The Missing Manuscript of Jane Austen (24 page)

“You admire and respect him, do not you?”

“Yes.”

“And you trust him?”

“I have no reason not to.”

“You have shared interests—we ascertained that. Do you feel affection for him?”

Rebecca paused. “I suppose I do.”

“There you have it. All the ingredients for love.”

Rebecca laughed, and blushed.

“I have known Jack Watkins’s father and mother for five years now—they are very good people. I have often wondered what might happen if you and he were to meet and get to know one another. And now, it has come to pass! How happy I should be, to see you settled down and married—and to such a fine man. The timing could not be better, Rebecca. I know papa is thinking of moving on—that he has been writing to people—”

“To a cousin we have never met. God only knows where we shall end up.”

“If you marry Dr. Watkins, there will be no need for that. You will have a house in town, and sufficient space for papa to live comfortably with you. You will never want for money again. Your children will receive fine educations. And you may visit
us
whenever you wish, and stay at the Watkins’s house in the village. It will be ideal!”

The picture Sarah presented sounded like perfection itself. But Rebecca cautioned, “I fear you may be allowing your emotions to run away with you, dearest. Jack Watkins has not admitted to any feelings for me, and I have no expectation that he will make a declaration any time soon.”

“Did you mention that you may be leaving Medford?”

Rebecca nodded. “He seemed disappointed to hear it.”

“Well, then! He knows the clock is ticking. I should not be surprised if he asks for your hand this very week, perhaps on the night of the ball itself.”

Whether or not Dr. Watkins intended to propose to her at the ball, Rebecca could not be certain; but she began to hope that he would. Having never before had an offer of marriage, she pictured the scene in her mind, imagining what he might say, and how she ought to reply. For several days her head was full of Dr. Watkins; she could think of nothing but him.

On the morning of the ball, Rebecca arrived at Grafton Hall in very high spirits. It was astonishing to think that, if events transpired according to her sister’s prediction, her life might change in the most dramatic of ways
that very evening
!

To Rebecca’s surprise, she was not shewn up to Miss Davenport’s sitting-room for a fitting, as she had anticipated, but instead to the drawing-room. As the servant announced her and she entered the room, Rebecca found her friend seated on a comfortable chair by the hearth, with her outstretched foot, bereft of shoe or stocking, resting upon a footstool, and Dr. Watkins kneeling before her, examining said foot with his hands. Mrs. Harcourt looked on from the nearby sofa, glowering.

Dr. Watkins rose gracefully and uttered a good morning to Rebecca, which she returned in kind.

“Miss Stanhope,” said Mrs. Harcourt. “Please take a seat.”

“Pray forgive me for being obliged to receive you in this manner,” said Miss Davenport. “There was no time to send a note. It seems I have twisted my ankle.”

“I am so sorry. How did it happen?” said Rebecca,
curtseying to Mrs. Harcourt, and crossing to sit beside her friend.

“I encountered a patch of low ground during my morning walk, and took a false step; suddenly, I was lying on the ground myself! I am in
such
pain—I cannot begin to recall how I returned to the house.”

“You should not have walked at all, without assistance,” said Dr. Watkins. “It does not appear that any bones are broken, thankfully, but it is rather a sprain.”

“What a horrid thing—and to-day of all days!” cried Miss Davenport. “I suppose I shall not be able to dance at the ball to-night?”

“I am afraid you will not be dancing for several weeks,” insisted he. “You must rest, and not place any weight upon your foot.” Glancing at Rebecca now, he gestured with a silent inclination of countenance and eyebrow, which declared—
Do you see? I am being nice to her, just as you requested
.

Rebecca struggled to suppress a smile. Mrs. Harcourt shook her head, and said with a frown, “Well! This is an unhappy circumstance indeed. I cannot cancel the ball at this late hour.”

“Aunt, I would never wish for you to cancel the ball on
my
account. Think how disappointed every one would be!”

“The ball was to be for
you
, Amelia.”

“It was a most thoughtful gesture on your part,” replied Miss Davenport softly, “and I sincerely appreciate it. I cannot tell you how distressed I am, to know that I shall miss out on all the fun.”

“You and Mr. Mountague were to be partners for at least two of the dances. He will be very disappointed.”

“When Mr. Mountague returns from his ride and learns
what has happened, I have no doubt that he will receive the news with equanimity. He will find plenty of other partners. I am certain the evening will be a great success.”

Miss Davenport spoke with sincerity, as if she truly meant all that she said. Even so, the injury seemed so specific and convenient, that Rebecca could not help but wonder if her friend was affecting it, to get out of dancing with Mr. Mountague. “I am very sorry,” said Rebecca, “that you will have to sit out to-night.”

“Do not worry about me,” replied her friend. “I shall be content to sit in a corner and watch. It is
you
I am concerned about. We must find you a gown.”

Dr. Watkins, after giving instructions for Miss Davenport’s care, took his leave, agreeing to check back on the patient later in the day. The invalid was carried upstairs and placed upon her bed, and from that vantage point, directed her maid in the process of bringing out a great quantity of gowns and accessories, and helping Rebecca to try them on. Although there were no white gowns in evidence, there were so many colourful frocks to choose from, and they all fit so well, that it was difficult for Rebecca to make a choice; but in the end she decided on one in a becoming shade of blue, which was manufactured with such a profusion of delicate pleats, ribbons, lace, and embroidery, as to be truly splendid.

Only the most minor of alterations was required; and while the maid took away the garment to attend to her task, Rebecca passed a pleasant hour talking with her friend. As they chatted, Rebecca tidied up the chamber, putting away all the unnecessary combs, feathers, shawls, and gloves which she had tried on. In opening a particular drawer, she noticed a small locket which contained a lock of hair, and commented,

“I have never seen you wear this locket. It is very pretty.”

