by Joan Aiken
She had often laughed at her own nonsense, but had continued to spin the stories. In the end, as she grew older and wiser, she had almost succeeded in laughing herself out of the habit; but her success, she now wincingly acknowledged, was because recently she had wondered, had suspected, had faint, but hopeful reason to believe that Matt Dixon was interested in her, was not insensible to her looks, her ways, her habits of thought, her attainments. He had talked to her so unguardedly, so pleasantly, in his warm Irish voice, on many evenings, their minds seemed to move together like birds in flight, with ease, with comradeship. They had sung and played together, their taste in music according so well. Matt was such an exceptional creature! Words from poor Mr Gillender’s absurd proposal came back to her: “the finest creature in Dorset — for all he knew, in the whole wide world! —” that might certainly be said of Matt Dixon. — The news of his debts was certainly a shock, a blow — but that must have been from youthful, hot-headed excesses during his first year in Cambridge, no doubt; he seemed steady enough now … Once having known Matt, who could possibly take an interest in any other man, be he never so well-disposed? Other men’s interests were so trivial, their ideas so idle and shallow. — And again Jane’s thoughts turned to Mr Gillender: what in the world could have possessed him to declare himself in such a fashion? So early in the day he could hardly be the worse for liquor — what could have incited him to act so? For Lady Selsea and her children made no attempt to conceal their low estimate of Rachel’s friend; they behaved to Jane as if she were some kind of upper servant. And hitherto young Mr Gillender had tended to follow their example. What new impulse could have possessed him?
At that moment Jane caught Lady Selsea’s eye, and received a frowning glance, a repelling gesture.
“Miss Fairfax, pray do not walk so close; you fidget the donkeys. Rather, go and tell my daughter Miss Selsea, if you please, that she must open her parasol or she will come out all over freckles; and Rachel would do well to observe the same precaution — not that Rachel appears to trouble herself about such things,” Lady Selsea added to Mrs Consett, who shook her head in agreement.
Jane, thus hinted away, increased her pace and conveyed the desired mandate to Charlotte, who tossed her head, more at the messenger than the message, but consented to unfold her parasol.
The group ahead, while following the line of the shore, had had its numbers augmented by the addition of two more young men, friends of Robert Selsea; now a general re-shuffle of partners took place; Jane found herself walking with Frank Churchill, an arrangement perfectly agreeable to her, since, though there had never been any especial friendship between them, he was at all times so cheerful and well-mannered that his company must never fail to please, unless one were in desperately miserable spirits. Just now he was extremely welcome.
Jane courteously inquired if he had recently heard from his father, Mr Weston, and if there were any news of Highbury; at once his face lit up.
“Why yes, Miss Fairfax! I have but this morning received tidings which, to me, must be of the most surpassing interest, and since it relates very much to Highbury also, I am sure that you will soon be receiving the same news from your own correspondents there; but I am happy to have the gratification of being first in the field.”
Jane looked her eager interest.
“Anything relating to dear Highbury must, you know, Mr Churchill, be of the closest and dearest importance to me; do, pray, tell what has happened?”
“My father is going to be married! As you may know, Miss Fairfax, a year or two back he bought the Randalls estate outside the village, and has been building his house and improving his property; now that his schemes are almost perfected he has lost no time in selecting a chatelaine for the property; and whom do you think he has chosen?”
Jane quickly cast her mind over the various eligible females of Highbury: the Misses Cox — Miss Otway, Miss Caroline Otway, Miss Bickerton — one wild notion did cross her mind, but that was soon dismissed —
“Upon my word, Mr Churchill, your riddle is too difficult for me! I have not the least notion in the world, and can only beseech you not to keep me in suspense.”
“It is a Miss Taylor!” he said in triumph. “Are you acquainted with a Miss Taylor?”
“Miss Taylor? Gracious heavens! You mean,” said Jane, almost doubting her own words, “you mean the Miss Taylor who has for many years been governess and companion to Miss Emma Woodhouse?”
