estate, Godmersham, is less than twenty miles from here, and he had a very large family. Jane could have heard stories about Old Lady Desmet when she was visiting Edward or from her father's cousins because he grew up here in Kent. Legend has it that Lady Sylvia was a real, um, unpleasant lady. I've seen her portrait, and I can tell you she had some beak on her.”
While Clive kept talking, we walked through the huge house. There certainly were things to admire: the gorgeous foyer, lead-crystal chandeliers, enormous fireplaces with elegant carvingsand tile work, a beautiful staircase with a mahogany handrail, and the unseen Thornhill. But the Yanks had also done a very good job of converting it to a military office building.
“Lady Sylvia died in 1806, and after selling everything right down to the wallpaper, the daughter, Anne Desmet, moved to Bath and lived there until her death in the early 1820s. As far as I can tell, she never once came back here after she sold the house to Jacob Grissom, who made his money by selling gunpowder to the British during the Napoleonic Wars. Today, he'd be tried as a war profiteer; back then, he was a capitalist.”
Thanking Clive for the guided tour, we tried to give him a tip, but he refused, explaining that he was very partial to Yanks. “During the war, Kent was overrun with Americans. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting a Yank. Naturally, there were soldiers in every town looking for a little fun. They got into quite a bit of mischief, but they also supported the local shops. You'd see the little ones running down the street after them, shouting, 'Give us some gum, chum.' They also handed out apples and oranges and told the kiddies to take them home to their mums.
“I think about all of those young American boys we seen every day for months, and then 'poof,' they were gone.” Looking up to a sky that was threatening rain, he said, “I seen more than one shot-up bomber flying overhead trying to make an emergency landing at one of the RAF airfields nearby.”
I think Clive felt that the conversation had become too serious, and an amused look came over his face. “You Yanks helped us in so many ways, including taking the local lovelies out for a good time because our lads were overseas. We'll never forget you. We can't. You left behind dozens of reminders, and they are all about four years old now.”
Chapter 11
ON THE DRIVE BACK to London, I asked Rob why he didn't mention that he had been a member of a B-17 crew when Clive talked about the bombers he had seen flying over Kent, especially since Rob had been on a bomber that had crash-landed in Kent
“I think Clive was more of a talker than a listener,” he said, and added, “I'm sure he fought in the First War and had plenty of stories of his own.”
Rob quickly changed the subject and asked about some of the things that had been going through my mind from the time I had first met the Crowells. “Maggie, from what you've told me about the Crowells, they sound as if they are too intelligent to believe the Darcys are the Laceys unless they have proof. So if this thing is for real, then they have to have all kinds of things—diaries, letters, records.”
“Rob, there's a lot we don't know, but for whatever reason, Beth Crowell, and I'm sure Beth is the connection, is not ready to tell us, but I'm absolutely convinced she is leading up to how she is connected to the Lacey family. We'll just have to wait.”
Shortly after our visit to Kent, I received another letter from Beth. This time it was about Mary, but also Anne Desmet and Charlotte Chatterton, because their stories were all interconnected.
18 February 1948
Dear Maggie,
I was happy to hear that Rob and you were able to visit Austen's Rosings Park even if you could not see the Thornhill. I can only hope that some conservator will be able to find a way to preserve it because, from what you describe, it is possible that Desmet Park will be torn down for
While Clive kept talking, we walked through the huge house. There certainly were things to admire: the gorgeous foyer, lead-crystal chandeliers, enormous fireplaces with elegant carvingsand tile work, a beautiful staircase with a mahogany handrail, and the unseen Thornhill. But the Yanks had also done a very good job of converting it to a military office building.
“Lady Sylvia died in 1806, and after selling everything right down to the wallpaper, the daughter, Anne Desmet, moved to Bath and lived there until her death in the early 1820s. As far as I can tell, she never once came back here after she sold the house to Jacob Grissom, who made his money by selling gunpowder to the British during the Napoleonic Wars. Today, he'd be tried as a war profiteer; back then, he was a capitalist.”
Thanking Clive for the guided tour, we tried to give him a tip, but he refused, explaining that he was very partial to Yanks. “During the war, Kent was overrun with Americans. You couldn't swing a cat without hitting a Yank. Naturally, there were soldiers in every town looking for a little fun. They got into quite a bit of mischief, but they also supported the local shops. You'd see the little ones running down the street after them, shouting, 'Give us some gum, chum.' They also handed out apples and oranges and told the kiddies to take them home to their mums.
“I think about all of those young American boys we seen every day for months, and then 'poof,' they were gone.” Looking up to a sky that was threatening rain, he said, “I seen more than one shot-up bomber flying overhead trying to make an emergency landing at one of the RAF airfields nearby.”
I think Clive felt that the conversation had become too serious, and an amused look came over his face. “You Yanks helped us in so many ways, including taking the local lovelies out for a good time because our lads were overseas. We'll never forget you. We can't. You left behind dozens of reminders, and they are all about four years old now.”
Chapter 11
ON THE DRIVE BACK to London, I asked Rob why he didn't mention that he had been a member of a B-17 crew when Clive talked about the bombers he had seen flying over Kent, especially since Rob had been on a bomber that had crash-landed in Kent
“I think Clive was more of a talker than a listener,” he said, and added, “I'm sure he fought in the First War and had plenty of stories of his own.”
Rob quickly changed the subject and asked about some of the things that had been going through my mind from the time I had first met the Crowells. “Maggie, from what you've told me about the Crowells, they sound as if they are too intelligent to believe the Darcys are the Laceys unless they have proof. So if this thing is for real, then they have to have all kinds of things—diaries, letters, records.”
“Rob, there's a lot we don't know, but for whatever reason, Beth Crowell, and I'm sure Beth is the connection, is not ready to tell us, but I'm absolutely convinced she is leading up to how she is connected to the Lacey family. We'll just have to wait.”
Shortly after our visit to Kent, I received another letter from Beth. This time it was about Mary, but also Anne Desmet and Charlotte Chatterton, because their stories were all interconnected.
18 February 1948
Dear Maggie,
I was happy to hear that Rob and you were able to visit Austen's Rosings Park even if you could not see the Thornhill. I can only hope that some conservator will be able to find a way to preserve it because, from what you describe, it is possible that Desmet Park will be torn down for
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