Most Ardently

by Sheena Austin et al.

  “Yes, miss,” said Millicent. She bobbed her head but didn’t move.

  “You will find the means of sandwich making in the larder and the tea should be easy enough to fix. I will be in my room,” said Jane. She smiled at Millicent who suddenly seemed to remember her duties as she quickly returned to the kitchen to get the supplies for their repast.

  A half hour later she brought a tray to Jane who stood in her room looking out the window at the steadily falling snow.

  “We are in for quite a storm,” Jane said when Millicent set the tray on the indicated table.

  Millicent nodded in agreement. “Bobby said he could feel it in his bones.” Bobby was her brother who had stopped by earlier to bring them some firewood.

  “Well, I believe Bobby is correct,” said Jane who shivered a little as a gust of wind struck their window rattling the glass.

  In short order, her sandwich gone and tea cold, Jane was bent over her writing which was not going well.

  Millicent came in to light a small fire in the grate and left more tea, but Jane barely noticed. Engrossed in her writing she didn’t notice the passage of time until the maid tapped her on the shoulder asking what she would like for dinner.

  “More tea, and perhaps a little of that cake I smelled you baking earlier,” said Jane. “And how are the puddings doing?” asked Jane before Millicent left.

  “I believe they are doing well,” Millicent said. She bobbed a slight curtsey and left the room.

  Thus the days went for about a week. The puddings appeared to be doing well, the two were content to carry on the days in relative solitude, and the snow continued to fall.

  Her mother sent word that the children were indeed ill, and that Jane should not come to Chawton House but rather stay at Chawton Cottage for the time being.

  Jane, waking on the second week after her mother and Cassandra had left was rather proud of herself for how easily everything appeared to be going. Her only complaint, if complaint could be mentioned, was how suddenly alone she felt without the presence of her family around her. Even playing the pianoforte wasn’t assuaging her loneliness. She considered making the trek through the snow to Chawton House to inquire on how everyone was doing, but realized as she sneezed, that she was coming down with a cold and being out in the snow was not the best idea right then.

  “I would like some company,” she surprised herself by thinking one day. She rose from her bed and glanced once more out into the white world. Nothing was moving out in the cold air. She hadn’t even seen a bird or any other creature moving. It was as if the snow had stopped the world from existing. Perhaps her mood would be lighter if the writing was at least going well, but it was not. The words were not flowing at all.

  “The world is silent in its slumber, empty in its company, and I’m alone.” Jane said. She shook her head at how mournful and sad she sounded. “Melancholy is becoming the norm, and I don’t like that. I need something besides emptiness in my life.”

  She shook her head and smiled at her fanciful thinking. As if to contradict her pronouncement of an empty world she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.

  She squinted, trying to see what had caught her attention and was surprised to note a small group of people struggling to walk in the snow. The trio looked to be having great difficulty trying to make their way in the deep snow. Not surprising since the snow was still falling and had been for weeks now.

  She watched as one of the people - a woman she assumed by the long coat she wore - fell. The other two, both men judging by their dress, tried to lift her, but were themselves having difficulty.

  “Millicent,” called Jane. Turning from the window Jane hurried into the kitchen to find Millicent lighting the morning fire. Assisting her Jane told her what she’d seen on the road of the trio struggling to get through the snow.

  “I am going out to help them,” Jane said. “Will you please get some water boiling and set some tea and some of your biscuits out for them? I fear they will need some comfort when they arrive.”

  “Miss?” said Millicent. “Are you sure you should...”

  “Yes,” said Jane as she pulled on her heaviest coat and wrapped a scarf around her throat. “Yes, it is the Christian thing to do.” She unlatched the door and stepped outside into a world that was so white it blinded her for a moment.

  Turning to look over her shoulder she said, “Hurry, Millicent. They will be here soon, and I want the tea ready for them. You might see about some brandy as well. I fear they will need that.”

  And then she stepped into snow that covered her up to her knees.

