yesterday. Pray convey him our thanks for his civility, but he—none of you—is welcome in our house.”
“Jane.” Margaret touched her wrist, and bolts of power and sensation tore through her; to her surprise there was some genuine friendliness there, some regret, all mixed with distrust. “Once we fought side by side. Do not forget that. I have paid dearly for the wrongs I did you.”
“Jane, will you not introduce us?” Cassandra tugged at her arm.
Jane made introductions and watched, appalled, as Margaret turned her easy charm on the women.
“Oh, but we have met your brother, Mr. Richards,” Cassandra said. “He called upon us yesterday.”
“Yes, he was here to supervise the unpacking, but now we are quite snug.”
“Why, you have moved into our village? He did not tell us; how like a man. But how very delightful,” Martha cried. “Which house have you taken, Mrs. Cole?”
“We are very close neighbors indeed to you. We have taken Prowtings.”
This was far worse than Jane had anticipated. Only a stile and a meadow, a walk of a few minutes, separated the handsome house from the Austens’ cottage. “Where are Mr. Prowting and his daughter? I had not heard they left.”
“Mr. Prowting’s business demanded that he go to London,” Margaret replied, “and of course Miss Prowting accompanied him. Such a pleasant gentleman! He was so pleased to have us as tenants at such short notice. Duval’s great friend Luke Venning and his sister, Miss Clarissa Venning, whom I believe you know, will move into the house with us today or tomorrow. They stay at the inn in Alton at present.”
Somehow Jane doubted that Mr. Prowting would be pleased to hear that he had rented his house to the Damned.
“We shall interrupt your walk no further,” Jane said hastily before Martha or Cassandra could invite more of the Damned to take tea, discuss the drains or chimneys at Prowtings, or fulfill other social niceties. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Come, Cassandra, we must return home.”
Cassandra gave her a curious glance, but polite farewells were said, and the Austen ladies set off toward home.
“What a handsome lady,” Anna said. “I never saw anyone with such beautiful red hair before.”
“I regret to tell you that her presence at Prowtings makes it impossible for us to have any contact at all with her, Duval Richards, or the Vennings,” Jane said. She was about to play her trump card, and, even better, it was absolutely true. She lowered her voice. “Forgive me for the indelicacy, but I must tell you that we cannot receive anyone from that household—Mrs. Cole is an adulteress.”
“Oh dear,” Cassandra said. She stopped walking. “I have a stone in my shoe. Pray wait while I undo the laces.”
“I said, Cassandra,” Jane said, “Mrs. Cole is an adulteress. Did you not hear me? It is well known that she left her husband and now enjoys illicit relationships with others.”
“Truly?” Anna cried, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Anna, it is wicked!” Jane said. “Martha, Cassandra, pray acknowledge the truth of the matter. We cannot let a delicately bred young lady like Anna associate with such people. Our brother would be most displeased.”
Cassandra, standing on one foot, shook her shoe to dislodge the stone. “Oh, come, Jane, did not Our Lord forgive the woman taken in adultery?”
“The difference being that the woman in question repented. Margaret—Mrs. Cole—is entirely unrepentant.”
“But we should set an example of Christian charity to our neighbors,” Cassandra said. “To err is human, my dear Jane. Besides, how do you know about this?”
“Mr. Fitzpatrick told me of it. He was most displeased when Mrs. Cole and her party arrived at the party in his house, but he could not ask them to leave without causing his guests embarrassment.”
“But he and Mr. Venning seemed to be the best of friends,” Martha said. “And in a village this size, and with so few
“Jane.” Margaret touched her wrist, and bolts of power and sensation tore through her; to her surprise there was some genuine friendliness there, some regret, all mixed with distrust. “Once we fought side by side. Do not forget that. I have paid dearly for the wrongs I did you.”
“Jane, will you not introduce us?” Cassandra tugged at her arm.
Jane made introductions and watched, appalled, as Margaret turned her easy charm on the women.
“Oh, but we have met your brother, Mr. Richards,” Cassandra said. “He called upon us yesterday.”
“Yes, he was here to supervise the unpacking, but now we are quite snug.”
“Why, you have moved into our village? He did not tell us; how like a man. But how very delightful,” Martha cried. “Which house have you taken, Mrs. Cole?”
“We are very close neighbors indeed to you. We have taken Prowtings.”
This was far worse than Jane had anticipated. Only a stile and a meadow, a walk of a few minutes, separated the handsome house from the Austens’ cottage. “Where are Mr. Prowting and his daughter? I had not heard they left.”
“Mr. Prowting’s business demanded that he go to London,” Margaret replied, “and of course Miss Prowting accompanied him. Such a pleasant gentleman! He was so pleased to have us as tenants at such short notice. Duval’s great friend Luke Venning and his sister, Miss Clarissa Venning, whom I believe you know, will move into the house with us today or tomorrow. They stay at the inn in Alton at present.”
Somehow Jane doubted that Mr. Prowting would be pleased to hear that he had rented his house to the Damned.
“We shall interrupt your walk no further,” Jane said hastily before Martha or Cassandra could invite more of the Damned to take tea, discuss the drains or chimneys at Prowtings, or fulfill other social niceties. She grabbed her sister’s arm. “Come, Cassandra, we must return home.”
Cassandra gave her a curious glance, but polite farewells were said, and the Austen ladies set off toward home.
“What a handsome lady,” Anna said. “I never saw anyone with such beautiful red hair before.”
“I regret to tell you that her presence at Prowtings makes it impossible for us to have any contact at all with her, Duval Richards, or the Vennings,” Jane said. She was about to play her trump card, and, even better, it was absolutely true. She lowered her voice. “Forgive me for the indelicacy, but I must tell you that we cannot receive anyone from that household—Mrs. Cole is an adulteress.”
“Oh dear,” Cassandra said. She stopped walking. “I have a stone in my shoe. Pray wait while I undo the laces.”
“I said, Cassandra,” Jane said, “Mrs. Cole is an adulteress. Did you not hear me? It is well known that she left her husband and now enjoys illicit relationships with others.”
“Truly?” Anna cried, her eyes wide with excitement.
“Anna, it is wicked!” Jane said. “Martha, Cassandra, pray acknowledge the truth of the matter. We cannot let a delicately bred young lady like Anna associate with such people. Our brother would be most displeased.”
Cassandra, standing on one foot, shook her shoe to dislodge the stone. “Oh, come, Jane, did not Our Lord forgive the woman taken in adultery?”
“The difference being that the woman in question repented. Margaret—Mrs. Cole—is entirely unrepentant.”
“But we should set an example of Christian charity to our neighbors,” Cassandra said. “To err is human, my dear Jane. Besides, how do you know about this?”
“Mr. Fitzpatrick told me of it. He was most displeased when Mrs. Cole and her party arrived at the party in his house, but he could not ask them to leave without causing his guests embarrassment.”
“But he and Mr. Venning seemed to be the best of friends,” Martha said. “And in a village this size, and with so few
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