Apologies for the long wait. I've been at a lack for motivation lately, and too much stuff going on. But in some down time, I've had wild ideas brewing about more writing. Will see where that leads. It will probably turn into nothing. Anyway…
Chapter 27
It was exactly five minutes after five in the morning, when the Darcy house in Grovsnor Square heard the first squeals of a baby girl. Neither Mary or Georgiana slept at all; both women sat up in her boudoir together through the long hours, alternating between reading and cards. With the wearing of hours, both lost their will and ability to hold much conversation. Georgiana remained silent by exhaustion, and Mary, dictated by prudence, even though a thousand different thoughts circulated her mind in those early hours. Every so often, Georgiana stepped out to seek out her brother, then return, giving some little report on Lizzy's progress. The sight of Mr. Darcy's face and Dr. Reis outside the door had everyone, the family and servants, struggling for air in a surge of relief. From outside, they could hear the beautiful sound of newborn cries.
According to report by the attending physicians, it had been a struggle for mother and child. Lizzy had laboured a good deal when she realized how crucial time had become for the child, but they wisely reasoned her out of it, giving all her strength with each contraction. She'd have to reserve energy for the final pushing. Because of the breach position, the surgeon had to work delicately to untangle the baby's legs. Once both legs had become free, then a new problem was encountered that prevented them from facilitating delivery. Mary managed to catch the details between the doctors and their quiet chat; the umbilical cord had looped around one of the legs. Forcibly removing the child from the mother held a heavy risk. Instead of trying to dispense with the cord too soon, Dr. Reis managed to carefully move the leg and unwrap it. Within minutes, the labour was ended!
Of course, now she had too many questions and new topics of research to go search out from the local collections of medical journals. Lizzy started to nod off asleep a few times when she and Georgiana were allowed in to see her. Much of her hair and her face, neck, and bust had grown damp. The braid that had been done to keep her hair out of the way was unraveling untidily. Mr. Darcy arranged the pillows behind, shooing off Lizzy's maid who would've gladly fussed for her. The man himself, looked rather pale and the worst for wear after a sleepless night himself. Both of them ought to be immediately ordered to sleep and to bed, yet somehow, a miraculous touch healed them both. When the second doctor placed the still whimpering daughter into the arms of her father, each sister had no ability to contain the tears.
Congratulations flowed, first from the servants' quarters, then to neighbours, and all manner of acquaintances shortly after. Lady Herncastle called on Mary personally with congratulations for the title of aunt; of course, she did not know this wasn't the first niece or nephew. Mr. Cummings left flowers and a calling card with a token of congratulations to the Darcys. Everyone was happy. But lately, the dining room was sparse without the presence of master or mistress of the house. They dined privately in the room for the first couple of days, leaving Mary and Georgiana alone at the table. Most of the meal took place quietly, without much conversation. They talked of the baby, talked of their brother and sister, and all such happy family subjects as common with childbirth and motherhood. Upon the whole, their discourse at meal or downstairs was dull, even restrained. As much as Mary desired to hear a continuance of Georgiana's history, that sense of intimacy was lost, and neither one renewed their interest on the subject. Perhaps, in her own solitary reflections, Mary had caused some offense. Perhaps, she ought to have given priority to Georgiana's company over Rietta's. That was not the intention. An apology might smooth it over. She could not, was not above being wrong, but there was a danger. Georgiana did not like Rietta, in much the same way her brother did not approve of the ladies of the Starlight Circle. An exchange of those concealed sentiments might prove regrettable to both parties.
Then, within three days of the birth, two letters were received from Nottinghamshire.
Dearest Mary,
What a surprise I've had since coming to Nottinghamshire. Of course, I knew it was the same county, but I did not know that I was to stay in the residence of your family, the Bingleys. During this last week of final preparations, I've become better acquainted with both your sisters. Mrs. Bingley is the sweetest, most wonderful hostess it's ever been my pleasure to know and whose roof to lodge under during a stay in the country. Mr. Bingley was very kind and congenial as well, but Mrs. Bingley is attentive and so thoughtful to the pleasure of all her guests. I can certainly see the resemblance of manners and character. You are very much like her, demure, kind, thoughtful.
