The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen

by The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen (retail) (epub)

  Relieved, Rose turned on her heel. ‘There you are.’

  Jane stood in the open doorway to the drawing room, and she beckoned Rose to join her before closing the door firmly. It was only as they settled on the sofa she realised Jane was dressed in one of her Regency outfits, her hair appropriately styled. Slowly Rose looked around the room. It wasn’t empty like the bedroom, but all the piles of new books had been stacked neatly against the wall and next to them were two rather battered-looking old suitcases.

  ‘I trust you found naught of distress on your return home?’

  Rose’s gaze snapped back to Jane. ‘Not at all. Everything was exactly as it should be.’ Then she frowned; Jane looked pale and tired. ‘Are you – is everything okay?’

  ‘Not entirely. For myself, I will own to gaining little sleep. Barely – or so it seemed – had I closed the door upon my letter to my sister, when there was a response, and thereafter followed many an exchange, both lengthy and not conducive to a sound night’s rest.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I long to reassure her – in person, not merely by my own hand – of the success of her endeavours and of my own well-being.’

  ‘You’re leaving? Going back? I mean, I know that you do at some point because everything is back how it was. What I meant was, you’re going right now?’

  Rose gestured towards the cases and books, knew her voice sounded wistful.

  Jane smiled kindly at her and took Rose’s hand. ‘’Tis not only for Cass I must return. As we suspected, my family has become well-versed in all my… dealings. My desire to journey here cannot be tolerated or enjoyed without their forgiveness for my former secrecy and their blessing for its possible continuance.’

  ‘And she – your sister – did she fill in the gaps? I mean, how she even knew about Prancer, worked it all out?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Jane gestured to a small pile of letters on the table, but Rose’s eyes were caught by what lay beside them: the cross and chain, resting on top of the soft leather pouch. ‘Cass was drawn to the window by the sound of an animal in distress. The cross had become lodged in the hound’s throat – could not extricate itself without her aid.’

  Drawing her gaze back to Jane’s, Rose nodded. ‘And now?’

  ‘My sister has long wished for a pup, though she may regret taking him into her care. It seems Link—’ Jane smiled. ‘She did not know his name was Prancer, of course. He has a propensity for stealing stockings.’

  Rose stared at Jane in astonishment. ‘Link? It’s a – er… an unusual name.’ Hadn’t Cassandra Austen been known to have a dog called Link in later life? Had Prancer somehow become long-lived through his adventure in time? She shook her head. It was just too much to get her head around.

  ‘But what about your family – your mum and dad? How did they find out you simply hadn’t gone missing?’

  With a sigh, Jane’s smile faded. ‘Cass’s sorrow went unremarked at first by the family who understood her to be grieving for her missing sister, but our parents’ decision to involve the local magistrate forced her into confessing the whole to them.’

  ‘Followed by the family’s backtracking.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Further, Cass knew that if the necklace was placed within the safe, I could open it in the future. Being at least half as sensible as I ever give her credit for, she comprehended aught must prevent me from doing so, or I had assumed the charm lost without trace and thus ceased to try. With little to guide her, she felt her only way was to leave a message in the hope it would find me.’

  Slowly exhaling, Rose nodded. ‘Or you would find it yourself.’

  ‘My father was persuaded of the need to conceal the safe, for Cass was full aware how many years it must keep its secret – and thus the wall was built. Beyond this, all she could do was hope and pray we would find our way back to each other.’ Jane paused, then took Rose’s hand. ‘Thanks to you, Rose, we did. Without your persuasion, your persistence, I would not have found a way home. My sister – my whole family – is in your debt.’

  ‘Yes, but—’ Rose swallowed on the rising lump in her throat. ‘You’re going back to an untimely death, when you could still live a long and fruitful life here.’

  ‘My life will be fruitful, will it not? My literary aspirations will be realised, and I am most fortunate: an unpublished author, yet I comprehend the outcome before I have begun.’ Jane paused, then laughed. ‘Perchance I am become more like my sister.’ Then she patted Rose on the arm. ‘Be free of your agitation. What was done was done for the best. Now – I am in need of an emissary. During the night, I have been able to convey to Cass those possessions which came through the usual means.’ She nodded towards the door into the room with the safe. ‘But for aught acquired here, I must leave instruction on its disposal. Would you pass this to my landlord?’

