Free Jane Austen’s First Love by Syrie James Page A

the left, the drawing-room, into which we now progressed, to join the family who awaited us. The chamber was large, airy, and exquisitely furnished, with stunningly carved moulding crowning the high ceiling and doorway, and tall windows framed by shutters and heavy draperies. The walls were adorned with paintings, including a set of four views of Venice, a portrait of a young Lady Bridges, and two of Sir Brook as a young man, which (he proudly explained) had been painted by the celebrated, rival Italian artists Mengs and Bartoni.
    “Robert Mylne himself designed and furnished this chamber,” proclaimed her ladyship with pride, as she arranged herself on a sofa. “It was a great
coup
on our part to retain him, for he has won a great many architectural awards, and designed a number of country-houses and city buildings, as well as bridges.”
    Although I had never heard of Mengs, Bartoni, nor Mr. Mylne in all my life, I could not deny that the portraits were of superior quality, and the proportions of the room were very elegant indeed. “I presume,” said I teasingly, as I accepted a glass of lemonade from a footman’s silver tray, “that Mr. Mylne designed actual
bridges
, and not people by the
name
of Bridges?”
    Lady Bridges, Fanny, and Elizabeth appeared to be either puzzled or taken aback by my comment, but everyone else laughed.
    “Well well, you are a witty young thing, Miss Jane!” cried Sir Brook. “But surely you have heard of Mr. Mylne? He is from a remarkable Scots dynasty of architects and master-masons, famous for his beautiful interiors at Inveraray Castle, and of course the Blackfriars Bridge in town.”
    Thankfully, I was not obliged to reveal my ignorance, for a general discussion now broke out concerning our mishap on the road, which seemed to be of great interest to everybody. In Charles’s retelling of it, the level of danger in the event, and the heroic efforts of our rescuers, rose to such great proportions, that when Edward Taylor and Thomas Payler at last entered the room (their boots freshly polished), they were treated like a pair of conquerors returning from battle.
    Mr. Taylor laughed. “We are neither of us Sir Galahad, nor any other knight of the round table; far too much fuss is being made over a trivial incident.”
    “Let us make a hero out of you, cousin,” cried Sir Brook, patting him on the back, “what is the harm in it? Lord knows we have little else to talk about.”
    A tour of the gardens was proposed; but before the examination could begin, Lady Bridges insisted that my sister change her shoes and stockings.
    “What do you say to that game of billiards in the meantime?” suggested Sir Brook to Mr. Taylor and Mr. Payler. As he led them away, Charles, declining the tour, dashed upstairs with Brook Edward and Louisa, with whom he seemed to have formed an immediate friendship.
    I accompanied the ladies into the central hall, whose primary feature was the grand staircase, an elaborately carved affair of dark oak which made two turns in its upwards sweep towards the open first-floor landing. I felt like a princess as we issued up the wide steps, past the open string, paired balusters, swept and ramped hand-rails, and ornate panelling.
    My sister and I were put in possession of a comfortable apartment, conveniently located near the chambers shared by the Bridges daughters. Cassandra conducted her toilette; several pairs of shoes and silk stockings were produced (in a style and quality superior to any my sister and I had ever possessed); a nearly perfect fit was attained; and the dirty articles taken away. Fanny and Marianne excused themselves, explaining that they would like to lie down before dinner. Her ladyship, Elizabeth, and Sophia alone now remained in our company; and retrieving our bonnets, we issued downstairs.
    The distinctive sounds of a game of billiards in progress issued from a room just off the central hall. Lady Bridges remarked with a sniff,
    “Sir Brook seems