Chapter 19

When nothing was turned up from the previous night, the search resumed early the following morning. Mary felt suddenly rather ashamed of harboured ill feelings for Mr. Darcy. Not only did he send his servants out to inquire with the staff of his neighbours, but he, personally, called upon the neighbours himself! Lizzy, lacking more and more in stamina, rose early and called for an early setting of the table at breakfast. Mary almost resisted, too much agitated for her missing cat. But her sister was adamant, especially as her husband and the servants were actively engaged in the search for Chop.

"Do please sit down, Mary. You'll feel better for body and spirits if you have even a little," argued Lizzy. "Take a little fresh bread and tea. I promise. It will be worthwhile. And the cook has prepared…" She searched under the covered dishes at the side table. "Ah! Here it is! Fresh and warm, plenty for Lion and Chop when he returns."

"Oh Lizzy." Mary looked as much as she felt, worn out by the night and so listless, exhausted she almost shed tears, touched. Lion, the patchy coat with a purr that did not seem to die down, was held tight in her arms. "Forgive me. I'm such a fool."

"Forgive you what? Nonsense! Put Lion down and let him eat. I've a nice dish for him." Indeed, the servants placed aside some fresh and warmed scraps of meat, but not so hot with steam rising. And they had been generous in their portions for the cats. "Now, please join me. Georgiana isn't even down for breakfast yet."

"Oh?"

"I imagine she's still worn out. I'm sure if it weren't for Chop's escapades, you'd probably have slept better yourself."

"I don't know. I don't believe I'd have slept much at all anyhow." Mary started out modestly on the bread and butter, and eagerly on her tea. With all the stress, the muscles below her stomach were clenched, especially in the right side. "Forgive me. I seem so out of sorts… And I feel silly. All for a cat."

"Why is that foolish? I'm worried for him too. So is Mr. Darcy, and our staff. We all want him found. We want him home, safe with you."

"I'd hate to think what will happen if we never find him. Going back to Longbourn, with Lion all by himself, and tell Papa—"

"Mary, you mustn't think that. We're going to find him. I promise you. He's not even been missing a day yet… Try and take your mind off it. Tell me, how did you all enjoy the opera?"

"… Well, I enjoyed it immensely."

"I should like to think so." Lizzy paused, studying her face intently, mining through the cobwebs of Mary's bad night of sleep. "Something tells me that it wasn't all pleasurable."

"It's nothing extraordinary," shrugged Mary. "Perhaps, I also suffer myself, thinking too much about it. I had strange dreams last night. Have you, sometimes, had a string of dreams in one night? One after the other, and they made no logical sense?"

"Maybe sometimes… but I often can't recall them when I wake."

"These were so vivid, almost like I lived through them awake instead of asleep. So vivid. Still, they made absolutely no sense."

"Dreams are wild things. They're not exactly controllable, but when the imagery is so vivid, and it's enough to recollect it in the morning, I think there is some reason to be found even in the illogical. Did anything significant happen last night?"

"Well… Well, I suppose you might say that. Last night, Mr. Cummings… in so many words, basically, expressed his approbation and pleasure with our acquaintance, with the hopes that it will continue… Progress, he said."

"Progress?" echoed Lizzy. "And what was your reply?"

"I… You know, Lizzy, for the life of me, I can't even remember what I said, but I'm sure I told him that I agreed with his sentiments. He was very… pleased at hearing that. Then we returned to his box for the second half. Going in and leaving the theater, the whole time, he escorted me on his arm. We got a chance to talk in the lobby during intermission… And by the time we returned to our seats, had our ices, and the curtain went up for the second half, I felt…"

"You felt…"

"… I felt happy, I think. But it's not happiness, in the way I'm used to thinking of it. It was a light as air feeling, and that expression seems fairly common—not even sure where that got its origin. And it wasn't like I was suddenly jovial, nor smiling, blushing, fainting, none of that. I just don't know how to describe it."

"Well, it's clear, you seem to be a bit stunned," giggled Lizzy. "I think I'd call it disbelief. You really do like him, don't you?"

"Lizzy… I know, if I can say it to anybody, I can trust you. I think he's… one of the greatest gentlemen I've ever met," sighed Mary. "I never imagined in a thousand years, such a man as Mr. Cummings—so intelligent, refined, well-mannered, so totally respectable. And… and handsome."

"Handsome?"

"Of course, you know my preferences are never for the surface and the superficial charms. In my limited experience, I've sadly, often, come to find that so much deceit and vice belie a charming appearance. Not all men, but many… But Mr. Cummings has proven to be a rare exception to that, what must be, a cynical misconception. It certainly does not sway my opinion, not at all, but it's… it's nice, such a nice change—though I am… well, a nice change to be admired and respected by a charming and decent gentleman."

Her sister developed a knitted brow. For a moment, at a loss of words and gathering thoughts, Lizzy sipped on her tea.

"Lizzy… It's of no importance to me whether he is handsome or not. I'm merely making the point that he is everything I've been looking for, as well as everything else a girl could want in a gentleman. Does that really seem so bad? Why do you look so grave?"

