Chapter 21
One Year Later in Derbyshire
Dawn was breaking as I padded over to the thick purple velvet drapes and drew one back, letting in a shard of white light. The fires had not yet been lit, and the parquet floor was painfully cold to my warm feet. I scrunched my toes as I peered out the window.
‘What are you doing, Fliss?’ Max mumbled sleepily from the depths of our goose-feather eiderdown.
‘I thought I heard horses,’ I whispered to him. ‘Go back to sleep.’
He yawned. ‘They will be some hours away yet. I have made that trip many times, and there is always cause for delay. I would not expect them until late afternoon.’
Disgruntled, I let the drape fall into place, plunging our bedroom into darkness again. No doubt I was hearing imaginary clopping because I wanted Jane and Cassie to arrive this instant.
Padding back to bed, I slipped into the cosy warmth, placing my icy feet on Max’s warm calf to thaw out. He sucked in a breath. ‘You are in for a walloping now, my lady!’ he growled, gathering me roughly into his arms. I let out a soft squeal; he always said that, but he usually ended up doing nothing worse than smothering me with kisses. Max’s bark was most definitely worse than his bite, as he had said—something I had come to learn for myself during our first year of marriage.
But I also could not help provoking him any chance I got, for I knew he secretly enjoyed my teasing; and it typically roused him to the point that he wanted to make love, which was pleasurable for us both. Due to the volatile nature of our physical relationship, Max kept a ready stock of French letters in his bedside table, also in the desk in his study and some in the side table in the parlour, as sometimes passion overcame us without warning; and we did not want to have to run up two flights of stairs to the bedroom and interrupt the moment.
We tried to be discreet, but living in a modest-sized mansion required several servants, and I was sure that if they ever pressed an ear to the parlour or study door, they would hear things that would make them blush! However, I had never caught any of them doing so, and they were adept at turning a blind eye to our dalliances. So I never felt embarrassed. Max had also made sure there were sturdy locks on the doors of the rooms we frequented so we were not caught in the act.
For the past week, Harriet and Evan had also been staying with us, so we had had to confine our romantic inclinations to the privacy of the bedroom and after everyone had retired in the evening. But they were ensconced in the opposite wing of the house, at least, so one couple did not have to worry about disturbing the other in the throes of passion.
And now Jane had accepted an invitation to visit with Cassie, and they were staying for three whole weeks! They had planned to come in spring. But it had been a wet season, and the weather had made the roads treacherous. Jane and I had written to each other, of course, but it was not the same as speaking directly. So I couldn’t wait for them to get here.
Max squeezed my behind, which I always pretended not to like (but actually did immensely); and after an enjoyable tussle, along with a profusion of kisses on my lips, he released me with a sigh.
‘I suppose we should not continue. We will need to rise for breakfast shortly.’
‘Yes, I suppose,’ I agreed, reluctantly removing my wandering hands from the depths of his nightshirt.
Having now nothing to do with them, I fidgeted .
‘I wish they would arrive. I hate waiting!’
Max kissed the tip of my nose.
‘I know, dearest, and you are doing well for someone who is terribly impatient. Luckily, it is one of the traits I love most about you. Otherwise, you would drive me to distraction.’
I propped myself up on my elbow and stared at him. In the gloom, I saw his lips curving into a smile. I traced them with a finger, then rubbed my hand along the scruff of his jaw, and he kissed my palm.
‘You love my impatience? That is very odd.’
‘And your impetuousness, intelligence, and intuitiveness.’
‘So only words beginning with I ?’
Max chuckled. ‘I can go through the whole alphabet if you like. It will not be a chore to list all the things I love about you.’
I snuggled up against him. ‘Well, you could start with A to D before breakfast ...’
‘As you wish ...’ But before he could begin, I distinctly heard the sound of carriage wheels crunching on the drive outside and sat up at once.
‘They are here!’ I exclaimed, whacking Max’s arm excitedly.
‘It seems I was entirely wrong then,’ he said drolly.
‘It is not the first time, and it will not be the last,’ I retorted with a laugh. ‘Oh, I need to get dressed!’
