Secrets in the Snow

by Michaela MacColl

  “I don’t believe it,” Edward protested.

  “I have the proof right here.”

  Jane heard the rustle of paper and a half-breathed mumble as Edward read it aloud. “This seems harmless enough,” he said, chuckling lightly. “A servant from her husband’s estate is asking for money. It’s common enough; hardly a threat to our nation’s security.”

  “Or it may be a clever code,” the major countered. “We cannot take the risk. The War Office needs your help.”

  Jane heard the table squeak across the floor as Edward shoved it away from him and got up. Jane pressed herself deep into the chair’s upholstery to keep hidden.

  “What kind of help?” Edward asked finally, distaste in his voice.

  “Invite her here, to Godmersham. You’re only twenty miles from the coast. We think it very likely her spymasters won’t be able to resist having her collect sensitive information.”

  “What do you think she has to offer the French? The latest hats here in Kent?”

  “The Countess has been traveling among the various port towns—”

  “Where she has many friends,” Edward interrupted.

  “Exactly.” Major Smythe spoke as if Edward had conceded the point, not rebutted it. “She may be passing information about our readiness to repel an attack. And we know you are hosting a shooting party next week. Many important military men will be here. I don’t have to tell you how easy it is for men to be indiscreet with a beautiful woman.”

  Slowly, Edward said, “It is not a coincidence that her arrangements were unsettled, is it?”

  “No. We prevailed upon her hostess to feign an illness. We hoped she would contact your sister, Miss Jane Austen. Who in turn would invite the Countess here.”

  Jane frowned. She didn’t like being manipulated.

  “I do not appreciate my hospitality being abused.” Edward’s voice was indignant. “Nor do I like inviting my cousin here under false pretenses.”

  Jane nodded. Despite her brother’s recent acquisition of wealth and position, she was relieved to see that he was still loyal to his family.

  “No one hopes that more than I. But what if you are wrong, Mr. Knight? How would that look for your family? You have brothers with careers to make in the military. Besides, if my suspicions are correct, in light of the Countess’s connection to your family, it could be arranged that the consequences would not be severe.”

  “You can promise that?” Edward asked.

  Jane sighed. Her brother was going to give in.

  “Yes. So you’ll do it?”

  “I believe you are mistaken about Eliza,” Edward said. “But as I am sworn to protect England—and for the sake of my family—I will do as you ask.”

  Jane pressed her knuckles to her lips. She waited for Edward to show Major Smythe out. Then, unable to contain herself, she jumped up, fists clenched at her side.

  “Edward, I’m ashamed of you!” she cried.

  “Jane, what the devil are you doing there?” Edward shouted.

  “Mortified that my own brother should so betray another member of the family. Especially one as sweet and deserving of our trust as Eliza,” Jane shot back. “Who among us has suffered as she has?”

  Edward’s florid face flushed even more with anger and embarrassment. “You’re eavesdropping again,” he scolded. “It was an irritating habit when you were young; now it is deplorable.”

  He towered over her, but she tilted her chin up and met his gaze squarely. “I did not intend to eavesdrop, but what was I to do when you and your crony started to malign my dearest cousin?”

  Edward’s bluster evaporated. He sank into an armchair and looked imploringly at his sister. “You heard everything—do you think Smythe’s suspicions could be true?”

  “Of course not,” Jane insisted. “Eliza would never be a traitor. She is much too frivolous. She couldn’t hold a treasonous plot in her head for more than a few minutes. You know her, Edward!”

  “He showed me proof.” Edward’s eyes went to his desk. Before he could stop her, Jane strode over and picked up the letter there. “That’s confidential!”

  She scanned it quickly. “This is not proof of anything. It’s a harmless letter from a servant. It’s hardly a state secret.”

  “You heard Smythe—he thinks it’s a code.”

  “I’m sure your Major Smythe sees conspiracies everywhere. Clearly Eliza’s travels, her Continental friends, and her admiration of French fashion have aroused his worst misgivings. But just because he wants this to be an encoded message doesn’t make it so. Eliza would no sooner betray England than she would wear last season’s gown.”

