Those who have said they're feeling the drag, you're totally right. I did not expect this to go so long. That doesn't mean I have lost interest to complete this journey for Mary and Kitty. Really, the fault has been these last couple chapters. Anybody who reads or writes a lot, you know filler material when you see it. But I feel like that is passed. I'm getting back into the mood. I'm at the juicier parts now.

I've also had an anonymous reviewer the last three or four updates telling me nothing except this story is ridiculous, the writing is ridiculous. Okay. After a few of those, the tone turned nasty, and I just deleted them. I've had enough of you. If you hate the way I write, my OCs, Jane, you're under no obligation to read. Whoever wrote this piece (someone please remind me of the title), whoever wrote the FF short of Lady Catherine and Lizzy's conversation turned into an argument between an author and trolling reviewer, that was GENIUS! I was laughing at it, and I was laughing at everyone's comments! You spoke to every writer! Whoever would spend their time on reading material they hate, I say, who really is the ridiculous one? Go pick up a book you actually like and tell your friends about it. Your energies are better spent on what you love. Leave us to be happy with our ridiculous hobbies and our ridiculous choices.

Chapter 28

The large hall and banquet room had never really been used in their time at the Grove House. Now, with the help of all the staff, it was brought to life, one hundred and some candles illuminating. Every colour from the tapestries, to the flowers on the tables, the gowns of the ladies, all the more vibrant for the light. Happy guests and delighted chatter slowly filled the room, from the front door to the hall. The musicians had already come, strumming softly, making allowance for everyone to gather. Jane was giving some order to one of the servers when Kitty came down, a blue gem among the black and white dress of the menservants. Something had gone amiss, something trifling; for her sister wasn't at all upset about it. It was a minor matter that couldn't fail to be cured by a brief rearrangement. Of course, this would not do for a hostess, deserting her post at the front door. A bolt of red raiment flashed into their midst.

"Dear Jane, must you leave Charles and I to receive your guests?"

Jane certainly heard the charge, the sugary, playful slap. The head started to turn, but paused, froze, then continued right on with her quiet discussion with the butler. Caroline stood, and it would seem, to Kitty's keen eye, that Jane asked pardon of the butler for the interruption and tarried in the servants' matter more so. Her servants were more important than her sister-in-law.

"Jane, did you not hear me?"

"Thank you, Mr. Montgomery. Tell Jackson not to distress himself. I'm very sorry to hear about that. Please, have one of the men take the family some dinner portions, and I shall call on him and the family tomorrow… Now, did you say something, Caroline?"

"What is this inconvenience about the servants?"

"It's nothing to be troubled about, sister. Everything is taken care of, and I will proceed to greet our guests."

They began to walk back towards the front door, around the corner. "Honestly, Mr. Montgomery should handle these trifling matters himself on occasions as this."

"Ah, Kitty!"

Jane did everything, and exerted every effort by the look of her, to pay no heed. The arrival of a third party was most welcome, ending any surge of anger on either side. The bright flush of cheek instantly died away. Kitty had her arm hooked around Jane's, and was led towards the arrivals. Country gentry, tradesmen, and some titles floated by. Some M.P., for the name escaped. It proved to be no different than the guests of Meryton. In every country town, there was a Sir William and Lady Lucas by another name, of boisterous good manners and demure pleasantries. There was a Mrs. Phillips, a lone but very much satisfied with life woman, who talked too fast her wild delight of being invited, eager for an occasion to gather new gossiping intelligence. Kitty also recognized the dowagers and country mothers of large families, coming from a home very like her own. Her daughters were perhaps the most overdressed hoydens present, dripping in lace and jewels of every colour. Upon formal introductions to Kitty, lavish admiration was heaped upon her for her own gown and pearls. Compliments were returned, giving encouragement to them. These young ladies seized her hands, declared what fun they would have, how much they'd been longing for such an occasion as this ball, and to further their acquaintance with her. Of course, their mother hushed these outbursts and herded them along to the banquet hall, leaving Kitty to herself.

