The Jane Austen Society by Natalie Jenner Page 0,9

thoroughly determined to win at something big today.

Yardley himself was torn about the sale. Godmersham had been one of those historic houses that seemed to survive the First World War, only to lose its final footing with the struggles of the Second. Sotheby’s had had its eyes on the Austen-related contents of the estate for several decades, the author’s reputation only increasing year after year, especially abroad. Wealthy Americans were aggressively driving up the prices for various editions and letters, and Yardley could foresee the day when certain items would outstrip the average collector’s reach. His whole team was hoping today would usher in that new era. For now, items including fragments of Austen’s own handwriting were still reasonably priced, and Yardley was holding on to his own first edition of the collected works from 1833, personally acquired from an antiquarian dealer in Charing Cross when Yardley was still in college.

“Lot number ten,” intoned the director of Sotheby’s, “is this exquisite necklace of a cross. In topaz. Acquired by Charles Austen, brother to Jane Austen, from reward money received for capturing an enemy ship whilst in the Royal Navy. Accompanied by a similar but not identical cross, also in topaz. Both on solid-gold chains and described through a series of Austen-Knight family letters as belonging to each of Jane Austen and her sister, Cassandra. Affidavit copies of those letters are included in the catalogue before you.”

Yardley knew that the famous film star now sitting in the third row was most interested in three items from the catalogue: a simple gold ring with a turquoise stone that had verifiably belonged to Austen, the two topaz necklaces, and a small portable mahogany writing desk that had passed down through the Austen family over the years. Although Sotheby’s could not confirm that Jane Austen herself had written at the desk while at home or travelling, this was one of only two desks known to have belonged to her immediate family. The other one was lost somewhere in private hands.

“Lot number ten,” the director repeated. “Bidding begins at one hundred pounds, with a presale estimate of one thousand. One hundred pounds—do I hear one hundred?”

The actress gave the slightest nod of her head.

“We have one hundred pounds. Do I hear one fifty? One hundred and fifty pounds?”

Another nod, this time from a few rows back. The actress looked back over her left shoulder, then glanced quickly at the gentleman across the aisle.

Bidding proceeded like this for several minutes. When one of the bids went from one thousand pounds to fifteen hundred, the auction-house director looked over at one of his other colleagues standing along the mirrored wall to the right of the podium. The two men exchanged nods. “Two thousand pounds,” the director announced sharply. “Do I hear two thousand?”

Yardley had started watching the gentleman in silent conversation with the actress. He was as handsome as a movie star himself and well over six feet tall, his hatless head towering above those of the people seated around him. He was wearing a tailored suit in dark grey, with dark-chocolate-brown brogues. He was not checking anything—not his Cartier watch, not the catalogue, not the faces of anyone else in the room except hers. He showed no apprehension or anxiety of any kind. As the bidding accelerated, the price now far exceeding previous estimates, most of the crowd started to lean forward in their chairs, whispering excitedly to their neighbours. But the man just kept calmly, almost casually, lifting his right index finger, over and over, as if bored with the proceedings.

“Five thousand pounds!” the director was exclaiming, as the audience started to murmur its approval even more loudly. All the faces in the room were now swivelled to watch the famous Hollywood actress and the man across the aisle from her.

“Going once … going twice … sold! Two topaz crosses belonging to Jane Austen and her sister—sold for five thousand pounds to the gentleman in row three.”

The actress jumped up from her chair and rushed over to the man, and he smiled in his seat while she hugged him. He looked up at her, at that remarkable face, and it was clear to Yardley that everything the man was doing—everything he was bidding on today—was in service to that face. Everyone else got to see it stories high on a screen—but right now, it belonged to him, as much as those two topaz crosses did.

The ring was sold as lot number fourteen, this time for