Mary’s Christmas Kittens
Mary’s Christmas Kittens
Summer Hanford
London
Miss Mary Bennet strode rapidly along Gracechurch Street, a maid trailing her, on her way back from her morning walk. The London air was damp, bitingly cold, and laden with fog, and she wasn’t certain her notion of mimicking her sister Elizabeth’s habits was working.
But Lydia, youngest of them all, was married, and Elizabeth and Jane, Mary’s older sisters, were to wed before Christmas, and Mary knew what that meant.
Mother would turn her attention to Mary.
Her usual escapes of being the middle daughter, of working to appear drab, of spouting ridiculous quotes, would no longer work.
Yes, her next youngest sister, Kitty, would bear the brunt of it, but Mrs. Bennet would focus her mothering and matchmaking on Mary too. No amount of dreariness would save her.
The next best thing would be to behave like Elizabeth.
Mother never knew what to think of Lizzy, or how to deal with her.
Elizabeth made her own way, and Mary envied her.
Hence, she’d begged to visit her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London until Jane’s and Lizzy’s weddings.
Mary was resolved to find a gentleman she liked before her mother could drag her about their local society in Hertfordshire seeking one, and she knew she wouldn’t find anyone near Longbourn.
She coughed in air thick with smoke as Londoners tried to keep warm, and reflected again that Lizzy’s morning habit of brisk walks might not be appropriate for late in the year in London.
Increasing her pace, Mary forced the maid to keep up.
They were nearly back to the Gardiners’.
The parlor would be warm and breakfast laid.
Mary longed for a cup of tea. She crossed the street, dodging around a horse and cart, daydreaming about fresh buttered rolls.
And stumbled back to avoid tripping over a lovely, fluffy, silver-coated cat with startlingly blue eyes. Behind her, Mary could hear the maid’s panting breath as she came to a halt. The cat looked up and meowed.
“Oh, you poor thing. Are you lost?” Mary dipped down, holding out her hand for the cat to examine. It rubbed its face along her fingers and started to purr. “We should get you home.”
“Get away from that cat,” a woman’s voice shrieked.
Mary looked up to see a thin, pinch-faced woman of perhaps twenty-five barreling down on her in a flurry of embroidered skirts and pattering of pricy slippers.
The cat walked past Mary’s hand to attempt to twine through her boots, made difficult by her puddle of skirts, which she really ought not be exposing to the London streets.
“That’s my cat,” the woman snapped, coming to a halt before her.
Mary scooped up the cat, standing. It purred louder and rubbed its face along her jaw.
The woman cast a look over her shoulder and called, “Franklin, I found her.” Turning back, she held out her arms. “My cat, if you do not mind.”
Mary extended the cat, who hissed at the woman.
Grimacing, she took the no-longer-purring animal with both hands and muttered, “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Mary said, though she did not think the cat was thankful. She didn’t struggle, but the blue eyes turned to Mary, pleading. “I am Miss M…”
“There you are.” A well-heeled gentleman interrupted, striding up to them. “You got her. Excellent. Come on then.”
The woman stuck her nose in the air and turned from Mary. The gentleman, twirling a fancy walking stick topped with a serpent, didn’t even look at her before escorting the woman away.
Mary stood for a moment, then huffed angrily. The cat’s face popped up over the woman’s shoulder, seeming sad.
Pursing her lips, Mary looked up the street to the Gardiners’ door, then back down at the couple and the cat. With another huff, she followed. She tried to work out a scathing yet amusing remark, as Lizzy would deliver, for her older sister would not have permitted them to treat her thusly.
The couple turned a corner and Mary hurried her stride, the maid doggedly following.
They reached the cross street just in time to see the two enter a house.
Discouraged, Mary halted. It was one thing to overtake them and deliver a stinging rebuttal but another altogether to knock on their door.
With a shrug, she turned back. She hadn’t thought of anything scathing to say, anyhow.
Rather tetchy now, Mary returned to the Gardiners, aware of the maid’s relief, and readied for breakfast. When she reached the parlor, she found her aunt and uncle already nearly done with their meal and moved to take the seat opposite her aunt, who sat on the other side of her uncle, rather than at the other end of the table as Mrs. Bennet would have.
Mary’s relations greeted her warmly, but Uncle Gardiner returned to reading his paper almost immediately, much as Mr. Bennet would have. That only added to Mary’s ill mood. It grated on her to be forever ignored, even though it had generally been her wish to go unremarked on.