If you are curious as to the friend I am visiting, I came at the bidding of Mr. Bingley's sister, Caroline. We met some years ago. Curiously enough, you and I may have met sooner if not for extenuating circumstances. Two years ago, Caroline and her sister, Mrs. Hurst, had invited me to form a party, and come stay at their brother's new present lodgings in Hertfordshire. But alas, Lady Herncastle had sent me to Bath for a series of engagements that I was bound to oblige her. I had so longed to go. They begged me to join them. Others had been invited, but sadly, as it turned out, nobody else joined the party. It ended up being a sad turnout for them, no friends, not the shooting party they had hoped for originally. Of course, it would seem Mr. Bingley was not the least bothered for lack of friends, as he made plenty charming new friends in Hertfordshire. On this point, I confess, my friend was a bit sour about it. She talks of that whole expedition as rather a loss, a waste of time, in the country without a single familiar person, with no refined entertainments as were had with other friends in other parts of the country.
"Well, your family grew as a result of your sojourn to Hertfordshire," I told her. She could merely reply yes, sigh, and force a dull smile. I must admit I do enjoy Caroline Bingley's company, but not for the same reason that I enjoy the company of my friends. She's rather amusing, Mary. To hear her talk, I don't presume your family are on good terms with her. If I had been at liberty to accept her invitation some two years ago, I'd have grown bored of her in five minutes. I would have loved very much to meet your elder sisters. What fun to meet the future Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy in the same house, under the same roof as her. Good Lord, I can only imagine. Some people shrink from awkward situations and confrontations. I, on the other hand, am extremely diverted, especially when you have a player on the stage like Caroline Bingley to put on a show for you. Of course, that's not to say I have no sympathy for the innocent opposer. Your younger sister, Miss Katherine, scarcely conceals her contempt of her. I found her conversation at dinner and her hypocrisy with Miss Bingley most charming.
Perhaps you wonder why, for her pretensions and coldness, that I should call such a woman worthy of companionship. She may not be my dear friend, but Miss Bingley, through her family, is acquainted, well acquainted with a good many people. She has a way of bringing them together, not counting the expedition to Netherfield Park. Presently, I am here in Nottinghamshire, not so much as a favour to her but accepting a favour from her. But it's only proper that I did her a favour once, that she return the favour. That is a long story that I shan't bore you about now.
I am so looking forward to the Bingleys ball. For the good majority of the neighbourhood has been invited to celebrate the completion of their renovations of the house. We are a bit crammed for space. Every guest room has been taken, and unfortunately for a couple of our party, they've been regulated to an empty cottage on the grounds. It caused a little fuss, as to deciding who would be forced to stay at the cottage. I offered to go, but Caroline would not hear of it. Another guest, already staying here, a colonel, offered to take the cottage, and Mr. Bingley insisted that he would not be pushed out. That was an awkward moment in the drawing room, I daresay. I felt there were a few angry looks between a few ladies. Somebody had to be slighted. Your sister, Katherine, had the marvelous idea: "Why don't you offer your room, Caroline? And let Mr. and Mrs. Bell have your room?" I couldn't help notice that Mrs. Bingley did not chastise her for such a pert-mannered suggestion. And Miss Bingley sat there, with her mouth gaping then fighting back a grimace. There seemed a little flicker that came to her eye, to Mrs. Bingley. "What a charming notion—to offer my room." "Oh, you wouldn't think I'd send you out to the cottage? No! I mean, I'm sure it's charming, but what I meant was that you may offer your room, or I'll offer mine, and we'll have a spare bed made up and share." I almost laughed out loud. Miss Kitty meant not a word of it and was thoroughly enjoying the vexation she was causing. Needless to say, that bald impertinence was dismissed in embarrassed tones by Caroline. Mr. and Mrs. Bell had the good sense to accept the slight and take the cottage.
