Beginning, Section II

Chapter Seven

Posted on Friday, 20 June 2008

The ball had ended, in Kitty’s opinion, much too late. Mr. Jamison had done his best to entertain her, and her mood had indeed improved somewhat, but every time she looked across the set or down the supper table and found herself looking into the inscrutable brown eyes that seemed always upon her, she was overcome with an overwhelming urge to scream or cry. Mr. Greerson, however, did not seem inclined to apologize; there was no hint of regret in his face.

When at last she was in her own chambers, Kitty stood for a moment in the middle of the room, wondering which impulse she should indulge first. She had never been so angry or hurt. After a few moments she ran over to the bed, picked up the nearest pillow, and screamed into it as loud as she could. Then, imagining Mr. Greerson’s serious face staring at her from the unfortunate object, she hit it a few times with her fist until she finally hurled it across the room, where it struck a vase on her dressing table.

The resulting crash brought, to her utmost dismay, a knock on her door.

“Kitty? Are you all right?” called Elizabeth’s anxious voice.

Kitty sat huffily on the bed. “I’m fine, Lizzy!”

The door opened anyway, and Elizabeth walked cautiously into the room. She glanced at the fragments of vase and the pillow lying beside them. “I must assume that pillow did not act of its own accord.”

Against her will Kitty smiled. “I helped it a bit.”

“And what do you have against the late Mrs. Darcy’s antique vase?”

Horror filled Kitty and her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, Lizzy, is it very valuable? You must let me replace it!”

“Nonsense, there are hundreds of them around the place. You needn’t worry about it.” Elizabeth sat beside her on the bed. “But I am curious as to why you have suddenly taken to flinging pillows at innocent pieces of pottery.”

“I didn’t mean to hit the vase; I only wanted to throw something and I thought a pillow would do the least damage. Evidently I was wrong.” Kitty sighed. “I often aim astray.”

“Did something happen tonight, Kitty?” Elizabeth asked, now looking very concerned.

“No…yes…” Kitty played with the ends of her sash. “Mr. Greerson and I had…words.”

“Words? What sorts of words?”

Kitty bit her lower lip as she contemplated her reply. “Mr. Greerson does not think very highly of me, I’m afraid. In fact, I think he might despise me.”

“Gracious, whatever would give you that idea?”

“He…he told me that he found my sense of humor unkind. He said that my manners were not what they should be. And he said that…that he only asked me to dance because it was the polite thing to do.”

Elizabeth was stunned momentarily into silence, and then said in disbelief, “Did he really say that? All of it?”

“He did.” And Kitty told her of their conversation, leaving out none of her own heated replies. She would not, Kitty thought spitefully, think only of what parts of the conversation offended her, and draw conclusions from those.

When she had finished, Elizabeth took a moment to reflect. She was silent so long that Kitty was afraid she was in for a lecture. “Do you think I behaved badly?”

“Badly? That is difficult to determine,” Elizabeth replied. “I do not think you behaved well, but then neither did he, so I think your behavior is at least excusable. But what can have prompted him to say such things?”

“I saw him in Lambton a few days ago, when Georgie and I went shopping,” Kitty answered. “I was talking with Mr. James Beecham, and everything was perfectly easy and friendly.” Kitty gave her a brief description of the conversation. “I suppose perhaps Mr. Greerson thought I was flirting with a man I did not know, but who is he to suppose such things?”

“I have been thinking over your behavior during his visit here, and while I found nothing offensive in your behavior, perhaps he is not used to laughing at himself. That is a difficulty with which I am very familiar; it has taken Fitzwilliam a long time to learn that lesson.”

“Well, I do not see how that is my fault,” Kitty said, feeling peevish again.

“It isn’t, but you must see that he could misconstrue your intentions, and feel that you were mocking him or making light of his profession.”

Kitty stared at her, hardly believing what she was about to be advised to do. “You think I should apologize to him!”

Elizabeth hesitated, but said, “Yes, I think you should. We both know that the disagreement was not, in the strictest terms, your fault, but he cannot help his nature. You can help your manners.”

“You’ve just said there isn’t anything wrong with my manners!” Kitty cried, feeling betrayed.

“And I don’t believe there is. But manners, like everything else, are a question of taste. Your manners are to my taste, as they are to Georgiana’s and Fitzwilliam’s. Oh, yes,” Elizabeth added with a laugh at Kitty’s expression of disbelief, “my husband is far more appreciative of vivacity and wit than you think. But manners such as ours are an acquired taste, Kitty. You must give Mr. Greerson some time adjust himself.”

Kitty sighed. “I will think on it, Lizzy, but I cannot imagine apologizing to him yet. I am still so angry!”

Elizabeth leaned forward and kissed her brow. “Think it over. We are going to Pemberley Church for services on Sunday, so you may make your decision then. If you wait too long, the damage might be irreversible.”

All day Saturday Kitty debated within herself as to what was to be done about Mr. Greerson. Lizzy’s advice sounded in her head like a dim echo, but she still suffered moments of white-hot rage when she remembered his presumption in drawing bad conclusions about her character. One moment she was convinced that she ought to forgive him and ask his forgiveness; the next she had decided quite firmly that she would never humble herself before such a proud, disagreeable man.

Georgiana, blithely unaware of the battle raging inside her friend’s head, was very studiously engaged in learning how to re-trim a bonnet. She had her very plain bonnet on the table before her and was now staring eagerly at the ribbons, laces, satins, and flowers that Kitty had placed before her. She tried with all her might to imagine combinations, but this was a medium with which she was unfamiliar; oils and watercolors, crayons and pencils were almost second nature to her, but how to create a masterpiece out of a few ribbons and flowers?

“Oh, I cannot do it,” she finally sighed, tossing the bonnet a few inches away with a petulant pout on her mouth. It was an expression she had evidently learned from Kitty, and Kitty suppressed a smile.

“Of course you can; anyone can a trim a bonnet.”

Georgiana continued to pout. “I have never told you that anyone can play a sonata.”

Kitty giggled. “I’ve never seen you pout before. It’s rather funny.”

“I am not pouting!” Georgiana said, the pout becoming more pronounced. “And I don’t think it’s funny at all.”

“Here, look at this,” Kitty said, pulling the bonnet toward herself. “Do you see how the bonnet itself is rather creamy, like an eggshell? You have two ribbons here that will compliment that color very well – blue and dark red. With your coloring, though, you should probably use the…”

“Blue.” Georgiana sat forward, watching as Kitty carefully laid the blue ribbon above the rim of the bonnet.

“Now,” Kitty continued as if her pupil had not interrupted, “you will need to decide what gowns you will probably wear this bonnet with. If you are going to wear it to church, you should probably continue with this white or sky blue lace, like this,” and she demonstrated, placing the lace over the ribbon, “or if you want to use it for walks and rides, you can choose something more fun, like some of these silk flowers. Of course,” she added, “none of this is set in stone. I’ve worn flowers to church many times.”

Georgiana had hung on every word as if she were being tutored in French. Evidently feeling more at ease with the whole process, she took the bonnet from Kitty and began to go to work, poring over the laces and flowers with a very serious aspect. Kitty set to work on her own bonnet, allowing her mind to mull once again over the puzzle that was Mr. Greerson.

