by Jane Odiwe
Again, my lips would not move. I was not feeling at all like myself, and was sure my quiet acceptance would make him think that I was perfectly happy with his proposition.
‘Do not worry, my dear, I shall look after you very well and I know, you will make me a very happy man.’
I didn’t want to listen to him, but there was no means of escape. I felt like a tiny bird trapped in a gilded cage and imagined that was exactly how I would feel forever if Mr Glanville got his way. I knew that if my father half suspected his intentions there would be no escape, no reprieve. As panic surged inside me, my emotions ebbed and flowed, like the waves I could hear crashing down on the beach below, sucking the life and hope out of my very soul.
I became aware of another figure standing nearby bringing with him an air of calm to pacify the quiet rage growing inside me.
Charles, as tall and physically imposing as ever, had a gentleness of spirit. He stood at my side and without saying a word made me feel instantly better. His brother Henry and his wife followed just a little behind him. Mrs Austen immediately commandeered Mr Glanville and I could see how easily her playful manner and quick wit worked on him. I wondered if her husband minded her flirtatious ways with other gentlemen, but he looked as if he were rather used to it. In five minutes, she had praised and teased, flirted and cajoled my cousin into thinking that the invitation he now gave was an idea all of his own.
‘A picnic at Nelson House on the morrow, Mrs Austen. Would that satisfy your notion of an entertainment here in Lyme? I am afraid we are not so fashionable as at Tunbridge Wells, but we know how to enjoy ourselves. Please tell me that you are not engaged for other pursuits.’
‘We are not engaged, Mr Glanville,’ she declared excitedly, turning to her husband in anticipation. ‘We shall be delighted to accept your very kind invitation.’ And had I just seen her wink at her brother-in-law as her back was turned to the gentleman so keen to make her acquaintance?
‘Charles,’ she said, breaking into a pretty smile, ‘take Miss Elliot for another dance whilst we finalize arrangements. Tell me, Mr Glanville, is Nelson House as handsome as its owner?’
Eliza Austen was outrageous, but I loved her for it. I couldn’t help thinking that she had intended the evening to go just this way, that she already knew that Charles wanted to dance with me again and that we could only be together if she engineered it. I worried about what my father would think of it all, but I noticed how quickly Mrs Austen managed to draw him into the conversation. As Charles took me out onto the dance floor, I could see our cousin hanging on her every word. I had no doubt that her rank had won him over, not to mention her dazzling beauty and captivating ways.
Chapter Thirty Four
The Austen’s carriage rolled along the gravel sweep at noon. I had been watching from the drawing room that gave such a fine view across the town and to the sea that looked like a strip of violet ribbon in the distance. Grey clouds billowed out across the water like a magnificent sail threatening rain and I wondered if the picnic might have to be cancelled. Everyone was gathered to await our guests. Emma had seated herself next to Mr Glanville on a chaise longue, my father and Mrs Randall sat at opposite ends of the room, whilst Marianne could not decide where to be comfortable. One moment she sat beside Mrs Randall, the next minute she came bounding over to the window impatient for any movement below.
The second she saw the carriage door open she cried out and there was a general bustle as everyone adjusted their cuffs, their gowns and patted their hair in anticipation of the expected company. The coachman leapt off his perch to let down the steps. I saw Eliza Austen first, a picture in blue striped silk with a straw bonnet beribboned in the same fabric, followed by her husband, and lastly, the person I most wished to see. Charles glanced up at the window and grinned. I waved and my heart turned a somersault when he waved back.
My father and Mr Glanville jumped to their feet as Eliza Austen made her entrance, pausing a little at the door for most impact. The effect she had on the gentlemen was astonishing and it was all I could do not to laugh as they bowed and preened, fawning over her every word.
A chair nearest to Mr Glanville and Emma was fetched for Mrs Austen who immediately started a conversation with them.
Henry Austen came to stand with Charles, Mrs Randall and myself at the other end. I heard our host ask how long the Austens were to be in Lyme.
‘Oh, only for another day, Mr Glanville,’ Mrs Austen replied.
