The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen

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

  ‘Forgive me for supposing one might find a particular book in the library. Do you suggest I frequent the park on the morrow in the hope it may deliver?’

  Rose threw her a look. ‘My whole world has turned upside-down. I’ve no idea who I’m friends with and who I’m not.’ She tugged her mobile from her pocket and waved it at Jane as they began to cross Pulteney Bridge. ‘Other than my mother, my most recent calls are from a Mary, who I now know is a colleague, and several missed ones from a girl called Lottie. I don’t know anyone by that name!’ Rose stopped as they reached Laura Place, and Jane did, too. Then she raised a hand to her head. ‘Could it be… I wonder if it’s one of my best mates from college; it could be Liz.’ Rose bit her lip. Though flooded with hope, she shied away from making a call to someone who might not turn out to be who she thought. The strain of the pretence of the day was enough; she wasn’t in any mood to pretend she knew someone else she didn’t.

  Jane frowned. ‘I fail to see a connection.’

  Rose started to walk again, refusing to glance in the direction of the flat Morgan had so recently inhabited, and Jane fell into step beside her.

  ‘Liz – Elizabeth; we met in school. Her mother was a great reader.’ She glanced at Jane. ‘You were her favourite author, and she named her daughter after Elizabeth Bennet. Now I have no idea what her first name might be.’

  ‘And why do you think it might be this… Lottie?’

  ‘Because her mother’s second-favourite author was Charlotte Brontë.’

  Jane looked blank but then why wouldn’t she? The now-famous author of Jane Eyre was only one year old when Jane Austen died.

  They continued in silence for some distance, though both of them cast a meaningful stare at number 4 Sydney Place as they passed, but as they reached Beckford Road and began the ascent, Rose turned to Jane again.

  ‘Does the noise bother you? The road? This is a main route to Warminster and beyond and has such heavy traffic.’

  Jane smiled. ‘Much is altered.’ She looked around and gestured with her arm. ‘Naught but open fields bordered the Gardens.’ Her expression sobered. ‘My disinclination for our removal to Bath was much compensated for by our pleasing situation in Sydney Place. One does not – did not – feel so confined by the city on its outer edges.’

  ‘Then shall we walk along the canal?’ Rose pointed to the gap through which the towpath could be seen, winding its way towards Bathampton. It was a route she had often trodden in the summer months when still living at home.

  ‘As you wish.’

  They fell into step again, continuing to walk side by side at first for the width of the path permitted it.

  ‘I did not answer your question.’ Jane glanced at her, and Rose frowned. ‘Noise emanating from these modern conveyances does not trouble me, for it is merely different. The constant rumble of wheels over cobbles, the clatter of hooves is not so much lower in volume than your modern conveyances. ’Tis why I prefer the country; the disturbance of silence has a more natural source: birdsong, flowing water over stones, the bray of a lamb… these things I miss more than any other.’

  Rose glanced around. It was peaceful by modern-day standards on the towpath, with a few ducks swimming in the canal and very few people about, but just then a light aircraft came overhead, its engine chugging away, and she glanced at Jane as they walked.

  ‘And what do you make of our “modern conveyances”? You must have seen the trains passing through Sydney Gardens, too, if you’ve been here a while, and noticed the planes flying overhead?’

  Jane looked up as the small plane sailed out of view. ‘If I may fly through time, why should man not have discovered how to fly through air?’

  Why not indeed, mused Rose. She could only hope she would apply such matter-of-fact logic to things if she ever found herself in a situation like Jane’s. The reminder of their circumstances was unsettling, however, and she decided to change the subject.

  ‘Why are you so keen to find the book you were looking for? There’s so much reading material in the library…’

  Jane glanced at Rose as they walked side by side. ‘I am an avid reader, as you may recall.’

  Rose laughed. ‘Yes – I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sight of all those books piled high in your flat.’

  ‘So much to learn. Two hundred years of words, of knowledge, to consume. There is so much to absorb, to think of, to feel.’