If I had known I was coming to stay with your own family, Mary, I wish I'd have delayed my journey enough for the sake of Mrs. Darcy. Then, I'd have the pleasure of your company. And no doubt, you would have given your sisters great pleasure with your company.
What a real pity indeed! Mary was thoroughly enjoying the perusal of her friend's musings. At first, it was met with some surprise, then real amusement to see the tables turn on Miss Bingley, made into an object of derision in the minds of her supposed friends. Mary could practically see Kitty now, taunting Caroline with feigned politeness.
And yet, there was something in it that caused a pang while reading. Of course, it was all extremely diverting, yet also very cutting. Was it wrong? If such comments were directed at innocent, good people with kind hearts, naturally, it would be wrong. But to belittle, laugh in contempt, condescend, trifle with and sport with the ungenerous, unfeeling, selfish people of the world? The memory recurred again, of the interaction between Rietta and Miss Quinn. The latter had her just desserts, probably less than deserved. Her prospect was already a bitter one, then Rietta returned with insult. 'Everyone is cast off eventually. Your misfortune merely comes too soon.' It was overlooked, but it struck her, then and now. Her friend could be hardhearted if she chose, but she could also be very kind, sympathetic, agreeable…
Leaving off on the puzzling emotions of the first letter, Mary broke the seal of the second. Kitty's letter.
Dear Mary,
I feel it's been ages now since you and I have been at Longbourn. My congratulations on the success of your musical publication. Jane has told me all, and I am happy to know that your life's dream is coming to fruition at last. Forgive me, if you've been expecting a happy letter. I wish you were here. For there is a great deal on my mind lately, and though I write plenty to Lydia, these are matters she could not possibly understand.
Mary, I fear very much for Jane and Mr. Bingley. The more time I spend here, the more convinced I am, that Caroline Bingley is a hateful, wicked creature. There are too many instances to name, and I'm not talking about silly, trifling words that pass between ourselves. I am no stranger to her animosity. However, I am sadly an eyewitness, firsthand, of outrageous, most abominable conceit and behaviour towards Jane. You would not approve, but I listened outside the door one night. Earlier that day, Caroline had caused pigs to escape one of the tenants' farms, when she jumped her horse and broke the fence. All manner of chaos ensued. Charles and Jane, as well as the tenants and others involved, were very angry with her. As punishment, he forbid her from riding her horse, which vexed her greatly. That night, Jane tried to talk with her in private, set her right. Instead of being set right, instead of being moved to any sense of remorse, she claims they are so cruel and overly harsh, for something that was merely an accident. Of course, it was an accident, but she was foolish. She deserves to be humiliated. For all that Jane tried to make her accept the blame, accept her wrong and have some contrition, Caroline disclaimed it all by their harshness, that Charles has no call to be so judgmental when he's done worse, that everyone else in the family has been so unkind to her except for Jane, and what a disappointment to find out otherwise! I almost about lost my mind, Mary! No matter how hard Jane tried, it did not work. She left, and Caroline quickly ceased her sobbing, dried her tears, and proceeded with a calm face in less than a minute.
If that were not bad enough, Mary, then, she spoke to her cousin later the following day. To her cousin, she made a whole speech about her fear and oppression living in such a house, feeling like a stranger in her own home. She gave her cousin to believe that Charles and Jane would turn her out of the house, and desire to, even though Jane said nothing of the sort. Her cousin, Mr. Murray, believed her. Of course, not knowing the whole picture, naturally, he would believe her. He says he will rally to her defense, speak to Jane about it. Whether that conversation has taken place or not, I know not. I've already heard too many things I shouldn't. I fear next time I engage in my bad practice someone will catch me. Caroline knows now, that I was eavesdropping. And she threatens me with ruin if I meddle in her affairs any further. Instead of making me cower, my anger gives me a surge of almost impulsive courage. I know she could do real harm to me, yet I do not seem to care. Perhaps I should, perhaps I ought to be afraid. After being insulted and cowed so often, I have lost some fear and maybe some natural sense of self-preservation. After watching her treat Jane with such ill-disguised rudeness and contempt, I feel powerful in my course of action. And it feels reassuring to know that I am not alone.
