A Lady's Guide to Fortune-Hunting(76)

‘Home, of course,’ Kitty said. ‘After tonight, it should not be more than a week or so before we can leave. It is my intention to persuade Mr Pemberton to wed quickly – it should not be so hard, he has so little family, and will likely think it romantic. We can honeymoon in Biddington.’

‘Next week?’ Cecily repeated faintly.

‘I’m shocked this should surprise you, Cecily,’ Kitty said, exasperated. ‘Surely you knew this. I do keep telling you to pay more attention when other people are speaking – then you would not be so surprised all the time.’

Cecy looked distressed. ‘I did not know,’ she said. ‘I wish you would have told me sooner. Can we not stay longer?’

‘Why should you want to stay? I thought you hated London – you have certainly spent enough time complaining about it.’

There was silence behind her for a few beats, and then all at once: ‘I am in love!’ Cecily said, so loudly that Kitty jumped half out of her skin.

‘Gracious, Cecy, no need to shout – what do you mean, you’re in love? You can’t be.’

‘I am!’ Cecy insisted. ‘With Lord Montagu – and he is in love with me, too.’

Kitty put a hand to her forehead.

‘Oh Lord,’ she groaned. ‘Cecy – I’m sorry – but we don’t have time for this.’

‘No time – Kitty, I have told you I am in love!’

‘And I heard you.’ Kitty tried desperately to hold onto her patience. ‘But the fact of the matter is, we simply cannot afford to remain any longer – we have quite run out of money.’

‘There are some things more important than money!’ Cecy said passionately. ‘Look at Mama and Papa.’

‘And where did that leave us?’ Kitty demanded. ‘Papa chose love over money, and it had consequences, Cecy! It left me— it left us, in a very difficult position.’

‘But—’ Cecily tried to interject, but Kitty overruled her with a flash of temper.

‘We don’t get to have who we want, Cecy! How can I get you to understand that?’ she burst out. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘I know it is hard, but we really have got to think of the bigger picture. You must listen to me on this.’

‘You never listen!’ Cecy shrieked at Kitty. ‘You say I don’t listen, but you never listen to me, and I’m sick of it. You’re always overlooking me and dismissing me, and you never listen. But Rupert does. He listens, and he’s interested in what I have to say, and – and he values my opinion. You don’t! You don’t care what I think.’

Kitty was utterly thrown. This was the longest Cecily had spoken, without mentioning Wordsworth, for several years. ‘Well … what do you think?’ Kitty asked.

Cecy gaped at her for a second. ‘That’s not the point!’ she wailed. ‘I can’t think of anything right now.’

‘In which case,’ Kitty snapped, her temper flaring again, ‘I don’t have time for these tantrums. Grow up, Cecy – if you don’t want to help, the least you could do is to let me get on with saving our family from financial ruin rather than throwing a spanner into things at the eleventh hour.’

Cecy stormed from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

The sisters did not speak until much later that evening. Cecily left the house soon after breakfast for a walk with Lady Amelia; she told Aunt Dorothy, though Kitty was in the room at the time. Aunt Dorothy, who was about to leave London for the weekend, to visit a friend of hers in Kent, clucked at her nieces’ antics.

‘You ought to mend those fences sooner rather than later,’ she instructed Kitty once Cecily had left. ‘And you certainly mustn’t be cross with each other in front of Mrs Sinclair tonight.’

In Aunt Dorothy’s absence, Mrs Sinclair was to act as their chaperone.

‘I suppose you think I was too harsh,’ Kitty grumbled, not quite yet ready to see Cecily’s side.

‘I think you were foolish,’ Aunt Dorothy corrected. ‘She is a young lady in the first blush of love. And she’s your sister. Talk to her properly.’

She kissed Kitty’s cheek in farewell.

‘Good luck tonight,’ she said softly, pressing Kitty’s hand. ‘I shall be thinking of you. And … wish me luck. For the journey,’ she added hastily, seeing Kitty’s brow furrow. ‘It’s further than I have travelled in a while.’

‘Of course,’ Kitty murmured, brushing her aunt’s cheek with her own. ‘Have a wonderful time with your friend.’

Aunt Dorothy nodded, picked up her suitcase and left. Kitty curled up in her aunt’s armchair, sulking. She supposed she had been quite frightfully unsympathetic, but she had been caught entirely off guard. Cecily had never before expressed any interest in romantic feeling, and as Kitty had deemed her far too young to consider marriage anyway, she had quite discounted it as a possibility. And by God, could she have chosen a more inappropriate person to do it with! Throwing her cap at any titled man was dangerous – with all the questions the family would feel honour-bound to ask about Cecily’s background – but the Montagus were notoriously protective about their noble line.

But that should not matter. Kitty had clearly been neglecting her for Cecily to keep such a frightfully large secret from her – too wrapped up in her own dramas to pay more than a second’s attention to her. By the time Cecily came home from her walk, Kitty was quite convinced that she was, perhaps, the worst and most unkind sister ever to have lived – so much so that, when Cecily declared herself simply too tired to attend the Hastings ball that evening, she capitulated quite easily. After all, it was a longer carriage ride than usual to the Hastings’ manor in Kensington, and while Kitty would prefer to have Cecily with her on such an important night, the Sinclairs would be company enough. Besides, it was the least she could do after being so beastly to Cecily that morning. Cecily should be allowed her rest.