  The tension left Edward’s face. “I’m sure you’re right. She will visit, nothing will happen, and Major Smythe will forget all about her.” Edward put his hands on Jane’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’ll take that letter; it should be locked up.”

  Reluctant to part with the only evidence against Eliza, Jane handed it to him.

  “And I want you to stop prying into other people’s affairs,” he said over his shoulder as he stowed the letter in his desk. “It’s not ladylike. Who’ll marry a woman who cannot mind her own business?”

  “As if marrying is the sum of my desires!” Jane replied.

  “Dear sister, while you’re tolerably pretty, you’ve no fortune.” The kindness in his eyes took some of the sting out of his words. “You must hide that wit of yours and behave yourself. I know that Elizabeth has invited some eligible men for you to meet during our shooting party. I had hoped Cassandra would meet someone, too, but she seems set on her curate.” Cassandra had an understanding with a poor cleric named Fowle who could not yet afford a wife.

  “Cassandra loves her Mr. Fowle and is happy to wait for him,” Jane retorted. “I, on the other hand, am in no hurry to yoke my future to someone else’s.”

  “It’s high time. How old are you now? Twenty?”

  “Nineteen,” Jane said, trying to reclaim a little dignity.

  “Then I’ll have Elizabeth invite a few more gentlemen who can overlook your opinions . . . and your advanced age.”

  Jane grabbed a pillow from a chair and tossed it at his head. “Get out!” she cried.

  “Guard that temper of yours,” he teased, wagging a finger at her. When she picked up a book, he protected his head with his arms. Chuckling, Edward retreated from the room.

  Jane rushed to the desk, but it was locked tight. Ruefully she admitted to herself that her brother knew her only too well. However, she had an excellent memory. She quickly jotted down the sender’s name and the details of the letter.

  Tucking her notation in her skirt pocket, she wrote another letter to Eliza. This letter contradicted the first in every particular. Do not come to Godmersham, she wrote. Instead she suggested that they meet somewhere nearby and continue on to Steventon together.

  Jane rang for the footman. When he glided into the room—how did Elizabeth train them to be so silent?—Jane spoke without ceremony. “That letter I gave you earlier? I’d like it back, please.”

  A superior look on his face, the footman answered, “It has already been posted, Miss.”

  “For the first time, I see the disadvantage of having too organized a household,” Jane murmured. “Very well; Eliza will just have to pay the postage twice.” Since the recipient paid the postage, Jane was usually more considerate with her letter writing, but Eliza’s doting godfather had settled a fortune on her, so Jane wasn’t overly worried that she was taxing her cousin’s purse.

  The footman whipped out a silver tray from behind his back and accepted the letter. He turned to leave, but Jane called him back. “By any chance do you know where my sister is?”

  “In the nursery, Miss.”

  “Of course she is.” Jane sighed in exasperation.

  A flicker of emotion flitted across the footman’s face. As Jane left for the nursery, she was sure she saw him struggling to contain a smile.

  Jane made her way
to the nursery to find Cassandra literally overrun with children. The littlest boy, Harry, was perched on Cassandra’s stomach. Jane lifted him off and put him to one side. He started to howl.

  Jane knelt down to gaze straight into his eyes. “Harry, do you know what terrible thing happened to the last little boy who cried too much?” she asked solemnly.

  His mouth snapped shut. Staring at her, mesmerized, he shook his head.

  “He was snatched up by a monster that gnashed his legs between its gigantic teeth like toothpicks before—”

  “Jane!” Cassandra scolded.

  “Go find your nanny,” Jane said. Harry, his eyes wide and terrified, scurried away to the other side of the nursery.

  “You should be kinder to the children, Jane,” Cassandra said with a sigh.

  “Forget the children,” Jane snapped. “It is urgent that we talk privately.”

  She glanced over at the nanny occupied with her charges in the corner.

