Page 22 of Visiting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #2)

After I woke up from my fainting episode in Jane’s room and had my face and hands carefully washed by Lucinda, I was extremely tired, so they said I should sleep. When I woke again in the early evening, Jane brought me a dish of hot stew. She said she had spoken to the innkeeper, and he had kindly arranged for a carriage to pick us up at noon the next day. We needed to return to Bath forthwith in case Mr Hart and Mr Smith-Withers came looking for us, and in any case, we were all eager to leave.

It was only when we were in the carriage and safely on the road that I told them exactly what had happened and how Maurice had helped me escape. And I explained more fully to Lucinda about Mr Hart’s diabolical plan to marry her for her money. The information did not at first seem to register. But then after several minutes of silence, she turned away from us and pressed her forehead to the window, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Jane bit her lip and whispered to me, ‘What should we do?’

‘We must comfort her as best we can,’ I whispered back. ‘She is in shock and rightly so.’

Thankfully, there were no hold-ups on the road (and we required no comfort stops). So a few hours later, we were on the outskirts of Bath.

Lucinda had not spoken for the majority of the journey but sat pale and withdrawn, her eyes closed and hands clasped tightly in her lap. What she was thinking, I could not begin to guess. She will recover in time , I thought. It could have been so much worse.

I was still reconciling with how close I came to being ruined by Mr Hart myself—it did not bear thinking about. But at least I had managed to extricate my niece (and myself!) from his clutches. Now all that remained was to count our blessings that he was out of our lives.

***

Elizabeth was overjoyed we had come back early as she had exhausted the social circuit and said she had ‘found no company worth having’ apart from her own and Edward’s.

Of course, she wished to hear all about our trip to Hartmoor—the events of which we had to downplay quite considerably, especially our abrupt leave-taking from the castle. Besides that, my fingers were injured and my nails ripped to shreds—I had to wear gloves indoors and say I had chilblains!

Lucinda was still reticent, so at least I did not have to worry about her saying anything. Elizabeth put her silence down to feeling Mr Hart’s absence acutely and kept reassuring her that he would write and call soonest to resume their acquaintance and perhaps even propose! This caused the blood to drain from Lucinda’s already-pale face and her hands to shake. It was hindering her recovery, so I had to put a stop to it. I took Elizabeth aside to have a private word in her bedroom.

‘I know you are only trying to reassure Lucy. But please, I beg of you, do not speak to her any more about Mr Hart proposing. There will be nothing of the sort taking place.’

Elizabeth’s forehead wrinkled in concern. ‘Oh no, what has happened? Has there been a falling-out between them?’

‘He made it clear that he has set his sights on another. Lucy has taken it rather badly ...’

Elizabeth murmured her condolences for Lucinda’s sake, then patted my hand excitedly. ‘Do not tell me, for I have already guessed, and my feelings are always right on these matters. It is Jane who Mr Hart has set his sights on. I could detect an affinity between them as they both enjoy writing ... and she so admired his art ...’

I shifted uncomfortably at this line of thinking. Blast, I had to put her straight before she started telling Jane’s family to expect an engagement!

‘It is not Jane he is interested in. It is me,’ I said bluntly.

Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. ‘Oh dear!’

‘Yes, and it has been most uncomfortable and the main reason we left the castle early,’ I said somewhat irritably. The wounds on my fingers were starting to scab over and itching unbearably in my gloves. I longed to scratch at them but could not as I wanted them to heal by the time I returned home. ‘So if you could please not mention his name again, I would be grateful as we all wish to forget about him,’ I continued.

‘Yes, of course,’ Elizabeth said hurriedly. ‘Oh, you poor thing! How awkward. And it goes without saying that your husband must never know of his sordid affection. You can trust me. I will be as silent as the grave and not tell a soul, not even Edward.’ She twisted her fingers by the side of her mouth to resemble a key turning in a lock.

‘Thank you,’ I said, hoping that I could trust her. Her nature did incline towards gossip after all.

But telling Elizabeth had the advantage of her understanding why we wished to lie low for the last week of our stay and not visit the pump room or partake in any other social events. Every time Edward queried if we wished to go out or suggested we go to the theatre, Elizabeth neatly circumvented it by saying it was much nicer to stay in and all be together.

She would also sit next to Lucinda and occupy her with some idle chat or encourage her to do some plain embroidery, which, to my relief, did seem to help distract her from her woes. Towards the end of the week, she even giggled at an amusing incident Elizabeth told us about one of her children. Upon hearing that, Jane and I exchanged rather tearful glances. Thank goodness, our girl was on the mend!

