Chapter One

The milestones of Catherine Prudence Bennet's life could be measured in Ballrooms.

There had been her disastrous first ball at Wrenhill Lodge, shortly after her fifteenth birthday, and before Old Mr. Prince, Mary King's wealthy grandfather, found his health beginning to fail. The first three dances had been two extremely lively jigs with John Lucas and Edward Bond, and an energetic reel with Uncle Phillips's clerk, Mr. Dawes. Kitty had never had a very strong constitution, and by the end of the third set, Kitty had been coughing so badly she began to wheeze, and had to sit out the rest of the night.

The rest of her partners had been trusted family friends around her papa's age, who were more than happy to sit and converse while she recovered her ability to breathe, and after that Ball, Kitty had learned to pace herself and sit out the faster dances.

Of course, that newfound knowledge hadn't stopped all Meryton from talking of little else but speculation on her ill health for a week entire. To hear the gossips talk, Kitty should have been the subject of an entire medical journal, being at once the survivor of a rare tropical disease from the West Indies (despite having never left Hertfordshire), dying from Consumption, and a repeat sufferer of the pox.

By the end of the week, Mr. McKnight had noticed how unhappy Mary was at hearing such gossip. By the following Sunday, he had persuaded Mr. Harris to join him in a very detailed sermon on the harmful effects of slander and gossip, and how it was the providence of all good Christians to be kind to those less fortunate, both in terms of fortune and health. Lizzy had taken the more direct route of speculating on the well-being of the loudest gossipers, parroting their excuses of concern back at them while Jane did her best to be comforting, and Mama had pointedly stopped being at home to those gossips, or including them in her invitations.

Whether attributed to a singular cause, or by their combined efforts, Kitty had abruptly lost her popularity as a source of gossip, and stayed that way. Sometimes she came up when Lydia had been the ringleader of some outrageous prank, but for the most part, she was ignored. Some young ladies might be upset at such a phenomenon, but Catherine preferred the near-anonymity.

Well, Kitty was fortunate in her sisters, if not in her health.

At least no one questioned her sitting out a set for each one she danced. The Bennet sisters were much in demand as dance partners, even if such attention never progressed beyond dances to courtship, so Kitty could even frame only dancing half the sets as a kindness to other young ladies.

***

Then there was the First Netherfield Ball, where Kitty spent half the night watching Jane and Mr. Bingley, amid the sudden realisation that Longbourn might soon be possessed of only four daughters. The other half was spent trying to ignore Mr. Collins and the mortification he brought about every time he opened his mouth. Then Kitty had seen some of the matrons looking at him with the same exasperation that was often directed at her and Lydia.

The sudden revelation of the very fine line between youthful spirits and unchecked foolishness had been a harsh one. Jane would say that every thundercloud had a silver lining, but to Kitty, it felt more like a lightning strike. She had never paid much attention to Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst's pointed remarks, but what if Mr. Bingley decided that he didn't want to add to his supply of unmanageable sisters?

Jane and Elizabeth always had some correction or other to give; Kitty resolved to pay better attention in the future.

***

Then there was the Second Netherfield Ball, a week before Jane's wedding, where Sir Jasper requested her First and Supper sets, and sat out her sets with her, debating art and describing the horses he bred at his estate, Snowsdale, in such an engaging manner that Kitty barely noticed the passage of time.

Sir Jasper rarely spoke in company, unless Mr. Bingley drew him out in conversation, but he spoke to her. Papa might tease Kitty for her newfound interest in the sciences, but Sir Jasper had a way of making the bloodlines of horses and the care necessary when interbreeding them, sound as fascinating as the latest magazine. "... many complain about the documentation required for a stud farm, but it is quite essential."

Kitty had been making mental notes of several words to look up later, but it was not hard to follow where he was leading. "To prevent inbreeding, I suppose. Even the most dedicated herdsman cannot remember it all, year to year, and animals cannot be expected to inquire of each other's families over tea... or grass, I suppose."

Sir Jasper laughed, and smiled at her. He was not as handsome as Mr. Bingley, but his eyes were kind, and very expressive. Papa's laughter always had an edge of mockery to it, but Sir Jasper never did. "Indeed, and some traits do not mix well, like trying to have both milk and lemon in one's tea."

The nursery maid had allowed Kitty and Lydia to try that combination once, mostly so that Lydia would stop complaining that she wanted both. Even at eight years old, Lydia had a strong will and the kind of stubborn determination that bent the world to her will. That was not always a good thing, even if Lydia thought it was.

Sir Jasper's analogy was a very good one. The result wasn't poisonous, but it certainly wasn't very drinkable, either. Nor was it quite butter or cheese, just semi-solid, tea-flavoured lumps floating in what had been tea.

The music changed, and Sir Jasper held out his hand. "Are you recovered enough for the next set? I do not object to sitting it out, if you prefer."

The next set was a promenade, slow and stately. Kitty accepted the offered hand. "I believe I shall be quite capable, but forgive me if I do not talk over- much while we dance."

They took up their positions on the dance floor, next to Mary and Mr. McKnight, and two couples down from Jane and Mr. Bingley. "I believe we shall be a quiet section of the dance, with so many of our neighbours lost in each other's eyes."

Catherine - Kitty was an endearment and a childhood nickname that she was trying to leave behind - giggled, and nearly missed the opening notes of the dance, having to skip double-time to catch up.

It did not signify. She was too busy falling head over heels in love.