"Forgive me. I'm rather… surprised. This is a vast change from over two years ago, even a few weeks ago. Mary, can you say that honestly?" Lizzy looked up into her face. "You've never been one to be swayed by a man's appearance. It's been your greatest strength, especially where it concerned Mr. Wickham. You knew better than any one of us. That took great wisdom." Mary blushed at the unpleasant memories; though it was a compliment, she felt the comparison. "But another handsome man comes along, with all the charms and manners, and in a short acquaintance—"

"Lizzy! How could you? Mr. Cummings is the farthest thing from a man like Wickham!"

"I did not say he is like Mr. Wickham. Not at all. I say that he, like Wickham, has all the same charms and manners. For back then, very early you'll recall, Mr. Wickham was very well-liked, received, respected in Meryton before any of us were aware it happened. My comparison is not made to degrade Mr. Cummings, nor to suggest he's of villainous character. Mr. Darcy and I have had no bad reports of his character in town. However, we've all since learned it's not good to fully depend on the opinion of others."

"Perhaps when you get the chance to know Mr. Cummings better, you'll judge him more kindly," sighed Mary, disappointed.

"I'd like to see more of him, Mary. Knowing where he stands now in your estimation, I'll be glad to send him a card and invite him to dinner. But please, Mary, before being carried off in your mind and heart, I advise you to check these feelings. And I must say something else." Mary was about to cut her short, when Lizzy emphatically rushed through her last sentence and cut her off. "I don't care for this attitude because there's something in it that sounds like the voice of our mother. Mary, you've taken too much to heart what our mother thinks of beauty and appearances, particularly yours. And now that you've become acquainted better with Mr. Cummings, you feel the flattery even stronger because you believe you are plain."

"There's no question about it, Lizzy. I am a plain girl, the only plain one of all my sisters."

"And that is a fact, because our mother told you so? Really Mary, I know you love her, and I love her too. But this is not a field where her judgment merits any credit. Do you credit her?"

"Well… No."

Lizzy's somberness softened a bit, into a sad smile. "Think of it this way. Beauty is subjective, just like happiness… You'll probably recall, and I certainly won't forget, when a certain someone called me 'tolerable.' " They both remembered well, and Mary chuckled, as her sister did, at the irony of it. "To that man, whoever he is in your life, what you look like will matter not—you'll be the most handsome woman on earth, the most wonderful thing in his life. Everyone else—what do you care if they think you plain?"

"Is that how Mr. Darcy makes you feel?"

"Indeed! Like there is no other woman in the world," replied Lizzy. "But at the same time, you mustn't feel that you need a husband to tell you that. Consider this, also… You have a beauty that our mother has never possessed and could never understand. Our mother, quite honestly, never had great powers of mind. We've witnessed, throughout our lives, a lack of natural understanding or curiosity for the depth of human nature, as well as indifference towards any improvements. As you've grown up, and cultivated that on your own, beauty of mind and strength of character has set you apart. She cannot understand that, and I strongly believe, because she cannot understand that, she criticizes. Who is more preferable company, in the opinion of society? The handsome but empty-headed, poorly behaved girl with high pretensions? Or the common face with her kind manners, thoughtful, and modest perspective of herself and others?"

"… I see."

"What I hope to know about Mr. Cummings, is that he will appreciate your every beauty. I expect nothing less of your future husband."

Mary had little time to meditate on these words. Lion leapt back up into her lap, having finished with his breakfast. Once more, she was reminded to hurry and prepare herself to go out in search. Perhaps it left a great deal unsaid, but she preferred not to disclose it. Everyone around her seemed to have doubts about her: Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, even Georgiana now. Aside from anxiety for Chop, thoughts of Georgiana kept her tossing about fitfully. All their apprehensions seemed to blend together in one principle concept: mystery and ignorance are dangerous. Personally, the ladies of the Starlight were still fairly new acquaintances. Lady Herncastle, Rietta, the Jacoby duo, Miss Andrews, Mrs. Bowman, Miss Quinn, Miss Longsbury and her violin… even Mr. Cummings, and his father. Her time in London, the new frontier into which she crossed, now a member of the Starlight Circle, had been a surge of grand experiences—rushing at the pace of a meteorite.

When Georgiana joined them, she was dressed and ready. She preferred to forego breakfast, and assist in the search. While the servants were making inquiries at the houses and in between the houses in Grovsnor Square and on St Audley's Street, Georgiana had the idea of taking a few turns in the little garden of the square. It seemed an attractive place for an adventurous feline to take himself off and explore. The menservants attempted it last night but without success. Another look or two was worth a try. Mrs. Annesley also dressed to accompany the ladies. Mr. Cummings had not arrived yet. Upon securing Lion in her bed chamber, the three women set themselves to task. First around the square they walked, whistling, clicking, and calling out his name. Since the perimeter yielded nothing, they ventured into the garden walks themselves. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley split off from Mary down one walk, while she took another. No gardeners were present at the time, or she'd have inquired with them. It wasn't long at all, and enough to make her feel driven mad. Her father's dear gift to her.