***

The afternoon before we were due to leave, I was packed and all ready to go. I had received a letter from Max yesterday morning, and what he had written was so funny and endearing and full of expectation at seeing me again that I could hardly sit still. I wished to be in a carriage and heading towards Derbyshire this instant!

To that effect, I was not breaking my journey in Steventon but catching a public stagecoach north without delay. However, a short letter from Harriet had arrived in the afternoon. She said she had arrived at Ashbury, apologised profusely for the lateness of her reply and gracious was something happening with Papa and Aunt! She would keep her eyes peeled !

It had been so long ago that I had written to her about Papa and Aunt, and so much else had happened meanwhile, that my concerns about them now seemed laughable. Why should they not be together if they wished? Life was too short not to be with the person you loved and they had both been widowed at a young age.

Harriet finished her letter saying she was very much looking forward to seeing me, and as I had a strong desire to see her too, it could not be helped; my reunion with my husband would have to be delayed.

So I had spent this morning writing to Max, informing him that I would be travelling to Steventon with Jane and then staying at Ashbury for two weeks and how torn I was at wanting to see Harriet but also yearning to see him too. But once that was done, there was nothing else to do but sit in the drawing room with Jane and Lucinda and feel a bit bored and sorry for myself.

Elizabeth and Edward had gone to the pump room after lunch, but I had declined Edward’s invitation to accompany them. Elizabeth had given me a knowing look and whispered, ‘I shall report back if I see or hear anything.’

I was reduced to plucking lint from the cushion buttons while the other two read when Mrs Bromley entered the room and announced that a Mr Hart was at the door and wished to call on us .

Lucinda’s head whipped up from her book at his name, and she seemed to shrink into herself. A slow horror crept over me, and I was instantly back in the dungeon, hearing his voice sing-songing down the stairs. ‘Oh, Felicityyyy ...’

Jane, seeing that Lucinda and I looked on the verge of fainting, spoke firmly to the housekeeper. ‘We do not wish to receive him. Please tell him we have gone out.’

Mrs Bromley raised her eyebrows but said, ‘Very well, Miss Austen.’ Then she went off to convey the message.

‘Shall I creep to the window and see if he goes away?’ asked Jane.

‘No, do not,’ I said nervously. ‘He may catch sight of you and try to force his way in. He is obviously back in Bath. But what gall that man has to call on us! Thank goodness we are leaving tomorrow.’

I glanced at Lucinda, but she had hidden her face behind her book. Mrs Bromley reappeared, I assumed to tell us that Mr Hart had left. However, she had a different message.

‘The gentleman says that if by any chance I was mistaken and that you were in to tell you that his name is Harrington, and he is the brother of the other Mr Hart.’

‘Oh!’ said Jane, then looked at me enquiringly. I, in turn, looked at Lucinda.

‘Lucy? Are you all right with us receiving his brother?’ I asked her .

She shrugged her shoulders, so I nodded at Jane, thinking, This should be interesting.

‘Please tell him that you have searched more thoroughly, and we are in fact in and will receive him,’ said Jane.

The corner of Mrs Bromley’s mouth quirked. ‘Very well, Miss Austen,’ she repeated, and I imagined her rolling her eyes as she left the room.

We waited in some anticipation, and she showed a tall dark-haired man into the drawing room. Immediately, I saw the resemblance. Harrington was handsome, but not as much as his brother. He had thinner hair, a longer nose, and a stouter middle, as if he enjoyed a pint of ale or three. Nor was he as confident. He bowed to us awkwardly after Jane had made the introductions, and when he was seated, he seemed ill at ease in our company.

‘Please do forgive my intrusion. But I received a letter from my butler of late, outlining certain serious events that have taken place at my home, Hartmoor Castle,’ he said with a grave expression.

‘And how did you come to connect us with these “serious events”, sir?’ asked Jane.

‘When I arrived from London to ... rectify matters, my butler told me your names, Miss Austen, and that your party was staying in lodgings in Bath. It was not too difficult to discover your whereabouts ... After organising my affairs, I came straightaway to apologise profusely for any grievous harm that my brother, Dorian, may have caused you and your friends.’

He glanced at Lucinda, who, at the mention of Hartmoor Castle, had withdrawn behind her book again so her face could not be glimpsed.

