Christmas Bells are ringing!

But in Kitty Bennet’s eyes, she does not enter the tale in a merry state of mind. Separated from Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Lieutenant Finlay, she worries that her time at Rosings Park will be difficult, at best. She was correct, because the Christmas visit begins in a tumultuous fashion where she clashes with the head of the estate, Lady Catherine de Bourgh! Fortunately, Georgiana and her sisters prove to be a very good support system.

Ergo, Kitty rallies and meets Christmas day with elation. Although it does not end there, for Kitty arrives at an epiphany, that will change her life forever. Here comes Part Eight of the story, showing that life can take the most incredible turn, no matter what.

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Release Date: October 13, 2025
Genre: Historical | Regency

~ A Pink Satin Romance ~

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Excerpt

Chapter One

And to Rosings Park, we arrived.

The ride toward the great house was casually uneventful in every respect. There was no dramatic overturning of a carriage, no highwaymen who came to greet us, and no broken wheel that occurred. The weather was congenial, for that time of year, there was no rain, no snow and soon, we had crossed the difference between the public road, and the hills and woods that belonged to the great lady.

To the great lady that was now our aunt, through marriage.

The great lady who did not approve of my sister’s marriage to her nephew.

To the great lady who appeared to be civil, but we did not know just how far her contempt would exert.

“I admit,” I whispered to Georgiana as we rode through the trees that abutted the estate, “that I cannot help but predict how things are going to be.”

“And how will they?” Georgiana asked back.

“Well, if your aunt is anything like she is described—and I mean no offense, of course.”

“I know you do not. Go on, don’t mince words with me. I love my aunt, but I know what she is.”

“I just cannot help but determine much strained civility, many kind words spoken, but they won’t be true. I think your aunt still will groan, secretly, at our presence. I assume that she still cannot forgive us Bennet sisters for either existing, or for meeting your brother. Am I extreme?”

“No,” Georgiana answered, so simply and curtly, that I felt an intensity of my confirmation. “You are not.”

“Truly?” Enara asked us. “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy have been married for so long now, that I thought Lady Catherine would have recovered from her disappointment.”

“Hell hath no fury like a great person scorned,” I remarked. “And Lady Catherine’s reputation has always stricken me as her being a person who has always had the pleasure of getting her own way in life.”

“And whenever someone like that does not get their own way...” Arthur Philips uttered.

“It can lead to a lingering resentment,” Georgiana finished his sentence. “Yes, there is always that possibility. I love my aunt. But her pride was hurt, and I cannot determine that it has recovered, since I have not seen her in so long. Hopefully, she has rallied from her disappointment.”

“You don’t think,” I gathered, “that she would ever reach a point where she would be outwardly rude to us? It is just that I cannot help but still believe that she might take her frustrations out on Eliza. She wouldn’t...would she?”

“I am sorry to say that I do not know. But there is the possibility that...”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Georgiana did not say it, because she didn’t need to say it. The same went for Enara and Arthur Philips. We all were of the same mindset. We didn’t need to put words to it to know that the holiday could all end in disaster. That left us to make little excuses for the lady if her tone were ever to prove foul.

As we turned a corner, down the lane, we arrived at a simple house.

“Wait?” I gasped. “Is that Hunsford Parsonage?”

“Yes, it is.”

Through windows, I saw two faces produced. First, there was one from upstairs, and the other was from a room that was to the right of the door.

“That’s Mr. Collins,” I said, gesturing to the man’s face on the ground floor. “And that’s Charlotte.”

I could scarce believe it! After all this time, I was now seeing them again. Naturally, I knew that we were going to encounter them both, but I had prepared to do it when we arrived at Rosings Park and had already settled. But to see them there, through the windows of the parish, had stricken a sharp pang of disturbance within me.

And I could only imagine what Jane and Lizzy were feeling now. Then again, Jane would probably not be feeling anything at all, and Elizabeth would not begrudge the couple either, perhaps. After all, she had been the one to do the rejecting and had acquitted Mr. Collins of any guilt for standing to inherit Longbourn. Also, since she had gone to visit them for a time, which is where she saw Mr. Darcy again, she had little to hold remorse for.

It was only I that might hold any apprehension toward the reverend and his wife. I did not hate them. No. Especially not at this time of year. I merely did not care for them, that was all. And whatever surprise that I felt when seeing their faces through the Hunsford windows, it would soon pass.