Flinging back the covers, I scrambled out of bed and ran t o the wardrobe. Grabbing the first gown I saw, I threw it on. Dragging my fingers through my long hair, I twisted it up and stuffed pins into it haphazardly while Max looked on, bemused.
‘Slow down. They will not expect you to be up at this hour. Bertram can show them to their rooms.’
‘No, I want to be there to greet them,’ I panted, throwing him a kiss and racing out the door.
Jane and Cassie had already alighted from their carriage and were removing their travelling gloves in the entranceway when I pelted down the stairs and squealed in delight upon seeing them.
Jane turned. ‘Flissy!’ she cried, holding out her arms.
I ran over and embraced my friend tightly and then Cassie too, losing quite a number of hairpins in the process.
‘I have been quite beside myself waiting for you to arrive!’ I exclaimed. ‘I was not expecting you until this afternoon, though.’
Jane winced. ‘Please excuse the early arrival, but we stayed at lodgings nearby last night. So it was just a short journey this morning, and we did not want to waste another second. We have not even breakfasted.’
‘Excellent,’ I said, smiling at her. ‘We will have some now, and then we can do a tour of the estate.’
‘Your description of the house did not do it justice,’ Jane said, gazing up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
‘Well, I’m not a wordsmith like you,’ I said, wrinkling my nose at her.
‘How many bedrooms are there?’ asked Cassie.
‘Ten. Some are rather small, though, and hardly warrant the description. We have put you in the rooms facing the garden. So you can rest there for a few hours if you wish.’
‘Rest?’ said Jane. ‘Oh no, just give us a cup of tea and toast, and we will be quite refreshed and ready to gaze at the splendid sights.’
‘Speaking of “splendid sights”,’ muttered Cassie, and I turned to see Max descending the staircase with a dignified air. He had obviously decided to follow my example and personally greet our guests. He was wearing a smart well-fitting day suit, one of the several that he had commissioned from Papa after the wedding. He was the epitome of a handsome country gentleman, albeit with stubble as he had not had time to shave. Though I was used to his distinguished appearance, he was still a sight to behold at moments like this, and I noticed Jane and Cassie staring at him wide-eyed.
My husband , I thought proudly. Though I still considered the saying crass, I had to admit Aunt had been right in her estimation: I had most assuredly ‘hooked’ him .
Shortly afterwards, we were all gathered in the dining room for breakfast and partaking of the local pork sausages, which were tasty, crisp, and had been perfectly grilled. So tasty were they, in fact, that Evan, closely followed by Jane, had wolfed theirs down and were eyeing the silver dish on the table. The rest of us were being more decorous.
‘Please do have another helping,’ I told them. ‘There are plenty more sausages where those came from.’
‘If you insist,’ said Evan, immediately serving himself. ‘I must say, the food in these parts is delicious, or perhaps it is the excellence of your cook.’
‘She is very good,’ I agreed. ‘But I do miss Sue. She makes such lovely sponges.’
I caught Max’s eye, and his lips twitched.
‘Speaking of Steventon, when will you be back, Harriet?’ asked Jane, forking another two sausages from the dish onto her plate and accompanying them with a buttered roll.
Evan and Harriet had been married the week after Max and me, and they were living at Ashbury Manor for the time being. Harriet had taken over Rosalind’s parlour (since the lady had told Evan she could not foresee herself ever returning to Steventon), and she often invited Jane and Cassie over for tea (the common black kind). But she had not been there of late as they had been visiting Evan’s various relations in London and Wales, and had then journeyed north to stay with us.
‘We will return in May, after we take Papa on an excursion to the South Coast. I managed to persuade him, finally, to take a respite from work. The sea air and change of scenery will do him good. Aunt will come too, of course.’
Harriet and I exchanged a knowing glance. Aunt’s preference for Papa was hardly a secret, and we were well aware that if he were to return her inclination, there would be another marriage to celebrate. But so far, it had not happened.
Just last night, Harriet and I had been talking about it as we relaxed in the parlour after supper with a sherry while our husbands played cards. ‘Do you think she will win him?’ I asked. ‘She has had no luck so far, and it is not for want of trying.’
