Page 25 of A Fortune Most Fatal (Miss Austen Investigates #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
On Friday afternoon, Alice interrupts story-time in the nursery to alert Jane that a post-chaise has been spotted across the fields. Jane obediently troops downstairs and waits, with a roiling stomach, along with the rest of the household to greet either Henry and his new bride, or Eliza and Hastings. Whoever wins the race to Rowling will have the advantage of being able to fortify themselves against the others’ arrival. As well as fretting over how her brother and her cousin will react to the other’s company, Jane is appalled that they are imposing on Elizabeth at such a time. They know there is little more than a fortnight before she is due to lie in. Henry was not supposed to arrive until Elizabeth was out of danger and, since his marriage to Elizabeth, Eliza has rarely visited Neddy.
In an attempt to spare Elizabeth the inconvenience, Jane volunteered to ready the extra bedrooms. But Jane’s sister-in-law is a most diligent mistress and insisted on supervising the preparations herself—between ever more frequent bouts of discomfort when she places one hand on her belly, the other on her lower back and fights hard for every breath. In this manner, with Alice, Jane and Elizabeth transformed the second grandest chamber in the house into a fine suite for the newlyweds, and a draughty garret at the top, overlooking the stables, for Eliza and her son. Jane was mildly surprised to discover that she had not been allotted the lowliest accommodation Rowling had to offer and tried to exchange her room for Eliza’s, but Elizabeth would not hear of it.
A draught horse, with a coachman riding postilion, neighs in the distance. Henry, the great oaf, sticks his beaming face out of the carriage window. So, it is Eliza who will be ambushed. As she had refused Henry’s proposal, it seems only fair that he will have the advantage of being forewarned of their unintended reunion. And if either of them can withstand the shock of coming face to face unexpectedly in such close quarters, it had best be Eliza. Jane’s cousin thrives on adversity, growing younger and more convivial with each setback life throws at her. Please God, Henry will be able to maintain his rictus grin when forced to compare his new bride with his former sweetheart. While there is nothing disagreeable in the former Miss Pearson’s person, her beauty is bound to be overshadowed by the bewitching Eliza, and the young lady’s wits are no match for a devil like Henry. Who knows what wiles he used to induce her to marry him?
“Whoa there, sirrah!” Neddy steps out into the gravel drive to meet the horses. Conker follows at his heels.
Jane remains at the entrance to the house with Georgy straddled on her hip and Ted’s sweaty palm gripped in her hand. Hopefully, Fanny can be trusted not to get herself crushed beneath the carriage wheels.
Henry flings open the door and leaps out before the vehicle has come to a standstill. He looks taller and broader than when Jane last saw him, and more dashing than ever in his captain’s uniform. He grips Neddy by the upper arm, the brothers examining each other for signs of ageing and laughing raucously, as if their mortality is the greatest entertainment. When Neddy finally releases him, Henry stands to attention and announces, in a voice of great solemnity, “My dearest brother and sisters, please allow me to present Mrs. Henry Austen.”
His obvious pride and delight in his new wife tugs at Jane’s heart. She prays it will not be diminished when she breaks the news to her most sensitive brother that the woman who refused this position is on her way to join them. His lady, her face covered by a wide-brimmed bonnet, pokes her head out from within. She wears a gold velvet spencer. The vibrant shade complements the epaulettes of Henry’s scarlet coat perfectly. As she takes his hand, she kicks one foot free of her creamy muslin skirts and places it on the first rung of the ladder. A silver buckle, sparkling with jewels, adorns her elegant court shoe.
Jane falters. Georgy almost slips out of her grasp.
Seeing her face, Neddy throws back his head and lets out a huge, belly-rumbling laugh. “What sport!”
For a moment, Jane thinks she’s caught hold of the worse end of the staff. This familiar creature must have travelled to Rowling with Henry and his wife.
“I think you mean Mrs. Elizabeth Austen, dear.” Eliza places both feet on the ground. Henry stands even taller as he beams down at her, chest puffed like a cockerel. “I’ve told you. I don’t care how unconventional it is, I won’t be referred to by your Christian name.”
Jane gasps. “You never did?”
Eliza bites the tip of her glove between her small white teeth. She tugs it off slowly, revealing a simple gold band on the ring finger of her left hand. “Oh, but we did!”
Elizabeth claps her hands together, as she does when one of the children performs a clever trick. “Naughty, Uncle Henry! You should have told us.”
“We thought we’d surprise you.” Henry shoots Elizabeth a rueful smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” Elizabeth shakes her head as she reaches over her bump to receive their kisses, making a good show of being delighted with her new sister-in-law.
But Jane minds. She minds very much.
Typical Henry not to consider the extra work his sport might incur for his hostess. And Jane, who has lain awake all night feeling as sick as if she had eaten an entire roast pig. She’d wager Miss Pearson minds too. Does the poor girl even know she’s been thrown over? What was Eliza thinking? She swore she would never trade the liberty of widowhood for the comforts of marriage. Didn’t she?
