Extract from chapter 12

1780 : Godmersham

“We would be extremely obliged if Edward could stay on at Godmersham for a while longer. With your generous permission, of course,” ventured Thomas Knight.“He is the most delightful boy and has completely captured the heart of my wife. It would please us enormously to give him all the things that we would wish to give a child of our own. He would be extremely well looked after.” 

Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent.

Mr Austen returned the civilities with the flattery they deserved but assured his cousin that it was out of the question. Edward could not afford to miss any more school and was already falling behind with his Latin. He thanked the Knights for their kind offer, but that was an end to it. 

Arlington Court, Barnstaple, Devon.

The two women exchanged a look. 

“We will say no more for the moment,” suggested the hostess, standing in anticipation of leaving the room. “But I would be grateful if you would take some time to think it over while you remain here. Please, take a tour of the grounds; the entire house is at your disposal and Mrs Driver will answer any questions you have about the housekeeping.” After a brief pause, she added, “I promise with all my heart that Edward would be exceedingly well cared for if he were to reside here and we would ensure he has the very best education that London can offer.”

 

“Come, let us take a walk,” urged Mrs Austen to her husband. “We will see if we can spot Neddy and Henry on their ride.” It was a beautiful day with a perfect blue sky puffed up with majestic white clouds. “There they are,” she pointed. 

In the distance, they could see two specks galloping off beyond the trees. Full of fresh air in their young lungs, the two boys were in a continual race: overtaking one another, then falling behind, then overtaking again. Mr Austen smiled a thoughtful smile, almost melancholic, and Mrs Austen knew he was deliberating what Mrs Knight had said.

Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent

              Photo: Godmersham Park Heritage Centre, Kent

 

“Shall we walk to the church?”

They passed through the back gate of the park, past the sounds of chickens in the vegetable garden and beyond the granary, where sacks of milled wheat were being offloaded from the back of a horse-drawn cart. 

 

The churchyard was dotted with stones, like white paper handkerchiefs and at the bottom of the slope, a glistening river wound its way peacefully like a silken ribbon. They watched the silvery fish for a few moments before taking the path back up to the church door and entering the old, comforting building that had stood on the same sacred ground for centuries.

Photo: Grounds of St. Lawrence the Martyr Church,                       Godmersham, Kent

Mr Austen sat in the Knight’s family pew at the front of the nave and Mrs Austen let him contemplate in peace the image of Neddy taking that seat as his very own in years to come. She walked towards the chapel, which led to a bell tower, and waited there while her husband sought God’s help and guidance alone. When she heard him stir, she moved again towards him, her soft soles making only a whisper on the hard stone floor. It was wonderfully cool and peaceful inside this precious haven.

Photos: St. Lawrence the Martyr Church, Godmersham, Kent

                        Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent.                                                                                                                                   

 

Wordlessly, the couple walked outside into the scorching sun, retracing their steps through the back gate of the park until they found the welcome shade of a prudently planted, tree-lined path. There was no denying the house was magnificent, but it was the grounds which impressed the visitors the most - they were absolutely stunning.

“This really is a most handsome place,” disclosed Mr Austen. “Do you think I am very wrong to keep Neddy away from here?”

 

Mrs Austen chose her words carefully. “No. You are not wrong. You are a good father, George. ‘Tis only natural you want to protect your son by keeping him close to you.” Her tone of voice suggested the contradiction that followed.

“But there are many ways to be a good father. I know you want to guide all our boys to follow your example and teach them right from wrong. Yet we had to let little George go, did we not? We both knew it was cruel to force him to stay in such a busy home when the noise upset him so. Sometimes as parents, we must make sacrifices we dislike, but which we know instinctively will benefit our child.” 

Photos: Godmersham Park, Kent.

Mr Austen still felt the guilt and shame of what had happened with young George and he did not like to speak of it. Over the years, he had purposely ridden past the cottage in Monk Sherborne to catch a glimpse of his son in the farmyard and had sometimes heard him singing or seen him running around collecting eggs with Mrs Cullum. It had reassured him to see him safe and well. 

“You are right,” he acknowledged sadly.

They were now in sight of the great house, stretched out before them across the velvet green grass, like a palace from a fairy tale. Mrs Austen breathed in the air. “I have never known a place so fresh as this. You can barely hear the world beyond the gates.” 

                       Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent

“What are they doing now?” Mr Austen chuckled, spotting Henry and Neddy lying flat on their backs on the grass, pointing their gangly arms up to the sky. The horses were grazing contentedly under some nearby trees. 

“Finding shapes in the clouds, I suspect,” guessed their mother. “I used to love doing that when I was a girl.” 

“They couldn’t do that at Steventon,” admitted Mr Austen philosophically. “There is no stretch of grass clean enough to lie upon.”

Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent

Mrs Austen sensed her husband was wavering and seized the moment without delay. “I would never consider such an offer you know if I thought Neddy would be unhappy. But the Knights obviously adore him, and I cannot think of one thing that would not be to his advantage if he were to come and live here.”

Mr Austen sighed, that melancholy mouth returning and the sadness settling again behind his eyes.

“And we will always be his parents,” Mrs Austen continued. “Nothing can ever change that.” The Knights had been quite firm in their assurances that they had no intention of making Edward break off relations with them.

“I know, my love.”

“I think, my dear, you had better oblige your cousins and let the child go,” soothed Mrs Austen. 

“Yes,” he sighed, defeated. “I think, perhaps, I should.”

 

                            Photo: Godmersham Park, Kent

Copyright Diane Jane Ball 2023