Searching For Captain Wentworth

by Jane Odiwe

  When the doctor came, the sound of voices woke me again. Slowly, I became conscious of my surroundings, and the full extent of my pain. I was examined, my head still hurt, but I had a new dressing, and the doctor assured me that apart from a little grazing, a terrific purple bruise and a sprained ankle, the damage was not serious. I began to feel that I was a bit of a fraud, that I should get up and think about getting the first train home, when Louisa came into the room bearing a tray with a bowl of steaming chicken soup with some slices of crusty bread. She looked as beautiful as ever, with her dark hair falling in long curls down her back. There was something quite similar about the way her hair waved into ringlets like Josh’s and I could easily see how they’d been attracted to one another. Even her eyes with their thick fringe of black lashes reminded me of him. Though not as dark, more like a clear hazel brown, the way they crinkled up at the corners when she smiled was so reminiscent of Josh’s eyes. Twin souls, I didn’t doubt. I thought what a beautiful couple they made and couldn’t help speculating about the beautiful children they would make together. A perfect couple in every way – surely they would have a perfect wedding, perfect offspring and live perfectly happily in a perfect house for the rest of their lives. Even as she set the tray down and plumped up my pillows, I felt quite ashamed at the uncharitable thoughts that were now surfacing. I recognized them for what they were; I was jealous. I knew there was little chance that I would ever find such happiness without the man I loved. And my heart felt a pang once more with the realization that I was here, so solidly back in the present with no way of going back.

  ‘I hope you can manage a little soup,’ she said.

  ‘That’s so kind of you, it looks delicious,’ I answered, thinking that I would have to at least try a spoonful even if I didn’t feel like eating anything.

  ‘I’m Louisa, by the way,’ she added. ‘It’s so lovely to meet you, Josh has told me so much about you.’

  I wondered what she meant by that as I managed a smile before I took up my spoon. Had he told her how he’d been practically cornered by a man-crazy lunatic in the upstairs flat? I shuddered at the thought.

  The soup was as lovely as its maker and I found I was hungrier than I imagined. As Louisa talked, I ate.

  ‘Josh has been really lonely in Bath and despite having made a few friends, he’s never really met anyone that he wanted to spend much time with, so it’s been really wonderful that he’s had you for company,’ she went on. ‘My work has kept me away for a while so I haven’t been able to spend as much time with him as I’d like.’

  ‘Oh, dear, that must be difficult being separated for long periods of time.’

  Louisa smiled. ‘Well, to be perfectly honest, as you might expect, it’s not that hard and when we do catch up, it’s like we’ve never been apart, so it’s fine. It’s been good to spend a few days away with him and I needed a break, but I’ve got deadlines to meet. Unfortunately, I’ve just got to get back to work.’

  I thought what strange comments she’d made and also about how hard it had been to be separated from Charles even for part of a day and knew that I could never think like Louisa. How could she bear to be away from Josh for any length of time? I remembered the way he’d looked at her that evening and knew he loved her with every breath in his body. I watched her as she straightened out the quilt cover. Efficient, kind and beautiful, I was reminded of someone else. The image of Jane Austen capably dealing with the accident at the Cobb was a clear one. I wished I could remember what she’d been saying to me as I’d rushed along the Cobb. I knew it was something specific, not like Charles’s urgent cries not to jump, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember.

  ‘I really must get up,’ I said, on finishing the last of the lovely meal. ‘I need to think about getting home.’

  ‘Oh, you mustn’t say that,’ Louisa replied. ‘It was the least we could do and I know that Josh isn’t about to let you go anywhere.’

  ‘But won’t you … I mean, won’t he be needing his bed?’

  I wasn’t quite sure what sort of sleeping arrangements they had, but in any case, I was starting to feel more like my old self, even if battered and bruised by my experiences and I didn’t mean my bandaged head. I really felt I should get out of their way, let them say their goodbyes as lovers like to do and be gone from their hair.

