Page 6 of Trusting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #3)

Godmersham Park

6 February 1800

Darling Max,

As you can see by the address, we have arrived! What a long and tedious journey it was to Kent! I nearly vomited several times out the carriage window, but you’ll be pleased to hear I did not disgrace myself. Lucy assured me no one would have minded as I am expecting, and that kind of thing occurs all the time. It did make me laugh, imagining all the pregnant women in England hurling out of their carriage windows. But ’tis true, expectant women are given much more leeway and, dare I say it, respect. Indeed, the deference people pay to you is astonishing. I lost count of the number of times I was bowed to by complete strangers, men and women. It almost makes me want to keep wearing the padded corset after the event !

Anyway, our journey is over now, thank goodness. And I am writing to you from the pleasant front parlour of Godmersham. I won’t bore you with describing the furnishings, but suffice to say, it is a lovely room and most elegantly decorated. There is a fire burning away merrily in the grate, for it is a cold, bleak day outside.

Dearest, I should mention that I am here alone in the parlour, apart from Jane (who has surprised us with a visit). Our dear Lucy is not here as she has been relegated to the private guest cottage, and I am staying in the main house. I know that might shock you, and it disturbed me too at first to be separated from her. But as Elizabeth Austen explained, I have to learn to play the part of an expectant mother, and it would cause the servants to be curious if I did not stay in the house. Only a trusted few know about her existence.

But do not worry—Lucy is quite well and frequently being visited by us, along with the midwife, Mrs Busby, who is checking on her three times a day. I have met the woman, and she seems experienced. Upon examining Lucy, she pronounced that she is healthy and strong, so there should not be any problems. So all we can do is wait and think happy thoughts. And in a few weeks, my love, you will be able to call yourself Papa.

Meanwhile, I have Jane as a companion. We shall walk, talk, and play with the children and make use of the well-stocked library. I will write again when there is anything of consequence to report and eagerly await your reply.

Love your Fliss xx

I folded the letter, sealed it with wax, and leaned back in the chair, feeling rather drained. It had been an effort to keep an upbeat tempo in my letter to Max, but I think I had managed it. Due to a little anxiety about Lucinda and sleeping in a strange bed, I had tossed and turned last night. The weight of the padding was also becoming tiresome to attach and lug around. Sometimes I did actually feel as if I was with child.

Elizabeth and I had called into the cottage this morning with a basket of food, and Mrs Busby had been there. Meeting her had alleviated my fears somewhat. She was a serious-faced woman of around 40 years of age with dark hair pulled back into a severe bun. I could not detect anything odd about her from the way she spoke. She answered my questions directly and held herself well despite her plain dress. I noticed she did have a slight visual disorder that caused her left eye to turn in while the other looked straight ahead. But apart from that fault (and was it really a fault if she could see perfectly well?), she seemed capable and trustworthy. The other servants had obviously taken a dislike to her because of her eye, which made me feel sorry for her. I tried not to stare too much, though it was a little distracting .

There was also something I had decided not to mention to Max as it was of little consequence and disturbing only to me. The parlour, as I had said, was an excellent room. I liked it very well. But there was an artwork that detracted from its ease and comfort. It was the sketch that Dorian had drawn of Hartmoor Castle, now framed and hanging on the wall over by the window. When I came into the room, it caught my eye; and even now, I felt myself continually drawn to look at it for some strange reason. It began to make me feel uneasy—as if simply by it being there, it would conjure him. I almost had a mind to ask Elizabeth to remove it but did not want to bring up the subject of Dorian in case she started asking awkward questions I did not want to answer. So I tried my best to ignore it .

** *

A few days after we had settled in, Elizabeth announced that she was inviting a few of the local ladies over for tea and that Jane and I would attend. It was just us adults at the breakfast table, the children had gone upstairs to play, so I said, ‘Is that wise? Surely we should not have strangers visiting at this time.’

Elizabeth waved a hand to brush aside my concerns. ‘But they are not strangers, and there will be more talk if I am all of a sudden unsociable. People will start inventing things and may spread harmful gossip. We have to be seen as behaving normally. Don’t you agree, Edward?’

Edward smiled at his wife indulgently. ‘As you see fit, my dear.’ And I saw there would be no help from him.

‘Jane?’ Surely she would agree with me.