What bothered her most, she decided, was that his words should be so very upsetting to her. What was he to her, after all, that his opinion should so greatly affect her? She had no need of his good opinion. And yet at the inn she had gained quite a different impression of him, he had seemed friendly and kind, not grave and insulting. She frowned to herself. Who was the real Mr. Greerson, the kind gentleman who assisted footmen, or the unbearable clergyman who insulted young ladies on dance floors?

“Why are you frowning so, Kitty?” Georgiana asked anxiously, breaking into Kitty’s reverie. “Does it look so very terrible?”

Kitty studied the bonnet, trying to shake her thoughts. “Of course not, Georgie. It looks very well. I was not frowning at your bonnet, I merely fell into a brown study.”

Georgiana seemed to accept this without question, and fell merrily back to work, humming to herself. Kitty watched her. Georgie had clearly enjoyed herself at the ball the evening before. Their conversation at breakfast had left no doubt of that, but how much of that enjoyment had stemmed from Mr. Greerson’s company, Kitty could not tell. It would be just as well, really, Kitty thought, to make peace, just in case Mr. Greerson began to show more interest in Georgiana. They would undoubtedly be in company often.

Georgiana gave a little crow of triumph as she displayed her finished bonnet, which looked well but was not nearly as handsome as any of her finer bonnets, and Kitty smiled. Yes, for Georgiana’s sake, she would make amends.

The next morning they all set out for Pemberley Church, Georgiana proudly sporting the bonnet she had created the day before. It did go very well with her morning gown, and Kitty was quite as proud as her friend. She had never thought she had the means of teaching anyone, and here was someone quite willing to learn all about her favorite pastime!

As they all filed into the Darcy family pew, Kitty saw Mr. Greerson standing behind the pulpit, clearly avoiding her gaze. It was not quite fair, Kitty thought, that someone should look so handsome in clergyman’s garb. She glanced around the sanctuary and saw that several other young ladies of the neighborhood were gazing at their new shepherd with fervent admiration. Kitty suppressed a giggle and turned her eyes back to the front of the church, where Mr. Greerson was beginning to lead the first hymn.

He had a rich, pleasing voice, so well-suited to singing that Kitty forgot for a moment that she was supposed to sing as well. She did not join in until the second chorus, feeling a little embarrassed that for a moment she had considered the hymn as a performance rather than worship.

When they had all resumed their seats, Mr. Greerson was silent for a moment, before glancing at the large book before him. His voice was as well suited to reading as it was to singing, and Kitty wondered that he had chosen so short a passage for this, his first sermon at Pemberley Church.

“‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.’” He raised his eyes from the book. “Our passage today comes from the first book of John, chapter one, verse nine.” A pause. “A brief passage, to be sure, but a powerful and complex one.

“Our Lord receives many descriptions within the chapters of this book. He is by turns exacting and easy, commanding and companionable. But there is one description that never alters, and it is this, the description of the 'faithful and just' God who is always willing to forgive the sins of the wicked. It is imperative however,” Mr. Greerson said, his voice rising a little, “that we understand the full import of this passage. The most important message in this sentence is not the description of our loving and forgiving God, but that qualifying phrase at the beginning, those five words that capture the relationship we must have with our Lord and Savior. ‘If we confess our sins.’ The Lord has often granted forgiveness to, in our own earthbound opinions, those unworthy of it: the ignorant, the indolent, the vicious, and the proud. But He has never, in the whole course of his relations with mankind, offered free forgiveness to the unrepentant. It is repentance, and repentance only, that the Lord takes into consideration when He receives our requests for forgiveness, not our worth.

“This benefits us,” Mr. Greerson suddenly smiled, “because none of us, strictly examined, would be deemed worthy of forgiveness. We are all ignorant, indolent, proud, and vicious creatures; it is our sinful nature to be so, though as Christians we are expected and required to try to overcome our base selves and follow the example of Christ. And yet it is this very condition, this requirement of meek, humbling confession of sins that is the most difficult for us to meet. Were the Lord to require us to do a thousand great tasks to gain His forgiveness, I believe we would find that much more to our tastes. Our pride would be satisfied by forgiveness such as this, forgiveness that must be earned. We could believe that we deserved our ablution and that we were now beings worthy of the notice of God.

“This, as John makes clear to us, will never be the case. Before receiving the full and free forgiveness of the Lord, we must admit to Him and to ourselves that we are not worthy of it. When that admission has been made, we must kneel before Him in confession, proving our spirits repentant and meek. When all this has been done, forgiveness is ours. It is astonishing and distressing that we find this simple act of humility such an arduous task.

“I would ask you to join me in prayer. I shall not pray aloud. Speak to God in your own words, within your own heart, and seek that forgiveness which is so freely granted in exchange for your repentance.”

Mr. Greerson bowed his head, and the congregation did the same, Kitty feeling that this was a strange way to end a sermon. His words had struck her, though, as she contemplated the truth of them. Certainly apologizing and asking forgiveness had always been difficult for her. After casting about in her mind for something to repent of, Kitty found herself truly sorry that she had provoked him so cheerfully, and though she was not quite sure that relentless teasing was a sin, she made a prayer of repentance and petition all the same. Surely if the Lord had forgiven her, his servant would be more likely to do so.

After a few moments, Mr. Greerson raised his head again. “I have only a few words to add before I release you to your dinners. Forgiveness does not come naturally to us; it is a unique characteristic of our Lord. It has often been said that to err is human, and that to forgive is divine. There is truth in that. As Christians, it is our solemn duty to emulate the Lord as much as possible; therefore, if we receive a request for forgiveness, a request that has not been forced in any way but offered with a true repentant spirit, it is imperative,” and suddenly Mr. Greerson met Kitty’s eyes for the first time that morning, “that we forgive. God be with you.”

As they all filed out of the church, Kitty noticed that the conversation throughout the congregation was subdued. Some of the parishioners looked rather confused, others looked a little black, but most were simply thoughtful. Mr. Darcy and Georgiana, Kitty saw with surprise, looked very grave, as if heavy thoughts were weighing on their minds.

They approached the door of the church, where Mr. Greerson stood bidding his flock farewell with a serene smile on his face. At the sight of the Pemberley party, however, his expression changed to one of apprehension. He accepted Elizabeth’s praise of his sermon graciously, but his eyes remained on Kitty, who took the first opportunity to approach him.

“I must ask your forgiveness,” she said without preamble, and he looked very surprised.

“My forgiveness, Miss Bennet? On the contrary, it is I who must ask for yours.”

“Let us ask for each other’s forgiveness, then, and start anew,” Kitty acceded.

He smiled. “Very well.”

Georgiana approached them and took her friend’s arm. “Mr. Greerson, thank you for your stirring words today. I have rarely had so much to think of after a sermon was concluded.” Mr. Greerson gave a small bow of acknowledgment, and the two young ladies curtsied their goodbyes. As they walked to the carriage, Kitty glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Greerson stood watching them, an inexplicable expression of apprehension on his face.

