‘Yes, of course.’ Aiden looked from Jane to Rose. ‘I still don’t know what happened last time you… met?’
Jane all but rolled her eyes, but then she smiled. ‘You do not wish your first question satisfied before we venture into another?’
Aiden smiled too. ‘It is my turn to say touché, ma’am.’ He glanced at Rose. ‘Rose can fill me in when we have a moment to talk.’
And when might that be? Rose sighed. Much as she loved Jane, and incredible as their present situation was, she was overwhelmed with a sudden longing for her cosy flat in Bath and the chance to have a private moment with Aiden when they could talk, although perhaps talking wasn’t likely to be their first activity… warmth filled Rose’s cheeks as she realised two pairs of eyes were fixed on her, Jane’s with amusement and Aiden’s… well, she was hard put to read the message in his warm, brown gaze, and she turned to Jane.
‘Aiden knows all about your brother’s gift of the topaz crosses, but he has yet to learn about the special powers bestowed on the third one.’
Jane inclined her head. ‘That makes the explanation shorter, if not simpler.’
Rose’s gaze wandered as Jane set before Aiden everything she had told her when they had first met: how her brother, Charles, had been in Gibraltar when he purchased the crosses and chains, one of which the seller claimed possessed the power to enable the wearer to slip through time. This power was such that the necklace must pass directly from Charles’ hand to Jane’s for it to work for her, and it would only ever work for another if she passed it from her own hand personally.
A silence fell on them as she finished her tale, and Rose eyed Aiden warily. She knew how incredulous she’d been when she’d first heard about it, but this time they had all the evidence before them.
Jane shrugged lightly. ‘It does not answer for how it came to be in Winchester Cathedral. Sir, what do you make of it?’
Aiden held up his hands in defence. ‘Don’t look at me for answers, I’m new at messing with the time continuum.’
Jane’s eyes sparkled. ‘At the risk of repeating myself, touché, sir.’ She gestured ahead. ‘We should continue.’
Rose frowned. ‘But I thought the lane to Chawton House was further on?’
With a smile, Jane shook her head. ‘A later alteration. Come, you will see.’
Rose almost took Aiden’s hand, but then realised what she was doing and took his arm instead. They both fell into step up the long unfamiliar lane, and the conversation turned to Jane’s brother, Edward.
‘I trust you found Mr Knight accommodating upon your arrival, Mr Trevellyan?’
‘Of course.’ Aiden frowned. ‘I didn’t like to ask your brother about his surname. Are there exceptions to the convention of a lady taking her husband’s name on marriage?’
‘It would be most singular, upon marriage to another person; when there is marriage with an estate, it is not uncommon.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Aiden’s frown deepened. ‘At least I think I do.’
‘When Edward was a youth, he was taken under the wing of Thomas Knight, a distant cousin of my father’s. He and his wife, Elizabeth, were unable to have children.’
Rose gently squeezed Aiden’s arm. ‘He was to be heir to their Kent and Hampshire estates.’
‘Was?’
Jane paused on the corner, where a carriage ride branched to the right off the lane. ‘He is no longer the heir as he has inherited.’
‘And part of the agreement was he change his name?’
‘Come, let us continue on our way.’ Jane turned to lead them along the ride, and soon the church rose before them. ‘Upon the death of Elizabeth Knight, in 1812, he was obliged to take the name Knight, and thus is no longer an Austen.’
There was a hint of disapproval in Jane’s tone, but before Rose could question her on it, she sensed the loss of Aiden’s attention as it was drawn once more to the church, one that hadn’t been seen by the human eye since 1874 when most of the original church burned down.
‘Aiden?’
He started, then turned to look at her. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re keen to explore.’ It wasn’t a question, but she could see the avid interest on his face, and she smiled as her gaze drifted towards Chawton House. It looked beautiful under the morning sun, but like the cottage, the house and its surroundings were so different to how Rose knew them, she almost struggled to get her bearings.
Jane, who had reached the open gateway to the house’s grounds, had turned around and was watching them.
