by Jane Odiwe
Jane said no more, but squeezing the edges of the locket again made the picture swing open to reveal another portrait hidden beneath. She pressed it into my hands.
‘I like him very much,’ I answered. As if freshly painted, the fair-haired man, captured smiling, was the same I’d seen that day in Sydney Gardens.
Handing it back, Jane’s gaze shifted to the locket once more and her eyes flickered over every inch of the painted miniature as if committing the image to memory.
I could hardly bear to speak. ‘It’s a wonderful keepsake.’
Jane smiled ruefully and with the locket clasped in her fist, she brought her hand to her mouth. With a final kiss, I watched her raise her arm to toss the locket into the sea. The gold chain glinted in the sunlight, as the pendant flew through the air.
I gasped. But, Jane looked back at me with a grin, skillfully hooking the spinning necklace on her finger with a flick of her wrist and deftly catching the pendant. She grasped it in her hand as if she would never let it go again.
‘No,’ she sighed, clutching the precious jewel to her heart, ‘I cannot consign such a prized possession to the waves. Yet, I do not need a picture to remind me of times past. Every single memory is locked like a precious jewel in a treasure box, deep in the recesses of my mind to be brought out and examined, held up in my mind’s eye to gleam and sparkle. I cannot change what will be, but I am quite resigned. And one never knows what the future may bring. Perhaps in time I shall receive a proposal I will not be able to refuse!’
Jane laughed and as if the conversation of a moment ago had not happened she turned to me, a twinkle in her eye.
‘I am very fortunate in so many ways and not one to dwell on misery … or guilt. Besides, I do not know if I was truly cut out for the married state. How could I write if I were a wife and mother burdened with numerous children?’
I couldn’t decide if she was being sincere and I suspected that as usual Jane was doing her best to conceal her true feelings.
‘It would be very difficult if not impossible, I am certain, but I feel sure, Miss Austen, that you will achieve your dreams of success in writing with or without a husband.’
‘You are too kind, Miss Elliot, and you have listened far too long to the rambling discourse of a shrewish spinster. Besides, I have not wished only to tell you of my troubles. I am charged with an assignment. Can you possibly guess what it might be?’
I shook my head.
‘My brother wished you to have this mysterious package,’ she continued, fetching out a rolled paper tube from her workbag.
I couldn’t immediately think what it could be; I was so lost in thought at everything that had just passed and the absolute agony of Jane’s situation. However brave she appeared on the surface, her feelings clearly ran as deeply as the currents below us. I took the paper tube realizing with a start, this must be the painting that Charles had made.
‘I knew Charles’s gift would make you smile,’ she said, and gave me one of her most enigmatic looks.
‘I am sorry that he could not come himself,’ I ventured.
‘He promised he would be there this evening at the party Eliza has arranged, if you are well and not suffering a little fever or indisposition, unable to come for any reason.’
I couldn’t understand what she meant, though I guessed that perhaps she had learned of my fainting spell of the previous day. ‘I would not miss it for the world,’ I answered; anxious that she should know how much I wished to spend time with her and Charles.
Jane suddenly reached for my hand squeezing it tightly. ‘I do hope that you will be able to come, Miss Elliot. I trust so, most sincerely. And now, I must leave you.’
We descended the steps down onto the lower level together and then I watched Jane hurry away, her quick steps disappearing rapidly into the distance. I felt subdued and wanted to think about everything she’d said. She was so resigned to her fate, which was the saddest knowledge of all.
I wondered what Charles could be doing that was so important. I was pleased that he’d remembered me, but so disappointed that on this last day he hadn’t come in person. I didn’t want to go home. Someone would be bound to see the parcel and be curious, so I made my way further along to a bench protected by a makeshift shelter and made myself comfortable. The sea was calmer now, lapping against the rocks like whispers spreading round a ballroom of some great-shared secret. The sun poked its head out from behind a cloud, casting indigo shadows on the path at my feet. Carefully unrolling the brown paper neatly wrapped with perfect precision, the parchment inside revealed the painting I’d expected, along with a folded piece of hot pressed paper, which I laid to one side.
