What Kitty Did Next Page 6

  ‘But you enjoy it, nonetheless?’ enquired Mr Adams.

  ‘I do. I cannot say why exactly, but I have always enjoyed music.’

  ‘In my experience, that is the first advantage. Some of the young ladies I have the pleasure of instructing learn out of duty. They do not feel the music. They must play, so they do play, but I fear they derive little enjoyment from it. Not everyone has the gift of musical appreciation.’ This was spoken lightly and addressed very much to Kitty.

  ‘I had not thought of it as a gift,’ she laughed. ‘You may not think so either if you were to hear me play.’

  ‘You should hear Miss Bennet play!’ declared Mr Bingley, all bonhomie and good ideas. ‘You said you would like to practise, Kitty, and we have here one of the best music masters in town. There seems little else for it but to enlist Mr Adams’ help in that regard! What do you say to that? And you, sir, would your engagements permit it?’

  ‘I should be delighted,’ he replied, looking to Kitty, ‘if Miss Bennet wishes it.’

  Miss Bennet was momentarily confused. Of course she wished it! She felt quite ready to take instruction from the gentleman before her, whose appearance at least was so very attractive. On the other hand, perhaps he would be dismayed at her musical ability and she would be embarrassed beyond measure. She composed herself and a reply.

  ‘I wish to improve,’ she said, ‘and I think that will not happen without some instruction.’

  ‘Excellent,’ declared Mr Bingley. ‘Leave it to me. I will arrange it. Now, if you will excuse us, there is a gentleman over there with whom we must speak.’ So saying, he led Mr Adams away, leaving Kitty to wonder at the speed with which musical instruction had been organised for her.

  Sir Edward reclaimed her attention; could he find her a seat, fetch her some refreshment, a little soup, some tea? She thanked him and allowed him to do so. Jane, seeing Kitty alone, crossed the room to join her, bringing with her a couple of her friends, so that when Sir Edward returned it was to the company of his hostess as well as her sister, and the supper passed pleasantly enough.

  A little afterwards, on her return to the other room, Kitty found herself once more face to face with Mr Adams, who was on the point of leaving. Both smiled and then both spoke at once; then stopping, each entreated the other to speak. The conversation stalled, then both spoke at once again. It was just the kind of gauche interaction often found when two strangers meet and find the other more than commonly attractive but their tongues inexplicably tied. When the conversation was finally allowed to flow, they managed to wish each other well and Kitty rejoined her sister and Mr Bingley, thrilled to be part of such an elegant evening and not a little delighted to have acquired a music master.

  CHAPTER 13

  Still in the habit of regarding Lydia as her chief confidante, Kitty continued to maintain the façade of writing to her. She therefore began yet another letter that would be consigned to her desk drawer rather than the post.

  Brook St, 5 March

  Dear Lydia,

  Why, oh why, do I not sing and play? I should like to blame Mary, or Mama, but I cannot. It is entirely my own fault. I want to rectify this. The concert last night was sublime. We heard Mozart and Haydn and Boccherini and other beautiful pieces and the evening was just heavenly. Of course, I don’t expect to play like the musicians that were engaged, but what joy it must be to express oneself through music, and give such delight to others.

  Charles, it turns out, is a great enthusiast for all things musical. We are, I think, to attend more concerts shortly. Jane is very happy today, although a little tired, and, all in all, the evening was deemed a great success. So many fashionable young men and women, and some of them are such gossips but in a quiet and rather refined way. I learned rather more than is decent about a certain young lady, recently married, whose behaviour is raising eyebrows. The person who expounded the tale expects to see some allusion to it in the papers. Imagine! Mrs Hurst was part of the conversation but seemed to find nothing out of the ordinary in it. Perhaps I am just ignorant of the ways of this set! Miss Bingley would no doubt say so, but I have been rather clever in avoiding her lately. She has been devoting most of her attention to a certain gentleman, a friend of a friend of Bingley, who owns land in Gloucestershire. Poor fellow! She may get him, and then I shall feel sorry for him, although I know him not at all and he is not at all handsome. Here is how some of it goes:

  ‘Oh, Mr Phillips,’ says Miss Bingley, all elegance and charm. ‘It is a pleasure to see you here. You will be staying for the rest of the season?’

