Searching For Captain Wentworth (15 page)

‘Miss Elliot, I
see you have found my glove. I cannot thank
you enough, wherever did you find it?’

I remembered to
bob a curtsey, which also gave me a moment
to realize that the white glove, that had been in
the pocket of my
jeans not five
minutes ago, was now in my hand. He immediately
held out his hand to take it. What could I do? I
had no choice but
to hand it over.
The thought struck me then that I might very
quickly be sucked back through time, as the glove
was no longer in
my possession,
but to my astonishment nothing happened.

Our eyes met. I
relaxed. He had such an easy manner and a
friendliness that made me feel almost as if I knew
him.

‘Ah, my sisters approach,’
he said. ‘They have been attending
to my mother and father.’

Of course, this
had to be Charles Austen. He wasn’t in
uniform and I realized then that he probably didn’t wear it when he
was off duty. He’d come to Bath for a holiday, to
be with the family
he had not seen
for a while.

The Austen
family stopped to shake hands. Mr and Mrs
Austen smiled very cheerfully. His white hair was
almost silver and
his kind, hazel
eyes, reminded me so much of his daughter Jane’s.

Mrs Austen’s
piercing eyes scrutinized my face as she looked
shrewdly from her son to me and back again.

‘Will you be
attending the ball at the Rooms on Monday
evening, Miss Elliot?’ she asked, as if she could
guess what we’d
been talking
about. ‘I daresay you will. Young people love to
dance, do they not? Of course, I cut quite a figure
in my youth, you
know, but
nowadays my legs prefer to sit it out. I’m not as strong
as I was once, you see. My poor heart flutters in
the most alarming
way at any
exertion that it doesn’t like. “Be still my beating heart”,
is apt to come to mind, though indeed, it’s rapid
throb stems not
from any longing
of the heart, but mere incapacity.’

Not only did I
privately think she looked as strong as an ox,
but I was also aware that during this speech, Jane,
who was
standing
slightly behind her mother, was raising her eyes
heavenward in a gesture that was so naturally comic
it was all I
could do to keep
a straight face. Thankfully, Jane’s mother seemed
totally unaware and had other distractions.

‘Come, Mr Austen,’
she said, ‘I see Doctor Bowen and I
simply must know what he thinks of this rattle of a cough that’s
plaguing me.’

She took his arm
and moved off at speed, leaving Jane,
Cassandra and Charles all looking at me with their sharp eyes
seeming to penetrate my every thought.

‘I do hope you
will be attending the ball, Miss Elliot,’ said
Charles.

I felt very
conscious that I had no idea of the answer to this
question. No voice came, no involuntary thought.
The feeling that
I was merely
inhabiting another body had entirely gone. The only
way I can describe it is that I just felt like me.
And when it became
clear that
Sophia was not going to be talking on my behalf, I
realized that I couldn’t stand there any longer
without saying
something.

‘I hope so too,
Lieutenant Austen, but I do not know of any
firm plan to attend the ball.’

‘But you must
come,’ Jane said. ‘Come with us if your family
are not attending. I’m sure Charles would like it
above everything
else.’

Charles blushed
slightly at her remarks, immediately bowing
before excusing himself, saying he had just caught
sight of a fellow
sailor he’d
promised to see.

Cassandra was
quick to scold her sister. ‘Jane, you are a
terrible tease. Poor Charles has not been home for
five minutes and
he is the butt
of your merciless jokes.’

‘I was not
teasing,’ contradicted Jane, ‘I should think my
brother would enjoy Miss Elliot’s company at the
ball very much.
And, you see, I
am always right about these things. His feigning
embarrassment is just a trick so he does not have
to talk to us.
Besides, he
would not have asked as much or taken himself off so
quickly, looking half so discomfited, if there were
not a grain of
truth in what I
said.’

It was my turn
to feel somewhat uncomfortable. I felt I was
witnessing the sharper side of Miss Jane Austen’s
tongue.

‘Forgive me,
Miss Elliot,’ said Cassandra, putting her hand on
my arm in a confidential manner and talking quietly
in my ear, ‘but
my sister has a
habit of matchmaking, or at least, she is always
attempting to make matches, as I know to my cost.
It will be her
undoing, and she
will create more mischief than happiness by such
interference. Please do excuse her boldness.’

Jane’s retort
came at once. ‘I do not attempt to make matches
where it is clear there are none to be found. But I
have an eye for
those where
there are true feelings of the heart. I pride myself on
my ability to spot such matters. Besides, Cassy,
you must admit
yourself that
Charles lights up like a torch whenever Miss Elliot is
near.’

Cassandra smiled.
‘You must forgive our rude way of running
on so, Miss Elliot. We are not used to very refined
company having
been closeted
away most of the time in the country with no one but
ourselves for society. You must not be frightened
by Jane’s
outrageous behaviour.
She does not mean it, truly.’

‘I will speak
for myself, if I may, Cassandra,’ said Jane, taking
my arm and her sister’s in an affectionate way. ‘If
I were a betting
person, I would
stake my reputation on the fact that despite having
met her but two days ago, my dearest brother
Charles will not only
dance
with Miss Elliot at the ball on at least two occasions, but that
he will seek her out again and again. What do you
think of that,
Miss Elliot?’

