The Jane Austen Society(56)

Frances waited discreetly until Josephine had left the room, then poured out Mimi’s tea with both milk and sugar as she liked it (“I’m a child!” Mimi had said, laughing, the first time she gave her order). Frances passed the delicate cup and saucer to her before replying, “I feel awful for you, and for Mr. Leonard. I know how much you wanted the cottage.”

Mimi shook her head. “Don’t give it a second thought—I never felt comfortable about the whole thing anyway. Jack is just so damn—oh, excuse my language—but just so persistent. It’s almost impossible to say no to him.”

Frances nodded in agreement. “I fully understand that. I probably would’ve cut him a lock of my own hair if he’d asked for it.”

Evie was sitting between the two women, looking back and forth as they each spoke in turn, her head following silently as if at a tennis match.

“What will you do now?” Mimi asked before taking a sip of her tea.

“One of the tenants has agreed to give notice for the end of March, as she was planning to leave soon anyway. Our lawyer, Andrew Forrester, is arranging everything for me. I hope to move out of here by the spring.”

Mimi scratched the side of her forehead, and Evie’s mouth fell open in a gape of astonishment, as it was the exact same gesture she had seen the woman do several times in Home & Glory, Evie’s all-time favourite film.

“But why the rush? My father was an estates lawyer before he became a judge, and I know a little bit about the American laws at least. You might end up declared the sole heir if no one else pops up in time—why not wait until you have to leave? Will Mr. Forrester as executor not let you stay?”

“Mr. Forrester would let Miss Frances do anything,” Evie piped up.

The two women turned in unison to look at her.

“It looks like Miss Stone has found her voice,” Frances said in an attempt at a quick distraction.

“So, Evie.” Mimi smiled at the girl in as friendly a manner as possible to help further steady her nerves. “Jane Austen. How did it start for you?”

Evie had been picking at a piece of glazed lemon cake on her china plate, and she placed the plate back down as she braced herself to finally speak to one of the biggest movie stars in the world.

“I had a teacher—Adeline Lewis—Miss Frances knows her. She knows Jane Austen inside and out, can quote entire passages by heart, and she lent me her copy of Pride and Prejudice when I was still in school, and that was it. I was a goner.”

“But you’re not in school any longer? May I ask how old you are?”

“Sixteen.”

“When did you leave school then?”

“Fourteen.”

“That’s so young. Do you miss it?”

“Terribly,” Evie replied quickly, then turned to Miss Knight. “But I could not have found a better employer. And Miss Frances gives us full access to the library here, all of the servants, and you won’t see a better collection of books this side of London.”

“My father had an impressive library, too, although nothing like the Knights’, I am sure. He was the one who introduced me to Austen. He would read her to me at night. I found him once, in his study, sitting by the fire, laughing out loud—I was pretty little, around eight or nine—and I asked him what was so funny, and he read me the scene where Elizabeth parries so successfully with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who is warning her against any engagement to her nephew Mr. Darcy.”

“‘These are heavy misfortunes indeed—but the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness, that she could have no cause to repine,’” quoted Evie.

“‘Obstinate, headstrong girl!’” Mimi quoted back with a laugh. “Exactly! And I crawled onto his lap and he kept reading to me. And pretty soon he decided to start reading the book all over again, this time out loud, to me, and he did this for many nights and years after, with all the books. Except Mansfield Park. He didn’t get Fanny Price. Thought her far too passive for all the connivers around her.”

“He must be very excited, then, about your plans to make a film of Sense and Sensibility,” Frances said.

“I don’t know.” Mimi added another sugar cube to her cup of tea, then added simply, “He killed himself. When I was twelve.”

Evie and Frances looked at each other.

“Mimi,” Frances started, “I am so sorry. How awful, for all of you.”

“It was awful. It still is. The hardest part is wondering whether I could have done something, to help him—to stop him. The never knowing is what hurts the most. I try so hard to just remember our relationship, how we were together, and not think about his secret pain, because I can’t do anything about that, and that’s what haunts me.” Mimi looked at Frances carefully. “Don’t let any of this haunt you, Frances—your father’s last days, and the new will. It has nothing to do with you. It was his life—his choices.”

“She knows that,” Evie piped up. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Knight, I don’t mean to speak for you.”

“It’s alright, Evie, I know we were talking about this very thing in the grove just now.” Frances stood up and flattened her long, black, velvet skirt, then said to Evie, “Should we show Miss Harrison the lower library before she goes?”