The next day, Lydia and I went to the officers’ headquarters, to call on their wives once more. Again, I saw Samantha in the yard, minding work. When she saw us, she laughed and began to cheer merrily.
“News!” she called to us. “There will be a wedding and a flogging!”
Two such extreme words naturally raised our spirits.
“A wedding!” Lydia cried.
“And a flogging!” I cried.
From an upper window, Mrs. Warrens called out to us.
“Yes,” Mrs. Warrens cried, “but not necessarily in that order, or both do not happen at the same time. Samantha, I’m sorry, but this time, it will be us that get to tell them everything.”
“Oh well,” Samantha replied, “I’ll have more news one day.”
“We still care about you,” I replied, as Lydia and I raced into the building.
“Always do we care!” Lydia added.
“I am happy that someone does!” Samantha called after us.
Once we got into Mrs. Warrens’ room, we found that Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Barrett, and Mrs. O’Connor were already there.
“A wedding!” Lydia repeated.
“And a flogging!” I repeated.
“Yes,” Mrs. Hawkins added.
“And who is marrying who?” Lydia cried. “It better be someone we like. If it is someone that we hate, that is still amusing, of course.”
“It is Colonel Forster.”
Lydia and I gave each other a look and cried out with glee.
“Colonel Forster! Oh, that is so fascinating. And who is he marrying?”
“Her name is Miss Diana Richards,” Mrs. O’Connor added. “She is said to be quite younger than him, but I have heard that she is very amiable, lively, and she always looks happy around him. Therefore, it must be a good match.”
“Then neither of you has met her yet?” I asked.
“No.”
“Well,” Lydia said, “once she arrives, you must tell us so that we can meet her.”
“Is she known for being pretty?” I asked.
“I was told that she is lovely. Who would believe it? That the Colonel could win such a woman. He is a handsome older man, but usually women who are said to be like Miss Richards, usually marry young dandies. But uneven matches can easily lead to even affection. So, we shall see.”
“Well,” I gathered, “this is very exciting. But I also want to hear about this flogging.”
“Why would you care about that?” Lydia asked.
“Because I cannot help it.”
“It is a delicious tale,” Mrs. Barrett claimed, excited, “the officer’s name is Mr. Edmund Bates. And he will be flogged because of a duel that he fought.”
“A duel?” Lydia and I said together.
“Yes, it was a duel that was done because Mr. Bates…” here she lowered her voice because of what she was about to say, “He had a dalliance with one of the captain’s sisters, and did not offer her marriage afterwards. When the Captain found this out, he challenged Mr. Bates to a duel. Both men have survived it, but naturally, Mr. Bates will be flogged for his crimes.”
“Oh my god,” I gasped. “What was the fool doing, playing with the heart of a woman? Especially when that woman is the sister of his superior.”
“That is the thing about love—or lust,” Mrs. Warrens said, without fear of being upfront, “people don’t think in either case. When it comes to love, Miss Bennet and Miss Lydia, never let it go so far to your head.”
“Oh,” Lydia wailed, “believe me. When I marry, it will be to the handsomest man ever, and he will love me more than anything. That, I can safely say will come true.”
* * *
On our way home, we were all excited to bring the news to our family. When we neared the house, I saw Mr. Dixon in his postmaster wagon, riding down the road.
“Oh, Mr. Dixon!”
We waved to him, and he waved to us.
“He might have mail for us,” I noted.
“You can go and fetch it,” Lydia said to me, “I want to be the first to tell Mama about the wedding.”
She left me and rushed into the house. Turning back to the road, I ran down it, to meet Mr. Dixon as he was still almost a sixth of a mile away.
Rather than continuing to ride up to me, he slowed down his horse and waited till I reached him.
“Mr. Dixon,” I said as I reached him. Stopping in front of his horses, I bowed like a man and used a false grave impression of a male voice. “Sir, do you bring us mail even on a Sunday?”
“Not today, I fear,” he replied, dismounting from the wagon. “Sunday frees me from my service. You shall just have to satisfy yourself with talking with me as we walk along.”