‘Is aught amiss?’
‘Dr – I mean Mr Trevellyan – is curious about the church.’ Rose waved a hand, but Aiden had already started towards it.
‘Then let us avail ourselves of a fortuitous moment, Rose. Come.’ Jane walked back to join her and they followed Aiden into the churchyard where they found him staring at the ground near the front entrance. Assailed by the memory of the day they’d had lunch in this very churchyard – was it really only a couple of days ago? – Rose smiled to herself. Wasn’t that when she’d just begun realising Aiden liked her?
‘It seems your young man is taking some relish from his circumstances, so much so it supersedes his desire for answers to his questions.’
Rose stirred and looked up. Aiden had just opened the door to go inside. ‘I can’t blame him. History and archaeology are his life, it’s in his blood.’
‘Let us give him a moment.’
Leaving Aiden to his speculations, Jane offered her arm to Rose, who hesitated before taking it. It felt so reminiscent of the day when she’d first found out about Jane’s exploits, back in the future, and they’d walked arm in arm along the road towards the canal and Bathampton.
They strolled in silence for a short while along a gravel path, eventually coming to a low wall bounding the churchyard. How strange it felt to be here, knowing those all too familiar graves – the ones of Cassandra and Mrs Austen – were not standing in their usual place around the corner.
‘Oh!’ Rose stared at the land beyond the churchyard. ‘This is open fields in the future.’ It was cultivated now, including what appeared to be an extensive kitchen garden.
‘Edward has plans to move the gardens up beyond the house. They are most inconveniently situated.’ Jane waved a hand at the land before them. ‘There is talk of all manner of improvements since Mr Middleton vacated earlier this year.’
The sound of voices in the distance drew Rose’s attention to her left, and looking over the wall into the fields beyond, she saw a family starting to make its way up the slope towards a bank of trees. They were some distance off, but she was certain the young girl leading the way was her new friend, Anne.
‘Aren’t those your neighbours?’
Jane followed the direction of Rose’s gaze, but then her eyes flew back to meet Rose’s.
‘Are you okay?’ Rose frowned. ‘You’ve gone really pale.’
‘I am quite well.’ Jane summoned a smile. ‘Pay me no mind.’ The family was approaching the trees now. ‘They have been in the village but these six months. They are particularly fond of walking and are oft seen out together.’
‘That’s… nice.’ Rose watched as the father, who was bringing up the rear, stopped, shading his eyes against the sun as he looked around.
‘Nature has given them no inconsiderable share of beauty.’
Rose smiled as she watched them disappear under the edges of the trees. ‘I met two of the girls earlier. They were very pretty.’
‘It would give me particular pleasure to have an opportunity of improving your acquaintance with them.’
Puzzled, Rose turned back to face Jane. ‘Why? We won’t be here long…’ She paused. ‘Will we?’
‘I cannot say.’
‘But I don’t understand—’
‘Forgive my evasiveness.’ Jane sounded uncharacteristically anxious, and Rose almost held her breath. Was she about to get some answers? ‘It was imperative I speak to you alone. Will you forgive my
curiosity, dear friend? I would very much like you to tell me about Mr Wallace.’
Rose blinked. ‘My father?’
‘I understand he is not in your life – has not been for some time? Is my assumption correct?’
Rose eyed Jane warily. What on earth had this got to do with anything? Was Jane stalling again?
‘Yes, he passed away when I was very young.’ She sighed. ‘All I have is that photo of him and me. I don’t remember him. I was only two, but I do remember being held, comforted, feeling loved.’ Rose glanced at the silent lady beside her. These were things she hadn’t thought about in ages. ‘You’ve met my mother, Jane. I don’t think for one minute it was her.’
Jane rested a hand briefly on Rose’s arm. ‘Forgive me for asking, but… do you know what happened?’
Rose shrugged, then leant on the wall, her gaze roaming across the open fields. The family had all disappeared now. ‘He used to travel a lot with his work, apparently. There was a boating accident off the coast of Gibraltar.’
