Searching For Captain Wentworth (44 page)

‘I understand
that Jane is a writer.’

Henry’s eyes lit
up. ‘Do you know, Miss Elliot, I am very
proud of my little sister? I think one day she will
be a very fine
author if she
ever gets a chance to pursue her craft. I do not think
she is “scribbling” much, as she calls it, at the
moment, but one day
I am certain
that time and talent will collide.’

‘I am sure it
will and to have such encouragement and
kindness from you would mean everything to Miss
Austen,’ I said
and all at once,
a memory from the past came to me with such a jolt
that my reflection over the way in a slither of
mirrored glass
between windows
displaying a vast landscape open to the sky made
me sit up to ask a hundred questions. I didn’t
recognize myself. The
room was
full of strangers, and when I looked across the table at
Charles I could see someone else. I couldn’t think
who it could be
although seeing
him made me feel happy. I felt warmth, a memory
that I recognized as a good one. I saw him smile
and dark curls
tumble over his
face as he picked up a knife. I saw the line of his
throat as he threw back his head and laughed. The
smell of his
cologne was
sharp and fragrant as if he was in the room. The
present flowed around me like the sea swirling up
around my toes
sucking pebbles
and the past away. The clouds through the window
passed over to reveal strong patches of blue and
the view through
windows I no
longer recognized looked brighter, the sea changing
to a ribbon of sparkling water, the sun flashing on
its surface with
spots of silver
like sequin spangles turning in the light. A seagull
called overhead. Life and time stood frozen for a
moment. I caught
my breath. My
body drifted out to sea to dance on the crest of a
wave and then the seagull called again.

‘Are you quite
well, Miss Elliot?’ Henry Austen’s expression
was etched with alarm. The last thing I saw was
Charles jumping
out of his chair
and round to my seat as I slumped forward.

I don’t know
quite what happened, I suppose it must have
been some sort of fainting fit, though as someone
who is normally
far too robust
to do any such thing, I must admit that I denied
anything of the sort. I had never fainted in my
life before only
experiencing
giddiness when time travelling, which I supposed
would be natural enough. I don’t know what caused
it or whether
I’d started
falling backwards through time once more, but the pull
was enough to remind me that I really didn’t belong
there and that
these people
were relative strangers to me. I knew I was not meant
to be in their time and the grip of panic that made
my stomach lurch
with fear,
filled me with dread. I’d slipped away for a moment like
a soul freed from its earthly ties, but like one
who knows its life is
not yet
up binds itself to the body once more.

When I came to,
Eliza Austen was holding a phial of hartshorn
salts under my nose and Mrs Randall was rubbing my
hand
between both of her own with
motherly care. I could no longer
recall the details of what had happened. Everything seemed as it
had before, with one exception. The rain and the
dark clouds were
blown right
away. There was blue sky as far as the eye could see so
that it was impossible to see where the sea ended
and the sky began.

‘I think what we
all need is a walk down to the sea to blow the
cobwebs away,’ announced Mrs Randall, ‘that is, if
you feel strong
enough, Sophia.’

‘Yes, I should
enjoy a walk,’ I answered, glad that we would
be doing something to take the attention away from
me, ‘and it
would be a pity
not to enjoy the sunshine now the rain has passed.’

Everyone agreed
there could be nothing better than a walk out
in sunshine and fresh air. The party that left
Nelson House a quarter
of an
hour later were in high spirits to match the breeze that
whipped at our gowns and coats alike hurrying us
down the hill
past the shops
and the library and almost into the water’s edge
when we got to the bottom of Broad Street. Eliza
took Mr
Glanville’s arm
on one side and encouraged Emma to take the
other, the former saying that she wished their host
to give her a
conducted tour
of Lyme, as she was sure no one else could be as
expert. Mr Elliot took Mrs Randall’s arm and so
Henry and
Marianne,
Charles and I, fell into step behind. We turned onto The
Walk to join the promenaders who appeared at the
first sight of the
sun. Marianne,
who had insisted on bringing her sketchbook and
watercolour box protested at the idea of going any
further.

‘I do not want
to go up on the Cobb again,’ she declared. ‘I
was nearly blown away last time. I want to stay
here and paint on
the sands.’

‘I’ll stay with
her,’ I said immediately, ‘we’ll be quite safe.’

Before anyone
could say another thing, Eliza Austen spoke
out. ‘Charles, you stay and mind the Miss Elliots.
You know, he is
quite a talented
artist, Miss Marianne, I am sure he will make
himself useful to you.’

She turned to Mr
Glanville. ‘I am longing
for you
to show me the Cobb. I know you will keep us from falling
over the edge, and Miss Elliot, we must insist that
our companion
holds us very
tightly. Besides, I simply cannot wait to hear your
tales of the sea as you promised. Tell me, are the
stories I have
heard, about
pirates and smugglers in these parts, true?’

I wished to
fling my arms about Eliza’s neck and hug her.

