Searching For Captain Wentworth (41 page)

I dressed with
great care, choosing a fine, Indian muslin,
embroidered with flowers and French knots along the
hem and
down the
sleeves. A string of coral beads at my throat gleamed in
the dying light and two bright spots on my cheeks
gave the
impression that
I was permanently blushing, the work of the sun
and sea breezes combined, which had turned my skin
to a pale
bronze. I felt
nervous at the thought of seeing Charles again and for
a moment wished I could stay at home and hide away.
Seeing him
in Lyme had been
a shock, I’d felt a certain consciousness between
us when we’d met or I’d wanted to believe that I
had at the time.

Now, I was not
so sure and scolded myself for imagining that
Charles had come to Lyme especially to see me. I
needed to
separate what I
wanted to believe from the truth and the facts were
that Charles had come to find suitable lodgings for
his parents in
the surrounding
area. That was all, I was determined that I would
suppress any other thoughts including those shadowy
memories of
some other
matter that tried to find their way to the surface. He
wasn’t going to stay in Lyme and even if he did
stay for one night,
he was soon to
leave so that he could organize his family’s
accommodation. They weren’t even going to be in the
area,
choosing to go
to Dawlish instead. His interest in me stemmed
from our friendship in Bath and I told myself not
to think that there
was anything
else. If I was not careful, I could so easily betray my
feelings, not only to those around me, but to
Charles himself.

However much I
longed to tell Charles about the place he was
securing in my heart, I could not reveal my
feelings. I knew that
now. It
wouldn’t be fair to him, I decided. He’d made it perfectly
clear that he was not about to fall in love with
anyone, nor did it fit
in with
his plans. His career and advancement in his chosen
profession were paramount. Besides, a little voice
somewhere in
my head said it
was never meant to be. I could not, and should not
attempt to change fate.

The Assembly
Rooms set on the edge of the sea gave the
impression of being afloat, as if on a great
galleon sailing out on the
water,
for nothing but sea and sky could be seen through the
windows. The walls rippled with light and
reflections in tones of
lapis
lazuli, which as the evening progressed bobbed and dipped
like the ocean itself, bathing the interior with a
rosy glow from the
sun setting on
the horizon and from the warmth of the candles
glimmering in sconces and glass chandeliers alike.
What could be
more thrilling
than dancing with the sea all around us?

The Rooms were
very full and even though I searched the
place looking for a glimpse of Lieutenant Austen, I
knew he was
not there yet. I
seemed to possess a sixth sense when Charles was
around; the air seemed to vibrate differently when
he was in the
room. I would
have to be patient and pull myself together for fear
of betraying my emotions to everyone. Conscious
that word had
got around about
our arrival in Lyme, it was evident that our party
was the object of much interest as knowing
expressions and
cognizant looks
were exchanged amongst the local gentry and it
wasn’t long before those acquainted with our host
made their
presence known.
We were introduced to the Barnwells, the
Crawfords and the Suttons, all deemed as families
of quality by Mr
Elliot and Mr
Glanville. After their stiff formality, it was lovely to
see Miss Rockingham appear with her bright smile
and easy
chatter. She was
with her brother who was immediately introduced
and proved to be as welcoming as his sister.

‘I believe we
have a mutual acquaintance, Miss Elliot,’ Doctor
Rockingham remarked. ‘It is such a pleasure to meet
you at last and
to know that our
friend Miss Austen is well. We were hoping to see
her this summer. Have you received any word that
she is to come
to Lyme again?’

‘Her brother is
here, Doctor Rockingham, and is hoping to
secure accommodation for his family in Dawlish, I
understand. I
know Jane is
keen to come to Lyme once more; her memories of
the place are all happy ones.’

‘My sister and I
will be more than delighted to see her, Miss
Elliot, but whether or not we shall have that
pleasure, I hope you
will
honour us with a visit again soon.’

I assured them
that I would. It was impossible not to warm to
the doctor and his sister who were friendly and
kind, quite unlike
any of the other
people I had met so far in Lyme. When Doctor
Rockingham smiled, his eyes lit up his handsome
face. If only he
had someone to
make him happy, I thought, he’d be a changed man.

Before we had
been there a quarter of an hour, I had
invitations to dance from two or three young men who were
introduced. I was relieved that our host would be
forced to open the
ball with Emma
as a consequence, but disappointed that Lieutenant
Austen was not there to ask me to dance. Just as I
was beginning to
give up hope of
him ever making an appearance and as the little
orchestra were tuning up their violins, the door
opened. Charles
Austen entered
the room, along with two other people who looked
very familiar.

‘That’s the
gentleman and lady we saw that time on the Cobb,’
exclaimed Marianne, as everyone stopped to stare at
the people
who had just
walked in. ‘I can quite easily see why you were taken
aback. There is such a similarity between them,
that I confess,
Sophia; I am not
at all surprised you were in shock. He could be
none other than Lieutenant Austen’s brother, do you
see?’

