Page 2 of A Fortune Most Fatal (Miss Austen Investigates #2)
CHAPTER TWO
Queen Anne’s lace billows in the breeze as Jane rattles through the Kent countryside in Neddy’s phaeton. From her exposed position on the raised seats of the open carriage, the Garden of England is laid out before her. She had offered to take the mail coach from Dartford, so that Neddy would not have to retrieve her himself, but neither her father nor her brother would hear of her travelling unchaperoned. Given her inexperience as a lone traveller, they were probably right to err on the side of caution. On account of her family’s protectiveness, she’ll be stranded in Kent until such time as one of her male relations deigns to collect her.
The newly commissioned Captain Henry Austen volunteered to do the honours. Having graduated from St. John’s College, Oxford, Henry was meant to be preparing for ordination. However, with the war continuing to rage across Europe and the West Indies, and the French threatening to send another invasion force across the Channel at any moment, he secured a position as acting paymaster with the Oxfordshire militia instead. It is certainly more lucrative than a curacy. He expects to be granted leave in mid-August, a month after Elizabeth’s baby is due. His regiment is stationed in East Anglia and he writes that he is most eager to visit his Kent relations before continuing home to Hampshire. But, as reliability has never been Henry’s strong point, Jane hesitates to set too much store by his promise.
As they squeeze through the country lanes, encased on both sides by towering hedgerows, Jane reflects on the slight disparity of the countryside to that of her native Hampshire. The flat terrain enlarges the blue sky above them, and the white conical tips of oast houses peek over verdant slopes at almost every juncture. Every few miles, a farmer’s daughter stands at the roadside with punnets of freshly picked strawberries or cherries for sale. Jane has already sampled both, delighting in the sweet yet sharp flavour of the newly ripened fruit. “Your conveyance is very smart,” she says, searching for a way to engage Neddy in conversation. Despite his bonhomie, Jane is acutely aware of the distance between them. It was not so noticeable when her parents were present, but since she and Neddy set out alone, she cannot help but feel awkward and unsure of herself. He does not seem to grasp half her jokes, and she is too timid to tease him as she would her other brothers.
Neddy grins, well satisfied with the compliment. “Beth would prefer a closed carriage. While I admit such a vehicle might be more dignified for a family, a phaeton is made for speed. Perhaps I’ll indulge her with a barouche next year, if my returns are as anticipated. I’ll need to employ a dedicated coachman, mind, and purchase another pair of coach horses. It’s difficult to find a truly well-matched team. Sixty guineas, this pair cost me. But as soon as I saw them, I simply had to have them.”
“I’m sure you did.” Jane smiles, holding tight to the crown of her straw hat to prevent it from blowing away. The elegant mares lift their dainty hoofs in unison, swishing their plaited tails. She does not mention that since Parliament introduced a new tax on carriages to fund the war effort, Mr. Austen has been forced to sell his vehicle, leaving the family reliant on the kindness of their neighbours whenever they are in need of transport. Neddy was raised in a different world from her: there is no point in drawing comparisons.
Jane was only three years old when Mr. and Mrs. Knight called at Steventon Rectory while surveying their various estates as part of their bridal tour. The anticipation of their arrival is imprinted on her mind due to the uncharacteristically stern warning she and all the children had received from Mr. Austen to be on their best behaviour throughout the duration of his cousin and benefactor’s visit. It was Mr. Knight’s father who, having grown vastly rich by doing no more than outliving several of his wealthy but childless relations, gave the newly married Mr. Austen the livings of Steventon and Deane. The combined tithes yield an income of just over two hundred pounds per year, affording Jane’s family the tenuous purchase on respectability they have enjoyed for the last three decades.
When the dazzling duo eventually arrived in a coach and six, all the children became giddy with excitement. Mr. Knight smelt of lemon bonbons, which he handed out freely, and his handsome bride, almost twenty years his junior, wore an enormous wide-brimmed hat adorned with ostrich feathers. Jane’s parents were no doubt relieved when, as they prepared to leave, the couple revealed themselves to be so charmed by the family that they invited one of the older boys to join them on their journey. James was busy preparing to go up to Oxford. Georgy, with his various afflictions, was never a consideration. Henry was already proving far too much of a handful to be trusted with the responsibility of representing his entire family. That left eleven-year-old Neddy, generally lauded as the Austens’ prettiest and most affable child.
