Free Jane Austen’s First Love by Syrie James

Fanny, the eldest at twenty, offered her hand to us with a faint smile. “I am flattered that you came all this way—from Hampshire, is it?—to honour me and my betrothal.” (An afterthought:) “And my sister’s. It is going to be quite a summer! I do hope our festivities will exceed all your expectations, and that you will go home with happy memories of your visit.”
    This speech was extraordinary to me, as it was so self-satisfied, and so neatly encapsulated the entirety of our stay, while already anticipating our departure.
    It was apparent, even before her name was pronounced, that the next young lady brought forward was my brother’s intended; for his broad smile, the deep affection in his gaze, and the manner in which he held her hand, proclaimed his adoration. It was not difficult to understand why Elizabeth had bewitched my brother. Although she was no prettier than her sisters, there was an air of elegance and confidence about her, which revealed her
self
-
awareness
of her own beauty, femininity, and charms, as well as the effect of those charms on others. That charm did not appear to reach great depths, however; for her soft voice appeared more to convey a discharge of a duty to
appear
welcoming, rather than a sincere reflection of the emotion.
    The remaining Bridges daughters were very different from the first two, and all most amiable. Sophia was nineteen, and Marianne sixteen. Both possessed pleasant and cheerful dispositions, and an openness of manner which drew me to them immediately.
    “Since we are soon to be sisters,” said Sophia with enthusiasm, “shall we dispense with the formalities and go by our Christian names?”
    “That would be wonderful,” agreed I. “Surely it will make us
feel
like sisters ever so much sooner.”
    We admired Louisa, age thirteen, and Harriot, ten, who looked very sweet. The lively dispositions of the youngest boys, John and George (who were eight and six) were betrayed by the great difficulty they had in standing still. The introductions being at an end, it was time to move within.
    “Have you been told anything of Goodnestone’s history?” inquired Sir Brook as my sister and I followed the others into the house.
    “We have not yet had that pleasure,” replied Cassandra.
    “Oh! Do not bore these children with a tedious history!” warned Lady Bridges. “They have only just arrived, and are in need of refreshment.”
    “I will be brief,” asserted Sir Brook with a smile. “Goodnestone has been occupied since Tudor times. During the reign of Queen Anne, the estate was sold to Brook Bridges, the first baronet, who demolished the Elizabethan structure and built this new Palladian house.”
    “The date of its erection, 1705, is etched onto a brick just over there,” added Lady Bridges.
    “Not 1705,” corrected Sir Brook, “
1704
. Since I took possession, I have enlarged and improved the house rather dramatically. Come, let us show you.”
    We issued into an ante-room designed in an unusual oval shape and beautifully embellished with detailed crown moulding, a carved white marble fireplace, and a series of large niches beneath gracefully carved arches, wherein works of art were displayed. The walls were adorned with delicate, colourful paintings featuring floral patterns, cherubs, and scroll-work—designs which I had heretofore only seen in books.
    “Oh!” exclaimed Cassandra in wonder.
    “What an enchanting room,” remarked I. “And these paintings—are they Italianate in nature?”
    “They are indeed, Miss Jane. As a young man, I travelled extensively on the Continent and spent a great deal of time in Italy, where I became enamoured of its architecture and art. This chamber is a small tribute to the Florentine masters.”
    The ante-room was further distinguished by three mahogany-panelled doors leading to other parts of the house. Through the middle door, I perceived a central hall and a grand staircase; to the right, a formal dining-room; to