Page 32 of Searching for Mr Tilney

‘I suppose it could be worse … at least she’ll have her independence. Perhaps it is better to be a mistress than it is to be a wife, after all.’

‘Jane, you shock me with such outrageous thinking, though I am sure you are probably right in many ways. Most women like her lose their place in society, and I daresay she’ll be no exception. She is tolerated to some extent now, but La Baccelli will no longer be feted or sought after once the duke moves on.’

‘It is intolerable to be a woman … life deals us such a poor hand. Oh, Thomas, how I wish I’d been born a man.’

‘I do not think you will always think that way. And there must be some benefits the fairer sex has over man.’

‘If there are, I cannot think of them precisely. I should like to earn my living - and there is hardly an occupation for a woman where that is at all possible.’

‘What would you do if you were free to do anything?’

Thomas was looking at me so seriously I knew he would listen and not make fun of me.

‘I should be a great writer. I would like to write novels, but it is not considered seemly for a lady to pen a book. I have written a few pieces for the amusement of my family, but I long to write a full length work.’

‘I think you capable of anything you would like to do,’ said Thomas. ‘Do not give up your dream, Jane. Perhaps by the time you are of an age, lady writers will be commonplace.’

Next to Henry and Cassy, Thomas is fast becoming my favourite person.

While we were sitting talking and finishing our picnic, it became clear whose eyes were busy watching us. Tentatively, at first, two or three fallow deer approached the water, and having decided we were not about to attack them they dipped their noble heads into the cool water to drink. The green canopy above our heads filtered out the strong sunshine, which fell in golden shafts, dotting the earth and dappling coins of light onto the spotted backs of the graceful creatures. Everywhere looked beautiful, and I’d have been happy to sit there all day, but Thomas said we should carry on. We stood up and stretched, shaking the crumbs from our clothes. I was conscious of the fact that my hair was untidy and wished I hadn’t left my bonnet behind.

The wood became denser as we walked, and large tracts of bracken made our progress slow. Everywhere was so quiet, apart from the birds singing up above, we could have been the only people left in the world, but then the silence was shattered by the snap of breaking twigs and the slapping sound of flattening vegetation. There, glimpsed through the trees was a white stag, a majestic creature standing proudly on a knoll in the distance, as if he was proclaiming his territory and warning us off. Even from far away he seemed to fix me with a large rolling eye, stamping his hooves and waving his head aloft, showing off the elegance of his great antlers.

‘Don’t be afraid, Jane,’ said Thomas, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the undergrowth. ‘He’s not really interested in harming us.’

We were waist high in bracken, but soon the great road leading to the house came into view, descending for a while before winding up between the trees. And there was the house ahead, much bigger than I’d imagined, like a medieval village, all grey towers and battlements, red-brown roofs and ancient chimney stacks. Thomas greeted the servant on guard at the gate like an old friend, and he led us across the courtyard to the Inner Wicket where we were told to wait in the stone courtyard.

Ten minutes went by and I was sure we’d been forgotten, and wondered if we were being watched from the latticed windows, dark like unseeing eyes. The clock on the tower above our heads counted the passing minutes, and then just as I was beginning to think we should turn and go, a diminutive figure came shuffling out from the door. The vast girdle of keys worn round her waist jangled noisily, as she walked, and when she saw Thomas, she held out her hand to greet him.

‘Master Thomas, it must be a whole year since I saw you last - my goodness, what a fine young man you’re turning out to be … how you’ve grown. Your grandfather tells me you are an excellent scholar - you make him very proud. And how is that brother of yours … is he as wild as ever?’

She clearly didn’t expect an answer because she turned to me in the next second, looking me over from top to bottom, and glanced back at Thomas with an inquiring expression.

‘And who is this young lady, Master Thomas? Your sweet’eart, pr’aps?’

Thomas took her remarks in his stride. ‘Mrs Edwards, how you love to tease me. No, this is my cousin Jane, a Miss Austen from Hampshire. She’s come to stay with my grandfather for a few weeks. She’s very interested in history and old houses, and one day might put Knole House into one of her books.’

‘Is the young lady a writer?’

‘Not yet, but I think it very likely you’ll be reading her tales before very long.’

‘Oh, I don’t have time for such leisure as sitting with a book, my dears, though I know Madame has taken to reading more lately, filling the empty days.’

‘Could we show Miss Austen over the house, Mrs Edwards?’ asked Thomas. ‘I know you’re kept very busy, but I promise we shall not be long.’

‘I’ve always time for you, Master Thomas, and your grandfather who is so very kind to me. Now, what is it to be first? Of course, Shelley’s Tower, as we call it, is out of bounds, since it’s occupied by the mistress and she is sitting for Mr Humphry just now, but I can show you the Great Hall and take you up the Great Staircase to see the ballroom and the picture gallery.’

‘Oh, that would be most kind, Mrs Edwards,’ I said, finding my voice at last.

We followed her through the door and turned into the Great Hall, dark with wooden panelling, and an oak screen where Mrs Edwards told us there was a musicians’ gallery in the upper part, where long ago the players made music for the stately Elizabethan dancers below. The first Earl of Dorset looked down on us from his portrait, resplendent in dark robes and staff, his long grey beard adding gravity to his sombre expression above the crisp ruff. As we turned through the Jacobean doorway, finding ourselves at the bottom of a great oak staircase, it struck me what a dramatic setting the house would make for a gothic tale. I couldn’t help picturing the victim of a heroine dressed in white on a moonlit night, held aloft by the hideously disfigured villain of the piece. Carrying her to a certain dreadful fate, I imagined a trail of blood dripping from a slit in her throat, leaving scarlet stains in the wooden steps, which no hand could ever erase.

‘Ah, there’s my mistress, and very like her,’ said the old housekeeper, her voice breaking with laughter, bringing me out of my reverie and making me jump. But, I was startled by more than the wizened housekeeper’s cackling laugh, and held my breath at the sight before us.

Lit by shafts of sunlight coming through the leaded windows, the life-size plaster figure of Madame Baccelli sprawled nakedly across rumpled sheets. Propped up on tasselled cushions, she was baring one plump breast, and showing her long legs, fleshy buttocks, and a half smile playing on her lips. I didn’t know where to look and felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, until I saw Thomas grin and wink at me, which made me feel just a little better. It was shocking to think she was the mistress of the house, displayed in such a fashion for all to see, and yet there was no shame or embarrassment in her pose or expression. Indeed, it was clear she was inordinately proud to be immortalised like a Roman goddess, and with her hair piled on top of her head, and a curl cascading down her back, she looked like a classical statue.

‘Madame’s very beautiful, is she not?’ said Mrs Edwards, ‘and the Duke of Dorset’s favourite, as she should be. It was his Grace’s dearest wish to see her sculpted in her prime … a very special commission. She’s never been ashamed of her ripe, young figure, and is proud to show off what’s brought her good fortune.’

Thomas’s eyes locked with mine, and it was all I could do not to fall into a fit of giggles as he smirked, and it took a moment before I could compose myself. Though despite being amused, I felt very shocked at what I’d seen and heard, and as we followed the housekeeper up the ancient staircase, and into the ballroom, I could not get the image out of my head.