Page 9 of The Making of Lady Catherine de Bourgh

Chapter nine

T he drive to Kent was thankfully uneventful. Nearly all the innkeepers along the way commented on their great fortune in such decent weather.

On the fifth day of travel, they stopped to change horses at the Bell in a village called Bromley, and Lady Rosamund declared, “This is our last stop, my dear. There are not ten miles left in our journey.”

Catherine was relieved. Though they travelled with as much speed and comfort as was possible, her back ached, and she longed to take a rest in her chambers at Whitmore, which surely would be an improvement to the beds she had slept in on the road.

Her aunt had, thankfully, talked little of Mr Darcy, Lady Anne, or the debacle that had led Catherine to this point in her life. They had conversed mostly of the fine weather conditions, the villages and counties they passed through, and of the society she would soon encounter in Kent.

Lady Rosamund had spoken favourably of the local vicar and was already planning a splendid friendship between Lady Catherine and his daughter, a Miss Virginia Sedgwick. She promised they would take tea with the lady upon their arrival. It sounded as if Miss Sedgwick was crucial to making acquaintances in the area. She was described as a lively girl with many friends and the granddaughter of an earl. Lady Barringer would certainly approve of their acquaintance.

Of course, her aunt also mentioned Sir Lewis when she spoke of local society. Catherine was thankful that the gentleman would be many weeks behind them in returning to Kent. There was no appeal in resuming that acquaintance. The mortification of their first and last encounter would certainly be enough for her lifetime.

During the last few miles of their journey, Lady Rosamund indicated many points of interest along the way: “that lane would take you to the Hawkins estate,” “the village of Westerham is where we might do some shopping,” and “the village of Hunsford is within walking distance if you pass through Rosings Park.” It would be some time, indeed, before she comprehended the neighbourhood.

Whitmore Manor was not precisely what Catherine had expected. A more modest house than the previous estate she had visited in Kent as a child, she thought the home stately in its own right. The property had a short drive, and just as they had turned from the lane, she could see the house appear behind a line of trees. A small garden was situated to the left and a modest stable and some outbuildings sat on the other side of the property. Catherine espied a well-worn path through the trees that marked the edge of the lawn.

Some servants stepped out of the house as they heard the carriage approaching.

Catherine noticed the young Martha at once among her aunt’s people. They had sent one of the carriages ahead to settle their trunks more expediently.

The guest chamber provided to Lady Catherine was well appointed. Not precisely in the same style as she would have chosen for herself, but the warm, cream-coloured paper on the walls and soft lavender fabrics on the bed were welcoming.

After refreshing herself and taking a luxurious and very necessary bath, Catherine joined her aunt in the front room for some tea and refreshments.

The black widow of Kent. This is what they called her. An amusing assertation if she ever heard one! Her aunt was all that was kind and lovely and her home, warm and welcoming.

After some time, Catherine did navigate the conversation to the manor house and her third husband’s family. Catherine had not known Mr Raleigh, for the marriage had been a short one.

“Jasper’s mother left him this manor. It had been in her family for nearly a century. And when he learned that his illness would not be overcome, he quickly ensured that I would assume ownership of this estate. His elder brothers might have sought to take it for a younger son, but Jasper had promised not to leave me to the earl’s care.”

“And will the property return to the family one day?”

Lady Rosamund chuckled, “Already wondering after my death, dearest?”

“No!” Catherine nearly choked on her tea. “Of course not. I only wondered if his family still seeks to retain possession of Whitmore.”

“No, my dear. My husband ensured it would be wholly mine. He was not threatened as so many other gentlemen are about a woman managing her own property.”

It sounded overwhelming. Catherine had never considered being solitary in such a way. She would never want to live alone. It would be much better if her aunt had a son to help carry the burden, would it not?

“Were you not disappointed to never have any children?” Catherine asked.

Lady Rosamund looked startled by the question.

“Pardon me,” Catherine apologized. “I should not ask such a personal question of you. I do not know of what I was thinking.”

Catherine was sensing she might be becoming much too comfortable around her aunt. She should not repay her aunt’s kindness with such rudeness.

