Jane the Authoress

by Jane Lark

  She turned away, as he did. Cassandra’s eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted. They had both, at times, allowed themselves to be enchanted for awhile. There was a magnetic magic in the air around an agreeable man who knew how to make himself be liked and trusted as if he had been known for years. Jane already sensed that Mr Butler might be a man to share confidences with, but that was the way of such men.

  Yet Lady S & S had not been charmed. She did not trust him. She would not trust any steward—or any servant. Her poor opinion had no foundation but a bitter heart, but even so, it did make Jane stop to think. Was it wise, on a very short acquaintance, to trust in the shallow foundations of a charming smile and handsome eyes?

  Jane laughed a little as she slid her arm through Cassandra’s. “I was tempted to go with them, but then I remembered I am too polite to leave Reverend Leigh behind.”

  Cassandra smiled.

  Chapter 7

  They ate dinner in another of the light, painted rooms, then retired to the dark, gloomy, wood-panelled drawing room on the right-hand side of the house. The more masculine side.

  Jane preferred the feminine side of the West Wing, with its pastel colours that reflected the daylight shining through the windows.

  It was early evening, and the sun had descended to the point it peered through the top of the high windows. In the dark panelled room, it seemed to gild everything, even giving the wood a burnished, orange hue.

  Reverend Leigh looked through the shelves of books as Jane sat down on a chair which had been upholstered with tapestry work. Her mother occupied a seat beside her as Mrs Hill sat on the other side of Jane.

  “Ah, here is something to read.” Reverend Leigh withdrew a book from a shelf. “Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women.” He looked at Cassandra, “Might this amuse you Miss Austen?” then at Jane. “Miss Jane?”

  Good Lord. Laughter gripped at the back of Jane’s throat, it did indeed amuse her, but perhaps not as her pious elder cousin intended. “I am probably too far beyond the pale, for Reverend Fordyce’s advice, I—”

  “Well I would say you might benefit from it,” Lady Saye and Sele interrupted.

  Jane looked at Cassandra and her teeth sank into her lower lip.

  “I shall read one or two then, at least, if you would like it, my Lady.” Reverend Leigh smiled at Lady S & S, as he came to join them in the chairs.

  Jane rose and walked around the chairs to where Cassandra sat, then leant to her ear. “There is a table of marbles, shall we attempt it?” Jane had heard of the game, but never seen a table before.

  Cassandra smiled and rose, as Reverend Leigh began reading in his pulpit voice.

  The table of marbles stood in the corner of the room.

  Jane pulled out a chair. Behind her Mr Hill and Mr Leigh spoke in low voices, while Jane’s poor mother was left to listen to the sermon instructing young women on dutiful and pious behaviour. It added humour to the situation that there were no young women in the room and that Jane and Cassandra, the only spinsters were not listening.

  Jane looked at the table. Each different piece of marble was set in a diagonal square inlaid in the table top, little slabs of different types of the colourful stone from all over the world. The game had to be played by following a line and naming all the different types.

  Jane whispered the first two that she knew. But she could spot no more. “I have lost my marbles already,” she whispered, trying to laugh quietly.

  The door opened behind Jane before Cassandra could have her turn at the game. Jane turned in her chair. “Mr Butler.”

  Reverend Leigh looked up, but he did not stop reading.

  Mr Butler looked from the others to where Jane sat with Cassandra. He walked towards them.

  Cassandra smiled in welcome as he neared.

  He leant down. “Miss Jane, Miss Austen. How are you? Playing marbles I see. I suppose they are less likely to cause offence than climbing through locked gates when someone has gone to fetch a key.”

  Jane and Cassandra laughed quietly, trying not to draw attention to their corner of the room. Mr Butler had charm in droves. Even his voice had that very particular heart-warming pitch, perfect for any hero.

  “We are playing appallingly, though. We know hardly any.”

  “And I thought you were so wonderfully educated, Miss Jane, I was sure you would know them all, with such manners as not to desert your cousin.”

  “My sister does not have such grand manners,” Cassandra answered. “She is not listening to his sermons.”

