Biting her lip, Rose studied Morgan thoughtfully. Had something happened after Rose had gone back to her own flat last night?
‘Everyone ready for a nice ride to an old house I know nothing about?’ Rose turned quickly around to stare at James in surprise. There he was, all six foot three of him, holding a cardboard tray of cups and his gaze on Morgan, whose eyes had brightened instantly as a smile spread across her face. James clearly wasn’t the problem, then.
‘You got us drinks? You did! You’re a saint. What is it? No, I don’t even care. As long as it’s hot – give it to me.’ Morgan helped him disentangle a cup from the tray and then peered at the other cups, smiling proudly up at him. ‘And you remembered Rose’s special tea.’
James shrugged. ‘Her order was much easier than yours. I couldn’t remember what you chose on Sunday, so I asked for the frothiest non-coffee drink they offered. I may have to use another coffee shop in future to save my reputation, but my immediate concern was I’d miss you and then end up having to drink it myself.’
Morgan smiled smugly. ‘Maybe a change from all the coffee you drink would help you sleep.’
‘I think my recent trouble with sleeping is less to do with coffee and more to do with my phone going off at all hours of the night—’
‘I went to bed at a perfectly reasonable time last night.’
‘I had a text from you at three am, and another five minutes later.’
‘Well, I got up again!’
Rose ostensibly inspected her tea as James took a sip of his own drink. Then he turned to her. ‘The crowd is looking happy enough – are you? I know you said you were looking forward to this trip.’
Rose studied him in amusement. James was a great boss, but his work ethic was incredibly strong. Normally elbow-deep in papers by now, here he was, passing the time of day as though he had nowhere in particular to be and hadn’t seen Rose – or Morgan – in ages. Did he not remember spending yesterday evening with them?
‘Yes. What about you? Everything all right at the office?’
He grinned. ‘Nothing to bore you with.’ James narrowed his gaze, and he eyed first Morgan, then Rose. ‘Though I’m sure you’d love to hear about a love triangle which may or may not have resulted in some minor damage to one of our properties.’
‘No!’ Morgan and Rose exclaimed in unison, exchanging a glance. Surely he didn’t expect to leave it at that? Time was against them, however, as someone called, ‘Everyone on board, please,’ and the crowd formed itself into a neat and orderly queue trailing back from the coach door.
James checked his watch again and drained his cup, but Morgan thrust hers at Rose. ‘Hold that for me, I’m going to visit the “loo” before we spend two hours on the bus.’
Rose took immediate advantage of her friend’s absence. ‘James, it’s our busiest week of the year, and I’m on holiday. Please tell me the office isn’t in Roger’s hands this morning so that you could bring my friend a hot chocolate?’
‘No, of course not.’ James looked a little more serious. ‘I wasn’t going to mention it, to be honest, but I’ve sacked him.’
‘What? I mean, I understand why, but this week, when you’re a man down already?’
‘It’s been an intense few days.’
‘Understatement of the year,’ Rose muttered under her breath, not that James would have noticed, as his attention wasn’t with her. ‘James, what has come over you?’
‘I should think it’s embarrassingly obvious.’
Trying not to laugh, Rose nodded. ‘True.’
‘Look, I know it looks like I’ve lost the plot, but I haven’t.’ His gaze drifted over her shoulder again, and she didn’t need to turn around to know Morgan was coming back. ‘She’s fun to be around, lovely… warm; I’m having… a good time.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘It’s only a few more days, after all.’ The smile faded suddenly, and he sighed as he met Rose’s eye. ‘And then I promise to turn back into the curmudgeon of a boss you know and love.’
‘Good, because I miss him, and his alter ego is not good for business.’ This time, Rose did laugh. It was no surprise he’d fallen under the spell of Morgan’s warm and friendly manner after Mandy’s iciness. He had no idea how deep he was already, and remembering he didn’t know of Morgan’s work visa, she eyed him speculatively. ‘What if it’s not just for a few more days?’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m back!’ Morgan smiled widely at them both, and Rose turned to look at the rapidly diminishing queue.
