The Unexpected Past of Miss Jane Austen (ARC)

by Ada Bright

  Perhaps this was the answer. Morgan was real, her best friend, someone she would never want to hurt, someone she’d hate to cause worry or concern to. She didn’t know her father; he’d left her life long before she could ever remember him. Whoever this Christopher Wallace was, he could be nothing more than a distant ancestor. How could that even compare to her friendship with Morgan?

  Feeling reconciled, Rose hurried along the landing, down the stairs and into the dining room. Jane must have finished tidying away the breakfast things, for the table was cleared, the fire nicely stoked and there was no one in sight. She was about to turn for the door into the small vestibule when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye and, turning around, she saw a dog curled up on the cushion she’d noticed the day before.

  Stepping closer, Rose stared at the dog, then crouched down and whispered, ‘Prancer?’

  The dog’s eyes opened and its head shot up, and she reached out a tentative hand for it to sniff before stroking its head. ‘I’m so glad you’re okay.’

  ‘He is a playful companion.’

  Rose straightened up. Cassandra had come into the room, and she walked over to join her as they both looked down at the dog, who had gone back to sleep.

  ‘I am so glad you found Prancer, Miss Austen – not just for the obvious reason, but also because I felt so bad for his owner in the… well, you know.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Cassandra’s smile was a little strained. ‘Those were difficult times, but though I feared I might never see my sister again, I at least knew where she was.’

  Rose followed her over to the window and for a moment they both stared out at the fine September day.

  ‘It is not so for your friend, is it?’ Cassandra turned to Rose. ‘She has no idea where you have gone.’

  ‘No.’ Rose glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘Where is Miss Jane?’

  An evasive look crossed Cassandra’s features, and she turned away, then said over her shoulder as she left the room, ‘Excuse me, Miss Wallace. I am needed in the bake-house. As for Jane, I believe she walked down to get the post.’

  Rose followed slowly in Cassandra’s wake. Didn’t Jane walk to Alton for that? She would be gone for the best part of an hour. Should she walk up to Chawton House now, and talk to Jane about going back when she returned? Rose paused as she came to the boot room door through which Cassandra had just left, staring down the garden.

  In the cold light of a new day, her foolish doubts over this man being her father had receded. How could she give it any credit? A smile reminiscent of her father’s from an old photo? The fact this man was called Christopher? It was all conjecture, coincidence, and everyone knew life was full of those.

  Despite the thoughts swirling round in her head, Rose enjoyed the walk through Chawton to the great house. Used to living alone and therefore a certain amount of her own company, she was finding the constant companionship of the Austen ladies a little wearing, despite the care Jane was showing her and the kindness emanating from her sister.

  Aiden must have been looking out for her. She had barely reached the steps leading up to the front door when he came out to meet her, and her conflicted thoughts faded for a moment. He was wearing yet another coat and waistcoat and looked so at home in them; so much more than she felt in her own borrowed clothes. She was going to miss seeing him dressed like this.

  ‘They will be with us soon. Mr Knight was giving some instructions to his housekeeper and the captain had a letter to write.’

  Her hand drifted towards his, but then, realising what she was doing, Rose’s arm fell to her side.

  Aiden peered over her shoulder. ‘Did I miss something? Is Miss Austen at large with her bucket?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No. I’m just trying to remember her advice.’

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m not sure when I finally drifted off, but I definitely got a few hours.’

  ‘I’m glad you managed to escape alone this morning.’

  ‘Cassandra seemed to have a morning’s baking in mind. Thankfully, they haven’t yet asked me to try my hand.’

  ‘It’s not your forté, then?’ He grinned. ‘Nor mine! Though I can cook – I make a mean chilli con carne if you ever want one.’

  Rose laughed. ‘I’ll take you up on it once we’re… home.’ She sobered. ‘Jane took herself off to get the post this morning, so I’ve yet to hear what her ideas are on getting us back today.’

  ‘I’m not sorry. I really did want some time alone with you.’

  ‘Good morning, Miss Wallace.’

  They both started and took an instinctive step away from each other as Charles Austen strode down the steps and performed a smart bow.