  Mr Butler laughed in a quiet, deep pitch.

  “Jane has lost her marbles though, and I was about to try mine, but I fear I know only four.”

  “I know them all,” Mr Butler answered, pointing at the first in the top row. He went on to name each square of marble across the board. He had grown up here, though, so he must have seen this board a thousand times and learned the names by heart.

  Both Jane and Cassandra applauded, when he was done. The dull sound their silk gloves made as they clapped drew the attention of the others.

  “Mr Butler, Miss Austen, Miss Jane, what are you about?” Lady S & S called in her arrogant voice which accused them all of being secretive. “We will not be cut out if there is some amusing discourse.”

  Mr Butler straightened up. “It is not particularly amusing ma’am, merely the naming of marbles.”

  The book which Reverend Leigh held snapped shut, making Jane jump in her seat. “Mr Butler, please come here, sit down and tell me more about the estate. You told Mr Leigh you had some ideas.”

  “Ideas…” Lady S & S inquired.

  “Mr Butler and I were speaking earlier, ma’am. I told Reverend Leigh.” Mr Leigh stated. “Mr Butler has lived here and managed the place for years, if anyone knows what is best for the estate and the things which will enhance it, it is Mr Butler.”

  Lady S & S lowered her head in a slight acknowledgement.

  There was something suspicious in Mr Leigh; as much as Mr Butler’s manner oozed belief, Mr Leigh’s oozed self-obsession. Jane would guess whatever he had said to Reverend Leigh he had said it for his own good.

  Mr Butler turned away from Jane and Cassandra, but then he glanced back and bowed in an afterthought, before walking across the room to join the others.

  Jane turned in her chair to watch the conversation, her game with Cassandra forgotten, though she could have played now by trying to remember what Mr Butler had called each square.

  The conversation across the room focused on Mr Butler; every eye was turned to him. Even Lady S & S sat forward in her chair to hear him better.

  “You see there might be a lake before the house; if the river were damned and the farm moved, it would create a perfect view from the West Wing.”

  Jane’s heart thumped steadily in her chest. This was just what she had longed for in town, when she had thought of the country—quiet nights, watching the manoeuvrings of those within a drawing room. So many fascinating tales might be discovered in the country that would not evolve in town where there was too much going on to catch a slight insinuation.

  “…and if you wish to make it very grand, then you could create a picturesque view of the house from the far bank.”

  As Mr Butler talked, Jane watched Mrs Leigh. Her head remained lowered and yet her gaze was not so demure now Mr Butler had come. Clearly Mrs Leigh had fallen into the whirlpool of enchantment swirling around Mr Burtler.

  It was the likeable easiness of his manner. He was not a man with a large ego, though. He was simply very comfortable in his skin, and of course Stoneleigh Abbey was his home, and therefore he would be at his most comfortable here.

  Jane had heard of no wife. She was surprised he had not married. He was a man who must have had many opportunities, and any woman he chose would be a proud woman who might find herself constantly entertained both at home by her husband’s wit and tales, and equally among others, for they would be invited everywhere as everyone must delight in his company.


  Jane listened to the conversation while she watched those who took part and the sun set outside, casting yellow, orange and pink light into the room.

  When Jane retired with her mother and Cassandra, they walked through the hallways lit by over a dozen candelabra. Jane walked in a daze her head overflowing with captured moments, sights, conversations, emotions and expressions she wished to hold onto.

  Cassandra did not come to Jane’s room and so a maid helped Jane undress.

  Once Jane wore her nightdress, she slipped in between the sheets. The bed had been warmed by a copper pan full of hot coals, as the night had turned a little chilly. The soft feather mattress enveloped her, absorbing her in its gentle embrace.

  “Goodnight, Miss Jane,” the maid said.

  “Goodnight.”

  The maid snuffed out the candle near the bed. There was just one light left then, and it travelled across the room. The maid opened the door to the servants’ stairs. When the door shut, the light disappeared, leaving Jane in darkness.