Something else, another weightier matter has been sitting heavy on me. When I first arrived, I made the acquaintance of one of Mr. Bingley's contractors, an Italian gentleman, Signore Paolo Andreozzi. The whole family work together, by the by, instead of hiring local labourers. You know of them already but I've been remiss on a good meany details. Let me remedy that now. By a clumsiness of mine, I almost injured one of his brothers. Needless to say, it was a shameful incident, and he was justly angry with me, at first. Long since, however, we've made amends. I've become better acquainted with the whole family, particularly one of his sisters. She's been coaching me in Italian, and I have helped her make strides with her English. More than that though, the passion that Jane and Lizzy have tried to instill in me for many years, with their love for the outdoors, has finally taken root. From the family, I have been learning so many new things, a million and one things about botany, geology, even history and architecture. I never realized how satisfying this occupation can really be. At first, I was worn and wearied after a mere couple of hours. Now, I can spend all day in the sun: planting bushes, pruning shrubs, and this and that. I've grown quite tan! I wonder what Mama should say of my appearance; perhaps that I did not wear my hat and shawl enough as proper.
As I had told you previously, the Italian family entertained us over a dinner some weeks ago. Excellent food and dancing. I think it was then, that evening, I started to entertain thoughts of more than a casual, friendly nature towards them. Sometimes, I feel like I'm absolutely absurd. I feel both absurd but completely serious at the same time. Mary, as to the man I speak of, the contractor, he is not every girl's ideal of a gentleman. If you can remember anything of Mr. Denny, he is the furthest thing from him than you can possibly imagine. Over the weeks, I have observed him amongst his family, with Charles, Jane, and Davy, even with animals and insects. He's the sort of man that will, seeing a butterfly downed by harsh wind, will pick it up and place it in a sheltered bush. He will reach into a beehive without inciting panic from the hive. He can be snappish with his brothers and sisters, but he, and everyone, snap, laugh, play, and respect one another. I have never seen the likes of it. And with myself, though we did not always like one another, there is now a friendship and respect, that is, well, friendship of the dearest kind. I may even call it a warm attachment.
Please, do not laugh, do not hold me in contempt. I know you would advise me, if you were here in Nottinghamshire. But in this case, please I beg you, don't listen to advise, just listen. When he threatened to pack up and leave with his family, due to Caroline's own stupidity and selfish actions, I was suddenly wild and panicked of him going. I thought of the whole family, but mainly, I thought of him. I had even more reason to be angry with Caroline, that she would deprive the family of work and wages, jeopardize a contract, because she doesn't care a jot about breaking her own neck over a rickety bridge. Of course, that was reconsidered. He's not a rash man. If he had done so, I could not blame him. He takes much care and full responsibility for the well-being of his whole family. A man of duty. Kind. Silly, at times, but I can be silly myself at times. He takes too much pride in his work, which I feel is both in his favour and disfavour. In conversation, he can go from being a tour guide at a museum or a botanist on expedition in the jungles of Peru. He can appreciate the finer things in life, like good cuisine, dancing, and such, but gets the most joy out of the common things in life too, the things that give any person true happiness.