Indeed, Neddy did such a good job of making himself amiable that, once the Knights had completed their tour and returned to their magnificent home of Godmersham Park in Kent, they regularly invited their young favourite to join them for extended periods. Jane’s mother explained that, as the Knights had not yet been blessed with children of their own, it was only charitable to let them borrow Neddy from time to time. Within four years, Mr. Knight must have concluded that his union would remain childless, leaving him in want of nothing except an heir. So he asked if he could borrow Neddy for good.
The Godmersham coachman rode all the way with the message, along with a sleek bay pony tethered to his horse. At first, Mr. Austen balked at the notion of surrendering his son for adoption. It was Mrs. Austen, with her eminent pragmatism, who had the foresight to counsel her husband: “I think, my dear, you had better oblige your cousins, and let the child go.” Jane stood at the door of the rectory, with her remaining siblings, and tried desperately not to cry as Neddy mounted his new pony and called his adieus. From the moment Neddy went to live with the Knights, they raised him in the style of one anticipated to be a gentleman of great fortune. True to their word, Neddy is now heir to Mr. Knight’s widow, whose combined estates Mrs. Austen estimates are worth eight thousand pounds a year, and his wife, Elizabeth, is the daughter of a baronet.
It proved a shrewd decision for the prospects of the wider Austen family too. Despite the generosity of Mr. Austen’s patron and his enthusiastic attempts to supplement his income by farming his glebe lands and running a school for boys, Jane’s father complains his annual deposits to his banker never quite exceed his withdrawals. Not having to provide a portion for Neddy has afforded Mr. Austen more liberty to secure the rest of his children’s futures. James and Henry were content to claim their free places as descendants of a founder of St. John’s College, both with a view to following their father into holy orders, but Frank resolved to become a naval officer. And as Frank was determined to win his fortune at sea, so, too, was the youngest Austen boy, Charles, who had always idolized his most audacious elder brother. Since Mr. Austen had no connections at the Admiralty who could offer the boys a place onboard a ship, he paid the fifty pounds per year necessary to send each of them to the Royal Navy Academy in Portsmouth. It would have been impossible for him to be so supportive of his sons’ ambitions if he’d been liable for launching the career of yet another.
Most significantly, Neddy’s adoption provides a guarantee of future comfort. He may not yet be in possession of his fortune, but the family have already learnt to count on it. The expectation of his wealth, combined with his good nature, gives Jane’s father the peace of mind that his wife and daughters, not to mention his most vulnerable child, Georgy, will continue to be provided for even after he is no more. For Georgy, who suffers from fits and is mute, will never be able to make his own way in the world and, as young ladies of the middling sort, Jane and Cassandra’s only option for advancement is to marry well.
For a while after Neddy’s removal from Steventon, Jane did wonder if she and the rest of the Austen children might also be adopted by their wealthier relations. By rights, her uncle, James Leigh-Perrot, should have been her first choice as he, too, had no offspring and a great propensity for inheriting legacies. However, Jane always suspected she’d be happier with her more frivolous late aunt, Philadelphia Hancock. While Aunt Phila’s chaotic approach to economy meant that any money her husband, Mr. Hancock, earned as a surgeon for the East India Company never stretched far, she had a knack for winning friends of extraordinary generosity. Several years after her marriage, while Aunt Phila was living in Bengal, she became a particular favourite of the great Warren Hastings. When Jane’s cousin Eliza was born, less than a year later, Mr. Hastings magnanimously agreed to stand as godfather and even bestowed a personal fortune of ten thousand pounds on her. How different Jane’s life might have been if she was a woman of independent means. For a start, she would have been able to marry Tom.
Neddy disturbs her reverie by waving his hat enthusiastically at a shepherd leaning on his crook in the distance. “We’ll be at Rowling in no time.” The historic manor, where Neddy currently resides, is part of Elizabeth’s family’s larger estate of Goodnestone (which the Bridges family pronounce “Gunston,” their claim to the land being so well established that they may dispense with any extra syllables). “These are my fields. The house came with a hundred acres, but I took an additional two hundred from Sir William on Lady Day. Luckily for me, the baronet has little interest in agriculture. He’s very happy to lease it all on the promise of a good return.”
