Jane Austen’s First Love (10 page)

A strawberry-picking party had been an annual occurrence at Goodnestone for nearly two decades, always taking place during the second week of June. Thankfully the weather co-operated, and the next day was very fine, with a bright sun and scattered clouds—ideal for a party to be held out of doors.

Anticipation of the affair was very great, and as everyone wanted to reserve his appetite for the cold,
al-fresco
collation to be served that morning after the fruit was picked, breakfast was a lighter meal and served an hour earlier than usual.

“Goodnestone is famous for its strawberry beds,” said her ladyship at the breakfast-table, while adding cream to her tea. “We have the best fruit in Kent; nay, I dare say the best fruit in the country; would not you agree, Sir Brook?”

Sir Brook, his nose buried in his newspaper, responded with a simple and distracted, “Yes, dear.”

“Our beds are the finest, and we have all the finest sorts,” continued Lady Bridges. “Hautboys which are very scarce elsewhere, we have in abundance; our beds of chilis are good as well, and some space is given to the white wood, which although small, has the finest flavour of all.”

“Such delicious fruit!” agreed Sophia. “Strawberries are everybody’s favourite.”

“The neighbours talk of nothing else all year but our party,” her ladyship went on, “how much they enjoy it, and how much they look forward to it. To receive an invitation is always the highest compliment; but of course we must be very select as to whom we include, for it would not do to have
too
many people descend on one’s garden at the very same moment.”

It was a day which I had looked forward to as well, but for reasons very different from the neighbours: the foremost being that Edward Taylor was to join in the festivities. On another note, I knew that it heralded the arrival of Fanny’s fiancé, Mr. Lewis Cage, a man whom I was most curious to meet.

As we later gathered in the drawing-room to await the arrival of the guests (the ladies dressed for a garden outing, wearing our largest bonnets and carrying our parasols), Sophia mentioned to Cassandra and me:

“Mr. Lewis Cage is bringing his particular friend, Mr. William Deedes of Canterbury, with whom he is residing during his stay in the neighbourhood.”

“What do you know of Mr. Deedes?” inquired I.

“I know that he and Mr. Cage attended Cambridge together. Mr. Deedes has also had a long association with your brother Edward and the Knights.”

“Indeed?” said Cassandra. “Have you met Mr. Deedes?”

“I have, at several assemblies in Canterbury.” Sophia flushed a little as she added: “Of course we have seen more of Mr. Cage, ever since he and Fanny became betrothed.”

My anticipation of the expected visitors was shared by Louisa, Charles, and Brook Edward, who kept running to the window to ascertain if they could perceive a hint of an impending arrival.

At a quarter to eleven, Charles cried, “I hear horsemen! I hear horsemen!”

“Shall we go without?” exclaimed Louisa.

Lady Bridges insisted that, as there was to be a succession of guests, with no idea of anyone’s precise arrival time, we ought to remain where we were. Very soon the horses could be seen approaching, their hooves making a pleasant clatter in the sweep. Everyone made ready; Fanny looked less animated than I might have expected, for a young woman about to greet the man she was to wed; while unaccountably, Sophia appeared more glowing than usual, and kept her eyes directed at her lap.

The gentlemen were announced; they entered; greetings were exchanged.

Both were well-dressed, mature, and distinguished-looking, as befitted gentlemen of thirty years of age. Mr. Lewis Cage was a quiet, reserved man of medium height and no great beauty, although he possessed a noble mien: his manners were very fine, and his person graceful. He was gracious to Sir Brook and Lady Bridges, and very civil to the rest of the family, reserving his only display of mild emotion for Fanny, who received a deep bow and a look of fondness. To my sister, Charles, and me, when introductions had been made, Mr. Cage said politely:

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to getting better acquainted with you all over the next few weeks.”

“As do we,” replied Cassandra sincerely.

I wanted to reply in kind, but thought better of it and instead curtseyed and smiled demurely, behaviour which I believed my mother would deem more befitting for a young lady of my age upon introduction to a strange gentleman so much my senior.

Mr. Deedes was more lively than his companion. A fine, tall, good-looking man with easy, unaffected manners, Cassandra and I thought him much handsomer than Mr. Cage, and on first meeting, more amiable.

“Mr. Deedes is even more wealthy than his friend,” Marianne told us in confidence. “In addition to a residence in Canterbury, he inherited several other properties from his father, including an ancient house near Bromley-green called Claypits Manor, and the adjoining manor of Bishopswood.”