  ‘Good morning, Captain Austen.’ Rose did her best to curtsey, feeling horribly self-conscious.

  ‘It is a fine morning for a stroll, is it not?’ He waved a hand at the autumnal sunshine bathing the grounds in soft golden light. The watery blue sky sported barely a wisp of cloud, and the only sound was birdsong from the distant treetops.

  Rose sighed. It was all so tranquil. How could she be harbouring such turmoil inside?

  ‘Miss Wallace?’

  ‘Forgive me, sir. My mind is somewhat distracted.’

  Charles Austen eyed Rose with sympathy. ‘Of course.’ He glanced at Aiden, whose gaze remained fixed on Rose. ‘Why do you not set off? I will seek my brother and we will follow on directly.’ He waved a hand at them and turned and took the steps back into the house two at a time.

  They did as they were bid, with Aiden offering Rose his arm, and she took it thankfully.

  ‘Any further revelations this morning?’

  ‘Not really, but I’m completely at odds with myself. My head keeps telling me the facts: Morgan is what matters. She’s real, she’s my friend. I must go back to reassure her I’m not dead or worse.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I can’t rid myself of the what if in all of this. If we weren’t here…’ Rose’s voice tailed off as they passed through the gate and St Nicholas’ Church loomed to their left. ‘The fact is – and it is fact – we are here. We are living the impossible, so how can I say anything is no longer a possibility?’

  They continued in silence for a few paces, and then Aiden glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘The gentlemen are behind us but some paces away. They will hear nothing of what we say.’

  Rose drew in a long breath of the still-cool morning air as they reached the road and turned their steps to the right.

  ‘So, continue. It might help to talk about it, and I know there isn’t much chance at the cottage, with Mrs Austen not knowing what’s going on.’

  With relief, Rose took Aiden at his word, spilling out all the confusion that had filled her mind since seeing Christopher Wallace on the previous evening. He said nothing, but let her keep talking until she ran out of words.

  Then, he stopped walking and turned her to face him. He cast a quick glance back towards the men, before taking Rose’s hand.

  ‘They will have to bear with me, I’m afraid. I find it incredibly hard not to hold your hand.’ Rose smiled, despite her agitation. ‘You’re waffling. I’m not surprised, your head must be all over the place, but let’s examine what we have.’

  Rose glanced back at the approaching men. ‘Can we walk on? I don’t want them to catch up.’

  ‘Of course.’ Aiden placed Rose’s hand back on his arm and they resumed their walk. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Morgan and I are very close. But this is the first time we’ve met and I can’t just abandon her. Jane needs to get us back.’

  ‘And where is Miss Austen now, Rose?’

  Rose stared along the road. ‘Alton?’ But was she? Cassandra had seemed evasive, and Jane had had an air of mischief about her at breakfast.

  They were not far from the patch of land belonging to the cottage, the land where, in the future, Aiden’s car waited for them. Then, Rose’s heart leapt into her throat, and she grippe
d Aiden’s arm. Coming towards them, albeit on the opposite side of the road, were Christopher Wallace and his wife.

  Rose turned frantically to Aiden. ‘Help me. What do I do?’

  ‘Stay calm. We just incline our heads – we aren’t acquainted, we don’t need to speak.’

  They began to walk again, but before they had gone two paces, a voice came from behind them.

  ‘Ah, Wallace, well met!’

  Glancing over her shoulder, Rose saw Charles Austen, with his brother in tow, striding across the dirt road to reach the other side just before a coach and horses rumbled past. The ensuing dust and noise was sufficient distraction for a moment, and Rose blinked, trying to clear her eyes. Then, to her dismay, Charles turned and beckoned to them both.

  ‘Come, it is time you made some new acquaintances.’

  Rose froze. ‘I can’t. Aiden, I need to…’

  But it was too late to back down. The two parties of people were already moving towards each other to become one.

  ‘Mr Wallace, Mrs Wallace, permit me to introduce some of our friends to your acquaintance; they are come from Bath to make some stay with my sister, Jane.’