‘We’d best go.’
James nodded. ‘Yup. It’s a quarter to nine; I need to get to the office. Have a great day, and say hi to Aiden for me.’ He turned to leave, and Rose and Morgan walked to join the stragglers who were climbing onto the coach.
‘Wait!’ Morgan turned around. ‘Will we still be able to go enchilada testing when we get back?’
‘Absolutely. Text me when you get back later, and we’ll go to that new Mexican place I mentioned.’ He was looking to Morgan and then to Rose, but as he’d never mentioned this, and it sounded like another date was in the offing, all she needed to do was find an excuse to leave them to it.
‘I’m sure you’ll love them,’ Rose said, before steering Morgan back in the direction of the coach.
* * *
‘Jenny Ashton?’ Rose’s eyes flew to the front of the coach where the tour guide was currently running through her list of names.
‘No? No one has seen Jenny Ashton? Does anyone have her number? Would be good to check with her that she’s not on her way?’ The guide looked expectantly up and down the faces peering over the seat backs, but no one responded.
Reluctantly, Rose raised a hand. ‘I don’t think she can make it, I’m afraid.’
‘Am I allowed to ask about what happened yet, when you ran after her to accuse her of piracy and all manner of disrepute?’ Morgan whispered to Rose after the guide had thanked her.
‘Nope. And you never will be.’ The amusement in Morgan’s voice was apparent; if only she knew, thought Rose, as the engine started up and they pulled out of the car park into the morning traffic.
Rose felt a pang of sadness as the coach crawled past 4 Sydney Place and out onto the Warminster Road, though it lessened considerably as they left Bathampton behind. She missed Jane, but with a shudder she recalled those difficult days living back in her mother’s house, trying to find her feet in the library, scared of losing Morgan from her life after all she’d already lost. Then she recalled her evening with Aiden, and warm memories encased her. Smiling to herself, she allowed the feeling to fill her up and, for some miles, she thought of little else.
‘Look, everyone. It’s Stonehenge!’
With a start, Rose glanced around. Most people were staring avidly out of the left-hand windows as the coach continued along the road. Rose felt a wave of guilt at letting her mind drift so much. She had offered Morgan the window seat, thinking she would enjoy seeing the English countryside rushing past as they made their way east through Wiltshire to Hampshire, but looking at her now, she seemed to have drifted back into the low spirits of earlier, staring blankly at nothing in particular.
‘Hey.’ Rose touched her friend on the arm, and Morgan started. That settled it; she was so deep in thought she had no idea where she was right now.
‘You can’t fool me, matey. What’s up? Did – er – did something happen last night; you know, after I left you?’ Surely she and James hadn’t had a disagreement over the phone or something? They’d both seemed in good spirits this morning…
‘No! At least, nothing… oh, I dunno.’ Morgan sighed.
‘Are you having second thoughts? About moving away from home?’
Surprisingly, this brought a smile as Morgan shook her head. ‘I’m totally fine leaving home, especially if this new Mexican food place works out tonight. God, I miss tacos.’ She winked, and Rose laughed.
‘So why does it make you so… sad?’
For a moment, Morgan said nothing.
Then she drew in a long breath. ‘Can’t you guess? Your boss.’
‘James?’ Rose frowned.
Morgan nodded, then her troubled gaze met Rose’s. ‘He’s… the best man I’ve ever known.’
Trying not to laugh, Rose turned in her seat the better to meet Morgan’s eye. If she was channelling Elizabeth Bennet, this was getting serious!
‘And this makes you unhappy? Is this an American thing? We’re quite partial to nice men over here, you know.’
With a rueful smile, Morgan shook her head. ‘No, it’s me.’
Rose was confused. ‘But it looked to me like you were getting on so well.’
‘We are!’
‘So?’ When Morgan shrugged, Rose said quietly, ‘He likes you; a lot. You know that – right?’
‘I might not be so attractive to him once he knows I’m not jetting back to the US next week.’
Honestly, Rose thought to herself. These have to be the most clueless pair. ‘It’s not like that – not for James. Morgan, he came to see you off on a tour… on a workday?’