While Mr. Cage sat down across from Fanny and lapsed into silence, Mr. Deedes made a point of speaking to all the principal people in the room; after shaking hands with Charles, he made overtures to my brother Edward, my sister, and myself, adding:

“I have heard a great deal about you two young ladies from your brother.”

“Have you indeed?” Cassandra smiled. “What is Edward saying about us behind our backs?”

“All good things, I assure you.”

My brother laughed. “Deedes and I have had a long association. We used to get into all manner of scrapes before I went on my Grand Tour. Now at last we are to travel together. He is to join me and the Knights and a few other friends on our tour of Scotland next month.”

“I cannot tell you how delighted I am to be included, and how much I look forward to the excursion,” added Mr. Deedes.

“I am sure it will be very agreeable,” responded Cassandra.

“Oh! I wish I were going,” cried I. “How I should love to see Scotland!”

“Well, perhaps when you are a bit older, Jane,” said my brother kindly.

The sounds of horses and carriages were now heard in the sweep; there was some bustle without; and soon a group of new arrivals entered the drawing-room. The first to appear was Edward Taylor, looking very handsome in a blue coat. He glanced my way; he smiled; and I was all anticipation, my heart beating faster as I imagined the morning ahead.

I
had no opportunity to say hello to Edward Taylor, for at the same moment that he arrived, Thomas Payler made his entrance along with his mother and father and a large parade of children, all of whom were splendidly attired and carried baskets trimmed to match their clothing.

“What a fine-looking family,” whispered Cassandra to me.

“Yes, but they are rather overdressed for the occasion,” whispered I in return. “Their finery more befits a dinner than a morning in the garden.”

“Hush,” warned Cassandra sternly, as Lady Bridges came forth and proceeded to introduce us to all the members of the family. Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Watkinson Payler were a handsome, aristocratic-looking, good-humoured, talkative couple in their middle forties, who were very proud of their progeny, and not afraid to say so. They had seven sons (Thomas being the eldest at eighteen) and one daughter, Charlotte, a very pretty, demure young lady who wore an attractive bonnet with pale green ribbons, and who struck me as being the very opposite of her parents, in that she was quiet and reserved.

“The Austens are sisters to Elizabeth’s intended, Edward,” remarked Lady Bridges when the presentations were complete. “They are from a tiny village in Hampshire, where their father is a clergyman; but of course you know that Edward is heir to a host of properties in that county, as well as Godmersham Park, and when he inherits, he will change his name to Knight.”

“Mr. Watkinson Payler, Esquire, has quite an illustrious history,” added Sir Brook, “for his ancestor was created a baronet during the reign of Charles I, and he would continue to be so today, had not the lack of surviving issue caused the baronetcy to expire at the start of this century. They have a delightful coat of arms—three lions and three mullets of six points each—truly delightful.”

“What do these girls care about coats of arms?” cried Lady Bridges, adding, “You
will
be interested to know, however, that Mr. and Mrs. Watkinson Payler both had their portraits painted at the time of their marriage, by Joshua Reynolds himself!”

“Oh! You need not mention that,” said Mr. Thomas Watkinson Payler (Esquire), with a dismissive wave of his hand, immediately continuing, in a voice deep with pride, “It was a small indulgence, we paid but seventy guineas for the honour.”

“We were fortunate that he made himself available,” said Mrs. Watkinson Payler, “for Joshua Reynolds had just then been appointed the first president of the Royal Academy. He enjoyed
then
, even as he does now, a reputation as the foremost portraitist of our age. The portraits are on view at Ileden Manor, and should you wish to see them, we should be only too happy to oblige you. We live only four miles distant.”

“I am sure we should love to see them,” said Cassandra graciously, “should the opportunity arise.”

“Let us try to arrange something while you are in the neighbourhood, Miss Austen and Miss Jane,” said Mrs. Watkinson Payler. “Perhaps a dinner for our three families?” She and Lady Bridges discussed the possibility, and settled on a date for the event the following week.

“Jane,” said Lady Bridges, nodding towards the Paylers’ daughter who stood silently nearby, “it just occurred to me that Charlotte is
exactly
the same age as you—you are fifteen, is that not so?”

I nodded.

“Well! You are the only two young ladies present who can make that claim, and I am sure you shall both get along famously.”

I smiled at Miss Payler, who sweetly returned the gesture; but we were unable to investigate this prophecy, as some minutes were immediately given over to a discussion of how the Paylers were related to Edward Taylor, the facts being these: that Edward’s dear departed mother Margaret, whom everyone remembered as the loveliest of women, was the sister of Mr. Thomas Watkinson Payler, present owner of Ileden; and thus Edward Taylor was his nephew, and first cousin to all his children. As the connection was through Edward Taylor’s mother, and not his father, it meant the Paylers were in no way related by blood to the Bridgeses, a fact which was greatly lamented by everybody.