  Jane rolled onto her side and her hands gripped the pillow. Her head was full, but her thoughts were drifting. There were ideas there, forming, whispering, but none of them had substance. She thought about Mr Butler and Mr Hill, and their love of Stoneleigh, and how she had imagined Darcy loving his home, Pemberley.

  She shut her eyes. Her mind wove a path into the darkness and became lost there; in that place just before sleep. She breathed in, awaiting the clarity. It was there… Just on the edge of thought.

  Then it was gone.

  ~

  The room was light when Jane woke. She rolled to her back and stretched as she looked up at the canopy above the bed, remembering where she was. In heaven. Her heart silently whispered a prayer for her father at the thought as she rose.

  He would have laughed at Stoneleigh Abbey, and mocked the portraits of her maternal ancestors, and her mother’s glowing pride and constant excitement.

  If it had been an overly grand house anywhere else she might have mocked it with him. She smiled. But here Jane was as excited as her mother. This was the place of her childhood dreams. The place where half the history that had created her had unfolded.

  Jane turned to her trunk of clothes, found out a dress and then rang for a maid to help her. Her gaze settled on the piles of ink-covered paper on a chest of drawers near the trunk. She longed to pick up a quill again and dip it in ink. She could see the nib poised over a page awaiting the flow of thoughts, yet the thoughts were not quite there.

  They would come.

  Jane looked away from the paper, rather than allow herself to be taunted by it.

  It was an hour and a half later when she walked into the breakfast room beside her mother. They had walked slowly up the stairs from the chapel together, and stopped to look at every portrait in more detail, exploring the faces of their ancestors trying to spot features they could see in each other.

  There had been one picture, though, that had no name upon it, but the gentleman had been painted within Jane’s lifetime. His hair was cut in a recent fashion. It was a head and shoulders image and therefore not as expensive as the other portraits and much smaller. It was not set within a background of gardens, or a part of the house either. It was simply a face looking out at them. A very handsome, devilish looking face. Another man with a charming nature.

  “It cannot be someone from within the family,” Jane’s mother had said. “If it had been, the portrait would not appear so miserly and have included at least the cost of an arm, if not a leg.”

  Yet someone had wanted the image of this man on a wall in Stoneleigh Abbey. The image hovered in Jane’s head as she entered the morning room.

  “Look at all this food,” Jane’s mother wrapped her arm about Jane’s. “Is it not wonderful to be so spoiled?”

  They had lived on meagre rations for far too long, and yet, despite her mother admiring all the sumptuous choices she refused to eat anything but her usual dry toast. Jane patted her mother’s hand, which held Jane’s arm. “It is wonderful.” None of them would forget this journey. It would be a cherished interlude before the life they would lead forever more in Frank’s household, as his widowed mother and spinster sisters.

  “Is there dry toast for me?” Jane’s mother asked when she sat down.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The footman bowed, then walked around the table, picked up the plate containing the toast and brought it back to set it down before Jane’s mother.

  Jane loved her mother, she was a wonderful woman, full of life, and contradiction.

  “This plum cake is stale. Have the kitchen throw it away and bring fresh.” Lady Saye and Sele had claimed the bottom seat at the table this morning, facing Reverend Leigh as though she was mistress of the house and played hostess to the small house party.

  Jane looked at Reverend Leigh. “What are your plans for today, sir? Have you anything organised?”

  He smiled. It was a funny expression, because he had a way of appearing over eager, but then maybe that was the affect of Stoneleigh Abbey. Of course for Jane, her mother and Cassandra this may be a thrilling interlude, but for Reverend Leigh this had become his home—Stoneleigh Abbey and all the land about it—when he had come from a humble parsonage, like Steventon. This was not like a moment of dreams coming to life for him, it was a dream come true.

  Yet for Jane, there was a sense of new life too—Stoneleigh Abbey was bringing new life to her stories.

  “I believe today will be a little duller; Mr Hill, Mr Butler and I are to spend it looking over the ledgers so I might understand the structure and finances of the estate.”

  A sinking sensation swept through Jane. She had hoped for more exploration or adventure.

