Welcome back! Thanks for all who've been following and reviewing. It's a nice rainy morning, and I've almost finished with my coffee. Was hoping to hit the local farmers' market this morning, but that's probably not going to happen now.

I've had a few guest reviewers in the last update express a bit of annoyance with Jane, which, when I went back and reread, I can't blame you. But the annoyance of those reviews has inspired some ideas for future... I wasn't planning on making Jane/Mr. Bingley main characters. I wanted to delve more into them and develop more of them, but I did not foresee the involvement to this extent. It's almost become a subplot of this Part 2. Honestly, when I was imagining post-novel, I had some ideas but not everything.

Chapter 9

Signore Andreozzi's predictions came true. Although Jane had peaked in during the evening as well as Mrs. Montgomery to check on her, there was no sign of life, and Kitty was not resurrected until the housekeeper entered her chamber in the morning to draw the curtains open. And what a waking! Having fallen asleep with a wet head, her hair had mostly dried in wild curls. It was the least of her complaints. The exceeding ache in her lower back and her thighs made rising and walking, the smallest tasks, a matter of groans. Jane's maid came in to help render some discipline to her hair, but also to give relief to her arms. By the time she had dressed and staggered slowly to the dining room, she felt her stupidity for having promised so resolutely and adamantly that she would be out working along with the Andreozzi family tomorrow morning. She had laughed at him yesterday; now, he would be laughing today.

Her appearance at breakfast provoked sympathetic laughter from her sister. Charles, dear brother, stood up and pulled a chair out for her to sit, while Jane fetched her a small plate of fare.

"Well, your first real day working in the gardens. I hope that this will not deter you in future. Drink plenty of water today, the more, the better. You will not hurt so much tomorrow," she advised.

"No. As a matter of fact, I'm not deterred. I rather enjoyed it. I probably got a bit carried away with it. One of the women on the crew was very friendly and helpful, though we both struggled to understand each other."

"I'm very glad you had such a good time of it!"

"Indeed," added Charles, "but I do hope, Kitty, that you'll give yourself a day to rest before attempting anymore work in the gardens."

"Yesterday, I thought otherwise," she yawned. "But I think I am defeated today. Your head contractor even warned me of this."

"I did happen to see him this morning." Would he have reported on her? "He said the progress of their work is on schedule, and he commended you for excellent work on the orange trees. And yes, he did say you worked very hard too. So, he will understand, though you intended to do more, if you do not join the family for a day or two."

Arrogant man, that he dared to be right, as well as considerate. Kitty willing took the secondhand advice, and thought no more about it.

"Charles, might we discuss our future house guests?" suggested Miss Bingley. "I've been compiling a list of those who will be staying with us."

"I suppose we may talk about it. The renovations inside the house are nearly complete. Still, I must advise that you keep the house party small."

"This house will accommodate, Charles."

"Before any invitations are sent out, I would appreciate it if you consult with Jane first. We are not fully staffed yet, and we'll need to make arrangements to host visitors." Kitty dared no side glance at Caroline, whose mortification tinged her complexion a soft pink.

"Very well. But we can be sure of at least two guests. Our cousin Luis, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am not mistaken that he is still coming?"

"Yes. Mr. Darcy has the highest regard for his opinion, and as he will be unable to come to us at this time, he thought the colonel would supply his place. I'd like to ask his thoughts about management of the tenants. On the one hand, I'd like to handle it all myself, but in certain circumstances, it might be useful to have a steward as a second in command."

"It might also do to learn a little of it myself," shrugged Jane. "I should be glad to hear Colonel Fitzwilliam's opinions on that."

"Jane dear, if Charles hires on a steward, then why should you trouble yourself with it?"

"It's not unheard of, Caroline," replied her brother. "After all, if time and unforeseen events occur—we can only hope not, but in such case, it would be prudent to have such knowledge, if Jane must manage the estate all herself. We want to keep the land secure in our hands, keep the land secure for the tenants, and provide a steady income for Davy and any siblings after him."