As Jane gazes appreciatively at the newly shorn sheep, gambolling about in what looks like their stockings and shifts, she wonders if Neddy’s enthusiasm for proving his credentials as a tenant farmer is aimed at reassuring Mrs. Knight that he is prepared for the enormous responsibility she will one day bequeath him. It strikes her that he might have expected to inherit a portion of his adoptive father’s wealth immediately after he died, rather than having to wait for his widow’s demise. The deeds to any one of her three largest estates (Steventon and Chawton in Hampshire, or Godmersham in Kent) would have made him a significant landowner: all three will put him on a par with a duke. “How wonderful. Father will ask me to recount every detail, so you must tell me everything you can.”
“My flock are of a different breed from those in Steventon, darker in the face and without the horns. I don’t suppose you noticed? Canterbury wool is the finest in the world. I could command a pretty penny for their fleeces on the Continent, if not for the execrable tax on exports.”
“I had no idea I was among such discerning company. May I beg an introduction to each of your ewes? Tell them I’m most eager to make their acquaintance.”
Neddy laughs over the creak of the whirring wheels. “I’m so glad you’re here. Beth and the children were delighted when you offered to come.”
“And I’m so pleased to be here.” Jane dips her chin to her chest, attempting to protect her countenance from becoming any further wind-chafed and sunburnt than it already is. The toes of her half-boots peep out from beneath the hem of her dress. In the harsh sunlight, the toes are scuffed and the leather is worn. She wishes she’d remembered to ask the new maid to blacken them before she left. Sally, the previous maidservant, would have done it without being asked. Unfortunately, Sally has jilted the Austens in favour of marriage and a home of her own, and the stout girl-of-all-work Jane’s mother hired to replace her seems offended when asked to do any.
Neddy cracks the whip above the mares’ hinds. “I’ll take them up to a gallop, shall I? See if we can go as fast as when I used to wrap you in a sheet and tug you down the rectory stairs.”
The motion throws Jane’s body backwards. She grabs Neddy’s elbow, and half screams, half laughs as she is reminded of his rumbustious play. Too many years have elapsed since the siblings spent any real time together and she has missed him dearly. It will be gratifying to spend a few weeks getting to know him and his young family better. Perhaps she will be able to close the gulf between them and, by the end of the summer, Neddy will be as familiar to her as any of her brothers. More selfishly, with her own room in Neddy’s comfortable home, and without the distraction of her usual domestic duties, she should be able to make good progress with The Sisters.
Rowling Manor sits in its own manicured parkland, at the end of a long, serpentine drive. Handsome redbrick chimney stacks protrude from the slate roof, glinting in the afternoon sunshine, and pale pink roses ramble across the facade, perfuming the air with their sweet floral scent. There is an extra wing, large enough to accommodate a cook, a manservant and two housemaids, as well as a separate coach house and stables. In his letters, Neddy described it as a “good-sized family home.” Jane is obliged to agree: it is delightfully cavernous.
The carriage draws to a halt and Elizabeth pokes her head from behind the glossy black front door. At four-and-twenty, Jane’s sister-in-law is only three years older than herself, but the fine lines around her dark eyes reveal she has aged in the short time since she married. She is slender, with a long neck that gives her the appearance of an overly curious swan. In her high-waisted morning gown, you’d hardly know she was expecting, until she turns to the side and her bump protrudes so far it’s a wonder she has not delivered already. “Edward, where have you been? I was expecting you home yesterday. It doesn’t take four nights to get to Dartford and back.”
“Well, I’m here now, darling. Don’t fret.” Neddy leaps down, offering Jane his hand as soon as the soles of his top boots hit the gravel. Jane clasps it and does her best to descend gracefully under the scrutiny of her sister-in-law. Elizabeth attended a frightfully expensive school for young ladies in London, which she boasts keeps a retired coach expressly for the purpose of instructing its pupils on how to alight while revealing no more than the regulatory inch of stocking above the ankle.
“Jane.” Elizabeth offers her cheek. Jane kisses the air beside it. A toddler straddles Elizabeth’s hip, eyeing Jane warily. Another two golden-haired infants peep out from behind their mother’s skirts, while a pair of young women in matching grey dresses hover behind them.