“Yes, that, I am told, is the lady. I have not, of course, had the pleasure of meeting her myself, having, to my own shame let it be said, never set foot in Highbury. But I have it from my father’s own pen that Miss Taylor is the peak of perfection — kind, gentle, remarkably well-informed, with a most pleasing sense of humour, the patience of any Griselda, and, best of all, a true attachment to my father, who, I must say, deserves to be the guardian of all these virtues, for he is the kindest, most good-natured man alive. So is not this a fine piece of news?”
“It is indeed,” said Jane warmly, “and I am very happy for Mr Weston and sincerely wish him well. If there is any man worthy of such a piece of fortune, it is your father. And I am able to endorse all the good things that he has said about Miss Taylor, for I have known her since I was six. — But I am afraid the news will not be received with such joy in the Woodhouse family; I suspect that old Mr Woodhouse and his daughter Emma will miss the company of their friend most severely.”
“Oh, well,” said Frank with easy indifference, “it is in the nature of governesses to move on at intervals from family to family, is it not?”
Jane agreed with a slight chill at her heart that this was the case.
“But here,” he continued, “they will not be losing the lady to any great distance, after all. She may still be a neighbour and friend. And what a pleasure to lose her so nobly — not to another period of servitude, but to an establishment of her own, a very handsome establishment, and to a strongly attached husband. They must be hard-hearted people if they begrudge her such a future. — Not being acquainted with the Woodhouse family, I cannot, of course, presume to pronounce upon their attitude to this event.”
Jane assured him that Mr Woodhouse was a most benevolent old gentleman, and that Miss Woodhouse might be depended on to behave with grace at all times.
“How old is she?”
“My age. She will soon be twenty-one.”
“Oh well — then she has no more need for a governess. I tell you, Miss Fairfax,” exclaimed Mr Churchill, “this news finally decides me. For some reason, I have never found it easy to obtain my guardians’ permission to visit Highbury; one objection or another has always been raised; I hardly know, myself, how it has come about that I have never set foot there, but now the time has come when I must break this embargo. Do you not agree? It is high time that I made my way thither, and a wedding visit would make an excellent pretext for so doing. My guardians could hardly take exception to that, would you think?”
Very warmly, Jane agreed that she could see no reason why the Churchills should forbid such a natural visit. “Why not attend the wedding itself?”
But at that Frank did shake his head doubtfully.
“My aunt, Miss Fairfax, is full of very strong pride, the Churchill pride. I make no attempt to defend it; to me it is a puzzle; I inherit from my good father a republican streak and a lack of proper pride which has often been the despair of my friends. I am as happy talking with a drover as with a duke. — But when my mother, who died at my birth, married Captain Weston, as he was then, the Churchills felt that she had made a hideous misalliance, and cast her off. And the breach formed then has never wholly healed. I fear that when they learn that my father, on his remarriage, is allying himself with a Miss Taylor — a governess — their estimate of him will only be reinforced.”
Jane could only feel sorry for the young man, brought up in what seemed to her such wrong-headed and unpleasant surroundings.
“Oddly enough,” he went on, “I understan
d that Miss Taylor is a distant connection of Lady Selsea’s husband Sir Adam — whose name, you may be aware, had been Jones before his ennoblement.” Jane shook her head. “But that, I am afraid, would not endear her any more to my aunt.”
Jane had no comment to offer, and they walked for some distance in a comfortable, friendly silence. Their path now lay over a sandy ridge, and the small hamlet of Upwey could be seen not far ahead, in a declivity among a group of trees.
Mr Churchill then, glancing about him, apparently to ensure that he would be unheard, which was the case, for they were removed by several hundred yards from any of their companions, said,
“Miss Fairfax, I am a little troubled in mind about a matter relating to your friend Miss Campbell. May I confide it to you? For I believe your good sense will be able to decide whether any action should be taken, and, if so, what.”