Posted on 2008-07-10

When April showed its sunny face, Kitty was comfortably ensconced at Pemberley, and many within its walls seemed to consider her a permanent resident. She had wandered the house and gardens so frequently as to have a thorough knowledge of both, and required only a full acquaintance with the Darcy and Fitzwilliam family histories to be considered an honorary Darcy. All the near neighbors seemed to have decided that allowances could be made for a young woman not properly socialized, and all the bad impressions she had made at the beginning of March seemed entirely done away.

The Miss Beechams, occasionally accompanied by their brother, were frequent visitors at Pemberley, and the young ladies of Pemberley were just as regular in returning their visits. Mr. Greerson and Mr. Jamison were also often to be seen strolling about the gardens with the young ladies, and none of the young people seemed to notice the imposing figure of Mr. Darcy keeping watch from an upper window. Mr. Jamison’s open admiration of Kitty was a source of amusement and silent rejoicing in the ladies of the family, of brotherly concern in Mr. Darcy, and confusion and gratitude in the lady herself.

That Mr. Jamison far exceeded any expectations she had ever held for herself, she could not deny. He was rich, to be sure, or would be one day, but that consideration had never held as much weight with her as with her mother. He did not have, nor had ever had, any military aspirations, and so he would never wear a red coat, but Kitty found that she did not much care about this anymore either. Everyone at Pemberley seemed to regard his formal courtship and eventual proposal as a foregone conclusion, and Kitty wished this was not so. She truly did not know what her answer would be if he approached her so soon. She knew she ought to accept him, as such an eligible offer was not likely to present itself again despite her connection to the Darcys.

With such thoughts, Kitty rather dreaded the arrival of the rest of her family at Easter. Her mother was certain to notice Mr. Jamison’s attentions and make a scene, and Kitty did not think she could bear that such a kind and gentle man would be subjected to her mother’s machinations. Despite Kitty’s wishes, however, the holiday did arrive, and the rattle of carriages in the drive alerted her to the invasion.

They stood on the stairs, preparing to greet the visitors. Mr. Bennet was the first to alight, smiling in his sardonic way at the fine picture Pemberley presented before he turned to hand his wife from the carriage. Elizabeth descended the stairs and kissed her father tenderly on his cheek before bestowing a similar greeting on her mother.

“You are welcome to Pemberley, Papa and Mama,” she said with a smile. Mr. Darcy had approached, shaken Mr. Bennet’s hand and kissed Mrs. Bennet’s before Mrs. Bennet recovered her power of speech.

“Oh, Lord, Lizzy! It is even larger and grander than I imagined it! What riches! What luxury! Oh, you must be the happiest woman alive, my dearest girl!”

“I believe I am, Mama,” Elizabeth replied, taking her husband’s arm and pressing it affectionately.

Mr. Jonathan Bennet was the next to exit the carriage, and other than turning a little pink, Georgiana showed no sign of discomfort at his appearance. He handed out his sister Mary, and they were both graciously received by their sister and her new family. Jonathan could not help but steal a glance at Miss Darcy’s face, and saw no embarrassment or unease there. He was not sure whether this was altogether a good sign.

After a few moments’ conversation, it seemed to occur to Elizabeth that the party was a little too quiet, and after a quick glance around, asked, “But where is Lydia?”

“Oh! we all knew we would be so crowded in just our carriage Lizzy, so the Bingleys are bringing Lydia with them. So kind and generous of Mr. Bingley to offer, but after all she is his sister; he could not very well do less!”

Elizabeth felt a moment’s pity for Jane and Charles. Lydia had never been a great traveler, but if there were any chaperones with the patience to bear with her constant complaints, surely they were Jane and Bingley.

“Well, we are not expecting the Bingleys until this afternoon, so why do we not have you all settled?” Elizabeth said. “Mama, Papa, I will show you to your rooms. Georgie and Kitty, would you be so kind as to help Mary?” Kitty nodded eagerly and linked arms with her soberly surprised sister. Georgiana preceded them up the stairs, and Jonathan was left to follow Elizabeth and his parents.

Mrs. Bennet continued exclaiming over the beauty and price of the ornaments through the foyer, up the grand staircase, down the hallway, and was only silenced by the large apartments set aside for her own use. Mr. Bennet, she found, would be in the apartment adjoining hers. Fancy, a suite of rooms all for herself! She was sure she would faint dead away.

When all was arranged to everyone’s satisfaction, the whole party gathered in the drawing room to chat, admire each other’s looks and health, and await the arrival of the Bingleys and Lydia. Mrs. Bennet lost no time in cornering her desired daughter-in-law.

“I declare, Miss Darcy, you are grown more handsome than ever! I hope you will play for us this evening, as you are so very accomplished, and dear Jonathan loves a good song, you know.”

Georgiana smiled calmly. “I shall be very glad to play if you desire it, Mrs. Bennet, but I must insist on Kitty joining me. She has made quite a lot of progress this past month, and we have been working on some duets I think you would enjoy.”

Mrs. Bennet looked temporarily stunned, but pounced immediately on the subject of Kitty’s improvement. “Well, I am sure she can only be improved, for you were always a sad, hapless musician, weren’t you, Kitty?”

“I was indeed, Mama. I am proud to say that I have now become merely indifferent.”

Mr. Bennet, who was in the process of drinking his tea, was forced to spit it out again, rather inelegantly, into his cup.

“I say, Kitty, when did you acquire a wit?” he asked hoarsely.

“I hardly know, Papa,” Kitty said quite seriously. “But it appears to suit me, and so I think I will continue to cultivate it.”

“And what of the young men about?” Mrs. Bennet asked, a familiar gleam in her eye. “Have you made any friends, Kitty?”

“Catherine has made a great many friends in the surrounding families,” Mr. Darcy said smoothly. “We have frequent visitors on hers and Georgiana’s account.”

Mrs. Bennet frowned. “It is a pity we do not live closer, or Jonathan would be able to visit much more often.”

“Yes, a great pity,” Mr. Bennet interrupted, throwing his son a glance.

Jonathan smiled. “I meant to accompany Kitty in March, but business at Longbourn prevented me.”

“We are sorry it did,” Elizabeth said, sparing a glance for her sister-in-law, who was quite determinedly not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“If I am not mistaken, I believe I hear a carriage in the drive,” Mr. Darcy said in the brief, awkward silence.

He was correct. Elizabeth, on discerning it herself, leapt instantly to her feet and hurried down the hallway and out of the door, greeting her elder sister with enthusiasm. Everyone else followed at a more sedate pace, and was more than happy to greet the newcomers with more decorum, though no one begrudged Elizabeth her little display of happiness.

There was no one invited to Pemberley that evening, but the next afternoon the family could no longer deny the claims of their various acquaintances. Kitty waited anxiously for the arrival of Mr. Jamison, simultaneously hoping he would not come and rather wishing he would so that it would all be over with. She was grateful to the Darcys, who had carefully circumvented every inquiry, pointed or veiled, about her conquests, but she knew their protection could not hide her forever.

Finally, to Kitty’s mind, he came. He was introduced to all the family – neither Mrs. Bennet nor Lydia seemed very impressed with him, but Kitty forgave them as his appearance was not prepossessing – and took a seat by Kitty as soon as politely possible. Mrs. Bennet eyed him warily until she made inquiry into his family and fortune, and then she became much more amenable to him and eager to talk.

