Miss Austen - Gill Hornby Page 0,44

This brother was not one for deep reflection or spiritual discourse or books, even: There was no reading here round the fire. Instead they enjoyed an excellent dinner, very good wine, and an uncomplicated, contented conversation that followed the same pattern night after night:

“I spoke to Spike today. He predicts the year’s crop will be excellent.” This over a dish rich and substantial: say, a large slab of venison pie.

“There is talk of a good young filly coming up at the next auction. Though my stables are already crowded, she may be hard to resist.” Here he might add a good slice of ham.

“So another fine son, and Elizabeth safe and getting stronger by the minute.” Edward generally enjoyed two servings of syllabub. And once his glass had been filled to the brim with his very good port, would always thus sum up his thoughts for the evening: “Yes. All would be splendid in every direction, were I not plagued with this insufferable digestion. It makes one quite bilious.”

Then, with an affectionate “Good night,” they would part good and early. Cassandra could return to her room at the end of the corridor and weep undisturbed.

* * *

AT LAST, ONE MONTH INTO CASSY’S stay there, Elizabeth was able to return downstairs for a much-discussed, highly anticipated Family Dinner. In a triumphal progress worthy of the Queen of Sheba, she returned to the drawing room, leaning on Cassy’s arm.

“How more than pleasant to be back!” she exclaimed in response to the warm welcome. “I must own that I have been looking forward to this moment with mounting excitement.”

Cassy settled her into her favorite armchair and tucked a rug around her knees.

“All of us together again. How blessed we are, husband. Mrs. Knight, my mother, and my sisters must be arriving shortly.”

Satisfied that her charge was comfortable, Cassy turned to leave.

“Although how I shall struggle through the evening without once gazing upon the beauty of my dear little Henry, I am not at all sure.”

There was not long now until dinner, and Cassy needed to wash the nursery off her person and make herself presentable.

“His eyelashes, Edward, are really quite astonishing! I am convinced they grow as one watches. Oh how I shall miss him tonight!”

“Do not worry yourself, my love,” Edward reassured her. “He will be safe with Nurse.”

The drawing room was so very long that Cassy was only at the door, and therefore still able to hear Elizabeth’s insistence: “Oh, he cannot be left with just Nurse, Edward. He is far too precious! Cassy can sit with him while I am here. We must not forget that she is still in mourning. It would not be appropriate for her to join our happy party. The servants can send something up on a tray.”

“But my dear,” she caught Edward’s reply, “I thought this was a Family Dinner?”

“Indeed,” agreed Elizabeth. “Now where is my family? I did think they would be with us by now.”

Biting her lip, nails pressed into palms, Cassy moved swiftly through the hall, up the stairs, along the long corridor into her room, and shut the door behind her. Henry’s lashes could go unmeasured, just for two minutes. She needed to think.

In fact this was a moment of sharp revelation. Since her youth she had held a strong sense of her own purpose. She had been put on this earth, blessed—though it sometimes seemed more of a curse—with a sharp intelligence and great appetite for employment, for a very good reason. It had seemed safe to assume that ordained destiny had been marriage to Tom. But there she had been sadly mistaken.

So what now? The day would come, sooner or later but would come for sure, when her parents were gone and Jane would be married. (Her mind always snagged on the words, but one must believe they were true.) Yet her own future appeared murky and unfathomable—like a pond after rainfall. She looked and she looked but could not see her way through. Suddenly, courtesy of Elizabeth, all was made visible.

Cassy might not have much money, but she knew herself to be rich in one other sound currency: usefulness. And on that she could get an excellent exchange. Elizabeth had four infants already and was still young; there could be plenty more yet. Kent was the place—the only place—in which Miss Austen could live well and work hard, keep herself to herself, and not be a nuisance. Here, she could become a near-priceless commodity: the single sister. The