She seemed, to Kitty's opinion, thwarted from her wish of discussing the coming of the ball, of house guests, and the topic of her priority, Colonel Fitzwilliam. For herself, there was curiosity, but only to observe whether the hopes Miss Bingley entertained would be satisfied. Kitty's scarce acquaintance with Colonel Fitzwilliam, from the day of her sisters' wedding and occasional visit to Pemberley, offered little basis for judgment. He was a well-bred, kind sort of man, perhaps more sociable than his cousin but more sedate in disposition than Charles. To try to imagine him, voluntarily, standing beside Caroline Bingley in any capacity, gave a rational bystander plenty basis to question his reason. Though they did not mean to dismiss it, now that Caroline had introduced the subject, all conversation was lost and diverged in different directions.

Jane, for this day, entertained hopes of going into town on a couple of errands. Davy was made ready in time after breakfast. Both her sisters decided to join; and thankfully, the town was too far for any walk and the carriage was ordered. A simple stroll of a couple miles, always an easy walking distance, would've reduced Kitty to the roadside. She managed gradually, while Jane managed herself with Davy grasping one hand. "There is the milliner, Kitty! And over there… yes, that's the dressmakers. Mr. Shearer's Bookshop here… Caroline, do you see the mercantile?"

"I believe it's over there." She pointed with a flick of her fan.

"Go on ahead, Jane. I'd like to have a look at the milliner's."

Rare opportunity for Kitty to be perusing through entirely new stock. There was no shortage of ribbons, feathers, wide brims, and designs to seize one's attention. The milliner himself, friendly and wishful to help, offered her greetings and offered assistance. To which, she asked him whether he had any plain bonnets for the garden. In the back of the store, a few plain selections were displayed, but for once, it didn't have to be a hard choice. It wasn't meant to be pretty, nothing more than to keep the sun out of the eyes. Kitty chose a wide-brimmed cap, very similar to one that Jane already owned. Unlike the others, it could boast a plain green ribbon about the crown, that knotted in back and draped a pair of tails. A sweet thing, still simple but to the purpose. If it should be tumbled about by the wind, swept off her head, fall in water, or if her clumsy shovel accidentally threw dirt upward, it could be brushed off or be soiled without the shame of a great loss. Her purchase was made.

"No pretty ribbons today, Miss Kitty? Oh, well it does have a charming little green snake on that one," mused Caroline. She was preoccupied by a display of a white bonnet and soft red crown; not too preoccupied to make remark. "Rather simple. Not the sort of bonnet I should've thought you'd be after today."

"I need one that's more practical," grumbled Kitty. "Thank you, sir... What do you like about that one there?"

"… I like the red cap, on top of the white brim."

"It's handsome. Good thing my sister isn't here. She'd fight you for that cap… for anything red really." Of course, it was not taken for a friendly remark, but Kitty had neither the imagination or the patience to make a clever reply. However, Caroline's observation was an interesting one, a snake… It brought to mind the account of Moses standing before Pharaoh, throwing his rod before him, and the rod turned into a snake. What would that look like in modern day? If only she could do likewise, remove the green ribbon from her new sunhat, throw it on Caroline's lap, to turn into a serpent. Once the scene reduced her to writhing and screaming, the serpent would easily be plucked up and return to its ribbon form without anyone the wiser. A fancy to give her pleasure as she exited the milliner's.

Before any attempts could be made to find Jane, Kitty was stunned and stilled by the window of the bookshop. Some kind clerk had arranged a collection of volumes, looking rather smart and delicious, more like a display for confections than books sitting on white cloth. It was some author's collection of volumes for learning languages, all the following: French, German, Swedish, Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish. If Lydia had been shocked by her sister's last letter, she'd be struck dumb. Kitty hesitated only a moment, then went inside to inquire. Soon, the volume for Italian was removed from the collection, and out the door along with her.

Having been up and playing before Georgiana had come down, attempting new notes and bars at random, Mary wore out a little faster. Her friend bid her rest awhile. Good opportunity to remember the shameful neglect of her family, and all the letters due to them. The content and style varied greatly between recipients. Having a specialist to visit in town routinely was already an anxiously-kept, highly guarded secret from her mother; now to add to it, her success in entering society, though not on the terms Mrs. Bennet would approve. Only one business venture could be considered entirely acceptable, and the town certainly had no shortage of lucrative, handsome, potential business ventures. Not a word about the Starlight Circle or her sonata or her overnight fame would be breathed through her pen. Instead, her paragraphs remained all confined to the Darcys, and especially Georgiana. Even then, Mary took care to filter details regarding Lizzy and the precarious state of her pregnancy. Her mother would not expect it, not in a letter that included her father as recipient also.