One gentleman stepped forward, whom Charles introduced as a Mr. Abbots. His tall forehead and wide eyes gave him a much older appearance, though he was merely thirty and some years. He shook hands with his host, reached out his hand to Jane, then withdrew at recognizing his blunder. The shoulders and back stooped in a bow. While that wasn't so funny, when he moved and begun to do the exact same thing to Caroline, he mumbled an apology. Kitty stifled the giggle before he heard. When he proceeded to Miss Bennet, Kitty did not bother to let him bow but offered her hand. This rather caused him to laugh, and mumbled something to Kitty that escaped her.

"Pardon?"

"Forgive me, I've never been invited to the Grove House. We, I mean. Well, I'm just… Never mind…"

"It's alright," shrugged Kitty. Gaucheness was rather refreshing now.

"Did… Did Mr. Bingley say Bennet?" he asked. "Are you… Forgive me, one of the Bennets of Hertfordshire?"

"Y-Yes."

"Meryton?"

"Why, yes. Do I know you, sir?"

"No, no. But I know of someone who will be overjoyed… Ah, here she is. I ought to have helped her out of the carriage. My wife begged me go in, some trouble with her lock or shoe or something. My dear, over here!" he called out. "Miss Bennet, may I introduce Mrs. Abbots."

"Kitty Bennet!"

"Mary King!"

The last person in the world to be expected at the ball gave Kitty a sudden thrill. Both women threw their arms about each other in an embrace very informal and undignified, from the opinion of Caroline and some members of her party. Without a second thought, Kitty seized a hand and drew her a bit aside from the party.

"I did not know you lived so close to the village! How? What… This is just wonderful. It's been two, nearly three years!"

"Oh yes," Mary softly chuckled. "My, you look… absolutely divine."

"No! I'm just the same, and you, why you haven't changed at all, except for Mrs. Abbots."

Her husband approached, smiling almost as much as his partner. "Yes. This last twelvemonth now."

"My congratulations, to both of you!"

"Most kind of you, Miss Bennet."

"It's so droll," declared Mrs. Abbots, "when we heard the name Bingley, and received your sister's invitation. I told him what a marvelous surprise, and I was delighted to know that Mrs. Bingley was indeed your sister. We all knew it would be!" Kitty blushed. "And to see you, why it just makes the evening!"

"Shall I bring you ladies some refreshments?"

Though he wasn't a very handsome man and certainly the most awkward, Kitty found him all the more charming for being Mary King's husband. There could not have been a better match for her. He proved himself most attentive to her, and by extension to Kitty, being their servant, ushering them to chairs, and keeping a thoughtful distance to permit them the pleasure of reunion. No amount of praise had been so richly deserved. All the memories, the good and the bad flooded in, and with crushing shame did Kitty realize she had neglected correspondence altogether.

"You must tell me, well, if only you wish to tell. Tell me about your life and your time since leaving Hertfordshire."

"As you can see, it has not all been so disagreeable," replied Mary, with a shrug of the shoulders. "I do miss my Aunt and Uncle Barnes. We write frequently."

"I ought to have done the same."

"You didn't know my address."

"Please tell me that your uncle was kind to you."

"I will say… that tenderness is not in his nature. He could, can, at times, be a bit harsh. Looking back, given the circumstances, I can better understand his reaction to the whole matter. In the end though, as I did not learn until months and months later, that he actually did me much kindness."

"Kindness? Mr. King practically tore you away from the Barneses. Forgive me, but it does not seem very feeling of a kind uncle. I can't help remember. I should not recall it, for I don't mean to give you pain. That whole episode was painful enough for you."

"Indeed. But it was long ago now, Kitty. It feels very long ago," assured Mary. Her smile and glowing cheek had dimmed, but not diminished. "My engagement to Mr. Wickham had been protracted hastily. I didn't think much of it, of his conduct, and the timing of it. It was flattering. For he was the first gentleman to ever pay me attentions, the first to ever express desire to attach himself to me. He didn't care that I was some unpolished, inelegant country girl. It was also a matter of pride… Of course, that injury I deserved. It was with pride to consider that the most handsome man in the regiment, the most sought after by all the ladies of Meryton, chose me."