“Of course, please do confide in me, Mr Churchill,” Jane answered, in some surprise. “Anything that relates to Miss Campbell must be of concern to me — though I am quite at a loss to imagine what the problem may be.”
“It is a matter of gossip,” said he. “Gossip which is bandied about among such frippery fellows as Gillender and Wisbech and Frome at the Assembly Rooms and coffee houses. Yes, you may well look astonished! But rest assured it is no questionable behaviour on the part of your friend that has called forth such talk, merely a rumour, originating nobody knows where: this has it that Mrs Fitzroy possesses a fabulous collection of jewels which she is bound, by entail, to bequeath to the first of her granddaughters to marry.”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Jane. “What a farrago! Mrs Fitzroy (I need hardly say) has never taken me into her confidence about her property, but it has long since been understood in the family that her resources are slender — which was why she was obliged to take up residence with Colonel Campbell in the first place. I would doubt very much if she has more than a few hundred pounds’ worth of trinkets; such as she wears are elegant, to be sure, but of no particular value. I wonder who can have started such a tale?”
“Though its origin may be in doubt, there can be none as to its prevalence. It is all over Weymouth, in the clubs and cardhouses. And I am afraid the gentlemen in the clubs are laying odds on the respective chances of the two young ladies, the granddaughters, Miss Campbell and her cousin. It had been thought that Miss Campbell might make a match of it with Mr Dixon. But now Miss Selsea —”
“Good God!” exclaimed Jane. “What a situation!”
But, another group overtaking them at this moment, she was unable to say more, except to ask in a hurried undertone, “Do you think it possible that Miss Selsea has heard this tale? Perhaps from her brother?”
Frank Churchill’s expressive nod was all the answer she required.
Chapter 9
The wishing-well at Upwey consisted of a plenteous spring of clear water which gushed, fountain-wise, from an aperture in a fern-fringed rock-face and fell some three or four feet into a basin below, whose sandy floor was liberally besprinkled with offerings, from buttons, ribbon-bows and bent pins to brass rings and half-guinea pieces. The local rector declaimed from time to time in his pulpit against such idolatrous and heathenish practices, but this did nothing to quench the faith of the people round about in the water’s efficacy against all known ills, and power to grant wishes for every variety of future happiness. As the spring lay such a pleasant distance from Weymouth, easy walking for an afternoon’s promenade, it was a rare summer day that did not see several groups of visitors come on foot to the picturesque spot and make trial of its magical powers.
Today a group of sailors and their female companions had walked out to try the spring’s virtues, and there were screams, and laughter, and splashing, and much horse-play; but when this company had tired of the sport and wandered off to the village ale-house, the party of gentry made a more sedate approach.
“Come, now, Miss Selsea,” gallantly urged Lord Osbert Wincham, one of Robert’s friends who had joined their group, “I understand that it is necessary to drink the water from your cupped hands as it falls from the rock; shall I carry you across? Those tiny boots of yours look far too fine to venture upon the wet, slippery rocks!”
Three flat-topped stepping-stones made a span of the pool but, probably due to the recent rains, they were only just above water-level.
Charlotte gave a little coquettish cry. “Oh! Lord Osbert! I am sure you would drop me! Oh, what shall I do? How can it be approached?”
Frank Churchill, with instant, cheerful address, stepped briskly across the stones, filled his cupped hands with water and, returning, proffered them to Charlotte.
“There, Miss Selsea! You may dip your little finger — or your lips, if you so choose!”
But Charlotte, though she smiled, and thanked, and looked obliged, made such an elaborate business of folding up her parasol and taking a kerchief from her reticule that all the water had drained from Frank’s hands before she was ready.
“Oh, dear me! Now what is to be done?”
Rachel, with a perfectly blank face, yet contrived to meet Jane’s eye as Lord Osbert promptly picked up Miss Selsea and made his way over the rocks, holding the lady so that she might cup a little of the water into her own hand.
“Now you must take a wish, Miss Selsea!”