To simply say I'm in love with him falls so short of really expressing the height and depth of it. I always imagined, when I'd fall in love, my diary would be filled, page after page: describing his handsome appearance, detailing all his fine qualities alongside my every thought, feeling, all my hopes and dreams. Now that it's happened, the truth is, it's actually difficult to put the feeling into words. I also look back on the anniversary dinner, where he asked me to dance. I assumed that he'd think of dancing as nothing but frivolity. When he said I was absolutely right AND absolutely wrong, I was shocked! Now, I know why it was so; now it makes sense, why that night of dinner and dancing, was perhaps the happiest time of my life. He makes me happy, but more, he's made me see that I am happy. Denny never did that. Even if ever I should marry another, that one will never do what he's done. He might make me happy, maybe, but he will never inspire higher thought. For so long, I've been waiting to be happy, and it seemed that none of us would ever be happy until we got married. Now, I know that simply isn't true, and our anxious cares for the future… What does it matter? What does it matter when you're plunging your spade into the soil, overturning roots and rock particles, to make a new home for a shrub. Every shrub is a new little town and a villa for hungry bees, birds, butterflies, rabbits, and foxes; all the while, the shrub rubs into your face, leaving me smelling nothing but lavender. There is toil and labour, but there's peace in every moment. That is a happy thing, a gift. For our lives are full of toil and distresses, but not without its sources of peace and delight.
Forgive me for rambling long now. For you must gather that, though he is so dear to me, even in the moments of depth and tenderness, I am almost certain he's never thought of me in the same light. Even if that obstacle were somehow overcome, I doubt the strength of an attachment could survive all the external impediments. It is not a doubt from unwillingness in myself but the uncertainty, whether hardships will outnumber all happiness. But of course, no such decision may ever be in my power. If he ever were to fall in love with another, if I were to go through my whole life never seeing him again, I will not die of a broken heart. But I shall be sweetly cursed by lingering memories, and the agonizing question that some people go through life always wondering: What if I'd done differently? What if I'd accepted instead of refusing? What if I'd done this or that, and by doing so, alter the whole course of life, and even if it seems wrong, it doesn't fall to pieces? I think I shall always wonder. But I'm determined not to speak of it.
The head butler just then came into the room, to beg pardon and announce to Mary that she had a visitor asking for her at the front door. A gentleman.
"A gentleman?"
"A Mr. Pollock," declared the butler.
"I do not know the gentleman, I'm afraid. He asked for me? By name?"
"Indeed, miss. He indicated that his business is urgent, yet he did not specify."
"How peculiar…" No such name was ever introduced to her, and she struggled in vain to recall the number of evenings and engagements in which dozens of names were thrown at her.
"What shall I tell him?"
"… Since Mr. Darcy is not at home this afternoon, and my sister is not ready for receiving calls yet, I think it best the occasion for meeting be deferred to another time."
The butler, a stately and imposing figure but docile, agreed with her sentiments. Mary listened as he left, pressed an ear to the air while holding her breath to hear more distinctly. Whatever was being said at the front door, though very gentle and composed, Mr. Darcy's butler made it clear to the caller that Miss Bennet was not to be disturbed, and the household was not, on this day, receiving visitors. This caused some distress to the young man; he struggled to plead his case, in vain. Mary slipped her letters into her book, stalked over to the window, taking refuge behind the tapestry nearest the front door. Having finally taken the hint, the young man was forced to turn back to the street, looking very rejected and low. Her particular vantage suddenly jolted memory. For he was no stranger; pale and almost sickly-looking, an expression full of anger and sadness at once, a bit stooped at his shoulders as a violent cough seized him. Mr. Pollock—Rietta's admirer from the opera!
The dress proved to be more magnificent, more opulent, more stunning than imagination, and not at all exaggerated by the dressmaker. Jane did not err when she recommended mostly white; however, her intuition on the colour inclined Kitty towards an offset of gold. Jane was right! It suited her divinely, if anything about her person might be called divine. After a thorough bathing and meticulous toilette, Jane's maid had worked a magic that transformed, transcended the span of an existence barely twenty years. It had been a real struggle to contain the excitement as the young maid prepared her hair in a rather smart chignon. A little vanity was stroked by the compliment that the gown and the curls and their setting, gave Miss Kitty Bennet, a continental fashion. This did not feel like a country manor ball. This wasn't another of the assemblies of Meryton, and this was not just some country beau or handsome officer.