“Do you know Pemberley well, Mr. Jamison?” she asked. Kitty marveled at how well a day of matching wits with the Darcys had sharpened her mother’s. Her questions, though still pointed, were much more subtly worded than ever before.

“I am coming to know it quite well, ma’am,” the gentleman replied.

“Ah! You visit often, I take it?” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes began to gleam.

“As often as I can, madam. The estate has great attractions for me, I confess.”

“Indeed, Pemberley is a beautiful estate,” Kitty interrupted, her cheeks turning a little red. “We must take you on a tour of the park, Mama, on the first warm day.”

“Have you heard Kitty play?” Mrs. Bennet continued as if her daughter had not spoken. “I hear she is much improved, but we retired early last evening and I do not know if there is any truth in it.”

“Oh, you would not notice any great difference, Mama,” Kitty laughed uncomfortably. “It is only that not nearly as many people run weeping from the room.”

Mr. Jamison looked rather confused. “I do not recall anyone being offended by your playing, Miss Bennet. I believe you play well.”

“There, you see!” Kitty teased. “If I can draw no more eloquent a compliment than ‘well’ from as kind a gentleman as Mr. Jamison, you know I speak the truth.”

“I meant no slight, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Jamison replied immediately, appearing agitated.

“Kitty is only teasing, sir,” Jonathan interrupted. “It is a rather unfortunate family trait that several of us share, but there is no harm or blame in it, I promise you.”

“Ah, of course,” the gentleman said with a smile, and turning once again to gaze on his companion. “I would not believe Miss Bennet capable of truly injuring anyone.”

There was a moment of silence during which no one seemed quite sure what to say, and into this silence was Mr. Greerson shown. Mr. Darcy welcomed him with warmth and relief, and Mrs. Bennet, at the sight of so handsome a young gentleman, quickly vacated her seat by Lydia and sat in the only other remaining chair. Lydia smiled her best smile and tried valiantly to catch the gentleman’s eye, until she heard what his connection was to the family. She looked pleadingly at her mother, but before Mrs. Bennet could again change her seat, Mr. Greerson was invited to sit, and there was no saving her dearest girl from the company of a clergyman. Absolved of the burden to be polite or flirtatious, or she viewed his profession at any rate, Lydia chose to be, instead, herself.

“Why are not you wearing black?” she asked.

Mr. Greerson looked surprised. “I have never found it necessary to dress in clerical garb at all times.”

“But why do you wear such colors?” Lydia eyed the blue coat that had been foremost in convincing her that he was a man of property.

Here Jonathan felt obliged to rescue the poor man. “Pray, Lydia, if a man chooses not to wear black but cannot wear colors, what other options does he have?”

Lydia shrugged. “Lord, I don’t know. Mr. Collins always wore black. I think clergymen should, and then we will all know what to expect.”

“Expect, Miss Lydia?” Mr. Jamison interrupted. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I think what Lydia means to say,” Kitty said with a glare in her sister’s direction, “is that members of certain professions are known to dress certain ways, and so there can be confusion when someone dresses differently than may be expected.”

Lydia gaped at her sister. “That wasn’t what I meant at all!”

“Perhaps it would be best if you pretended it was,” Mr. Bennet suggested, a warning note in his voice.

Huffing, Lydia descended into sulky silence.

“Mr. Jamison was just telling us how often he visits Pemberley, Mr. Greerson,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Are you as fond of the estate as he is?”

“I have not lived in the neighborhood so long, madam, but I shall have ample opportunity to explore it, I am sure.”

“Do you live very near?”

“On the northern edge of the estate. I have come to know that part of the park very well.”

“Does your family live in the country?”

“No, ma’am, my mother and sisters have a house in London. I do not seem them often, I’m afraid.” Mr. Greerson looked as if he rather regretted entering the room.

“Well,” Mrs. Bennet said with a tight smile before turning her attention to Mr. Jamison again, who answered all her questions with much more affability, and much more satisfactory answers.

Kitty felt the dismissal keenly, though it appeared that Mr. Greerson did not. He entered into conversation with Mr. Bennet and Jonathan immediately, and Kitty found herself wishing that he would show a little more distress at her mother’s snub. She did not have much time to dwell on this feeling, as Mr. Jamison soon afterwards claimed her attention. It was not long before Mrs. Bennet, highly pleased with the gentleman she now viewed as her future son-in-law, suggested a nice walk in the gardens as highly desirable for the young people. The married couples decided to stay in, but the young ladies and gentlemen were gently pushed out the doors to wander about in the hedgerows.

Lydia, as if waiting for just such an opportunity, immediately took hold of her sister’s arm and walked quickly away from the group, leaving Georgiana and Mary to entertain the young men.

“Lydia!” Kitty exclaimed, managing with difficulty to extract her arm from her sister’s iron-like grip. “What are you doing?”

“Lord, I thought I would die of boredom,” Lydia moped. “Poor Kitty! How can you bear it?”

“Everyone has been very kind,” Kitty protested, looking about her for the others. They were nowhere to be found.

“And those suitors of yours! Are there really no better men in Derbyshire?”

“Suitors? I don’t know what you mean,” Kitty said, but she felt her cheeks grow warm.

“Mr. Jamison, of course, everyone can tell he is violently in love with you, and he is rich after all so he might do, especially for you. But Mr. Greerson! What a pity he should be so handsome. He does not deserve it.”

“Deserve it!” Kitty said indignantly. “And what has he done that he does not deserve to be handsome?”

“Oh, I think you like Mr. Greerson, Kitty,” Lydia crowed. “How quickly you jump to defend him.”

“Of course I like him,” Kitty said haughtily. “He is a good man.”

“Oh, perhaps, but I think you admire him, Kitty. Admit it! You do!”

“I do not admire him,” Kitty said firmly, her mind’s eye flitting back for a moment to his unperturbed countenance in the drawing room. “I respect him as a man and a clergyman, but there is nothing more to it than that. I find nothing to admire in him at all.”

At that moment they rounded a hedge and came face-to-face with all of the others. Kitty, overcome with confusion lest they had been overheard, could not meet anyone’s eyes, and so she could not see how Mr. Greerson looked. She did note that Georgiana’s voice was slightly higher in pitch as she exclaimed over finding the two girls at last and suggested that they all return to the drawing room. The gentlemen left within moments of returning to the house

Posted on 2008-07-26

Jonathan sat alone at the breakfast table one week into his family’s stay at Pemberley. Out of respect for the lady’s feelings, Jonathan had until now avoided being alone in a room with Miss Darcy. The last time he had spoken to her he had been in no cheerful mood, and he was sure he had done his suit more harm than good. Accusing such a shy and gentle girl of insincerity was surely no way to recommend himself. Who knew how much damage he had done?

And yet, her behavior toward him so far had not indicated any ill-will. In fact, her calm smiles and serene manners were more disconcerting than her anger or embarrassment would have been. He was beginning to fear that she had lost any particular attachment to him. He had noted both of the young men who were in the habit of calling at Pemberley, and found, to his great relief and utter bafflement, that both seemed more inclined toward his own sister than Darcy’s. What the great attraction was Jonathan could not discern, but allowed that as her brother he was perhaps not the best judge of these things.

