The Jane Austen Society(50)
Frances listened calmly, waiting for a break in Evie’s speech to say something.
“Evie, do you happen to have some sense of who my visitors were just now? Because your timing is impeccable. They want to buy the cottage themselves—apparently the woman is a huge Jane Austen fan, just like yourself, it seems. No, don’t panic—I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Frankly it’s not my decision, and my father seems quite lost at present to make such a one himself. So nothing’s being decided anytime soon, if that’s any consolation.”
Evie breathed a visible sigh of relief. “But you will join us, Miss Frances? The society is nothing without you.”
Frances was touched by the girl’s enthusiasm. “Evie, I knew you had enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, but I must say it’s quite an undertaking to commit to something like this. Wouldn’t you rather be out and about with people your own age? I know both Benjamin Gray and Andrew Forrester quite well from school—I think their own social heyday is long behind them, and it’s probably best they have a new hobby of this sort to keep them out of trouble.” Frances smiled gently. “I’m teasing of course—they are both very good and honourable men. And poor Mrs. Grover is lovely. But Adam Berwick—I would never have guessed. And to think it was all his idea.”
“Is that a yes, miss?”
Frances nodded in the face of her house girl’s persistence. It must have taken some nerve to ask about something as delicate as the disposition of part of her dying employer’s property.
“But let’s not say anything about the society to Mr. Knight just yet, alright, Evie? As I’m sure you know, he is not the world’s biggest Austen fan. We’ll keep it our little secret for now.”
Evie gave a quick curtsy and hurried off, although Frances suspected not to her chores. She looked over again at the clock on the mantel. It was now a little past four P.M. Although she was feeling quite tired from all the commotion of the afternoon, she was still expected to visit with her father before supper.
They had not had a good visit that morning, and she had been asked to leave the room when Andrew Forrester had arrived to discuss some estate matters. She hoped that after a long nap her father might be a little more even-tempered. But telling him about their American visitors would probably only muddle things. Or at least that was what Frances told herself as she slowly walked up the stairs to see him.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Chawton, Hampshire
January 10, 1946
Adeline Grover was walking along the main village road in the direction of the Great House, pulling her dark grey wool coat tighter against the sharp winter wind, surprised to see small batches of snowdrops randomly peeking out their heads along the roadside a full month ahead of schedule. She was still peering down at the flowers when she heard her name called out.
She looked up to see Liberty Pascal waving at her from a few yards away.
“Adeline, it’s been so long—how are you?” the woman asked with the slightly exaggerated manner that Adeline recalled so well from their college days together as teacher and nurse trainees.
“Liberty, what on earth are you doing here, of all places?” Adeline stopped walking and they stepped to the side of the road together. She noticed that Liberty looked extremely well, her striking ginger hair enhanced by the shade of lipstick she had chosen to wear, which in turn matched the healthful flush of her cheeks.
“I just accepted a new position here!”
“Really? With whom?” Adeline hadn’t heard of any new doctors opening practice in the village or even in nearby Alton.
“Dr. Benjamin Gray.”
“Really,” Adeline said again. “I didn’t know.”
“You’re a patient of his, right? Oh, I am so sorry, Adeline—about the baby. So awful. You must be beside yourself.”
More than one downside of this recent hire by Dr. Gray was starting to quickly dawn on Adeline. “Yes, I’ve been a patient of his for a long time now. Although recently I have been thinking of making a change.” This was not altogether true, but Adeline’s mouth was sometimes faster than her thoughts, and she had learned to trust the gut instincts behind such outbursts.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I know Dr. Gray speaks so highly of you.”
The idea of Dr. Gray and Liberty Pascal discussing Adeline behind her back, whether about her health or otherwise, was making her suddenly and distinctly uncomfortable.
“I can tell I am going to like it here,” Liberty was energetically babbling on. “I had no idea it was so quaint. You never said, you cagey thing. Although you did choose to come back here to teach, so I guess that says something.”
“How is Dr. Gray?” Adeline asked as casually as possible. “I haven’t seen him since the Christmas Eve service for the village, in the little parish church.”
“Oh, I know the one. Adorable. We pass it on our way to see Mr. Knight. I was just there actually, giving him his bath. Sad old man, quite near the end. Starting to lose his wits, although he has no idea of course. Benjamin—I mean Dr. Gray—seems to be the only one that can manage him. The daughter looks pretty useless if you ask me.”
Adeline inwardly congratulated herself on remembering Liberty’s loose tongue and remarkable lack of discretion and told herself this was as good a reason as any to try to find a new doctor. She found it interesting that, as with Harriet Peckham, Dr. Gray persisted in hiring such outspoken and formidable women.