Chapter Five
Jenny
Sevenoaks, Kent
We are arrived at my great-uncle’s house, and it is quite as grand as I imagined!
But then G-U-F is as rich as old Croesus so it is not a shock, in the least, to find that my chamber, for me alone, is quite twice the size of the one I share with my sister at home.
I feel wealth rubbing off on me and admit I rather like it - perhaps if I make myself very amenable during my stay G-U-F will leave me this chamber after he’s gone, along with the house and all its contents.
G-U-F is very old, so I might not have too long to wait, unless by having such wicked thoughts I am taken first, of course.
I’ve already had a very lucky escape from death, a putrid infection that almost killed me when I was at school, one from which my poor dear aunt did not recover.
I often wonder what would have happened if my cousin had alerted our parents sooner, if the outcome had been changed - and I’d been the one now mouldering in the grave - my aunt still living to tell the tale of her poor niece who always showed much promise, even if she was inclined to be wilful.
There’s a view from my window over the gardens, which my great-uncle says leads to the back of Knole House.
He acts as agent for the Duke and advises him in all sorts of matters.
He says there’s a short cut from his house to Knole, and when I expressed an interest in that great house he said he’d take me over it.
For the time being I long to explore my uncle’s gardens, and hope I might escape after dinner.
If I’m lucky I shall bump into the ghost of Elizabeth, the Tudor queen, and tell her what I think of her for chopping off her cousin’s head.
I am sure she must have been to Knole on several occasions, and I’ve a mind, if I see her, to tell her just what I think.
The poor Scottish Queen, much maligned and innocent - I cannot bear to think of her imprisoned and worse!
We are lucky to have no visitors today as we have just arrived, but I know there are hordes of people wanting to come and look at us - no doubt, so they can tell their relations what a very poor lot we are in every imaginable way.
Though we are not so very impecunious, we could not be much lower in the elevated circles of society in which we move quite often.
However, I have high hopes of becoming rich when, as a lady authoress I shall be feted everywhere I go - Cassy has no doubt it shall be so - she almost died laughing when she read the tale I recently dedicated to her beautiful person.
Though, I cannot think why she could not recognise herself - I have known her all my life, and the character is as true as ever could be.
It is one of a number of pieces I have composed - and whilst I know the road to publication may be fraught with difficulty, I am convinced that on first sight my novel will be published.
There is only one obstacle preventing such a celebrated occasion - the fact that it’s not yet written.
But, such a small matter will be easily overcome - I have no doubt.
I am become very giddy, as my mother would put it, and need to rein in my high spirits, but sometimes I could laugh out loud at all the world and everything in it.
That’s another thing my mother says I do too frequently, but it is very hard when one’s mind and heart is so full of humour at all times of the day and night, and even in church where I have hugged myself and bitten my lips until they’re red raw to stop myself from giggling out loud.
I dare say she was as giddy once, but marriage and worrying about money have taken their toll.
When she’s writing a poem or a puzzle, I occasionally glimpse traces of the young girl she used to be, longing to be praised and admired for her quick wit, despite the fact she’s lost her two front teeth.
And then her eyes light up and sparkle with the mischief that must have captivated my father as a young man.
My papa is the dearest person in the world to me - the kindest and cleverest gentleman that ever lived, and when my name is the talk of every drawing room in London, and I am reading from my most famous novels, even if the thought terrifies me, I shall say I owe all my talent to that most wonderful of men.
He is the rock upon which our family stands, and we are all indebted to him for his dedication to our wellbeing and comfort, to our spiritual welfare and guiding hand through life - without him we would perish or go to the dogs.
***
Cassy and I escaped after dinner to go for a walk.
Fortunately, our uncle keeps very old-fashioned hours and we spent the greater part of the late afternoon and evening wandering round and having one of those talks, which start with a sedate and decorous discussion, but descend quickly into hilarity …
at least on my part. Cassy joins in for a while, but she is always so level headed and sensible - yes, that is the difference between us, I think.
She has all the sense and I have none. My mother is constantly warning me against excesses of feeling, but I cannot help it if I am prone to sensibility - I am a literary artist, after all, and cannot be expected to be entirely composed at all times.
Besides, if I were constantly suffering hysterical fits it would be something else completely - I’m not quite mad - yet.
I like to think I have qualities which allow me to view my fellow men AND women with a sympathetic eye, and if I am to write on all facets of human nature, I must be au fait with it all, as my cousin Eliza would say, and experience life to the full.
Cassy has become most secretive of late - she’s taken to being more solitary than she used to be, and she often wears that expression I’ve seen worn on other young ladies’ countenances who have reached the age where they imagine they are in love - though I cannot begin to think which local youth might have stolen her heart.
I have never seen such a wretched lot - not a manly youth amongst them - all insipidity, sly looks, and enough pimples to be called a rash.