“That’s not Aunt Cassy.” The eldest child, a girl of four, fails to hide her disappointment as she stage-whispers to her mother. The little boy beside her glares at Jane with a decidedly hostile air. Only Conker, Neddy’s brown-and-white-spotted spaniel, betrays any authentic enthusiasm for her arrival. The dog wags his docked tail frantically, and leaps straight upwards, so high he’s like a marionette tugged by an invisible string.
“Don’t be shy, Fanny, Ted. We told you it was Aunt Jane who was coming this time. We did tell them, didn’t we? I’m sure Aunt Cassy will be with us again soon.” Neddy hoists both children up, with his strong arms, presenting each in turn. They smell of cooked milk and their ringlets are as soft as the fluffy down of a newly hatched chick. Jane tries to kiss them without sustaining an injury as they wriggle and kick to be released. Once Neddy has deposited them safely on the ground, he takes the toddler from Elizabeth. “And what do you think of our Georgy? Is he as stout as his namesake yet?”
“Me, Itty Dordy?” The child lisps.
“That’s right, you’re Little Georgy.” Jane laughs. “But Papa’s right. You’ll be as big as your uncle Georgy in no time.” She reaches out, stroking Georgy’s rosy cheeks. The little boy gurgles and squashes his neck until it disappears into rolls of fat. She is relieved to find one of the children does not bear her any ill-humour for being the wrong aunt.
Elizabeth’s features relax as she watches her husband cradle one child while the other two hang off his legs. “Come along, let’s get you settled.” She rests a cool hand on the small of Jane’s back. “We’ve put you in the green bedroom, overlooking the pond. We’ll have a quiet family dinner tonight, but I have lots planned for the rest of your visit. Kent society is extremely lively, and I’ve made a list of all the families I absolutely must introduce you to.”
“But you mustn’t fuss,” replies Jane. “I’m here to help you, not give you more work to do.”
Elizabeth blinks at her. “Help me ?”
“Yes. You know, with your …” Jane gestures towards Elizabeth’s swollen figure “… confinement. I’ll feed and bathe the children, take care of any mending, run your errands. Do whatever Cassy usually does.”
Elizabeth flicks her hand at the two young women following them into the house. “We have servants for that sort of thing, Jane. This is Susan and Susan.”
“Both Susan?” asks Jane. The taller replies with a shrug, while the shorter, younger girl simply stares at Jane.
Elizabeth continues: “And as for my ‘confinement,’ I’m not Anne Boleyn. You don’t have to shut me away, smothered in tapestries. There are another six weeks until the baby is due. That gives us plenty of time to get you established.”
“Established?” Jane steps over the threshold into the grand entrance hall. A gentle flame flickers in the fireplace despite the mild summer’s day. She releases the heavy lace band tied beneath her chin to remove her bergère hat. Beneath it, her chestnut curls are damp and slick against her forehead.
“Yes, established. Among our set.” Elizabeth takes Jane’s hat, handing it to the taller maid as if it were a dirty rag. “You are sister to the heir of Godmersham. There are plenty of eligible bachelors hereabouts who will be most eager for an introduction.”
Jane swallows the horrible suspicion that she has walked into a trap. It would seem she has arrived in Kent under the expectation she came to secure her future in the only way a respectable lady can. “But I was hoping for a quiet summer, with you and the children. And perhaps a little time for my writing. I’ve brought Catherine and First Impressions to read to you in the evenings.”
“First what?” Elizabeth stares at her blankly.
“ First Impressions. It’s my latest composition. And I’m hoping to make great progress with my new one, The Sisters, while I’m here.”
“I hoped you’d have grown out of your freaks and fancies by now.” Elizabeth rests a hand on her hip. “Well, I’m sorry but you won’t have time for any of that nonsense.”
“But I …” Jane searches for a rebuttal but the words have dried on her tongue. Even her mother is not as dismissive of her literary ambitions. She dare not explain to Elizabeth that, rather than banishing such thoughts from her mind, she is more determined than ever to see her work in print.
“This is your chance to be well settled. We dine with the finest society in all of East Kent,” Elizabeth continues, heedless of the wound she has inflicted. Jane is beginning to wonder if Neddy’s extra night of travel was an excuse to escape Elizabeth’s henpecking. “As for listening to you read, Neddy prefers cards and I’m worn out by the time the children are in bed.”