Kitty heard her with a nod, with all the gravity and surprise of confession. Mary King, proud? Did she perhaps suspect Mr. Wickham's defection from Lizzy? "That is surprising, though I cannot say it's shocking. I can understand."

"Stupidity! I was in love, and too stupid to see he was not," she murmured, shaking her head. "My uncle King said nothing in Meryton. He had learned of some unsavory reports, but I learned later, that for delicacy's sake, he would not publicize the reports in Meryton. When we removed from Meryton to Liverpool, he placed me in a finishing school. It was miserable at first, but I made some friends. I had a chance to forget my previous cares. No one knew about my engagement being called off, which made it easier for me. I did not have to start somewhere new in a disgraceful, pitiable position."

"Oh, Mary!"

"In the coming months, when I ceased to be miserable, Uncle King finally told me all he had learned. Of course… I won't go into detail now. I do not wish to speak ill of your brother-in-law. But what he'd told me about his conduct in London, and rumours, some rumour about an heiress who'd almost been ruined… Of course, a lot of it was unconfirmed. He did confirm, however, that there were large debts. He had joined the militia to escape some scrapes in town. It was all enough to convince me that I was very fortunate."

"Yes, more so than anyone realized."

"Compared with my darling now, I don't see how I ever could've been happy. Even if it had gone off and his circumstances and character… well, we were not suited. I know that now."

"How did you both come to meet?"

"It was a ball, much like this one. I'd a new gown made up, and he ruined it, by turning round and spilling his drink all over me."

"Oh no!" The two laughed heartily.

"I did not find it very funny at the time… Now, I heartily recommend it, if any girl wish to capture a man's attention, be willing to ruin your best dress!"

"How do you know he didn't have the same clever idea?"

"Joshua? Lord, he would apologize to our cat if he walked in the room and startled it. He'd never have done that purposefully in a million years. Not him. Well, the hostess took me upstairs to change into a fresh gown, and he was waiting downstairs, a puddle of apologies. But when he stopped, we got to talking. He asked me to dance, and he turned out to be a very good dancer. He might be clumsy when he walks, but he's nothing of the sort when you set his feet to music. Quite the conundrum!"

By that point, Mr. Abbots approached only to sheepishly confirm that completely true. He urged his wife to rise as the first dance was about to commence. What a joy, being married, he could dance with his favourite partner as many times as he chose and it did not matter! Between a few other comments by both, they were blushing and laughing, jolly for having found someone else as gauche as themselves. Off to the dance! Kitty was left laughing herself, and promised the next dance to Mr. Abbots. It swelled the heart, contented her to know that the plain and pitied Miss King was no longer. She'd not been locked up in a dreary house, nor left to languish and become an object of persecution in a ladies academy in Liverpool. A broken engagement had not broken the heart. The future made up for any humiliation and past injuries at home. Mrs. Abbots did not exaggerate her husband's skill as a dancer. What a turn, even in that regard. Mary King was perhaps one of the weaker, more untrained dancers. Lydia was always too quick to dismiss her company for more lively companions. Mr. Abbots had made her a better dancer, and much more lively than her old self.

"Miss Bennet!"

The eyes fell closed. She drew a breath before turning and dipping a curtsy. "Good evening, Mr. Murray."

"The music is starting. Please, may I have the first dance with you?"

"I suppose so. But I am promised for the next."

"No matter. I'll wait."

"Well, I'll grant you, if you are patient."

Some twenty couples were lined up. Each one was dancing as if they'd been practicing all their lives, but never had the opportunity. Thanks to Charles and Jane's own warm reception, the whole room was in a fine mood. Mr. Murray looked his very best, most dashing and keen. The first dance, and eager to engage her for another, there was no pretending to be ignorant of his intention.

"When I take a house, which will be nothing like the Grove House, probably less than half its size… But when I take a house, I intend to give balls and parties once a month."

"I approve the intention, but the expense of it, Mr. Murray. That is considerable."

