Chapter 18
Catherine’s London Season had proceeded almost exactly as she thought it would…with one exception. What was not surprising was that, despite her efforts to not convey a preference for any particular gentleman, she had received three marriage proposals, all of which she had declined.
She had greatly enjoyed the opportunity to shop as much as she liked, and walking in Hyde Park was pleasant enough when the weather was fine, but her social schedule had been a little denser than she liked it. There was seldom more than one day in between evening entertainments. At least they had been varied and weren’t all balls.
The part of the Season that hadn’t gone as planned was the fact that Lord Hilldale, or Stephen as he insisted she call him, was present at almost every place she went. Nearly every party she attended, he was there. At every single ball, he was there, asking for either her first dance or her supper dance, usually the latter. Even when she walked in the park with Georgiana and Lydia, he would show up to accompany them about half the time.
She knew he must have some kind of informant telling him of her schedule, but she couldn’t imagine why he would go to the trouble. At the same time, she was glad he did. His frequent presence at her side scared off at least some of the men who might otherwise importune her. Additionally, she simply foundcomfort in familiarity. She knew him, and she liked him, and that was enough to give her pleasure in his company.
Every few days, he would make a visit to Darcy House. He claimed he was there to visit everyone, though his conversation was usually with her, alone. Once a week, he brought Travis with him. The boy turned eight in April, and he was growing up to be a wonderful young man, both fun-loving and kind. Kitty found herself playing with him more than speaking with Stephen on those days when he visited, but Stephen didn’t seem to mind.
One evening in mid-April, Catherine found herself watching Lydia from across the drawing room of Mrs. Macclesfield’s home. As usual, Catherine had a couple of gentlemen attempting to converse with her, but they weren’t being particularly oppressive, so she had let her mind wander a bit. She was polite and reasonably attentive to them, but at the same time, she was curious about her sister.
Lydia’s mood had changed considerably since the middle of February when Colonel Benedict had begun to call on her. She had gradually gone from being slightly sullen but pretending to be cheerful to being happier than Catherine could ever remember.
Catherine couldn’t sympathize with her sister’s attraction. Colonel Benedict’s conversation always made Catherine uncomfortable. It was too blunt, too real, but Lydia seemed to love it. Catherine thought it made some sense, perhaps. Lydia, herself, was too full of life’s energy to ever be happy living the kind of quiet moderate existence expected of gentlewomen. Colonel Bendict gave Lydia a glimpse into what real life was like. It was more than Catherine wished for herself, though.
Several times, during his visits to Lydia, Elizabeth had warned the colonel to moderate his speech in a lady’s presence, and he did so for a time, but he always seemed to revert back tohis old habits by the next time he called. After a while, both he and Lydia seemed to grow frustrated at Elizabeth’s attempts to suppress his speech. Instead, he began inviting Lydia for rides in the park. Even though they were always accompanied by a groom, at least there, Elizabeth wasn’t present to confine them to pleasant, genteel topics.
It had been a month since Catherine had seen Lydia and Colonel Benedict together. He did not have the kind of family connections that Colonel Fitzwilliam did, so they were not often in company together. Tonight was different. Mrs. Macclesfield was the wife of an army general, so the colonel was one of the guests.
Ever since Colonel Benedict had entered the room over an hour ago, he and Lydia had been inseparable, and Catherine noticed that there was a different air between them than she had seen before.
In the past, it was clear that they were friends, unconventional friends perhaps, but there was definitely nothing more than that. Somehow, tonight was different, but Catherine couldn’t figure out what it was. They were conversing, nothing more. They weren’t standing any closer together than usual, and their expressions were the same as always.
Catherine was so intent on puzzling out what had changed that she occasionally lost track of the conversation she was having and ended up being rude to Mr. Carlton, who stomped off in a huff. Fortunately, he was replaced by Stephen.
It had been odd calling him by his first name, but he repeatedly insisted, and she gradually became accustomed to it.
In the last three months, something had shifted between them, but Catherine could not puzzle out what it was or why, mostly because she instinctively shied away from thinking aboutit. The shift between them was possibly part of why she was watching Lydia’s conversation with Colonel Benedict so closely. Perhaps, if she could understand their situation, she would understand her own far better.
“You know, if you keep looking over at Benedict instead of paying attention to me, I might begin to be jealous,” Stephen said.
Catherine jumped. “I do beg your pardon,” she said as she refocused her attention on Stephen.
He looked at her closely. “I didn’t think you were the kind of lady to be attracted to a man like Benedict. I can certainly see that your sister is, and that is no surprise. Your attention in that quarter, however, is nearly shocking.”
“I am not in the least attracted to Colonel Benedict,” she said, “but I do wish to know why you would think it shocking.”
“You like everything to be neat and clean. The only thing messy about you is your process of painting, and even there you cannot leave it messy. There have been at least five times when I have called at Darcy House when I have had to wait fifteen minutes for you to tidy your paints before you would come out to the drawing room to see me. Once you even kept poor Travis waiting.
“Benedict, however, is the very definition of messy. He revels in the difficulties of life. He deliberately uses coarse speech. Even his clothes and hair are often in disarray, though not at an event such as this. To be honest, I am surprised that even Miss Lydia is drawn to him, though I suppose if anyone would be, it would be she.”
“She is certainly drawn to him,” agreed Catherine. “It was for that reason that I was watching them so intently.”
“You are attempting to understand what she sees in him?” asked Stephen.
“Not exactly,” said Catherine. “I have noticed that the air between them is different from when they first met, but I cannot puzzle out what exactly is different.”
“Ah,” said Stephen. “Your artistic eye wishes to understand the details. Is that it?”
“Possibly?” said Catherine. “I have not questioned my own motivations on the subject. I was simply curious.”
“The difference is in their eyes,” said Stephen. “When acquaintances or friends meet, the conversation and interaction is casual. A person’s gaze will linger on the other’s face but will sometimes travel to their ears or hair or even over their shoulder and a little bit on the room around them. Benedict and Miss Lydia, however, are far more intense than that. Their gazes are fixed on each other, focusing mostly on eyes and lips. Watching them makes me feel as though they have forgotten that anyone else is even in the room.”
As Stephen mentioned eyes and lips, Catherine saw his gaze drop to her own lips. It lingered there for a moment. Then it seemed as though he forcefully pulled his attention back up to the rest of her face.
Revelation and realization dawned on Catherine in a sudden and shocking way, and she wondered why she had never thought of it before.
