Searching For Captain Wentworth (7 page)

When I stepped
outside the darkness felt intimidating, and I didn’t
feel quite so brave about the thought of walking
around by myself.
I needed company
like I never had before and so I took the short
walk round the corner to revisit the pub. It was
Friday night, which
meant the place
was heaving with locals. They all seemed to know
one another; the air was thick with conversation
and laughter as
they all
celebrated the end of another week at work. One or two
people nodded and smiled in recognition. They’d
been there at
lunchtime and
had evidently settled in for the evening. Making my
way to the safety of the bar, I perched myself on a
tall stool and
managed to catch
Lara’s eye.

‘How’s it
going?’ she asked, opening a bottle of white wine
and pouring me a glass.

‘Surprisingly
well,’ I said, almost convincing myself and
resolving to keep my weird experiences to myself.
‘You wouldn’t
recognize it;
the place is spotless. Thanks so much, I couldn’t have
done it without you.’

‘It’s my
pleasure. I’m glad to help, but I expect you’re worn
out now.’

‘Yes, I am
really tired, and in the great scheme of things, I
completely forgot about shopping or eating and
suddenly that
seems a great
idea.’

‘Of course,
here’s the menu. I’ll be with you in a minute. Have
a look and see what you fancy.’

As Lara moved on
to the next customer, I scanned the room
thinking how much I loved this quirky place with
its eclectic décor.
There were
ancient gas lamps hanging above the bar, their shell-
pink lustre shades glowing with light. A painted
oar from a rowing
boat was pinned
into the wall above the beribboned, Georgian
mantelpiece, flanked on either side by trophies
from a bygone age,
and surveyed
from on high by a print of
The Laughing Cavalier
who
sported a furry moustache that someone had clearly stuck on
over his own, for a joke. Nobody noticed me and I
was quite
enjoying the
sense of anonymity when Lara stopped again to take
my order.

‘Oh, by the way,
Josh is in tonight,’ she said, putting a knife
and fork in front of me before diving under the
counter for salt and
pepper
pots. ‘I’ll introduce you to him in a minute. Then you won’t
have to sit on your own.’

I looked to
where she was pointing but before I could ask her
exactly where he was, she was away upstairs to see
to food orders.
Presumably, she
meant he was sitting on the other side of the bar,
which was sectioned off in another room and I
couldn’t see anyone
at first. It was
gloomy on that side, except for the glow of a fire in
the grate. Then a figure moved forward, I could
just see a blue-
jeaned leg
jutting out from a table. He bent down to pick up a
leather bag and I got a glimpse of a profile, but
Josh might as well
have been a
silhouette in a miniature portrait for all I could really
see. Well, Lara had promised an introduction, so
I’d just have to be
patient. I
wished I’d brought his glove with me and then, at least,
we’d have something to talk about.

My Thai
fishcakes arrived, fragrant with lemongrass,
accompanied by wedges of crisp potato and soured
cream that had
my mouth
watering. I was hungrier than I knew, savouring each
bite as Lara looked on with a grin. She glanced
behind her into the
other bar and I
guessed that she was checking up on Josh.

‘I won’t call
him over until you’ve finished,’ she said. ‘I don’t
think you’ll thank me for an introduction whilst
you’re eating.’

I smiled.
‘Thanks. No, I don’t really want to meet my new
neighbour with bits of coriander stuck between my
teeth!’

‘Quite right.
First impressions are always very important.
And, it would be lovely if you could get to know
one another. He
always looks a
bit lonely, and I never really see him with anyone. I
don’t think he’s got a girlfriend.’

I could feel
myself blushing under her scrutiny and was
beginning to wonder whether meeting Josh like this
would be such
a good idea. It
would be nice to make friends, but I didn’t feel like
starting the sort of relationship that Lara was
making hints about. I
needed to
change the conversation, although I admitted to myself
that I was curious about him.

‘What does he
do?’

‘He’s working on
something at the museum over the road.’

So that’s where
he’d been going earlier, even though it had
been an odd time of day when everyone else working
were locked
in their
offices. I couldn’t imagine what sort of job he could
possibly do, and judging by his clothes and his mop
of shaggy
curls, if Lara
had said he was an actor or a musician I would more
readily have believed that.

‘Josh organizes
exhibitions,’ Lara continued. ‘He’s here on a
contract, so it’s not forever. He’s putting
together something to do
with
Georgian paintings and artefacts; he’ll tell you about it
himself, I expect.’

‘I saw him
today, I think. He dropped a glove, out on the
pavement. I picked it up and tried to catch up with
him but he was
too fast for
me.’

‘Yes, it would
be those long legs of his that kept you away.
You’d have to run to keep up with him.’

‘Are the gardens
over the road connected to the museum in
any way?’

‘Yes, I’m sure
they have a connection. I know they’re at least
a couple of hundred years old, if not more, but I
think I’m right in
saying that at
one time the museum was a hotel. Sydney Gardens
were a place of entertainment, what they called
pleasure gardens,
not quite like
they are now.’