"Well, I'm not saying I'll have a hundred guests and more at every ball, but it's my intention to be generous."

"By all means then… And what will you do with yourself in between these monthly parties?"

"There's my share in the business, naturally. That will occupy some time, with oversight of the factories and correspondence. But in time, when it's more affordable, I'll procure a steward. That was smart of my cousin Charles to advertise for one."

"Yes. Of course, there's the danger that the steward will do too much and consume your entire occupation… You'll have to find yourself a new one." Other couples were conversing around them in the line, making it a bit difficult between them and the maneuvers of the dance to have much conversation themselves.

"No danger of that! I'll hunt, read and write, tend my horses… And maybe the occasional trip to town."

"Well, traveling in of itself is not an occupation."

"Now, that's not fair!" he teased. "What about foreign travel?"

"I'll grant you that. Foreign travels are exciting and can be an intellectual pursuit. But a trip to London… Wouldn't you merely do the same things in town as you would at your own home? Read and write, go to the clubs, talk about horses?"

"You seem to think my life is dull."

"Now, I did not say that, sir."

His expression, one of confusion and curtailing emotion, struggled to shift direction. "I don't wish to bore you," he answered, more sedate, serious. "Tell me, what ought I do for an occupation?"

A new stratagem was needed, and it came into mind to turn attention from herself. "My opinion is not important, Mr. Murray. In my own experience, most ladies like it when they are involved in the occupation. Take riding for instance! If the lady is not an expert and has little desire to sit in the saddle, you're not going to entertain her very much about your hunting expedition. Or if she likes poetry and you find it frivolous, preferring more substantial works, her conversation, for you, will turn from conversation to prattle. It's not to say one or the other is dull, sir… It's not dullness, it's merely a difference of taste."

"Well, I feel a little better about that." A sheepish smile began to creep back.

"As I said, my opinion is not important."

"Its the uniqueness of your opinion that gives weight to it."

When the first dance met its conclusion, an appropriate pause granted before the next, Mr. Abbots claimed Kitty. In the span of their time, Kitty heard snatches about himself and his family in Liverpool. It would seem that good fortune in the industry of buttons and buckles allowed the family to take their ease, and no doubt, such tolerable fortune recommended the gentleman to the imposing Mr. King. Since there was no hint of an elopement or secret marriage, it must have taken place with full consent from her guardian. He did rattle on too much about buttons, but done in such a way, in self-deprecatory fashion, knowing what a drab subject it is, entertained his partner all the more, more so than her first.

Luis Murray returned to claim another dance, but he was in competition with a young chap from the village, whom Kitty bestowed the third dance quickly. The baker's son. A sweet face, sweeter than a pastry, but a tolerable dancer. He introduced her to his elder brothers, which turned out to be a mistake on his part. One after the next, each dance proceeded to be claimed or requested. Mr. Murray would be forced to wait. Unfortunately, another would have to wait too. Kitty did not see him, not until the youngest Fulsom boy was in the middle of a dance with her, about an hour and a half into the evening. His appearance almost halted Kitty in her steps, nearly robbing her attention entirely from the dance. Did she really expect that the Bingleys' contractor would attend the ball in his dusty coat or his large hat with flattened hair? No, indeed. Out of all the black, blue, green, and charcoal coats, a robust figure of warm pearl and burgundy damask had nowhere to hide. Only a hint of gold peaked from the cravat; everything had been professionally tailored. And the hair, smashed by the hat and suffocated, though unable to tame its curl, was certainly improved by attention. More than improved. Between all such things, the natural appearance and his own personal taste, he put himself in grave danger, and he looked very dangerous himself.

Kitty couldn't help remember the evening of cards and supper with her Aunt Phillips, when Mr. Wickham first entered the room. The reaction he had incited… Oh, if only Signore Andreozzi had been there, to succeed Wickham's late entrance to the party. Kitty rewrote the history with a few seconds of fancy. To have seen Lydia's face, all their friends, the Harrington sisters, Miss Watson, what amusement as she watched every female blush rise, forgetting all about the handsome new ensign, what was his name from a few moments ago. Who was this? Perhaps Lydia would've made one exception in her devoted preference for all redcoats; for a man looks nothing without regimentals. The dashing Mr. Denny had nowhere to stand.