‘Unfortunately, my husband has business in town that must be returned to, and it is impossible to spare any further time. More is the pity, as I am inclined for some travel abroad.’
‘But where should you go, Mrs Austen?’ Mr Glanville ventured. ‘I do not think it safe to be travelling on the continent just yet.’
Eliza Austen patted his arm. ‘Please do not concern yourself, sir. I am a long seasoned traveller and I have little fear, especially of those whom I regard quite as my countrymen. I long to return to France where I was first married and, indeed, if ever my property is to be reclaimed, I must go. I do not fear old Boney and neither does Mr Austen. Do you, my dear?’
Personally, I felt Mr Austen did not look quite as convinced as his wife, but he smiled and looked at her with such an expression of adoration, he looked as if he would do anything she asked. They were an unusual couple. He was as handsome as she was beautiful, but I was sure he was much younger than she and I felt most curious about their relationship.
My father spoke up. ‘You still have a property in France? Is it not secure?’
Eliza’s face saddened and she twisted the mourning ring on her finger. ‘Sadly, my first husband, the Comte de Feuillide, was taken from our home never to return. He insisted that I leave France for my sake and that of our poor child, Hastings, who has since been so cruelly taken from us all. I pray that he knows his father once more, now that they are together in heaven. Until the present time, I have not been able to think about the possibility of returning, but with the Peace, I hope very much to claim back our land. The packet boat is sailing once more between Calais and
Dover, and I will never be happy until I have seen for myself what has happened.’
‘But, is it safe?’ asked Mr Glanville. ‘Will you not suffer any danger?’
‘I believe an amnesty has been declared for all the old families and if we pay our respects to Madame Josephine, we shall escape the effects of Madame Guillotine!’ Eliza Austen laughed, a sound that tinkled like a little bell in contrast to the sombre mood of the moment before. ‘A little flattery and a lot of bribery will no doubt help my cause. Besides, I long to go to Paris and see all the latest fashions.’
‘I would love to go to Paris,’ Emma cried. ‘I have seen pictures in the monthly magazine. All the women look like Greek goddesses in clinging muslins.’
‘Mr Glanville must take you there when you are married,’ Mrs Austen continued, without any hint of the embarrassment she might be causing. ‘Forgive me, but I could not help noticing how perfectly delicious you appear together sitting side by side on a loveseat. Miss Elliot blushes and you, sir, are looking most bashful. But, everyone loves the thought of a summer wedding and I am certain you will not disappoint us. Besides, the whole town is talking of nothing else!’
Emma beamed and I saw her try to catch Mr Glanville’s eye, though I noticed his eyes resting once more upon Eliza Austen. We were all paused to hear his reply, when the room darkened suddenly and the first spots of rain came pattering against the glass of the windows.
Marianne got up to view the scene outside. ‘Oh, no, our picnic will be ruined. Whatever shall we do now?’
Our host seemed relieved to have an excuse to consider the situation. He marched over to the window to tell us what we could already plainly see. The rain was coming down steadily. Charles and I were the only people who did not join him. We stood very still, side by side, his arm brushing mine. I felt his eyes on my face, but his nearness was having such an effect on me, I couldn’t
look up straight away. When I did, his eyes connected with mine striking like the forks of lightning that were crackling in the skies outside.
I was only conscious of them and everything and everyone else seemed to fade into insignificance. So much so, that I began to wonder if I was slipping through time once more. I swayed. Charles caught my arm. I felt warm fingers cup my elbow and his looks were so tender, I melted inside.
Thunder rumbled in the distance and the rain came down in torrents. Mr Glanville turned to us all. ‘Do not worry, my friends. I have a solution on this wet day. In anticipation, I instructed my staff to serve a cold collation in the Chinese conservatory. Let us not delay a moment longer, we will picnic whatever the weather. Mrs Austen, I hope you will advise me. The conservatory is decorated in the style favoured by the Prince of Wales, you know, and I do not yet think I have quite furnished it with objets d’art enough!’