Exquisitely painted with deft, fine strokes; delicate hues of turquoise, blue and sand, were the prominent tones, highlighted with a flick of pale coral in the cheeks and lips of the sitter. The portrait of the girl who looked so happy sitting upon her rocky shelf as if she hadn’t a care in the world was one I recognized. I looked at her, knowing that I’d experienced every emotion her face and her body betrayed. Every paintbrush stroke revealed every nuance of my own personality. I identified completely with the sitter who was smiling into the eyes of the painter as if she were in love with him. And I knew that to be true.
I set down the painting upon the seat, and turned to the other, smaller piece of paper. It was a letter simply addressed to Miss S. E. My eyes devoured the following words:
I must speak to you by the opportunity that my sister Jane has afforded me. I cannot continue to see you without relating something, which, though I hope will not alter your opinion of me for the worse, is nevertheless a risk I am prepared to chance. I am guilty of giving you false impressions, I believe, not only about the worth of my true character, but of my innermost thoughts. I have misled you at every turn with regard to my true feelings and have decided that even if you should not wish to see me again for divulging the truth to you now, it is impossible for me not to act upon honest emotions, and a desire to declare myself.
You alone have brought me to Lyme. For you alone, I think and plan. I offer myself to you with a heart entirely your own. For it is love that has brought me here and my confession is that I love you, dearest Sophia, and wish, if it is your desire also, never to be parted from you again. These weeks we have spent together have been the happiest I have ever known. Despite every effort on my behalf to remain impartial, and to deny the sincerity of my feelings, the discovery that love will find its way into the hardest heart is mine.
I will cease writing now, uncertain of my fate, but I hope I shall see you at my brother’s supper party. A word, or look will be sufficient for me to know whether I shall seek your father’s permission for your hand this evening, or never.
Believe me to be your most faithful and loving,
C.A.
I read it again and again committing to memory the words that thrilled every sense and awakened every feeling. How would I ever recover from such a letter? I thought I’d burst with happiness. It was all and more than I could ever have hoped for. Yet, I knew we would face certain obstacles, and I didn’t want to think about the reaction of my father to Charles’s proposal. My mind was in a complete whirl, but there was only one thing to be done. I knew I must find Charles. Unaware of who passed by or of what was happening around me, I started back towards the shore, hardly able to take in the fact that here was certain proof at last that he loved me, as I did him. I mounted the craggy steps projecting like crooked teeth up to the higher level, gingerly clinging with one hand to the wall as I went. Even on this fine day, the wind was gusting up on the top level. It pulled at my bonnet so I had to clamp my hand firmly to it before it was taken off forever. From this vantage point, I scanned the views all round. I was sure I would see him sooner or later. I revolved slowly, the views of Lyme and the sea like some splendid carousel of pictures, which almost broke my heart by their beauty alone and for the recollections of time spent with Charles.
And then I saw him. As
he came along The Walk, I wasn’t sure if he’d seen me at first. I stopped to catch my breath; and then found I could hardly look at him. The moment I’d wished for was here and now, and I was as gauche as a schoolgirl. But, I needn’t have worried for he looked up at that precise moment and waved. I raised my hand to show him that I had the letter and the painting; and that I’d understood, had revelled in every word he’d written.
He turned onto the Cobb and began to run. I could see someone else just behind him, waving her hand and calling my name. I waved back, shouting their names and was so excited to see them both that I couldn’t wait a moment longer to join them. The feeling that there was nothing to fear and that everything was well with the world overwhelmed me.
‘Charles! Jane!’ I shouted. ‘Wait, I’m coming!’
My heart felt so light I thought it might burst and I ran back to the steps skipping down them two at a time. There were several more to go, but with judgement I knew that it would be quicker to leap from the last few. In any case, there was Lieutenant Austen to catch me in his arms.
