The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen

by The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen (retail) (epub)

  ‘No, no, no! You must stay with me – please! Come home with me.’

  Rose got to her feet and looked around. They were still the only people in this part of the Gardens. She would fetch her car and… a cold sensation gripped her.

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Where will my car be? It’s normally in the garage in the mews I rent from Marcus’s company, but if I don’t live in my flat any more…’

  ‘You have your own conveyance?’ Rose nodded, and Jane’s eyes began to sparkle. ‘I have longed for the chance to… Ah, I begin to comprehend your rather amusing air and countenance. You know not where it is.’

  Rose simply stared at her. What else was there to say?

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Then we shall walk,’ Jane smirked. ‘For I am a great walker!’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Rose would have normally taken the bus, but somehow boarding the number 4 to Bathampton with Jane Austen was just a step too far right now – not that it wouldn’t have made the best ever selfie caption! ‘It’s a couple of miles, though.’

  Jane fell into step beside her as they headed for the top of the Gardens. ‘I have walked all the way to Weston and back before now. It is one of the finer pleasures of Bath at this time of year, is it not, Miss Wallace? The country walks?’

  How can she be talking about such mundane things as walking at a time like this?

  ‘I can’t believe I still live at home. This is a nightmare! And where do I work? How do I get to my job in the morning if I have no idea where I work?’

  A sweeping sense of loss flowed through Rose, for her life, for James and her beloved job in the office in Queen Square… Even arrogant Roger seemed benign now…

  ‘How is your place of employment so affected?’

  ‘Because I only applied for that job because of where the office was located.’

  ‘How very singular. Pray tell, what location had such a hold upon you?’

  ‘Queen Square.’ Rose sighed, and met Jane’s amused eye. ‘Number 13, to be precise.’

  The lady brightened. ‘How delightful. Oh, we passed the most pleasing stay there.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Of course you know. And there was a—’

  ‘Black kitten playing on the stairs.’

  To Rose’s surprise, Jane tucked her arm in hers as they walked. ‘I feel as though I have found a lost friend! This could be prodigiously entertaining, Miss Wallace. Your recollections are those of family or old acquaintances.’

  Rose was feeling rather conspicuous walking along the Warminster Road with Jane holding her arm. Fortunately, there were few people about now, it being Sunday and early evening.

  ‘Your mother will provide the necessary intelligence, will she not?’

  ‘I can hardly walk into the house and ask her! She’ll think I’ve gone mad – she may not be wrong.’

  ‘This is not madness, my dear. This is just an altered reality.’

  Rose had no response to this, and for a while they walked in silence until they paused to cross a road.

  ‘It’s not too far now.’ Rose pointed ahead. ‘The house is down in the village; we take the next turning.’

  ‘What sort of person is she, your mother?’

  Rose wracked her brains for something nice to say but came up blank. ‘I get on her nerves. I used to think it was because I’m not like her, but in recent years I came to the conclusion I simply… irritate her. Nothing about me pleases her.’

  ‘Then we have something in common.’ Rose glanced at Jane as they turned into the street she had indicated. ‘Oh, do not mistake me. I love my mother, but she is not an easy person to please. She believes she gave up a great deal when she married my father, and though they seem content she does not conceal her belief in having given all the distinction to the union.’

  As they neared the house, silence fell once more between them. Rose was being consumed by memories and the young woman walking by her side seemed to sense her disquiet, merely giving her arm a squeeze as they passed through the gate onto the sweep of gravel leading down to the house.

  Staring at the pale stone façade of her home, Rose drew in a deep breath. She’d moved out over two years ago, something her mother had railed against, citing selfishness in her daughter. If Rose had thought her mother genuinely needed the generous rent she had been handing over for years, she would never have dreamed of leaving, but she didn’t. Mrs Wallace had been well provided for by her late husband, and though she worked part-time, it was purely for the social life, not because she needed the income.

