by Leenie Brown
Kitty laughed at her aunt’s exuberance as she followed her at a more sedate pace. Although Kitty wished to rush up the stairs to prepare for the day, there was still a small pain above her eye that made her refrain. Tonight, she would be expected to smile, converse, and dance, at least once. And, more than the pain and fatigue that she knew would accompany any overexertion, the thought of missing that dance with him, made her willing to move slowly and to rest when she would rather not.
~*~*~*~*~*~
“Miss Bennet.”
Kitty turned toward the sound of the voice but saw no one. The dancing had begun, and having had her first dance with her betrothed, she was now sitting in a quiet corner, waiting for a cup of lemonade to be brought to her.
“Miss Bennet.”
Again, Kitty turned toward the voice. “Miss de Bourgh, I can hear you, but I am afraid I cannot see you.”
“Behind the plant,” said Anne.
“Oh.” Kitty turned a bit more so that she could see Anne.
“Please, do not look at me.”
Kitty turned back around. “Very well, but I shall look foolish speaking to myself.”
“I only wish to know if a certain gentleman is occupied.” There was a bit of a rustling from behind Kitty. “You would not believe the number of gentlemen who have come to call, and I have had at least ten requests a dance this evening.”
“That is to be expected when one places an advertisement for a husband and declares herself an heiress.” Richard took the seat next to Kitty while looking toward his cousin, who was only partially concealed by the plant. ” You look lovely this evening, Anne. No need to hide.”
Kitty laughed at the small growling sound that came from behind her. “Mr. Blackmoore. Is he occupied?”
“Yes,” said Richard. “He has engaged Miss Bingley for a dance.”
Anne slipped out from behind the plant. “He has called four times this week, wishing to meet with me. I saw him once and told him he had no hope of gaining my approval.” She flipped open her fan and whispered behind it. “He has taken up with an actress, I hear.” She tisked. “And I told him, he’d not succeed because of it; however, he seems most determined tonight to lead me off into a dark corner.” She scanned the room. “He would be better off with that Bingley woman. Horrible thing she is. Such a ghastly colour she wears, and her airs…as if she were of a standing to be making any.”
“I did not know you knew Miss Bingley,” said Kitty in surprise.
Anne shrugged. “I do not know her beyond what I have seen this evening and what my uncle has shared of her family, but that is enough.” She turned toward Kitty. “Now, if she were a gentleman’s daughter as you are, even if she like you were of little standing, her airs could be borne. But as it is…” She shook her head. “She makes a fool of herself.”
Richard cleared his throat and gave his cousin a pointed glare.
Anne looked at him in confusion. “Have I said something amiss again? You know my mother really did do me a disservice not allowing me to venture into society beyond that in Kent.”
Kitty placed a hand on Anne’s arm. “A lady, unless she is Miss Bingley or one of her friends, does not point out another lady’s lower circumstances,” she said softly. “However, I know you were not doing so to be injurious to me, but rather simply stating facts. The same will not be true when speaking to other ladies.”
Anne closed her fan and took Kitty’s hand. “I am so very sorry, my dear. I like you, you know. Very much.” She giggled. “And not just because doing so holds the potential to irk my mother and uncle, but because I like you.” She scanned the room once more. “My mother appears to be engaged. I think I shall find Lord Rycroft and seek an introduction to the gentleman to whom he is speaking.”
“Lord Brownlow is a fine choice,” said Kitty with a smile as she saw Anne making her way toward the gentleman.
“Much better than Blackmoore,” muttered Richard. “I do hope she stays out of dark corners. I would not think Blackmoore above causing a compromise to attain her money and connections.” He chuckled. “It would be entertaining, however, to see him matching wills with my cousin.”
Kitty gave his arm a light swat and shook her head in amusement.
“Come,” said Richard, capturing the hand that hit him and drew her to her feet. “Let’s take a turn about the room.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and then paused to give her a searching look.
“I am well,” she assured. “And I have promised my sisters and aunt, as well as Lord Rycroft and Mr. Darcy, that I will steal away for a rest if I should need it.”
He wanted to run a finger along the scar in an attempt to lessen the pain it still caused her.
Noting how his attention seemed to be captured by her wound, she rubbed his arm under her hand reassuringly. “It hurts a little, but so long as I am not turning circles in a dance, the room stands still.” She squeezed one eye closed as it seemed to help lessen the small stabbing pains that affected her less frequently than they had at first. “Perhaps just around the edges of the room that are furthest from the musicians?”
He covered her hand with his. “We could steal away together. Rycroft would not mind lending us the use of his study.”
She smiled up at him. “As lovely as that sounds, we cannot. I will not have your father thinking me a hoyden. It is enough that my uncle is in trade. I do not wish to give him any more reasons to dislike me.”
Richard chuckled. “I think, my dear, that he was quite impressed by your visit. He may even like you already.”
Kitty shook her head. “That is doubtful. I attempted to blackmail him into giving you your freedom.”
“That would be one way to impress a man like my father. He is not above coercion to attain what he desires.” He led her down the edge of the ballroom. “He has mentioned you several times since your visit, and always with a surprising woman somewhere in the conversation.”