They'd been invited and attended one party, and made the acquaintance of a great lady in town. She seemed a kind and generous woman. No more. Having run dry of events, and things worthwhile, Mary put down her signature and sealed up the letter to Longbourn. Next, to Kitty and Jane, a longer letter was forthcoming, relaying the same events but with more detail. For Jane, and now Kitty, could be trusted to keep it quiet about her potential career in the world of music. Publication seemed imminent, as it was Lady Herncastle's goal to place her in the company of publishers and influential individuals. All the Darcy family's love was being conveyed, as well as her own, and a little side to Kitty, reassurance that Lion and Chop were in good health and as spirited as ever. Well, Lion was always spirited, while his brother greedily demanded attention and repaid with abundance of affection. If Lion could not get Chop to move from her lap, he grumbled and settled for Miss Darcy's, just as he was wont to doing with Kitty.

At coming to the end, ready to form her signature, a rather unusual sensation was felt from, not the heart, but the conscience. Why it should and why now? A passing thought suddenly came to Mary, about writing a letter to Lydia; any desire to do so, madness. Not once since Lydia's marriage had Mary ever attempted, thought, or desired to send any correspondence. It would be a thankless endeavour wasted on a thankless creature. For all the letters their mother sent north, less than half of the same number were answered, and the content of a letter, that a mother might want to expect of a beloved daughter, could not possibly be satisfying. Mrs. Bennet read these cherished few letters at dinner. Their brevity was excused by a conjured necessity to oversee her household and children. Such animated exaggeration gave the undiscerning parent a greater impression of her domestics than likely existed.

Lydia Wickham had three menservants, a cook, a housekeeper, and a nursemaid for the children. They were entertaining regularly, dining out, and hosting a great number of parties, in spite of cramped quarters. Friends frequently begged their company likewise, and in such society, they could not want. All of this, on an ensign's income? Of course, the end of most letters dropped carefully inserted hints. They could afford to give parties, but not to pay the grocer or the butcher. Candles were growing dearer in price. And little Dora was constantly outgrowing her clothes. Mrs. Bennet clearly saw nothing beyond her words; while Mr. Bennet, shaking his head and rolling eyes, understood the situation of the Wickhams perfectly.

On one occasion, as he and Mary warred over the chessboard, he confided some half expectation, perhaps even a half-hope, and trepidation. It would not surprise him if, one day, some drastic circumstance were to occur in that precarious young household that should result in the guardianship of his two granddaughters. And heaven forbid, a third, fourth, and more would follow these two! Mary recollected Mr. Darcy's letter to Lizzy, long ago, and the history of Mr. Wickham's early childhood. The pattern appeared frighteningly similar. So easily could the present Mr. and Mrs. Darcy end up the guardians of the next generation of Wickhams, though the gentleman had already sponsored and spent so much money already for the sake of family relations. Would the next generation take after their parents? When reflecting on their past actions, Mary cared almost nothing about her youngest sister's deprivations. She had chosen it. However, when she meditated more on the spiritual qualities of forgiveness, as well as consideration for the instability of her future and her children, it did incite a measure of compassion.

Still, what on earth could Mary have to say to her? The recipient would not care about any of the current happenings in her own life, and foolishness to trust Lydia's sense of discretion regarding her time in London. Those letters were likely to be the shortest to any in the family. And why was this inclination born at all? It ought to be charity enough to forgive her in thought and heart.

The door opened, and the butler announced visitors: "Mrs. Bowman, Miss Judge, Miss Sothern, and Miss Andrews."

