Searching For Captain Wentworth (5 page)

No, that was for
sure, I thought, being completely uncertain
how I looked. It was very confusing. I felt like me
but I really
couldn’t be
completely me, I decided, because here was a stranger
who knew me.

The girl whose
broad smile reached her twinkling eyes had
round rosy cheeks like a painted doll and unruly
chestnut curls
dancing under
the brim of her bonnet in the breeze. Dressed in a
plum, velvet pelisse which looked rather worn in
places, but suited
her dark
colouring so well, it was cheered up by a smart, cream,
Kashmir shawl with details in crimson and cobalt.
Like that of her
companion who
caught us up, her clothes were neat but clearly not
as new as mine. Just as I was struggling to find
the words to speak,
her expression
swiftly altered, the fine arched brows above her
lively eyes knitting anxiously together, as her
face loomed in and
out of focus.

‘Cassy,’ she
called to her companion, ‘Miss Elliot is unwell.
Help me!’

At that precise
moment, I felt the world sway. A wave of
nausea rippled through me as the ground seemed to
be trying its
hardest to meet
the sky.

‘Quickly, Jane!
Let us support her between us.’ Cassy acted
swiftly, taking an arm and bearing the weight, as
my legs buckled.
Jane took the
other side and the girls managed to lead me to the
nearest bench.

As if time was
moving, one moment I could see the gardens
I’d left behind, and the next all was changed.
Shifting in layers, the
past and
the present overlapped for a moment and I was left, feeling
queasy, unable to focus on anything. Gulping back
deep breaths of
air, the feeling
that I might be slipping back to my own time
gradually disappeared. Jane and Cassy were talking
to me, but their
muffled voices
were sounding far off like echoes coming from a
long tunnel.

‘Oh, Miss
Elliot, you’ve come back to us.’ Cassy said, as she
waved smelling salts under my nose. ‘You’ve quite
given the Miss
Austens the
fright of their lives.’

‘We thought we’d
lost you,’ Jane added, ‘I’m so glad you’re
still here.’

I was feeling so
wretched that at first, the enormity of what I
was experiencing didn’t sink in. An incredulous
idea about the
identity of the
girl formed in my mind, as I recognized that she was
one of the world’s greatest writers, a novelist of
such genius that
her books are
still being read and loved two hundred years after her
death. Even then, when the thought slowly surfaced
and registered
that Miss Jane
Austen herself was talking to me, I couldn’t really
equate that iconic figure with the slim, finely
featured girl that took
my hand
between both of her own. I’d only ever seen one small
portrait of Jane, which showed her as unsmiling, a
rather stern
looking spinster
in a mobcap. Yet, the girl at my side seemed just
like me. I saw a young woman whose love of life
sparkled in her
eyes and danced
at the corners of her mouth.

Her sister
spoke. ‘Are you recovered enough to walk, Miss
Elliot? We will escort you.’

‘I could order a
chair to collect you from the ticketman at the
gate,’ Jane added, ‘We need to get you home where
you may
recover by the
warmth of a fire.’

I knew that I
couldn’t stay sitting mute any longer, but I didn’t
want to betray myself as soon as I started to
speak. I opened my
mouth only to
close it again. Then, just when I thought I’d never
talk again, I heard my voice ring out loud and
clear.

‘Oh, please,
Miss Austen, Miss Jane, pray do not be troubled.
I am quite well.’

It felt
surprisingly natural and I knew I’d got away with it
judging by the expression on their faces.

‘I did not eat
very much this morning and I fear my
unsteadiness is as a result of my fastidiousness.’

It was out
before I could stop it. I repeated the sentence in my
head. Had I really just spoken those words? I could
only be grateful
that it felt as
if I had.

‘That is a
relief of some kind,’ said Jane. ‘I had begun to think
you were really ill. But, at last, the colour is
returning to your
countenance …
“your pure and eloquent blood speaks in your
cheeks!”’

I hadn’t a clue
what she was talking about.

‘Just like your
namesake,’ added Cassandra. And when I
looked at her blankly, she said, ‘Are you acquainted with Mr.
Fielding’s novel, Tom Jones? It’s one of Jane’s
favourite books and
she is always
quoting out of it.’

Cassandra looked
at her sister with a mischievous glance and
in a stage whisper pronounced loudly, ‘Between us,
I think Miss
Jane fancies her
own scarlet cheeks could be compared to those of
Tom’s heroine, Miss Sophia Western.’

‘Not only of my
cheeks,’ Jane continued, pursing her lips, but
of my sweet mouth also.

“
Her lips were red, and one was
thin,

Compared to that
was next her chin;

(Some bee had
stung it newly)”
…

‘Of course,
strictly speaking, that’s Suckling not Fielding, but
nevertheless, I am sure they both had me in mind
when they wrote
that
description.’

We all laughed.

‘Well, Miss
Elliot, I am glad to see you better and if we cannot
assist you, we can at least keep you company,’ said
Cassandra.

‘And very
pleased you will be to have our society when you
learn our most exciting news,’ added Jane. ‘Our
dearest little
Charles is
coming home. Except, of course, he is not little at all
being at least six feet tall and thinks himself a
very grown man,
indeed.’

‘He is very
nearly three and twenty,’ interrupted Cassandra,
‘but, Miss Elliot, it is impossible to think of him
as anything but our
baby brother.’

