Chapter 4

Thankfully, little Davy woke from his nap, drawing all attention from anybody or anything else. It was the perfect circumstance under which Kitty could disguise the excitement of her misadventure. Tears dried before coming into the presence of any of her family or servants, what few servants were hired yet. More were to come, but it provided her time to recollect and resume dignity. Of course, there wasn't much dignity left. The gravity of such an accident, and the fault, weighed heavily. As much as she wished to dispute that arrogant man's fiery words, he and all the laborers had a right to be upset. Her presence and mishap might've killed someone. Apology was certainly owed, at the very least, and it was only right. The more she imagined herself, trekking back to the waterfall and finding the crew there, she tried to think what she was supposed to say. How could she express her remorse without causing further anger? It didn't help her confidence either, that all of spoke Italian only, causing an unusual discomfort unknown up to this point in her life.

It prevented her from any effective action, no more than joining Jane and Caroline in the drawing room. Mother and child played quietly together on the floor. Meanwhile, the piano forte was being tested and tried for improper tuning. She'd found a couple keys that needed attention. A local musician would be sent for tomorrow to take care of it. Not seeing her brother also gave Kitty the discomfort of wondering whether one of the workmen would come and report on her to Mr. Bingley. She'd never known to have a cross word from him since the day they met, since the day they became brother and sister.

When at last he did join them, he came to inform that dinner would be ready in half an hour. He'd come from a tour of the tenants' cottages, by the assistance of Mr. Levingford; it was of particular importance to see the condition of these for himself.

"Mr. Levingford did not overlook anything," informed Charles. "We have three cottages in need of new roofing. One has a chimney is desperate need of repair. The lady of the house informed us that the smoke it creates is so bad she must open the windows."

"Why did the previous owner not take care of that himself?" said Jane.

"In recent years, he wasn't here. The tenants were not able to bring these issues to his attention directly. I assured Mrs. Beckett that we'll see to her house first. I also got a chance to meet the Montgomery family. Mrs. Montgomery was housekeeper for the previous master, and I hope you don't mind, my dear, that I've asked if she might take up that position again."

"Of course not. I should be glad of that. I'm sorry I couldn't meet her today."

"She was understanding. She knows we've just had a long journey, and will come to call tomorrow morning. Mr. Montgomery will also be glad to return to his post as head butler. It might do well to include them in our hiring on more staff. Sometimes, we've hired servants in the past that came with good reputation and served well, but turned out to be poor characters downstairs."

"Remember the brother and sister we had up north, Charles? The Gowan twins?" recalled Caroline. "How sweet and delightful they were with me and Louisa, and downstairs, they were an abomination to all the other servants."

"They had reason to be upset. The Gowan sister tried to turn the other maids against each other with gossip, and that brother was stealing from Father's collection. All the while, they were accusing other servants of the thefts. I don't want that happening again."

"With good reason that we'll have Mrs. Montgomery," added Jane. "She'll be able to see what I can't see, and she already has experience. I am grateful she's willing to return."

"By the sound of things, after our visiting the tenants, there were also expressions of gratitude. Though they don't want to start out with complaints, Mr. Montgomery gave the impression that the previous master of the Grove House was not the best landlord, or a good person for that matter. His accounts were in such a state, it was a wonder how he didn't come to bankruptcy… Kitty, were you out walking earlier? How did you like the grounds?"

Her cheeks went hot, and the tongue lagged. "I enjoyed it… It's most beautiful…" It didn't sound at all like her own voice. Lydia would've laughed, not the least bit fooled by her composure.

"While you were out, one of the landscape workers found an item of yours. Or they suspect it's yours. Would you mind if I borrow you a moment, and just confirm?"

"I dropped something?" she echoed.

"Yes. I'd just like to make sure it's yours, before I inquire with other staff if it belongs to them."

It was a request to come and follow, and with great reluctance she did so. Mr. Bingley led the way, but did not speak until they got some distance from the drawing room. It was like her father had summoned her to the library.

"Mr. Bingley, I—"

"Now Kitty, I've already asked that you call me Charles," he reminded. "You're as much my sister as Caroline or Louisa." This alleviated her spirits somewhat. "I didn't wish to be straightforward back there with your sister. Please, don't be uneasy. This item you dropped. It's your fan. I knew it was yours. Signore Andreozzi has returned it."