I hardly knew
what to say and for once my tongue, which has
a habit of running away with me, was still. I was
surprised. Jane
was so
outspoken. She wasn’t the timid, quiet spinster I’d expected,
not at all how I thought she’d be, but then, if I
thought about how
little I really
knew about her, perhaps that was not surprising. What
did jump into my head was another book of hers that
I’d enjoyed
reading. Emma,
whom Jane herself had written was a heroine
whom
“no one
but myself will much like”,
was a young woman
who made it her business to interfere in the love
lives of the
characters of
Highbury village. But surely, sweet Jane, the
clergyman’s spinster daughter, could not share any
of the
characteristics
of Miss (matchmaking) Emma Woodhouse.

I spoke
truthfully. ‘I do not know how to reply, Miss Jane.’

‘But, do you
like my brother?’

What could I
say? ‘I do.’

‘Then there is
nothing further to be said on the subject. Come,
let us take a turn and be admired. And when we have
had enough
of this
insupportable crowd, where we will not find one genteel
face among them, we shall take ourselves off to the
Crescent to
breathe the air
of better company.’

We laughed. It
was impossible to be cross with her, she was so
f
unny. Before we’d walked very far, however, Mr
Elliot and Mrs
Randall
appeared. Mr Elliot didn’t acknowledge the Miss Austens
and I felt mortified for them. Jane let go of my
arm. I think she
knew I felt
embarrassed, but I only saw her move away with her
sister, as if this was a situation she had
encountered many times
before.
Happily, it was only a moment later that I saw her turn with
a wave goodbye and a mischievous grin, an
expression that told me
in no
uncertain terms that she was not upset in the least.

Mr Elliot made
no reference to the Miss Austens whatsoever.
It was as if they were invisible. I could only hope
they didn’t feel
too offended and
looked forward to seeing them at the ball, if I
didn’t get a chance to see them sooner.

My first night
in Regency Bath was very strange. Wandering about
the house felt both extraordinary and familiar, but
I couldn’t help
hoping that when
I went to bed I might wake in the morning to find
it had all been a weird nightmare. Jane’s brother
had Josh’s glove
and I couldn’t
think how I was going to get it back or how I might
return to my own time without it. I didn’t sleep
very well and as I
tossed and
turned in the early hours of the morning, it seemed to me
that I was not really alone. Lying in the dark
under stiff cotton
sheets, I felt
sure I heard snatches of conversation in that very
room. As in a dream, I thought I could hear the
sound of stifled
giggling along
with whispered, confidential chatter.

‘Dolly, have you
got any money left? I’ve seen a lovely hat in
Jolly’s and I only need another three shillings.’

‘Only another
three shillings! Lizzy Elliot, you’ll be the finish
of me. We won’t be able to go to the dance if you
spend what we’ve
got left on a
hat you don’t need. And then you shan’t be able to
dance with that young officer who’s home on leave.’

‘Oh, he’s a
vision, isn’t he, Dolly? And, quite as handsome as
your Royal Navy sweetheart!’

I opened my
eyes. It was only there for a second, but the
impression of two young girls pinning their hair
into rollers, as they
lounged
upon twin beds adorned with pink satin eiderdowns, was
like a snapshot from a 1940s scrapbook. There were
silk stockings
hanging over a
chair, cotton camisoles and pretty, belted dresses on
hangers, dangling from a picture rail. There were
felt berets on a
wig stand,
perfume bottles and a crystal bowl complete with a
swansdown puff, which left a powdering of pink dust
upon the
surface of the
dressing table. As I glimpsed the scene in a trance,
the sound of a siren loudly wailing made me jump up
to look round.

The strange
images and sounds vanished in the blink of an eye. It
was almost a relief to see Sophia’s room sharpen in
focus again.
The Chinese
embroidery glimpsed through the looking glass on the
opposite wall and the painting of birds and flowers
trailing on
sinuous branches
across the room, had the effect of making me feel
as if I was lying in a garden and, along with the
muslin flapping in
the breeze at
the windows confirmed my existence in 1802. I
couldn’t explain what I’d just seen, though I
wondered if my
fervent wishing
to be in my own time had somehow projected me
enough for just a few seconds to deposit me in my
Grandmother’s
time. I
remembered my Great-Aunt Elizabeth referring to her sister
Dorothy as Dolly, the name she always used with
such affection. I
couldn’t help
wondering what they would have thought if they’d
happened to see me. Would I have looked like a
ghost to their eyes,
or a
shadow hovering above the bed? There were so many
questions I had about this whole business of
passing through time.
Did time
move forward? Or were we all just fixed in our own layer
of overlapping moments, existing side by side, all
in the same time.
But the more I
thought about it, the more confused I felt. All I knew
was that when the light of the morning sun filtered
over the shutters
into my room, I
had not returned to my own time and I couldn’t
help feeling both trapped and disappointed.

At breakfast
next morning, I decided to make a bid for
freedom. I knew if I could get out to the gardens I
might have a
chance of seeing
Jane and Cassy, but Mr Elliot had other ideas
saying we had an engagement that couldn’t be
missed. William
Glanville, a
distant cousin by marriage, had arrived in Bath on the
previous afternoon and had invited us to visit.