“I do not know if that pleases me or not,” said Kitty. They had reached the end of the room and stood next to the very person about whom they had been speaking.
“Ah, Miss Bennet.” Lord Matlock gave her a small bow and what she assumed was a pleased smile although it was hard to say for sure as it was such a fleeting expression. “I trust you are well this evening.”
“I am, thank you, my lord.” She curtsied. “You appear to also be well.”
He preened just a bit at her comment and smoothed the front of his waistcoat before tugging at it to make the buttons form a straight line. “My wife has insisted that some part of my attire match her dress. It is silly, but I did not wish to displease her.” He nodded toward where his wife was talking to a group of ladies that included Lady Catherine. “Is that one of the sketches you showed me?”
Kitty nodded. “It is, my lord. It looks quite lovely on Lady Matlock and that colour is rather heavenly, do you not think?”
“Oh, indeed. My lady does have an eye for colour. Always has.” He looked about the room as if searching for someone. “Your aunt is here?”
Kitty did not miss the slight twitch of his lips as if he had not wished to speak of the subject. “She is, but you do not have to meet her. She is aware of her low standing and will not be offended.” She gave the arm that had tightened under her hand a calming squeeze. “It is enough for her to just be here and to take in the spectacle. In fact, meeting someone of such an elevated position as yourself may prove to be too much for her. I would fear she would never recover from such an honor.”
Richard bit his cheeks to keep from laughing as once again he saw his father puff out his chest just a bit more and smooth his waistcoat.
“Your uncle is in which livery?”
“He is a Mercer, my lord.”
“Ah, a high precedence.” Lord Matlock’s brows rose, and his lower lip stuck out just a bit as he bobbed his head as if this information pleased him. “If it would not tax her too greatly, I would not be opposed to an introduction.”
“You do my family a great honour, my lord;” she gave a small curtsey, “however, I must first speak with my sister.”
Lord Matlock nodded. “Perhaps after supper?”
“If you wish, my lord.” She gave one more small curtsey, which caused him to fleetingly smile that smile of approval. She breathed a sigh of relief as they moved away.
“How do you know how to speak to him in such a fashion?” Richard asked softly when they were well away from his father.
Kitty shrugged. “It is no different than speaking to Aunt Philips and Mrs. Long. They like to feel their importance whether it is real or imagined.”
“Why are you speaking of our aunt?” queried Elizabeth as she slid her arm through Kitty’s free one.
“She seems to be an expert at dealing with my father,” explained Richard, “and I wish to know how she learned such a skill.” He looked over his shoulder toward where Lord Matlock stood. “He is still looking well-satisfied with himself.”
“Might we find a place to rest?” Kitty asked Elizabeth.
“You are unwell?” asked Richard, concern etching his face.
“A bit tired is all,” replied Kitty.
“Good,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, not that your are tired, but that you wish to rest, for I also would like to find some solitude. However, if I sneak off to the library with my husband alone, tongues will wag more than they already do.”
Kitty removed her arm from Richards and moved toward the library with her sister.
“You gentlemen may join us, of course,” Elizabeth said to Darcy with a nod toward Richard. Then she leaned toward her sister and whispered. “I am not well, but no one must know, at least not yet.”
“What do you mean?” asked Kitty.
“I may be with child.”
Kitty’s eyes grew large. “Are you certain?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not completely, but it appears to be true. You mustn’t tell anyone, but I could not keep it to myself any longer, and with your injury requiring that you rest, I hoped you might aid me in giving me a reason to rest more frequently.”
“Of course,” said Kitty.
“You are surprised by the request?”
“Not the request, but by the fact that you told me. You never tell me secrets.”
Elizabeth pulled Kitty closer. “I am sorry.”
“You need not apologize. Being surprised does not mean I am not pleased. I am. Very, very pleased.” She glanced over her shoulder to make certain the gentlemen were not too close to hear. “When will you tell him?”
“I have not decided. I would like to share it with him, but if I am wrong…” She bit her lip and did not continue.
Kitty squeezed her arm. “I will not say a word, and I will offer chances to rest whenever you may need them.”
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth as a footman opened the library door for them. “Now, I do not wish to desert you, but Darcy has insisted that we find a place to read.” Her eyebrows waggled just a bit and her cheeks coloured.
Kitty smiled. “I hear poetry is the food of a fine, stout love.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I have heard that as well,” she said as the two sisters parted.
Kitty took a slow turn about the room admiring the tables and chairs and stopping to feel the fabric of the drapery. “It is all so lovely,” she muttered. “The colours and the design complement each other perfectly.”
“Lady Sophia has an excellent eye. This was her doing.” Richard took her by the arm and led her to an alcove with a comfortable seat. “You said you were in need of a rest, and this looks just the spot,” he explained, taking a seat next to her. “We will not have anything this fine. BayLeafe is only a small estate.”
“I am quite happy with a small estate, my love. It is what I have always known.” She peeked up at him. “Will you be happy? You could have married for convenience and had something far grander.”
He pulled her close. “I am quite happy with my inconvenient choice,” he teased as he ran a finger across the scar on her forehead and then cupped her cheek in his hand. “I am not romantic, so I fear my terms of endearment might not always be what one might expect.”