‘I am not sure,’ Harriet replied. ‘Papa holds fast to Mama’s memory, and Aunt is reminded of that every time she sees her portrait in the dining room. We will see what happens. If we are away from Steventon and Papa has his guard down, she may have a chance. But I am staying well out of it and will do nothing to intervene even if she asks me to!’
The subject at the breakfast table now moved on to what the day held. Max and Evan were going fishing for trout, while us ladies planned to walk around the estate to take some fresh air and exercise.
‘Dearest, how will you and Evan occupy yourselves after your fishing?’ I enquired .
Max shrugged. ‘We can go riding, or we might visit the village establishment for luncheon and a cold pint or two. Why? What will be happening here that you require our absence?’
‘Nothing at all, my love,’ I said innocently. ‘We will just be relaxing and taking tea after our walk. Perhaps indulging in the odd bit of gossip—that sort of thing.’
Max pretended to shudder. ‘We will make sure to be gone for the entire day then,’ he said teasingly, and I stuck out my tongue at him while everyone laughed.
‘You two are adorable,’ said Jane after we had left the dining room to prepare ourselves for our walk. ‘Max is even more smitten with you than when you were engaged, if that is possible.’
‘Oh no, it is all an act. He despises me really but cannot escape because we are now stuck with each other,’ I joked.
Jane scoffed in disbelief.
‘Dear, I was there in the church when my father read you your vows. I did not think Max was even listening. It looked to me like he was musing intently on what was to happen that night after the ceremony.’
I giggled and linked my arm with hers. ‘I have missed you. You say such deliciously wicked things. I cannot wait to hear your news.’
Jane smirked.
‘Well, you have heard most of it in my letters. But I have been busy with something else in your absence, something that I think you might enjoy.’
The day was fine and mild, and we spent a pleasant two hours wandering around the estate, which was of an entirety of one thousand acres and included a lovely wood at the borders. Jane and Cassie exclaimed at intervals about the size of the land. I, in turn, insisted that it was not really that large in comparison to some estates and only seemed to be so because we were on foot and not in a carriage.
The tour finished with a visit to the stables to look in on George, who had accompanied me here. Papa had bestowed him to me as a wedding present and then immediately went and purchased a more obedient horse. But I did not mind having him here; and George was happy as the stables were roomy, he was well fed, and he enjoyed us going out on rides with Max and Apollo. Max had attempted to give him some training, but it was not proceeding well and often ended with Max red in the face from trying not to lose his temper. Privately, I thought it best if he left him alone. He was a free spirit like me and could not be tamed. But I would wait until Max reached that conclusion himself.
After our excursion, we spent the afternoon in the parlour, reclining on the sofas in our stockinged feet, drinking tea (and a little champagne), eating cakes, and reminiscing about Steventon with much laughter and enjoyment. I loved Max with all my heart and adored our life together, but it was marvellous to be amongst female company again.
When the afternoon drew to a close, Cassie and Harriet decided to rest in their rooms before supper, leaving Jane and me to our own devices. I took up a book I had been reading, and Jane ran off to collect her writing slope.
‘Flissy, do you have any spare ink? I’m about to run out,’ she said upon re-entering. ‘Is there some in there?’ She headed for the side table in the corner.
‘Do not open that drawer,’ I said abruptly, knowing it had a pile of French letters in it. ‘It has some ... private documents. I will ring for one of the maids to fetch you some from the study.’
Jane arched an eyebrow but did not question me. ‘Very well,’ she said, settling herself at the table.
‘Are you writing to someone?’ I asked.
‘Ah, no. I am making corrections to a ... manuscript.’
‘Oh? ’
She reached into her writing slope and brought out a bundle of paper.
‘I have written a sort of novel,’ she said, sounding nervous. ‘I started with jottings but began writing it seriously after you left Steventon.’
Jane touched the title page almost reverently, and a jolt of understanding went through me. I knew what this was—after all, I had unwittingly glimpsed its conception in her parlour the night I had twisted my ankle. Now it was an actual book!
‘I thought you might like to read it,’ she continued. ‘After all, it is based on you.’
‘Me?’ I said, trying to sound sufficiently surprised.
