Miss Austen - Gill Hornby Page 0,19
in a spirit of blithe ignorance. One week in the Channel and he was now gaunt, hollow-eyed, quite haunted by the horrors he had seen. His parents, who had always held reservations about the whole enterprise, were now dismayed at the prospect of his leaving again the following month. Even Fulwar’s wife, Eliza, on whose companionship Cassy had counted, was not quite her happiest self. She was exhausted by her young family and in some suffering with the new child she was carrying.
Christmas at Kintbury was more somber than Cassy had ever known any Christmas to be. After beef and pudding—she wondered, had the pudding at home in Steventon turned out well? And how was the orange wine?—they gathered in the drawing room, a subdued little party. William and Charles set out the chess pieces, the ladies their embroidery; Tom sat with his parents by the fire in silence and studied the flames.
Just one person alone was in festive mood. Like nature—and there was something of the elements about him—Fulwar abhorred a vacuum. He strode into the middle of the silence and pierced it with a loud, cheerful peroration on the one topic in the world about which they did not want to hear.
“I do envy you, Tom.” He lifted his jacket a little to warm his seat further, blocking the fire from the rest of the party. “Oh, how I envy you! Out there on the waves with the men. The camaraderie of a ship—that is second to none. Or so they tell me.” He gazed ahead, misty eyed, at the horizon of the warm yellow wall. “The sea air! The shanties! Fellow in the Hunt was on the Victory, you know. He was saying the japes are quite something. Puts the Meet Supper completely to shame.” He chuckled at this secondhand memory.
What a pity it was, Cassy reflected, that Fulwar himself had made the decision to forgo the thrills of military combat. What a shame that, instead, it was his fate to take over this charming country church from his father.
Mr. Fowle pulled himself out of his musings to remonstrate: “I do not think Tom enjoyed much in way of japes when the ship was near wrecked a few weeks ago. Nor did he much like the waves crashing over his head.”
“Oh, it was not as bad as all that,” retorted Fulwar, who had seen out the disaster marshaling the parishioners of Kintbury through the challenges of Advent. “And the fact that they abandoned ship shows how seriously Lord Craven takes the men’s safety. Errs on the side of caution, I sometimes think.”
Cassy looked over at her fiancé from under her lashes, and studied his calm exterior. Why was Tom himself not protesting at all this? Of course she well knew his temper was remarkably even. It was one of the many ways in which they were well suited. But she had never before noticed that his equilibrium could not be disturbed even when, surely, it should.
Eliza leaned toward her. “Perhaps you find us—the majority of us—a little quiet in the evenings, compared with your own family?”
“Oh, no!” Cassy blushed. Was she wearing her thoughts on her face? “Not at all. It has been most pleasant. Could I perhaps borrow a pin?”
Eliza smiled, passed her workbag, and asked, kindly: “What will they be doing now in Steventon, do you suppose? I hear from my sisters that you are often playing games.”
“Yes,” Cassy could feel her own distress building. She hid herself in her work. “I expect they will be on the charades by now.” Jane was, no doubt, being slightly too clever; her father roaring with laughter at the things she dared say. It was best not to think about it. “Do you not do that here? Of course I quite understand the present difficulties—I mean in happier times?”
“We tend not to,” Eliza replied, dropping her voice further. “My husband does not take kindly to losing. Though some of us do enjoy a hand of patience when we can find the time.”
Mrs. Fowle spoke up. “It is not the sea that worries me as much as the climate and fevers.” She patted Tom’s arm. “One does hear talk of such exotic illnesses out there.”
“Ha! Dear Mother, have you not always worried? And look at us! Look at the four indestructibles you have inflicted on this world.” In fact, Fulwar was of a build completely different from his brothers. He was short and squat and ruddy; the others were