"Oh dear…"

"He informed me about what happened earlier, Kitty. First of all, I want to say that I was remiss not telling the family to keep their distance from the work sites. So, I take full responsibility for this."

A sigh heaved out, sorrowful but relieved. "I'm afraid you cannot take the blame for this. For if someone was injured, it would've been my fault."

"Before you say more, I brought you out here because Signore Andreozzi himself requested to speak with you."

"He has?" she gasped. "Oh no—"

"Don't be frightened." A brotherly arm reached back and circled through her arm. "He's informed me of the circumstances, and I think it'll be good for you to hear him."

They stepped out together onto the back terrace, where Signore Andreozzi waited. Patchy with dirt, hatless, but no less dignified than he had been in the house on Grovsnor Street in full tailored suit. He stood so straight that he appeared taller, with his hands behind his back, and a grave and chilly countenance. Kitty, though faint-hearted to approach him, revived a little at seeing that mushroom hair, made a bit wild by the sweat of the day and moisture from the waterfall's constant mist. Charles stepped away and retreated from her side, with an encouraging smile, leaving her to this inauspicious conversation.

He seemed to grasp English very well, while she stood in paralyzed silence at the lips, as if she no longer spoke English, feeling no longer a girl of nearly twenty.

"Signorina," he began, with a slight bow, "I've asked Mr. Bingley that I may see you, and to tell you myself. I wish to apologize, for myself and my family."

"Y-Your family?"

"Most of the people you saw at the site are my family."

"Signore Andreozzi, ever since this morning, I've been so wanting to apologize myself. Really, I… I'm sorry for having caused such trouble, and for almost bringing harm to your… your…"

"Ah, my brother. Yes."

"Will you please, send him my apologies? For I feared if I returned to try and make amends, everyone would be more furious and warn me off. Please know, it was not my intention to interfere. I regret it, but it was an accident… And… And although I deserved such reproach, at the same time… It was very harsh of you to speak to any girl in such a way…"

"Of course. That is why I'm here, signorina."

"You… You need not have spoken to me, like I were some stupid girl. I… I think it also very uncalled for, given your position. You forget your place, as a workman but also as a man…"

"If you want to be angry with me, that is fine, but if you're so far above me, why don't you look me in the eye as you say so?" he jabbed. This caused enough outrage to bring Kitty's eyes to meet his. To her dismay, he was smiling. "If you're going to throw your station in my face, by all means. But let me be frank. I'm not your servant. I'm not your brother's servant. I am commissioned for work here. Now, if he wishes to dismiss me, that's his prerogative. Part of our signed contract requires that I oversee and ensure a safe work environment, as well as properly warn untrained persons of hazards in the environment. That is a heavy responsibility, signorina. If I cannot guarantee it, or if the risks imposed are too high a probability, my family and I, or anyone we bring in to help with the work, are not obliged to risk their life, livelihood, or legal troubles."

The rest of her speech, what little she had managed to conjure up in her indignity, died on her lips. Slight tears came back to her eyes. By looking at the outdoor light, instead of his face, she hoped that the raindrops in containment would be indiscernible.

"Well, that is all I wish to say. For my manner and for my insults, I do apologize. If you or any of the family have curiosity to see the work being done, I am not against that. In future, simply approach me, and I'll see to it that everyone may work and observe safely."

"No. Don't worry. I shall not bother you in future, Signore Andreozzi."

His smile dimmed somewhat. "You mustn't mind me," he teased. "I know I must seem a brute. My family, sometimes they call me ortiche."

"What does that mean?"

"Nettles."

"I wonder how you got that name. It's funny you weren't…"

"Yes?"

"Never mind." Courage failed. How desperately she wished to throw some barb that might sting, but none came to mind. Even if it had, likely, she'd fail to antagonize while he could absorb any insult with self-deprecation. When she wouldn't divulge her full thought, he muttered a few Italian words, which proved more maddening than his earlier speech.

"I've brought a peace offering, if you'd like to call it that." From behind his back, a tiny clay pot bearing a scraggly vine, shining leaves, and few small blooms were produced; so delicate and light a shade of pink, they seemed almost white.

"Oh, thank you… What is it? I've never seen the likes of these before."

"It's an orchid," he answered, rather surprised. "You've never seen an orchid?"

