Chapter 20
Catherine quickly washed her face, though she had to wait a bit for the redness around her eyes to fade. As soon as she could, she made her way back to the wedding breakfast. As far as she could tell, no one had missed her.
She did her best to mingle and chat and behave normally, but it was extraordinarily difficult when she felt like her whole life was breaking apart. Between the loss of her sisters and Stephen’s almost proposal, everything she thought she knew was turning out to be false.
Finally, it was all over. She had given Mary one last hug and watched as Mr. Goulding helped his new wife into their carriage. With the bride and groom gone, the guests gradually faded away as well until all that was left was a table full of mostly empty dishes.
Catherine made her way up to her room. As the door closed behind her, relief flooded her at the fact that she was finally alone. She could drop the polite smile and graceful manners. She could finally be honest with herself.
For nearly an hour, she simply sat in a chair and thought. Occasionally, she paced, but she did nothing else. She just allowed her thoughts to flow through her mind. There was so much to think about and so many different thoughts and feelings, much of it contradictory.
She came to no conclusion. She didn’t even try to understand herself. This was simply about being honest, something she had not been since the day she was sent off to school.
Catherine had loved school. It was comfortable being surrounded by friendly faces and waited on hand and foot. The décor was beautiful, and the furnishings were comfortable. It was the kind of life that someone of her fortune should be able to expect, so she had sunk into its comfort and allowed herself to become accustomed to it.
In doing so, she had also absorbed all the behaviors and manners that had been taught. For the most part, there was nothing wrong with it. Good manners are essential for smooth social interactions. They establish expectations that set everyone at ease with each other.
However, the excess with which Catherine had been drilled with these good manners was not particularly good for anyone. She had come to believe gracefulness, politeness, and soft-spokenness were the most important qualities a woman should have and that she should always embody these qualities even among close friends and family members.
What she hadn’t realized as a child, and what she was only now beginning to realize, was that by always hiding explosive or unpleasant emotions behind a kind, graceful smile, by always moderating her voice so that she never expressed anger or excitement, she had gently but thoroughly pushed away the very people she wanted to be closest to.
She had been so successful at maintaining her façade of gentle happiness that her sisters and even Georgiana believed it was real. All the while, beneath her façade her happiness was gradually crumbling beneath the pressure she had put on herself.
She had even managed to fool herself.
This was why this time of pure honesty with herself was so essential. Catherine needed to know who she was and what she wanted.
Stephen had been correct about so many things. She truly did have much to think about, and no matter how comforting he was, no matter how attractive she found him, she could not have given him any coherent answer if he had pressed his suit.
As Catherine simply observed the honest thoughts and feelings she had about herself, she began to notice some ideas surface again and again. So, she pulled out some paper and a pen and began jotting down the clearest ideas and emotions.
By the time she was done with this exercise, another hour had passed, but Catherine felt calmer, more at peace with herself than she could ever remember being. She had a paper full of her own beliefs about herself and her true desires for her life.
The rest could wait for another day.
Catherine went downstairs and joined her mother in the parlor. They sat sewing and chatting about nothing in particular. Mama would occasionally express how glad she was to have another daughter married, especially to a man who lived in the neighborhood. She talked at length about all she could teach Mary about housekeeping.
Catherine attempted to moderate her mother’s expectations on that front, pointing out that at first Mary would not be the mistress of Haye Park. That honor resided with her mother-in-law, who would likely wish to teach Mary how she ran the house.
Every time Catherine mentioned this, Mama admitted the truth of it, but only a few minutes later she would begin describing the different things she could teach Mary all over again.
Eventually, it was time to change for dinner. Dinner with only Catherine and her parents felt odd. There was little conversation, and what was there was dominated by Mama. After dinner, the three of them sat in the drawing room. Catherine read to them for a while. Then they played cards until it was time for bed.
Three days flew by without any real thoughts from Catherine. She spent an hour or two in the morning practicing her harp. She often spent another couple of hours painting. Then there were social calls that she didn’t care about and needlework that didn’t matter. The days ended with dinner followed by either reading or cards.
Four days after Mary’s wedding, Catherine received a letter from Elizabeth. There was plenty of news to share with Mama, but it concluded with an invitation that Catherine had been both expecting and dreading.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were throwing a house party, beginning on the second of July and set to last for a month. They did not say who was attending, but Catherine knew at least one of the guests.
For two days afterward, Catherine spent the majority of her time either in her room, reading, or in the back parlor, painting. She told herself she was thinking about whether to accept the invitation, but in reality she was simply avoiding the subject and all its accompanying complexities.
A week after Mary’s wedding, Mama said at breakfast, “Kitty, I need your help with some sewing this morning, so you will need to delay your painting.”
Catherine was skeptical. She knew Mama cared little about her sewing. It was only something to do to pass the time when she wasn’t out visiting or receiving visits.
She did not disobey, however. After breakfast, mother and daughter retired to the parlor on the west side of the house, where it was cooler in the morning. The window was open, and a fresh breeze was coming through.
Mama handed Catherine a stack of unhemmed handkerchiefs. “We need as many of these hemmed as we can manage. There is some kind of summer cold going around the neighborhood, and I do not wish to be caught unprepared if it decides to come our way.”