Before despairingly stepping out from the opposite side of the perimeter, a fair stranger called out to Mary.

"Pardon me, ma'am!" A tall bush hid her a moment, but she came full into view. A cheerful, pretty girl with a striped brown parcel. "Is he who you're looking for?"

"Oh, Chop!" cried Mary. She bounded towards them. What a beautiful sight, his dusty coat, and Kitty's silly blue bow collar she'd lovingly made for him. "Oh my goodness! Thank you! Thank you so much! Chop, you naughty boy! You had everyone so worried."

The young lady, delighted, handed Chop back. The reunion was nothing so extraordinary for the cat, quite unbothered and unconcerned for his escapade, but he purred loudly and chirped a happy greeting once returned to Mary's arms.

"He is so sweet," said the girl. "He came right up to us. Then we heard voices calling, and supposed the search was for him. Luke! Luke! I found the owner!"

Her calling out into the high-grown garden was heard by the man who accompanied her, who joined them both directly. And Mary, as ready to greet and thank him as the lady, drained of all colour. A tall figure in a jet black, not scarlet, coat. His shocked expression matched hers.

"Captain Carter!"

Four horses were being saddled, and per usual, for the one most inexperienced in the saddle, Kitty stood outside the stable, near the yard, waiting for the three experienced riders to join her. Between Mr. Murray's suggestion at breakfast and Caroline's eagerness to set off on her morning ride, a plan emerged to set off on a tour of the full grove. It was a bit ambitious as the woodland spanned some twenty miles or more. Caroline scoffed her cousin's ability to traverse the whole of the groves within the sunlight of one day. He contradicted her, in passionate, brotherly fashion. However, since it was not a race, and he did not wish to go alone, he'd only attempt as far as he might convey the ladies. It was one of Jane's wishes, during this time, to set off on a ride. Caroline resisted at first, preferring to take her rides alone. It was disappointing that Charles and the colonel had gone out even before breakfast, intent upon business of the estate. However, with the prospect of encountering the colonel during their ride—even joining them, a little tolerance of company and the companionship of Kitty Bennet could be suffered for Colonel Fitzwilliam.

With all this conversation taking place at breakfast and for the time it took to dress in her stiff, new riding habit, Kitty scarcely had time to pick up and read her post. A letter had been delivered from Longbourn. A small packet from her mother.

My Dear Kitty,

You have plenty time to write to Lydia, even Mary, but none for me? Naughty girl, you are! But I love you and miss you dearly. Tell me, I beg to know, how is Jane and sweet, little Davy? Is he much grown and walking yet? I get to thinking of him at times, and start to cry, breaking my heart for my grandson. How I miss him! And Jane and Mr. Bingley.

What news! What tumult and change we've seen in Meryton since you and your sister have left Hertfordshire. Mrs. Phillips and I, with the agreeable consent of Lady Lucas, decided to give a little card party at Longbourn. I'm afraid your leaving the neighbourhood was ill-timed, my dear. For we have a new magistrate! A young man, recently discharged from the army, and he's just settled in town. You know that empty cottage, just two doors down from the mercantile? He has taken it, and shall keep a cook. He also has a horse and trap, little else. Certainly not a bad-looking sort of man. Why, if you or Mary were still here at Longbourn, I'd have sent your father out to town to call upon him. After all, it's been many years since we've had a magistrate or any sort of public servant or sentinel on duty. While it's been some time since we've suffered damage by any fires, floods, or robbery on the farms, I shall feel a great deal safer. But sadly, you are not here. I've almost debated whether I ought to bid Jane to send you home early. He's a fine man, just the sort of man for you!

But on the night of the card party, to our good fortune, Mr. Mollahan was in attendance. I daresay, he was the target of every young lady in the drawing room! Maria Lucas made quite a spectacle of herself, but he was very kind to her. He seemed more charmed by the likes of the Harrington girls, perhaps Penelope more than Harriet. Before the evening was over, the two sisters were quite the jealous pair, and mad about him! I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it. For when a mother has no more daughters at home to consider, and at her own leisure to be so generous in her good fortune, what better service can I offer my neighbours but to help bring their sons and daughters together in matrimony? A girl needs a home and an income, and every man needs a savvy woman to manage it, so I told Mrs. Phillips and Lady Lucas. I wouldn't say that Maria has no chance. Though she has unremarkable good looks, she's not so handsome or clever as the Harrington girls. I'd so like to help Lady Lucas and Mrs. Long. They've an abundance of girls, and need to work fast to make matches.

Though I thought of you, I'm convinced you are better off where you are with Jane. She will find you a suitable match, and I have the highest regard for her taste. Mr. Bingley's connections will supply your future husband, mark my words. Speaking of family, I have a pressing matter to put to you, Kitty. Enclosed, you'll find another letter addressed to Lydia. Will you be a lamb, and send it on for me? I'm anxious for her, poor child, and my lovely granddaughters. Some kind words from home will do her a world of good.