“Did you have a pleasant walk?” Aunt Gardiner asked.
“It is a bit cold and foggy,” Mary admitted.
“As I could have warned you it would be,” Uncle Gardiner stated, proving Mary wrong about being ignored and starting to lower his paper.
“What is that?” Mary exclaimed, an advertisement catching her eye. Something about a silver cat?
“What is what?” Uncle Gardiner asked with a frown.
“On the other side of your paper. About the cat.”
He turned it over. Mary and Aunt Gardiner both leaned in to read. The listing promised a reward to anyone who found a long haired, silver-colored cat with blue eyes, and offered an address.
“But I saw her this morning,” Mary cried. “A woman was chasing her down the street, and the cat did not look happy when I returned her. It must be the same one.”
Aunt Gardiner looked up from the paper. “Well, then, we should call this afternoon. What a terrible thing, to take someone’s cherished pet.”
“Cat probably ran off,” Uncle Gardiner said. “Fickle creatures.”
“Regardless, we will call.” Aunt Gardiner turned a smile on Mary. “And if the cat is found and there is a reward, it will go to you. I know you spent all your pin money on Christmas gifts.”
“I do not want a reward,” Mary said firmly. She simply wanted that sweet cat away from that snooty couple.
***
Mary and Mrs. Gardiner alighted before the old but well-kept and fashionably placed townhouse and strode to the base of the steps. A gentleman came out, then halted in surprise. Mary turned to her aunt, uncertain if they should ascend.
The gentleman blinked several times, then said, “My grandmother is not at home to callers at the moment.”
Mary fished the advertisement from her coat pocket, having clipped it from the paper. “We have news about her cat.”
He came down the steps with a slight frown, then snatched the clipping from Mary’s hand. “Look, there really isn’t a reward. She should never have put such a thing in print.”
Mary bristled. “I do not care about a reward. I care about the cat. She seemed quite unhappy when I saw her, and I would think you would want her returned.”
He rocked back on his heels. “You truly have seen Madame Duvéteuse?”
“Madame Duvéteuse?” Mary’s annoyance vanished as she giggled.
The gentleman nodded. “My grandmother’s cat and dearest companion. Have you seen her?”
“If she is, as her name implies, a fluffy cat, and is silver with blue eyes, I have seen her, or a cat much like her, on Gracechurch Street this morning.”
He frowned again. “I wish Grandmother had not put that all in the advertisement. It is impossible to say who has truly seen her. Everyone is simply seeking the reward.”
“Well, I do not want any reward, and I have seen her,” Mary said staunchly.
“My niece is very reliable,” Aunt Gardiner added.
The man studied them a moment, then pulled out his pocket watch. He shoved it away, clearly teetering on the precipice of a decision, then bowed. “I am Mr. Harris. Please come in. My grandmother, Mrs. Harris, is feeding the kittens but she will want to speak with you.”
“I am Mrs. Gardiner and this is my niece, Miss Bennet,” Aunt Gardiner supplied.
Mr. Harris bowed again, then led them in. They were seated in a fine parlor and Mr. Harris vanished deeper into the house. Soon enough, they heard voices, growing louder as they neared.
“Oh, but you should not have missed your appointment,” a woman’s voice, crackled with age but strong, said.
“I believe they truly have seen her, Grandmother,” Mr. Harris replied. “Come, they’re in the front parlor.”
He returned with a tall, straight-backed woman who was wiping her hands on an apron, and made introductions.
After they were all seated, Mrs. Harris offered, “I apologize for the state in which you find me. Madame Duvéteuse’s little ones do not even have their eyes open yet.
They require hourly care.” Sorrow filled her eyes.
She cleared her throat and said, “But Robert says you have seen her?”
“My niece has, Mrs. Harris.” Aunt Gardiner gestured to Mary.
Sitting forward, Mary nodded. “I was out walking and a gray cat ran up to me. Then a woman with narrow features and very expensive clothing came up saying the cat was hers. A man joined her. They did not give their names, but he had a fancy walking stick with a coiled snake on top.”
Mrs. Harris gasped. “Oh, then all is well. Franklin and Olivia have found her.” She sagged back in her chair in relief.
“If they have found her, why have they not brought her over?” Robert Harris asked slowly. “And why did another note arrive this morning, asking for more money?”
“A note?” Mary repeated, frowning.
Robert Harris nodded. “Madame Duvéteuse has been missing for three days, and each morning a note arrives giving a new location where we must leave money.”