She smiled up at him. Although he kept saying that he was not romantic, she knew differently. He may not be given to romantic, flowery, loving words, but when he pulled her slightly closer as they walked the streets of London, when he brought her a box engraved with forget-me-knots for her pencils, and when he rubbed her cheek with his thumb as he did now, his actions spoke in thunderous tones of his love. “I do not require a romantic,” she said, pressing her cheek more firmly into his hand, “I require only you.”
“And I you.” He kissed the scar on her forehead. “I love you, Katherine Bennet.” He kissed the scar once again. “Two days,” he whispered, “two days and you shall be mine.”
“I already am,” she replied.
“From the moment we met,” he agreed. His thumb continued to caress her cheek as he tilted his head to study her face. She kissed his thumb as it brushed over her lips causing him to inhale sharply. Sliding his hand around to the back of her head, he drew her to him for a kiss that was, at first, soft and sweet, speaking of the treasure she was to him. But then, as he drew her even closer to him, the kiss deepened, showing her his need to have her by his side. When finally, he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, he whispered, “You will always be my choice. Before money, before connections, before anyone or anything, it will be you. I will always choose you.”
“And I, you,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder, her hand on his heart, a heart that would always be hers. Through happy times and times of sorrow, from meager beginnings to days of plenty, it would beat for her just as hers beat for him.
Theirs was a love that would be spoken of in corners of drawing rooms and behind fans at balls, not for its passion, though there was plenty, nor for its demonstrative nature, though their hands were often joined in public, but for its quiet assurance and its unbreakable bonds. It was a love that would eventually win over even their harshest critic making Lord Matlock into a doting grandfather. And Richard, when asked to tell of his good fortune — for he would become as sought after for his wooden creations as his wife would be for her designs — would smile, lift Kitty’s hand to his lips, and begin each reply with an “Ah, yes, my inconvenient choice.”
Her Heart's Choice
Prologue
January 9, 1812
Alexander Madoch tossed the newspaper on the table and tapped the section he wished his friend Jonathan Lester to read before picking up a hunk of cheese and popping it into his mouth. He rose from his chair and walked to the window that overlooked the street. Two horses, wearing the colours of his uncle’s stable, carried a pair of finely dressed women toward the beach. The ladies were not alone, however, as a group of young men followed close behind. He smiled as he watched the positioning of the gentlemen shift, one nudging the other out of the way to get closer to one or the other of the ladies.
“So the little termagant has decided to marry,” said Jonathan, drawing Alex’s attention back to the room. “I feel sorry for the chap that has to put up with her.”
Alex turned from the window. “That chap shall be me. It seems we must make a trip to London.”
“You? After the way she turned you out?” Jonathan shook his head and scowled. “I’d not be chasing after the likes of her again. Be gone and good riddance, I would say.”
Alex turned back to the window. A young man was finally riding next to one of the young ladies. They were a good distance off, but still Alex could see how the young woman turned to the gentleman and slowed to allow him to ride more fully at her side. Alex bit his lip and tilted his head as he watched the pair ride away. That was what he had wanted those many years ago. A lady, a particular lady, to ride away with him. “She was not wrong in her refusal,” he said without turning toward his friend.
Jonathan huffed his disagreement.
&nbs
p; “The risk truly was too great. I had no guarantee of success.”
“You also had no guarantee of failure.” Jonathan pushed the paper away from where it lay in front of him. “As I see it, you had only to increase in your standing. Anyone admitted to your confidence knows how hard you work and how you do not venture unless there is a very promising chance of success.”
Alex remained looking out the window. It would do no good to argue the point with his friend, for he had wholeheartedly agreed with such a sentiment at first. In fact, if he allowed himself to consider it, he still felt somewhat bitter over the fact that she had not believed enough in his success to accept him. “I did fall into some wonderful chances that I did not expect.” He chuckled slightly as he turned toward his friend. “Wouldn’t she be surprised to learn of my connection to Prinny?” He had not expected his uncle to have been the one to help Prince George find his Brighton retreat, nor had he expected his uncle to recommend him as manager of the Prince Regent’s riding school and stables. His friend had also benefitted as Alex has engaged him as a man of business and assistant in his duties to the prince.
“That would put an end to her argument of your lack of connections,” Jonathan agreed.
Alex began to nod his agreement but then shifted it to a shake of his head. “No.” His head shook from side to side with more determination. “She is not to know of my connections. Not a one of them beyond those I have through my uncle.”
Jonathan’s countenance told of his lack of understanding.
“I need her to accept me. Not my money and not my connections. I will have her as a wife, but only if she accepts me without all of those accoutrements.” His right hand circled in the air as if fluffing something.
Jonathan pulled the paper back to him. “Did you read this? She has required that all potential suitors have, and I quote ‘in their possession a title as well as solvent and accurate financial reports’ and…” He held up a finger to emphasise his point. “‘Please be advised that references and documentation showing adherence to the above criteria will be required.’ Exactly how to you propose to gain an audience with her majesty when you do not have a title and are unwilling to mention your connections.”
