Searching For Captain Wentworth (35 page)

I could see
Rebecca was about to quiz me again, so I quickly
said farewell, pocketing the glove before hurrying
away through
the hallway and
out into the brightness of a sunny day, knowing
that I’d left behind me one very puzzled and
stunned housemaid.

The carriage was
waiting outside. Emma’s head was poking
through the window and she looked very cross.

‘Come along,
Sophia!’ she cried impatiently. ‘I cannot wait a
moment longer to be gone from Bath!’

With the best
will in the world I couldn’t mirror her
enthusiasm and even though I’d scarcely begun to
take in the fact
that I was back
in the world I so longed to be, the memory of my
last meeting with Charles came back with a
freshness that reminded
me that
in this time it had only been the afternoon before that we’d
parted, perhaps for the last time. Knowing there
could be no future
with him, I was glad
to be leaving Bath, but even as I settled into
the carriage, all sense of the modern world
disappeared. I was here,
it was
now and I found myself looking toward number four hoping
for any glimpse of the occupants within, even
though Mrs
Randall’s figure
half obscured the view. When I saw that she was
watching me, I promptly turned my head to look out
through the
opposite side.

I heard the
sound of a door opening nearby, accompanied by
voices and cries of farewell. It took all my
resolve not to turn my
head
because Emma was scrutinizing me now.

‘Oh, look,’ she
said, ‘it’s that sailor you’re always talking to
and he seems to be in something of a hurry.’

All eyes,
including Mr Elliot’s, swivelled to watch his
progress. Charles Austen was walking quickly and
without looking
either to left
or right everyone watched him disappear round the
corner into Pulteney Street. I thought my heart
would burst. He
must have seen
the coach, I thought, yet he’d made no attempt to
look at us or raise his hat. It should have been
obvious to the whole
row of
houses that the Elliots were leaving Bath with the bustle of
servants, grooms and ostlers, and a dray full of
baggage and
bandboxes. He
knew we were leaving but he’d made no attempt to
say goodbye. I couldn’t help but wonder if
something dreadful had
happened
at the gala evening I’d missed. After all, he’d made no
acknowledgement or made any attempt to catch my
eye. And yet, I
understood that
if the situation had been reversed, under the
scrutiny of my formidable family, I most likely
would have
behaved in
exactly the same way.

The coachman
shouted, the carriage lurched forward and we
were off. It was difficult trying to remain calm as
we turned the
corner and not
appear as if I scanned every figure and face in sight,
but there were so many people walking and so many
carriages, I
couldn’t see
Charles anywhere. We halted at the bridge to wait for
a gap in the large volume of carriages crossing and
it was then that
I heard him. He
was hidden from view, but I knew Charles’s voice
so well. I snatched a word or two, nothing clear,
he was talking to
the coachman.
And then I saw him. Charles drew back into the
shadow of a shop doorway, his eyes like a beam of
torchlight
sought mine. He
touched his hat and there was no need for a sign,
a sound or a gesture. I could only smile and return
his penetrating
gaze until he
disappeared once more as the carriage moved.

‘Pray, Sophia,
what has been fixing your eye for so long?’
enquired Emma whose expression was so cognizant,
that I could
only hope she
would spare my blushes.

I started with
embarrassment because she quite clearly had
been watching me. ‘I was looking at a hat in the
milliner’s
window,’ I
replied, knowing this was not so very far from the truth.

‘Ah yes, a navy
bicorne, no doubt,’ she quipped. ‘I declare
nothing ever caught your attention quite like a
sailor’s hat.’

So she had seen
and even though Charles could not possibly
be wearing any part of his uniform being off duty,
Emma wanted to
make it known
that she had observed him. I’d never met another
person so cruel. Ignoring her staring eyes and her
mouth pursed in
amusement, I
comforted myself with the image of Charles’s face
etched in my mind, his warm smile and kind eyes.

It wasn’t until
we were out of Bath and on the open road that
I really thought about my flash through time once
more. Clearly the
glove had no
special significance for Josh or it would never have
been forgotten under the bed like that and I
couldn’t help thinking
I’d have
to be a bit more careful with this one for fear of being
stuck here forever. My thoughts turned to the
portrait of Charles
and I wondered
whether it was still in the rosewood box in my own
time. But, recalling that in 1802 it had been left
behind, I knew that
Sophia would be
carrying it with her if she could. Any
investigation, however, would have to be postponed until it was
safe to do so.

I was feeling
drowsy, the combination of the moving coach
and the chatter of my companions gradually lulling
me into a state
where my mind
left my body behind. I fell in and out of dreams, so
for a while I didn’t know quite what was real and
what was not. Mr
Elliot talked of
his pleasure at being in William Glanville’s
company again as Mrs Randall listened patiently.
Emma talked
incessantly
about how soon she could have new gowns fitted,
relating a hundred different compliments made on
her appearance
by Mr Glanville
in quick succession. Soon, even her conversation
began to flag as the rhythm of horses’ hooves and
the sway of the
coach lulled all
but myself into permanent slumber. When I was
satisfied that my fellow travellers had all nodded
off, I reached for
my reticule, a
work-bag large enough to contain all manner of
treasures from combs, hairpins and a tiny jewellery
box to a small
crystal bottle
of lavender water and the precious pocketbook that I
felt could no longer be completed. Apart from
discerning these very
necessary
items from their shape as I rummaged through the bag, I
could hear the crackle of paper and feel the edge
of something hard
through the
fabric. A surreptitious look inside revealed that the
miniature was safe inside amongst my possessions. I
couldn’t wait
to see it again,
but dared not fetch it out.