“O, gracious me! But what must I wish?” She raised her eyes with pretty deference to the gentleman as he set her down safely again upon the bank.
“That must remain a secret or the wish loses its efficacy,” pronounced Lord Osbert, who was a tall young man of patrician appearance: that is to say, he had already, at the age of thirty, lost a great deal of hair from the top of his head, and was somewhat deficient in chin. But this deficiency was compensated by a fine nose and a general air of assurance, hardly justified, Jane privately thought, by the gentleman’s intellectual endowments.
Charlotte closed her eyes tight, smiling.
Meanwhile Lord Osbert’s friend Mr Carlisle had assisted Rachel, by himself chivalrously striding knee-deep through the pool while he supported her progress across the slippery rocks; she drank a little water, laughed, coughed, and with his help returned safely to dry land again.
“Now you, Miss Fairfax!” cried Mr Gillender, who had contrived to place himself at Jane’s side. “Allow me to carry you — pray let me be of service!”
“There is not the least need for that, thank you,” said Jane, and expeditiously got herself over the stones and back before he could intervene. Sipping the teaspoonful of cold spring water in her palm, she closed her eyes tightly, and thought: Rachel. My wish is for Rachel. May I never stand in the way of her happiness.
“Why, Miss Fairfax!” cried Mrs Consett censoriously — the two ladies in the donkey-carriage had arrived while the wishing ceremony was in process — “look, you have allowed your petticoat to dip in the pool and now it is most shockingly wet!”
Mr Gillender exclaimed with concern: should he run to the inn, procure a cloak, a blanket, what could he do, how could he be of aid?
Jane assured him calmly that it was nothing, the weather was warm and windy, it would dry fast enough on the walk home. She could see that the two older ladies observed with great disapproval this passage between her and the gentleman; she stepped away from him and went to Rachel, who stood at some distance from the group.
“Did you make a good wish?”
Rachel’s smile was sufficient answer.
“The best in the world. For a friend.”
“Mine too.”
“I think mine is already beginning to operate,” said Rachel, glancing to where Charlotte was permitting Lord Osbert to dry her hands with his kerchief. “I think, thank heaven, that Matt’s star is on the wane already.”
“Assisted in its decline by the sum of thirty thousand a year.”
“Now, Jane, you are being spiteful.”
“No; merely realistic.”
Jane reflected that however much Miss Selsea may have bee
n attracted by Matt Dixon’s real worth, real charm, she must know that she had little hope of securing him while his brother lay seriously ill; if she believed the absurd rumour about the jewels — or if she merely wished to be the victor in this matrimonial contest, speed was a more important factor than the satisfaction of winning her cousin’s beau, and Lord Osbert might offer a safer prospect.
On the way home, Jane again found Frank Churchill at her side.
She was pleased: first, because his company kept Mr Gillender at a distance; secondly because she had had time to reflect on the piece of gossip he had given her.
“Mr Churchill: I have been thinking much about what you told me.”
“The gems?” he murmured.
“The same. And, while I am almost certain there can be no truth in the story, and it has simply been circulated by some idle mischief-maker, yet I think it would be much better not to inform — my friend — the other lady.” He nodded, with a look full of intelligence. “It would do nothing but distress and embarrass her. As matters stand, she has little enough confidence; to be aware of such an odious circumstance as that wagers are being laid would cast her utterly down. And to what purpose? If the story were true, she would not be interested in such an inheritance. I have often heard her declare how little sympathy she has for — for the older lady’s interest in dress and adornment. Let her keep her peace of mind.”
“I am glad that is your opinion,” said Mr Churchill. “And I entirely agree. You are a good friend, I think, Miss Fairfax.”
“I hope — I try to be,” said Jane, thinking of her wish at the pool. “What I will do, I think, is to tell Colonel Campbell. He should certainly know. And he may know what proper steps to take.”
“Are you sure that he will not believe Miss Campbell should be informed? Or scold her about it? He is not very clear-headed where she is concerned.”
