Searching For Captain Wentworth

by Jane Odiwe

  ‘Mrs Austen said you can paint,’ cried Marianne. ‘Is it true? Can you really paint with watercolours?’

  ‘I do not claim to be a professional, though it has been said that I have a certain proficiency with a paintbrush,’ answered Charles as we made our way across the sands to a part of the beach where rocks and stones made progress slow. ‘I like to draw and paint when I’m on board ship. It helps to pass the time away. He bent to pick up a stone and handed it to her. ‘Here, Marianne, what do you think of this fossil?’

  Marianne examined the ammonite, carved and coiled into a perfect spiral. ‘May I keep it?’ she asked, looking up at him and brushing a piece of stray hair from her eyes. ‘And will I be able to find one myself, do you think?’

  ‘I’m sure you shall. I’ll take care of your painting things whilst you look,’ Charles persuaded her, ‘but don’t stray too far.’

  It was nothing short of a miracle, the way he dealt with Marianne. With him, she turned into the delightful girl I could see she had the potential to be. He brought out the best in her. Without a single complaint, she roamed around the area collecting any stone or piece of rock she found interesting, putting them into her pockets or running back enthusiastically to show us her spoils.

  ‘Will you paint the landscape?’ I asked Charles as we walked companionably along.

  ‘I could if you wished me to, though I have another idea in mind.’ He looked rather secretive, but the flicker of a smile played around his mouth.

  ‘Am I allowed to ask what you are going to paint?’

  ‘You may, though I must yet secure your permission before I venture forth.’

  ‘I don’t know what you are about, Lieutenant Austen. You are such a tease.’

  ‘I wish to paint you with your permission. May I capture those dancing eyes for posterity, Miss Elliot?’

  He was looking at me again with intense, dark looks and I felt another tug on my heart as I nodded, too overcome to speak. More than anything, I longed for him to paint me.

  Charles led me swiftly to a suitable rock giving his instructions, directing my every move and wasn’t entirely satisfied straight away. He wanted me to sit very slightly to one side, my hands folded and my feet crossed at the ankle in the sand.

  ‘Forgive me, Miss Elliot, but your hands …’

  He took them in his own. His fingers laced with mine for just an exquisite second before he placed them in my lap.

  ‘The composition is extraordinary,’ he shouted, taking up his stance several feet away and training his pencil in my direction.

  ‘Miss Elliot, you were meant to sit in a seascape for eternity. Such beauty and sublimity combined.’

  I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me in his usual way and he was looking at me so intently, I could only look at my surroundings.

  ‘Oh, the view is quite charming, I agree,’ I replied. ‘Lyme has forever stolen my heart and still more this lovely bay makes it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide. I could never tire of this prospect.’

  ‘I am in complete agreement, Miss Elliot,’ said Charles, his eyes slowly travelling from the top of my head to my toes. ‘This is a view that would never fatigue me. I could gaze at it forever.’

  I felt he wasn’t talking about the landscape and he said it with such meaning that I could only draw one conclusion, though Mr Glanville’s words came back to me just then. I remembered that he’d warned me that Lieutenant Austen only considered me as a summer flirtation. But, I could not and did not want to believe that.

  Everything Charles said and did was done with sincerity, I would have staked my life on it. Mr Glanville had his own reasons for making such accusations, but I didn’t want to think about him now. I was enjoying this sense of freedom and the feeling that I was admired for myself alone. It was impossible not to laugh out loud and Charles saw me return his generous smile with one of my own.

  When he’d finished, he was as furtive as ever. I wanted to see the painting, but he wouldn’t let me. Marianne looked at it with approval before skipping away again with a pocket bulging with fossils, stones and shells. I saw him turn the page. He said he was just signing his name and that he would make a present of the painting when the time was right. We could see the others returning now and as Henry came along in advance to warn us of their coming, I reflected on the fact that there was only one more day for us to be together. Although the sky was still clear, I felt as if the world was grey with cloud again. I climbed the hill with Charles walking at my side. Our sombre mood enveloped us in gloom like the earlier mist that had hung over the cliff tops, unwilling to be banished by the setting sun, which gleamed crimson in the fading light.