It was merely a trick of the moment.

“Isn’t that the dreadful Mr. Collins that proposed to Lizzy?” Arthur asked me.

“Yes, he is,” I answered.

“I gather that you are not eager to see him again.”

“He was not eager to see us when Lydia and Mr. Wickham married. So, I cannot imagine me having to be obliged to be happy to meet him.”

“Naturally.” Arthur smirked. “I confess to being interested in seeing the man who proposed to my cousin and shall inherit Longbourn. There is something altogether interesting about meeting such characters. They lend sparkle to situations.”

I rolled my eyes.

“To be sure. If you find foolishness to be sparkling.”

“But I do. Life is only as interesting as the absurd characters that we meet. For they give us things to talk about. After all, if we only say pretty things in life, then we would all be prodigiously dull.”

“That’s the sad business of it,” I inferred. “The only way to truly be worth speaking with, or regarded as clever, is if you are committing to some form of insult—in one way or the other. It’s such a spur to one’s genius, and morality, that to be preferred company is to be cruel.”

“It is a tendency, generally acknowledged,” Georgiana said, “that there is a great deal of truth to that statement. A person is the most interesting when they are either the subject of ridicule or doing the ridiculing. Well, Arthur and Enara, if you want absurdity to amuse you, Mr. Collins will offer a great deal of that.”

“And what of Mrs. Collins?” Enara asked us. “What sort of lady is she?”

“She is full of a great deal of sense,” I answered. “Though, accepting Mr. Collins does not show her sense to advantage. Or maybe it shows that she has too much of it, for she got her good luck when she did. That’s why I like not being wholly sensible.”

“You don’t?” Enara asked.

“No, I do not. In fact, I praise it, because for some reason, being wholly sensible seems to always lead to someone being an absolute idiot.”

“Kitty, really?” Georgiana said, amused. “Now that is going too far.”

“Perhaps it is, but I cannot help but see what I see.”

“I have to disagree with that mentality, but go on and explain to me why you say that? For I am curious.”

“Ah, I am being interesting?” I grinned. “The joys of being clever, I suppose.”

And thus, the maxim we were talking of was proven. Perfection does not make a good story or an interesting speaker.

But an image of pure imperfection...now that is how you captivate an audience. How perversely sad!

“Well,” I continued, “I speak as I find. And as I have seen. When I speak, I criticize conceit, but not expertise. We need experts and people of skill. But many an intelligent person of sense who is boasted of seeing everything clearly can’t see past their own noses. They are too busy being logical, that they don’t wholly achieve logic, or they suffer from the Oedipal impediment: their insufferable pride. That’s why I pride myself on not being the sharpest mind in the world—say what you will of me, but I see everything clearly. The first step to wisdom, is to acknowledge that you are, initially, quite stupid.”

Arthur and Enara laughed, looking out the window and admiring the scenery unfolding around them.

Georgiana, however, could not let my words lie where they were. On the contrary, she was eager to converse more on the matter.

“Kitty,” she said, giving me a ‘superior’ look.

“I know, I know, I know. You revolt against my maxims.”

“Oh, it’s not that,” she responded. “I know, deep down, that there is some truth to that statement. Those who often preach of superior thoughts, and claim that they know everything, do tend to have inferior minds, due to their hubris. Wisdom comes from humility. But I don’t want the world to think you are evil, when I know that you are not. Such talk will lead to them thinking that about you.”

Her advice humbled me a little. Perhaps she was trying to help me.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Oh, I know so. You have been around your own family for so long that your free-spirited tones have gone unheeded because it didn’t need to be censored. We understand that your wicked tones are spoken by a moral person. But the average looker-on will not determine such. They will not understand that you jest or speak indirect truths. I don’t want my aunt to have anything worth despising you for.”

I sighed.

“You are asking me to not be myself, aren’t you?”

“I hate to do that, but I must. Wicked speeches only work when the person is the kindest and most considerate person underneath. You are. But my aunt and Anne de Bourgh do not know that. I do not want them to say anything unkind to you. Because I know that it will hurt your feelings.”

“And that I will make my family look vulgar.”

Georgiana was quiet. She didn’t need to give any response, and perhaps it was better that way. What I said was true. How painful it is to not be allowed to be oneself at all.

Welcome back to society and all the confinement that came along with it.

“Oh, look!” Georgiana said. “Here we are.”