Jane’s ire is quashed by the sight of Eliza’s twelve-year-old son, Hastings, gingerly climbing down from the carriage. Henry and Eliza may be radiant—but Hastings has shrunk. His health has never been robust, but the last time Jane saw him he was plump and pretty. Now he is thin and frail with a papery complexion. He suffers from a similar phlegmatic complaint to her brother Georgy. The family prayed that, like the elder Georgy, Hastings’s suffering would decline with age. Instead, it only increases. She pats his head, relishing the feel of his silken curls as she brushes past.
Once the rest of the family have retreated into the house, and Eliza has taken Little Georgy from her arms, Jane remains on the steps with Henry. He clasps his hands behind his back and shifts his weight from foot to foot. Jane jabs his chest with one finger. “You, sir, are a shameless rogue.” She twists her mouth, fighting to contain her smile. “And I am so very glad for you.”
He leans forward, strong arms enveloping her waist. She presses her nose to his shoulder. The cloying scent of Eliza’s French perfume mingles with his familiar, brotherly smell. He squeezes her too tightly, crushing the air from her lungs as he lifts her from the ground. She’s missed him. Only now he is before her does she dare to admit to herself how much. He will know how best to save Agnes, she’s sure of it. Of all Jane’s brothers, Henry is the one she relies on most. If she must share him with another woman, at least Eliza will be up to the task.
“Put me down, you blockhead,” Jane wheezes, tears gathering in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” His boyish grin illuminates his handsome features. Eliza is all he has ever wanted. As distasteful as it is to acknowledge, he has followed her around like a doting lamb ever since he was an eight-year-old schoolboy, and she a sophisticated debutante of eighteen. “I really am so happy. I didn’t even know it was possible.”
“What about Miss Pearson? I don’t suppose she’s partaking in the celebrations for your recent nuptials.”
“Ah, Miss Pearson.” Henry scratches his clean-shaven jaw. “I promise I let her down as gently as I could. That reminds me. Could you pay her a visit on your way back to Hampshire and return her letters to me?”
“You want me to do your dirty work?”
“I can’t keep them. It would be most ungentlemanly. Besides, Eliza and I aren’t going back through London. Once we’ve concluded our visit here, we’re planning on residing at Margate for the rest of my leave.”
Jane squeezes her hands into tight fists to prevent herself from whacking him about the head. “You’re leaving me stranded in Kent, as well as asking me to clean up after you? May I remind you that you were meant to be escorting me back to Steventon? How am I supposed to get home now?”
“Can’t James fetch you?”
“No, he can’t. Mary’s leash does not extend this far.”
Henry tips his head to one side. “I’m sorry to let you down, but I may not have long to enjoy my newly married state. There’s talk of the Oxfordshires being asked to volunteer overseas.”
“Overseas? But you’re the militia.”
“Ireland,” he continues. “Circumstances there are even worse for the poor than they are here. The rebels are openly courting the assistance of the French to overthrow the Crown. And if Bonaparte gets a foothold across the Irish Sea, it will be only a matter of time before Britain is overrun.” Jane remembers Agnes relaying her story at Crundale. How desperate her mother must have been to sacrifice one of her children to save the others. “And besides that, Eliza says the sea bathing at Margate is excellent. It’ll be good for Hastings.”
Jane’s shoulders drop from around her ears. Henry doesn’t even have the grace to allow her to be vexed with him. “You scoundrel. You know I’d do anything for you, don’t you?” She looks towards the open front door. “How is Hastings, really? I swear he was much stouter the last time I saw him.”
“Let’s not talk of that now.” A shadow passes over Henry’s features as he ushers her inside. It is as Jane suspected: the little boy is fading. She must not begrudge Henry and Eliza this short lease on happiness. Eliza is destined to endure yet more tragedy. But, thank God, Henry will be there to comfort her if—or, rather, when—the worst happens, and Eliza’s heart is irrevocably broken by the untimely death of her beloved son.
Later that evening, Jane settles Hastings to sleep on a truckle bed in her room. The newlyweds deserve their privacy, but she would rather Hastings did not pass the night alone in case he suffers a fit. He sucks his thumb and stares up at her with doleful eyes as she recounts The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. Every time his eyelids droop, she considers making a dash for the door so that she may gain a private audience with his mother. After Jane let Henry shepherd her inside, he became conjoined with Neddy: the two of them growing merrier and trading increasingly raffish insults with each glass of wine. Eliza will have to be Jane’s confidante. She may appear untouched by her suffering, but as an émigré of revolutionary France, Eliza has witnessed the very worst humanity is capable of. She will counsel Jane wisely on what she must do. But every time Jane stops reading and tries to leave, Hastings lifts his head and says, “And then, cousin?”