I didn’t see why he didn’t just let me sit next to him in the wagon and drive us to Longbourn, but perhaps he just wished to stretch his legs.
With the horse’s reins in his hand, we walked together, with his wagon behind us. As we did so, he walked slowly, and I had to lessen my pace. Petting his horse, I realized just how magnificent it was.
“All these years that I’ve known you,” I observed, “and I’ve never asked your horse what his name is.”
“She. It’s a she. And her name is Artemis.”
“Good day, Artemis,” I said, petting her stomach. “We meet at last.”
“Two of the most important women in my life. It’s about time that you both became acquainted.”
I chuckled.
“You flatter me.”
“No,” he replied, suddenly growing serious. “I do not.”
He stopped walking a short distance away from the house. Also, since there was a collection of trees on our right side, no one could see us from the window.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, with my hand still on Artemis’s coat.
“Nothing. Well… the nerves that arise when a man is put in this situation. Miss Bennet—Kitty, there is something that I must ask you.”
I was not mistaken.
No, I was not mistaken!
My whole body was rooted to the spot, and I felt as if every part had tightened. All thought escaped me, all words left my voice, and I could barely breathe. If I was even breathing at all.
All that I knew was that I was afraid. So very afraid. This could not be happening. Although it was.
Also, there he was, Mr. Dixon, the man that I had known so well, but never thought of as anything else but a lovely acquaintance and a casual friend. In his face was gentle sincerity and tense apprehension.
“For many months now, I have come to develop a passionate attachment to you,” he replied, his voice breathy from nerves. “An affection so deep and true that I cannot rest, neither night nor day, knowing that I do not have the pleasure of having you for a wife. You are lovely, lively, and have just the sort of spirit that I admire. If you would do me the favor of accepting my hand, you shall have a most loyal and devoted husband. Therefore, I ask you now, to accept my hand in marriage, and be my wife. Will you marry me, Kitty?”
* * *
Every part of me was so very frightened and I hated him!
I hated him because I knew, from that moment forth, that he would not forgive me for what I had to say. And now, I would lose a friend.
“I…” I began, equally as disconcerted. I wanted to run away, but I felt like I couldn’t move. Then, another part of me recalled that I had to find the best words to phrase this next moment. But, when you are in the act, it is hard to do the correct thing. “Mr. Dixon, I admire you. Very much. However, I cannot accept your proposal.”
The effect was immediate. His face froze over, and he took a few steps back.
“Is it because I am a postman?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t even think of that.”
“Is it because I’m not that handsome.”
“I have never thought there was anything wrong with your face or countenance.”
“Ladies often do think of that. Fine then. Is it because I am not an officer?”
“No. I promise.”
“Is it because you are all told to marry a gentleman? Do you know how evil it is to not be given a chance all because of what you were not born as? I cannot control that my parents weren’t rich.”
“It’s not that at all, I can assure you.”
“Then what is it? I thought that you liked me.”
“I do, Mr. Dixon, very much. But I have no interest in marrying, at the present time. I’m young, and I feel my youth. I want romance, intrigue, passion, and joy, but right now, I’m at the beginning of my life. And I feel like marriage is not what I want right now. I cannot explain it. I promise, that is all.”
“Then are you giving me hope to wait until you are ready?”
“No!” I rushed out, my voice raised too heavily to be polite. This led to him having an offended and indignant expression. I tried to make amends, but I could see that it was too late. Angry with me, he climbed back onto his wagon and prepared to leave. “Mr. Dixon, it is not you, I can assure you. I am aware that you are a good man, and I admire that about you. If I wanted to marry, I would think of you. I just am at a strange time in my life. Please, do not be angry with me!”
He did not look at me during my entire last speech. He egged on his horse and rode past me. I raced after his wagon, hoping that he would appeal to me.
“Please don’t hate me!” I cried. “I want us to still be friends.” He ignored me. “Very well! If you will go on to hate me, then I will hate you! Do you hear me? I will hate you!”
