Searching For Captain Wentworth (46 page)

‘If it were that
simple, Miss Elliot. I am too much of a
pragmatist to think I could make either of us truly
happy, without
the trappings of
the life I know he and his family wish him to have.
I truly believe sincerely in his regard for me, but
his family desires
him to make a
good marriage, one that will bring in money for them
all. Without their approval and help, he would not
prosper. And, in
any case, I have
another person to consider.’

‘Do you mean
Cassy?’

With a nod, she
added, ‘I could not leave her to be solely
responsible for my parents. Can you imagine a fate
more cruel to
such a beloved
sister?’

‘No, I cannot.’

‘I shall never
marry anyone now. I will stay with Cassandra as
long as she needs me, which shall be to the end of
my days.

Spinsters
together, Miss Elliot, and maiden aunts to be useful to our
family; I am very much afraid that the Miss Austens
have found
their roles in
life.’

Jane looked as
if her heart might break. ‘We met for the last
time when you saw us that day. He will soon belong
to another.’

‘But, you cannot
believe that he would give you up so easily?’

‘It is done. He
is engaged to be married to an heiress with a
fortune and he will, no doubt, be wed in Bath.’

Lifting the
chain from around her neck, Jane grasped the
locket in two hands prising apart the cover with
her fingers, which
acted as a
shield against the world. Thrusting the locket towards
me, a sombre painting of an old be-wigged gentleman
stared back.

‘There, how do
you like my beau?’ she asked, with a teasing smile.

I knew this
could not be the man in question. This surely was
her great uncle, and the words from
Sense and
Sensibility
came to
me as clearly as if I’d written them myself: “ …
they had not known
each other a
week, I believe, before you were certain that Marianne
wore his picture round her neck; but it turned out
to be only the
miniature of our
great uncle.”

Jane said no
more, but squeezing the edges of the locket again
made the picture swing open to reveal another
portrait hidden
beneath. She
pressed it into my hands.

‘I like him very
much,’ I answered. As if freshly painted, the
fair-haired man, captured smiling, was the same I’d
seen that day
in Sydney
Gardens.

Handing it back,
Jane’s gaze shifted to the locket once more
and her eyes flickered over every inch of the
painted miniature as
if
committing the image to memory.

I could hardly
bear to speak. ‘It’s a wonderful keepsake.’

Jane smiled
ruefully and with the locket clasped in her fist,
she brought her hand to her mouth. With a final
kiss, I watched her
raise her arm to
toss the locket into the sea. The gold chain glinted
in the sunlight, as the pendant flew through the
air.

I gasped. But,
Jane looked back at me with a grin, skillfully
hooking the spinning necklace on her finger with a
flick of her
wrist and deftly
catching the pendant. She grasped it in her hand as
if she would never let it go again.

‘No,’ she
sighed, clutching the precious jewel to her heart, ‘I
cannot consign such a prized possession to the
waves. Yet, I do not
need a
picture to remind me of times past. Every single memory is
locked like a precious jewel in a treasure box,
deep in the recesses
of my
mind to be brought out and examined, held up in my mind’s
eye to gleam and sparkle. I cannot change what will
be, but I am
quite resigned.
And one never knows what the future may bring.
Perhaps in time I shall receive a proposal I will
not be able to
refuse!’

Jane laughed and
as if the conversation of a moment ago had
not happened she turned to me, a twinkle in her
eye.

‘I am very
fortunate in so many ways and not one to dwell on
misery … or guilt. Besides, I do not know if I was
truly cut out for
the married
state. How could I write if I were a wife and mother
burdened with numerous children?’

I couldn’t
decide if she was being sincere and I suspected that
as usual Jane was doing her best to conceal her
true feelings.

‘It would be
very difficult if not impossible, I am certain, but
I feel sure, Miss Austen, that you will achieve
your dreams of
success in
writing with or without a husband.’

‘You are too
kind, Miss Elliot, and you have listened far too
long to the rambling discourse of a shrewish
spinster. Besides, I
have not
wished only to tell you of my troubles. I am charged with
an assignment. Can you possibly guess what it might
be?’

I shook my head.

‘My brother
wished you to have this mysterious package,’ she
continued, fetching out a rolled paper tube from
her workbag.

I couldn’t
immediately think what it could be; I was so lost in
thought at everything that had just passed and the
absolute agony
of Jane’s
situation. However brave she appeared on the surface, her
feelings clearly ran as deeply as the currents
below us. I took the
paper
tube realizing with a start, this must be the painting that
Charles had made.

‘I knew
Charles’s gift would make you smile,’ she said, and
gave me one of her most enigmatic looks.

‘I am sorry that
he could not come himself,’ I ventured.

‘He promised he
would be there this evening at the party Eliza
has arranged, if you are well and not suffering a
little fever or
indisposition,
unable to come for any reason.’

I couldn’t
understand what she meant, though I guessed that
perhaps she had learned of my fainting spell of the
previous day. ‘I
would not miss
it for the world,’ I answered; anxious that she
should know how much I wished to spend time with
her and
Charles.