The final guests to round out the party were the family currently leasing Bifrons Park: Admiral and Mrs. Fielding and their son. The admiral was a small, quiet, thoughtful, weathered man, recently retired, who had opted to lease the estate for three years to determine whether or not he wished to settle permanently in the area. He had married late, had spent most of his life at sea, and seemed to have very little in common with his wife. Mrs. Fielding was a fat, red-faced woman whose clothing and accessories reflected a sense of too much money and too little taste. Although civil and well-meaning, she was prosing and pompous, and from the moment of our first acquaintance, I ascertained that she thought or said nothing of consequence, except as it related to her own and her son’s concerns. Indeed, her life seemed entirely devoted to promoting the happiness of their son Frederic, an equally heavy-looking, shy lad of seventeen, who took a full minute to formulate even the simplest sentence before he spoke it.

With everybody assembled (a group of more than thirty people), Lady Bridges directed a servant to hand out baskets to all those who had come without, and issued the following directive: that although we were welcome to eat as many berries as we liked during the picking, we were expected to fill our baskets, and to deliver them to one of the tables in the garden, where cold meats, bread, cheese, cream, and other refreshments were to be served at half-past two. Following this, there would be lawn games.

All soon issued outside, our object: the walled garden enclosing the strawberry beds, which lay just beyond the garden where I had walked with Edward Taylor two days previously.

During this progression, everyone instinctively separated into parties according to age, interests, or familiarity. The youngest boys and girls, a very sizeable crowd, all led the charge, determined to find (and no doubt eat) the best strawberries for themselves. The older gentlemen—Sir Brook, Admiral Fielding, and Mr. Thomas Watkinson Payler—made up the next grouping; Lady Bridges and Mrs. Fielding walked just behind; the lovers—Fanny and Mr. Cage, and my brother Edward and Elizabeth, walked in pairs, quietly conversing; Frederic Fielding gravitated to Edward Taylor, Thomas Payler, and his two eldest brothers; Mrs. Watkinson Payler and her daughter Charlotte chatted beneath their parasols; and Mr. Deedes took charge of Sophia, Marianne, Cassandra, and myself.

All of this occurred in the most natural manner; but as we made our way across the lawn, I could not help but glance aside at Edward Taylor, hoping that he would choose to pick strawberries with me.

Mr. Deedes, with a good-natured smile, said, “Miss Austen, Miss Jane: did I hear that you are from Hampshire?” At Cassandra’s affirmative reply, he added, “Regrettably I have never visited that part of England, but I understand you have a marvellous cathedral.”

“Yes, at Winchester,” answered Cassandra.

This conversation continued, but I could not attend; my thoughts were all of Edward Taylor, who was walking so close by. As we approached the wooden door leading into the first of the three walled gardens, he caught my eye, and my pulse quickened; I thought I perceived an expression intimating that he was on the verge of quitting his present company to join ours; but Mrs. Watkinson Payler, pausing until we caught up to her and her daughter, turned to me with an eager smile, and said,

“Miss Jane! It seems that Lady Bridges has singled out you and my daughter Charlotte to be companions! Shall we walk together so that you can become acquainted?”

“That would be very nice indeed, Mrs. Payler,” said I, striving to shew more enthusiasm than I felt, for she and her daughter did seem to be affable ladies. As the three of us separated from my party, with a sinking feeling, I observed Edward Taylor pass through the opening with the other young gentlemen. I soon followed in the company of Mrs. Watkinson Payler and her daughter, who walked quietly at her mother’s side.

As we crossed through the first walled garden, where servants were preparing for the collation to be held later that day, Mrs. Watkinson Payler said: “Tell us all about yourself, Miss Jane. Are you out yet?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Neither is Charlotte. But her father and I are allowing her and all of our sons to participate in all the events at Goodnestone this summer, nevertheless. We saw no reason not to, as this is a celebration for family and friends, and so many other children are to be included. Is your mother extending you the same consideration?”

“She is, ma’am.”

“I am glad to hear it, for then you and Charlotte will see a great deal of each other! What fun you will have!”

I darted a smile at Charlotte, and in an attempt to include her in the conversation, said: “I hope that proves to be the case, Miss Payler.”

