Miss Austen - Gill Hornby Page 0,42

She simply reminded herself to be grateful, and returned to her tasks. It would be wise to reply to Eliza later: The matter was too delicate to rush at. She moved on to the next in her pile.

“Ah! This is from Edward. He invites me to Kent. Henry can deliver me…” She read on.

“Yes, well, do remember that Elizabeth is approaching her confinement.” Jane sounded caution. “I am quite sure they would welcome you, but truly, Cass, you are not currently strong enough to take on all that work.”

“Strong!” The word flashed through her. “I am perfectly strong, Jane. And, anyway, they cannot be expecting to use me at this sort of notice. Elizabeth is bound to have her arrangements in place. After all, they knew that I could not be avail—” She stopped. She had not been asked to help with this baby because this was the month in which she was expected to wed. “I think you are being too cynical, Jane. Listen. He writes: I think of you often, dear Sister, and would do anything to be with you there, to offer you comfort. You must understand that this is not the right moment to leave my family. But if it would help you to come to us here … You see? Edward is simply being kind.”

Jane, though unconvinced, did not argue further but returned to her writing; Cassy sat and thought for a while. The fact was that she was finding her position at home in the rectory difficult. She had long ago become used to pleasing; she liked to look at her parents and see contentment, pride, a sense of satisfaction reflected back in their eyes. This new identity—the black-clad Tragedy Queen—compounded her misery. Her father looked across the silent dinner table and sighed; her mother burst into tears whenever she walked into a room. She was reduced now, subsumed: the symbol of loss.

There was even, for the first time in their lives, a new awkwardness with her sister. On that first afternoon after Mary and James had broken the news, Jane had been horribly shaken by the one, short, private outburst of grief that could not be contained. Since then Cassy had resolved never to expose her to it again, with the result that her nights were yet more uncomfortable. In their snug, little bedroom, she had to feign sleep until Jane herself slept. Only then could she turn on her side, gag her mouth with a handkerchief, and weep silently until she was spent.

They were, the four of them, now locked into this unhappy situation. All needed to break free of it. To Kent, Cassy decided, she must go.

* * *

“MY DEAR SISTER!” EDWARD AUSTEN stood in the elegant porch of his gracious home, sleek with contentment and acting for all the world as if nothing had changed since the last time they met. “I hope your journey was pleasant? You picked a fine day for it.” He guided her through to the ample hall. “I know you will want to gather yourself”—the footman saw to her luggage, a maid vanished her cloak away—“but, I must tell you, the children are quite wild with excitement. If you do not soon go to the nursery, they may be in danger of bursting!”

Cassy was on the stairs before she noticed that her brother had made no mention of her bereavement or her pallor or her now-skeletal frame. Of course Edward had already dealt with the matter in their earlier correspondence. He would feel no need to raise it again. With a sense of relief she followed the maid down the long corridor, past a sequence of doors opening onto sunny, south-facing bedrooms: There was space enough here to contain any number of heartbroken young ladies, where they could weep undisturbed. She was shown into her own room, tested the mattress on the pretty bed with its muslin hangings, and found it to her liking.

A wisteria bloom peeked through the window. She lifted the sash, drank in the scent, surveyed the Kentish countryside arranging itself fetchingly into the distance, and then looked down to the lawn, where her two brothers walked side by side. Resting her forehead on the cool glass, she watched and wondered if they—as everyone at Steventon did, constantly—were talking about her. But studying the set of their heads, catching the occasional outburst of carefree laughter, she deduced they were not. These men had more cheerful matters to concern them; neither was minded