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“Why, yes! Do you know of it? Jane got in a terrible snit with me for forgetting it a second time. Though why she should when I’m loaning her my textbooks out of the goodness of my heart, I do not know! Now she stands me up! Lord! I suppose I will go off to the coffee house! Barney should be there. ‘Though he will laugh at me for turning up with a plaguey Latin primer!”

“I will gladly take it off your hands, sir,” offered Jane meekly, “and leave it in the school room for Miss Fairfax’s return.”

“Will you? Well, that’s jolly good of you, Miss Jane!”

And so saying, he handed over the primer, which Jane gladly accepted, stacking it under her psalter. She had no sooner done so than they encountered Mr Gardiner’s footman, Mick, as he dodged a group of parishioners heading for the church.

“Miss Bennet!” said the footman with a quick bow. “Excuse me for being late—a cart had overturned, and I was obliged to walk a considerable distance out of my way to avoid the crowd.”

Then, upon observing her companion and Jane’s high colour, he said more sternly: “This fellow isn’t bothering you, is he?”

“No, he is not, my good man,” replied Frank, rather haughtily. “I am a friend of the Garths’ and merely offered my escort to your mistress because she was unaccompanied.”

Having thus neatly shifted the onus of guilt onto his accuser, Mr Churchill gave a courtly bow, essayed a dignified, “Good day, ma’am” and, with a tip of his hat, was off.

Jane might have felt it necessary to reassure Mick that Mr Churchill had not been annoying her, but at that moment the church bells stopped ringing. They were obliged to hurry into the church with the tail-end of the other tardy churchgoers. Leaving Mick in the narthex, Jane quickly made her way along the enormous nave to the pews that the Gardiners frequented. She spotted them with the help of a quick wave from her aunt.

She was unable to do more than shoot an apologetic glance at the Gardiners before the blaring chords from the organ urged them to all stand for the first hymn.

Having accompanied the Gardiners to St Paul’s several times, Jane was accustomed to the grandeur of the service compared to that given at Longbourn. She listened to the sermon dutifully, stood to sing the hymns on cue and partook of communion, but for the first time she became more aware of the other worshippers.

Her distraction had begun during the first hymn when she noticed the Garths sitting in a pew in front of her. During the previous services she had attended at St Paul’s, Jane had imagined the well-dressed ladies and gentlemen sitting around her to be the cream of London society. Now, having met Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, she detected a difference. She had thought Mr Darcy’s mode of dress in Hertfordshire very fine but rather austere. Charles... but no, she must not call him that anymore... Mr Bingley had admired Mr Darcy greatly for it and revealed that his own style was largely copied from his friend’s. She could see now that most of the ladies around her were dressed like the Bingley sisters, decked out with frills and furbelows, while the men adopted fancy waistcoats, which no doubt, were the male equivalent. Jane could just imagine her mother deeming them very fine in a whisper that would have echoed around the gallery. In short, Jane realized she was surrounded by Cits and well-off tradesmen and their wives.

A lump formed in her throat as she contemplated just how much she had admired Mr Bingley’s sartorial restraint compared to his sisters’ mode of dress. She was unable to sing for a moment, mouthing the words silently instead. Jane focused her attention on the hymnal, trying to erase these more worldly thoughts, but it was difficult, being surrounded by such an excess of fashion.

After the service, Jane greeted her aunt and uncle properly. She apologised for her tardiness, explaining Mick’s problem with the traffic without revealing that she had set off from the Garths’ residence without him. She would have to find a quiet moment to let the footman know of her deceit, assured that his own part in this departure from good practice would earn his silence.

They walked a short distance to the Gardiners’ waiting carriage to avoid the queue of vehicles at the church steps. They were soon on their way to Gracechurch Street. The trip passed in exchanging news of Jane’s first week with the Garths and of how her sisters and mother had fared at Longbourn in Jane’s absence. Mrs Gardiner was relieved to see that her niece had borne up under the dual stresses of her displacement and new duties so well. Naturally, Jane spoke nothing of the depression associated with her loss of liberty and the fears that something was not quite right at the Garths’.

After their arrival at Gracechurch Street, the family took morning tea in the parlour as was their custom, with the three small Gardiners hovering around Jane like bees about a flower, each wanting to show their favourite aunt a toy or other childish artefact they had acquired since last seeing her. In the case of Timmy, this was a half-eaten gingerbread man.

