Page 17 of Kismet

“Well, for example, your steward may be focused on profits and the home farm or the state of the mansion's roof. I, on the other hand would want to know how the tenants are faring. I am much more concerned about their roofs than that of a large old building that is left empty most of the time.”

Theodore took in what Catherine said with delight. So many of the people he had been meeting through his mother would never care for the situation of the tenant cottages. The consideration she showed for his dependents warmed his heart. “And that is exactly why I think I want to visit each of them. Though I think I would like to see the Scotland property the most because of the views. I have thought about traveling to each of them in turn depending on weather and how long it will take to get to each one.” Theodore considered what it would be like to have Miss Catherine accompany him to offer her thoughts on the state of each property, but quickly dismissed the impossible notion. “The only way I can manage it without becoming overwhelmed, I think is by going about it in an orderly fashion.”

Pressing her lips, Catherine tilted her head inquisitively. “How many estates are there?”

Theodore scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Five, I think.”

“You think?” Catherine looked at him wide eyed.

“Well, it seems my brother had a habit of purchasing estates when people had the misfortune of going into debt and mismanaging them. After he acquired them, he tasked one of his under-stewards with upgrading their management, and they have all since become profitable. I have found evidence of five estates, but that does not mean it is not possible for me to find evidence of another somewhere at Matlock. My mother has been of no help in that regard.”

“I have found that most of the young women I have met this season are similar. Only concerned with the fact that they can get the latest fashion and best lace, they care not where the money comes from to obtain it.” A delicate roll of her eyes punctuated her level of disgust. Then, brightening, she grinned unabashedly. “I am looking forward to having you at the ball tomorrow. At least with you there, I will be able to have at least one intelligent conversation.”

Biting his lip, Theodore managed to look abashed. “I will not be able to attend with you after all. My mother requested my attendance at dinner. Apparently, it is yet another dinner that I must attend if I am to uphold Cedric’s goals. I am sure with your sisters and Georgiana there you will be able to have more than enough intelligent conversation.”

Theodore watched as Catherine seemed to deflate, wilting before his very eyes. Her rapid blinking stood in stark contrast to how completely her face went slack. He had never anticipated her really caring one way or another if he was present.

Miss Catherine’s response was cut off by the signal that the second act was starting, and she headed over to her seat with her sisters. The second half of the opera found Theodore distracted. The speed at which Miss Catherine lost her smile was so sudden and drastic that it stuck with him. She now seemed to wear a carefully crafted mask of neutrality. It was almost as if his presence at the ball was something that would have made her happy and he had deprived her of it. Did she enjoy their time together that much?

Chapter Eight

The sparkle the night once held was gone, and Catherine was afraid to admit why. Oh, the decorations were fine enough, though there were more flowers, candles, and mirrors than she would have preferred. Though compared to the opera the night before, it was all flat and frustrating. Without a dance with Theodore to look forward to, it was just another ball filled with more dancing and dull conversations. Any time she tried to delve into meaningful subjects like tenant welfare or philanthropy, she was met with puzzled expressions.

In a room full of happy dancing people, she felt lonely. Glancing around the ballroom, she had to remind herself to keep the smile on her face. Was this why so many of the debutantes she met seemed to lack any depth? Had they all lost their minds from boredom?

The idea crossed Catherine's mind that if she had only lace and officers in her head, it might have made an impression on her. Nonetheless, she believed she had more substance than that. Her mind was full of paint and stillroom recipes and the families at Pemberley that needed quilts. That was probably why all the talk of fashion made her want to scream.

“…and that is why we chose the other modiste, because really, who can shop somewhere with such a decided lack of quality?” The nasally voice of Miss Ranken finally finished the story.

Catherine looked around the circle of debutantes all dressed in a similar fashion and all seemingly enthralled in what she considered a meaningless conversation. For the life of her, she could not remember the short blonde’s name. The best she could recall was that the woman was friends with Miss Mathilde, who was wearing a white dress with peach ribbons. Despite their friendships, however, the three young women all seemed to be vying for position in the group.

Miss Mathilde's friend nodded eagerly, causing the feathers on her turban to flutter. “It was a good choice, Miss Ranken. Mrs. Bell, if you can get in, is the very best.”

When the conversation turned to the best shade of peach one should choose, Catherine could take the banality no longer. She couldn't muster any enthusiasm for apricot, peach, or salmon anymore and if they discussed one more color, she would scream. She spotted Elizabeth standing by the wall talking with Georgiana and saw a way out of her predicament. “Well, it has been lovely, but I see my sister signaling at me and I must go.” With a quick curtsy, she walked gracefully away from the group.

Heading to her sisters, she became lost in thought. Was every ball destined to be so tedious? Or did Theodore’s absence really change her night that much? Catherine was so consumed by her thoughts that she bumped into someone. “Oh, I am so sorry. I do not know where my mind was at.”

“It was nothing—oh, Miss Catherine!” Miss Burgess smiled widely at Catherine as she recognized who had bumped into her.

“Miss Burgess, it is a pleasure to see you! Did you receive the note I sent you?” Catherine had enjoyed speaking with Selene and had invited her to tea the following week. She hoped the season wouldn't be so bad if she could make a friend.

“Yes, I did. I was going to send my response in the morning. Joining you for tea sounds like a delightful idea.” Miss Burgess’s eyes crinkled as she spoke and in one moment showed more genuine emotion than most people in the ballroom would exhibit all night. “How are you enjoying your evening?”

“I must admit I am finding the season less to my taste than I would have hoped. Though I have enjoyed the theater, and the opera last night was quite lovely.” Though she managed not to frown, Catherine could not quite hide her distaste for the marriage mart events.

“Yes, after a while, it all becomes more of the same. I know how you feel. It is my third season, after all. Though at least being here for the season means we can attend the museum and the opera.”

“I cannot imagine doing this year after year.” Catherine kept her voice to a mere whisper. It would not do to insult the hostess or the Almack patroness who happened to be there that evening.

“No, you really can’t.” Miss Burgess maintained her smile, but her wide eyes conveyed she was as pleased as Catherine would be.

Catherine nearly burst out laughing at her expression and sentiments but contained her mirth. The rules of society said you never laughed like that in a ballroom. One may titter or possibly even giggle behind her fan quietly when no one was watching, but that was as far as you could go. “Oh, you poor dear, let me bring you over to my sisters so that we may commiserate with you.”

“I would not have assumed that Miss Lydia was out already,” Miss Burgess admitted, looking around as if trying to spot Catherine’s youngest sister.

Shaking her head, Catherine linked arms with Miss Burgess. “She is not, but I have five sisters and three of them are here tonight.”

“Oh my. I had a much older sister who passed a few years ago, and I’ve always wished for a sister closer to me in age, but five?”

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