Page 3 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)
Steventon Rectory
19 August 1799
Dear Flissy,
Oh, this is most distressing news indeed!!! I have hardly been able to think straight since I received your letter. But I know you are eagerly awaiting my response, so I have drunk a medicinal cup of tea and will endeavour to write something coherent.
Our poor dear Lucy! I feel almost to blame myself for encouraging her to write a novel. I did not dream the subject would be her own seduction! AND for her mama to read it, oh, how awkward! But I suppose she would have found out eventually when Lucy started to show. AND at least there is now time to plan for the best thing to do.
I think, even though it may be difficult for you to hear, that Max is right—that the future interests of the child must be put first.
The fact that he is willing to raise another man’s child is testament to his strength of character and his goodness. This is a true test of your courage as well, and you will rise to face it with grace and dignity; you are the bravest person I know—
Here, the letter cut off and started again farther down the page, as if she had been interrupted midflow.
Flissy, I have received a letter from Elizabeth asking after you and Lucy, and I had a thought. I do not know if anything has been arranged in terms of the baby being considered yours, but what if you and Lucy were to go to Godmersham for a secret confinement? My brother’s house is large and in the remote Kent countryside, and it is removed from any society that could interfere in your plan. Obviously, Elizabeth and Edward would need to be privy to it, but I am sure they would not hesitate to offer their help. They are as fond of Lucy and yourself as if you were part of our own family. And Edward has first-hand knowledge of growing up with relations. He can provide valuable insight as to how the situation can be managed ...
I drew a breath and let it out slowly. Godmersham. Bravo Jane for thinking of it. That could work well if Edward and Elizabeth agreed to have us stay. Their involvement would be risky, but it would mean an added layer of comfort and protection. Yet they still had to agree to take us in and for Lucinda to give birth there. It was a huge imposition. And would Seraphina ever agree to her daughter travelling so far away from home with me as her companion? Especially as she considered me persona non grata? There were a lot of unknowns and factors to consider. But whatever the outcome, I was glad that Jane now knew and was rallying to our cause.
Jane’s letter had arrived at breakfast, the morning of our meeting with Mr Chadwick. The timing of it meant that I could not discuss anything with Max as he took his lawyer off for a brief turn around the garden before the meeting. He deemed it safer to bring him up to speed out of doors (and out of earshot of the servants).
There was nothing for it but to wait in the parlour and chew things over in my mind. Just before ten, Lucinda entered with Seraphina and sat down next to her mother on the opposite sofa, hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes were fearful when they met mine. I smiled, wanting to convey my reassurance that everything would be all right. But Seraphina scowled at me, as if to say ‘Do not attempt to curry favour with my daughter. Haven’t you done enough already?’
I swallowed and clutched Jane’s letter in my pocket to instil me with courage and to remind myself that Max and I raising the child was the best thing to do.
The door opened, and the gentlemen entered with serious, businesslike expressions. Max made the introductions. ‘Mr Chadwick, may I present my wife, Mrs Felicity Fitzroy. And this is my sister-in-law, Mrs Seraphina Fitzroy, and my niece Miss Lucinda Fitzroy.’
Mr Chadwick bowed to each of us in turn. He was a short, stout gentleman with rosy cheeks and wispy fair hair. But despite his equanimous appearance, his green eyes were shrewd, and I knew Max trusted him implicitly with his legal matters and had done so for many years. He was invited to sit in a presiding armchair while Max joined me on the sofa.
‘Ladies, I have been duly informed of the ... unfortunate ... circumstances in which you find yourselves. But it seems to me the matter is quite cut and dried. Max has made his wishes clear about raising Miss Fitzroy’s child. So I have no doubt that we can sort the particulars as quickly and as painlessly as possible. I can draw up a contract of guardianship while I am here.’
Seraphina smiled at him impassively. ‘Excuse me, Mr Chadwick, but I beg to differ. The matter is not as cut and dried as you may think. I have come up with an alternative arrangement, one that does not involve my brother and his wife.’
Max’s eyes widened. ‘Pardon?’
Oh no, I thought. Trust Seraphina. But I was not surprised in the slightest that she had decided to change tack and impose her own agenda. It was her way.
‘We all know Felicity is against having children,’ she said with a disparaging shake of her head. ‘And I don’t want to burden my brother with a child that is not wanted—’
‘But I told you I wanted it,’ cut in Max, sounding annoyed. ‘We have not discussed any alternative arrangement, Seraphina.’
‘Perhaps we should let Mrs Fitzroy tell us what her idea is first,’ Mr Chadwick said quietly.
Max nodded curtly at Seraphina. ‘Very well, go ahead.’
‘There is a married couple on our staff, a maid and underbutler, who have been trying to have children for years and have not managed it yet. I think it is him, something wrong with his virility.’ She shrugged. ‘They wish to go to London, so when the child is born, they would take it with them and raise it as their own. There is a nunnery not far from York. Lucy can stay there for her confinement.’
Max made a disgruntled noise to express how much he hated the sound of that, and Lucinda looked positively ill.
