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Chapter Text

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a year. I finally decided to write it down.

Kitty Bennet had hoped for many things in her first twenty-two years of life. When she was ten, she wanted the companionship of her sisters, and a doll Lydia would not be tempted to steal. At seventeen years old, she wanted to flirt and dance with the young men of the neighborhood, eager that one of them might single her out in their affections. At the age of twenty-one, Kitty wished nothing more than for her father to stir from his bookroom and break the quiet that had descended upon Longbourn in the year following her mother’s death and Mary’s marriage. Now though, what she wanted most was a little peace and quiet to sort out her muddled thoughts.

Christmas at Pemberley had been the first event Kitty was looking forward to since Mrs. Bennet’s death eighteen months prior. Longbourn, already much quieter following the marriage of four of the Bennet daughters, had become positively tomb like in the last year. Mr. Bennet had never had much use for his second youngest daughter, and he certainly did not know what to do with her amidst their mourning. A new household routine had developed quickly in the months that followed Mrs. Bennet’s funeral. Kitty and Mr. Bennet would exchange a few general pleasantries as they broke their fast, immediately thereafter Mr. Bennet made a hasty retreat to his study to attend to estate business before he could ensconce himself with his Plato and Shakespeare for the day.

Kitty was, in general, left to her own devices. She soon learned from Hill how to manage the house in her mother’s absence. In the mornings, she wrote letters to her sisters. Mary had been wed to a kind, austere young rector in Kympton they had been introduced to when visiting Derbyshire the previous summer. Kitty was enjoying comparing notes on household matters with her and witnessing her formerly severe sister soften under the attentions of a devoted husband. Jane and Lizzy were faithful correspondents despite their growing families and large estates to oversee. When she could stomach it, Kitty responded to Lydia. Her little sister seemed as in love with her “Dear George” as ever but said that he was often off with his friends somewhere, and dropped hints that the meat in Newcastle was terribly expensive compared to Hertfordshire. There was no way for Kitty to know if this was true, but if a little of her pin money made its way north each quarter- well that was her business.

In the afternoons, Kitty kept herself busy with her mending basket and embroidery. She brought baskets of food to sick tenants, visited neighbors, and accompanied her father on silent carriage rides to church. She planned menus and tried her hand at knitting blankets for the parish orphanage. They sat through dinners where the only sound that could be heard was the scraping of cutlery against plates. She drew by the light of the fire in the evenings while her father read his newspaper, the scratching of her pencil and the rustle of paper their only companions. Sometimes Kitty wondered when the chasm between them had grown quite so wide, and the quiet so heavy that Kitty felt she might break beneath the weight of it.

When Elizabeth and Darcy extended their invitation to the family to spend Christmas in Derbyshire, Kitty nearly wept with relief. They were to arrive on the twenty-second of December and stay through the Twelfth Night. Finally, she would be surrounded by good cheer and happy conversation! She would play with her new little nieces and nephews and explore the vast halls of Pemberley. She could sit and laugh with her sisters. When was the last time they had done that? Far too long, she was sure. With great delight, Kitty boarded the carriage with her father, chatting excitedly nearly the whole way, hardly caring that he scarcely answered her.

They were greeted at Pemberley by Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, as well as four-year-old Bennet Darcy, and two-year-old twins Margaret and Anne. Elizabeth surprised Kitty somewhat when she locked her in a tight embrace.

“I am so happy you have come Kitty,” she whispered in her ear, “we shall have great fun I promise."

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Kitty laughed releasing Elizabeth and turning to Darcy, “thank you so much for inviting us brother. I’ve been so looking forward to it,” she said with a wide grin.

Darcy returned her smile, “we have been anticipating your visit as well Kitty.”

“And my dear nieces and nephew! Why you have grown so tall since I last saw you. Will you come give your Aunt Kitty a hug my darlings?”

Bennet Dracy, who had inherited his father's natural reserve, hid a little behind Darcy’s leg but was, after some encouragement, persuaded to embrace his aunt. Margaret and Anne needed no such support and were quite happy to receive every ounce of affection Kitty wished to bestow upon them. Finally, she turned to view her father who had been in a fond embrace and whispered conference with Elizabeth since Kitty had relinquished her. Attempting to extinguish the spark of jealousy such a sight ignited in her, Kitty called out to them,

“Papa say hello to the children. They have grown so big, have they not?”

Mr. Bennet approached his grandchildren and with a slightly awkward pat to their little heads said, “Yes indeed. I am very pleased to see you three.”

Kitty glanced at Elizabeth and Darcy as he did this and imagined for a moment that annoyance flashed in their eyes. Surely not, she thought, Lizzy is always happy to see Papa.

“Well,” Elizabeth announced with a clap of her hands, “the two of you are the last to arrive today. The Bingley’s, Gardiner’s, and Watson’s are all very excited to see you, but if you would rather refresh yourselves after your journey, Mrs. Reynolds will show you to your rooms.”

“We came directly from an inn this morning Lizzy, I daresay I am quite refreshed enough. Take me to my sisters if you please.” Kitty joked

After divesting themselves of their outer garments with the butler, Mr. Bennet and Kitty were taken to the drawing room, where they were greeted with pleasure by almost everyone inside. Jane and Mr. Bingley were as amiable as ever, their youngest child Timothy, a fine stout baby only a year old, was given to the nurse after Kitty kissed him hello. The still single Miss. Bingley met her with a shallow curtsey, though she was quickly forgotten about. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner greeted Kitty with every warmth of feeling she had desired, and she felt her eyes sting a little from the joy of it. Georgiana Darcy welcomed her with real sincerity, if a little reserve. Mary greeted her last with a tight hug, her husband Mr. Watson standing behind her offered a bow and a small grin as Mary smoothed her hands over the small swell of her stomach.

“Oh Mary!” Kitty exclaimed, “You ought to have told me in your letters!”

Mary bowed her head bashfully, “I wanted to wait to tell you in person. We are very happy.”

“Well, of course you are! Oh, another baby to add to the family. How wonderful!”

“Yes, our ranks are rather growing in numbers, as we all know Catherine.” Mr. Bennet interjected with a grumble.

Kitty straightened her back, feeling a flush spread across her cheeks. “I am sorry. I did not mean to- “

“Of course we are all very excited my dear. Papa was only joking. Wasn’t he?” Elizabeth cut her off with a raised eyebrow to their father.

“Hmph,” Mr. Bennet huffed, “yes, yes of course. Lizzy my dear, perhaps you could meet me in the library in a bit? It has been far too long since I took advantage of your husband’s famous collection.”

“Darcy and I would be happy to join you after tea Papa.”

“Very well.” With that, Mr. Bennet turned on his heel and left the room.

Elizabeth, adept hostess that she was, quickly smoothed over the slight awkwardness of the moment by calling for afternoon tea. Soon enough, everybody was happily ensconced in their own conversations. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner asked Kitty how she got on managing Longbourn, and Kitty was able to answer honestly that it was a challenge she had been enjoying. With Georgiana, she was happy enough to discuss art and the development of their shared nieces and nephew. Kitty did attempt to pull Caroline into the conversation but was met several times with a look of intense disinterest, so that line of thought was immediately dropped.

After refreshments had been served the party separated to enjoy their own pursuits before dressing for dinner. Elizabeth and Darcy left to join Mr. Bennet in the library, and Kitty decided to retrieve her sketchbook from her room. While passing the doors of the library, Kitty could hear her father’s muffled voice in conversation with Elizabeth. Kitty continued past the room until suddenly she heard her father say her name. He had not called out to her. No, she realized, they were speaking about her. Kitty remained rooted to her spot in the hall, wondering what to do. Undoubtedly it would be wrong of her to listen at the door to a private discussion. Against her better judgement, Kitty’s curiosity won out. She inched closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. With her face bent towards the door, Kitty struggled to fully make out their conversation.

“Papa, are you certain you would not prefer that Kitty remain at Longbourn with you?” Elizabeth asked.

Kitty nearly gasped aloud at this statement. If she were not at Longbourn, where would she go? Before she could have another thought she heard Darcy’s voice.

“We will be very happy to have her, of course, and we would ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

After this, they must have moved farther away from the door as Kitty could not hear everything that was said.

“-of course, it would lovely for the children- “she heard Elizabeth say.

“-if you can stand the chatter she makes, that is. I believe she spoke for three days straight on the journey here.” Murmured her father.

“Papa that is unkind.”

“I had thought she had grown less silly… just as talkative in the drawing room… perhaps you can improve her dear Lizzy.”

At this Kitty spun on her heels, willing herself not to cry until she was in her room. Once she reached it and the door was safely closed behind her, the tears fell freely. She sat on the edge of the window seat, her shoulders shaking, breath coming in short gasps. Was this what her father thought of her? That she was still a foolish seventeen-year-old girl in need of improvement? Hadn’t she been managing his home admirably? Hadn’t she assumed all her mother’s duties, and indeed, even done more than her mother ever had? Was she to become one of those small, grey faced women their family tolerated as they took turns hosting the pitiful maiden aunt? Kitty took several deep breaths attempting to calm her racing heart. Surely her father could not have meant all that he said. He must have recognized some change in her demeanor in the last five years. Kitty had tried so hard to improve herself after Lydia’s elopement.

Lydia.

There was the rub. Kitty had been Lydia’s closest confidante as they became young ladies. From the age of fourteen Lydia had batted her eyes and fluttered her fans at the handsome young lads in Meryton and, God help her, Kitty had encouraged her. It was amusing to laugh at the looks of awe the village boys gave to pretty, vibrant Lydia. Sometimes Lydia’s light shone on Kitty too. If she were honest with herself, that was what she had wanted most. Her head was filled with daydreams of a dashing gentleman, enchanted by her smile coming to her on bended knees. Kitty and Lydia used to curl under the covers at night, giggling and dreaming of their future husbands. They would be an attractive, charming pair of friends, that would dance with them throughout the night at a ball and whisk them away from the dull humdrum of country life. Their children would be beautiful little angels that grew up to be the best of friends, and Kitty and Lydia would be together always.

“Foolish, foolish girls,” Kitty uttered.

When Lydia’s head was turned by Whickham, Kitty was so excited. In bed at night Lydia’s eyes shone with happiness at the thought that the man of her dreams had finally appeared. Kitty liked him very much at first. He was so friendly and open. Soon enough though, she noticed the way his eyes roamed over a woman’s form when they were not looking, or the way he would lean just a bit to close to whisper in Lydia’s ear, or how he never spoke to Lydia in their home. He only ever approached her in town or at a gathering. There was a wrongness to it that Kitty could not like, but Lydia was so happy that Kitty kept quiet. She had never regretted anything more when they were informed of Lydia and Whickham’s flight from Brighton. Her father had fixed her with a look of such utter disappointment, it pierced her to her very core. That look seemed to tell her,

“You stupid girl. You could have prevented all of this, and you said nothing.”

Perhaps Kitty would be forever frozen at seventeen in her father’s mind. She could manage Longbourn house as well as anyone ever did for as many years as she wanted and still, when Mr. Bennet looked at her, he would see her in that awful moment, pale and shaking, unaware of Lydia’s plot, but not surprised either.

She could not face her family tonight, she decided. When she had repaired her appearance as best she could, Kitty rung the bell for a maid, requesting that she inform Mrs. Darcy that she was feeling unwell and needed to rest in her room for the evening. After this, Kitty removed the pins from her hair, pausing when she heard a knock at the door.

“Enter,” she called.

The door opened to reveal Elizabeth, who approached her with a look of concern.

“My dear, they’ve just told me that you are feeling unwell.” She asked.

“Yes, a little,” Kitty said looking down at her hands. She forced a smile and met Elizabeth’s eye, “I believe the carriage ride may have finally got the better of me.”

Elizabeth brushed a lock of hair off Kitty’s forehead and answered, “You do look rather pale. Shall I call for a doctor?”

“That is not necessary. I will better in the morning.”

“If you are certain darling. You stay in here for tonight, and then tomorrow our celebration will truly begin. Here, let me help you out of your dress.” Elizabeth turned Kitty around and began undoing her dress and stays. Kitty removed her undergarments while Elizabeth retrieved a night rail and dressing gown for her to change into. Afterwards, Kitty sat at the vanity while Elizabeth brushed and plaited her hair. They spoke little, as if Elizabeth could sense Kitty’s need for the quiet. As she tied Kitty’s plait, Elizabeth hummed a tune their mother used to sing to them before bed.

“You are very motherly Lizzy,” Kitty laughed softly.

“Well, I suppose that is what happens when one has children.” Lizzy smiled. “I cannot help it.” Elizabeth rubbed Kitty’s arms and kissed the top of her head. “I will have someone bring you a dinner tray tonight. Tomorrow dinner will be more formal. We have some neighbors coming, and Fitzwilliam’s cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam will arrive.”

“I shall be happy to meet the Colonel again. Goodnight Lizzy, and thank you.”

“Of course, my dear. Sleep well,” Elizabeth said, gently shutting the door behind her.

When dinner was brought up to her, Kitty ate what her appetite allowed and went to bed shortly after. She stared at the canopy unable to calm her mind. For all that Elizabeth’s gentle ministrations had soothed her nerves, Kitty kept hearing her father’s voice.

““I had thought she had grown less silly…”

Kitty screwed her eyes shut, forcefully turning onto her side. She would show her father she was not the same young girl anymore. She would cause her sister and brother no shame while she resided in their home. Kitty let out a long breath as she relaxed into the bed. Yes, she thought, I will show him.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth did not feel easy upon leaving Kitty’s room, but not wishing to force confidences Kitty seemed unwilling to give, she was resolved to let her sister rest for the evening. Elizabeth therefore went to spend a cheerful hour with her children before they must be put to bed. Upon entering the nursery, Elizabeth was greeted by the sight of her dignified husband on all fours, Margaret and Anne giggling wildly riding on his back, and Bennet running as Fitzwilliam crawled after him. At such a lively scene, Elizabeth could only laugh, thanking the heavens her children had a father who took such joy in their simple childlike games, despite the reserve he usually displayed amongst those he did not know well. Her little family was not alone in the nursery. Charles Bingley sat at a child’s table, his long legs bent nearly to his chest, taking imaginary tea with Jane, four-year-old Hannah Bingley, and her doll Daisy. Mrs. Gardiner was dutifully inspecting twelve-year-old Harriet and ten-year-old Judith Gardiner’s new watercolors they had done, while Mr. Gardiner crashed toy soldiers together with Arthur Gardiner, who at nine years of age was newly fascinated with all things military related. Before too long the children’s nurses came to prepare them for bed, and their parents wished them goodnight with many hugs and kisses before departing to dress for dinner.

Dinner was an altogether pleasant affair, with so many loving relations eager to share in the spirit of the holiday season. Stories were traded of Christmases past, and compliments were given to Mrs. Darcy on the excellence of her table and the cheeriness of the evergreen decorations festooning the halls of Pemberley. Caroline Bingley was good enough to mention that it was almost as elegant as any décor she had ever seen in town. As this was better than the honeyed barbs she usually shot at the Mistress of Pemberley, Elizabeth thanked her. Mr. Bennet contributed little to the conversation, despite not having seen his three eldest daughters in above nine months, save for a quiet huff upon Jane and Mary’s inquiry into Kitty’s health.

“She told me she was certain to feel better in the morning,” Elizabeth replied, “she was only a little weary from the journey here.”

“Yes, no doubt the unending chatter she indulged in quite exhausted her.” Mr. Bennet uttered sarcastically.

The group went silent at such a harsh statement. Elizabeth, noticing her husband’s clenched jaw, caught Jane’s eyes from across the table and plead silently for her to offer a distraction.

“Has anymore thought been given as to sending Harriet to school Uncle?” Jane asked. Mr. Gardiner gratefully led a discussion of the girl’s schools being considered for the eldest Gardiner child. Eventually the men joined in with tales from their own school days and the embarrassment of the previous moment was dropped. Elizabeth could not, however, miss the stony look on Fitzwilliam’s face whenever he glanced at her father. Elizabeth felt once again the rightness of their inclination that Kitty should stay with them for an extended period. Dinner concluded with the separation of the sexes, as the men went to the study for brandy and cigars, and the ladies retired to the music room.

“Thomas, how could you speak of your own daughter in such a way.” Mr. Gardiner whispered angrily to Mr. Bennet.

Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his brandy. “Edward, everyone at that table has borne witness Kitty’s behavior. You know how she can be.”

“No, I most certainly do not ‘know how she can be’. Kitty has grown into a dear young woman, and you are making an absolute cake of yourself by treating her as if she were still a child.”

“Do not raise such a breeze Edward, Kitty was not there to hear it. Go, join my dour son on the other side of the room,” he said gesturing toward Darcy, “what he has to be so grim about is beyond me, but the two of you may speak of as many unpleasant subjects as you like, and leave me in peace.”

Mr. Gardiner turned from Mr. Bennet and crossed the room to join Darcy, shaking his head in disbelief.

In the drawing room, Mrs. Gardiner pulled Georgiana and Caroline to the pianoforte under the guise of looking over some new Italian sheet music Georgiana had received for her birthday, so that the sisters might speak with some privacy. They whispered together in a close circle,

“Lizzy how did Kitty seem this evening, really?” Mary asked.

“I am not sure that I believe she was merely fatigued from the journey. She seemed troubled, although I cannot account for what could have happened since her arrival,” Elizabeth answered.

“Papa was rather abrupt this afternoon.” Jane pressed her lips together in worry, “might that have upset her?”

“I do not see why that should be the case,” Mary grumbled, “he has certainly said worse to us.”

“Mary is right,” Lizzy said holding up a hand to stop Jane from protesting, “our father has never known what to do with five daughters, and he has never put much effort into learning.” Elizabeth paused, taking a deep breath. “Tomorrow I will invite Kitty to stay with us through the winter and spend the season with us in London.”

“Papa gave his permission after all then?” Jane asked.

“He did, not that I expected much of an argument from him. Fitzwilliam and I both think it would be for the best. I do not like the thought of her alone with only our father for company.”

“It was bad enough when Kitty and I both remained at home,” Mary sighed, “at least then we had each other for company, but I cannot imagine he has improved since I have been gone.”

The sisters were not given much more opportunity to speak that night, as at that moment the door opened, and they were joined by the gentlemen. Elizabeth and her husband caught each other’s eyes in silent agreement to speak later, and the party gathered to enjoy a Mozart sonata Georgiana had recently learned and was eager to exhibit. Gradually, their guests began to retire and Elizabeth and Darcy at last made their way to bed.

After changing into their nightclothes, Elizabeth lounged in their private sitting room watching her husband pace tensely. Elizabeth had learned in their five years of marriage that it was best to allow Fitzwilliam a few moments to piece together his thoughts when he was in such a state, and so she waited until he finally joined her on the settee.

“My dear,” he said taking her hand, “I know that he is your father, but I swear I shall never understand how a man can be so callous, so- so,” he paused searching for the right words, “unconcerned- in regard to his own child.” Darcy stood and resumed his pacing. “I will grant you, when I first met Kitty, she was nearly as wild as Lydia, but in all the time since that unfortunate business she has been naught but a pleasant, cheerful mannered young lady, eager to be of use!” With this pronouncement, Darcy slumped back onto the settee pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“I do not understand it either,” Elizabeth said, “when we offered to have her here with us, he was almost relieved to be rid of her. He has, of course, always been content to let us do as we wish, but he never would have so easily agreed to one of us being gone for six or seven months out of the year. I cannot account for his behavior since Mama’s death. If my Aunt Phillips is to be believed, he has become quite the recluse.”

“He has always preferred his own company I suppose.” Fitzwilliam responded. “Your mother was certainly the one responsible for maintaining relations with the neighborhood.”

“Yes, and there is only so much Kitty may do if he will not go out.”

They sat together in silent contemplation for a few minutes, Elizabeth eventually saying,

“Let us sleep now darling. I am extending our invitation to her tomorrow, and I am sure she will be thrilled at the prospect of a season in town. All will be well, my love.” Elizabeth said, running a hand down his back.

“I suppose you are correct.” Darcy conceded.

“I often am, you know.”
The couple curled up together in their bed, but sleep did not come easily to Elizabeth. She peaked at Fitzwilliam’s sleeping form, and gently removed his arm from around her. He stirred slightly and then rolled to his side with a quiet grunt of displeasure. Elizabeth crept out of bed, and after wrapping herself in her dressing gown, sat at the chair in front of the fireplace. As she stared into the flames, Elizabeth pondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, the man that her father had become. He had always had a quick and sarcastic tongue, indeed he had nurtured those qualities in Elizabeth herself, though he had not always treated those close to him with behavior that nearly approached disdain. A book room had forever been his sanctuary, but he had never been such an anchorite. Elizabeth could well remember a time when the Bennet girls were small, and their Papa had insisted on reading them several stories from his great book of fairytales before dinner. They would gather in his study, seated at his feet staring in wide-eyed wonder as his rich voice weaved tales of other worlds. Elizabeth also remembered her parents sharing jokes about some neighbor or other during evenings spent in the parlor at Longbourn, his lips curled around a pipe, eyes twinkling with mirth at her mother’s scandalized expressions. Those nights had grown fewer and farther between as the years passed. Her sisters grew too old to crowd around their father’s chair waiting for a story, and the jokes once made of their neighbors gained newer, closer targets.

Elizabeth could not say when this had happened and, to her own immense shame, Elizabeth could now admit to herself that as a young lady she had not particularly cared. She had enjoyed the privilege of her father’s favoritism and could laugh away her embarrassment at her mother’s attacks of nerves when it suited her.

My poor mother, she thought.

Mr. Bennet had once admired and respected his wife enough to marry her. He had once loved her enough to spend a happy evening in her company. Now being apart of her own loving marriage, she could not imagine the pain of feeling a husband’s affections slip away. Elizabeth had never believed she shared much in common with her mother. Their interests and sensibilities could not have been more different and yet in the first year of her eldest child’s life she felt, at last, that she understood her. Why she had ever disparaged the fears Mrs. Bennet had for her girls was beyond her. Elizabeth fretted over little Bennet, and now the twins, constantly. Elizabeth at least had the peace of mind of knowing that her children would be provided for long after her and Darcy were gone. Fitzwilliam had been meticulous in his plans for the future of their family.
This was another source of frustration for Elizabeth. Why had her father never concerned himself with his daughter’s futures? Why had he never forced their family to economize? Why was he content to allow his elder daughters’ husbands to contribute to his younger daughters’ dowries when it was his own responsibility? Why did he take such little interest in knowing his own grandchildren?

Elizabeth huffed and laid her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Continuing this line of thought would only lead to a headache and give no more satisfaction than the countless other times she had dwelt on it. After a few moments, Elizabeth’s mind returned to Kitty. Fitzwilliam was correct in his recollection of her girlhood wildness. After Lydia’s elopement, Elizabeth had not had much opportunity to spend time with Kitty and Mary. Her own wedding had occurred so quickly afterwards, and with all of energies focused on learning how to be Mistress of Pemberley, Elizabeth had not thought of her younger sisters very much at all in the early days of her marriage. When they next met, she was astonished at the difference in them. Mary was as pious and studious as she ever had been, but she smiled more, and even spoke to Elizabeth about a novel she had read recently. Kitty was still, perhaps, a little excitable, but she was genuine in her desire to hear about Elizabeth’s new home. Fitzwilliam she was still a bit in awe of, though she sweetly asked him how he was finding married life. Kitty had then shyly presented Elizabeth with a lovely little watercolor she had had painted of her wedding bouquet. Elizabeth, so touched, and more than a little surprised at the gesture, had not said anything for a moment, and Kitty rushed to tell her that she need not display the picture if it was not to her tastes. Elizabeth cut her off and told Kitty that she would cherish it, and indeed she did for it remained upon her vanity to this day.

Elizabeth had afterward maintained a very happy correspondence with Mary and Kitty whenever they were apart. Jane felt much the same as Elizabeth and was glad to know them better as they grew into womanhood. As the years passed, Elizabeth delighted in the sisterly bond that had strengthened between the four of them, wishing she could say the same about Lydia, who wrote only when her funds ran low. The four of them had leaned on each other after the death of their mother, wanting very badly to share the good memories they had of her. Elizabeth was overjoyed for Mary to be settled so near to her in Kympton, and with the Bingley’s only twenty miles south of Pemberley, the three eldest Bennet girls met very frequently indeed. So it was, that it did not take long for the three of them to notice that Kitty’s letters, which had once been so sunny and cheerful, had taken on a much more subdued tone. The solution to this problem was immediately discussed between the Darcy, Bingley, and Watson families. Kitty must come to stay with one of them.

Jane’s home was out of the question. For although Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were everything good and gracious, the same could not be said of his sister Caroline, who could never be relied upon to brighten one’s spirits. Mary would have had her in a heartbeat, though her newly expanding family meant that she would not have the time to devote to her dear sister that she would have wished for. Elizabeth then happily volunteered her home to the cause. The Darcy family was to London that spring for Georgiana’s second season, and there was every reason to expect that two girls of such kind dispositions would add greatly to their enjoyment of what could be a rather tedious parade of amusements, in Mr. Darcy’s humble opinion. It was then decided that the family should all gather for Christmas, in the hopes that Mr. Bennet could be convinced to allow Kitty to spend the entire winter with them as well, so that they might freshen up her wardrobe as well as her accomplishments before facing the ton. Elizabeth spied the clock on the mantlepiece and, realizing she had been awake pondering these issues for the better part of an hour, finally rose from her chair and went to bed, eager for the morning.

Kitty awoke the next morning, dressed with care, and went downstairs for breakfast, reminding herself again not to allow her feelings to run away with her mouth. She was the last to break her fast, save Caroline Bingley, and upon entering the dining room, she quietly wished everyone good morning and repaired to the sideboard to fill her plate before taking the open seat between Elizabeth and Jane.

“Are you feeling better this morning Kitty?” Jane asked, taking a dainty sip of her tea.

“Yes, I am much improved, thank you,” Kitty murmured.

Jane quirked her brow at Kitty’s withdrawn manner and, after several attempts at conversation that were met with brief indifferent responses, left Kitty to her breakfast. Elizabeth, noting this, opened her mouth to try her luck with Kitty, but was interrupted by a maid telling her that young Bennet had scraped his knee and only wanted his Mama. Excusing herself from the table, Elizabeth rose to see to her son, stilling Darcy as he moved to follow her.

“I am certain he is just fine my dear,” she said with a chuckle, “likely he only wants a kiss and a cuddle, and he will be right as rain in no time at all.”

Breakfast continued without further incident until Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, fixing Kitty with a hard stare,

“Kitty,” he commanded, “you will join me in the library after you have finished your meal. There is a matter I wish to speak to you about.” Mr. Bennet tossed his napkin beside his plate and, without waiting for her response, turned toward the door, leaving the room with heavy, clipped steps. Kitty’s cheeks burned as she steadfastly stared at her cup of tea, feeling the stares of everyone else in the room.

“I will just go -eh hem-¬“ she cleared her throat against the sudden lump that had formed there, “I will go see what he wants.”

“Kitty, dear you have not finished your breakfast yet,” Mrs. Gardiner objected, “I am certain that whatever your father wishes to tell you can wait a little longer.”

“Thank you, Aunt, but I will go now. I am not terribly hungry this morning.” She insisted, exiting with her head held high despite the wild thumping of her heart. Kitty approached the library, feeling rather like a naughty child caught pilfering sweets before dinner. She entered the room slowly, and upon seeing her father seated in a chair near the window, went to sit opposite him. Mr. Bennet sat quietly for a moment, observing her from behind his spectacles. Kitty willed herself to remain still, not allowing herself to flinch away from his stern gaze.

“Lizzy and Mr. Darcy have asked me if you might remain here at Pemberley with them throughout the winter and then, if you behave yourself,” he noted, “you may accompany their family to London for the season.”

Kitty’s spark of joy at receiving this invitation was dampened by the caveat her father had given. If she behaved herself? Had Lizzy really said that? Or was it only her father’s condition?

“Well, child,” he barked, “should you like to stay here?”

Kitty had a distinct feeling that it did not matter if she did not want to stay with the Darcy’s. Regardless of her own favorable feeling toward the scheme, she would not be returning to Longbourn any time soon.

“I would be happy to stay with the Darcy’s, Papa.” She nearly whispered, “and I would greatly appreciate attending a London season.”

Mr. Bennet nodded resolutely. “Very well then. I will give Mr. Darcy funds enough for one new evening dress. Hear me now though child,” he asserted, leaning forward, his finger pointed at Kitty, “your sister has her own family now. She’ll have no need of you being constantly underfoot.” He paused, settling a hard stare on her, “and if I learn that you have stepped one toe out of line, you’ll be coming straight home. Have I made myself clear?”

“Perfectly clear Papa,” Kitty answered. Part of her seethed at his tone, though not wishing to anger him, Kitty swallowed the retort she wished to make. It would only prove her to be the child he thought she was. Looking up from her lap, Kitty met his gaze and was struck by how aged he looked in that moment. When had he become an old man, she wondered. Her face softened somewhat.

“Will you be quite alright alone at Longbourn, Papa?” she asked.

“Hill will take care enough of me, as she has these last months.” He waved his hand indifferently, returning to his book. Kitty rose at her dismissal, walking out of the door and into the hall, her feelings conflicted. Her father was right, of course, that Elizabeth had her own responsibilities now. Kitty did not wish to be another person her sister must manage or add to the burden of the household. I will just have to show her that I will not make a nuisance of myself while I am here. Her thoughts were interrupted then, by the sounds of a guest arriving in the front hall. Kitty turned the corner coming upon Elizabeth and Darcy greeting a tall, broad-shouldered man with his back turned to her.

“Oh, Kitty!” Elizabeth exclaimed when she spotted her, “you remember Colonel Fitzwilliam do you not?”

Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to her, revealing a somewhat handsome face defined by a large, square jaw, thick brows, and deep blue eyes that met hers briefly, then cast downward. His shoulders slumped slightly, as if to shrink his appearance, and he acknowledged her with a deep voice, rough from years of shouting orders at men. He walked to her, aided a little by a cane he held in his right hand, and bowed to her with all the grace of one brought up in the first circles.

“Miss. Bennet,” he said quietly, “I am pleased to see you again. I believe it has been quite some time since we last met.”

“I believe you are Colonel. It must be nearly four years now.” Kitty answered.

Darcy came behind Colonel Fitzwilliam, and with a clap to his shoulder asked how the journey there had been. Kitty observed him momentarily as he assured his hosts that the trip had not been too taxing. They had met a few times after Darcy and Elizabeth were first married. She knew that he had been to the Peninsula twice, as Lizzy had mentioned it in her letters. Beyond that he was a bit of a mystery to her. The Colonel had always been friendly to her, though he was most often in conversation with Darcy or Georgiana whenever she had seen him. That he had been injured at some point was no great stretch of the imagination, as she did not remember him ever using a cane before. Kitty’s musings came to an end as the gentlemen excused themselves to catch up in Darcy’s study.

“I am glad he has come.” Elizabeth sighed, coming beside Kitty to take her arm.

“Was there some doubt that he would? I suppose he might have also spent the Christmas holidays with his parents.”

“That was originally his plan, I believe,” Elizabeth laughed, “the Matlocks always spend Christmas in Town, and from what he has written to Fitzwilliam, he has already grown weary of the many engagements he was expected to attend.”

“I am a little surprised to hear that,” Kitty admitted, “he always seemed so desirous of society.”

“I do not think that is the case, since he has been back in England.”

“When did he return from the Continent?”

“Oh,” Elizabeth thought, “a little over a year ago now. He was injured in Spain, you see, and shortly after he arrived to recover, one of his mother’s relatives died, having left his estate to Richard. Quite a pretty place too, from what Fitzwilliam has said.”

“So, he resigned his commission then?”

“Yes, I believe he thought it was the right time to do so.” Elizabeth continued, “It has been quite difficult to rouse him to do much outside of care for his new estate. The Matlocks have been a little concerned.”

“Assuming responsibility over such a thing must take a great deal of time,” Kitty offered, though as she thought of the hunch of his shoulders on a man who had previously stood so tall, she privately thought his parents might be right in their concern.

“Right you are, Kitty.” Elizabeth said, squeezing her arm. “I hear that you have spoken with Papa this morning.”

“Yes, I have.” Kitty stammered

“What do you think of the idea? Would you like to stay with us for a while then?"

“I would.” Kitty murmured.

“Excellent! We shall discuss the season more after Christmas, for now though, let us go find Jane and Mary.” As they turned to go toward the parlor, Mrs. Reynolds approached Elizabeth with some slight problem over that night’s gathering that required her attention. “Oh, I am sorry to rush of my dear, I promise to find you later though.” With a kiss on Kitty’s cheek, Elizabeth followed Mrs. Reynolds down the hall, leaving Kitty alone in the foyer. She did eventually find Jane and Mr. Bingley in deep discussion over something in the drawing room. Not wishing to interrupt them, she asked John where Mary had gone. He replied that Mary had been feeling some ill effects of her condition and had gone to lie down for a bit. Mrs. Gardiner was demonstrating some embroidery stiches for Harriet and Judith, while Georgiana practiced down the hall on her piano.

“Kitty,” Mr. Gardiner approached her, “I wonder if you would not mind playing with the children in the nursey for a bit. I must attend to some letters of business, and I am afraid that if they make the governesses play one more game of hunt the slipper, they may leave and never return.”

“I should be happy to Uncle,” Kitty laughed. “Perhaps I could convince them to play a round of spillikins next.”

“There’s a dear girl!” her uncle said as he sat down at the writing desk.

With the adults so well occupied, Kitty walked to the nursery, content to spend an afternoon with those who would never think her too childish.

Chapter Text

Darcy led Richard to his study. Once inside he poured them both a brandy, and then sat himself at his desk, waiting for Richard to join him. Richard slid halfway down the chair opposite Darcy, tilting his head back with a long sigh, grateful to at last be free of the confines of his carriage. The cousins slowly sipped their drinks, saying nothing for a few minutes, happy to enjoy their wordless companionship. Darcy had, for some months, been very anxious over the state of his favorite cousin, who indeed, had always been more of brother to him. The Colonel’s return from the continent had been met with a great deal of relief by all the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams, his mother Lady Philomena Fitzwilliam especially who, after receiving word of the shot Richard had taken above his left knee, had subsisted in a state of maternal anxiety until he had been returned to their loving care. That the countess felt more pleasure than was proper in the convenient death of a distant cousin, who on the event of his untimely passing had not produced an heir to his estate, and said estate passing into Fitzwilliam hands once more, effectively ending her youngest son’s military career, was noticed by everyone and remarked upon by no one. Her Ladyship could not understand, however, her son’s sudden disinterest in moving about society when he had previously been happy to do so. She began an attempt to do what every great lady of intelligence who was used to ordering events to suit herself must like to do, solve the problem at hand. “I am very glad you decided to join us, Richard.” Darcy said, breaking the silence. “Your invitation could not have come at a better time. If I had to attend one more party with Mother and Father, I’d have driven myself mad.” Richard drawled, straightening in his chair to look at Darcy. “Has it been as bad as all that?”

Richard rolled his eyes, “Oh, you know my mother, now that her eldest children are married and settled, she would like nothing more than to play matchmaker for her youngest, hopeless son.” he said, gesturing to himself with a wave of his arm, the brandy sloshing against the side of the glass as he did so. Richard cringed inwardly as he recalled the less than subtle attempts his parents had made to nudge him in the direction of every unmarried young lady he had been introduced to. If that had not tipped him off, the sheer number of party invitations the Earl and Countess had accepted would have. They had been engaged nearly every evening of the fortnight Richard had spent with them. It was excessive even for the Christmas season. Richard did try, in the beginning, to pretend he was enjoying himself. It even worked for a time, but with every lady he was introduced to, he inevitably saw their gaze catch on his cane, or notice the slight limp he adapted when he grew fatigued. He could tolerate the vague air of disgust some of them displayed, he had after all seen far worse of the world than a gentlewoman’s smirk. The pity, however, was another matter entirely. Richard felt every bit the old, ugly soldier when an attractive woman looked at him with pity. Any hope of his feeling enjoyment at these soirees was shuttered immediately. By the time Darcy had written to him, Richard’s patience had worn thin, and he seized his chance at escape with alacrity.

“Ah,” Darcy laughed breathily, “and would that be so bad?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Oh no, don’t you start in on me now.” Richard snapped, feeling rather betrayed that his favorite cousin should be involved with his family’s plot to see him wed a society miss, “Has mother been writing to you?” Richard rose from his seat, stalking over to the window looking back at Darcy only when he spoke to him again.

“She is only concerned for you.” Darcy folded his hands together, leaning toward Richard with an earnest look on his face, “as we all are,” he added softly.
Richard huffed, turning his head away, “There is nothing to be concerned about.” He grumbled sulkily.

“Richard, you have hardly left Hayden Hall this last year.”

“There is much to be done when one inherits an estate,” Richard insisted, “as you well know Fitz!”

“And when you have been in company, you are short tempered and unsociable,” Darcy continued, “it is most unlike you to behave this way, my friend.” He paused for a moment, considering the best way to continue, “Your parents wrote to me, only to tell me that they thought perhaps, if they nudged you a bit in society, that it may pull you out of this dark mood you have been in. I did warn them that you were unlikely to respond well to much managing on their part, that is all.” Darcy kept his eyes trained on Richard’s face as his cousin swirled the brandy in his glass, noting how very tired the man appeared. “I apologize if I have overstepped, your parents, I know, wish only for your happiness.”

“Yes, and her solution to ‘dark mood’ is to parade me around London, as if I some green young buck dancing with whatever new flock of debutantes is on the scene and fetching them ratafia.” Richard responded sarcastically.

“You have done so before you know, and with great enthusiasm, I might add.” Darcy teased, attempting to restore some levity to the room.

“I no longer have the stomach for it.” Richard admitted, finally meeting Darcy’s eyes once more. “Nothing has ever seemed more frivolous to me now than flirting my way through a ballroom does, and my dancing would certainly leave much to be desired.” Richard returned to his chair, feeling a bit ashamed that he had so quickly lost is temper.

“Does your knee still trouble you very much?” Darcy asked

“It is only bad when I do not exercise it and have not been much inclined to do so.” Richard quipped

“Richard- “

“I am only being maudlin Fitz, do not worry about me,” Richard interrupted, holding up his hand. “I promise, I am faithfully attending to the recovery of my leg, and really, it is not so bad as it used to be. I am only stiff from sitting so long in the carriage and the cane helps. Though do not expect to see me dancing a reel any time soon,” he jested. “In any case I am glad to be away from town, and am greatly looking forward to a pleasant, peaceful Yuletide.”

“I cannot promise how peaceful the house may be with so many young children running about, but we will certainly do our best to make it enjoyable.” Darcy smiled, glad to see some of his cousin’s humor returning. Richard laughed inwardly, thinking that might be very true, though suspecting the innocent exuberance a group of children could display might be just the sort of thing he needed.

“Enough of my troubles Fitz, how is your wife’s family? It has been too long since I have met them last.”

“They are very well,” Darcy said, happy for the change of subject, “Elizabeth is, of course, thrilled to have two of her sisters settled so near us. We end up dining with the Bingley family at least once a month and with Mr. and Mrs. Watson nearly every Sunday after church.” Richard noted with pleasure the contentment that spread across Darcy’s face as he thought of his family, happy that his cousin had been settled so happily.

“You are fortunate in that. Do you have much occasion to hear from the Whickham’s?” Richard added with some hesitancy.

“Only when they find themselves light in their pockets, I’m afraid,” Darcy groaned.

“Are you still sending them money?” Richard questioned in astonishment.

“Only a little each quarter,” Darcy admitted, “I’ll not have a sister of mine lacking in any necessary thing no matter what I may think of her husband, and I cannot trust Whickham to plan to set aside funds for anything other than his own pleasures.” Richard thought that rather too generous of Darcy. In his own opinion, two grown adults ought to learn how to be responsible for their own lives. He kept his thoughts to himself, however, not wanting to upset the accord they had struck.

“Have there been children yet?” Richard inquired.

“Whether Wickham has fathered any by-blows is anyone’s guess, though I would be unsurprised,” Darcy said grimly. “The two of them, however, have not been so blessed. I am ashamed to say that I think it probably for the best. I do not care to imagine either of them as parents.”

Richard raised his eyebrows at Darcy’s frank speech and, desiring not to waste anymore breath Wickham’s asked, “Miss. Catherine Bennet is yet at Longbourn then?”
Darcy nodded, “Yes, for now, although Kitty will be accompanying us for the season this year and staying on through the winter besides.”

“That will be pleasant for you all, I am sure,” Richard offered, a little confused at the slightly distracted look that had come over Darcy’s face.

“Yes, indeed,” Darcy said, trailing off faintly.

Supposing that there was more to this topic which he remained unaware of, though not wishing to pry, Richard downed the rest of his brandy in one gulp, rising to his feet stating, “We have been tucked away for long enough. Shall we meet the others now?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy nodded, walking with Richard to the door. He paused for a moment adding, “I should warn you though that Miss. Bingley is here as well.”
Richard chuckled, “Good God, have they still not found some poor sod to marry her yet?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Darcy said, “and you, my dear cousin, are an eligible bachelor now.” Richard’s mouth dropped open in some alarm, and rushing to reassure his cousin, Darcy promised, “I will tell Elizabeth to keep her distracted as best she can.”

“No, no,” Richard urged “do not put Mrs. Darcy to the trouble of it on my account. I have faced a charging army head on. Surely, I can fend her advances off well enough.” He ventured.

“You say that now, but Miss Bingley can be tenacious.” Darcy laughingly warned.

“It would seem my hopes of a holiday free from marriage schemes have been dashed.” Richard grinned

“You’ll face no such schemes from us Richard, I promise,” Darcy vowed.

“Well, once more unto the breach I go.” Richard rolled his shoulders back as the two of them went to greet the rest of the party, laughing together the whole way, feeling a little more
restored than they had upon entering the study.

________

Kitty spent the afternoon playing countless games with her young nephews and nieces, eager and happy to establish herself as their new favorite playmate. Away from any prying eyes, she allowed herself to laugh often and loudly as the children climbed over her. She tickled and teased and lost at spillikins on purpose, then led them in a spirited game of hide and seek, effecting her best imitation of a giant as she chased them through the halls of the family suites, delighting Arthur Gardiner to no end. Eventually, the little ones had tired enough that they begged their Aunt Kittie for a story. She sat on the floor with them, Margaret in her lap, Hannah, Arthur, Bennet, Margaret, and Anne huddled closely together at her feet. The youngest Darcy girls, calmed by Kittie’s gentle voice and exhausted by their earlier exertions, were soon lulled to sleep and carried off by their nurses for a nap. After a while, Kitty glanced at the door to find Jane staring at her wistfully, her head leaning against the door frame. There was some commotion as Hannah scrambled up to greet her mother.

“Do not stop on my account Kitty,” Jane said, elegantly bending to the floor, cuddling her daughter to her, “I believe there is time for one more story before I must steal Aunt Kitty away for dinner.” She said, addressing the little group in front of her. After the last book had been read, Kitty and Jane bid them goodbye, promising that each of their parents would come to wish them goodnight before the party began. Jane looped her arm through Kitty’s, leading her to her bedroom so she could begin to dress for the evening.

“Thank you for keeping them so well entertained this afternoon Kitty, there were matters Charles and I wished to discuss a little, and of course Lizzy has been quite busy planning her parties, I am afraid the day quite ran away from us.” Jane added with a squeeze of Kitty’s arm, “You were very sweet with them just now.”

“They are such delightful little creatures,” Kitty said, blushing at the praise, “I have not seen any of them in so long, it was lovely to spend time together,” she paused, “I do hope everything is alright Jane.” Kitty added anxiously.

“Nothing serious has happened, do not worry,” Jane replied, chewing on her lip distractedly, “it is only an ongoing trifle we have been trying to find a solution to.”

“I hope matters resolve themselves easily then,” Kitty smiled, squeezing Jane’s arm in return.

“Everything will turn out for the best, I am certain.” Jane breathed. Before long, the sisters reached their rooms, parting ways with a smile. Kitty dressed with care that night, remembering that Elizabeth’s some of Elizabeth’s neighbors would be in attendance, and desiring to display herself to her best advantage in front of her sister’s guests. She chose one of her nicer evening dresses, a simple pink frock with some green velvet trim she had used to refashion it the week before. Kitty wished there had been time for something new to be made. She had not had a new dress since her mother had been ill. After her mourning, it had seemed frivolous to ask, and her father had not noticed any deficit in her wardrobe.