Charles and I
would be on our own, or almost by ourselves with a
chance to talk much more freely, which seemed
heaven-sent. And I
knew she had
seen the opportunity and forced the situation. I was
sure she had been on the Cobb many times before,
but she’d made
Mr Glanville
play right into her hands. As they all walked away, the
only person who seemed to give us a second look was
Mrs Randall.
I knew she was
watching when Charles took my hand to lead me
down the steps.

‘Mrs Austen said
you can paint,’ cried Marianne. ‘Is it true?
Can you really paint with watercolours?’

‘I do not claim
to be a professional, though it has been said
that I have a certain proficiency with a
paintbrush,’ answered
Charles
as we made our way across the sands to a part of the beach
where rocks and stones made progress slow. ‘I like
to draw and
paint when I’m
on board ship. It helps to pass the time away. He
bent to pick up a stone and handed it to her.
‘Here, Marianne, what
do you
think of this fossil?’

Marianne
examined the ammonite, carved and coiled into a
perfect spiral. ‘May I keep it?’ she asked, looking
up at him and
brushing a piece
of stray hair from her eyes. ‘And will I be able to
find one myself, do you think?’

‘I’m sure you
shall. I’ll take care of your painting things
whilst you look,’ Charles persuaded her, ‘but don’t
stray too far.’

It was nothing
short of a miracle, the way he dealt with
Marianne. With him, she turned into the delightful
girl I could see
she had the
potential to be. He brought out the best in her. Without
a single complaint, she roamed around the area
collecting any stone
or piece
of rock she found interesting, putting them into her pockets
or running back enthusiastically to show us her
spoils.

‘Will you paint
the landscape?’ I asked Charles as we walked
companionably along.

‘I could if you
wished me to, though I have another idea in
mind.’ He looked rather secretive, but the flicker
of a smile played
around his
mouth.

‘Am I allowed to
ask what you are going to paint?’

‘You may, though
I must yet secure your permission before I
venture forth.’

‘I don’t know
what you are about, Lieutenant Austen. You are
such a tease.’

‘I wish to paint
you with your permission. May I capture those
dancing eyes for posterity, Miss Elliot?’

He was looking
at me again with intense, dark looks and I felt
another tug on my heart as I nodded, too overcome
to speak. More
than anything, I
longed for him to paint me.

Charles led me
swiftly to a suitable rock giving his
instructions, directing my every move and wasn’t entirely satisfied
straight away. He wanted me to sit very slightly to
one side, my
hands folded and
my feet crossed at the ankle in the sand.

‘Forgive me,
Miss Elliot, but your hands …’

He took them in
his own. His fingers laced with mine for just
an exquisite second before he placed them in my
lap.

‘The composition
is extraordinary,’ he shouted, taking up his
stance several feet away and training his pencil in
my direction.

‘Miss Elliot,
you were meant to sit in a seascape for eternity. Such
beauty and sublimity combined.’

I couldn’t tell
if he was teasing me in his usual way and he was
looking at me so intently, I could only look at my
surroundings.

‘Oh, the view is
quite charming, I agree,’ I replied. ‘Lyme has
forever stolen my heart and still more this lovely
bay makes it the
happiest spot
for watching the flow of the tide. I could never tire of
this prospect.’

‘I am in
complete agreement, Miss Elliot,’ said Charles, his
eyes slowly travelling from the top of my head to
my toes. ‘This is
a view that
would never fatigue me. I could gaze at it forever.’

I felt he wasn’t
talking about the landscape and he said it with
such meaning that I could only draw one conclusion,
though Mr
Glanville’s
words came back to me just then. I remembered that
he’d warned me that Lieutenant Austen only
considered me as a
summer
flirtation. But, I could not and did not want to believe that.

Everything
Charles said and did was done with sincerity, I would
have staked my life on it. Mr Glanville had his own
reasons for
making such
accusations, but I didn’t want to think about him now.
I was enjoying this sense of freedom and the
feeling that I was
admired for
myself alone. It was impossible not to laugh out loud
and Charles saw me return his generous smile with
one of my own.

When he’d
finished, he was as furtive as ever. I wanted to see
the painting, but he wouldn’t let me. Marianne
looked at it with
approval before
skipping away again with a pocket bulging with
fossils, stones and shells. I saw him turn the
page. He said he was
just
signing his name and that he would make a present of the
painting when the time was right. We could see the
others returning
now and as Henry
came along in advance to warn us of their
coming, I reflected on the fact that there was only
one more day for
us to be
together. Although the sky was still clear, I felt as if the
world was grey with cloud again. I climbed the hill
with Charles
walking at my
side. Our sombre mood enveloped us in gloom like
the earlier mist that had hung over the cliff tops,
unwilling to be
banished by the
setting sun, which gleamed crimson in the fading
light.

The following
morning, I awoke early with thoughts of Charles in
my head as soon as my eyes opened. I was so excited
at the thought
of seeing him
and though I realized we didn’t have much time left,
I knew I should be grateful simply for the chance
of spending
another day with
him. When I heard the carriage downstairs, I leapt
to the window without a care for who might see. But
I was to be
disappointed. It
wasn’t Charles who stepped out from the carriage,
but his brother Henry and the beautiful Eliza. It
was so hard to hide
my feelings. Why
hadn’t he come with them, I wondered?