The Missing Manuscript of Jane Austen (47 page)

He looked at her so earnestly, and with eyes so expressive, that Rebecca could not speak. He went on:

“My dearest Miss Stanhope. All these years, I have never been
able to find the words to express my feelings while in your presence. For a long time, I sensed that you did not like me. When you left Elm Grove—I did not blame you for resenting me,
then
—but my affection for you has never wavered. I have long dreamt of this moment, and now that it is here, I find—Surely, you cannot be in ignorance of how I feel.”—He broke off, his voice catching; but soon resumed, in a tone filled with sincerity and tenderness—“I believe I have loved you all my life, since we were children and played together up the road at Claremont Park. I used to count the days until my next visit, because it meant I would see you. You grew from a lively girl into a beautiful, intelligent woman, and with your sweet loveliness and your many talents, you took—you
take
—my breath away. When I look to the future, I cannot imagine my life without you at my side, as my wife, my love, and my dearest friend, sharing all our thoughts and feelings, and all the daily blessings of life. What say you? Will you share my life with me? Will you marry me?”

Throughout this speech, Rebecca was filled with such agitation, and a happiness so overpowering, that she felt as though she must be imagining it. Yet this was no dream. Mr. Clifton was indeed standing before her, and he had uttered every syllable with a heartfelt openness. In a rush, she saw the truth of all that occurred between them in years past—his strange reticence over the years, which she now understood to be due to his strong feelings for her. She now comprehended the reason behind his many selfless acts over the preceding months—his determination to clear her father’s name—his travelling all the way to Leatherhead, and Bath, and the Kamschatka Inn, and Bath
again
on their behalf—the pianoforte—the brooch—all reflections of his kindness and
generosity, but more importantly, expressions of his love for her! She had never met a kinder or more thoughtful man; and she loved him with all her heart.

With great emotion, she expressed her own feelings in return, and answered him in the affirmative. She would be honoured to be his wife;—she could think of no greater honour.

His happiness on receiving her reply was equal to her own, and it was coupled with both amazement and relief. For all the while that he had been endeavouring to return from Bath, and waiting for the weather to clear, he had been in a very distressed state of mind, preparing the words he had so long yearned to say, with no certainty of their reception. To discover that she
now
felt the same affection for him, as he did for her! This was felicity itself, and the answer to his prayers.

This exchange, which in the space of a quarter of an hour, revealed the truth of their feelings for each other, and completely altered every thing, was yet only the beginning. There was much that each still wished to say. As Mr. Clifton took Rebecca’s hands in his, however, his eyes shining with affection and profound happiness, there came footsteps in the hall, and Mr. Stanhope entered, to express his delight at Mr. Clifton’s return. The latter directed a silent, significant look at Rebecca, who took his meaning, and immediately invented some excuse to leave the room.

She waited in a flurry of excitement, knowing what Mr. Clifton was about: he was asking her father’s consent to the marriage. She had no reason to think her father would be any thing but approving; and indeed, when the door finally opened, and Mr. Clifton came to retrieve her, he was all smiles. She returned to the parlour, where Mr. Stanhope
embraced her, and shook Mr. Clifton’s hand, admitting that he had been praying for just such a conclusion for many months, and was happy to see that his observations of the two of them had not been wrong. He declared Mr. Clifton to be the best of men; that he proved himself even more worthy in his choice of bride, for there was no finer jewel in the kingdom than Rebecca; and that his daughter could not have chosen a more ideal companion for life, had she searched the world over. They would be very happy together, and he could not be happier for them.

That evening, when the three sat down to dinner, the discourse which had always flowed freely between them, and covered a great many topics of interest, was even more animated than before. They talked of the future with hope and delight. After Mr. Stanhope turned in for the night, the lovers returned to the parlour, as they had done so many evenings over the preceding months, but now with a very different aspect to their conversation. New avenues were opened, for at last they were free to speak all that was in their hearts, and to ask many questions which were burning in their minds.

Philip was concerned that Rebecca, after all her adventures, and after singing before such an admiring crowd at Bath, might be sorry to spend her life with him, in the seclusion of the country. Rebecca disabused him of any such notions.

“It was thrilling for a moment, to sing for a roomful of strangers,” admitted she, “but they were people I shall never see again. They cared nothing for me, only for the performance. They were ready to turn on me in an instant, and
did
. I cannot imagine that I would enjoy the itinerant life required of a singer, nor do I have any desire to live in town.
How much more gratifying it will be, to have a quiet life in the country, and to sing and play for our own enjoyment, and that of our friends; for
you
are the people who know and love me, who matter in my life, and who will stay by me.
You
are the treasured company who make me feel complete.”

Her answer relieved him of worry, and he was content.

Rebecca wanted to know at what age Mr. Clifton first knew of his feelings for her.

“I believe it was the first time I heard you sing at Christmas at Claremont Park, when you were nine years old,” replied he.

“Then why did you and your cousin make such fun of me?”

“Precisely
because
I liked you. I was thirteen years of age. I was starting to feel quite grown-up, and you seemed to me,
then,
as just a little girl. I think I was embarrassed by my feelings; I hardly knew what to make of them. So I did what all boys do. I behaved most abominably.”

“Every time I saw you after that, you were so aloof, so reserved. With others, you could be jolly; but you hardly looked at me, and barely spoke a word. I thought you despised me.”