  Acknowledgements were exchanged and Mr Wallace addressed Aiden. ‘And how has your visit to Hampshire been thus far, sir?’

  Rose tried not to blatantly stare at him as Aiden exchanged a glance with her, then cleared his throat. ‘Quite enlightening, Mr Wallace. This is not a place I have had the pleasure of visiting before.’

  The man smiled, and Rose tried not to see a likeness, but then something caught her eye and her gaze was drawn to the orchard where Cassandra’s bee hives nestled. She blinked twice, very deliberately. Was she hallucinating now?

  From behind a tree had stepped a rather disgruntled-looking Jane Austen, along with a young woman who was fidgeting with her clothing, a young woman who was achingly familiar.

  Chapter 8

  Rose’s mind went blank for a second, then began to spin. She was aware of voices around her, of Charles and Edward speaking to the Wallaces, of the latter moving away down the road, but though she heard voices around her, she couldn’t distinguish any words. Morgan was here?

  Her heart thumping in her chest, Rose turned frantically towards the three remaining men. ‘Excuse me. I’m so sorry, I must… go.’

  Leaving Aiden to cover for her, Rose walked as fast as she could in her long skirts towards the newest resident of 1813, only to find Jane, in just as much of a hurry, coming towards her along the road.

  ‘Before you speak a word, Rose, this was not my intention! Your colonist—’

  Morgan was looking back towards the tree from round which she had emerged, and Rose gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as she walked. James Malcolm, her straight-as-a-die, fully grounded boss, half dressed and dishevelled, was here too!

  ‘Oh my God, Jane! What did you do?’ Before Jane could answer, Rose had hurried past her towards her friends, who seemed now to be in urgent discussion.

  Jane, almost as tall as Rose and with a similar stride, kept pace with her. ‘I did not expect to come across them. Yet there they were, standing in the car park, not far from where they are now. It seemed the perfect opportunity to speak with your friend, assuage any concerns she may have had – to ensure you had the time you needed to resolve the situation with your… with Mr Wallace. After the past four and twenty hours, I feared your intent was to use Miss Taylor’s potential distress as a way out of your current dilemma, and I believed—’

  ‘We’ll discuss my issues later.’ Rose threw Jane an exasperated look as they reached the orchard. ‘Right now, would you care to tell me how your attempt to reassure my friend turned into this?’

  Jane stayed Rose with her hand. ‘I will, but I believe you must first address your friends’ needs.’ She inclined her head towards Morgan, who stood beside James. Looks of utter confusion were on their faces.

  Rose sped across the grass, her emotions almost rivalling those from her first ever meeting with Morgan. Had that really only been a week ago?

  Morgan held up her trailing skirts, her face transforming from bemused to delighted as she skipped towards her, almost falling in the process. ‘Where have you been? We tracked your phone to Chawton but… are you all right?’

  Rose hugged her tightly, her throat so taut she could barely speak. ‘I’m fine.’ She tried to smile as they released each other. ‘Oh Morgan…’ At a loss, she stepped back, and looked over at James.

  He potentially would look very handsome in Regency garb, but for some reason, he wasn’t fully dressed, sporting some breeches and a coat, which he was attempting to hold closed across his bare chest. His feet were likewise unshod.

  Torn between concern and amusement, Rose raised her eyes to his as she began to accept what she saw.

  James looked less satisfied. ‘Okay, this is pretty impressive. How did you pull this off? Where are my shoes?’ He touched the breeches gingerly. ‘And my suit? I just had it cleaned—’

  This was going to take some explaining! Rose turned to Jane as she joined them, her look uncompromising.

  ‘I came out of the museum and there they were.’ Jane shrugged lightly. ‘There seemed some fascination with Mr Trevellyan’s conveyance. It seemed the most fortunate circumstance, thus I hurried over to pass on whatever reassurance I could to your friend.’ She glared at James. ‘The gentleman would give me no audience, but your friend…’

  ‘Hey, where are my keys? I was just holding them.’ James bent down to look at the ground.

  Rose glanced at Morgan, but her attention had drifted as she looked around. A split second later, Morgan swung around and pointed at Jane. ‘You are Jane Austen!’ She paused, frowning. ‘You look older than Crazy Jenny, though!’

