My 2016 novel, Jane Austen Lives Again was such fun to write and I hope you enjoyed the first three chapters posted here - Prologue and Chapter One Chapter Two and Chapter Three. Published online for the first time is Chapter Four below - I hope you enjoy it. Wherever you are in the world, I wish you joy and send lots of love across the miles!
Jane Odiwe December 2016
Chapter Four
When Jane
woke the next morning she was delighted to see a remarkable change in the
weather. Sunlight poured through the long windows leaving golden lozenges in
bright bars across the carpet and over her bed. She stretched, arms overhead,
feeling quite deliciously happy for a moment as she luxuriated in the warmth
and sense of wellbeing, having slept well despite the lumpy mattress. Leaping
out of bed she went to stand at the window, and fiddling with the catch on the
last pane at the end where the glass had been divided to make it into a
casement, she flung it wide open. The smell of the sea and the sound of gulls
mewing up above could do nothing but fill her with a sense of pleasure, making
her instantly remember holidays spent in Lyme and Sidmouth in another place and
time.
Leaning on
the sill she could see the blue expanse of sea and sky, across to the valley
and the village on the other side, glittering after the rain, and down to the
steaming garden below. Breathing in lungfuls of air, she’d never felt so alive.
The memories of her last illness were so fresh that every morning since she’d
been brought back she was filled with such a sense of hope and elation as she
felt the blood coursing through her veins by a beating heart that felt stronger
than she’d ever known.
Down in the
garden she could see a twisting path following the line of a stretch of water
at the bottom of the tower, and she watched a white swan fly in to land,
spraying foam in an arc upon the moat, thick with water lily pads. She was
watching the bird preening with a golden beak when along the path she caught
sight of Alice and Mae emerging between the rose bushes whose blooms drooped
like crushed tissue after the rain. Dressed for the day, Jane noticed the
absolute contrast in their styles, Alice in a gown of white lawn flowing down
to her ankles, Mae in a pair of trousers with a loose blouse tucked into the
waistline. Though still an unusual sight, Jane had seen women occasionally wearing
trousers, and thought how comfortable they looked. Mae’s were wide-legged,
looking very masculine, and she wondered if they’d been altered from a pair of
her brother’s. Jane could just imagine the sort of rows that would ensue when
Lady Milton clapped eyes on Mae’s outfit, and she’d bet money on the fact that
her stepmother would find fault with her appearance.
Alice and Mae
were deep in conversation, their heads bowed, and though she couldn’t hear all
that they were saying, odd words, and snatches of conversation drifted up to
her on the summer breeze.
‘Will thought
you should know … you mustn’t be upset … with luck you may avoid him,’ Mae
said.
‘I do not
know why Will should say … I’ve long given over thinking of … I would happily
see him, what have I to fear?’ Alice answered.
‘I think Will
might be relieved to hear that … they were always such friends.’
‘And if I
make it easy for everyone, you’ll still be able to meet … I’ve no wish for
awkward scenes, Mae … you coming down to the village later?’
‘No … not be
told what to do.’
‘I wish you
would … not Miss Austen’s fault …’
They rounded
the curve of the path and Jane could hear no more. There was a little mystery
about someone Mae thought Alice might not want to see, and it looked as if
there’d be another day of scenes between Mae and Lady Milton. Jane felt a
little uncomfortable at having eavesdropped, but really it was very difficult
not to hear those intriguing snatches of conversation. Wondering whether she’d
come to learn what it was all about, she left the window on the latch to allow
the warm air to circulate, and hearing the clock striking eight, decided she’d
better hurry and get herself dressed for breakfast, though after last night’s
meal she wasn’t expecting much culinary excitement. There didn’t seem to be any
sign of hot water left outside her room so she filled the jug with cold from
the basin in the bathroom for a wash, and set about getting ready for the day.
Jane hurried
along the corridors and passages, down one staircase after another. She saw one
or two maids bearing breakfast trays groaning with teapots, silver food domes
and racks of toast, which made her wonder whether many of Manberley’s residents
would be joining her in the dining room. It was empty when she walked in, but there
were several covered serving dishes on the side, which rather surprisingly held
a vast variety of breakfast treats, until Jane reasoned that the Miltons
probably farmed the land, and would keep pigs and hens. Jane helped herself to
sausage and bacon, scrambled egg and fried bread, thinking that it might be an
idea to stock up on food if dinner was to be another poor affair.