  ‘Josh is going to have my room. I don’t think for one minute he’ll mind my dirty sheets, and I know he’ll enjoy looking after you. It will be a comfort for me to know he has someone to talk to for a few days. This is a big house to be alone in. Please indulge me, Sophie, I’d feel better as I’m just about to go home.’

  Well, I knew I wasn’t any threat to their relationship, but it seemed, I’d been quite wrong about them sharing a room. Still, it did seem a bit strange that Louisa was encouraging another girl to be staying in her boyfriend’s bed, yet she didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by the thought and made her move to go saying she really couldn’t delay a minute longer. If she didn’t get a move on, she said, her editor would be most displeased and she wanted to avoid that altogether. I couldn’t resist asking her what she did. It sounded as if she must be a journalist and I imagined her writing for one of the glamorous, glossy magazines.

  ‘I write novels, women’s fiction,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to the end of the month to have the last draft finished and I’ve only just completed the first.’

  ‘Oh, how wonderful,’ I cried, ‘I’m trying to write a novel. But, you’re a proper author. Do you use your real name?’

  ‘My pen name is Cassie Crawford, though I doubt you’ve heard of me. I’m not at all well known. Goodness knows why my publishers keep taking me on. I’m always thinking that perhaps this will be the last, though I’m ever hopeful that my reputation is growing. My first novel was called “The Clergyman’s Daughter”, the next was, “The Sisters”, and I’ve another coming out in September, “A Secret Engagement”.’

  She was right. I didn’t know of her or her books and I didn’t quite know what to say.

  Louisa shrugged her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Sophie, I knew you wouldn’t have heard of them. The hope is that one day I will write something that will make the world sit up, but until then, I shall keep trying!’

  ‘I’m sure you’ve already written it, but perhaps the world doesn’t recognize your genius just yet.’

  ‘Sophie, I do so hope you’re right. And, I sometimes think I have set myself an impossible task. There are so many novels written these days, it’s a wonder any of them get noticed.’

  ‘But, out of all the thousands of books that are sent to editors, yours were chosen and published. That’s a huge achievement in itself.’

  Louisa smiled. ‘Yes, that’s true, how kind of you to say so. Sophie, it really has been lovely to meet you. I’d love to stay and chat for longer, but I’ve got to be going. Just promise me one thing. Please do as Josh asks. He wants to nurse you better … let him!’

  I relented. Louisa was so nice, and I was starting to really warm to her. Josh was a very lucky man, I thought.

  When she’d gone, I felt really tired again and those gloomy feelings of despondency swept over me again. I tried to rationalize my thoughts about everything, telling myself that what I thought had happened to me was impossible. But I knew that I had fallen in love for real, that I’d never before experienced anything like it. The fact that I had met Charles two hundred years ago didn’t mean anything any more, or that I knew it could never work out. It simply didn’t matter.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  I did find it difficult at first to let myself be looked after by Josh. But, it became increasingly obvious that I wasn’t quite well and although the doctor said there was no permanent damage, he declared he was concerned about me in other ways. He wanted to keep an eye on me and Josh volunteered to be both his eyes and ears. Bit by bit, the story came out though I never quite found out exactly what had happened or how I’d got to Lyme. I learned from Josh that I’d b
een seen wandering along the Cobb in a kind of trance and that I’d actually taken a tumble almost from the top. He and Louisa had just happened to be in the right place at the right time and had seen it happen. Between Josh and the doctor they convinced me that I needed looking after and that I should be right as rain in a few days if I did as I was told. In a strange way I was happy to let Josh take over. I stopped trying to get up and lay in his bed, which had a wonderful view of the sea in the distance and the town below. It was something of a surprise to find out that Josh’s parents owned Nelson House and a couple of days before I got a sense of my bearings. Memories came flooding back of my other existence but, although the house was little altered, I felt I couldn’t equate the two. I was looking forward to being able to get up and explore.