  Chapter Thirty Five

  The following morning, I awoke early with thoughts of Charles in my head as soon as my eyes opened. I was so excited at the thought of seeing him and though I realized we didn’t have much time left, I knew I should be grateful simply for the chance of spending another day with him. When I heard the carriage downstairs, I leapt to the window without a care for who might see. But I was to be disappointed. It wasn’t Charles who stepped out from the carriage, but his brother Henry and the beautiful Eliza. It was so hard to hide my feelings. Why hadn’t he come with them, I wondered?

  Mr and Mrs Austen were calling to pay their respects, to thank Mr Glanville for the wonderful day they had enjoyed together and to issue an invitation. They wished us all to join them at the Three Cups Inn in the evening as they were leaving the following day. ‘Please, gentlemen, I implore you not to break my heart. Parting from dear friends is always so difficult and you will make my happiness complete if you will only spend our last evening in Lyme in the company of my husband and myself. Mrs Randall, I beg you will join us for some supper and cards.’ Eliza Austen looked like a winsome child with her playful eyes and fine, arched brows raised coquettishly towards the gentlemen, whilst simultaneously managing to bestow her sweetest smile upon the ladies. It was impossible not to love her and I could see how easily she must have captured Henry Austen’s heart. She charmed everyone.

  ‘If I cannot convince you by myself alone,’ she went on before anyone had a chance to answer, ‘I will add that there is a great inducement, a little concert that I am sure you will all enjoy. We have met a very interesting young lady who is staying at the Three Cups. She is a travelling soprano … a Miss Fanny Howells, though I can vouch for the fact that her voice is most excellent and not as one might think from her unfortunate name.’

  Everyone laughed and Eliza smiled with appreciation that we’d all enjoyed her joke. ‘By great demand, she is to perform this evening with an accompaniment of pianoforte and harp. Now, tell me, can you think of anything more delightful?’

  Mr Glanville readily answered. ‘Dear Madam, with such inducements, it is nay impossible to refuse. I am sure we shall all be delighted to accept your most kind invitation.’

  With the evening arrangements settled, the Austens rose to leave. Eliza looked at me across the room and smiled. ‘Miss Sophia, I simply must beg your company for the rest of the morning. Do you think you could oblige me? I very much need your advice on a small matter that I know will interest you. May she accompany me to our carriage, Mrs Randall? I promise I shall return her later.’

  ‘May I go, please?’ I begged.

  She couldn’t really refuse me.

  I followed Mrs Austen out of the room almost skipping with pleasure. Although I wasn’t entirely certain, I wondered if she had something to tell me about Charles. When we reached the carriage, to my great surprise, the door opened and there was someone I’d not expected to see.

  ‘Miss Austen!’ I cried with delight.

  Jane beamed and grasping my arm in her customary way invited me to take a seat. ‘Forgive me for this clandestine behaviour, but I have not been in Lyme for long and I confess I wished to surprise you. We arrived in Dawlish early this morning, and I persuaded Henry to come and fetch me. I could not wait to see how you like Lyme and I have n
ot had a chance to talk to you for so long. I hope you will forgive me for not calling on your family.’

  ‘Well, the delight is all mine, Miss Austen, and there is nothing to forgive I’m so glad to see you, I did wonder if we might just miss one another altogether.’

  Eliza Austen settled herself into the carriage on the other side, all the while chatting about the arrangements she was making for the evening.

  ‘Are you coming back to the inn, Jane?’ her brother asked as the carriage bowled away.

  ‘If I know Jane,’ Mrs Austen broke in, ‘she’ll be wanting Miss Elliot to go scrambling over rocks with her, or clambering on the Cobb.’

  ‘You know me too well, dearest Eliza,’ said Jane, leaning over to squeeze her scented glove. ‘What do you say, Miss Elliot? Shall we walk?’