He encouraged his horse to outrace me, and he soon disappeared down the road and around the corner.
* * *
I was left standing there, now alone on the road. Staring at the spot where I last saw Mr. Dixon’s wagon, I was rooted to the ground.
I had lost Mr. Dixon as a comfortable acquaintance. Him and his loose heart had ruined everything. I had hurt his vanity—he would never forgive me. Truly, the friend who I enjoyed the company of for so long was replaced by a man who upset everything! Now we would never be the same, now I had lost the company of a good man, because a bitter and heartbroken one would take his place.
I knew that it was not his fault, ultimately, but I could not be sensible in that moment. Rather, I defy anyone who could be in that moment and keep their mind about them. I just knew that Mr. Dixon, my friend, was gone. And Mr. Dixon, my enemy, might arise in his place. And it was all his fault. Even though, it was not fully his fault at all.
I must go home. I must go home.
Walking back to Longbourn, I stood in front of the door, and I found that I could not go in.
“I can’t tell anyone,” I whispered to myself. “I can’t tell anyone about what has just happened to me.”
What a painful thing because I really wished to talk about it. I needed to. But if I told Lydia, she would tell Mama. I loved her, but she could not keep a secret from her. I couldn’t tell Mama because she might have been upset for me not accepting. Even though he was not a gentleman, I don’t think she really cared who I married. All she cared about was Jane and Lydia. She would have just wanted me to accept any man who offered. So, to hear that I refused a marriage offer, while she always worried that she would never get us all married off, would easily lead to her never leaving me alone. She might even never forgive me. Father would offer no comfort at all and might even feel obliged to tell Mama. And Mary might feel it her sisterly duty to also tell our parents.
As for Jane and Elizabeth, they were not home, and I didn’t feel close enough to them to offer such a secret.
I had no one. I honestly had no one to tell this weight that was pressing on me.
That is why I could not go into the house. Because I knew, in my heart, that I had not one person to be my confidante. Even Lydia, my best friend, was removed from me.
I had my diary!
I had my bed.
Rushing into the house, I told our servant, Hill, to tell mama that I was unwell and that I went to bed.
Once having dispensed with that, I raced to my room, and fell onto the bed, pushing my face into the pillow. I would write it all down later. But for now, my emotions were too much, it exhausted me, and soon, I fell asleep. Reality was too much to face.
* * *
“Kitty!” Lydia burst into my room. Waking me up from my dream.
“What?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“A carriage has arrived. Jane and Elizabeth have returned.”
“Right.”
I put my shoes back on and went down the stairs with Lydia. Now that Jane and Lizzy had come back, there would be more focus on them, and I could fade into the background. This was the first and only time that it was convenient to feel as if I was of no consequence.
“Good lord!” Mama cried as we went out to the carriage. “They were not supposed to come home yet. I planned for the opposite.”
The carriage opened and Jane and Elizabeth descended from it.
“What are you both about, coming home!” she cried. “And asking Mr. Bingley to borrow his carriage?”
“How dare two sisters wish to be homeward bound,” Elizabeth remarked. “Jane, whatever were we thinking?”
“Elizabeth, do not be contrary when I am so nervous now.” Mama kissed them both on the cheek. “I have every right to be angry with both of you.” We all entered the house. “Jane, now I am worried that you may catch a cold again.”
When we all entered, Father came out of his study.
“Oh, my two geese have returned. I am glad you are come back, Lizzy. And I am glad you are come back, Jane. I do not deny that I am very happy to see you.”
“Your relief equals ours, I assure you,” Elizabeth responded eagerly.
“The evening conversation, when we were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by you both being absent.”
“Jane and Elizabeth,” Mary said, “I have been in deep study on thorough-bass and human nature. I think you will like my findings. I have new observations of morality, and new extracts to quote.”
“Kitty and I have better news,” Lydia said, “Colonel Forster is to be married.”
“And an officer has been flogged,” I added, trying to appear as if I was interested in everything that was going on. “Much has happened in the little bit of time that you have been away.”
