by Jayne Bamber
“No indeed – not even a quarter-hour. I was sure you needed just a few minutes to get on with it.”
Mary expected herself to blush but, surprisingly, she was not the least bit embarrassed. “Have you not been to the dower house?”
“Not yet. I wished to see what would happen – whether you would say yes.”
“Ellie,” Henry said, “I did not tell you what I meant to say to Mary.”
Still lurking about the hedge, Eleanor laughed. “As if I could not guess! Oh Miss Bennet, speak to us as one of the family,” she mimicked.
Mary laughed. “She is quite good,” she whispered to Henry.
Henry broke away from Mary to approach his sister, but she gave a little squeal and backed away. “No indeed – I am going to the dower house in earnest now, and if you cannot catch me I shall have the honor of sharing your good news!” At that, she took off running, and Mary and Henry went in pursuit.
If Lady Catherine was surprised at the Tilney siblings bursting into the dower house, unannounced and out of breath, followed an instant later by Mary, whose hair was still loose about her shoulders, the good lady did not show it. Indeed, she smiled at them as if everything was quite normal, offered to ring for tea, and told them Harriet was in the garden with Mr. Rushworth.
***
That night was to be a farewell dinner at Rosings, for the gentlemen of the hunting party were to make their departure. Lydia knew she was not alone in wishing to leave a lasting impression on them – Harriet had confided that Mr. Rushworth, who was to return to his estate, Sotherton, had already spoken with Lady Catherine and Sir Gerald, and invited them all to visit his estate in the autumn, as he meant to make substantial improvements to the grounds. Caroline must have come to some understanding with Captain Wentworth, given the looks they were exchanging; though she had not confided fully in Lydia about it, Lydia was happy for her nonetheless.
Not to be outdone, Lydia took extra care with her appearance that night. As Caroline was wearing mourning, Lydia borrowed her favorite gown of Caroline’s, a deep blue one, which accentuated her dark brown hair very well. She wore the same diamonds she had worn to the ball at Cranbrook, in the hope that Mr. Audley would take notice.
That he did, and as she had expected, he sought out some opportunity to speak privately with her after dinner. The rest of the company was in the drawing room, playing at charades, when he drew her aside in the adjoining music room. “It is bittersweet, is it not,” said he, “to see this part of the house returned to normal, after our theatrical? Some of the happiest memories of my life, I am sure.”
“They are some of my happiest memories as well,” Lydia said, “although they are so closely followed by some of the worst.”
He took her hands in his. “How it must have pained you, when I was betrothed to Cynthia.”
“Indeed it did. I thought my heart should break.”
Mr. Audley stepped closer still, reaching out to run his fingers over the thick diamonds about her neck, just as he had done the night of the ball. “You are so beautiful,” he said. “Far more beautiful than Cynthia Sutton – how relieved I am to be free of her!”
“And yet, you would have married her. If Sir Gerald and General Tilney had not intervened, you would not be standing here now.”
“I suppose it was fate,” he breathed. “Fortune smiled on us at last.”
“I suppose it has – fortune has certainly smiled upon me. Caroline has given me a dowry – ten thousand pounds! I might wed quite comfortably now.”
“Thank God for that,” he said and smiled down at her, resting his hands on her shoulders.
Lydia looked up at him with a smirk. “I do – but I wonder, what can it have to do with you?”
“You know what I would ask you,” he said, bringing his arms down and wrapping them around her waist.
“And yet you do not ask it,” she said, giving him a coy look.
“You are too generous to torment me, my love….”
Lydia closed her eyes, still smiling, enjoying every moment of their interlude. “I do not know about that, sir. Ask me already!”
He withdrew his hands from her waist, and dropped down to one knee, taking her hand in his. “Will you, Lydia? Will you marry me?”
This was it, the moment she had been waiting for; her heart beat rapidly in her chest, her satisfaction reaching its zenith as she looked down upon him and said, “No, I will not.”
“Oh, my dearest – what?”
“I would have agreed, if you had asked me before I knew your true character – before I knew your mercenary intentions. I shall not have you, Henry Audley. You will have to find some other heiress to prey upon, though I believe I owe you some thanks, for teaching me my own worth.”
“Lydia, I love you!”
