I Was Jane Austen's Best Friend (7 page)

It was a lovely day. The poplar tree outside my window had some tiny green buds on it and the sun lit the branches so that they shone gold. There was a flock of starlings whirling merrily around under a pale blue
sky. Suddenly I felt a lot better and I thought I would love to go out and see the hunt set off. Frank looked very pleased when I told him.

‘Good! Get up quickly.’ He still hung around, looking out of the window at the woods beyond, as if he thought I would just slip out of bed and dress while he had his back turned. I coughed. I felt very embarrassed.

‘Oh, I’ll get out of your way so that you can dress.’

Once he was gone, the door slamming behind him and his feet drumming on the wooden staircase, I got out of bed. The water in the pitcher was cold, but I poured some into the basin on the washstand and had a quick wash, drying myself in front of the fire. I put on two petticoats, a flannel one over my chemise and then my linen one, and I pulled on a pair of new woollen stockings, which went right up to my knees and made me feel nice and cosy. Then I got out my blue muslin gown from the clothes press. It had been washed and ironed, I think, because it was quite clean around the hem. The last time that I had worn it was in Southampton on that terrible night and I remembered noticing a streak of mud on the bottom of the skirt when I hung it up.

Jane and Charles were just coming in the front door when I got to the bottom of the stairs.

‘Oh, Jenny, you’re coming to see the hunt — that’s good.’

‘Mama, Jenny is coming to see the hunt go off.’ Charles had a high voice that penetrated the whole house.

Mrs Austen popped out from the preserves room, where she and Cassandra were labelling jars of pickled spring onions.

‘It’s too far,’ she said decidedly. ‘You’re not strong enough yet, Jenny. That hill is steep.’

‘She could go on Frank’s old pony,’ said Jane.

I felt terrified at the idea because I can’t ride, and I said as much.

Frank had joined us by then. ‘Anyone can ride,’ he said confidently. ‘We’ll put you on old Squirrel’s back — she was my first pony. I’ll lead it. Don’t worry, Jenny, you’ll be fine.’

I asked him why the pony was called Squirrel. To be honest, I was just trying to delay. In one way it was rather fun to go out with all the boys and to have Frank, who was quite handsome, lead me on the pony’s back. On the other hand, I was terrified that I might fall off or do something silly.

‘I was the one that called the pony “Squirrel’s Pony” because Frank used to look like a squirrel on its back — it was far too big for him. He did look funny, perched up there,’ said Mrs Austen over her shoulder as she turned to replace the stopper in the big jar of vinegar. ‘He saved up all the money that he could earn scaring crows. Then he got a nice tip from a rich cousin and he went straight out and bought
the pony when he was only seven years old. I made his first hunting coat out of my red wool wedding dress.’ Mrs Austen was smiling good-humouredly at the memory. It’s funny how much fonder of the boys she is than of Jane, I thought. She always seemed to be a bit irritated by Jane.

I made a little curtsy to Mrs Austen and said that I would go, if she allowed me. Suddenly I really did want to try to ride, even if Frank was going to lead me. Surely I could manage to sit on a pony’s back and be led.

‘What happens if she feels faint?’ Mr Austen had appeared from his study, following out the older boys, and he looked worried.

‘She’ll be all right.’ Mrs Austen was tired of the subject; she wanted us all to go and allow her to get on with preserving her onions.

‘I feel faint; it’s the fumes of this vinegar. I wish I could get out in the fresh air for a half-hour.’ Cassandra was pouting, standing there with a big apron over her oldest gown and looking as if she wished that she could go too. Her eyes went to Tom Fowle and then she looked away. He was looking at her and both of their faces turned slightly pink. I saw Mrs Austen’s eyes go irritably from Cassandra to Tom. But then Jane jumped in between her mother and her sister, her hands clasped and an imploring expression on her face.

‘Oh, Cassandra, don’t faint whatever you do!’
Jane was pretending to sound alarmed. ‘Beware of fainting fits; in my story
Love and Friendship
, Sophia dies after a fainting fit. Her dying words were to her friend, saying, “
Dearest Laura, beware of swoons. Run mad as often as you choose, but do not faint.” 
’

Even Mrs Austen chuckled at that, and Mr Austen threw back his head and laughed. He rubbed his hand over Jane’s dark curls. ‘What a little genius this girl is,’ he said fondly. ‘I love her stories. They are so clever, so humorous. It’s a pity she’s a girl. What do you think, Frank? Do you think that your sister could beat you at Latin if she were a boy?’