We followed him downstairs, the conversations of a moment ago replaced by other trivial talk. We passed along a winding corridor toward the back of the house where the walls blossomed with crimson peonies and chrysanthemums and where golden bells and painted fretwork vied with roaring dragon’s heads which writhed in the ceiling above, eyes wild and tongues lashing. We soon arrived at a scene from a Chinese fairy tale. The conservatory, a vast glass room was filled with hothouse flora, japanned cabinets, pagodas and bamboo boxes. A series of mirrored panels between the windows added to the sense of theatrical illusion with reflections repeating again and again like the Chinese clock on the table chiming the hour. What seemed to be a flock of faux nightingales in a myriad of gilded cages were strung up in the roof, along with tasselled lanterns of blue, pink and violet glass, painted with mandarins, butterflies and lotus flowers, all hanging on varying lengths of tinted ribbon. The room glowed with colour and soft candlelight in contrast to the misty gloom outside. At one end was a table groaning with cold chicken, pastries, sweetmeats and ices, whilst at the other stood several footmen bearing trays of champagne filled crystal and a band of musicians who started to play as we entered.
I was sure I’d seen Eliza Austen roll her eyes at Charles and smirk at Henry, but she declared that she’d never seen such perfection and immediately asked who had been responsible for the room’s decoration. Mr Glanville, unable to stop himself from boasting, declared that he had taken advice from the Prince’s own man and though he did not like to appear vain, added that he was very proud of his own additions particularly with reference to the dragon’s heads out in the corridor.
There were elements of the room that I liked, but it seemed a little incongruous set against a backdrop of English landscape with views of the sea looking steel grey and unforgiving in the cold wet of the afternoon. We sat down at the table. I had not expected to be seated near enough to Charles to talk to him but contented myself with the occasional glance. I caught Mrs Austen looking at us once and smiling that secret smile of hers before turning again to Mr Glanville as if she were paying him undivided attention. Her efforts seemed to be concentrated between him and my father and, whenever she could, Mrs Randall was drawn into the conversation. Eliza proved she could talk on any subject. I saw Mrs Randall smile with approval as they discussed the work of Samuel Richardson.
Henry Austen was seated next to me. I couldn’t help thinking of Jane when he turned with an expression so like hers.
‘My sister Jane would be very envious of my visit here today,’ he began. ‘Though my mother has taken it into her head to go to Dawlish this year, I know Jane is anxious to see both you and Lyme again. She wrote to tell Eliza of your acquaintance in Bath and that is how I first discovered that you danced with my brother at the Assembly Rooms.’
I felt a bit disappointed. I was rather hoping that Charles might have told Henry himself. It must have shown for Mr Austen quickly added, ‘Charles has told me since about the time you have spent together, of course.’
I felt myself blushing; the fact that he’d read me so easily was shameful. I asked after Jane.
‘Her letters are cheerful and I think she is in reasonable good health, yet, I know my sister’s spirits are not as they should be. It will be an excellent thing if my sisters can come and visit you in Lyme. They do not spend enough time in the company of people their own age and if I am honest, Miss Elliot, I do not think I will be talking too much out of turn if I say that Jane, in particular, finds some of the foibles of the society with which they are presently surrounded more than a little challenging. Of course, as two single ladies, there is little chance for my sisters to escape and follow their own pursuits.’
‘I understand that Jane is a writer.’
Henry’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you know, Miss Elliot, I am very proud of my little sister? I think one day she will be a very fine author if she ever gets a chance to pursue her craft. I do not think she is “scribbling” much, as she calls it, at the moment, but one day I am certain that time and talent will collide.’