“It’s no use.” Neddy rests a hand flat against the exposed oak beams as he tugs off his boots. “Once my dear wife has her heart set on a course of action, I can tell you from experience it’s far easier to submit than resist.”
Elizabeth beams, as if her husband has paid her the greatest compliment. “I expect you’ll want to change your dress.” She runs her eyes over Jane’s tired apparel, indicating she had better tidy herself before daring to appear at her dinner table. “Not to worry if you haven’t brought much. I’ve laid out some of my old gowns from before I was married. I expect fashions will have changed entirely before I’m able to wear them again. Waistlines will be up around our earlobes, if we’re not vigilant.”
“There’s really no need.” Jane wriggles out of her dusty pelisse, hot and slick with perspiration all of a sudden. She tries to hang it on a row of hooks near the door, but the younger Susan blocks her path and grapples it out of her hands before she reaches it. There are never enough hours in the day to devote to her writing. She will not squander a moment of her precious free time in being introduced to Elizabeth’s idea of diverting company. “You mustn’t go to any trouble for me. I’m not in the least in want of society. In fact, I’m not in the mood to entertain any suitors at present.”
“It’s no trouble. I’d do the same for any of my own sisters. And we’re aware you’ve been down in the dumps since your disappointment with that young Irish fellow.”
“Are you, now?” Jane grips the newel post, wondering how the news of her ill-fated liaison has made it all the way to the ears of her sister-in-law. “Tell me, was the story circulated in the Kentish Gazette ?”
“Don’t be facetious. Your mother wrote and told us. I understand it was a blow, but you can’t let one bad hand put you out of the game for good.”
Jane should have known. Elizabeth used the exact turn of phrase as Mrs. Austen, who customarily refers to Jane’s failed love affair as her “disappointment”—as if it was comparable to a cold supper when she was expecting roast beef. I know it’s a disappointment, dear, when you were expecting more. But never mind, do tuck in.
“Really, you’ve wasted enough time moping about in Steventon,” Elizabeth continues. “You’re a young lady, Jane, not at all unpleasant-looking, and with plenty of charms to recommend you. So I’m told, anyway. It’s time for you to get out there, before it’s too late.”
Evidently Mrs. Austen has tasked Elizabeth with finding Jane a husband while she is here. Jane has every mind to demand to be taken to the nearest coaching inn. When she parted from her perfidious parents, they were on their way to Deptford in hopes of being present for the launch of Frank’s new ship, the Triton. After many unsuccessful applications to the Admiralty, he has finally been made first lieutenant on board a new 32-gun frigate by his former shipmate, Captain Gore. If Jane hurries, she’ll be able to catch up with them and insist on being taken home to Hampshire. But then she would have to face Cassandra’s pain. Her spirit collapses at the prospect. Perhaps she could stow away on board the Triton instead? Captain Gore may need a scribe, and Jane has an inclination naval life would suit her. No, it’s no good. Frank is proving merciless in his quest for promotion. He would likely have her flogged as an interloper.
As anticipated, Jane is well and truly stranded. She closes her eyes and inhales a very deep breath. “Out where, exactly?”
“Into the world, of course.” Elizabeth tilts her head to the side. “And if you really want to help, it’s Mrs. Knight we could use your assistance with.”
“Why? Is she ill?” Whenever Mr. and Mrs. Austen make polite enquiries as to when Neddy might expect to receive his full inheritance, thereby being required to change his surname to “Knight” to assume the squireship of Chawton, he assures them his benefactress is in excellent health. While Jane would never wish Mrs. Knight ill, she is conscious that too long a wait for his independence could leave her brother bitter and frustrated, like a midshipman who has passed his lieutenant’s examination but cannot find a commission as an officer.
Elizabeth glances at her husband. “Have you not appraised your family of the situation?”
Neddy’s easy features grow stern. “I was hoping it might have blown over by the time I returned, and I wouldn’t need to.”
“Blow over?” Elizabeth splutters. “Well, it hasn’t. Nor is it likely to, unless you instruct your father to petition Mrs. Knight on your behalf. I swear that harpy will swindle you out of your entire fortune.”