‘Can you tell us where you normally reside and what you do for a living, Mr Hart?’ asked Jane smoothly, neither confirming nor denying that his brother had caused us grievous harm but attempting to find out more information before we trusted him.

‘In London,’ he said. ‘I am an accountant.’ He sounded faintly apologetic, as if we would throw him out for having a profession.

‘Ah, I do some bookkeeping for my father, and it always pleases me when the figures balance,’ said Jane.

Mr Hart smiled, his eyes crinkling. ‘It is rather pleasing, isn’t it?’ Before they could launch into a discussion about taxes, I spoke up.

‘So Maurice told you about your brother’s plan to inherit Hartmoor?’

Mr Hart nodded soberly. ‘Indeed. But I have since removed Father and Maurice to my lodgings in London, where they will be safe from Dorian and his friend. My footman is under strict instructions not to permit them entry. You may think my action extreme, but owing to my past history with my brother, I have deemed it wise to do so.’

‘I think you had better tell us the whole story,’ said Jane, her eyes shining with interest. ‘Shall I ring for tea?’

Ooh, be careful, Mr Harrington Hart , I thought. If you do not watch out, you may find yourself in a novel!

Between sips from his cup of tea, Mr Hart relayed how he had journeyed from London to Hartmoor as soon as he had received Maurice’s letter about his father.

‘It was a shock to me as I have not had contact with Dorian for a couple of years, not since the business with my fiancée when I resolved to cut ties with him.’

A flash of pain crossed his features, and he stared into his teacup, lost in thought.

‘Your fiancée, Mr Hart?’ prompted Jane.

I frowned at her. ‘You do not have to tell us if you do not want to,’ I told him.

‘But you will find us sympathetic listeners if you do, and sometimes it can help to unburden yourself,’ countered Jane, raising her eyebrows at me. ‘Please, do help yourself to another biscuit.’

‘Thank you.’ Mr Hart took a biscuit from the plate and dunked it into his teacup. ‘These are rather good.’

Suitably groomed by Jane to tell his story, he proceeded stiltedly, as if reciting a list of facts to a courtroom. Apparently, he had met a certain young lady called Rose Bishop at a ball in London. He had begun courting her. Soon, their relationship progressed to the point where he proposed, and Rose accepted.

‘I loved her,’ he said, and he spoke the words so emphatically that I had no doubt that he was sincere. ‘I suppose we were opposites as I tend towards seriousness, and Rose was vivacious. But she said that she liked that about me—that we complemented each other, if that makes sense?’

‘It is the same with my husband and me, Mr Hart,’ I said reassuringly. ‘So yes, it does make perfect sense.’ Indeed, Max had become much less serious since marrying me and had a silly side that at times surpassed my own!

‘But please, continue with your story,’ I said, noticing that his jaw had clenched.

‘Ah, this part is difficult, so forgive me if I stumble upon my words.’

We nodded encouragingly.

‘I saw my future clearly with Rose. She was pretty, kind, easy to talk to. And she made me laugh. We discussed many things, including having children—she wanted four. I invited her to visit the castle and meet my father, which she immediately agreed to. She had a chaperone, of course—her governess, Miss Price, who was a young widow and her dear companion.

‘At first, everything was very pleasant, and we were all having a lovely time.’ Mr Hart took a deep breath, and I sensed a large ‘but’ coming. ‘But’, he continued, ‘my brother, Dorian, arrived unexpectedly from Bath.’

Uh-oh , I thought.

‘He had been evicted from his accommodation for not paying the rent and had no money. At that point, my father had been giving him an allowance, so he had come home to try to get it increased. I do not know if he was successful, but they had several meetings during that time. I was not paying full attention as I was solely focused on Rose, making sure she was looked after and suitably entertained. Of course, with Dorian there, it was impossible to spend much time alone with her. He likes to be the centre of attention, you see.’

‘Yes, we know,’ remarked Jane. Lucinda did not respond, but I sensed she was listening to every word.

‘A week after he arrived, Rose began to act differently. S-she and Dorian would walk off together and talk and laugh, leaving me to converse with Miss Price. I did not mind at first as I wanted Rose and Dorian to get along, but it soon became obvious from her manner and her remarks that s- she ...’ He took a breath. ‘Forgive me, that she liked him very much indeed.’

His voice was tinged with pain, and it was evident that it was not a pleasant memory for him to recall. It was difficult enough to hear!