  Feeling her heart dip, Rose took the letter from Jane. ‘Disposal? You are – I thought… I thought perhaps you’d come back. You know, once you’d sorted things out with your parents.’

  Jane smiled faintly. ‘I have learnt sufficient in this time to comprehend my family will need me in the coming years, and thus I must remain with them for the foreseeable future. Perchance once we are happily situated in Hampshire, I will take out the necklace once more.’ She got to her feet, then held out her hand. ‘To be certain, if I choose to do so, I shall seek you out. You have been a good friend to me, Rose.’

  Rose stood and took Jane’s hand. ‘I can’t even send you back with those drops to help your eyes.’ Then she gasped, recalling the most recent theory on Jane’s death. ‘Wait! You don’t use arsenic at all, do you?’

  ‘Only on those I find disagreeable.’

  ‘Jane,’ Rose pleaded. ‘Be serious.’

  Jane drew in a short breath. ‘I will own to our having Fowler’s Solution at home. It is recommended for rheumatic pain. But…’ She met Rose’s anxious gaze and squeezed her hand gently. ‘I promise to take care.’

  ‘I wish I could do – could’ve done – more.’ Rose sniffed.

  Jane’s eyes softened. ‘It is impossible to do justice to the hospitality and care of attention you have shown me. You did more than any other could.’

  There was nothing more to say, so she responded firmly to Jane’s shake of her hand, knowing she would expect nothing less, and sniffed away the threat of tears.

  ‘I wish you every happiness; I only wish I could’ve sent you back with something to help you when you become ill.’

  ‘Do not concern yourself over me. I have much to accomplish in the coming years, and who is to say what may or may not occur in our lives in the interim?’

  Rose nodded, her eyes wide. ‘Goodbye, Jane.’

  ‘Goodbye, Rose; my gratitude is beyond words, but I will carry you here.’ She touched her heart. ‘Always.’

  Unable to respond as the lump in her throat threatened to choke her, Rose nodded again, then she hurried from the room. Glancing back as she closed the door, she saw Jane had turned to stare out of the window. Rose, unable to stop a tear sliding down her cheek, walked out into the hallway and pulled open the heavy front door, wiping her sleeve across her eyes and blinking as she stepped out into the sunlight.

  Then, drawing in a shaky breath, she straightened her shoulders and stepped down into the street. The large windows of the drawing room in the ground-floor apartment gave a full view of the interior as she passed – it was already empty; Jane had gone.

  With a sigh, Rose turned away, but before she could push open the gate to her own flat, a sudden breeze lifted the curls on her shoulders as a voice whispered behind her, ‘Be not melancholy.’

  Spinning around, Rose knew there would be no one there but she felt strangely comforted, and she hurried down the steps to her flat, intent on calling Morgan – her Morgan. It was time she picked up the threads of her life – this life she had missed so much.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Barely had Rose ended her quick call to her friend when her own phone began to ring.

  �
�Hey, Liz. Hi!’

  ‘Rose! I was hoping to catch you. I know you’re tied up at the festival all week, but can I ask a favour about the cake for next weekend?’

  Rose’s eyes widened. Are you kidding me? squeaked a small voice in her head.

  ‘Er – yes? Go ahead.’

  ‘I called the people making it at the weekend because I hadn’t heard from them, and guess what? They’ve messed up. Taken on too many bookings and now they won’t be able to do it.’

  ‘Oh! That’s a shame. Er – you do remember I can’t bake, don’t you, Liz?’ Rose held her breath.

  Thankfully, Liz laughed heartily. ‘Do I ever. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you could let me have the details on whoever made that gorgeous cake you organised for your company’s fifth anniversary? You posted a photo on Instagram at the time, but now I can’t find it.’

