Page 16 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)

Derbyshire, January 1801

Hoisting Freddie higher on my hip, I surveyed the thick layer of snow on the back lawn from the comfort of the warm parlour.

‘Oh, why couldn’t Lucy and Harry have waited until spring?’ I said to him. ‘It is madness to have a wedding in winter.’

‘Papa?’ queried Freddie, making a grab for one of my earrings. ‘Papa’ was the first word he had spoken, though he had said ‘Mama’ a few times, as well as ‘Lu Lu’ for Lucinda and ‘Mo Mo’ for Maurice, who was now in our service.

‘Yes, your papa agrees with me,’ I said. ‘But all we can do is make the best of it and hope that the bride doesn’t freeze to death getting from the chapel to the house.’

The door opened, and Max strolled into the room, causing Freddie to twist instantly and hold out his arms.

‘Papa!’

‘Hello, you little rascal.’

‘Here, take him. He’s heavy.’ Max lifted Freddie out of my arms, raised him high into the air, then brought him swooping down and blew raspberries on each of his cheeks. Freddie squawked and laughed. It was a favourite game.

‘How was the suit fitting?’ I asked.

‘Good, all finished.’ He lifted Freddie into the air again and wiggled him. Freddie squealed.

Harry had asked Max to be his best man, and my own papa was upstairs, making some final tweaks to their suits. Aunt was also here. Harriet, Evan, and Evie were arriving tomorrow; and Jane and Cassie the day after that. With Seraphina, Tobias, and their children staying too, it was going to be a very full house indeed. But at least most of the preparations had been done, including the acquisition of a local priest who said he was happy to perform the ceremony at two o’clock in the village chapel. It was a family-only ceremony, but the masquerade ball afterwards was a more festive, relaxed affair.

I turned back to the window, gazing at fluffy snowflakes beginning to drift from the sky again. ‘It’s a pity the weather isn’t cooperating.’

‘Lucy and Harry don’t mind,’ said Max as the door opened again to admit the bride-to-be.

‘Don’t mind about what?’ asked Lucinda, removing a rather wet bonnet. The shoulders of her pelisse were also damp, but her cheeks were glowing .

‘The weather for your wedding day, dearest,’ I said. ‘And you shouldn’t go walking around outside. You’ll catch cold.’

‘But it’s so pretty,’ said Lucinda, smiling at Freddie as he giggled from Max’s attentions. ‘And Maurice thinks our wedding day will be clear.’

‘Maurice is an eternal optimist,’ I replied.

‘Mo Mo?’ said Freddie, looking around for his friend. But Maurice was ensconced in the kitchen, where there was enough food to feed an army being prepared. We’d hired three extra cooks and five extra kitchen maids, so he had his hands full.

Maurice had joined our household six months ago; and he had fitted in immediately, taking on underbutler and assistant cook duties, as well as babysitting when required. I wasn’t sure how we’d coped before he arrived.

Freddie had taken to him right away, which was a relief, and Maurice had as well. But he recognised that Freddie carried Hart blood. He requested a private audience with me and asked why Freddie was ‘the spitting image of Master Dorian’.

So I had to tell him the ‘secret’. He’d shook his head a lot during the telling of the story and tutted almost as much. But at the end of it, he said he was not surprised that Master Dorian had fathered a child and that he might have a few more no one knew about. He was sworn to secrecy and promised faithfully not to breathe a word of it to anyone, least of all Dorian. Max made him sign a document so it was all official.

I was worried that Harry would want Dorian as his best man, but he said he hadn’t been in contact with him since we saw him in London. And neither had Maurice since he left his employ when Dorian had fully recovered from his accident.

‘He thanked me for my service but told me it was time to go,’ said Maurice during his audience with me. ‘And that I would get better pay if I “worked for the Fitzroys”. He also mentioned he wanted “a fresh start”. He was quite adamant about it, so there was nothing for me to do but leave him to his own devices.’

The man’s voice broke, and he looked racked with guilt.

‘You did everything you could for him and more, Maurice,’ I said gently. ‘I’m sure he was grateful. ’

Whether he was or was not, who knew? But it was a relief to hear that Maurice wasn’t corresponding with Dorian or keeping tabs on him. That meant there was less chance of him letting something about Freddie slip or telling me something I didn’t want to hear.

** *

The next day, I was up with the lark, dressed, and breakfasted, having had a ‘feeling’ that Harriet and her party would arrive early; and I wanted to be part of the welcoming committee.