Charlotte seemed to be on the point of replying; but her mother cried,

“Oh! Is not it a lovely day for an
al-fresco
party? It is just the same as last year! What a long row of tables and chairs they have set up here, and all decorated so prettily with flowers! And as always, it is situated beneath a canvas shelter and a good shade tree—so thoughtful! Wait until you see all the food and beverages they will be bringing out! We have been honoured to attend the Bridgeses’ strawberry-picking party three years in a row now, and I must say, it is always the highest compliment to be invited! The last two years were not nearly as nice as the summer of 1788, for
that
summer the Taylors were in residence at Bifrons, which occasioned our inclusion—and oh! What a delightful family they are! The Reverend Edward Taylor is so very learned, and all my nieces and nephews are so handsome and amiable, particularly the eldest! The last time we had seen them they were so very small, I could form no opinion of them—Charlotte was but a little child when they emigrated abroad, and my nephew Edward only five years old himself—but now only look at him, nearly seventeen and every bit the gentleman! Have you heard him play the violin?”

“I have not had that pleasure.”

“Oh! It is a pleasure indeed. Have you met his brothers and sisters?”

“No. This is my first visit to this neighbourhood.”

“Every one of them is proficient in the arts, but where music is concerned, Edward is the most gifted. He is so charming, so accomplished, and he has travelled the world!” Leaning in towards me, and lowering her voice briefly, Mrs. Watkinson Payler continued: “Lady Bridges does not much care for him, which I say only reflects her lack of good judgement, for he is one of the finest young men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I am very proud to be his aunt.”

I smiled with pleasure, for these assessments of Edward Taylor’s character met with my own perceptions; it was very agreeable to know that his aunt thought so highly of him.

We were making our way through the second walled garden, and my thoughts reverted to that recent evening when Mr. Taylor and I had walked atop the wall. What, I wondered, would Mrs. Watkinson Payler think of him (and of me!), were she to be made aware of our (shocking and) dreadful behaviour? Thankfully unaware of my musings, the lady nodded towards the young man in question (who was walking ahead of us, chatting with his friend and cousins), and added, “Charlotte! Is not your cousin Edward handsome and charming?” Without waiting for a reply, she went on, “When he and his family were last at Bifrons, he spent a great deal of time with Charlotte, you know.”

A slight blush overcame Charlotte’s features, and she glanced away. An unexpected feeling of dread descended on me; I had presentiment of what Mrs. Watkinson Payler might be about to say next. I hoped I was wrong. “Did he?”

“Yes. Edward was ever so sweet to her, even though she was but thirteen at the time. Since he has come back again and is staying at our house, they see each other every day.” Lowering her voice again, she added in confidence: “I think he is falling in love with her—and she with him—and nothing could make me happier! It is my dearest hope that he and Charlotte will marry one day.”

My stomach clenched and my mouth went dry; I could make no reply. I remained silent until we reached the opening in the high, brick walls leading into the third enclosed garden, which I knew contained the strawberry beds, and through which the greater part of the company had already passed.

“Pray, excuse me,” said Mrs. Watkinson Payler, “I will see you within. Charlotte: stay right there.” So saying, she darted up to Edward Taylor, to whom she made a cheerful remark, before venturing through the entrance herself.

My mind was in a daze, distracted and dismayed by Mrs. Watkinson Payler’s previous words. Oh! Was it true that Edward Taylor was in love with Charlotte? If so, did she return his feelings? Did that mean I had no chance of ever winning his affections?

From the corner of my eye, I saw Thomas Payler pause and gaze earnestly at my sister, as if he wished to seek out her company—but apparently he lacked the nerve, for with a lowered gaze, he proceeded into the next garden with his brothers. As Cassandra walked on with Sophia and Marianne, Edward Taylor turned back to me with a friendly smile and said:

“Good morning, Miss Jane.”

I returned the greeting, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and anxiety. Many people, I noticed, had paired off by now. Would Edward Taylor choose me or Charlotte as his strawberry-picking companion? If so, who would it be?

“You are in for a treat, Miss Jane,” said he. “It has been several years since I picked strawberries at Goodnestone, but they were the best I had ever tasted.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added quietly: “By the way, Mr. Fielding has something he particularly wishes to say to you. I hope he will gather his courage and be successful.”

Alarm spread through me. Frederic Fielding, standing nervously a few feet off, blushed a deep red and stared at the ground. Edward Taylor now held out his arm to Charlotte, and said,

“Shall we, cousin?”

Charlotte, with a lovely smile, took his proffered arm, and the two strode away together.

Hot tears threatened behind my eyes. I wanted to run back to the house, to weep in my chamber, but I was too devastated to move. Mrs. Watkinson Payler must be right! He had chosen Charlotte!