‘As soon as he
is able to get off his ship, he is to come here,’
Jane continued. ‘Such excitement! Not that I ever
really think
returning to
Bath is quite like coming home. If we were in
Steventon where we used to live, there would have
been a great
party with all
our friends and neighbours to celebrate the Peace. But
our old home is no longer ours and those days of
youth and comfort
are quite gone.’

‘I understand
how you might miss your home so much,’ I said.
‘I must admit, I did not want to come to Bath and I
do not know
when we might
return.’

I had spoken
without consciousness; yet, I was sure what I
was saying must be true. And the thought emerged
that somehow
I’d slipped back
in time to experience the life of my ancestor. I
surely couldn’t be addressed as Miss Elliot for
nothing, but the idea
that she
had known Jane Austen was such an exciting one that I
could hardly take it in. What on earth had happened
to me?

‘Oh, Miss
Elliot, then you understand completely,’ said Jane,
‘but, at least we can visit Steventon though it
might as well be
inhabited by
strangers for all that I feel at home in it.’

I saw Cassandra
frown at Jane and a look pass between them
that Jane clearly understood.

‘My brother
James has the rectory now,’ she continued,
ignoring her sister’s expression, which entreated
her to be more
reserved on the
subject.

‘Jane, I am sure
Miss Elliot does not want to hear our family
concerns,’ Cassandra rejoined. ‘Come, if you are
feeling better,
perhaps we could
all continue with our walk.’

I nodded and we
rose together to link arms, once more
assuring my companions who were looking at me anxiously that I
felt absolutely fine.

‘Tell me more
about your brother, Mr Charles,’ I said.

‘He is in the
Navy, serving as a second Lieutenant on the
frigate, Endymion,’ Jane replied, bright-eyed once
more. ‘Charles
has already had
a taste of adventure on the high seas and won a
little prize money for his efforts, though he will
never be rich if he
always spends it
on his sisters. The topaz crosses that Cassy and I wear in the evening were
bought with his very first rewards.
He is such a sweet, generous-hearted brother to think of his sisters
above everyone else. How he will manage coming home
to a house
populated by
three women and my long suffering father, I cannot
think, but we are all so excited to be seeing him
again. Later on, my
father has
planned a trip to Devon and beyond. Charles will be
coming with us. The days cannot pass too quickly
for me, Miss
Elliot, I
confess.’

‘I have always
wished I had a brother,’ I replied.

‘We have several
we could share with you.’ Jane paused, as if
picturing them all in her mind. ‘I am sure we could
let you borrow
one if you ever
need one, though they do have a habit of running
off to some far flung place just when you need them
most. I’ve
planned many a
time on being a stowaway in a sailor brother’s
boat, but they would never agree to it. Heavens,
it’s as much as I
can do to escape
to these gardens.’

Although her
manner was light-hearted, she’d expressed more
than a hint of frustration. Their brothers were
free to go off
whenever they
wished. I couldn’t imagine such restrictions, unable
to go where I liked. Even taking a stroll in the
park was clearly seen
as
daring.

We were walking
round one of the bowling greens and past
one of the entrances to the Labyrinth, a maze,
which Jane said she
had had the
pleasure of getting lost in on two occasions.

‘I cannot
imagine how you came to lose yourself when you
must have walked into it almost every day,’ said
Cassandra with a
smile, ‘or how
such a predicament could have been at all
pleasurable.’

Jane looked
wistful. ‘I wasn’t lost to the sensations of nature,
exquisite in sight and smell. I assure you, I was
never happier when
confined within
those yew hedges, brilliant after a storm.’

Cassandra caught
my eye and grinned. ‘My sister is inclined
to be whimsical, Miss Elliot. I promise you, the
Labyrinth must be
the design of a
child and, for all its secret corners, is not a place to
easily lose oneself. I wonder at Jane’s capricious
mind, there is no
limit to her
inventiveness.’

It was then that
I felt the first spots of rain. The sun had
disappeared behind a blanket of cloud.

Cassandra
sighed. ‘Oh, dear, all this talk of storms; I knew I
should have brought the umbrella.’

‘It is just a
little rain. April is almost here and showers like
these are to be expected, nothing to regard,’ said
Jane. ‘But, Miss
Elliot, you must
not get wet or you may become ill again. I really
urge you to think about us helping you home.’

I’d been feeling
more and more comfortable and I’d stopped
worrying about what I was going to say because it
just happened
without me
having to think about a single sentence, but now I knew
the real test had come. Waves of anxiety washed
over me. What
would I find
when I reached my aunt’s house? Would Sophia
Elliot’s family be there? If anyone were to see
through me, it would
surely be
my own ancestors. Perhaps they would guess something
was not quite right. But, as frightened as I felt
by the whole ordeal,
I was
excited to see them and experience a glimpse of Sophia’s life.

We were at the
gate and then dashing through a gap between
the smart, black carriages rolling round Sydney
Place to reach the
other side of
the road. The buildings looked so new, the
characteristic Bath stone almost white and the
railings painted not
their
customary black, but bright blue. Everything had the
appearance of spruce elegance; the houses gleaming
like newly
painted doll’s
houses. And the streets were full of people, the
unfamiliar sounds and sights ringing through the
air. The heavy
rumble of carts
and drays, the bawling of newsmen, muffin-men,
and milkmen, and the ceaseless clink of pattens on
the neat
pavements,
confirmed the truth that I was in a place that I could just
recognize, yet was completely unknown.