While he was mulling over this subject, Miss Darcy entered the breakfast room, also alone. He did not immediately notice her, and so missed the small start and blush that might have somewhat alleviated his concerns. Quickly recovering her composure, she greeted him quite calmly and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Miss Darcy,” he replied, rising until she had taken a seat at the table. “I am afraid your brother and my sister have already come and gone.”

“I have never met such a pair of early birds,” Georgiana smiled. “Kitty and I are often left to break our fast alone.”

“It is fortunate that you have each other, or alone you would have been quite neglected,” Jonathan returned her smile.

The lady laughed. “Kitty made a similar remark her first morning here, and I cannot disagree with either of you. I would indeed be in a sorry state if left entirely at their mercy!” She looked thoughtful then. “I cannot blame them, however. They are so very much in love, and so newly married. I cannot say that I would not behave the same way, in the same circumstances.”

Without much thought, Jonathan replied, “I doubt you will have to wait long before finding out, Miss Darcy.” The lady started, and Jonathan immediately regretted his thoughtless words. Before he could stumble out an apology, however, she had regained her composure and interrupted him.

“There is no reason to apologize, Mr. Bennet,” she said softly. “After all, I have been aware of your…regard for some time.”

“I had no wish to embarrass you,” Jonathan sighed.

“You have not embarrassed me,” Georgiana said firmly. Jonathan noticed the slight blush that gave the lie to her words, but said nothing. She seemed completely calm. “I had…rather hoped…that is…I wished to tell you…I don’t wish to be courted…not yet…by anyone.”

Jonathan had no response for this that could be voiced. He tried very hard not to look his disappointment as he replied, “I suspected as much.”

“However,” she continued as if he had not spoken, “I think that…in a year or so…when I have come out into society…I will feel very differently.”

This turnabout caused Jonathan to blink in astonishment. “Are you…forgive me, Miss Darcy, but are you asking me to court you after your come-out?”

“Astonishing as it may seem, I…yes, Mr. Bennet. That is exactly what I am saying.” And though she blushed so furiously that she could no longer meet his eyes, he could see on her down-turned face a smile bright enough to light the night sky.

“Well, then, Miss Darcy, I will of course abide by your wishes,” he answered, an answering smile on his own face.

Kitty entered the breakfast-room then and, had she not been immediately seen and hailed by Georgiana, would have walked out again. Her mother, the night before, had treated her to a rare lecture on the importance of being kind to Mr. Jamison, of discouraging Mr. Greerson, and of doing all she could to influence Miss Darcy on her brother’s behalf. Though Kitty planned to ignore most of this advice, her conscience still pricked at her when she recalled her plans to match Georgiana with Mr. Greerson, and she would have been glad to do her duty by her brother by leaving him alone with his sweetheart.

There was nothing to be done now, however, and they all sat quite companionably until Mr. and Mrs. Bennet entered. Kitty averted her eyes from her mother, who was clearly quite perturbed at finding Kitty most willfully disturbing the solitude of her son and potential daughter-in-law. After breaking her fast as quickly as possible, Mrs. Bennet hastened to her feet and said,

“Well, Kitty! I have not yet seen the grounds, and an airing would do me a great deal of good, I’m sure. Why don’t you show me the gardens?”

“Have you been feeling unwell, Mrs. Bennet?” Mr. Bennet asked, looking up from his newspaper.

“Oh, not unwell, exactly, but I have heard so much about the gardens of Pemberley, and I am simply dying with curiosity.”

“I am very glad you have taken such a liking to the outdoors,” Mr. Bennet said calmly, his eyes beginning to twinkle. “I recall a time when the merest suggestion of a walk was enough to destroy your nerves.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Bennet. Nothing would do my nerves so much good as a walk in Pemberley’s gardens. Come, Kitty.” Mrs. Bennet took her daughter’s arm firmly and began walking towards the door.

“Very well, go satisfy your curiosity, my dear. We shall have Mary and Lydia to keep us company here soon enough.”

Apparently Mrs. Bennet had not thought of this impediment, for she appeared momentarily stymied. “Oh…well…”

“Shall I, er, send them after you, my dear, when they arrive? How much time should they be allowed for breakfast? Or would you rather have them simply take a biscuit or two into the gardens with them? Make a picnic of it?”

By now Mrs. Bennet had gathered that he was mocking her, and she huffed, “No. Kitty and I will return shortly. I must not walk long, you know, it is not good for my nerves. Come, Kitty.” And taking her daughter’s arm again, she marched out of the breakfast room. When they were gone, Mr. Bennet winked at his son and returned to his newspaper.

No sooner had Mrs. Bennet and Kitty returned from their walk, than a visitor was announced. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, having only just returned themselves, could not but be astonished when Mr. Jamison was shown into their drawing room at an hour that could just barely be deemed appropriate for calling. The gentleman seemed not at all abashed by his near-rudeness and conversed easily with them all, even seeming to take little notice of Lydia’s loud and deliberate yawns.

After an appropriate interval, Mr. Jamison rose and addressed Mr. Bennet directly. “I wondered, sir, if I might have a moment of your time.”

Mrs. Bennet fairly glowed with happiness and expectation, and Mr. Bennet, looking wary, assented with only the barest glance at his fourth daughter, whose eyes seemed determinedly bent on studying the carpet. When he received no look from her that bespoke her reluctance or her fear of what might result from this interview, however, he followed the younger man out of the room, ready to be amused.

The library door had but just shut on them when Mr. Jamison said with steady purpose, “Mr. Bennet, I would like to ask your consent to address Miss Catherine.”

Though he had expected a request of the kind – Mr. Jamison’s behavior leaving little doubt as to his feelings or intentions – Mr. Bennet was nonetheless surprised at the directness of his manner. “Address her? That is a word that could have any variety of meanings. Would you care to elaborate?”

Mr. Jamison paused. “I have known and admired your daughter for some time, sir, and I have no reason to believe her ill-disposed toward me. However, I am not under any delusion – I know that her regard for me is not so high as my regard for her.” Seeing that Mr. Bennet awaited further illumination, he continued, “I would like to court her, sir. I have never courted before, but I believe that the established mode is to ask permission of her father before doing so.”

“Yes, I believe that to be so, though I have had little experience with such protocol myself.” Mr. Jamison looked puzzled. “I mean, sir, that neither of my sons-in-law saw fit to ask my permission to court my daughters. Indeed, in Mrs. Darcy’s case I was scarcely aware of any affection between them at all. I am used to being in the dark in such cases as these.” Mr. Bennet chuckled lightly to himself.

Mr. Jamison nodded his understanding, though not apparently finding the same degree of amusement in the situation. “Do I have your blessing, sir?”

“Let me be understood, young man,” Mr. Bennet said very seriously, though not unkindly. “I know no harm of you; I trust my son-in-law enough to know that if you were in any way dangerous company for my daughter you would have been tossed out on your ear weeks ago. However, I will never answer for one of my daughters. If you wish to marry Kitty, you will have to gain her good opinion, not mine and certainly not my wife’s. If you can get Kitty’s good will, you will have my full blessing, but until then you are very much on your own.”

Mr. Jamison took a few moments to absorb this speech, and then said seriously, “I would not have asked you to promise her hand against her will. I accept your terms, sir.”

