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almost amber in their luminosity, sweep over
every inch of my face. ‘Miss
Elliot, I must admit you do not look quite yourself.’
    No, that was for
sure, I thought, being completely uncertain how I looked. It was very confusing. I felt like me
but I really couldn’t be
completely me, I decided, because here was a stranger who knew me.
    The girl whose
broad smile reached her twinkling eyes had round rosy cheeks like a painted doll and unruly
chestnut curls dancing under
the brim of her bonnet in the breeze. Dressed in a plum, velvet pelisse which looked rather worn in
places, but suited her dark
colouring so well, it was cheered up by a smart, cream, Kashmir shawl with details in crimson and cobalt.
Like that of her companion who
caught us up, her clothes were neat but clearly not as new as mine. Just as I was struggling to find
the words to speak, her expression
swiftly altered, the fine arched brows above her lively eyes knitting anxiously together, as her
face loomed in and out of focus.
    ‘Cassy,’ she
called to her companion, ‘Miss Elliot is unwell. Help me!’
    At that precise
moment, I felt the world sway. A wave of nausea rippled through me as the ground seemed to
be trying its hardest to meet
the sky.
    ‘Quickly, Jane!
Let us support her between us.’ Cassy acted swiftly, taking an arm and bearing the weight, as
my legs buckled. Jane took the
other side and the girls managed to lead me to the nearest bench.
    As if time was
moving, one moment I could see the gardens I’d left behind, and the next all was changed.
Shifting in layers, the past and
the present overlapped for a moment and I was left, feeling queasy, unable to focus on anything. Gulping back
deep breaths of air, the feeling
that I might be slipping back to my own time gradually disappeared. Jane and Cassy were talking
to me, but their muffled voices
were sounding far off like echoes coming from a long tunnel.
    ‘Oh, Miss
Elliot, you’ve come back to us.’ Cassy said, as she waved smelling salts under my nose. ‘You’ve quite
given the Miss Austens the
fright of their lives.’
    ‘We thought we’d
lost you,’ Jane added, ‘I’m so glad you’re still here.’
    I was feeling so
wretched that at first, the enormity of what I was experiencing didn’t sink in. An incredulous
idea about the identity of the
girl formed in my mind, as I recognized that she was one of the world’s greatest writers, a novelist of
such genius that her books are
still being read and loved two hundred years after her death. Even then, when the thought slowly surfaced
and registered that Miss Jane
Austen herself was talking to me, I couldn’t really equate that iconic figure with the slim, finely
featured girl that took my hand
between both of her own. I’d only ever seen one small portrait of Jane, which showed her as unsmiling, a
rather stern looking spinster
in a mobcap. Yet, the girl at my side seemed just like me. I saw a young woman whose love of life
sparkled in her eyes and danced
at the corners of her mouth.
    Her sister
spoke. ‘Are you recovered enough to walk, Miss Elliot? We will escort you.’
    ‘I could order a
chair to collect you from the ticketman at the gate,’ Jane added, ‘We need to get you home where
you may recover by the
warmth of a fire.’
    I knew that I
couldn’t stay sitting mute any longer, but I didn’t want to betray myself as soon as I started to
speak. I opened my mouth only to
close it again. Then, just when I thought I’d never talk again, I heard my voice ring out loud and
clear.
    ‘Oh, please,
Miss Austen, Miss Jane, pray do not be troubled. I am quite well.’
    It felt
surprisingly natural and I knew I’d got away with it judging by the expression on their faces.
    ‘I did not eat
very much this morning and I fear my unsteadiness is as a result of my fastidiousness.’
    It was out
before I could stop it. I repeated the sentence in my head. Had I really just spoken those words? I could
only be grateful that it felt