Read Online Kitty Bennet's Diary (Pride and Prejudice Chronicles) by Anna Elliott - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Elliott
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sister-in-law, they were not particular about chaperones.
Madame LeFarge had made a special effort and had Mary’s new rose silk dress finished and delivered this morning. It is lovely. I helped Mary to dress. And I did her hair for her, plaiting strands of pearls into it this time.
Which left me once again with very little time to dress myself, though it scarcely mattered. I chose my white satin with the silver embroidery, and matching silver slippers. I coiled my hair into a loose knot at the nape of my neck.
And wished all the time I was dressing that I might suddenly come down with an actual touch of bubonic plague. Or that my conscience would at least allow me to feign illness for the night.
I like Georgiana. I do. It is just that she is so excessively perfect in every regard. Pretty. Gentle. Well-mannered. Sensible. She is almost my own age exactly and, despite her natural shyness, is now mistress of Darcy House, hosting grand affairs like tonight’s ball.
She also knows far too much about me—such as the reason my engagement to John was broken off. And she was with me last summer in Brussels, during the battle at Waterloo, which means that I cannot see her without inevitably remembering those days in every horrible detail.
At any rate, since I could neither feign nor manufacture genuine illness, Mary and I arrived at Darcy House with a throng of other people and were ushered inside by a pair of footmen in powdered wigs and elegant liveries.
Mary clutched my hand, looking—for her—quite nervous and awed by all the splendour. “Goodness, Kitty,” she whispered. And then said nothing more.
My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are comfortably well-to-do, and despite the entail on my father’s estate, my parents are by no means poor. Certainly not when compared, say, to the beggars I see freezing on street corners around the city.
But like all of Mr. Darcy’s family, Georgiana and her husband Edward—who is the younger son of an earl—simply live in a different world entirely from ours.
Darcy House is located in the very exclusive Grosvenor Square, built of elegant stone and pillared stucco, and is four storeys tall. The interior is just as elegant and palatial without being in the least ostentatious or overly-lavish. The entrance hall leads into a high-ceilinged saloon with marble fireplaces and a Roman-style frieze around the edge of the ceiling. And the ballroom at the back of the house is vast—large enough for a party of five hundred.
Tonight the room was decorated with hothouse orchids and trailing fronds of ivy, and hundreds of candles blazed in the chandeliers. A quartet of musicians played in a raised alcove at the head of the room.
Georgiana was near the door, and she came to greet us as we entered.
Georgiana has her brother’s dark hair and eyes, but in her the aristocratic Darcy features are softened into refined delicacy. Tonight she was wearing a peach-coloured silk gown with a beaded overdress and a diamond bandeau in her hair.
Her husband Edward is lean and darkly good-looking, with broad shoulders and a soldier’s stance. He was standing nearby—ostensibly talking to some other gentlemen—as Georgiana embraced us. But I could see he was only barely attending to what they said. He could scarcely take his eyes off his wife.
“Kitty—and Mary.” Georgiana kissed both of our cheeks—though I saw her own cheeks colour slightly under her husband’s obviously adoring regard. “I am so glad you could come. And how is Mrs. Gardiner?”
I let Mary answer. And when a gentleman we are slightly acquainted with—Mr. Malcolm Fredericks, the son of one of our father’s boyhood friends—came over and asked me to dance, I for once agreed and made my escape.
Mr. Fredericks is scarcely my idea of a romantic suitor—even if I had been looking for one. He is tall and loose-jointed with a hook nose and very large ears that stick out
Madame LeFarge had made a special effort and had Mary’s new rose silk dress finished and delivered this morning. It is lovely. I helped Mary to dress. And I did her hair for her, plaiting strands of pearls into it this time.
Which left me once again with very little time to dress myself, though it scarcely mattered. I chose my white satin with the silver embroidery, and matching silver slippers. I coiled my hair into a loose knot at the nape of my neck.
And wished all the time I was dressing that I might suddenly come down with an actual touch of bubonic plague. Or that my conscience would at least allow me to feign illness for the night.
I like Georgiana. I do. It is just that she is so excessively perfect in every regard. Pretty. Gentle. Well-mannered. Sensible. She is almost my own age exactly and, despite her natural shyness, is now mistress of Darcy House, hosting grand affairs like tonight’s ball.
She also knows far too much about me—such as the reason my engagement to John was broken off. And she was with me last summer in Brussels, during the battle at Waterloo, which means that I cannot see her without inevitably remembering those days in every horrible detail.
At any rate, since I could neither feign nor manufacture genuine illness, Mary and I arrived at Darcy House with a throng of other people and were ushered inside by a pair of footmen in powdered wigs and elegant liveries.
Mary clutched my hand, looking—for her—quite nervous and awed by all the splendour. “Goodness, Kitty,” she whispered. And then said nothing more.
My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner are comfortably well-to-do, and despite the entail on my father’s estate, my parents are by no means poor. Certainly not when compared, say, to the beggars I see freezing on street corners around the city.
But like all of Mr. Darcy’s family, Georgiana and her husband Edward—who is the younger son of an earl—simply live in a different world entirely from ours.
Darcy House is located in the very exclusive Grosvenor Square, built of elegant stone and pillared stucco, and is four storeys tall. The interior is just as elegant and palatial without being in the least ostentatious or overly-lavish. The entrance hall leads into a high-ceilinged saloon with marble fireplaces and a Roman-style frieze around the edge of the ceiling. And the ballroom at the back of the house is vast—large enough for a party of five hundred.
Tonight the room was decorated with hothouse orchids and trailing fronds of ivy, and hundreds of candles blazed in the chandeliers. A quartet of musicians played in a raised alcove at the head of the room.
Georgiana was near the door, and she came to greet us as we entered.
Georgiana has her brother’s dark hair and eyes, but in her the aristocratic Darcy features are softened into refined delicacy. Tonight she was wearing a peach-coloured silk gown with a beaded overdress and a diamond bandeau in her hair.
Her husband Edward is lean and darkly good-looking, with broad shoulders and a soldier’s stance. He was standing nearby—ostensibly talking to some other gentlemen—as Georgiana embraced us. But I could see he was only barely attending to what they said. He could scarcely take his eyes off his wife.
“Kitty—and Mary.” Georgiana kissed both of our cheeks—though I saw her own cheeks colour slightly under her husband’s obviously adoring regard. “I am so glad you could come. And how is Mrs. Gardiner?”
I let Mary answer. And when a gentleman we are slightly acquainted with—Mr. Malcolm Fredericks, the son of one of our father’s boyhood friends—came over and asked me to dance, I for once agreed and made my escape.
Mr. Fredericks is scarcely my idea of a romantic suitor—even if I had been looking for one. He is tall and loose-jointed with a hook nose and very large ears that stick out
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