A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(47)

Kitty swallowed another hot-headed retort. How to explain, without sounding as if she had lost her head? Being in this room was of itself such an achievement, Aunt Dorothy was right about that, but it was not the fait accompli that Kitty had imagined. There were places she was still not allowed to enter, places that persons like Miss Fleming were invited to while she was not. The advantage Almack’s gave them … It was not something she could easily overcome; and as Mr Stanfield was growing ever more conspicuous in his attentions to Miss Fleming, Kitty knew she might never stand a chance at his level without it.

‘Why do you want it so much?’ Aunt Dorothy asked imploringly, when Kitty did not answer.

‘I–I just,’ Kitty faltered. ‘It could have been mine. If things – if things had gone differently for Mama and Papa, I would have had all this without thinking about it for a second. I am not so different to these other ladies, Aunt. They are not better than me. It feels so close – I cannot help but want to reach for it.’

She searched Aunt Dorothy’s face for some understanding, and did see her eyes soften, a little.

‘I understand why it might feel unfair,’ Aunt Dorothy said quietly. ‘But you cannot try to right all the wrongs of the past – remember why we are here. We cannot be distracted from that. You are reaching for the unattainable, you must believe me this time. Can I trust you will let it rest, now?’

Kitty looked down at her feet, chastised. Aunt Dorothy was right and she knew it – they had only six weeks, now. She must keep on track – keep thinking with her head and not her heart. ‘Yes, all right,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll let it rest.’

‘Good.’ Aunt Dorothy nodded briskly. ‘Now, I must find that charming gentleman I was speaking to the other night – I think he will very much like my new gown.’

Aunt Dorothy bustled off in pursuit of compliments. Kitty looked over at Cecily, still feeling at odds and wanting badly to discuss the unfairness of it all with someone.

‘My necklace is feeling a little loose,’ Cecily told her, holding a hand up to the jewels at her collarbone – paste, of course. Kitty motioned for her to turn around so she could examine it.

‘Ah,’ she said, seeing the problem immediately. ‘You did not tie it correctly. Stand still for a moment.’

She frowned over the delicate work, glad for the distraction.

‘Your poets ought to write more about this sort of thing,’ she told Cecily absently, fiddling with the necklace’s lever, being careful not to pinch the delicate skin of Cecily’s neck as she did so. ‘Social rules and politics and the like – it could fill books, I’m sure.’

‘Er – they do, actually,’ Cecily told her. ‘Quite a few of them, in fact.’

‘Oh.’ Kitty felt, for the third time that evening, rather foolish. She took a deep breath before rejoining the fray. They hadn’t long left, and Aunt Dorothy was right – Kitty must keep on track. Now was not the time to lose her head to sentiment.





20


It was April 20th. Kitty had six weeks left to secure a fortune. At least, however, she had the comfort of a number of suitors to choose from. Of these, Mr Pemberton was certainly the most persistent. With a fortune as large as his moustache, he was the richest, too.

And yet, though she had to remind herself that this did not matter, he was also the most irritating. If she were to describe Pemberton favourably, she would focus upon his kindness. A kindness so potent that it manifested as intense condescension in all their conversations, as Pemberton explained all the things in the world that she – as a frail, innocent woman – must know little of. He was kind enough, even, to not require from Kitty any of her own thoughts or opinions, and would never dream of distressing her by asking after either. Indeed, any time she did make an overture towards joining his soliloquy, he simply raised his voice enough to drown her out.

Her favourite suitor, if she permitted herself one, was Mr Stanfield. Kitty had long been resigned to the fact that she should not expect to like her husband. His outstanding quality would have to be, she knew, his wealth, and she could expect little else. And yet … it might be pleasant, if she could like him. To enjoy spending time with him, even. And with Mr Stanfield, it seemed like this could very well be possible. The future looked a little brighter, with him in the role. With six thousand a year to his name he had more than enough funds to satisfy her, but indeed it was not this fact that made his company so enjoyable. Their conversation was diverting, Kitty was conscious of his presence in a room even when they were not talking and, moreover, she could admit to thinking of him when they were not together. This last was always the most potent, naturally, upon each Wednesday evening when they were separated – he to Almack’s, to flirt with other women out of her sight, and she to whatever alternative entertainment she could find.

But Kitty must put Mr Stanfield from her mind that day, for she had an appointment that afternoon to accompany Mr Pemberton to Tattersall’s, London horse auction house – and most unusually, she was quite genuinely looking forward to it. Kitty had always thought, had the Talbots been richer, that she would have been a most committed horsewoman. As it was, with her only prior access to a stable being through the Linfields, her appreciation of fine horseflesh had been in the main theoretical. Thus, when Mr Pemberton had gallantly offered to purchase and keep a mare in his stable for her, that she might ride whenever she liked, she knew she must seize upon the opportunity. It was usually a gentleman’s space, but, intrigued to see it for herself, she had induced him to invite her along too – it had taken a little persuading, but the desire to flaunt his knowledge did, in the end, prevail.