The Jane Austen Society(81)
“Well, that is indeed ironic,” said Andrew, “as that is the very desk the old man so wretchedly amended his will on.”
Everyone now turned to look at Andrew in surprise at his aggrieved tone.
“Evie,” he continued, ignoring all the looks, “we haven’t heard from you yet. You’re the keeper of the catalogue. What do you think? Do you agree with Yardley?”
Evie was not used to being put on the spot like this. She glanced almost helplessly at Miss Frances, afraid to say something that would hurt her or Adam, then finally spoke.
“I am not a professional anybody, but I do think Yardley has a point. From all the research I’ve done, seeing what all’s been wasted over the centuries, trying to find what’s been lost . . . as hard as it might be on Adam, it could mean the possible destruction of one of the most culturally important collections out there. There’s no escaping that fact.”
“Well, not its entire destruction,” countered Dr. Gray. “I mean, yes, she lived here for ten years and wrote the last three books here as well—but she lived a long time in Steventon, too, the longest, and almost as long in Bath. We know where some of her other homes were, and the Bath ones in particular are still standing. And even if Adam doesn’t speak up for his rightful claim, we might still manage to buy the library out from under Colin, as I understand from Miss Frances that he has a bewildering lack of interest in the books. Maybe we could do the same with some of the other objects, like the writing desk. All would not be lost entirely, and over time perhaps another suitable location could be found.”
“Do you really mean that?” asked Adeline.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” Dr. Gray replied defensively.
Adeline shrugged. “It just doesn’t sound like you—you’re usually so hell bent on everything staying as it is.”
Dr. Gray shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he felt Andrew watching him curiously.
“May I say something?” asked Mimi. “It’s probably too emotional of me, but then again I am an actress, so what else is to be expected? It’s just, I know what it’s like to have regrets, real regrets, about someone’s life. I don’t want to have those regrets about Adam, not for anything.”
She paused. Everyone in the room grew unusually quiet. There was a reason Mimi commanded a twenty-foot-high screen in theatres around the world.
“And I also know what it’s like to lose a father, and to have felt helpless in the face of it, and to have always wondered if you could have somehow saved him. Grief and regret puts a hole right through you that nothing can ever fill. And trust me, I’ve tried. And I suspect some of you have tried as well, with your own losses over the years. And the hard, crushing reality of it all is that the hole can never be filled. That you have to live with it, this absence that is not replaceable by money, or objects, or art—or even by another person, no matter how much you might learn to love and trust again.”
Mimi paused. She had the room and she knew it. She had never, as talented as she was, understood her audience better.
“So, it seems to me, we’re being asked to vote on making a hole inside Adam’s heart, and then hope somehow he can live with it. Well, I can’t do that—I can’t willingly do that. Because if we’re wrong, he is the one who has to live with it every day—every second—of his life. And nothing is worth that.”
“I agree,” said Adeline. “And, what’s more, I think Jane Austen would agree, too.”
Dr. Gray sat back in his chair. “Shall we vote then? Wait, Frances, we haven’t heard from you. What do you think, you who have the greatest interest of all?”
Frances was sitting there next to the fire, her hands clasped in her lap.
“I think I have a brother,” she cried, as tears fell down her cheeks.
It was all anyone needed to know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Chawton, Hampshire
April 1946
Mimi’s wedding day to Jack Leonard was fast approaching. He had not been thrilled by the recent pledging of a significant part of her dowry, as he jokingly liked to call it, to the Jane Austen Society so that it could buy a pile of books from a rotting old mansion. Forty thousand pounds amounted to her working fee for almost two separate films, and she wasn’t even planning to do many of those anymore.
It had been a year since they had first met by the pool, and Jack was now starting to feel a little antsy. He recognized this feeling well—the tan line about his ring finger had been hard-earned over time. This was one reason he had wanted a shorter engagement: he did not trust himself to stay interested enough to self-deprive for long. But Mimi wanted the wedding to be in the Chawton parish church, and this had taken some finessing with Reverend Powell after the leasehold sale of the cottage as a part-time residence had fallen through.
After that, never one to lose face in a deal, Jack started to see the estate of Chawton Park and the little cottage as less of a bolt hole for his bride, and more of an investment opportunity. An avid golfer, he had recently acquired significant voting shares in a Scottish golf course development company called Alpha Investments Limited, and he was the one who first raised with its board the idea of buying the whole Knight estate for future development. He had been privy now for many weeks to Mimi’s occasional evening updates on the Jane Austen Society, Miss Knight’s financial predicament, and the recent legal declaration of a Mr. Knatchbull as heir following a rather bizarre vote by the society on which Mimi had for once refused to detail him.