“I am not bothered by the question, only amazed that you had the courage to ask it. Good on you.”

She laughed heartily when Catherine did not offer a response.

“Well, my first husband imagined we would have many children. It was expected of us. He was a very fine match indeed and required an heir to the Southcott earldom. Henry was disappointed that I was never delivered of a child. His younger brother went on to inherit the earldom. My second husband considered it something of a challenge.” Her aunt smiled fondly. “He was a dear man. John and I might have had many children for all our efforts.” She laughed at that. “And yet we came to the same results.”

Catherine’s felt a pang of loss for her aunt. “I remember Mr Harrowby from my visit to Kent as a child,” Catherine said. “And your third husband?”

“My third husband was thrilled that I had no offspring and hoped it might remain as such. He was not overly fond of children.”

Lady Catherine found her aunt’s answers peculiar. Lady Rosamund only mentioned the aspirations of her husbands but never answered whether she had sought to be a mother herself. After all this time, perhaps she was simply resigned to her life as it was. Or perchance, the pain of the question was so significant, and their acquaintance too minor, that she did not feel comfortable divulging such personal thoughts.

Lady Rosamund made good on her promise to introduce Catherine to the parson’s daughter on their first morning in Kent. It was a short drive from her aunt’s home to the parsonage near Hunsford village. They passed a large, pleasing estate on the way that was surrounded by impressive formal gardens, which could be seen from the lane beyond a hedgerow.

They were directly welcomed into a small parlour in the parsonage by Mrs Sedgwick, who called instantly for her daughter to join them. The room was aptly named the Small Parlour, for it was a quaint space with declining fabrics. The tallow candles within sputtered and smoked, producing an unpleasant odour. Some little attempt at ornamentation had been accomplished, though Catherine had nobler ideas of how the space could be employed to ensure the comfort of company.

At length, Miss Sedgwick joined the ladies. Catherine was immediately impressed by the young lady’s style and beauty. Beyond that, she was an entertaining conversationalist, listing out the many events she would accompany Catherine to in the coming months. An assembly was being held in three days’ time, in which Miss Sedgwick would introduce Catherine to more of the local society, and once the weather improved, there were many plans for picnics, outings, and card parties hosted by local families. It seemed that while Lady Ashby had voiced a concern for there being very few people not in London this time of year, there would be much to do in this corner of Kent.

“Lady Rosamund told my mother before she travelled north that she planned to bring back her niece, and I was positively impatient to make your acquaintance straight away.” Miss Sedgwick addressed Catherine privately once her aunt and Mrs Sedgwick had left the younger ladies to some conversation of their own. “I have travelled very little, and we do not often have newcomers in the neighbourhood. Tell me about Derbyshire. Have you ever been to town? My grandfather, the earl, had promised me a Season in town when I turned eighteen, but since his death, my uncle Robert sees no sense in bringing me out in London when my parents have already given their permission to a local viscount.”

Though she asked many questions, Miss Sedgwick rarely left any space in the conversation for Catherine to answer. It was just a well, because she was not used to conversing with someone so new to her acquaintance who made so many personal inquires.

“So, you are engaged?” Catherine finally asked.

“Not as such. Lord Metcalfe has made his intentions clear to my parents and myself, but I told him I require some time to consider.”

That was a shocking piece of information. Was the gentleman unsuitable? How fortunate she was to have it all settled! And yet she hesitated. It baffled Catherine.

“If your parents have given permission, he sounds a worthy gentleman.”

“Oh, he is!” Miss Sedgwick replied. “Lord Metcalfe is everything a gentleman should be. He lives not five miles from here—he has a lovely property, called Persimmon Park, and it is a charming home. It is only . . . I have not yet experienced much in the world, you see. And so, I would like some time before I marry any gentleman—worthy or not. My father is not in favour of this delay, but Lord Metcalfe is very compassionate. He fancies that I should be happy. And his attention to my pleasure has kept my father from pressing the issue.”