‘I don’t like Latin,’ said Frank. He didn’t look a bit worried or jealous of Jane, he just sounded impatient. ‘Mathematics is the only subject that is useful to me at sea. That’s what they study at the naval college. Come on, Jenny, let’s go.’

What fun I am having at Steventon, I was thinking as we all went up the hill together. There was Jane on Frank’s pony, teasing Tom Fowle about Cassandra, and Gilbert, with Charles sitting in front of him, pretending that his horse would fall down on the road from Charles’s weight. The other students were splashing mud from the puddles over each other. I thought of Bristol and of myself and Augusta sitting in the parlour sewing, or she reading aloud while I was drawing, and it all seemed very dull. And now I was going to see a hunt!
And I was riding a pony. I’ve drawn a picture of darling little Squirrel here.

We were almost late by the time we arrived at Deane and the space in front of the inn was crowded by red-coated riders and dozens of tail-wagging dogs, yelping with excitement.

‘Quick, give me my pony!’ In his hurry Frank let go of the reins of my pony while he grabbed his own from Jane and they both went over to talk to a boy who was sitting on a grey pony. I got a fright to find myself on my own, but nothing happened.

I just sat there and the pony stood as still as a rock. After a minute I began to feel quite brave and rather pleased with myself. I would learn to ride, I planned. Perhaps Frank would teach me, although of course Squirrel was far too small for me; my feet almost touched the ground. Still, it would be fun, I thought, and then I saw one of the red-coated gentlemen smiling at me. I smiled back before thinking and then I blushed. The gentleman didn’t look away. I heard him say to the man next to him, ‘Who’s that pretty girl?’ Then I did look away quickly and I didn’t hear the reply, but when I looked back I saw that he
was still looking at me. He smiled even more, and then took off his hat and half raised his whip in a salute to me. It was lucky that my sister-in-law wasn’t there. She would have considered it all very unladylike. The man had a very handsome horse though, a big black stallion, and he had a hunting horn in his hand so he must have been someone important in the hunt. I wish my picture showed quite how splendid he looked — I’m never satisfied with my drawings. I showed it to Jane, who is writing away at her desk, and she liked it, but I don’t think I’ve made him handsome enough.

‘I wish I was allowed to go hunting,’ said Charles sadly as they all moved away, shouting and laughing. They were a wonderful sight in the spring sunshine, I thought, and I wasn’t surprised that Charles was upset not to be going too.

‘You know that Squirrel is too old for hunting,’ said Jane. ‘She’d drop down dead if you tried to gallop her or jump with her. You’ll have to have a new pony, and you know that Father can’t afford to buy you one.’

I told him he could ride her back home though, if
he liked, because it was downhill all the way to the house and I could easily walk that distance.

Charles was very grateful — he is such a nice boy. When he is happy, his grin seems to go from ear to ear.

As Jane and I walked slowly down the hill together I told her how lucky I thought she was to have brothers like Frank and Charles.

‘And Henry,’ said Jane. ‘He’ll be back at the weekend. Henry’s my favourite brother. He’s splendid; wait until you see him! Alethea Bigg told me that she is madly in love with him.’

I asked Jane to describe Henry again as I gazed over the fields in what I hoped was a nonchalant way. I wondered what Henry would think of me. Life was getting very exciting with all these young men around.

‘He’s very good-looking — tall and dark-haired,’ Jane told me. ‘Don’t you remember? I told you that when you drew that picture of him.’

‘Frank is different to the way I imagined him though. Is Henry as fine-looking as Frank?’ I pretended to be looking at something in the hedge so that she wouldn’t see me blush.

‘Much, much better-looking.’ Jane sounded quite scornful. ‘And much, much taller. Frank’s only a boy; Henry is a man. He’s nineteen now. He’s a year older than Cassandra. Why, you haven’t fallen in love with Frank, have you? Why are you blushing?’

‘No, of course I haven’t fallen in love with Frank,’
I said indignantly, but I knew I was still blushing. I wish I didn’t blush so easily. It’s so silly. I remembered that gentleman at the hunt looking at me and I could feel my cheeks getting even warmer. I wondered whether he admired me. I wished that I was not so short and that I had a better nose.

I tried to distract Jane by asking her about the boy on the grey pony and it worked.