  ‘For part of it,’ returns he, but ‘My duties at home may call me away sooner than I would like and, sadly, deprive me of your excellent company. A lady such as yourself could feel no comparable delight outside London, I fear.’

  ‘Oh Mr Phillips, how can you think so? I am uncommonly fond of country life,’ declares the indefatigable Miss B. ‘Whenever I am in London, I believe myself the happiest person alive; but then when I am in the country, I believe myself the happiest. It is a mystery, is it not? In the country, though, one feels the beauty of nature so much more, do you not agree?’

  Of course Mr P thinks this, and Caroline knows he thinks this, and so the little inquisition continues, although he of course thinks she is merely being sweetly curious. ‘Do tell me more about Longmeadow House, I believe you have made many improvements of late?’

  He has; he rattles on rather and she looks all amazement that such a man can organise so many things. At one point, our lovely Miss B almost loses concentration but covers it delightfully with: ‘Oh do forgive me. I was quite lost in imagining the house, and the aspect it affords over the park. How clever of you to engage such an excellent architect.’

  And Mr P beams with pride at his perceived ingenuity, when really all was recommended to him, and money is what has brought him his flair. And Caroline, in this instance! How high – or how low – is her price?

  Kitty laughed, sat back. She was very much enjoying herself. It is quite remarkable how siblings can be so different, she thought. Charles is the opposite of Caroline in nearly every way. Then again, she questioned, why should it be remarkable? Her four sisters were quite different to her and each other. Nonetheless, it was interesting that the Bingley women were so full of spite when their brother was not. He, of course, had all the advantages of a first and only son, but Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst were not without fortunes. She wondered about their parents and how their lives had been as children; how different would it have been to her own? What had been their petty rivalries and shared interests, who had been the favoured child? People really were quite fascinating.

  Her thoughts went to Henry Adams. She was glad her mother had not been present to interfere and cajole, or dismiss as inferior a man whose wealth and prospects had not been established. Mrs Bennet, had she observed Sir Edward’s attentions to her daughter, would be much more interested in him, and Kitty was also ready to own that he was charming, as well as well travelled and interesting, full of facts about places she would love to visit one day. Henry Adams, on the other hand, was – by all accounts – a musical genius, perhaps even skilled enough to teach her how to play in public.

  She must, she resolved, as she put her letter into the drawer with the others, start keeping a journal. It was hardly a revolutionary thought but one that was new to her. So much was happening, it would be an excellent record of what was becoming a much more interesting life. She liked London, she liked Brook Street; at this very moment, she quite liked herself.

  Humming, Kitty went downstairs to find Jane and talk once more about everything that had happened the night before, and to find out what was going to happen next.

  CHAPTER 14

  After the excitement – and avowed success – of the Bingleys’ soirée, life at Brook Street returned to its usual calm. There had been a flurry of morning visits, of course, from those eager to thank Jane for her gracious hospitality and pick over essential details of who had spoken
to whom, and about what; whose appearance delighted and whose was less than sparkling; and even, on some occasions, discussion on the music.

  Concerning the latter, Kitty was expecting her first tuition from Mr Adams the next day. Charles had been most efficient in that regard. As a result, she was apprehensive although she could not decide what worried her most – her musical abilities or the presence of the gentleman himself. Jane, divining both concerns, concentrated on the first and spent some time with her sister at the pianoforte, revising with her and reliving tunes and airs that had been part of their childhood at Longbourn.

  Their comfortable reverie was interrupted when Kitty suddenly asked: ‘Shall we ever see Lydia again? Mama, of course, expects her to visit by the next carriage but I am not such a simpleton to believe that. Father will not hear her name spoken. Lydia’s marriage was hasty and the circumstances ill-advised but there is more, I am sure there is, and no one will tell me…’ She stopped, waited.

  Jane was ill-prepared for the question and struggled for a suitable response. Dissembling was not in her nature and a momentary struggle between truth and obfuscation ensued, but the appeal in Kitty’s eyes decided her upon a candid answer.

