Searching For Captain Wentworth (30 page)

From her basket,
she produced a cloth in which were wrapped
chicken pies. ‘These are fresh-cooked, and with the
gingerbread
that Charles and
I went shopping for this morning, I hope you will
consider joining us in our feast, Miss Elliot.’

It was a relief
to hear the conversation changed. Cassy and I
exchanged smiles as we set about our meal,
uncorking bottles of
spruce
beer to wash it down.

‘I believe this
is the finest gingerbread I have ever eaten,’
mused Jane, brushing crumbs from her gown. ‘There
is nothing
quite so
delicious as a slab of dark, sticky gingerbread. You know
if I were ever to be persuaded to seriously
contemplate matrimony,
it would
have to be with Mr Smith whose recipe for this delightful
sweetmeat is a celebrated secret. Just imagine
being able to indulge
your
fancy whenever you wished. One might wake to a breakfast of
such treats every day.’

‘Oh Jane, you do
talk such nonsense,’ said Cassandra, shaking
her head in disbelief, but smiling at the idea of
her sister indulging
her
pleasure for gingerbread whenever she wanted. ‘I could no
more see you married to a shopkeeper than I could
the Prince of
Wales!’

‘I do not know
why the idea should be so offensive to you,’
her sister replied. ‘If I loved him, I should not
care what his
occupation.’ Jane
selected another piece. ‘And, believe me, at this
very second, I feel myself to be in love most
pertinently.’

‘But you cannot
live on love and gingerbread alone,’
commented Charles, ‘and unless Mr Smith also has a secret
fortune, I do not believe you would truly consider
him.’

‘You may be
right. My love for pewter is undeniably greater
than my love for gingerbread, but there’s not much
in it, I can tell
you. Poor Mr
Smith, I hope I will not break his heart but, if he
should ask me, I should have to refuse him.’

I watched Jane
nibble thoughtfully on the rest of the
gingerbread relishing every last morsel. ‘What do you think, Miss
Elliot? If you were to fall in love with a man who
had not yet made
his fortune,
would you consider him as a likely suitor?’

I had a very
strong feeling that there was more to this question
than there appeared and I couldn’t help thinking
that she must be
referring to her
own brother. I chose my words carefully.

‘If I truly
loved a man, his fortune or lack of one would not
make any difference to me. In any case, we cannot
always choose
with whom we
fall in love. When it happens, it is not something we
can just dismiss on a whim or tell to go away.
There is no rhyme
nor reason in
matters of the heart.’

Jane smiled
rather wistfully. ‘I believe what you say is true,
yet it is not always in our power to follow our
hearts. Obligation
and duty are
often the arbiters in cases where love has happened by
mischance. And yet, still more cruel is the hand of
fate, the harshest
judge of all.’

Silence followed
this little speech. I sensed an atmosphere of
discomfort, of unspoken words remaining unsaid.
Jane sat quietly
for a moment or
two, her face averted as if she stared at something
in the distance. Jumping up to her feet, she opened
her parasol with
a snap, holding
it over her head and obscuring her face as she
walked away. Charles was about to get up to follow
her when
Cassandra
assured him that she would go. It was evident that Jane
was upset by something and that it had related to
our conversation
seemed obvious.

‘I hope it
wasn’t anything I said that upset Miss Austen.’ I
watched Charles’s expression, his eyes following
his sisters with
concern. We
could see them both quite far off now. Cassandra
seemed to be making reassuring gestures, taking
Jane’s arm,
stroking her
hand as they walked along.

‘No, Miss
Elliot, do not worry.’ Charles looked across at me
and smiled, but said no more on the subject,
busying himself with
the task
of collecting the remnants of the picnic together.

Despite the
appearance of grey cloud, briefly overhead, the sun
decided to challenge the densest vapour,
evaporating all into
whipped
confections like floating meringues in the cobalt sky. The
sisters returned. Jane’s mood was bright, but if
anything she was
overly talkative
and I wasn’t completely convinced that she was as
happy as she appeared. She sat down a little way in
front, looking
out at the view
across Bath. I watched Cassandra reach inside her
basket producing a pocket sketchbook, a pencil, a
bottle of water
and a small box
of paints.

‘Do not move,
Jane,’ she called. ‘I shall picture you for
posterity … a portrait of unwearied contemplation.’

‘Just as long as
you do not paint my face!’ Jane called, turning
her back to us, arranging her dress and striking a
pose.

‘I would not
dare … I know how much you dislike sitting for
me. No, I shall not ask you to turn. I shall
capture the folds in the
back of
your gown instead and paint your elegant bonnet.’

With swift
strokes of her pencil, Jane’s figure was outlined.
Dressed in turquoise blue with her bonnet strings
undone, she sat
upon the grass,
one neat little foot poking out from under her gown,
her hand resting upon her knee. Only the most
tantalizing curve of
her cheek
was displayed so it was impossible to guess her
expression or sense any emotion. After a few
minutes, she protested
at
sitting still for so long. Ignoring her sister’s requests to sit for
five minutes longer, she was on her feet in a
second and came over
to my
side. Ever restless, Jane held out her hand to me.

‘Shall we walk,
Miss Elliot? Sitting about all day is apt to
make one sleepy. I am not in the least bit tired
but if I know my
brother and
sister, they shall soon be slumbering.’

