Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility (4 page)

Elizabeth half expected him to drop them as quickly as Mr. Middleton
had, in search of more fashionable people with whom to while away the night.
However, he offered his arm to Kitty, who almost tripped over her own feet in
her eagerness to accept it, and proved himself most attentive as he steered
them through the crowded rooms.

"So, why haven't I seen you at Almack's yet this season?"

"We have only just arrived in town," Kitty replied. "And
Mr. Darcy doesn't like Almack's."

Mr. Dashwood laughed. "None of us likes Almack's."

"Then why does everybody go there?"

"Because everyone
else
is there. And to talk about how much
they dislike it. The only thing more fashionable than being seen at Almack's is
complaining about it."

"Oh." Kitty's gaze bordered on worshipful every time she
looked at Mr. Dashwood. "Well, then, if I am fortunate enough to go, I
shall object the whole while."

Mr. Dashwood laughed again. "I should wail until afterward, were I
you. The last feathers you want to ruffle in London are those of Almack's patronesses."

"Why is that?"

He stopped, regarding her with a look that was half surprise, half
amusement. "My - you
are
new in town, aren't you? Admission to Almack's
is decided by seven ladies who guard its vouchers more fiercely than dragons
their gold. Their influence in society extends well beyond the walls of their
assembly rooms. Cross one of them, and you might as well go back to the country
for the rest of the season."

Kitty absorbed this intelligence with the solemnity of an acolyte being
indoctrinated into a new religion. Had Mr. Dashwood revealed that the
beau
monde
subscribed to an official creed, she would have memorized it.

They moved on. Mr. Dashwood greeted numerous acquaintances, appearing to
know nearly everyone. As they passed two fastidiously dressed dandies, he
nodded in acknowledgment. "Albertson. Leopold." They bowed in
response.

"Those jeweled buckles on their shoes look absurd," he said
when they had passed out of earshot. "But I shall have to ask them who
designed their waistcoats."

Kitty turned round to get a second look at the shoes, but another party
had closed in behind them, blocking the view. One could still glimpse Albertson's
chest, however. "Your own waistcoat is more flattering," she said.

He stopped to look her lull in the face, assessing her sincerity "Truly?"

"At least - well, I think so anyway." A flush crept into her
cheeks. "But what do I know about gentlemen's clothes?"

"Enough to know your own mind. That puts you ahead of
half the ladies
in this room." He took her arm once more and continued leading them toward
the dining room. "I'd be careful about expressing it, though. You wouldn't
want to let on that you can think for yourself."

"Is that a liability in a woman?" Elizabeth asked.

"In some corners of the Polite World, that is a liability in
anyone. We are a frivolous, mindless lot."

Kitty continued to gaze at Mr. Dashwood as if he were the first gentleman
she'd ever encountered. Indeed, she seemed to be concentrating harder on making
conversation with him than Elizabeth had ever seen her focus on anything else
in her life.

"Are you in London for the whole season?" Kitty asked.

"I live here most of the year. I have a house in Sussex, but I
haven't spent much time at Norland since I was a boy. First I was at Eton, then
Oxford, and now I prefer the entertainments of town to country living."

Unlike so many other women in the room, whose eyes roamed while in
conversation with one partner to see whether anyone better happened nearby,
Kitty bestowed her full attention on Mr. Dashwood - a fact not lost upon him.
When the press of people attempting to squeeze through a too-narrow doorway
required their party to pause, he observed that they stood mere feet from the
Marquess of Avonbury, one of society's most eligible young gentlemen.

"Have you met the marquess?" Mr. Dashwood asked.

Kitty, who just hours earlier would have swooned at finding herself in
such proximity to any unattached peer, barely spared him a glance. "No."

"Would you like me to introduce you?"

Mr. Dashwood extended his offer in a nonchalant manner, but Elizabeth
sensed a larger question lay beneath the surface. His eye held a subtle look of
appraisal.