I sometimes got these strong ‘feelings’ about things, like in London, when I ‘knew’ that Lucinda was about to give birth. Perhaps I was similar to Mrs Busby in that respect, and it was why she had frightened me when she had caught hold of my wrists and prophesied the way she had.

Holding on to someone’s hand had never thrown me into a trance. But what if it did one day?

As much as I did not want to believe what she had said about having ‘a choice to make’, she had been right about Max planting roses. So now I reluctantly found myself believing every word of her prophecy. When would it happen, though? If only she had told me the year or the name of a month at least, I could have done some mental preparation about which path to choose and avoid certain death.

Snow had started falling again when, from the parlour window, I spied a distant carriage turning into the drive and proceeding at a steady clip towards the house. All thoughts of doom and gloom fled—Harriet was here!

Summoning Bertram, I shrugged on my warm pelisse and ran outside. In no time, they were pulling up, and the lacquered carriage stopped with a crunch and a jolt.

There was a moment of stillness, as if the occupants were collecting their belongings or finishing a conversation. Then the carriage door sprung open, and everyone spilled out, smiling and chattering.

I held out my arms to Harriet, tears pooling in my eyes.

‘Dearest,’ my sister murmured, embracing me tightly. I could not speak for emotion. This was only the second time they had visited since Max and I had married. The first time was to meet Freddie as a newborn. Now he was nearly 1. Oh, I wished Harriet lived closer! Perhaps I should ask Max to speak to Evan about leasing a house in Derbyshire (for Freddie’s sake, of course, so he had Evie as a playmate).

Evan picked up his daughter, who had been running around, trying to catch snowflakes.

‘Say hello to Aunty Fliss and give her a kiss.’

‘Hello, Aunty Fwissh,’ Evie said obediently with an adorable lisp. She was a dainty, delicate child of 3. I hoped that she and the more boisterous Freddie, who liked to engage in rough and tumble, would get along. They were the two youngest of our combined families.

Elizabeth and Edward Austen had little ones too, and they had all been invited. But as Elizabeth had just given birth to another child, she was not well enough to travel. But she had written to Lucinda conveying her best wishes for the happy occasion and invited her and Harry to visit Godmersham when the weather was warmer. Whether they would go remained to be seen. For Lucinda, who had been hidden away (and given birth) in the cottage there, it might bring back memories she would rather forget.

‘How was your journey?’ I asked Evan, accepting Evie’s polite peck. She was wearing a cute red woollen travelling cloak, and I brushed the light dusting of snow off her shoulders. ‘Please tell me you were not travelling through the night to arrive so early?’

He laughed. ‘No, we have been staying with an uncle of mine in Chesterfield. He is but ten miles away. ’

‘Oh, that was convenient.’ Evan always seemed to have a ready supply of relations scattered around the country to visit.

‘Yes, I thought so. Anyway, we packed up at dawn, not wanting to outstay our welcome, and drove over, hoping for a spot of breakfast.’ He glanced up at the curtained windows. ‘Is Max awake?’

‘Yes, he should be. Quickly, come inside and get warm. It’s freezing out here,’ I said, seeing Harriet shivering. Snow was falling thick and fast, and melting droplets of icy water had begun to slide down my neck.

There were introductions to be made, a second breakfast to be consumed, and rooms to be settled into, along with last-minute wedding preparations. So I was busy until luncheon and almost forgot that I was due for a fitting with my dressmaker in the early afternoon .

Annie had been creating not only my ball gown but also Lucinda’s wedding dress. Seraphina had tried to take charge of that by hiring a seamstress in York, but Lucinda had stood her ground and said that she wanted her wedding gown to look ‘fashionable, not frumpy’. So Seraphina had backed down and agreed that she could use my dressmaker.

I was proud of the way that Lucinda was winning parental battles, both openly and covertly. Her strength of character was starting to shine through. My niece had matured from a shy, quiet, bookish girl to one with determined thoughts and opinions on a range of subjects. Then again, she had been through a lot in the past year and had had to grow up fast.

At 27, Harry was nearly ten years older than Lucinda and more worldly-wise. But he had a kind, patient, steady presence that calmed her emotional fire. He was also not easily cajoled. I thought that they were very well matched indeed.

As Freddie’s ‘Aunt Lucy’, she had initially journeyed to Derbyshire once a month to visit him. But her stays had become more infrequent; and of late, she had not been here since October, though she had been invited three times. She had cited ‘too busy with wedding preparations’ or ‘going on a trip to London with Mama to visit Harry’ or ‘too much Christmas madness in York’ as the reasons for not being able to come. But I felt she was trying to sever her attachment to us or, more specifically, to Freddie.

