***
The afternoon before we were due to leave, I was packed and all ready to go. I had received a letter from Max yesterday morning, and what he had written was so funny and endearing and full of expectation at seeing me again that I could hardly sit still. I wished to be in a carriage and heading towards Derbyshire this instant!
To that effect, I was not breaking my journey in Steventon but catching a public stagecoach north without delay. However, a short letter from Harriet had arrived in the afternoon. She said she had arrived at Ashbury, apologised profusely for the lateness of her reply and gracious was something happening with Papa and Aunt! She would keep her eyes peeled!
It had been so long ago that I had written to her about Papa and Aunt, and so much else had happened meanwhile, that my concerns about them now seemed laughable. Why should they not be together if they wished? Life was too short not to be with the person you loved and they had both been widowed at a young age.
Harriet finished her letter saying she was very much looking forward to seeing me, and as I had a strong desire to see her too, it could not be helped; my reunion with my husband would have to be delayed.
So I had spent this morning writing to Max, informing him that I would be travelling to Steventon with Jane and then staying at Ashbury for two weeks and how torn I was at wanting to see Harriet but also yearning to see him too. But once that was done, there was nothing else to do but sit in the drawing room with Jane and Lucinda and feel a bit bored and sorry for myself.
Elizabeth and Edward had gone to the pump room after lunch, but I had declined Edward’s invitation to accompany them. Elizabeth had given me a knowing look and whispered, ‘I shall report back if I see or hear anything.’
I was reduced to plucking lint from the cushion buttons while the other two read when Mrs Bromley entered the room and announced that a Mr Hart was at the door and wished to call on us.
Lucinda’s head whipped up from her book at his name, and she seemed to shrink into herself. A slow horror crept over me, and I was instantly back in the dungeon, hearing his voice sing-songing down the stairs. ‘Oh, Felicityyyy ...’
Jane, seeing that Lucinda and I looked on the verge of fainting, spoke firmly to the housekeeper. ‘We do not wish to receive him. Please tell him we have gone out.’
Mrs Bromley raised her eyebrows but said, ‘Very well, Miss Austen.’ Then she went off to convey the message.
‘Shall I creep to the window and see if he goes away?’ asked Jane.
‘No, do not,’ I said nervously. ‘He may catch sight of you and try to force his way in. He is obviously back in Bath. But what gall that man has to call on us! Thank goodness we are leaving tomorrow.’
I glanced at Lucinda, but she had hidden her face behind her book. Mrs Bromley reappeared, I assumed to tell us that Mr Hart had left. However, she had a different message.
‘The gentleman says that if by any chance I was mistaken and that youwerein to tell you that his name is Harrington, and he is the brother of the other Mr Hart.’
‘Oh!’ said Jane, then looked at me enquiringly. I, in turn, looked at Lucinda.
‘Lucy? Are you all right with us receiving his brother?’ I asked her.
She shrugged her shoulders, so I nodded at Jane, thinking,This should be interesting.
‘Please tell him that you have searched more thoroughly, and we are in fact in and will receive him,’ said Jane.
The corner of Mrs Bromley’s mouth quirked. ‘Very well, Miss Austen,’ she repeated, and I imagined her rolling her eyes as she left the room.
We waited in some anticipation, and she showed a tall dark-haired man into the drawing room. Immediately, I saw the resemblance. Harrington was handsome, but not as much as his brother. He had thinner hair, a longer nose, and a stouter middle, as if he enjoyed a pint of ale or three. Nor was he as confident. He bowed to us awkwardly after Jane had made the introductions, and when he was seated, he seemed ill at ease in our company.
‘Please do forgive my intrusion. But I received a letter from my butler of late, outlining certain serious events that have taken place at my home, Hartmoor Castle,’ he said with a grave expression.
‘And how did you come to connect us with these “serious events”, sir?’ asked Jane.
‘When I arrived from London to ... rectify matters, my butler told me your names, Miss Austen, and that your party was staying in lodgings in Bath. It was not too difficult to discover your whereabouts ... After organisingmy affairs, I came straightaway to apologise profusely for any grievous harm that my brother, Dorian, may have caused you and your friends.’
He glanced at Lucinda, who, at the mention of Hartmoor Castle, had withdrawn behind her book again so her face could not be glimpsed.
‘Can you tell us where you normally reside and what you do for a living, Mr Hart?’ asked Jane smoothly, neither confirming nor denying that his brother had caused us grievous harm but attempting to find out more information before we trusted him.
‘In London,’ he said. ‘I am an accountant.’ He sounded faintly apologetic, as if we would throw him out for having a profession.
‘Ah, I do some bookkeeping for my father, and it always pleases me when the figures balance,’ said Jane.
Mr Hart smiled, his eyes crinkling. ‘It is rather pleasing, isn’t it?’ Before they could launch into a discussion about taxes, I spoke up.
‘So Maurice told you about your brother’s plan to inherit Hartmoor?’