Kitty heard a knock at the door, and there entered the young maid Elizabeth had asked to attend to Kitty during her stay. Polly, Kitty recalled upon seeing her, was a cheerful looking girl with bright orange curls, and a thick smattering of freckles adorning her face, who spoke with a thick northern brogue. She worked for a while closing the hooks on the back of Kitty’s dress and arranging her skirts. With Kitty’s hair, she worked quickly and masterfully, weaving it into a braided style more lovely than anything Kitty had ever worn.

“Oh Polly,” Kitty exhaled, “I do not believe my hair has ever looked better! Thank you,” she said with a grin.

Polly ducked her head bashfully, happy that her eagerness to impress her mistress’ had paid off.

“I’m ‘appy you think so miss,” Polly pulled a small tissue wrapped bundle from her apron pocket, “my mistress said she’d be ‘appy to ‘ave you borrow these for tonight if you’d like.” She handed the tissue over to Kitty, who unwrapped it to reveal a set of charming pearl tipped hair pins, and a matching pair of pearl drop earrings. Kitty was speechless for a moment at such a kind gesture, but upon glancing up to find Polly looking at her expectantly, Kitty cleared her throat and said,

“Yes,” she uttered, “please.”

Polly grinned and began to place the pins in Kitty’s hair, spacing them evenly in the braid which circled the bun at the crown of her head. When she was finished, Polly stepped back as Kitty put on the earrings. For a moment, Kitty stared back at her reflection, studying what she saw. She had been a long, gangly sort of girl in her teenaged years, Lydia had more than once commented that Kitty was all knees and elbows that kicked in the night. Mrs. Bennet had despaired that Kitty looked like a waif running about Meryton. Now though, Kitty noticed fully that her face and figure, while still delicate, had become womanly. Her nose and jaw were still perhaps a touch too narrow, her neck too long for her liking, but here with the candlelight flickering against her skin, luminous alongside her borrowed pearls, Kitty felt for the first time that she was no longer a girl.

“Is that all you’ll be needin’ miss?” Polly asked, startling Kitty from her musing.

“Yes Polly, thank you. You’ve done a wonderful job.” Kitty watched as Polly curtseyed, then left the room. With buoyed spirits, Kitty walked down the hall and descended the stairs to the parlor, where her family was awaiting the arrival of their guests. Most of them had gathered in the center of the room, where they conversed genially, save Miss. Bingley who appeared to have cornered Colonel Fitzwilliam near the fireplace. Mary was the first to notice her as she entered the room and approached her to say how well Kitty looked. Recalling that Mary had felt ill that afternoon, Kitty inquired about her health.

“I am much better now.” Mary reassured her. Then, leaning toward Kitty she whispered, “If anyone tells you that carrying a child is a wonderful, magical experience they are lying to you.”

“Mary!” Kitty exclaimed in mock outrage.

“If you tell anybody I have said that I shall fiercely deny it.” Mary smirked.

“What has the two of you giggling here in the corner?” Elizabeth inquired, approaching them with Jane at her side.

“I would never be caught doing something so undignified,” said Mary, her eyes shining with mirth. “I was only telling Kitty what a delightful time I have had carrying my first child.” Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, nodding in understanding. Jane looked at both of them in slight confusion.

“Was it truly so bad for the two of you?” Jane fretted, adding, “I enjoyed both of my confinements very much.”

“Jane, you enjoy everything,” Mary quipped, nudging Elizabeth with her elbow.

“Not everything,” she mumbled.

Before the sisters could find out what Jane meant, the butler announced the entrance of their first guests, who had arrived promptly, and were welcomed with much cheer by Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, who hastened to introduce them to those they had not yet met.

Dining with them that evening were two local families, who had been acquainted with the Darcys for many years. The first was a mismatched couple by the name of Winthrop, who met the party enthusiastically, bowing and curtseying several times. Mr. Winthrop was a short, rounded man with red cheeks and a smile wide enough to put Kitty instantly at ease. His wife followed more sedately behind him, standing nearly a full head taller than her husband, though she grinned with just as much ease. Mrs. Winthrop’s face shone with good cheer, and she spoke with real pleasure, Kitty liked her instantly. The second family was brought in a few minutes later. Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe were more somber than the Winthrops, though they greeted Mr. and Mrs. Darcy with sincerity and every politeness. Mr. Sharpe was aptly named, for his eyes were a flinty steel color, and his nose pointed like a bird of prey. He spoke with Darcy fondly though, having been a dear friend of his father’s. Mrs. Sharpe was a handsome woman, disinclined to say much unless she was spoken to directly. With them, they brought their daughter, Miss. Annabelle Sharpe, a pretty young lady of nine and ten years who was happy to make the acquaintance of a new girl in the neighborhood. They also brought their son, Mr. Albion Sharpe, who strode into the room behind his parents with a jaunty, confident gait.

Albion Sharpe made his rounds in the parlor, shaking hands with Darcy and addressing each new person he met with a jolly air. So different was his manner to his parents, Kitty could have almost believed he was the issue of the Winthrop couple, were it not for the striking resemblance he bore to his mother. His form was masculine, and his face was pleasing. His honey-colored hair curled around his ears, and his eyes, though similar in color to his father’s, had more warmth in them. Elizabeth took him over to Kitty where she made the necessary introductions.

“I am very pleased to meet you Miss. Bennet,” he said bowing low over her hand, “having already met your elder sisters, I assumed you would be just as lovely. I see I was not mistaken in my conjecture.”

Kitty, who had been quite removed from the society of any man as fine-looking as the one before her, was quite at a loss for how she should respond to such pretty flattery, and before she could stop herself, felt a slightly hysterical giggle bubble to the surface, and out of her mouth. Her cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment, though one quick glance about the room showed that few had noticed her mishap. Kitty ducked her head, finding it difficult to meet the young man’s eyes and hastily mumbled,

“Very nice to meet you sir.”

If Mr. Sharpe was bothered by Kitty’s reaction, he was too well mannered to show it. Elizabeth raised her brows slightly in amusement at her sister’s behavior and, ever the adept hostess, steered Mr. Sharpe over to the group of men who had gathered by the door, giving Kitty a reassuring pat on the arm as she moved past. Dinner was called soon thereafter, and the party coupled off to begin the procession to the dining room. Unfortunately for Kitty one such person who had noticed her outburst was Mr. Bennet, who grasped her arm tightly as he moved to escort her to the dining room, holding her back a little from the rest.

“Cease this ridiculousness at once girl,” he hissed, “I had thought I’d been plain enough earlier. Do not make a spectacle of yourself in front of the neighborhood. Do what you like in front of your family who have learnt to tolerate you, but Lizzy will surely not welcome your presence in town if you cannot behave. I’ll not have another Lydia on my hands”

They had reached the dining room by then, and as he nearly flung her arm away from him, Kitty found her place at the table, sitting in silence as the first course was served. The food looked delicious, and it might have been, but Kitty could not taste it. She was seated between her Aunt Gardiner and Mr. Watson, who tried their best to engage her in some conversation. Kitty answered them out of politeness but made no efforts to continue. After dinner when the sexes had separated, the ladies went to the drawing room to await the men, and Kitty retreated to the corner furious with herself for her foolishness, and equally frustrated that she could allow her father to affect her so, when her spirits had been so high at the start of the night. Her sisters approached her several times, hoping to draw her out but Kitty was in no humor to entertain them, and remained stubbornly clinging to the wall. When the men reentered the room, Mary spied the anxious looks Kitty threw their father’s way as he steadfastly ignored her. Supposing that he must have said something to Kitty to bring her so low, and remembering well enough how cutting his tongue could be when he chose to use it, Mary simply stood by Kitty in silence, holding her hand in support, and demanding nothing from her. For Kitty the night which had at first held such promise, now seemed to drag on eternally. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop left first, with the Sharpe family departing soon after. As soon as it was polite, Kitty excused herself for bed, weariness settling in her bones.

In the two days following Kitty felt no better. Try as she might, she could not bring herself to join the fun. Her sisters worried over her often, and wished dearly that they knew how they might help her. Jane and Elizabeth’s entreaties to her were met with few words, only the false assurance that she was well, if a little tired. Mary had a better idea how Kitty must be feeling, and when her elder sisters asked her what should be done, Mary told them that it would be for the best if they continued to include Kitty whenever they could, but to let her work it out on her own, sure that Mr. Bennet's remarks would hurt her less with time.

In truth, Mr. Bennet’s words had lessened their grasp a little on Kitty by the next morning. His barbs she was used to and could find a way to ignore them. While she was still a little embarrassed over her display in front of Mr. Sharpe, and equally could not shake the feeling that she had behaved as Lydia might have, she could tell that her family as a whole did not think any less of her. No, in the days following a different kind of loneliness had taken root. From her quiet perch on the edge of the room she could observe her sister’s families. Each of them had a look of such happy contentment with their place in the world, it made Kitty’s heart ache. That her worthy sisters had found such good and caring men to build their lives with seemed only natural to Kitty. Mr. Darcy appeared to always find some excuse to touch Lizzy, whether it was a delicate brush of his fingers to her neck as he walked past where she sat, or the resting of his hand in hers when their children ran circles around them. Mr. Bingley was always looking at Jane. Their eyes met across any room they were in, sharing looks of such softness that Kitty often looked away from them, feeling as though she were intruding. It was Mr. Watson’s behavior that made her the happiest to see. Dear, awkward man that he was, John Watson fussed over Mary constantly, asking her if she were warm enough, or if she needed any refreshment, or had she rested sufficiently that day. He looked at Mary as if she hung the moon and stars, and Kitty could think of no better partner for her oft ignored sister. As much as Jane, Elizabeth, and Mary had brought Kitty into the fold, Kitty knew that they had families of their own which must take precedence. It was only right, and she could never begrudge them for it, but watching her sisters with their husbands and children filled Kitty with a jealousy that shamed her, for no one had ever looked at her that way. Kitty felt it likely that no one ever would. She was not witty like Lizzy, or good like Jane, nor as intelligent as Mary, and could hardly trust her own judgment, knowing how she might have spoken up in regard to Lydia. Kitty could almost see the years stretch before her, unwanted by her father, destined to forever be a guest in someone else’s home. It was enough to drive her mad.

-----------------------

Christmas morning brought some distraction for Kitty’s troubled thoughts, as each member of their extended family bundled into carriages to attend the Christmas service Mr. Watson had prepared at Kympton parish. He spoke well, as he always did, and spent much of his sermon emphasizing the charitable nature of the season, and the love everyone must hold in their hearts for their fellow man. Mary watched her husband with pride, and after the service Kitty watched with happiness as the parishioners approached Mr. and Mrs. Watson with evident respect and admiration.

There was enough joy to be had for Kitty in the exchanging of gifts upon their return to Pemberley. From Elizabeth, she was gifted a tortoiseshell hair comb, with fine carvings of flowers above the teeth. Jane gave her a new pair of leather gloves, in a charming buttery yellow. Mary presented her with a new set of watercolor paints as well as a few new paint brushes, so that Kitty might continue her pursuit of art. They were in turn delighted by the knitwear Kitty had made for them. There was a shall and mittens for each of them made of warm thick wool, in colors Kitty knew they preferred. The children were thrilled with their new toys but were quite put out when adults insisted that they all gather ‘round the piano for Christmas carols before they could be let loose upon the halls to play with them. They were somewhat mollified, however, when they were cuddled closely by their parents on the sofas and were able to sing loudly as Aunt Georgiana began to play.

Kitty felt once more on the outside as the couples grouped together to listen to the music. Even Caroline Bingley had looped her arm through Colonel Fitzwilliam’s as Kitty stood slightly to the side, unsure of her place. The children could not be held off for long though, and after the fourth song had been sung, they begged to play and were released to wreak whatever youthful havoc they could. Kitty used this as an excuse to request her outer clothes, and left unnoticed for a walk, hoping that the cold air would still her mind.
Richard had been enduring a frustrating few days as well. Every time he turned a corner there stood the infernal Miss. Bingley, who seemed to grasp onto him with a vengeance. She found him every morning and evening, asking all manner of questions about his estate, his father the earl, and his ‘dear brother the viscount’. She contradicted herself often, mentioning how charmingly cozy Christmas in the country was, while saying in the next breath that it must be quite dull compared to his parent’s holiday in town. He looked often to Bingley for help, but the man seemed determined to ignore his plight. Jane Bingley even often began conversations with him then pulled Miss. Bingley into them if happened to approach them, which she did often. By Christmas morning, his well of civility toward the woman had run dry, and when the little ones began their commotion, he seized the opportunity to flee the house.

He was surprised when upon entering the garden he encountered Miss. Bennet, staring at the snow-covered hedges, her arms crossed over her chest. She had not noticed him yet, and appeared deep in thought, and he debated internally whether he should leave her be. Richard decided that the young woman should not be alone if she was in distress and, setting aside his disappointment that his quest for solitude had been fruitless, greeted her politely.

“Good morning, Miss. Bennet,” he called, noticing how she jumped at his voice, he hastened to apologize, “forgive me, I did not intend to startle you.”

Kitty laughed a little in mortification, saying, “No, the fault is mine Colonel. I was woolgathering and did not hear you approach.” Richard walked over to her, and Kitty noticed that he was not carrying his cane. “I was just going to stretch my legs after sitting for so long this morning,” she explained.

“I should be happy to accompany you, if you have no objection,” he offered. Kitty replied that she did not and took the arm he extended. They walked the garden path for several minutes, the silence interrupted only by the muffled crunch of the snow beneath their boots. Occasionally Kitty glanced at the Colonel. His brow was furrowed slightly, and mouth set in a tight line in a look far removed from his usual visage.

"Darcy tells me that you are to be with them for an extended time this winter," He expressed suddenly. Kitty startled a bit at his abrupt pronouncement but hurriedly answered, “Yes indeed. I am to stay here with my sister through the winter and join them for the season in the spring.”

“You must be looking forward to the change of scenery,” Richard guessed, pausing to observe a waxwing that had landed on the tree ahead of them.
“Yes, I suppose I am” Kitty sighed.

“Are you not excited for the trip?” Richard was surprised at such a subdued reaction to the suggestion of her attending a London season. “As I understand it, you are the last of the Bennet ladies remaining at Longbourn. I imagine the house will be much quieter than you are used to. Surely there will be much more opportunity for amusement.”

They came upon a stone bench, Kitty paused for a moment to brush snow from the seat and sat with another long sigh.

“I am all eagerness for it. My brother is exceedingly generous in his offer to host me. It is only…” Kitty fell silent and found herself at a loss for words.

Richard joined Kitty on the bench with a soft groan, chuckling lightly at her concerned look.

“It is the consequences of an injury to my knee. It is a bit stiff in the cold” he explained.

“Oh! Forgive me Colonel, we should return to the house. The last thing you want to do on Christmas is listen to me prattle on.” Kitty moved to get up but was stilled by Richard’s response.

“I beg you Miss Bennet do not concern yourself,” he continued, “the exercise is beneficial for me.” Richard fixed his gaze on her nervous features, “I would never dream of meddling in your private thoughts, but I have often found it easier to share my concerns. I will not be offended, however, if you choose to keep your own council.”

Kitty rose and paced for several moments, stopping several times to open her mouth to speak before closing it and resuming her steps with a look of consternation on her face. Richard waited patiently, watching the young lady with bemusement. Finally, she stopped and turned to face Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was leaning back on the bench with his eyebrows raised in a look of expectation.

“A-as a child I followed behind my elder sisters constantly,” she began with a tremor, “we were quite close as young girls. Eventually Lizzy and Jane became inseparable, Mary clung on to her music and her sermons, and I was left quite out of the loop. I joined up with Lydia to not be alone, and really, we did like many of the same things.”

Kitty rejoined Richard where he sat and continued, staring down at her tightly clasped hands, “After Lydia’s marriage, I knew my family blamed me in part. I did not know of her plans beforehand, but I was her elder sister, I had a duty to protect her.”

At this Richard interjected, knowing the details of Lydia’s flight from Brighton as he did, for indeed he had been on the search with Darcy, “You are too hard on yourself by far Miss Bennet. You are not responsible for your sister’s behavior. Your parents left her with extraordinarily little protection in Brighton.”

“Be that as it may, I knew our behavior in Meryton was not what it ought to have been. I could see the disapproval of my elder sisters, and I felt the derision of my father. My only thought then was keeping Lydia as my dearest friend, so I followed along happily, never correcting, or chastising her.” Kitty’s voice trailed off, and they continued walking for a bit in silence. Eventually Kitty began again,

“You are quite right Colonel. I am the last Bennet girl left at home. My sisters are married with families of their own, and I am the spinster aunt that must now be shuffled from place to place with no place to call her- “Kitty’s speech was cut off by a sudden gasp of air and tears pricking her eyes. She turned away quickly as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

Richard looked on in concern, wishing he knew the right things to say to the young woman. Words failed him, and he simply offered her his handkerchief. Kitty wiped her eyes, and after several deep breaths turned to face the Colonel once more.

“Forgive me sir, I do not know what came over me. To put on such a display, I- “

“Please Miss Bennet, think nothing of it. We are all entitled to a little melancholy from time to time. Though I believe it would be best if we returned to the house now. I daresay you could do with a rest.” Richard offered her his arm as they made their way back. Once inside, Richard leaned closer and murmured to her in a low voice, “Please go now Miss. Bennet, if anyone asks after you, I will say you had a headache and wished for some quiet before dinner.”

“Thank you, Colonel, you are very kind.” Kitty said softly, turning towards the stairs. Richard watched after her as she slowly made her way to her room, noting the tension that lined her shoulders. Just as slowly, he wandered into the billiard room. Richard poured himself a tumbler of brandy, racked the balls, and took several half-hearted shots. Soon his game was abandoned, as he leaned against the table contemplating all that Kitty had said to him in the garden.

He had seen her over the several evenings he had been at Pemberley, although they had not had much opportunity to speak beyond basic civilities. The first night at dinner Richard had felt his gaze occasionally flit to the other end of the table where she sat quietly picking at her meal and softly answering whatever questions her dinner partners asked. Richard retired that night surprised to see the younger Bennet so removed, when the last time they had met after Darcy and Elizabeth’s marriage, she had been so jolly. Richard had understood Elizabeth’s younger sister to be rather spirited young women, if Darcy was to be believed. Although it had been several years since he had thought to ask after the younger
Bennets, he supposed, and people could change a great deal in such a time. Goodness knows he had.

Richard knew he was lucky. He was lucky when the shot he had taken above the knee had not stolen his ability to walk. He was lucky when he did not catch the dysentery that had swept through camp and taken several of his friends and fellow soldiers. He was lucky when a boring relative he hardly knew had died without an heir, leaving him a small estate in Staffordshire. Richard had returned from the Peninsula mostly unharmed, and moderately wealthy. If only he could forget the things he had seen and done when he closed his eyes at night. If only he could understand why he had been so fortunate, when men he respected had lost their lives.

Where Richard had once been jovial, he was now withdrawn, and where he had once flirted and flattered the single women at any gathering, he now stalked the edges of a ballroom, waiting for the time he could politely say his farewells. He had to laugh at himself. For all he used to tease his cousin Darcy for his unsociable behavior, they seemed to have traded places in the last few years. Richard’s family, he knew, could not make sense of the change in him. They did their best to help of course, but a year had passed since his return from the continent, and Richard could feel their subtle frustration at his inability to just get on with it. Richard could admit that they were not entirely wrong. Life was marching forward whether he liked it or not, and he was tired of being a taciturn bore. He desperately wanted to enjoy the life that had nearly been taken from him, and revel in his newfound security. When Darcy and Elizabeth had extended their invitation to spend the holiday season with their family, he was happy enough to accept. He always liked spending time with his favorite cousins and had great plans to help their little ones into some mischief.

Being there and being surrounded by no less than four nauseatingly happy couples did wear on him however, and the sight of those couples enjoying such simple closeness filled him with a loneliness he had never before contemplated. At least Miss Bingley was there and could be relied upon to keep things sufficiently unpleasant.

Richard’s thoughts returned once more to Katherine Bennet. When he found her in the gardens, he could see unease etched into her face and it became clear to him why she had so occupied his head the last few evenings.

Katherine Bennet was disquieted.

Richard recognized himself in the troubled lines of her face. That such a pretty young thing should know anything of the listlessness and worry that had plagued him since his return made his heart twinge. Part of him longed to tell her that he understood. Of course he did. Seeing her cry in the garden had distressed him, and for one reckless instant, he had wanted to gather her up in his arms and stroke her head. Richard shook himself slightly, setting down his brandy as he made his way to his room. Once inside, he splashed himself with water from the basin near his bed, roughly scrubbing the flannel over his face and neck. He sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. It simply wouldn’t do to be fantasizing about holding a beautiful young lady close to him. Richard crossed the room and studied himself in the mirror.

He reckoned he looked a little older than his thirty-four years, although two Peninsular campaigns would do that to a person. There were those generous souls that had called him handsome in his youth, he knew now that although there was nothing objectionable in his appearance, he could never be called dashing. There were more noticeable lines on his forehead and around his eyes, more grey hairs flecking the sides of his dark hair than there ever used to be. Richard’s mind wandered to Katherine Bennet’s wide blue eyes, her cheeks and nose red in the cold, snow dusting her auburn hair, he blinked the images away. No, that certainly would not do.

There was a small part of himself, however, telling him that if she let him, he could care for her. That tiny wild voice whispered that he could be the one that returned her smile, that made her laugh freely again. He used to know how to make people laugh. Perhaps he still had it in him.

Richard called his valet to dress him for the evening, and while the man shaved him and helped him into his attire, Richard contemplated what he should do. One thing was for certain, he must make more of an effort to join the festivities. He had hardly been able to enjoy his time with his family, and Caroline Bingley could be shaken off easily enough. Of Miss. Bennet he was less sure, but he went down to dinner knowing only that he wished to know her a little better.

Chapter Text

Kitty sat upon her bed, feeling more than a little ridiculous that she had once again relegated herself to the confines of her room. She blushed recalling her behavior in the garden with Colonel Fitzwilliam, for a grown man who had seen so much of the world, must surely think her quite silly to be so upset over such trifling matters. He had been gracious to her, and though Kitty would never admit it, she was thankful for the strength his sturdy frame had lent her, upset as she was, Kitty feared she might not have made it back inside on her own.

Kitty wiped furiously at the tears which continued to stream down her face, but she had lost control of herself. After a bit they did subside, and she chanced a look at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were splotchy and red, her hair mussed, and her eyes were swollen. Kitty dipped a flannel in some cool water, pressing the rag to her face. A knock on the door interrupted her attempts to repair her appearance.

“Kitty,” Elizabeth’s voice called from behind the door, “I have Jane and Mary with me. May we come in dearest?”

Kitty sighed. She would have preferred to rejoin the others at dinner with no one but the Colonel the wiser that she had been so upset, but she could think of no polite way to refuse all of her sisters entry. With a deep breath, Kitty called out her response.

“Yes, come in.”

Elizabeth was followed closely by Jane and Mary, who looked at Kitty with anxiety. After a moment, Mary was the first to speak.

“I saw you walk in with Colonel Fitzwilliam. You did not look well so I sought out our sisters. We hoped you would confide in us a little.” Mary said, looking deeply into Kitty’s eyes.

When faced with such earnest concern from her sisters, Kitty’s face crumpled, and she dissolved into a fresh round of tears. Mary, whose hands had been gripping hers, wrapped a firm arm about her shoulders as she led Kitty over to the bed, where she held her closely, stroking Kitty’s hair as she rested her head in the curve of Mary’s neck. Jane and Elizabeth joined them quickly, Elizabeth sitting on the other side of Kitty, clasping her hand in hers, and Jane kneeling in front of them, resting her hands on Kitty’s knees. They waited until Kitty’s tears had been spent, murmuring assurances as she sniffled, and her shoulders shook with the effort of her pitiful sobs. It seemed to them that Kitty had years’ worth of tears demanding to be unleashed, and they let her cry every single one of them. Finally, Kitty’s weeping ceased, and she took the handkerchief Jane offered her, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose inelegantly. Jane rose and brought her the damp cloth Kitty had abandoned, and as Kitty cleaned her face she asked,

“Do you feel better now, having got all of that out?”

Kitty was surprised to find that she did. She felt tired, the weeping had drained her of her energy, but she was relieved to no longer need to pretend she was well with her sisters. Kitty nodded, still not quite trusting her voice.

“We should have sought you out sooner,” Elizabeth admitted, feeling guilty, “we have been meaning to have a good, long chat with you since your arrival, but there has always been something in the way. And I will admit that I thought just the knowledge that you would not be expected to return to Longbourn this winter would have cheered you, but you have still not been yourself.”

“Has something else happened Kitty? Has our father said anything else to you?” Mary asked.

Kitty scoffed, “Nothing unusual. You know how Papa can be.” She said, looking at Mary.

“Yes, I do,” Mary nodded grimly, “leaving Longbourn to establish my own home was the best decision I ever made.”

“Mary, that is rather unkind,” Jane protested weakly.

“Why should I not say it, Jane? It is the truth. You and Lizzy never had to endure his ridicule as we did. Ignoring us as he did when the two of you married, and even after Mama died was preferable to the way he treated us as young girls. Even now, he pays his grandchildren the barest of civilities, and hardly speaks to Lizzy even as a guest in her own home.”

Jane dipped her head, feeling chastised. “I apologize Mary. Of course you are correct. Papa has been very lacking.”

“He has said nothing to me which I did not already know,” Kitty interrupted.

“What was it that he said,” Elizabeth asked.

“That I have made a spectacle of myself with my silliness, that I should strive not to be a nuisance, and that I should not add to the burden of this house.” Kitty said all of this with a shrug of her shoulders, expecting when she raised her eyes to meet her sisters, that she would see them nodding in agreement. Kitty was surprised, however, to be met with looks of abject horror from Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary. It was not as if Kitty truly believed herself to be a fawning, ridiculous type of woman. Nor did she believe herself to be incapable of being a person whose company others would desire. It was only that she had long accepted her place in a family of so many women. Kitty had always felt like a daisy among roses. Lovely perhaps, but nothing out of the common way, and there was much she still felt guilty for.

“Catherine Bennet.” Elizabeth said with a voice as hard as nails. “You are not a nuisance. We have all been desperate for you to be here with us, where we can love you as you deserve. Hear me now Kitty. Fitzwilliam and I, along with all our siblings, invited you here because we miss you terribly, and because the three of us,” she gestured to Jane and Mary, “could gather well enough from your letters that continuing at Longbourn could only break your spirit further. You are desperately wanted here Kitty.”

“You-,” Kitty began, “you have all wanted me?”

“Is that so difficult to believe, my love?” Jane questioned softly, reaching her hand up to smooth a curl away from Kitty’s face. “Have we been so neglectful of you these past years?” Jane glanced down bashfully. “I know that as girls we did not always all share the closest relationships, which I regret deeply, but- “

Kitty interrupted Jane, grasping her arm lightly. “No, it is not that. I’ve felt closer to you all in recent years than ever before. It is only, well, you all have your own families now. Surely, they take precedence over a younger sister.”

“You are our family too Kitty,” Mary challenged, “and what’s more, you are dear to us. I know very well how you feel, but how could any of our happiness be complete if our darling, lovely sister was so unhappy, and we did nothing at all to help?”

Kitty could not speak for several moments, overwhelmed as she was with emotion. After some time, words became unnecessary, as first Mary, then Elizabeth and Jane, wrapped their arms around her at the same time. The sisters tipped over onto the bed in a heap of breathless giggles, where they remained cuddled together as they had not done since the early days of their girlhood. Kitty’s heart felt lighter than it had in months, and after a time she propped herself up on her elbows, asking them all,

“Was there a terrible argument over who would have the privilege of hosting me?” she said, with a raise of her eyebrow. Mary let out an inelegant snort, turning onto her side to face Kitty.

“Yes, you goose. Although when compared to Pemberley, there was not much competition.”

“You certainly would not have wished to share a home with Caroline,” Jane grumbled, surprising her sisters as the three of them jerked their heads up to look at her.

“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth inquired, “still?”

Jane let out a long groan as she turned her head into the blanket.

“I have never known a more infuriating person in all my life!” She cried. “She constantly attempts to undermine my authority, she insists that my tastes are too provincial, the servants are terrified of her, and she completely ignores our children.”

Elizabeth, Kitty, and Mary stared at Jane’s slumped form in astonishment. None of them had ever heard Jane speak so strongly against anybody before and did not know how to proceed.

“What does Charles have to say about this?” Elizabeth demanded.

“Oh, whenever she causes him offense, she is all pretty apologies and promises to behave better. She saves her thinly veiled criticisms for when we are alone. Although lately her behavior has worsened so much that it is beginning to try even Charles’s patience.” Jane furrowed her brow at Elizabeth from her position, which would have been quite alarming, if the sight of her older sister, normally so serene, splayed across the bed with her hair in shambles, did not make Elizabeth want to laugh so much.

“Surely, she could be sent to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst,” Mary insisted, “as I recall she and her sister are quite close.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hurst do not have a home in town,” Jane explained, “and Caroline hates their estate. It is somewhat remote compared to ours, and she refuses to be there for longer than a month.”

“What of marriage?” asked Elizabeth. “I remember last season you told me she nearly received an offer from a man.”

“Yes, but that man was also descended from trade. She has got it into her head that only a man from the first circles will do, and I am afraid that with her age and,” Jane paused, trying to work out a polite way to phrase her meaning, “disposition, I believe she has failed to charm any high-born gentleman who would overlook her birth in favor of her dowry. I simply do not know anyone in London who would take her at this point.” Jane sat up slowly, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Jane,” Elizabeth said sternly, “is that why Caroline has been trailing after poor Richard since he got here?”

Jane twisted her hands together in her lap, a guilty expression on her face.

“Oh Jane, tell me you and Charles did not encourage her to set her cap at Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Mary scolded. “The poor man has been through enough this last year.”

“I did not encourage her!” Jane insisted. “Charles and I merely mentioned that the colonel would be in attendance for the holidays, and she remembered that he had inherited an estate.”

“And the son of an Earl would be a good enough choice for your very particular sister,” Kitty hinted.

“So, the two of you have not dissuaded her,” Mary finished.

The sisters could not resist the fit of laughter that overcame them all in that moment, when they thought of Caroline’s clinging, grasping attempts to attract the unfortunate Colonel. Jane, at last, released the tension that had been building in her, and laughed until she was gasping for breath, tears gathering in her eyes.

“Jane, the situation must have been grim indeed for you to think of matching Caroline and Richard together.” Elizabeth chuckled.

“I know, it was an awful idea. When I noticed her interest it seemed like a brilliant solution, but I like the Colonel too much to want to subject him to a lifetime with Caroline.” Jane admitted with a sigh.

“Jane, you must learn to stand up for yourself. She lives in your home, you are the mistress there, and you and Charles will never know peace if the both of you cannot put her in her proper place.” Mary insisted. Kitty thought Mary was very sound in her reasoning and added her agreement.

“You are all correct, of course,” Jane concurred, “I have been hoping to keep the peace in my home.”

“Yes, but you have done it at the expense of yourself, and your marriage for that matter.” Elizabeth paused, and with a thoughtful look on her face continued, “if you will agree to attempting to dissuade her from Richard, I will tell Fitzwilliam to inquire with his single acquaintances in town. Surely, he will know of one gentleman in all of England who will take her on.”

“Would you really, Lizzy?” Jane asked hopefully. “I promise to keep her away from the Colonel for the remainder of our visit.”

“Of course! Anything to get her out of your hair at last.” She laughed.

With Jane’s dilemma solved, Elizabeth’s attention turned once more to Kitty.

“Do not think I have forgotten you, my sweet.” Elizabeth said, fixing Kitty with a resolved gaze. “I am determined to make you one of the happiest women in all the country by the time the new year has finished. You deserve nothing less.”

Kitty’s heart melted at such a sweet sentiment. “Being so near the three of you shall be all the happiness I require, dear sisters.” The women joined once more in a large embrace. When they separated, Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the mantle, noticing that it was time they all dressed for dinner, and suggesting that they get ready together in Elizabeth’s own dressing room. Kitty, Jane, and Mary’s maids were all called for, and the three of them went quickly to the mistress’ chambers. They spent the hour giggling as the maids styled their hair and offering loud suggestions on the outfits each sister had selected for Christmas dinner. When at last the four of them were dressed and coiffed, they left together to meet everyone.

Kitty felt that a great burden had been lifted from her as they walked the halls and descended the stairs. She had borne her feelings to her sisters, and they had consoled her. She was not being accepted in the fold of the Darcy family out of duty or pity, but out of love, and a desire for her company. When she thought of her sisters’ sincere faces, she could scarcely credit how she could have thought for one moment that she would be an inconvenience to them. Upon reaching the parlor, however, Kitty spotted her father, and felt herself tense again. Elizabeth seemed to notice this though, and moved to greet him, looping arm through his and leading him to the opposite end of the room. Kitty was grateful to be spared any interaction with him, knowing that if anyone had the power to make her feel small, it was he.

Dinner was a joyful, loud affair. The older children had been included at the table, and their excitement at the Christmas feast before them charmed nearly everyone present. Kitty was seated with her aunt and uncle Gardiner, and to their great relief, she talked happily with them throughout the meal, asking any number of questions about their recent London activities and her uncle’s business. To the Colonel’s own great relief, Miss. Bingley was sat at the opposite end of the table from him, being much engaged by Jane and Georgiana in a discussion of music. He was free to converse with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Watson, making a sincere effort to get to know Darcy’s newest brother. The staff in the kitchens had outdone themselves, the party ate their fill and as dinner concluded, they adjourned to the drawing room, forgoing the separation of the sexes to enjoy each other’s company. After singing a few carols, the children were sent to bed, as the adults enjoyed wine and brandy.

It was not long into the night before Richard, who had been keeping an eye on Kitty throughout dinner, approached her, while Mary was entertaining them at the piano.

“You are looking much better this evening Miss. Bennet,” he said in a low voice, offering her the glass of sherry he had brought her, “I hope you are feeling better as well.”

Kitty took the glass gladly, responding, “I am Colonel, thank you for your concern.”

She moved to speak, though she stopped herself, unsure of what she wanted to say. Richard waited patiently for her to begin, and after a moment she did.

“I hope you will accept my apology, Colonel, for my behavior this afternoon. I am not usually so quick to display my emotions before others in such a fashion. If I made you uncomfortable, I am deeply sorry.” Kitty looked down briefly, afraid to meet Richard’s eyes.

“Miss. Bennet, please do not concern yourself. I was glad to be able to be of assistance, and I assure you that any emotion you displayed has not affected my opinion of you.” His gentle tone at last made her look up, and she was relieved to find only kindness in his eyes.

“Have you enjoyed your Christmas so far sir?” she asked, taking a sip of her sherry.

“I am now Miss Bennet,” with a sly glance around he whispered theatrically to her, “I have recently had a barnacle removed from my person.”

Kitty followed his eyes to where Caroline sat with Jane and Charles and, suppressing a titter, said,

“That must have been very difficult indeed sir.” She murmured, her eyes shining with mirth. “You have faced greater enemies than one determined woman though I am sure Colonel.”

“I would not be so certain, Miss. Bennet. A woman, once her mind is fixed on an object, is a fearsome sight to behold indeed.” Richard laughed quietly, and Kitty was struck by how changed his features were when he smiled. He looked younger, more carefree. Very different to the man she had seen upon his arrival.

“I do not believe I have ever been considered fearsome. Lizzy certainly can be, and Mary too when she desires.” Kitty joked in return.

“You are young yet Miss. Bennet, your time will come.” He responded with a resolute nod of his head.

They were interrupted then by Elizabeth gathering them all for a game of snapdragon. Chairs were pulled around a table, as maids placed a shallow bowl in the center of it. They poured brandy into the bottom, followed by a small pile of almonds and raisins. A footman stood ready to light the liquor on fire as soon as the players assembled. The young people sat quickly, eager to play. Richard pulled Kitty’s chair out for her, claiming the seat to the right of her. Caroline was thwarted, and barely managed to hide her pout when Mr. Darcy sat on Richard’s other side. Jane called out to Caroline, insisting she sit beside her, professing that the flames always made her nervous and she would so appreciate having her nearby. There was little Caroline could say in response to this, so she took her seat with every appearance of graciousness. Mr. Bennet, to the disappointment of almost no one present, excused himself from the game, stating that he would rather be abed. Thus, he bade everybody goodnight and Merry Christmas, and went straight up to bed.

The game began and each player took their turn, becoming bolder each time they reached into the flaming bowl. The game brought out the competitive spirit in Kitty, and her sisters delighted at the sight of her, cheeks flushed with the heat, eyes narrowed in concentration, a laughing grin on her face. Richard managed to keep his composure each time her arm brushed his as she leaned forward, rising slightly from her chair. He did not know why he should be so distracted by such featherlight touches. Perhaps it was because she was completely unaware of what a sweet picture she made in her simple enjoyment, which was so different from how she a previously behaved.

Snapdragon ended with a victorious Kitty, who had claimed the most raisins and almonds of anyone there. They stayed around the table until the small hours of the morning. Richard had found his voice and regaled them with tales from his time at camp. A favorite of his featured an old traveling fortune teller, who read the palms of his men, and the chaos that ensued in the days following her predictions. Kitty let out a delighted laugh when he told them all of the men who rubbed tallow into their scalps because the woman had told them it would keep them from going bald. They had stunk to high heavens for days after but could not be convinced it had not worked. Watching her amused reactions to his stories was the first time Richard had not felt anger pull at his heart when speaking of the war.

Richard was not discreet enough to keep Darcy from noticing his frequent glances at Kitty. Anyone else would not have noticed the soft look on Richard’s face when he looked her way, but Richard had been Darcy’s closest companion since childhood, and he knew him nearly as well as he knew himself. Darcy privately resolved not to push Richard to confide in him just yet. Whatever feelings had been awoken in him might fade quickly enough, and there was no cause to embarrass Richard with questions he was not ready to answer.

For her part, Kitty was completely ignorant of the stirrings she was raising in the man next to her. She was focused only on enjoying the first truly wonderful night she’d had in months. The evening calmed as they all grew tired and were content to chat quietly amongst themselves. Kitty leaned back in her chair, listening to the logs in the fire pop, and the low din of the party winding down. Each couple began to leave for their beds, and Kitty rose from her seat.

“Goodnight Colonel,” she said softly, “I enjoyed your stories very much.”

Richard turned his head toward her with a grin. “Thank you for listening to them Miss. Bennet. I hope you enjoyed yourself tonight.”

“I did. Very much.” Kitty paused, “I suppose I should go to sleep now. It is later than I have stayed awake in quite some time. Merry Christmas sir.”

“Merry Christmas Miss. Bennet.” He answered.

Kitty dipped her head in farewell, and turned from him, leaving the room.

Richard was the last to find his bed that night. As he laid his head down, he marveled at the fact that he had spent an entire evening in company and had not wished once for it to end. Down the hall, Kitty laid awake with a matching smile, thrilled at how the night had gone.  

Chapter Text

Boxing Day followed a more relaxed routine at Pemberley, as Mr. and Mrs. Darcy preferred to give their staff as little to do on that day as possible. In the morning, gift baskets and additional holiday pay were distributed to the loyal servants of Pemberley, and each member of the party was content to spend the day seeing to their own amusements. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen overnight, and the older children were aching to go outside and play in it. The cold and wind were fierce that day, however, and their parents were less sanguine at the prospect of their little ones catching a chill in such frigid weather. A compromise was soon reached, and the children were allowed to play an elaborate game of hide and seek, where they were allowed to hide anywhere in the main rooms and family wing. Most of the adults agreed to give chase, with the exception of Mr. Bennet, Caroline, and Richard.

Mr. Bennet and Miss. Bingley themselves could not be bothered to spend the afternoon chasing after little children. Richard would have normally enjoyed the scheme very much, had the cold not begun to affect his injured leg, and had he not indulged more than he should have in the spiced wine the night before. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had found themselves similarly afflicted that morning but had not the heart to refuse to play with their families. So it was that Richard had sequestered himself away in Darcy’s study, elevating his leg on a sofa near the crackling fireplace, enjoying a book his sister had sent him for Christmas, when he heard little footsteps running into the room. He turned his head to see Bennet rushing inside, skidding to a stop when he noticed that he had been spotted. Bennet stared at Richard with wide eyes.

“There should be a particularly good hiding spot in the cabinet near your father’s desk.” Richard whispered conspiratorially. Bennet opened the cabinet door, revealing an empty shelf just big enough for him to squeeze into. He turned to Richard with a grin and began to crawl inside when another set of footsteps was heard in the hallway. “Hurry now. Do not worry, I won’t give you away.” Said Richard with a mischievous smile. Bennet had just closed the cabinet when moments later the door opened, and Kitty walked into the room.

Kitty walked quickly to the middle of the room, scanning the surroundings before noticing Richard.

“Oh, Colonel,” she exclaimed breathlessly, “I apologize for intruding.” She blushed prettily as he stood, walking over to greet her.

“No worries at all Miss. Bennet. I gather you decided to join the hunt for the wild children running about the place?”

“Have you happened to see one such child? I confess I thought it would be easier to find them, but Pemberley has a great many more hiding places than Longbourn.”

Richard chuckled to himself, leaning his weight against the arm of the sofa. “We Fitzwilliam and Darcy children used to run our parents, and the staff ragged trying to find us in this house. We were never where we were supposed to be when it was time for lessons or bed.”

“That would explain why Darcy has already found two of them!” Kitty laughed

“Yes, he does have quite an unfair advantage. He once hid behind the screen of an unlit fireplace. It took two hours to find him.”

“He did not!” Kitty gasped, finding it very difficult to imagine her proper brother-in-law crouching in a pile of ashes.

“He did! By the time we discovered him, he was covered head to toe in soot. His parents were furious.” Richard smiled fondly at the memory.

From behind them, a creaking sound came from the cabinet and Kitty snapped her head in its direction, turning back to Richard with raised eyebrows. He raised his hands in surrender, biting back a laugh as he returned to his seat.

“As you see Miss. Bennet,” he declared theatrically, “the only ones present in this room are you and I. Perhaps you should resume your search elsewhere.”

“Quite right sir,” she raised her voice, “I suppose I will be on my way.” Kitty walked with exaggerated footsteps toward the door, opening and closing it without stepping through. After a moment the cabinet opened, and little Bennet clambered out from inside of it, popping up to meet the amused face of his aunt, who stared at him victoriously with her arms crossed.”

“You found me!” Bennet whined, upset that he had been caught.

“It was a very good hiding place my dear, but you must remember to be absolutely silent next time.” Kitty rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to give him a kiss on the forehead. Bennet scowled, crossing his arms stubbornly. Richard had to swallow a laugh, for he looked the very picture of his father when he was in a high temper.

“I didn’t want be out yet.” Bennet grumbled.

“Don’t be cross love,” Kitty consoled him, “if you run to the drawing room your mother has tea and cakes ready, and she’s promised to read aloud to all of you afterward. You know she does the best voices.”

“Sandwiches too?” Bennet asked, brightening at the notion.

“I believe there are sandwiches yes,” she patted him on the back, “run along now Bennie, I will be with you all shortly.”

“Better luck next time chap!” Richard called after him. Bennet turned and waved to him.

“Goodbye Cousin Richard!” He spun around, scampering down the hall.

Kitty narrowed her eyes at Richard.

“You kept him hidden from me.” she said, pursing her lips.

“I do apologize Miss. Bennet, but you were right on his heels. I had to give the lad a fighting chance.”

Kitty shrugged, lowering herself onto the chair opposite him.

“I suppose I can’t blame you. I would probably do the same in your position.” Kitty leaned back with a deep exhale, settling into the cushion. “I hope it gets a little warmer soon. The children are desperate to be outside.”

“They have been a little rambunctious today have they not?”

“They have indeed, sir.”

They sat quietly for a moment, Kitty watching the flames in the hearth, and Richard watching her. He was glad to see that she seemed much happier today. There was a lightness in her step and her face had lost that pinched expression which had been so prominent in the days prior. Though she did still seem a little tired, he ventured to guess that was more a result of such a late night than any real depression of spirits. He himself was feeling less morose than he had in weeks. He did not need to perform for anybody at Pemberley. It was freeing.