Jane shrugged. ‘Elizabeth makes a good point. I can’t see the harm in it, and it is only tea.’

My palms started sweating. Only tea. ‘Perhaps I could stay upstairs until they’ve gone. There is no need for me to be there.’

Elizabeth took a bite of strawberry-jam-laden toast and chewed thoughtfully before answering. ‘Unfortunately, you do have to be there, Felicity. I have mentioned that you are visiting, and they are most anxious to meet you.’ She dabbed delicately at the side of her mouth with a napkin. ‘It’s the perfect chance to practice your role as an expectant mother. I believe you will feel much more confident about your abilities when you have pulled it off. ’

Too late I remembered that Elizabeth was very fond of the theatre and the Austens liked to put on plays. Jane had told me of several such family performances from her stays at Godmersham .

But damn Elizabeth, this was neither the time nor place for amateur theatricals! I clenched my fists under the table, imagining how it was going to go: beady eyes assessing me, asking me questions, and me stuttering at every turn and blushing like a fool. If I felt too much pressure, I was going to say something wrong, and these women would see right through my guise. I was convinced of it. I was going to be outed as a fake baby carrier!

‘Do not worry, Flissy,’ said Jane, taking pity on me. ‘We can prepare some stock answers to potential questions they might throw at you and, if any of them become too personal, some ways to deflect them. I have many such answers down pat and use them regularly in Steventon with our nosy postmistress.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, relieved .

Jane and I popped into the cottage on our morning stroll, and I told Lucinda about the impending tea party and how I was being forced to prepare for it like I was going on stage. I flopped onto the sofa and complained bitterly, ‘The reason we have come here is to be far from any society that would interfere! What is Elizabeth thinking?’

I went on at such great lengths that Lucinda and Jane eventually looked at each other and giggled.

‘What?’ I asked, midmoan, staring at them.

‘Nothing, Aunty Fliss. But you seem to have a natural talent for acting, so I would not worry too much about it,’ said Lucinda.

I sniffed. ‘Well, I do not think so, and I am feeling most anxious about it. But thank you for saying so, Lucy. My only consolation is that you yourself will not have to endure the scrutiny of these women.’

There was a knock at the door, and Jane opened it to admit Mrs Busby.

‘Only me,’ she said, bustling in with a muslin-covered jug. She greeted Jane and me, then turned to Lucinda, who was seated in an armchair next to the sofa. ‘How are you doing today, my dear?’

‘Oh, all right, I suppose, Mrs Busby,’ replied Lucinda, screwing up her face. ‘I can’t complain. I just wish it were all over. My feet are so swollen I can’t even wear shoes.’ She stuck them out, and everyone looked. They were rather red and puffy.

‘Hmm,’ tutted Mrs Busby. ‘Yes, you mentioned that yesterday, so I’ve bought you a warm herbal infusion for you to soak them in. It will help to bring down the swelling.’ She inclined her head at the jug .

As she went off into the bedroom to fetch the washbasin, I raised my eyebrows at Jane to convey that this was excellent service indeed. Maybe I could soak my feet too if I mentioned they were sore from lugging around my padding? But that was quite selfish of me. Lucinda was carrying an actual child. I had nothing in my belly but wool batting!

Mrs Busby came back carrying a steaming basin with a towel slung over her arm. She set it down, and a pungent earthy smell met my nostrils.

‘Should we go or ...?’ I began eyeing the greenish-brown water swirling with floating twigs. It did not look or smell too pleasant, and I decided I did not want a herbal foot bath after all.

‘Oh no, please stay. I do so like hearing what goes on at the house,’ begged Lucinda. ‘Tell me more about the tea party. Who is being invited?’ She winced as Mrs Busby plonked one of her feet in the foul-scented water and then the other. ‘Gracious, that is rather hot, Mrs Busby!’

‘It needs to be for the herbs to work,’ she replied, kneeling beside the basin and briskly rubbing ‘the herbs’ into Lucinda’s ankles. I would have thought cold water would have been better for swelling, but what did I know? I noticed Lucinda’s cheeks growing flushed. She looked so hot and uncomfortable, poor girl. I hoped Mrs Busby’s herbal remedy did not bring on the baby. I was not mentally prepared for that just yet.

‘We have not been given any names,’ replied Jane. ‘Only that it will be a few of the local ladies.’

