The Jane Austen Society by Natalie Jenner Page 0,70
looks just like … no, wait, it can’t be…”
Frances smiled and stood up from the front steps of the shepherd’s hut. “Evie, would you like to meet her?”
Evie was still peering through the trees. The woman looked tall and willowy in her heels, but all Evie could see was the famous image of a barefoot housewife in a kitchen, trying to lock the door against a Nazi soldier, her face a mask of terror—and the Polynesian princess on a tropical beach, nursing a capsized British sailor back to health—and Evie’s favourite of all, the nineteenth-century Russian countess standing on the train platform, the steam from the engine billowing across her face, and then just the sound of the train wheels screeching to a horrific halt.
The woman was waving to them now by the front gate as they approached from the adjoining woodland. With her other hand she was fiddling with something about her neck.
“Hello, Miss Frances!” she called out.
“I’m sorry,” Evie was still muttering, “but that woman looks terribly like…”
Frances patted the young girl’s shoulder as they reached the stranger. “Evie, I’d like you to meet a new friend of mine, Miss Harrison. Or Mimi, as you might know her. Mimi, it’s so lovely to see you again. This is Miss Evie Stone, who helps me with the house and is a great fan of Jane Austen like yourself.”
Mimi held her hand out to the young girl, recognizing well her state of shock. “Hello, Evie, it’s a pleasure to meet you. And if you love Jane Austen even half as much as I do, we shall have a lot to talk about.”
For the first and only time in her life, Evie Stone was speechless.
* * *
“Oh, Frances, this is awful. I don’t even know what to say.”
The three women were sitting upstairs in the oak-panelled room once known as the Ladies’ Withdrawing Room and reached by the beautiful Jacobean staircase in the southeast corner of the house. Frances had invited Evie to stay with them for tea, and the young girl was given a stern look of warning from Josephine as she placed the silver tray down on the small round table between her mistress and the famous guest.
Frances waited discreetly until Josephine had left the room, then poured out Mimi’s tea with both milk and sugar as she liked it (“I’m a child!” Mimi had said, laughing, the first time she gave her order). Frances passed the delicate cup and saucer to her before replying, “I feel awful for you, and for Mr. Leonard. I know how much you wanted the cottage.”
Mimi shook her head. “Don’t give it a second thought—I never felt comfortable about the whole thing anyway. Jack is just so damn—oh, excuse my language—but just so persistent. It’s almost impossible to say no to him.”
Frances nodded in agreement. “I fully understand that. I probably would’ve cut him a lock of my own hair if he’d asked for it.”
Evie was sitting between the two women, looking back and forth as they each spoke in turn, her head following silently as if at a tennis match.
“What will you do now?” Mimi asked before taking a sip of her tea.
“One of the tenants has agreed to give notice for the end of March, as she was planning to leave soon anyway. Our lawyer, Andrew Forrester, is arranging everything for me. I hope to move out of here by the spring.”
Mimi scratched the side of her forehead, and Evie’s mouth fell open in a gape of astonishment, as it was the exact same gesture she had seen the woman do several times in Home & Glory, Evie’s all-time favourite film.
“But why the rush? My father was an estates lawyer before he became a judge, and I know a little bit about the American laws at least. You might end up declared the sole heir if no one else pops up in time—why not wait until you have to leave? Will Mr. Forrester as executor not let you stay?”
“Mr. Forrester would let Miss Frances do anything,” Evie piped up.
The two women turned in unison to look at her.
“It looks like Miss Stone has found her voice,” Frances said in an attempt at a quick distraction.
“So, Evie.” Mimi smiled at the girl in as friendly a manner as possible to help further steady her nerves. “Jane Austen. How did it start for you?”
Evie had been picking at a piece of glazed lemon cake on her china plate, and she placed the plate