Before Kitty finished reading, which was only one more paragraph, she pulled the tucked in letter aside, and held it up to the sunlight. It contained plenty of writing, but also a faint shadow of another compacted, tightly wound-up bundle that was, without mistake, some bank notes.

"Just as expected. Oh Mama," she mumbled.

Why else should her mother go to such clandestine lengths to send a letter to her favourite child? Mr. Bennet probably, like Charles, forbid her sending any monetary aid. There was no further mention of Jane or Charles in the letter, except bidding Kitty to send her love. Whether their last letter had silenced Mrs. Bennet or conjured any resentment, nothing in her writing indicated that to be the case.

"What is that?" Caroline approached on her horse, an alabaster mare.

"A letter from home."

"That's good. No letters from a sweetheart."

"When I receive one of those letters, I'll be sure and read it out to you," vouched Kitty, with her own saucy smile. "Or you may read it yourself. I'm happy to be generous, as you probably don't receive many yourself."

"You're rather bold today, Miss Kitty, especially considering you are a novice rider, and it's no hard task to spook a horse or send Sheba into a gallop."

"If you do, you'll only help my case with Mr. Murray. He'll protect me from anything you and your whip might do."

"I'm glad to hear it!" declared Caroline. Her smile was cold, but nevertheless, she gave her hearty consent. For she must have been serious after all. "You are well-suited. I told you it wouldn't require much effort at all on your part. Now, that you have a beau, take him and be grateful. When we join up with my brother and the colonel, keep out of my way. Understood?"

"Perfectly! I wish you all the best."

Since Jane and Mr. Murray followed from the stables in short order, Caroline curtailed any further attempts at wit. As good as his word, Mr. Murray would ensure her protection; the young man led both Sheba and one of Charles' stallions, the gray with black mane by the bridle. His behaviour was perfect chivalry, and his attentions to her comfort or discomfort, so diligent, it was almost oppressive. While Caroline and Jane got a little ahead of them, he maintained a much slower pace, keeping alongside her, as the foursome ventured into the woods. Jane was delighted to show him the progress of the grove's trail, including the forking steps and path that would take a walker beneath the waterfall. The structure of the balcony, with its terracotta stairs, and anchored stones up to the falls, impressed him greatly. On another day, he must explore the grounds on foot to take in more of the estate's features.

Beyond, Caroline urged her mare to a canter, proceeding uphill and above the falls. According to her report, a shallow marsh lay ahead where they might easily cross in safety. The Andreozzi family had yet to restore a particular bridge that lay at the northern border of the Grove House grounds. Jane's expression altered into a puzzled mix.

"Caroline, you're not talking about that bridge that connects to the west foothills, are you? It's falling to pieces."

"Oh, Jane! I've ridden over on it dozens of times. Everyday!" she laughed. "I promise, all our horses will sail across unscathed—upon my honour."

"Caroline, that's reckless!" Jane urged her horse to match pace with her sister-in-law. "If you wish to go up by that way, we ought to turn back south. The marshland to the south of us is perfectly calm and shallow enough—"

"But Jane dear, that's such a long detour to the foothills. Besides, if we go south, make our same path, by the time we return it will be full dark. We haven't brought any nourishment to supply us that long, and I don't know if your sister will fare well in the saddle so long. Ah, I see the bridge now!"

Kitty had not been this far north on the estate, as of yet, and one look at the bridge, she agreed with Jane—reckless, no, madness! The bridge, composed of fifteen or twenty feet of wood planking from over a decade ago, stretched above a semi-shallow pool some ten feet below. Quite a gulf, and any tumble was survivable for a swimmer, but for a horse, likely fatal, depending on its fall. Tampering with a beehive seemed less of an insanity.

"You cannot be serious. You cross this bridge everyday, you say?"

"Certainly."

"Caroline… This is… I cannot—"

"Don't let the drop trouble you. It's wide enough for one horse at a time, and I tested it out, walking on it myself before walking my Aphrodite across it. If it were unsafe, it would've given out long ago."

"That doesn't make it right, cousin!" added Mr. Murray. "If you took a fall and suffered injury, who is there back home to think to look for you all the way up here?"

"I see a gulf further ahead," said Jane. "There's enough of an incline on both banks that our horses should be capable of traversing. And the gulf is close enough so our horses will not be troubled by the current."

"Up there?" protested Caroline. "Jane, that's hardly more sensible than crossing this bridge. If we take the bridge, you'll be on the west bank in three seconds. Down the gulf, we're going to have to dismount, walk them down, walk them back up the other side, and get ourselves filthy in the dirt."

"I'd rather we be filthy and sound, than injured and soaked."

Mr. Murray did not sense it. For he could not have known, but Kitty, knowing all, saw the wind change. Jane's choice of words summoned old memories… soaked memories. Even if she was long since dry, clearly, the injury was still in her mind. And Miss Bingley, turned a rather incredulous, stormy look upon Jane, the likes of which Kitty had seen only directed towards herself.