  Her mother had resented being left alone with a young child, and she had never hidden the fact she found Rose a burden – unwanted. Well, Rose didn’t particularly want her as a mother, either, but right now, home was the only familiar thing left and it would have to suffice. If only her father were still here; if only she could remember more about him to bring her comfort now. She had been so young when he’d left them, yet she was certain she remembered him loving her…

  Resigned to her fate, Rose led Jane towards the house, noting her mother’s flashy car parked in the open garage. There was no sign of her own car – where might it be? She had little time to contemplate this conundrum further, however, for they had reached the side door.

  ‘Courage, Miss Wallace.’ Rose turned and met Jane’s eye once more, strangely reassured by her, and nodded before turning the handle and stepping into the kitchen.

  ‘Rose Wallace! Look at the state of you! How will you ever find yourself a man if you persist in going out looking like that?!’

  ‘Hi, Mum. This’ – she turned to indicate Jane as she stepped into the kitchen to stand beside her – ‘is Ja— Jenny. Jenny Ashton. She’s… a friend of mine.’

  ‘Charmed, I’m sure.’ Mrs Wallace barely glanced at Jane. ‘Your hair needs a good brush, Rose. Always so unruly.’ She ran a hand over her shiny blonde bob, then stopped to admire her bright nail varnish for a moment. ‘I don’t know why you won’t take my advice and get it cut and dyed a better colour!’ She walked over to the mirror on the far wall and applied some lipstick before turning to face the two silent young women. ‘Now I am going out shortly. Your dinner was spoilt so I threw it out. You’ll have to make do with what’s left in the fridge.’

  ‘Mum, Ja— Jenny needs somewhere to stay for a day or two. I said it would be okay to use one of the spare rooms?’

  Mrs Wallace’s gaze snapped back to Jane, and she eyed her up and down. ‘Hmm, your friend needs a makeover as much as you do.’ She frowned at Rose. ‘I would have appreciated some notice, but – whatever you wish; you’ll have to make the bed up and deal with your own meals. I’ve taken some time off work, and I’m off to stay with the Stewart-Lees from Tuesday.’

  ‘That’s nice.’ Rose was torn between relief her mother was going to be away and pity for the Stewart-Lees, who were far too nice to have to put up with her mother. ‘And – er – I’ll be at work anyway, won’t I?’ She tried to ignore the roll of Jane’s eyes at the faint question in her tone, but Mrs Wallace wasn’t listening. She was checking the contents of her evening bag and singing under her breath.

  Rose threw Jane a desperate look, but her new friend inclined her head towards the doorway opposite, saying quietly, ‘Permit me to find the answer you seek.’

  Hesitating on the threshold, Rose bit her lip, but Jane then said quite loudly, ‘I will await your return. It is most kind of you to prepare a room for me, Miss Rose.’

  Sensing herself dismissed, Rose started up the stairs, but stopped as she heard Jane address her mother.

  ‘It must be pleasant to have an occupation, Mrs Wallace. Pray, what is your profession?’

  A short laugh greeted this. ‘Profession? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called that before! I work in a bar, love, in town. Great fun, keeps me young!’ There was a slight pause before she added, ‘You have a really odd way of saying things. Are you foreign?’

  ‘Th
is is a foreign land to me, most indubitably. And pray, what is your opinion of Rose’s profession… at the – the—’

  ‘At the library?’ Mrs Wallace made a dissatisfied noise. ‘My opinion is she’s never going to catch a man’s eye cataloguing mouldy old books in Bath Library, but she doesn’t listen to me…’ Mrs Wallace’s voice tailed off, and Rose felt her throat tighten in anxiety. ‘Why have you no bag with you? You aren’t one of those hitch-hiker types, are you?’ Rose could hear the frown in her mother’s voice, could picture her expression.

  ‘A “hidge hiker”? I am not familiar with this phrase?’

  ‘Don’t you have them where you come from? It’s someone who begs lifts from people in cars, lorries; travel light and put their lives on the line to save a few pounds.’

  Rose sank onto a stair, a hand to her throat. Was this really helping?