Their dance continued. Of course, that did not hinder her from attempts to look again. Within a few moments, in spite of her dance with the young master Fulsom and a far-off conversation with Miss Sothern and her companions, the eyes met. The conclusion of the music and some parting pleasantries disengaged Kitty before long. Signore Andreozzi made some modest bow from his party, closing the distance across the floor. It wasn't a very tender expression, but warm, as his head bent forward in a greeting, in a manner that had gone extinct in the last couple centuries.

In a lowered tone: "How do you do, Miss Bennet?"

"I did not think you would come, signore."

"My family did not wish to, but not as a slight to the Bingleys."

"I understand. Naturally, I should find strangers more intimidating if I could not even converse."

"My sister did ask I send her regards."

"Dear Ilaria," mumbled Kitty.

"If you are not engaged the next, will you honour me?"

With a pleasure and pain in her heart, she consented to the next dance. Miss Sothern may be conceited, but there was no arguing against cultural similarities. Even if that was nothing to him, sharing a dance was not the rational action, not until she had cooled and learned to think of him with a lesser degree of admiration. It was dangerous doing so. It didn't make much sense to encourage it. A man like himself would agree with her in that sense. What an odd sensation coursed through her, having two poles within her colliding at the touch of his gloved hands and her own. It must've been making her odd, peculiar, to him at least. Instead of the jigs she'd been enjoying previously, this slower tempo couldn't explain away the rising heat and budding cheek. It would've been easier to stand before him, of the same appearance and in the same manner, as they were out in the orchard.

Why did a change in wardrobe make that any different? The conflict was still the same as before. Out in the orchard and the gardens, there was always a shovel, a pot, a spade, something in hand. She had some distraction for her hands, and the face, in the case of saying something silly, could be hidden under a wide brim.

"Are you enjoying yourself so far?"

"Yes."

"Is it everything you expected from your sister and brother?"

"Yes… I think they've done splendidly this evening… And are you enjoying yourself, signore?"

"I've only just arrived, but I am very pleased."

"You've come late."

"Too much time before the looking-glass."

She scoffed. "Oh, really? I don't really believe that. You don't care how you look."

"Ah, you wound me, Miss Bennet," rejoined with mock offense. "I put so much time into the appearance this evening. I wouldn't disgrace my employers."

"You don't mean a word of it."

This sparked the mustache, the lip, to a curve. "True. I'm not a looking-glass man."

"But you know how to present yourself smartly, of course."

"When I'm invited to these kinds of occasions, especially by an employer, it's more polite to make a late appearance, while everyone is diverted... no announcement of names, no stares, no explanations."

"Is that necessary? And to who? To yourself or your host?"

"It's a polite, more discreet entrance than is custom."

"Mr. Bingley would have no qualms about it," assured Kitty. "He and Jane would welcome you at the door, whether you were an Englishman or Italian, from India, China, or the end of the world. Perhaps that is your experience, but that is not every person."

"You're right."

"Don't flatter me, though."

"I do not. I think it rather optimistic, but about your family, what you say, I'm sure it's true."

This was not the conversation, not the sort that she wished. It should not be a gloomy subject. There was only so much time left for the Andreozzi family before all would decamp.

"I hope you will enjoy the evening, regardless."

"Of course."

"I will say, no matter how good it is, it's nothing compared to your family's dinner and dance."

"You liked that?"

Kitty smiled at the memory, in return for the small one peaking out of his. "I wish our dances here were more like that. I wish, instead of drinking port in the dining room after dinner, that the men sat around and sang like your family."

"Does Mr. Bingley have a good singing voice? The colonel? Mr. Murray?"

"I don't know… I've never asked. I think it would be strange to ask such a thing."

"Well, but you like it?"

"Yes."

"How about this: If someday you come to Italy, you and your family come to visit, have dinner with us—we will all sing. Myself, my brothers, uncles, cousins: we'll teach them. We'll all sing. How about it?"

