By Heather Knight
Chadwick House was situated on the outskirts of Bourton. It was the kind of house that seemed magnificent to the poor but was despised by the rich.
Made of grey stone, it stood in the middle of a well-kept park that boasted a recently built marble gazebo, a small pond and a rose garden.
Inside, it had been elegantly furnished by the lady of the house. It was subdued and comfortable and, even better, not ostentatious at all.
Breakfast was usually a silent affair at Chadwick House. Mr Elliot read the paper and Mrs Elliot thought about her day. The children kept quiet not to bother their father.
Mrs Elliot had already learnt that sharing her worries with her self-absorbed husband was a waste of time.
However, she still tried sometimes. This was one of those times. Not because she was feeling optimistic, but because the subject was one close to her heart.
'John, Nancy, please go up to the nursery. It is late for your lessons. Miss Dargie is probably waiting for you and I need to talk to your Papa.'
'Can we stay a bit longer, Mama?'
'No, darling. If you do well and finish all your sums, we will go into town and look at caps. How does that sound?'
'Marvellous! Can I have a ribbon too? Say I can!' Nancy smiled happily as she closed the door behind her without waiting for an answer.
Once the children had left the room, Mrs Elliot looked at her husband. The man her parents had persuaded her to marry many years before. He was noisily chewing a piece of chicken and apparently lost in thought. Probably trying to decide which breeches to wear at the ball in April. Nothing of bigger importance ever troubled him.
He would never have been her first choice of a husband. Portly and taciturn, he was twenty years older than her. His hair was white and his nose was bulbous. Not exactly the kind of man described in her romantic novels. Well, nothing she could do about that any more... Just make the most of the life she had.
'I have been thinking about Nancy, Mr Elliot, dear. There has to be something we can do. I do worry about her. I do not want her to be destitute when we die.'
'You worry too much, Mrs Elliot. It is the way of the world. There is nothing we can do. Just expect her brother will be good to her.'
'But what if...'
She was not able to finish her sentence. Mr Elliot got up and left the room as if she had never been there. As if there had never been a conversation taking place. He was probably retiring to his study to be able to drink in peace. That was where he spent most of his time, excepting meals. His wife often wondered what he did there, but suspected he just stared at the ceiling and enjoyed his own company.
Jane Elliot looked down at her bulging stomach. Two months to go and there would be a new addition to the family. She hoped it would be a boy. Life was a lot easier for men. Women had so much to contend with. She wished she had been born a man. There were so many things she would have been able to do. She would have gone to college, for starters. She would have also married the person of her choice or not married at all.
She looked back to the day when her father had told her Mr William Elliot had asked for her hand in marriage. She knew he was only after her money and had told her father so.
'He hardly knows me, Papa. Do you not find that suspicious? Besides I do not love him.'
'Love is a fantasy and you are already an old maid. Besides, I like him. And it is not as if you were getting new proposals every day. Anyway, I am your father and it is your duty to obey me.'
After that she had not said a word. Her father was right. She was already twenty-one and she had better marry if she did not want to have to work for her keep when her parents died. However, it would have been so much nicer to marry for love, like the heroines in her novels did.
Jane Elliot finished her tea and got up. She would not dwell on tragic thoughts. She would take Nancy to town and buy her a pretty cap to match her flowery pink gown. And a ribbon or two as well. Why not?
Then maybe they could visit the Lowrys. She would talk to Claire and Nancy would play with Anna. Claire's gossiping was sure to distract her. There was nothing better than learning about the misfortunes of others to forget about one's own. There was always something going on at the village and Claire knew it all. Her maids kept her up to date at all times. Jane wished her own servants were so forthcoming, but she had to admit to herself that she had never encouraged gossip.
With that thought, she got her book and went out to sit in the rose garden. Their park was small and not too magnificent compared to her childhood home, but she loved her stone bench shaded by rose bushes. Together with her beloved novels, this spot was her shelter, her portal to a better, happier world.