Don’t jump!’ called Charles, but I was determined. I knew now that I had to be with him, whatever obstacles might be put in our way. We would not be parted by time or anyone. I saw him, my beloved Charles, his arms outstretched, still running. I closed my eyes and jumped.
Chapter Thirty Six
The feeling that my head was splitting open was acutely apparent before I opened my eyes. The pain was severe, but thankfully dulled by the softness of cotton pillows under my head, freshly laundered sheets tucked over me, and the sense that I had been drugged in some way. I couldn’t open my eyes even when I tried, but I could distinguish voices as if calling me from somewhere very far away. It must be Charles, I thought and Jane, that I could hear.
Their voices rose and fell sounding both anxious and apprehensive. I felt someone reach for my hand and it comforted me like no soothing voice ever could. It was Charles’s hand, I was sure, his warm fingers linked with mine and I allowed myself to fall back into the tunnel of slumber that I had barely surfaced from. I seemed to drift in and out of sleep and my dreams were such a strange mixture of the past and present that I couldn’t decide if they were real or imagined. Time drew me back to a past I had already lived and beyond to a time I didn’t know, only to send me hurtling back to the future in the next second along dark passageways that recalled the twisting corridors of Monkford Hall. Generations of familiar Elliot countenances looked out from varnished portraits, turning their heads to watch me fly headfirst at speed several feet above the ground over the timbered floor below. Passing through a long gallery and out through open leaded windows, my body floated over the garden at dusk, hovering like a bright Kingfisher above the lake, watching dragonflies dart and shimmer. I saw a figure as I flew overhead, a girl who looked exactly like me sauntered under the yew hedges to pause by the sundial. I watched as she traced a finger along the letters carved into its surface, before I rose again like some great bird into the violet sky swooping with the swallows between clouds flaming with copper light. On I sped flying higher and higher through twilight skies to reach the midnight velvet studded with stars. If I put up a hand I could snatch Arcturus, the dazzling star, to light my way. I was flying or floating so fast I could not bear to look below and only when at last I slowed down did I open my eyes again. It was daylight once more, I smelt the sea, saw the rocks draped with seaweed lurking under Byron’s dark blue seas and heard the music in its roar. The sun was high in the sky again with Lyme’s sandy shoreline stretched before me, water lapping at its edge. There was the Cobb and a girl who looked quite dead lying on the ground at the foot of Granny’s Teeth surrounded by people. Her bonnet had rolled over to one side. The ribbons were soaked through with dark red stains, which left their mark on the cobbles as the wind bowled the hat further away with each gust of wind. Charles cradled the girl in his arms and I could see Jane, too, looking distressed, but as capable as ever as she gave orders for help to the surrounding onlookers.
‘Charles, I’m up here,’ I called, but he didn’t see me. ‘Jane,’ I shouted again, so that they might hear this time, ‘It’s me, Sophia!
Look, I’m flying! Come and join me. It’s easy, I never knew how, until now.’
But they didn’t look up and the agitation in their voices was all that I heard.
‘She is dead! She is dead!’ I heard a woman call. Her dress suggested she was one of the boatmen’s wives. I saw Jane turn to her, asking for help.
Charles looked on in silent agony with a face as pale as the girl who lay like a limp doll in his arms. He looked up in despair as if all his strength were gone, ‘Can no one help me?’
Jane took over, and then I saw him stand. He started to run and I knew he’d gone to find the doctor. I watched his progress, his long legs sprinting to the house by the Cobb gate. Soon he returned, another gentleman running beside him with his black bag in hand.
All I could think about was that seeing Doctor Rockingham again would bring back the most painful memories for Jane. And then I fell. Down, down, I tumbled, hurtling towards the body on the quayside. I tried to shout out to warn them all, but either my voice wasn’t heard or it made no sound, I wasn’t quite sure. Pain seared through my head and the stench of fresh blood filled my nostrils before I blacked out once more.