"Perhaps later. You were speaking to me of Sussex," Kitty
replied. "Is your mother still at Norland?"

His expression bespoke approval. The marquess was left behind as Mr.
Dashwood guided them through the doorway. "She divides her time between
Norland and London, though she's been in town since my father died."

"Is that when Norland fell to you?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, although it was entailed to me when I was a child by the will
of a great-great-uncle I can't even remember."

"I'm sure it's a lovely house," Kitty said.

He shrugged. "As I said, I don't spend much time there." He
led them around a cluster of ladies who eyed them with particular interest. He
ignored their curiosity. "I understand Pember-ley is quite grand?" he
asked Kitty.

"It is! Lizzy calls it the most beautiful house in all England. I
look forward to visiting there this summer."

He regarded her as if she'd said something odd. "You don't live
there, then?"

"No. Why would I?"

He cast her another approving glance. "I see we are of like mind."

Kitty drew her brows together in puzzlement, not knowing how to interpret
his reply. For that matter, neither did Elizabeth.

"In preferring town over the country," he clarified.

"Oh! Yes - town has so much more to offer, doesn't it?"

Mr. Dashwood acknowledged three more friends, one of whom bestowed a
rakish grin on Kitty.

"You are keeping fine company tonight, Dashwood," he said.

"Save the charm for your wife, Cavanaugh." After they passed,
he leaned toward Kitty and spoke in a conspiratorial voice Elizabeth heard only
with difficulty. "Only one week wed, and already the baron is back on the
prowl."

Kitty's jaw dropped. "Does his wife know?"

"I don't think so. She's been too busy this evening making eyes at
his closest friend."

Mr. Dashwood delivered the gossip as dispassionately as if
reading a
Times
item about wholesale tea prices. The
beau monde,
with its endless
intrigues and scandals, was a world away from the small Hertfordshire village
where the Bennet sisters had grown up. It remained an utterly foreign culture
to Kitty and a place Elizabeth would much rather visit than inhabit. But Mr.
Dashwood was clearly in his element, moving through the intricacies of this
society as easily as he navigated the busy rooms.

At last, they reached the tea table. Mr. Dashwood saw that they were
served, but did not partake of anything himself.

"Are you not thirsty?" Kitty asked.

"Perhaps I'll want refreshment after dancing the next set."

Kitty's smile faded. "I didn't realize you had engaged a partner."
She glanced round at several of the ladies nearest them and seemed disconcerted
to discover many of them already regarding her.

"I haven't. I hope to dance with you."

Joy lit her face. "I would like that very much." She glanced
again at a cluster of ladies nearby who spoke in whispers and avoided her gaze.
"Mr. Dashwood, perhaps you can explain something to me?"

"I shall do my best."

"We seem to be drawing quite a bit of notice."

"Correction, my dear miss. You are the one drawing notice. I merit
attention this evening only because I am talking to you."

Kitty shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Of what interest
am I to any of these people?"

He paused, his gaze once more probing. "Do you play at modesty, or
do you truly not know?"

She shook her head.

"You are a new face at the Middletons'. Everyone is assessing your
prospects in the marriage market. Within three minutes of your arrival, there
was a report in general circulation that Miss Darcy has thirty thousand pounds,
and within four, rampant
speculation about which gentlemen would be
leaving their cards at your house tomorrow."

Kitty simply stared at him in confusion. "But what have those
thirty thousand pounds to do with me?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "Of course, any lady wants to be
courted for herself, not her dowry. But Miss Darcy, surely you realize how
attractive your fortune makes you in the eyes of the
ton?"

Kitty's whole posture deflated as she absorbed the import of his words. "I
am not Miss Darcy," she said in a small voice.

Now it was Mr. Dashwood's turn to look confused. "But when Lady
Middleton introduced us - "

"Nor do I have thirty thousand pounds."

