The Jane Austen Society(41)

He straightened himself and headed through the tiny back gate, the one that hung askew from its hinges, and remembered the broken hinge on the garden gate at the Grovers’, and how that needed fixing, too.

The sideboard in the Great Hall was full of tiered silver platters piled high with sugar plums and rum balls and warm mince pies. Josephine had brought up bottles of claret and champagne from the ancient brick wine cellar, and in the large stone fireplace a dangling black iron pot bubbled with mulled wine steeped with cinnamon sticks, cloves, and nutmeg. Old family crystal goblets and champagne saucers were lined up in rows along a second sideboard, covered in thick white linens, under which sat the two smallest Stone boys playing a game of jacks on the deal-and-oak floor.

Adam stood shyly along the far wall of the room, near the door to the adjoining library, as if about to make a break for it at any minute. He felt relief when Dr. Gray finally entered the room long after the service had ended.

Dr. Gray accepted a glass of champagne from Charlotte the house girl and went over to join Adam, his back firmly against the wall with its high dark wainscotting reaching nearly to the ceiling.

“Well, Adam, that’s certainly a lot of noise and crowd. A tall price to pay, even for Josephine’s delicious mince tarts. How are you faring?” asked Dr. Gray.

“Fine enough,” Adam replied in as amiable a voice as he could muster.

The two men watched the many villagers in the room happily milling about, making quick and passing conversation with each other, but mainly and generously helping themselves to the rare sight of oranges piled high on a platter and the alcoholic treasures from the Knight family’s cellar. Frances Knight sat on a chintz sofa in the middle of all the festive activity, her usually sallow cheeks flushed from the heat of the nearby fireplace.

“I guess now’s not the time to ask Miss Knight about the steward’s cottage and our plans,” said Adam.

“I’m afraid not. I think this evening takes all her energy as it is.”

Adam cocked his head around the open doorway to his right. “Have you seen all the books in there?”

Dr. Gray shook his head. “Not recently, no. I think there are several libraries in the house—I hear this one is particularly extensive.” He saw the piqued interest on the farmer’s face. “Care to have a quick look, then, Adam? I don’t think Miss Knight would mind—she is nothing if not gracious with her home.”

Adam nodded eagerly, and the two men stepped slowly away from the Great Hall and into the library next door.

There, in the farthest corner of the room, they found young Evie Stone. She was perched on a wooden stool by a fireplace, much smaller than the medieval one next door and surrounded by Victorian tile. She looked so childlike sitting there, with her pixie features, cropped hair, and small hands gripping at something in her lap.

“Oh,” she said with surprise, slipping a notebook of some kind back onto the nearest shelf as she stood up.

“Please, Evie, don’t let us disturb you.” Dr. Gray smiled. “But why aren’t you with the crowd next door?”

Evie pressed down the folds in her plain navy knit dress from having been perched on the stool for so long. “Well, for one thing, my brothers are either betting, or imbibing, or stealing goodness knows what, so I prefer being in here, away from all that.”

“And for the other?” Dr. Gray asked with a laugh. Evie’s antipathy towards her four younger brothers, ranging in age from five to thirteen, was well-known among the villagers.

“Well, it’s just glorious in here, isn’t it? I mean, I think I’ve counted two thousand books in this room alone.” She took one down from a nearby shelf to show them. “Do you see this? This special binding? It’s the Knight family binding—they had their books specially bound from the printers, see, with their family coat of arms imprinted on the leather cover. As if they’d made the book themselves.”

Dr. Gray took the book from Evie and opened the cover. It was a first edition of Lord Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, published in London in 1812.

“Evie, have you gone through many of these books?”

She nodded.

“Does Miss Knight know?”

“Oh, definitely—she’s always encouraging everyone in the house to use the library.”

“Does she spend much time in here herself?” Dr. Gray asked, as both he and Adam silently started to run their hands along the tops of the books on various different shelves.

“I don’t think so. At least, I never really catch her in here much. She does read, she has her favourites—but I think she prefers to reread a lot.”

Adam laughed, a sound that surprised the other two for its rarity. “Oh, sorry, it’s just, I’m as guilty of that as anyone.”

Evie looked at the farmer. “You are? What do you reread?”

Adam turned back to the long shelf. “Just, you know.”

Dr. Gray smiled at Evie, then turned to Adam’s back. “Adam, it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”

Evie’s eyes widened.

“Austen,” Adam finally declared.

Evie stared at the farmer. “But Jane Austen is my favourite. I reread her all the time.” She came over to Adam and pulled two matching books out from in front of him.

“Look, Mr. Berwick, isn’t it amazing? Another first edition.” She placed the two volumes in his hands.