  Plodding toward the front of the house and the road, she scanned the area to see where the trio was making their way toward her house. She sighted them a short distance away, perhaps a quarter mile and began walking toward them.

  The wind had picked up and she pulled the scarf over her mouth and nose leaving only her eyes uncovered. She blinked away tears caused by the rising wind and kept her eyes on the men and woman. As she drew closer Jane saw the woman was clutching at her middle as if in pain and realized with a shock the woman was pregnant.

  Lowering her scarf, and instantly regretting it as the icy wind almost took her breath away, Jane shouted a greeting. “Hello, travelers,” she said waving her hand.

  One of the men looked up in surprise, his eyes widening at the sight of the woman walking toward him. Jane knew she must look a fright as she was covered in new fallen snow and probably was as unexpected as the abominable snowman would be in this pristine environment.

  “Hello,” shouted back one of the men. He raised an arm in greeting, keeping his other around the woman who was not doing well.

  “Can you manage to walk a little further?” Jane asked as she continued trudging toward them. They were only about one hundred yards apart she estimated, but the heavy snow was making walking difficult. “I live just over there,” she gestured with her arm to where her house was.

  “We can do it,” the men assured her. One of the men looked to the other for affirmation. The second man nodded, the woman appeared nearly comatose and needed much assistance to even walk.

  Jane waited while they caught up to her, pulling the scarf back over her mouth and nose. The rising wind was making talking difficult and painful. The wind threatened to chill her bones where she stood and the snow, packed tightly around her was going to make progress back to the house difficult even for her and she marveled that this trio had managed to make it this far in the weather.

  When they caught up to her, she motioned for them not to speak but to follow her.

  The woman, her face red from the wind, appeared to have lost her scarf somewhere along the way. Unwinding hers from her neck Jane offered it to her. The woman accepted it gratefully but without a word. One of the men, her husband perhaps judging by his gentleness, wrapped it around her face and throat. The small warmth it gave her seemed to revive the woman a bit as her steps quickened, or perhaps it was the knowledge that she would soon be warm and inside shelter that quickened her pace.

  Fifteen minutes later they reached Jane’s door and she welcomed them in.

  “Miss,” said Millicent as they entered the room. “You look cold. Sit by the fire to warm yourself.” Jane opened her mouth to reply that she was fine, just a little cold when she realized her servant was speaking to the woman who’d entered the door behind her.

  Stepping aside Jane hid her smile behind a small cough. Millicent, as young as she was, did love to pick up strays, and the woman, who’d been depending on the strength of her husband’s arms to hold her on their journey, did indeed look as if she was about to collapse.

  Jane stepped aside and let the men and woman gain the fire.

  Both men quickly divested themselves of their damp outer clothing. Boots soon followed as Millicent drew four chairs to the fire. Jane assisted them all in removing clothing and was alarmed to notice the woman was indeed pregnant, and if the size of her belly was any indication she was due t
o deliver soon.

  The woman, as if noticing Jane’s concern finally spoke.

  “I am due at Christmas,” she said with a slight smile. One hand rubbed her belly while the other held onto the arm of one of the men. He smiled down on his wife with pride.

  “Th-thank you for the rescue, kind lady,” said the third man when neither of the other two spoke. “We are most grateful. Our horse was lamed in the storm, took a wrong footing, and we had to leave him along the road with our wagon.”

  “How far away were you?” Jane asked as she handed Millicent their wet clothing to set out to dry.

  “At the crossroads,” the other man spoke finally. He had a soft tone, with a deep resonance that Jane found pleasant to listen to.

  The woman nodded and continued their tale of woe. “We were coming to see a friend of my husband’s. But the storm came up fairly suddenly on us and we were not prepared for it.”

  “We thought we were closer than we actually were which is why we set out on foot after securing the horse in an abandoned structure there.”

  Jane nodded. “You must mean the barn belonging to Mr. Wilson. That thing has been falling down for years. But will be a good shelter for the horse for a time. When the storm abates I will see about someone getting the horse and wagon for you.”