She nodded. ‘I hope you do not take offence.’ She bit her lip and looked worried. ‘I may have borrowed quite heavily from your romance with Max.’
Indeed! But I shook my head to reassure her. ‘I cannot imagine I will be offended. Has Cassie read it?’
Jane nodded. ‘Several times.’
‘All right, shall I read it now?’
‘Yes, and I will write a letter to Mama while you do so to let her know we have arrived safely.’
I rang for a maid to fetch Jane some ink and took up the manuscript, which was titled First Impressions , with some trepidation, slightly worried that Max’s night of drunken debauchery had made its way to her ears. But I need not have worried; the story, as it stood, was brilliant—funny, heart-warming, and perceptive, as well as having many tender moments and a host of entertaining characters.
Along with the Bennet family and the main romantic characters of lively Elizabeth and dour Mr Darcy, there were others I instantly recognised, including a ridiculous clergyman called Mr Collins. There was one scene in particular featuring him proposing to Lizzy, which set me off into a fit of giggles.
‘Oh, Jane,’ I said, heaving a deep breath and wiping my eyes. ‘You have done my cousin’s proposal justice indeed.’
‘You do not mind?’
‘No, not at all. I am flattered you have considered it comical enough to write about. And indeed, seeing it put like this, it very much is!’
‘Keep reading,’ she urged, and I did so with much enthusiasm until I came to the last page and its lovely conclusion. I heaved a satisfied sigh.
‘It’s wonderful!’ I told her, and Jane grinned at me .
‘You will see that I have made enough of a departure from the truth so everything is not too recognisable,’ she said eagerly, more willing to talk about her book now that she knew I was not going to be angry. ‘Note as well that I have given you three extra sisters.’
‘Yes, and a mother!’
Jane looked sheepish. ‘Well, I remembered you once said you wanted a mother so much that you would even take one that got on your nerves. So here is one that will do that admirably.’
Cheeky minx , I thought with a smile. ‘Yes, Mrs Bennet is most definitely irritating,’ I said. ‘And Mr Collins is worse. I do not think Mr Humbleton would find it funny, though I see you have given him a wife!’
‘Yes, Charlotte Lucas for plot purposes. But his ending is not as happy as Lizzy’s,’ she replied.
‘That is true. I also see you used some of the descriptions I wrote you of our house for Mr Darcy’s Pemberley and that the lake and trout feature. Max would be pleased. He loves fishing, as you know.’ I handed her back the manuscript carefully. ‘Thank you for letting me read it. I feel quite honoured!’
Jane smiled and inclined her head. ‘I will keep refining it to make it better, and I feel the title needs to be changed. First Impressions is quite dull,’ she said thoughtfully.
‘What else would you have?’
‘I am not sure. I was contemplating Pride and Piglets and adding Mr Darcy saying he thought a piglet was more attractive than Elizabeth,’ she said.
I screwed up my face, a little pained at the remembrance of Max saying that.
‘Actually, on second thought, I will not put that in,’ she said hastily, seeing my expression. ‘I will think of another title.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, much relieved. ‘Have you written any other stories?’
‘Yes, a tale about three sisters that get thrown out of their house by their half-brother and have to live in a cottage in near poverty. I have added a dashing gentleman or two into the mix for the romance aspect.’
I clapped excitedly. ‘Oooh, I love a good romance! Can I read it?’
She smiled tolerantly. ‘Not yet. It needs reworking as it is currently in letter format, but I think it will work better as a narrative.’
‘Well, I would love to read it once you have finished. Who knows, perhaps one day, you will get your manuscripts published and be a real author like Ann Radcliffe! ’
‘Perhaps,’ Jane said quietly in her typical unassuming manner. But I could tell by her bright eyes and the determined set of her chin that becoming a published author was something she desired deeply. Strangely, at that moment, I was certain that she would achieve her dream because once Jane put her mind to something, there was no stopping her. I had a feeling in the years to come that I would indeed be honoured that my life had amused Miss Austen enough for her to write about it and even more so for taking my happy ending in hand. Max and I (or, should I say, Mr Darcy and Lizzy) would be forever grateful to her for that.
The End
Thank you for reading Amusing Miss Austen,