She was reading Evelina and was thoroughly fascinated. It was one of the best novels she had ever had the fortune to possess. She had also read Mrs Burney's diaries and wished she could meet her. She was such a courageous woman!
Next she would try a new book Claire had told her about. It was called Emma and had been written by an unknown woman. She liked books written by women, they had a better understanding of the world. It must be all the suffering paired with their sensitive natures. She thought being a writer must be a wonderful job. She wished she could invent beautiful stories like that herself. But even if she had the ability, Mr Elliot would never approve. He would say writing was an occupation for men or desperate women.
Half an hour went by peacefully. She was so absorbed in her novel that she forgot about the real world. The sun was shining and the weather was warm for March. Her shawl felt too hot on her shoulders. Fortunately a breeze blew from time to time making the pink blossoms dance.
'Mama! My lessons are over. Can we go now?'
She looked up and saw her daughter excitedly talking from the door. Nancy was so beautiful. Her golden curls framed a round face and her blue eyes shone when she was happy. She used to look like that herself when she was young. When her whole life was still ahead of her and full of possibilities.
'Yes, darling. Shall we take the carriage or do you want to walk?'
'Walk, please. I have been cooped up indoors for too long.'
Jane smiled, almost laughed. Her daughter was only six, but she sometimes spoke like an old lady. Her governess told her she was extremely bright. She wished the same could be said for John.
John was a lovely child, but hated studying and was easily manipulated. Jane prayed he would marry a good woman. A mean one would definitely take him down the wrong path.
A moment later she chided herself. Why could she not stop worrying about the future? She should just enjoy the moment and forget about things that might never come to pass.
By Heather Knight
Nancy Elliot lives a blessed existence with her parents and her brother in 19th century England. Her mother, however, is not that happy...
This is a bit of Austen-like writing (well, a girl can dream...), so if you're looking for action it's not the read for you.
The walk from Chadwick House to Bourton took around ten minutes, maybe fifteen if you had little legs like Nancy's. Maybe twenty if you stopped to observe every little flower on your way.
'Mama, look, see how many daffodils have grown behind that bush.'
'Yes, love. A lot more than last year,' Jane said turning around.
'They are beautiful. But I think I prefer crocuses.'
'You do?'
'Yes, they are like long-lasting poppies.'
'I had never thought about it that way, but you are right.'
'I wish we had lilies in the garden.'
'Well, we could plant some.'
'Could we? That would be wonderful.'
Jane loved talking to her little daughter. She could say without a doubt she was her best friend and the only person who understood her. Just then she felt happy, walking with Nancy and enjoying the spring weather. She treasured the moment because there were not many others that made her feel truly blessed. She loved her children dearly but her life had not turned out to be what she dreamed of as a young girl. No happy ending for her.
A dark figure caught up with them when they were about to reach the village. It was Reverend Connelly. The Elliots and the reverend had become firm friends when he first came to live in Bourton five years earlier.
Reverend Emery Connelly was originally from California, but he felt at home in the little village and was not in a hurry to go back to his country. He always said everything was too big for his liking in America, even the people. In England, however, things were just the right size.
He was a tall, middle-aged man who always wore his clerical hat and robes, even though he seemed to be ill at ease in them, as if they were too small and constricted his movements.
Nancy would have been afraid of his clothes if she had not liked him so much. She always told her mother they made him look like a crow.
'A nice crow, of course,' she hastened to explain.
'Good morning, Mrs. Elliot. Good morning, Nancy. How are you?' he asked in the accent Nancy thought was hilarious. The way he said his r's was most comical, she used to say.
'Very well, Reverend. We are going into the village to buy a few unnecessary things to make ourselves beautiful,' Jane answered.
'You are always beautiful, my dears,' he said with a smile. 'I am going to do some cleaning at the church myself. There was a wedding yesterday and my porch could do with some sweeping. Would you like to help me Nancy?'
Even though she knew he was joking, Nancy smiled and hid behind her mother's skirt.
'Who got married?'
'Maude and Tom Evans.'
