Read Online Jane Austen: Blood Persuasion by Janet Mullany - Free Book Online Page B

in at some of the cottages here, meaning to return home after, and listened to the children say their lessons. I certainly did not intend to walk in the opposite direction. Jane, you do not think I am ill, do you? I have not felt better in my life, but to have such a thing happen . . . and this blood upon my bosom—how do you think it got there?”
    “Maybe you had a nosebleed,” Jane said.
    On their return, the Austens fussed over Martha, giving her the most comfortable seat nearest the fire and discussing whether a doctor should be called.
    Jane meanwhile raged inwardly while maintaining an outward appearance of tranquillity. She played the pianoforte for the ladies, encouraged Anna to sing, and joined in a game of spillikins, a game at which she normally excelled, but which she now found tedious in the extreme. She was greatly relieved when her mother suggested they all have an early night, and Jane went upstairs with the others.
    “What do you think we should do?” Cassandra asked her as soon as they were in their bedchamber. “Do you think she should see a doctor? It is a dreadful thing to have happened.”
    “It is my fault,” Jane said.
    “What!” Cassandra, in the act of unpinning her hair, looked at her with astonishment. “No, of course it is not. How could it possibly be your fault?”
    “I should have protected her,” Jane said and floundered to a stop, not knowing how else to proceed. “Cassandra, I must confide in you. I believe I am becoming . . . unwell again.”
    “Unwell?”
    “You remember when I had to take the Cure in Bath a dozen years ago. The symptoms are returning.”
    For a moment Cassandra looked at her with sheer terror. “No! You look so very well. It cannot be. We shall ask Martha to make you up a draught and all will be well.”
    “I fear that my good looks are part of the symptoms. I know, Cassandra. Trust me.”
    “We cannot go to Bath. Not after Papa . . .” Cassandra swallowed. “I shall pray for you, Jane. I shall pray you are wrong. But surely you do not think one of those vile creatures attacked Martha?”
    “I think it more than likely.”
    “Nonsense! This is an English village, not the sinister Italian landscape of a gothic novel. I am certain she had some sort of fit, which is worrying enough, but I do not believe she was the victim of any wrongdoing.”
    Jane took one look at her sister, frightened and close to tears, and moved behind Cassandra to unfasten her gown and stays. “Nevertheless, I do not think she should walk alone. What if she were to become ill again?”
    “I think that an excellent idea,” Cassandra said. “What’s the matter?”
    Jane could not speak of her disappointment at Cassandra’s reaction to her confession. “I do not think I shall sleep. I think it best if I go downstairs to write.”
    “Very well.” Cassandra pulled her mass of hair over her shoulder to braid it for the night. “You may wake me to help you undress.”
    “Thank you, but I should not dare do so. You are such a surly creature when awoken. I can rest well enough in my gown.” She kissed Cassandra, half expecting her sister to shrink away from her and relieved that she did not; but was not that worse, that her sister did not believe her?
    Jane went downstairs and sat in the parlor, listening to the creak of floorboards above as the household prepared for the night. A pad of footfalls the length of the house and the murmur of voices indicated that Cassandra, who liked to chat before sleep, had gone to visit Martha. Finally all was quiet, Cassandra back in her own bedchamber, and Jane took her cloak and left the house, closing the door quietly behind her. The night air smelled cool and sweet, and she fancied she could smell some early blossom on the air from the orchard. Keeping to the shadows—she was not sure she could melt into the darkness yet, a skill learned when she had been assuredly Damned—she made her way through the village and turned into the