Jane Austen's Estate of Affairs

Jane Austen's Estate of Affairs Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

“What are you doing here?” The moment those words left Christiana’s mouth she would have given anything she possessed to retrieve them, and stammered hastily “F-forgive me, sir! It has been a… a tiring journey.”

The gentleman stepped forward into the pool of light cast by Mrs. Norton’s candle, the gray eyes Christiana had so dreaded regarding her gravely from under a dark wave of hair. “Ah yes. Steventon, I believe? Indeed – quite far.”

Still in shock, Christiana was utterly unable to decipher whether he spoke mockingly or in seriousness. She stood rooted to the spot, struggling to comprehend how it could be possible that Sir Richard Larkney stood before her in her uncle’s house, addressing her with perfect equanimity as if nothing untoward had ever occurred between them.

A sudden wind, blowing the candles nearly out, recollected to Christiana her position in the doorway. Sir Richard too, it seemed, for he stepped back and recommended Miss Austen not to catch a chill by standing there in the wind and rain. She stepped inside as she was bid, followed at once by her patient servant; but upon the heavy door being closed behind them, realized suddenly that she had not enquired as to who else presently resided in the Great House.

Christiana’s mind reeled with the likelihood of Sir Richard being the only other genteel occupant: a situation that tested the bounds of propriety, quite apart from her own wish to never encounter him again. She hesitated, uncertain as to how she might discover this from him without making her concern quite evident… but she was not allowed the chance. Waiting only until Mrs. Norton had relieved Christiana’s driver of her portmanteau and directed him to the kitchens, Sir Richard made Christiana a small, stiff bow, then with a cool “Your servant, Miss Austen” took himself away along the library corridor and had soon disappeared from view.

Smarting from this dismissal, though uneasily suspecting she knew its exact cause, Christiana was left with only Mrs. Norton for company. That lady – doubtless concerned that her treatment of her master’s niece might be relayed to him upon his return – finally chose to play the role of the dutiful housekeeper: bidding Christiana take a seat before the fire while a bedchamber was hastily prepared by a summoned housemaid, then escorting her personally upstairs, all the time making thinly-veiled excuses and justifications for her former attitude. By the time they entered Christiana’s bedchamber, the housekeeper had made several dark references to the misunderstanding not having been her fault, Sir Richard having ‘most high-handedly’ allowed the butler and two footmen (who, of a certainty, would have recognized Christiana) the evening off; but Christiana was not so far removed from all propriety as to encourage such gossip, and Mrs. Norton soon fell silent, though subsequently vacated the room displaying a wounded air.

A short time later, Christiana sat in her nightgown at the dressing table, having refused Mrs. Norton’s belated offer to send up a late supper if she so desired. Though Christiana had previously hoped for refreshment at the end of her journey, the identity of her fellow house guest had quite destroyed all semblance of appetite. In its place, she wished only to be left alone to agonize over the situation in which she found herself. It was quite apparent, from the manner in which Sir Richard reportedly felt free to direct the servants, that no other family member resided in the house. But what awful coincidence could have brought him here at the same time as herself?

“Your servant, Miss Austen.” Why oh why had she not asked – nay, demanded – to know the whereabouts of her relatives, and of Sir Richard’s reason for staying at Chawton, rather than allowing herself to be brushed aside in such a manner? Christiana almost wished she had enquired this of Mrs. Norton… though in truth she could not regret her decision to stay silent, instinctively feeling a strong aversion to admitting any weakness or lack of knowledge to the sour-faced new housekeeper.