  ‘So why do you want this old book, then?’

  Jane smiled ruefully. ‘It is whimsy, perchance. There are moments when I am quite overwhelmed – what is history to you, is for me intelligence of vast import; the relentless succession of discoveries in science and medicine; wars won and lost, monarchs come and gone… and novels. So many stories, and so many ladies writing openly, without restriction. There is much to absorb, and my mind feels at war with itself. Barely do I sleep at night, my imagination too full for repose.’ She paused as they stood aside for a cyclist to pass before continuing side by side. ‘I wish for something familiar.’

  ‘What were you reading when you – well, when you last travelled here?’

  Jane glanced at Rose. ‘A guilty indulgence, I fear: a Gothic romance Cass acquired for me from Marshall’s—’

  ‘Marshall’s?’

  ‘One of the circulating libraries on Milsom Street? I had but one volume to read, and a notion for finishing it, hence my desire to locate a copy.’

  ‘Would this be an Ann Radcliffe novel?’

  Jane smiled widely. ‘Well done, Miss – Rose. Indeed it was.’ She sighed. ‘But it was not to be. I could find naught of Miss Radcliffe, despite hours of searching.’

  ‘I may be able to help you.’

  ‘Truly?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Here, we need to go down these steps.’ She indicated the stone steps leading down to the road by The George Inn. ‘We just have to cross over the bridge, and we’re nearly there.’

  They made their way into Bathampton before Rose continued. ‘There must be some store of older books in the library. Today, I didn’t have a chance to really find my way around much, but I did pick this up.’ She pulled a piece of paper from her bag. ‘It’s a plan of the library I came across which indicates what each room holds – there are several, you see, beyond what is on the main floor. I am sure I may be able to find something of interest to you.’

  Jane expressed her appreciation emphatically, and Rose realised she’d been fairly dismissive of how the lady might be feeling – she seemed so capable, so calm and collected on the surface, and so accepting she had no choice but to stay. It made her determined to do what she could to help her. If only Rose could become as adjusted to her fate so easily.

  As soon as they were home, and conscious of Jane’s desire to find a lighter book to capture her attention, Rose took her into her room. She studied the shelves of books for a moment, but sensing Jane’s attention was elsewhere, she turned around.

  ‘Pray, what is this?’ Jane gestured to the many Post-it notes still liberally scattered over Rose’s desk from her attempt at research the other night.

  ‘They’re little notelets – sticky, see?’ She tore a fresh one off the pad and handed it to Jane, who touched it warily. ‘You write on them, things you don’t want to forget or things you want to tell someone – and then stick them somewhere… useful, to remind you.’ Rose looked at the pile of notes on her desk, all stuck on top of each other. Yes; very useful.

  ‘Should I have a notion – a character, perchance – I make a notation?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Here.’ She picked up a fresh pad from her shelf and handed it to Jane. ‘They may come in handy. Now, let’s find you something diverting to read.’ She studied her shelves thoughtfully, then pulled an old favourite from the bottom shelf. ‘There you go.’

  Jane took the book cautiously. ‘Is this not a child’s text?’

  Rose glanced affectionately at her well-thumbed copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. ‘Yeah, we all made
that mistake. Try it. It’s as much about fantasy and magic as our present situation, so I reckon you’ll enjoy it.’

  With renewed interest, Jane examined the cover. ‘How diverting. I took much enjoyment from discovering the world created by Mr Tolkien when first I came here.’ She glanced around the room, clearly noting Rose’s interest in the story as well before meeting her gaze. ‘I thank you kindly for the recommendation of Mr Rowling’s storytelling also.’

  ‘Ms Rowling,’ Rose corrected automatically, then smiled slightly at Jane’s raised brow.

  Once Jane had gone back to her room, Rose slumped onto the bed. She longed for the comfort of losing herself in a favourite book, but all this did was reinforce the unhappy situation: her favourite book of all time no longer existed.

  I am half agony, half hope. Were such precious words gone forever? Would it be up to Rose to make sure Jane rewrote her stories in exactly the same way as she once had so they could be restored to the world?

