by Jane Austen
Lady Raynor heard, with the customary intrigue of the inquisitive, how one Lady Denham had fallen ill and how these three people (she thought she heard their surname as Hollis) would visit her.The report of the poor lady’s ill health was given by the eccentric man who she heard addressed as Mr. Parker. Goodness, he was an enthusiast. He spoke at length about his hometown of Sanditon, could clearly not consider denying the ladies and the gentleman a single detail, and when his speech finally came to a close, it was agreed by all, and noted by Lady Raynor with interest, that Sanditon must indeed be the most wonderfully improved place in the world. It was undoubtedly a sanctuary. It was the very place that a poor butler ought to live out his days. Lady Raynor decided that inquiries must be made.
Alas, by the time Lady Raynor had finished what proved to be a very well presented fruit pudding, the Hollises and Mr. Parker and his companion had all left the dining room. Sanditon, though, was entirely lodged in her thoughts, it was very definitely the place she wanted for her poor old Stafford. She would investigate the possibility of settling him there. It was perfect. She had overheard Mr. Parker say that he meant to set a doctor up there. Dr. Brown had told her where Jane had gone and it was in her mind to visit her just as soon as she could ensure that inquiries about Sanditon could be made. But she could not be in two places at once and as her object was now Willingden Abbots she formulated a plan that would relieve her of the necessity of going to Sanditon straight away and afford poor Dr. Brown and his wife another well-deserved and much needed visit to the coast.
Wasting no time, the following day Lady Raynor paid her visit to Dr. Brown and Mrs. Brown.
The mention of Sanditon brought a look of surprise to the doctor’s face. “But we know Sanditon very well, Lady Raynor,” cried he.
His wife could do nothing but interject excitedly.“Yes, yes,” she agreed. “You will recall my telling you about our little coastal respite? Well, Sanditon was the place! How is that for a funny thing.”
Lady Raynor was all eagerness. “Then you can vouch for its suitability. I have it in my mind, having overheard talk of the spot, that it would be the very place for Mr. Stafford.”
“There could be worse places. No, indeed,” said Dr. Brown, “I think Sanditon ideal. Mr. Parker, who lives there, has plans for a resident doctor. Now here’s a coincidence, he thought I might be persuaded.”
“Oh yes,” cried Lady Raynor,“I know of Mr. Parker’s plans for a doctor. This is all working out perfectly.” Something more occurred to her.“I was going to ask you to go to Sanditon to approve the place for me, but that is now unnecessary. You have already been and I think I trust your praise of it above anyone else’s.”
Dr. Brown’s joy could not be concealed.“But I shall go to Sanditon again, depend upon it, Lady Raynor,” said he with satisfaction.
His wife, her joy and relief evident, said, “Last night, Lady Raynor, my husband agreed to fix a date for his retirement.”
Dr. Brown smiled. “We also agreed to fix on a place,” said he, “for London is not easy on the senses of a redundant man and I have always longed to retire to the coast. It must be Sanditon.”
CHAPTER 30
Charlotte had her letter and, before ascertaining who the sender was, noted that it was a very nice long letter and one that would have been worth all of two shillings and sixpence had it not been delivered by hand. It ran:My dearest friend,
I can imagine your surprise at receiving a letter from me, I am sure you would never have expected one, although you are aware that I have, under Mrs. Griffiths’s kind instruction, been engaged in lessons. My tutor says I learn fast and, although I am accepting undeserved praise, I have enjoyed her compliments.And I have welcomed the chance to confess my literacy.The truth is that I have long concealed my ability to write and read.That is my first confession and this letter thereby proves my deceit. Pray, Charlotte, allow me to prevail upon your good sense and tell you the reasons for my sudden revelation. My past, it is assumed, cannot be retrieved, my memories and all attempts at recollection useless. Oh, I have prayed for that to be the truth. Alas, I have all details of my own history stored, remembered, and regretted. Here I recount them to you.