"Is that a promise?"

"Well, you'll have to do something in return."

"And what is that?"

That mustache lifted devilishly. "I expect you, while sitting at our table... to catch at least a dozen grapes in your mouth first."

Kitty caught herself laughing much harder than she expected, almost as loud as she remembered Lydia would laugh. A few heads turned.

"I accept!"

"Bravo! Then you shall have a serenade, come non hai mai conosciuto prima."

"What about the conservatory? Surely, we must not leave until you've shown us your family's private collection of specimens."

"… Well, that strikes curiosity, as to how you'd even get there… How do you intend to visit?"

"I shall ask my father to take us on tour."

"Isn't he the scholarly sort, keeps to his library, never stirs from home?"

"Yes."

"Then how are you going to get him out?"

"I'll convince the Darcys to take a holiday. Once she is recovered, the doctor will prescribe mild climate. My father will follow Lizzy, and I, in turn, will follow… even if I have to stowaway in some unsuspecting lady's trunk."

"Don't be silly!"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Don't make me laugh. You're making that very difficult."

"What's so funny?"

"… If you were trapped in a trunk, I'd rather sit on it."

The battle was being lost tragically, on both sides. "You are impossible, and I've always been so agreeable to you. Now, I heartily regret it," wheezed Kitty, holding her side, flushed red. In attempt to suppress further laughter, she had to avert eyes from his face; there's no worse cure for it than when the other person themselves cannot regain control.

"Young lady, beg pardon but moderate your voice," chastised a middle-aged woman beside her in the dance. She turned and twirled further down the line, as Kitty and her partner continued revolutions in a more behaved, stiffened silence. The woman's chiding glare did not, however, wipe the joy and smug satisfaction from the face of either. A stranger might have been mortified had she known she were scolding the sister of her good hostess and a guest of prestigious reputation in Europe.

"Plants don't travel in cargo," he advised. "Neither should you. Even if it's a bit of expense, I would recommend spending for comfort. Not first class, not extravagantly, but mind that you travel in comfort and better enjoy your destination."

"That sounds reasonable, if ever I booked passage. As much as I wish to see more of the world, that is not an easy when you have an uneasy stomach. Why, even the carriage sometimes can make me feel ill. When there's been a lot of rain or snow melting, I rather prefer to walk than risk it."

"Oh dear, that is not very promising for a sea voyage."

"Shame, isn't it?"

The music dwindled. All dancers dipped, and applause rang out. For shame, in truth, that she had mentioned such a thing at all. Stepping away, they were suddenly accosted by a band of female vagabonds, led by Miss Sothern. Immediately, she started upon the gentleman in Italian, effectively claiming him in conversation and shutting out any interlopers. Her elegant companions knew better that they would not stand a chance, and so turned their attentions to Kitty, with handsome compliments on her dress and her hair. How smart! How pretty! How little sincere or deserved, Kitty repaid them with civility. Their chatter prevented her concentrating on the Italian being spoken. It was no surprise to hear Signore Andreozzi, eventually, to address the request of danza to Miss Sothern. None of it, by his expression or tone, conveyed an unwillingness. The young woman accepted the offer with a subdued delight, snapping her fan closed and excusing herself from the troupe of friends.

Friends?

"She's the most brazen, vixenish…" "… practically throws herself at him." "From London, it's no surprise…" "I'm rather sorry Miss Bingley invited her." "As if being from the continent, she is so much superior to us all."

Kitty heard with astonishment all these contradictions. "If that is the case, why is she a companion of yours?" she inquired of them. A pretty but sour girl answered her.

"She has one good use. She is well-connected, and she'd introduced us to many in society."

