Page 66 of The Austen Escape
I smirked. “It’s an idea fromPersuasion. Anne Elliot says it, but don’t think Isabel is your Anne Elliot. That’d be a mistake. She is not that compliant.”
Grant laughed with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “Even now, that’s not an adjective I’d use to describe her.” He then saw me, really saw me, and his face fell. “Forgive me. You’re shivering. We must get you back.”
He started down the path with such long strides I had to run to keep pace. We’d covered about a hundred yards before he stopped.
I heard it too—the clopping of horse hooves.
“I have a better idea. That’s where my coat went. I took it off when setting up the gig.”
The Muellers came into view. Goliath pulled them in a small carriage that had only two wheels, set side by side.
Grant smirked at me now. “By the way, that’s Admiral andMrs. Croft approaching. Helene explained it to me this morning—she said you suggested a change of characters.”
Herman pulled on Goliath’s reins and stopped beside us. “What happened here?”
“Miss Morland,” Grant said with wry formality, “decided to take a dip. Could you take her back to the house? She’s shivering.”
“Of course, and we come prepared. We have a blanket.” Helene squished up against her husband. “Do let us have the pleasure of taking you home. There is excellent room for three.”
Grant took the blanket she offered and led me to the back of the gig, where he lifted me onto the bench. “There wasn’t room for three up there,” he whispered. In a louder voice he called, “She’s set back here. Walk on, Goliath.”
We bounced away.
“Isn’t this delightful?” Helene called. “Not that you are cold and wet, but that this is happening just as it is? I took your suggestion.”
Before I could answer, Herman called, “Are you comfortable back there?”
“Very.” I pulled the blanket around me and almost believed it to be true. I watched the sun shoot through the branches. I’d been so enamored with the green that I hadn’t noticed—fall had taken many of the leaves. Time was marching on, and I wondered if the heat had broken at home.
“We took your advice,” Helene said again. “Have you taken mine?” She twisted in her seat.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You chose poorly in Catherine Morland. She’s a good sort of girl, and I know why you did it. Everything about her ached to be a heroine; she threw herself at it. Goodness, that girl was so lost in Gothic romances I had no humor for her for years.” Helene wasgripping the back of the seat to keep facing me. “But that’s not you. It’s not because you weren’t born to it that you’re not a heroine. It’s that you’ve shunned it. Too much risk, too much fear.”
“Are we talking about a new character?”
“We’re talking about you, Mary. Your journey is nothing like Catherine’s.” She clutched her husband’s arm. “Maybe I should go back to Mrs. Jennings. People at least believed her when she said stuff, even if she was wrong.”
Herman made no reply.
She turned back to me. “I hope I haven’t upset you, dear.”
“Not at all.” I was too confused to be upset. I turned to face the path behind us again. The stream was disappearing from view. Something was slipping away and I couldn’t grasp it. I stretched up to see over the back of the seat. “So if not Catherine Morland, then who?”
“Anne Elliot fromPersuasion, of course. She didn’t think happiness could come her way either, but it did. She just had to stretch a little—and when she recognized it, hold it tight.”
“Oh...” I faced backwards again.
After a few more hills, the Muellers were engrossed in their own conversation. I suspected they had forgotten me.
“So is it what you expected?” Herman said to his wife.
“It cost us so much... Somehow I feel I’ve been wasteful.”
“Do not say that. What were we saving for? I’m not sure I’ll be able to drive a gig on our seventieth anniversary.”
“But we could have done something you—”