  The wind whistled around the house, shaking a few of the windows and Jane silently hoped they wouldn’t find a dead horse by the time she could send someone there.

  “I hope he will be okay,” said the woman, touching her husband’s arm. Her eyes were watering as if in concern for the animal they’d left behind.

  Her husband patted her arm in consolation, “We had no choice, Sarah,” he said.

  “Well, now,” said Jane brusquely, “Millicent, would you serve the tea for everyone? I’m sure they’d appreciate something warm.”

  “Yes, miss,” and Millicent handed each of them a cup of the warm beverage.

  The only sound for the next few minutes were sighs of contentment as everyone enjoyed their tea and nibbled at the biscuits.

  Studying her unexpected guests Jane watched their interactions through the steam in her cup as she raised the glass to her lips. Her eyes settled on their companion. He was a man of strong shoulders and delicate lips she noticed immediately. Slender, but not too thin; tall, but not over-tall; his eyes were a brilliant blue with a twinkle in them as he observed her studying him.

  He seemed amused, a small smile tugging his lips upward, a dimple in each cheek becoming more pronounced the longer she studied him as if her glance tickled him. She wasn’t alarmed that he’d caught her studying him with such thoroughness.

  “Do I pass your inspection, madam?” he asked. Setting his cup down, he reached for another biscuit.

  Jane blushed. Setting her cup down, she reached for a biscuit just as he reached for another, his other having been consumed in one bite. Their hands touched and for a brief second she felt a tingling in her fingertips that surprised her.

  Neither moved their hands, and a widening of his eyes alerted her to the fact that he’d felt something at their touch as well.

  Before Jane could remark upon this the other man spoke.

  “I’m James Willows and this is my wife, Sarah. Our companion is...” James gestured toward the man nearly holding her hand who spoke then.

  His voice was deep and cultured, obviously educated, Jane thought as she glanced at him with some speculation.

  “Peter Alabaster, at your service, madam.” He said this with an old-fashioned courtesy Jane found interesting. He bowed slightly from his seat and then spoiled the cultured effect of this gesture by popping another biscuit in his mouth like a small boy would. His blue eyes twinkled at her when she gazed at him.

  Jane laughed at him and shook her head. Setting her teacup down, she gestured toward the servant. “This is Millicent, and I am Jane. How nice to meet you Peter, and James, and Sarah. Welcome to our humble home.”

  “Jane?” said Sarah in surprise. She glanced at her husband quickly, and he returned her gaze with a nod.

  “Yes, Jane Austen,” Jane repeated. She looked at the two of them in confusion. “Is there something wrong?”

  “Wrong? Oh, no. Nothing is wrong at all.” Sarah said with a smile. “If you are the sister of Edward Knight then nothing is wrong at all.”

  “Yes,” Jane said. Her tone was cautious as she glanced from one to the other with a tiny bit of alarm. Who had she just welcomed into her home? “What do you need with my brother, Edward?”

  “I am hoping to seek a position in his household.” James said. “We were in correspondence for me to become a tutor for his children. I was to meet him this Christmas season.”

  “Well, there you have it you have met his sister instead.” Jane said. She chuckled. Relieved she wouldn’t have to send them out in the cold.

  Just then Sarah began coughing. Jane looked at her in alarm and motioned to Millicent. “Millicent, perhaps we need to get Miss Sarah to her room? Perhaps we can light a fire in the room my mother uses and let her sleep there for a bit? You look exhausted.”

  Jane assisted Sarah to her feet. Her hand brushed across Sarah’s belly and she felt a motion from inside that even in her exhaustion caused Sarah to chuckle. “That’s the baby,” she said unnecessarily.

  “She has a strong kick,” said Jane, her hand tingling from the touch through the gravid woman’s clothes. A baby! A miracle! For just a moment Jane felt envy and then quickly squashed the uncharitable thought that rose to her mind. At her age Jane knew she was beyond the time for becoming a mother, but she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a mother she might have been.

