The arrival of the footman was a welcome distraction. While Lady Catherine took a break from her writing and her observations, I, too, could take a break from my sewing. Charles carried with him a silver tray atop which sat three letters. The top two he handed over to my aunt, but when she expectantly waited for the third, he hesitated.
“This arrived for Miss Darcy,” he said, holding up a small letter on cream-coloured notepaper.
I recognised Kitty’s handwriting immediately, her looping script my favourite form of my name. It was all I could manage to restrain myself from knocking the footman over in my haste to read the letter’s contents, but I tempered my excitement and waited patiently to be handed it.
Lady Catherine put out her hand before Charles could take one step.
“Give that to me,” she ordered, and he was in no place to refuse. I couldn’t blame him for it—it wasn’t as if he knew how important that letter was to me and what damaging words it could possibly contain. Kitty’s last letter to me would have caused irrepressible scandal if it had fallen into the wronghands. It still would, in the unthinkable situation of it being discovered in the lining of my travelling bag.
“Who knows you are staying here?” she asked me.
My mouth was dry with worry, and I had to swallow before I could compose a coherent response.
“Miss Catherine Bennet, I believe,” I said, as if the name meant little more to me than my sister-in-law’s sister. A passing acquaintance.
As much as the name pleased me to say, Lady Catherine was horrified by its very mention in her house.
“A Bennet? I think not. It is bad enough that your brother has lowered the reputation of this family by forming an attachment to one of their daughters. I will not have you associating with such people. You ought to be seeking highborn friends. What would Lord Salter think?”
I don’t care what Lord Salter thinks.
Kitty is not merely my friend.
Every word was true, but none of it said aloud would be wise.
“Yes, Lady Catherine.” The words tasted bitter, but I knew they were necessary. “If I could have the letter, I will write back and insist the correspondence ends.”
I had every intention of doing exactly that. As keen as I was to hear from Kitty—indeed, it was the only thing that could make my seclusion at Rosings tolerable—it would only put us both in danger.
“I think your failure to reply will accomplish that perfectly fine,” Lady Catherine said, every word clipped.
She had no intention of handing over the letter. Her fingers crushed the paper as she tightened her grip, and I felt anger course through me. Kitty’s words deserved to be treated with care, and that was before I even knew for certain what words they were.
Letting my aunt read that letter was out of the question. The moment she started peeling at the wax seal Kitty had stamped on the back, I lurched forward, pulling it out of her grip. In her surprise, she didn’t have time to snatch it away. I wanted to hide it down my bodice so I could read it in secret later, but the confusion on Lady Catherine’s face melted into stony anger, and I knew that wasn’t an option.
“Miss Darcy,” she shrieked, indignant at my lack of decorum.
I desperately needed to know what Kitty had written. Nothing would improve my mood more. I wanted to settle down in a comfortable chair with a plate of gingerbread and a new candle, the perfect atmosphere for a letter that would feel like home. But Lady Catherine wouldn’t allow me to keep it, and I wouldn’t allow her to take it, so I had only one other choice. Even ripping it up wouldn’t be enough, simply creating a puzzle to reconstitute.
Dashing across the room before Lady Catherine could stop me, I reached the fireplace and opened my fist, the letter falling from my fingers and into the flames. The heat took it instantly, melting the wax seal and turning the paper to embers and ashes. I’d never get to read it, but nor would anyone else. It was the only way to keep both Kitty and me safe.
There was silence in the room. Charles had stepped backto hide in the shadows, but I wasn’t quite as lucky. My aunt took two steps towards me, raised her hand, and struck me hard across the face.
“Insolent girl,” she seethed. “You ought to be glad your parents aren’t alive to see the disgrace you’ve become.”
The words hurt more than the slap, even as pain radiated out from my cheek. I’d never known my mother and had increasingly distant memories of my father, but Darcy remembered both of them with clarity and fondness. Never once had he suggested I conducted myself in a way contrary to their wishes. Though I supposed his thoughts on the subject could easily have changed, given what he knew now.
Weighing up my options, I elected to flee the room. Unlike the comfort of Pemberley, no corner of Rosings felt safe. The closest I could get was the bedroom I’d been allocated. It didn’t have endless books or shell-encrusted walls or a piano propped open in the corner, but it did have a door I could close between me and the rest of the household. It took everything I had not to slam it.
Lady Catherine was not the type to give chase. I didn’t doubt she was raging at whoever happened to be nearby, and I felt guilty for being the reason they were subjected to her fury, but I was safe at least until our paths crossed again. I considered planning out a strategy to avoid that circumstance altogether, but this was her house and my stay had no agreed end date.
Pulling my valise out from under the bed, I ripped apart the lining in the corner, held by a few loose stitches to securethe hiding place. Tucked inside were Kitty’s ribbons and a well-worn letter, sent only a few weeks ago. It felt like so much longer. I ran my fingers over the silky surface of the hair ribbons for a moment, before pulling out the letter Kitty had sent me after she’d first kissed me.
I read it again and again until my eyes glazed over, unable to focus any longer. I studied the words until I knew them by rote, and memorised every blotch of ink or faded character until the image was printed firmly on my heart. Then, with shaking hands and tears threatening to fall, I crossed my room and knelt beside the fire.
It was too dangerous to keep it. Lady Catherine had made it clear she harboured no trust for me, thinking me unfit to receive my own letters. Should she find this one amongst my possessions, she would read it, and should she read it, both Kitty and I were doomed to a fate unknown but unfriendly.
Pressing my lips to the soft paper, I clung to it one final time before I released it into the flames. The heat teased my fingertips, but I let them linger a moment too long before snatching them back. It felt right that this hurt physically, for it was tearing my heart apart.