‘Then Jane
Austen herself must have walked in the gardens,’
I said, really thinking out loud, casting my mind
back to my
inexplicable
experience.

Lara looked at
me, a bemused expression on her face. ‘I
daresay she did, but Josh will be able to tell you
more about it than
I can. Have you
finished? Come on, you can ask him yourself.’

I saw her turn
round, poke her head into the bar behind and
say something to a person out of view. When she
turned back, the
look of
disappointment on her face was plain to see.

‘I think we’ve
just gone and missed him again, but Martin
says Josh was going straight home because he’d got
a bit of
paperwork to
finish. If you’re quick, you’ll catch him, he’s only
just left. At least you’ve got a good excuse to
knock on his door.’

I didn’t really
want to hang around much longer. It was
beginning to feel a bit like being at a party where
I was the only
person who
didn’t know anyone and I couldn’t expect Lara to chat
to me all night. On the other hand, the prospect of
going home to
knock on Josh’s
door didn’t seem very tempting either. By the time
I walked round the corner, I chided myself for
being silly. What
harm was there
in just knocking on the door and saying hello? I
could just hand over the glove and say I found it
in the street,
though how I’d
get around the problem of telling him that I knew
it belonged to him, I couldn’t decide. He’d think I
was some kind
of weirdo for
spying on him if I told him. There was only one
answer to my problem. I would just walk past his
door and on up
the stairs to my
flat and try to forget all about it for the time being.
In any case, I’d have to think hard about what I’d
say and right now
I was so tired,
I couldn’t think straight.

However, nothing
could stop me feeling guilty about it still
being in my possession. I turned to the box that
Great Aunt
Elizabeth had
sent me. Out of sight would be out of mind. I popped
in the glove closing the lid quickly before I could
think about what
I’d done.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I knew there
was little possibility of the glove ever making an
appearance again.
And, although
the idea that this was very wrong crossed my mind
fleetingly, I chose to ignore it.

I couldn’t
resist picking up the journal once again, though the
spooky experience I’d had earlier made me hesitate,
for a second,
until I told
myself not to be so silly. I opened it at the place I’d
marked with a silk ribbon and waited. Much to my
relief no
whispers or
haunting visions appeared. I read the next entry.

March 1st: Emma
and my father are leaving London this
morning. There has been no
further mention of Mr Fellowes and
their abrupt departure seems
somewhat strange. I fear something is
amiss.

I wondered if Mr
Fellowes had got cold feet or if Emma had
refused to marry him. The next few pages were blank
and then on
March 6th the
journal became very interesting.

We are to remove
to Bath. Mrs Randall has suggested this
expedition to my father in
order that Emma might be introduced to
Bath society and perhaps
find a husband. My father is adamant that
she will be married before
the year is out. I do not want to go to Bath and leave my home for months on
end. The only saving grace is that Mrs Randall will accompany us,
for which I am truly grateful. We are to take a house near Sydney
Gardens. Mrs Randall assures me that I will enjoy myself and for
her sake, I will endeavour not to disappoint her.

I couldn’t help
feeling sorry for Sophia. Though I knew her
words had been written over two hundred years ago,
the sentiments
and feelings
were so fresh mirroring my own misgivings at leaving
everything familiar. The next entry made me smile.

March 10th: We
are arrived in Sydney Place. It is not at all
like being in the country
but the gardens just over the way are very
pretty, and I hope I shall
be allowed to walk there sometimes. Mrs
Randall has lodgings nearby
in Daniel Street. She would not be
talked into joining us here
in the house, saying that she had no wish
for people to assume that
she was trying to take my mother’s place.

Dear Mrs
Randall, only you would be so considerate. You have
been such a comfort since Mama passed away.

It was a strange
thought that this was the very house where the
family had arrived all that time ago. I could
almost feel them
around me, hear
their conversations, or at least, imagine what they
might have been. As the journal continued, Sophia’s
reticence had
given way to
youthful excitement.

March 12th: Mrs
Randall took us shopping for new muslins,
that we might look
respectable for a ball at the Upper Rooms. I
chose a pretty, tamboured
muslin that is to be made up into a round
gown and I have black gauze
for a new cloak. I also have a new
white chip bonnet, trimmed
with white ribbon and I find it looking
very much like other people’s
and quite as smart.

March 13th: We
went to the Pump Rooms this morning and
signed the arrivals book. Mr
King introduced us to a family who
are also residing in Sydney
Place, and I have discovered they are
living just next door. I
wish my father were not so abrupt in his
manner. He hardly
acknowledged them. They seem pleasant,
respectable people, but I
know he assumes they are not worth
knowing. They do not appear
to be wealthy, though seem genteel
enough. The father is a
clergyman with a shock of white hair and
the mother has quite as many
airs as my father, which amused me
greatly. I am not sure who
felt they were being more condescending
in addressing the other.
There are two daughters, both very
pleasant girls, whom I
wouldn’t mind knowing better … their name
is Austen.