Within this atmosphere of domestic felicity, Mr Gardiner gave a significant glance to his wife before casually announcing: “We are having a business associate to lunch today, Jane. Mr Benjamin Thorne is an important shipping merchant from Bristol.”

“Very well, Uncle,” Jane replied, used to dining occasionally with her uncle’s associates. “Does he come with his family?”

“Ah, no,” replied Mr Gardiner smoothly. “Mr Thorne isn’t married. He tells anyone who asks him that he is married to his business. But having beaten the majority of the other Bristol merchants to flinders, I have heard he is now thinking of settling down.”

“Oh, that is nice,” replied Jane offhandedly as she took a wooden pony for a trot along the arm of her fauteuil, much to its owner’s delight.

The full implication of her uncle’s statement became apparent sometime after their guest arrived. During introductions in the parlour, Jane was much struck by Mr Thorne, who was tall, dressed entirely in black, and sported enormous muttonchop sideburns. For Jane, his height, dark hair and grim demeanour immediately drew comparisons to Mr Darcy and Mr Garth, but he was not as handsome as either of these gentlemen, having rough, tanned skin and deeply etched lines running from his nostrils to his chin, bracketing his wide mouth. He looked less gentlemanly and much older than her uncle, about as old as a man could be without showing any signs of decrepitude. But there was nothing decrepit about Mr Thorne, who was hale and strong and fierce. It occurred to Jane that were it not for his gentlemanly garb, he would have made an excellent pirate, straight from Mr Dafoe’s book. She blushed when this thought entered her head, immediately recognising it as more appropriate for someone of Felix’s tender years. Perhaps her charges were influencing her thinking? During the ensuing conversation, Mr Thorne’s dark eyes regarded Jane so directly that she cast her eyes down, thinking her own observations must have been detected and deemed impertinent.

When the children were taken off by Nurse to have lunch separately, Jane realised this was no ordinary Sunday meal. Arriving in the dining room, she discovered the leaves had been taken out of the dining table to return it to its round form. She found herself sitting down to an intimate feast with her aunt and uncle and this stranger. Jane knew what the Gardiners typically ate for Sunday lunch and appreciated that all stops had been pulled out for the mysterious Mr Thorne. Given that Mrs Gardiner had only arrived back from Hertfordshire yesterday afternoon, it was clear that her aunt had apprised Cook days in advance. Roast beef with all the trimmings, leek soup, and a turbot graced the table, far more than the four of them could eat, though Mr Thorne proceeded to do justice to the repast. It was a board that equalled anything that Mrs Bennet had set out in her more competitive efforts.

The conversation started on business and politics as it related to business, to which Mrs Gardiner made intelligent comments while Jane politely sipped her soup. Then, just as she was about to help herself to the potatoes, Jane suddenly found herself the topic of discussion. Mr Thorne had complimented the embroidered tablecloth. With a sapient smile, Mrs Gardiner explained that it was Jane’s work, that she had also embroidered an elaborate altar cloth for the church at Longbourn and won several prizes at the Meryton Fair for her needlework. Jane’s suspicions were raised as Mr Thorne directed an appraising glance towards her. She felt a chill creep down her arms making the fine blonde hairs on them stand on end.

When the dessert arrived, there could be no doubt. Jane had never seen such an elaborate jelly, and when Cook brought the dish to the table herself, looking as pleased as punch, it was clear that Mr Thorne was no ordinary guest. After dessert, the ladies withdrew to the parlour, and Jane proceeded to question her aunt.

“When Uncle said that Mr Thorne was thinking of settling down, what exactly did he mean, Aunt?”

“Mr Thorne’s household was run by his mother, who died over a year ago. I believe they were very close.”

“You are skirting my question, Aunt. Does my uncle have any hopes in that direction on my part?”

“Jane, you could remain a governess forever or you could have a much easier life and do your family a favour by marrying well. There are not many single men of Mr Thorne’s wealth around.”

“Aunt! He is so old!” said Jane, collapsing into a chair, “and formidable!”

“Jane! That is unworthy of you!” whispered her aunt. “Pull yourself together! They will be with us soon. You need to choose some music.”