No, it cannot be a Steventon boy who has stolen her heart, and we’ve not been in Kent long enough for her to form an attachment.
Though perhaps all that is about to change.
We were wandering through the Lime Walk earlier when my sister’s thoughtful silence was broken by the announcement of her news, dividing us both in differing expectation.
‘Did you hear G-U-F saying that the Walters are to visit tomorrow?’ she asked.
I nodded. ‘I did hear something, though I must admit my full attention was not on the subject of conversation. I was thinking about my composition, and of what I might write yet.’
‘Oh, Jenny, I knew you were not listening! Cousin Philly and her parents are coming for dinner, and I must say I should like to make her acquaintance.’
‘I expect she’ll be like most young woman of her age, wearing too much powder, exposing far too much flesh, and only interested in extracting what gossip she can whilst making unfavourable comparisons to ourselves.’
‘Jenny, you are too harsh, even if I suspect you may find something of what you say to be true. Perhaps you will find the next set of visitors more to your liking.’
‘Oh, not more visitors! Could we not have just one day to recover before we are paraded out again like prize pigs.’
‘Our second cousins from Lamberhurst are to dine with us the day after - indeed, Lucius and Thomas have been invited to stay whilst we are here, as G-U-F is keen for us all to become well acquainted. Mama says they’re exceedingly rich.
You know she cannot help herself, but she said I should behave most prettily in their company. ’
‘Lord, Cassandra - is she to marry you off already? I know she wants what is best for us, but truly, you are too young to be thinking of matrimony just yet. You’ve scarcely been to a dance or looked at a young man.’
‘I saw a miniature painting of Lucius … if his portrait is a true likeness, he is quite handsome,’ she went on.
I looked at her in disbelief. ‘And everyone knows a portrait cannot be reliable.’
Cassy smiled. ‘Perhaps this one will prove that its owner is even more handsome, though looks are not the most important attribute.’
‘No, we all know what is considered important, and that’s the size of his …’ I paused for dramatic effect, and even my strait-laced sister burst out laughing. ‘His pocketbook, of course, and how much money he has in it.’
‘Well, he will inherit all this one day, and much more besides. His father is ambitious too, and is amassing his own wealth. And all may not be lost where you’re concerned. There is also a brother for you, just your age.’
‘Oh, do not threaten me with affection from any quarter - I cannot think of another thing more abhorrent to me. How in the world does anyone ever marry, when men and boys are such hideous creatures, our brothers being an exception, of course … along with my particular favourite Mr Cowper, and I would permit such love-making as his poetry could allow.’
Cassy smiled, and shook her head with mock disapproval as the afternoon breeze stirred her curls.
Suddenly, I saw her as others must, and as any young man does who spends time in her company.
She is so beautiful, I thought, as I examined her sweet face, and dark eyes.
I suddenly felt afraid, as if she might be taken from me.
I knew it would not be long before she allowed herself to fall in love.
It was clear she was thinking of nothing else.
‘Jenny, everyone must marry sometime. And the sooner you meet your spouse and get to know him, the sooner you will have independence, your own home, and a family to call your own.
‘You call it independence, Cass, to be shackled at such an early age? You will have no freedom, and your life will change beyond everything you know. You’ve been reading too many novels, I think.’
My sister looked back at me with the sweet serene expression she always wears when she’s trying to convince me of her argument.
‘If I met the right man I would be prepared to give up some freedoms and surely, I would gain others. To have my own home, my own rooms and space - to furnish a house in my own style, and fill it with the laughter of children would be a life I would enjoy … if he was handsome and rich.’
I caught my sister’s expression, and laughed. She really was teasing me now.
‘So be it, Cassandra,’ I replied. ‘I shall flirt outrageously, and fall in love with my cousin before nuncheon, though I am certain it will all be for naught. You, on the other hand will, no doubt, be engaged before the tea things appear!’
‘Perhaps love is not like it is in books, but I’m curious. Don’t you wish to know what it is to be in love? What it would be like to be kissed and adored?’
‘Oh, absolutely horrid, I am certain. I would not want any gentleman, handsome or not, slobbering over me like a great dog. And then there’s the thought of giving birth - so many good women die in the process - and I have never met one who has not been changed by child-bearing …
irrevocably. I am curious, but not so much that I’d be prepared to die for the case. ’
‘Not all women die.’
I knew what she was thinking. Mama had given birth to eight children, and she’d been strong enough to survive.
‘And, if we all thought like you, Jenny, the human race would die out. We’ll see …
in a year or so I have a feeling you may not feel quite so vehemently against the subject as you do now.
Besides, it is our duty to marry. Think how it would help Mama and Papa in their old age if they did not have to worry about money.
Our father will be considerably poorer when he eventually retires, you know, and though it is not a pleasant subject to think on, it is one we must contemplate. ’
That was a sobering thought, indeed.