If only Catherine could divulge her own experience and warn Miss Sedgwick about her frivolity. Such fanciful ideas the lady had! Having no interest in being honest about why she was in Kent, Catherine offered no advice about marital attachments to her friend. Miss Sedgwick had the admiration of a worthy gentleman and would come into a great fortune upon their marriage. For a parson’s daughter, it was beyond what she should hope for. Why would Virginia’s parents permit such a hindrance to their daughter’s future? Did she not realize the viscount could change his mind? Catherine had never considered delaying an engagement to Mr Darcy. Did ladies do such things?

“A little bit more teasing around the crown of my head, Martha.”

Catherine was not surprised that Reynolds’s quick education on being a lady’s maid before they left Oakley had not produced exemplary results in Martha’s knowledge; however, Catherine was not unfamiliar with management. She would condescend to have the girl in hand soon enough.

If only she had some additional time before they departed for the assembly.

Without her mother involved in her preparations, Catherine’s tutelage for hair dressing on this day was taking a turn for the more modern. Lady Barringer would cringe, but Catherine wanted to style herself in a way in which she felt would be a more flattering.

With less height, her hair would not add to her already tall stature and would hopefully encourage a less startling first impression on the village. Only a small, local assembly it might be, but Catherine knew the importance of first meetings. If she sought friendships, she would put her best foot forward wherever she might be in attendance.

While Martha attempted to tease her hair into obedience, Catherine continued to push down on the very top of the coiffure. A few more hair pins, and it would be a much more suitable style.

“There now,” she continued, “just put this last pin in here.” She pointed to a stray curl trying to escape.

The diamond hairpins reminded her of all the many times she had dressed for momentous events in recent years. Here, they would accompany her once again into the unknown.

She waved off the offers to pull out more jewellery in favour of a simple sapphire necklace given to her by her father when she turned sixteen.

Catherine bent at the waist awkwardly, turning this way and that, to better see herself in the small mirror hanging far too low on the wall in her chamber. It would have to do. There was no additional time for fussing.

“You are excused, Martha,” Catherine told the girl, as she too exited the room to join her aunt downstairs.

When the ladies arrived at the assembly hall, Catherine felt a wave of discomfort. Though she had understood the event to be open to the village, she had not expected to see so many people of different ranks milling about in front of the building. She could hear the music from the dusty streets and see people spilling out onto a balcony from the first floor of the modest structure. This was certainly not like the balls of the ton that she had once attended.

Chin high and skirts held up from the dirty ground, Catherine followed Lady Rosamund into the gathering and up a flight of stairs that opened into a sizable hall. The room was larger than she had guessed from the carriage. She knew not a soul but her aunt and perhaps Miss Sedgwick, if she were even able to find her in such a crush!

Crowded it may be, but it was only moments before Miss Sedgwick found Catherine and whisked her away from her aunt, who encouraged her to have fun with the other young people. Virginia, as Miss Sedgwick requested she call her now, tied a dance card to Catherine’s wrist, and they entered the fray.

Her new friend introduced her to two other local ladies, a Miss Emilia Hawkins and a Mrs Diana Bates. Both ladies appeared to be near in age, and all three were anxious to see her introduced to as many people as possible and to see her dance card filled before the first dance began.

When the musicians signalled the beginning of the first set, Catherine was surprised to find that all but two sets had been filled on her card. Not once had she danced so much in one night, and Catherine worried she would never have the energy to keep up! Remembering the names of half the county, she imagined, would not be transpiring any time soon.

When finally she was able to exit the dance floor after four sets back-to-back, she took herself off to the refreshments table to quench her thirst. A servant held out a glass to her, and she drank it in one gulp. It was not very ladylike, but there was no one of importance watching her. She turned to ask for another and found the servant who had served her before had abandoned the table. Looking around for assistance, her eyes met those of a smiling gentleman at her side. She had not yet been introduced—she was sure of it.

The stranger was tall and lean, looming over her with a welcoming smile. He carried himself with a great amount of self-importance, which stood out from the otherwise casual crowd she had been meeting all night.