'Do I know them?'
'Maybe by sight. She's the maid at the Thorntons and he's their gardener.'
'Oh, yes, I do. She's a pretty little thing.'
'Indeed. And Tom is a very good sort of man. They will be happy together.'
Jane and Reverend Connelly spent the rest of their walk speaking about this and that, while Nancy twirled happily behind them.
They talked about the weather, about John and Nancy's latest academic achievements and about some new parishioners who had just arrived the past week. It was a most satisfactory conversation for both of them even though they did not talk about any important or life-altering topics.
Jane could not understand her feelings. She knew they were wrong on many levels, but she was very much drawn to Reverend Connelly. She would even go as far as saying she was in love with him. He was not handsome or even attractive and she was a married woman, but he made her feel as if she mattered, as if what she said was important. So unlike her husband...
She dismissed the thought and promised herself she would carry this secret with her to the grave. She would be terribly embarrassed if anybody could guess at her thoughts.
Reverend Connelly walked with them to the door of the milliner's and then took his leave.
Nancy watched his retiring back for a while and then said, 'He is an exceptionally nice man, do you not think so, Mama?'
'Yes, darling. Exceptionally. I do not know many like him. Shall we go in? I would also like to go to the haberdasher's later to choose some muslin for a dress before we go to Charlotte's. All my clothes are becoming too tight for me.'
'And do not forget my ribbons.'
'No. I will not forget. Do not worry.'
Inside the milliner's it was cool and it smelled of lavender. Luckily for them, the shop was uncharacteristically empty.
'Hello Ma'am! How can I help you?'
'I am looking for a pink bonnet for my daughter. Do you have any you could show us?'
'Yes, of course. Just give me a minute.'
He promptly came back, carrying at least a dozen round boxes that he carefully placed on the wooden counter.
Mrs Elliot and her daughter looked at all sorts of caps and bonnets, in all the colours under the rainbow.
Nancy exclaimed in amazement whenever she saw one she liked, which was quite often. The milliner looked on, amused by the little lady and also a bit worried by the way she handled his precious caps.
After half an hour, she was the proud owner of two bonnets and her mother had also bought one for herself that she had never thought she needed. The milliner was a good salesman, you had to give him that. Besides, his taste was exquisite, more so if you consider his shop was far away from the bustle and sophistication of London.
By Heather Knight
19th century England. Nancy leads a happy life. But things are about to change...
Shortly before lunch time, Mrs Elliot and Nancy were outside their friends' house, their arms laden with parcels and their legs tired.
Jane was finding this pregnancy tougher to bear than the previous ones. At the moment, she desperately needed to sit down. It must be her age, she had been twelve years younger first time around. She did not remember having felt like this when she was carrying John or Nancy.
Mrs Renshaw, the housekeeper, opened the door.
'Come on in, Mrs Elliot. Nancy, I see you have been busy growing.'
'Do you really think so? Thank you,' Nancy said, really pleased with the compliment. She wanted to be as tall as her brother and never seemed to be able to. When she grew a bit, he grew even more. John was exceptionally tall for a boy his age.
They followed Mrs Renshaw into the parlour where Claire was sewing and Anna was lying on the floor, drawing a picture of her cat which, to her consternation, refused to sit still.
'Hello, Nancy. Come and draw with me. There is enough paper for both of us and Papa has bought me new crayons.'
Nancy did as she was told. She loved being with Anna and drawing was one of her favourite pastimes, even if she liked reading better.
'Can we draw something else? Your cat does not stop moving.'
'I know, but he is the cutest thing around.'
'Well, you draw the cat. I think I will try to draw a picture of my Mama.'
The inside of Claire Lowry's house was too ornate for Jane Elliot's taste. There were paintings all over the walls, the wallpaper in the parlour was of a lurid pink that hurt the eyes and there was so much furniture that one could hardly move without bumping into a table or a chair. Every inch had been made use of. However, it was strangely cosy and welcoming. Like an antique shop well looked after by its loving owner.
