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“Oh!” escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“Is it not divine?” breathed Mrs Gardiner. “He has decorated it in the style of the Empress Josephine.”

Their eyes were immediately drawn to an empire bed draped in blue silk, set against a huge mirror on the wall. Gilded furniture upholstered in the same silk was disposed about the room. In the middle of a large Aubusson carpet, a rosewood table with brass mounts bore a Wedgwood jasperware vase with classical motifs, filled with white roses.

Jane wandered transfixed into the centre of the room to smell the flowers.

“Oh, my dear!” said Mrs Gardiner, turning to view the fine furniture and belatedly realising the significance of the colour scheme. “He must love you very much!”

Jane could only shake her head mutely in return, for there was something stuck in her throat. She knew it was true and felt sorry for Mr Thorne, for she could in no way return his ardour. But she esteemed him and knew that her aunt and uncle’s faith in the match was probably justified, for Mr Thorne had been nothing but kind to her. Wandering over to the window as she sought to control a rising tide of panic, Jane fought to regain her composure.

Committing to Mr Thorne had seemed the sensible thing to do in London, but now that she felt the trap closing around her, she wished to fly. She told herself not to be silly. Mr Thorne was a handsome, successful man who was becoming more gentlemanly by the day; he had a nice house and he loved her. He was just not Mr Bingley. Taking deep breaths as she inhaled the lavender scent from her handkerchief, Jane managed to regain her composure and feigned a yawn. Patting her shoulder, Mrs Gardiner encouraged her niece to return to the Gardiners’ room so that they might hang their dresses in the closet before they lay down.

When the men returned shortly before dinner, the well-rested ladies had toured some key parts of the house under the auspices of Mr Thorne’s housekeeper, Mrs Bellamy, who was also his cook. Answering the ladies’ summons, she had assured them all was in train for dinner in the kitchens and she could spare half an hour to show them around. They had walked about the lovely back garden, obviously the source of the roses. Mrs Bellamy said the rose garden had reconciled Mrs Thorne to living on the hill and had become her great passion. Jane and Mrs Gardiner also discovered the house had a ballroom, which had only been used twice when Mrs Thorne was alive, to celebrate major contracts the master had landed. Afterwards they had retired to dress for dinner. Jane had donned a new gown of olive-green silk—not a colour she would have chosen herself.

“Oh, my dear, that is lovely!” said Mrs Gardiner. “The colour seems to intensify the blue of your eyes.”

“Yes, Lizzy noticed that when I tried it against me. It was Princess Brunhilda’s suggestion.”

Mr Thorne was waiting in the parlour when the Gardiners descended. When he came forward to kiss Jane’s hand, he uncharacteristically stopped mid-sentence upon noticing her eyes as he stood up. Mrs Gardiner admirably filled the pause with praise of the rose garden.

“Yes, Mother loved her roses,” said Mr Thorne, recovering himself.

“It reminds me a little of the garden at Longbourn,” added Jane. “It was more a cottage garden, but my sister Elizabeth and I liked nothing more than to spend an hour in the sun clipping lavender. I even distilled some of the fragrances of the flowers.”

Mr Thorne’s dark eyes seem to sparkle as they dwelt on Jane. “Then I must show you my mother’s stillroom tomorrow,” he said softly.

Dinner was plain but good fare—roast beef and vegetables with a scallop soup on the side, and for dessert an apple pie—all served on the beautiful fine china. Mr Thorne was uncharacteristically quiet and often found himself staring at Jane, as if he could not quite believe that she was sitting there in his house. Prior to dinner, Mrs Gardiner had reminded Jane to occasionally smile at Mr Thorne. But this only seemed to make him worse. By the end of the meal the poor lady was wishing she had kept her counsel. The Gardiners carried on the bulk of the conversation, with both Jane and Mr Thorne only adding their mite occasionally. After the Gardiners retired to their bed, Edward joked to his wife there was nothing more boring than lovers. She assented as she finished tying her cap, gave his arm a squeeze and settled down beside him as he blew out the last candle.

On the second day, Mr Thorne delayed his usual departure from the house so the ladies could accompany him and Mr Gardiner. He planned to show the ladies his business on the docks, following which he suggested they might like to see the Corn Exchange and do some shopping. Mr Thorne’s carriage was ordered for ten. After Mr Thorne had taken the the ladies through Mrs Thorne’s stillroom, which Mrs Bellamy did not frequent, they set off in bright sunshine down the hill. The new warehouse Mr Thorne had built near the floating harbour was impressive, much larger than Mr Gardiner’s establishment in Southwark. Mr Gardiner soon resumed his supervision of the installation of the winch, leaving Mr Thorne to escort the ladies back to his carriage.

Mrs Gardiner and Jane went off to the Exchange with two footmen—Mick and another man of Mr Thorne’s—bearing Mr Thorne’s card as a talisman. When Mr Thorne’s man presented the card at the Exchange, the beadle came out to the carriage to hand the ladies out and give them a short tour, which finished at the famous nails, where deals were struck. He handed them several cards of merchants worthy of their notice before bidding them farewell. The ladies then set off to explore the merchandise of Bristol, which was generally more exotic than the goods from the Continent that abounded in London. In addition to the Indian spices and silk that Mr Gardiner traded in, goods from the Americas predominated. Of course, as the wife of a trader, Mrs Gardiner had no need to purchase something for twice the price she could obtain it from her husband, but she and Jane made several small purchases for the sake of goodwill, which the footmen dutifully ferried to the carriage which kept pace with their meanderings. Their reception at every store was so friendly, they initially concluded the Bristoleans where far more affable than their London counterparts, until one of the shopkeepers was so bold as to ask their relationship to Mr Thorne and they realised their host’s carriage had been recognised. A subsequent study of the treatment of other customers soon enlightened them that despite his absence, the mantle of Mr Thorne’s patronage hung about them.