  Josh was so kind and he kept me from brooding too much by his constant attention and conversation. He sat at my bedside and read to me from Persuasion. The scenes at Lyme brought back flashes of images from my memory, but more thought provoking were our discussions of the poetry that Jane Austen had written about in the scenes with Captain Benwick. She’d penned Persuasion many years after my flash through time between 1815 and 16, when Scott and Byron were wowing the world with the poems that Jane mentioned like The Lady of the Lake, The Giaour, and The Bride of Abydos.

  ‘I don’t really know the poems,’ I admitted, ‘but I wonder why she remarked on them like that. It seems such a different approach to her usual style.’

  ‘We’ll read them together if you like,’ said Josh, ‘though I’m worried if it’s a bit too soon for you to be spending too much time poring over books. The doctor said you should be resting.’

  Josh knew the poems well and when I was too tired he read them aloud. His voice was soothing and listening to him was a real pleasure. The themes of love and being faithful to one’s heart rang true.

  ‘Although Jane Austen seems to have regarded impassioned descriptions, tremulous feelings and minds destroyed by wretchedness with her tongue firmly in her cheek,’ I said, ‘I wonder if she is trying to tell us something, though I’m afraid of reading too much into it.’

  ‘I don’t know, but there does seem to be a thread which connects them all. Love not easily attained or sustained seems at the root, whether it’s between Ellen Douglas and Malcolm Graeme in The Lady of the Lake, or the illicit love between the Giaour and Leila. And then there is The Bride of Abydos, Byron’s love story between Selim and Zuleika, a union denied by their family.’

  Like a lightning bolt, I knew why Jane had mentioned these poems; it seemed so obvious. She’d included them as a message to the man she loved, knowing he would read and recognize the clues.

  Persuasion told the truth in so many ways that she would never recover from the love she felt for him. Josh stared, his dark eyes penetrating mine. I came back to earth as he pronounced that if I were to be looking quite so disturbed in future, he would be recommending a larger allowance of prose in my daily study, as Anne Elliot had suggested to Captain Benwick.

  Over the next few days we finished Persuasion and I couldn’t help but be reminded of Charles. When we reached the part where Louisa Musgrove jumps off the Cobb wall Josh looked at me anxiously as if he was worried about reading it, but I assured him it was okay even if every word made me long for Charles. I couldn’t see Captain Wentworth any more in my head; the only man I saw was Charles. Thinking about that day brought one particular recollection to haunt me. I remembered a white glove and recalling its special powers I knew I would have to find it if I had any chance of going back. But, apart from some things that Louisa had kindly lent me, I only had the clothes I’d been wearing. I could hardly ask Josh if I’d been clutching a white glove.

  Only when Josh went to bed at night and I was left alone did I have time to really think about Charles. The ache left in my heart felt as if I’d been physically wounded and every night my silent tears kept me awake. Part of me wished to take up my old life and make an attempt to start to look after myself again. I wanted to return to my flat or I tried to convince myself that I did and after just over a fortnight of being cosseted, I felt I could make a stand. Also, I longed to see if Charles’s portrait was in the rosewood box or lost in time forever. I wanted to read Sophia’s diary again, so that I could reassure myself that this whole experience had not been some sort of ghastly dream. I told Josh that I wanted to go home though I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful or that I wasn’t enjoying his company. I liked being with him very much, and I recognized that a part of me was so scared to start again on my own especially as my memory had not come back completely. In a strange way, I had started to rely on him and knew that this wasn’t going to be good for me. Josh was totally understanding about my bid for freedom although he expressed concern.

  ‘I don’t know if you’re really ready to go home just yet,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie, I don’t mean to sound so bossy, but it was such a shock finding you lying on the ground covered in blood like that. Wait until you’ve been up for a few days and then I’ll let you go.’

  ‘Josh, I can’t really explain what happened that day, but it’s all to do with me and nothing to do with you. It wouldn’t have mattered where I’d been, I’m certain I’d have had some sort of a fainting fit.’

  ‘Do you remember anything about why you came to Lyme yet? You must have been trying to get in touch with me, I think, don’t you? Sophie, I’m sorry. I feel it’s totally my fault.’

  I shook my head and looked beyond him to the distant horizon. ‘I honestly don’t know exactly what happened, or how I got here.’