"Your warm concern does you credit, Jane, but if you do not trust me, you may walk your mare down the gulf. We'll all just wait for you."

"I don't like this. Caroline, I'm afraid I must insist we all go down the gulf—"

Before she could finish her sentence, the bold and brazen rider gave a click to her mare, and flew lightly, effortlessly over the suspicious, aged wood planking. As good as she promised, she arrived on the west bank unscathed.

"Come along everyone!"

"Well… Forgive me, Mrs. Bingley. I was entirely inclined to agree with you, and insist on going down by the gulf. But it appears stable enough for our horses."

"Mr. Murray, I beg you!" pleaded Jane. "Regardless of that, this bridge is unsafe. Signore Andreozzi has demanded that we stay off the bridge until it can be torn down and restored."

"Caroline is right, though. Walking down the gulf is just as much, if not a more precarious, maneuver than the bridge."

"Mr. Bingley would not support this, Mr. Murray. He'd insist on the gulf. Come, Kitty."

"No, no! Don't attempt it alone, Mrs. Bingley. I'll ride my horse across, then I'll come back to walk you and your sister across."

"It's not worth the risk. Come, Kitty."

Caroline called out. "Why not let Kitty make up her own mind?"

A new blaze entered Jane's eye, alone and unsupported in her concern, and furious. "My sister is my own concern, Caroline. Please, Kitty."

"Mrs. Bingley, allow me to escort you. If my cousin were here, he should not like any of you ladies crossing unaided. Please, let's not quarrel. Let me ride mine over. I'll be back for both of you."

Pulled between the majority and her sister's more sensible alternative, she found herself frozen in indecision. Jane was already making her way, and once more, entreating her—commanding her to follow. But Mr. Murray moved quickly, escorting his own horse across, then dismounting and returning to Kitty. Ever the gentleman, and so kindly meant, without the malice of his cousin on the other side, Kitty yielded to his hand on the bridle. It happened so quick and seamless, and distrustful of her own skill, the guiding hand was preferable to the steeper incline. She held her breath as Mr. Murray walked them across the bridge, with her ears sharpened to the sound of any possible breakage. Their pace was slower than the others, and being three separate bodies instead of two, every creak in the planking sounded like thunder.

"Oh Jane, what on earth!" cried Caroline. Three quarters of the way across, Mr. Murray paused and glanced over. Each of them observed Jane daringly walk her mare down into the gulf. It was steep, ungainly, and difficult to watch. Still, she had good strength in her legs, due to years of good horsemanship. And without a care for her habit, the skirts, up as high as her knees, met ill-usage in the clay. She did not stumble once. "So stubborn," murmured Caroline.

"Mr. Murray, please move!" begged Kitty.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stop—"

"Can you please concentrate on the task at hand?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Bennet." They were safely over. "Forgive me. I'll go and help your sister now."

Jane had greater difficulty climbing the steep embankment. Her mare's steps faltered in the clay, and due to the shifting ground, began to show signs of panic. Kitty's breath caught in her throat as the poor mare started to slip, then catch itself, but dragged Jane by the bridle. Even stronger than her legs were her arms, and bravely, she held herself and the mare steady until Mr. Murray rushed over. From above, he grabbed hold of the reins, and tugged her up a better incline. Once close enough, he had Jane by the hand, hoisting her to the safety of flat grass. The pitying expressions between Mr. Murray and Miss Bingley, and her comments upon Jane's poor, ruined habit, gave Kitty plenty reason to blush. For all that, she dared not look Jane in the eye.

"I wish you had waited for Luis, Jane. I was terrified!"

"Well, you gave me similar fright when you crossed the bridge." Mr. Murray helped her to remount the saddle. "Next time, let us all be in agreement as to our direction. From now on, to all of you, I forbid the use of the bridge until it's restoration."

"Don't be so dramatic, Jane dear! We all made it across safely. If you'd taken the bridge like the rest of us, you would not have had this ordeal—"

"I'm not joking, Caroline," snapped Jane.

"Well, you know you'll always have your way, Jane, but it's hard to enforce restriction when fears and concern is proven invalid." With a quick snap of the whip, her mare gained the lead.

"Caroline, don't be so arrogant! Mrs. Bingley was looking out for your safety! Pardon me…" He took off to catch up with her, leaving both of them alone. Jane, still furious, turned a hard look upon Kitty.

"I'm sorry, Jane. I did not mean to take their part against you."

"I could care less about that, Kitty," answered Jane. "That was very dangerous, and you know it! That bridge could've given out on any of you. Signore Andreozzi and Charles have ordered everyone stay off. Somebody could've been killed!"

"But how could I help it? I don't ride often. I'm no expert like you, Caroline, and Mr. Murray. He offered to escort us both across. It seemed sensible enough."

"Next time this happens, and I tell you to follow me, don't disobey me. Do you understand?"