  ‘Then no, I am no hidge hiker, though I will own to gaining enjoyment from travelling, and I find of late I have seized the opportunities as they present themselves. It is an adventure, do you not agree?’

  Unsurprisingly, Mrs Wallace didn’t seem to have a response to this. ‘Where was it you said you were from, Jenny? I can’t detect an accent, but—’ The sound of a horn from the street outside interrupted her. ‘Oh, that will be Giles. Right, I’m off.’

  The side door banged as her mother left, and Rose got up and slowly walked back down into the kitchen to join Jane, who was eyeing the contents of the fridge with blatant disapproval.

  ‘I comprehend your choice in making a home away from your mother. I find her manner most disagreeable, and her selection of victuals is most… singular.’

  Rose sighed, but at least she now knew where she worked, and it was not in a profession completely foreign to her, such as working in the stock market or being – Heaven forbid – a doctor or hairstylist. At least she’d been spared from destroying someone’s stock portfolio, causing medical complications or giving someone the worst bad hair day ever!

  Agitated, she ran a hand through her unruly curls, then shook her head as Jane pulled a shallow bowl from the fridge and prodded the contents warily with one finger. Was it too early for wine?

  A few hours later, Rose sat on the edge of her bed, still trying to come to terms with her new life. Somehow, she had managed to make them an edible dinner – at least, it must have been, for Jane had cleaned the plate put before her – before making up a bed for her guest in the room next to hers. It was the nicest guest room and, like Rose’s, had its own bathroom, giving the lady the best possible privacy – something Rose suspected would be important to her.

  A quick rifle through Rose’s wardrobe and cupboards had produced some clothes for her unexpected guest – fortunately, they had a similar build and were not dissimilar in height – and Jane had then asked to be left alone for a while, something Rose was more than thankful for. She had gone downstairs only to wander around aimlessly, drifting from room to room, noting things that remained the same from when she left home and things that were different. Her mother clearly was not stinting on the redecorating and purchase of new furnishings.

  It was only as she began to peruse the bookshelf – devoid of the usual set of Jane Austen’s books which had long resided there – that she recalled her ‘new’ job, working in Bath Library. Walking out into the hall, Rose opened the wooden box on the wall where the keys were kept. The only identifiable car key was her mother’s.

  She pulled out her phone and quickly sent a text: Mum, where is my car key? Have you seen it?

  Rose started to look around the room, lifting papers on the dresser and checking the fruit bowl – devoid of fruit, but piled with an assortment of bits and pieces – then grabbed her phone as it pinged: Don’t be ridiculous!

  Why is it ridiculous? Rose frowned as she tapped ‘send’, but five minutes later, she stood outside the guest room door knocking loudly.

  ‘Come.’

  ‘I not only don’t have a car,’ Rose muttered as she closed the door behind her with a decided snap, ‘I don’t know how to drive. Apparently, I’ve never learnt.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Jane was standing by the window, still neatly dressed and failing to look remotely concerned. ‘And this is a problem for you?’

  ‘Yes! No – I don’t know! I just don’t understand how not having you in my life has led to my no longer having a driving licence or a set of wheels!’

  ‘Do you need to be conveyed to your employment?’

  ‘Not if I work in Bath Library, no. But that’s not the point.’

  ‘I fail to see why it is not the “point”, as you call it.’

  Rose dropped into a chair, her head in her hands. This was not happening to her. It was not! Then she slowly raised her head and met Jane’s silent stare.

  ‘I learnt to drive for James.’

  ‘I have a brother called James.’

  ‘Yes – I know.’

  ‘But perchance you know not he is a crashing bore.’ Rose let out a spluttered laugh. ‘He is our mother’s favourite, thus Cass says it is only fair he is not ours.’

  Smiling properly for the first time in what felt like ages, Rose leaned her head back against the chair.

  ‘Forgive my impertinence but, pray, who is your James?’