As the Exchange clock struck two, they made their way to the coffee room of the inn that Mr Thorne had recommended. When the two men arrived five minutes after the designated time, Mrs Gardiner whispered to Jane that Mr Thorne had done very well to part Mr Gardiner from his winch pretty much on time. Edward could generally be relied upon to be at least half an hour late when mechanical devices were involved. After a late lunch, Mr Thorne showed his visitors his office and counting house which was set up in his former residence near the Exchange, pointing out a few more of the city sights as they walked there. Offering Jane his arm as they set off from the inn, they made slow progress. Mr Thorne was unable to walk more than ten feet without being hailed by some gentleman or group of ladies who wished to greet him. Almost without exception, these chance met acquaintances flicked a curious glance at the Gardiners and particularly Jane, leading Mr Thorne to introduce them as ‘my colleague, Edward Gardiner and his family’. Finally, Mr Gardiner made a joke of his impatience to be back at his winch and Mr Thorne reluctantly agreed to return to the docks. After helping the ladies into the carriage for their return to Clifton, the gentlemen departed on foot.

The ladies lay down again in the afternoon prior to dressing for what would be their last dinner with Mr Thorne before returning to London. This was not much of a rest for Jane whose mind was in turmoil. But she lay very still so as not to disturb her aunt and thus subject herself to questioning on her state of mind. Jane dressed for dinner in a pale pink silk. It did not become her as well as the blue gown she had worn to the Clarendon or her trusty gold silk, much used in Hertfordshire, but Mr Thorne had seen her in both of these, and she did not wish to appear like a pauper in his eyes. Lizzy’s marriage had certainly increased the number of gowns Jane possessed if not her suitors. After Mrs Gardiner finished arranging Jane’s hair, she went off to do her own. The maid that Mr Thorne had sent to wait on them helped Jane with her jewellery and shoes. When Jane heard her uncle come into the room next door to change before dinner, she dismissed the maid and walked to the window to view the rose garden, still illumined by the setting sun. Not long after, there was a knock on the door and Mrs Gardiner stole back into the room. Her aunt’s confidential manner immediately set Jane on alert.

“My dear, Mr Thorne has asked Mr Gardiner whether it would be prudent to speak to you tonight.”

“Oh, Aunt!” said Jane, suddenly feeling weak at the knees.

“Come, Jane. I think it is time to give the poor man an answer. He has already devoted six months of his life to you. Let him come to the point. If you cannot say yes, let him redirect his attentions to some other lady.”

“Please, Aunt! I want my uncle’s business to go well with Mr Thorne, but I had always hoped to marry for love.”

“Do not think of your uncle, Jane. Mr Thorne has already decided to go forward with the partnership regardless of your answer. If it must be no, he has told your uncle he will not come to the house in Cheapside any longer but maintain a strictly business relationship. But it is not polite for a lady to keep a gentleman languishing at her feet. You must come to a decision, one way or another. Remember, you are most welcome to continue staying with us in Gracechurch Street. You do not even have to marry at all if you do not wish it.”

Jane was unable to form a reply but nodded. Knowing she had not taken at the Ton balls, it seemed her choice was between Mr Thorne and spinsterhood.

Mrs Gardiner returned briefly to her husband and after he had dressed, Mr Gardiner went down to dinner ahead of them. On coming into the dining parlour, Jane saw with astonishment that Mr Thorne was wearing a brown coat with biscuit-coloured pantaloons and a cream waistcoat. She realised he looked decidedly better in black.

Dinner was in much the same style as the night before, with a baked sole and rabbit pie forming the main dishes. After they had eaten their fill, Mr Thorne suggested they walk out before dessert, as it was such a beautiful moonlit night. The moon had played a large part in his choice of the date for the Gardiners’ invitation to Bristol. It was close to a full moon and Mr Thorne had prayed very hard for fair weather. After the ladies changed into some more practical walking boots and put on their gloves, they set off across the square. They soon found themselves on a path above the river, which appeared like a silver ribbon below them. Mr Thorne offered Jane his arm when the path degraded to little better than a cow track. Mr and Mrs Gardiner slowed and dropped back to follow at a distance.

“Miss Bennet,” Mr Thorne began, finding the tips of Jane’s gloved fingers with his free hand and capturing her palm, “there is a question I’ve been wanting to ask you for some time. Please know that from the first moment I saw you, I felt very strongly towards you. These feelings have only grown as I got to know you better. I realise that you have suffered a disappointment. I hope that I am not premature in speaking now, but please know that if there is any hope, I am willing to wait for as long as you need.”

This speech, which was intended to set Jane at her ease, made her feel as if someone had plunged a knife into her heart and twisted it about. Although Mr Bingley’s name was unspoken, he loomed like a spectre in the night air. They walked on in silence for a while until Jane was able to find her voice.

“Falling in love is so easy,” she faltered, “like falling off this cliff. But retrieving your heart afterwards is not. It is so difficult to climb back up again. As much as you try, you do not seem to make much progress. Sometimes you feel like letting go and tumbling to the bottom again in your despair. I am not back at the top, Mr Thorne. I am not a strong person like my sister. And I do not know if I will ever retrieve my heart.”