Kitty’s thoughts were quite similar at that moment. She awoke that morning happier and more at peace, still a little high from the gaiety of the previous evening. It was a delight to play with her nieces and nephews and plan some amusement for them with her sisters. She could admit to herself though, that she needed a respite after chasing them throughout the halls for the better part of the day. She relaxed further in the comfortable chair, the warmth of the fire lulling her into a contented haze. She was glad it was the Colonel who she interrupted in this room, as his steady presence demanded little of her. He had already seen her in an awkward situation and had treated her with nothing but kindness. The sound of the Colonel clearing his throat pulled her from her musings, and she looked at him curiously.

“I hope you will not mind my saying so,” he began slowly, leaning toward her with his elbows resting on his knees, “but you seem much happier today than you have. I hope your concerns have abated a little.”

“I do not mind at all Colonel,” she assured, “I had a very good talk with my sisters yesterday, and it put many of my fears to rest.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“If I may say sir,” she added, “you also seem much more at ease.”

“I suppose that is true. I am always comfortable at Pemberley. I spent almost as much time here as I did at my parent’s own estate growing up. It is a second home to me.”

“That must have been wonderful.”

“I admit is was idyllic,” he grinned, “my brother, sister, and I have always been close to our Darcy cousins.”

“Did you miss spending Christmas with them this year?” she asked.

“I would have liked to spend the holiday with them, yes,” he admitted. A shadow came over his face then. “London has felt different though. Not as alluring as it used to be.”

“Since you returned from the Peninsula?” Kitty felt her face grow hot. “Forgive me sir! That was terribly impertinent.”

“Miss. Bennet please, you need never fear being impertinent in front of me,” he did his best to console her, adding with a smirk, “I have often been called an impertinent sort of man.”

“Regardless,” she reiterated, “I am sorry

“And you really must stop apologizing.” he insisted.

“I’m so- “Kitty cut herself off at his raised eyebrow, lowering her eyes from his. She wrung her hands together in her lap, fearing that she had caused him great offense when she heard his voice again, much gentler this time.

“Yes, Miss. Bennet. Since I returned from the Peninsula everything has been different. I have been different. I believe I shall never be the same as I was. It would be impossible.  London was certainly no help on that score. I am beginning to feel lighter though, it is a feeling I welcome.” Richard looked at her, a sincere expression on his face.

“I am glad to hear it then.” Kitty offered, echoing his earlier sentiment. “You have a new home now,” she stated, “Lizzy told me you have been quite devoted to its running.”

Richard was happy to speak of Hayden Hall. “The life of an estate owner is one I never aspired to. It certainly never seemed within reach, but I have enjoyed it more than I thought I would.”

It was true that Richard had thrown himself into the business of land ownership. When he first returned to England, there was little for him to do but exercise his leg as it, little by little, regained strength, and lie abed at night dreaming of what he had seen on the battlefield. Hayden Hall had been a welcome reprieve. There were tenants and staff that depended on him. People he could take care of, staff he could direct. He could plan the spring planting and supervise the harvest. He could settle tenant disputes and make improvements. There was an active, busy occupation to be had in such a life, though he knew many gentlemen involved themselves little in the daily goings on of their estate. That could never be Richard though, he had lived as a soldier for too much of his adulthood to ever be idle.

“Hayden Hall is a pretty place. It is in Shropshire, near the village of Worfield,” he explained, “I have not yet been there a year, though I already take great pride in it.”

“I understand what you mean,” she agreed, “after my mother was gone, there was so much to be done at Longbourn. My father and his steward oversee the estate of course, but I had to learn to manage the house. It seems silly to say, but I do not think I ever realized how much my mother was responsible for. Our housekeeper Hill taught me a great deal, and I enjoyed learning it very much. It is nice to feel useful.”

They spoke for a little while about their homes. Kitty talked about the tenants of Longbourn, that she had grown fond of. She delighted in the care of those families which relied on them, wanting to assist them in any way she could. She laughed at Richard’s account of a cow that had wandered right up to the front door of Hayden Hall, as if it might call inside for tea. They were soon interrupted by Darcy, who had come looking for them.

“Ah, there you two are.” He said, striding towards them, “Bennet said I might find you here. Tea is ready, and Elizabeth thought Kitty may be in need of refreshments.” Darcy eyed Kitty, who turned to him happily, agreeing that she was getting rather peaky, and with a bow of her head, left the room. Richard followed behind her, two bright spots on his cheeks.

Darcy stayed behind, questioning for a bit what he had seen. He hadn’t walked in on anything improper. They were merely sitting several feet apart, chatting amiably. If anything, it was a relief for Darcy to see them both in such good humor again. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Richard’s face, however. Again, it was subtle enough that anyone else would miss it. Darcy was sure Kitty would not have noticed it, she never seemed to believe anyone would be interested in her, but Darcy could tell­.  Richard looked entranced. There was a gleam in his eye that Darcy had never seen before.

He pondered what to do. Richard was a grown man perfectly capable of handling his own affairs, and Kitty was of age. There was nothing alarming about the idea that Richard might show an interest in her. Darcy would be happy to have Richard as in brother in truth and thought that Kitty would do well with a man like Richard, who was as honorable and devoted as they came, but it was all so tenuous. He resolved not to say anything to Elizabeth yet. As much as he loved his wife, she seemed to have inherited something of her mother’s love of matchmaking. He would never admit that to her though. All he could do was keep a watchful eye on them, and advise Richard if need be.

The days between Christmas and New Year passed with an unstructured kind of pattern. Jane kept her word, distracting Caroline as best as she could to keep her away from Richard. The women kept her quite busy with fashion plates from town as they insisted, they would all need to be up to date on the current fashions for the season. It worked most of the time, and in the rare instances she was able to attach herself to Richard’s side, he was able to bear it with more equanimity than he had before. Usually all he had to do was catch a glimpse of Kitty smirking in Caroline’s direction, and he could laugh inwardly at the ridiculousness of the woman. He often found the drawing room to be a pleasant place to read or attend to his correspondence in the morning while the ladies were busy at their own occupations. Richard noticed Kitty was usually occupied with her sketchbook, drawing little scenes out of the window. She kept them close to her, but the few that she did share were quite good in his opinion. He wondered why she had never had a master to instruct her, when she clearly enjoyed the pastime so much.

There were also preparations for Mr. and Mrs. Shape’s annual Twelfth Night party. Kitty had been persuaded by Elizabeth to take an evening gown of hers and rework it to suit Kitty. The one she had brought with her, while serviceable, no longer fit her quite right. Elizabeth had been slightly aghast upon learning that Kitty had not had a new dress since before their mother died. Thinking of that conversation upset Elizabeth, who resolved that Kitty should have a new wardrobe before they went to town in the spring. Until that could be accomplished, she would not deny her sister a pretty dress to wear to a party, and gladly sacrificed a lovely blue silk and lace confection to the cause. The sisters and Georgiana were hard at work hemming, adjusting the sleeves, and painstakingly stitching little glass beads along the floral pattern of the lace on the top of the dress. As they worked, Kitty was grateful once again to her dear sisters, certain that she had never owned something nearly as beautiful.

Mr. Bennet stubbornly kept to himself. It did not seem to matter if he was at Longbourn, Pemberley, or halfway across the world. His routine remained the same. Every morning, he broke his fast, made tepid conversation with Mr. Gardiner or one of his sons in law, then escaped to the library where he remained for much of the day. He would occasionally deign to play chess with one of the men or chat with Elizabeth. This suited Kitty just fine, as for the first time she forgot to care if her father took an interest in her or not. There was plenty else to keep her busy.

Neighbors called throughout the week, and Kitty was happy to become familiar with those she would be seeing often. Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Sharpe, along with Miss. Annabelle Sharpe were frequent visitors. Kitty learned that they had included Lizzy and Mary in their plans to organize a parish school for the tenant children of Kympton, inspired by the one the elder Mrs. Darcy had established in Lambton. Kitty found Mrs. Winthrop and Mrs. Sharpe to be rather unlikely friends. The former being quite garrulous in nature and the latter a rather reserved type of person, but Kitty soon found Mrs. Winthrop had a charming way of putting people at ease and Mrs. Sharpe had a keen mind bent on service and care for those less fortunate. Mrs. Sharpe had intimidated Kitty somewhat upon their first introduction, though as they spoke more, she found that the woman merely had little interest in small talk and pleasantries, preferring instead to speak on more substantial matters.

Miss. Sharpe was of an age with Georgiana, and the two were friends of long standing, though they were pleased to pull Kitty into their orbit while the married ladies discussed married lady things. Kitty learned that she had much in common with Miss. Sharpe. She was a lover of art and music, and she usually brought her own sketchbook with her. She thought Kitty’s drawings were quite good, and the three of them agreed that after the business of the holidays had passed, they would meet often to draw and paint. It was not long before Miss. Sharpe insisted that Kitty call her Annabelle as her friends did, and Kitty likewise asserted that she should be called by her Christian name. It was a great relief for Elizabeth to witness this and know that Kitty would have at least one more girl to go through the season with.

Mr. Albion Sharpe typically accompanied his mother and sister and was happy to talk with the ladies before leaving to meet with the gentlemen. He was always affable and exceedingly polite. Kitty imagined that with as handsome as the man was, he must be a great favorite amongst the ladies of the area. Indeed, Kitty usually found herself embarrassingly tongue tied around him. She had never really known what to say to attractive, charming gentlemen, and the first time they were in conversation, he brought up the weather, and Kitty had anxiously babbled about how magical the snow appeared. She blushed to think of it, and afterwards she regularly saw Mr. Sharpe staring at her. Kitty was certain the man must think she was an absolute ninny.

It is much easier to speak to the Colonel, she thought.

 It might have been easy to be intimidated by such an imposing figure. A man who had been to war and was used to commanding scores of men, but there was a surprising gentleness in the way that he spoke to her. She had never been further south than London or further north than Derbyshire and was curious about the people and places he had seen. The Colonel answered her questions with sincerity, careful to avoid topics which would bring him distress, but was happy to describe the beauty of the rugged Spanish coastlines, or the bright blue of the ocean. His presence was steady and grounded, though his eyes frequently sparked with mischief. It was easy to imagine him as an impish young child, playing pranks on his cousins and siblings. He was ever solicitous of her comfort, as he was with Georgiana and Elizabeth, who he often remarked were like younger sisters to him. Kitty was grateful that such a decent man might have such familial feelings toward her.

Richard could not help but be impressed by Kitty’s bright and searching mind, she asked all manner of questions about Hayden Hall, shyly offering suggestions for him to mention to his housekeeper. He spent much of his idle time observing her habits. She seemed to blossom when she was busy and useful and was most satisfied when her assistance was requested for some task or another. There was a fragility to her vitality though. He never saw her shrink faster than when Mr. Bennet was in the room, he did not think she even realized she did it. It did not happen frequently, as reclusive as that man was, but when he did make an appearance, she silently went about whatever she had been working on, drawing as little attention to herself as possible, the brilliant energy she had displayed snuffed out like a candle flame. Richard wondered at that. He had heard enough from Darcy, and observed enough on his own to know that he could not approve of the older man’s behavior. Richard was tremendously pleased that she would soon primarily be with people who truly esteemed her.

Not for the first time since he took notice of her, Richard felt that his heart might be in serious danger. When he was alone, he chided himself for being ridiculous. They had only been reacquainted a week ago, there was no reason for him to be so taken with her.

She is a young woman on the precipice of the rest of her life, he told himself, you are a damaged soldier whose youth is behind him.

Yet she had pricked at his innate protectiveness. Richard had imagined that once her spirits were restored, his fascination would cease, and yet with every conversation they had, and every kindness he observed, he could not stay away. On the prior day she had left a scrap of linen on the settee in the parlor. He went to pick it up and saw that it was a bookmark, embroidered with lavender sprigs and daisies circling her initials. He took it with him to his room, unable to bring himself to return it to her. In thirty-three years of life Richard had never done such a thing.

Richard searched her expressions for signs that she might be similarly affected by him, but though she spoke with him happily, and welcomed his company, he could not see that she regarded him as anything other than a friend. It was maddening. He felt like a boy of seventeen again. There was nothing to be done for it, however, and Richard refused to be the kind of man to deny friendship to a woman he respected because of his own feelings. No, he would simply be grateful she desired his companionship and take pleasure in the time they spent together.

Chapter Text

Kitty could not soothe her restless nerves the day of the Twelfth Night ball. There was some commotion that morning over her dress. She and Mary still had not finished the embroidery on one sleeve and had industriously worked on it until two hours before Kitty was due to begin preparing for the night. Mary and John had decided not to attend. She was feeling better halfway through her pregnancy but could not relish the idea of dancing until the wee hours of the morning, and overindulging on rich food, but she was glad to be of assistance.

Now the dress hung freshly pressed in her room. Next to it her freshly laundered shift, stays, petticoats, and gloves were laid across the bed, ready for her to wear. Kitty soaked in an orange oil scented bath, inhaling the citrus scented steam, praying that the butterflies in her stomach might settle. If someone had told Kitty five years ago that she would be facing the idea of a private ball at a wealthy landowner’s home with anything other than sheer delight, she would have imagined herself bound for Bedlam, but here she was. She had not been to a ball in nearly two years. Not since her mother’s illness and death. After the mourning period, Mr. Bennet could not be bothered to attend the public assemblies, and she certainly could not go alone. She knew no one besides the host and her own party tonight, and envisioned herself sitting beside the old matrons, with nobody to dance with.

No Kitty, she scolded herself, do not be silly. You will at least dance with your brothers, and Lizzy and Jane will not let you sit alone.

She did steady herself with that thought, and rising from a tub, she dried herself, wrapping her softest old dressing gown around her body. Kitty then sat at the vanity, removing the rag curlers from her hair and massaging more of the orange oil into the ends of her hair. She applied the oil also to her neck, décolletage, and wrists, letting the scent relax her further. Polly entered the room, bringing with her the ribbon for Kitty’s hair, and her silver beaded necklace that had just been polished.

“I could have taken the rags out of your hair miss.” Polly strode over to her, taking the brush from her hands to continue shaping each curl.

“I know, but I needed something to do.” Kitty reached for her rouge pot, blending just a bit of it onto the apple of her cheeks with her fingertips.

“Still feeling a little nervous, are you?” Polly chanced a look into the mirror, meeting Kitty’s eyes. She had admitted to Polly earlier in the week to a bit of anxiety surrounding the ball.

“A little,” she confessed, “My sister tells me it is quite the event.”

“Aye, it is miss. I’ve a few cousins that work at Earnbridge Manor, and they prepare for weeks every year.” Polly began to place and pin Kitty’s hair, humming through the hairpins she held between her teeth.

“Goodness,” Kitty whispered. They fell into silence then, Polly seemed to understand that Kitty needed to organize her feelings and let her be as she concentrated on her work. Some twenty minutes later, her hair was finished, and Polly stood back letting Kitty see the final product.

Kitty turned her head side to side, examining the style. Polly had pinned her hair at the crown of her head, a white ribbon woven throughout, with curls softly framing her face. It was a fashionable style, accentuating her long neck and high cheekbones, and Kitty was incredibly pleased with the result. As Polly went to pick up her shift to begin dressing her, Kitty pulled on her stockings, tying the garters securely above her knees, and fastening on her shoes. They went through the motions slipping Kitty into her underthings until at last came her dress. Polly closed the hooks in the back, turning Kitty to the mirror. Kitty’s breath caught at her reflection, and she took a tentative step forward to gaze at herself. The gown was fine ribbed silk, iris blue and edged with delicate cream lace along the bust and sleeves. Kitty was a little taller than Elizabeth, and they had sewed several strips of the lace into a flounce at the bottom of skirt to disguise the added length. The tiny glass beads her sisters had lovingly handstitched outlined the floral pattern of the lace, gathering closely at the empire waist, and scattering down the skirt. As Kitty turned back and forth, they sparkled just a bit in the candlelight. It was the loveliest dress she had ever worn, made lovelier still by the care shown to her in altering it.

“Oh Miss. Bennet, you’ll be the prettiest girl there,” Polly enthused, clasping her hands to her chest.

“I do not know if that is true, but I certainly feel pretty.” Kitty smoothed her gloved hands reverently over the skirt. “Thank you, Polly. You have done excellent work.”

Polly blushed under the compliment, “You make it easy miss, if I may say so.”

With a final appraising look in the mirror, Kitty left the room, wishing Polly a good night. She descended the stairs slowly, her back straight and head held proudly as she observed the look on her sister’s faces. They were quick to rush over to her, exclaiming over how charming her hair was and how beautiful she looked in the gown. Kitty blushed demurely, thanking them for their praise.

Richard had been robbed of his breath from the moment he saw her in the hall. If he had been thinking of her still as a girl, any notion of that was abandoned. She was a woman. Beautiful and poised, chin held aloft in a measure of pride that would put any grand lady to shame. The strength of her countenance paled in comparison to the beauty of her smile as she embraced the other ladies. Realizing that he had been staring, Richard dipped his chin low, stepping into the background to avoid detection.

Dear God, what am I to do with THAT? He thought with dismay.

He saw Mr. Bennet approach her, a slight scowl upon his face.

“Were has this dress come from?”

Richard had expected Kitty’s shoulders to stiffen. Instead, she nodded over to Elizabeth, saying,

“Lizzy was kind enough to give me an old gown of hers to make over. We have all been working on it this past week. It turned out quite well. Don’t you think?” she looked at him with a subtle raise of her brow, as if daring him to say anything else. Richard was not alone in the feeling of pride that swelled in him. He could see Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary smirking off to the side

Mr. Bennet paused for a moment, looking as if he were at a loss for words. He merely huffed, nodded his head, and went to stand by the door.

As they donned their coats, Richard approached Kitty.

“You do indeed look very well tonight, Miss. Bennet.” he said quietly, bowing over her hand.

“Thank you, Colonel, it is kind of you to say so.”

Mary and John bid them all good night, and they parted with the promise to share all they had seen at the ball the next morning. It had been agreed that the party would split in two for the drive to Earnbridge Manor. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy would take with them in their carriage Mr. Bennet, Georgiana, and the Gardiners. Jane and Charles would follow behind in theirs with Caroline, Kitty, and Colonel Fitzwilliam. The ride was not long, as the two estates bordered each other, though it might have been more pleasant than it was if not for the inclusion of Mr. Bennet in one carriage, and Miss. Bingley in the other.

“Will you be dancing tonight, Colonel?” Caroline asked from the bench opposite him.

“I am afraid my leg injury will prevent it Miss. Bingley,” he replied.

“Oh, that is a pity sir. We shall be absolutely starved of the pleasure if you cannot dance,” she simpered, brushing the feathers in her hair away, which had curled against the ceiling of the carriage and were now resting in front of her face.

“Then, by all means, you must dance with as many other gentlemen as you please ma’am.” Richard suppressed a chuckle at the maddening woman’s predicament.

“What kinds of gowns do you think we shall see tonight, Caroline?” Jane interjected, distracting her from speaking further to the group. “I wonder if there will be any new designs from Paris.”

“I should hardly think it likely all the way out here in the country.”

Richard wondered if the harpy had ever considered the fact that, should she obtain her heart’s desire to wed a wealthy landowner, that she would be required to spend much of the year sequestering at his estate. He ventured not, as she was a person who saw jewels and silks and carriages when she looked at a man, instead of anything qualities of substance.

“It really is a shame you will not dance tonight,” Kitty’s soft voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked at her, framed in the moonlight, next to him. “Will it not be quite a dull evening for you?”

Richard had never cursed his leg more than now, when he thought of the opportunity he would miss to lead Miss. Bennet to the dance floor.

“I do have a few acquaintances in the area who might be there tonight. It will be nice to see them again, and Mr. Sharpe usually has a room for cards set up.”

They made quiet conversation until the carriage pulled onto a gravel drive, lined with torches illuminating the way, at last revealing Earnbridge Manor. Kitty could not help but let out a breath at the sight of the house. Indeed, Caroline herself was stunned into silence at it. Earnbridge had been built in a Jacobean style, standing two stories high and made of warm red brick. The entrance was remarkable, with two levels of columns flanking the great wooden door, each pair mounted by a marble pediment. The light from within the manor illuminated the windows, giving the place a romantic glow.

Inside was even more impressive. The balustrade of the grand staircase was a masterpiece of scrolling foliage, matching the decorative plaster ceiling. Art adorned the rich yellow walls, which had been decked with boughs of evergreen and sprigs of holly. White beeswax candles had been lit throughout, and as they entered the ballroom to greet their hosts, the light glittered and reflected from the gilded mirrors that hung along the walls. The effect was breathtaking, and Kitty barely managed not to gawk.

“If Darcy and Elizabeth are the first couple of the neighborhood, Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe are the second,” Richard whispered to her, “a very close second.” He had seen the beauty of Earnbridge before, but even he could admit that the house never looked better than it did decorated for a ball.

“This room is incredible,” she said, gesturing to the decorations, “I have never seen the like of it.”

“The Sharpe family has hosted a Twelfth Night ball every year for fifty years. It is quite the neighborhood tradition. I myself have only attended three or four times, but it is always remarkable.”

They reached Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe at the end of the receiving line, their posture was as erect as ever, and they greeted guests politely, while subtly scanning the room, ensuring everything was as it should be. Their children stood with them, Annabelle in a pink taffeta gown, with silk rosettes and white lace along the neck and hem, and Albion looking handsome as ever in a deep green jacket with gleaming gold buttons on the lapel.

Kitty was met by them with great geniality, and she complimented Mrs. Sharpe on the beauty of the surroundings.

“It is a stunning affect Mrs. Sharpe. Thank you for inviting me tonight.”

Mrs. Sharpe appraised Kitty quickly, the corners of her mouth twitching into a brief smile of approval.

“Thank you for saying so Miss. Bennet. You are very welcome in our home, of course, we hope to see you much more over the winter.”

They moved to join the Darcys and Gardiners, Mr. Bennet had very quickly absconded to the card room and was nowhere to be found. They stood for awhile in their group, Elizabeth observing the attendees to find which acquaintances she might like to introduce Kitty and the Gardiners to first. It was not long before they were approached by Albion Sharpe, who met them cheerfully.

“Mr. Sharpe, I already told your mother this, but it is absolutely enchanting in here tonight.” Elizabeth remarked.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Darcy. I can take none of the credit, but it is always satisfying to see my mother’s plans executed so well, and everyone enjoying themselves.” He exchanged pleasantries with Darcy and Bingley for a bit before turning to Kitty, asking, “Are you engaged for the first set, Miss Bennet?”

“I am not, sir,” Kitty uttered, surprised at being singled out.

“Then may I request the privilege?” Mr. Sharpe looked to her with an air of expectation, waiting for her to answer.

“You may,” Kitty slipped her dance card off her wrist, and watched as he penciled in his name. Mr. Sharpe requested the second set from Georgina, and a dance from Miss. Bingley. He agreed to come collect Kitty for their set, before leaving to mingle with the other guests. More from the neighborhood approached them, and as Kitty was introduced to those families, her dance card was quickly filled. Elizabeth and Jane sent the men to retrieve some wassail for them and pulled Kitty in for a hushed conversation.

“Well, Kitty, I do believe your nervousness at the evening was entirely unfounded,” Elizabeth nudged, “We have been here but half an hour and already your dance card is full.”

Kitty turned red and replied, “Everyone has been very polite.”

“Politeness has little to do with it, my dear,” Jane hinted, “Who would not wish to dance with such a lovely young woman?”

“I must confess, I am eager to dance,” Kitty said, ignoring their implications, “It has been far too long since I’ve been to a proper assembly. I only hope I am able keep up with everyone else!”

The first set was announced, and Mr. Sharpe came to claim Kitty. He offered his arm and led her to the floor for the cotillion. He danced well, with a sure grasp on her hand, and a jaunty step as they maneuvered through the dance. Mr. Sharpe made pleasant conversation when they were near enough to each other to allow it, and after only a minute, Kitty forgot to be awkward around him. The second dance in the set was a livelier country reel, which permitted little time for the two of them to talk and left them both a little breathless from the exertion at its conclusion.

“Would you care for some refreshment Miss. Bennet?” Mr. Sharpe queried.

“Yes, thank you,” Kitty followed him, discreetly fanning herself.

He escorted her to a table where two bowls of wassail, lemonade, and brandy punch had been laid out, along with all manors of nuts, raisins, and sweets. He asked her preference, pouring her a lemonade when she responded, and a glass of punch for himself. Spotting two empty chairs nearby, he suggested they sit for a moment to catch their breath.

“I must tell you, Miss. Bennet, that my sister has been delighted to have another lady near her age in the neighborhood.”

“She has been most welcoming,” Kitty smiled, thinking of the sweet girl. “I have been very happy to know that I will have a new friend so near to my sister’s home this winter.”

“Annabelle told me that you will be in town for the season this year,” he brought his punch to his lips, sipping his drink and looking at Kitty with interest.

“Yes, I am looking forward to it. It has been quite some time since I was last in London.”

“I suppose we will all meet very often then. We go in the spring as well.”

They spoke for several more minutes, on nothing of great consequence. Kitty asked him about balls of years past, and he admitted that before he and Annabelle were of age, they would often sneak around the halls, listening to the music and practicing their dancing.

“If we were feeling particularly bold, I would creep into the ballroom before everyone arrived to pilfer sweets from the refreshment table,” Mr. Sharpe recounted, with a sly look on his face.

“I am amazed you were never caught.” Kitty marveled.

“Oh no, I was always found out by our housekeeper,” he clarified. “Eventually she started leaving a plate set out especially for us to take, which quite took the fun out of the scheme, but we did appreciate it.”

“It must have been exciting when you were finally old enough to attend.”

“I had been looking forward to it for months. No matter how long this tradition has stood, I believe it will always be a favorite of mine.” He studied her, appearing to weigh his next words.

They were interrupted then by Kitty’s second partner of the night, who took her away from Mr. Sharpe with a vague look of triumph that Kitty could not decipher. With him and her other partners of the night she had no complaints, save that they were all a little overly solicitous of her time. She would have perhaps wished to spend a bit more time before supper chatting with Georgiana and Annabelle, or her sisters and Aunt Gardiner, but the gentlemen all seemed to be very concerned with whether she needed to sit, or if she needed another drink after they danced with her, to return her to her relations. Kitty presumed they were being polite to her as the newcomer in the area, or more likely, that they sought Darcy’s favor. For all that her time was taken up with men in the first half of the night, Kitty was having a wonderful time. Dancing had ever been a favorite pastime of hers, and she welcomed the exertion. Her feet would ache tomorrow, but it was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Luckily, Darcy was her partner for the supper set. After they danced, he escorted her to the dining room, where they sat with Elizabeth to her left and Jane to her right. Richard was seated a little further down the table, next to Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, a little too far to carry on a conversation with her, though near enough that he could hear what was said. At first, they were preoccupied by the feast before them. They were first served white soup from the large tureens at each end of the table. A second course of several cuts of game, ragout, roasted vegetables, and fish followed. Members of the party passed each dish and grabbed from the middle what interested them. Kitty was keen to sample as much as she could, and managed to successfully spear the last boiled egg yolk from the ragout before Jane could get to it. The volume of the room has risen considerably, everyone more than a little influenced by the bowls of spiced wassail and bottles of wine readily available to them. Elizabeth had warned her this ball was usually more raucous than any they would attend in London, as these members of the community were all old friends, and less inclined to be too formal with each other. Kitty looked around the table at the flushed cheeks, and slightly mussed hair everyone sported, giggling a little at the sight of Mr. Albion Sharpe, who looked a bit disgruntled at having Caroline Bingley as his dinner partner. Kitty herself could feel her tongue loosening a bit as the wine she’d drank washed over her pleasantly. Even Mr. Bennet’s face portrayed more than his usual stoicism, though Jane told Kitty that he’d had quite a winning streak in the card room. Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop kept him company, the two of them were as jolly as ever, and Kitty wondered how long it would be before Mr. Bennet could no longer abide their chattiness.

Lizzy and Jane teasingly asked Kitty about the dance partners she’d had so far, questioning her on their form and manner. Kitty took their ribbing in good fun, joking that her partners in Derbyshire were better than any she’d had at home, for they were mostly her age, and she had yet to have her toes trod upon.

“There is nothing so bad as an awkward dance partner,” Elizabeth said with mock seriousness, recalling her ill-fated dances with Mr. Collins and men like him.

“I am highly inclined to agree with you Lizzy,” Kitty gushed, “If there is anything better at a ball than dancing the night away with agreeable gentlemen, I do not know what that may be.” The two of them laughed gaily, clasping each other’s hands.

The elder Mr. Sharpe stood then, clinking his glass with a knife to gather everybody’s attention.

“Good evening, my honored guests,” he began, after clearing his throat softly, “this year is the fiftieth anniversary of the first Twelfth’s Night ball. A tradition begun by my own dear parents, and one my wife and I have been happy to continue.” He paused as everyone applauded for a bit, before continuing, “While thinking of some way to commemorate such a momentous occasion, my wife had a marvelous idea. It is time to usher in a new tradition, with an old one.” He gestured behind him as servants brought out a large Twelfth Night cake. It was a magnificent thing, decorated with sugar and holly, large enough to feed the five and forty people assembled. “The old tradition dictates that whatever man finds the dried bean in the cake is king for the evening, and likewise whichever woman finds the dried pea is the queen. We propose that from now on, we crown a king and queen to lead a waltz for the last dance of the night.”

An excited murmur passed through the crowd, many of whom had only danced the waltz in a London ballroom. Slices of cake were distributed amongst the guests, with slices from the right side of the cake going to the men, and from the left the women. It was not long before Albion Sharpe let out a triumphant cry, holding the dried bean up in the air between his fingers. Next to him, Caroline could be seen digging around in her piece with ferocity, ultimately coming up empty handed. Kitty was far too entertained by the sight of gentlemen and women attacking their pieces of cake to pay much attention to her own plate, until she heard Jane gasp beside her.

“Oh, Kitty! You have the pea!” she exclaimed excitedly.

Kitty glanced down and there it was, nestled neatly into the sponge, a dried green pea. She plucked it from the cake, holding it up to Jane and Lizzy, as they both laughed breathily.

“Ah, we have our queen!” Mr. Winthrop bellowed from down the table.

Kitty glanced around as the crowd cheerfully applauded. She saw her father, looking displeased as usual, Caroline Bingley looked as if she had smelled something unpleasant, next to her the younger Mr. Sharpe raised his glass to her in a friendly salute. Kitty nodded in acknowledgement to him, enjoying a bit the distinction the moment afforded her. She paused when she spotted the Colonel, who she had not had much opportunity to speak with since their arrival, looking stiff and uncomfortable, though he was clapping politely. This puzzled Kitty, as he had previously seemed to be looking forward to the evening, and she hoped that nothing serious had happened to dampen his enjoyment of it.

Supper concluded, and the guests returned to the ballroom wherein a small wreath of rosemary, holly, and dried lavender were placed atop Kitty and Mr. Sharpe’s heads. Kitty had meant to check on the Colonel, to ask how he fared, or merely to laugh with him over the fancifulness of the crown she would be expected to wear for the rest of the night, but she was interrupted by Annabelle and Georgiana, who approached her with enthusiasm over her good luck. He had disappeared from her sight by the time they had left her, and she was met by another dance partner, who had come to collect her for the boulangère.

Finally, it was time for the waltz. Mr. Sharpe approached her with a winsome grin, bowing to her with his hand extended.

“My queen,” he joked, “may I have this dance?”

“Why, certainly my king,” she laughed in return.

Other couples joined them on the dance floor, though Kitty could feel the eyes of the room on her. She tried not to blush as Mr. Sharp grasped her waist lightly with his hand, and they began to dance. His movements were graceful, and it was easy for Kitty to follow him, inexperienced as she was at the waltz. A part of her could secretly admit that it was thrilling to be held so by such a good-looking man, and she understood why many still thought the dance quite scandalous. Whenever she glanced up, Mr. Sharpe’s eyes were locked on her face, she would hold his stare for a moment, before quickly looking away again. She was unused to a man looking at her with such frank admiration, though she thought she did a creditable job of maintaining her composure.

From a far corner of the room, Richard watched Kitty dance, feeling more bereft than he had in some time. His leg ached, and he wished he had brought his cane with him. He leant his weight against the wall as he watched the handsome Mr. Sharpe gaze at Kitty. It was clear enough for him to see that Mr. Sharpe was attracted to her, and she seemed to be enjoying herself with him.

And why should she not? He thought bitterly. Mr. Sharpe was a striking, amiable, genteel young man widely liked in the area and in town. It made Richard want to hate him. He could not though, he was acquainted with Mr. Sharpe and knew him to be a good and honorable man, knew that Darcy respected him and counted him as a friend. It made perfect sense to Richard that he may become a favorite of Miss. Bennet’s. He had observed her throughout the night, glad that she was enjoying herself. She was a bright little thing, enchanting everybody near her. Richard had heard more than one cluster of people talking about how charming Mrs. Darcy’s sister was, how polite and endearing she had been to each person she’d met. He was not surprised at all that Miss. Bennet had such an effect.

Supper had darkened his mood, however. He was placed just close enough to hear her and her sisters discuss her dance partners, and his heart sank into his stomach. Richard was man enough to admit that he was jealous of the young men who had been able to skip across the floor with her. They were all so free and unblemished. How was he to hold a candle to any of them? He sat there with his weakened leg, thinking of the many scars that riddled his body, and the nightmares which still sometimes woke him yelling, and feigned interest in the goings on around him. He had no right to feel any kind of claim to Miss. Bennet. He was not worthy of it. Richard was sure that if she ever saw the twisted, scarred flesh above his knee, she would shrink from him in disgust. It was what he did every time he dressed and bathed. He knew that if he ever slept beside her, he would wake her one night with a shout and frighten her, and he could not bear the idea of her being frightened of him. No, it was better that she be pursued by a green young man. One who came to her with a soul as pure as her own.

As he stood thinking those horrible thoughts, he did not hear Darcy approach, and was startled when he felt a firm hand grasp his shoulder. Richard looked at him in surprise and followed when gestured that they leave the room. The two men went into the quiet hall, where they were alone. Darcy looked at Richard’s face with a searching gaze.

“What is the matter, Richard?” he asked, placing an unyielding hand, once more, on Richard’s shoulder.

“I am tired, Fitz,” he spat, using Darcy’s hated childhood nickname.

Darcy ignored Richard’s tone, and locking his eyes onto his cousin’s, asked again, “What is the matter, Richard.” He watched the soldier’s eyes drop to the floor, his shoulders sagging. Darcy continued, “I have noticed the way that you look at Kitty,” at Richard’s startled glance, he hastened to add, “no one but I has seen it, and I have not told Elizabeth.” Darcy let Richard go and watched him sink onto a nearby bench.

“I have come to care for her, yes,” Richard admitted through gritted teeth, “I am not he one for her, though so it does not matter.”

“You are not the one for anybody as you are now.” Darcy scolded. “I have known you my entire life, Richard, and there is not a man alive, who I trust or respect more. I have known you to be may things over the years, but I have never known you to be a coward.”

“A coward?” Richard shook with offence, jumping up to stand chest to chest with his cousin.

“You say you care for Kitty, but you will leave her to be admired and pursued by other men.”

“Miss. Bennet deserves better than a used-up man, ten years her senior, who cannot even dance with her at a ball.” He growled.

“And what will you do to change it, Richard?” Darcy challenged. “You were granted a chance at a good life. Brought from the brink of death and handed a home and your own income- “

“And what have I done to deserve any of it?” Richard burst. “I watched men better than me die by sword, and pistol, and disease. I am no more deserving of the life I was given than any of them. I was lucky. Nothing more.” Richard walked a few paces away, pinching the bridge of his nose, a look of anguish upon his face. He had never given voice to those thoughts to anyone before.

Darcy waited for a few moments as he thought of what to say. Finally, he clutched Richard’s arm, speaking firmly, but gently to him.

“I cannot tell you why good men died while you lived Richard. It is a question we will never have answered. You are correct that you are lucky, because you have a family who cares for you, yet you have pulled away from all of us. I have seen you be happier when you are near Kitty. Goodness knows that girl has seen her share of suffering too.” Darcy paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing, “You are still here, Richard. You are still here, and you deserve to live your life. I do not know if Kitty can love you, and it is not for either of us to decide, but if it is what you want then go home. Go home and find peace and come to London in the spring.”

“I do not know where to begin.” Richard whispered

“You can start by working on that damned leg of yours.” Richard shoved Darcy’s arm at this, smiling weakly.

“Will you come back to the ballroom?” asked Darcy.

Richard shook his head, saying that he would wait where he was until the ball’s conclusion. Darcy left him to his thoughts, patting his shoulder as he went to find his wife. Richard sat on the bench in the hall for a long while, contemplating what he should do. He agreed with his cousin that he could not go to her as he was now. He was not whole, and still far too prone to melancholy. The future looked uncertain, though he knew that he did not want to live it out alone. Richard would do as Darcy suggested. He would go home to Hayden Hall. He would grow stronger in his body, and try to find some measure of peace, and then he would go to London.

He sighed.

It is going to be a very long winter.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

The clock struck three in the morning as the Darcy party departed Earnbridge Manor, the two carriages carrying their sleepy occupants back to Pemberley. While the Bingleys and Kitty drifted off into slumber, Richard remained wide awake. In the hushed stillness of the carriage, Kitty's ungloved hand rested on the bench beside her, her fingers curled gently.

Unable to resist the temptation, Richard placed his own hand beside hers, a thrill coursing through him as the carriage's gentle jostling caused their fingers to brush against each other. The soft, warm texture of her skin was like velvet, sending a shiver down his spine. The delicate touch of her fingers, a featherlight caress, filled him with a sense of longing. As he savored the moment, he pretended to be asleep, hoping no one would notice the surreptitious way his hand had found hers. As he rested, he could almost imagine she kept her hand there deliberately, which of course was ridiculous to assume.

Upon their return, the adults clambered up the stairs to their beds, blearily wishing everyone a good night. In his own room, Richard lay under the covers, his mind racing with thoughts of Kitty. The memory of her hand, soft and warm against his own, was still vivid in his mind. Despite his troubled state, he fell asleep surprisingly quickly. He, like the rest of those who attended the ball, slept nearly into the afternoon the next day. When he rose, he summoned his valet, informing the man of his desire to be off the following day. If his valet was surprised by his master’s agitated insistence that he return to Hayden Hall a full week earlier than they had planned, he was too polite to show it, and therefore began to make the necessary arrangements.

Richard spent the afternoon lost in contemplation, his mind wrestling with conflicting thoughts about his life and family. Guilt gnawed at him as he reflected on his treatment of his mother, who, despite her misguided intentions, had only wanted to help him. The memory of his mulish defiance, more akin to a petulant child than a grown man, made him cringe.

He sat at his writing desk, beginning several letters to his mother before crumpling them up in frustration and tossing them to the floor. Finally, the words he sought found their way to his pen, and he began to write.

Dearest Mother,

I must confess to feeling some guilt for this letter's tardiness. Please know that Pemberley remains as enchanting as ever, and all within its walls are thriving. Fitz and Elizabeth continue to be happy enough to put any newlywed to shame. Their mischievous brood has grown, keeping us all on our toes. Georgiana is blossoming into a remarkable young woman, and I'm certain you'll be immensely proud to watch her navigate society once more this year.

This year, we were graced with the company of Elizabeth's family. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley, who you may recall, were joined by his unfortunate sister. If your memory of Miss Bingley is unclear and you find yourself taking offense at such a frank assessment of a lady, I assure you that a reunion with her in London will quickly dispel any ill feelings you may have toward me. Elizabeth's sister, Mrs. Watson, and her husband also visited, and we had the great pleasure of listening to his Christmas Eve sermon. The man is a fine orator, and his speech devoid of the verbosity or tedium that would have surely irked Father. Fitz himself confided that appointing Mr. Watson to the living was one of his finest decisions as master of Pemberley. The man's dedication to charity and guidance has been a boon to the community, and Elizabeth's delight in having a beloved sister settled nearby is a source of great joy for them both.

I was delighted to become better acquainted with Elizabeth's aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They are as good a couple as I have ever met, and their children are shining examples of their parentage. Mr. Bennet is as he ever was, save perhaps that we saw less of him than usual. Elizabeth's second youngest sister, Miss Bennet, is a lovely young woman, she and Georgiana seem to have formed a closer friendship. The Darcys have decided that Miss Bennet will remain with them through the season. I think it an excellent idea. They believe she has been somewhat isolated at Longbourn, and it would be a shame for one so accustomed to a bustling household to be sequestered with only an elderly father for company.

We have indulged in the usual Christmas traditions, and it is always heartwarming to witness the children's boundless joy in the holiday spirit. The fierce wind we had has abated, allowing the children to romp about in the snow for the past few days, which has thoroughly exhausted them. That is probably for the best, as we adults are all somewhat weary from the Sharpe's Twelfth Night fete last night. It has been ages since you last attended, but I am sure you remember the raucous affair it typically is. I had considered leaving today, but the prospect of a day and a half in a carriage in my current condition is unappealing, to say the least.

As you can see, we have been a merry company here, and I have not been alone as you feared.

I hope you will forgive me, Mother, for my behavior in town. You and Father, I know, only wish the best for me. I should not have raised my voice to you both when we parted. The memory of it shames me, and I can never apologize enough. I will only say that the war has weighed heavily on my mind, and I have often struggled to regain my ease in society. I want you to know that I'm determined to go on, and I promise to return to town this season and make a genuine effort to enjoy it. I miss you, Father, and Honora dearly. I even quite miss Harcourt and Priscilla, though do not tell him I said so. However, I will tell you now that I am not to be made a part of any matchmaking schemes you or my dear sister might be plotting. The debutantes associated with Father's cronies hold little appeal for me, and I would not wish to insult your friends with my disinterest, so do not encourage them.

No, my sole focus now is to return to Hayden Hall, where I might regain my former strength. My leg still tires easily, and I lack the endurance I once had. While I have made an effort to rebuild my body, I have not approached the task with the fervor I should have. My physician assures me that there is every reason to believe I may regain most, if not all, of my previous function through exercise and hard work. It is a challenge I embrace. You know my habits, Mother, and I have never enjoyed a sedentary life.

I am truly sorry to have missed Christmas with all of you, but we will be together soon enough. If there are any of Cook's candied nuts left, I hope you will send a tin along to Hayden Hall. Give my love to Father, Harcourt, and Honora, and tell my nieces that I miss them. I promise to write more frequently this winter.

With all my love, your devoted son,

Richard

As Richard spent the afternoon in his room, lost in his head, so too did Kitty. She sat, nestled in the soft cushions of the window seat, tracing patterns in the frost on the glass. A tray of breakfast sat beside her, mostly untouched, as her mind wandered back to the previous evening's festivities. The memory of the grand ballroom, its chandeliers sparkling overhead, the lively music, and the intoxicating atmosphere still lingered.

She had tried to capture the scene outside her window in her sketchbook, but her thoughts kept returning to the night before. The attention she'd received had been dizzying, and Lizzy had teased her good-naturedly about the way Mr. Sharpe had looked at her during their dance. Kitty couldn't deny that the man's charm had impressed her. The prospect of being held close by such a handsome and attractive man was undeniably exciting.

But as she twirled her pencil absentmindedly, her thoughts drifted to someone else entirely. Mr. Sharpe, while unquestionably charming, was not the one she contemplated.

Kitty couldn't shake the memory of the Colonel's hand against hers. As the carriage jolted back to Pemberley, she nodded off briefly, only to be startled awake by a bump, and the feeling of his hand against hers. She thought he must be asleep, for his eyes were closed and his head rested against the carriage wall. Quickly closing her own eyes, she risked a glance at his hand. In the darkness, she hoped no one would see her touching it. Jane or Bingley might not think anything was amiss, but Kitty couldn't bring herself to pull away. It was large and warm, a comforting weight against her own. The rough texture of his fingers, calloused from years of service, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. It was a hand that could command a room, a hand that had wielded a sword and pistol, but in its touch, she felt a gentleness that belied its strength. Sitting now alone in her room, she imagined it tracing the delicate curve of her neck, its warmth sending shivers down her spine. The touch she imagined was both gentle and firm, a caress that left her breathless. She closed her eyes, picturing his powerful frame holding her close as they waltzed. His warmth would envelop her, his strong arms guiding her through the dance.