  The carriage set us down outside the inn at the bottom of the hill. Henry and Eliza waved us off and Jane took my arm as we turned towards the steps leading down to the sands. ‘I hope you do not mind my very devious methods to get you on your own, Miss Elliot, but I wanted so much to talk to you. I’ve missed our conversations. You went away when I most needed a friend.’

  ‘Oh, my dear, Miss Austen, how I have needed to talk to you too, I have so much to tell you about Mr Glanville! But, I see from your expression that you look most troubled. Is there anything the matter?’

  ‘My brother has a request that he would never dare to ask you himself. Forgive me, Miss Elliot, but he wishes to know if what he has heard in the town is correct. Does Mr Glanville pay his addresses to you? Are you in love with him?’

  I laughed aloud, and saw her smile. ‘Miss Austen, I could never love a man like him and with all due thanks to your sister-in- law, I feel I might be spared the fate I was beginning to think I would not escape. With luck, he will marry my sister yet.’

  ‘I am so pleased to hear it and I know that this news can only delight Charles.’I hardly dared think about what she might mean, but my heart responded with a quicker beat. Jane paused, but she still looked very thoughtful.

  ‘What is it, my friend? You look most upset.’

  ‘Miss Elliot, when you went away I realized I might never see you again or have a chance to explain. You must have thought me very remiss. I have never given you a satisfactory account for all that happened in Bath.’

  ‘Believe me, Miss Austen you do not need to say a word or justify anything to me. I thought that was understood.’

  Jane looked out to sea. Dressed in a scarlet cloak over a white linen gown, the bright colour suited her dark chestnut hair. Tendrils of dancing curls were teased from her tam o’shanter by the breeze, quivering like the egret feathers of the military cockade on her hat.

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the locket she wore round her neck on a long gold chain. I didn’t mean to stare, but I knew I’d seen it before. I had a memory of seeing it in a painting, one of Jane as a girl. Octagonal in shape, the miniature it had contained in the portrait was now hidden from view, closed over with a circle of gold.

  Jane saw me staring, her hand reaching instinctively to cover the locket. ‘May I ask, are you in love with my brother Charles?’

  I was completely taken aback at such a direct question, and I hesitated. I didn’t know if I wanted to admit it to myself, let alone anyone else, but I did want to tell Jane the truth.

  ‘I will speak from my heart. Yes, I believe I am in love with him, Miss Austen.’

  ‘I do not mean to ask out of curiosity, but if you are in love with him, as I think he is with you, I know this will help you to understand my situation.’ She paused to look searchingly into my eyes. ‘You are so different from people I meet ordinarily. Indeed, I suspect like me, you have something of the wild beast about you, an independent spirit that will not be tamed.’

  ‘I think every woman has that within her which would set her free, if only she could act on her inner feelings and be true to herself.’

  We’d reached the Cobb and mounting the steps felt the full force of the wind high up on the topmost level. On either side, the waves crashed relentlessly, white spray misting the air. ‘Would not this spot be the very perfect place for a dramatic incident in a novel?’ Jane quizzed, her eyes dancing with delight at everything around her. ‘Of course, I’ve often found that the irony of dramatic incidents is that they happen far more quietly in real life. And with such stealth, in fact, that they subside away and disappear as quickly as the spume on the waves.’

  I was conscious of a memory, stirring deep inside, which refused to surface. Jane took my arm, pulling me closer. ‘I met the man you saw me with when I was just a girl: we were secretly betrothed.’

  ‘Please, Miss Austen, I beg you. Do not make yourself unhappy. You do not have to explain to me.’

  ‘It wasn’t until I was nineteen that we really became acquainted and when acquainted we fell rapidly and deeply in love. Oh, the exquisite felicity of youthful devotion! Such a delightful period of happiness we spent together in Kent, that happy county … at least, until his family made sure we could meet no longer.’

  ‘But, why should his family be so opposed to the match?’