  The door opened and everyone looked around to see their additional companion. Cassandra walked in. She smiled at Jane as she crossed the room to take a seat, she had not attended the chapel, she had had a headache. Jane smiled too, asking without out speaking; do you feel better?

  Cassandra’s lips twisted slightly when she sat; yes, a little.

  When Jane’s gaze left her sister, it caught Mr Hill’s. “Were you hoping for something more exciting, Miss Jane?”

  A merry sound left Jane’s throat. She had been caught out in her sentiment. “I admit it, Mr Hill.”

  A kind look glinted in Mr Hill’s eyes. Then he looked at Reverend Leigh. “We could arrange some outings while your female cousins are here, if you wish? You may then begin to know the area, and they may have some form of entertainment.”

  “Outings…” Reverend Leigh queried.

  “Perhaps to Kenilworth?” Mrs Hill suggested.

  “Kenilworth would be a wonderful place to visit,” Jane’s mother enthused.

  Jane’s smile lifted higher. She would love to explore the area too. This was her journey of discovery.

  “I would like to see Kenilworth,” Lady S & S answered as though the proposal had just been made to her. “It is very kind of you to suggest it Mr Hill, but if Reverend Leigh is to stay here and look over the ledgers then James must too.”

  “Mr Leigh may—” Mr Hill began.

  “Is capable of mastering his own life,” Mr Leigh interrupted. “And I do not believe the outing was being proposed for today, ma’am. I may do both.”

  Jane looked at Mrs Leigh. She was looking at her plate. If conflict between her husband and her mother disturbed her, she did not show it.

  A desire to know how Mr Leigh and Mrs Leigh spoke to one another behind closed doors, when Lady S & S was not in hearing, whipped through Jane.

  “It is too late to organise an outing for today,” Mr Hill confirmed. “But tomorrow, if everyone is willing, I will have Mr Butler arrange it.”

  “I would love to see it!” Jane exclaimed.

  “Then that is settled,” Reverend Leigh stated, playing his new role as head of the household and host.

  Jane smiled at him, saying thank you.

  “We shall all go then,” Lady S & S stated,
claiming in her manner that the choice was hers—that the place as Reverend Leigh’s hostess was hers.

  Laughter clasped at Jane’s throat. She swallowed it back.

  Cassandra’s eyes sparkled. Of course she had seen Jane’s expression and recognised the humour in Jane’s eyes.

  But what to do today then, if they were to stay here and the men were to waste hours over ledgers? She turned to her mother. “What will you do today?”

  “I shall return to the kitchens. It is fascinating to watch the staff there. I am more than happy to spend the day with Mrs Giaaf. I shall not be sad at all to spend the day there.”

  “With servants.” Lady Saye and Sele‘s comment was not a question, but a judgement.

  Jane ignored Lady S & S and looked across the table at Mr Hill and Mrs Hill. “I find the life in the old medieval cellars intriguing too. I am sure you are used to it, but the hours we spent there yesterday were entirely absorbing.” Jane spoke up deliberately to silence Lady S & S. She did not care if the Baroness thought her rude. Let her think it. The Baroness was rude to everyone else.

  “No. I am equally fascinated,” Mrs Hill answered. “Still. And I have been visiting the estate for years.” She smiled.

  “I recall you have not looked beyond the walled kitchen garden yet, Miss Jane. Perhaps you would allow me to ask Mr Butler to be your guide and show you about the estate, while we are otherwise engaged,” Mr Hill offered.

  Jane’s heart leapt. She longed for nothing more than to see Mr Butler’s emotions flow through his expressions as he showed them around the estate he held so much pride in—loved. “That would make this a perfect day too. If Mr Butler is free?”

  “He shall be free. I will ensure it. He has fully acquainted me with his ledgers since his mistress passed on and so I am well able to manage without him.”

  Jane looked at Cassandra. “Please tell me you will join us?” Jane did not think that a tour with Mr Butler would be Lady Saye and Sele’s cup of tea, nor did she believe Mrs Leigh would venture out without her mother or her husband, no matter the incentive of Mr Butler’s charming company.