'So how are you, my dear? I missed you yesterday morning. Why did you stay away from church? The sermon was excellent. Best ever, I would say.'
'I did not feel up to it. I had a migraine and had to lie down the whole day. It was most inconvenient and unbelievably boring.'
'There are so many things I have to tell you... Have you heard about the wedding?'
'Do you mean Maude and Tom? Reverend Connelly just told me they got married yesterday.'
'But I am sure he did not tell you the reason.'
'You do not mean...'
'Indeed. Maude is expecting and I have been told Tom is not the father, but he loves her so much he wants to make an honest woman out of her.'
'That is really big of him. Not many men would do the same.'
'You are so right. They tell me he is a lovely boy.'
'So who is the father then?'
'Abigail has heard the father is Mr Thornton. That must be the reason Maude and Tom are moving away. Luckily, they have been offered a position in Stratford.'
'Mr Thornton? Are you sure? Does his wife know?'
The two women stopped talking when a servant came in with a tray. On it there was a an elegant white china teapot and a matching dish piled up with cakes.
'Can we have something to eat, Mama?' Anna asked. 'I am starved!'
'No, dear. This is for the adults. Take Nancy up to the nursery. Your food will be brought to you presently.'
'But Mama...'
'No buts. I need to talk to Mrs Elliot.'
'And why can we not listen?'
'Because I say so.'
When both the servant and the girls had left, the two women resumed their conversation.
'The truth is I envy them,' Jane said.
'What do you mean, dear?'
'They are young and in love.'
'So? Are you having problems with Mr Elliot again? Has he been treating you badly?'
'No, nothing out of the ordinary. But sometimes I think if I left, he would not even notice. He values the contents of his wardrobe more than he values me.'
'Do not say that. I am sure he loves you. He just does not know how to say it.'
Jane did not answer. She bit into a cake and chewed it reflectively. She wished she was as optimistic as her friend. Claire did not know what it was like. Her own marriage was blissfully happy. Her husband was an incredibly attentive man. Sometimes arranged marriages did work, her friend was living proof.
'Anyway, marriage is not about love, is it? However, I would like my Nancy to experience all the passion I have not experienced myself. I would like her life to be like a Burney novel. Happy ending and all, you know.'
'My dear friend, you have always been a romantic. Those books you read are not doing you any good, I am afraid. They are nothing like real life.'
After a couple of hours of eating and conversing companionably, Jane said they had to go. Claire embraced her friend without imagining for one minute she would never see her again.
On the way back home, Nancy held her mother's hand. Even though she would have never admitted it, she was tired after all the excitement. In the afternoon she had been running around the garden with Anna and now she really wanted to lie down and sleep.
Suddenly Jane stopped and dropped her parcels. She grabbed her stomach and whimpered.
'What is wrong, Mama?' Nancy asked, terrified.
Jane closed her eyes but did not answer. She was in terrible pain, but the thoughts in her head were the real agony. What was going on? The baby was not due till May. She could not lose this baby. She had been looking forward to the birth so much.
After a while, however, the pain subsided and she was able to speak again.
'Do not worry, dear. Nothing is wrong. Let's go home, shall we?'
'Are you sure, Mama? Are you better now? Let me carry your parcels. I am a big girl now.'
Nancy's little hands were trembling as she picked up her mother's parcels from the ground.
She could not forget how she had winced just a moment before and how pale she still looked.
They walked on in silence. When they got home, they said good evening to Mr Elliot and John and then retired to their respective rooms.
Jane got into bed without bothering to take off her clothes or put away her parcels. She just left them on the floor and thought she would tidy later.
Nancy tried on her bonnets and then played with her dolls. While she brushed their hair, she thought about what had happened on the way back home. She hoped her mother would be well the next day. A good night's sleep would make everything right.
Outside it was getting dark. Nancy looked out of the window and saw the moon was full. That was a good omen. A full moon was her favourite type of moon. It made the night less scary and allowed dreams to come true.
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