"No. Well, I've heard about orchids in novels, and my sister's botany books. But I never knew what they looked like; quite different than I expected… They're lovely."

"Well, now you have your first orchid. But fair warning, it's a temperamental little thing. It likes a little light but not too much, and just a little water but not too much. They can be tricky keeping alive, but give it gentle care and some patience, it will give you many blooms for a long time. Now, I best be getting back to our humble quarters. My sister-in-law makes dinner tonight. Anyone too late does not eat at all. Good evening, signorina."

There was something about it that it left her unsatisfied. For though it was an apology, and most formal, and he acknowledged his faults, she couldn't quite forgive him. In a few days, perhaps, she would be more inclined. That look in his eyes came, not from contriteness, but a sense of duty. For if she were not the sister of the mistress of the Grove House, the man would not have taken so much upon himself. It wouldn't do to upset one of the family and risk his contract, his reputation. How much more convenient to her feelings, if he had been more a brute, ill-mannered, unapologetic, then her anger would have just cause for expression. Such behaviour on his part could make her forget, if not absolve her, of all that indignation that was deserved by her.

Yet, she returned to her family in a place of honour at the dinner table. The lovely orchid came to rest on her vanity, beside the hairbrush and wash bowl; the mirror's reflection doubled her blooms automatically, making a striking still-life in the silvery light of the moon. For about half an hour before going to bed, Kitty lay awake in her peach-coloured chambers, much more composed, staring, contemplating its strange asymmetry and sparse figure. At first, she wished to put it outside or tear it to pieces, then felt so ashamed to hate it for the sake of the giver. Before long, with some admiration and long staring, it won her completely.

Would the promising Mr. Murray bring her flowers? She hoped so.

It couldn't be helped either, recalling Mr. Denny, who never once brought her flowers. Whoever the next admirer might be, he'd have a hard time finding a bouquet that outmatched an orchid.

Lady Herncastle came to the Darcy House in Grovsnor Square, before the night of her expected party. Her reputation in society was earned some thirty years ago in London, as a most accomplished player of the piano forte as well as a singer. Some of the evidence of her superior ladies' education was still contained in her lovely throat, but unfortunately, her vocals suffered damage from illness over fifteen years ago. She sang no more. Her passion for musical academics, however, was never to be quenched, and unlike other grand names in the arena, she was not so jealous as to wish to stand alone in the spotlight. Her dearest friends were not those of merely her own age, or those that shared an interest in music, but possessed ambition.

Some of her character was explained to Mary Bennet before her arrival, and with Miss Darcy's description, a softer alternative rendition of Lady Catherine de Bourgh was expected. Happily for all the young ladies, that was far from the case. Countenance and features lacked all the angular harshness, and the lips were not drawn by those common pretenses to politeness that drove genuine warmth away. In a few minutes, she had put Miss Bennet quite at her ease. Her inquires were made into Mary's musical background, without one question about what academy she attended or what masters she had gone to see.

"May I ask, Miss Bennet, what is your desire for your music?" Lady Herncastle put to her directly.

"A few years ago, it was my desire to submit my music for publication—"

"Of course, but I am asking not about your goal but your motive. Why do you wish for publication?"

"Well, madam, I'd like to support myself, by an income… I-I realize that is not the normal thing for ladies. For… our family was not brought up, with the skill or expectation to a trade… that is—Oh dear, forgive me, I put this very badly."

"Continue please," she entreated earnestly.

"Of course, my wish has nothing to do with my situation now. My sisters have been diligently looking after my interest as well as my younger sisters, and our parents," babbled Mary. "Still, whatever my future be, I should like independence. That is not to be achieved without an income of my own."

Instead of surprise or censure, Lady Herncastle smiled and nodded behind the steam of her cup of tea. "Just so," she murmured. "You mustn't be ashamed of such motives, Miss Mary Bennet. In fact, I praise you heartily for it. It tells me a lot about your character. Though I've had some account of it from Miss Darcy, this little interview gives me a basis for forming my own judgment. For you see, I like it when ladies have a practical view as well as a romantic or artistic passion for music. If your motive were for, let's say, to catch yourself a husband, I don't care for that. For once that lady's end is achieved, she will leave the group; what does she care now? She's got a husband to provide for her. If the motive is for fortune and prestige, that lady is in for a disappointment. And a rude awakening. Your fame is dependent on your efforts. If you want to work, you'll get recognized, and ladies of high society will pay for entertainment. If you want to take your ease, you'll be overlooked for more willing candidates at dinner engagements and dances."