It hurt that she would do so, but Max said it was understandable and natural and that I should not take it personally. ‘Lucy is about to embark on a new adventure as a married woman,’ he said sensibly. ‘Remember, Fliss, the contract we signed guaranteed that for her. And she is embracing the opportunity to the fullest now that there is no threat of her reputation being ruined. You have to let her live her life. ’

So I had tried to understand and did not press her. But observing her around Freddie since she’d been here, I saw that her face brightened whenever he climbed on her lap for a cuddle or called her Lu Lu and that her eyes followed him as he toddled around the room. I realised that her feelings for him were still as strong as ever and staying away was ‘protection’, not ‘forgetting’ .

I was standing on a low stool, wearing my ball gown, and Annie was kneeling with a mouth full of pins, hemming it, when there was a knock at the door.

‘Yes?’ I called. ‘I’m a bit busy.’

Harriet poked her head in. ‘It’s only me.’

‘Oh, come in. I won’t be long.’

‘What a lovely dress,’ said Harriet admiringly, sitting on the bed.

Made of purple brocaded silk, the gown had cap sleeves, was fitted around the bust, and graced the hips, with two panels of silk falling from a gathering in the back to give it a medieval look.

‘You’re so lucky to have regained your figure.’ Harriet pinched the flesh on her waist. ‘I’m still carrying baby fat from Evie no matter how many long walks I go on.’

I wobbled a little, remembering that I had not had to lose any baby fat. Annie placed a cool hand on my ankle, and I breathed again.

‘Max and I ride frequently,’ I said smoothly. ‘And I’m trying not to indulge in too much cake.’

Harriet laughed. ‘Good for you!’ She picked up my matching purple mask, which was lying on the bed, and held it up to her eyes experimentally. The ribbons trailed down either side of her face.

‘I don’t have a mask, I’m afraid. Unless I make one out of paper and tie it on with string ... ’

‘It is a folly,’ I said. ‘I doubt many people will wear masks.’

‘You are ... and Max, as well as Evan, Lucy, Harry, Aunt, and Papa. So everyone we know is.’

‘Oh. Well, we may be able to fashion something.’

‘Forgive me for interrupting, but I have some leftover fabric from your gown, Mrs Fitzroy,’ said Annie from the floor. ‘I could make a mask for Mrs Pringle, though it will not be anything fancy.’

Harriet clapped her hands. ‘Oh, thank you! What fun!’

I made a mental note to pay my seamstress extra for the service.

When Annie had left to visit Lucinda in her room to make some final tweaks to her wedding dress, I slipped out of my gown quickly with my back to Harriet in case she noticed something was off—like perhaps that my breasts did not droop from feeding.

‘Oh, by the way, Rosalind and her fiancé will be attending the ball,’ said Harriet casually, lounging back on my bed, propped on her elbows. She dangled a slippered foot off the edge.

‘Pardon?’ I said. ‘You don’t mean Rosalind Whiteley?’

‘Yes, Evan’s cousin. You remember her, don’t you?’

How could I forget?

‘I do,’ I said flatly. ‘She flirted with Max at the Ashbury ball. She told me to use the foul shack outside when there was a perfectly good privy inside, and she tried to stop Evan from marrying you. So yes, I remember her very well indeed.’

Harriet flushed. ‘Er, yes ... Well, she was younger then and a bit silly, but she has matured since. And she is newly engaged!’

‘Gosh,’ I said snidely. ‘And inviting herself to my ball, how honoured we are.’

‘You did say we could invite anyone we wished, Fliss. And she’s visiting friends in the area with her fiancé, so I thought she might like to come and bring him as well,’ Harriet said defensively.

I pursed my lips, not really wanting Rosalind to attend the ball. But Harriet had already invited her, and she was Evan’s cousin.

I threw my hands in the air. ‘Very well, more the merrier!’

‘I’m sure there will be so many people there that you won’t even have to speak to her,’ said Harriet. ‘And we’ll all be wearing masks.’

‘True,’ I replied, thinking that I must be a very mature and gracious host to accede to Rosalind coming. ‘And is she really engaged?’

Harriet nodded.

Gosh, wonders will never cease! I thought. Who on earth would be brave, or silly, enough to marry Rosalind Whiteley?