An Assembly in Bath: Three Sisters from Hertfordshire, #2

Chapter One

O h, how I do adore the pump rooms! Kitty Bennet sighed, rapturously, glancing around her at the melee of Bath society who found themselves in the popular meeting place.

I would hope so! Her uncle, Mr Edward Gardiner, smiled indulgently at his niece. For you have directed us here every day this past week! I might have thought you growing weary of it, after being here so often, and yet, no, I see the very same sparkle in your eyes, the flush of colour in your cheeks. Truly, Kitty, it seems as if you were born for Bath.

Kitty frowned a little at his use of her pet name. Kitty she had been since birth, when one of her sisters, Elizabeth most likely, had remarked, apropos of nothing, that her new sister looked like a furless kitten. The name had stuck, and she had only ever been Catherine on the most formal occasions, or when she had earned the wrath of her parents for some error in judgment that was usually Lydia’s fault, for her sister was well-equipped with an ability to pass her punishments along to her sister and thus escape unscathed. Kitty raised her chin. Here, in Bath, she was free of her sisters and she intended to be free of her pet name too if only her uncle could remember.

My dear. Her Aunt’s sharp eyes read Kitty’s true feelings in an instant and deployed a cautionary squeeze to her husband’s arm. "Recall, our niece prefers Catherine now, and I think it a far more elegant choice for a place such as this. She glanced around, smiling merrily as her eyes flitted from acquaintance to acquaintance. Dear me, is that Captain Barton?"

Kitty whipped around, instantly regretting her display of eagerness, for she sensed it had not gone unnoticed by either of her relatives. She stared into the distance a moment too long, as if that might dissuade them from thinking her attention was only on the handsome captain who had so recently made their acquaintance. Her attempt at deception was utterly routed by her cheeks, which would insist on flooding with heat whenever she caught sight of this particular gentleman, and she stood, intent on walking towards the window. She did not manage to move more than a couple of feet, however, before another friend accosted her.

Catherine! Darling! I am so delighted you are here.

Isabella Pike was the very first friend Kitty had made upon arriving in Bath, and she remained her most entertaining companion. She was but a year or two older than Kitty, and had arrived in Bath for precisely the reason that Kitty had determined to visit: that it was a place where all society might be found in a manner more relaxed and contented than in London, although she had at one time lived abroad and her travels gave her a worldly air of which Kitty was quite in awe.. Isabella, too, was unmarried, yet when she spoke of her own family she did so with a malicious enthusiasm that encouraged Kitty to keep silent. What might scandal-sniffing Isabella say to Kitty’s account of Lydia’s misdeeds the previous year? No, that particular story had been kept quietly sealed in Kitty’s heart. Her other sisters were harder to protect, for upon their second meeting, Isabella had pouted, and pinched her hand, and told her she thought it dreadfully unkind that Catherine had not told her that her own sister was the Elizabeth Bennet who had so recently married Mr Darcy of Pemberley, and had Kitty been to visit them, and wouldn’t she tell Isabella absolutely every detail of their estate, for she had heard so many stories of its beauty and she wished to know for herself whether they were true. Kitty had obliged, telling her the little she knew for certain, and this had been the right decision, for, ever since that moment, Isabella Pike had taken Kitty well and truly under her wing, introducing her to all that Bath society had to offer and ensuring that she was granted admittance to circles she would never have won as an invisible Miss Bennet under the protection of Mr and Mrs Gardiner, late of Cheapside.

Isabella. Kitty smiled, greeting her friend with the theatrical Bijoux favoured by the French, and, lately, their small Bath circle.

Do not run away now! Isabella’s eyes flashed mischievously. I saw a certain captain intent on making his way in this direction, so you must not move a muscle or he will be so disappointed. Hie! Captain Barton! Oh, do come and join us, will not you?

With Isabella’s hand clamped tightly around her wrist, and their acquaintance now drawing close enough that to leave would be considered the height of rudeness, Kitty could do nothing but smile, and curtsey, and glance helplessly to her aunt and uncle for assistance. Mr Gardiner was oblivious to her distress, but Mrs Gardiner stepped generously into the breach.