We looked out the window and up ahead, we saw Rosings Park.

It was a lovely house, large, and very well-situated. It was on rising ground, which was all for its favor.

And yet, despite all its grandeur, I found something imposing about the house. Or rather, I found something awkward and unfeeling about it.

How different when I compared it to Pemberley. Pemberley was a place that always seemed to exude hope, beauty, elegance, and grace.

Netherfield Park projected ease and comfort.

This house just felt...imposing. It was as if it clashed against the natural terrain that surrounded it.

Or perhaps I was projecting my own feelings toward the house itself.

I didn’t want to like those who inhabited it, therefore, it seemed natural to not like the house at all.

Oh well, at least I knew this about myself, and that surely must count for something.

Also, I think I was angry. And I felt that, since Rosings Park was not Pemberley, it was not where I wished to be. Everything about my present circumstance felt constrictive, and as if I would spend the entire Christmas holiday most uncomfortable.

I wished we had never come.

And, upon greater reflection, I think I understood why I was so provocative and out of sorts.

But I knew not to project it on anyone else but my most intimate of acquaintances.

There was only one solution to my present circumstance: I had to spend much of my time not speaking at all. That was the only way that I could survive this Christmas holiday without polluting the halls of Rosings Park.

We rode up to the house and, the closer that we got, the more we were able to admire the great house of her ladyship.

As the servants exited the house to see to us, Arthur helped Enara, Georgiana and me out of the carriage.

From the other carriage, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley helped Lizzy and Jane down. Since both were now with child and were fully beginning to show, they had to be very meticulous about their movements.

Now that we stood there, in front of the great house, we could marvel at it in full.

Going up to Jane and Elizabeth, I stood in between them as the servants began to transport our luggage into the house.

“Well,” I said, “did you see Charlotte and Mr. Collins through the parsonage windows?”

“Yes,” Eliza said, “we did. Now I must step lightly. Because, to encounter a little bit of folly this festive time of year is one thing, but to be bombarded with it every day might be too much for me. But I will be happy to see Charlotte again.”

“And I confess that I am curious to see the parsonage,” Jane said. “Also, with more friends to be met, it shall make our holiday into a truly festive time of the year.”

“You would find the joys of this all,” I put in.

“Yes, I will. And Kitty and Lizzy, you must promise me that you both will be very agreeable?”

“You shall get no incivility from me,” Elizabeth said, “unless I am met with it first. Then that is not offensive, but defensive. And Kitty?”

“I know,” I said, groaning, “I am your chief worry. But I can assure you that I will do everything not to disgrace this family.” Out of the side of my eye, I looked at Georgiana. “I have been humbled enough.”

Georgiana looked at me, after saying something to Enara. Seeing her look at me with such apprehension, I knew that it would be better to reassure her that I was not offended by her advising me.

And it ought to be done now, before we entered the house and had to meet Lady Catherine.

Walking up to Georgiana, I took her arm.

“Never fear for me, Georgie. I know what I am about. I bear you no ill will for telling me to mind myself. Even though it’s hard, I will listen. I know that you are trying to protect me.”

“I am,” she said, smiling. “I am happy that you see it that way. I just don’t want you to suffer under my aunt’s ill judgments. That’s all.”

She gave me a keen look.

“You wish that we never came, don’t you?” she questioned. “You wish that we still were at Pemberley.”

What a question to ask. I did not wonder of it because of its randomness. But only because it was a very shrewd observation.

“Yes,” I answered, “how did you know?”

“Because I know why you are out of sorts and are speaking so wickedly.”

I blinked.

“You knew that as well?”

“The answer is simple. I know it...because I know you, Kitty.”

I smiled at her sadly, and perhaps my eyes also appeared wistful.

“No,” she whispered, “none of that for now. I didn’t mean for you to be sad.” She tapped my hand, affectionately. “We will talk of this later, after dinner.”

“Yes. Thank you. For now, I must appear happy.”

“You will. I have faith in you.”

“Well,” Mr. Darcy said to us all, “let us go in. My aunt would be waiting for us.”

“And her ladyship does not like to be kept waiting,” Elizabeth said as Mr. Darcy wrapped her arm in his. They each exchanged a look, and their looks spoke volumes.

“No, my aunt does not.”

In my mind, Christmas bells were ringing.

Somewhere else.

But not here.

 

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