Chapter Text
As she sat in the garden a week after her wedding, Catherine Bovin could not have been happier. Her husband (how wonderful that word was to use, even in her thoughts!) was inside the cottage. When she leaned back on the wicker bench and pressed her ear to the kitchen wall, she could just hear him giving instructions to the servants in his rapid, energetic way. Even the sound of his voice made her smile.
Kitty had thought that they were to spend their wedding night in the Meryton Inn - a slightly embarrassing prospect, but one that was far more appealing than starting their marriage under their friends’ or, even worse, Mrs. Bennet’s nosy roof. They left their wedding breakfast rather hastily after Mr. Collins announced that he had prepared a speech, and Kitty giggled in the carriage when she remembered the thwarted look on his face.
“But - oh! What must they think of us?” she asked, blushing. “To leave so early…”
“I am sure they understand.” Bovin, sitting beside her, cut his eyes sideways with a wicked look. “We may be teased, I suppose, but you should get used to that.”
“Used to it!” Kitty mimed irritation, her eyes sparkling with humour, “I am not used to any of this, sir, save your foolishness.”
“Exactly. I plan to be very foolish indeed, and to tease you mercilessly when you pretend that it annoys you.” he replied, grinning. Then he looked out of the carriage and raised an eyebrow at her, gesturing out of the window. “For example…”
Kitty looked, and blinked in confusion. “Why are we going the wrong way? Did you get lost again?”
“I think it is the driver’s sense of direction that steers this carriage, Kitty.” he pointed out drily. Kitty pulled a face at him, and he laughed, “You see? You are annoyed. Now I can tease you.”
“Don’t you want to go to the inn?” She asked, blushing for the first time since their tender moment in the church. Bovin’s look turned more gentle; he reached out to stroke her hair, his hand warm and heavy.
“We have plenty of time, Kitty. And… forgive me… once we are alone together, I do not think we will want to leave. So I thought it best to give you your wedding present now.”
“Present?” she turned in her seat to look at him properly, trying her best to ignore his pointed words before they made her blush from head to toe. Her voice only shook a little, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“Selfish girl! I’m sure you will think of a way to make it up to me.” the man said in a slow, lazy voice. Before Kitty could retort, her cheeks now so hot that she thought her bonnet might catch fire, the carriage turned off the main road and started to rattle down an earthen track. She squeaked and clutched at the door strap, thrown off balance.
“Where on earth are we going?” she demanded, and then caught her breath when she saw the cottage for the first time. “Oh, how lovely! Who lives there?”
“Do you think your gift is to pay a social call?” he asked, his voice amused. Kitty raised her nose in the air, the picture of aloof refinement.
“Indeed, sir! To a portraitist, perhaps? Or… a jeweller? Or…” Kitty squinted at the building. It was very fine, and larger than a first glance would suggest.
While the front of it looked like a traditional wattle-and-daub cottage, with ivy and holly climbing the walls, the rear of the building stretched backwards for a goodly space. There were modest outbuildings: a stable, and a laundry, and a pretty dovecote filled with cooing birds. In the autumn chill they were fat and fluffy, cuddled together in their alcoves. Kitty could well imagine some kind of artist living there.
“I am not good at sitting for portraits,” she ventured hesitantly, “I fidget too much. But, if you insist…”
“It is not a portrait, Kitty.” Bovin smiled and kissed her hand, “Perhaps I should arrange one, for you have never looked more beautiful. But I am too jealous to spare you. Today, Kitty, I don’t want anyone else to see you as I do.”
She laughed awkwardly and looked out of the window again. “I give up. Tell me who lives here.”
The man kissed her cheek tenderly and murmured, “We do.”
“Us?” the girl turned in her seat to gape at him. She may have been dressed beautifully, but her slack-jawed expression surely added a ludicrous adornment to her attire. Bovin nodded, and the explanation spilled out of him in the excited rapidity of a man who has kept a delightful secret for many weeks.
“I wanted you to have somewhere near your family, Kitty. Martholt is so far away, and I know how much you will miss them. So… my gift is not just the cottage, but a promise that we will come and stay in it as often as you want.”
“Oh!” her eyes glittered like stars as she stared again out of the window, then impetuously turned to her husband and kissed him. Bovin let out a pleased, surprised grunt and wrapped his arm firmly around her back, drawing her deliciously closer for an endless moment. When Kitty finally drew away, her breath was rapid and her eyes shone with tears. “It is the best… the most thoughtful…”
“It is a gift for me, too.” he said, suddenly awkward against such effusive praise, “I could not tolerate another moment in your mother’s company.”
“Hush.” she kissed him again, unable to stop smiling, and then threw the carriage door open as soon as it stopped. “Come on, I want to explore!”
“Kitty, don’t…” Bovin drew a deep breath when his wife leapt down the carriage steps, her skirts flying gracelessly in the breeze. Hiding a laugh, knowing how the servants would be amazed by such an indecorous sight, he hurried to follow her.
Of course, Mrs. Bovin knew that she was the mistress of the Martholt estate. She had a finer home than she had ever dreamed of, filled with fine furniture and an army of servants. She knew that. But when she ran into the cottage, she felt for the first time as if she owned something.
The door she had chosen was incorrect, and led her straight into the kitchen, but even the sight of that made her glow with pleasure. There was a large range, and sweet herbs hung from the rafters. The cook was, presumably, waiting with all the other servants in the entry hall to welcome their new mistress. Kitty laughed wildly and span in a circle, arms outstretched as if she could embrace every stone.
“You are being ridiculous,” Bovin chided, ducking under the low doorway to follow her in. Kitty giggled and ran to him, throwing her arms around his back with wild abandon.
“Thank you - thank you - thank you!” she cried, raining kisses on his cheeks until he laughed and pushed her back. Kitty shook her head, eyes dark with delight, and kissed him again with irrepressible passion. She was dimly aware of his arms tightening around her, then her feet left the floor and she clung to her husband with a muffled shriek.
“Hush!” he whispered, his eyes darting to the door. Then he laughed, and his lips met hers, and Kitty forgot how to breathe entirely.
She felt her body pressing against his, soft and giving against Bovin’s implacable strength, and kissed him back with such fire that her legs felt weak. His didn’t, though: he carried her easily to the table, set her down, and broke off the kiss.
Kitty let out a moue of disappointment and pulled him closer, wrapping her arms and legs around him like a limpet. Bovin laughed hoarsely and ran his hands down her body, stopping at her splayed thighs.
“This is… tempting.” he said breathlessly, pulling her closer so her legs wrapped around his waist. Kitty grinned and reached up for another embrace, but he shook his head and kissed her more chastely on the forehead. “No, dearest. I refuse to consummate our marriage on a kitchen table.”
“Is there a bed in this cottage?” she asked in a low, heated voice. Her husband kissed her throat, his hand wandering maddeningly despite his firm words.
“Quite a few, in fact.” he laughed wickedly and picked her up again. “Which one should we try first?”