The thought of his touch made her blush, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew it was foolish, a daydream born of loneliness, but she could not help herself.

The sound of the door opening made Kitty jump, and she turned to see Polly enter, carrying fresh linens.

“Oh, Miss I’m awfully sorry to startle you. I thought you had gone downstairs already.” Polly deposited the laundry into the wardrobe, and upon noticing Kitty’s appearance, looked at her in concern. “Are you feeling well, Miss? You look right flushed.” Polly placed the back of her hand on Kitty’s forehead. “Shall I ask my mistress to send for the doctor?”

Kitty shook her head, “I was only a little warm from the fire. It is why I moved to the window.” she uttered. Polly’s eyes flicked to the fireplace, where the flames were burning low.

“Very well, Miss,” she conceded, “call for me if you have need. Mrs. Darcy sent me to ask if you’d be coming down for dinner tonight. A few of the others are going to have dinner on a tray in their rooms, but she said her and the master, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Watson, and the Colonel will be in the dining room.

The thought of facing Colonel Fitzwilliam after the scandalous thoughts she had been entertaining about him was overwhelming, and she told Polly that she would prefer to dine in her room that evening, but that she would be down for breakfast the next day. Once Polly left, she pressed her forehead against the cold windowpane, the glass a stark contrast to the heat rising within her.

Where had this sudden ardor come from? Kitty had always liked the Colonel. She admired his intelligence, his kind demeanor, and his handsome, though not conventionally pretty, appearance. Unlike Mr. Sharpe, the Colonel possessed a solid, manly charm that put Kitty at ease. His conversations with her were particularly enjoyable. He asked genuine questions about her interests, engaging her in thoughtful discussions. Unlike many men she knew, he didn't dismiss her if she was unfamiliar with a topic but instead patiently explained things to her.

There was something particularly captivating about the Colonel. Despite his worldly demeanor, he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he told a joke. Yet, when he thought he was alone, a shadow would cross his face, replacing the light with a hint of sadness. It was this vulnerability that drew Kitty to him. She longed to understand him better, to make him smile again. The weeks spent in his company had only deepened her curiosity and made her want to unravel him more.

Kitty thumped her knuckle against the windowpane, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips. If only she were more sophisticated, like Lizzy, she thought. Perhaps she could flirt with him in the same way Lizzy did with Darcy. But she was certain he saw her as he did Georgiana.

What would a man like him see in a girl who had never ventured beyond Derbyshire? No, it was best to put such notions aside, Kitty decided. She would greet him the next day with her usual friendliness.

For now, though, she couldn't resist indulging in a few fanciful ideas. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and daydreamed about his own blues, the color of a stormy sea.

The following morning at Pemberley dawned cold and clear, bringing with it two departures, one far more welcome than the other. For Mr. Bennet, his desire to return to the familiar comforts of Longbourn had grown with each passing day, and he had made his impatience abundantly clear to his hosts. He had, from the beginning, made it known that he would stay only until the holiday celebrations had concluded.

True to his word, Mr. Bennet informed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of his impending departure on the very morning he planned to leave. The younger Darcys and Bingleys, their faces a mix of curiosity and confusion, were dutifully gathered to bid farewell to their grandfather. Mr. Bennet, uncertain as to what he should such young children, awkwardly patted their heads, offering a gruff reminder to mind their parents. The children, shy and apprehensive at the stoic man before them, bade their grandfather goodbye with all the sincerity they could muster.

As the children were escorted away to play in the nursery, Mr. Bennet was left in the hall with his daughters and their husbands. He went to each of then men, stiffly shaking their hands and exchanging farewells.

Jane, ever the affectionate soul, approached her father, offering a warm embrace. Mr. Bennet awkwardly returned the hug, his expression remaining neutral. "Well, well, Jane," he said, his voice a bit strained. "Off you go, then."

Mary, her posture stiff and formal, approached next. She hesitated for a moment, her lips hovering near his cheek before delivering a quick peck. Mr. Bennet nodded curtly, his eyes avoiding hers. "I suppose you'll keep me informed of how it all turns out," he said, his voice flat, gesturing toward the swell of her stomach

Mary's face flushed slightly, but she merely nodded. "Of course," she replied, her voice a bit distant.

Elizabeth watched the interactions between her father and sisters with a growing sense of disappointment. His aloofness was a stark contrast to the warmth and affection she felt for her sisters. As her father turned to her, his eyebrows raised in a silent inquiry, Elizabeth offered a perfunctory hug, her body stiff and her mind elsewhere. Her father pulled away, a hint of sadness in his eyes, quickly masked before anyone could notice.

His face hardened as he addressed Kitty, his voice laced with a familiar sternness. "You remember what we discussed about your season in Town, Kitty?" he demanded. Kitty's irritation flared, but she managed to suppress it, responding with a forced calmness, "Yes, Father."

Before her father could continue, Darcy stepped forward, his head held high, his demeanor as stiff and formal as Mr. Bennet’s. "It is our pleasure to have Kitty with us, Mr. Bennet," he declared, his voice laced with condescension.

Mr. Bennet's response was brief and dismissive, his eyes flashing with an emotion none of the girls could name. "Hmph," he grunted, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on his daughters. "Farewell, girls. Kitty, I will see you again in the summer."

Elizabeth watched her father leave, a pang of sadness in her heart. She longed for her and her sisters to have a warmer, more affectionate relationship with him, and wished he were capable of the sort of change she would wish to see. Such a thing felt highly unlikely, however.

Mr. Bennet was bundled into his carriage with little fanfare, and as he began down the drive, all but Kitty to the morning room.

Kitty found herself in desperate need of the kind of clarity only a brisk stroll on a clear winter morning could bring. She bundled up in her warmest layers and hurried out to the sunken garden behind the orangery, the crisp air invigorating her senses.

She trudged along for a bit, her mind full of her father and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Of her father there was nothing new to think of. The same frustrations always arose when she dedicated any length of time on the subject. Kitty wished he were a different man. She wished it did not bother her that he would never be proud of her. Kitty huffed in annoyance. Such thoughts would only ruin her day, and she was determined to give him as little of herself as possible this winter.

She blushed to think of the Colonel though. He had only just gone down to breakfast as they were sending off Mr. Bennet, so she had not yet spoken with him since her night spent dreaming of him. Kitty did not know why she should indulge in such fantasies, and it made her feel horribly improper. Colonel Fitzwilliam would certainly be mortified if he knew she was so enticed by the mere brush of his hand in the carriage. Pausing on the garden wall, Kitty took a few deep breaths and stared out into the distance, watching her breath form wispy clouds in the cold air. It was a confusing state to be in, she thought. That the Colonel would never share an attraction with her seemed a forgone conclusion. A man such as him, a distinguished soldier, an earl’s son, had surely met women more dazzling than a country squire’s daughter. It was pointless, she concluded, to indulge in any kind of infatuation with him. He was a pleasant acquaintance, and perhaps they could become dear friends if they continued to meet at family gatherings, which would likely happen frequently now that he was permanently residing in England.  

“Miss Bennet!” a voice called from behind her. Kitty turned around to see the Colonel making his way to her. He looked well this morning, she thought. He carried his cane with him, but did not lean on it for support, which pleased Kitty to see.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she greeted him with a smile, quelling the nerves that fluttered within her.

“Mrs. Watson told me you had come here. I wanted to say my farewells to you. My trunks are being loaded onto the carriage as we speak.” Richard smiled at her softly, his eyes crinkling in the way she had come to appreciate.

“I had not thought you would be going so early today.” Kitty sounded breathless even to her own ears, and she hoped that he could not detect the disappointment in her voice.

“It is nearly eighty miles to Hayden Hall. Best to get an early start and stop at an inn for the night before it gets too dark.” Richard offered his arm, and they began to walk together.

“Yes, I suppose you are quite right,” Kitty conceded, “It is only – well, we shall all miss your company.” She glanced up at him, noticing a look on his face which she could not decipher.

“I am sorry to be leaving,” he admitted, “It will be best for me to be at home for now, though.” They continued for a bit in companionable silence. As they walked, Kitty found herself studying his profile, wondering what secrets his quiet demeanor held.

“Have you decided to come to London this spring?” Kitty asked, “When we last spoke of it, you had not yet decided.” They paused near a snow-covered bush, and Richard flicked at the branches distractedly.

“I will be in London. Possibly before you are, I imagine my family will want to get their claws into me.” Richard chuckled lightly, imagining his mother’s excited manner.

“Will they visit you during the winter, do you think?” Kitty questioned.

Richard nodded, meeting her eyes as they spoke.

“My sister might. She is the only one who has not been to Hayden Hall yet, though she may wish to wait until summer, when there is more for her to do out of doors.”

“Won’t you be lonely all by yourself?” Kitty gasped, “Oh, forgive me, that was quite an impertinent question,” Kitty giggled a bit, comforted by the amused look on his face, “I cannot seem to help asking impertinent questions when I am with you, sir”

“I insist that ask me as many impertinent questions as you please, Miss Bennet.” Richard laughed good naturedly, “The evenings may drag on a bit with only myself for company, but I have found much to think on recently, and a few tasks I hope to devote myself to.”

“Then hope you will be successful, sir.” Kitty circled back to him, grasping his arm as they wandered further.

“That remains to be seen I am afraid,” Richard’s voice trailed off distractedly, “In any case, it is past time for me to get to know my neighbors a bit better. When I first took the place, I devoted myself entirely learning how to run it, and I did not accept nearly as many invitations as I should have.”

“I do not believe you will have any difficulty endearing yourself to the neighborhood, sir. Merely be as kind as you have been to me, and you shall have more friends and acquaintances than you know what to do with.” Kitty could not know then how pleased Richard was to hear this.

“I shall do my best to heed your advice.” From a distance, they could hear horse’s hooves, and the wheels of a carriage being pulled up the drive. Richard paused, pulling out his watch fob to check the time “That will be my carriage ready for me. I should not keep them waiting.” He eyed her regretfully, seeming as if he wished to say more. Kitty looked into his eyes for a moment, their earnest stare making her want, for a moment, to tell him every thought she’d had of him in the last day. She blinked hard, clearing her throat before stepping back from him.

“Travel safely, Colonel.” She said, her voice nearly a whisper, “I shall look forward to seeing you in town.” Kitty offered her gloved hand to him, and he shook it lightly.

“Likewise, Miss Bennet.” Richard released her hand, “I sincerely hope that you will enjoy yourself this winter.” He searched her face once more, unable to read her features.

“Thank you, sir, I believe I shall”, Kitty smiled at him, watching him leave with more than a little disappointment.

With one last lingering look, Richard bowed to Kitty, returning to the front of the house where Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Darcy awaited him. They bid him a fond farewell, full of promises and entreaties to write often until they saw each other next. Darcy shook his hand firmly, grasping Richard’s shoulder with his other hand, giving him an assuring nod. Richard climbed into the carriage, and as it set off, he pulled a battered collection of poetry by Wordsworth from his coat pocket. It was a favorite of his and had accompanied him on the many voyages he’d made as an officer. From between the pages, he removed the bookmark Kitty had left behind in the study, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. He ought to have returned it to her, he knew, but if they were to be parted for nearly three months, he could not bring himself to give up the only tangible connection he had to her.

It could likely be the only tangible connection he would ever have for all that he knew. Three months was not much time at all, but much could happen. The affable Mr. Sharpe might decide to pursue Miss. Bennet, or any of the other young men of the neighborhood, before Richard had the chance to press his suit. He could come to her now though, not when he was half himself, or before she even seemed ready to receive his advances. He would just have to be patient, he thought. Miss. Bennet’s life was her own, and she deserved to make whatever decision that would make her happiest. If her future was with someone other than him, Richard would find some way to content himself with her friendship. As he fiddled with the bookmark in his hand though, a flicker of determination ignited in him, he knew that if she arrived in London unattached, he would not simply step aside for her to be claimed by some green, young dandy. Feeling more determined than he had in some time, Richard flipped open the book to “Strange fits of passion I have known”, and began to read, his heart filled with anticipation.

Chapter Text

January at Pemberley began as Januarys so often do, with the days melding together as the Christmas season ended and the steady hum of winter life settled in. More departures followed in the days after Mr. Bennet, and Richard left. Mr. Gardiner found himself obliged to resume his business in town and bundled his wife and children into their carriage two days hence. They regretted the necessity but were satisfied that they were leaving their dear nieces well and happy and were comforted by the promise of seeing them again in London come spring. Harriet, Judith, and Arthur Gardiner were likewise cheered by the package of sweets Darcy pressed into their hands as they hugged everybody goodbye.

The next day saw the Bingley and Watson families off as well. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would be making a trip to Scarborough to visit Charles’ relatives, much to the dismay of Caroline, who could think of nothing drearier, and would not be seeing them until the Season. Jane and Mary hugged Kitty tightly to them, grateful to leave her in better spirits than they had found her. Jane promised to write often, eager as she was to hear of Kitty’s progress with the drawing master that had been hired for her. With Mary, Kitty made plans to see her that Sunday at church, and at least once more each week that she was in Derbyshire, so that she and Elizabeth could assist her in making clothes for the baby.

So it was that the next three weeks passed amiably, with Kitty settling into a new daily routine. If the weather permitted it, she typically joined Elizabeth on a morning walk with the children, laughing as they ran about in the snow, falling down occasionally as toddlers are wont to do. Kitty delighted in the drawing master that came on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He had been recommended by Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe, who had hired him to teach Annabelle. She often visited Kitty during his lessons, and sat in with her so they could learn together. Kitty enjoyed her friendship with the young woman, who often reminded her of a more well-behaved version of Lydia, immensely. Georgiana would sit down to tea with them afterwards, and together they sketched designs for dresses and bonnets, and laughingly drew up some of the most ridiculous fashions they could think of.  Kitty and Georgiana made time every day to play with their nephew and nieces on their own and engaged in a good-natured competition to see who their favorite aunt was.

Tuesdays at the parsonage were a cherished ritual for Kitty, Mary, and Elizabeth. The cozy parlor, warmed by a crackling fireplace, provided the perfect setting for their weekly gathering. There, the three sisters spent time sewing and knitting every necessity imaginable for the newest little Watson.

The parsonage itself was a model of comfort and practicality in its style and furnishings, befitting the couple that lived there, and Mary, with her innate efficiency, managed the household effortlessly.

As the sisters worked, they chatted happily, imagining the life that Mary's baby might lead. Kitty and Elizabeth took turns suggesting names. However, Mary, with a knowing smile, insisted that she and John had already chosen two names they adored, refusing to divulge their secret. Kitty had her own suspicions that any child born of Mary would have a biblical name. 

Evenings at Pemberley were as calm as a house with three young children could ever be, and Elizabeth and Darcy were not the sort of parents to banish them to the nursery. In the late afternoon, once the day’s business had been concluded, Bennet, Margaret, and Anne were with the family. Margaret and Anne could often be found snuggled on Darcy’s lap, while Elizabeth played games with Bennet. Unless they had guests, Bennet ate dinner with them. Kitty thought he had remarkably good table manners for one so young.

After the children were sent to bed, they sat together in the drawing room, sometimes chatting animatedly about their day, sometimes quietly pursuing their own amusements. Darcy and Elizabeth were often in discussion about the neighborhood, or concerns of the estate and tenants. It pleased Kitty to see Darcy seek Lizzy’s opinion and consider what she said. He spoke to Kitty too each night, and with every question he asked about her art, every exclamation over her talent, and every fond smile whenever he saw her and Georgiana giggling in the corner, a tear in Kitty’s heart, which she had previously been unaware of, began to stitch back together.

The fullness of January had pushed the Colonel to a tidy corner in the back of her mind, though he did occasionally make his presence known. At night, when she curled up onto her window seat, sketchbook in hand, she wondered how he was and dearly hoped that whatever it was that plagued him might be resolved. She imagined him tucked away in a little study when the day was done, perusing the newspapers or enjoying his nightly glass of brandy, as she had seen him do at Pemberley. She wondered if his study was meticulously kept and organized, or littered with estate ledgers and account books that he and his steward had toiled away at throughout the day. She hoped that he was seeing more of his neighbors as he said he would. The thought of him shut in by himself over the whole winter made Kitty a little sad, though she did not know why.

One evening, as they sat quietly in the drawing room a footman entered the room, presenting Darcy with a letter from the Colonel. Elizabeth and Georgiana were keen to hear how he was, and after a quick perusal of it, he began to read it aloud.

Dear Darcy,

I hope you will forgive the tardiness of this letter. I meant to write to you all much sooner, but shortly after my return home our area was covered by a remarkable amount of heavy, wet snow which fell for a week altogether, followed by some fierce wind. There was a fair bit of damage to a few tenant’s homes, caused by quite a few tree branches which had broken beneath the weight of it all. Thankfully, none of the damage was severe, though it did create quite a lot of work. There was much to be done to arrange for the necessary repairs, and a few teams of men had to be assembled to clear away other larger branches from some of the foot paths around the estate. The branches were able to be cleared in only two days, with the assistance of several local landowners and the men they also spared for this endeavor. On the tenant’s cottages there was the usual damage one might expect. Several leaking roofs and broken windows needed to be patched up. A few fences around the local farms broke and some livestock escaped, though with the deep snow in the fields they did not wander far and were rounded up and returned to their owners in short order. I was pleased to welcome those who helped with the work to Hayden Hall each day for a hot luncheon and supper. My poor staff had more guests to care for in these last weeks than the whole of last year. Though perhaps that is a good thing, I would hate for them to think they worked for the most boring man in the kingdom, who never had a guest in his home for dinner. You may all be pleased to know that I have accepted a fair number of dinner invitations from my neighbors, so I am in little danger of becoming the local hermit. Shropshire is a slow kind of place, especially at this time of year, though my neighbors are friendly enough, and I will continue to enjoy getting to know them better. It does me good to have something to do in the evenings at least. Give my love to Georgiana, and my best to Elizabeth and Miss. Bennet. I daresay I even look forward to the crush of the season this year, so that I may be reunited with you all very soon.

I am wishing you all the best, your cousin,

Richard

As Darcy neatly folded up the letter and tucked it into his coat pocket, he kept his eye on Kitty, who had gone unusually silent. Her face had a faraway look to it as she tapped her pencil lightly against the pages of her sketchbook. Elizabeth and Georgiana were content to speculate on the details of Richard’s letter, wondering aloud at how many men must have been needed to clear away snow, and reminiscing over similar winters past in Derbyshire, while Kitty had flipped to a singular page to work on. She excused herself shortly after, snapping the book shut and announcing that she felt rather tired, and would see them all in the morning. Darcy thought that he saw a flash of a man’s face, etched in charcoal on the page before it was whisked away from view. He couldn’t be certain though. Resolving to keep a closer eye on any further developments, Darcy reclined in his chair by the fire, watching happily as his wife and sister chatted happily into the night.

Had Kitty paused to examine her interest a bit more closely, she may have suspected her heart to be in very great danger indeed. Having lived to the age of twenty-two without anybody significantly touching her heart, nor being the object of any serious interest, she was perhaps less accustomed to the idea of love than other young ladies might have been. She had flirted with the village boys or officers that Lydia passed over, and while they were amusing, certainly none of them had ever been options to consider in earnest. They were the subjects of her girlish fancies, but then Lydia eloped, and Jane and Lizzie left, and then Mama and Mary were gone. Very quickly girlish fantasies were replaced by the business of moving forward. How was Kitty to know what the look in Richard’s eye as he turned to leave meant? She knew that she missed her friend dearly, and largely ignored the ache caused by his absence. 

Still, the winter hummed along, and the Darcy family hosted their neighbors frequently, namely Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe and their children. Albion Sharpe had found more and more reasons to call upon them lately, and he often arrived with his mother and sister for tea at least twice a week.

One such evening saw the Sharpe family dining at Pemberley, along with Mary and John. After dinner they convened in the drawing room for a bit of entertainment. A card table had been brought out, and while most of the party sat down to a game of Commerce, Georgiana and Kitty were desperate to appraise Annabelle on the recent trip to the dressmaker in Lambton that they had taken. There they sat happily for one half of an hour before Albion Sharpe, who had upon losing the first round decided he had not the head for cards that evening, crossed the room to join the trio. He found them in earnest discussion over which fabric Kitty should select for a new morning dress she was having made up. Just as they began to debate whether the blue and white sprigged muslin or the cream and yellow cotton chintz would suit her best, they were interrupted by Mr. Sharpe settling himself down on the chair opposite them. The ladies’ conversation quieted upon his approach, and Mr. Sharpe, not wishing to dampen their fun, said,

“Please do not cease on my account. I am quite keen to hear Miss. Bennet’s decision.

Kitty blushed prettily, a little embarrassed to be speaking of such frivolities in front of a man, and quickly said, “Oh, it is nothing so important Mr. Sharpe, I assure you. Indeed, most men would be grateful for a change in this particular subject.”

“Most men have not the experience that I do in trailing behind a little sister in every milliner or dressmaker’s shop she wishes to go into. Rest assured Miss. Bennet, I have a very high tolerance for lace and fripperies,” he quipped.

“It’s true Kitty,” Annabelle interjected, “Albion has always been quite an indulgent brother.”

“He is very like Fitzwilliam in that way,” Georgiana chirped.

Mr. Sharpe chuckled, insisting that he could not possibly deserve such praise as comparison to Mr. Darcy, but that any man of sense must be powerless when faced with a pleading look from a female relative. He only did his duty, he insisted, and one he did happily.

Kitty, who felt herself grow a little sad when faced with yet another example of a man who cheerfully cosseted a loved one, thought a little bitterly of her father, who had not once in Kitty’s memory willingly gone into a milliner’s shop with any of them. Determined to put such unpleasantness out of her mind, Kitty quirked her eyebrow, and with a saucy tone, asked,

“Well, Mr. Sharpe, if you are such an expert on the intricacies of women’s dress, what is your opinion on the fabric?”

Mr. Sharpe leaned forward, appraising her person with a teasing smirk, and with an impish grin, replied, “I have always had quite a preference for blue, Miss. Bennet. It looked very well on you at our ball. How could I suggest anything else after seeing you in that color already?”

“Well, I,” Kitty cleared her throat, feeling flustered, “that did happen to be what I was favoring.” Kitty did not know how to continue when the realization that she had been flirting with Mr. Sharpe hit her. Fortunately for her, the card game concluded at that time and the others began to suggest some music. Kitty made her escape under the pretense of turning the pages for whomever decided to play for them, her cheeks burning. She hoped that she had not been too forward in her behavior, she was dreadfully out of practice at flirting after all.

As the night concluded, Elizabeth found herself with Mr. Sharpe. The two of them stood for some minutes in pleasant conversation while everybody said their goodbyes.

“I am so pleased that Kitty and Miss. Sharpe have become such fast friends.” She said, gazing fondly at the pair of them across the room. “It has been lovely to know that she will have another friendly face when we introduce her to the ton this season.”

“My sister has been thrilled to have another companion in the neighborhood,” Mr. Sharpe relied cheerfully, “she speaks of little else but Miss. Bennet and Miss. Darcy when she is at home.” His voice took on a distracted tone as he added, “I have been very happy to get to know her as well. Your sister is a lovely young lady.”

Elizabeth noticed the softness of his speech and upon glancing back at him, detected a spark of interest in his eyes as he gazed upon Kitty. An idea sprung forth to her, and with a knowing smile she turned to him and suggested,

“Perhaps you should join us for tea sometime this week Mr. Sharpe. Indeed, we are always pleased to welcome you to Pemberley. You must visit us as often as you like this winter.”

Mr. Sharpe accepted the invitation gratefully, and as his family departed, he wished Kitty goodnight with a bow.

Later that night, as they prepared for bed, Elizabeth informed Darcy of her suspicions of Mr. Sharpe’s growing attraction to Kitty.

“Only think of it, my dear,” she exclaimed as she climbed into bed next to him and settled the covers around her lap. “It would be such a wonderful thing to have Kitty settled so closely to us, and Mr. Sharpe is such a nice man, and handsome too!”

“Should I be jealous of young Sharpe, darling?” He joked, “you have certainly sung his praises enough tonight.”

Elizabeth swatted his arm lightly, “I have taught you to tease too well, Will,” she said, laughingly. “You know I only want Kitty’s happiness, and if she fell in love with Mr. Sharpe, everything would be resolved so neatly. She would have a handsome, kind husband, and be free to visit her dear sisters as often as she chose.”

Darcy, who had listened to his wife’s observations with some trepidation, considered how best to proceed. Of course, there was nothing wrong with Mr. Sharpe, and if Kitty told them tomorrow that she wanted the match, he would support it wholeheartedly, but a larger part of his heart insisted on loyalty to his cousin.

“I think we should let matters resolve themselves naturally, my dear. Certainly, if Kitty does like Mr. Sharpe we won’t stand in their way, but there is still the season in London to consider. Kitty may yet meet someone there that she likes better. There is no reason she must commit herself to the first gentleman who shows an interest in her.”

“If you recall, I was the one who knew that Mary and John would get along famously. They only needed a little encouragement and before long, they were announcing their engagement.”

Darcy did know that his wife considered introducing Mary to her husband to be one of her finest triumphs. He did ponder the idea of revealing Richard’s own burgeoning feelings for Kitty but could not bring himself to betray his confidence. His wife, well-meaning as she was, could be incredibly persuasive. If he did not come up with some excuse to dissuade her ambitions for Mr. Sharpe and Kitty, the two of them might very well be walking down the aisle by March.

“You were absolutely correct in that case, darling, but Mary has never desired to have a London season,” he insisted, “Kitty has been so shut away in Hertfordshire, that she has never had the chance to become acquainted with a larger circle. Does she not deserve the opportunity to meet different kinds of men and decide who she might like best?” He looked at Elizabeth hopefully as she thought over what he said.

“I suppose you are correct,” she admitted with a sigh.

“Thank you, I know how it pains you to admit that.”

Elizabeth laughed freely as Darcy dragged her down to him, and for a while, all thoughts of Kitty and Mr. Sharpe were forgotten entirely. Later, as they laid spent across the bed and Darcy fell into a deep slumber, Elizabeth stared up at the canopy.

Kitty deserved every happiness the world had to offer, and if Elizabeth had to scour the ballrooms of London for eligible men, she would find her a match. What’s more, she would find her a love match. With a determined nod, Elizabeth pulled the covers closer around her and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Richard’s journey from Pemberley to Hayden Hall had indeed been uneventful. Much of it was taken up with reading through his volume of Wordsworth and several copies of the London newspaper that he had taken with him. They were obliged to stay the night at a comfortable in at the conclusion of the first day, and after half a day’s more of travelling, Richard gratefully walked through the front door of his home and promptly sought out his favorite chair in the study, and tucked in to the dinner his housekeeper sent him. Upon their arrival, his coachman had commented that they had probably got home just in time, for the sky had clouded over and the wind had picked up.

The coachman’s suppositions were correct, and the following morning, Richard awoke to discover that nearly half a foot of snow had fallen overnight. It was found that underneath the wet snow was a thin layer of ice, and as the snow was still falling, Richard had no choice but to hunker down for a few days until the weather had calmed down enough that he could venture out. Richard did his best to keep busy in his solitude, and as the days passed, he took to pacing the floors or lunging deeply in place. He stretched his muscles as best he could, willing them to get stronger. He made arrangements with his staff as well, figuring that after four days of near constant snow, there would be a fair bit of work to be done.

When the weather cleared, Richard set out at first light on horseback to survey the estate. To his frustration he saw that quite a few branches had broken off and were littered about the estate. Most of them were from dead trees that Richard had put off having removed the year before with as much as he had to learn upon his inheritance. That task certainly became a priority as Richard continued, chastising himself for not seeing to it sooner. With the help of his steward later that day, they went around to the tenant homes and farms to see how they fared. Luckily nothing catastrophic had occurred, but there were a few roofs needing to be repaired and a good deal of them needed help clearing away the snow. They spread word around the estate, and gathered men for the tasks at hand, informing them that Colonel Fitzwilliam would be happily obliged to give a little extra to those who could be spared.

The biggest challenge came in the form of yet another dead tree, which had snapped and fallen, blocking one of the main roads out of Hayden Hall. They would be able to get around it on foot and on horseback, but it would make travelling by carriage impossible. Between Richard and his steward, it was decided upon that he would seek out the assistance of Mr. Albert Underwood, who owned the estate neighboring his. They hoped that he had perhaps a dozen men to spare for a short while, so that the problem might be remedied that much faster.  

That afternoon Richard found sat in Mr. Underwood’s study, detailing the situation at Hayden Hall. Mr. Underwood was an agreeable sort of gentleman, of an age with Richard’s own father, whose estate was slightly larger than Hayden Hall. The man certainly took up space in a room. He was exceptionally tall and broad, with large hands, and hair that had probably once been red, but had faded as it turned grey. There was a scar on his face, which spanned the length of his right cheek, that had faded to white over time, though it pulled at the skin around his eye a bit. Richard had come to know him a bit over the last year, but had not made quite the effort that he should have to accept invitations. He only hoped the gentleman would not hold it against him.

Mr. Underwood leaned back in his chair, folding his hands and resting them across his belly and answered him,

“Well, Colonel Fitzwilliam, we have not been so unlucky as you have. I do indeed have some men that I am sure would be happy to assist you.” His voice was rich and deep, and the happy, unaffected air with which he offered help was a great relief to the eager gentleman in front of him.

“I would be most grateful to you sir; I am quite put out with myself that I did not have those trees felled last spring or summer.” Richard dipped his head a little in embarrassment.

“I would imagine you have had quite enough to occupy you already last year. Learning how to manage one’s estate is quite a daunting task.” Mr. Underwood rose from his desk and strolled to the bar cart, gesturing to the decanter of whiskey with a questioning look. Richard gratefully accepted the finger of whiskey, and the gentlemen settled back into their seats.

“Still, I should have known something like this might have happened and saved us all the trouble.”

“Oh, nonsense my boy,” Mr. Underwood scoffed, waving his hand dismissively, “you cannot predict the weather, and there is only so much that may be done over the course of the year. Indeed, all we can do is work on the tasks at hand, and plan for the future as sensibly as we are able to. Goodness knows I made my fair share of blunders when I first inherited. No, I dare say you have done quite well in only a year. You have undoubtedly been exceptionally dedicated to learning your new role.”  

Richard grinned, thanking him as they began to discuss the finer details of what needed to be accomplished, and how best to divide the men up. It was decided that because Richard’s men were already working, the additional help would come the next day to assist with those tasks which would require more hands. Richard enjoyed their conversation, confirming his opinion of Mr. Underwood being a sensible, generous, and practical man.

“I feel I ought to apologize to you sir,” said Richard, gathering the courage to say what he had wanted to since his arrival.

“Whatever for?” Mr. Underwood replied with a surprised look on his face, as he set his glass upon the desk.

“Upon my entry into the neighborhood last year, I have not made myself as agreeable as I would like. I did not accept as many invitations as I should have.” Richard could not begin to know how to explain the reason for his demeanor, or how very different it was from the man he used to be.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, I can assure you no one has taken offense at your behavior. You have been entirely right and proper in your dealings with the neighborhood.” Mr. Underwood’s voice had taken on a softer timbre, as he folded his hands together and leant on the desk, elbows resting on the surface.

“Not entirely friendly perhaps.” Richard chuckled lightly before bowing his head once more.

“Have you been long from the Continent, sir?” Mr. Underwood questioned.

Richard pursed his lips, nodding curtly as he responded,

“I was deemed unfit for active service shortly before learning of my inheritance.”

Mr. Underwood studied Richard for a moment, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“I myself fought in the American war,” he revealed.

Richard’s head snapped up as he met the older man’s eyes. He found Mr. Underwood to be looking at him in silent understanding.

“Did you really?” Richard asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

“Yes, for all the good it did us in the end,” laughed Mr. Underwood, “I was injured in the Saratoga campaign and sent home to find that my elder brother had died of pneumonia. Quite suddenly I went from a soldier of little consequence to my father’s heir. It took me longer than it should have to step into the role admirably. It might have been longer still if not for my wife.”

Mr. Underwood was quite matter of fact as he told this story, surprising Richard, though he realized that he truly knew little of this man’s history.

“I hadn’t heard that before sir.”

“It is not something people tend to discuss after nearly forty years, but sometimes I could swear it was just yesterday.” Mr. Underwood’s eyes were far away, as if for a moment he were still in the woods of New York.

“Yes, I know what you mean.”

“Well,” Mr. Underwood wrapped his knuckle on the desk, “shall I round up the men? I will send some notes around the neighborhood to see who else can help.”

“I would greatly appreciate it Mr. Underwood. You have my thanks.” They stood, walking to the door and turned to shake hands with each other.

“If you have no other plans, you must join us for dinner tomorrow. We would very glad to have you.” Mr. Underwood’s voice was earnest, and Richard understood what the man did not say, that should Richard need to speak about the war, he would have a sympathetic ear.

“I should be happy to sir,” Richard grinned widely.

They spoke for a few more moments before Richard bid his host farewell to return to his home and await the assistance of Underwood’s men. He directed his staff to prepare a luncheon for the workers, and to ensure that hot tea and coffee was readily available.

Mr. Underwood was indeed successful in his pursuit of the other landowners in the area and upon the next day, there were no fewer than thirty-five men strewn about the estate set about their tasks diligently. The repairs and clearing away was done within two more days, and Richard was glad to welcome them into Hayden Hall where they availed themselves of his hospitality. The men drank and ate their fill of hearty food and Richard had ale and brandy passed around.  

Richard made a sincere effort with the other landowners and businessmen of the area, and found them to be, by in large, men of good sense and good cheer. The rest of January passed comfortably, and Richard was not as alone as he had feared he might be. The wives of the area seemed to take pity on a single man with not much company, and his invitations to dinner and tea were plentiful. With the men he would play cards and billiards, and he began to swap stories with the hilarious Mr. Underwood. That particular gentleman never questioned why Richard declined invitations to shoot with the other men, and Richard was grateful for it.

He thought of Kitty in the evenings when he sat by the fire with a book and fiddled gently with the bookmark he had taken from Pemberley. The embroidery was remarkably well done, and he wished he knew whether she had done it. It would not have surprised him if she had. Richard had seen her drawings and thought she was very talented. He allowed himself to imagine her embroidering his handkerchiefs someday, and on her own would be a different set of initials in the corner. There were daisies and lavender on the bookmark, and he wondered if those were particular favorites of hers. Perhaps he would have them planted in abundance in the garden, so that she may be delighted with them someday.

One evening, a letter from Darcy had given him some reassurance on that front. Richard sat in his study comfortably by the fireplace, for once feeling relaxed and happy after returning from a dinner party.

Dear Richard,

I was very sorry to hear about your troubles after the snowstorm. It does sound as if you had it in hand though. Well done. I am even more glad to learn that you are socializing with your neighbors. It is very important to maintain relationships in your county, both for the sake of your reputation, and for your own happiness. I do realize it may seem ridiculous to hear me suggest that socialization is beneficial for one’s wellbeing. You may laugh at me when next we meet. My only excuse is that I have a lovely wife who has taught me to enjoy it more than I used to.

We are all quite well here. Georgiana and Kitty continue with their music and drawing masters respectively, and the children are as rambunctious as ever. Kitty is quite excited for London now I believe. She asked me recently whether you would stay with us or with your parents this spring. She was perhaps a little disappointed when I responded that you usually stay at Matlock House when you are in Town. Georgiana, Kitty, and Miss. Sharpe practice dancing now and again. I believe that her excessive love of it had begun to rub off on Georgie, for they are often found dancing in the music room while Elizabeth plays for them.

I do hope your leg troubles you less and less. I seem to recall you saying that exercise is beneficial for it. I would hate for you to miss out on the pleasures of Town if you did not have the stamina for it. I know how much you enjoy fencing and the like. It would seem such a shame if you could not walk in Hyde Park with us. Elizabeth and Georgie have mentioned the row boats in Hyde Park to Kitty, and she is quite determined that we shall all go when the weather is fine.

I continue to hope for your health and happiness, my friend. Do write again soon.

Darcy

Richard sat in ponderance of this letter for some time. The fire had died down and he rose, stoking the flames and settling back into his chair. He read the letter a second time, then a third. Darcy’s implication could not be misinterpreted, not by him at least. Richard had confided in Darcy his growing attraction, but did this mean that Darcy was encouraging him? It appeared so.

Kitty is excessively fond of dancing.

Kitty wishes to take the rowboats in Hyde Park out.

Goodness gracious, Darcy was telling him how to woo his lady.

The shoe is rather on the other foot now. Richard laughed to himself.

He looked down at his leg, running his hand along the fabric of his trousers. He could feel the unevenness of the skin, where the scar twisted his flesh, through the fabric. The muscle had gotten stronger though. He had relied less and less on his cane. He had not even brought it with him to dinner that evening.

Feeling a little silly, Richard began humming a tune he often heard in ballrooms. He rose, pushing his chair out of the way, and began counting out the steps to the quadrille. The movements felt a bit awkward after not dancing for so long, but he had danced the quadrille at balls from the time he was twenty. Really, it was not as bad as he thought it would be, though he could certainly use some polish, and there was only so much he could do alone without any music. Country dances would definitely take more practice if he was to do them any justice, but his lady loved to dance. Richard recalled watching her at the Sharpe’s ball. She glowed as he had never seen on the dancefloor, as if all her cares had been washed away with the music. If he could be the man to put that look on her face, he would practice as often as he had to. One day, he would be the one leading her in a waltz.

Chapter Text

Time continued to fly by for those at Pemberley, with days full of estate business, children at play, and laugh filled hallways as the neighborhood ladies called for tea and gossip. Before Kitty knew it, February had arrived, and whatever was left of her melancholic spirit vanished as quickly as snowflakes in her palm. The local dressmaker and draper made frequent trips to Pemberley as their spring wardrobes were completed. Kitty blushed to think of the expense Mr. Darcy had gone to for her, but he and Lizzy would hear no argument on the subject, and Kitty learned to smile and thank them gracefully.

Mr. Sharpe did continue to call, he remained charming as ever, and Kitty took genuine pleasure in his company. He often joined Kitty along with Annabelle and Georgiana in lively discussions about art and theatre. She learned that he was a great lover of Shakespeare and took every opportunity he could to see it performed when he was in London. He insisted that they all attend sometime with him in the Sharpe family’s box. One afternoon in the second week of February, he called at Pemberley to inform them that he had been invited to Bath to attend the wedding of one of his university friends, and to stay on for a few weeks thereafter in a townhouse that another friend had let. Mr. Sharpe joked that he seemed to always be at someone or other’s wedding these days, and expected to attend several more before the year was out. He wished them all a fond farewell, though he could not answer if he would see them all again before they met in London, as his plans were not yet fixed. It could be said that if a particular young lady had graced him with some fond look, he might have decided very adamantly that he would be back in Derbyshire before the spring. As it was, however, that young lady was happily engaged in discussion with Annabelle and Georgiana about a new watercolor she had just completed. As Mr. Sharpe left, Kitty wished him well, and sent along her congratulations to the happy couple, unaware of the touch of disappointment on the gentleman, and indeed his sister’s, face.

The following day saw Kitty and Elizabeth in Mary’s parlor putting together charity baskets for those in parish who needed them and discussing Jane’s most recent letter. Caroline had, according to Jane, been a bit tamer during their trip to Scarborough, though she wondered if the sobering influence of Charles’ rather terrifying aunt had more to do with that than any real change in her spirits. She was, as ever, rather too apt to lend an opinion where it was not wanted, and the sisters could tell from Jane’s words that, though Charles and Jane were exerting more authority over her than previously, the situation of Caroline living with them was devolving from merely being an interminable nuisance to downright insupportable. Jane had asked again whether Darcy knew of any single gentlemen that would be in town for the season, who may be in want of a wife.

“Jane is more determined than ever to have Caroline married off it seems.” Kitty laughed, tying off the thread on the shirt she was mending.

“Could they not, at last, have Caroline set up in her own establishment?” Mary asked, trying to hide her exasperation.

“It would be as good as declaring her a spinster to all of London society.” Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, “I am certain they would prefer to avoid that for as long as possible. Caroline is, after all, only twenty-six so there is plenty of time for her to make herself a match.”

“There would be the additional benefit of having her settled far from them with her own estate to keep her busy. Perhaps Darcy knows a single gentleman from Scotland who is hard of hearing and in need of extra funds.” Mary suggested with a sarcastic smirk.

Elizabeth whipped her head in Mary’s direction, and with mock outrage, she gasped,

“Mary! That was positively wicked of you. Whatever would your dear husband say if he heard you speak so?”

Mary slapped her hands onto her knees, leaned forward and earnestly insisted,

“He would agree with me fully, having spent all of Christmas with her. The Lord loves all his children, but Caroline Bingley could try the patience of a saint!”

Kitty giggled softly at her sister’s exchange, ducking her head to concentrate on the bundle of clothes she was tucking into her basket. Mary and Elizabeth exchanged a discreet look, and, delicately clearing her throat, Elizabeth asked,

“What about you, Kitty?” Her eyes flashed with interest, well hidden behind her innocent expression.

“What about me?” Kitty’s eyes widened in confusion.

“Have you a mind for matrimony yet?”

“Well, I,” Kitty looked down at her hands, cheeks heating, “I’ve hardly thought about it.”

“Do you think you would like to be married?” Mary asked delicately.

Kitty thought of the married couples she knew. A marriage like her parents or Lydia had would never do, but when she saw her aunt and uncle, and her other sister’s relationships with their husbands her heart warmed.

“I am sure I would,” she said, “to the right man.”

“Do you think that, perhaps you have met the right man?” Elizabeth suggested with an eyebrow raised.

Kitty’s blushed violently, and for one wild moment, a pair of midnight blue eyes that crinkled at the edges flashed through her mind.

“Lizzie,“ Mary admonished, “you said you would not ask.”

“I know Mary, but he’s just paid her so much attention the past few weeks, and she does seem to get on with him.”

“Excuse me!” Kitty interjected, “I would beg you to cease speaking of me as if I weren’t even here. Are you referring to- to Mr. Sharpe, Lizzie?” He could be the only one she was speaking of, he was the only gentleman Kitty had spent time with over the last month.

“You needn’t sound so surprised Kitty. Surely, you’ve noticed how he seeks you out when we are all together. I only ask because you seem to enjoy his company as well.”

Kitty looked back and forth between her two sisters, her mouth agape.

“Have the two of you been discussing this?” She asked, and then a more horrifying thought crossed her mind.

“Oh goodness, has everyone been discussing this?” Kitty’s thoughts swirled. She had flirted with him a little bit, she thought, and she did dance more with him than anyone else at the ball, but that wasn’t her fault.

“I promise Lizzie, If I have done anything inappropriate, I didn’t mean to!” She hated to think that anything she had done might be the source of neighborhood gossip, when she had come so far from the girl she used to be.

“No dearest,” Lizzie came to sit beside her on the sofa, placing her hand on her shoulder, brow creased in concern. “You haven’t done anything wrong, and certainly no one in the neighborhood is gossiping about this. Mary and I only wondered what you thought abut him.” Elizabeth wisely left out her conversations with Darcy on the matter.

“Please Kitty, don’t concern yourself.” Mary assured her. “We have noticed that Mr. Sharpe seems to be interested you, that is all.”

“He is?” Kitty felt quite stupid for a moment. Had Mr. Sharpe been expressing an interest in her and she was too obtuse to realize it? Had everybody else seen it and failed to mention it to her?

“Why should he not be?” Mary looked at Kitty, perplexed by her sister’s surprise.

“But I am no one extraordinary,” Kitty insisted. “There is no reason to think that Mr. Sharpe would be more interested in me than any other young lady. I possess neither great wealth nor great beauty, I am not an accomplished woman, or even an especially witty one. It is more likely that he appreciates my friendship with his sister more than anything else.”

Mary and Elizabeth could only stare at Kitty with equal expressions of shock and bewilderment.

“Catherine Bennet,” Mary scolded firmly, “what in Heaven’s name has gotten into your head?”

“I am only telling the truth Mary.” Kitty’s chin lifted in defiance.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard you say!” Mary’s voice raised to equal fervor.

“Well then, you may tally it up with countless other ridiculous things I have said!”

