Page 40 of Searching for Mr Tilney

‘Please let me go, my family will be wondering where I am,’ I say, trying very hard not to sound as I feel.

‘They’re probably waiting for you back at the entrance, if they think you’ve got yourself lost,’ says the first villain. ‘We’ll take you. Come along with us, my dear, you’ll be quite safe.’

I try to pull myself free, but a crowd of rough young boys are gathering round, jeering and laughing as if they’ve found a young fox cub to bait and torment.

‘Methinks she doth protest too much,’ one shouts, as I demand to be let go.

The crowd laughs and another shouts, ‘She’s just teasing you … kiss her now … it’s plain she wants you to take her in your arms.’

And just as I think I shall be spirited away to a fate I dare not contemplate, I hear an authoritative voice, like an angel’s command, to desist and unhand me.

‘And I will have the watchmen apprehend you, believe me when I say it.’

The mob scatters like marbles on a polished floor and there is my saviour standing before me. I cannot believe it is he, but Mr Fowle is here, like a veritable knight in shining armour, he takes my arm gently and he’s drying the tears on my face with a fine lawn kerchief that smells comfortingly of the cologne he always wears.

‘Miss Austen, are you well? You are unharmed, I hope?’

‘I am quite well, now you are here, Mr Fowle. I cannot thank you enough for stepping in to rescue me. I was separated from my family for a few minutes, and I could not find them. Oh, such treachery - such bad behaviour. I have never encountered the like before.’

‘Sadly, the gardens are not what they used to be, Miss Austen, and attract all kinds of ill fellows. Those ruffians will be apprehended; I shall make certain of it. But first, we must return you to your family.’

I glance at Mr Fowle’s kind face, and see his firm jaw, his mouth set in a hard line. I want to ask him how he is here instead of being with his family and the Brookes of Newbury, but he does not look in the mood for conversation. I have never seen his dear countenance in such dispiriting looks. Every time I look up at him, and expect to see him smile reassuringly back at me, he does not flinch from his purpose. His eyes look steadily ahead, and he makes no effort to speak. We turn back down the path, and the fireworks begin. Blazing coloured lights explode above our heads lighting up the gardens and the vast numbers of people crowding the space. Ghoulish faces stare back in hideous shades, their mouths gaping with laughter, and I cannot help thinking they are jeering at me.

But, here we are at last, and I’m reunited with those I love. We are told cousin Edward has been despatched to find me, and Mr Fowle says he will look for him.

‘I will say goodnight, Miss Austen.’

He bows in a brusque fashion, and I watch his tall figure walk stately away, as serious and grave as ever I saw him. I am tormented by the fact that he thinks, in some small measure, that I was enjoying the attentions of the rabble, and I imagine he is thinking how lucky he is to be returning home to more refined company within its walls.

I am glad he did not mention the incident to my mother and father who would only fuss or never let me out of their sight again, but when Jane quizzes me, I am relieved to tell her of my misfortunes. She listens sympathetically, as expected, but when I tell her of my misgivings about Mr Fowle she protests.

‘Cassy, what can you be thinking? Mr Fowle is a gentleman, and would never think such a thing of you. What you should be asking yourself is why he was here tonight.’

‘I have no idea,’ I say. ‘He offered no explanation.’

‘It is very obvious he must have decided he could not spend an entire evening away from you.’

‘But, he may be here with his family … and Miss Brooke.’

‘He may be, but I do not think so. Mr Fowle must have thought there may be a chance for a glimpse of you to find an excuse to leave the evening party.’

‘I cannot think your conjecture is correct, Jane. Why would he have disappeared so quickly if he wanted to spend time with me? You will see … we’ll bump into them shortly, I am certain.’

Everywhere we walk I expect to see him at each turn, but it appears Jane is quite right, and I begin to wonder if he was ever there at all. Like an avenging phantom, he came just when I needed him, and vanished again into the night. When it is time to go home I feel more disordered than ever, but my darling sister does her best to cheer me with impersonations of all the people and characters we have seen tonight. As she mimics our Aunt Leigh-Perrot’s snobbish asides, or re-enacts the tightrope walker’s giddy progress along the cracks in the paving stones, my mind is distracted for a while. Though, by the time I’m in my room and Jane has left me to go to bed, all my fears return, and I know I face a restless night.

All I can hope is that he doesn’t regale his own people with tales of Miss Austen carousing the night away with a handful of young men, but then I scold myself. Even if it turns out he is partial to another’s company, and prefers the society of Miss Brooke, I know the Mr Fowle I admire would never behave in an ungentlemanly fashion. He is the epitome of all that is good, and will forever be the man to whom all others shall be compared.

Chapter Twenty

Caroline

Chawton, Hampshire

December-March 1975-76

There was plenty of time to think about Cassy and Jane on the way home to Chawton, and the events that seemed more real than the life I was living, engrossed and fascinated me in a way I hadn’t felt before. It was a shock to find myself in the twentieth century, and for the first time I realised I didn’t want to be back. I wanted to stay there, even if I felt something of the despair that Cassy had about Mr Fowle. I knew exactly how she was feeling. There was no way to describe the experience, except to record that when I was there in the past, Cassandra consumed me, taking over every thought, and every cell in my body. I knew nothing else, and could not remember anything about myself, except that I was Miss Cassandra Austen of Steventon, Hampshire. When I returned, the feelings subsided, and I became my own self again, but every time it happened it took longer to recover. My mind lingered in that slower time and I couldn’t adjust quickly to the fast pace of modern life. I would have to learn to let go of her more easily, I thought, but then I realised that being back at home, it would not happen again. I’d left Cassy and Jane behind and would have to learn to get on with my life. And it wasn’t just those delightful sisters I would miss - I thought of Harry and the lovely times we’d shared - his kisses remained with me, as if he were just there moments ago. I hoped that he’d write to me every day, and though I might be selfishly thinking of my own desires, I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait too long to hear from him.

Fitzrovia, London