Miss Sothern, like her dear friend Miss Bingley, chose red but paired with white for her gown. Ironically, all three colours that Kitty had chosen were present in hers, but Kitty's dominant scheme was the ivory, not red, while Miss Sothern's was opposite. How hilariously fitting! In spite of her own concerns and frustration, she could still smile on the dancing couple. Kitty had not her sister's clever gift for reading lips across the room. In this case, however, she did not need such talent. Through all their circling, sways, touches of the hand, light stepping between the other couples, Kitty observed the lack of speech. Oh, they smiled, yes. Miss Sothern never took eyes off him. He smiled, the nose wrinkled before a laugh, eyebrows rose once, but he was capable of still dancing without a misstep, still conscious of more in the world than the glimmer of her eye.

A few more selections were to be played before the commencement of dinner. To follow, a special evening's diversion was arranged for their guests. Since the Andreozzi family was close enough to completion of all major restorations on the estate, now, it was time for the house and gardens to be given attention by the public. Charles and Jane intended, by some direction from Colonel Fitzwilliam, took the example of Pemberley and many other great houses across the country. Mr. Montgomery would be permitted on certain days of the week to give tours of the house, and the head gardener will then give tours of the grounds. Tonight, a special tour of the grounds, directed by the hosts and the butler, would be offered their guests. A couple men of the staff had already finished lighting the paths and the woods in preparation. Of course, a basic tour of the gardens would take at least an hour to complete. Dancing was to commence upon their conclusion, if the young and lively of the generation still were eager to resume.

"Shall we have another dance, Miss Bennet? We've only had the one."

Kitty had been sipping on a cup of the punch, with every intention that this would be her only serving. Mr. Abbots had been kind enough to grace his wife and her friend with lemonade earlier. While this was more to her taste, she need not be reminded, nor remind anyone else, of the Netherfield ball, or even Mrs. Forster's supper party and costumed charades at the Rose & Crown. Would Luis Murray have enjoyed those charades? He—They probably would've had a good deal more fun.

"Are you well, Miss Bennet?"

"Why yes, Mr. Murray," replied Kitty.

"You look like you're in another world."

"I'm waiting for them to call dinner." A hint was attempted, by strolling lazily towards the nearby window, keeping her stare out into the dark void. In truth, the hunger was meager enough not to care about the dinner hour. "What do you make of the evening, Mr. Murray?"

"I'm having a wonderful time! I hope you are, pray, tell the truth!"

"Of course, why, it's not in my best interest to tell the truth about such a thing," she retorted. "It's a fine evening, Mr. Murray. Aside from minor details, it has been everything I could wish for in a ball. Jane and Charles have managed marvelously, especially for all the consideration that goes into it."

"Not everything has measured up?"

"… Did you dance with any of the London ladies?"

"Ah, yes… Yes, I did."

"So many charming and elegant ladies."

"Elegant, they may be, but not very charming."

"Oh?"

"Their manners, are a bit imperious. Affected… I danced with one of them, and they did not know me as one of the family. She made remark about the quaintness and simplicity of the arrangements. Apparently, there was not a grand selection here at the refreshment tables, but in town, the lady of the house would spread as much of a feast on her refreshment tables as she would at supper. I told her that was rude."

Eyes widened. A gasp of surprise escaped. "You told her?"

"Indeed! Acts all high and mighty, as if she accepted our invitation to be polite, and she has other concerns and connections more entertaining. She's just some nobody of the county, who has been to town one or two seasons… Where did you get such airs from, Miss Coleman?"

"What did she have to say to your rebuke?"

"Nothing. She went quiet, looking rather mortified. After that surprise, I don't think she dared venture another opinion unasked."

"Well, I'm proud of that!"

"And how dare she be condescending about a house party that she accept an invitation to in the first place!" he protested, taking up a punch cup himself.

"I had looks from one lady, who had the audacity to tell me to moderate my voice, simply for laughing at something my partner said. I daresay she'd have been ashamed too. I understand, the older must regulate and supervise us younger ones; still, they are not so above us that they should forget their own manners."

"Why did not say anything? Did you?"

"Oh, Mr. Murray, it's a small slight, so much smaller than that your partner committed. What am I to do? Run to Jane and tattle?"

"No! Tell the lady that her comment was uncalled for," he insisted. "Would you like me to do it? I'll go find her."