  “Let’s get you to a room for some rest,” she said. She hated that her voice sounded so harsh and softened her next words. “Your child needs rest as well.”

  The woman nodded. Jane thought she looked relieved as well. Jane could feel Sarah leaning on her a little more heavily than might be considered normal - a sure sign the woman was weaker than she was letting on. Was she staying strong for her husband’s sake?

  And no wonder she was so weary, thought Jane a few minutes later when she and Millicent had helped Sarah undress. Sarah was very much farther along than she’d thought if the size of her belly was any indication.

  “When did you say your child was due?” Jane asked. She kept her voice casual, but the alarm was evident in her expression. They were not equipped to handle a birth. Chawton Cottage was clearly a home that welcomed genteel older women, not raucous children. Even a babe in arms might be more than they could handle. And with this storm raging outside, getting to medical help in time to deliver might prove difficult since seeing in front of one more than a few hundred feet was currently impossible.

  Although, and once again Jane hated herself for feeling this way as she hated dwelling on regrets, a child would be nice to see especially at this time of year. Their joy and wonder is infectious. Of course, an infant wouldn’t have much enthusiasm for anything except their mother’s breast, but at least they are a sign of life continuing, and that is never a bad thing. Jane adored her nieces and nephews. Not having a child of her own was a burden she bore silently. She felt her hand gravitate toward the woman’s distended belly and was surprised when Sarah pulled her hand closer.

  “The miracle of life from a woman’s womb,” she spoke with a tired voice, “is one that should be shared by all.”

  After a moment Jane pulled her hand away. The baby had not repeated her earlier kick and Jane was disappointed but schooled her expression to remain kind instead of sad.

  “You have no child of your own?” Sarah asked. Her voice was muffled by the overlarge nightdress Millicent had put over her head and was pulling downward.

  Jane shook her head. “No, I was not blessed in that regard.”

  Millicent tugged a little on the nightdress to drag it over the belly and then pronounced the deed done with a clap of her hands.

  “Will there be anything else, miss?” Millic
ent held the remainder of the woman’s clothes. The boots were at the foot of the bed on the rug, dried now after time by the kitchen fire.

  “Light the fire for her, if you would be so kind, Millicent,” said Jane. She pulled back the covers and assisted the pregnant woman into the bed. Covering her she patted the woman’s shoulder.

  Within seconds the woman was asleep and snoring softly.

  Jane and Millicent looked at each other and smiled. Jane tucked her guest in, making sure the covers were snug to the thick piled mattress her mother preferred.

  No drafts would be entering that tuck, Jane thought. As she turned to leave the room Jane saw a small piece of folded paper lying on the floor nearby. Picking it up, intending to set it on the small table near the bed, she was struck by curiosity and opened the note.

  In small, neat handwriting she recognized her brother Edward’s hand.

  My Darling Sarah –

  Please do come. And bring that awful man you married, and your rascally brother. I cannot wait to see you all again.

  With All My Love. Yours forever,

  E.

  Well, now, thought Jane tucking the letter into her pocket, what is that all about?

  After her guests had retired to their rooms Jane sat up staring into the fire. Should she return the note and ask for an explanation? Did it really matter to her if Edward had some connection to these people, after all they’d told her from the beginning that they were looking to get to his home and the storm had delayed them?

  Or was there something more to this letter than she was aware of? Something about the note claimed more of a friendship with her brother than a simple passing acquaintanceship was implied in the note, of that she was certain, but was she allowing her writing mind to take over and create a plot of intrigue where none existed?

  And what of their handsome traveling companion? Peter was her brother? Why hadn’t they mentioned that? Why hide that connection from her?

  Peter’s smile and the way he stared at her were hints to his true intentions if she were any judge of character. Was she prepared for his interest in her? And why was he interested in her? She was easily fifteen years his senior. Surely his interest was not romantic, but the way he glanced at her, out of the corner of his fantastically blue eyes, and the way his lips broke into a smile when she entered the room were sure signs that he was not looking at her as a rescuer from the storm.