With consent to show them in, Georgiana and Mary were graced with members of the Starlight. Numerous pardons were begged, mingled with indifference to the disturbance of their privacy and professions of delight to find the musicians at home in Grovsnor Square. Lizzy had yet to join them, and her delay caused but momentary concern. As it stood, it was the two of them, entertaining four visitors. However, with a couple moments of conversation, the four relieved the two the burden of trying to make small talk, supplying everyone with a topic of mutual interest. There was much to be talked of, with Lady Herncastle's party. Mary's performance was hailed, with predictions to become the next greatest sensation in town. Mrs. Bowman, another fellow pianist, recalled her debut performance, inspiring the rest to share their own. Nothing too dissimilar from Mary's experience. Though their tales were nothing unique, their diversity carried greater insights, providing hours of deep reflection on human character.

Mrs. Prudence Bowman was nearly thirty-five, and married since twenty years of age. She had one daughter, her pride and joy, her little caterpillar, and expected to become a butterfly like her mother upon coming of age. Then, Miss Alissa Judge, born of an artist and an impoverished aristocrat, surmounted the odds of an obscure upbringing by making her own name known. Spirited and vivacious, perhaps more than to be expected of twenty-seven; maturity belied a lively exterior. Miss Sadie Andrews, though the youngest at nineteen, actually carried herself in a way that made her appear older, and the incorrect guess was not taken for an insult. Her parentage was more established, the eldest daughter of so-and-so from Shropshire, but her debut was almost overshadowed by scandal. For she had defied her high-bred family and all arguments that earning a living was beneath the station in life she'd been born to; in response, she had run away from home. Lady Herncastle took pity on her, found her a respectable situation, and now she was celebrated in the Starlight Circle. Her ladyship and her sister musicians had become a replacement for the family that disowned her.

Mary noted Georgiana's raised eyebrows. Between all of them, they were the sort of women that made the heroines of novels.

"Won't you tell Miss Bennet about your debut?" urged Miss Andrews.

"I certainly will not," protested Miss Sothern. "Do you believe she really cares how we all got to the Starlight Circle? I can see from her face she's being polite with you all."

"No indeed," denied Mary, blushing.

"And besides, I don't form new acquaintance giving the impression of an open book."

Mrs. Bowman chuckled. "Rietta likes to be sullen and contrary. Do not mind her. She must know how such pretensions set her apart from the rest of us, humble humanity."

"It's true, nevertheless," replied she. "Some men and women could do with talking much less in their life, and then when they do speak, everyone is glad to hear them."

"You must not trust her, Miss Bennet," laughed Miss Judge. "She's dangerous that way. She can cut a person's character to pieces without ever saying a word. But you don't seem like a chatterbox. I think you're safe from her. Come, Miss Darcy! May we hear from you? I've been learning a new duet?" Knowing the piece mentioned, Miss Judge summoned Georgiana back to her instrument, and all the ladies flocked about to hear her play, all except Miss Sothern.

"May I join you?" she asked.

"Of course."

Between all the ladies present and of the faces met with on the evening of Lady Herncastle's reveal dinner, Miss Henrietta Sothern stood out distinctly in her memory. Something peculiar that always stood out to Mary, then and ever since their acquaintance, was the demure, tranquil eyelids. When most people laughed, especially the case with her younger sisters, Mary observed how the eyes initially widened and seemed to pop with surprise at the telling of a joke or encountering some humourous antidote in daily life. This wasn't the case with everyone; for many people, their eyes also shrunk down and even closed while in a fit of laughter. Miss Sothern certainly did laugh, and made people around her laugh; yet, her eyelids did not seem to flutter or alter shape with emotion. The lips and the eyebrows conformed to her present emotions, but never her eyes.

That aside, she was also distinct in a crowd with a most handsome face and graceful figure: soft tresses of chocolate, sultry lashes, a slight brown tinge of complexion, more characteristic of descent from continental Europe than England. Reserved in manner, noble in bearing, she really did not seem to belong amongst the Starlight.

"Pray, I hope you'll forgive our intrusion, and their inquisitive nature."

"I… I'm not offended, Miss Sothern."

"See, I can tell you are deciding that, consciously, but your natural feelings are… not so open-tempered. It's nothing to be ashamed of; for I feel very much that way myself."

"Do you?"

