There seemed to be no time to waste in the Bennet household when it came to preparations. Dresses were pressed and bonnets trimmed with new lace; lists were written of hair ribbons and other trinkets that needed to be collected from town. It was a finely tuned operation that I had no part in, so I kept a careful distance. Even after so long away, Jane, Elizabeth, and Lydia fell back into parts they clearly still knew how to play. Largely that meant Elizabeth and Jane were attempting to reel their youngest sister in just a little, but sometimes it was easiest to send her into town so they could breathe. Kitty was keen to go with her, leaving me to quiet contemplation in our room as Emma finished fixing my hair for the day.
The knock that came at the door was too soft to be Kitty, so I expected perhaps Elizabeth. Instead it was Jane who entered, holding a pale cream dress draped over her arm.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” shesaid politely. “Only Kitty said you were in need of a dress for the ball, and I thought this might suit you.”
She held the gown up by the shoulders, revealing a delicate creation that fully embraced its clear Grecian inspiration. It was a few years out of style, not yet caught up to the new fashions of deeper colours and more lavish decorations, but it was still a beautiful dress. There was a hint of pattern to the fabric, a subtle line of the palest green running down the length of the gown every inch.
“This was mine, before I married, and I had passed it on to Mary, but she has never worn it. It ought to fit you, if you would like to wear it. Nothing fancy, I know, but it is perfectly serviceable,” Jane said.
“It’s beautiful, ma’am,” Emma said, taking it from her to lay it out carefully on my bed. She immediately started rummaging through my hair ribbons, looking for a matching shade.
As much as I’d liked the way Kitty had looked at me in my pink dress at Pemberley, I couldn’t help but feel that this borrowed ensemble would feel rather more like me, especially when Emma triumphantly unearthed a soft green ribbon from the box that Kitty once said perfectly complemented my dark eyes.
“Thank you,” I said to Jane. “I would love to wear it, if it is no bother.”
“None at all,” Jane insisted. “I would lend you something more lavish if I could, but I did not travel with many evening gowns, as I assume neither did you. Although I should haveknown it would lead to this, with Lydia around.” She smiled, welcoming me into her teasing, before leaving me to finish getting ready for the day.
“This will suit you perfectly,” Emma decreed, looking over the spread of the dress and hair ribbon on the bed. “I assume it’s still a no to a feather?”
I laughed. “Now more than ever, yes.”
When Kitty returned from town, she appraised the dress carefully, told me I would look better in it than Jane ever had, and kissed me until my toes curled in my slippers. That was enough to give me total confidence to wear it to the ball.
A borrowed dress and a simple hair ribbon may have been all it took for me to prepare for the ball, but Kitty and Lydia both treated it like it was the event of the season. The day before it was due to take place, the two of them headed into town again for a final procurement of new ribbons and hair adornments from their carefully cultivated list.
Rather than entertain any notion of joining them in their walk, I retired to the library in search of a book small enough to fit into a reticule so I might take it to the ball. I had no high hopes of locating one amongst Mr. Bennet’s collection, but there were several at Pemberley, so it was not out of the question. I was not even particularly concerned with the content on the pages, so long as there were words I could read to distract me as Kitty danced with eligible young men.
Mrs. Bennet, despite her husband’s ill health or perhapsbecause of it, seemed determined to use the opportunity to matchmake for her two remaining unwed daughters. After Mary had made it clear she had no intentions of attending the ball, all their mother’s energy had been refocused on Kitty instead. She had excitedly informed me the new hair ribbons were being funded by her mother for the occasion, rather than coming out of her pin money.
I wondered how likely Mrs. Bennet would be to provide the money if she knew Kitty was in need of new ribbons because she’d used several of them to tie together bouquets of flowers for me. I had returned them to Kitty to reuse, but the first three were dear to me and I still wore them, plaited together, around my wrist.
An extensive search of every bookshelf revealed nothing small enough to discreetly read in the corner of a ballroom, but I did discover a polished wooden chessboard high up on one of the shelves. A thin layer of dust coated the mahogany and pine pieces, collecting in a dark line across my thumb when I dragged it across the squares. Pulling over a chair, I climbed up to retrieve it and, balancing it as carefully as I could, set it down in the centre of the desk.
I reset the pieces that had slid out of place and spun the board around so I had white on my left and black on my right. Playing alone was useful when it came to testing out strategy and identifying the holes in your own defence, but it was dreadfully boring. At least the games lasted longer than those played against most other people, but I still ended up slouched over, resting my cheek against my arm where it lay on thedesk. I moved each piece with a half-hearted push of my little finger as I tried to find a way to attack a well-defended king.
The window was propped open to allow an autumn breeze to whistle through, and when it carried with it the laughter and chatter of women’s voices, I was quick to abandon the chess pieces, knocking over the white king to surrender to myself before peering anxiously down onto the road below.
Kitty and Lydia were back, strolling down the driveway arm in arm. I felt a flood of warmth in my chest at the sight of Kitty, admiring her unrestrained smile. Despite her absence lasting only a few hours, I still found myself missing her, so I abandoned the study in the hopes of coaxing her into kissing in her bedroom.
I was partway down the stairs when I heard my name.
“I just need to look for Georgiana,” Kitty said, because it was unmistakably her voice.
“Fine,” Lydia replied, with an audible pout. “If you must. She’s just so dreadfully dull—always with her nose in a book. I can’t see why you feel the need to spend any time with her at all. Just leave her with Mary. They can be tedious together.”
My ears burned. My first governess always had warned me against eavesdropping, assuring me I would overhear something I would rather not know, and she had certainly been right.
I waited for Kitty to say something in my defence, to refute Lydia’s words. Instead, she laughed.
“Yes, but she is Lizzy’s sister-in-law and a guest here, sowe cannot ignore her without it looking like a slight, no matter how much of a bore she might be.”
My eyes pricked with tears. I could not comprehend what I could possibly have done to turn Kitty’s opinion of me. She’d kissed me that morning before leaving for town, promising to return with gingerbread from the cake shop, which was not quite as good as Ruth’s but reminded me of home nonetheless. Doing my best to stop my lower lip from trembling, I descended a few more stairs until Kitty and Lydia could both see me. I said nothing, but my face alone must have told them what I’d heard. Kitty looked horrified, but Lydia was barely suppressing her laughter.
“Oh,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “Oh dear.”
She offered no apology, and neither did Kitty. Wordlessly, I fled the staircase upwards and ensconced myself in the familiar comfort of the library. Sitting back in the desk chair, I pulled my knees up to hug them close to my chest and methodically set up the chess pieces again. Playing alone might be boring, but at least wooden pieces wouldn’t insult me. My tears mixed with the dust on the board as they dripped off my chin.
Chapter Thirteen