I was in service some years ago. It was a fine household and good people provided for me, gave me chances at learning, and encouraged improvement not only in myself, but in other servants in their employ. Sir Thomas Raynor was a fine master and Lady Raynor showed me every kindness.The humblest soul was never too low for Her Ladyship’s attention; the smallest matters were always attended to. Miss Heywood, you cannot imagine how aggrieved I am to be forced to remember the beneficence of that household, for I fear its recollection of me would be vastly different.That I have abused the Raynors’ trust causes me the deepest regret. Can I ensure that you will read the remainder of this letter when you learn I am no better than a common thief? I pray you will endeavor to, for matters of greater import shall be revealed.
My dishonest act must be described.The butler, when I was in the employ of the Raynor family, was a Mr. Stafford. His attention to every detail, his conscientious methods, and his expertise cannot be praised enough. It has long since been rumored that his abrupt departure from Heddingham House was the result of a liaison, but I know, as no other can, that this is not the case. How can I be so certain? Because I am the supposed seductress. I beg you, Miss Heywood, know this to be false; there never was any such affair, never any such intention on my own or Mr. Stafford’s part.
He had been suffering with bouts of illness when reason seemed lost to him.When these fits came upon him, he was unequal to even the simplest tasks. I was so fond of Mr. Stafford, we all were, he was the father of our below-stairs family, I wished to protect him, to conceal if I could the nature of his deterioration long before he confessed it to me.At last, I was taken into his confidence; straight lines of thought eluded him too often to be dismissed. His determination to leave Heddingham House was strong. I could not dissuade him, I pleaded with him to apply to Sir Thomas, to appeal to our master’s fair sense and secure his future within the household. But to remain there in any lesser position than had been his for so long was more than Mr. Stafford’s pride would stand. He could not abide the thought of remaining at the house in any lowly station. He had been butler for more than thirty years.The Raynors, I am convinced, would have been charitable, but for Mr. Stafford to have stayed, to have suffered the indignity of sympathy, would have damaged him.The condition that so impaired him worsened with considerable force, he wished no farewell, fearful that the potency of goodbye might soften him, lay him open to persuasion.
Mr. Stafford always had a night off on Wednesdays. He favored solitude and would walk the parkland in fine weather, it was his thinking time, he said. Mr. Stafford could think for hours.The particular Wednesday, details of which I shall recount for you now, is significant because it was the day my new life began.With so much else of my existence being invention you will not be too surprised to learn that Maisie is not my given name, I am rightfully Jane Tailor.
That Wednesday Mr. Stafford went about business in his usual manner, he left the house at five, as was his habit, taking his walking cane with him. His behavior was not unusual in any way and no one was alerted to its being the very last they would see of him. I was not so shaken by his absence for I was accustomed to his being gone on Wednesdays. I knew I should never see him again, he had confided as much to me, I comforted myself with the notion that the full reality of the matter would only impress me by morning.
I was wrong, it played on my mind; my sleep was light and disturbed intermittently.At around three of the following morning I was awakened by the sound of footsteps outside. Quiet footsteps. I was so afraid, Miss Heywood, there was no Mr. Stafford to call, beckoning him in times of crisis was the usual mode. If Heddingham House was to have an intruder then I must be the one to remove him. I was quickly dressed, by candlelight, but did not take the lamp downstairs with me. I went directly to the kitchens where I sa
w a movement in the meat closet.The interloper had been and was gone, missed by moments only, an empty hook swung in evidence of his unlawful presence.The kitchen was dimly lit at that hour; I had little time to think. I took up an implement as a means of defense and ventured outside. I saw a glimpse of the vagabond running from the grounds but he was swiftly out of sight. I heard someone stirring inside the house. If I had disturbed anyone, I could not own it, I had been quiet, the intruder had been quieter.