‘A nunnery ... and never to see my child or know how they fare ...’ she whispered, and my heart bled for her.
I could see why Seraphina thought that this was a better solution. But it was better only for her as the child could be brushed under the carpet. She wasn’t taking Lucinda’s feelings or Max’s into account at all.
Mr Chadwick cleared his throat. ‘Thank you, Mrs Fitzroy. It is not a bad idea. In fact, it is very wise. Not only would it benefit a childless couple, but it would also keep your daughter’s reputation intact.’
Seraphina inclined her head.
‘But I can see that there are at least two people in the room who object to it strongly.’
‘I object to it strongly as well,’ I said making up my mind on the spot and ignoring Seraphina’s eye-rolling. I sat up straighter and said firmly, ‘Of course Lucy must see her child. It is unthinkable that she should not. To that end, I agree with Max— we should raise the child as our own. Lucy can visit as often or as little as she likes. You too, Seraphina.’
‘Well, I suppose that could work,’ Seraphina said grudgingly. ‘And since I am outnumbered as per usual.’ Lucinda heaved a sigh of relief.
Max gave my hand a squeeze and murmured in my ear, ‘Well done, Fliss.’
Buoyed by his support, I turned eagerly to Mr Chadwick. ‘I also have an idea for how to handle the confinement, sir. My friend Jane Austen has suggested that Lucinda travel to Godmersham in Kent, where she will be under the protection of her brother Edward Austen and his wife, Elizabeth, whom we stayed with in Bath. Lucy knows and likes them, and it is preferable to a nunnery. I am sure the nuns would be kind, but really, it is not ideal.’ I raised my eyebrows at Seraphina. (What was she thinking sending her daughter to a nunnery?) ‘Of course, I will have to go too and pretend to be with child.’
Seraphina let out an exclamation of annoyance. ‘Oh, so Miss Austen knows about our misfortune now, does she? That is just wonderful! I suppose we are all going to be characters in her next novel! It is bad enough that she is encouraging Lucy to write one of her own! Mark my words, that objectionable journal will be going straight into the fire!’
‘Mama, please,’ said Lucinda. ‘Aunt Jane only wishes to be helpful, and it is a good idea.’
‘I agree,’ said Max. ‘No one knows us in Kent.’
Seraphina humphed and folded her arms, muttering that she did not like it, but it couldn’t be helped now since I had let the cat out of the bag.
‘But I am assuming that the Austens know nothing yet and will need to be informed? And they could still say no?’ Lucinda asked me.
I nodded. ‘Quite. But I hope and pray they will not.’
‘So everyone is in agreement that Lucinda going to Godmersham is the best course of action if they approve it?’ enquired Mr Chadwick. We all nodded, Seraphina albeit reluctantly. ‘Very well. Mrs Fitzroy, if you will write to your friend Miss Austen, I shall begin drawing up the contract for the guardianship. And let us pray that her relations are willing to be involved. If they are not willing, then we must respect their wishes.’
‘I hope they feel some sympathy for Lucy’s predicament,’ Max muttered to me as we left the parlour. ‘Especially after they agreed that you could all go to Hartmoor, which, in turn, led to her seduction.’
I thought back to my conversation with Elizabeth in Bath after we had arrived back from the castle, the one where I told her that Mr Hart was not interested in Lucinda and that he had set his sights on me. I had sworn her to secrecy, but she would no doubt be confused as to how and why Lucinda had become pregnant if Mr Hart was not interested. Hopefully, she did not start asking awkward questions or send correspondence to Max enquiring further. My palms began sweating. But there was nothing for it. I had been compelled to speak up to support Lucinda, and there was no taking it back now. Godmersham was the only safe port in the storm, and everyone was pinning their hopes on it!
** *
The atmosphere in the house as we waited for Jane’s reply was tense, to say the least! Lucy was extremely quiet, Max was walking around with a stony expression, and Seraphina was snapping like a turtle at everyone. However, as I knew it would only make it worse, I bit my tongue and commended myself on doing so—even when she complained about the quality of the meat at dinner and the sheets on her bed being as rough as hessian sacks.
Thanks to the fast mail coach service between Steventon and Derbyshire, it usually took two days for a letter to arrive from Jane once I had sent a reply. But as I reminded everyone, Jane had to write to Elizabeth and then wait for a reply from her before she could send one to me. And I had told her time was of the essence, so all we could do was wait and pray that the mail coaches travelling backwards and forwards between our counties did not break down .
Still, the days dragged into the next week, and there had not been any sign of a letter. And tempers (one in particular) were starting to fray even further. Finally, on Thursday after luncheon, Seraphina said she couldn’t bear being in the house any longer and that she and Lucinda would go into town and do some shopping. Shortly after they had left, Max went out for a ride to escape as well .
So I was alone in the parlour when Bertram handed me the longed-for letter from Jane. I clutched it tightly to my bosom, thanking God.
‘Is this letter all right to receive, Mrs Fitzroy?’ Bertram whispered surreptitiously, and I nodded emphatically.