Morgan didn’t say anything, and Rose said sternly, ‘Morgan, I know him, and he’s not into toying with people’s feelings. Tell him your plans.’
Morgan leaned her head against Rose’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t come here expecting to fall for anyone, let alone your boss. I can’t… read him, y’know? He hasn’t really made a move after that first kiss.’
Rose couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the round-the-clock texting. ‘Well, by English standards, he’s made himself extremely clear.’
‘I want to believe you.’ Morgan’s eyes lit up. ‘Maybe your men here work different than the guys at home.’
Patting Morgan’s arm, Rose thought about her words as the coach sailed past the sign proclaiming they were entering the county of Hampshire. Having never been to the USA, Rose couldn’t comment on the cultural differences between them, but she did have one man in mind right now. The Aiden of the other reality had seemed so different to the unattainable man of her real world. But he wasn’t really, was he? So today – her last chance to see him this year – she had to make the most of it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Stepping down from the coach in the car park across the road from the cottage housing the Jane Austen House Museum, Rose walked slowly over to the hedge bordering the car park and stared over at the red-brick façade. She had seen it many a time, yet right now it gave her goosebumps along her arms and a churning to her insides. Why did it feel so… personal?
‘That’s it, huh?’ Morgan had come to stand beside her. ‘Wow. I mean, I’ve seen photos, but it’s a lot smaller than I imagined.’
Rose smiled but said nothing, ushering her friend across the road to get their tickets. Dragging Morgan away from the extensive array of souvenirs in the gift shop, she then led her round to the pretty, well-maintained garden, sighing with a heady mixture of pleasure and nervous anticipation.
‘Nice!’ Morgan tugged her camera out of her bag and started to take photos, and Rose walked over to the other side of the garden to contemplate the house.
She had visited Chawton and the surrounding area many times, but there was no denying this felt more a pilgrimage than any other. How strange did it feel to be here, looking at a home Jane – the Jane she had met in Bath – had yet to know? How many times had she, with the utmost reverence, walked through the hallowed rooms, stared at Jane’s small writing table, admired those topaz crosses, read with tears in her eyes Cassandra’s account of Jane’s final days and hours?
Swallowing on a sudden lump in her throat, Rose smiled tremulously as Morgan pointed her camera at her. She drew in a shallow breath as her friend walked over to take a photo of the Pride & Prejudice rose in the border by the gate. How would it have felt had Jane – as Jenny – come on the coach tour? What would she have made of her future home, of Chawton village as it was today? Then, her eye was drawn across the road, she laughed and began to walk across the grass to join Morgan. She liked to think Jane would have delighted in the absurdity of seeing that the local cafe was called Cassandra’s Cup – would have loved writing to her sister about it.
‘Shall we go in whilst it’s quieter?’
Morgan grinned at her. ‘Lead the way.’
‘You can still take photos, but no flash.’ Rose led the way into the first room, saying hello to the friendly lady there and leaving Morgan to chat to her; she tried to breathe steadily as she walked slowly across to the door into the passage. This was where Jane’s small collection of jewellery was usually displayed, and Rose pulled out the middle drawer cautiously.
There they were! Cassandra Austen’s cross and chain and, next to it, the one purported to be Jane’s but, in reality, Mrs Austen’s. And only Rose knew that of anyone alive today. Her skin prickling again, she walked slowly into the next room.
Everything felt different, as though she was seeing it for the first time, in a new, more intimate light. After her modest experience with the fluidity of time, Rose didn’t feel far away from when Jane had inhabited this space. This was no longer simply the house of an icon, but that of a friend, and she hadn’t only lived here… This was where she had become sick as well.
Not wanting to think about it, Rose tried to suppress the pressure welling up in her throat. Had she done the right thing in encouraging Jane to go back, away from modern medicine and procedures? She knew the legacy of Jane’s writing was beyond calculable worth, but even so, it broke her heart to imagine Cassandra pacing to and fro over these wooden floors as the health of her beloved sister declined, and then continuing here without her for all those years…
‘This is so cool!’ Morgan whispered to her as she joined her. ‘How did they manage to live in such small rooms?’ There were a couple of other people looking at various items on display, and Rose led Morgan over to Jane’s writing table.