She drew her hands away, and shook her head at him. “If you truly loved me, no amount of money would have swayed you to raise my hopes and abandon me. I am sure that someday you shall find somebody as stupid as I once was, who will believe your lies, and I am very sorry for her. And now I believe I must retire – I am quite exhausted.”
She swept from the room before Mr. Audley had the chance to fully stand up, and made her way upstairs. She went not to her own chambers but to Caroline’s, where she took off the diamond necklace and threw it down on the bed, having no wish to ever set eyes on it again. She left the room, and knocked on Georgiana’s door across the hall.
Georgiana, who had also retired early, opened the door just a crack, as she was already dressed for bed. “Well,” Lydia said, “it is done. I have to admit, you were right – it felt better than I thought it would.”
Georgiana broke into a smile, sticking her arm out through the doorway to pull Lydia into her room, and into an embrace. “Oh, Lydia! I am so proud of you!”
30
Hartfield, Surrey, late May
Emma had been waiting anxiously at the window for a quarter-hour, when she caught sight of Frank Churchill walking up the gravel path to Hartfield. “Oh, he has come, Rebecca! He has come at last!”
Rebecca smiled indulgently at her. “I shall be sure to stay out of your way – I have letters from Marianne, Lizzy, Georgiana, and Mary – that ought to keep me occupied for quite some time.”
Rebecca moved to the garden door, but Emma stayed her. “Why should Sidney Parker be coming with him? He shall only get in the way, I am sure.”
Rebecca came toward the window. “Is Mrs. Weston not with them?”
“No – how strange!”
“Well, I will stay with you – I will detain Mr. Parker as best I can, though I think him a poor substitute for my letters.”
Rebecca soon discovered that she need not have remained – Mr. Parker required no distraction, for as soon as Frank expressed a wish to speak privately first with Emma, and then with John, Mr. Parker declared he had come to see Jane Fairfax.
“Jane Fairfax,” Emma cried, with a little laugh. “Whatever for?”
Rebecca made a strange sound, which she masked with a great deal of coughing, and told them she would be out in the garden, reading her letters. Emma offered to go and fetch Miss Fairfax, whom she expected to find in the nursery, but the housekeeper was with the children, and informed her that Miss Fairfax was in John’s study.
Moving back through the front parlor, Emma bid the gentlemen follow her to John’s study; she knocked, but did not wait for an answer from John, and as she swung open the door, she let out a gasp of surprise as she discovered Jane Fairfax in his arms.
They instantly separated. Emma glowered at her brother-in-law, her hand seeking Frank’s, and Sidney Parker rushed forward. “Jane, what is this about?”
Emma was confused to see Mr. Parker addressing Miss Fairfax informally, but Frank tugged at her hand as if to lead her away. “Perhaps we had better leave them. We shall be in the garden, Sidney.”
Frank led her out to the garden; Rebecca perceived them, and sensing they had come out too soon to have spoken, she kindl
y moved a greater distance away from them to afford them their privacy.
Emma very much wished to hear what Frank Churchill had to say to her, but was still quite shaken from what she had just witnessed. “I wonder what that was all about!”
“As do I, my dear, though I had something else I would rather wish to say to you just now.”
Emma looked up at him, her heart beating in anticipation. “Yes?”
“Well, I know what you must be thinking – I am sure I have made my feelings known to you – I believe we made our feelings known to the whole village at the ball last night, my dearest Emma.... Still, I have not yet asked you properly.” He took her hands, and dropped to one knee. “Emma Woodhouse, I have loved you, I believe, since before I ever set eyes on you. I have spent nearly all my adult life believing you to be just the woman for me, and I cannot describe to you what I have felt since actually making your acquaintance. From the earliest moments of meeting here in Highbury, you have touched my heart. To have spent so many long years hearing of you from my father, embellishing you in my own imagination, desperately wishing to meet you, and then to really be in your presence, and discover you a finer woman than even my own imagination could make you.... You are perfect to me. Every moment spent in your company has been sheer delight for me – I have come to feel that it is not Highbury that is home to me, but you – you are my home Emma, you are where my heart lives. Please, I beg you, be my wife.”