“Girls, enough!” Elizabeth interrupted their squabbling, sounding every bit the stern mother. Kitty and Mary huffed a little, slouching back into their seats and Elizabeth had to stifle a laugh. Though they were all grown women, they would never truly be too old to bicker like they had as girls. She turned to Kitty again, having given her a moment to collect herself.

“Come now Kitty, you cannot mean that. Of course you made some youthful mistakes, but you have matured well beyond all of that.”

“That is not what Papa thinks.” Kitty grumbled ruefully.

“Papa is a miserable old sod whose opinion should mean little to you,” Mary snipped.

“Papa,” Elizabeth cut Mary off with a glare, “has never been able to see further than the end of his own nose. What would he know about the ways that young girls mature into young women?”

“Well, he should.” Kitty leaned into Elizabeth, flopping her head on her shoulder.

“Yes, darling he should,” Elizabeth’s cheek came to rest against the top of Kittys head, as she rubbed a comforting hand up and down her arm, “but, alas, he does not. It saddens me beyond anything that he is so incapable of recognizing how very fortunate he is to have had you with him for so long. That he could not recognize how fortunate he was to have any of us, really.” Elizabeth took a deep breath and continued, “It should have no bearing on the present, however. We are telling you now, Kitty, that you are a fantastically fun, loveable young woman. Any man would eat his hat for the chance to make you his.” She said teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

“If it wasn’t true, you know I would be sure to tell you,” Mary smirked, before her expression sobered, “Kitty, you are entirely too hard on yourself.”

“The boys in Meryton never showed much of an interest in me. How am I to know when a man is pursuing me?”

“The girls outnumber the boys on Meryton three to one, and they have all known you the whole of your life. It is no great surprise that all of us Bennet girls had to marry someone from outside of Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth chuckled.

“So, you both think that I should marry Mr. Sharpe?”

“That is entirely up to you my dear. We would certainly have no objection if you made a match with him. I shall sound like Charlotte when I say this, but I believe that if indeed you do like him, he would only require a little encouragement to be completely under your spell.”

“Do you like him Kitty?” Asked Mary.

Kitty took a moment to ponder Mary’s question. She did like Mr. Sharpe, of that there could be no doubt. What did that mean though? He was always friendly and easy to talk to. His family was gracious and good, and he was handsome. He would inherit an estate near to her beloved sisters, which would please Kitty greatly. Each point in his favor seemed like perfectly good reasons to consider pursuing the gentleman.

Is that enough, she thought.

Kitty had imagined more romantic considerations might come into play when she thought of who she might like to marry, but perhaps that was foolish. A reminder of the way the Colonel’s hand had felt against hers in the carriage came to Kitty unbidden, and she swore she could feel her heart beat faster. She was thrilling from head to toe for most of the next day after that. Mr. Sharpe had never been able to evoke such a feeling in her.

Sensing Kitty’s discomfort, Elizabeth hurriedly told her,

“It is not a decision you need to make right now,” she put her hand on Kitty’s, adding, “he will be away in Bath until the spring anyway.”

“Enjoy the rest of the winter, Kitty,” Mary said, gently rubbing her hand across her belly, “but look to your future. We only want your happiness, and you deserve the joy that a loving marriage can bring.”

Kitty thanked them and, promising that she would take their advice into consideration, they resumed their tasks, laughing well into the afternoon. Their conversation nagged at the back of Kitty’s mind though, and she turned it over in her head for days after the fact. How was she to know the right way to encourage a gentleman. Did she want to encourage Mr. Sharpe? And how in the world was she to forget the frantic beating of her heart when she thought of Colonel Fitzwilliam? Kitty took to staring out of the window in her room, which overlooked the spot in the garden where he comforted her. She thought of their friendship longingly.

Is that what falling in love is? She wondered. Longing for someone’s friendship above all others?

Kitty almost asked Elizabeth what it felt like to love a man, but she held back. The thought of Colonel Fitzwilliam was still only a spark of hope in the corner of her heart, and she was yet unsure if she should stoke it into a flame, or let it snuff out. 

---------

For all the chaos that came in the beginning of January, February had been going along quite smoothly for Richard. He had established a comfortable routine, starting the day with a brisk walk which extended as his leg grew stronger. After breakfast he met with his steward, Mr. Mason, and they would spend a pleasant hour riding the grounds, before retiring to his study to discuss which seed orders to place, and what farm equipment to modernize before planting was underway. They worked a full day, and Mason was more than a little relieved that the master wished to stop at a decent hour in the late afternoon. Richard wrote letters to his family, filled once more with humorous stories and reports that he was happily involved in the community, rather than quick notes dutifully informing them of his rather questionable wellbeing. His evenings were often spent with Mr. Underwood and the man’s charming wife, who had a love of company, and their son who lived there with his own family. At night, in the privacy of his chambers, Richard would dance, an endeavor which he had begun shakily but had grown in confidence and skill. The neighborhood had opened their arms to Richard, and he in turn opened his home to them. Richard felt all the rightness of his inclination to marry, not only for himself, but to truly become an established family in the area.

No state is permanent though, and in the third week of February, an incident occurred which nearly disrupted all of Richard's progress.

The day had begun ordinarily, with Richard following his typical routine. By the afternoon Mr. Underwood had come to go for a ride with Richard, and to see the young mare the grooms at Hayden Hall were training. She was a magnificent creature, her coat chestnut brown and shining. He had named her Athena. Richard was particularly proud that she had been bred on his estate. He was entertaining a few offers of purchase for her, but part of him wondered if he should hold onto her, if perhaps Miss Bennet might like to learn how to ride her once she was a little calmer.

Richard and Mr. Underwood stood outside of the stables, watching a young groom named Paul ride Athena around the training pen. Her first few trips around the pen went smoothly until a cat ran through the fence posts, likely chasing after a field mouse. Athena spooked, rearing up onto her hind legs and bucking poor Paul off her back.

He fell to the ground with a thump, and a sickening snap echoed in the air as his wrist bent unnaturally underneath his body weight. Richard, Mr. Underwood, and the other groom ran over to him immediately, Richard barking orders to the coachmen to fetch a doctor as he did so. As they got closer to Paul, the small pool of blood forming around his head stopped Richard dead in his tracks.

“He must have hit his head when he fell.” Mr. Underwood’s voice sounded a thousand miles away to Richard as he blinked, trying to rouse from his stupor.

He could feel the men looking to him, wondering what they should do next, but he could not move. Ruchard’s heart sped, and his ears rang, he felt his palms begin to sweat.

Mercifully, Mr. Underwood sprang into action, giving orders to the men to pick him up and carry him inside the house.

“Tuck his arm in, and careful you don’t jostle it too much!” He barked.

Richard did stand then, moving automatically, his instinct to follow orders kicking in. He followed them closely, keeping a handkerchief pressed to poor Paul’s forehead.  

The doctor came shortly after Paul had been settled inside. Paul had, blessedly woken long before that and was sound enough to moan over the pain he was in. Richard gave the housekeeper orders to inform him of when the doctor had finished his business, and stalked off to his study, feeling very in need of a stiff drink.

He poured himself a healthy serving of whiskey, tossing it down in one go, and slammed the glass onto his desk. He threw himself into an armchair and curled in on himself, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands threaded through his hair, tugging and twisting it mercilessly. His leg bounced up and down relentlessly. Such was his state of anxiety that he did not hear the door open, and the sound of footsteps coming toward him. A strong hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he heard Mr. Underwood’s deep voice.

“Deep breaths son, deep breaths.”

Richard took a few shaky breaths.

“Again.”

They repeated this for several minutes until at last Richard was calm enough to stand. He walked over to the window, smoothing his hair as best he could, and letting his heartbeat return to normal. Finally, he turned to Mr. Underwood.

“I apologize, sir, for losing my composure so thoroughly.” When his eyes met Underwood’s, he found the gentleman staring back at him, studying him intently.

“I came to tell you that the doctor has little worry over your groom’s recovery. He broke his wrist, which will need time to heal, and the cut on his head bled heavily, but was not overly deep. His wrist is set though, and he should be alright given a bit of time.”

“Very good,” Richard cleared his throat awkwardly, erecting his spine as he tried to regain some semblance of respectability in front of the other man.

“Come with me to the stables.” Underwood turned on his heel and made for the door.

“What?”

“We are going for our ride,” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to wait for Richard’s response.

Richard followed Underwood silently out to the stables. They saddled their horses and set out, still not speaking for quite some time. They rode through the trail in the woods, the only sound between them was their horses’ hooves against the crunch of the snow.

“Did you lose many friends on the Peninsula?” Underwood’s voice cut through the silence, startling Richard a bit.

“We lost many good men there, sir. Plenty of whom I respected and counted as my friends.” Richard’s voice was clipped and stiff with discomfort. He tried not to be offended by such a question.

“Aye,” Mr. Underwood sighed, “and I lost quite a few friends in New York.”

They continued a bit longer before Mr. Underwood spoke once more.

“It took me quite a long time to stop thinking about that damned place.” His voice grew quieter, more serious, and his eyes held a haunted look which mirrored Richard’s own.

“It took me quite a long time to stop remembering the ways they died.”

Richard felt the breath leave his body. His face crumpled in pain as he tried not to picture the blood-soaked battlefields where his fellow soldiers met their ends.

“How long did it take?” He asked fearfully.

“I am sorry to say, lad, that those memories have never faded completely. With time though, they ceased to possess the power to paralyze me.”

They had come to a clearing which Richard recognized. A small stream cut through the ground and served as a natural border between their two estates. A foot bridge had been constructed many years before, and on the other side of the stream stood an oak tree with a wooden bench underneath it. They led their horses through the shallow water, crossing to the other side and dismounted. Underwood led them to the bench, where they sat side by side.

“I will give you some advice that another old soldier gave me once. When you feel yourself going back there, look up and remember where you are. Focus on what you see in front of you and attune your senses to your surroundings. Breathe deeply and move forward. You will eventually bring yourself back to the present.” Underwood leaned back against the bench, tipping his head up to look at the bare branches above them. A fat little robin had perched on one up the branches, and it chirped cheerfully. Mr. Underwood laughed lightly at the sight of it.

“I planted this tree as a sapling one year after my return. Here it has grown these forty years. I have often sat under it when I need to be reminded that time has passed, and my life has grown. You are welcome to do the same when you have need of it.” Underwood patted Richard’s knee, as a father would a son, not expecting him to answer, and rose from his seat.

As Mr. Underwood mounted his horse once more, Richard stayed seated, calling out to him.

“Thank you, Underwood.”

The gentleman turned to him with a kind smile.

“Life is a precious thing, lad, and yours will move forward whether you like it or not. I only hope that you know that you may speak to me anytime, you may rely upon my discretion.”

Mr. Underwood rode away, leaving Richard in contemplation of the afternoon events. The oak loomed above Richard like a silent sentinel, draped in snowy armor, and the crisp air filled his lungs, its scent heavy with pine and the sharp tang of winter.

Sitting there under the tree reminded him of another afternoon, where he and his friends had sought shelter from the Spanish sun underneath the shade of an olive tree. They had been granted a day’s respite, and laid there for most of it, drinking wine and playing cards. They had traded with a village person for some cheese and ham, and they ate with each other as Richard lay in the sun, under the brilliant blue sky.

He preferred to remember his friends thusly, as young men in the prime of their lives, on the hunt for adventure and glory. They did not know then that there was little glory in war, but for the time being they had wine and the promise of honor. It was all they needed.

Richard stayed there for almost an hour longer, focusing on the memory of that day, instead of the ones that followed. He looked at his own property on the other side of the bridge, observing that there was quite a bit of space in that clearing. Glancing once more at the branches of Mr. Underwood’s oak, Richard could imagine his own life, growing and changing along with it.

He mounted his horse, ready to return home, and to enquire with his gardener when the best time of year to plant a sapling would be.

Chapter Text

February soldiered on, cold and dreary, but Kitty was still having a wonderful time. There had been more letters from Jane and even a few from Mr. Bennet. The letters from Jane, Kitty answered happily, glad to share some of the local gossip and her improvements in drawing and painting. With the letters from Mr. Bennet, Kitty answered more out of duty than of pleasure, for she sensed they were sent more out of duty. Surprisingly, he did have a question for her about two tenant families by the names of Smith and Hudson. Apparently, there was some dispute over a fence that Smith wished to build and a tree that was on Hudson’s side of the property. The men had become quite agitated, and Mr. Bennet asked Kitty for some advice on how to best handle the situation, as Mrs. Hill had told him that Kitty had dealt with their wives before and was on friendly terms with them. Kitty did know the families in question, and after some consideration she sent her father what she believed to be the best solution. He asked little beyond that, and other than inquiries about her health and that of her sisters, he did not have much to say, though Kitty was glad to be of some assistance in any case.  

There was another letter, which came at February’s end, which caused a bit of commotion in the otherwise congenial household. That afternoon, Kitty had returned to her bedroom after a lesson with her drawing master to refresh herself before tea to find a letter from that morning’s post waiting for her on the writing desk. She picked it up and instantly recognized Lydia’s large, looping handwriting. It was the first letter Kitty had received from her since Christmas. She would have been annoyed at this, had she not also been quite an infrequent correspondent with her younger sister. It was perhaps the single most awkward subject remaining between the four other Bennet girls, and they scrupulously avoided it. That the four of them had grown so close, while Lydia remained on the outer edge of their circle caused Kitty no small amount of discomfort, considering how close the two of them had been as girls. After staring at the parchment for a few moments, Kitty decided that she had better get it over with, broke the wax seal, and began to read.

Dearest Kitty,

How I have missed you, my sweet sister! I must tell you of all the delightful entertainments George and I have had here in Newcastle. You would hardly recognize me with how busy we have been!

Just last night, we attended the most splendid assembly with the other officers. Kitty, you should have seen the dresses and the decorations; it was all so grand! I danced nearly every dance, and George looked so handsome in his uniform. I do believe I was the envy of every lady there. There is never a dull moment here, and George is always finding new ways to amuse us.

You know, money seems to slip through our fingers so quickly these days, with all the indulgences and little delights we allow ourselves. George has had a few minor setbacks, but nothing dampens our spirits. We are always finding ways to enjoy ourselves, no matter the circumstances. George is so charming and generous; he always manages to keep me happy. Oh, but our wretched maid has been just dreadful lately, always sniffing after my dear Whickham, as if he would ever spare a glance at such a freckled creature. Really, the expense of keeping her on does not seem worth all the trouble.

George's fondness for socializing with the other officers and their wives is as it ever was. He is certainly a popular dance partner wherever we go. But I suppose that is the price of being married to such a handsome man.

Oh Kitty, I do wish you could visit us. I know you would love it here as much as I do. I heard you were spending the winter at Pemberley, you poor dear. Well, being at Pemberley would be no great trial if our stuffy old brother left you alone. I cannot imagine he and Lizzie let you have any fun at all.  Please write back soon and tell me absolutely everything. You must be bored out of your senses. Perhaps, if you have a little extra in your pocket, and feel so inclined, you could spare a shilling or two for your dear younger sister.

Yours ever,

Lydia

Kitty reread the letter several times. Upon her first perusal, she did little but roll her eyes and scoff. Upon the second and third, a few things became abundantly clear. George Whickham’s wandering eye had not improved with time, they were short on money, again, and they were entirely unwilling to live within their means.

Kitty let out a heaving sigh, sliding her elbows apart on the tabletop, and lowering her forehead to rest atop her intertwined hands.

She closed her eyes for a bit, contemplating the mess Lydia had made of her life. Kitty had sent half her pin money to Lydia last quarter, as she had occasionally done in years past, when Lydia had complained that they could not afford any decent meat. Kitty was no fool and knew that at least some of that money must be going toward ribbons and lace, but it soothed her own conscience to do it. It would not be the first time Kitty’s feelings toward Lydia varied widely between pity and rage, but love for her won out every time, so she had resolved to do what little she could for Lydia. Over the years Kitty had gleaned a few bits of information she from Lydia’s letters. Every few months there was another woman about whom she was complaining. Usually, they were maids or women who worked in shops. Occasionally she would tell Kitty about some officer’s wife who was absolutely the most horrid woman she had ever encountered. Kitty could only imagine that it was Lydia’s pride that kept her from discussing her “dear Whickham’s” taste for women who were not his wife.

A knock on the door interrupted Kitty’s thoughts, and she straightened in her chair and bid the person to enter. Elizabeth strode into the room, asking Kitty if she would like to go over some final details for her new ballgowns before tea was served. Upon noticing Kitty’s drawn expression, Elizabeth hastily inquired about what had happened to upset her. Kitty heaved a long-suffering sigh and draped her arm across the back of her chair, holding the offending parchment in the air toward her sister.

“It is only a letter from Lydia. Read it if you would like, though I doubt its content will be much of a surprise to you.”

Elizabeth snatched the letter from her hands, her eyes moving side to side as she scanned it quickly. When she finished it, she wordlessly returned it to Kitty, her mouth pressed in a grim line. Elizabeth lowered herself slowly onto the window seat, shaking her head to herself as she did so.

“Lizzie?” Kitty inquired hesitantly, as she moved to sit beside her.

Elizabeth inhaled sharply, fixing Kitty with a shrewd stare.

“You have been sending our sister money.”

Kitty bristled at Elizabeth’s tone, and lifting her chin defensively, she affirmed that she had, from time to time, sent Lydia a little extra when she was low on funds.

They stared at each other for a few moments, sitting in tense silence until Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped, and she apologized for her harshness.

“I am not upset with you, dearest. Only with Lydia and her husband.” She patted Kitty’s hand comfortingly. “Fitzwilliam and I send her enough every quarter to pay for a cook, a maid, and a manservant, and I know that Jane and Charles have chipped in every so often. To hear that she has importuned you as well certainly stings.”

Kitty was not surprised to hear that the Darcy’s sent Lydia so much, though it had never been officially discussed amongst the sisters before.

“Does Mary ever send her any money?” she asked.

“She knows better than to ask for tuppence from Mary, or Papa for that matter.” Elizabeth scoffed. “What I want to know is why you feel the need to send her anything. Surely you know it will be spent on trivialities before anything useful.”

“I could ask you the same question, Lizzie,” Kitty countered.

Elizabeth leaned against the cold glass of the windowpane, staring outside as she answered.

“We do not trust Whickham not to gamble away his earnings before it can be put towards anything in the household, so we send it to Lydia directly. She is at least sensible enough to know that her servants must be paid if she wishes to maintain the standard that she is accustomed to, and I can take some small comfort in the fact that she will never go without any needful thing.”

“I suppose I feel guilty that she married Whickham in the first place, and now she is so unhappy.” Kitty admitted. Elizabeth turned her head sharply, her face incredulous.

“Why should you feel guilty?”

Kitty slumped against the window alongside her and drooped her shoulders, as if she was finally unburdening herself of a great weight.

“I knew how badly she wanted to be the first of us to marry. I knew how enamored she was of Whickham and how much attention he was paying her in Meryton and Brighton. She even told me that she thought eloping would be some sort of fantastic joke. I never thought she would do it though, I swear.”

“Oh, Kitty,” Elizabeth grasped her hand once more, “you were both so young. How were either of you to know what was right and proper if our parents never taught you?” Kitty pursed her lips, not entirely convinced by Elizabeth’s logic.

“Fitzwilliam and I blame ourselves enough for the simple fact that we did not make it known in Meryton that Whickham was not to be trusted. Even after all this time Fitzwilliam chastises himself for not finding some young clerk or other to marry her. Anyone but Whickham.”

“But he did so much in finding her! Indeed, he saved us all.” Kitty insisted.

“Nevertheless, he will insist that he should have done differently. The connection to Whickham is one neither of us can easily abide.”

“You both take on far too much.”

“As do you, dearest.”

They sat quietly for a bit, neither feeling entirely satisfied with their conclusions. Elizabeth made Kitty promise that she would no longer send her pin money to Lydia. They were both still upset with her for spending it frivolously when she already required assistance from the family. They went down to tea after a while, though they went through the remainder of the day somewhat distractedly.

Later that evening as Kitty walked past Dracy’s study, she could hear their raised agitated voices. She hurried past but caught brief snippets of their argument as she scurried away.

“Lydia… absolutely ridiculous…the utter gall…how much more…” she heard in Darcy’s deep grumbling voice.

“What else can we do… my darling please… no, I know… find a solution…” Elizabeth plead.

The next day relations were perhaps a touch cool between Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, though only Kitty and Georgiana noticed. Several days later, Elizabeth summoned Kitty into the morning room to have a discussion with her. She informed Kitty that, though they would continue to offer the same monetary assistance directly to Lydia as they had previously, Elizabeth would make it known to her in no uncertain terms that she was no longer to ask anyone else in the family for additional funds, lest she find herself completely cut off. It was past time for Lydia to learn to economize, especially given that her husband could not be counted upon to be trustworthy with his income. Elizabeth had informed Lydia in a letter that she would have to be the one responsible for the two, and that was that, for it was unfair of Lydia to expect that she importune her own husband for the sake of their irresponsible behavior.

Kitty thought it immensely fair of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, though she expected, and indeed, was unsurprised when a particularly angry letter was sent to Pemberley from Newcastle a week later. Kitty observed Elizabeth and Darcy during this time, and while they had clearly been in a row, Darcy was unfailingly respectful and present with their children and the family, and after a few days they returned to normal. When Kitty plucked up the courage to ask Elizabeth about this, she only replied that every marriage had its fair share of troubles, but that she and Fitzwilliam loved and respected each other, and they had discussed it privately between themselves. All was well between them once more, and Kitty could help but be struck at the difference between their civil disagreement and private handling versus her parents’ quarrels, which were full of passive aggressive sniffs of frosty displeasure and made the entire household an awkward place to be. 

The inhabitants of Derbyshire welcomed March gratefully. Any amount of mud or rain could be dealt with when it held the promise of warmer weather and the busyness of spring planting.

At the beginning of the month, Elizabeth and Kitty had their breakfast interrupted by a note from John Watson, informing them that Mary’s labor had begun in the night, and she requested their presence. They hurried excitedly to the parsonage, finding upon their arrival that the local midwife who had attended Elizabeth’s births was already there. She was a formidable woman, and before Kitty could insist that she should wait in the parlor with Mr. Watson, she was given task after task to complete. It being her first time in a birthing chamber, Kitty required a little assurance from Elizabeth that all was proceeding as it should.

Mary was a wonder to behold throughout the entire ordeal, and as she labored Elizabeth wiped the sweat from her brow, whispering words of encouragement in her ear as Mary cried out for their mother. The emotion of the moment was almost too much for Kitty, who had long since at herself in the corner of the room and chewed her fingernails nearly to the quick whenever another pain wracked Mary’s body.

At last, after the sun had long set, Mary’s ordeal was at an end, and her daughter entered the world with a lusty cry. The midwife and the maid bustled around the room, delivering the afterbirth and placing the squalling infant on Mary’s chest. Mary wept openly and joyfully; eyes heavenward in a silent prayer of thanks as she held her little girl for the first time. Kitty and Elizabeth embraced tearfully, exclaiming that Mary had been wonderful, and proclaiming her daughter a perfectly beautiful child. They all cleaned up Mary and the baby, before Elizabeth and Kitty went downstairs to inform John of his good fortune. The smile on his normally serious face was the sweetest thing Kitty had ever seen, and their modest brother forgot every sense of propriety as he raced up the stairs to his family. Elizabeth only laughed, telling Kitty that they had better return to Pemberley for the night, so that they may return in the morning ready to help once more.

Mary was young, in good health, and came through the following weeks as well as anyone could hope to with the assistance of her sisters, and a very capable nursemaid that Elizabeth had used for her babies. She told them that her daughter would be called Esther, and Kitty took great satisfaction in the correctness of her supposition that the baby would have a biblical name. They were there most days, Kitty especially, as Elizabeth still had her own duties and children to attend to, and they luxuriated in cuddling Esther and helped Mary adjust to new motherhood.

The days were so busy that before they knew it, there was only one week until Esther’s christening, and two weeks until the Darcys would leave for London. Jane and her family were due to arrive at Pemberley the next day, to visit for the christening and meet the baby before going to their own estate to prepare for town. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner would come without their children and stay only for a few days, though Mary was grateful that they could be spared so close to Mr. Gardiners busy season at work. Mr. Bennet and Lydia would not attend the happy event, as the latter’s husband could not get leave for a trip, and the former had caught quite a nasty cold the previous week, and did not feel up to travelling. So it was that the day before the christening, Kitty spent a quiet afternoon at the parsonage with Esther and Mary, while Elizabeth was busy at Pemberley overseeing preparations for visitors and the tea they would be hosting after the event.

The weather was blessedly warm for the end of March, and the sun shone cheerfully in the small garden of the parsonage. The trees were showing their first signs of life again, and Kitty and Mary sat at a table outside enjoying the fine weather while Esther was tucked snugly in her mother’s arms, sound asleep.

Kitty observed Mary for a moment as Mary stared at her sleeping daughter. Her eyes were less tired than they had been, and she seemed to have regained her former strength. In many ways she looked like the same old Mary, with her thick straight brows and icy blue eyes. Her hair, which was the darkest of any of theirs remained stubbornly straight as a pin, and she wore it in a tight bun away from her face. She was a practical, non-fussy woman, who led a life of busy usefulness, and could at times look quite severe with her high cheekbones and slightly pointed jaw that she shared with Kitty. As Kitty took her in though, she could see none of the severity or sternness which Mary had maintained since youth. She only saw the soft curve of her smile, and the delicate way she traced the tip of her finger down Esther’s tiny nose and cheeks.

“Oh Mary,” Kitty gushed, “I have never seen you look happier.”

Mary grinned, a light blush staining her cheeks.

“I have never been happier.”

They spoke for a while about how Mary got on, and she enthused that John had been a perfect angel with the two of them, about how patient and gentle he was, and she joked that she had never been more exhausted in her life.

“Are you quite disappointed that Father and Lydia will not be here for the christening?” Kitty asked hesitantly.

“I am less surprised than I am disappointed,” Mary confessed, “Lydia and I have never been close, and while I do regret that, I do not believe that she would take much pleasure in the trip, especially when Lizzie has just put her foot down with her. Papa, of course, should not travel if he is ill. He sent us a letter of congratulations, and a book of fairytales, so I will content myself with that.”

Mary was silent for a moment, before saying something which surprised Kitty.

“I have been thinking about Mama quite often in the last few months.”

 “I suppose that is only natural when one is becoming a mother.” Kitty acknowledged.

“She was far from perfect,” Mary sighed, “but she did love us. Even if she was not best equipped to raise five daughters. I know that her fussing would have been trying after a time, but it has been very hard not to have her here these past weeks.” Mary’s eyes welled with tears, and she blinked rapidly before swiping her fingers across her cheeks.

“Oh Mary,” Kitty whispered, recalling how Mary had cried for Mrs. Bennet in her labor.

“Please do not think I am ungrateful for all that you and Lizzie have done, it only that one cannot help but think of their parents when preparing to have their own child.” Mary looked at Esther’s sleeping form. Her eyelashes were long and fluttered against her cheeks, and her tiny fists had made their way out of her swaddle. She did not care to have her hands trapped in the blanket.

“I imagine there is quite a bit you would do differently from Mama and Papa.” Kitty said.

“Oh yes,” Mary laughed, “quite a bit. Though even if Mama is gone, I at least have Jane and Lizzie to look to for advice.”

They talked for a while, reminiscing about Mrs. Bennet in a way they had not done in too long. She had been a healthy woman of middle age, finally spending more time with her two daughters remaining at home, finally coming to know them as individuals, when a trifling little cold laid her low for a week and turned into pneumonia. She was gone quickly, and though she could be frustrating, she never would have missed the birth of a grandchild. After some time, Esther had begun to fuss, and once she had been fed and taken inside to the nurse, Mary rejoined Kitty in the garden.

“I have wanted to speak to you about this for some time,” she paused, and then hesitantly began, “Lizzie told me what happened recently with Lydia, that you had been sending her money. If she should not have, or overstepped, I hope you will forgive her. She was upset with Lydia is all and needed someone else to discuss it with.”

“It is fine that Lizzie told you. Truly I have not sent her very much over the years, but I feel so badly for her.” Kitty admitted.

“You all have taken more responsibility for Lydia’s situation than you ought to have done.” Mary scolded.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You, Lizzie, and Darcy.” Mary crossed her arms, leaning back into her seat. “The three of you have done more for Lydia and Whickham than they will ever do for themselves, and for no good reason, in my opinion.”

“I will not dispute that, but still, if I had only – “

“Perhaps you should have gone to our parents with your suspicions, or Lizzie and Darcy should have warned the people of Meryton about his character.” Mary huffed. “Or perhaps the two of them are responsible for their own conduct.”

“Lydia was barely older than a child then,” Kitty argued, “she hardly knew what she was doing.”

“Yes, and our parents should have taken her in hand long before disaster struck,” Mary leaned forward earnestly, locking eyes with Kitty, “but she is a woman grown now and she should know better. How is she to learn to economize if she knows everyone else will cushion her fall? Of course we would never leave her in dire straits, and if Whickham sends half of his pay to the gaming halls there is only so much she may do, but she indulges in her own share of recklessness.”

Kitty nodded in agreement; her eyes cast down.

“My dear, you say that Lydia was little more than a child, but so were you. Why continue to cast so much blame on yourself? Why insist on remaining alone? You have told us that none of the men in Meryton have looked at you in that way, but I know better than that. You have shut yourself away in Longbourn just as much as Father has.”

Had that really been what she had done? Had she made the boundaries of her world as small as Longbourn out of her own guilt and grief?

“I needed to speak to you about this before you went to London. I fear you are at a crossroads my dear.” Mary leaned across the table to take Kitty’s hand.

“Lizzie and Jane forget sometimes that I was there with you until not too long ago. After Lydia left, you were determined in your self-improvement, but you isolated yourself from everyone but me. You stood to the side at assemblies, you did not run about with the Goulding girls, you hardly ever walked to Meryton except to visit Aunt Phillips. There was certainly enough to do after Mama died, and you took over the running of things brilliantly. I do not know if it was Papa’s approval you craved, or that you were afraid that people would think you were no different than Lydia, but you seem to have left too much of your spirit behind. Much of it has come back these last months, but I want you to fully embrace all of the opportunities this season in London could bring to you. I want you to move forward, you darling girl. And you are absolutely forbidden from returning to Longbourn to become Papa’s nursemaid.”

“How would you have me do that, Mary,” Kitty laughed lightly, still reeling a little from what Mary had said to her.

“I want you to promise me that you will dance as often as you please at every ball you attend, and that if some handsome, kind gentleman comes along at the right time, that you will not fight falling in love with him.”

“Oh goodness,” Kitty exclaimed, “I would not even begin to know how to fall in love with a man.”

“I understand what you mean,” Mary chuckled, “you remember how awkward John and I were in the beginning.”

Kitty did remember. In the early days of their courtship, John and Mary skirted around each other, sending longing looks when the other wasn’t looking. It wasn’t until Lizzie found every opportunity to put the two of them together that they had begun to earnestly speak to each other.

“How did you know that you were falling in love with each other?” Kitty asked the question which had been nagging at the corner of her mind since the start of the winter.

“It was quiet for us. I had never felt more comfortable around a man than I did with John, and I felt perfectly able to be myself without worrying what he thought. He became my dearest friend.” Mary looked toward the house with a grin.

“Before I knew it, I was thinking about him every night before I slept, wondering about his day and wanting to share every little thing about my day. It is perhaps not the most exciting love story you have ever heard, but it felt perfectly right to me.” 

“Thank you, Mary. You always know just what to say.” Kitty rose and walked around to Mary, who stood and wrapped her arms about Kitty.

“Not always, my dear sister,” she squeezed tighter, “but it was something I should have said to you long ago.”

Chapter Text

Richard’s remaining time at Hayden Hall passed remarkably quickly. His weeks were marked by thoughtful planning for the growing season with Mason, who had turned out to be an invaluable asset, increasingly vigorous physicality, and meetings with Mr. Underwood as the gentleman shared all that he knew about life and his love of Irish whiskey.  

After one such evening, buoyed by several glasses of said Irish whiskey, when questioned by Mr. Underwood as to whether Richard had given any thought to the married state, he did confess that there was a young woman he hoped to woo in London. Richard was only too happy to enumerate Miss. Bennet’s sterling qualities to his friend, the two men conversing with as much sense as anyone four servings of whiskey deep possibly could. Underwood could only laugh at the younger man and, with slightly slurred speech, he loudly pronounced that Richard must away to his fair maiden. He departed not too long after, leaving Richard to his inevitable headache in the morning.

Awake with a headache he did indeed, and while he sat at the breakfast table drinking a cup of strong coffee instead of his usual tea, he alighted upon an idea. For all that Underwood had teased Richard and encouraged him to spirit himself away to his lady, he was not entirely wrong. Richard knew from Darcy that they planned to travel to London in the first week of April, and he had thought to do the same. He’d had a few letters from his family encouraging him to come a little early, before the season really got going, so that they might all spend a little time together without all the fuss and differing engagements. He had written off that suggestion, preferring instead to remain for the spring planting. Mason had everything well in hand though, and Richard had overseen last year’s planting season. There was no real urgency for him staying at Hayden Hall, and it would be awfully nice to see his family and reaccustom himself to the busy streets of London.  He dashed off to his study and wrote a quick note to his parents.

Dear Mother and Father,

I hope you are both doing quite well since I last wrote to you. If it is not too inconvenient, I believe I may take you up on your offer of coming to Town a bit earlier than I had planned. All is well here, and my steward has matters quite in hand for the spring. I will plan to conclude a few matters of business and leave for London at the beginning of next week. Unless you write to tell me otherwise, you may expect me no later than Tuesday next. I look forward to seeing you all.

All my best,

Richard

He was true to his word, and after several meetings with Mr. Mason, and overseeing the planting of an oak sapling in the clearing, Richard paid his farewells to the neighborhood, ending his tour with a visit to Mr. and Mrs. Underwood. He thanked them both for their generosity and looked forward to seeing them again after the season. Underwood walked him out to the carriage himself, and with a firm handshake and a winking grin, he wished Richard luck in his endeavors in London.

The London townhouse belonging to the Earl and Countess of Matlock stood with understated grandeur in the heart of Mayfair. Its façade, marked by tall, sash windows and wrought-iron balconies, hinted at the elegance within. The Matlock crest, which rested above the imposing front door, spoke of generations of lineage and respectability.

Inside, Lady Philomena Fitzwilliam, Countess of Matlock, occupied her drawing room. The room was bathed in the soft, diffused light of the London afternoon, filtering through sheer, muslin curtains that draped the tall windows. The walls were adorned with a collection of framed miniatures and a few carefully chosen landscapes, reflecting the countess’s refined taste.

A delicate ormolu clock ticked quietly on the mantelpiece, a constant reminder of the passing time, and of her son's tardiness.

Lady Matlock, a woman of striking presence in her fifty-sixth year, sat upon a damask-covered chaise, her build was slight, but her posture ramrod straight. Her fine lace cap framed her face but did little to conceal the rich, dark hair that, though just beginning to show silver at the temples, still retained its youthful vibrancy. Her intelligent dark eyes were fixed with a mixture of impatience and concern upon the doorway.

She had begun the morning with a piece of needlework, but her restlessness had quickly overcome her. Now, the unfinished piece lay abandoned on a nearby worktable. Her slender fingers drummed a restless rhythm against the polished surface of the mahogany side table.

Despite her best efforts, Richard, her youngest, seemed determined to be a constant source of vexation. As a child there was always some story from the governess, about Richard getting into a scrape. He possessed an annoyingly adorable demeanor, which prevented anyone from being able to remain upset with him for long. If possible, he became more contrary as he got older. While her other two children had proven themselves sensible, dutifully marrying within their circles and promptly providing her with a delightful bevy of grandchildren, Richard had chosen a path entirely the opposite. He had, with an infuriating disregard for her maternal anxieties, insisted upon purchasing a commission in the Royal Army, then promptly disappearing to whatever sweltering, disease-ridden outpost His Majesty's forces deemed necessary to occupy. 

A sharp, indignant huff escaped Lady Matlock's lips. She had envisioned a far more suitable path for her wayward son. A life in the church, a comfortable rectory nestled in some verdant corner of England, their influential connections to the Archbishop of York ensuring his smooth and safe ascension. But the Earl, with a dismissive chuckle that still grated on her nerves, had declared Richard far better suited to the active life of a soldier.

An 'active life,' she thought, her lips tightening, a life punctuated by the thunder of cannon fire, foreign fevers, and the ever-present specter of an untimely demise.

A deep, visceral resentment coiled within Lady Matlock at the very notion that a mother should be forced to relinquish her child to such perilous ventures. It was, in her opinion, a cruel and unnatural burden, a violation of the very order of things. Yet, she had borne it with grace, and a carefully cultivated veneer of aristocratic composure that concealed her own churning anxiety.

The sight of Richard returning home, his form still bearing the marks of his injury, had been a moment of profound, if fleeting, relief for Lady Matlock. Compared to the ravaged figures of some of his comrades, he appeared, she reasoned, relatively unscathed. A wound to the leg, a lingering limp – these were, from her perspective, minor inconveniences. Once he was mobile again, she clung to the hope that his natural cheerfulness would reassert itself, dispelling the shadows that clung to him.

Her hopes, however, were soon dashed. Richard, confined to his room, growled and muttered curses that echoed through the townhouse. He stalked the halls like a wounded beast, his brow perpetually furrowed, his eyes dark and distant, the staccato thump of his cane sending servants scurrying for cover. Lord and Lady Matlock's attempts to rekindle the spark of his former self were met with indifference or a withering disdain. Lady Matlock, in the privacy of her dressing room, wept more tears than she had ever shed during his campaigns.

Hayden Hall proved to be a welcome distraction. As soon as his condition allowed, Richard fled London, seeking solace in the rolling hills of Shropshire. The isolation and the promise of a worthy task seemed to offer a measure of respite. He penned regular letters to his father, seeking advice on estate management, diligently appraising them of the improvements he was implementing. Lady Matlock and her husband hoped, rather than believed, that this newfound dedication to his estate signaled a return to his former self.

Their hopes were, once again, dashed when after some cajoling on Lady Matlock’s part, he joined them in London during the autumn where they discovered that his furor had been replaced with stony silence and a sullen disposition. Lady Matlock, ever the pragmatist, immediately began to plot anew, her mind turning to the time-honored solution to a gentleman's woes: marriage. A suitable match, she reasoned, would provide the stabilizing influence he so desperately needed. Of course, these well-intentioned attempts met with the same resounding failure as their previous interventions. Another heated argument, another clash of wills, and Richard, with a curt farewell, retreated once more, this time to Pemberley.

However, something shifted during the long winter months. His letters, once terse and devoid of emotion, began to change. The subdued tone was gradually replaced by a hint of warmth, a flicker of his former self. He offered a carefully worded apology for his past behavior, a gesture that, while belated, offered a glimmer of hope. He inquired after his siblings and their growing brood of children, his questions laced with a genuine interest. Lord and Lady Matlock were cautiously optimistic, if slightly suspicious. What had occurred during the winter to elicit such a profound change?

As the telltale sounds of an arrival echoed through the grand hall – the distinct rustle of a heavy coat, the purposeful click of a walking stick, and the unmistakable, heavy tread of her son's familiar gait – Lady Matlock rose to her feet, her posture stiff with anticipation. She turned to face the doorway, her expression a careful mask of composure, her mind racing with unanswered questions. Which version of her son, she wondered, would present himself to her?

Richard stepped into the morning room, and Lady Matlock, her breath catching in her throat, could only gape at him, her composure momentarily shattered. Before her stood her youngest child, yet he was so transformed since their last encounter, as to be almost unrecognizable. The slumped figure she had last seen had vanished. In its place stood a man of striking presence. His posture was erect, his shoulders squared in confidence. His complexion, once pallid and drawn, now glowed with a healthy, almost ruddy hue. She imagined he must have been riding alongside the carriage for a bit. The dark shadows that had haunted his eyes were gone, replaced by a clear, steady gaze.

Her eyes, searching for familiar signs of his former distress, instinctively moved to his hands. She half-expected to find them fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket or gripping the polished handle of his cane with white-knuckled intensity. Instead, she found them relaxed at his sides, his left hand pivoting the cane from its base on the floor with an almost jaunty air. His hair, freshly trimmed and neatly styled, framed a clean-shaven face, a stark contrast to the disheveled appearance he had favored in recent months. He exuded an aura of restful vigor and robust health, which left Lady Matlock momentarily speechless.

“Well, Mother,” Richard laughed, startling her from her examination, “are you ever going to hug me?”

Lady Matlock walked over to him quickly, crushing him into her arms, laughing delightedly at his teasing tone. It had been far too long since she had heard it.

“Where is Father?” he asked, “I did not realize my arrival would be so mundane to him.” Richard leaned towards his mother, nudging her with his elbow conspiratorially. She swatted his arm playfully.

“He is at his club with Harcourt for a bit. You could have accompanied them if you had arrived yesterday as you said you would.” They crossed the room, settling onto the sofa after Lady Matlock sent for tea and refreshments.

“I do apologize, Mother. One of the horses threw a shoe about two hours outside of London. We might have pressed on after the situation was remedied, but by then it was dark.”

“Well, I suppose you are forgiven.” Lady Matlock sniffed.

Tea was brought into the room shortly thereafter, and Lady Matlock began to serve. She kept a watchful eye on Richard as they chatted. He told her that, yes, the drive down was uneventful besides the trouble with the horse, and, no, he did not feel the need to retire to his room just yet.

“I see you still have your cane with you,” she ventured quietly.

Richard nodded, and with a shrug of his shoulders said,

“I do find that after being confined for too long I am a little stiff, and it is helpful to have some extra support. After tea I will take a walk to stretch my legs and be right as rain again soon.”

He spoke about his injury with none of the self-consciousness he had exhibited in months past, which was yet another wonder to his mother. As they sat, Lady Matlock informed Richard of some of their imminent plans for the week. There were not yet to be too many events, as families were still arriving from their country estates, but there were a few dinners and card parties they had planned to attend. Most notably, that evening they were to go to dinner at the home of Richard’s sister, Lady Honora, and her husband, Lord Lyle Whitman, Baron of Selwick.

“Of course, if you are tired from your journey, and would prefer to remain at home this evening, Honora will understand.” Lady Matlock insisted, unwilling to push Richard further than necessary. “I believe they intend to have a few friends over as well, although we planned to arrive before the children are sent up to bed.”

“Nonsense, Mother. I’d be happy to attend. It has been too long since I last saw the children anyways,” he stood then, and began walking toward the door, “I will just take my walk now, and return in time to bathe and dress for the night.” He wished her farewell and departed with the intention of walking the streets for an hour or so.  

The hour he was gone saw Lord Matlock return to the house without their eldest son, Harcourt, and his wife Priscilla, whom they had retrieved in the carriage from the modiste. Harcourt and Priscilla greeted Lady Matlock, before going upstairs to say hello to their children, who had been remanded to the nursey with their lessons. The earl stayed in the drawing room, sensing that his wife wished to speak with him.

The Earl of Matlock was a large man, tall, with broad shoulders that he had passed on to his two sons, and with his sharp, intelligent eyes, cut quite an imposing figure. He was a man of exacting standards, and though he appeared to all the outside world as a hard, intimidating person, in the halls of his own home, he reserved all of his softness for his family.  

Going to sit beside his wife, he inquired about Richard and was relieved when she assured him that he had arrived safely, and that he would be astonished when he saw him.

He had not long to wait before Richard’s footsteps were, once again, heard echoing through the hall. He entered the room, and when his eyes alighted on his father, strode forward with his hand extended

“Ah, my boy!” Lord Matlock rose quickly, shaking Richard’s hand with a firm clap to his shoulder.

“You look quite well, Father.” Richard said with a wide grin.

“I could say the same for you, son,” Lord Matlock laughed, “though I suppose a few months in the country does wonders. Perhaps this week you might join me at White’s and tell me all about what you got up to?”

“Yes, of course,” the grandfather clock in the hall chimed the hour, and Richard glanced at the door, “I suppose I had better go get ready for the evening. Mother, what time did you say you wished to leave?”

“Six o-clock, darling,” she responded.

“Very well,” Richard turned on his heel, leaving to wash the dust from the street off, and change into his evening attire.