  ‘It was Tara’s Tarts & Teacakes; she’s usually pretty good at fitting in last-minute orders. Hold on, let me check my contacts for her number.’ Almost giddy with relief, Rose quickly relayed the details to her friend. ‘So, how are the plans for the party coming along? The invitation was beautiful.’ Rose’s gaze drifted over to the mantelpiece, and she saw the card exactly where she’d left it, tucked behind the clock.

  ‘Stressfully.’ Liz laughed again, and Rose grinned, she had missed hearing it so much. ‘Tina wants to be involved, but every time I give her something to do, she either forgets or does it wrong.’

  ‘Best not let her get involved in the wedding planning, then.’

  Just then, Rose remembered her friend’s change of name in the other reality. ‘Hey, Liz – have you ever wondered what your parents might have called you if your mum hadn’t loved Pride & Prejudice so much?’

  ‘Is this one of those Facebook quizzes?’

  ‘No!’ Rose laughed but her skin tingled in anticipation. ‘It’s just… I recently was in a situation where I was trying to understand the legacy of Jane Austen’s writing on the world… and then I realised your name might be – have been – different, if Elizabeth Bennet hadn’t been created.’

  Liz chuckled. ‘I dunno.’ She paused. ‘Oh dear! Think of the possibilities. Something from Jane Eyre, perhaps. Jane would’ve been okay; Bertha?’ She went off into peals of laughter. ‘That would have made me Bertha Bottomley!’

  Rose laughed, too.

  ‘Thank God for Pride & Prejudice, right, Rose?’

  ‘You have no idea how much I agree with you.’

  ‘All right, mate; let me go call this lady and see if she can help me out. Probably won’t see you before Sunday, what with the festival and your friend over. Hey, feel free to bring a guest if you like. Bye.’

  Rose’s immediate thought was not of Morgan, and she put the phone down hastily, relieved Liz couldn’t see the deep blush filling her cheeks.

  Barely five minutes later, Rose walked quickly down to Laura Place to meet Morgan, trying hard to keep a control on her sheer joy at the world being back to normal; if her friend thought anything unusual about the ferocity of Rose’s hug when they met, she didn’t comment on it.

  They had walked into town to enjoy a leisurely lunch, with Morgan filling Rose in on her evening with James. He had invited her out to dinner, and then they’d had a nightcap back at her flat, and it was agreed, from whichever cultural angle you looked at it, this constituted a proper date.

  It was a lovely September afternoon, and Rose had persuaded Morgan to take a stroll around the streets of Bath to enjoy the weather, finding it hard to suppress her delight on discovering the Jane Austen Centre returned to its usual place and the window of the Tourist Information Centre once again displaying its Austen-related merchandise.

  Bumping into some of their friends, two of whom were beautifully dressed in full costume again, they agreed to take afternoon tea in the Pump Room. They weren’t the only table of festival-goers in the elegant building, and there was plenty of banter being thrown about the room as the musicians played a suitable musical accompaniment, and Rose had looked around contentedly.

  Morgan’s holiday still stretched before them; a Morgan who couldn’t stop talking about and exchanging texts with James; a James who clearly wasn’t feeling his usual workaholic self. On top of all that, this evening was Aiden’s talk. She would be seeing him, albeit at a distance, for the first time since things had returned to normal.

  Before that, however, there was a talk on Regency social etiquette to attend where, typically, Morgan ended up at the front as soon as a volunteer was asked for, and threw herself into the role of a Regency lady giving the ‘cut direct’ to the other volunteer, much to the audience’s amusement.

  After that, they’d met up with Sandy and Tess for dinner, before splitting up, their friends to go to a musical recital at the Holburne Museum, and Rose and Morgan heading for the venue where Aiden would be doing his presentation.

  A little of the euphoria which had carried Rose through the past twenty-four hours had faded by the time they arrived outside the Theatre Royal. She’d been living in a blissful haze, so wrapped up in the delight of being back where she belonged, and with all things Jane Austen back in their rightful place, too, that she hadn’t thought too much beyond it.

  Now, standing in a long queue, virtually all-female, waiting to be let into the theatre, she was filled with misgivings at the thought of seeing Aiden.

  ‘Wow! This must be a sell-out.’ Morgan winked at Rose.