But the silence was soon broken by the cry of “fire” from a maid’s room. I saw the beginnings of the blaze in the window and knew it to be my room, my candle, and my fault.There were only minutes before Mr. Stafford’s absence was noticed as well as my own.The assumption, I knew, would be quickly made. I could not return there, I had not the authority to divulge details that would explain Mr. Stafford’s departure. I ran the way of the vagabond and began a vagabond’s life from thereon in. I had nothing to sustain me, only the clothing that covered me, and the soup ladle I had taken from the kitchen. My weapon was now my wealth, my only small chance of survival. I hid until dark in a field of maize and took my pseudonym from the crop. I was Maisie and the rest of her story, by way of Dr.Wellscott’s narrative, you are familiar with. I could not return to the house. I could not betray Mr. Stafford’s trust in me.
Charlotte could not read on.“This poor angel describes herself as a thief! To have been led by loyalty into such horrendous circumstances. But why am I confided in so suddenly?” said she quietly. “What induces this girl to reveal all she has tried so hard to conceal?”
Charlotte could hardly keep to each line in order but Maisie’s hand assured:“ … an explanation for this outpouring, a reason, such as I am sure you seek, for my sudden desire to confess my sins to you. I have assured you that the Raynors were in every way compassionate employers.They are well-connected people of considerable fortune and Heddingham House was the venue for many elegant occasions.The family is widely known and liked. Of course, when I was in their employ I did not know of dear Sanditon, but by a coincidence, I had knowledge of one of its residents. Sir Edward Denham was above ten times a visitor to Heddingham House. His object was the Raynor’s only daughter, Rosamunde. My recollection of him and of the Denham name I did not connect with Lady Denham. It was not until Clara Brereton revealed herself to be secretly engaged to him that recognition was mine.A secret engagement and the name of Denham immediately alarmed me. I knew, if it were the same Sir Edward Denham I had previously encountered, that trouble must abound. It was not until I realized, from your account of it, that Sir Edward Denham was in Eastbourne, where Miss Lambe is staying, that I felt strongly alerted to the idea that some scandal was afoot. I knew him to be secretly engaged to Miss Brereton, I had become, on my visits to Sanditon House, something of confidante to her. She revealed her predicament to me, involved me in her distress, and told me of her desire for a public announcement and of his for utter secrecy. She had been afraid, many times, that Lady Denham would discover their alliance.
One occasion had truly alarmed her, the two, given to meeting in the grounds in a spot they thought quite concealed, were almost discovered together by Lady Denham herself. Sir Edward made a hurried escape but Clara could not, she met with an accident, stumbled, fell, and was only discovered by a resident some good while afterward. Even now, Clara is convinced that her aunt knows more of the situation. Imagine, my friend, how misled the girl is. If all this were not enough to prompt my writing then the following accounts will prove to you at once that I am no alarmist.
Sir Edward left his mark upon the Raynor family; his attentions to their daughter were never forgotten. Fortunately for her he was revealed as a scoundrel, banished thereafter and the girl recovered. I now have it from Mrs. Griffiths that Miss Lambe is engaged to him, this information is also deemed to be confidential but Miss Lambe and Mrs. Griffiths conceal nothing from one another. Do not think ill of Mrs. Griffiths by assuming she disclosed this last to me. She did not. She read to me from a letter in which details of it were conveyed, but was loyal enough to her charge to refrain from including me in this private matter. But, Miss Heywood, you will have guessed my offense. I can read and did so, when Mrs. Griffiths left the room to fetch a new book, I took up the letter and saw all that she had not read out.When it is thought you cannot read, you find yourself trusted in many situations that you ought not to be.
If I thought I merited such a privilege I would beg your advice about how I could ever make recompense for all my misdemeanors. Alas, I fear it is too late for me. So many deceptions impede me. I am to flee again, although my heart aches at the thought of leaving the one person who has been dearer to me than anyone else ever has.You will easily guess my favorite’s identity as being my own employer.You see, a wicked heart like mine is still capable of loving, but I am no fool, I could never expect a man of his superiority to show any regard for me. I must be gone by the time you read this and wish only that you will forget me if you cannot find it in your heart to forgive.