Lord Matlock looked at his wife in amazement.

“Why, he looks- “

“I know, my dear, I can scarcely believe it myself.”

“And he will accompany us tonight?”

“As you see.” Lady Matlock said, gesturing to the hallway.

“Then I believe we should hurry along ourselves, Philomena. I would not miss this night for a kingdom.” Lord Matlock extended his arm to his wife, leading her to their rooms.  

Harcourt Fitzwilliam, Viscount of Rothbury, was not a man prone to sentimentality. He married his wife, Priscilla, because she was beautiful, rich, and proper, under the assumption that their affection would grow with time. She married him because he was courteous, kind, and would be an earl one day. After nearly six years of marriage, he had begun to resign himself to the fact that their union, while perfectly pleasant and respectful, would never quite grow into love. He had few complaints. Priscilla had dutifully borne him a son and a daughter in short order. She was a capable mistress, and a loving mother, if a little too inclined to frivolous conversation for his own tastes. She often reminded him of a little porcelain doll, pale and blonde and adorned in frothy lace garments. Raised in a wealthy family, and doted on as the youngest and only daughter, she was a woman who had existed with very little to trouble her and had every expectation that very little would trouble her in the future.

Viscount Rothbury was a sensible man, studious, and serious in his pursuits. He enjoyed sport, cards, and brandy, but was not inclined to excess. He had accepted that, though he had little in common with his spouse, he would never dishonor her, and the two of them existed together very comfortably.  

He never expected what a boon she would be to him in the midst of his brother’s despair. While they had their own country seat, in London they preferred to stay with his parents. When Richard first returned from the Peninsula, Harcourt was unprepared for the storm he brought with him. After one week, Harcourt insisted that Priscilla take the children back to their estate. He did not care to have the little ones or Priscilla’s delicate sensibilities exposed to Richard’s dark moods. Priscilla surprised him by instead sending the children to stay with her parents at their home in town.

When he asked her why she would not go with them, she only put her hand on his cheek and said,

“You are my husband. You need to be here, and my place is with you.” It was as simple as that to her.

From then until Richard learned of his inheritance, she was perhaps the sole source of light in their home. She maintained their social connections, dealt with the servants, visited their children every day they were with her mother and father. They had both effectively taken over the running of things, so that his parents’ sole focus could be on Richard. At night, when Harcourt crawled into his bed exhausted by the weight upon him, Priscilla crept in through the door adjoining their chambers and curled up next to him, stroking his hair and kissing his brow. Never had he expected such comfort from her. Never had he marveled at the deft way she made every awful day better. Whatever barrier that had held them back from each other crumbled away, and at last, they knew what a love match felt like. It was no great wonder that a little less than a year after Richard’s return they welcomed another daughter, little Joanna, into their family.

When Harcourt and Priscilla saw Richard again that evening, looking so healthy and flushed with happiness, Priscilla squeezed Harcourt’s hand. It was all she needed to do to say to him that she knew what a relief it was.

Their older children, Daniel and Victoria accompanied them on the drive and, delighted as they were to see their Uncle Richard, they were primarily concerned with the excitement of seeing their cousins and spending the night at Selwick House.

They arrived promptly and were greeted warmly by Honora and Lyle. Richard might have felt rejected by the speed at which his nieces and nephews abandoned the adults to run off and play, but he could not fault them. A round of spillikins was indeed much more exciting than a group of adults they saw nearly every day. 

Lady Honora was no less surprised by how altered her brother was, though she hid it better than her parents did. They all settled in her fashionable drawing room, talking before her other guests arrived. They were eager to hear from him how the Darcys were, as it had been nearly six months since last they saw them. Richard was glad to inform them of the Darcys good health when he was with them over Christmas, and that he had not heard otherwise in the months that followed.

“Elizabeth had her sister to stay with them did she not?” Honora asked, taking a sip of the wine she retrieved from the drink cart.

“Yes, she did,” Richard cleared his throat, “her sister Catherine.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Priscilla chimed in, “Elizabeth told me they would bring her to London for the season.”

“How lovely that Georgie will have another girl closer to her own age with her this year,” said Lady Matlock.

“Miss. Bennet is a charming young woman,” Richard remarked.

Honora noted the flush on his cheeks, though not wishing to call attention to it, decided to save that thought for later, she only added,

“I believe I only met her once, at Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth’s wedding. I will admit I do not remember her very well, though it will certainly be nice to become reacquainted.”

Richard was saved from contributing any more to the conversation about Miss. Bennet by the arrival of Honora and Lyle’s friends. He was acquainted with all of them, and as they mingled whilst waiting for dinner to be called, he felt, for the first time in too long, perfectly at ease in a London drawing room. It mattered little that it was a small party in the comfort of his sister’s home, the simple fact of it felt monumental to him, and he sincerely enjoyed himself all throughout the night. More than once did he feel the stare of one of his family members on him, examining him. This he could not fault either, for he knew there was much still for them to speak about. For the night though, he enjoyed Honora’s wonderful hospitality and her excellent table.

When the men and women separated after dinner, Lady Matlock, Priscilla, and Honora huddled together to briefly discuss Richard’s behavior.

“It is most extraordinary,” Lady Matlock exclaimed.

“I agree. Why, he is almost as he was before.” Priscilla chirped

“Perhaps not entirely,” Honora said, “He flirts less than he ever did.” She glanced around the room and, leaning closer to the other women, whispered, “Do you think there could be a reason for that?”

“What? A woman?” Priscilla gasped.

“Oh no, I cannot speculate on that,” Lady Matlock insisted, “it went badly enough the last time I tried to.”

“Well, he may not be ready to admit it to you or Father, but perhaps to me or Harcourt he would be more forthcoming.” Honora raised a glass of sherry to her lips, her active mind buzzing with the possibilities.

“I believe that tomorrow, Harcourt is going to take him to White’s. Surely, he can get something out of him.” Priscilla glanced at Honora and Lady Matlock’s faces, already alight at the idea.

“If it is a woman, I will insist he go to the tailor before the season begins in earnest.” Lady Matlock whispered, “he should look his best if there is someone he wants to impress.

From the look on his face earlier, Honora had a sneaking suspicion that she knew exactly who her brother wanted to impress. She was as perceptive as Darcy when it came to matters of importance. The women were interrupted then by the entrance of the gentlemen, though when it came time for them to depart for the night, the three of them shared a knowing look, and Richard climbed into the carriage unaware that he had gained three new allies for the season, whether they knew who the young lady was or not.

Chapter Text

The next day, Richard and Harcourt were situated comfortably at White’s, sipping an excellent brandy, and catching up on the events of the winter. Harcourt continued to privately marvel at the man in front of him, so different was Richard than he was in the fall. Richard animatedly described Mr. Underwood to his brother and discussed some estate business.

When Harcourt was certain Richard was comfortable and settled enough, he searched his mind for a way to begin the conversation his wife and sister had charged him with the previous evening.

“So, Richard,” Harcourt began, leaning back against his chair and twirling his brandy glass in his long fingers, “were there any country misses that caught your eye this year? This Mr. Underwood, does he have a daughter, perhaps?”

Richard scoffed, rolling his eyes, and asking his brother drolly,

“I should have known that would come up. Tell me Brother, was it Honora, Priscilla, or our mother who induced you ask?” Richard crossed his arms and stared at his brother; eyebrows raised in challenge.

“You’ve rather caught me out, haven’t you?” Harcourt chuckled. “This time it was only Priscilla and Honora, although I’m certain that mother had her part to play in it as well.”

Richard huffed, bringing his glass to his lips.

“You can hardly blame them, Richard. Your behavior is so different compared to when they saw you last, of course they wonder if there is a reason. You can tell me, you know. I have always kept your secrets, even from Priscilla.”

Richard sighed heavily, setting his glass down on the polished table with a dull thud.

“It is not that it need be a secret, Court.”

“Ah, so there is someone.” Harcourt sprang forward, resting his elbows on the table, hand clasped together in anticipation. “Who is she?”

“That I will not say yet,” Richard chuckled before sobering, “Only that my success is far from a certainty.”

“What are the impediments?”

“Well, she is a little young.” Richard admitted.

“How young?”

“I believe she is twenty-two or three years old.”

Harcourt scoffed, “she is hardly a girl fresh from the school room.”

“Mother and Father may not approve of her lack of fortune.”

“You are well enough off now that you need not overly concern yourself with that,” Harcourt reasoned, “Does she have any connections?”

“She does,” Richard smirked.

“Is there otherwise anything objectionable about the lady?”

“No, she is lovely. I have never met a woman I like more.”

“Then what is the matter?”

Richard sighed again, pressing his lips together in frustration.

“It is by no means certain that she feels the same way about me. Indeed, there may very well be another man she prefers.”

Harcourt observed his brother for a moment, he appeared a little uncertain, but even so, there was no mistaking the stubborn set of his jaw. Harcourt had seen that look often enough on Richard’s face over the years. It was usually followed by a victory.

“Yet you are determined, still, to win her?” he asked, raising his brow in a challenging look that resembled his brother’s.

Richard squared his shoulders, and looking Harcourt in the eyes, answered emphatically,

“I am.”

Harcourt tossed the remaining brandy in his glass back in one go and stood abruptly.

“Right then, I am sorry to say, but we will need to at least include Honora and Priscilla in this.”

“Why do we need to do that?” Richard gaped.

“Richard, those women have been bred to become expert husband hunters,” Harcourt rolled his eyes at Richard, annoyed he even had to explain this, “it only stands to reason that they must also know how to hunt for a wife. Come on, we’ll go to back to the house. If I know my wife at all, she will have already invited Honora over.”

Richard rose to follow Harcourt out.

“I am not sure I like you referring to it as ‘hunting.’”

“Yes, well, you may chastise me for my insensitivity after you are married.”

Honora was, indeed, at Matlock house, and upon their arrival, Richard could only laugh at the expectant looks they gave him as he seated himself next to Honora. After some attempts to dodge their questioning, Richard did admit that there was a woman who had caught his interest, but that he would not share her identity yet, as to save the poor woman from the scrutiny of his family for at least a little while longer. Priscilla and Honora exchanged a secretive glance, as they had discussed amongst themselves Honora’s suspicion, though they had agreed to wait it out. If Richard was to be successful in his endeavors, the truth would out soon enough. They discussed with him what he should do. Richard was a man of the world. He had flirted with many women, had affairs with a few, but his former financial insecurity, and the turbulent nature of his profession, had prevented him from forming or pursuing any serious attachments.

They insisted that the first order of business was for him to visit a tailor, as his current wardrobe was perfectly serviceable, but he needed a few more dashing cuts of menswear to show him off to the best advantage. On this point, he agreed with them, as he had paid little heed to fashion in the last two years, and he could do with a few nicer jackets and waistcoats. Harcourt went with him the following day, and behind Richard’s back, gave the man some extra coin to complete the garments in short order.

Priscilla had given him quite a list of all the places he must meet his lady at. He was unsurprised by most of them, of course he knew that he would attend the same balls and dinners as her, and he could not help but imagine stealing a kiss or two in the paths at Vauxhall, but he remanded himself for not thinking of the artist salons or the galleries. Surely Kitty, as fond of drawing and painting as she was, would enjoy those immensely.

By the end of two weeks’ time, Richard felt much more secure in his plans. He’d had several letters from Darcy, who made no mention of Miss. Bennet having any outstanding attachments going into the season, and certainly he would have made mention of such a thing. His mother, discerning woman that she was, had presumably figured out what he and his siblings had been discussing since his return to town, but had not broached the subject with him. Whether she worried about pushing him too hard, given his reaction the last time she tried to play matchmaker with him, or simply thought it best left to her children, Richard could not guess, though he appreciated her discretion.

Romantic dealings aside, Richard enjoyed his time with his family. They had been to several dinners, card parties, and other gatherings, had attended the theatre three times, and he generally enjoyed all of it. It brought him great peace of mind to finally feel a bit more like his old self again. He still experienced an occasional attack of nerves, or a nightmare here and there, but he felt, at least, better equipped to manage them, and did not feel the need to give those around him much trouble.  

Finally, the day arrived when they received Darcy and Elizabeth’s card. Over tea, Lord and Lady Matlock discussed when they should have them over for dinner. It was decided upon that Lady Matlock would send a note around to their house the next day and await their response.

They did not have long to wait, as nearly an hour after the note had been dispatched, they received a positive reply. Richard only had to wait a few more hours before he was, once again, in Kitty’s company. He only hoped to gather his nerves well enough for the occasion. 

The journey from Pemberley to London took several days, and though it was as comfortable as it could have been in Mr. Darcy’s well-sprung carriage, Kitty was thoroughly sick of travel by the time they reached town. They had all taken turns riding in the second carriage with the governess and children. The governess and Elizabeth did their best, but for three young children who were as fond of activity as the youngest Darcys, they were bound to be poor travel companions. They stopped at inns each night, where she and Georgiana shared a room. With Georgiana she had no quarrel, but when they, at last, pulled in front of the impressive façade of Darcy House, Kitty was desperate for privacy.

Her conversation with Mary in the days preceding Esther’s christening had given her a good deal to think about, but the busyness of the week that followed had prevented her from doing so. As the trunks were being unloaded from the carriages, and Kitty was shown to her room, she informed Elizabeth that she would prefer to keep to herself for the rest of the day. With an understanding nod, Elizabeth told Kitty that she was welcome to take as much time as she needed, and that a dinner tray would be brought to her that evening. Once alone, Kitty looked around her chamber, which was, of course, lovely. The windows were large, and overlooked the back garden, and the walls were papered in a delicate pattern of blue flowers. The bed was large and inviting, and Kitty wasted no time crawling on top of it, allowing her tired body to sink into the softness of the mattress.

She stared at the canopy of the bed frame, allowing her mind to wander. There had been no more discussions about Lydia, and she was content to let the subject rest for now. Kitty would always pray for Lydia’s health and happiness but was unwilling to dedicate any more of her life to feeling guilt over Lydia’s circumstances. Mary was quite right; she had made her own choices and now must live with them. Now, in the quiet of her bedroom, with only the deep, even sounds of her breath to interrupt her, she thought about the other subject that her sisters had been quite keen on. In thinking about the marriages of her three older sisters, the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked her. Colonel Fitzwilliam entered her mind, as he often did

Kitty sighed, rolling over onto her side with a huff. She scrunched her eyes shut, attempting to rid herself of the image of him walking away from her when they said goodbye at Pemberley. It seemed unlikely to her that he thought about her with anywhere near the frequency she did him, and more probable that she existed to him only as a friend. She was glad of his friendship, though she wondered if there would be a man who would come along who could strike her with such attraction as she had felt for him. She resolved to gather her emotions. Colonel Fitzwilliam was a friend, and she would be happy to see him, and treat him no differently than she had at Pemberley. Kitty had decided to heed Mary’s advice, and if the situation presented itself, she would fall in love with some worthy gentleman. She thought it was no less than she deserved after far too much time making herself unhappy.

After an evening of rest, the following morning, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy sent their cards around to their friends and acquaintances in town to inform them of their arrival.

Within short order, they welcomed their first visitors, Mr. and Mrs. Sharpe and their family, which included Mr. Albion Sharpe, who had lately returned from Bath. They were received with pleasure, and though Kitty had seen Annabelle only two weeks ago, as the Sharpes had decided to travel to London a little earlier than them, they reunited as though it had been much longer. Kitty was also very glad to see Albion again, and eager to hear more about his time in Bath, where she had never been, but longed to see.

“I think you would enjoy it immensely, Miss. Bennet,” said Mr. Sharpe, who had approached her directly upon entering the room, “It is one of my favorite places in England.”

“Albion goes there at least once a year!” Annabelle added.

“I have a few good friends from my university days that hail from Bath,” he explained, “I like to visit them when I can.”

“Yes, you mentioned that your friend was getting married,” Kitty nodded, smiling at him genuinely, “I hope their wedding went well.”

“Oh, yes, very well indeed. They are happy enough to put any newlywed couple to shame.”

Mr. Sharpe spent the next quarter hour telling Kitty and Georgiana about his winter spent with his friends. Both women wanted to know more about the Roman baths, and whether he believed they were especially beneficial. Mr. Sharpe was of the opinion that, while they were certainly very nice, he did not hold with the belief that they had any special healing properties.

When the length of time for an appropriate morning visit had come and gone, the Sharpe family prepared to depart, ready to call on some of their other friends in the neighborhood. Before they left, Mr. Sharpe approached Kitty one last time, inquiring whether they would all be attending the ball of a mutual acquaintance of theirs two days hence. Kitty replied that they would be, and that she was particularly looking forward to it, as it would be her first London ball.

“In that case, Miss. Bennet, I would be honored if you would grant me your hand for the first and the supper sets that evening.”

Kitty was sure her face must have betrayed her surprise at such a formal request. She could feel Lizzie’s eyes on her, watching her closely as she smiled prettily and replied that she would be happy to reserve those dances for him. With a brisk nod, he smiled at her and, bidding the other ladies farewell, he left the room with his family, leaving Kitty gaping behind him.

“I do not know why you look so surprised Kitty,” Elizabeth teased, “indeed, I am only wondering why he took as long as he did into the visit before asking you.” 

“I suppose I expected to dance with him at some point,” Kitty admitted, “I am a little taken aback at his asking me so particularly though.”

“I am not,” Georgiana said, sounding a little downcast to Kitty’s ear. When their eyes met though, Kitty saw only calm composure.

They were interrupted then by a footman bearing a note. He gave it to Elizabeth who opened it quickly.

“Oh, it is from Lady Matlock!”

“What does my aunt say Lizzie?” Georgiana asked

Elizabeth began to read the note aloud.

Dear Elizabeth,

It has been far too long since we last saw all of you. If you have made no other plans for the evening, we hope that you, Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and your sister will join us for dinner at Matlock House. We are eager to see you all again and look forward to becoming reacquainted with Miss. Bennet. I will await your reply, and hope to see you all tonight.

Aunt Philomena

“I think that sounds like a lovely idea,” Elizabeth looked at Georgiana and Kitty expectantly, “What say the two of you?”

“Oh yes, Lizzie, let’s go!” Georgiana exclaimed, “I should like to see my aunt and uncle very much.”

“I would be happy to meet them again.” Kitty said, with rather more composure than she felt.

“Excellent,” Elizabeth rose quickly, heading to Darcy’s study, “I will tell Fitzwilliam, and let the housekeeper know our plans.” She left the room quickly, leaving only Georgiana and Kitty behind. Kitty studied the other girl for a moment, before asking,

“Are you well, Georgie?”

Georgiana looked surprised at having been asked such a question, and responded,

“Perfectly well, Kitty.”

Kitty was not entirely sure that she believed her, though she could see no evidence to the contrary behind Georgie’s calm smile. She looked as well as she ever had, and Kitty thought she must have imagined the tone in her voice earlier.

“Alright,” Kitty nodded, an idea popping into her head, “Shall we go decide what to wear tonight? I have never been to dinner in an earl’s home, surely nothing I own will be fine enough,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Georgiana laughed merrily, responding,

“Well, I do consider myself an expert on all things fine and beautiful. Surely, I can find something amongst your new evening dresses that will suit.” She grasped Kitty by the arm, leading her upstairs.

They spent the afternoon cheerfully looking through their clothes, picking out what they would wear for their engagements that week. Kitty enjoyed herself enough to be able to barely suppress her trepidation at seeing Colonel Fitzwilliam again.

Shortly after seven o’ clock, the darcy carriage pulled in front of Matlock House. They were met inside by a stoic looking butler, who led them to the drawing room, where the family was waiting for dinner to be announced. Kitty wondered if she would ever become accustomed to the fineness of the homes and the circles her sister found herself in. Kitty, at least, felt quite pretty that evening. Her auburn hair was piled high atop her head, her face framed by soft curls. Her dress was rose-colored muslin, with a darker pink velvet ribbon trimming the neck and sleeves, as well as the empire waist. The color complemented her blue eyes and made her pale complexion glow.

Richard awaited their arrival anxiously, he sat in the drawing room with his family, and as they chatted, he nodded along pleasantly while doing his best to not fidget in his seat.

The door opened, and in walked the butler.

“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Miss Bennet, sir,” he announced. Everyone stood to greet them, and for a moment, Richard’s view of the doorway was obstructed until at last his brother moved out of the way and he saw Kitty.

She looked exceedingly well, if a little nervous. The candlelit room danced off her skin, and she smiled brilliantly, as she was reintroduced to first his parents, and then each of his siblings. Richard stayed at the back of the room for a moment, observing her for the first time in months. He thought she looked more relaxed than she had been over Christmas. Her shoulders were less tense, and her eyes were not pinched in worry. The time away from her father had done her very well.  Darcy and Elizabeth began to talk more to his parents, as Georgiana approached Priscilla and Honora.

He noticed her begin to look around the room, and he stepped forward.

“Miss. Bennet,” he smiled, “how nice to see you again.” He bowed courteously to her.

She curtseyed in response, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“It is very nice to see you as well, Colonel.” She said demurely.

“I trust you have been enjoying yourself since we last met?”

He was rewarded with a bright smile, and she replied,

“Oh, yes, very much so. The winter seemed to fly by.”

“Your sister, Mrs. Watson has had her baby, yes?” He asked curiously.

Her expression softened, and with a dreamy sigh she said,

“Yes, a darling little girl, whom they’ve called Esther. She is absolutely perfect, and Mary is doing quite well.”

“I am so glad to hear it.”

Kitty took a small step toward him, and opened her mouth to speak further, but was interrupted by the announcement that dinner was served. He grinned down at her, offering her his arm as he escorted her into the dining room.

To his disappointment, they were not seated together at dinner, though he contented himself with sitting near Darcy and his mother.

Kitty did not know what she expected when meeting a peer of the realm and his family, but she was amazed at their friendliness. Of course, given the nature of Colonel Fitzwilliam, it should not have been so surprising, but she sat happily in between Lady Rothbury and Lady Honora, as they asked her all manner of questions. With Elizabeth, they were on warm terms, and they spoke highly of Jane, who they had met often enough in town over the years, and they despaired at the notion that Kitty had never spent any significant time in London before.  By the time dessert was served their impression of Kitty was that of a bright young woman, with all the proper sensibilities and good nature of youth. Honora thought that she perhaps had something of the sweetness of her eldest sister, and Elizabeth’s ease of conversation. She was delighted immediately by her, and if she was any judge at all of the frequent looks her bother shot their way throughout the meal, she could only approve of his choice.

After dinner, they chose to forgo the separation of the sexes, in favor of continuing to talk in the drawing room. Lady Matlock insisted Georgiana play for them, which she did gladly, eager to demonstrate the Mozart piece she had just learned. As they watched her, Kitty took her turn observing Richard. He stood by the fireplace, holding a glass of port as he talked to the Viscount. He looked very handsome. His dark blue jacket hugged his shoulders attractively, and complimented his eyes, which shone with good humor at something his brother had just said. He appeared to her perfectly content, and far more at ease in his surroundings than she had last seen. She noticed that he did not carry his cane with him tonight, and longed to ask him how his leg fared.

As if hearing her thoughts, Richard glanced over at her, catching her eye with a smile. He talked to the Viscount for a few moments longer before making his way over to her. He stood beside her silently for a bit as they listened to Georgiana perform. After a minute, he turned his head to her with a cheeky smile.

“Has my family terrified you yet this evening, Miss. Bennet?” He asked playfully.

She smirked in return, appearing to consider her response for a moment.

“Your sisters certainly have a knack for getting information out of a person,” she teased, “I believe they made it their mission to find out everything about me tonight.”

Richard chuckled, taking a sip of his port.

“Yes, the two of them are a relentless team.”

“They were very friendly though, Lady Rothbury invited me to a lady’s salon in several days. I believe we both share a love of the arts.”

“Priscilla is an excellent painter, the two of you will have much to discuss.”

“I do not know if I would call myself ‘excellent’, but I do enjoy it.” Kitty blushed modestly

“Come now, Miss. Bennet,” Richard urged, “I had the pleasure of seeing some of your work at Pemberley and it was quite good. Darcy told me that you’ve had the benefit of a master as well, I am sure you have only improved.”  

“I have been practicing quite a bit,” she admitted.

“Then I look forward to seeing more of it.”

Georgiana ended her piece then, and after some applause, Honora took a seat at the pianoforte and began her own.

“I believe Elizabeth told me that you will be in attendance at Lord and Lady Edgecombe’s ball tomorrow night.” He said, stepping just a bit closer to her.

“Yes, we will,” she replied, looking up at him, “I am looking forward to it.”

Richard wavered for a moment, wondering if he should ask her to reserve a set for him, or if he had better wait until they were at the ball.

Kitty watched him, and he appeared to be searching for his next words.

Ask me, she thought, ask me for a dance.

He continued to look into her eyes and, as he gathered his courage, the deep voice of Lord Selwick sounded from across the room.

“I say, Richard will agree with me,” Lord Selwick waved Richard over, “we must have a game of cards! What do you say old chap?”

Richard looked quickly back at Kitty, who only raised her eyebrows and gestured that he should join the men at the card table. With some consternation, he bowed his head to her, joining the men, along with Priscilla as they set up a round of whist.

For the remainder of the night, Kitty sat with Elizabeth and Lady Matlock, who did not care much for cards, as Georgiana and Honora discussed music. She found the countess a little intimidating, though she was able to follow Elizabeth’s lead in how she spoke to her. That the older woman was intelligent was undoubtable, and Kitty was fascinated to hear Elizabeth and her debate various current events. Kitty contributed to the conversation where she could, though she admittedly knew less than she would like to about the current state of Parliament. Lady Matlock was good enough to steer the topic toward the theatre, asking Kitty if she had a preference for any of Shakespeare’s works. Kitty confessed to preferring his comedies over the tragedies, which Lady Matlock agreed with.

“There will be a performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream next week,” Lady Matlock offered, “perhaps you all would like to attend with us in our box?”

“That would be lovely, Aunt.” Elizabeth grinned.

“Excellent,” Lady Matlock declared, “it is Wednesday next, I will ask Priscilla and Honora if they will come as well.”

“Thank you, Lady Matlock,” said Kitty, cheeks pink at the honor.

It was not long after that the card game finished, and Darcy announced that they had better return home. Their carriage was called for, and as they stood in the foyer saying their goodnights, Richard walked beside Kitty.

“I do hope you enjoyed yourself tonight, Miss Bennet,” he joked, “it seems as though you will be seeing a great deal more of us in the coming weeks."

“It is a trial I shall bear stoically,” she teased in return, “I shall see you tomorrow then, I suppose.”

“You shall,” he nodded, watching Darcy and Elizabeth wish his parents good night, “until then, Miss. Bennet.” Richard bowed to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Good night, Colonel.” Kitty curtseyed and, with a final bow to his parents, she followed her party out the door, and into their carriage, feeling less convinced than ever, at being able to feel only friendship for him.

Chapter Text

Had Kitty known how vigorously she would be discussed by the ladies in Matlock House the following day, she might have endeavored to stay at home that night. As it was, when Honora was summoned to tea by her mother, she did not expect to find herself and Priscilla on the sharp end of Lady Matlock’s discerning gaze. They had been chatting comfortably for nearly a quarter hour before Lady Matlock set her bone china teacup down in its saucer with a crisp ting, having grown tired of beating around the bush.

“When were the two of you planning to tell me that Richard is in love with Miss. Bennet?” she intoned dryly.

Priscilla stared back at her, eyes wide and owlish in her surprise.

“How did you guess that?” she asked.

Lady Matlock only huffed and staring back at Priscilla with a raised brow, said,

“I do have eyes, my dear, and all of my wits, as it so happens,” she lifted her chin proudly, “What I would like to know, is how long both of you were going to keep me in the dark on such a development.”

“When Richard told Harcourt,” Honora began, “he admitted that he had serious intentions toward a young lady but would not specify her identity.”

“Yes, he said it was all too uncertain,” Priscilla interrupted

“I had my own suspicions, which I believe were confirmed last night when I saw the way he looked at her throughout dinner,” Honora chewed her lip delicately, waiting for her mother’s response.

“I suppose I shall forgive you two,” Lady Matlock conceded, “In any case, I shall require more time with Miss Bennet to determine what sort of a young woman she is. I like Elizabeth very much, but it does not necessarily follow that one sister will be very like the other.”

“I liked her quite a bit when I spoke with her last night,” Honora insisted

“Yes, she was very pleasant company,” Priscilla added.

“She will be at the Edgecombe’s ball this evening,” Lady Matlock declared, “and we will be much in her company in the coming weeks. It will give us plenty of time to discern her own feelings for Richard.”

“And sway the odds in his favor?” Honora smirked

“If need be, my girls, if need be.”

They sat for a while longer, before it became time for them to begin their own preparations for the evening. Honora took the short carriage ride back to her townhouse, after promising her mother to keep a keen eye out that night.

Kitty sat in her room waiting for Polly to fetch something she said she forgot as she dressed for the ball. Presumably, Polly had gone to retrieve her gloves, which had been pressed earlier that day, though it was taking her longer than it should have. The door opened, and Kitty was surprised to see Elizabeth walking through carrying a flat, velvet box.

“What is that, Lizzie?” Kitty asked, beginning to rise from her seat at the vanity.

Elizabeth waved her down, gesturing for her to remain sitting. She pulled a chair next to Kitty and wordlessly set the box down before taking Kitty’s hand in hers.

“You will say it is too much, but Fitzwilliam and I will not be moved on this. We did the same for Georgiana for her first London season, and you deserve something beautiful of your own.”

She passed Kitty the box, and Kitty held it in surprise for a moment before undoing the metal latch and opening the lid. She gasped at the beautiful necklace and earring set that sat nestled inside. The necklace was a string of small, delicate pearls and in the middle hung a pearl and diamond cluster pendant. The earrings lustrous pearl drops that matched perfectly. The set was elegant, understated, and entirely too fine.

“Lizzie, I couldn’t possibly accept this!”

“Yes, you could,” Elizabeth insisted, “and you must wear those tonight, they will look perfect with your dress.” She took the box from Kitty, passing her the earrings to put on, and removed the necklace. She stood behind Kitty, clasping the pearls around her neck. Kitty stroked them lightly, catching some sparkle from the diamonds in the low light. Elizabeth hugged her shoulders from behind, kissing her head and whispering,

“I hope you have a wonderful time tonight, my darling. The season can be a little exhausting at times, but I know how you love a ball.”

Kitty could do nothing but embrace Elizabeth, and after a bit of hugging and wiping away joyful tears, they went downstairs where Polly was waiting to give Kitty her gloves. She thanked Darcy as well when he remarked that the jewelry looked very well on her. Georgiana had a very sly look, which only confirmed that everyone knew about the surprise but Kitty. Georgiana looked beautiful, and Kitty told her so. She wore a gauzy confection of peach silk taffeta which suited her complexion very well, and her honey-colored hair was artfully done in the Grecian style.

It was a short carriage ride before they arrived at the stately London home of Lord and Lady Edgecombe, a fashionable couple known more for their fabulous parties than their congeniality. Once they did their duty to their hosts, and after being introduced to their rather unfortunate-looking son, he secured one dance each from Kitty and Georgiana, who could not look upon it without some dread, as young Mr. Edgecombe was rather infamous for treading upon a lady’s toes.  

They mingled for a while as more and more of Elizabeth and Darcy’s friends and acquaintances came to greet them and be introduced to Kitty. It quickly became apparent to Kitty who the Darcy’s considered real friends and who they greeted out of politeness. There were those who fawned a little over Darcy and Elizabeth whilst treating her with mere civility, and those who were friendly and seemed to want to know Kitty on her own merit because they had heard Elizabeth speak about her.

It was a bit of a crush in the ballroom, and Kitty found herself looking around in search of Richard’s familiar face, but so far had not had any luck. Hers and Georgiana’s dance cards were filling up quickly as they moved around the room with Elizabeth. Georgiana did, at last spot someone they both knew, and she nudged Kitty to turn around just in time for Annabelle to rush up to them.

“Oh, I am so happy to have found you both,” she gushed, and then lowering her voice said, “it is quite a crowd in here. We were here nearly three quarters of an hour before Albion finally saw you two across the room.”

“Where is your brother?” Georgiana asked, looking behind Annabelle, “I do not see him yet.”

“Oh, he was detained by a friend of my mother’s and her daughter,” Annabelle raised her brows suggestively, “I expect he’ll be along soon.”

“Mothers with single daughters are quite dangerous creatures,” Kitty joked

“Right you are, Miss Bennet,” from behind them, they heard Mr. Sharpe’s voice. They jumped slightly, turning around with pink cheeks at his laughing tone.

“Albie, you should know better than to sneak up on three young ladies when they are having a conversation,” Annabelle scolded.

“Oh, are there three young ladies present? I see my sister, Miss Darcy, who is as good as a sister, and Miss Bennet. So, you see, I need only concern myself with the sensibilities of one young lady.” Mr. Sharpe crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows at his sister in challenge. Annabelle, in return, swatted his arm with her fan.

“Oh, you wicked man,” she declared, “you are hardly worthy of the title ‘gentleman’.”

“I quite agree with you Annabelle,” Kitty concurred, “Georgiana do you not think that he should be punished for such frank speech?”

“Oh no, I am quite used to his frankness by now,” said Georgiana, and though her tone was perhaps a touch subdued to Kitty’s ear, she smiled just as brightly as before.

“Miss Bennet, I have come to collect you for our dance, and to ask Miss Darcy if she has any dances remaining on her own card.”

“I have the waltz remaining,” Georgiana answered him brightly, holding her card out to him

“Excellent. I will pencil myself in for it.” Mr. Sharpe wrote his name down, and upon seeing who was in Georgiana’s first slot, looked around the room before noticing said gentleman making his way over to them.

“Watch out for your toes Miss Darcy, here comes Mr. Edgecombe for his dance.”

“My poor feet are screaming already.”

Kitty giggled at this, and Georgiana looked back sharply at her,

“You laugh now, Catherine Bennet, but just you wait until he comes for you later.”

Mr. Sharpe extended his arm and Kitty took it, looking back at Georgina as she, rather glumly, took Mr. Edgecombe’s.

As the musicians signaled the start of the set, and the dancers got into formation, Kitty looked once more around the room, wondering if she might see Richard, or someone from his party, but was unable to. She turned her attention to Mr. Sharpe and the dance as the first notes of the boulangère began.   

The crowd was a bit too large for the size of the house, in Richard’s opinion. They had been there for almost half an hour, nearly fighting their way to the ballroom and being stopped along the way by every one of his parent’s acquaintances. For a while, it had not bothered him, now after far too much time had passed without seeing any sign of Miss Bennet, he began to despair of his ever finding her.

At last, he encountered Darcy on his way to fetch Elizabeth some champagne. They greeted each other happily, and Darcy led him further into the ballroom in full view of the dance floor.

At once, he saw her. She was beautiful, as she always was, in a dress the dusky purple hue of twilight. Roses and thistles were embroidered in cream silk thread in a tantalizing pattern over her bustline, and her hem swished around her feet as they carried her across the floor. A pearl drop earring dangled at the pulse of her neck, and Richard could stop himself from fantasizing about the way such smooth, delicate skin might feel against his lips. It did not take long for Richard to notice who her partner was, and any ardor he had turned cold.

“He asked her for the first and supper sets two days ago,” Darcy murmured

“Both of them?” Richard was astonished at the younger man’s speed.

“Are you going to let that stand?”

“I should say not,” Richard straightened his spine, rolling his shoulders back to his full height.

They took the champagne to Elizabeth, who he talked to with half an eye trained upon the dance floor, while he tried not to grimace each time she laughed at something Mr. Sharpe said.

After the set ended, Mr. Sharpe escorted Kitty over to where her sister stood with Darcy, and her heart leapt at the sight of Richard there as well. She thought she had never seen him look better, with his well-cut jacket and high starched collar, which emphasized his masculine form and jaw. When her and Mr. Sharpe reached the group, he bowed and greeted them all in a gentlemanly manner.

“It is good to see you again, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I do hope you’ve been well since I saw you last.” Mr. Sharpe said congenially.

“Oh yes, tolerably so, and you?”

They made polite conversation for a moment before Richard’s gaze was once more on Kitty.

“When did all of you arrive? It is a fair bit of time since the ball started,” she said.

“We got here just under an hour ago, though it took some time before Darcy rescued me from the crowd and brought me here.”

Kitty was lost in thought for a moment, as Elizabeth and Darcy asked Richard several more questions, and she became distracted by the way he smiled and laughed with them. She did not realize she had been staring until Mr. Sharpe said her name more than once to get her attention.

“Miss Bennet,”

“Hm?” Kitty started a little, turning to look at him with her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Pardon me, Mr. Sharpe, I was woolgathering.”

Mr. Sharpe’s gaze flicked from her to Richard quickly, and his eyes flashed with uncertainty so briefly, Kitty almost missed it. Just as quickly, his features smoothed back into his usual grin.

“Could I fetch you some refreshment before your next partner comes to claim you?”

“Oh, um, yes, a glass of lemonade would be lovely. Thank you, Mr. Sharpe.” Kitty regained her composure, smiling at him politely as he headed for the drink table.

“Is your dance card very full yet, Miss Bennet?” Richard asked, capturing her attention once more. His eyebrows were quirked in amusement, as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Not entirely, Colonel,” she responded, steadily.

“May I dare to hope that you have the waltz remaining?” His voice was full of mirth, as he tilted his head, awaiting her response.

“I do, as it so happens.” Her tone was cheeky, matching his, though she was unsure of what he suddenly found so funny.

“Then may I request the honor?”

“Of course,” Kitty passed him her dance card, which he filled out promptly before returning it to her.  

Mr. Sharpe returned to them with a glass of lemonade in hand for Kitty. She sipped it slowly, grateful for the cool drink in the heat of the ballroom. Mr. Sharpe and Richard made polite small talk for a few moments, and she finished her drink before her next dance partner, the infamous Mr. Edgecombe, collected her for their set.  

He did, indeed, step on her toes for most of their dance together, and the next bit of time passed in a breathless whirl of gentlemen leading her around the floor, some more capable than others, and all except the one she would have perhaps most liked to dance with. It was a busy night, and though she did occasionally cross paths with Richard on the dance floor as he danced with a few other ladies, Kitty otherwise had no time at all to talk to him in the crush of the room.

The supper set came, and though Kitty did her best to enjoy her time with Mr. Sharpe when they sat down to eat, she was edgy and distracted, flitting her eyes down the table to where Richard sat with his sister and brother-in-law.

“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Sharpes voice was low enough that only she could hear him, “am I correct in assuming that there is, perhaps, another gentleman with whom you prefer to be dining?”

Kitty blushed instantly as Mr. Sharpe gestured with his eyes to Richard, feeling guilty that she had made her preference so plain to the man she was with, when he had always been perfectly nice to her.

“Mr. Sharpe, allow me to apologize- “

“Miss Bennet, really, its quite alright,” he bowed his head, looking a little uncomfortable, “a man does need to know when to bow out.”

Any attempt Kitty made to apologize after was kindly, but firmly, rebuffed, it was not the time to be speaking of such things, and after supper, they finished their set in silence. Mr. Sharpe was courteous enough to return Kitty to her party afterward, and though he was too polite to let on to any awkwardness, Kitty could tell he wished to be away from her.

The strains of the next set beginning signaled his exit, and while Kitty was without a partner for this one, Elizabeth sidled up to her with an inquisitive look.

“Is Mr. Sharpe alright? He seemed a little withdrawn.” Elizabeth’s arm was linked through hers as she murmured in Kitty’s ear.

Kitty sighed, and leaning closer to her sister, she responded,

“It seems safe enough to say that I have thoroughly dashed any hopes you might have had for me with Mr. Sharpe.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I shall tell you later.”

“Does that upset you dear? It is only that you seem a little withdrawn now yourself.”

“I’m fine, I feel a little badly for him is all.”

“Cheer up, darling, I’m sure Mr. Sharpe will be back to his cheery self in no time at all.”

“You’re quite right.”

“Now, tell me, how are you finding your first London ball?”

They spoke for some time on Kitty’s impressions on the room, the décor, and the gentlemen. The room she thought was perfectly lovely, though she had less to say about the gentlemen when, truthfully, she had paid them very little heed. They were joined shortly thereafter by Lady Matlock and her daughters, who greeted her pleasantly, and were good enough to compliment her dress. When Elizabeth remarked that she had not seen their husbands in a bit, the three ladies only laughed, remarking that they had gone to hide away in the card room, and were unlikely to make another appearance for quite a while.

They spoke for some minutes on nothing consequential, Elizabeth invited them all to a dinner party she was throwing the following week, and Lady Matlock insisted they come to her home for tea the following day, after they had made their morning calls.

The set ended, and as the ladies conversed, Richard came upon them while the musicians prepared for the next.

“I hate to interrupt, but I believe it is time for our dance, Miss Bennet.” He offered her his arm with a courteous bow.

“Oh, yes, I believe so.” With a curtsey to Lady Matlock and her daughters, Kitty followed Richard’s lead onto the floor.

They took their places amongst the other dancers, noticing Georgiana and Mr. Sharpe at the other end, and assumed their positions.

Richard enjoyed the feeling of his arm against Kitty’s back, her gloved hand clasping his as they began the steps of the waltz. When they turned to face each other, one arm around each other’s waists, and the other arched over their heads, hands joined, Richard could smell the orange oil she favored and could not help but nudge her slightly closer to him than the dance called for.

Kitty met his gaze with her own, marveling at the strength she could feel in his arms as he held her in his frame. His body was solid and manly, honed by years of physical activity, and she relished in the smallness of her stature against his own broad one. He moved smoothly, which impressed her, as she had believed it to be some time since he last danced regularly, and it was easy to follow his lead. His eyes were earnest, and the corners of them crinkled with the soft smile he gave her.

At last, he broke their silence, murmuring to her in a low voice,

“I am pleased to finally be able to dance with you, Miss Bennet. I was not so fortunate at the last ball we attended together.”

The low breathiness of his deep voice sent a tingle down her spine, and it took a great deal of concentration to remember the steps as she talked to him.

“Yes, you said your leg prohibited it, though you seem well enough tonight.”

“I find that my physical strength and stamina is much improved these past months. I was inspired to dedicate a good amount of energy to it this winter.”

“I am happy to hear that you are feeling better. I imagine it must have been quite trying for a man such as yourself to feel so hindered.”

“A man such as myself?” Richard’s voice took on that teasing quality, as though everything she said amused him tremendously.

“Well, that is to say, a man accustomed to exertion, and- and- “ Kitty felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

“Miss Bennet, I apologize, I was only teasing you a little,” his wide grin indicated that he was not the least but sorry.

“Oh goodness, I always seem to end up blushing when I speak to you,” Kitty laughed lightly, scolding him just a bit for his cheekiness.

“I admit, it is very fun to make you blush.”

Kitty might have said more, but as the music began its final refrain, and the dance concluded, she was spellbound once more by Richard’s gaze. He regained his composure faster than her, and after he bowed to her, offered to bring her to the refreshment table.

Once settled each with a glass of punch, they stood in a relatively quiet corner of the ballroom, where Richard held his glass aloft.

“A toast to your first London ball, I would say you’ve made a smashing success of it,” Richard held his glass toward Kitty as she clinked hers against his.

“I was not trying to make a smashing success out of anything, but I have been enjoying myself so far.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Sharpe bow quickly to Georgiana, and without further ado, he exited the room, walking briskly.

“Last night, you were telling me a little about your drawing master, are you planning on continuing your studies while you reside here?” Richard’s voice distracted her from the sight at the end of the room, and she turned back to him to respond.

“That is my plan. I believe I told you that Lady Rothbury invited me to her salon, I am looking forward to it.”

“Yes, and my mother told me that you would all come to the theatre with us next week.”

“It was very kind of her to include me in the invitation.”

“Well, she likes Darcy and Elizabeth more than the rest of us, so I am not greatly surprised, but I think you will adore it. Have you ever seen Shakespeare performed?”

“Only the little plays my sisters and I would put on in the drawing room at Longbourn.”

“Now that I should have liked to see! Tell me, was there raving reviews and thunderous applause?”

“Lydia and I did fancy ourselves quite the actresses whenever we did that. I used to daydream about performing on a London stage.”

“Well, whoever is playing Hermia next week shall never hold a candle to you, Miss Bennet, I am certain.”