Kitty had never dreaded a ball and a dance, and no handsome face ever had provoked her behaviour to utter shyness. Of course, when her partners were so bold themselves, really, what need had she to concern herself? Mr. Denny always enjoyed dancing, and with such a congenial face, he certainly invited a lady by more than mere words to the dance floor. Signore Andreozzi lacked such prepossession. In such a man or woman, in any person, it is difficult to know what they want. When they are pleased, happy, or in love, it must come into more striking contrast. If Kitty could be justly called a silly girl, this was one instance where she could not deny it to herself. From experience, she'd already discovered how contrary people can be.
Just as she was nearly ready, Jane knocked at her door. A light blue figure, glowing in the light of the candles, the image of loveliness had a gift to bestow. She commanded her little sister close her eyes and keep them closed until told. Delicate and understated, yet regal in its own right, a pearl collar was clasped around Kitty's neck.
"Oh Jane, they're wonderful!"
"Your probably recall them," she said. "From the day of the wedding. I thought they'd look perfect on you for the evening."
"That is very generous. All Mama ever lend me were a broach, and a pair of earrings. Never anything so precious."
By that time, the maid dismissed herself, having completed her work. Final preparations were being arranged downstairs, and in short order, carriages and company would be dispersing at the door.
"Are you alright, Kitty?"
"Why, yes!"
"You seem a bit distracted."
"I've had a couple inconveniences. While dressing, I found a run in one of my stockings. Don't mind me, Jane! It's just the usual frivolities, as Papa would say."
Her sister stood there looking at her, as a person with poor vision trying to peer harder to see. "Are you certain? You seem almost nervous, somehow."
"Well, it's a much grander occasion than anything I've ever known before."
"It used to be you and Lydia were practically in competition, who would be the first down to the carriage."
"Oh, well…"
"Kitty, if there's anything you want to talk about, I'd be glad to listen, my dear."
Of course, her own body would betray her, causing her cheeks to glow warmly at such an invitation, a sister's suspicion. "There is nothing to tell," rebuffed Kitty. She attempted a laugh, an affected laugh. "It's just a ball. A new dress, new society… It's the first ball I've ever attended outside of Meryton."
"… Funny enough, I don't really believe that's all it is, but I shall not press it. You don't have to rush down. Give yourself a few minutes of calm."
"Yes. That is a good idea," sighed Kitty. She sunk down to her vanity chair. "Yes, some calm."
Jane took a seat opposite her, on the bed. "If this has anything to do with it, please, don't be distressing yourself over Caroline. The ball should put her in a good mood. She'll be having far too much diversion to have any concern about you or I."
"Indeed, I hope so. Have you heard any word from old Mr. Murray?"
"None yet."
"If he wants to be a stubborn, old man about it, I have half a mind to send him a letter myself. Hardly a sensible thing."
"No… I've been meaning to ask you, these last few days, Kitty. What do you think of Luis Murray?"
Unfortunately for Jane, the maid returned bringing announcement of the first carriage at the door. Most fortunately for Kitty, Jane had the wrong idea entirely, and it was too easy to lead her to believe any of her distress involved Mr. Murray. It would be impossible to relieve any of her feelings without purging everything. Tempestuous thoughts had been stirring ever since late that morning, when the ladies of the London party dispersed for their leisurely diversions. In hopes to keep away from Caroline, Kitty dressed for more work in the garden, stumbling across the beautiful Miss Sothern. A lovely, feminine sight, strolling down near the fountain and the orange tree pots, her mild tan set in stark contrast with the lily white muslin, a fetching bonnet, and with great consternation observed her talking talking to Signore Andreozzi. It seemed, to the interloper's eye, a pleasant discourse between them. Of course, he was no different in his way. Obviously, Miss Sothern had caught him in the middle of some task. Every word spoken was above Kitty's comprehension of Italian.