Forgive me,
Your humble friend
Jane Tailor
CHAPTER 31
Plans where any deception is involved are as susceptible to change as plans where none exists. Maisie’s intention to flee, unannounced, was only thwarted—so detailed was her strategy—by the sudden and startling deterioration of Lady Denham’s health. Had not that fine lady taken up ill in the early hours then Maisie would have been free to leave Sanditon before daybreak without hindrance. Charlotte would have had her letter and, as was clearly stated in it, the girl would be gone. But she was not. Lady Denham, quite out of spirits and suffering a high fever, had summoned the doctor and his nurse to her bedside just two hours before the undisclosed departure was to have taken place.
Never was a patient’s ill health so resented as that morning. Wellscott, it must be assured, was the very mark of professionalism, but Maisie, he noticed, was somehow altered, quite unusually reticent about succumbing to Lady Denham’s request that she stay with her. Alas, stay she would. The relatives—the Hollises, Clara Brereton, and Esther Denham went about Sanditon House with somber attitudes. Each adopted an air of melancholy, of sad concern, which did little to disguise the feelings of expectancy that resided in their hearts. For it was certain Lady Denham was not to last till noon, and it was certain she could forecast as much herself. Notice was sent express to Eastbourne to urge Sir Edward’s return, then the lady called each of her relatives present to her bedside for a private address. Miss Brereton was the first to be seen, Esther Denham followed, then the Hollis ladies. Finally,William was addressed.
To each of them in turn she declared,“I have done what is right and I wish you happiness.” It was made clear enough that none should reveal to anyone else what little she had disclosed and each of them, now pondering her mysterious words, endured the long hours until her passing with potent feelings of ambition and exhausting thoughts of wealth. Lady Denham’s last two hours were spent with Maisie, who, now startled by the reality of her patient’s sad destiny, was inclined to give up thoughts of escape and compelled, by the sentiment of the moment, to appease her invalid and to be, in every sense possible, the best nurse the world ever saw. The feverish brow was deftly mopped, the flushed face affectionately cooled, the fragile hand held gently, the whole of the lady’s weary body eased, and her dying wishes were granted.
“Someone must read to me, Maisie,” the weak voice urged, “from the good Lord’s book, allow me this one last luxury.” Was the nurse to summon a reader? Or was she, without a single care or thought, to take up the Bible herself and read? She was indeed to do so. She began, quietly at first, her voice, unused to reading aloud for so many years, trembled with the first line but within a short time her eyes and her mind and her voice, in unison, tripped over the passages and she read with clarity, with joy, and with a true feeling of openness growing in her very being.When Dr.Wellscott returned to his patient, he saw his nurse, his good assistant, reading from John.
The doctor, with curiosity and amazement, opened the door quietly but did not enter, nay he could not enter, so fixed to the spot was he by the sight of his Maisie reading. He was at once speechless, motionless, and hopeful. She noticed him, of course; the sick room is deadly quiet, the creak of a door is enhanced by its uncommon stillness, but she did not stop. Acknowledging him with a look that spoke of apology, guilt, and love all at once, she continued to read.
“In the beginning was the word,” she declared and Lady Denham, her body failing but her mind still astoundingly sharp, found the will to open her eyes and speak before she laid her head to final rest. Looking with quiet determination at Dr.Wellscott, she mused, “A mutual love of reading, my dear man, is as good a foundation for a happy union as any I know.” These were the last words she spoke; but before her eyes closed, her small audience of two detected something of jocularity in her tone of voice.
Pretty gardens and elegant drawing rooms are generally the favored venues for proposals of marriage. Sick room declarations of ardor are, to the best of all knowledge, unheard of, but it is a thankful truth that love has its way of obscuring ugliness from the eyes of its captives. Not that there was anything so wholly unpleasant about Lady Denham’s bedchamber; as was to be expected, it was an elegantly appointed apartment, beautifully furnished and quite peaceful. Dr. Wellscott was compelled to propose in Lady Denham’s presence, her knowledge of his feelings had been greater than his own, and he felt, singular though the idea was, making his offer in her proximity to be entirely appropriate.