Charles and
Cassandra laughed as if in agreement. They
flopped down together on the grass, lying on their
backs, spreading
themselves out
to watch the skies looking for pictures in any clouds
that chanced to float above their heads.

I stood to take
Jane’s arm and we walked along admiring the
view, pointing out the landmarks that we
recognized. Bath looked
like a
toy town far below us in miniature. Up here, amongst the
trees studded on the steep slopes, lush and green,
it seemed a world
very far away.

‘I love the
scenery up here,’ Jane continued. ‘If we turn our
back on the city, the countryside around is very
reminiscent of a
favourite spot
of mine in Dorsetshire, Miss Elliot. I admit,
whenever I come up here, it is to remind myself.’

‘I like that
part of the world very much,’ I answered. ‘I
wonder; do I know of the place to which you refer?’

‘Pinny, near
Lyme, Miss Elliot. Do you know it? Of course,
the scenery is even more dramatic. It is a place
for romance of
every kind with
its plunging green chasms and romantic rocks
amongst scattered forest trees. I confess to having
left a large part
of my heart
behind in Pinny.’

Jane’s features
seemed to shadow over as if a dark cloud had
passed once more overhead. She opened her mouth to
speak, but it
was a sigh that
escaped instead.

‘And dare I ask
if it was only the place where you left a piece
of your heart?’ I asked.

Her eyes were
bright with tears. I instantly felt embarrassed
because I realized if I hadn’t been so inquisitive,
the moment could
have passed
before she had had a chance to get upset. She blinked
them away, her lips pressed together in
determination to fight her
emotions.

‘I am so sorry,
Miss Austen, I did not mean to upset you. I
should not have spoken as I did. It is clear that
there are some
painful memories
associated with the place of which you speak so
highly.’

‘But when pain
is over, the remembrance can be a delight. I
do not love Lyme any less for having suffered in it
because there
was so much that
I will always look back on with great fondness. I
experienced such enjoyment; my good memories far
outweigh any
other.’

‘Do not speak if
it upsets you, Miss Austen.’

‘When love
strikes, Miss Elliot, we must make the most of it
and not worry too much about what the future will
bring. I learned
true romance at
a time when I thought I should never know what it
was to be in love again. After all, I am an ageing
spinster. I shall be
twenty-seven
this year.’

‘Oh, Miss
Austen, you cannot believe that age should be such
a barrier to love.’

‘Perhaps not,
but you must also be aware that chances for
single women with little fortune and fading charms
are few and far
between. My
sister Cassy gave up all hope of ever marrying and
falling in love again long ago. In any case, her
heart would only
ever be true to
her first and only love. She also knows too well the
penalties for being unable to take the moment and
fly. Be sure that
you learn from
it. Prudence is one thing, Miss Elliot, but true
happiness and love are quite another!’

There was
nothing I could say in return and the wind chose to
rush through the trees at that moment bringing with
it a strong blast
of foreknowledge
that only served to chill the air around me, and
tighten my hold on Miss Austen’s arm. I was sure
there must be
some reason why
Jane could not be with the young man I’d seen
that day in the Labyrinth and felt certain her
heartfelt words had
some connection
to him.

The descent was
in many ways easier than the climb to the top
had been, but in long skirts it proved to be more
difficult. Jane and
Cassandra, used
to walking in such clothing, negotiated the steps
with ease. Once more, Charles held out his hand to
me when he saw
that I was
struggling. I took it but, even so, there were several deep
steps sloping away at a sharp angle that took me by
surprise.

Walking up them
had been one thing, coming down was quite
another. Forced to jump down the steep steps,
Charles gripped my
hand and my
confidence soared. However, it was a self-assurance
that came too soon. I stepped out too quickly, my
boot slipped and
I landed
awkwardly on a stone ledge. As I turned instinctively
towards him, grabbing his arm to steady myself, I
felt loose stones
shift under my
twisted foot and I lost my balance. Charles’s free
arm caught my waist sharply, pulling me towards him
to stop me
from falling and
dragging us both down the steps together. His
fingers gripped the curve of my waist, and a tender
pang of desire
quickened
inside. We were so close I could see the pulse throbbing
above the white neckcloth wound round his tanned
throat. Pulling
away in my
confusion, it was impossible not to be drawn by his
eyes that crinkled at the corners as he smiled. Now
hazel in the
sunlight, fringed
with dark lashes, they rested on mine.

‘Miss Elliot,
forgive me, are you quite steady?’ he asked, the
gentle pressure of his fingers’ touch increasing
like a caress as he
pulled me
closer.

I could no
longer look at him. ‘I am so sorry, Lieutenant
Austen. I do not think I am a very accomplished
walker.’

‘Perhaps not,
but you are perfectly proficient in the art of
falling down steps which is far more fun,’ he said,
slowly releasing
his arm from my
waist, but retaining a firm grip on my hand.

He looked so
serious that I didn’t know whether to laugh, but
then he grinned and I knew he was teasing me again.
His dark eyes
moved from the
top of my bonnet to rest on the curls framing my
face, before he glanced momentarily into my eyes.
His gaze slowly
shifted to stare
at my lips, which parted as if at his request.