  Sitting up quickly, Rose pushed her hair back over her shoulder. How much could she remember? What if Jane’s experiences had changed how she would write the books? She might not want to write exactly how she had in the past. What if she… tried to modernise everything?

  Rose’s heart sank as she got slowly to her feet, the weight of Jane’s lost legacy threatening to crush her. She was going to get a migraine if she didn’t do something to take her mind off things.

  She grabbed her bag and left the room. She needed time to think – or rather, not think about the impossibility of her situation. Rose fished around in her bag as she hurried along the landing, retrieving the card Morgan had given her and pulling out her mobile. If her friend was free for dinner, it would be the perfect distraction from her present worries.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Having made a quick meal for Jane and left her fully engrossed in her book in the conservatory, Rose caught the next bus into town. The day was improving as it passed into evening. Not only had she come home to find her mother had already left for her week away, but Morgan had sounded pleased to hear from her.

  Soon, she was walking up the steps into Hall & Woodhouse, but couldn’t help wishing wistfully for it to be last Thursday. Thursday; a day when she had been so happy, a combination of excitement and nervousness swirling around inside her over the imminent meetup with Morgan. Rose straightened her shoulders, pushing open the door and stepping inside, feeling the twin tugs of fate and déjà vu. She was here to meet Morgan again, wasn’t she? This was no time for regret over what had been.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t as crowded as last week, and Rose had barely taken a few steps across the room before she spotted her friend. She was on the same sofa as when Rose had first seen her, talking to whoever was next to her. Of course she was talking to someone. Rose shook her head; Morgan was always talking to someone.

  Then, with a lurch of her heart, Rose stopped in her tracks – déjà vu indeed. Morgan was talking to James! Goosebumps prickled Rose’s arms as she took in the scene, then, drawing in a steadying breath, she walked slowly towards them. Morgan was talking animatedly, her arms waving around as she recounted some tale or other to the man at her side. As Rose drew near, however, he looked up and smiled in surprise.

  ‘Hi, Rose! Haven’t seen you around in ages. How’s things?’ Not her old life then. The small sliver of hope filtering through her faded away.

  ‘Oh – you know.’ Rose shrugged. Or at least, you might have some idea if a dog hadn’t swallowed a necklace two days ago. She resisted the urge to sigh. ‘Much the same as always.’

  Morgan had turned around with a wide smile. ‘Ginger! You found me.’ She gestured towards James. ‘I was lost – couldn’t find this place at all, and I accosted these lovely people as they were passing and they took pity on me and brought me here.’

  People? Rose’s gaze flew back to where James was seated only this time she saw who sat on the other side of him: Mandy! Nooo. He was still trapped in his toxic relationship?

  ‘Mandy, you remember Rose Wallace?’ James got to his feet, the easier to talk to everyone.

  Mandy’s frosty expression didn’t melt at all as she looked Rose up and down. ‘How could anyone forget that hair?’ She all but shuddered, and Rose almost laughed. Some things certainly hadn’t changed.

  ‘It’s awesome, isn’t it? She’d be on the cover of one of my dad’s magazines if he ever saw her,’ Morgan said, winking at Rose, and James smiled fleetingly at her, a gesture Morgan returned. ‘Crazy, isn’t it? I had no idea we’d have friends in common.’

  ‘Friends?’ Mandy raised a mocking brow. ‘Hardly.’ She took a sip of her drink; Rose hoped she would choke on it.

  ‘Rose was at school with Jo,’ James told Morgan. ‘My sister. They’re still mates now.’

  We are? thought Rose. We never saw each other much in my other life!

  ‘How’s the library?’ James grinned and turned to Morgan. ‘Jo always said Rose would need a job where she could be surrounded by her precious books.’

  Rose didn’t want to think about her current job; the loss of her place at Luxury Lettings caused a physical pain in her breast, and she felt an irrational swoop of envy for whoever had been given the job instead of her.