“I will tell you all about it,” Lydia said. And she did so. Afterwards, Mama stressed for them to tell us all about what happened at Netherfield Park.
Jane had spent most of the time in bed, and when she did speak to Mr. Bingley, she made it very evident that he never mentioned anything romantic or gave no hints of anything past them being friendly acquaintances. This was not enough to the point or purpose for Mama.
“But what of the other occupants of the house?” Mary asked. She did not look up at us, but rather, she remained looking at her abstracts. “Of the Bingley sisters… and Mr. Darcy?”
“Sadly,” Elizabeth explained, “the state of those occupants remains the same. Before now, I did not like Mr. Darcy. But now, I truly despise him.”
“Really?” I asked. “What has he done of late?”
“Everything,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “And I mean everything. First, he boasted of his ability to avoid weaknesses that expose a strong understanding to ridicule. He honestly prides himself on his virtue and doesn’t even notice that he gives offense wherever he goes. He firmly believes that, due to the superiority of his mind, his pride is under good regulation. I have never seen a more uninformed man in the course of my life.”
“Odious man,” Mama declared. “What does Mr. Bingley even want a friend like that for?”
“He really thinks he is perfect?” I asked.
“He claims to have a superior mind,” Elizabeth reflected, “in all ways, save one.”
“What?” Mary asked.
“His temper, he admits, he cannot vouch for. He cannot forgive the follies and vices of others or their offenses against himself. His good opinion, when lost, is lost forever.”
“No wonder that he despises us,” I realized. “He looks at our behavior and thinks it folly, despite that it is his meanness that censures us.”
“Kitty,” Mary corrected, “you must remember that we do not fully know that he hates us.”
“Oh, yes he does, hateful man!” Mama cried.
“He does, Mary,” Elizabeth agreed. “Make no mistake about that.”
Mary looked down at her book.
“Well,” she voiced, low. “At least he admits that his temper is that way. He is self-aware.”
The very second that Mr. Darcy’s name was mentioned, I had cast glances at Mary. I analyzed her and I saw it. I saw everything. All these weeks, I noticed something that no one else seemed to notice. But in this moment, it was pronounced, and augmented. It was enough to confirm something that I had first began to wonder about. For Mary only had that look on her face once before. It was when she was thirteen years old—and it was when she wanted something.
* * *
Later that day, Mary had gone off by herself, to sit in the garden as she began to read a conduct book. Seeing her from a window, I saw my chance, and there was not a moment to lose. Afterwards, I would realize that my actions were the result of a woman who was angry, because she had experienced a disastrous proposal, and was out of spirits. Therefore, naturally, I was bitter and wanted to unleash my disrupted temper on someone. Or maybe it’s because I wanted Mary to be as miserable as I was. Or maybe it’s because I cared. Perhaps it was a combination of all three of those motives. I never fully answered that question of myself.
Dashing down the steps, and rushing to the backdoor, I covered my arms with a shawl. Once I got into the backyard, I stopped running, so not to alarm her. Walking swiftly, however, I closed the gap in between us quickly and she looked up at me, closing her book.
“You really believe that Mr. Darcy does not hate us?” I asked.
Mary blinked, and then looked at the ground.
“You came out of the house to tell me that.”
“I just need to know because it will answer something and make it clearer. However, you don’t need to answer now because your expression says it all. Tell me, Mary, tell me the truth.”
“What truth?”
“How long have you liked Mr. Darcy?”
In hearing me say this, she looked up and scoffed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Lying is a sin. I thought you were moral.”
Unable to speak, Mary walked away from me. But I wasn’t in the mood, so I pursued her.
“You can ignore me, but it won’t work,” I declared passionately. “Not till you tell me the truth. You like him, don’t you?”
I grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Admit it. You like Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes!” She wept.
Letting go of her arm, I took a step backward. For me to guess it was one thing, but for her to confirm it was quite another. Mary liked Mr. Darcy.
Oh Hell!
End of Book I