Before long, before Kitty could move from her spot on the path, some snap of twigs in the distance, made by some clumsy rabbit, turned both heads in her direction. He greeted her, naturally. He seemed undisturbed by her appearance. The lady, as she recalled, smiled a bit forcefully. A greeting followed from her, switching all conversation back to English. At such an unfair advantage, it would be only too natural for the less educated, less savvy party to back down from engaging with them. Signore Andreozzi, however, attempted to draw her towards them, and offered to show them both the day's task and the most recent progression on the path. Miss Sothern excused herself from the notion, protesting that both ladies would take him from his work. How it all concluded, Kitty scarcely remembered. She kindly made her own protests not to stay. Such action had her boiling, cursing her cowardice, but in the same instance, there was also a curse against her own ignorance. Conceited ignorance. How far removed were they in so many ways that they could possibly attach themselves, herself to him or himself to her? Anybody in society, all her acquaintance, would declare her very feelings of jealousy preposterous; why espouse more tender regard where there is no hope of fruition?
Back into the drawing room, she took up as retreat of second choice. After such a late breakfast, it would be impossible any servants would still be present in the kitchen to bring tea. Plagued by a sudden bad mood, and the prospect of returning to bed soon to wake fresh for the evening, made her unfit for proper rest. In a fit of pique, the hat was flung from her head and a book snatched up from the table. As it happened to be another one of Caroline's novels, she ended up discarding it back to its place. No small wonder that Miss Bingley bored herself so quickly with the perusal of such books about one thing and one thing only. It was substantial material for a mind of singular purpose. This moment of visible frustration was not the time to have been observed by anyone. Then, Miss Sothern herself entered the drawing room.
"Begging your pardon, Miss Bennet. I thought no one was here." She held a few papers in her hand, presumably music. Her quest brought her to the instrument, but before settling, she borrowed the ink pot from the nearby desk, set it off to the side, and started up on the unfamiliar tune. "I hope you shall not mind if I practice some before the company lays down for the afternoon."
"It's not my house. You don't disturb me," shrugged Kitty. A few of the chords being played, though completely foreign, held some familiarity in their sound. Even the music itself, the scroll of the writing captured her notice for some odd reason. "You compose, Miss Sothern?" This remark, judgment, after a few random pauses in the music, and proceeding to make some new note or mark to the music.
"After a fashion," replied Miss Sothern. "It must be marvelous to have such a talented sister. I have absolutely enjoyed our time together. And she is the dearest creature the world ever conceived."
"Well, I've known Mary much longer. Though she is good, I can't say I've ever thought of her in those terms."
Music resumed. "I'm speaking from my own experience. Of course, you're her younger sister. You would not share such sentiments. If I were you, it would perhaps be very hard to grow up with an elder sibling so worldly accomplished. You'd be proud to see her, Miss Bennet. She is the talk of the town and the publishing houses!"
"I am proud."
Between them both, a thoughtful and scrutinizing stare commenced. Such subtlety of expression in those hooded, cool eyelids, a stranger might perhaps guess that Miss Sothern struggled to see family resemblance between the two sisters. True, Mary and Elizabeth had taken a turn from the majority, inheriting more the physical traits of their father. Perhaps it was all innocent. However, there was no forgetting that natural and involuntary turn of expression in the garden, disturbed from peaceful solitude with Signore Andreozzi.
"What brings you to Nottinghamshire?"
"As a favour to a friend."
"Oh, a favour?"
"Yes, I had forsaken her once some years ago. But I'm not here to pay a favour. Rather, I'm here to be paid a favour." Before Kitty could wonder, she satisfied inquiry. "I introduced this family to the Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. Well, not Mr. Bingley, I cannot take credit for that."
"You introduced the Miss Bingleys to him?"