“Quite the reverse. I liked you better with every visit—and that was my downfall. I could speak freely and easily with any one else, but not with you. I used to play out conversations with you in my mind, and rehearse phrases which I hoped to say to you. But once in your presence, I was all nerves and anxiety, afraid I would say or do the wrong thing. And so I said nothing. I would go away completely infuriated with myself.”

“I wish I had known. I would have tried to put you at ease.”

“This went on for years, and never really improved, until I came to see you that day at Bath.”

“You were not at a loss for words,
then
.”

“I suppose it was because I felt I had nothing to lose. I knew you greatly resented me already. Nothing I could do would make it worse—only better. And I truly had something important to say.”

“I will be for ever grateful for what you have done for my father and me—that day, and every day since. I do not deserve you, Philip.”

“My dearest Rebecca: I am all amazement to find myself where I now sit, and feel I do not deserve
you
.”

“On this matter, then, we must agree to disagree,” replied she with a happy smile.

In the weeks that followed, Rebecca was in an exquisite flutter of happiness. The news of her engagement to Mr. Clifton was received by every one in the community with elation and hearty congratulations. Sarah and Charles, in particular, who knew what Mr. Clifton had done for them, and had come fully to appreciate his many good qualities, expressed their extreme contentment in the match.

Miss Clifton was initially dismayed, as she had so long been championing the cause of Miss Russell. However, upon understanding how happy her brother was in his choice, and how very dear he had become to Rebecca, Miss Clifton quickly came round, and wrote to share her genuine delight in the prospect of having Rebecca as her sister. Miss Russell recovered from her heart-break with remarkable rapidity, for within six months’ time, she was engaged to the eldest son of a baronet.

In May, the vicar of Beaumont passed away at the age of eighty-six. Mr. Clifton succeeded to the post, and
removed there directly. Now every thing was in place, as to make it possible for Rebecca and Mr. Clifton to marry. The date was fixed for the last week of June; the banns were read; and the wedding clothes were ordered.

The day before the wedding, as Mr. Clifton and Rebecca strolled in the Elm Grove Rectory garden, along the shrubbery border gay with pinks, columbines, and sweet-williams, he told her all about the vicarage at Beaumont, where they were to live. It was, he assured her, a well-maintained cottage of ample proportions, with enough bedrooms to accommodate a family, a study large enough to hold all the books he intended to acquire, and room enough in the parlour to accommodate both her pianoforte and the harp which he hoped to purchase for her in the next year or two. There was the added benefit of an efficient suite of offices, an acre glebe, and a lovely garden which even now was blooming with all the flowers Rebecca loved. Best of all, it was within easy walking distance of the charming village, and offered a fine prospect overlooking a green meadow and a grove of ancient oaks.

“Does the garden have a shady bench for reading?” asked she.

“It does—a very worn bench beneath a grand, old tree.”

“Then what more could one ask for? I shall be very content there.” As the village was only twelve miles distant from Medford, she should be able to see Sarah, Charles, and their children regularly; and
this
made her happiest of all.

Mr. Clifton regarded her with concern as they walked along. “I realise it will be difficult for you to leave Elm Grove, my dearest Rebecca. You will be giving up a lot. You will miss your father.”

“I shall,” admitted she, “but as papa is more inclined to
travel now—he insists he actually looks forward to it—we can expect to see him at least two or three times a year, either here or there.”

“That is not often, for two people accustomed to seeing each other every day.”

“True; but nothing stays the same. Things change, and we must change with them.”

“This is a first, coming from you,” said he, in a tone of pleasant surprise. “You have always said you did not like change.”

“I have
changed
my mind on that score,” replied Rebecca, smiling. “As you have long insisted, change can be a great improver. Even if it seems to be a trial at first, it can bring about positive growth if one will allow it, and embrace it.”

“And what brought you round to this point of view?”

“Why, the three months which I spent away from Elm Grove. I learned and experienced a great deal in that time. It is only
because
of my enforced removal, that you were prompted to such actions, as revealed the truth of your heart to me; and in so doing, my own heart opened to discover how much I loved
you
.”

He smiled at this and took her hand.

“I now believe,” added she, “that it is a good thing to live somewhere other than the place where one grew up, at some point in one’s life;—but it is an even better thing to come back home. And anywhere that
you
are, Philip dearest, will always be home to me.”

“At the same time,” admitted he, “I have come to understand and appreciate your love of the familiar. There
is
something very comforting in it. A striking new vista might take one’s breath away, but it cannot compare to the deep satisfaction of a prospect which is well-known and adored.”
As he said this, his eyes were on her face, and the tenderness and deep affection in his gaze made her heart turn over.

They walked on, hand in hand, in the happy silence of lovers who are completely content in each other’s presence, and share the precious certainty of being beloved.

The day of the wedding dawned fair and mild. As Rebecca recited her vows before her family and friends, uniting her with the man she loved best in all the world, she felt overwhelmed by perfect happiness. In the church tower, the three new bells rang out in perfect harmony, their deep, clear, melodious tones resounding throughout the parish.

Brought together by mutual affection, and retaining the warmest approbation of all who loved them, the wedded couple’s intimate knowledge of and high regard for each other, made their future look very bright.

May 28, 1802

Finis

A
NTHONY SIGHED
. “T
HE PERFECT ENDING
.”

I looked up from the manuscript, happily agreeing with his assessment, but at the same time sad that it was over. Glancing at the last page, I said, “The date at the end confirms our theory. It was written exactly when we supposed.”