‘And his family name was Wallace?’
‘Yes… My mum seems pretty heartless at times, but she kept his name and hasn’t remarried, even after twenty-five years.’ Rose turned to Jane. ‘Why are you asking me this? I thought you wanted to talk about why you brought me here?’
‘That family,’ Jane gestured towards the trees, ‘bears the name Wallace.’
‘Wow!’ Rose smiled. ‘Do you think they might be distantly related to me?’ Then, she frowned. ‘It’s not an unusual surname, though. Is that why you brought me here – to personally meet people who might be my ancestors?’
Rose wasn’t sure how she felt about this. It was incredibly sweet of Jane to think this was urgent enough to bring Rose back in time, but wasn’t it also incredibly over-eager? Rose had never considered Jane so sentimental. Perhaps her own father’s death had influenced the lady’s reasoning.
Jane remained silent, the troubled look on her face intensifying, and Rose hurried to reassure her.
‘Look, it’s a lovely gesture, bringing me here to meet possible ancestors. And I realise it’s not an opportunity people usually get, but—’
‘You misunderstand.’ Jane held Rose’s gaze, then nodded as though she’d come to a decision. ‘I do not believe them to be distant relations. I believe Mr Wallace…’ Jane hesitated, and Rose’s skin began to prickle.
‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘What do you believe?’
‘That the gentleman may be your father.’
Chapter 4
Words of denial rose easily to Rose’s lips, but she silenced them, unwilling to embarrass Jane with a swift dismissal of her suggestion. But even so, it was ridiculous.
‘I…’ Rose hesitated, but Jane’s eyes were fixed upon her, her own anxiety plain to see. She genuinely believed this! ‘I’m touched you’ve put so much thought into it.’ With a rueful laugh, Rose shook her head. ‘I see now why you found it difficult to talk about.’
To her surprise, Jane didn’t shrug or brush the matter aside. Instead, she held Rose’s gaze, as though willing her to believe.
‘Look, Jane, I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’ve gone to all this trouble.’ Rose gestured with her arm. ‘Coming all the way to Bath late at night, the trunk of clothes, introducing me to your family… you’ve put so much thought into it, but—’
‘You think me a victim of sentimentality.’ Jane raised her chin. ‘Your air and countenance betray you. I wish it were so, for would it not be simpler than what I suggest? Come; sit with me and hear me out.’
Bemused, Rose followed Jane over to a nearby stone bench, and she sank onto it beside her friend. Why did everything remind her of when they’d first met? Hadn’t they sat like this in Sydney Gardens when Jane first explained about how she had come to be there?
Jane turned in her seat to face Rose. ‘Permit me some further explanation. Some years ago, when Charles was in Gibraltar, he befriended a nice Englishman with a young family eager to return to England. That man was a Christopher Wallace.’
‘Christopher?’ Rose smiled. ‘My father was known as Kit, but Christopher was his given name. It’s lovely, if he is a relation, that the name goes back so far in the family.’ Why had her mind travelled instantly to telling Aiden she’d like to keep the name in their family? He loved history; he was bound to appreciate bringing a name from the past into the future, wasn’t he? Then, she rolled her eyes at herself. They’d been barely a quarter of an hour into their… understanding, when Jane had appeared to disrupt them. What on earth was she thinking?
‘Rose?’
Rose started. ‘Sorry. Mind was wandering.’
‘Do you not see the connection?’ Jane eyed her earnestly. ‘Your father disappeared into the sea off the coast of Gibraltar.’
‘He died.’ Rose spoke firmly. She had to gently knock this bizarre idea out of Jane’s head. ‘In the twentieth century.’
Jane pursed her lips. ‘I comprehend your resistance to the notion, but you understand me well enough to know I am not inclined towards flights of fancy.’