Emma looked down at Mr. Churchill, feeling at any moment she might begin to weep. “Oh, do stand up, Frank – yes, of course I will marry you!”
Frank stood, took Emma in his arms and lifted her from her feet, spinning her around several times as she squealed with glee. “Emma, my darling!” He set her down and kissed her deeply. “God, how I have wanted this – and yet, how I feared it was too soon. I thought I should die if I were to wait any longer!”
Emma laughed, wiping away the tears that finally came. “I know just what you mean – how horrible I have felt, fearing it was too soon to be happy, and yet how happy I really am! I love you, Frank. You touched my heart before we ever actually met – I was long mesmerized by the very idea of you, and experienced just the same flights of fancy as you. I daresay the reality is ever so much better.”
“So it is my love,” he said, kissing her again.
“But, will you speak to John?”
“I had meant to – I wish to, though I think we had better wait. I am not entirely sure just what we interrupted, but I have my suspicions – that is, I think there is something I ought to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“It is rather a long story – will you walk with me?”
***
Rebecca really attempted to read her letters; each one of them was quite long, each bearing tidings to make her smile, and yet none could fully hold her attention. She was several times getting up, having a look about, to see if she might discover how Emma and her Mr. Churchill were getting on. She observed the moment of their embrace, and smiled to herself, happy that Emma had gotten her happy ending, and relieved that she might now in good conscience accept Mary’s invitation… to her wedding!
What relief she felt, that everybody should be meeting with such joyful tidings – everyone, she feared, except herself. She was also looking about for Mr. Knightley, wondering if he would come to Hartfield, and whether she really wished him to. If he were to come for Miss Fairfax’s sake he may yet be disappointed – she really ought to warn Emma about it, though she didn’t wish to dampen the felicity her cousin was experiencing. After a few minutes of such depressing musings, John exited the house, looking for Emma. He approached Rebecca first, and she informed him that she would not betray Emma’s whereabouts even if she did know where Emma and Mr. Churchill had gone off to. “Give them a little time, John,” she chided. “You know how it is with lovers.”
“I am sure it must be but the work of a moment,” he said with a grimace. “However, there is another matter of great import I must discuss with Emma – even now I suppose she is expecting it.”
Rebecca was still determined to delay him, but he glanced about, and caught sight of Emma and her beau walking arm-in-arm at the opposite side of the garden, just disappearing behind one of the hedges.
After John left her, Rebecca once more attempted to attend to her letters. It was everything she could desire – Richard and Marianne, and Darcy and Lizzy were all for Kent – even Mrs. Bennet was to be unleashed on Rosings, a prospect that delighted Rebecca. Mary was to be wed, and apparently Caroline had plans to take Lydia to Sanditon – here Rebecca could only laugh to herself, imagining Mr. Parker’s delight on that score.
Her thoughts of that gentleman seemed to have conjured him up; she saw him exiting the house with Miss Fairfax, who seemed quite eager to get away from him. Miss Fairfax practically ran to catch up with John, Frank and Emma, while Mr. Parker, in a dejected pose, sighed and shook his head before looking up and perceiving Rebecca. He waved and made his approach. “Good morning, Mr. Parker. I believe I have some good news for you.”
“That must be some relief,” said he. He seemed a little sad, though far less cross than he had been on the last few occasions of their meeting. “I have received some good news – that is, I am not without my disappointment, but some little relief as well.”
“Well, aren’t you mysterious,” Rebecca quipped. “Really, sir, I think you sound as though you wish to tell me all about it.”
“I am not entirely sure you would wish to hear it,” he replied.
“And by that I suppose you mean it has to do with Sanditon? In fact, my news does as well. But you must go first, sir.”
He shook his head. “I hardly know where to begin. I suppose I must go back rather far – to an occasion I mentioned last evening, of our meeting in London last autumn.”
“Yes, when you directed Mr. Churchill and his aunt to Sanditon.”
“Exactly so. I had some business, but joined them there about a month later. I found Mrs. Churchill quite recovered already, and Frank was in very good cheer. It was around that time that Lady Denham first decided to make a match for her niece – at first she thought for Frank to pursue her, a desire which his aunt made no secret of sharing. Miss Denham, I can assure you, is really something ghastly – I can only describe her by saying that she and Mrs. Elton would be fast friends.”
