Miss Austen - Gill Hornby Page 0,78

the arrangement, and had survived almost ten days under the rectory roof. But the effect on Jane—the livid grief of revisiting her childhood home; the irritations of being under the rule of its new mistress—had been such that Cassy had become quite concerned.

So Cassy had taken it upon herself to have a quiet word with Catherine and Alethea, and those excellent women had come to their rescue. This gracious house, with its spacious estate, had at once worked its magic. Jane was now almost restored. Together the four friends strode out over a field made crisp by the dry winter, and Cassy breathed deep with relief at the lift in Jane’s mood.

“Can you have any idea of your own privilege, girls? To have this limitless acreage at your disposal. To walk and to think in unqualified peace. One cannot quite appreciate the wondrousness of it, if you have never known anything other.”

“Oh, but we do, Jane. I assure you.” They had come to the ha-ha. There was a bridge farther up, but they had never used it in their youth, and they eschewed the use of it now. Alethea lifted her skirts and jumped the ditch. She landed with grace and, while waiting for the others, spoke on: “There is always that threat hanging over us, to aid the concentration of the mind and the counting of blessings.” She held out a hand to help Cassy. “We cannot forget that one day our brother will want to bring his own wife here, and she is unlikely to want all these sisters lurking about, getting older and crosser.”

“You are the least cross women I know! But then who can be cross when in Manydown? Even I seem to have forgotten the knack.” Jane, too, leaped across the ha-ha unaided. “And I am sure that were I the future Mrs. Harris Bigg-Wither, I should make room for as many sisters as were available and then take to the streets and petition for more.” With a firm, quick step, she led their way across the pasture, scattering sheep in her path. “Anyway, your brother is still a young man. He could be years yet off marriage, and while your father is alive you can count on this as your home. We have a new and deep understanding of that small word now, do we not, Cass?”

“Oh.” Cassy took her arm again—a gesture that hoped to ward off the demons. “Our life is not so bad, Jane. Bath certainly has its diversions.”

“Indeed!” Catherine joined in now. “You forget, Jane, how bored you had become with Hampshire society. The same old faces at the Basingstoke Assembly … We hardly bother with it these days. Without you two there to laugh with, the evenings seemed simply interminable. There you at least have fresh meat to pick at.”

“Ugh.” Jane tossed her disgust over her shoulder. “I should not dare, for fear it might poison me.” They crested the hill, and she stopped to soak up the vista unfolding before them. “Behold! A view for the ages. This is the stuff of life. Here is the place for proper contentment.”

“That is all you require?” Cassy asked, smiling. “A mere one-hundred-and-fifty-acre slice of your own rolling country?”

They all laughed at her.

“I am a simple enough soul, Cass.” Jane laughed with them. “Modest in my ambitions. Something like Manydown would do me quite well.”

* * *

DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS UNCOMMONLY cheerful. They were not a large party, which was lucky, for Jane could not always be relied upon to enjoy those. But they were a happy one: just the Austen and Bigg ladies, their father, Mr. Lovelace Bigg-Wither, and his only son.

Fortune had been most specific in the division of gifts to the Bigg-Wither family: The daughters had received intelligence, grace, and charm in abundance; the son had been blessed with a more grandiose surname and would one day receive the estate.

Mr. Harris Bigg-Wither was the youngest in the family and as a child had suffered the indignity of a terrible stammer. Now one-and-twenty, he was not quite the miserable specimen he had been when the Austens last saw him. He had grown tall, and the strange distortion of his mouth become less apparent. The improvement was noticeable, and the Misses Austen duly approved it. Whether his mind had developed also, whether his opinions had become interesting or his reasoning sound—these things could only be guessed at. For although Mr. Bigg-Wither had learned to talk well enough and was able