Mr Hart cleared his throat. ‘The day before we were due to return to London, she came to me and said that she no longer wished to be engaged. When I asked her why, she said that she loved Dorian and wanted to marry him instead,’ he said flatly.

‘Oh no! You must have been devastated!’ exclaimed Jane.

‘I was,’ he replied sorrowfully. ‘But I could not claim to be deluded because I had seen their relationship developing before my very eyes. So there was nothing to do but release her from our engagement and give her my blessing. I know it must seem strange that I did not fight for her ...’

‘Not at all. You loved her and wanted her to be happy even if it was not with you. Was that the case?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘Yes. And my brother too as he had been unable to settle at any particular profession after Eton. I had thought he might go into law, but he seemed more interested in spending money and going to parties ... and I thought marrying would be good for him, that he would settle down .. .

‘The last I saw of Rose was her being handed into a carriage, with her governess, bound for London to make arrangements for the wedding. My father gave my brother a generous stipend to set them up in Marylebone, but ...’

‘Let me guess,’ I said wryly. ‘The marriage did not take place?’

‘It did not,’ he replied. ‘Though Dorian pretended for six months that it had. He said it had been a quiet affair with only her family as he assumed Father and I would not want to attend. During this time, he wrote to Father several times, saying he needed more money. It was always for Rose, to pay for her dresses or accessories or some such excuse. My father dutifully paid him, but I doubt she ever saw a penny of it.’

‘And what of Rose now?’ asked Jane. ‘Where is she?’

Mr Hart’s hand shook, and his teacup rattled in its saucer. He placed it carefully on the side table and composed himself.

‘In Scotland with relatives, I believe. She fled from her lodgings with my brother one night after an argument, whereupon he admitted he was never going to marry her—in fact, that he did not even love her. However, by that time, it was too late. She was already ... corrupted.’ Mr Hart’s mouth pinched shut, and he shuddered .

‘Gracious,’ Jane whispered.

Indeed, we all knew what that meant. Rose was lost, and her chances of making a good match were practically nil, thanks to Dorian Hart. I was not surprised. After his attempted raspberry-and-cream seduction with me, I could believe him capable of anything.

‘Can you not rescue Rose from her fate?’ Lucinda spoke softly, but her voice was clear and firm. She had lowered her book and was gazing at Mr Hart unflinchingly.

He inclined his head, acknowledging her. ‘I tried, Miss Fitzroy. Believe me, I did. Immediately after I heard their engagement was broken off, I wrote enquiring after her health and intimated that I still cared for her. But she replied with a curt, dismissive letter, telling me never to write to her again as she despised anyone by the name of Hart. Any letter I sent after that was returned unopened. I feared that visiting her would only reopen the wound he had caused since she has tarred me with the same brush.’

Lucinda nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer.

‘We were initially told by Mr Smith-Withers that your brother was recovering from a broken heart, that he had been cruelly separated last year from a girl he loved, Cecilia Spencer. But I assume that was also a lie?’ she asked.

I hadn’t told Lucinda the truth about Dory and Ceci as I had not wanted to burden her further, but it looked like she had figured it out for herself .

‘Correct, Miss Fitzroy.’

‘Does your brother even stay in Royal Crescent when in Bath?’ she asked.

‘No, I believe he stays in cheap lodgings with Mr Smith-Withers in Monmouth Street.’

My ears pricked up at that. I had seen him walking along that very street the morning we had gone to the baths! It appeared I was right to wonder about it.

‘His fine clothes are not his own nor his shiny carriage. He gives the impression of being a fine gentleman. But in fact, he is destitute and borrows everything from Mr Smith-Withers, who, by the way, is not our family lawyer. Insufferable man. He is only hanging around because, as you ladies have cleverly deduced, my brother’s new plan—since my father refuses to give him any more money—is to marry a young woman with a large dowry and continue doing as he pleases. And he has promised Mr Smith-Withers a cut of it. But if I were him, I would get that in writing.’

Lucinda chuckled at his wry humour. Mr Hart smiled at her, causing a faint blush to appear, and she quickly lowered her eyes. Jane and I glanced at each other in surprise. Indeed, Lucinda was sitting up straighter; and her book was lying in her lap, forgotten.

Wonders will never cease , I thought, watching Mr Hart haltingly enquire about Lucinda’s family and her shy reply. Perhaps Mr Hart’s brother was the suitable gentleman that Lucinda was meant to attract all along? If so, it had taken a very roundabout way of getting there. And it was a pity if they were to marry as she would have a scoundrel for a brother-in-law .