‘I am sure it will and to have such encouragement and kindness from you would mean everything to Miss Austen,’ I said and all at once, a memory from the past came to me with such a jolt that my reflection over the way in a slither of mirrored glass between windows displaying a vast landscape open to the sky made me sit up to ask a hundred questions. I didn’t recognize myself. The room was full of strangers, and when I looked across the table at Charles I could see someone else. I couldn’t think who it could be although seeing him made me feel happy. I felt warmth, a memory that I recognized as a good one. I saw him smile and dark curls tumble over his face as he picked up a knife. I saw the line of his throat as he threw back his head and laughed. The smell of his cologne was sharp and fragrant as if he was in the room. The present flowed around me like the sea swirling up around my toes sucking pebbles and the past away. The clouds through the window passed over to reveal strong patches of blue and the view through windows I no longer recognized looked brighter, the sea changing to a ribbon of sparkling water, the sun flashing on its surface with spots of silver like sequin spangles turning in the light. A seagull called overhead. Life and time stood frozen for a moment. I caught my breath. My body drifted out to sea to dance on the crest of a wave and then the seagull called again.
‘Are you quite well, Miss Elliot?’ Henry Austen’s expression was etched with alarm. The last thing I saw was Charles jumping out of his chair and round to my seat as I slumped forward.
I don’t know quite what happened, I suppose it must have been some sort of fainting fit, though as someone who is normally far too robust to do any such thing, I must admit that I denied anything of the sort. I had never fainted in my life before only experiencing giddiness when time travelling, which I supposed would be natural enough. I don’t know what caused it or whether I’d started falling backwards through time once more, but the pull was enough to remind me that I really didn’t belong there and that these people were relative strangers to me. I knew I was not meant to be in their time and the grip of panic that made my stomach lurch with fear, filled me with dread. I’d slipped away for a moment like a soul freed from its earthly ties, but like one who knows its life is not yet up binds itself to the body once more.
When I came to, Eliza Austen was holding a phial of hartshorn salts under my nose and Mrs Randall was rubbing my hand between both of her own with motherly care. I could no longer recall the details of what had happened. Everything seemed as it had before, with one exception. The rain and the dark clouds were blown right away. There was blue sky as far as the eye could see so that it was impossible to see where the sea ended and the sky began.
‘I think what we all need is a walk down to the sea to blow the cobwebs away,’ announced Mrs Randall, ‘that is, if you feel strong enough, Sophia.’
‘Yes, I should enjoy a walk,’ I answered, glad that we would be doing something to take the attention away from me, ‘and it would be a pity not to enjoy the sunshine now the rain has passed.’
Everyone agreed there could be nothing better
than a walk out in sunshine and fresh air. The party that left Nelson House a quarter of an hour later were in high spirits to match the breeze that whipped at our gowns and coats alike hurrying us down the hill past the shops and the library and almost into the water’s edge when we got to the bottom of Broad Street. Eliza took Mr Glanville’s arm on one side and encouraged Emma to take the other, the former saying that she wished their host to give her a conducted tour of Lyme, as she was sure no one else could be as expert. Mr Elliot took Mrs Randall’s arm and so Henry and Marianne, Charles and I, fell into step behind. We turned onto The Walk to join the promenaders who appeared at the first sight of the sun. Marianne, who had insisted on bringing her sketchbook and watercolour box protested at the idea of going any further.
‘I do not want to go up on the Cobb again,’ she declared. ‘I was nearly blown away last time. I want to stay here and paint on the sands.’
‘I’ll stay with her,’ I said immediately, ‘we’ll be quite safe.’
Before anyone could say another thing, Eliza Austen spoke out. ‘Charles, you stay and mind the Miss Elliots. You know, he is quite a talented artist, Miss Marianne, I am sure he will make himself useful to you.’
She turned to Mr Glanville. ‘I am longing for you to show me the Cobb. I know you will keep us from falling over the edge, and Miss Elliot, we must insist that our companion holds us very tightly. Besides, I simply cannot wait to hear your tales of the sea as you promised. Tell me, are the stories I have heard, about pirates and smugglers in these parts, true?’
I wished to fling my arms about Eliza’s neck and hug her.
Charles and I would be on our own, or almost by ourselves with a chance to talk much more freely, which seemed heaven-sent. And I knew she had seen the opportunity and forced the situation. I was sure she had been on the Cobb many times before, but she’d made Mr Glanville play right into her hands. As they all walked away, the only person who seemed to give us a second look was Mrs Randall. I knew she was watching when Charles took my hand to lead me down the steps.