  Cassandra obediently clambered to her feet, dusted off her skirts, and asked, “Whatever is the matter?”

  Now that it was time to confide in her sister, Jane wasn’t sure what to say. “It may be nothing . . .”

  “It’s not like you to bewilder me so! What on earth has happened?”

  “I overheard something.”

  Cassandra’s delicate eyebrows lifted and came together in a charming scowl. “Jane! Eavesdropping again? It’s such a deplorable habit!”

  Jane rushed to explain. “I was reading in the library when Edward came in. He had a clandestine meeting in the library with a stranger who came in by way of the garden. Of course I had to listen. Wouldn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that may be. But you are always happy to hear what I have uncovered!” Jane pulled her armchair closer to her sister and leaned her dark head near Cassandra’s fair cheek.

  As Jane whispered what she had heard, she was gratified to watch Cassandra’s puzzlement turn to outrage. “That is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!” Cassandra cried. “Eliza is a true Englishwoman. What does it matter if she prefers French food? You didn’t credit this accusation for an instant, did you?”

  “Of course not,” Jane hurriedly reassured her.

  “Besides,” Cassandra continued, “Eliza has spent more time in England nursing her mother and caring for her son than she ever spent in France. Poor Hastings requires all her attention. She wouldn’t have any time to spy for France, even if she had the inclination!”

  “And she would never help the regime that has made her a widow,” Jane finished.

  “What can we do?” Cassandra asked.

  Jane took Cassandra’s hands in hers. She couldn’t help but notice how spotless they were compared with her own ink-stained fingers. “I’ve already written to Eliza, warning her not to come.”

  “Did you tell her why?”

  “Not in a letter. As Eliza will have to learn, our private correspondence is not as secure as we would like. I simply said I would prefer to meet her somewhere else. But I made the letter as mysterious as possible to be sure she pays attention.”

  “But we’ve only just arrived!”

  “I won’t lure Eliza here for Edward and his spies in the War Office.”

  “Does our brother know your plan?”

  “Of course not. Edward has no gift for spycraft,” Jane said. “But since you shall remain, you can report to me anything Edward reveals, however inadvertently. I doubt that our correspondence is important enough to be intercepted, so our secrets should be safe.”

  Cassandra tilted her head and regarded her younger sister. “But Edward won’t let you hire a coach by yourself.” It was a perpetual problem. The Austen sisters often had invitations to visit one house or another, but their male relations forbade them to travel without an escort.

  Jane frowned for a moment and then dismissed the problem with a wave. “I’ll think of something.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “There is a stubbornness about me that

  never can bear to be frightened at the

  will of others. My courage always rises

  at every attempt to intimidate me.”

  PRIDE AND PREJUDICE

  Jane received another letter the next day while the family and their guests were sitting in the drawing room before dinner. The late-afternoon sun was fading and the servants were starting to light the expensive wax candles. Edward and Elizabeth had their dinner at the fashionably late hour of five o’clock. At home, the Austens ate while there was still natural light to see by. Cassandra was showing Elizabeth her sketches of the children, while Jane read her book of poems. The footman presented the letter first to Elizabeth, who waved him toward Jane.

  Edward was watchful as Jane broke the wax seal on the letter. She met his eyes briefly over the top of the paper and then silently read Eliza’s words, scrawled large with no regard for economy of paper or ink.

  Ma chère Jane,

  Quel mystère délicieux. First you invite me to the finest château in Kent, then in the same day you not only rescind the invitation, but insist we must rendezvous elsewhere! How delightfully secretive.

  I will wait for you at Sevenoaks. It is not so far from London nor Godmersham. There is a pleasant inn there, the Fox and Hounds. I will send my carriage to fetch you demain après-midi. Jacques, my coachman, is an excellent driver and will conduct you here in perfect safety.

  À bientôt!

  Eliza

  Eliza’s curiosity was gratifying and ensured that she would do as Jane asked. Given the circumstances, Jane would have preferred her cousin restrain her liberal use of French phrases, but Eliza had affected such mannerisms for too long to change now.