  ‘Oh, he’s not mine.’ Rose shook her head and sat up again. ‘He’s my – he was my boss, before…’ She waved a hand in the air, knowing full well it didn’t begin to encompass everything that had happened in the last few hours. ‘He offered me this job, one I wanted so badly, but on the condition I learnt to drive. You have to be mobile, you see, to be able to get around the outer-lying properties.’

  ‘And must you leave directly when you awaken on the morrow – for the library? Shall I accompany you?’

  ‘No, no, there’s no need for that,’ Rose said weakly, thinking of the difficulty of pretending she belonged somewhere with the added complication of Jane Austen wandering around.

  ‘But I am fond of books, and have taken infinite pleasure from more than the content. The variety and richness of the scenes or characters portrayed on your book covers are sufficiently intriguing to occupy me.’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I am not due there tomorrow anyway. Mum just went into a rant about how could I possibly have forgotten I’d worked the Saturday shift, making Monday my day off this week, and she’d planned on my doing the washing and running several errands for her before she leaves for Gloucestershire, and how could I be so selfish as to choose work over helping her?’

  ‘Is this not the twenty-first century? Do not permit your mother to rule you, Miss Wallace.’

  ‘Rose. Please, call me Rose.’

  ‘Forgive me; on occasion, I forget the swift succession to familiarity that is in the common way here.’

  Rose smiled. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

  Jane walked over to the mirror on the dresser and stared at her reflection for a moment. Then she met Rose’s gaze in the glass. ‘I am curious. Why did you introduce me as Miss Jenny Ashton?’

  ‘I – errr…’

  ‘You can use my real name, for it holds no familiarity in this world, and will draw attention from no quarter.’

  The reminder of all she had lost swept through Rose as Jane turned to face her, but then she frowned. ‘If nothing is left that relates to you – no books, no museum, no film or TV adaptations… nothing – then no one here in this… “world” could possibly have heard of you.’

  Getting quickly to her feet, Rose gestured with her hand between them. ‘So why do I remember you – and all I ever knew about you and your life and works? How is it I know about Mr Darcy and his Elizabeth? About the trials of Elinor and Marianne? How can I have this knowledge if those things never reached the public – ever?’ It was an appalling thought. ‘And if this is the life I have lived instead’ – Rose gestured wildly around – ‘why don’t I know what that life is? If everyone else is just carrying on as normal…’

  Jane said nothing for a moment;
then she smiled. ‘One cannot find all things fathomable, least of all when there is some form of enchantment afoot. How else might I be here? We should not let our astonishment overwhelm us, Miss Wallace.’

  ‘So this is an alternate reality - this is a different life? And this is why my memories remain? Including those of you – of who you are – of Jane Austen? I’m the only one who knows about… this?’ Rose gestured with her arm, as if it could encompass all that had happened.

  Jane shrugged lightly. ‘You are the only person in this century to have met Jane Austen in person, who knew… knows who I am, are you not?’

  As those words sank in, Rose could feel her world closing in upon her again. Only she knew what the world had lost?

  ‘Excuse me.’ She felt for the door handle behind her back. ‘I – I need to just go and lie down.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Glancing at her watch, Rose blinked owlishly, then covered her mouth as yet another yawn escaped.

  There were bright green Post-it notes everywhere, with scribbled details of anything she had been able to find online to help her find her feet in this strange new world – names, phone numbers, new passwords (she’d had to change every single one by choosing ‘forgot password’ time and again. Every one she used had a Jane Austen connection to it, so heaven alone knew what she’d been using in this alternative life!). The realisation all her bank and credit cards would need new PINs for the same reason was just too daunting to think about right now.

  Scanning her inbox for email pointers to what was happening in her life between her and her friends, Rose soon realised something else was missing: no emails from James. She brought up the website, but her momentary relief at seeing the familiar lettering was short-lived. Luxury Lettings was still based in Queen Square, of course, but the website itself was… basic! It seemed to be a much smaller company, with much the same property portfolio as when she’d joined years ago. On the plus side, it was still James’s company. How well did they know each other in this life? He’d been a very casual acquaintance back then, before she joined the firm…