputation..."

"Well, perhaps with your more intimate knowledge, I'd advise you watch yourself."

"She better watch herself," growled Kitty.

He stood looking at her curiously. "You know, I have to say, that is a portentous statement from someone digging a hole in the ground."

Kitty, unable to help the outburst of laughter, also started to crack his solemnity.

"I suppose if Miss Bingley turns up missing one day…"

"Good Lord, Ortiche, don't you have quite the morbid imagination!"

"I hope that's mere fancy, and not prophecy."

All in all, twelve flags for twelve holes were marked in a measured square pattern. They followed until each had been dug, and Ilaria helped to walk the medium-size shrubs in their canvas wrapping. Their razors came out, slashed the canvas, and after good work, every little bush was in the ground. Now that its border was formed, it wanted a square space within to complete its look. Ilaria started walking one tile at a time, back and forth from the cart. Though still heavy, Kitty was equal to lifting and placing of the stone tiling. Little by little, each edge was filled and flattening the ground, but towards the center, Signore Andreozzi requested that a blank spot be kept.

"We're going to form a centerpiece, just like we do for a fountain, but instead we'll put some blooms in the middle."

"That's rather a large, empty space."

"Naturally. What should we plant for the centerpiece?"

"… What about a cherry tree? They're such beauties in the spring, all white and pink as they bloom out of the frost. We had a few groves of them back home in Hertfordshire."

"Is that what you want? You want a cherry tree?"

"You're asking me?"

"Yes. Actually, if you really want a cherry tree, we might be able to fit two or three in this center."

"Well, I thought all these matters were decisions for Charles and my sister."

He shrugged. "Most of it, but as an architect, it's not uncommon of our contractors to grant us some license to, say, give it a personal touch. They've already made plenty of major decisions for the grounds. This is just a little thing; a little patch of ground, on their grounds, all your own."

As she studied the empty space, soon to be filled, her imagination tried to fill it. And the imagination left some personal touches of its own, giving her cheek a mild blush. "I've never thought of that. I…"

"So, cherry trees then?"

"Yes!"

"Well, I suppose I'll be making a trip to the village later, and while placing an order for the next set of supplies, I'll send out for a few cherry trees."

Turning the opposite direction, fixing on the perimeter, she attempted some self-distraction. "I think it will be a charming sitting space. Just picture! We might place a little bench, like the ones in the orange garden and the hedgerows. Though, maybe instead of a stone bench, it might be a wood one with a back on it. So whoever wants to may come out here, and bring their book to read. Or Jane could entertain her guests here, with a little folding table set up to serve tea. It's perfect, all private and sheltered from the wind… Well, at least it will be, give or take a few years."

"Shame I won't be returning to be entertained by this charming vision."

"Knowing you, you'll forget all about it. You'll go on to do bigger and better with every new estate or park you're commissioned."

He leaned upon the shovel, in the empty, dirt middle. "Restoration and recreation is not a souless endeavour." He stood at a distance, yet his voice dropped as if speaking in confidence. "Believe it or not, moving onto the next commission is very difficult. Sometimes, it's that you put too much soul into one piece of land. What are you going to do next? How can you better it? Or what can you do differently on this commission, so as not to keep repeating the same sort of projects over and over?"

"I never thought of it that way. Do you keep a garden back home, you and your family?"

"Certainly! But it's only a few acres. We're forced to be more practical, and a good deal of our growing is in vegetables and herbs."

"Oh, no wonder then!"

His brow furrowed. "What's a wonder?"

"It's no wonder that the fancy goes for a walk in the woods when you get a commission for a grand estate."

"You think this is grand, you ought to see some of the estates of continental Europe… Perhaps, one of your house guests, Mr. Murray, would be much enthralled by its attractions."

"No doubt."

"… Quite the conquest."

"W-What?"

"Mr. Murray."

Now, there was no disguising her colour. "Mr. Murray—my conquest? No!"

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! Don't be impertinent!"

"You did set some store by his coming to the Grove House. You've mentioned him a few times in conversation with Ilaria. And that's nothing to say, for his very particular attentions yesterday."

"If you're going to salty—"

"I'm not the one being salty here," he assured, grinning. "Katerina, you needn't be ashamed. He's a fine young man."