When he finally nods off, his thumb slipping from his mouth as his eyes flicker behind their lids, Jane kisses his damp forehead and makes her escape. As she emerges onto the landing, the jolly cries of her brothers, carried on clouds of pungent tobacco smoke, drift upwards through the house. The door to the newlyweds’ chamber is open. By candlelight, Eliza’s face is serious as she contemplates the contents of her valise resting on the four-poster bed. She senses Jane’s presence and speaks without pausing in her task. “How’s my darling boy?”
Jane slides inside the room, closing the door after herself. “Downstairs, puffing a cheroot, judging by the stench of it.”
“I meant my son— not my husband.”
“Fast asleep. I’ll ask one of the maids to sit with him, until I retire.”
“Tell me, are you pleased with your new sister-in-law?”
“Very much so. I thank Heaven you’re here. I’ve never felt so alone as I have these last few weeks.”
Eliza frowns. “You haven’t been alone. You were with your family.”
“Yes, but …” Jane hesitates. The knowledge of Neddy’s transgression and her fears for Agnes’s safety have been hanging on her mind for so long without her being at liberty to speak of either topic that she cannot fathom where to begin. Once she denounces Neddy, relations within her family will never be the same again.
“I expect you’re missing Cassandra?”
Jane chokes on a sob. She has been in Kent for almost a month without receiving a single letter in her sister’s hand. When they were little, her father used to tease that Jane was so devoted to her elder sister that if Cassandra was to have her head cut off Jane would go too. It is true, she would. For it is inconceivable that there could ever be a Jane if there was no Cassandra. Her face must reveal the true extent of her distress, as Eliza rushes towards her, arms open.
“My poor darling, you mustn’t worry. James and Mary will be taking good care of her.”
Jane lets herself be folded into her cousin’s embrace. “Speaking of my new sisters-in-law, I believe I know why you haven’t been invited to visit Deane.”
Eliza flinches, as if she has been caught helping herself to the wine cabinet. “Dear Mary, such a sensible choice. You’ll never hear me say a word against her.”
“Is that your own particular style of revenge?” Jane cannot help but laugh. “And was it before or after Henry pledged his troth to Miss Pearson that you decided you would accept him, after all?”
“We have only one life, Jane. And I could not, in all good conscience, sacrifice my happiness in favour of someone else’s.” Eliza wriggles her shoulders, all innocence. “I didn’t know if I would ever marry again. But, as it turns out, there’s only so long a woman can resist being happy.”
“Do you love him?” Jane would hate to think Eliza chose Henry out of convenience. As her first cousin, he is a prudent choice. She knows him well enough to trust he would never mistreat her, and she has always exhibited a sense of ownership over him. But being unable to bear the idea of him falling in love with someone else is not the same as being in love with him.
“Oh, ma chérie, you know better than to ask that of me, for I am immune to love!” Eliza’s eyes dance with the light of a thousand candles. Even the most highly paid actress could not falsify this much delight. “But enough of my escapades. Why are you crying? Things can’t really be so dire. Can they?”
“Oh, but they are. Almost as soon as I arrived I overheard—”
“Everything in order?” Elizabeth swings open the door, balancing a bundle of folded towels above her protruding belly. “We gave it a good airing for you, and I laid out my best linens.” Jane springs out of Eliza’s arms and turns away to wipe her tears. She cannot let Elizabeth see her upset. The poor woman has enough to worry about without stumbling across Jane gossiping about Neddy’s indiscretions. She must wait until Elizabeth retires before continuing her story.
Eliza takes the towels, placing them on the bed beside her valise. “What shall we call each other, now that we’re sisters? We can’t both be Elizabeth Austen.”
Elizabeth frowns. “But I will be Elizabeth Knight.”
Eliza’s lips purse with amusement. “And so you will, dear.”
Jane bites back a laugh. Elizabeth is the daughter of a baronet, and is married to the elder, richer brother, but Henry’s star is in its ascent, and Eliza remains the ci-devant Comtesse de Feuillide. Her sisters-in-law are circling each other, vying for superiority. She hopes they settle the matter swiftly, so that she may conclude her conversation with Eliza.
But as Elizabeth turns to leave, she gasps—bending from the waist and clutching one corner of the four-poster bed. An almighty popping sound erupts—startling Jane.
“Will you look at that?” Eliza nods to the puddle forming at Elizabeth’s feet. Her waters have broken. “It’s as if she was waiting for the cavalry to arrive.”
Jane grabs a towel from the bed. “ I’m supposed to be the cavalry.” She kneels beside her sister-in-law, attempting to mop up the leakage before it ruins Elizabeth’s slippers and runs through the floorboards.
“Oh, no, don’t use those. They’re my finest,” Elizabeth cries, lifting each of her soggy feet in turn. “Fetch the old ones I left in the garret. Make haste, will you?”
As she rises, Jane cannot help but flick her gaze at Eliza. The new Mrs. Austen smirks. She knows exactly who the inferior linens in the garret were earmarked for.