Page 44 of Searching for Mr Tilney

I nodded coyly, and quickly added, ‘His sister is lovely too, and we’ll have so much to catch up on.’

‘Well, you take every possible chance you can to have a wonderful time and enjoy yourself,’ said my mother, wiping her mouth on a napkin. She looked at me, her head on one side. ‘I remember being your age as if it were yesterday. You know love is the only thing that matters in this world, Caroline. I hope you’ll find that out for yourself one day. I was lucky enough to marry a man who realised the importance of love, and I hope you’ll find someone who loves you as much as he loved me.’

I wanted to ask Mum more about how they’d met, and how they’d overcome and resolved the family disapproval, but I could just tell the time wasn’t right. I knew she still found it hard to look back on past times, even if she could talk about the things we used to do together as a family. It would have to wait for another day.

‘I only wish you could stay in Bath longer, especially when you’ve still got another week before you have to go back to art school.’

‘You’ve been so generous giving me some money to go with, I couldn’t ask for more. A fortnight will be just perfect, and I’ll have a chance to do some more work when I come home.’

In the afternoon I packed my case ready for the journey next day. Ellen and Roger were picking me up in the morning, and as I selected some clothes more suitable for the finer weather, I couldn’t help feeling excited. I had wondered if Harry might write to me, but he’d only written back to Piers telling him he would make contact with me in Bath, and sent a message to say that he and Elsa were really looking forward to seeing me. Even so, I knew that in less than twenty-four hours I’d be in Bath again, and seeing my friends. I picked up my precious jewellery box containing the locket, and my eyes fell on the writing box. I hadn’t wanted to read Jane’s journal. I’d picked it up once, but the memories of all that had happened were so tied up with everything to do with meeting Harry I just hadn’t been able to face it. However, it seemed in the space of a few days all that had changed. Taking Jane’s journal from inside, I knew I could not leave it behind and tucked it carefully inside my case.

Chapter Twenty Two

Caroline,

Bath, Somerset

April 1976

Spring has arrived in Bath with carpets of bluebells in the park and buds bursting into blossom on the cherry trees. I feel as excited as the chirping birds outside my window. I can’t describe how wonderful it feels to be back in a house that feels like our very own. The smell of beeswax polish, the lingering scent of faded roses and wood smoke is just as wonderful, and my bedroom quite as lovely as I remember it.

Mrs Partridge was here when we arrived and greeted us like old friends before sitting us down to feast on cold salmon and new potatoes. Just after lunch the phone rang, and Mrs Partridge popped her head round the door to say it was Harry on the line.

‘I hope you don’t mind, dear,’ said Ellen, as I stood nervously to my feet, ‘but I made sure Piers gave him the house number in his letter.’

I skipped round the table at that, and planted a kiss on her cheek before I dashed into the hall, and stood staring for what felt like a very long time, telephone receiver in hand. I put it to my ear, and said hello, though it came out all wrong - sounding very high-pitched and strained.

‘Is that you, Caroline?’ Harry said, and his voice was so good to hear it made me tremble. My hands were shaking so much that the telephone wire was tapping along the top of the demi-lune table.

‘Yes, it’s me,’ I managed to say in a lower register, hoping I sounded somewhere nearer normality, even if I was quaking.

‘It’s so good to hear your voice,’ he said, and I couldn’t stand up any longer, plumping down on the chair put there on purpose for talking. ‘I’m free this afternoon, and wondering if you’d like to meet.’

‘Yes, I’d like that,’ I answered, thinking he must be wondering why he was so keen to meet a girl who couldn’t string a whole sentence together.

‘It’s such a lovely day - I thought we could go for a walk to Prior Park - if you’re feeling fit enough, though it’s a bit of an uphill climb. One of my old school teachers from Cheltenham is the headmaster up at the school there. I’ve visited him several times lately, and when I told him about you he said I should be sure to show you round sometime. We’ll have the place to ourselves, as they’ll all be on holiday for another week or two yet. The views are worth it when you get there, and there’s a most amazing Palladian bridge. I know you’ll love it.’

Harry was talking non-stop, but it made me feel that perhaps I wasn’t the only one who was feeling nervous.

‘It sounds perfect - I can’t wait to see it - where shall we meet?’

Meet me on Pulteney Bridge, by the steps that go down to the river … is twenty minutes too soon?’

I laughed. ‘No, Harry, I’ll be there.’

‘I’m so looking forward to seeing you,’ he said, and then the phone clicked, and he was gone.

I rushed upstairs to check my appearance in the long mirror in my bedroom, and sprayed fragrance on my wrists and ears. It was unusually warm, and I didn’t think I’d need more than a cardigan if the weather turned cool.

Ellen and Roger waved me off at the door and I set off down Pulteney Street, feeling so happy that everything in the world seemed particularly sharp and bright, as if I’d never noticed before how the sky was the exact blue as forget-me-nots or how the silver birch trees had branches like the delicate arms of graceful dancers, their leaves turning silver, rippling in a port de bras over Laura Place. Before I got to the bridge I saw him, and it was all I could do to stop myself running the rest of the way. Just the sight of him made my legs shake, as if the bones had melted away, and I wondered if I looked as I felt, as if I were wobbling on marshmallow legs.

I’m sure there were other people near the bridge - I remember someone pushing past quite rudely, saying ‘Excuse me,’ in a very pronounced way, because the pavement isn’t very wide just there when there are crowds of people trying to get down to the river, but what I most remember is seeing Harry in all his beauty, and those periwinkle eyes holding mine in his intense gaze. He didn’t throw his arms round me or anything like that - it was all very restrained, as if he was a character from one of Jane Austen’s novels. And I knew he really was Mr Tilney in that moment - the Mr Tilney I’d been searching for all my life, though I doubted I was his Catherine, even if I knew he liked me enough to want to see me.

‘I thought we’d walk along the river,’ he said, ‘and go up to Prior Park via Lyncombe Hill. There’s a pretty walk Jane Austen did once that she mentioned in one of her letters. I’ve been that way a couple of times, I think you’ll like it.’

‘Oh, yes, I’d love to walk in her footsteps,’ I said. ‘I’m ashamed to say I haven’t really read her letters.’

As I said it, I thought how incongruous that seemed now. I felt very familiar with some parts of Jane’s life, and I thought about the journal and the experiences I’d had last time I was in Bath.