For several minutes, it was a struggle not to give way, give into tears. When Lydia was still at home, and thoughtless actions or dishonest tricks were blamed on Kitty, chastisement and humiliation came naturally. Hard to bear, bitterly borne, and accepted, but it was unfair. In this case, the reproof was entirely justified, and Kitty earnestly resisted the tears. Her sister was right to scold, for having chosen to listen to a stranger and a woman who had no tender feeling. Yet, anger did not last long. Their paces were regulated again. Mr. Murray pulled back to keep to her side, and from what could be heard, Caroline appeased Mr. Murray, who must have scolded her into apology. All that was sweet and insincere, just enough to keep Jane from vocal protest.

"I hope I did not cause a quarrel, Miss Bennet."

"Well, it couldn't be helped, I suppose."

"If it makes you feel any better, I just had words with Caroline, and expressed my displeasure in not so many words. I told her it would be more becoming if she would apologize to Mrs. Bingley. Hopefully that shall not spoil the day for everyone. I thought it might help."

"It won't do any good," huffed Kitty. "She's not the least bit sorry, even if her contrite expression says otherwise. Mr. Murray, if you wish to help me—"

"Of course, I do, Miss Bennet!"

"If you do, please show my sister more deference than your cousin. After all, she is the lady of the house, and our safety is hers and Charles' responsibility. If she had not warned us about the bridge, it would be gross negligence. We owed her better."

"… Very true. I did not think of it that way. That was thoughtless of me. Aside from what you mentioned, is there any way I should make amends?"

"No."

He smiled sheepishly. "I'd really like to," he pledged. "I can see I've deeply offended and disappointed you."

"There's no need to fuss, Mr. Murray. Some things are just a matter of: what's done is done. Too late to change it. Just admit your mistake, and move on."

Slowly and with the length of their silence, Kitty's thoughts were allowed to be turned more pleasantly by the green fields, along with some bright strokes of pink across the foothills. Such conditions, following long periods of rain, made for better experiences out riding. The farmer and the animal alike breathed the same clean air. It wasn't to be wondered at, that Jane or Caroline found much refreshment. If she'd been learning while young, forced back onto the horse after a fall, and given some time, Kitty too might have become a horsewoman like her sister. She might have loved it very much, if not for the threat of a fall, falling against fence, falling into the mud, or being knocked breathless by a too low branch. The riding master's horse, also, had been a young one, a female, recently broken into the saddle; the lessons she gave all the Bennet girls were spirited ones.

Through the foothills, they enjoyed spectacular views of the grounds, and beyond it. If not for the shade of the intertwining grove, it would've been a much hotter, less comfortable excursion. Having also left the vicinity of the river, its cool energy and the moisture in the air could not offer relief. Caroline promised that their path would reunite them with the river shortly. Shortly. Yet, they continued to see nothing but beech, elm, and hawthorn around every twist in the overgrown vegetation; there was no trail to speak of, except for a little groove where the grass and brush grew less thick. Very little was trampled already, aside from the horses. Local farmers would've been sensibly taking to the main road. By the time they rejoined the with the river, Caroline turned her horse around and directed everyone to look back. Their vista was like a terrace, rolling down by degrees, like stairs. Through a surrounding curtain of trees, the Grove House appeared nothing more than a toy house that Davy played with in the middle of the floor.

"Isn't that worthwhile!" pronounced Caroline. "Might take a few hours, but here we are; what a spectacular view, is it not? My brother made a fine choice of house, Jane. With so much land, and nestled into such rich forest, you have many years of long, leisurely excursions in the country ahead, as well as good hunting. Charles shall have plenty good shooting in the autumn. You should return in the autumn, Luis, and join us for the shooting."

"If I am invited, I shall be delighted," he agreed. Jane made no reply, though he hesitated expecting one. "Are you a hunter, Miss Bennet?"

"No, indeed."

"Shall you come back to visit the Grove? Even if you do not shoot, many ladies still come to watch and cheer on. We've always had good sport back home, haven't we, Caroline?"

Some perverse feeling found its way to the surface. For seeing her sister admire the view while trying to hold her tongue back, Kitty turned a cold shoulder on the subject. "All well and good, but I find it all a bore," she shrugged. "I like the social aspect of the hunting party, where there are good dinners, card-playing and maybe a little dancing in the evening."

"It's perhaps the best part of the hunting season. I'm sure the tenants and some of the first families here of Havilland Grove will relish the chance at both."

"Of course, only if we receive due invitation," reminded Kitty.

"Yes, of course! I also have my masters and my studies to give consideration as well. I'd like to think they'd be generous for a few weeks of sport."

It did not work. Turning to her sister, she called out: "Jane, I think I should like to head back now. I'm getting rather fatigued."

"Oh yes, I'm sorry. This is very far for you. Do you need any of my water?"

"No, no. I'm quite well."

"But we just arrived," complained Caroline.

"You may stay, Caroline," suggested Jane. "I'm sure you know your way home. It's going to be a long way back, and she seems a little overtaxed already."