‘I am sure Lady Claridge and her daughter, Miss April, will attend,’ Mrs Busby chimed in. ‘They live at Willowmere Hall a few miles away.’

‘Is Lady Claridge very curious or overly attentive, Mrs Busby?’ I enquired. ‘Namely do I need to be on my guard?’

Mrs Busby tilted her head thinking. ‘I have not met her personally. But I have a friend who is a maid at the hall, and she told me she is quite exacting over small details. She runs a tight ship, you could say, especially since her husband died and she’s taken over his estate. She is also not backward in coming forward, if you take my meaning.’

My spirits sank. She sounded like a right battleaxe.

‘How old is her daughter?’ I asked her. ‘She must be still quite young if she is living at home.’

‘I believe Miss April is 26 years of age.’

‘Oh,’ I said, surprised, having expected her to say 16 or some such .

‘I don’t think she has had much luck with suitors,’ said Jane sympathetically. ‘I remember now—Elizabeth tried to match her with Henry at a supper party before he was married, but it was all in vain. He recounted that he thought her nice enough, but her mother insufferable. He made the excuse of feeling ill after the main course and hastily left the table, despite Elizabeth’s insistence that he “looked perfectly well” and should stay where he was and “eat his custard”. He had us all in fits telling the tale.’

I laughed at that. Henry Austen was funny, and I could quite imagine him feigning sickness to escape an overbearing mama who was on the prowl for her daughter. How easy it was for young men to escape such situations! I felt instantly sympathetic for Miss April—to reach the grand old age of 26 and her awful mother being the sole reason for her state of singledom. What hope was there for her?

I was musing on this when Lucinda suddenly let out a little scream. ‘Ow! What are you doing?’ I turned to see Mrs Busby gripping her foot hard, her eyes glassy and pointing in different directions. She looked as if she was in a trance.

‘I can see two men in your life,’ the woman droned in a stilted voice that sounded very odd.

I glanced at Jane and mouthed, ‘What?’ She hitched a shoulder in reply .

‘Mrs Busby, are you all right?’ I ventured but received no reply. The woman’s lips were now moving, but nothing was coming out.

‘Two men?’ prompted Lucinda.

‘Yes,’ Mrs Busby intoned solemnly. ‘One who can cause your downfall.’

A shudder passed through me. Surely she was talking about Dorian? He could cause all our downfalls.

‘And the other man?’ enquired Lucinda expectantly.

Mrs Busby’s lips moved, and we all leaned closer and waited with bated breath. She must have the second sight!

‘He could be good. He could be bad,’ she said vaguely.

Lucinda bit her lip. ‘And my baby? Will it be all right?’ It seemed she was taking the opportunity of Mrs Busby’s preternatural state to get as much information as possible.

Mrs Busby’s eyes fluttered, and her forehead wrinkled in concentration. ‘I can’t see your baby.’

‘Oh no! Please, God, no!’ Lucinda gasped. She yanked her foot out of Mrs Busby’s grasp and collapsed back on the sofa with a soft cry of distress. Mrs Busby crumpled and lay on the floor with her eyes closed, twitching.

After that, there was a flurry of activity from Jane and me—the former attempting to rouse Mrs. Busby with smelling salts and frantic fanning, while I busied myself comforting the tearful Lucinda with murmurs of, ‘What a load of old codswallop’ and ‘It’s nonsense. Don’t believe a word of it, dearest’.

Eventually, Mrs Busby came to. She sat up and looked bewildered and asked why she was on the floor. When Jane told her what had occurred, she hung her head, saying that she sometimes had ‘strange turns’, that she could not control them, and that she hoped that she had not said anything untoward.

Jane reassured her that she had not, but she could not help but notice Lucinda’s cowed demeanour and my arm around her, so it was obvious that she had. She buried her face in her hands and let out a sob.

‘Perhaps it is best if you rest, Mrs Busby. You are not quite yourself,’ said Jane, kindly patting her shoulder. ‘Let us go to your cottage now. Is your husband nearby? Can I fetch him?’

She helped her up and grasped her arm, and they made their way out of the cottage with Mrs Busby apologising profusely.

I sat there, feeling a bit shocked. Gracious! Now I knew why the servants didn’t like her. I imagined that if she was in the habit of having ‘strange turns’, she had made some vague predictions about their futures and frightened them as she had done Lucinda. It was most unsettling indeed!