to do so without causing undue embarrassment to himself or his listeners, he still talked as little as possible. His youthful affliction had left him shy in company, and the company that evening required no sort of contribution from him.
“Such a pity for the neighborhood that your family has left us,” Mr. Lovelace Bigg-Wither was saying. “Why your dear father should even think of retiring I shall never understand.”
Cassy caught Jane’s eye across the table, and they shared a small smile. How could a landed gentleman appreciate the pleasures of retirement, if he has never before known the discomforts of work?
“I believe it had all become too much for him,” Jane explained. “Not only the responsibilities of the church and his parishioners, but the running of the glebe too, I fear, took its toll.”
“Well, if you say so, dear girl, though I have often thought rector of a small, country parish to be the most enviable existence, without the onerous responsibilities of having too much of one’s own land.” He took a mouthful of beef and ruminated for a moment. “But still, why could not your parents have settled here in Hampshire? Bath—Bath of all places! It makes no sort of sense.”
“Ah, there we are in agreement, sir,” said Jane warmly. “I now know to my cost that cities in general have not much to recommend them. The noise and smoke and the press of other people! All very well for a visit or two, but no longer than that.”
“Quite so, madam.” Mr. Bigg-Wither pointed his fork at her to express his agreement, and peered with approval through a forest of eyebrow. “Many a time my dear, late lady wife would drag me to London, promising a dashed good time. I would hide in my club for a day or two and then scuttle back here as soon as I could.” He took a potato. “Never go near the place now. London, indeed. Makes a fellow quite ill.”
“My parents,” Cassy put in, “felt that the winter in Bath would make a pleasant change, and they are very much enjoying taking their summers at the seaside.”
“The seaside! The seaside?” The gentleman harrumphed. “Then it is as I feared. They have quite lost their senses. What business can anyone have with the seaside? That is the beauty of our neck of Hampshire. We cannot see it. Thank the good Lord, we cannot smell it. We can all but pretend that it is not even there.”
“Papa, the sea is much in fashion,” said Alethea. “They now say that it is of great benefit to one’s health.”
“Ha! It will kill you as soon as it looks at you.” He bellowed his warning: “Only a damned fool would trust it.” He sank into his chair and returned to his dinner.
“Sir, I must say that I have every sympathy with your position. Once one has known Manydown, then one need never travel again. If you have met perfection, why go in search of inadequacy?” Jane’s words, though all true, were carefully designed to restore her host’s humor. “I feel just as strongly about Steventon. While I am very grateful to my parents for showing me other, different places, all that I have learned on our travels is this: There is no county to rival Hampshire, in my own affections at least.”
The ladies left the table so that the gentlemen could enjoy their port in peace. They walked through the hall, where the white marble was softened by firelight and candles, and the stone staircase stretched like a dancer out and up in an elegant curve. Jane sighed and squeezed Cassy’s arm. “Is this not heaven?”
“It is all very lovely.” Cassy patted her, soothingly. “And you may have had a little too much wine.”
Jane giggled. “Then who can blame me? It is very good here, and no one can predict when we will next sample its like. I intend to stock up like a camel, so as to somehow survive the oncoming drought.”
Once in the drawing room, Cassy settled herself with the others on the sofa while Jane walked over to the pianoforte and lifted its lid.
“What a fine instrument.” Her fingers brushed the keys.
“And wasted on we sorry creatures,” said Alethea. “Will you play for us, Jane?”
She sat down. “I fear I am no longer the pianist I used to be. All this unsettlement means not so much practicing. You may find you regret having asked me.” But she started to play anyway, a Bach prelude