"We just went out riding. He's not courting. Lord, why does everyone make such assumptions? Everybody is so encouraging: Jane and Charles, even Caroline! Is that supposed to be any kind of recommendation? Handed up to me on a silver platter…"

They took up their shovels, preparing to return to the carts and for a drink of water. "I see then," he resigned. "I beg your pardon. I misjudged."

"Well, there's the ball yet to come. It will be only a couple more weeks now."

"For someone who loves dancing and dances so well, you don't look forward to it with as much anticipation."

"… I think last night has dampened my spirits for it."

"Now, don't give Miss Bingley that kind of satisfaction. You're a marvelous dancer! You're going to go downstairs. You're going to be merry, dance until your feet hurt, enjoy a nice glass of wine, find a new sweetheart, and give yourself something to write about to your sister."

Back into better humour, Kitty retorted: "I shall try, as hard as I possibly can, signore. I don't think I shall want for dance partners, but a sweetheart? I don't know."

"I'm sure the next one will never replace the first—"

"What? No, he will! He will replace the first, but… I would rather not replace him with another version of Mr. Denny. I want a better man. And I want to choose him myself… That sounds forward," blushing, "but it's the intention, with regards my choice, to use my own judgment. Denny was once a beau of my sister's, before she married, and when her attentions turned elsewhere, he turned towards me. So this time, I mean to choose someone my sister Lydia would never choose for herself."

Having come to the cart, they both approached Luciana. She held out the water bucket, and the ladle with it. Upon filling it himself, he handed it to her, letting her drink first. "I see the wisdom in that, and the spite too," he teased. "But wisdom foremost. It's just all the more reason to be excited for your sister's ball. No longer in the shadow of taller trees."

"Yes—as always, trees. Everything is trees!"

"He laughed when I teased him back. I passed him the ladle, but I dipped it first to refill it, as he had done for me. Our eyes met briefly. I almost cowered and looked a different way. Then, he said something in Italian, such a rapid tongue and soft tone, I could scarcely hear above the general clamour. 'What did you say?' I asked.'I suppose, if you were a tree, you'd be Ciliegia… A cherry tree.' I did not know what to say. I feared to speak for a moment. His voice had dipped in volume, to a warm murmur, like the soft patter of wine being poured into an empty glass, like a man's whisper before a kiss. Though he stood nowhere near enough, the thought turned to an image, and the image provoked a few seconds of high fever. I couldn't help a cursory glance at that beguiling lip."

To one Guest reviewer: To clarify, my statement about polarizing was about a different topic. I'm betting this chapter will make over half my readers mad because they don't like Paolo Andreozzi. But I really appreciated your analysis. Yes, I agree 100% that Jane was really as messed up by her upbringing as Lydia, or her other sisters. Another guest reviewer, that was interesting, comparing her to Aristotle's tragic hero. That one was actually a bit of a history/Greek theater lesson for me; which explained Jane's weakness as her goodness. It's arguably a mix of both. She could stand up for herself (like I could stand up more for myself), but asserting dominance is usually a win-lose. It does have a ripple effect. So, the next few chapters will dive more into that.

I'm curious what it is about this OC that is turning people off. Some readers, like RosaMarie, have voiced concerns over the practicality/good sense of such a match. Not invalid. The time hasn't come yet for those deeper issues to surface for Kitty. As far as his character is concerned, maybe I can understand the distaste. He's got some grouch in his personality. He's a bit bossy, a bit vain at times, yes. That's not supposed to be seen as charming, no more than Mr. Darcy's rude behavior to Meryton early on in P&P. He's not so polished in manners and higher class as someone like Mr. Cummings, for sure. But at the end of the day, even a Mr. Martin figure, who's down to earth and plain-spoken, in my opinion, can be as charming as Mr. Knightley. (I loved Harriet's summation, what does she think of Mr. Martin. "I thought him very plain at first, but I do not think so now." That kind of statement says a lot in so few words.)

Also, to RosaMarie, funny observation, about the Italian mother-in-law. Very common family dynamic, yes. It can and does happen, yes, but that can be a bit of a stereotype. My paternal grandmother was Italian. Very Italian! But no matter her will or emotions, I saw firsthand she never ruled the roost in our family.

To r1965rd: Don't worry. I have something wonderful in mind for Caroline... something, I hope, truly befitting an Austen villainess;)