Jane suddenly
reached for my hand squeezing it tightly. ‘I do
hope that you will be able to come, Miss Elliot. I
trust so, most
sincerely. And
now, I must leave you.’

We descended the
steps down onto the lower level together
and then I watched Jane hurry away, her quick steps
disappearing
rapidly into the
distance. I felt subdued and wanted to think about
everything she’d said. She was so resigned to her
fate, which was
the saddest
knowledge of all.

I wondered what
Charles could be doing that was so
important. I was pleased that he’d remembered me, but so
disappointed that on this last day he hadn’t come
in person. I didn’t
want to go home.
Someone would be bound to see the parcel and
be curious, so I made my way further along to a
bench protected by
a makeshift
shelter and made myself comfortable. The sea was
calmer now, lapping against the rocks like whispers
spreading
round a ballroom
of some great-shared secret. The sun poked its
head out from behind a cloud, casting indigo
shadows on the path
at my feet.
Carefully unrolling the brown paper neatly wrapped
with perfect precision, the parchment inside
revealed the painting
I’d
expected, along with a folded piece of hot pressed paper, which
I laid to one side.

Exquisitely
painted with deft, fine strokes; delicate hues of
turquoise, blue and sand, were the prominent tones,
highlighted
with a flick of
pale coral in the cheeks and lips of the sitter. The
portrait of the girl who looked so happy sitting
upon her rocky shelf
as if she
hadn’t a care in the world was one I recognized. I looked
at her, knowing that I’d experienced every emotion
her face and her
body betrayed.
Every paintbrush stroke revealed every nuance of
my own personality. I identified completely with
the sitter who was
smiling into the
eyes of the painter as if she were in love with him.
And I knew that to be true.

I set down the
painting upon the seat, and turned to the other,
smaller piece of paper. It was a letter simply
addressed to Miss S.
E. My
eyes devoured the following words:

I must speak to
you by the opportunity that my sister Jane has
afforded me. I cannot
continue to see you without relating
something, which, though I
hope will not alter your opinion of me
for the worse, is
nevertheless a risk I am prepared to chance. I am
guilty of giving you false impressions, I believe, not only about the
worth of my true character, but of my innermost thoughts. I have
misled you at every turn with regard to my true feelings and have
decided that even if you should not wish to see me again for
divulging the truth to you now, it is impossible for me not to act
upon honest emotions, and a desire to declare myself.

You alone have
brought me to Lyme. For you alone, I think
and plan. I offer myself to
you with a heart entirely your own. For
it is love that has brought
me here and my confession is that I love
you, dearest Sophia, and
wish, if it is your desire also, never to be
parted from you again. These
weeks we have spent together have
been the happiest I have ever known. Despite every
effort on my
behalf to remain impartial, and to deny the
sincerity of my feelings,
the discovery that love will find its way into the
hardest heart is
mine.

I will cease
writing now, uncertain of my fate, but I hope I
shall see you at my
brother’s supper party. A word, or look will be
sufficient for me to know
whether I shall seek your father’s
permission for your hand
this evening, or never.

Believe me to be
your most faithful and loving,

C.A.

I read it again
and again committing to memory the words that
thrilled every sense and awakened every feeling.
How would I ever
recover from
such a letter? I thought I’d burst with happiness. It
was all and more than I could ever have hoped for.
Yet, I knew we
would face
certain obstacles, and I didn’t want to think about the
reaction of my father to Charles’s proposal. My
mind was in a
complete whirl,
but there was only one thing to be done. I knew I
must find Charles. Unaware of who passed by or of
what was
happening around
me, I started back towards the shore, hardly able
to take in the fact that here was certain proof at
last that he loved
me, as I did
him. I mounted the craggy steps projecting like
crooked teeth up to the higher level, gingerly
clinging with one
hand to the wall
as I went. Even on this fine day, the wind was
gusting up on the top level. It pulled at my bonnet
so I had to clamp
my hand firmly
to it before it was taken off forever. From this
vantage point, I scanned the views all round. I was
sure I would see
him sooner or
later. I revolved slowly, the views of Lyme and the
sea like some splendid carousel of pictures, which
almost broke my
heart by their
beauty alone and for the recollections of time spent
with Charles.

And then I saw
him. As he came along The Walk, I wasn’t sure
if he’d seen me at first. I stopped to catch my
breath; and then
found I could
hardly look at him. The moment I’d wished for was
here and now, and I was as gauche as a schoolgirl.
But, I needn’t
have worried for
he looked up at that precise moment and waved. I
raised my hand to show him that I had the letter
and the painting;
and that I’d
understood, had revelled in every word he’d written.

He turned onto
the Cobb and began to run. I could see
someone else just behind him, waving her hand and calling my
name. I waved back, shouting their names and was so
excited to see
them both that I
couldn’t wait a moment longer to join them. The
feeling that there was nothing to fear and that
everything was well
with the world
overwhelmed me.