  ‘Of course I believe we shall see her again,’ she began.

  ‘But when?’ persisted Kitty, seizing the moment. ‘And why must we not speak of Lydia and Captain Wickham?’

  Jane, who strove to think the best of everyone, could not – or would no longer – paint Wickham in a wholly favourable light. Even so, it took some effort for her to speak ill of him.

  ‘What I shall tell you is in confidence,’ she continued. ‘We must be discreet.’ Having received Kitty’s tacit assurance, Jane then did her best to explain Wickham’s actions, defend both him and Lydia and give quarter to all parties. Eventually though, the truth filtered through and Kitty, at last, had a fuller account of what had happened: how Wickham had left Brighton in order to escape his debts (Jane did not dwell on Lydia’s enthusiasm for the elopement or Wickham’s knavish behaviour in seducing her); that her father and Uncle Gardiner had been unable to find the pair in London; that Lydia’s actions were poised to bring scandal on all members of the Bennet family; and that it was only through Mr Darcy that the miscreants were finally found, and that he had been the person responsible for coercing Wickham into marrying Lydia.

  ‘Mr Darcy!’ exclaimed Kitty. ‘Indeed,’ concurred Jane, and paused to allow Kitty to wonder at the reason for his intervention and how the marriages of both herself and Elizabeth would not have taken place had he not been so noble. As can be surmised, these revelations took some time to settle and Kitty, like others before her, found herself revising her opinions of the taciturn and stern Mr Darcy. Lydia and Wickham were likewise contemplated. She had not known that Wickham had been so gravely in debt, nor that he had been forced to marry her sister; Lydia’s comments in her letters had implied mutual adoration. And Mr Darcy had been her saviour! It really was both wonderful and unbelievable.

  ‘Mr Darcy!’ repeated Kitty. ‘But why would he do such a thing? All for Lizzy?’

  ‘I think we can believe just that,’ said Jane, who felt obliged to keep silent on part of the story: the part that concerned Wickham’s earlier and very nearly successful attempt to elope with none other than Mr Darcy’s sister, a girl even younger than Lydia. Mr Darcy had foiled that plan and in order to guard his sister’s reputation had not made Wickham’s character known, a fact he reproached himself for when Wickham repeated his behaviour with Lydia.

  ‘Now Kitty,’ reminded Jane, ‘this is in the past and it must remain so. Time will heal and our father, I am sure, will consent to seeing Lydia again one day. Charles and I will certainly receive her but I am not sure when that occasion will be. As for Wickham and Mr Darcy, I cannot say. Wickham has behaved intolerably to Mr Darcy; there is more there than even I know, but Lizzy can be believed when she says that her husband has done everything he could rightly be expected to do in furthering Wickham’s circumstances but that his actions have been met with ingratitude and scandalous behaviour. Lizzy would not speak so were it not true.

  ‘For Lydia’s sake,’ she continued, ‘we must hope that the married state will persuade Wickham to live a better life.’

  Kitty nodded, still a little dazed by what she had learned. ‘Does Mama know? Mary?’ They did not. Not even Mr Bingley was aware of all the details, added Jane, and Kitty, rather than feeling put out that she had not been told the tawdry story before, was pleased and proud to know that Jane had deemed her worthy of tact and discretion.

  Any chance of further discussion was ended with the arrival of Mr Bingley, who stopped in the room only long enough to apologise for his intrusion into the ladies’ music practice, smile fondly at his wife and deliver to her two letters that had just arrived: one from Longbourn; the other from Elizabeth in Pemberley.

  ‘Oh! Which shall I open first?’ wondered Jane, before fixing on the missive from Longbourn.