She was just
enjoying her solitude when the door opened, which made her start a little,
especially when she saw who was walking in. It was the driver who’d picked her
up from the station, looking as if breakfasting in the dining room at this hour
was a regular habit. He mumbled something, which Jane thought might have been
“good morning”, before coolly helping himself from the side. With his plate
heaped high, he sat down on the chair opposite her, and spent the next ten
minutes without another word, eating his way through a mountain of food in
silence. Jane couldn’t help thinking his presence was most unusual, even taking
into account how times had changed. In her day servants ate in the kitchen, and
though she’d been surprised to discover that she was invited to eat with the
family, she decided the Miltons must be most unconventional to allow the
chauffeur the same honour.
It felt very
uncomfortable sitting there without any attempt at conversation. Jane observed
her companion who was now unfurling a newspaper from his pocket, and spreading
it open on the table, with hardly a pause from the movement of his fork from
food to mouth. He was very well dressed in a suit of country tweed, no uniform
today, and she couldn’t help noticing how well the greenish flecks in the tawny
cloth complimented his tanned skin. He was broad-shouldered, yet she detected a
slim torso beneath the waistcoat he wore, and with long limbs and strong,
capable-looking hands he could be described as a very good-looking young man.
Dark, unruly curls had been fixed as well as they could into place with a neat
parting and brilliantine, but those at the nape of his neck where they met the
collar of his shirt refused to be tamed.
He must have
been aware she was staring because he suddenly looked up which made her jump a
little out of her seat. She saw a wide mouth curving into a generous smile at
her obvious discomfort, and a flash of white even teeth.
‘Not run away
yet, Miss Austen?’
His accent
had a faint trace of something she couldn’t make out, but it was a friendly
voice, and she couldn’t help smiling too.
‘No, not yet,
Mr … I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
‘It’s Will
Milton.’ There was a pause during which his eyes connected with hers. ‘Just
call me Will … everybody does.’
Jane felt the
blood pound in her temples, and knew her face was flooding with crimson. Will
Milton? A hundred thoughts flashed through her mind, as she wondered if she
could have done or said anything yesterday that she should now regret. He was
no ordinary chauffeur she realised in that moment, but the son and heir to
Manberley castle. Of course she had been a little snooty, telling him off for discussing
her employers, but he’d been obviously playing a trick on her and that was
hardly her fault. Besides, he’d had the nerve to drop her at the servant’s door
when she knew he should have treated her as a lady and escorted her through the
front entrance. Jane thought she detected amused arrogance in the curling of
his mouth as he continued to read. She went from embarrassment and shame to
downright livid indignation in the time it took for Will to close his paper.
‘Do you
always dress up as the chauffeur and pretend to be someone you’re not?’ she
said crossly, unable to stop the thoughts coming out of her mouth.
Will seemed
to find this funny, and threw back his head to laugh out loud. ‘I don’t have to
do it very often, pick people up from the station, I mean, but I thought it
might put you at your ease, and I hoped to learn a bit more about you and what
you were thinking about coming to work here. We don’t have a driver any more,
and on the few occasions I’ve taken on the job, I must admit it’s always fun to
listen to the conversations of incoming guests. I’ve learned a lot, and then
the moment of realisation is always worth the wait … and such a hoot.’
‘I’m glad you
think it’s so funny,’ said Jane, already deciding that she’d never met anyone
more unprincipled. Above all things she disliked this sort of trickery, having
fun at others’ expense. These Miltons were an odd lot, and she’d best keep her
wits if she were to keep her sanity.
‘I didn’t
mean to upset you,’ he said and she caught that drawl in his voice again. His
eyes were pleading with her but she would not be drawn into the depths of those
dark brown eyes. ‘Please forgive me, Miss Austen, I would hate to disappoint my
new governess.’
He was making
fun of her again. ‘I am not your governess. Your stepmother has made it quite
clear to me that you’re a law unto yourself. I am here merely to advise Lady
Milton and help with the girls.’
‘I expect
she’s told you I’m a wicked stepson,’ he said, his eyes twinkling with
amusement, ‘with no morals and a string of women in the village.’
‘Lady Milton
has said no such thing, and even if she had I would not repeat it.’
That made him
laugh again, and Jane couldn’t help wondering, as she stared at him, whether
there was some truth in what he’d said. She saw that arrogance again, and
imagined the confident heir to Manberley leaving a trail of broken hearts
behind him amongst all the young women of Stoke Pomeroy. Well, he wouldn’t be
charming her with his good looks and fine eyes, she decided, not that he’d be interested
in anything about her except as a vehicle for his jokes and what he imagined
was wit. Jane thought it wouldn’t take her long to put him in his place now she
knew what he was like, and looked forward to having the opportunity again
sometime.
‘I wonder if
I could ask something of you, Miss Austen.’
‘Well, you
could try,’ she answered rather stiffly, knowing she wasn’t being very friendly.