Kitty already nudged Sheba into walking back down the path they'd come, and Jane joined up with her in a few yards. Their voices were kept low, especially as Mr. Murray, caught off guard, attempted to catch up.

"Is everything alright, Kitty? I hope I did not hurt you by what I said earlier."

"Not at all, Jane. You were perfectly right to be angry," admitted Kitty. "I'm fine, really. I feel like I've just had enough."

"Don't think that her behaviour will go unnoticed, Kitty," assured Jane. "Charles will certainly hear about this. I have a mind to put it to him, if she insists on having her own way, that her daily rides will be discontinued for a time."

"I know it's none of my business, Jane, telling you what to do and how to manage your house. But really, why do you even try to keep up polite appearances with her?"

This provoked some pause and reflection before any response. "… Kitty, she would love nothing better."

"If Charles knew, he would not put up with it. He will support you, I'm sure of it!"

"That's not what I'm afraid of…"

"Then what? What power can she possibly have over you?"

"Another time, Kitty. Not now… Please forgive me for earlier. I was very hard on you. I need not have been so. You're not an experienced rider—"

"I do understand, Jane. I know you were upset, and angry with her. You had a right to be concerned with all of us, and you have every right to forbid the bridge. It would've been wiser if we'd all listened."

"True, but in your case, it wasn't deliberate." Jane reached a hand out, to which, Kitty reached out and both squeezed each other's gloved hands. "Kitty, it is rather warm, and you've not brought any water."

"Silly of me. I didn't expect it to be so far that I would die of thirst," she retorted.

Jane gently reached out, pulling Kitty's reins to a halt along with her own. The small carafe of water, tethered in back of her own saddle, was loosened and passed to Kitty. "There's more than plenty. Take a few minutes and drink."

"Thank you."

Whenever these rides were just her and Jane, they always rode in a tandem pace, side by side. In a way, it wasn't much different than walking down a lane together, arm in arm. Two people walking side by side give an appearance of On a horse, only more intimate conversation was possible at this pace. Everyone else ahead or behind had to rely on the speaker raising their voice, if they wished to be heard. When Mr. Murray caught up with them, he found himself unable, due to the narrow path, to keep so close. He was regulated very close behind them, while Jane and Kitty kept their pace together. Caroline, once the front, now fell into the rear. Coming out of her own thoughts and thinking of Jane, Kitty imagined this brought relief, not having to ride in tandem with Caroline.

It confounded, puzzled, frustrated her for days. Where was Miss Bingley's power? Before the marriage, of course, Jane had much to gain by silence, goodwill, and good manners despite ill-treatment. Sisters, brothers, mothers and fathers, friends held more influence during the time of courtship. Their opinions often weighs more in the esteem of a young man courting a lady. Once marriage takes place, the tables are turned. Now regardless, whether she be serious or silly by nature, she no longer is obligated to court the notice of her husband's family and friends. She is free to be generous or miserly, as good or as fickle as she pleases. Miss Bingley would know this. Jane has supplanted her in the household. She must know that her duration in residence is dependent on their goodwill. And yet, she challenges the status quo, without the least concern that she will be punished. Kitty tried to think if there was something she didn't know.

Something in this situation reminded her of home, of her mother and Lydia. Lydia did not care about losing her allowance, not so much, when she had her mother's sympathy and a loose purse string. If Kitty had a pretty ribbon that so suited her, she made no scrupples about theft when her mother practically condoned it, turned a blind eye to it. For a flirt, Lydia was willing to let go of her grasp on Denny when Wickham became a free man. She was always bold and brazen, when she was confident of getting her way… What gave Miss Bingley her confidence?

By the time the four found themselves within the grounds once more, it was three in the afternoon, according to Mr. Murray's watch.

"I'm afraid your watch is running slow," remarked Kitty. They were passing a corner of the fence posts of one tenant, bringing them in range of the tenant's sundial. "Its shadow is way beyond three, nearly four almost."

"Oh, dash it! When was the last time I wound this up?" he scolded himself.

"Ah, I think I see Charles' horse," said Jane. Three cottages away to the south, outside the door, stood the horses of both Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. As expected, Caroline enlivened and hastened towards the prospect. She'd already declared her determination, on the ride back, to make a larger party on their next ride, to include her brother and the colonel. The men must not be allowed to work themselves to death for the sake of the estate.

"I did not realize you were… such an expert on the natural world, Miss Bennet," commended Mr. Murray. "Quite a lively turn of mind."

"I'm flattered, sir."

"It's very impressive. Learning Italian, tending the gardens, beehives, reading the sundial."

"Well, there's nothing to it, really. Signora Masin and her brother have been teaching me a good deal, and it's a matter of basic science and proper alignment when it comes to marking time by the shadow… Speaking of which, I believe I see the Andreozzi family now. Would you care to meet them?"