Jane flinches at Elizabeth’s turn of phrase. Surely her most genteel sister-in-law cannot be referring to Mrs. Knight in such vulgar terms. “Who will swindle Neddy out of his entire fortune?”
“No one,” Neddy replies, stepping closer to his wife. “Must we address this now? Things are hardly so dire.” Behind him, the taller housemaid ushers the children out of the entrance hall while the smaller girl meanders in an ill-disguised attempt to catch the gossip.
“They will be, if you don’t resolve them.” Elizabeth jabs a finger at her husband’s chest. “Mrs. Knight has acquired a new favourite.”
“A favourite ?” Jane draws a sharp breath. Could Mrs. Knight, having found it so easy to avail herself of a son, dispense with him as readily? If she decides, at this late stage, to favour another— a relative from her own branch of the family, say—his prospects would be ruined. More than that, the cushion that Jane’s parents rely upon to protect them in their old age would be rudely snatched away. Neddy is not alone among her brothers in being willing to support his wider family, but he may yet prove the only one who can afford to. “But Mr. Knight stated that she should bequeath everything to you, Neddy. He made a promise. His widow wouldn’t allow herself to be swayed from her late husband’s intentions. Would she?”
Elizabeth places a hand to her forehead as if she is about to swoon. “What good is a promise, unless it’s set down in law? The estate is hers to dispose of as she likes. If your brother doesn’t act soon, Jane, Mrs. Knight could name her new pet as the next mistress of Godmersham Park.”
Neddy’s ears are pink. He’s clearly mortified at his wife’s candour. “You’re being hysterical. It will never come to that.”
“Then why won’t she expel that little hussy?”
“Because the poor girl is apparently destitute.”
“Poor girl?” Elizabeth touches a hand to her distended belly and bends from the waist, as if suffering a sudden pang. “That wretch should be taken to the nearest bridewell and given the rope’s end. That would get the truth out of her.”
Jane squirms at being caught in the clutches of another’s domestic dispute. She’s not accustomed to it. Her parents rarely argue, and James seems perfectly content to let Mary lead him by the nose. “Who is this young woman?”
“She’s no one. I’ll handle the matter.” Neddy places an arm around his wife, trying to placate her. “Stop this talk at once. Think of the baby. It can’t be good for the little fellow.”
“I am thinking of the baby. I’m thinking of all your children. They’re the ones who will be destitute. You must do something, Edward. Or would you see us penniless before reminding your mother of her obligations towards you?”
Jane presses her temples, her head throbbing with confusion. “Is she a niece? A cousin on her side?”
Elizabeth takes short breaths, clearly finding it an effort. “No relation at all. Mrs. Knight, in her infinite generosity, has invited a foreign princess to reside in her home.”
“A princess?” Jane looks to Neddy, but he is too busy trying to lead Elizabeth to a wooden bench to meet her eye. This story is ridiculous. Has the pressure of carrying so many of Neddy’s children in such quick succession unmoored Elizabeth from her senses? “Surely, a princess would have no need to impose on Mrs. Knight’s hospitality.”
“Ah but rather conveniently, this particular princess is estranged from her noble family. She hasn’t a friend in the world—apart from Mrs. Knight. And your brother, who would happily give her the bread from his own children’s mouths!”
“That’s enough,” Neddy snaps, startling Jane. She cannot remember him raising his voice so in all the time they lived together at Steventon Rectory. “My dear, you’re obviously in distress. Let me help you upstairs to bed.” He turns to Jane, his manner softening as Elizabeth continues to labour for breath beside him. “Fetch her some tea, will you?”
Jane nods as she watches the pair climb the Charles II staircase. Every few steps, Elizabeth pauses to lean on the elaborately carved balustrades and rails against her husband’s inactivity. Jane is overcome with a terrible sinking sensation as she realises her time in Kent will not be the relaxing sojourn she had in mind. In fleeing Cassandra’s devastation, she has walked straight into Neddy’s. If the situation is as Elizabeth insists, then her sister-in-law is right to be alarmed. Neddy has devoted himself to pleasing his adoptive mother; it would be most cruel of her to cast him aside for another at this late stage. What can Mrs. Knight be thinking, letting herself become prey to a likely fortune-hunter? And what can Jane possibly do to extract her from the vixen’s clutches?