“Ah, to be fourteen again and without composure,” said Dr. Gray with a laugh when Evie was far enough away.
“Oh, Evie Stone is composed enough alright. She just doesn’t feel like tangling with the likes of you.”
Adeline came around to the front of her desk and leaned back against it, arms crossed, the piece of chalk still clasped in her fingers. She was wearing a straight brown skirt to her knees, with a cream-coloured blouse open a few buttons from her neck that accentuated her tawny complexion, and the same stacked-heel, laced-up brown Oxfords that Dr. Gray noticed on all the young working women of late.
“Look, we’re doing critical and thematic analysis of the text, Dr. Gray—what, so if they’re all off seeking treasure or fending away pirates, that’s more relevant? Understanding social mores through the lens of literature is just as important for young men as it is for young ladies. Or don’t you think it important at all?”
Dr. Gray took off his hat, and she watched silently, head tilted to one side, as he tousled his hair and then sat down in one of the extra-small desk seats in front of her.
“What?” he asked as she stared at him.
“You look so small, sitting there. You always look so tall.”
“I’m not that much taller than you, I believe.”
“No … but it feels like you are.”
“Can’t you add some Trollope at least, some good old Doctor Thorne or the like?”
“You and your Trollope.” She now crossed her legs at their ankles as if she had all the time in the world to debate him, while still watching him curiously. “Listen, we know you love Austen as much as I do. I do talk about the Napoleonic Wars and abolition and all that.”
“I’m sure you do.” He grinned. “I am sure you cover it all. You are nothing if not thorough in your lesson planning. But the other board members—”
“And you…”
“No, I agree only to an extent—but mostly because I don’t want you to lose your job. When we hired you for this opening, I was pleased that you could stay close to home and help out with your mother. Pleased that one of Chawton’s own, so to speak, was going to have a part in moulding our youngest minds.”
“Dr. Gray, why so formal? Just tell me what you want me to do. You know I’ll always do it. Eventually,” she added with a playful smile.
He was looking at her as she spoke, trying to do something with the dawning consciousness that she was mocking him in some way. Or, at the very least, daring him. He often felt that way around Adeline—it was most unnerving.
“Hey, Addy!” a young man’s voice boomed down the classroom corridor.
Dr. Gray turned in his seat to see Samuel Grover, another of the village youth, striding happily towards them in full uniform.
“Hey, Dr. Gray, how are you?” The young man joined Adeline at the desk, put his arm about her waist, and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek.
As the village doctor, Dr. Benjamin Gray had cared for both Samuel and Adeline for many years now, watching them grow up together, both brown haired and brown eyed and quick to laugh, little mirrors of each other. They had done their parents proud since then, Samuel training in his father’s footsteps to be a solicitor, Adeline receiving her teaching diploma. But Dr. Gray had had no idea that they were now officially a couple.
He stood up rather abruptly, grabbing his hat. “Well, I should be going. Miss Lewis, Samuel—I mean, Officer Grover.”
Dr. Gray headed back towards the main school door and Adeline ran after him.
“I’m sorry, wait, I’m sure we weren’t finished,” she called out, catching hold of the back of his coat sleeve to slow him down.
He looked down at her hand on his sleeve and noticed for the first time her engagement ring, a small solitaire garnet stone.
“I didn’t know,” he said quickly. “I should have congratulated you both. Please give my best to Samuel.”
“Dr. Gray, is everything okay? I really will think about what you said—I probably have gone a little overboard lately. Drunk with power, as they say.” She offered him a wide, happy smile, and he saw for the first time how very happy she was, too.
“When is the date?” He twisted the hat still in his hands.
“We’re in no hurry.”
“You are both still so young, after all.”
“Not too young for Samuel to be sent off to fight for king and country. But, yes, still quite young, as you are always reminding me. It’s alright—it’ll be something to live for,” she said with a grin.
“I’m sure it will, for you both. Well, best be getting on.” He put on his hat and started back down the road that led into town.
Just as predicted, the exchange with Adeline Lewis had done nothing to clear his head.
CHAPTER THREE
London, England
September 1945
The main room on the lower level of Sotheby’s was packed, the bamboo-sided chairs with intricate needlepointed seating having been supplemented on this occasion by extra ones from the other rooms downstairs. Still, many in the crowd found themselves having to stand with their backs to the mirror-panelled walls, reflecting all the people in the room many times over. This only contributed to the air of excitement that buzzed throughout the room as the auction-house director ascended the podium.
“We have before us today the contents of Godmersham Park, ancestral home of the Knight family, seated in the heart of Kent. Famous family and visitors over the years include several generations of the royal house of Saxe-Coburg, as well as the authoress Miss Jane Austen, whose elder brother inherited the estate in 1794.”
The crowd nearest the entrance murmured slightly as a striking woman in her thirties came through the mirrored doors and glanced discreetly about the room. She was able to find a seat near the front when several gentlemen, recognizing her, jumped up to offer theirs.
Sotheby’s assistant director of estate sales, Yardley Sinclair, was watching from the sidelines next to the podium. He was inwardly congratulating himself for arranging the late arrival of the woman, so that the entire room would notice her and the excitement of the day would increase even more. She had visited the auction house several times over the years to inspect various Austen memorabilia, even recently acquiring a rare first edition of Emma for a record-setting price. Yardley had made sure she was among the first to learn of the sale of the Godmersham estate. He knew that the Hollywood studios would have her schedule locked down for months in advance, and he wanted her to have every opportunity to fly over in time.
He watched as she leaned forward and caught the eye of a man across the aisle from her. There was some silent signalling between them, and Yardley’s heart started to beat faster at the seriousness of the couple’s expressions. The gentleman in particular looked thoroughly determined to win at something big today.
Yardley himself was torn about the sale. Godmersham had been one of those historic houses that seemed to survive the First World War, only to lose its final footing with the struggles of the Second. Sotheby’s had had its eyes on the Austen-related contents of the estate for several decades, the author’s reputation only increasing year after year, especially abroad. Wealthy Americans were aggressively driving up the prices for various editions and letters, and Yardley could foresee the day when certain items would outstrip the average collector’s reach. His whole team was hoping today would usher in that new era. For now, items including fragments of Austen’s own handwriting were still reasonably priced, and Yardley was holding on to his own first edition of the collected works from 1833, personally acquired from an antiquarian dealer in Charing Cross when Yardley was still in college.