"Naturally."

"You seem to understand why I'm here."

"Yes, my lady."

Miss Darcy had been rather quiet up until then, allowing for the acquaintance to develop. "I passed along some of your compliments upon her music, Lady Herncastle. And I thought you'd be very pleased. She is ten times more talented than myself."

"For shame, Georgiana!" cried Mary. "That is a gross exaggeration. You are by far the better player, and have the greater education."

"I know of Miss Darcy's education," restated her ladyship. "She's had an excellent education, as first rate as mine was at her age. But… I'm afraid I'm incapable of persuading Miss Darcy to join my musical group. One thing you have that she does not… well, perhaps I ought not put it that way. For it sounds like I disparage my dear friend."

Miss Darcy blushed, not the least bit offended. "I know what you're thinking, Lady Herncastle," she admitted. "And it's all true. I am not one for public life. I do not like performance."

"I'm afraid so."

"I'll always love my music, but if you ask me to play for any person beyond my family circle, you'll be embarrassed you ever invited me. Last time my brother had a family of guests at Pemberley, Mrs. Annesley asked me to give it a try, and I could not, for the life of me, tell the difference between notes, right in front of my nose."

Lady Herncastle laughed. "It's a privilege that you've shared what little you can with me. I will not demand more, nothing except, your friend's contribution. I'd love to persuade Georgiana to join us, but I'm not going to insist. But you, Miss Bennet, you must brace yourself. I'm on campaign now. I don't flatter. I've heard plenty of young ladies here in London, and other parts of the country. They've been educated by the best masters, sent to this academy and that, and to what results? Nothing worth boasting about, though they themselves or their proud mammas might think so. I've heard some proclaimed to be real singers, and I had better pleasure from listening to frogs during a rainstorm out at our house in the country."

"Lady Herncastle, I hope you don't expect my voice to match my skills on the piano," warned Mary. "For I'm obliged to inform you now, I am one of those singers." The confession was met with good humour, but Lady Herncastle begged to know the story behind the blushes. Now that the rather humiliating episode at the Netherfield ball was ages behind her, Mary summarized it with a spirit of more tolerable humour than she would have a year or two ago. Now, it wasn't such a terrible thing, not worth blushing into oblivion, even though Lady Herncastle was excessively diverted.

"Not to worry, Miss Bennet. Everyone has their forte in our group. Some are singers, for others it's the piano, or the harp, one even does the violin. She's not a popular choice but a unique exhibition, and her example, I find very inspiring to other young women in general. That's in part, my aim. I wish to encourage more ladies, from all backgrounds, of high and low descent, to be more than just an ornament with 'fine accomplishments.' "

"Indeed!" Mary agreed.

"One reason, that I'm somewhat disappointed I cannot persuade Georgiana, but I respect her decision. Not everyone desires to be in the public eye… But from what I gather, your problem is the opposite. Miss Bennet, if you join my musical circle, I can assure you, you are but a very short step away from the attention and recognition that will result in publication." Though placid on her exterior, the eyes and pupils were beyond muscular control. Hers nearly doubled in size, in the face of such confidence. "I also have friends, frequently invited to my parties, that share a passion for our endeavours. I call them friends, but you could call them connections."

"I understand. My sister once encouraged me to seek the patronage of someone of influence."

"She's right in that. Patronage goes a long way. Often, it's hard for artists, poets, authors, musicians to win the recognition of publishers outright. I would advise such a course for you."

Lady Herncastle did not stay above half an hour. Though Mary had prepared to be asked, her ladyship did not request an audition of her talents. Such a privilege would be reserved for tomorrow evening. She and Lord Herncastle would be holding their breath with anticipation, as well as make her introductions to the other ladies.

Well, what do you think? You've now met some of my OC's. I know they don't look like much at this point. It'll take a few updates, and there are more waiting behind the curtain to come out. Keep your eyes pealed also for other Austen cameos in London... Hopefully I'll do justice to the world of Jane Austen. I'll say it again, I'm no historian. Just another Austen fan.