Mr. Dashwood stared at Kitty. "Then who - "

Kitty swallowed hard and opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

Elizabeth interceded. "It was not the clearest introduction. We
were all distracted by Marguerite," she said. "Mr. Dash-wood, may I
present to you Miss Catherine Bennet? She is not Mr. Darcy's sister, but mine."

Mr. Dashwood continued to regard her in stupefaction. Kitty looked away,
struggling to contain deep disappointment and retain her composure with so many
eyes upon her.

Elizabeth's heart broke for her sister. To learn that the attention
she'd been enjoying was intended for another! And to know that her own meager
dowry was so paltry in comparison to Georgiana's that she couldn't possibly
hold the fashionable Mr. Dashwood's interest. It was all so mortifying that
Kitty would probably want to leave as soon as Mr. Dashwood stammered out
whatever excuse he could quickly invent to flee her company.

In the ballroom, the music drew to a conclusion. Kitty met Mr. Dashwood's
gaze once more. "Georgiana's set with Mr. Middleton is ended," she
said. "I believe you wanted to dance the next with Miss Darcy."

Mr. Dashwood at last recovered himself. "No, I wanted to stand up
with you."

"But I'm not the person you thought you were conversing with.
Doesn't that change things?"

"It certainly does."

Kitty drew a shaky breath. Elizabeth could tell she fought back tears.

"I shall now enjoy the distinction of being the first gentleman
here to dance with Miss Catherine Bennet." He held out his hand to her. "If
she will so honor me."

Three

To wish was to hope, and to hope was to expect.

- Sense
and Sensibility,
Chapter 4

The
expectation of one thousand pounds was all Elizabeth had brought to her
marriage, all Jane had brought to hers, and all Mr. Bennet could afford to
dower upon each of his remaining two unwed daughters. Elizabeth and Jane had
made such advantageous matches that they had been willing to give up their
shares to improve their sisters' chances, but their father had checked their
generosity. "You are marrying good men whom I trust to take proper care of
you," he had said. "But I want you to have something of your own."
Lydia's scandalous elopement had required a larger settlement - to which Darcy
had contributed considerably - to buy back her respectability. Fortunately,
Kitty and Mary were not inclined to increase their dowries at such cost to
themselves. Unfortunately, that left Kitty with a settlement one-thirtieth the
size of Georgiana's.

As gentlemen's calling cards piled up in the silver tray on the hall
table the day after the Middletons' ball, Elizabeth couldn't help but wish that
at least one of them had been left for Kitty
"There
are some here for you," Elizabeth told Darcy as she
fanned the
cards out to examine the names. "Including one from Lord Hartford."

Darcy grimaced. "An hour proved insufficient for him to complete
his foxhunting saga. He promised to call upon me to share the remainder."

"What a pity you were out. Now you shall have to hear it during the
shooting party"

"I have no doubt of the full version being repeated then, too."

Elizabeth set his cards aside and glanced at the others. The one she
most sought was not among them.

Mr. Dashwood had promised to call that afternoon. After the revelation
of Kitty's true identity, he had spent the remainder of the evening proving
himself as attentive a gentleman as propriety allowed. He danced two sets with
Kitty and had no other partners save his cousin Regina, with whom a promise to
his aunt had obliged him to dance one set. Elizabeth had no idea what Kitty and
Mr. Dashwood talked of while on the dance floor, but she could see that he drew
many smiles and occasional laughter from her sister. When he was not dancing,
his conduct toward both Kitty and Elizabeth had been utterly charming.

For her part, Kitty had spoken of nothing but Mr. Dashwood for the entire
carnage ride home, and she seemed to have risen from her bed with his name on
her lips. Breakfast had been spent recalling his every look and gesture. That Kitty
had danced with two other gentlemen, she seemed to have forgotten, though she
did pause often enough in her adulation of Mr. Dashwood to compliment Georgiana
on the handsome looks and manners of Miss Darcy's many partners. Miss Darcy,
however, had not been taken with any one of them to the extent that Mr.
Dashwood had captivated Kitty.