  He clammed up then, and didn’t say any more. He looked as if he had some huge worry on his mind. I felt awful. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel responsible for me.

  ‘Listen, Josh. I’m feeling so much better. I’ll get up later, please don’t worry about me.’

  Josh was silent for a moment. I couldn’t make out his expression. He looked so sad. ‘The thing is, Sophie, I really need to talk to you.’

  I guessed it must have something to do with Louisa. It still didn’t seem right that she had just gone off like that. It was all so casual and I was sure he was upset by her behaviour. He hadn’t had to say anything these last few days, but it was so obvious that something was upsetting him and weighing on his mind.

  ‘We’ll talk later, okay?’

  He nodded, but he didn’t look happy and the mood in the place seemed charged with something indefinable like electricity crackling in a lightning bolt before a storm. I felt suddenly very aware of his physical presence and his closeness. He put out his hand and touched me briefly on my arm and I jumped in surprise.

  It was like the feeling I had when Charles came within feet of me and I couldn’t account for it except by knowing that every part of me ached for him. I wanted what I couldn’t have and as I leaned back against the pillows I thought I’d never felt so miserable in my life before.

  Thinking of Charles made me remember Jane and the last conversation I’d had with her came back so clearly. I suddenly realized how completely selfish and stupid I was being. She had loved and lost so much. I wondered if she’d ever managed to see her love again and if that meeting really had been the last they’d enjoyed.

  There was a pile of books on the bedside table that Josh had chosen and I reached for a modern biography on Jane, in the hope of finding some clues. I skimmed through the pages, but I soon found there was little written about that particular period of her life when so many letters between Jane and Cassy had been destroyed.

  There was mention of a romance at the seaside, which had resulted in a tragic ending that didn’t quite ring true. Perhaps Cassandra had wanted her nieces to know that Jane had been in love, but hadn’t wanted to divulge the whole story. I read that later on that year in 1802, Jane had travelled with her family back to Steventon in October and then the most astonishing discovery leapt out of the page. In November they had been invited to Manydown, home to the sisters’ friends, Alethea a
nd Catherine Bigg-Wither. The story was that their brother Harris had proposed to Jane! I’d reached the end of the page and I couldn’t have been more surprised.

  Just as this information was sinking in there was a knock at the door and Josh appeared with a huge smile on his face. ‘I’ve brought us some lunch. Are you hungry?’

  Hours had passed by; I couldn’t believe it was lunchtime. I was hungry now I thought about it, but I was also completely intrigued by what I’d just read and longing to find out more. It must have shown.

  ‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’

  ‘Oh no, Josh! I’m the one who should be apologizing; it’s just that I’ve found out the most amazing thing. Did you know that Jane Austen once received a proposal of marriage?’

  Josh’s black curls shook enthusiastically as he nodded. ‘I’ve been finding out quite a lot recently, I must admit. I think you’ll find that she accepted him too, though it didn’t quite work out exactly as you might think.’ He paused to glance into the bulging bag of shopping. ‘I’ve got smoked salmon. Does that sound okay?’

  ‘Yes, lovely. Thanks Josh, you’re so kind, but I insist on giving you a hand. Give me five minutes, and I’ll come downstairs.’

  I put the book down, got out of bed, showered and dressed. My head felt a little fuzzy, and my ankle ached, but I was feeling much more like my old self. Josh looked up and grinned when I entered the kitchen. He was just setting a vase of plump, scented roses in the middle of the table and I buried my nose in the overblown blooms. The smell of summer made me feel light-headed.

  ‘Sophie, are you sure about this?’ said Josh. ‘I can always bring your meal up to you on a tray if it’s all too much, too soon.’

  Ignoring him, I selected two pretty plates from the painted dresser and fetching knives and forks with napkins from the basket on the side, I laid the table and sat down to quarter the lemon that Josh produced from a brown paper bag. I watched him unwrap the salmon carefully arranging the pink pieces on a blue platter, before cutting thin slices of bread liberally buttered from an earthenware dish.