‘It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? That she wrote such beloved stories in this actual room and probably at this window?’ Her gaze drifted towards it, then back to the small table, and she smiled. ‘I can see her now… when I stand here, I can picture her, dipping her pen into the ink, a smile on her lips as she gave some witty line to a character, then stopping to look out of the window at the Winchester coach flying by, wondering about the passengers, where they were headed, what their stories were…’
Morgan punched her gently on the arm. ‘Hey, you’re waxing lyrical today. I’ve never seen you like this.’
Rose gave her a watery smile. ‘I’m not sure I’ve ever felt quite like this when I’ve come here, to be honest.’
They headed for the upper floor, but all Rose could think about as her hand trailed along the wooden banister rail was of Jane flying up the stairs to find Cassandra, to tell her of her excitement at her book having arrived from the printers, one of her ‘darling children’, but as she paused on the threshold into the room Jane had shared with her sister, it became almost too much to bear. Had the same hand clung tightly to that handrail as illness began to claim her and she wearily made her way upstairs to rest?
Trying to settle her emotions, Rose walked into the bedroom. Morgan was studying the contents of the closets either side of the fireplace, but Rose’s eye was drawn to the framed fraction of a letter by the hearth, Caroline Austen’s memories of her final visit to her ailing aunt.
‘This is the cutest room.’ Morgan turned to face her. ‘It’s all so… quaint. And look at that tiny bed!’
Rose smiled, thankful for the distraction. ‘I think it’s a replica. It’s probably so small because they had another in here for Cassandra.’
‘You coming?’ Morgan walked to the door, but Rose shook her head with a smile.
‘Give me five minutes; I’ll catch you up.’
Walking over to the window now she was alone, Rose tried not to think how captive Jane must have felt in this room as her health failed, how lonely it must have become for Cassandra Austen to return to after leaving Jane at rest in Winchester, but the
n she paused and looked around. It was a lovely room; small, yes, but charming and full of light. There was no air of melancholy about it, other than what she – Rose – was bringing to it. ‘And even when sick, Jane did not succumb to self-pity and despair,’ she whispered to herself. ‘And she’d be unlikely to appreciate it in others.’
A sudden breeze caressed Rose’s skin, and she felt the fine hairs on her arm rise; it was as though Jane, for a fleeting moment, was not far away in the mists of time, but rather standing right there – not a memory, but there beside her, only two hundred years removed.
Rose spun around. There was no one in the room but her, and a quick glance at the firmly sealed window was enough for her to hurry from the room in search of Morgan.
* * *
Closing the gate to the museum behind them, Rose and Morgan viewed the crowd of people outside the only two places in Chawton serving lunches: the village pub and the nearby cafe.
‘Looks like the first tour is over.’ Morgan pointed to the people milling around across the road. ‘I’m starving. I’ll grab a sandwich and see you outside the big house at two?’
Rose glanced at her watch and almost yelped. It was barely minutes to the time she’d agreed to meet Aiden. She tried to shed her unsettled mood as she turned to walk down the lane towards the church, but the old feelings of hopelessness attempted a return and did nothing to help banish the melancholy feelings gripping her since being in the cottage. Perhaps she wasn’t as changed as she’d hoped…
‘Are you okay?’ Morgan had fallen into step beside her.
‘We seem to be asking each other that a lot the last couple of days.’ Rose sent her an apologetic smile. ‘Hey, I thought you were off to lunch.’
Morgan took Rose’s arm. ‘Here for each other, that’s what it’s all about.’
Feeling Morgan’s friendship keenly, Rose smiled. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Visiting Chawton has never affected me like this. Even in there’ – she gestured back down the road towards the cottage – ‘I’ve never felt so – so overcome, so full of sadness. I mean, there are parts that always make me sad, like the—’
The Particular Charm of Miss Jane Austen Page 26