It was true, but before Rose could speak, Jane continued. ‘When I was first introduced to the gentleman…’ She paused. ‘When was it? About six months ago, I think. Yes, Eastertide was upon us.’ She fixed her gaze on Rose again. ‘I will own to the unusual colour of his hair, paired with the name Wallace, bringing you instantly to mind. I had not forgotten you, of course, but my life had been so disrupted for many years after I last saw you, and then, when we moved here, I finally felt settled and my attention was all upon my writing. I knew, from my stay with you, how important it was for me to fulfil my legacy and write the stories you so loved, Rose.’
Touched by these words, despite her concern over how doggedly Jane was sticking to her belief over this Wallace connection, Rose smiled as Jane picked up her thoughts.
‘Like you, my first ponderings were whether these newcomers to the village were, by some strange coincidence, distant ancestors of yours, and I was delighted with the notion. I kept a keener eye out for them, even allowed myself a satisfied smile, thinking I comprehended a secret they did not.’
‘That’s so sweet. Nothing would please me more than to boast my great-great-great – wait, how many would it be?’ She laughed. ‘My distant grandparents had been your neighbours!’
Jane’s sombre face sobered Rose quickly.
‘I liked to imagine I could see some similarity of expression now and again, especially in the daughters, two of whom favour the same colouring as you.’
Involuntarily, Rose’s hand rose to her head only to encounter the straw of her bonnet.
‘But that is all it was; just a pleasurable supposition, a gentle amusement which I shared with no one.’
‘Are you saying you have now shared this thought?’ Rose’s hand shot to her throat. This was ridiculous!
‘I have told no one but Cass.’
‘But there’s nothing to tell!’
‘Do you honestly believe I would have plucked you from your present life, brought you here, on a whim? I overheard Mr Wallace speaking words he could not, should not bear familiarity with.’
‘Such as?’ Rose shook her head. Why was she humouring her?
‘He was watching his daughters perusing a book as they shared a garden bench. I declare he spoke quite clearly, though they would not have heard him. ‘If only I had a camera, that I could capture such precious memories in a photo.’ Jane pronounced these words with the air of someone playing a trump card. Rose opened her mouth to retort, but no words came. Then, she shook her head.
‘It doesn’t prove anything. If I had my phone, I could look up just when the first mentions of cameras and photos were. There are all sorts of odd inventions people were tinkering with way before anything was ever actually built officially. Look at Leonardo and his flying helicopter machine.’ She wasn’t falling for this. ‘There are even words in your own books I never realised were used this early on, like electricity
.’
Jane was clearly unimpressed with Rose’s logic. ‘My supposition does not stand on this slip alone, though I will own to its setting my mind on its current track. Since then, the gentleman has referred to several things he could not possibly know – nothing to raise awareness in general. He is considered an eccentric, and such people are always allowed some liberties, are they not?’
More for Jane’s sake than her own, Rose pushed on. ‘What other things did he say?’
‘Well, for one, he knew my name. There was instant recognition when we were first introduced.’
‘But surely it was recognition of your surname? Didn’t you say he knows your brother? Even if you hadn’t formally met, he must have learned that his neighbours were also Austens?’
‘He showed no such reaction when Mama was introduced ahead of me. It seemed to be the mention of my full name, and mine alone. I am convinced he knew I am a writer.’
Rose’s spirits lifted. ‘But that’s true! Oh, Jane, I can’t tell you what a thrill it was to realise we had travelled to the very year Pride and Prejudice was published.’
‘Did you forget I published anonymously?’
‘Surely news would travel locally though?’ Why was she even arguing the point?
Jane, however, was persistent if nothing else. ‘It is not public knowledge outside of our intimate circle. To be certain, it would be unknown to such a casual acquaintance.’
Rose frowned. ‘What exactly did he say to convince you?’
Raising her chin, Jane held Rose’s gaze firmly. ‘He murmured under his breath he wished he had made my acquaintance before his O level examination.’
A strange sensation began to take hold of Rose as her skin prickled. ‘No. I mean, you must have misunderstood or misheard him. It could be a Gibraltar thing.’
The Unexpected Past of Miss Jane Austen Page 4