“Very well, then. One thing more, and we will have finished. I ask that you grant me a favor.”

“Of course, sir. Anything within my power.”

“Brave words indeed. I ask that you breathe not a word of this to Mrs. Bennet or my other daughters. The mere scent of a match is enough to send my wife running in the direction of the nearest dressmaker’s, and before you have begun your courtship you will find yourself inundated with questions about dates and flowers. Whether or not this would discompose you is no concern of mine, but I have no wish to listen to such diatribes during my journey to Hertfordshire. Will you hold your silence?”

“Most readily, sir,” Mr. Jamison said, inwardly shuddering at such a picture as Mr. Bennet, with perhaps a little too much hyperbole, had painted.

“Excellent.”

Mr. Bennet, considering their conversation quite at an end, chose a promising book from Mr. Darcy’s shelves and settled himself comfortably on a sofa. Mr. Jamison hesitated, considered suggesting that they return to the drawing room, though better of it, puzzled over whether he should say anything more, and finally left the room without a word.

Behind his book, Mr. Bennet watched him go, and sighed over the possibility of such a son-in-law. He was a nice young man, and a good young man, to be sure, but Mr. Bennet had become accustomed to having sensible, articulate sons-in-law, and he was not certain he could endure this new model. Still, if Kitty liked him, and if he was willing to align himself with such a silly girl, Mr. Bennet supposed he must count his blessings. Three daughters married! Mrs. Bennet would be beside herself with glee…if she ever learned of it. For his own part, he thought life might be quieter if Mrs. Bennet never married off another daughter again…and infinitely less expensive

Posted on 2008-08-05

True to his word, Mr. Jamison gave no sign of his true intentions until Mrs. Bennet was safely on her way to Longbourn. When the Bennets were gone, however, he entered into the task of courting Miss Catherine Bennet with great enthusiasm. Mr. Bennet had related the substance of their conversation to Mr. Darcy, who accepted the responsibility of overseeing the courtship with a most serious aspect, and Mr. Bennet left Pemberley under the impression that, if he had not given the young man his consent, he would very likely be frightened off by the lady’s imposing brother-in-law.

Georgiana, happy in the knowledge that Mr. Jonathan Bennet still regarded her with affection, and still happier that he had agreed to her plan of courtship during her first season, could reflect on the Bennets’ visit with perfect complacency. Even the obsequious attentions of Mrs. Bennet could no longer embarrass her, when she knew that lady’s object to be no different from Jonathan’s and her own. How could she be embarrassed or offended, when Mrs. Bennet was only attempting to forward an action that would satisfy the first wish of Miss Darcy’s own heart? No, there was nothing to offend; she was even grateful that Mrs. Bennet apparently wished for the match as much as the principal parties could do, though of course for more material considerations.

Mr. Darcy had seen with surprise and pride how easy his sister had become in company – even easily deflecting the most pointed of Mrs. Bennet’s comments – and could only attribute such a change to the influence of Kitty, of whom he was becoming more and more fond. Her friendship with Georgiana, her real, disinterested friendship, would have been enough to endear her to him, but this extraordinary change wrought by the meeting of Kitty’s liveliness and Georgiana’s elegance fixed her in his good graces.

And what of Kitty, whose prospects for a good marriage had improved so drastically in such a short time? What can be said of her feelings, when Mr. Bennet gently informed her of his discussion with Mr. Jamison, for he felt it would be unkind to throw the girl into a courtship without warning her? Her reaction was not what he had expected.

“Well, Kitty,” said he when Mr. Jamison had gone and he had maneuvered to speak with her alone, “I’ve had a most interesting conversation with your young man, and I feel you are entitled to know the contents.”

Kitty had blushed furiously, but said nothing.

“And yet I doubt not that you have already guessed what we discussed. Young ladies are amazingly penetrating when it comes to such matters as these, however foolish they may be about others.” When she still had not replied, he had said, “Very well, I shall tell you what you no doubt already know. Mr. Jamison has asked my permission to court you.” Several emotions had flashed in Kitty’s face, but surprise was not one of them. Mr. Bennet had chuckled at her. “I suspected as much…you already knew that he would ask me.”

“I did think that was his reason for speaking to you,” Kitty had said a trifle petulantly, “though I wish he had spoken to me first.”

Mr. Bennet had stared at her in astonishment. “Do you disapprove of him, Kitty? Have I done ill in allowing him to court you?”

“I do not disapprove of him. I don’t know if you did well or ill. I don’t know!” Kitty’s voice had reached a panicked octave, and Mr. Bennet had hurriedly taken her hand and led her to a chair before helping her to a glass of water.

“Mr. Jamison seemed fairly certain that you held him in esteem, and though he is certainly not the most penetrating man I have ever met, I have no reason to believe him ignorant.”

“He is a kind, gentlemanlike man; he is rich and well-connected; he likes me a great deal. I should like him, shouldn’t I, Papa?” Kitty had raised her eyes to his pleadingly.

“I am not concerned with whether you should like him, my dear, I am concerned with whether you do.”

“I do not know,” Kitty had sighed.

“Well, you will have plenty of time to determine that.” He had patted her shoulder awkwardly. “If at any point you are displeased with his attention, you have only to tell your brother-in-law and he will dismiss the young man’s suit immediately.”

“I have never been courted before,” Kitty had said sadly. “I thought that when I was courted, I would know immediately whether I would accept him, and the courtship would just be a formality until he planned the perfect proposal.”

Mr. Bennet’s lips had twitched. “I believe you read too many novels, Kitty.”

“No, indeed,” Kitty had said seriously. “It’s Mr. Darcy and Lizzy that I am thinking of. How devoted they are, how well they look and talk together. I want to be sure that Mr. Jamison will give me that.”

Mr. Bennet had stared at her in silence for several minutes. “First I find you have a wit on you, and now you make the first sensible speech I have heard from your lips. Are you certain you’re my Catherine?”

Kitty had smiled and shrugged.

Mr. Jamison was now to be seen at Pemberley everyday. His gentle and unassuming manners made him a favorite with everybody, and even Mr. Darcy was so well convinced of the honor of his character, that he seldom insisted on Kitty’s having any other chaperone than Georgiana during his visits. The spring months were now upon them, and nothing could be more conducive to love than the fresh green of the trees and the gentle breezes from the hills.

Kitty found much to admire and esteem in her suitor, but was grateful for that gentle patience in his character that never pressed her or importuned her with passionate speeches. In fact, he spent much more time puzzling out her speeches, than formulating his own.

Once, while they were walking in the gardens and discussing the beauties of the season, Kitty observed to her companions, “I can never decide on a favorite season. Every three months I have a new opinion, and I am convinced of that season’s superiority. But then three more months pass and I am equally convinced that I love that season best of all!”

“There is certainly something to be said for the beauties of each,” Mr. Jamison agreed. “But I do not think they are all equal. Winter, after all, when we are not blessed with snowfall, can quite depress one’s spirits.”

“Such an effect is certainly painful to many,” Kitty smiled, “but sometimes, you know, it is better to be sad, that we may have to pleasure of looking forward to happiness, and appreciate it when we have it. Too many people take happiness for granted!”

Mr. Jamison looked puzzled. “I have never known pleasure in sadness, Miss Bennet.”