“How positively vile!”
“Indeed. At any rate, I had thought to distract her, for Frank’s sake – but also, in part, to get my mind off another – a lady I wish to forget – I believe you might guess….”
“Surely you cannot mean Georgiana?”
“I was quite in love with her, Lady Rebecca. I am sure you do not believe me – you are not a romantic, after all, and I am sure you cannot imagine how it could be possible to develop such tender sentiments upon so short an acquaintance.”
Here Rebecca was obliged to contradict the man. “In fact, I have become recently aware of such – that is, I believe I can relate.”
Mr. Parker looked astonished, and squinted his eyes at her in feigned apprehension. “Is that so? Well, I shall not name names, but I have my suspicions. I hope I am to wish you joy!”
“I begin to doubt it,” Rebecca sighed, “but it is of little matter – forget I said anything at all, and do go on. You were saying….”
“Yes – I was saying how very disappointed I was to part with Miss Darcy.”
“I suppose you have every right to hold it against me.”
“No – quite the reverse, Lady Rebecca. Indeed, I may have resented you once, but as our acquaintance has progressed, I have come to respect you for it. A connection like that, of such short duration, might very well have proved an unfavorable one – you might recall what I said about the Eltons.”
“Indeed I do, although I had really suspected you were talking about someone else entirely.”
“In that respect, I was – but you could not have known it – I really doubt you suspect
ed at all.”
“Suspected what?”
“You see, Lady Rebecca, dejected as I was in Sanditon, I attempted to do as Lady Denham bid, and pay some little attention to her niece, though it was too awful – I could not go through with it. It became even more difficult, you see, for just as I settled it in my mind to disoblige my patroness – to marry for love, and without any money at all, if I could possibly achieve it – it was then that….”
Rebecca interrupted him, and gasped as comprehension alighted on her. “Dear God! You met the penniless Jane Fairfax!”
He smiled ruefully. “Exactly. She was just the kind of lady to tempt me. I was often in company with her guardian, Colonel Campbell, and you know how friendly the two of us became. We were often together, devising schemes and plans for improving Sanditon, which is my life’s work, you know. I never tire of speaking of it, and in Colonel Campbell I found a friend who could share my enthusiasm. I was often thrown in the way of Miss Fairfax at that time, and we passed many very pleasant months. I began to think myself really attached to her. She was just my ideal, what I wanted in a woman – that is, she bears quite a resemblance to Miss Darcy, you know. Not in looks perhaps, but she is quite musical, which I love in a woman, she was penniless, which I had lately come to desire, and then there was something so very fragile about her, something that seemed to hint at a great history of suffering – something, if I am not too forward, I must acknowledge I perceived in your cousin, as well. In short, Miss Fairfax became Miss Darcy’s substitute in my mind, and in my heart. I do not even think I realized what I was about, at that time – I really did believe myself quite over Miss Darcy, though I had attached myself to a woman who was but a meager forgery of a priceless masterpiece.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows at his lofty words, but was really quite touched by them. “So you have been in love with Georgiana all this time?”
“I am sure I should recommend myself much better by saying yes, that it has been so, but I will own that there was a time I really did believe myself attached to Jane Fairfax. I saw what she suffered – all those hints about Mr. Dixon you know, were not without merit. I think she had her heart broken a little by the man, who had attached himself to her friend Miss Campbell, a young lady inferior in every way but that of fortune. I pitied her, but I recognized her feelings, for I felt myself to be quite heartbroken over Miss Darcy. From that began our friendship, and it grew into something more. By Christmas time, we had become engaged, though it was meant to be kept secret. Much as I often resent Lady Denham, she has been kind to me. She has invested in all my projects – nearly all of them, I have kept a few to myself, with outside investment from my aunt, Lady Russell, whom I told you I had visited in London in February. I knew I had only another half-year to wait, until the completion of Sanditon’s many improvements, and then I might see a return on my investment, and might really begin to amass a fortune of my own. My fate, you see, is bound up with that of Sanditon, and as the village prospers, so shall I. Miss Fairfax agreed to the secrecy, she agreed to wait for me, and her faith in my success only deepened my regard for her.”