The journey that
would have taken an hour by car took four in
the carriage with stops for the horses and for food
at an inn along
the way. A meal
of roast beef and accompaniments was attacked
enthusiastically by everyone and once finished, I
couldn’t resist the
temptation to
stretch my legs and look round. The inn was a busy
place and more than once, I felt in the way as
porters and servants
hurried
down the passages with trays of food and drink or with vast
trunks and boxes on their shoulders. Stepping
outside, the
landscape rolled
in front of me like a vast green carpet, as far as I
could see, punctuated with trees and hedgerows, the
prettiness of
wildflowers and
white may. Everywhere we’d passed appeared so
much more remote and rural than the England I knew
and it seemed
as if time had
slowed down in more ways than one.

I was standing watching
the coaches arriving and departing
along with the bustle of travellers in a hurry, as you might see in
any age, when the groom approached me, a small
package in his
hand.

‘Begging your
pardon, Miss Elliot,’he said, ‘the coachman
asked me to give you this parcel. It was a
gentleman’s request at
Pulteney
Bridge that you should have it.’

I muttered my
thanks, but the groom still hovered. ‘It was
Lieutenant Austen, Miss, from next door at Sydney
Place.’

He handed over
the small paper package and was about to
move off again, but changed his mind. ‘I don’t mean
to talk out of
turn, Miss
Elliot, but he’s what I call a real gentleman with a
friendly way and he’s always so kind to the
horses.’

I was glad to
hear someone talking about Charles, to hear him
share the same high opinion. ‘Lieutenant Austen is
an extraordinary
gentleman,’ I
replied. ‘He is always kind to everyone.’

‘He is indeed,
Miss, and ever so entertainin’ too! Always full
of tales to make you smile, and he never passes by
without
stopping. He
told me about the horse he looked after as a boy, and
about his brother’s pony that was named ‘Squirrel’.
That made me
laugh, Miss
Elliot. You would be diverted to hear him relate the
story, I’m sure.’

He grinned,
bowed and left me feeling both amused and
intrigued. In a very roundabout way, I think the
groom was trying
to tell me that
the coachman had thought it would not be improper
for me to receive any item from Charles. And it was
typical, I felt,
of my friend to
be so warm to the men who looked after the horses,
the epitome of the perfect gentleman who felt as
much at ease with
a servant as
with the prince I remembered him telling me that he’d
accompanied across the ocean.

I tore a small
hole in the fine striped paper to reveal a jewel of
a summer nosegay. The fragrance of plump, ruby red
rosebuds tied
into a circle
set against dark, green leaves with a flourish of cream
lace lifted my spirits and senses as no other gift
could ever have
done. I buried
my nose within the bouquet savouring its perfume
and the touch of velvet petals against my skin.
That Charles had
arranged such a
treat touched me to my heart. Even at this distance
I felt closer to him than at any time before. But
there was precious
little time for
admiration. The groom appeared to announce that we
were leaving, so stowing it away in my workbag that
now felt
stuffed with
forbidden objects of desire, I hurried back to find my
fellow travellers.

Once more, I sat
next to Mrs Randall who dozed and chatted
alternately. ‘Marianne should be home from school,’
she said, as we
passed a
signpost for Crewkerne. ‘I do hope her sore throat is
improved. Well, she’s been in good hands with Mrs
Dilly to nurse
her. We’ll
hardly know her, I’m sure, she’s turning into such a
young lady.’

As we passed by
the market square I wondered about the sister
I’d never met. Surely she couldn’t be as spiteful
as Emma, I
thought.

The town was
busy, somewhere not far away the church bells
tolled the hour of four. Further out on the western
side, the weaving
factories
followed the course of the river Parrett and here we were
slowed down by large wagons bearing enormous bolts
of cloth.

‘I daresay all
this sailcloth is bound for the shipyards, though
how many more new sails our ships will require
during this time of
Peace, I cannot
wonder,’ observed Mr Elliot, the wagon lumbering
slowly before us.

I thought of
Charles bound ashore in Bath and selfishly prayed
that he would continue to be held captive on land.
But knowing his
ambition, I knew
that his own feelings would not be the same. He
was probably already wishing that war would flare
again so that he
could serve
aboard his ship. What was he doing now, I wondered?

Perhaps he and
Jane were strolling round Sydney Gardens or
sampling sweetmeats in Molland’s coffee house. I
could picture
them in my
mind’s eye and as I stared out of the window not
knowing where I was headed, I longed for the
familiarity of their
friendly
faces and their warmth. I hoped Jane was happy. I’d never
had a chance to really talk to her, not that she
would necessarily
have told me
about the young man I had seen her with that day.