‘Could you
keep an especial eye on my sisters? Alice is a sweet girl, and she’s been
through so much, always taking it upon herself to try and fill the place of the
mother we lost. I don’t want to go into detail, but something imminent might
just throw her off course a little. She’s been bruised in the past, and though
I shall do all to protect her against further hurt, it would be so nice to know
someone else was looking out for her. And Mae is lovely too, when you get to
know her. Alice told me her behaviour last night left a lot to be desired, and
that she’s been rude within your hearing. We talk to her all the time, but
we’re at a loss to know what to do for the best.’
‘Of course, I
shall do all I can to help,’ said Jane in a warmer tone, slightly revising her
thoughts about him. At least he seemed to care about his sisters. ‘Please don’t
worry too much, Alice is such a kind young woman, and I’m sure Mae just needs
time, Mr Milton.’
‘I knew the
moment I set eyes on you that you’d be good for Manberley, Miss Austen, thank
you for taking us all on. I’m glad you’re not about to run away, but if you
ever consider it, will you discuss it with me first?’
Now it was
Jane’s turn to laugh. ‘Mr Milton, I hope that will not be the case just yet,
but I’d also hate you to think I will have a solution for every problem. I am
ill qualified as a counsellor though I’ve had a little experience with young
people in my own family. It will be as much trial and error for me too.’
‘No, I won’t
have that. You’ve made a difference already … even Mrs Naseby has a good word
for you, which is saying a lot. You may be young and inexperienced, but you’re
a breath of fresh air, and that’s what we all need.’
Jane didn’t
say a word; she could hardly contradict him. But she felt young, even if her
mind still held onto the past of an aging woman. She watched Will dab at his
mouth with a napkin before he stood up, pushing the chair behind him.
‘I hope I’ll
see you later, at dinner.’
‘Yes, Mr
Milton.’
‘Will,’ he
said with a knowing wink. ‘Please call me Will, everybody does.’
Mae didn’t
want to hang around being told what she could or couldn’t do on such a glorious
day. She’d already decided to go out on her bicycle, and take a little picnic
down to the beach. Mrs Wickens, the cook had made her a packed lunch and even
though she knew it was fish paste sandwiches and a flask of tea, it would be
better than enduring an insufferable afternoon at the tea shop in the village
with her sisters and that new governess who was so prim and proper.
She went down
to the old stables where the stalls had once been full of horses. Now there
were only two left, her brother Will’s chestnut thoroughbred, Achilles, and a
pony, Valentino, which all the girls were meant to share. Valentino whinnied
when he saw her, and reaching inside her trouser pocket she fetched out a sugar
lump for him. Leaning her head against his noble one as he munched, his velvet
nose sniffing for more, she felt the warmth of him melt her heart.
‘No one
understands me like you do,’ she said, draping her arms round his neck. ‘But
I’m sorry, my darling, I can’t take you with me today, I shall be gone for too
long, though I promise we’ll ride along the sands tomorrow.’
Mae kissed
his neck, and stroked his mane, as he nuzzled her fingers in hopes of another
sugar lump. She fed him one more, and went in search of her bicycle. Propped up
in the last stall, she put her packet of sandwiches and thermos flask into the
basket at the front, and backed it out. Will’s motorcycle gleamed in the next
stall. It was a beautiful object, an Indian scout he’d bought in America a few
years ago when he’d been to stay with their Uncle Harry who’d treated him to
the exotic machine and even shipped it home for him. Uncle Harry, their
mother’s brother was a very wealthy man who divided his time between his
brownstone in New York City and his summer mansion at Newport, Rhode Island. He
had sons of his own, but the hope was that Will might still come into some of
Uncle Harry’s money. Mae knew that her mother had come from a prestigious
family, but she’d never met any of them though she was intrigued by the idea of
her exotic American relations. They hadn’t wanted Edith to marry her father who
they’d considered a pauper compared to the families with whom they associated,
and when she eloped with him to England, they’d cut off all ties. It was only
after her mother’s death that Uncle Harry had expressed a wish to meet Will,
and though the visit had been a success, lasting two years, in all that time
he’d never asked to meet the girls.
Mae wished
she could try out the motorcycle. When it was running, it was like a beast.
Will had let her try it once and she’d loved the purr of the engine and the
feeling of power. Resting the bicycle against a post she wandered over to
admire the sleek lines and the scarlet paint. She’d watched Will start it up
many times, and wondered if she could do it herself. Leaning over, she turned
on the gas, as Will called it, pulled on the choke, adjusted the advance and
the throttle, and then leaning her full weight on the handlebars tried to
kick-start the cycle. It took three attempts before it sputtered into life, and
then, as the engine ticked over, Mae thought it would do no harm just to try it
out for size. Remembering to kick her leg high she eased into the saddle, and
the moment that was done, the most daring thought entered her head.