Searching For Captain Wentworth by Jane Odiwe

utterly out of my depth. He relaxed into the winged chair looking completely
at ease.
    ‘So, do your
family still live in Somerset?’ he asked, putting his glass down on the little table next to him.
    ‘No, London …
Camden. How about you? Where’s your family?’
    ‘Dorset.’
    ‘Oh, lovely. I
always associate Dorset with holidays. Which part?’
    ‘Lyme Regis.
Well, just outside on a cliff-top overlooking the town.’
    ‘Oh, I love
Lyme. I always think of Jane Austen’s Persuasion and Louisa Musgrove falling off the Cobb.’ As soon
as I’d spoken, I wished I
hadn’t. I was sure he was going to look at me blankly like most guys do when you mention Jane Austen. And
even if they’ve heard of
her or about any of the books it’s most likely to be Pride and Prejudice . Plus, it’s a sad fact that most men think all you’re interested in is Colin Firth or Matthew
MacFadyen in wet shirts and tight
breeches, which is only partly true.
    But he didn’t
look at me. He simply closed his eyes as if he were trying to remember something. ‘There was no wound, no blood, no visible bruise; but her eyes were closed,
she breathed not, her face
was like death.’
    I was utterly
astonished at Josh’s quotation. ‘You know Persuasion very
well!’
    ‘It’s a
favourite book of mine. I studied it when I was younger and had a part one year in the school play.’ He
cleared his throat and stood up,
fixing me with those dark eyes that twinkled with amusement. His voice was soft and he spoke to me as
if he meant every word. ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half
hope. Tell me not
that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart
even more your own than
when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago.
    Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.’
    I felt my cheeks
grow warm and in an attempt to cover up my blushing face, I burst into spontaneous applause to
which he bowed deeply.
    ‘I played the
part of Captain Wentworth, you might have guessed. That’s some letter he wrote. It really is
one of the most beautiful love
letters I ever read.’
    I laughed.
‘Possibly because it was written by a woman.’
    Josh grinned and
nodded. ‘I can’t deny that, but do you mean to say that you don’t think men capable of writing
romance or pouring out such
heartfelt feelings in a letter?’
    He was looking
at me so seriously that I knew I couldn’t be flippant. ‘I suppose I don’t really know. No one
has ever written me a love letter.
Maybe there are guys out there who could write the equivalent of a letter like that but, if there are,
I’ve never met one. Anyway, I’m not
sure it would be quite the same in a text or email. I think romance died with the laptop and the mobile
phone.’
    I felt I’d said
too much, that there was more than a hint of bitterness in my voice, so I excused myself to go
and turn on the hob and rattle
the saucepans as if I was busy. The chicken was beginning to smell delicious though my appetite
seemed to have left me. The
trouble was I didn’t really feel at ease with Josh, and I just felt that everything I’d said so far must
sound pathetic. Trying to think
of a topic of conversation that would make me feel less like an idiot, I collected a couple of plates, selected
some cutlery from the dresser and
turned to see Josh standing in the doorway watching me.
    ‘I’ll take
those,’ he said. ‘Where would you like them?’
    ‘There’s a
Pembroke table in the living room. I thought we could pull that out and eat there as the dining
room is a bit chilly.’
    I followed him
with placemats, napkins and water glasses to the table behind the sofa. Josh put the plates
down, tucked his hair that was
flopping into his eyes behind his ear and pulled out the table, securing one of the leaves in place.
Relieving me of the placemats he
started laying the table. He seemed happy