“Perhaps not at the time, but have you never appreciated a period of misery afterwards, when you were happy again?”

“I cannot say that I have ever reflected on past misery with any satisfaction.”

“I have,” Kitty sighed. “At Longbourn I was always a stupid creature, and miserable, too. Yet I wouldn’t change any of it, or I wouldn’t be so thankful for my happiness now.”

Mr. Jamison did not know either to what misery, or to what happiness she referred, but was ready enough to make a gallant remark about his own present happiness, and Kitty was left with the uncomfortable knowledge of being but half understood. It was a feeling with which she was growing more and more familiar.

Miss Darcy, having more leisure now than at any period of her life, from no longer performing the office of Mistress of Pemberley, was more than happy to act as chaperone during Mr. Jamison’s visits. She was fond of him herself, and considered his possible marriage to her friend, as quite the most delightful event possible, and would have carried out her duties with alacrity, if a most distressing idea had not occurred to her in the course of the Longbourn family’s visit.

Lydia Bennet’s assertion that Mr. Greerson admired Kitty, Georgiana had easily dismissed as idle gossip, and was relieved to see that Kitty’s avowal of finding nothing to admire in him was either unheard or disregarded by the gentleman himself. Certainly his manners had displayed no resentment or dejection after this outburst, which was intended, as Georgiana firmly believed, as a shield against further teasing rather than a testimony of truth.

Yet no sooner had Georgiana settled this with herself and begun to plan an autumn wedding for her dear friend, than she noticed, quite by chance, that Mr. Greerson had become nearly as much a fixture in the Pemberley gardens and drawing rooms as Mr. Jamison, and just as earnest an observer of her friend’s face. What could it mean? And even as she posed this question, there came the immediate and obvious answer: Mr. Jamison was not alone in his regard for Kitty.

Georgiana was a great deal distressed by this revelation. She thought highly of Mr. Greerson, and had no wish to see him disappointed, but Mr. Jamison held the higher claim, or so she imagined, by having actually obtained Mr. Bennet’s consent to court his daughter. Her first instinct was to go directly to Elizabeth and ask her opinion, though it was not without many an inner debate that she did so. She was not convinced that Kitty, if she ever discovered it, would appreciate her romantic affairs being discussed in such a way. She spoke, and was astonished to find that Elizabeth had made the same discoveries as herself.

“I am sorry for Mr. Greerson,” Georgiana said, “but what shall we do? Kitty is certainly not aware of his affection. Should we tell her?”

Elizabeth hesitated before replying, “If he wishes her to know, he is more than capable of telling her himself. If she were flirting with him and unknowingly raising his hopes, I would of course give her a hint to take care. But that is not the case. No, my dear,” Elizabeth concluded, “it will be best to say nothing about it. Mr. Greerson is his own man – we must let him fend for himself. He would not thank us for interfering, even on his behalf.”

The entrance of the lady in question put an end to the discussion, and the three sisters talked amiably together until dinnertime

Posted on 2008-08-24

Elizabeth and Georgiana were not the only members of the Pemberley household to notice Kitty’s most recent admirer. Mr. Darcy had noticed, on two or three occasions, that Mr. Greerson called on him rather more frequently than necessary, on matters of very trifling business, and was never unwilling to stop in the music room, the ladies’ collective favorite chamber, and pay his respects to the ladies of the house. With true brotherly prejudice, Darcy was at first inclined to believe that the inducement was his sister, but after interrupting the party a few times, he became aware of the true bent of the parson’s feelings.

Mr. Greerson had no claim on Kitty’s time or attention, but Mr. Darcy felt that he still merited a fair chance. His connections and fortune might not be as unexceptionable as Mr. Jamison’s, but he had intelligence, a good heart despite his sometimes pompous demeanor, and a wit as sharp as any Darcy’s. He combined those attributes, however, with a reticence and gravity that Darcy knew, from personal experience, could not bode well for his suit, now or at any future time. He did not know whether Elizabeth had made the same observations as himself, but he determined, at any rate, to give the young man a hint.

He watched Mr. Greerson during his next visit and, with some inner amusement, had to admire the young man’s composure and utter confidence in not being found out. When their business – the most trifling to date – had been completed, Mr. Greerson stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Darcy.”

"As always, my pleasure, Mr. Greerson,” Darcy replied, shaking the man’s hand.

“Are the ladies at home today?” Mr. Greerson asked in a very casual manner.

“I believe they are,” Mr. Darcy said nonchalantly. “Mr. Greerson, do you by any chance play chess?”

Mr. Greerson, who was nearly halfway to the door, turned in surprise and looked at his host warily. “I do, sir.”

“Excellent! I am always looking for a new opponent. I trust I can claim you as an adversary?”

“Of course, sir; I am at your disposal.” Mr. Greerson made another bid for freedom, but was forestalled once again.

“Let us play now.” Mr. Darcy gestured to the chess board sitting near the window that overlooked the gardens.

“N-now?”

“Certainly! Or do you have any pressing engagements?”

“Well, I…” Mr. Greerson gave a final longing glance at the door of the study, and then said, “No, sir. I would be happy to join you in a game.”

They settled themselves at the board, Mr. Greerson selecting the piece hidden in Mr. Darcy’s hands – the white. Mr. Greerson studied the board before making his first move. The beginning of the game passed in silence, and Mr. Greerson, aware of his host’s natural reticence, and not being overly talkative himself, was surprised when his host suddenly broke the silence.

“Have you been playing chess long, Mr. Greerson?”

“No, sir, only for a few years, since seminary.”

“You have a good opening game. Your moves are classic, yet unique.”

Mr. Greerson did not know how to respond, and so said nothing. The game advanced, and soon Mr. Darcy had definitely gained the upper hand. Mr. Greerson appeared nervous, as if he expected his patron’s opinion of him to change depending on the outcome of the game.

“You have a very cautious style of playing,” Mr. Darcy observed.

“I have not been playing so long that I am confident of my abilities,” Mr. Greerson admitted. “I do tend to err on the side of caution.”

“Caution can serve a man very well in most areas of life, but perhaps in battle it is less advisable.”

“Battle?” Mr. Greerson smiled. “I would hardly call this a battle, sir.”

“Perhaps…perhaps not. At this table we play for little more than boasting rights. What is a battle, but a game played for extremely high stakes?”

Mr. Greerson frowned. “The two cannot be compared, Mr. Darcy. It is monstrous to suggest that battle is a game.”

“But what separates a game from a battle? Little more than the importance of the prize. If the object at stake is trivial, trifling, or merely a passing fancy to amuse one’s hours, the contest is certainly little more than a game. If, however, the object is beloved, something without which one’s life would be empty, I believe it is safe to call any competition for its possession a battle.” Mr. Darcy observed Mr. Greerson narrowly, and was gratified to see the younger man look somewhat wary by the end of the speech.

“I am under the impression that we are no longer speaking of chess, sir.”

“We are…well, perhaps not solely of chess, but the metaphor certainly applies to the game as well as to any other subject.”

“I am not comfortable discussing any other subject,” said the reverend stiffly.

“Very well.” Mr. Darcy made his move and watched as the rector puzzled over his own. “Have you never considered showing more aggression…in your game?”

