Miss Austen - Gill Hornby Page 0,111

familiar knot of anxiety that came with the threat of a journey. The driver had promised only that he would arrive by midmorning. No doubt Cassandra was, as usual, ready too early. They were now all in that moment of awkwardness, when farewells must be made, but one did not know quite how long one had for their making. There was so much to be said, but it should not all be said too soon.

“I shall miss you,” she said to Pyramus as he nuzzled her knee. “You have been a great friend to me while I was here and quite converted me to your species.” She looked up as an idea occurred. “I think I shall get myself a little dog when I am home.”

“That is an excellent idea, Cassandra!” cried Isabella. “I hate to think of you living all alone.”

“Oh, I do not mind it. Do not worry on my account. Those whom I wish to live with are no longer around, but their memories keep me good company. No, God has been most merciful, truly. He spared my dear mother until she reached an uncommonly great age—eighty-seven years was a miracle, for one so dogged with ill health. And your aunt Martha is not so very far away, still. I can go to her and Frank whenever I please.”

“Theirs is a busy household. I cannot imagine that you want to go there for too long. How she can find the energy for all those children at her time of life! It hardly bears thinking.”

“She is a stoical creature, and the best stepmother to them all that the family could wish for. It is never easy, when the fond, real mother is taken too soon, but we are all very pleased to see them married at last. You are right, though—my own visits do tend to be short.”

“Dear Aunt Martha.” Isabella smiled fondly. “I can never get used to the fact that she is now Lady Austen.”

“Nor can Mary,” Cassandra cautioned her. “She finds the elevation most trying. It is best not to use the title when she is around.”

They were interrupted by the sound of wheels upon gravel.

“Ah, there is my man.” Cassandra rose and embraced Isabella.

During the course of the visit, their relationship had grown from a wary acquaintance to the richness of friendship. They stood now together, in silent communion, each celebrating the worth of the other.

“Isabella.” Cassandra pulled back, took her hands, and began. “I cannot begin to—”

“Mrs. Austen, madam,” announced Fred from the doorway as Mrs. Austen barged past him and bustled through.

“Mary!” Cassandra exclaimed. “You have just caught me. My coach will arrive any minute.”

“And again, you travel without the courtesy of informing your sister,” Mary replied tartly.

“Forgive me. I was too keen to get home and leave the household in peace.”

“Not before time. What on earth are you doing lying down there, Dinah? Get up. Get up at once! There is not the time to malinger.”

Dinah rose and sniffed disobligingly.

“I hear”—Mary now faced Isabella—“that wretched man Dundas is throwing you all out prematurely. Unspeakable behavior, if you ask me, but not a surprise. Oh, dear, no. I have seen it all in my day, and enough to know this: There is no greater menace on this earth than the clergyman, newly appointed. Now then. Where do we start? I am aware that I have not yet addressed the matter of the letters, and I have been thinking on that. Unless there are items that you children want, Isabella, I suggest I take them all. Fred! Go straight to the mistress’s room, remove all correspondence, and bring it to me. There may well be something in there that is of interest.”

So she was right to have come here! Cassandra gave a breath of relief.

“Goodbye, my dear.” She stepped forward and took Isabella’s hand. It seemed that, after all, they were not to be afforded their proper farewell. “It only remains to thank you for having me here. It has meant a great deal, in a great many ways.” She leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “By the way—the best china of which you are so fond. Keep some for yourself. No one will notice. Enough for two settings, at least.”

Isabella smiled and planted a warm kiss on her cheek.

“There we are.” Mary put herself between them. “Best not to make too much fuss of it. You can wait on your own now, Cassandra, can you not? We are busy, and do