Captain Barton, she said, smoothly. What wonderful providence to meet you here today. You might settle an argument between my husband and me.

An argument? Captain Barton’s eyes danced from Mrs Gardiner to her husband and back again. He chuckled. I do hope you do not intend on involving me in your familial disputes. Tell me, Mrs Gardiner, what your opinion on the matter is, and I shall vouch for it, for I know enough to be sure that it is a tenet of many a happy marriage that a husband must always defer to his wife’s opinions in all matters. He glanced at the young ladies. Indeed, it is my considered belief that if women were given sway in all decisions we might live in a far happier society.

Mr Gardiner snorted but said nothing. It was Isabella who launched herself into the conversation in response.

Oh, Captain Barton! She giggled. You are too generous to us, and yet, I sense you are teasing. For what man of His Majesty’s Navy could ever defer to a woman in any matter?

My dear Miss Pike, you are clearly ill-acquainted with many naval men if you hold such an opinion. His voice was gently mocking, and from this Kitty had the sense, developed from witnessing several such interactions between the captain and her friend, that he did not admire Miss Pike as much as she thought.

In what way is she mistaken? she asked, finding her voice at last and hoping, by pressing Captain Barton to the punchline of what she felt certain was a joke, he might relax his position on her friend and, by extension, her.

"Why, Miss Bennet, I am surprised you need to ask! You have conversed with me most knowledgeably in the past about my last ship that I felt certain you knew, as I do, that both vessel and ocean are she, and must be obeyed at all costs by mere mortal man."

This bon mot won a round of gentle laughter, but Kitty felt Isabella tense beside her. When she turned towards her friend, though, her beautiful smile was in place, and her gaze was directed towards Captain Barton, who was giving a particularly thrilling account of his time in the East Indies, capturing the attention of all present so that Kitty was left to wonder if she had imagined her friend’s reaction. Indeed, a moment later she felt the tiniest pinch on her arm and Isabella inclined her head, almost indiscernibly, towards the captain, a silent encouragement that Kitty show him the same attention, and so be certain of securing his affections, which plan had been Isabella’s chief aim this past week. This was not difficult, for Kitty was fond of entertaining stories, and Captain Barton made his account lively, filling it with thrilling details designed to delight just such an audience.

Yes, Kitty thought, smiling at a description of the native delicacy of octopus, which had been forced upon the officers as they toured a local town, I should never have known such a gentleman in Hertfordshire, nor ever heard such tales of adventure. I do adore the Pump Rooms, more than any other place in all of England!

MR MATTHEW KNIGHT WAS not fond of Bath, but he preferred almost any location in town to that of the Pump Rooms. How was it that a place he had been ordered to - practically carried here against his will - for the good of his health must also be the place most populated by those seeking society and, worse, gossip.

Sitting alone at a table, nursing a glass of the supposedly restorative Bath waters, he watched the crowd disperse into groups, watching one another with vivid expressions and always, always talking.

What can there be of such fascination to discuss in Bath anyway? he wondered, surprised that so many fashionable people sought to sacrifice London for Bath this year.

"Matthew? Blow me, it cannot be Matthew Knight? How the devil are you, old chap?"

Matthew barely had time to flinch at such a greeting, before his mysterious companion punched him on the shoulder with such force that he sent half the contents of his glass flying, drenching his sleeve and making him snap his head up in anger.

Hey! he swallowed the rest of his response when he recognised his assailant, and his scowl melted into a smile. Barton! What on earth?

"That’s Captain Barton, if you don’t mind." His friend commandeered a seat at Matthew’s table and sat, heavily. He looked inordinately pleased to be able to deliver this piece of news and waited for the inevitable praise that would soon drip from Matthew’s lips. Amused at seeing his old friend not a bit changed by his years in the navy, Matthew was quite happy to indulge him in a word or two of celebration for his good fortune and bowed his head in an affectation of great