Mr. Greerson eyed him suspiciously but, evidently sensing that he was not to be released from this conversation, said, “I have not a competitive spirit, I fear. I have tried always to be above petty jealousies and other such weaknesses.”

Mr. Darcy, recalling saying similar words to the woman who had mocked him for his vanity, endeavored to hide his smile. “I believe you will find that you are no more immune to these weaknesses than anyone else, despite your best efforts. Have you never found it to be so?”

Mr. Greerson was silent, and Mr. Darcy trusted that his point had been taken. “At any rate,” Mr. Greerson said after a moment or two of silence, “I have no spirit for competition. I do not like it, and it is one of the traits of mankind that saddens me the most, I admit. What a different world would we have inherited if man could root out all that is covetous, grasping, and greedy in his character! Every impulse we have toward domination should be repressed; it is neither humane nor godly. Have you ever read Swift, Mr. Darcy?”

“I have,” Mr. Darcy replied, rather taken aback. “I do not know many clergymen who have, however.”

“I daresay they find him blasphemous, even heretical, in his criticisms of the church, but what is that? His criticisms certainly have weight, even if they do not have elegance of expression. Do you recall what the king of Brobdignag asked of Gulliver? He asked what business England had outside of her own borders. It was that, more than any other question raised, that has tormented me since I read it. What good have our wars and construction of an empire done us? Despised by half the known world, and feared by the other half! No, Mr. Darcy, I deplore every semblance of competition and conquest.”

Surprised as he was that his own lecture had been turned quite neatly against him, Mr. Darcy ventured, “And so when faced with that which would make you happiest, you would prefer to give it up to another, rather than exert an effort to secure it for yourself.”

“If it is not given to me freely, I would rather not have it at all,” Mr. Greerson said shortly.

Mr. Darcy could hardly argue with such a sentiment, however strenuously he disagreed with it. “However,” he said cautiously, “it may be that what you wish for is unaware of the power…that is to say…” He was having more and more difficulty discussing the topic without actually discussing it. In the end, Darcy decided for frankness over delicacy. “If the young lady is unaware of your affection for her, you can have no chance of securing hers.”

Mr. Greerson, who had grown rather accustomed to the veiled nature of the conversation, was taken very much by surprise by this sudden directness. “I have never made a secret of my feelings,” he said when he had fully recovered.

“No, you haven’t, but more often than not, lack of concealment is not as effective as open acknowledgment.” Mr. Greerson looked thoughtful; Mr. Darcy, bolstered by this, continued, “I would not suggest open rivalry if it is against your personality and your inclinations, but a bit more frankness might be advisable.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Greerson said cautiously, “why are you telling me this? The lady’s father has given permission for one suitor, and here you encourage another.”

“In my opinion, matters of the heart are best decided between the principals. My aunt gave me some excellent advice on the subject. It was my hope to do the same for you.”

“I will think on what you have said, sir,” Mr. Greerson said, before reaching out and tipping his king over. “This is your game, I think. I shall practice more, and I hope to be a worthy contender some day.”

Without another word, he rose and bowed to the older gentleman, and left the room. Mr. Darcy noticed, however, that he turned toward the foyer and the door, rather than towards the music room. That was just as well; he probably had much to think on.

Kitty was walking in the garden the next day, enjoying a very rare moment of solitude, when she nearly ran against a figure that came suddenly around a corner.

“Mr. Greerson!” she greeted the newcomer, and was surprised to see that some of his discomfiture from their first official meeting had returned.

“Good morning, Miss Bennet. I trust you are well today?”

“I am; and I am always better when I am here.” At his raised eyebrows, she clarified, “In the gardens of Pemberley. I confess I was never a great walker before I came to visit, but I believe I should be one forever, if I had such gardens to wander in.”

He smiled. “The gardens here have great attractions for me as well. Are you walking much farther, or may I accompany you to the house?”

“Oh, I planned to walk for at least another quarter of an hour, but don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you have business with my brother.”

He seemed to hesitate, but then took a position firmly by her side. “No more than usual, and nothing that cannot wait for a quarter of an hour. If you don’t mind the company, I shall walk with you.”

Kitty was surprised, but agreed. They walked for several moments in silence, Kitty for lack of inclination to talk, and Mr. Greerson for lack of anything to say. When they had rounded a bend to take in a particularly picturesque view, however, Kitty sighed and remarked,

“How I wish I could draw!”

“Can’t you?”

“Oh! no. My drawing is even worse than my playing, which is saying quite a lot. And please,” Kitty sighed again, only this time wearily, “don’t interrupt me with exclamations at my modesty, and insist that I really play very well indeed. It’s what is expected, but there is no one else here and I won’t be angry if you allow me to play very ill.”

Mr. Greerson smiled. “It is rather distressing that young ladies can predict responses in such a way.”

“I have heard them repeated so many times in the past weeks, that I am growing quite sick of them.” She paused. “That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, but I’m sure you won’t repeat it.”

“Of course not. I think it only fair, though, to remind you that it is customary for young ladies to renounce any talent they may have with the object of raising such polite praise as you deplore. When such is the case, how can we be expected to make any other response?”

“Oh, I know you are right, and it’s quite infuriating. It is hard to tell the difference between ladies who are sincere, ladies who believe themselves to be sincere, and ladies who only want to hear compliments. Lizzy always insists that she plays ill, though everyone around her disagrees, but she really believes what she says.”

“And under which category do you fall?”

“I don’t deny that I love to hear compliments. Perhaps it’s vain of me, but when I have worked hard at something, no matter what it is, I like to be complimented. But I always feel as if I’ve cheated someone when I receive compliments I don’t deserve…as if some other lady is not receiving her due because I am receiving more than mine.”

“Perhaps you don’t take into account the effects of affection? A regard for the performer will always make the performance better thought of.”

Kitty considered this. “I suppose you are right. I have heard of admirers who exaggerated their beloved’s accomplishments, but I always thought that was only because gentlemen admire ladies who are very accomplished. It was as if – as if they admired the lady, but could not endure that she not be accomplished. In order to truly deserve the admiration, she must be accomplished.”

“Our society places too much emphasis on useless ‘accomplishments’,” Mr. Greerson frowned. “I’m sorry that it is so, and I believe you are right when you say that some men embellish the abilities of their ladies to make themselves more enviable in the eyes of their friends. But I was not speaking of circumstances such as these. I was merely stating that a plain woman, in the eyes of her admirer, is rendered beautiful; an indifferent musician or artist becomes, perhaps not a virtuoso, but at least a very pleasing performer; a plainly garbed lady appears to her admirer as fine as if she were wearing garments fit for a queen.”

“I have no experience with how a gentleman feels, so I can’t contradict you, but how is it, then, that we are taught that we must be beautiful, rich, accomplished, and splendidly dressed in order to catch the eyes of gentlemen?”

“If you want only to catch a gentleman’s eye, nothing more is required. Capturing his heart, however, is another matter entirely.”

Kitty would have responded, but she happened to look up, and there was just such an expression in his eyes as made her suddenly feel very warm, and she suggested that they return to the house. He agreed quite cheerfully, and she wondered at her own discomfort when he seemed perfectly at ease. She told herself that she was silly, and took his arm to walk quite calmly back to the house