"And it's true, I tell my friends so. Granted, they don't take it seriously, and I don't give much thought to the teasing remarks. Though, at times, I do admit the flippant and sarcastic nature of friendship can be very exasperating, when excessive."

"I can very well understand that."

"Tell me, what are your thoughts so far, about Lady Herncastle's musical society?"

"I'm most honoured and delighted to be a part of it, certainly."

"Lady Herncastle is the dearest friend in the world. Her vision of the world, and her ambition for ladies like us, is very inspiring. I've met no one else that nurtures such grand notions, aspires to much for such a cause as getting women recognized in talented professions."

"I must confess, Miss Sothern, that I'm not indifferent to the tales you all tell. I would be curious to hear about your discovery and debut one day. Of course, we are just newly acquainted, so I expect nothing."

She did smile. "It's not a terrible secret or anything, but yes, that I will leave for another time," she assented. "One's personal history is as personal as your own compositions. It deserves to be respected."

"I agree."

"I assure you, Lady Herncastle will look after you. She's looked after our interests so well, but I did come here, as a friend, to give a word of caution, as a new member of our society."

"Caution?"

"Lady Herncastle would like to think that, as our benefactress, that all her starlight ladies will take on her own benevolent spirit and spirit of friendship. Mind you, I do not depreciate her. You'll find she has no prejudices for whether we are single or married, younger or older, whether we came of high birth or common birth. She does not care. Her recognition alone makes us equal to mingle and mix in society. That's a privilege very few women could manage. My caution is with regards to the Starlight Circle itself. We are united in our desire for independence, to be independent by our own income, and a desire for prestige."

Mary swallowed. "That is curious… When Lady Herncastle first spoke to me on the subject, she warned me not to expect this sort of career will lead to greatness. Women who are under that illusion will not fare well in the Starlight Circle."

"Miss Bennet, you do wish for your music to achieve publication, do you not?"

"… That is true," agreed Mary, suddenly realizing. "I guess it's fair to say there is some… hypocrisy in our assumptions. But I really do not expect to be made famous by it. If anything, I would be happy for my work to be published even under a pseudonym. If my reputation does achieve fame, at the best, I would still prefer an understated sort of status."

"No such thing; it's all or nothing, Miss Bennet. I'm certain, without a doubt, you will achieve fame with or without the help of Lady Herncastle. And don't you dare use a pseudonym; it just defeats the purpose. My caution is this: though I may regard and you may regard them as your friends, do not for a moment imagine they are friends, not in the traditional definition."

Mary nodded. "I see."

"For example, perhaps you saw, or if not, Miss Darcy must've observed, on that evening—Mr. Cummings being presented and seated beside you." This caused a mild blush in the hearer. "Mr. Cummings presence at a dinner is a matter of great importance to some of the unmarried musicians in the Circle. For his father, as a shareholder in the Grandison Printing Press, makes him an ideal, most influential connection. Also to add, in his favour, he is of very wealthy family."

"Miss Darcy did mention something of the like, of that dinner party. And I did feel something… something I can't quite put my finger on, when Lady Herncastle brought him to the table. However, please tell me, Miss Sothern, if there is a woman I do not know who has an interest in this situation, I hope you'll tell me. It was perfectly innocent. I am not—"

"Oh no, don't concern yourself on that account. He has no attachment, which must be what you're asking. No. He is free and unemcumbered, and as much as Miss Halpern or Miss Patricks should disagree, he is no girl's property. If you choose to set your cap at him, or if he sets his on you, you've no reason to feel guilty." Mary's countenance fairly turned to fire as Miss Sothern spoke. "For though you might think he flattered you excessively, I'll answer for it; his admiration for your music is no exaggeration. Over many months, he has questioned me. He has discreetly questioned certain ladies of the Circle, trying to make out who was the composer."

"Yes, so he told me, but I do think it was just flattery. For I've come to expect that, in my experience with gentlemen."

"Really?" simpered Miss Sothern. "I do hope one day you will honour me with your confidence, Miss Bennet, just as I will one day honour you with mine."

"No, no, no. You mistake me," she stammered. "I'm not saying I am that sort of girl. I'm the farthest thing from a coquette as you can imagine."

