CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I walked with J this morning as far as the old oak tree at the bend in the lane, where we could not be seen from the road.
She said little, but was in good spirits and her complexion was unusually bright.
She remarked upon the mildness of the air for the season, and I thought her hands trembled when she adjusted her gloves, though she laughed when I said it.
I sat back after reading this, wondering about the mysterious ‘J’.
But it was the entry that followed which made my heart start racing at a million miles an hour:
Lovell returned late from the village, his boots marked with mud and his coat smelling of woodsmoke. He said he had been employed upon some repairs at Mrs Austen’s house and he was well satisfied with the work. I asked no more, though I believe that if pressed, he may have had more to tell.
Shocked, I re-read it, wondering if I was imagining things. But no, the mention of Mrs Austen – surely Jane’s mother? – was right there in Charlotte’s own words.
I set the notebook down in my lap and looked at Dante, a mix of excitement and confusion bubbling up inside me.
He grinned. ‘You’ve found it, then?’
I nodded excitedly. ‘Mrs Austen’s house! That has to be Jane’s house as well. And Charlotte’s brother Lovell did some repairs there.’ I shook my head. ‘This is incredible. But who is “J”? Why wouldn’t Charlotte just write out her friend’s name? Why all the secrecy?’
‘Read on,’ he replied.
Eagerly, I turned back to the notebook.
May 14th
I begin to fear I am too much engaged in concerns that should not be mine.
Yet I cannot refuse J or my brother, for they seem to look to me as if I were the keeper of their peace.
J trusts me and my dear brother Lovell depends upon my silence.
I pray that no harm will come of what is meant only kindly.
I looked at Dan. ‘Hang on. Is Charlotte describing a secret love match here? Between her brother and her friend, J?’ I asked him. ‘Or am I reading too much into her words?’
He smiled. ‘We wondered that at first. But if you read on, everything becomes clearer.’
Seconds later, though, it was announced that Alton station would be our next stop, so I was forced to abandon the notebook and gather my things together, ready to get off the train.
It was dark and the snow was thick on the ground when we emerged from the station.
But it had always been Dan’s plan to find a hotel or a B&B and travel to Chawton the following morning, and I’d already decided to tag along.
Dan had booked rooms for us in a small hotel some distance from Alton, and in the taxi on the way there, the driver told us that the buses had been chaotic for the past few days because of the snow, but milder weather was expected.
I only hoped the buses would be running normally the next day for our trip to Chawton because taking taxis here, there and everywhere would so expensive.
I already had some cash out ready but to my surprise, when it came to paying the driver, Dante told me to put my money away.
‘You paid your train fare but this trip was my idea, which kind of makes you my guest,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine you earn a fortune working in a village café, so I’m footing the bill for everything else from now on, hotel included.’
‘Really?’ I looked at him uncertainly, not quite sure what I thought about that.
It was true that he was likely far better off financially than I was, although I could have done without him pointing it out so bluntly!
It almost made me want to insist on paying my way.
But then again, I’d learned from experience that once Dan made up his mind about something, he was a hard man to budge.
‘You’re not offended, are you?’ he asked.
‘Erm . . . no. No, of course not. Why should I be?’
‘Good.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, looking relieved.
‘Because no offence was meant. It’s just sometimes I .
. . well, I seem to put my foot in it and say the wrong things.
’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘I believe in scrupulous honesty. I can’t stand people who lie.
But sometimes being too candid can land me in trouble. ’
Taken aback by his confession and sudden display of vulnerability, I smiled at him. ‘Well, I’m not offended and I’m very grateful to you for paying for the taxi.’
I’d caught a glimpse of the man beneath the confident exterior. And I liked it.
‘We’ll have to see about the hotel bill, though,’ I added with a grin, as we walked into the pretty boutique hotel. ‘I might need to raid the mini bar for chocolate and I wouldn’t want you having to pay for that.’
He chuckled. ‘Fair enough.’
As he talked to the receptionist, I noticed a faint blush rise in her cheeks.
And it occurred to me that she must be about Dan’s age, or maybe a little younger.
Late twenties perhaps? She had corn-coloured hair pulled back in an intricate plait and her nails, as she tapped away on the keyboard, were immaculate.
I glanced down at my own clipped and unpolished nails, and the smattering of freckles over the backs of my hands. I liked to think they were freckles and not the beginning of age spots!
The receptionist was saying that because the hotel wasn’t busy, she would be able to upgrade the standard rooms we’d booked to junior suites.
She glanced at me and smiled, and I smiled back and said that would be great.
But then we got onto the subject of reserving a table for dinner – and at that point, I panicked.
I’d brought nothing with me. No change of clothes or even any toiletries!
Obviously, a hotel as posh as this one would have a basket of lovely scented products in the en-suite. But what about clothes?
I’d caught a glimpse of the elegant dining room when a staff member had opened the door and gone inside. I couldn’t possibly go to dinner with Dan wearing my black work trousers, white shirt and plain black loafers, could I?
‘Eight o’clock?’ Dan was asking me.
‘Yes! Perfect.’ I smiled at the receptionist who was called Elouise, according to her badge. ‘Excuse me, are there any shops nearby?’
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost five.
‘The nearest village is Ridsby, which is about a mile along the road. They have a chemist, a boutique and a mini-market that doubles as a newsagent and post office? They close at five-thirty.’ She smiled.
‘I can order a taxi for you, if you like?’
‘Thank you! Yes, that would be great.’
I grinned sheepishly at Dan while she spoke on the phone. ‘I just need a few things. I won’t be long.’
‘You’re in luck. There’s a taxi in the area,’ said Elouise.
‘It should be here in a few minutes. A taxi back might be tricky but there’s a local bus that comes through here and stops right outside the hotel.
It gets to Ridsby at just after five-forty-five.
’ She smiled. ‘Five-forty-eight, I believe, although I can check for you?’
‘No, no. That’s fine.’
‘If you get stuck, phone me and I’ll order another taxi for you?’
‘That’s great. Thank you.’
‘Ah, here’s your lift now.’ She looked across and I followed her gaze to the taxi that was drawing up outside.
I glanced at Dan. ‘Back soon.’
He held up his key. ‘I’ll be in the Riverside Suite? Come and collect your key from me when you get back?’
‘Okay.’
‘Happy shopping.’ His mouth relaxed into an ironic smile that spread to his eyes. It suggested that shopping was the very last thing he was in the mood for.
I gave Elouise a quick smile and hurried out to the taxi.
I had a strange fluttery feeling inside as I slipped into the passenger seat, as if I was in the middle of an adventure. It was a little scary, not knowing how tonight and tomorrow would unfold. But I was happy to go along with it and see where it took me!
I was usually pretty accurate when it came to summing up people’s characters. I’d had Dan down as a pompous, irritating know-it-all, rubbish at communicating.
But I’d caught glimpses today of a different Dan and I had to admit, I was intrigued.
As the taxi pulled away, I glanced back at the brightly-lit reception. He was still chatting to Elouise. Were he and the annoying Arabella a couple? Or were they just work colleagues?
I supposed that was something I would find out later, when we sat across from each other over dinner. Thanks to our common interest in diarist Charlotte, at least we wouldn’t be short of conversation.
I sat back as we drove along, wondering who was the mysterious friend Charlotte referred to as ‘J’?
Dante had studied the whole thing with his sister, apparently, so maybe he would know. But I got the feeling he wanted me to discover the truth for myself.
I was suddenly desperate to read more from Charlotte’s notebook.
Maybe I’d get a chance before dinner tonight . . .