‘Yes, please do not burn these letters on any account. Only the other kind.’ That was the last thing I needed. ‘Out of curiosity, have you had to burn many of the other kind? The ones with my name in capitals?’
He shook his head. ‘No, madam, not a one.’
‘Oh, I see. Well, if you would remain vigilant on that account, thank you, Bertram.’
He nodded and left me. It felt slightly foolish to impress such a strong precaution upon him, especially when there had been no further letters from Mr Hart. But something in me still deemed it necessary.
Jane’s letter was thicker than usual, and I held it up to the light, attempting to discern what was in it. Did thicker than normal mean good news? Or was it pages and pages of commiseration?
I was too afraid to open the letter and peruse it.
Instead, I set it on the mantelpiece and waited for everyone to return and occupied myself with some embroidery .
However, the letter taunted me unbearably with its unknown contents. I tried hiding it behind a cushion on the sofa instead, but it was no use. I had to know what Jane had said and how the following months were going to play out for better or worse. And if it was bad news, I could prepare myself for Seraphina’s triumphant castigation when she returned from her shopping trip.
However, when I opened it, I discovered it was actually two letters: one from Jane and one addressed to her from Elizabeth that she had enclosed.
I read Elizabeth’s first as I knew that was the one upon which our plan was hanging. The letter itself was quite long, and the majority of it was news about her children. But all I needed was the part at the end.
Jane, I am shocked to hear about you-know-what!!! Please write immediately to Felicity and tell her that of course she and Lucy must come to Godmersham. We will hear of no other alternative. Oh my dear, how absolutely ghastly that Lucy is now having to bear the consequences of that man’s seduction, and he seemed so nice at first! I feel partly to blame because it was my shoulder he bumped into, and if only I had not encouraged him to call ...
She went on in this vein for at least a page, holding herself responsible and offering to help preserve Lucy’s virtue in any way she could. I felt sorry that she was so very upset by it all. But Max had been right—she did feel strong sympathy for Lucy’s predicament, and even though it was founded in a large dose of self-guilt, she was rolling out the welcome carpet for us to stay at Godmersham. It meant that Lucy did not have to go to the nunnery and we would be provided with a safe haven for her confinement.
As my nerves had been strung out for over a week, not knowing what the outcome would be and with everything riding on Elizabeth saying yes, now that she had done so unequivocally, the release of tension was palpable. I sat down heavily on the sofa and could not help but burst into a flood of tears, yet those I had to quickly stem in case a servant was walking past. Deeming it wiser to go for a walk so I could give vent to whatever emotions arose, I tucked the letters into my pocket and headed out of doors. The fresh air on my hot, damp cheeks was a soothing balm; and the grounds, bathed in the golden glow of mid-afternoon sun, had never looked lovelier. There was something about getting good news that made the scenery seem twice as bright, and the lake with its splashing fountain was almost iridescent.
After a short stroll and once I had read Jane’s letter, which praised Elizabeth’s decision (she had enclosed it with her own to show her sister-in-law’s exact words so we could feel at ease), I was feeling much more composed.
I was in the garden, sitting on a sun-warmed bench and watching a couple of finches frolic in the birdbath, when Max strode over.
‘There you are! I have been looking—’
He stopped, eyes widening, as I pulled the letters from my pocket and brandished them at him.
‘Oh! What did she say?’ Tears started welling before I could stop them, and his face fell. ‘I see ... It is bad news.’
I shook my head and quelled a laugh, which turned into a hiccup. ‘N-no, it is good! Elizabeth wants us to stay! I am just being emotional as it is the outcome we wanted.’
Max’s expression switched from worried to relieved. ‘So she really has agreed to it?’
I nodded and handed him the letter. ‘I assume Edward now knows too and has given his consent,’ I said. ‘She does not mention him, but “We will hear of no other alternative” suggests he does.’
‘I would say so,’ Max agreed as he quickly perused the letter.
He exhaled deeply when reaching the end .
‘What do you think?’ I asked him. ‘She sounds racked with guilt to me.’
‘There is definitely a sense of that. I cannot deny it. But thank goodness she is not denying her culpability in the matter. She could easily have washed her hands of Lucy and wanted nothing to do with her for fear of the scandal damaging her own family.’
‘We are very fortunate,’ I said, feeling tears rising again. ‘And let us not forget Jane’s instigation in the first place. She did not need to suggest Godmersham, but it was done with no hesitation and with complete concern for Lucy’s welfare.’
Max sat beside me on the bench and grasped my hand. ‘Indeed,’ he murmured. ‘Everyone is rallying admirably for my niece, especially you, my love.’
I dropped my eyes from his approving gaze.
‘But I feel racked with guilt too.’
‘There is to be no more of that from anyone. I forbid it.’ He pressed my hand to his lips. ‘What’s done is done, and we must look to the future now.’
The future indeed—one where Max and I were parents. It was not something I had ever contemplated in my wildest dreams! But now that things were in motion, it was a reality I had to face head-on. I hoped Jane’s faith in my bravery was justified .