  ‘Well, shall we head up, Morgan?’ It was unsettling and almost distressing being in their company like this, and Rose felt the need to escape. ‘We have a table booked for dinner,’ she added to James.

  Goodbyes were quickly said, with Morgan repeating her thanks again for their help.

  ‘Do you have a thing for him – that James?’ Morgan asked, looking back over her shoulder as they climbed the spacious, curved staircase.

  ‘No. Why?’ Rose followed her look; if she was not mistaken, James had just then averted his eyes from them.

  ‘You seemed all flustered around him,’ Morgan said, looking all around as they went up the impressive staircase as though she was visiting the Palace of Versailles. ‘Wow, look at all this glass!’

  ‘More likely it was Mandy. She’s poisonous, and he’s a nice man – really nice. He deserves better.’ Someone like you, Morgan, her mind whispered.

  ‘But she clearly doesn’t like you. Does she think you’re competition?’

  Rose almost tripped on the top stair. ‘Hardly! Mandy never liked anyone. I’m not even sure she liked James.’

  ‘Liked?’

  ‘Likes. I meant likes.’

  They were quickly seated, the conversation falling naturally between them due to Morgan’s inherent friendliness, and Rose was thankful she could almost be herself. In fact, just for a moment, everything felt normal, and she smiled as she watched Morgan questioning their waitress, who seemed unable to resist her friend’s warm and open manner. Currently, they were discussing the young girl’s nephew and what he liked to receive for his birthday.

  ‘Oh, that’s so cute. I have four nieces myself – and only one nephew – but they all love Bob Shea’s books – do you want me to write down his name for you? He has this book called Big Plans that’s my favourite. Every time I read it I walk around announcing that I’ve big plans. “Big plans,” I say! Like the character in the book. I can’t help myself.’

  ‘Shea, I’ll remember. But – were you wanting anything besides your water?’

  Morgan scrunched up her nose in thought. ‘No, thanks – Ginger?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘I’ve already ordered.’

  ‘Oh yes – of course! Well—’ She had clearly thought of another question but the waitress had this time smartly made her escape, and Morgan took a drink from her glass before turning to Rose. ‘So – what do you do for a living? I feel like – if I remember – the last I knew you were in school – is that right?’

  Rose sighed inwardly; no, it was not right at all, but it would have to do.

  ‘Yes, at college, I think. I work at the library here in town.’

  Morgan’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooooh, the library? That’s on my list. Would you mind – could I come
visit you?’

  Rose thought again about the learning curve she was having, trying to act naturally in a job she was supposed to already know.

  ‘Yes, of course. Drop by anytime.’ After all, it would be good to see a familiar face.

  Morgan beamed at her. ‘Perfect, absolutely perfect. Would you have old newspaper clippings and such?’

  Your guess is as good as mine, thought Rose. ‘Yes. We definitely do.’

  ‘I watched that show – I know you had it here first, but I watched the American version anyway – Who Do You Think You Are? – have you seen it?’

  Rose pursed her lips. ‘Well – I watched the episode with J. K. Rowling and the—’ Rose stopped – there had been one with Julia Sawalha, the actress who played Lydia Bennet in the much-loved 1995 television version of Pride & Prejudice, but would she be as well known in this… life? Rose suddenly thought of Colin Firth, pretty much the Mr Darcy of most fans’ dreams. He’d already been in several British films when he got the role, but had his international film career blossomed quite so much without his much-loved portrayal and that famous wet shirt scene or… ‘I think – has Colin Firth done an episode?’

  Morgan frowned. ‘Colin Firth? Who’s he? Oh, is he that older guy in all the serious stuff? I don’t think so. I’m not sure he’s that well known in the US.’

  Rose spared a moment of silence for the hundreds and thousands of women across the world who had no idea their favourite leading man and his iconic role were history. Well, perhaps a good amount of them had found him in whatever roles Morgan meant – at least his acting career had been successful, just different.

  Then she shook her head. ‘Oh, well – you were saying?’