When I came to, I couldn’t think where on earth I found myself. The voices were there again, but my vision was blurred and though the sounds were familiar, I couldn’t recognize their voices. I could just make out the light from a window that was half screened by a sheer blind, and the figures that stood before it, speaking in whispers, were silhouetted like shadow puppets in an Indian theatre.
I struggled to sit up. ‘Charles, is that you?’
The figures at the window turned, and I began to see and hear more clearly. I knew I was no longer in the past.
‘I think she’s delirious. I’m worried. When is the doctor to arrive?’
And then I could make them out. Josh Strafford and his girlfriend Louisa were approaching the bed where I lay.
‘Don’t try to get up,’ said Josh, who came forward to sit on a chair next to the bed.
I managed to speak. ‘I don’t understand. Where am I?’
‘You’ve been unconscious, had some kind of blackout, we’re not really sure. The doctor is on his way to check up on you again.
Can you remember what happened?’
‘I don’t remember anything,’ I muttered.
‘Sophie, just relax,’ Josh reassured. ‘Don’t worry; you’re quite safe, here with us. You’re in Lyme Regis. I brought you to my parent’s house on the cliff-top. I hope that’s okay.’
‘But, I cannot stay here and put them to so much trouble.’
‘They would insist on you staying if they were here, I know, but they’re away on holiday just now. Don’t fret, we’re here to look after you, and make sure you get some rest.’
The truth was I couldn’t remember anything very much. My mind and memories were all so wrapped up in Charles and seeing him in those last moments before I plunged into darkness. I recalled seeing Jane also. In my mind’s eye she was calling out trying to tell me something, but either I hadn’t heard or the recollection was too difficult being mixed up as it was with so many other feelings and emotions. All I knew was that I had to get back. I had to see Charles again and let him know that no matter what, I would do anything to be with him, defy my family if needs be, so that we could be together.
The throbbing in my head forced my eyes to close again, as waves of pain seared over me as relentless as the lapping of water on the seashore. I willed myself to return to the past even though I knew that I was giving myself false hope. I felt utterly helpless, and was aware of a single tear smarting in the corner of my eye rising from the very depths of my being to join others that started to flow in an unceasing stream to dampen my cheeks and soak the pillow, Josh’s pillow. I must be lying in his bed, I knew that much. How on earth ha
d I got to Lyme? I couldn’t remember; the only recollection I had was of holding a letter from Josh saying he was going away, and then it was a total blank until the memories of Charles’s beautiful letter asking me to marry him. I felt trapped in the present with only reminiscences of the past and the man I loved. A picture of Charles’s handsome face so clear and bright seemed to hover above me and I felt if I wanted I could have reached out and touched him. I opened my eyes to see Josh looking down at me with such an expression of concern that I tried to smile. He looked so worried and I just kept thinking that he must wonder what on earth I’d been doing in Lyme. Josh probably thought I’d been planning all along to spy on him and his girlfriend.
Louisa produced a box of paper tissues. ‘Please don’t cry.
Look, Josh, Sophie’s crying.’
I felt a hand. Long fingers entwined with mine, but it didn’t help straight away. I could only think of Charles. Josh dabbed softly at my face with a tissue. His voice was very gentle, as he wiped away my tears.
‘Please, Sophie, tell me what to do. I hate to see you in tears like this.’
I managed a weak smile for an answer. How could I tell him the reasons for my heartbreak? Instead, I succumbed to his kindness and after a while was surprised that the soothing movement of his fingers stroking my brow and my hair seemed to work their magic. I drifted back into sleep with the same feeling that I was somehow caught between two worlds. I could hear seagulls flying overhead, hear the gentle undulations of rippling surf on the sands, and feel the sun shining down on my face and arms. Charles was stroking my hair and I felt his lips kiss my face.
‘Don’t cry, Sophia, I’m here with you. I love you, please don’t cry.’