"The elder was still Miss Bingley at the time, before Mrs. Hurst. It was really a fun party. You should've been there. It's part of your family's history now, if you stop and think about it. For if Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, country gentleman, had never made the acquaintance of Mr. Bingley, the men would never have got on so well, and Mr. Bingley would never have thought to invite Mr. Darcy as one of the party down to Hertfordshire. As I've told the family at dinner, I was supposed to be one of the party, but circumstances were against me at that time. A pity, or else we might have all been acquainted years sooner! I should've loved to meet your sister Mary. I wish I'd have watched it all unfold, between Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy… I also wish I'd have had a glimpse of Captain Carter in those times."
Kitty blinked in surprise. "Captain Carter?"
"Forgive my inquisitive observations. It's not that I mean to be impertinent. For perhaps I presume a great deal more on our brief acquaintance. I don't know if Mary has told you, but she has run into this old acquaintance in London. I met him at a public concert. They seemed… well, delighted to see one another again. For what little she has told me about him, I take it that his time in the –shire, that sojourn to Meryton meant something significant to them both. The fact Mary says so little says a lot."
"I think many people would call that discretion. Mary is of rather quiet nature, keeps to herself, keeps her own confidence. I think that is a real strength of hers."
"Of course. She's also a student of human nature, as am I. We've spent many hours together, composing and talking, philosophizing on the subject. You vouch for her that she is of reserved temper. Excellent strength of character, and it's a smart way to go about life. However, the keen observer will not be fooled by a flat surface. I don't know what your opinion is on the subject, but I would confidently wager that someone had their heart broken. Otherwise, I'm sure they'd have been a match."
"You seem to know a good deal about my family, but none of us really know much about you."
"I am guilty of that, for having no relations. I envy you that, Miss Bennet."
"I suspect you are here to remedy that."
Miss Sothern smiled. "You are quick!" she laughed. "And I like that. You don't beat about the bush. You're right! That's exactly why I'm here. Miss Bingley's offer to come stay held no weight really, except for the mention of the famous Signore Paolo Andreozzi."
"Astonishing!"
"Since you're so straightforward, I'll be straightforward with you. For I've a high regard for it. For many years, I've been desiring to return home. Whatever relations I had in Italy have perished in these past decades, almost entirely in the political arena. Emperor Napoleon has wrecked havoc on the continent. It has cost me my family and my citizenship. To be able to return and permanently reside in my home country, I would need an ambassador."
"A husband?"
"Precisely. While, there are plenty of charming English gentlemen here who regard my origins not at all, nor my profession, I have no taste for them. They bore me, and so many of them, despite their pedigree, lack so many of the refinements of the gentlemen back home. If I could but go home, then I might sing and play in Venice, in Naples… Oh, the concerts there are spectacular! And down there, ladies in a musical profession do not encounter the same stigma as here in England. I could marry. We could travel together, and he has the perfect profession for it. I've seen his work on the continent."
"You really just came all the way here, just to catch him? And should he desire such an arrangement as well as yourself?"
"Why should he be against it?"
"The way I see it, you both would be moving in different circles."
"Oh, that's nothing! Between his name and my own fame, nobody—"
"Yes, he can be elegant, when he chooses to be. But he's not a man of refinement, not by nature. He's no different than the English gentlemen you deign to be courted by. I just don't see it being a match to suit yourself or him."
"I see… Né vedo come tu abbia un reclamo precedente. Una ragazza inglese, una che non ha mai viaggiato da casa. Impara l'italiano da un libro."
"Uno è corretto," replied Kitty, very shortly. "You are right about one matter. I did learn my Italian from a book."
"Bravo! Translate the rest for me."
"… It's hardly worthwhile."
"You're getting there," she flattered. "Keep practicing, Miss Kitty."
"I am an English girl, one who's never really traveled from home. Plain and simple. As to the rest, I cannot make it out, but that is the whole point, isn't it? You are educated. I am not. You've made that quite clear… It's a wonder how you and Mary are friends at all."
As soon as she had spoken the words, and for all the intervening hours, they were spent in dread and regret. Why did she have to make an enemy of someone clever, a friend of Caroline's no less? It hung over her as she finished at the mirror and descending the staircase.