Kitty enjoyed the way Richard teased. There was no malice in it, only a lighthearted mirth which had not failed to make her laugh.

“You are a flatterer, Colonel.”

“I assure you I am entirely honest.” He stared at her intently for a moment, until she giggled, dipping her chin down to the floor. “There, I have you blushing again. I told you it is too much fun to tease you.”

“Well, you are very good-natured about it, so I suppose you are forgiven.”

“You are too good, Miss Bennet,” Richard took a long sip of his drink, “come now, I want to hear all about what you are most looking forward to during the season.”

Kitty confessed to longing to visit Vauxhall, and they spoke at some length about the amusements within the famous pleasure gardens. Richard insisted she would adore the way the garden paths were illuminated at night, and how the strains of the orchestra could be heard throughout the whole of the place. She agreed that it sounded beautiful, and he promised to be there whenever Darcy took them, so that he might see the look on her face when she first beheld it.

They realized, once Elizabeth approached them, that they had been speaking in the corner for nearly twenty minutes. Elizabeth eyed them quizzically, and Kitty knew she would soon be due another conversation with her sister.

“Kitty, I am sorry to interrupt you, but Georgiana is feeling a little unwell. Would it be alright if we left now? I think she would like to be home in bed.”

“Of course, Lizzie, it would be far better for Georgie to be at home resting than in this crush if she is ill.”

“Thank you for understanding dear, Fitzwilliam has called for our carriage, and we need only bid our hosts goodnight.”

“Is there anything I may do, Elizabeth?” Richard said.

“Do not trouble yourself, Richard, Georgiana assures me that she only has a bad headache, and a good night’s sleep will set her to right.”

“Well, regardless, I will call tomorrow, to see how she fares.” He stole a quick glance at Kitty, whose eyes were trained on her sister, though she smiled demurely.

“Goodnight, Richard, enjoy the rest of the night.”

“Goodnight Elizabeth,” Richard bowed to each of them, “Miss Bennet, thank you for the dance, I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, thank you, Colonel,” Kitty curtseyed in return, “You shall tell me more about Vauxhall.”

Richard bowed to the ladies again, watching them leave with some regret that he had not been able to spend more time with Kitty that night, but satisfied that he would be with her again the following day.

Kitty and Elizabeth saw Georgiana and Darcy standing together waiting for their carriage, and Kitty approached her in good spirits.

“Lizzie told me you are not feeling well, Georgie. I am sorry to hear it.”

“Do not concern yourself with me Kitty, I shall be well enough by morning.” Georgiana’s tone was colder than Kitty had heard before, which startled her. They were far enough away from Lizzie and Darcy that they did not hear her. Deciding that a crowded hall was probably not the best place to ask what had upset her, Kitty remained silent. By the time they returned to Darcy House, it was clear enough to Kitty that Georgiana was irritated with her. Her cues were subtle, but she angled her body slightly for Kitty’s in the carriage ride, which she had never done before.

“I shall call the doctor for you in the morning if you require it dearest.” Darcy said, as they entered the foyer.

“I am sure I only need a good night’s rest. It is probably all the activity of the last week catching up to me, but I will be fine, I promise.” Georgiana assured them with a soft smile, and her brother and Elizabeth a warm good night, only nodding to Kitty as she walked upstairs.

“Kitty we are going to have a glass of sherry in the study, would you care to join us?”

Kitty glanced up the staircase before turning back to Darcy and responding,

“Thank you, but I think I might retire as well.”

After their goodnights, Kitty raced upstairs and knocked lightly on Georgiana’s door. She answered after a moment, a surprised look on her face.

“Kitty, what can I do for you?”

“You do not really have a headache, do you?”

Georgiana sighed deeply, shaking her head with her eyes cast downward.

“It seems as though you are upset with me, and if that is the case, then please allow me to apologize for whatever I have done to offend you.”

Georgiana ushered Kitty inside of her room.

“It is unfair of me to be angry with you, when what really ails me is no fault of your own.”

“Perhaps we could talk about it? Though, if you would rather be left alone, I shall go at once.”

“No, I think that it might help to tell someone,” Georgiana took a deep, steadying breath, “it is about Mr. Sharpe. I have been half in love with him since I was nineteen, and he has never seen me as anything more than a little sister.”

“Oh, Georgie, that is nearly three years now.”

“I know! Why do you think it is my third season, and I am yet unmarried? There were other gentlemen who showed an interest, but I discouraged them, hoping that, perhaps, Albion might finally take notice of me, and you come into the neighborhood and charm him without so much as trying.”

“Oh dear,”

“And it is not your fault, but you rejected him tonight and you do not even care. I think if you actually felt the same for him it would be easier to accept, but he has become infatuated with someone who does not return his feelings when I have been here all along. It stings horribly”

“Did something happen during your waltz with him?”

“He saw you dancing with Richard. No one could mistake the look in your eyes, Kitty. He was grim from the beginning, and though I tried to cheer him, once he saw the two of you, he went silent as a stone. He did not need to say anything else for me to understand what happened.”

“It grieves me to have injured a good man, but it grieves me more to be the source of your unhappiness.”

Georgiana’s shoulders sagged, and she dropped onto the edge of her bed in an ungraceful heap.

“You are not the source of my unhappiness. You are merely the only person here for me to be angry with.”

Kitty perched next to her, placing her hand over Georgiana’s.

“Perhaps it is time you sought elsewhere, if Mr. Sharpe has been so oblivious.”

“I know you are right. It is difficult to consider it though.”

“Does Annabelle know?”

“Goodness, no. She would never stop scheming if she had any inkling.”

“Perhaps that would not be a bad thing.”

Georgiana laughed softly, nudging Kitty’s arm with her own.

“No, it is better that Annabelle remain ignorant.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, wherein Georgiana assured Kitty that she was not truly upset with her, Kitty rose to go to bed. Before leaving the room, Georgiana called out to her.

“Kitty,” she called, “I did not get the chance to tell you that if Richard is who you truly want, I could not think of a better woman for him.”

“We are a long way from knowing whether anything will come of it, but I thank you anyway Georgie.”

Kitty crept down the darkened hall to her bedroom, where Polly waited for her to undress her, and as she, at last, crawled underneath the cool sheets, she hummed the melody of the waltz. She would try not to worry about Georgiana. What ailed her would only improve with time, and perhaps there would yet be a happy outcome for her friend. She prayed it would be so.

Chapter Text

Kitty awoke the next morning feeling deliciously sore. Her legs and feet still ached with the exertion of the previous evening, and her head swam just a little from the champagne she drank, but she had never felt better.

While tending to her morning ablutions and awaiting Polly to come help her dress for the day, her mind wandered to Richard, blushing once more at the thought of his arm around her waist as they danced. Polly entered the room then, interrupting her thoughts as they chatted about the ball. Polly was all breathless curiosity as she twisted and pinned Kitty’s hair in place, and Kitty was only too happy to tell her all about the gowns and hairstyles she saw, the food they served, and the music she danced to.

“Oh, Miss, how wonderful it sounds,” Polly sighed dreamily, “I am sure you looked the prettiest of them all,” she finished with a wink.

“If I held a candle to those society women it is only because of you Polly.”

Polly’s cheeks dimpled at the praise, and she thanked Kitty graciously, departing with a spring in her step after Kitty was dressed.

At the breakfast table sat Elizabeth and Darcy, still bleary eyed from the night before, and Georgiana, who greeted Kitty with a kind smile and a discreet nod of assurance at Kitty’s questioning glance.

They broke their fast quietly, none of them too eager for much lively conversation, preferring to sip their tea and coffee while they finished waking up. The post was brought in, and as Dracy flipped through the newspaper, Elizabeth perused her correspondence. There were more invitations forthcoming from their acquaintances, and she began to sort them into groups. Some, they could not miss, and others they could respectfully decline. It fascinated Kitty to see Elizabeth, who had once been so removed from this world, navigating the social intricacies with such grace and poise.

They relaxed in the breakfast room for a bit longer before Darcy excused himself to attend to some business for the day, leaving them to their own pursuits. Georgiana decided to hurry off to the music room, and the sounds of her plunking at the keys filtered down the hall. Kitty and Elizabeth moved to the drawing room, where Elizabeth wrote a few letters and Kitty fussed over a piece of embroidery for a while. Her mind would not allow her to concentrate on the task, however, it was too full of much more pleasant imaginings.

Elizabeth glanced up from the writing desk, her quill dangling idly between her fingers as she spied on her sister across the room. A smile curved her lips, but her thoughts drifted back with amusement to the previous night with Fitzwilliam.

They had curled together on the settee in his study, a roaring fire crackling in the hearth, casting shadows along the dark-paneled walls. Elizabeth had nestled against his chest, a glass of brandy cradled between them, feeling perfectly content — until a mischievous thought had tugged at her mind.

“Did you happen to notice Kitty and Richard tonight, my dear?” she had murmured, tilting her face up toward his.

Fitzwilliam's hand had slid lazily along her arm as he answered, his voice suspiciously casual. “Were they together much at the ball?”

There was an evasiveness in his tone that immediately piqued her interest.

“They danced the waltz—quite closely, I might add,” she said, drawing the words out with a teasing lilt, “and spoke together by the edge of the ballroom for nearly twenty minutes.”

Darcy cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Oh. I suppose they did.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “You do not seem at all surprised.”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh, the arm around her tightening possessively as if to brace himself. “I may have had a discussion with Richard about it.”

Elizabeth sat up straighter, her brow arching sharply. “You spoke to Richard? When? And why did you not tell me?”

Darcy winced at her tone — though privately, he found her fiery temper delightful — and reached for her hands, threading his fingers through hers in silent supplication.

“I noticed it first at Christmas,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to her knuckles in an attempt to distract her.

“That was months ago!” Elizabeth exclaimed, scandalized.

He continued on, heedless, as was his wont when determined. “I spoke to him again at the Twelfth Night’s Ball. He confessed he had come to admire her—deeply—but believed it a hopeless cause. I saw no reason to trouble you with it at the time.”

“To trouble me?” she repeated, incredulous, crossing her arms with a huff that only made him chuckle low in his throat.

“I only meant,” he said, his voice smoothing into its most persuasive murmur, “that you are keen to ensure your sisters' happiness. I feared you might—encourage matters.”

Elizabeth scoffed, but the corners of her mouth quirked upward. “You make me sound like some determined matchmaker.”

Darcy leaned closer, the firelight gilding the sharp planes of his face, the fond amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “You are determined. And delightful. And utterly incapable of hiding your schemes.”

Elizabeth attempted a scowl but failed miserably as he brushed his lips against her temple. She sighed and melted against him once more, letting him draw her back against his chest.

“It does seem,” she said coyly, running her fingers along the lapel of his coat, “that Richard might yet have cause to hope.”

Darcy’s answering smile was slow and wicked. “Do you think so? I must confess, I had rather hoped he might.”

“Well, well,” she teased, pinching his side, “now who is matchmaking?”

He caught her hand deftly, lifting it to his mouth and kissing her palm, his breath warm against her skin. “Mischievous woman,” he growled, nipping at her wrist in retaliation.

Elizabeth laughed breathlessly, delight shimmering between them. “I might be persuaded to forgive your secrecy,” she said, fluttering her lashes up at him, her voice dipping into a purr, “provided you find an adequate way to make it up to me.”

Darcy’s answering look was heated, his hand slipping to her waist to tug her fully into his lap. “I believe,” he said against her mouth, “that can be arranged.”

They did not make it to their bedchambers that night. The study, with its warm fire, its creaking settee, and its thick velvet curtains drawn tight against the world, was more than enough.

When the blush had finally left her cheeks, Elizabeth looked up from her desk and called across the drawing room, her voice light and teasing.

“Kitty, if you remember, Lady Matlock has invited us to tea this afternoon. Would you still care to join me, or shall I make your excuses?”

Kitty glanced up from her needlework, her smile demure and sweet. “I should be very happy to go with you, Lizzie.” She dipped her head again, focusing intently on her stitches, but Elizabeth did not miss the soft glow that lingered about her sister’s face.

Yes, Elizabeth thought with a secret smile, Richard has every reason to hope indeed.

The rest of the morning was spent in a pleasant whirl of social calls, Elizabeth, Kitty, and Georgiana winding their way through the elegant streets of Mayfair in a well-sprung carriage, paying their respects to several London acquaintances. The sky was clear and blue above the white façades and polished brass of the townhouses, and a sweet breeze tugged at the ribbons of their bonnets.

At last, they crossed the short distance to Matlock House, where upon their arrival they were shown to the morning room.

Lady Matlock rose from her seat by the tea table with genuine warmth lighting her face.

“My dears! How lovely to see you,” she exclaimed, extending her hands first to Elizabeth, then Georgiana, and finally to Kitty.

Already seated at the table was Priscilla, who greeted them with cheerful affection. After a flurry of pleasantries, she promptly claimed Georgiana’s arm and led her to the window seat.

“We said hardly two words to each other last night!” Priscilla declared. “You must tell me everything — especially what you thought of the gowns!”

Meanwhile, Lady Matlock turned to the butler with an air of authority.

“Higgins, do let the gentlemen know that tea will be served shortly.”

The butler bowed again and withdrew. Lady Matlock smiled as she turned back to Elizabeth, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“Did Fitzwilliam not accompany you this afternoon?”

“He sends his regrets, Aunt,” Elizabeth replied, sinking gracefully into a nearby armchair. “Some tedious business has kept him quite occupied today.”

Lady Matlock chuckled knowingly. “Yes, he does rather relish an opportunity to be alone after enduring such a crush.”

“You know him well, Aunt!” Georgiana laughed from her perch by the window.

Lady Matlock’s gaze softened as she turned it on Kitty, who had been quietly observing the room.

“And you, Miss Bennet? How are you faring after your first crowded London ball?”

Kitty smoothed her skirts and answered with a shy smile, “The room was certainly quite full, but I confess I found it rather thrilling. I have always been fond of balls, so I never mind a crowd too much.”

“I like them too,” Priscilla chimed in brightly, “although I do wish Lady Edgecombe were more judicious with her invitations. Her rooms are simply too small to accommodate half of London society. I thought I might faint from the heat!”

She fanned herself dramatically, eliciting laughter from the others.

“But the flowers were exquisite,” she continued. “She always does have the most beautiful arrangements at her events.”

Their conversation drifted easily from the ball to the merits and follies of the season’s new fashions, with much lively debate over the questionable taste of feathered turbans.

Before long, heavy, booted footsteps sounded from the hallway. The door swung open, and in came Lord Matlock flanked by his two sons.

Kitty’s heart skipped in her chest, but she managed to greet Richard with outward composure, curtsying with practiced grace.

Richard’s answering bow was deep and warm, his eyes lingering on her with fondness. They were seated across from one another at the tea table, and though the conversation around them swirled with topics of politics and society, Richard seemed content to let his gaze find Kitty whenever he dared.

He raised his eyebrows in humor at some absurd remark from Harcourt, earning a secret smile from Kitty. They had their conversation nearly entirely in glances, and by the time the tea had been drunk and the cakes consumed, Kitty’s heart was light.

Priscilla, ever restless, clapped her hands with inspiration.

“The weather is too fine to be wasted indoors,” she declared. “Shall we take a turn in the garden? The children can be brought down from their lessons to play.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and in short order, the party found themselves strolling through the lush gardens of Matlock House, where neat gravel paths wound between great beds of foxglove, roses, and lavender.

Young Daniel and Victoria Fitzwilliam ran shrieking with laughter across the lawn, playing an impromptu game of tag. Lady Matlock cradled the youngest, little Joanna, in her arms, while Lord Matlock and Harcourt ambled slowly after them, offering the occasional stern, and entirely ignored, warning to mind the flowerbeds.

Kitty wandered a little ways from the group, the soft murmur of conversation fading behind her. The sun was warm on her shoulders, and a light breeze stirred the neat rows of lavender and blush-pink roses flanking the gravel path. She bent to brush her fingers lightly over a spray of lavender, savoring its sweet, familiar scent—when the crunch of footsteps on the path behind her made her straighten.

“Are you especially fond of lavender, Miss Bennet?” Richard’s voice called, a shade husky, as he squinted into the sunlight.

“I am,” Kitty replied, glancing at him over her shoulder. She waited until he came alongside her, his gait careful but unhurried, before continuing, “We have quite a large patch of it planted at Longbourn. My mother used to insist it be tucked into all our drawers, and she filled the stillroom with it every summer.”

“That sounds delightful,” Richard said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

“It was,” Kitty agreed, smiling herself. She brushed her skirts lightly as they resumed a slow pace, the gravel crunching softly beneath their steps. “We plan to have a family dinner in honor of her birthday next week. Perhaps I shall tell Lizzie we ought to scatter some lavender on the table.”

“A charming idea, Miss Bennet. Was it you who proposed the gathering?”

“It was,” she admitted, a faint pink rising to her cheeks. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a little gesture Richard followed with quiet fascination. “She always made our birthdays so special... it only seemed right to do the same for her.”

“I confess, I did not know Mrs. Bennet well,” Richard said, slowing slightly to match her step exactly, “but the dinners I enjoyed at Longbourn for Darcy and Elizabeth’s wedding were among the finest I can recall.”

“Oh, such praise would have sent her into raptures, Colonel!” Kitty laughed, her voice like a bell. “There was nothing she liked so well as hosting her friends and neighbors.”

“I imagine her daughters have inherited some of that spirit,” he said, smiling warmly.

“Yes, I think we have, each in our own way,” Kitty murmured. Her gaze softened, turning inward for a moment. The quick shimmer of emotion in her eyes did not escape Richard. Instinctively, he patted his breast pocket, fumbling for a handkerchief.

“I apologize, Miss Bennet, if this is a difficult subject.”

Kitty held up a hand, staying him.

“Not at all, sir. Indeed, I enjoy speaking of her. It is not often I am able, save with my sisters.”

Relieved, Richard let his hand fall back to his side, and they walked on together, a comfortable hush stretching between them. Overhead, the broad branches of a linden tree rustled, dappling them both in flickering sunlight.

After a moment, Richard spoke, his voice low, almost as if to himself.
“When a memory is all that remains, it is better shared than kept hidden.”

Kitty turned her head sharply toward him, surprised.
“That is very wise, sir.”

Richard chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a boyish gesture.
“I wish I could claim it as my own. I owe that sentiment to my friend, Mr. Underwood.”

“The neighbor you mentioned?” Kitty asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Yes—another old soldier like me.”

“I would hardly call you old, sir,” Kitty said with a teasing smile.

“No?” Richard tilted toward her conspiratorially, his shoulder brushing hers. His voice dropped to a mock-whisper. “Not even with the cane?”

“But you are not carrying it today,” Kitty said, adopting a grandly dramatic tone. “If I see you leaning on it tomorrow, perhaps then I shall revise my opinion.”

Richard laughed, the rich sound warming the air between them.
“A fearsome threat, indeed!”

“Oh, certainly,” Kitty teased, flashing him a mischievous look. “But if I am to refrain from calling you old, you must also refrain from bestowing that title upon me.”

Richard tapped his fingers against his chin in mock contemplation.
“Very well. Though I must confess…” he leaned in just a little closer, lowering his voice, “I find you quite fearsome already.”

Kitty halted, blinking up at him in bemusement.
“You are the first ever to say so. Why, pray, do you call me fearsome?”

Richard held her gaze for a heartbeat longer than was strictly proper. Then he smiled—a slow, knowing smile that made her stomach flip unexpectedly.

“Ask me again tomorrow, Miss Bennet.”

Kitty bit her lip to hide her smile, and they resumed their stroll, a little closer now than before, as they finished their loop around the garden.

They did not linger long after that, Elizabeth was anxious to return to her own children, and so with a fond farewell, they set off for Darcy house, where they spent the rest of the day, and Kitty tried not to burst from pleasure.

At the same time in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bennet sat alone in his study, feeling rather more disgruntled than he cared to admit.

When winter had first settled over Longbourn, he had welcomed the solitude with unreserved satisfaction. Kitty’s absence, along with the general quiet of the countryside in the colder months, offered him what he had always claimed to prize most, uninterrupted leisure. He could rise at his pleasure, stroll to his study in his slippers and dressing gown, and spend the day buried in his favorite authors, a decanter of whiskey at his elbow and a roaring fire at his feet. The house was peaceful, the servants efficient, and there was no silly female chatter to disturb his philosophical ruminations.

The first few weeks were an unbroken idyll. He had no one to interrupt his reading, no sisters or daughters bursting into the study with petitions or gossip. Meals appeared as they always had, the library remained blessedly silent, and his whiskey glass was never empty. It was, he congratulated himself smugly, a most agreeable existence.

But as the weeks turned into months, the comforts he had once taken for granted began to wane and, for the first time, he noticed.

It was nothing dramatic. Longbourn was still well-run, Mrs. Hill still managed the household with her usual brisk competence. But small, particular pleasures began to slip through the cracks. His afternoon tea arrived without his favored lemon shortbreads, absent now for weeks. His dressing gown and slippers, once always warmed and waiting by the fire, were left cold upon a chair. His inkpot was sometimes dry when he sat to write, the newspaper folded carelessly rather than neatly laid out.

At first, he had blamed Mrs. Hill. Surely, she was growing forgetful in her old age. But Mrs. Hill, when questioned, only wrung her hands and said she had not been in the habit of arranging such things herself — it had been Miss Catherine’s doing.

Miss Catherine. His Kitty.

It struck him then, with a sharpness that startled even him, just how much of the comfortable order of his days had been shaped by his second-youngest daughter. It was Kitty who had remembered that he liked an extra shortbread tucked onto the tray. It was Kitty who had instructed the maids to warm his slippers and gown against the winter chill. It was Kitty who had neatly refilled his inkpot and folded the paper just so. And it was Kitty, too, who had met the tenants when they came with their petty grievances, smoothing ruffled feathers and handling the small crises of the estate before they ever reached his ears.

Now, without her, the tenants came straight to him.
Old Blundell demanding repairs for a leaky roof. Mrs. Havers nagging for a new dairy cow. Young Jacobson bemoaning the state of the hedgerows.
Each knock at the study door was an unwelcome interruption, and each complaint a tedious reminder that he would have to do something, or at least instruct someone else to do so. Matters he had blissfully ignored now lay before him, clamoring for decisions he had no wish to make.

The quiet he had once cherished now pressed in on him, heavy and stale. The house was too still, too empty. He missed the small, familiar sounds of Kitty’s presence, the tap of her footsteps along the corridor, the low hum of her singing in the morning room, the scratch of her pen against paper as she wrote letters by the window. Even her occasional interruptions, a question about the accounts, a request for advice on a household matter, had filled the air with a sort of life that made the days slip by unnoticed.

It had never occurred to him to wonder whether Kitty might find a husband. Marriage was a business for girls like Jane or Elizabeth, clever beauties who drew admiration without effort. Kitty, he supposed vaguely, was better suited to Longbourn, reliable, unobtrusive, and dutiful. He bore her no ill will, in truth, he was fond of her, but in his mind, she was simply there, as much a fixture of the house as the old grandfather clock or the worn leather armchair by the hearth.

Of course, he wanted her happiness, in an abstract way. If some young man came along who suited her, he would not object. But it had not crossed his mind that Kitty herself might be outgrowing Longbourn, that the busy London season might open new prospects, or that she might form attachments he had not foreseen.

No, he thought comfortably, it was only natural that she would return home soon. She would come back with new dresses, perhaps some fashionable airs picked up from Elizabeth’s circle, but fundamentally unchanged. She would bustle about Longbourn as she always had, smoothing his way without his asking, restoring the small comforts that had gone missing.

Sighing, Mr. Bennet picked up Kitty’s latest letter from his desk. Her neat, careful hand spoke of teas and concerts they planned to attend, of visits to friends, of new gowns and amusing conversations. She sounded cheerful enough, and surely, after a few more weeks of London’s noise and clatter, she would be only too eager to return to the peace and simplicity of home.

If Elizabeth was right, and she usually was, Kitty had grown into a capable young woman, perhaps even one with an appreciation for Plato’s wisdom. When she returned, Mr. Bennet thought, he might encourage her to read with him in the evenings. He would even take a modest interest in her artistic pursuits, and perhaps, once more, his slippers would be waiting for him, warmed by the fire.

Nodding to himself with satisfaction, Mr. Bennet leaned back into his chair, the fire crackling gently at his feet. He had decided. Tomorrow, he would set off for London and bring Kitty home.

Everything would return to its proper place soon enough, he thought, as he reached for another book and settled into the chair, the familiar, comforting weight of loneliness already softened by the certainty of her return.

Chapter Text

The following day, Kitty sat alone in the morning room, the soft scratch of her pencil the only sound disturbing the hush. She was sketching a landscape for the new watercolor she hoped to start soon, the view from her bedchamber window into the garden, where early spring flowers were just beginning to bloom in earnest.

The house was unusually quiet. Elizabeth and Darcy had taken the children to the park to enjoy the fine weather, and Georgiana had decided to accompany them. Kitty, feeling the press of the busy days ahead, concerts, formal dinners, a theater outing with Lord and Lady Matlock, had chosen to remain behind. A stolen morning of peace felt like the finest luxury London had yet to offer her.

She had just finished the delicate outline of a budding rosebush when the butler entered, announcing Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.

Kitty's heart gave a little skip before settling itself. She rose from her seat, smoothing the skirts of her muslin gown, just as Richard strolled through the door.

He looked momentarily surprised, then utterly delighted. His face softening in a way it often did when he looked at her.

“Miss Bennet!” he exclaimed, “I had thought to find Darcy at home. I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not to worry, Colonel,” she said warmly, gesturing to the chair opposite her. “Darcy and Lizzie have taken the children to the park for some exercise, and Georgiana went along with them. I expect them back very soon if you are to wait. Please, won’t you sit?”

It was a small fib, they had left scarcely half an hour before, but it seemed such a rare opportunity to speak with Richard alone that Kitty decided a little harmless misdirection could be forgiven.

Richard gave a half-smile, one brow quirking upward as if he suspected she wasn’t telling him the entire truth. But he said nothing of it, merely lowering himself into the chair she indicated, stretching his long legs out before him in a way that made him seem more at ease than usual.

“What is it you are working on?” he asked, his gaze falling to the sketchbook on the table.

Kitty turned it slightly so he might see it better. “It’s the view from my room into the garden,” she explained, brushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I plan to paint it soon.”

He leaned forward, studying the careful lines and shading with surprising attentiveness. “It is very good,” he said sincerely, his eyes meeting hers with a spark of admiration. “I see your lessons have paid off.”

Kitty ducked her head, unable to hide the pleased smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, I feel much more confident now.”

She fiddled lightly with the ribbon tied around her sketchbook, feeling his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. A thought occurred to her and she rose, asking if he would care for some refreshments.

Richard waved a hand lazily. “No need, thank you. I have already been handsomely fed this morning. I would much rather hear about your plans for the next few days.”

Kitty resumed her seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She told him about the musical concert she and Georgiana would attend with Miss Sharpe, a program featuring new works out of Germany. Though she was not musical herself, Kitty was eager to hear the performances.

Richard laughed, a low, pleasant sound that warmed the room. “Georgiana will be begging for new sheet music the moment it is over, you may be sure.”

“Absolutely,” Kitty agreed, her eyes sparkling, “and we shall all benefit from it.”

He smiled at her fondly, leaning his elbow on the arm of his chair and resting his chin against his hand in a casual, almost boyish way. “You are fond of music even if you do not play?”

“Very fond,” Kitty said, sitting a little straighter. “I sometimes think music is a language all its own.”

Richard studied her a long moment, something warm and searching flickering in his eyes.

"You are full of surprises, Miss Bennet," he said at last, his voice low and almost tender.

Kitty laughed softly, a light, musical sound that made Richard’s chest tighten.

“Well, I hope they are pleasant surprises, Colonel.”

"The very best kind," he murmured.

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning forward, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest as if debating with himself. His expression grew serious, thoughtful. There was a question forming on his lips, she could see it in the way he hesitated.

"Miss Bennet," he began, his voice unusually soft, "I wonder if you might—"

But whatever he meant to say was lost forever, for at that precise moment, the heavy tread of boots echoed down the corridor. Richard straightened at once, his mouth snapping shut, his posture falling back into the easy, casual lines of a man who had no serious intentions at all.

Mr. Bennet was hastily announced, and with very little preamble, he strode into the room, his heavy gait purposeful. He paused, his gaze sharpening in surprise as it flickered between Richard and Kitty, lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Kitty’s back straightened instinctively, her body stiffening against her seat as if bracing for a scolding. Despite knowing they had done nothing wrong, she jerked herself upright, smoothing the front of her gown with trembling fingers. She rose hastily to greet him, forcing a smile she did not feel.

"Papa," she said, a little breathlessly, rushing toward him. "We were not expecting you. Does Lizzie know you are in town?"

Mr. Bennet, however, barely acknowledged her. His sharp gaze swung to Richard, who had also risen and approached with a polite, measured step.

"Mr. Bennet," Richard said, offering a slight bow, "it is good to see you again. I hope you had a pleasant trip this morning."

Determined on his course, Mr. Bennet gave Richard the merest of nods before turning his full attention back to his daughter.

"You look well, Kitty," he said, voice clipped.

"Thank you, sir," she replied, uncertain, gesturing for him to take a seat.

The three of them settled into an awkward little triangle, Richard endeavoring to sustain conversation with genial small talk, though it fell into stilted silences more often than not.

"Have you enjoyed yourself in London, Kitty?" Mr. Bennet asked at last, his tone mild.

"Yes, Father, it’s been lovely," Kitty said carefully.

"Good. I’m glad you've had your amusements. You’ll be ready to return to Longbourn with me, then."

Whatever Kitty had been expecting, it was not this. Her spine snapped straighter, her hands knotting into the fabric of her gown. Across from her, Richard’s eyes darted between them, reading the charged undercurrent instantly.

"I... I cannot leave yet, Papa," Kitty managed.

Mr. Bennet waved a hand, dismissive. "Of course, if you have engagements to honor this week, see them through. But after that, we return home."

"Has something happened at Longbourn? Some emergency?" Kitty asked, voice growing sharper.

"Of course not, child. It is merely time you returned."

Richard, feeling the tension rise, murmured his excuses and departed quietly. But he did not go far. Instead, he remained just down the hall, alert.

Back in the morning room, Kitty clenched her sketchbook tightly, her knuckles whitening.

"Papa, I was to remain for the whole Season. You agreed when Elizabeth invited me."

"Pah! Season and society and fashion!" Mr. Bennet scoffed, waving his hand again. "Frippery and nonsense! You are needed at home. Longbourn has gone to pieces without you. The tenants complaining, the fires mismanaged, my tea trays—"

"I am sorry if you are inconvenienced, sir," Kitty said, striving for politeness though her voice trembled, "but surely Mrs. Hill and the steward can manage a few trifles between them."

Mr. Bennet’s mouth twisted. His nostrils flared with annoyance.

"I am your father, Catherine. It is not for you to argue with me."

For a moment, the words seemed to freeze the very air between them.

Kitty felt something old and raw uncoil inside her. Slowly, she rose to her feet. Her movements were no longer rushed, but deliberate, full of the restrained power of a bowstring drawn tight.

"You have not been a true father to me," she said evenly, though her hands shook at her sides.

Mr. Bennet's brows crashed together. His own anger was a slow-burning thing, building like a storm. He stood too, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. They faced each other now, the length of a small rug between them.

"What foolishness is this? Explain yourself at once."

"You ignored us," Kitty burst out, her voice cracking with the force of long-buried pain. "You laughed at us, belittled us, made us feel ridiculous for wanting your attention. Only Lizzy ever commanded your respect. The rest of us—Lydia, Mary, myself, even Jane—we were left to flounder without guidance or care! Perhaps if you had paid the least attention, Lydia might never have run off with Wickham!"

Her words shot across the space between them like sparks. Mr. Bennet flushed a deep, mottled red, and he stalked closer, jabbing a finger toward her.

"If you had spoken to us, if you had told us what you knew about their dealings, I could have prevented it!" he thundered.

Kitty’s chin lifted, defiance hardening her. Her whole body quivered with the force of her emotions, but her voice was clear and scathing.

"You will do and say anything to excuse your own fecklessness!"

The accusation hit like a slap. Mr. Bennet reared back, his mouth working soundlessly for a moment.

Kitty pressed forward, unwilling to surrender the ground she had seized. Her voice was low but savage.

"I was a child. Lydia was a child. Children who knew little enough of a father's love and ran to seek it elsewhere. And yes, I was foolish to keep silent, but who should have taught us better?"

Each word landed heavy, like stones thrown into deep water.

"You want me home now. Why? Because you can’t be troubled to exert yourself with the tenants? Because the tea tray is lacking? It has never been because you desire my company."

Mr. Bennet was shaking with fury now. His fists were clenched at his sides, his face purpled with rage. He closed the remaining distance between them, standing almost nose-to-nose with his daughter.

"You think these high society dandies will accept you?" he spat. "You, a country slip of a girl, with no cleverness, no accomplishments to set you apart? You are an ungrateful, ridiculous child, and I wash my hands of you!"

Kitty stood her ground. Her voice did not waver.

"If you believe that, sir, then you have never known me at all. And I pity you for it."

The air between them crackled, fury and heartbreak so thick it was almost visible.

From the doorway, Richard reappeared, his face set in grim, implacable lines. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet, but carried the iron command of a seasoned soldier.

"I think," he said, "that you have said quite enough, sir."

Mr. Bennet whirled, blustering with indignation.

"You will leave Miss Bennet to her own counsel," Richard said, stepping fully into the room with a protective air, positioning himself slightly in front of Kitty. "And you will leave Darcy House. Now."

“Who are you to order me from my daughter’s home? What right have you to dictate how I speak to my own kin?”

"I am an officer and a gentleman," Richard said. "And I will not stand to see a respectable woman treated thusly. Furthermore, I have the privilege of knowing Darcy nearly as well as myself, and I promise you, sir, that were he here, he would throw you out himself."

Mr. Bennet sputtered with rage, but there was no arguing with the authority that Richard exuded. With a wordless, furious sound, Mr. Bennet turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The door slammed behind him with a thunderous crack.

Kitty swayed where she stood, her breathing shallow, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

Without a word, Richard was there, steady and solid, his hand firm but gentle at her elbow, grounding her as the weight of it all came crashing down.

He guided her, carefully, without a single hurried motion, back to the chair she had vacated. His palm hovered at her back, just barely grazing the fabric of her gown — a touch that was there and gone again, respectful, but leaving behind a warmth that lingered.

Kitty sat heavily, clutching at the arm of the chair, her fingers digging into the carved wood as she fought to steady herself.

Through the dull pounding in her ears, she heard Richard's voice, low, coaxing, and a moment later felt the cool press of a wineglass against her trembling fingers.

"Here," he murmured, his thumb brushing fleetingly over her knuckles before retreating. "Take a sip. It will steady you."

Kitty obeyed without thinking, the wine sharp and sweet against her tongue, its bite snapping her more fully back into the present. She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing enough to see him kneeling before her.

Richard’s hand rested lightly on the arm of the chair, just beside hers, close enough that if she moved even a fraction, their fingers might touch. He watched her with furrowed brows and a look of such fierce, open concern that Kitty’s chest ached.

"Miss Bennet," he said softly, "are you well? Shall I call for a doctor?" His voice dropped even lower, intimate and careful. "Truly, you have gone very pale."

Kitty drew in a shaking breath. Then, to her own astonishment, a laugh, small and breathless, broke free from her chest. She covered her mouth with her hand, blinking back the burning in her eyes.

"I have never spoken to my father that way," she said, half laughing, half dazed. "I have never spoken to anyone that way."

Richard's mouth curved into a smile, not the teasing, careless grin she knew so well, but something deeper. Prouder. Fiercer.

"It is as I said," he murmured, holding her gaze, his voice rough with emotion. "You are fearsome."

The words, simple as they were, sank into her, warm and solid and steadying. And though they did not touch, not truly, Kitty felt it nonetheless.

“Kitty?” Elizabeth’s anxious voice echoed down the hall.

A moment later she and Darcy appeared in the doorway, both of them hastening forward, their faces drawn with concern. Behind them, Kitty caught a glimpse of Georgiana gently shepherding the wide-eyed children up the stairs, herding them away from the charged atmosphere.

Elizabeth crossed the room in a heartbeat and gathered Kitty into a fierce, protective embrace. Kitty pressed her face into her sister’s shoulder, overwhelmed for a moment.

“What has happened, my dear?” Elizabeth murmured, pulling back to cup Kitty’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing tenderly across her cheeks. “We had scarcely set foot in the door before Bolton rushed to tell us Father was here and that he left in a fury. What occurred?”

Kitty drew a shuddering breath and stepped back, trying to compose herself. Her fingers twisted together unconsciously. “He... he came to collect me and bring me home,” she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat.

“What?” Darcy’s voice was sharp with disbelief. He stepped closer, his brows drawn low in a frown. “Without any warning?”

“Precisely,” Kitty said, her voice steadier now, but laced with bitter amusement. “When I protested, we exchanged... some rather harsh words.”

Elizabeth tightened her hold on Kitty’s hand, her mouth tightening in worry and anger. Darcy, his jaw ticking, looked ready to summon Mr. Bennet back and have a few words of his own.

Richard, who had remained respectfully to one side, now took a step forward, his expression grave. He bowed his head slightly. “I must beg your pardon, both of you,” he said. “I overheard the end of Miss Bennet’s conversation. I deemed it necessary to intervene and asked Mr. Bennet to leave.”

Kitty’s head jerked up in protest, but Richard held up a hand, forestalling her.

“I am aware I overstepped,” he continued, voice steady but edged with lingering anger, “but he was really quite ruthless. I could not, in good conscience, allow it to continue unchecked.”

Darcy met Richard’s gaze, something unspoken passing between the two men. After a brief pause, Darcy nodded.

“Of course we understand, Richard,” Elizabeth said warmly, squeezing Kitty’s hand again. “We are grateful. No apology is necessary.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Darcy, recognizing the turmoil still roiling between the sisters, laid a hand on Richard’s shoulder.

“Come,” he said quietly. “Let us give the ladies a moment.”

Richard hesitated, glancing once more at Kitty with an unreadable expression before inclining his head. He followed Darcy from the room, the heavy door swinging shut behind them with a soft click.

Left alone, Elizabeth turned back to Kitty, gathering her once again into a tight hug, her hands rubbing soothing circles against Kitty’s back.

“Oh, my poor dear,” she whispered. “I am so sorry you had to face him on your own.”

At that, Kitty’s composure cracked at last. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, but she clung to her sister fiercely, drawing comfort from her warmth.

Elizabeth guided Kitty to the sofa and drew her down beside her, never releasing her hand. She tucked a stray curl behind Kitty’s ear and gave her an encouraging smile, though her own eyes shimmered with tears.

"Now," Elizabeth said softly, "tell me, what passed between you? What did you say to him?"

Kitty let out a trembling breath, still a little disbelieving. “I told him no," she said. "I told him I would not go.” She paused, blinking back fresh tears. “And when he pressed me... I said that he had never been a parent to me, and that I would not obey him when he has treated me so poorly.”

Elizabeth let out a soft gasp, part shock, part pride. She squeezed Kitty’s hand tightly. “Oh, Kitty! You brave, fierce girl.”

A shaky laugh escaped Kitty. “I hardly recognized myself. It all came pouring out before I could think better of it.”

“For once,” Elizabeth said, her voice thick with affection, “thinking better of it would have been a mistake.”

Kitty managed a watery smile. She swiped at her cheeks with her fingertips, feeling raw but lighter somehow, like a burden had been lifted she had not even realized she was carrying.

“I suppose he will never forgive me,” she said, recalling the last words he said to her.

Elizabeth shook her head firmly. “If he does not, it is no fault of yours. You spoke truthfully. You spoke bravely. And you were right. It was far past time he heard it.”

Kitty lowered her gaze, “It felt good,” she admitted in a whisper. “To stand up for myself. To say what I have wanted to say for so long.”

Elizabeth smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “You see? You are stronger than you ever knew.”

For a long moment they sat together, the silence between them filled with understanding. Kitty leaned her head against Elizabeth’s shoulder, and Elizabeth rested her cheek against Kitty’s hair.

In the study, the door shut firmly behind them, muffling the sounds of the household. Darcy crossed to the sideboard and poured two glasses of brandy, offering one silently to Richard.

Richard took it with a nod of thanks but did not immediately drink. He moved toward the unlit fireplace, bracing a hand against the mantel, his face grim and shuttered as he stared at the ashes.

At last, Darcy spoke, low but firm. “You did the right thing.”

Richard let out a slow breath, half a laugh, half a sigh. “I am glad you think so, Fitz. Interfering in a private matter rarely ends well.”

“You interfered with good cause.”

Richard turned the glass slowly in his hand. “You did not hear the things he said to her at the end.” His voice roughened. “He tore into her, belittling her, insulting her character, as if she were still a foolish child to be scolded.” He shook his head, anger sparking anew. “She stood there, facing him down like a soldier under fire. I have never been so impressed”

Darcy’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I have no doubt of it.”

Richard’s shoulders slumped. He stared down into the amber liquid, gathering himself. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but steady.

“I had intended to speak with her today,” he said, “to ask her if she would consent to court me properly.”

Darcy said nothing, waiting.

Richard turned at last to face him fully, his expression bare of any defenses.

“She deserves someone who will stand beside her, who will see her for all she is and all she might become. I would like, if she would have me, to be that man.”

He paused, then said with grave sincerity, “You and Elizabeth have been her true guardians here. I would not proceed without your blessing.”

For a moment, Darcy said nothing. Then he stepped forward and clasped Richard’s free hand firmly in his own.

He spoke, his voice rough with feeling. “You have my blessing. Freely and gladly.”

Richard’s fingers tightened around Darcy’s in fierce gratitude.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Darcy’s mouth curved into a rare, small smile. “See that you ask her before anyone else does.”

Richard gave a short laugh, but there was a world of resolution in his eyes.

“I intend to.”

Chapter Text

As much as Richard might have wished to, he did not linger at Darcy House that afternoon. He rightly assumed that after such a scene, Kitty would perhaps desire a bit of time to herself and that Darcy and Elizabeth would prefer to see to their family affairs. After finishing his drink, he bid his cousin farewell, and set about his own pursuits.

For herself Kitty decided that she had rather not attend the concert with the Sharpe family that evening, and a note was quickly dispatched to them making her excuses but assuring them that Miss. Darcy continued well and would still be pleased to accompany them.

Kitty remained downstairs, tucked into the drawing room with Elizabeth, the children tumbling about their skirts like puppies. There was something medicinal in their noise and warmth, Bennet’s insistence that Aunt Kitty help him build a tower of blocks “taller than Papa,” and Margaret and Anne’s chasing each other about the room. They were joy in its purest form and Kitty, still a little shaken, let their presence anchor her.

She and Elizabeth sat close on the settee, their skirts overlapping, their shoulders touching. Sometimes they spoke of trivial things. Sometimes they were silent, and it was just as well. Elizabeth seemed to understand instinctively when to press and when to simply be.

The salon off Hanover Square was already buzzing when the Sharpe family arrived, the crowd murmuring in clusters beneath towering chandeliers. Musicians were assembling near the front of the room, tuning instruments in a discordant prelude. Red velvet chairs were arranged in neat rows, and the rustle of silk skirts against them filled the room with anticipation. Georgiana had always liked this particular venue, it was elegant without being ostentatious, refined without trying too hard.

She sat beside Mrs. Sharpe and Annabelle, her gloves smoothed neatly in her lap, her posture perfect. She tried not to glance over her shoulder to see if Mr. Sharpe had joined them yet.

He arrived just as the housekeeper dimmed the sconces, sliding into the empty seat beside her. “Apologies,” he whispered, slightly breathless. “I’m not in the habit of being late. My father had thoughts about my waistcoat.”

Georgiana gave him a soft smile, though her heart had already begun to thrum against her ribs. “No apology is necessary.”

As the overture began a bright, springlike piece filled with fluttering strings and cheerful bursts of wind instruments, Georgiana focused her attention forward. She barely heard the music. Mr. Sharpe’s presence beside her was too loud. He didn’t fidget, exactly, but she was aware of every shift in his posture, every quiet breath. He smelled faintly of clove and starch and fresh air. She had sat beside him countless times before at Pemberley, at dinner, in the drawing room, but tonight felt different. She knew why.