  ‘It is from Papa,’ she informed Kitty. ‘He writes, “all is well though the house is very quiet now that they are but three…” that he particularly misses the noise of slamming doors and arguments between Kitty and Mary… Don’t look so offended, Kitty! He is only teasing; you know his way. What else? “Your dear mother is quite well, as are her nerves which, of course, rarely give her a moment’s peace…” Mary sends her regards to me and Mr Bingley and, of course, to Kitty… that Mama “received a letter from Lydia, though to call it a letter is an exaggeration for it was little more than a note and contained nothing of any substance. If you are interested in regimental dress and what the ladies are wearing at the Assemblies in Newcastle, may I suggest you apply to your dear mother for the detail. She will be most pleased to elaborate. In short, Lydia and Mr Wickham are in good health, it seems, and no doubt enjoying themselves beyond their means…”

  ‘I am glad they are settled,’ said Jane, before continuing. ‘He says that “a letter from Lizzy arrived last week. It would seem that the mistress of Pemberley has been making many new acquaintances; she had not anticipated the interest that a new Mrs Darcy would excite in the neighbourhood. (We are not all surprised, I am sure!) She has been scampering about the many woods and glades in her great park but rain and storms have hampered her a little in that pursuit. Poor Lizzy! She has had to stay indoors more than she would have liked – and in such a tiny house as I believe Pemberley to be! There are many references to ‘her dear Darcy’, and I should be alarmed if this were not so, but I dare hope she is not sparing him her wit and perspicacity! I would not have my Lizzy subdued by greatness…”

  ‘Poor Papa, he does miss us all but especially Lizzy, I think.’ Jane turned back to her letter. ‘Ah, now he asks, “How does my dear Kitty? I have seen her letter to her mother and am not at all surprised to hear she approves of London very much. I am glad of it. Tell her I enquire after her. I do not expect correspondence but am happy to receive same – as long as the news is good. Pray spare me reports of the attentions and affections of feckless young men.”’

  Kitty stiffened at this, feeling it as yet another rebuke. ‘It is just his way,’ reiterated Jane, reaching for her sister’s hand. ‘Do not doubt our father’s affection. He says less than he feels.’ She read aloud the letter’s closing statements and Kitty made her own interpretations of the remarks pertinent to her. Jane meanwhile, impatient for Elizabeth’s news, turned to the other letter, which read:

  Pemberley

  5 March

  My dearest Jane,

  I write in haste but with happy news. As I told you in my last letter, we had no immediate plans to be in London but it now transpires some urgent business calls my dear Darcy to town. I cannot spare him – of course! – and, that being so, we are all decided that we three shall travel to London together and arrangements are being made for our departure as I write this.

  I need not say how very much I look forward to seeing you. We all do. Now, dearest sister, please contrive to limit your eng
agements in such a way that will permit of receiving me and mine. I fully intend to take up as much of your time as you can spare.

  We, and Georgiana is included in this we, expect to be in Berkeley Square a fortnight from today, and you may depend on me sending word as soon as we have arrived.

  Until then, I send my fondest to you and Charles, and Kitty.

  Your affectionate sister,

  Lizzy

  ‘Oh, that is but ten days!’ cried Jane, clapping her hands in delight. ‘I must write back immediately.’ Kitty, equally excited, jumped up and pulled Jane to her feet. ‘What fun we shall have!’ she laughed and, linking arms, the pair half danced, half walked out of the room to find Bingley and share the news.

  CHAPTER 15

  Kitty was already seated at the pianoforte when Henry Adams’s arrival was announced. She had thought about taking the air that morning, in order to calm her nerves, but it was raining heavily outside and showed no sign of abating, so a few brief turns about the room had been her exercise. Then she had thought she would practise some of the pieces she and Jane had played the day before. Then she wondered what Mr Adams would look like without the horsehair wig – she hoped there was hair underneath that wig! – and whether he would be caught in the storms outside.

  All this conjecture was ended when he was shown into the room. He was soberly dressed in grey and black, and his hair was almost black, too, his dark curls just a little unruly but in a perfectly fashionable way. She greeted him most politely and waited for him to begin. She had decided that, as he was to be her tutor, efficiency and proper attention was required of her; besides, she was fully committed to the serious business of understanding and playing music. Accordingly, nearly an hour passed before any conversation took place that was not related to scales, tone or composition. Indeed, it was only Kitty’s increasing frustration at her inability to master a sequence of notes that prompted Mr Adams to suggest she stop for a few minutes and rest.