  ‘High hopes that I might come into money from my mother’s side were not enough where real ambition was concerned and it became increasingly obvious that I was not their preferred choice, particularly after my Great Uncle died. He’d commissioned my portrait when I was a girl thinking that the picture would introduce me to the world as an eligible young lady, and help seal the alliance.’

  I knew exactly which painting she was talking about and the memory of seeing it at the exhibition flashed into my mind.

  ‘So the portrait had quite a significance?’

  ‘At least, it did to those who knew about the painting. I imagine it will never see the light of day now, but will be hidden from the world in some dusty attic.’

  ‘But is there nothing that can be done? Surely, you are both of an age where you may follow your own hearts now.’

  ‘The ending of my great romance is not a happy one, nor can it ever be. My own Robin Adair is a younger son – he has had to make his own way in the world, his profession taking him overseas. Time and duty conspired to keep us apart, Miss Elliot. For almost eight years we were separated, not able to see one another.’

  ‘I cannot think how painful that must have been, to have such a situation forced on you.’

  ‘A young man must seek his fortune and if he is beholden to his parents, he is obliged to carry out their wishes. But, even knowing our case was hopeless and that we could never be together, I could not forget him. My attachment to him was such that no one else could claim.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Austen, women’s nature is to truly love with tender feeling. Sincere affection married with steadfast constancy belongs to our disposition.’

  ‘Too true, Miss Elliot – indeed, we cannot help ourselves. It seems a woman’s lot is to love longest when existence or when hope is gone. I discovered it was not possible to recover from so strong a devotion of the heart to such a man.’

  ‘No one could who truly loved, I’m sure, Miss Austen.’

  ‘When he arrived back in Bath on leave last year, we found ourselves in the same circles once more.’

  ‘Did no one suspect your partiality?’

  ‘We were careful to hide our feelings and avoided one another in society. Nobody knew, except Cassandra. He sought me out again and again … we snatched precious moments together in the quiet of secret walks in the gardens or along the Gravel Walk whenever we could.’

  I felt so sad for her, but so happy that Jane had experienced all that is so magical about being in love.

  ‘And then we met at Lyme.’

  ‘Where you spent a glorious time together.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Our feelings had not changed and I knew I could never stop loving him, even if all hope of being united was a false one.’

  ‘But you will rally again, Miss Austen. Forgive me for being so bold, but there is time enough to be wi
th the one you love.’

  ‘If it were that simple, Miss Elliot. I am too much of a pragmatist to think I could make either of us truly happy, without the trappings of the life I know he and his family wish him to have. I truly believe sincerely in his regard for me, but his family desires him to make a good marriage, one that will bring in money for them all. Without their approval and help, he would not prosper. And, in any case, I have another person to consider.’

  ‘Do you mean Cassy?’

  With a nod, she added, ‘I could not leave her to be solely responsible for my parents. Can you imagine a fate more cruel to such a beloved sister?’

  ‘No, I cannot.’

  ‘I shall never marry anyone now. I will stay with Cassandra as long as she needs me, which shall be to the end of my days.

  Spinsters together, Miss Elliot, and maiden aunts to be useful to our family; I am very much afraid that the Miss Austens have found their roles in life.’

  Jane looked as if her heart might break. ‘We met for the last time when you saw us that day. He will soon belong to another.’

  ‘But, you cannot believe that he would give you up so easily?’

  ‘It is done. He is engaged to be married to an heiress with a fortune and he will, no doubt, be wed in Bath.’

  Lifting the chain from around her neck, Jane grasped the locket in two hands prising apart the cover with her fingers, which acted as a shield against the world. Thrusting the locket towards me, a sombre painting of an old be-wigged gentleman stared back.

  ‘There, how do you like my beau?’ she asked, with a teasing smile.

  I knew this could not be the man in question. This surely was her great uncle, and the words from Sense and Sensibility came to me as clearly as if I’d written them myself: “ … they had not known each other a week, I believe, before you were certain that Marianne wore his picture round her neck; but it turned out to be only the miniature of our great uncle.”