The Jane Austen Society(82)
“But essentially you, the five of you, voted not to fight Mr. Knatchbull’s claim with information you had at your disposal?”
“Yes, pretty much,” she had replied over the phone.
His question that followed—“Are you sure the society understands its own mission statement?”—had not gone over well.
So, in light of this confidential information, the hefty death duties now owing, and the flat UK economic climate following the war, Jack saw an opportunity to buy the estate out from under the hapless Colin Knatchbull, and accordingly advised the board to make a lowball offer as soon as they could.
Regarding the contents of the library, as described to him in mind-numbing detail by an excited Mimi, Jack was less interested. Whatever the potential value of the books, which he was apt to estimate downwards, he doubted the current interest in Jane Austen would sustain itself for long. And the society itself sounded like a band of misfits with negligible expertise and no head for business: a country doctor, an old maid, a schoolmarm, a bachelor farmer, a fey auctioneer, a conflict-averse solicitor, a scullery maid, and one Hollywood movie star.
The prewar property valuation of the Great House, the surrounding fields, and the little cottage stood at one hundred thousand pounds. When Mimi told Jack about Miss Frances’s offering Knatchbull almost half that amount just for a pile of books, Jack had practically fallen off his lounger. There was no way the shareholders of Alpha Investments would pay even a fraction of that, so Jack had sat back and let Mimi pledge the purchase price to the society. It made her excited—and he liked all his women in a state of excitement.
A week before the wedding and the fifth meeting of the Jane Austen Society, Colin Knatchbull’s diligent lawyer drew up the paperwork to sell the contents of the library, sight unseen, to the Jane Austen Memorial Trust for forty thousand pounds. Adam Berwick had brought his hay wagon right up to the front gate of the Great House the very next day, and in a human chain of sorts, the eight members of the society and Frances’s three long-term employees had carried out all two thousand three hundred and seventy-five books. The move took most of the day, as the books had to be kept in strict shelf order, to comply with Evie Stone’s catalogue—this would make it easier for any eventual official appraisal to be conducted. Then Adam’s wagon had carried the books through town to Adeline Grover’s house, as she had two spare bedrooms upstairs in which to store everything.
Now all the society could do was sit tight and hope that Knatchbull would also agree in time to sell the old steward’s cottage as the most ideal location for the proposed Jane Austen Museum.
“Well, look at that,” Adeline’s mother was calling from the front parlour window early the morning of the wedding. “Mr. Berwick has shown up in the Knight family Rolls. I wonder why?”
Mrs. Lewis looked back and smiled suggestively at her daughter, who sat in the rocking chair by the fireplace, rereading a small pocket-size copy of Pride and Prejudice.
“Put the book away, my dear, you have a gentleman caller, arrived in style.” Mrs. Lewis tidied up the window seat a bit. “All these books, and now all those old ones upstairs, falling apart at the seams. I really can’t imagine what has got into the lot of you.”
“Mum, could you get the door for me—I’m almost finished this chapter.”
Mrs. Lewis shook her head. “Nonsense, you’ve read that story a dozen times. You can greet your visitor yourself. And, Adeline, please, be nice.”
“Mother!” Adeline said with a sigh, shutting the book reluctantly. “I resent that. I am always nice to Adam—he is a very sweet man. Although”—she raised her voice for emphasis—“I don’t mean that in any kind of romantic way.”
“Why does everyone always talk like that about Adam? He is a lovely man, very gentle, and quite pleasing to the eye in his way.”
“Well, for one thing, he’s not interested in someone like me.”
“Ridiculous! Who else would catch his eye around here? Certainly not that little Evie Stone. Too suspicious and astute. Caught her rummaging through the bookcase on the upstairs landing on her last visit.”
“Mother, I told her she could. She’s convinced some old volumes from the Knight family library have been dispersed over the years throughout the village and beyond, and she’s always on the lookout for ones with the family seal.”
Mrs. Lewis shook her head at her daughter. “What you people are up to is beyond me.”
“And for another thing,” Adeline continued in exasperation, “Adam’s quite a bit older than me.”
“Rubbish! He is not. And anyway, older men often make much more mature and suitable mates. Besides, how much older can he be?”
“He’s only a couple of years shy of Dr. Gray, I think.” Adeline watched her mother closely for her reaction, recalling how difficult she had been to the village doctor during his check-in’s last winter.
“Really? Well, the forties can still be a productive age, when one is not hampered by one’s children.”
“Oh, Mum”—Adeline smiled at her—“I do hope you know how much you have helped me, despite being hampered and all—”
There was a gentle knock on the front door.
“Only to be replaced by a pile of mouldy books,” replied Mrs. Lewis, whose sense of humour was as sharp and direct as her daughter’s, while Adeline went to get the door.