After the second piece, the conductor paused to allow the musicians a moment to rest. The room hummed with the rustle of programs and whispered conversation. Mr. Sharpe leaned a little toward her, voice low and sincere.

“Miss Darcy—I wanted to say how sorry I am.”

Georgiana turned to him slowly, her face carefully composed. “Whatever for?”

He grimaced slightly. “For the ball. I was…not myself. Or perhaps I was too much myself. Either way, I was abrupt and careless. You were kind to me, and I shouldn’t have been so brusque during our dance.”

She hesitated, then inclined her head. “You were preoccupied. I understand.”

“That’s generous of you,” he murmured. “You always are.”

Georgiana wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so she said nothing. Her throat felt too tight.

He looked down, running a thumb along the edge of his program. “The truth is, I think I was trying to ignore something I already knew. Or maybe deny it. But it seems foolish now.”

He didn’t say Kitty’s name, but he didn’t have to.

Georgiana looked away, focusing on a woman’s feathered fan a few rows up. “I’m glad you’ve found clarity,” she said, too quietly. “And I hope you’ll be happy.”

There was a pause.

He gave a small huff of laughter—embarrassed, maybe, or tired. “You’re very gracious. I hope I will be, when the time comes to wish Miss Bennet joy. But thank you for your consideration. You are very gracious”

She shook her head, forcing a smile. “Not always.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The musicians were preparing to begin again, but it felt as though time slowed in the breath between pieces.

Georgiana knew it was silly to feel the way she did. She had never expected anything, not really. She had long since accepted that Mr. Sharpe would never see her the way she saw him. From the moment she was seventeen, she’d admired him. First for his easy charm, then for his openhearted laughter, the way he made a room warmer just by stepping into it. At nineteen, she had entertained daydreams in which he suddenly saw her as a young lady. At twenty-one, she told herself those fancies belonged to children. And now, at twenty-two, she could smile and say kind things while pretending she didn’t still ache just a little.

He would never see her—not truly. Not while women like Kitty Bennet existed.

Still, she turned toward him and asked, lightly, “And you? When shall we have the chance to wish you joy?”

His brow lifted. “Me? I expect never.”

Georgiana raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather bleak outlook.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to sound tragic,” he said quickly. “Only…well. I think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself lately to last a good while.”

“You’ve always recovered well,” she said, smiling despite herself.

He chuckled. “Have I? I hope so. It’s one of my few talents.”

They both laughed softly. The music shifted again, signaling the return of the conductor. As Mr. Sharpe turned back toward the stage, something in his expression lingered.

He glanced at Georgiana—not just glanced, looked—and his eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. It was subtle. Her profile caught in the candlelight. The gentle curve of her cheek, the quiet steadiness of her gaze. There was elegance there, and poise. And something else, something calm, but luminous. Something he hadn’t quite seen before.

He blinked.

Strange.

For the briefest of moments, Albion Sharpe felt… aware of her. Aware of the young woman beside him, not as his younger sister’s friend or the girl who once blushed if he offered her a compliment. But as someone… different. Lovely, yes. Composed. And unexpectedly unknowable.

The musicians began to play again. He looked forward. Said nothing.

But he did not forget that flicker. That unexpected something. And he was not quite comfortable with how it had made him feel.

Afterwards, when his mother and sister – and Miss Darcy- and clambered up into their carriage, he said he would prefer to walk. The night had turned cool, and he thought that perhaps the air would be good for him.

The walk had done little to clear his head.

When he returned home, Albion tossed his cravat onto the armchair in his bedroom and stood in front of the mirror, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows. He looked at himself hard, not out of vanity, but of confusion.

What the devil had just happened?

He hadn’t expected Georgiana Darcy to say much after his awkward display at the ball, much less to offer him kindness. But she had. And not the bland, obligatory sort of kindness some people used to smooth over embarrassment. No, Georgiana had listened. She had understood. And then, without a hint of irony, she’d said she hoped he’d be happy.

It had disarmed him. More than that, it had made him feel like a bit of a heel.

She’d grown up quietly, hadn’t she? Right under his nose. Always so polite, so proper. But tonight… there’d been something more.

And then there’d been that moment, fleeting but sharp, where he’d seen her in a different light entirely, as someone... elegant. Composed. Unsettlingly lovely.

It had startled him. He hadn’t meant to look at her like that. But now that he had, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling.

He sank into the armchair and ran a hand through his hair.

Of course, he liked Kitty. He’d liked Kitty for weeks, her brightness, her warmth, the way she spoke her mind without apology. But there had always been something in her eyes that remained far away, always searching elsewhere. And now he knew exactly where that gaze had been going: Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Albion sighed. He wasn’t a fool. Kitty’s heart was already spoken for, whether she realized it or not. He could step aside with dignity. It did sting a little, but not enough to wound him deeply. Not permanently.

But this new thing. That was more confusing. It unsettled him in ways he wasn’t prepared to admit.

He wasn’t ready to admire someone else. And certainly not someone he had never considered in that light before tonight.

And yet...

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. He could still see the way she’d looked at him. Calm, but not cold. Steady. Thoughtful. Beautiful in a quiet, soul-deep way he hadn’t noticed until now.

He would need to tread carefully. Very carefully.

Whatever was beginning to take shape, it deserved his full attention. And perhaps, for the first time, Georgiana Darcy had claimed more of his attention than he knew what to do with.

Chapter Text

The following few days saw Kitty much improved. They were a busy household after all, and with much to occupy their time, she was glad to partake in such distractions as the kind town offered. With time and the soothing balm of laughter provided by Elizabeth and the children, she had found herself able to view the confrontation with a kind of wry detachment. It had happened. It had hurt. But she would not let it sully the rest of her trip.

There had been, of course, a bit of fresh drama when immediately following their argument Mr. Bennet, still brimming with indignation, paid an unexpected and rather theatrical visit to Gracechurch Street. According to Mrs. Gardiner, he had burst through the door in high dudgeon, railing about his “ungrateful daughter” and how he had been quite undone by the ordeal which he had just suffered. He refused tea and launched into a meandering soliloquy that left the Gardiner children wide-eyed and confused, and their parents deeply concerned.

By the time the Gardiners arrived at Darcy House the next day to hear Kitty’s side of the story, Mr. Bennet had been packed off back to Longbourn by an exasperated Mr. Gardiner, who insisted he take his complaints elsewhere — preferably to the solitary lanes of Hertfordshire, where he might rant at the sheep with equal satisfaction and considerably less inconvenience to the rest of the family.

Kitty had told her aunt and uncle the truth plainly, though not without emotion. Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes had glistened, and Mr. Gardiner, usually so mild in his affections, had taken her hand and squeezed it tightly.

“It must have been very difficult Kitty,” he said with sympathy, “I hope you know that you never have cause to doubt or affection for you, nor our pride.”

“And if ever you wish for a change of scenery,” added Mrs. Gardiner with a glance at Elizabeth, “there will always be a room for you in Gracechurch Street. And not merely because your uncle likes to have someone around who laughs at his jokes.”

Kitty laughed, then promised she would visit soon though, for now, she was content at Darcy House.

It was on the third morning after the confrontation, while Kitty sat by the drawing room window finishing a note to Annabelle, and Georgiana plucked away at her mending basket, that Elizabeth swept into the room with a letter in hand and a delighted expression on her face.

“Well,” she said with a breathless smile, “prepare yourself for news.”

Kitty looked up from her writing. “Is it Jane?”

Elizabeth nodded. “They’ll be in London within the week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Kitty said, setting her pen aside. “I’ve missed her.”

“Yes, it’s taken much longer for them to plan their trip here than I expected,” Elizabeth added, perching on the arm of the sofa.

Kitty flushed with pleasure. “Has she finally given a reason for their delay?”

“That is… the more interesting piece of news,” Elizabeth said, eyes glinting. “Prepare yourselves, my dears for the shock of your lives.”

Kitty tilted her head. “Go on.”

“You have us in suspense Elizabeth,” Georgiana laughed.

Elizabeth held up the letter with dramatic flair. “Caroline is married.”

Kitty blinked. “To whom?”

“A man named Mr. Halston,” Elizabeth said, clearly relishing the moment. “A tradesman from Scarborough. He sells tea — and apparently, very successfully, as he owns three shops. Charles says he is a most respectable fellow and has never seen his sister look so content. They met while Jane and Charlie were visiting their relations.”

Kitty and Georgiana could not have looked more shocked if Elizabeth had told them that the Prince of Wales had paraded through Hyde Park in his night clothes.

Kitty stared, open-mouthed. “Caroline? Mrs. Halston?”

“I am as stunned as you are,” Elizabeth admitted. “But I suppose a long stay in Scarborough will either humble a person or make them desperate. Either way, she’s no longer Charles and Jane’s concern, and from all accounts, she chose the match quite willingly. Jane swears she is in love.”

Kitty dissolved into laughter. “That poor man has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said, smiling, “or perhaps Caroline has finally discovered that the right kind of man isn’t always the richest, or the most titled. Sometimes, he’s simply the one who asks for nothing but your company and your good opinion.” 

“There certainly has to be more to this story,” Georgiana added.

“I imagine Jane will tell us all when we see her next,” Kitty paused, before saying, with a saucy smirk, “perhaps Mrs. Halston is just excessively fond of tea.”

The three of them laughed, all the more eager to hear Jane’s recounting of such surprising events.

Kitty did at last accept Priscilla’s invitation to attend her ladies’ art salon, where they spent a pleasant afternoon viewing several striking portraits and engaging in lively conversation about the evolving trends in composition and color. Priscilla, ever full of laughter and sly observations, made Kitty feel immediately at ease, while Honora, more reserved but no less kind, offered thoughtful insights that often echoed Kitty’s own impressions. Though the two sisters were already close with Georgiana and Elizabeth, Kitty was pleased to find that they had made a genuine effort to include her in their circle. In the time spent with them Kitty, for perhaps the first time in such company, found herself neither intimidated nor out of place.

Richard, however, had been notably absent. When Kitty inquired after him with what she hoped was an air of casual interest, Priscilla waved a hand and explained that their brother had been quite overrun with some business which required his attention — “all terribly dull, I assure you,” she added with a knowing smile. Whatever the nature of his distractions, they had kept him from calling, and though Kitty told herself she had hardly expected anything else, he was a busy man and it had only been four days since she had seen him, when a note arrived the next morning with his name on it, her heart gave the smallest leap. Darcy read it aloud.

Darcy,

I’ve been imprisoned in my father’s study for far too many days, and I am in desperate need of diversion. If you and your charming household will meet me at Matlock House this evening, I propose we make our way to Vauxhall for a proper night of gaiety.

Elizabeth, Georgiana, and Miss Bennet are certain to enjoy it immensely, and I trust you would never stand in the way of their pleasure.

Should you have other engagements, either complete them with haste or cancel them outright. I will not accept a refusal.

Yours,
Richard

The ladies were keen to go as soon as the idea was suggested, and as luck would have it, they did not have any prior engagements that night. Even Darcy conceded that it would be quite fun, though clearly his enthusiasm was more for the women around him than public entertainment. A message was quickly dispatched to Matlock House that they would arrive shortly after nightfall, and plan to drive with Richard in the Darcy carriage.

Kitty and Georgiana raced up the stairs to select their gowns for the night. Georgiana, who had been to Vauxhall before, excitedly told Kitty all about the place. The day passed slowly for Kitty, as she impatiently awaited the opportunity to see Richard again. He had seemed on the precipice of something when last they spoke, and she fancied herself intelligent enough to know that he had not seemed indifferent to her upon their reunion in town. She hoped that though it seemed to soon for a more serious conversation about the future, that he might yet confirm to her that she was not alone in her feelings. She did not think that she was.

And so it was with eager anticipation and a stomach full of butterflies that Kitty rode in the carriage, in a sparkling gown of silver silk, to see Richard hurrying out of the townhouse before they had even stopped.

The drive was short, and soon the carriage rolled to a gentle stop just beyond the gates of Vauxhall Gardens, and immediately, the world changed.

Even from outside, the air was thick with the scent of warm bread, roasted chestnuts, and sweetmeats mingling with the faint perfume of roses and lantern oil. Music floated through the air, carried on the spring breeze, punctuated now and then by the swell of laughter or the crackle of fireworks being prepared.

As they descended from the carriage, a thousand lamps twinkled like stars among the trees. Lanterns in every shade of red, gold, and blue were strung in great swooping garlands between branches, casting a kaleidoscope of color across the crushed gravel paths and dancing over the faces of the gathering crowd. There were couples arm in arm, men in coats with buttons gleaming, and fashionable ladies with feathered fans, their jewels catching the flickering light.

Kitty drew in a breath, her eyes wide with delight. “Oh!” she exclaimed softly, more to herself than anyone else. “It’s like a dream.”

And to Richard, she looked very much a part of it.

Her gown shimmered in the glow, the silver silk catching the lamplight with every small movement, giving her an otherworldly sheen. The spring air flushed her cheeks, and her curls stirred lightly in the wind. Her gloved hand gripped her reticule with excitement, and her smile, unrestrained and genuine, was radiant.

He couldn’t look away.

She was speaking now to Georgiana, who nodded along eagerly, clearly pleased to see Kitty so full of wonder. Elizabeth glanced at her sister with fondness, then turned to Richard and arched a brow knowingly. He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how still he had gone.

“You’re staring,” she said under her breath.

“I’m admiring,” he replied, too quietly for anyone but her to hear.

Darcy, who had been speaking quietly with a footman, turned just then and took in the sight of Kitty and Richard facing each other in the glow of the lanterns. He exchanged a look with Elizabeth—brief, amused, and approving.

“Well,” Elizabeth said, loud enough now for the group to hear, “why don’t the two of you take a turn? Georgiana and I are quite capable of finding a seat and something sweet to occupy us.”

Darcy nodded once, giving Richard a dry smile. “Try not to lose each other in the crowd.”

Richard stepped forward to meet them properly, bowing low before offering Kitty his arm. “Miss Bennet,” he said, the formality masking the warmth in his voice. “May I have the honor of escorting you through the gardens?”

Kitty laughed, a nervous but happy sound, and accepted. “You may,” she said, her eyes bright as they stepped forward beneath the canopy of lanterns.

The path ahead glittered with promise, and the air was charged, fizzing like champagne as though the pleasure garden itself knew that something had shifted in the balance between them.

And so, arm in arm, they disappeared into the crowd.

As they walked, the swell and pull of people around them felt like the tide. Richard kept Kitty close, her gloved fingers rested on his arm lightly, with a familiarity that made his chest warm.

“Look there,” he said, angling his head toward a gilded platform where a string quartet played a charming waltz beneath a canopy of glass chandeliers. “They are always very good.”

The melody followed them as they moved on, passing a group of acrobats tumbling through hoops in a spray of applause. People of various stations meandered around, and vendors called out the names of confections, peppermint creams, almond clusters, lemon barley water. The scent of roasting walnuts and toffee apples clung to the breeze, and Kitty inhaled with delight.

“It’s rather like a fairy tale,” she said, craning her neck to take in the illuminated pavilion shaped like a great seashell, flickering with hundreds of tiny candles.

“I’d say it’s rather more like a very elaborate trap,” Richard replied wryly. “One step into the wrong arcade and you’ll find yourself parted from your purse and stuffed full of candied oranges.”

Kitty laughed, tipping her head back. “Then what a glorious way to be ruined!”

Richard looked down at her, his heart tugging at the sight of her joy. How easy it was to make her laugh. And how quickly her laughter made the world brighter.

They paused beneath a trellis dripping with wisteria, where the crowd thinned slightly. The blooms overhead had been laced with tiny lanterns, casting a pale lavender glow over everything.

He turned to face her fully. “Miss Bennet,” he began, more gently now, “I must ask… how have you been? Truly? Since—well. Since we last saw one another?”

Kitty blinked at him, caught slightly off guard. “Oh,” she said, and then nodded, steadying herself. “You mean since my father and I… had our disagreement.”

His expression tightened at the memory.

She reached up and laid a hand lightly over his, still resting on his arm. “I’m well, Colonel. Truly. It was unpleasant in the moment, but I do not regret it. I spoke plainly and with honesty, and I think I have long needed to do so.”

“I know it was not easy.”

“No,” she said, “but it was… clarifying.”

A small silence passed between them as the music from the quartet shifted to something slower, sweeter.

“I have never much liked conflict,” Kitty continued, “but I am starting to believe that avoiding it cost me more than I ever understood. I do have to thank you though, for your assistance.”

Richard's throat bobbed as he swallowed, feeling bashful.

“You did not truly need it,” he said, voice rough. “You seemed to have the situation well in hand.”

“I did need it, and will insist on thanking you,” she said, beginning to walk again.

He patted her hand where it rested in his elbow,

“I would do it again for you. Any time.”

They wandered deeper into the garden, past the painted Chinese pavilion and the artificial ruins lit in theatrical gold. They moved in silence and the crowd had thinned in this corner of Vauxhall, leaving them with only the distant music and the soft hum of conversation carried on the breeze. Kitty let her fingers trail along the edge of a balustrade, the marble cool beneath her touch, the hush between them pleasant, companionable.

Richard cleared his throat.

“I’ve thought a great deal,” he said, “about how best to say what I mean to say.”

She looked up at him, heart giving a sudden skip.

“And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s best to be plain.”

Her hand stilled on his arm.

“I care for you, Kitty,” he said, meeting her gaze with a steadiness that left no room for misunderstanding. “More than I expected to. More, I think, than I have let myself admit until recently. You are warm and intelligent and full of fire, and I’ve found, quite without intending to, that my days are… less for the lack of you in them.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. He pressed on, quiet and sure.

“I do not wish to rush you—nor to rush myself. What I want, what I ask, is your permission to court you. Properly. Intentionally. I would like the honor of learning you further, and of letting you learn me. Because I believe that if we are to choose one another, it ought to be done with clarity and care. I want us both to be very sure.”

Kitty felt a flush rise in her cheeks, but her smile bloomed almost instantly, radiant in the glow of the lanterns.

“I would like that very much,” she said softly. “More than I can say.”

Relief—swift and immense—passed over his features. “Thank God,” he murmured, half under his breath, and Kitty laughed, bright and unrestrained.

“But I must confess,” she added, still smiling, “I was already rather sure.”

He stepped just a touch closer. “Then allow me the joy of proving you right.”

The moment hung between them and for one breathless second, they both leaned in, instinct drawing them nearer. Kitty felt her eyes flutter closed, her heart flutter with them.

But just as quickly, they both froze, realizing themselves.

She gave a startled, bashful laugh. “Oh—”

He chuckled too, stepping back with a rueful smile. “We did say properly, didn’t we?”

“We did,” she said, though her cheeks burned with the temptation of the almost. “It’s just… very difficult to be proper in a place like this.”

“I’ll take that as a promising start.” With gallant solemnity, he offered her his arm once more and tucked her hand securely into it.

As they turned back toward the glow and hum of the main gardens, Kitty felt her heart still humming, her fingers warm where they rested against his coat sleeve. She knew utterly and certainly that whatever lay ahead, this was the beginning of something true.

Chapter Text

The morning following their night at Vauxhall dawned bright and crisp, sunlight slanting through the high windows of Matlock House and catching the golden edge of the breakfast table’s fine china. Richard dressed carefully and checked his cravat twice before deciding it was neat enough. He intended to call on Kitty at Darcy House later that afternoon, but before he could undertake that pleasant errand, he knew he must first apprise his parents of the newest development in their relationship.

He found the earl and countess already in the dining room, seated across from one another at the long table. The rustle of the morning paper accompanied the quiet clink of silver on porcelain. His mother sipped delicately from her teacup while his father, half-hidden behind a sprawling copy of The Times, muttered something about "a ridiculous editorial on Parliament's latest squabble."

As Richard entered, his boots sounding lightly on the floor, both parents looked up. Lady Matlock’s face brightened. “Good morning, my dear,” she said warmly.

“Morning, Richard,” Lord Matlock added, folding a page down to see him properly.

Richard offered them a short bow and crossed to the sideboard, where a generous spread of cold meats, toast, soft-boiled eggs, and jams awaited. He fixed a modest plate and accepted a cup of coffee from the footman with a grateful nod. Taking his seat at the table, he stirred a spoonful of sugar into his cup and took a sip, savoring the warmth. The quiet of the morning made what he had come to say feel both more intimate and more daunting.

“How was your dinner last night, Mother?” he asked casually, lifting his cup again. “You were both at Lord and Lady Simmons’ house, is that right?”

“Oh, it was quite nice,” Lady Matlock replied, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Lady Simmons has hired a new French cook, so of course they were eager to show off.”

“The food was perhaps a little too French for my liking,” Lord Matlock muttered, shaking his head as he speared a piece of ham. “This fad for French cuisine seems a little unpatriotic to me. For my part, I shall always prefer a good, solid English cook.”

He gave his son a meaningful look across the table, and Richard grinned.

“I do greatly appreciate your loyalty to me, Father,” he said with a laugh. “The French do know their wine and brandy, though, perhaps I’ll give you leave to enjoy as much French cooking as you like, so long as I may take the drink.”

Lady Matlock chuckled. “And how was Vauxhall last night, dearest? I haven’t been in some time. It feels like quite the place for young people.”

Richard set his coffee cup down gently and drew in a quiet breath. His fingers tapped once against the porcelain before stilling.

“We all had a capital time,” he said, then cleared his throat, a bit too formally. “I did want to tell the two of you... I have asked Miss Bennet if she would consent to court me, and she has done me the honor of accepting.”

Lord Matlock peeked over the rim of his paper with an arch of his brow, then slowly folded it and set it aside. He exchanged a look with his wife, half knowing, half amused.

“Well, son,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his waistcoat. “That is very good news. We had rather wondered when you would come to the point.”

“Oh, did you?” Richard replied with a grin, shaking his head.

“Indeed,” Lady Matlock said slyly. “I imagined you would ask for her hand straight away, but you’re being quite cautious.”

Richard chuckled and folded his hands in front of him, his tone more sincere now. “Caution has little to do with it. For my part, I would have happily got down on bended knee. But I think it’s rather important we take a little time. We’ve only just become reacquainted, and as eager as I might be, I believe Miss Bennet will appreciate being a young lady enjoying the season before the next phase of her life.”

His mother tilted her head in quiet consideration, and his father nodded in approval.

“And you think she’ll accept you when the time comes?” Lady Matlock asked, with only the slightest hint of  worry.

Richard’s gaze dropped to his coffee cup, a faint smile pulling at his mouth as he stared into the swirling liquid.

“I have reason to expect that she will,” he said softly. “I hope that she will.”

When he looked back up, there was a rare vulnerability in his face. His parents, seeing it, seemed moved to silence for a moment.

“You’re not disappointed, I hope?” he asked, looking from one to the other.

“Why would we be disappointed, son?” Lord Matlock said, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I know that perhaps you would have wished for a grander match,” Richard admitted. “Miss Bennet is not necessarily of your set.”

His mother and father were quiet again, this time not from surprise, but from careful thought. Lady Matlock set her teacup down and folded her hands on the table, her expression warm and measured.

“Perhaps at one time, we would have expected you to wed an heiress,” she said gently. “But you are the master of your own fate now. You have your own means of supporting a family and little need of a rich wife. Miss Bennet has connections enough through Darcy, and we are terribly fond of Elizabeth.”

“She seems a good, sweet girl,” Lord Matlock added, nodding firmly. “Honora and Priscilla have already taken her under their wings, and I quite trust their judgment.”

Lady Matlock’s voice wavered slightly as she continued. “After seeing you laid so low last year, my only wish and joy is your happiness. You cannot know what good it does my heart to see you so happy now, my dear. I shall always bless Miss Bennet for it.”

Richard looked down, blinking once, then reached across the table to rest his hand over his mother’s. She clasped his fingers in both of hers, smiling through the emotion in her eyes.

“Well,” he said after a pause, his voice a bit brighter. “I shall not tarry long. If I mean to court the lady, I had best high myself over to Darcy House.”

“Make sure you tell Miss Bennet that we look forward to seeing her at the theatre tomorrow,” Lady Matlock called after him as he rose from the table.

“I shall!” he replied, grinning back at her over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Elizabeth and Darcy had been thrilled to see Kitty and Richard emerge from the lantern-lit paths at Vauxhall, talking and laughing with flushed cheeks and a glowing energy that needed no explanation. And when they returned to Darcy House in the very early hours, Elizabeth had wasted no time in cornering Kitty just outside her bedroom.

“I shall only tell you everything if you agree to let me sleep first,” Kitty had murmured dramatically, her face half-hidden by a yawn and the braided edge of her shawl. “Otherwise, I shall be entirely too dull and unromantic for your interrogation.”

Elizabeth had snorted and agreed, but not before threatening to return with a notebook and a pot of coffee at dawn.

Now, mid-morning sunlight poured gently through the tall windows of Kitty’s bedchamber, casting soft shadows over the floral print of her counterpane. Kitty was curled comfortably against the pillows in her dressing gown, with Elizabeth perched cross-legged at the foot of the bed and Georgiana tucked into the armchair near the hearth, her knees drawn up beneath her.

The air smelled faintly of toast and marmalade, and the clink of tea cups filled the cozy silence between their bursts of conversation.

“So?” Elizabeth asked, spooning a bit of jam onto her scone. “Now that you are properly rested, are you prepared to give your full report?”

Kitty leaned back dramatically against the headboard and sighed. “I suppose I must.”

“Be generous with the details,” Georgiana added with a rare sparkle in her eye. “It is very vexing not to have noticed unfold in real time.”

“I feel like a book being passed between the two of you,” Kitty teased, but her smile gave her away. “Very well. I shall tell you everything, provided you both agree that I may be smug about it for at least a week.”

“Done,” said Elizabeth, already pouring more tea.

Kitty’s voice softened slightly as she picked up a triangle of buttered toast and turned it in her hands. “I think… the first stirrings began sometime after Christmas. Though I did not know it then. I only knew I looked forward to seeing him. And that when he was near, I could breathe more easily.”

Georgiana smiled fondly, resting her cheek on her palm.

“I realized more fully after he left for town. Everything reminded me of him, books we’d discussed, music I’d heard him hum. I began to keep little notes of things I wanted to tell him when I saw him next.” She paused, then added, blushing a little, “I thought that might be madness, but now I think it was simply affection.”

“I believe him to be everything good and honorable,” Kitty said more firmly, setting her toast aside and clasping her hands in her lap. “And he is so easy to talk to. I feel as though I could say anything to him without him thinking me a fool.”

Elizabeth reached over and pinched her shoulder with affection. “He would never.”

“I am delighted to see Richard so like his old self,” Georgiana said softly. “I know that he had quite a bit of trouble when he first returned from the Continent.”

Kitty sobered slightly at that and looked down at her tray, where her tea had gone cool. “Indeed, I know little of that time.”

“He was different then,” Georgiana said gently. “Withdrawn, and quiet in a way I did not recognize. He did not sleep well. For a long time, he smiled only when forced.”

Kitty nodded slowly, remembering the winter holidays. “I gathered from his demeanor that he was a man weighed down by something. Perhaps that’s why I felt such a kinship with him. But there has been a change in him since then.”

“It is little wonder what might have affected such a change,” Elizabeth teased, her voice lilting, and she reached to give Kitty another playful pinch.

Kitty squealed and swatted her hand away. “You’re impossible.”

The three of them dissolved into giggles. Kitty leaned into the pillows with a dreamy expression, her cheeks still flushed with joy.

Georgiana tilted her head thoughtfully. “Did he say why he wanted to begin a courtship now?”

Kitty gave a mischievous little smile. “He said he wished to woo me properly.”

Elizabeth raised a brow. “Properly?”

“He said I deserved the distinction of being courted. That he didn’t want to rush into a future before we were both certain. But I think,” Kitty added, her voice dropping to something close to reverence, “that he is already quite sure.”

Elizabeth’s expression softened, and Georgiana pressed a hand to her heart. “Oh, Kitty.”

Kitty shrugged, smiling into her tea. “Well, if he is not, I shall have to make myself irresistible in the next few weeks.”

That earned a fresh peal of laughter.

Before long, the breakfast trays were cleared and the hour approached when they could expect Richard’s arrival. Elizabeth kissed Kitty’s head and disappeared to her own room, and Georgiana followed with a knowing smile.

As Polly laced Kitty’s stays and pinned her hair, Kitty’s mind wandered back to something Georgiana had said. She did want to know more of Richard’s time at war, what had happened to him, and how he had come through it. She knew enough to sense it had shaped him deeply.

But she also knew that, in time, he would tell her. When he was ready. When it was right.

For now, she could only be grateful for the man he had become.

Kitty had just slipped her feet into a pair of delicate blue slippers when the faint sound of the front door knocker echoed faintly through the house.

Her head snapped toward the doorway. Polly, who had been smoothing a ribbon into place on Kitty’s bodice, paused and glanced in the same direction with a sly smile.

“I believe that’s your colonel,” Polly said teasingly, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Shall I tell them you’re out?”

Kitty laughed. “You will do no such thing. But if you would not mind fetching my shawl from the wardrobe, I might pretend a touch of nonchalance.”

“Very grand,” Polly teased, but she retrieved the shawl all the same and draped it carefully around Kitty’s shoulders. “There now. Perfect.”

Downstairs, Richard was shown into the drawing room, he turned when he heard footsteps approaching, and then she was there.

Kitty appeared in the doorway in a gown of soft muslin dotted with tiny pale blue flowers, her hair twisted elegantly with just a few tendrils falling loose around her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of him, and though she moved with studied calm, he could see the slightest quickening in her breath.

“Good morning, Colonel,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “You are looking very fine today.”

“Good morning, Miss Bennet,” he replied with a bow. “I see your beauty has survived the ravages of a late night at Vauxhall.”

“I suppose that depends on your definition of ravaged,” she said, drawing a hand down her bodice as if to inspect herself. “Though I must admit I felt it keenly upon waking.”

He laughed and moved to stand beside her, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “You slept well, I hope?”

“Well enough, once I’d satisfied Elizabeth’s curiosity. She let me rest only after I swore a full report come morning.”

“And did she get her full report?”

Kitty lifted a brow. “Do you doubt it?”

“No,” he admitted, eyes crinkling with a smile. “I suppose I should be grateful I was not summoned to offer my own testimony.”

“I’m certain you would have conducted yourself admirably under cross-examination,” she said, glancing up at him from beneath her lashes.

There was a moment where neither of them spoke. She tilted her head slightly toward him, as if instinctively drawn closer, and he watched her with the expression of a man wholly aware of his luck.

“I have just come from Matlock House,” he said at last. “My parents know of our new arrangement.”

Kitty’s eyes widened slightly. “And? Were they pleased?”

He gave her a crooked smile. “They were entirely unsurprised. It seems I am not the enigma I believed myself to be.”

Kitty laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness in the way her fingers twisted in the fringe of her shawl. “And they had no objections?”

“None,” he said warmly. “They think very highly of you. My mother looks forward to seeing you at the theatre tomorrow.”

“Oh! Yes, I have been looking forward to it.” She looked up at him again, her expression softening. “I’m glad they approve.”

He dipped his head slightly.

She reached out then, instinctively, and brushed her fingertips against his sleeve.

“Shall we walk in the garden for a bit?” she asked.

“I think that a splendid idea,” he replied, offering his arm.

The Darcy House gardens were lovely in the morning, orderly without being rigid, filled with trailing wisteria, pale roses in bloom, and low hedges winding along the gravel paths.

Georgiana had joined them just as they stepped onto the path, looking cheerful and sweet in a simple morning gown and soft blue sash. She linked arms with Kitty for a moment and said, “I will walk a bit behind, if you don’t mind, I brought a letter I’ve been meaning to finish.”

Kitty smiled. “Only if you promise to chime in if we grow too dull.”

Richard glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “You wound me, Miss Bennet. I have never been dull a day in my life.”

Georgiana laughed and waved them ahead, already unfolding the small sheet of paper she’d tucked in her pocket.

Kitty and Richard strolled slowly, their footsteps quiet on the gravel, arms brushing now and then but never linking. There was something perfectly companionable in it, as if neither wished to rush.

“I was glad to hear you’ll be going to the theatre tomorrow,” Richard said after a moment. “My mother is planning a dramatic display of approval, I expect.”

Kitty laughed. “I do hope she likes me enough to wait until intermission.”

Kitty brushed a fallen leaf off her skirt. “I wonder if you might tell me a little more about Hayden Hall. We’ve discussed it some, of course, but I know little about it other than the improvements you made upon taking residence.”

At the mention of home, his face softened. “Ah. Hayden is… well, it’s perhaps not the grandest place you’ve ever been, but I think the setting quite pretty. There’s a little lake in the back, and a little orchard that has grown more wild than fruitful over the years, but the grounds men are bringing it back to health. The study faces the view of the lake, and I’ve found myself staring out in distraction on more than one occasion.”

He looked over at her. “It can be a quiet place, though as you know I have found the neighborhood very congenial, and some rooms are perhaps in need of repapering. I have not the eye for it though.”

Kitty tilted her head, considering it. “It sounds perfectly lovely.” She looked at him, eyes alight with playful curiosity. “Have you a favorite place there?”

“Yes. A clearing in the woods beyond the house. I was shown it by my friend Mr. Underwood, and I’ve recently had a tree planted there in mirror of his own that already grows in the spot.” He smiled faintly, as though seeing it in his mind’s eye. “Tell me how your painting lessons fare.”

Kitty’s brows lifted slightly. “You’ve remembered.”

“I try to remember everything you tell me,” he said simply, then added, with a half-smile, “you have a great deal to say.”

She laughed. “That is a very polite way to call me talkative, Colonel.”

“I would never call you that,” he said. “But I do enjoy it.”

Kitty flushed again, and looked down for a moment, smiling to herself. Then, brushing a hand over a pale rose as they passed, she said, “He’s terribly proper and very quiet, but skilled. He’s helped me see things in colors I never would have noticed before.”

“Do you favor landscapes?” Richard asked, clearly interested.

“Yes, though I try everything. Still-life makes me impatient, but I do rather like painting people from sketches I have drawn especially when they don’t know it. That way I don’t worry about getting it wrong.”

Richard chuckled. “You must promise to show me more of your work someday. And tell me what colors you think suit me best, in case I find myself the unwitting subject of your canvas.”

Kitty gave him a playful side glance. “Green, I think. A deep, calming green. Like moss in shadow.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Well. That is rather poetic.”

“I can be poetic,” she said loftily. “I don’t always talk nonsense.”

“You never do,” he said, voice warm.

They fell into a brief and comfortable silence, behind them, Georgiana had found a stone bench under a tree and sat with her letter, far enough to give the illusion of solitude, but still close enough to call upon if needed.

The sun filtered through the canopy above them, dappling Kitty’s hair in gold and softening the edges of her smile. Richard watched her as she paused near a climbing vine tangled in bloom against the garden wall, reaching out to trace a petal with her fingertip.

“I’m glad you asked me to court you,” she admitted shyly, not looking at him.

He stepped closer, close enough that their arms brushed again. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Elizabeth and Darcy joined them in the garden a short while later, strolling arm in arm with the easy comfort of a long-held affection. The rest of the morning passed in cheerful company as the four of them found seats on the shaded lawn, sharing conversation that drifted from recent plays and upcoming concerts to summer travels and favorite books. The sun climbed higher, soft and golden through the leaves, and laughter came easily. When at last Richard rose to take his leave, off to meet Harcourt at White’s, the farewells were full of warmth, and as he tipped his hat and turned down the garden path, the group was already speaking eagerly of the theatre, the performance, the gowns, and the pleasure of attending all together.

The following day, as the low evening sun filtered through gauzy curtains Kitty stood before her mirror, her maid carefully arranging the final touches of her coiffure. Her new evening gown, a soft rose silk with embroidered silver detailing, shimmered with each breath she took, and her pulse thrummed with nervous excitement. In a town brimming with entertainments, this night marked her first true appearance on the London stage, not as a guest, but as someone’s chosen companion. Across town, Richard stood before his own looking glass, adjusting his cravat with practiced fingers, his valet discreetly brushing a speck of lint from the sleeve of his midnight-blue coat. His thoughts were not on the Shakespeare play they were to see, though he had always enjoyed Much Ado About Nothing, but on the young woman he was proud to be seen with, and the smile she’d give him when they met again.

The Darcy carriage rattled along the cobbled streets as evening settled over the city. Inside, Elizabeth and Darcy sat opposite Kitty and Georgiana, the four of them dressed in the full splendor of the season. Conversation was lively and laced with laughter, Georgiana delighted in recalling the last Shakespeare performance she’d attended, and Elizabeth teasing Darcy about his fondness for Benedick’s wit, but Kitty’s thoughts drifted again and again to the theatre doors ahead, her heart fluttering with the knowledge that Richard would be waiting.

When they arrived at Drury Lane, the bustle of carriages, footmen, and glittering guests created a dazzling scene. Gentlemen in crisp formalwear escorted ladies wrapped in fine shawls and gleaming jewels up the steps, the hum of anticipation rising like the overture to the play itself. Darcy handed each of the ladies down, and together they ascended the grand entryway, Georgiana clutching her reticule with wide-eyed excitement, Kitty trying to steady her breath. A theatre attendant greeted them and led them through velvet-draped corridors and up the stairs to the Fitzwilliam family's private box, where Richard was already standing, his posture relaxed but his eyes brightening the instant they landed on Kitty. He offered a warm smile and stepped forward, as though he’d waited all day for this very moment.

Richard greeted Kitty warmly his smile deepening as he offered a quiet “Good evening,” just for her. Before she could respond, she was swept into a cheerful flurry of greetings from the rest of the Matlock family, who made the rounds to properly welcome the Darcy party. Honora and Priscilla reached Kitty next, each bestowing a kiss to her cheek and twin sly smiles that made Kitty blush despite herself.

“My dear, how radiant you look,” Priscilla said, with the sort of sparkle in her eyes that made Kitty feel both seen and slightly teased.
“Yes,” Honora added with a wink. “I hope you’ve recovered from the thrilling excitement of Vauxhall.”

Kitty stifled a laugh, doing her best to maintain composure under their good-natured scrutiny, especially as Lady Matlock approached.

“How wonderful to see you, dear girl,” the countess said with genuine warmth, taking Kitty’s gloved hand in both of hers before slipping an arm through it and drawing her gently aside. Her voice lowered. “We are so pleased you came tonight.”

Kitty dipped her head graciously. “I am honored to have been included, Lady Matlock.”

“I recall you mentioned, some days ago, that you have never seen Shakespeare performed live?” Lady Matlock’s eyes twinkled.

“That is correct, my lady,” Kitty replied with a smile, her tone as composed as she could manage, though she could feel her pulse fluttering with anticipation.

“Be that as it may,” Lady Matlock continued, “I hope you will indulge Lord Matlock and myself just a bit. His lordship prefers the front of the box. He claims his eyes were never very sharp to begin with, and mine are not what they used to be either. I promise, the view from further back is just as fine. It won’t trouble you, will it?”

If Kitty found the arrangement curious, she was far too polite to say so. “Of course not,” she replied warmly. “I’m happy to sit wherever you feel most comfortable. I’ll still hear every word.”

“Bless you,” the older woman said with a knowing smile, patting Kitty’s hand before returning them both to the others.

As the lights in the theatre began to dim and the orchestra softly tuned their instruments, Honora and her husband Lyle excused themselves with murmured farewells, explaining they had promised to view the performance from a friend’s box. The remaining party members began to file into their seats, Lord and Lady Matlock toward the front as expected, with Priscilla and Harcourt beside them. The Darcys took their places in the middle, and at the very rear, cozily placed side by side, were Kitty and Richard.

Kitty couldn’t help but glance down the row as she settled beside him, her gloved hands resting neatly in her lap. It was impossible not to suspect that some conspiracy had taken place to orchestrate the seating just so. But if she was meant to object, her heart refused to comply. The view was indeed wonderful, the company even more so, and Kitty, unable to suppress a smile, could not bring herself to mind one bit.

The theatre was hushed now, save for the rustle of gowns and the occasional cough muffled discreetly into a handkerchief. The lights above the stage glowed soft and amber, casting a golden haze over the audience and gilding the carved details of the Matlocks’ private box. The play had begun.

Kitty sat composed and lovely at Richard’s side. Her gloved hands were folded demurely in her lap, the only movement the slow rise and fall of her chest and the occasional turn of her head to better hear a line. Richard, seated just inches away, was utterly still, and utterly undone.

He tried to focus on the stage. He tried, with all the discipline he had honed in war rooms and battlefields, to follow the clever volley of Benedick and Beatrice. But Kitty’s scent was in his lungs, orange blossom, he thought, or maybe violets, or something warm and powdery he couldn’t name. Whatever it was, it went straight to his head and left him dizzy. Her presence hummed in his blood, an ache that pulsed at the base of his throat and lower still.

He should not be thinking the things he was thinking. Not with her sister mere rows away. Not with his parents so close that he could hear his mother’s soft laughter at a witty turn of phrase. But there was something almost torturous about sitting beside her like this, their shoulders nearly brushing, her knee a breath away from his own. Every time she shifted slightly in her seat or turned to murmur a delighted observation to him, his thoughts grew more unruly.

He shouldn’t be thinking about the graceful slope of her collarbone, or how soft the curve of her shoulder might feel beneath his lips. He certainly shouldn’t be wondering how easily he could tilt her face toward his and kiss her, right there in the darkened box, in full view of half the ton. But his imagination betrayed him at every turn, conjuring thoughts that made the starched collar at his throat feel suffocating.

Kitty, for her part, was perfectly aware of him. She could feel the tension emanating from his posture, so carefully composed and yet so taut. Every inch of her was tuned to his nearness. Though her eyes were on the stage, she wasn’t truly watching, she was sensing. The heat of his body beside her. The subtle dip of the cushion beneath his weight. The ghost of what his hand might feel like if it were to slip over hers.

Her heart was beating much too quickly for someone simply enjoying a comedy.

At one moment, a particularly clever line drew laughter from the audience, and Kitty turned her head slightly to smile at Richard. He was already looking at her. The eye contact was brief, fleeting, even but it seared through her like lightning. She looked away quickly, her cheeks blooming pink, but not before she saw something in his expression, not merely admiration, but hunger, deeply checked and reverently restrained.

It was intoxicating.

He’d never wanted so badly to put his hands on a woman and, at the same time, desperately restrain himself from doing so.

Just one touch. He imagined what it would feel like to slide his palm along her thigh, to rest it just above her knee, only to have her part her lips in surprise and tilt her face up to him. Would she let him? Would she shy away, or would she lean closer, emboldened by the dark and the shared knowledge that they sat behind their families, unseen?

When she looked at him her eyes were wide open, curious and bright with some unspoken spark. She smiled, shy but genuine, and then turned back to the stage.

And that, somehow, was worse than if she’d kept looking. Because now he had to pretend to watch a play when all he wanted was to take her hand in his, to feel the press of her palm against his skin, to whisper in her ear that he adored her. That he was coming undone by the nearness of her. His imagination ran wild, all he could think of was Kitty, loose-haired in the lamplight, laughing breathlessly beneath him. Kitty, unpinned and undone, whispering his name like a prayer.

He sat utterly still, his hands clenched in his lap, his thighs taut beneath the constraint of his trousers. Her knee brushed his, lightly, innocently, and his entire body tightened in response.

Good God.

He sat rigid with restraint, every fiber of his being focused on maintaining a respectable distance. Kitty’s knee brushed his again. He didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

If he moved, even an inch, he wasn’t entirely sure what he might do.

He inhaled slowly, let the breath out through his nose. The scent of her was still there.

God help him.

He wanted her. Desperately. Completely.

But more than that, more than the way his hands ached to touch her, more than the hunger curling low in his stomach, he loved her. And he meant to honor that love with patience, with restraint, with the care she deserved.

But still, his thoughts whispered to him in a voice low and wicked.

 Just one kiss. Just one touch. Just once, feel what it’s like to have her melt into you.

He clenched his hands in his lap and fixed his gaze on the stage, doing everything he could to appear unmoved.

But Richard only knew one truth in that moment.

He wanted to ruin her and worship her in the same breath.

And he was going to marry her.

Eventually.

Maybe.

If he survived the next two acts without combusting.