His smile adjusted slightly, his eyes narrowing upon her form, making her feel faintly like a mouse caught by a kitchen cat—almost predatory in its gleam. His manner of looking upon her was singular. He looked pleased with her, with all of her, and her pulse began to race. Gentlemen typically sought her out to attempt a friendship with her lovelier friends or her influential brother—but she recognized this gaze, and it was a first for her to be on the receiving end of it.

“My lady.” His polite smile returned. “Shall I serve you another glass of punch?”

She blushed—she was sure of it. Even if she tried to avoid it. She could feel the heat rush to her face and pour down through her chest. He looked her over from head to toe, and a gale of excitement rushed through her body.

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Catherine finally responded.

She handed over her glass.

“Are you the famous Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam everyone is speaking of this evening?”

Embarrassment and unease overcame her. The man paid little heed to who watched his pointed attentions, and she could not help but be emboldened by his confident manner.

Without someone to officially introduce them, it was rather improper for him to state her name in that fashion, but mayhap it was the way of the country.

“I am, sir. And you are?”

“Mr Arthur de Bourgh, my lady.”

Oh. “Are you any relation to Sir Lewis?”

“Unfortunately.” He chuckled. “Are you acquainted with my cousin? How have we never met?”

“Sir Lewis and I have only just met. He is friends with my aunt, Lady Rosamund Raleigh.”

“Oh, of course! You are Lady Rosamund’s houseguest. Lovely to meet you.”

He reached out a hand, took hers and bowed over it before dropping a kiss just above her wrist. Her eyes likely were bulging out of her skull at his presumption, but for some reason, she did not slap him or bat him away. It was a pleasant change to feel admiration from a gentleman, no matter how frail the acquaintance.

She slowly took back her hand and thanked him for the punch. “I must return to my friends now.”

Hastily, Catherine returned to Virginia’s side and decisively did not turn back to look at the gentleman after she left him at the refreshments table. Once satisfied that she was well and away from him, she allowed herself a glimpse and found him staring at her across the room.

What was it about the gentlemen in that family that made them stare so!

“Lord Metcalfe could not take his eyes off of you, Virginia!” Miss Hawkins exclaimed the next afternoon as Catherine’s new friends gathered in Lady Rosamund’s morning room.

“I danced two sets with him! What more does he expect of me?” Virginia responded.

“Welcoming a marriage proposal, I would wager,” Mrs Bates responded.

Catherine enjoyed the ladies’ casual demeanours when in company with each other. Though she had many she would call friends, most would never share such frank revelations.

Virginia laughed without restraint. Catherine liked that about her. “His attention is all good and well, but you know my thoughts on the matter. Not all of us are as lucky as you, Diana.”

Mrs Bates, she had learned, had been married not six months before. She lived with her husband’s parents, not five miles from Whitmore. It was a fine match, Virginia had divulged. She and her parents had been in accord when Mr Bates offered for her.

“Diana had great fortune. I should like it to happen for me just the same,” Miss Hawkins said. “A handsome man of good family who singles me out over the course of a few months and makes his attentions clear from the start. A short engagement would be in order, followed by a lavish wedding breakfast where you are all in attendance. I should like most of all if I settle in our neighbourhood. Our daughters shall be the dearest of friends one day! After I produce an heir, of course.”

“You only want me to accept Lord Metcalfe so that we might always be neighbours, Emilia!” Virginia retorted.

Catherine could not comprehend Virginia’s reticence on the matter. If only Mr Darcy had been as attentive as Lord Metcalfe! Not only did he dance two sets with her, but he singled her out multiple times throughout the night. Her new friends had also mentioned that he regularly sent flowers to the parsonage and letters to her parents when he was travelling.

“And why would she not?” Mrs Bates joined in.

“I thought to make my own choice, and it seems Lord Metcalfe has made it for me.” Virginia was suddenly serious and had the appearance of some melancholy from the subject.

It was vexing to hear someone complain of such a happy circumstance. Catherine had been so delighted to have the choice made for her. Why would someone want their future left up to fate? Fate was not always a trusted friend, and the aristocracy had little need for serendipity. Virginia would do better to be sent to her uncle, the earl, for a time. Her father had given her much too much independence.