"Well, with regards Mr. Cummings, there's no harm in him, but you may expect, from some women among us, some coolness, perhaps even hostility will be paid for his preference. And if you are wise, don't confide any of your closest-kept secrets with any of them. We have some younger members who struggle in that regard, and we've had some that have dropped out of the musical society because they misguidedly trusted someone."

"Anyone in particular, can you tell me?"

"… Miss Quinn. I don't know if you recall her. She's one that might be resentful, especially with regards to Mr. Cummings. Though, she has no reason to be, especially now that she has Mr. Wynn calling on her. Mrs. Jacoby and her sister also, stay clear of them. They just adore gossip, but I need not warn you of them. You'll find out for yourself after you've spent less than two minutes in their company; only a person devoid of intellect and self-preservation would trust themselves in close friendship with a pair of chattering hens. There are a few others, but in general, make it a rule for yourself, not to think of anyone in the Circle as your friend. If you can do that, you'll fare better and you'll survive and thrive here in London."

"I thank you. Any other… words of advice?"

"Yes. Don't trust me either."

She looked very serious for several minutes before, and at the last, such remark finally put Mary's unease to rest, and set her off laughing away her nerves. "Very well. You especially, Miss Sothern," said Mary.

"May I presume to call you, Mary? If I may, then you may call me Rietta."

"That's a most peculiar diminutive form of the name Henrietta."

"Good. I'm glad to be different."

"What is your forte, Rietta? If I must guess, it must be the piano."

"One of them, actually. I also sing."

"And she is the best of any of us!" cried Mrs. Bowman, catching the end of their discussion. Georgiana and Miss Judge had just completed a delightful duet, to the enthrallment of the other two. The two on the settee were demanded to join them and take part. However, the plan was opposed by Miss Andrews; for they could not stay too long when there were a few shops to visit before the next musical soiree. Such plan suddenly put Miss Sothern in mind, to invite both Miss Bennet and Miss Darcy, to join them. At that moment, Lizzy finally appeared in the room, to be warmly greeted by Mrs. Bowman and the rest of the misses, begging they might forgive them for stealing away her two sisters. Lizzy seemed pleased, but looked to both of them, asking whether the excursion would agree with them. Mary did not resist. Perhaps the cautionary tales of her peer was still fresh in mind, but feeling safe in such company, she did not resist, and even expressed a wish to walk. If she had no desire for new clothes or such, the fresh air might prove beneficial to herself and Miss Darcy.

No other objection could be found. Mrs. Annesley was called to go with them, and the girls dressed for the outing. They found themselves walking out, enjoying a bright day, and lively engaged in conversations of the highest intellect. At some point in their journey, Miss Andrews inquired of Miss Bennet whether a gown had been selected for her debut at the musical soiree. Upon hearing a negative, all the Starlight were shocked and outraged; this situation must be remedied as quickly as possible! Good thing it was they happened to be going out to the shops. Miss Bennet must have a new gown for the soiree! Of course, even though Elizabeth would happily lend her sister any gowns, this situation was still unacceptable. She was in London now. She was about to enter high society, and therefore, she should not be relying on Mrs. Darcy for providing her fashion. Fashion must be had and purchased for herself. Georgiana urged her to agree, by compromising with Mary, to make purchases as well for the soiree. It was part of the experience of being out and being invited to the homes of great friends. Mary had to wonder, though, if Miss Darcy was of the same mind. Were all these women her friends too? The advice received by Rietta struck her as words of wisdom from another keen observer of character and human nature, tempering high hopes and spirits with reality. While the whole morning at shops proved to be mentally agitating and somewhat foreign to her, between herself and Georgiana, it was a most delightful day: testing out satins, their colours, what gloves, what shoes, what pendants, what hair combs to complement it. It put all their imaginations to work on Mary Bennet, including her own. No small wonder it was now that Kitty and Lydia had always wished to come to London. Despite her preconceptions, Mary found that shopping for the right things was no empty-minded task; it provided one plenty of mental stimulation, something her younger sisters had lacked for so much of their lives. Perhaps, now, she better understood Lydia and Kitty's characters.

More coffee brewing... Mary making new friends, and Kitty learning Italian... What could possibly go wrong?