“What locket is that?”

Rebecca held it up for her view. “Whose hair is it?”

Her friend made a face. “Oh, that—it is my cousin Brook’s.”

“The hair seems too light to be Mr. Mountague’s.”

“Well, he gave it to me a long time ago, when we were children—when it was first mentioned that we should marry one day. His hair has grown darker since then. I do not like to look at it. Please, bury it beneath my shawls.”

This reference to matrimony, a subject which was very much on Rebecca’s mind, gave her the courage to ask if her friend could keep a secret, to which Miss Davenport replied that of course she could. Rebecca admitted that there was a gentleman in the neighbourhood whom she liked—a good, respectable, amiable sort of man, who she thought liked her in return.

“I know just the gentleman to whom you refer!” cried Miss Davenport. “I am certain you are right!”

“Are you?” answered Rebecca with rising excitement.

“Yes! Any one could see that he was smitten with you the night you all dined here. And he made his feelings
quite
clear at the party at Finchhead Downs, when he so particularly sought you out. I would not be at all surprised if he made his intentions known to you at the ball.”

Rebecca felt she could not breathe. “Sarah said the very same.”

“She is very observant, as am I. Why do you think I am going to such effort to ensure that you look ravishing to-night? Why else would I loan you my favourite gown? I want to give you every possible advantage, to encourage his suit, and to help bring about the most favourable conclusion.”

Rebecca smiled in surprise. “I appreciate your efforts, and the gown. So, you like him, then? You think he is a suitable match?”

“Oh, yes! Most suitable, indeed. He is not the sort of gentleman of whom my aunt would approve; but for a woman in
your
position, you could not hope to do better.”

“I am pleased that you think so. Your approval means a great deal to me.” With a sigh, Rebecca sat down on the bed and added, “If he
does
mean to ask me, I hope it is to-night, or it might be too late.”

“Too late? Why?”

Rebecca shared her concerns with regard to her father’s growing discomfort with their accommodations at the vicarage, and his intentions to leave the neighbourhood as soon as another situation could be found. Miss Davenport exclaimed in distress and regret,

“Oh! Tell me it is not so. I will quite die if you move away! What shall I do without you? I have never had a friend like you before, Miss Stanhope. I feel I could tell you any thing. I think of you as quite the sister I never had.”

“You are becoming as dear to me as a sister, as well.”

“If that is the case, Miss Stanhope, do not you think we ought to call each other by our Christian names?”

“Yes, if
you
are amenable to it.”

“I am.” Miss Davenport took Rebecca’s hands in hers. “My own particular friend, from now on I shall address you as nothing but—
Rebecca.
”

“And I shall call you
Amelia
.” The young ladies smiled as they squeezed hands.

“As I have shared a confidence with you, my dear Amelia, will you satisfy my curiosity about something—in complete confidence of course?”

“What do you wish to know?”

“Your ankle: is it really sprained?”

With a flutter of eyelashes and a little half smile, Miss Davenport replied, “I am shocked, quite shocked by your inquiry. What motive on earth could induce me to
invent
such an injury, on the very morning of a ball?”

Her statement rang with such amusing disingenuousness, that, although Rebecca was appalled, she could not help laughing. “Oh! You are too horrid for words! I cannot, in good conscience, condone such bad behaviour.”

“My dear Rebecca, I do not comprehend your meaning,” insisted Miss Davenport, still smiling.

“Do you intend to sustain an injury every time there is a dance, once you are married?”

“Perhaps I shall not marry my cousin Brook. Some good-looking stranger might take notice of me this very night—a man of such fortune and rank, that my aunt will prefer me to marry
him
.”

“Amelia! You are impossible.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the hairdresser arrived, and immediately set to work arranging the tresses of both young ladies—a luxury which Rebecca, who had only ever had her housemaid’s help, enjoyed for the first time. Soon, they were dressed and ready for the evening’s entertainment. When Rebecca glanced in the looking-glass, she felt in remarkably good looks; and Miss Davenport, resplendent in the gown her aunt had selected for her, hopped on one foot as her servant helped her from the chamber and down the stairs.

C
HAPTER
V

A great deal of bustle was in progress below, as the servants engaged in final preparations for the evening’s entertainment. Mrs. Harcourt, who was waiting in the drawing-room when Rebecca and Miss Davenport arrived, immediately sent the servant off to fetch more flowers for Amelia’s hair.

When they sat down to table, Mr. Mountague and Mr. Clifton joined them. Although Rebecca felt the prick of awkwardness at their presence, she could not deny a flutter of pleasure at the look in the young men’s eyes, which assured her that both she and Miss Davenport were approved.

“Cousin!” cried Mr. Mountague, taking his seat. “Imagine my astonishment and distress when we returned from our ride, and heard the terrible news. An ankle, sprained? Is it true?”

“I am afraid so, Brook. Forgive me, but I cannot dance; both the pain, and the doctor, forbid it.”

“Alas! What a tragedy. And you looking so pretty, too.”

“What is the prognosis?” asked Mr. Clifton with concern.

“I am promised that rest will produce a full recovery in time.”

“Thank heavens for that,” said Mr. Mountague. “But as for to-night—Aunt Harcourt said we were to lead the way and open the ball.” Turning to Rebecca, he said, “Miss Stanhope, will you do me the honour of promising me the first two dances, in my cousin’s stead?”

Rebecca was startled. When considering her friend’s feigned injury (and the purpose behind it), it had never occurred to her that
she
might be obliged to dance with Mr.
Mountague, and even worse, to begin as his partner! But there was nothing she could do, other than to nod and reply with a grateful affirmative. Miss Davenport gave her a private, apologetic look. Rebecca saw the humour in the situation, and could not feel resentful that she should be its object.