He consented, and Kitty led the way, weaving between the walks between cottages, between clusters of chickens and geese that fluttered from the path of any horse. For today had been a more dull day for the contracted party. Two heavy carts nearby borne separate loads of gravel, forming more sturdy paths for the tenants between their homes and the house. Tedious, repetitive work today, but despite the exhaustion of faces and the sweat-soiled linens, Kitty should've preferred the menial work to such vexatious leisure. Upon catching Ilaria's eye, the women waved to one another. Signora Andreozzi, resting on the back of one cart, fanning herself and drinking water with Luciana, cried out buon pomeriggio to Signorina Katerina.

"Mr. Murray, this is the Andreozzi family," Kitty introduced him. She took two minutes to name them all, with a special introduction to Signora Masin, her friend Ilaria. He touched his hat to all the ladies, and bid good afternoon to Ilaria at her approach. She echoed his response as best she could, and offered a minor bend of the knees.

"You need water," remarked Ilaria. "Luciana, portate qui l'acqua!"

Kitty accepted the offer readily, dismounting from Sheba and taking up the communal cup. This caused some slight disturbance to Mr. Murray, observing common water being offered.

"Miss Bennet, shouldn't you like your own water? I might apply to one of the tenants—"

"Nonsense! It's the same water as the tenants'." Another gulp down. "When you work on the grounds, you can't afford to be fussy about your water."

"What do you do here?" Signore Andreozzi appeared from around the other side of the cart. Being smart, it would appear he chose to purposefully dump or plunge himself into the river nearby. He, and all his brothers and cousins, were soaked through their shirts, keeping themselves cooler and a few top buttons undone. Per usual, Signore's hat covered a fast-growing mushroom, which Kitty tried not think about that moment. "I thought you were out riding today with Mrs. Bingley."

"I am. We are," she answered. "We are heading back towards the stables, but Jane and Caroline have decided to stop and chat with one of our visitors."

"I see."

"Mr. Murray, may I introduce our contracted landscape architect, Signore Andreozzi."

"How do you do, sir?"

"Pleasure, signore."

"I hope nobody has suffered heatstroke today. It's monstrous hot," remarked Kitty.

"We're getting on tolerably. It's nothing like the heat back home."

"It's splendid work," said Mr. Murray, "what is being done with the grounds. I really admire that new fountain up by the house. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were telling me all about it."

"Indeed." It did not take long. Kitty noted that flicker in the eye, and the brevity of responses. While he made detailed praise of the gardens and the orange trees, as well as expressed a desire to investigate the renovated path under the waterfall, Kitty saw the Italian's eyes counting the minutes, waiting, wondering why they were talking about Italian philosophers that were being studied at Oxford.

"Mr. Murray, I think we ought to save that for another time," giggled Kitty. "It wouldn't do to keep Signore and the family from their work. I've interfered plenty enough in the time I've been here."

"I can understand that. You'd be a most welcome interruption," said Mr. Murray. Kitty blushed violently; the sideways compliment not being the least subtle. "Well, Signore, it was—"

"What shall you be doing tomorrow? Are you laying more pathway?"

"We have a bit more to go. Should be finishing up either before sunset, or by early tomorrow," with a side glance away, "depending on how long we spend talking."

She laughed out loud. "Very well then, Ortiche. I'll leave you to it!"

"We'll be returning to the house, tomorrow, to work on that fountain and the ground around the drive. If you care to join us…"

"Capital! I'll be ready!"

"You better be ready. We won't wait for you," he teased.

Daring to venture a glance back towards her gentleman companion, Kitty hardly knew what to expect. He instantly regretted his introduction. As the Italian made a slight bow and turned on his heel back to work, Mr. Murray's lip lost its easy curve and warmth, thinning into something like a family resemblance. He reached for his horse's bridle, and Kitty felt his hand and riding crop gently lean into her upper arm as he whispered.

"That was rather forward," he murmured.

"What? I was not—"

"No, he was forward. Miss Bennet, is he serious or does he normally tease you like that?"

"You don't know him, Mr. Murray. That's just his way."

"… Shall we rejoin our party?"

Kitty walked around to remount Sheba, and attempt it unaided. Before he could offer his service, a loud commotion resonated from the nearby tenants' cottages, from their pig pen. They scarcely witnessed the exchange, but whatever the case, Caroline was in high spirits. She soared higher as she managed to leap Aphrodite over the far end of the yard. Colonel Fitzwilliam was in full view, her intended audience. But Charles and Jane called out after her, begging her not to do so. Though the leap was landed successfully, it was at the cost of a toppled fence board.

"Caroline!" yelled Charles. "I told you not to!"

Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the startled pigs, like water breaking a dam, leaked through the broken section. Too fast to even count, but every single, last pig took flight, running wild and overjoyed but madly into the midst of all the tenants' homes.

I didn't intend to make this chapter so long. It just sort of happened. Guess you could say I overflowed the coffee pot while brewing this batch. I will say, for Kitty and the Bingleys, these next couple chapters take a dark, gritty turn I did not plan. Don't worry, though, nobody dies.

It's funny how many people were commenting. I wonder if anybody saw it coming because I made no reply to comments. Well, sorry for the suspense: now you have it! Captain Carter has finally returned!