“George?” she pushed.
I shifted my grip so I could clutch at her fingers.
“Can we go somewhere?” I asked, unwilling to cry infront of Lydia but unable to stop the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.
Kitty nodded, tugging me out of the kitchen and through the house until we were safely behind her bedroom door.
“She knew Wickham was coming,” Kitty said. “Apparently he convinced her it would be a nice surprise. Although I’m not sure anyone found it nice. I don’t think he’s told her anything about what happened last night. She likes to pretend to play coy, but she cannot resist the latest gossip. If she knew, she would be talking about it.”
I listened to Kitty talk, revelling in the way she played with my fingers seemingly without even knowing she was doing it. I’d grown used to being in such close proximity to her, and it started to occur to me just how much I was going to miss her. Taking a few steps forward, I wrapped my arms around her and tucked my face against the curve of her neck. Kitty hugged me close reflexively, her words trailing off.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” she asked, her palms smoothing over my back. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I just need to know.”
Her confidence and determination hit me hard in the chest, and the tears I’d feared would fall made tracks down my cheeks. When my knees threatened to buckle and I swayed against her, Kitty led me to her bed and sat me on the mattress. I clung to her embarrassingly tightly, but I knew how soon I would have to let her go. Instead of pushing me to answer, she held me and let me cry. When I finallypulled myself away a few inches from her, she nudged my chin up so she could look into my eyes.
“Is this about last night?” she asked.
There wasn’t an ounce of judgement in her gaze. If I was crying over seeing Wickham the night before, she would have accepted that without thinking less of me. But I had to shake my head.
I explained everything Darcy had told me. Kitty’s face fell the second she heard I was leaving, but she let me talk through everything I had to offer her. I tried to make it sound more positive than I felt: This was only temporary. Once Darcy and Elizabeth were back at Pemberley, I would get to go home.
“At least you’ll be far away from Wickham,” Kitty pointed out, which was the sole upside to Rosings. Lady Catherine wouldn’t let a man like George Wickham within ten miles of the grounds. “Do you think Darcy and Elizabeth will let me visit again, when you’re back at Pemberley?”
“I hope so,” I said with a sigh, pressing a kiss to her hair. I couldn’t imagine not being allowed to see her ever again. “I can’t tell how my brother truly feels about what I said. But I will see you again. This will not be the last time.”
I sounded more confident than I felt, but I needed at least one of us to believe it. Emma had already cleared my things out of the room, so I knew we didn’t have long left until I had to leave. After I scribbled down Lady Catherine’s address, I curled up in Kitty’s arms and relaxed into the way she stroked my hair.
It was a childish response, but I didn’t know what else to do. Pemberley was legally Darcy’s. If he didn’t want me there, I had no right to reside there. Nor could I stay at Longbourn unless the Bennets were willing to house me, and I knew they would bow to Darcy’s wishes to have me leave—especially if they knew about my relationship with their daughter. That left me homeless. As bitter and single-minded as my aunt could be, staying at Rosings was a fate better than attempting to depend on the kindness of strangers and a purse full of pin money that would get me only so far.
“It’s just temporary,” Kitty whispered. “You’ll be all right. We’ll be all right.”
I let myself believe her, if only to stop another round of tears from falling.
Chapter Seventeen
The journey to Rosings was miserable for all parties involved. I alternated between staring out the window and staring down at a mostly blank piece of paper, hoping for inspiration to strike. I had Darcy’s name at the top, but the perfect words that would persuade him to let me reside anywhere other than Rosings eluded me.
Emma had to endure my pitiful attempts at conversation. She tried to persuade me to engage, but I lacked the enthusiasm for anything but moping. Eventually she gave up and we sat in silence.
It was dark when we turned onto the long road that led to Rosings Park. It had been years since I’d visited my aunt, and those stays had resulted in few happy memories. I still remembered being made to play the piano endlessly, until Icould perform whole sonatas by heart without making a mistake. It had turned me off practise for weeks afterwards.
With the late hour, I’d hoped to avoid my aunt entirely for the evening. Neither she nor my cousin seemed likely candidates to stay up into the night. But rather than being ushered straight to our bedrooms, Emma and I were shown to a drawing room which lived in my memory predominantly for its overstuffed seating and terrifying oil paintings. The olive-green walls with their gilded moulding were not particularly inviting, instead giving off the distinct air of ostentatiousness.
While it seemed my cousin Anne had not been forced to welcome us, her mother stood proudly in the centre of the room, dressed for visitors. Emma had the luxury of staying in the shadows while I stepped forwards to greet my aunt.
“Miss Darcy,” she greeted me, with a slight nod.
I dipped into a deep curtsey, almost at risk of toppling over, but I still remembered her telling me my bow was not sincere enough and forcing me to hold the position beside her while she wrote several letters. My legs had ached for days afterwards, and I doubted she would take my fall off a wall as an excuse not to do the same thing again.
“Lady Catherine,” I greeted her. “Thank you for taking me in at such short notice.”
They weren’t the words I wanted to say, but I knew I would only be damning myself if I spoke honestly about how much I didn’t want to be there.
“Yes, well, it has been an inconvenience to my staff, but arrangements had to be made,” she said, every bit as haughtyas I remembered. “And I have been insisting that your brother release you into my care for years. Particularly after the choices he has made recently. Really you should have been sent here the moment your father died. You and Anne could have received the same education. It is a pity you are so far behind. I will do my best, but I cannot work miracles.”
Part of me wanted to reply in Greek. Then in Latin, French, Spanish, and Italian, just to prove there was nothing lacking in my education. But a larger part of me was committed to self-preservation. I had no allies here the way I did at Pemberley and Longbourn. The only person I was going to be able to trust within the walls of Rosings was Emma, and she had even less power than I did. There was no choice but to swallow the injustice of my aunt’s words and my despondency that Darcy would choose to send me somewhere he knew I hated.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Thank you.”
