Page 30 of Searching for Mr Tilney

Elsa was being so sweet, though I was sure we both knew there wasn’t the remotest possibility that I’d ever see the castle.

Harry’s friends were very kind to me, though I could see he was getting a bit of a ribbing from them, albeit in a quiet way. I danced with Ollie, his best friend from university, and then with someone who was also studying Theology called Ben, but no one danced quite like Harry, and it felt like agony waiting for dances to be over so we could be together.

After the first few dances and conversations, the night passed by in a whirl of dancing, and special moments. I was so glad Piers had taught me how to waltz properly the day before the ball so I could attempt a couple of the formal dances, but the band set up on a stage at one end played a selection of songs and tunes from every era so there was something for everyone. The chandeliers sparkled above our heads, just as in Cassy’s time, only with electric bulbs dimmed to copy candlelight, but were just as magical. Harry held me closely during the slow dances at the end of the night, his fingers caressing my back as we moved together.

‘Let’s find somewhere to sit on our own,’ he said, as the last dance was announced. He took my hand and I followed him out of the ballroom, squeezing through the crush of people by the door. Harry collected two glasses of champagne from the bar, and we walked back along the main hallway before he ushered me into a side corridor where a bench seat looked just as if it had been left for us. We sat down, Harry draping his arm round my shoulders, pulling me close. Nestling my head into his shoulder I breathed slowly, committing to memory his wonderful scent. I felt such a mixture of sheer happiness and deep sadness, knowing this was our last night together.

‘Would you mind if I wrote to you?’ Harry asked.

‘Not at all, I’d like it.’

‘I’ll write from “Castle Dracula”, as soon as we get there. That’s if I don’t get bitten by a girl in a white nightie, of course.’

‘It does sound perfectly “horrid”, as Catherine Morland might say.’

‘I think you’d be very disappointed, even the ruins are very pretty.’

‘I can just imagine it.’

I sipped at my glass wondering if I should tell him that nowhere seen with him could be disappointing.

‘I’m going to miss you, Caroline.’

‘And I’m going to miss you, Harry.’

And then it all unfolded like a dream. His face was distinct in the shadows, and I was a slave to every tender glance. He took my hand and squeezed it, looked into my eyes, and then I saw him gazing at my mouth. He took my glass, put it down, and I waited for three delicious seconds knowing he was about to kiss me. I didn’t care if anyone saw us, all I knew was I wanted to feel his lips on mine, just one last time. It was slow and unending, an infinite kiss that took me beyond and out of myself, as if we were both soaring into the midnight skies on wings. Trembling when it was all over, I knew whatever happened I’d never forget Harry or the feelings I had for him.

The evening was over in a flash, and it seemed every time I tried to slow the moments down, time just moved faster. In the end, I had about five minutes to say goodbye to Harry. He was going home to the house he shared with his friends on Queen Square, and Roger only ordered one taxi this time to take us back to Pulteney Street. I tried hard not to think about Harry on the way home, I felt miserable at the thought of not knowing if we’d ever meet again - I kept seeing his eyes and held the memory of the lingering withdrawal of his lips from mine, keeping it on repeat in my mind - I was very close to tears; he wasn’t going to be easily forgotten. I think even Ellen sensed my mood. She didn’t ask me anything or question me, and as the dark Bath streets rushed by in a blur caused by the tears I tried unsuccessfully to blink away, I knew exactly how much I was going to miss being there.

Kissing both Ellen and Roger at the foot of the stairs, I managed to thank them for a wonderful evening, and took the opportunity to tell them how much I’d enjoyed being with them in Bath, thanking them once more. We were all a little emotional, and there was nothing left but to say goodnight.

In my bedroom I undressed and hung up the ball gown, burying my face in the silk where the traces of Harry’s cologne still lingered. I caught a glimpse of my blushing cheeks in the mirror of my dressing table, and thought how the girl with shining eyes who looked back at me seemed to look like someone else. I touched my lips where Harry’s mouth had kissed mine so sweetly, and I knew there’d be little chance of settling down and falling asleep straight away. I wanted to re-live the ball all over again, and think about Harry, however hard that was going to be.

Jane’s journal was by my bedside; there wasn’t time to finish it now. I didn’t know what I ought to do about it - should I put it back where I’d discovered it? I was sure Jane hadn’t wanted it found or was I just reading too much into it? Most of all, I wanted to read it in its entirety. I decided to think about it in the morning, and couldn’t resist picking it up one more time.

Chapter Sixteen

Jane

Sevenoaks, Kent

August 1788

No sooner was it suggested than we were both sitting astride Allegro and sharing the reins. Out into the fields we rode, the sun beating down on our heads. Thomas held me tight with one arm, and shook the reins with the other. I felt secure; his arm felt strong, the muscles underneath his shirt taut as he held me close. I liked the clean smell of him, a mixture of hay and green grass, along with a hint of something else - sandalwood perhaps, in a splash of cologne or from a scented washball. Once across open grassland we galloped fast, and I felt the bonnet on my head fall, the ribbons threatening to come undone.

‘Leave it,’ he shouted, as I struggled to tie it up again. ‘If it falls off we’ll collect it on the way back.’

The ribbons came undone, and I felt the straw bonnet start to slide before being lifted into the air by a sudden gust. I saw it blown along by the breeze until it came to a stop by a grassy tuft. I tried not to think what Mama would say, though as I become bolder in my thoughts I couldn’t stop giggling. The sense of freedom was wonderful. On we sped, Allegro stepping neatly, flying through the air like a dancer, and when I glanced back, the house was a small pale box, insignificant and far away, dwarfed by indigo trees touched with gold.

We slowed down as we approached the woods, and after trotting through dense woodland where the scent of the dark earth was damp and fragrant, at last we saw the boundary wall.

‘It’s just a little further along,’ Thomas said, coming to a standstill. ‘Let us dismount; Allegro will be happy enough to graze on the grass, and take a drink from the pond. We’ll go on foot from here.’

Thomas secured Allegro to a tree, and we watched him drink greedily. We both made a fuss of him before we left to find our way through the ferns and bracken. Keeping close to the wall, we found the gate at last, and Thomas produced a great iron key from his bag. For the first time, I felt fearful.

‘I do not think we should unlock the gate, cousin,’ I said. ‘What if someone should see us … poachers are hanged for trespassing.’

‘Do not worry, Jane. There will be nobody at the house except Madame, and she will not be stirring from her rooms. Besides, when Mrs Edwards sees me, she will ask why we have not been to see her before. I promise you, I have friends here.’