“Probably not long—maybe half an hour? Will you play me something before she arrives?”
I was happy to oblige, opting for a simple Scottish air I knew by rote. As I played, Elizabeth settled beside the window and tapped her fingers on her knee in time with the music. She recounted fond tales of the ball, perhaps a more subtle way to encourage my attendance next month. I found it hard to imagine my awkward elder brother dancing and making merry, but Elizabeth always did bring out a different side to him. She was midway through a story when she suddenly stopped abruptly, sitting up and squinting out the window.
“It’s Kitty!” she said, grinning and jumping to her feet. “It must be. Are you coming, Georgiana?”
“I’ll join you in a minute,” I promised, seeking one last moment alone to rally myself for introductions.
Elizabeth disappeared out of the room, swiping another gingerbread round as she passed. I finished the song I’d started before leaving the piano for the window.
The light from the coach making its way down the path could only have been a dot in the distance when Elizabeth first saw it, for it was barely in view even now. It had been sent after dinner to collect Kitty for the final stretch of her journey, so it was one of Pemberley’s own, but in the fading light it was unrecognisable from any other.
If I leant far enough forward, I could see Elizabeth already on the front steps. As the coach drew closer, my brother stepped out beside her and offered his arm, which she quickly took. I watched the two of them talking and smiling, imagining the jovial teasing to which Elizabeth was likely subjecting him. He bore it all with the same besotted look as always.
The coach pulled up at the bottom of the stairs, and Darcy stepped up beside it to offer Kitty a hand down the step. She barely took it, flying out of the door and pulling Elizabeth into a hug. There was a pang in my chest at the sight. Elizabeth felt most like my sister when her real sisters weren’t there for comparison.
Kitty Bennet, like all the Bennet sisters, was a variation on a similar theme. They all had the same bright eyes and blonde curls, yet no one could ever accuse them of looking alike. Even from a distance, I could see the differences. Her face was rounder, her features softer. She looked angelic, like the kind of person who could float one inch above thefloor, ethereal and one step removed from the plane the rest of us called home, but chose not to. When Elizabeth took her arm and led her inside, Kitty’s heavy steps would have made my former governesses wince. I couldn’t help the smile that played at the corner of my lips.
As tempting as it was to stay upstairs and keep practising, I knew I had to show my face. My absence had already been mentioned by Elizabeth once, and I didn’t want to give her further reason to be concerned. Besides, Kitty mattered to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth had come to matter dearly to me. Playing the part of the dutiful sister-in-law, I shut the piano lid.
I could hear the excited chatter between sisters from down the hallway. When I got to the door, I lingered just out of view for a moment, acclimatising myself to the vibrancy of an atmosphere so at odds with my day of practise and contemplation. I wasn’t as quiet as I imagined, because I didn’t even make it a full minute before Elizabeth caught my eye.
“Georgiana!” She grabbed my hand, dragging me into the room. “This is my sister Kitty.”
Kitty’s eyes were still shining with ripples of laughter as she dipped into a curtsey.
“Pleased to finally meet you, Miss Darcy,” she said with all the hallmarks of a greeting right out of the pages of an etiquette guide.
I curtsied back automatically. “Likewise, Miss Bennet.”
It was a well-rehearsed script, but neither of us was fully committed to the performance. Kitty was barely suppressingher excitement to be back with her sister, squeezing her lips together to dampen her grin.
I wish I could say my own good graces were genuine, but without years of deportment lessons ingraining the gestures into me, I would have been reduced to a wordless statue. Kitty Bennet was stunning. The light in her eyes and the life in her cheeks animated her every feature, her fingers fidgeting with a need to be in motion. It was enough to make someone wish to take her hand in theirs just to tether her down to one place, for that place would surely be better for having her there.
I was now well acquainted with Elizabeth, had been present for many of Mrs. Jane Bingley’s numerous visits, and had heard enough stories of Mrs. Lydia Wickham that it felt as if I knew her, but Kitty Bennet was by far the most intriguing of the Bennet sisters. That she was one of the only two left unmarried seemed incomprehensible. From looks alone, she was exactly the kind of girl it would be all too easy to fall in love with.
“Georgiana, could you perhaps show Kitty to the kitchens? Ruth promised to set aside some supper for her after her journey,” Elizabeth said, clearly trying to encourage a friendship.
Kitty had been to Pemberley before and no doubt knew exactly where the kitchens were, but I didn’t protest.
“Of course,” I said to Elizabeth, before turning to Kitty. “Miss Bennet, if you’d be so kind as to follow me.”
“Certainly for the best,” Kitty said with a note of teasing. “The house is palatial enough for me to get lost. Let us begin our voyage, Miss Darcy.”
I was too out of sorts to laugh, even if her tone suggested I ought to. If I opened my mouth, there was every chance my laughter would be too loud and too wild, revealing the disruption Kitty had caused in my mind with only one smile.
As much as I wanted to abscond to my room and pretend I felt no attraction to the girl in front of me, I forced a smile and led her through the hallways of Pemberley. If Kitty noticed, she said nothing of it.
The marble stairs, oak panelling, and painted ceilings had never felt dark before, but Kitty seemed to shine light into rooms I had not even realised were lacking it. I’d walked the corridors for as long as I’d known how and crawled them before I was steady on my feet, but they had never been missing anything until Kitty walked them beside me, filling them with endless talk of her journey and her family. She stopped only to ask questions, steaming on once she had received my baffled answers. It was impossible to keep up with her in conversation as well as on foot, since she was very much the one leading me to the kitchens.
“What is this?” she asked, scuffing her shoe over a chip in the marble floor, one that had been there since before I was born.
“An accident with a dropped statue,” I explained, holding back the full story. I would never get through the necessary number of words an explanation would require.
Darcy had told me of how he had accidentally gotten under the feet of a man moving in a new bust, doing permanent damage to both the floor and the statue itself, which stillbore a noticeable crack if you knew where to look. Pemberley was full of tiny imperfections that most people never noticed. Many of the causes had been Darcy or me, for however well-behaved children were, a house could not be expected to raise two of them and come out entirely unscathed.
My brief answer seemed to satisfy Kitty, prompting her to dive into another story about Lydia knocking over a statue in their garden back home in Meryton. She was fascinating to watch, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed from the exertion of her storytelling. She spoke equally with her hands as with her voice, illustrating each facet of her tale with enthusiastic gestures.
“Perhaps we need to get you to Meryton,” Kitty said, as if it were a casual sort of invitation that would mean little to me. “Then you’d have some context for all the stories. I’m sure Lizzy tells them, too. My mother adores your brother enough that all Darcys will be in her good graces for the rest of time, so you’d no doubt be welcome.”