  The woman in front turned and grinned at them. ‘It usually is. Last year, there were people sitting on the floor because they’d run out of chairs.’ She gave a pronounced wink. ‘That’s the draw of the gorgeous Doc for you.’

  ‘He used to talk at the Mission,’ added her friend, nodding her head down the road. ‘But he’s too popular, so they’ve put him here this year.’

  None of this was news to Rose, but it was sufficient encouragement for Morgan to begin chatting in earnest with their new friends. Rose was silent, her anticipation jostling with her trepidation and turning her insides into a tight knot.

  The last time she’d talked to Aiden, he’d been asking her on a date – sort of. Did that Aiden exist any more? Of course he does – he is exactly the same person. It’s only the manner of your acquaintance that’s different.

  Rose drew in a steadying breath; could she hold onto this? Here she was, about to come face-to-face with him again and this couldn’t be further from a date. No, she was merely one of the crowd today… Rose turned to look around at the swelling sea of women of all ages waiting in excitement for his lecture. What were the odds now she could still have both of her worlds?

  ‘Hey, Rose, come on.’ Rose started as Morgan began to move forward. ‘The doors are open.’

  There were no allocated seats, so there was a mad rush as people tried to get the best ones, pouring in all directions down to the stalls. Rose had planned to sit in the back row so she could enjoy watching the presentation without being noticed. As Aiden had never so much as shown a flicker of recognition when she’d attended his talks in the past few years, she had no reason to expect today to be any different.

  ‘Nope. No hiding for you.’ Morgan grabbed her arm as Rose made to step along the back row. She went up on her tiptoes as she tried to scan the stalls, thwarted by a mêlée of hurrying bonnets and fans, then waved. ‘Damn, they can’t see us.’

  Putting her fingers to her lips, Morgan let out a loud whistle, then waved again.

  ‘We’ve saved you seats,’ called Marita. ‘Over here!’ She pointed to her right, where Rose could see Marita and Chrystal, and she bit her lip. They were in the front row.

  Her protests to Morgan went unheard, and she was dragged to the front – though thankfully at one end and not the centre of the row – and found herself sitting almost at eye level with the stage, which was equipped with nothing but a large, portable screen and a small table bearing the doctor’s familiar and battered laptop.

  Morgan turned around in her seat to chat to the women behind,
but then her mobile lit up. Rose almost rolled her eyes; she could make out James’s name, and she gave Morgan a nudge and nodded at it.

  To her surprise, however, Morgan ignored her phone and turned to face Rose; then she leaned conspiratorially closer to her. ‘You know I love you, right?’

  With a smile, Rose nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you also know you’ve been a little weird today?’

  After everything that had happened, or nearly happened, Rose could hardly say she felt surprised at the observation. ‘I know; sorry.’

  Morgan was peering closely at her. ‘Are you getting all overexcited about seeing…?’ She inclined her head towards the stage. ‘You Know Who? And no, I don’t mean Voldemort.’

  Swallowing quickly, Rose shook her head. ‘No, I think I’m a little tired.’

  ‘Earlier, it was like you were on some kind of high – like, unnaturally high, like you’d had one too many sodas. But now, you’re… well, I can’t put my finger on it. Is it about me? Have I said something or – no? Phew. Okay, so if not me then did your mom call or something?’

  ‘Don’t you think you’d better stop wasting time nagging me and answer lover boy’s text instead?’ Rose grinned and nudged Morgan affectionately. ‘If you don’t respond within seconds, he’ll think you’re lost or in danger or something and come tearing down here to rescue you.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ With a grin, Morgan turned her attention to the incoming text, responded quickly and then switched off the phone, tucking it into her pocket as the lights on the stage went up.

  Then she leaned towards Rose and whispered, ‘Rose Wallace, something has gotten into you.’

  Rose merely smiled and turned to look at the stage. Much as she loved Morgan, she wasn’t about to try and explain how she’d spent several days in the company of Jane Austen herself, a slightly different Morgan and an attentive doctor. Nor could she tell her she was now living those same days again – this time emotionally exhausted but overjoyed because she had helped to save novel writing and romantic literature from a dire fate and her own normal life to boot. There were some explanations best not put into words.