  Suddenly aware of the silence in the room, Jane looked up to see everyone’s eyes on her.

  “Is it from your dear cousin?” Elizabeth asked eagerly. “When will she be coming?”

  “Yes, Jane, when?” Edward asked, suspicion in his eyes.

  “Unfortunately, Eliza must decline your kind invitation,” Jane said, watching her brother. “She is still overcome with grief from the sad business of her husband’s death. She prefers to go to Steventon, where she can retreat from all society.”

  “Nonsense,” Edward said. “If she is melancholy, your company is the surest antidote.”

  Jane glanced triumphantly at Cassandra. “Dear Edward, I am so glad you think so. Even though I have only just arrived at Godmersham, I feel it is my duty to go to my cousin and be her comfort.”

  “But . . . that’s not what I meant!” Edward babbled.

  Elizabeth frowned, her thoughts as apparent as if she had written them down. If the Comtesse was unavailable, then Elizabeth could very well spare Jane. “But what about Cassandra?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I will stay, of course,” Cassandra assured her.

  With a relieved smile, Elizabeth took up her embroidery. “Good. We cannot do without her!” Without much interest, she asked, “Jane, when will you go?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense!” Edward nearly shouted. “I cannot spare the carriage, and I won’t allow you to travel by post chaise alone.” He folded his arms smugly across his chest.

  Carefully folding Eliza’s letter and placing it in her pocket, Jane looked at her brother. “Happily, I do not need to impose upon you or your carriage. Eliza is sending hers for me.”

  The next day, precisely at noon, Eliza’s carriage arrived. Jane followed its progress through the park from the bedroom window.

  “Perfect,” Jane said, pointing the fine carriage out to her sister. “No fewer than four horses. Even Edward will have nothing to complain about.”

  “I wish I were going with you,” Cassandra said.

  Jane lifted her eyebrows. “You hate adventure. Your preference is always to be in front of a warm fire.”

  Cassandra shrugged her shoulders and smiled.

  “Besides,” Jane continued, “you must stay here and find out as much as you c
an. Edward won’t suspect you of ulterior motives.”

  “Unlike you, I have no hidden depths,” Cassandra said. “I seem scrupulous because I am.”

  “But you shall be all the more guileful for that,” Jane assured her.

  After she said her goodbyes to Cassandra, Jane went down the main staircase, Mervyn the footman following behind with her trunk. Elizabeth was indisposed after lunch, sparing Jane the effort of saying farewell, but Edward was waiting at the front door.

  “Jane,” he began. “I am your older brother, and I must forbid you to go.”

  Jane stared at him for a few moments until he looked abashed. “I can make my own decisions,” she said lightly.

  With a glance at the footman, Edward drew her to an alcove in the main hall. “Jane, I know you are responsible for Eliza’s change of plans. You must bring her here so I can clear her name.”

  “Dear brother, you half-believe she is guilty. I do not. Which of us is better suited to help her?”

  “You are meddling in affairs that are bigger than yourself. It is dangerous,” he warned.

  “I won’t be used to lure Eliza into a trap, brother. I’ll solve this problem on my own—without your Major Smythe.”

  “Then perhaps I should come to Steventon?”

  “And what of your very important guests?” Jane asked mischievously. “They are expecting a shooting party.”

  “Blast the guests. This is family business,” he said.

  “Father is at Oxford, but Mother would be delighted to see you. She often says that since you came into your inheritance, you never visit.”

  “That’s unfair. I’ve got so much to do on the estate . . .” he began before he realized she was mocking him. “Stop teasing, Jane. Very well, I’ll let you go. But take care, please? I don’t think there’s anything to this story of Eliza being a spy, but there must be something going on to arouse Smythe’s suspicions.”

  “He struck me as a most mistrustful sort of person.”

  “That’s his job,” Edward said. “Are you sure you will be all right going alone?”