"Mr. Murray, you'll do no such thing. Hush!" For he combed the room with his eyes, searching between all the matronly. "I am flattered. Still, you must agree, there are times that calling out wrong is necessary, and there are times it would be wrong to hold court. In fact, it can make matters worse for yourself if done badly."

The young man sighed. "True, true… I cannot say I readily agree, but I am obliged to you for hearing me with wisdom."

"Oh, I almost forgot!"

Kitty snapped to attention, lay her cup aside, and hurried towards the long dining room. Unlike the other, the smaller and more intimate dining room for the family, this one accommodated their large number and extra for comfortable milling between tables. Mr. Murray followed, seemingly intrigued and reluctant to let a good conversation merely drop. Attention was called towards the placement cards on the dining tables. She briefly asked one of the footman where Mr. and Mrs. Abbots were seated; he pointed them out. With thanks, Kitty took up both placement cards, and then sought out her place at the main table.

"You are rearranging the tables, Miss Bennet."

"I know. Well, not the whole thing, Mr. Murray. Just the Abbots. Mrs. Abbots was a good friend of mine from Hertfordshire; a better friend to me than I was to her. Still, she is a good friend, and I told her we shall sit together at dinner."

"Will your sister not mind?"

"For something so trifling, no!"

"Well, what about the Miss Friar and Miss Sothern that you are moving to the other table? Will they mind?"

Kitty laughed heartily. "Did you not just reprimand one of our guests for a haughty attitude? If they don't like it, what does it matter? It's just one evening. It's not their whole life."

Mr. Murray casually perused the nearby placement cards at the host table. His own name was found, and as suspected, he wistfully observed his position in relation with Kitty's. They were close, but it was not directly beside or across from her. "If you're taking liberties with other cards, might I?" he requested, the eyes pleading more than his own lips.

"To where?"

"Next to you?"

"But Jane is next to me."

"Or, across from you?"

"Signore Andreozzi has been placed there, at Charles' request."

"Well, didn't you move guests about on a whim? And what does anyone care if you do?"

"Well, the two ladies I moved to the other table are not particular friends of mine. I want to sit by my friends."

"But they are my cousin Caroline's friends. Don't they deserve some precedence on her account?"

"But… Caroline does not confer precedence over my sister and brother."

"… No, but… she is Cousin Charles' sisters, just as you are Mrs. Bingley's sister."

"Yes… That is a fact. However, you must consider… You cannot help acknowledge, Mr. Murray, that Caroline's friends, whom she invited, were not invited by Jane."

"And therefore, they are not entitled to hospitality and consideration like us? After all, Signore Andreozzi is not a house guest, yet he's seated in a place of honour. How is that explainable?"

"I… didn't come here to explain it. All I wish is to sit by my friend."

"Regardless of the wish of others?"

"… Alright, if you choose to see it that way, so be it."

For perhaps now, Kitty wondered whether he would still want to move his card at all. "I don't like that, Miss Bennet. You're taking liberties, but don't deem my cousin a right to her own wishes. And you deny me some equal share in the liberties."

"If this were Caroline's house and her party, I would agree."

"It's not yours either."

"It's not yours, mine, or hers. If you both are so offended, you may take it up with Jane and Charles."

"I can understand your wish to be near your friend, but I think guests of the house have more claim on the host than a distant acquaintance or a contractor and foreigner."

"I'm not stopping you from moving your place card where you like! If you want to displace any of my neighbours, I cannot stop you doing that, but I will know it was you. And don't expect a pleasant companion at dinner."

Before taking herself from the room, Kitty happened to glance down at Caroline's placement card. It would seem she too had a personal hand in the seating arrangement. Right beside her name, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The man would probably thank her, bribe her, if she would take the liberty of moving his placement card anywhere else. A girl might only hope that this would prove enough of a quarrel to deaden the tender feelings of an unwanted beau.

The ball was supposed to be all one chapter, but I wanted a bit of a fight with Mr. Murray. You think Kitty had some validity to swap a couple cards, or does Mr. Murray have a point? This scenario is one, in real life if it were me, I'd be split down the middle.

Alright Mary, you're next!