I could see very
easily. Different in looks and manner, yet,
there was no doubt that they came from the same
family. Both had
the same wavy,
chestnut hair that framed their handsome faces in
dark curls and the same hazel eyes, though perhaps
in Mr Austen’s
brother they
reminded me more of Jane in their clarity. There was
a look about him that reminded me very much of his
sister. He had
the same
sensitive appearance; the same intelligent look. His lady
smiled, as her eyes darted at anyone who glanced
her way. She was
an elfin beauty.
Delicate, yet exotic in style, like a jewelled bird
stolen from a foreign land, she was swathed in a
silken gown that
flattered her
tiny figure complimenting her pale complexion. As I
stared, quite entranced with the pleasure of
looking at her, I knew I
was being
watched. I only had to move my head very slightly to see
Charles and to be aware of his beautiful, dark
eyes. He bowed, his
expression
giving away little emotion. I felt the intensity of his
gaze. So much so, that the spell was broken only by
my own
reticence to
return the expression that I knew I had not misread.

‘Who are those
people? ’I heard Mr Sutton ask Mr Barnwell
who were standing a little apart from us.

‘Irish, I
daresay, by their manners, ’answered Mr Barnwell,
‘just fit to be quality in Lyme.’

Mr Glanville
butted in. ‘On the contrary, they’re nobody
worth knowing. I recognize the taller gentleman
from Bath, but I
believe he is a
sailor, no one of any rank worth our consideration.’

‘But the other
gentleman,’ added Mr Sutton, ‘and more
particularly his lady have quite an air about them.’

‘Now, she is
somebody worth our attention,’ declared Mr
Crawford, turning at their words and joining in,
‘for not only is she
very easy
on the eye, gentlemen, but Mrs Crawford’s been telling
me she is a French countess! Or, at least she was
before her first
husband had his
head chopped off. Her new husband is a banker, I
believe. They are passing through, staying at the
Three Cups Inn, I
understand,
before heading back to their London home.’

I hated the way
they talked about Charles, his brother and his
wife. I wanted to tell them to stop being so rude.
I would have liked
to tell them
everything about these truly worthy brothers who had
not been handed money and riches on a plate, and of
how they had
more daring,
wit, and intelligence than the lot of them put together,
but, of course, I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure if
Charles and I would
have a chance to
speak on our own. I didn’t know anyone that
would make it possible for us to meet and talk, let
alone dance with
one another. We
would have to be introduced all over again and I
couldn’t see any of the gentlemen in my party
making that a
possibility.

But then, very
luckily, Mrs Crawford insisted upon
introducing Mr Henry Austen, his wife and Charles to us all.
Thankfully, Mrs Randall was her usual gracious self,
insisting that
she was already
well acquainted with Lieutenant Austen, his sisters
and parents, and maintained it was a pleasure to
meet other family
members. I’m not
sure her words were spoken with true sincerity. I
had a feeling that she was aware of my growing
affection for
Charles Austen
and I knew in which direction her hopes for me
were going. The fact that we had not acknowledged
them in any
way was swept
aside, brushed away by the polite conventions of
conversation. Charles did not speak to me
immediately. He hung on
the
fringes of the circle letting his sister-in-law do the talking. Mrs
Eliza Austen knew she had seen me before, she said,
though I
pretended that I
could not remember any occasion of our ever
having met.

‘I cannot
recall,’ Mrs Austen said, a frown wrinkling between
the dark brows that arched above ebony eyes, ‘but I
know your face
so well. Was it
at Tunbridge Wells, or perhaps I knew you in India,
Miss Elliot?’

She reached out
to touch my arm and her scent, an exquisite
pot-pourri of fragrances, sandalwood, jasmine, and
attar of roses,
perfumed the air
in an invisible cloud wafting from her dainty,
white kid glove. I shook my head, my cheeks burning
with shame.
How could I
possibly remind her that I’d almost chased her off the
end of the harbour wall and that the reason she
recognized me was
because I’d made
such a fool of myself? It was left to Marianne to
enlighten her. She spoke out before I could stop
her.

‘We glimpsed one
another on the end of the Cobb, Mrs
Austen. My sister thought at first that your husband was the brother
she had met in Bath.’

I could have
died on the spot.

Mrs Eliza Austen
looked at me carefully and then I saw her
glance at Charles who seemed to shrink even more
readily from our
company. A smile
passed over her lips and her eyes twinkled as she
studied my face. She made no further comment, but
merely nodded
as if enjoying
some private joke.

‘Do you enjoy
dancing, Miss Elliot?’ she asked a moment
later.

‘Yes, I must
admit, it is one of my favourite pastimes,’ I
answered truthfully.

‘Charles, did
you hear? Miss Elliot enjoys dancing as well as
you do!’

Charles beamed
with a smile that reached his dark eyes.

‘Then, I hope,
Miss Elliot, that you will save a dance for me. I
earnestly trust that I am not too late in my
request.’

Before I could
answer, Mr Henry Austen spoke to me. ‘Miss
Elliot, am I to understand that you are the young
lady who took pity
on my brother in
Bath? That you not only danced with him, but that
you conversed with him on more than one occasion?’
I could see that he was teasing me, and was struck
by the
similarity in
their sense of humour. I was also secretly pleased that
he seemed to know so much because it meant that
Charles had
spoken about me.