Kitty hummed noncommittally.
‘It is not the same,’ he insisted again.
‘Oh, there is no need to be defensive, my lord,’ Kitty said loftily. ‘It does not make you a bad person, after all – just a hypocrite.’
Kitty placed her glass down upon a passing tray, curtseyed a farewell, and left him. She had tarried long enough. She did not look back, though if she had, she would have seen that Lord Radcliffe was still watching her – his expression quite unreadable.
Kitty stalked through the hall, eyes casting about hawklike for fresh gentlemen. Her eyes were caught, however, not by a prospective suitor, but by a young lady standing alone and looking a little lost. Perhaps it was speaking to Radcliffe about her sisters, but there was something about her – perhaps her slightly luminous forehead – that reminded Kitty suddenly of Beatrice with a sharp pang, and once the resemblance had been noticed she could not stop herself from approaching.
‘I do not believe we have met,’ Kitty said softly, when she was close enough to be heard over the music. The girl looked up, startled. ‘I am Miss Talbot.’
They curtseyed to one another. ‘Miss Bloom,’ the girl said in a high, girlish voice. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’
The young lady made no move to continue the conversation, lapsing back into quiet, and staring longingly across the room. Kitty followed the direction of her gaze to a young gentleman standing rigidly watching the dancers. He was very angular – with elbows, shoulders and kneecaps that were somehow prominent even through his fashionable dark waistcoat and pantaloons – and quite unknown to Kitty.
‘Are you an acquaintance of the young man, Miss Bloom?’ Kitty asked, and the young lady blushed rosily. Ah.
‘Not an acquaintance now, though we used to know each other well,’ Miss Bloom said haltingly. ‘But I should like to know him better, if only it were possible.’
‘Why would it not be possible?’ Kitty asked, confused. ‘You are both here, are you not?’
The girl shook her head sadly, as if the problem were too large even to speak aloud.
‘You are both here,’ Kitty repeated again briskly. ‘Is the man not wealthy enough for you?’
The young lady looked a little shocked. ‘N-no,’ she stammered. ‘Mr Crawton is, I believe, quite wealthy – he’s said to have seven thousand pounds a year at least.’
‘Then what is the issue?’ Kitty asked impatiently.
‘My mama and papa are quite set on my marrying a man with a title,’ she explained quietly. ‘And so, Mama will not make an introduction between myself and Mr Crawton. She says I might just as well fall in love with a titled man as an untitled one.’ She looked over at him longingly. ‘We used to know each other as children,’ she explained. ‘He was so kind – we share so many of the same interests. We are both shy, too, but together it did not seem to matter. I just wish he’d notice me now.’
‘But apparently not enough to bring the thing about,’ Kitty said tartly. ‘How can he notice you, when you’re in the corner speaking to me?’
‘What else am I supposed to do?’ Miss Bloom said indignantly. ‘Just walk up to him and start talking?’
‘Would that be so bad?’
‘Yes! It’s just not done – what would I even say? How forward I would seem …’ she said wretchedly, wringing her hands.
‘Well, think of an excuse,’ Kitty said crossly. ‘Does he know where the refreshments are? Has he seen your mother, for you have quite lost her? Drop your fan and ask him to locate it for you. Dear God, girl, there are a thousand options. Just pick one!’
Miss Bloom shot her a look of growing alarm. ‘I cannot,’ she said faintly.
Kitty sighed. Could Miss Bloom honestly not overcome the simple obstacle of the length of this room? Still, seven thousand pounds a year was quite a healthy fortune indeed. She looked at Miss Bloom for another moment – should she cajole her into taking her future into her own hands? Try harder to make her see sense, to see that she must grasp the opportunity? It did feel a little too ruthless, even for Kitty, to take Mr Crawton for herself after being taken so far into the young lady’s confidence.
Except that this was a ruthless world – and blinding oneself to that served no one. Kitty turned to the room with a decisive swish of her skirts, bidding Miss Bloom farewell over her shoulder. She had a fan to drop.
Netley Cottage, Wednesday April 22nd
Dearest Kitty,