  Jane rolled her eyes, but Rose grabbed Morgan’s hand, her voice low as she glanced around. ‘Yes, she is. And you’ve just arrived in Chawton in 1813.’

  Conscious James was looking from Rose to Jane to Morgan in disbelief, Rose turned back to her friend.

  ‘Trust me, Morgan. And you really have to pretend to be a normal English lady from the early nineteenth century.’

  Morgan looked taken aback. ‘But I don’t know how to do that. How long have you known… you have known, haven’t you? That’s why you’ve been so weird about Crazy Jenny.’ Morgan looked to Jane apologetically, but then her eyes, already large, went round as saucers. ‘Is that Aiden?’

  Rose glanced over her shoulder and sighed. Aiden, Edward and Charles were making their way across the field towards them. She took Morgan’s hands in her own. ‘Listen, there is so much I have to tell you, but I need you to be patient. Please? Just smile and nod?’

  Morgan opened her mouth to speak then closed it, and Rose whispered, ‘Thank you.’

  She turned to James. Years of working with him had convinced her that he, not her exuberant American friend, was going to be the tough one to get through this initial set of introductions.

  ‘James.’ She spoke firmly. ‘I know you think this is all some sort of trick. Can you please just go with it until we can sit down and talk?’

  ‘Did you do this?’ James gestured down at his appearance. ‘Is this because I refused to get dressed up for the ball? How did you—?’

  Rose put a finger to her lips and thankfully, James stopped, then noticed the approaching men.

  ‘Oh good, more characters.’ James frowned as the men neared them, then tugged at his coat and leaned down towards Rose. ‘Is this one of those Jane Austen Murder Mystery Adventures?’ He looked up. ‘Aiden… mate! How the hell did they talk you into this?’

  They instinctively shook hands, even as Aiden raised a brow at Rose, as if to say, How did this happen?

  Rose lifted her hands, and Aiden eyed James’ attire before putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘We need to talk, pal.’

  Morgan looked between them and muttered to Rose, ‘So should we.’

  ‘What the devil is going on, Jane?’ Edward Knight eyed the newcomers with dist
rust as he joined them, and Rose glanced over at Charles, who was at his side, but he was merely observing, a faint smile on his lips.

  ‘Miss Taylor, Mr…’ Jane looked at James, who stared blankly back. She tsked, and turned to Rose.

  ‘Malcolm.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jane resumed her introductions. ‘Miss Taylor, Mr Malcolm, permit me to introduce two of my brothers to your acquaintance: Mr Edward Knight of Godmersham and Captain Charles Austen.’

  Both brothers instinctively bowed, and Rose stared meaningfully at Morgan, who blinked, then roused herself, dropping an attempt at a curtsey.

  James, however, looked from the gentlemen to Rose. ‘Er, not sure if I’m playing the game, yet.’

  Rose drew in a short breath. ‘Jane?’

  Jane waved an arm at Morgan and James. ‘Miss Taylor would not accept my assurances you were well, insisted on seeing you, became very distressed. Reluctantly, I conceded. The gentleman,’ she threw James a look, ‘was harder to persuade. I do not think he believed me. He refused to change his clothes, merely attempted to humour me in donning these two items,’ she gestured at James in his breeches and coat, ‘over his own clothes. Miss Taylor was more obliging in both donning the attire and taking my hand as instructed, but as I dropped the chain about my neck, Mr Malcolm grabbed her arm. I had no idea it would work without intention!’

  Edward looked astounded. ‘Well, take them back, then!’

  ‘I intend to!’

  ‘Wait!’ Rose and Morgan said at once, and Rose looked apologetically at the brothers. ‘Please, can we just have a moment? I need to explain some things to my friend.’

  Edward threw his sister a mocking glance. ‘Yes, of course, because the more people who know about this, the better.’

  Jane pinched his arm. ‘Perhaps you should pay your call upon Mama, Edward? Charles? Let us give Miss Wallace some time to talk to her friends and it will surely set things to rights. Perchance the incident will prove serendipitous.’