Jane Austen’s First Love by Syrie James Read Free Book Online

blush from Edward, who lowered his eyes and concentrated on eating his meal.
    “What can you tell us about the other members of the Bridges family?” said I to Mrs. Knight.
    “Oh! I can tell you our house is dull and quiet compared to Goodnestone Park,” replied she. “
There
you will find young people of all ages running up and down the halls, and their parents have a right to be very proud of every single one.”
    “Do I understand correctly that they have eleven children?” inquired my mother.
    “They do. They have five sons all called Brook, and six daughters.”
    “Five sons called Brook?” repeated I, aghast. “You are joking!”
    “It is no joke,” replied Edward. “It is a fact.”
    “But how amusing! Five sons called Brook, when tradition calls for only one! What a testament to the vanity of the father, to name every son after himself!”
    “Jane!” admonished my mother with a reprimanding glare. “Think about what you are going to say before it comes out of your mouth!” (adding to the Knights) “Please forgive my daughter, she constantly embarrasses me, she speaks far too freely.”
    I wanted to sink into the floor.
    “You need not apologise, Mrs. Austen. I like a girl who speaks her mind. I find it refreshing.” Mrs. Knight’s eyes found mine as she sipped her wine, and her look was so kind and affable, I knew from that moment that I had found a friend. “I
do
comprehend why it would seem a mark of vanity for a man to name every son after himself. But there is a long family history behind the name Brook Bridges, dating back to well before the reign of Queen Elizabeth.”
    “Sir Brook wanted to ensure that whoever inherited the estate,” explained Mr. Knight, “whether it be the eldest son or, in the great passage of time, any of his younger brothers, would always be called Brook Bridges. It turned out to be an excellent strategy, for they lost their first son young—he died ten years ago in a schoolyard accident at Eton—and one of their other boys died in infancy as well.”
    “Oh. I see.” My cheeks grew crimson; I was truly mortified now by my outburst, and vowed to
try
to be more careful about what I said in future. “Does not it cause great confusion, though, to have every son named the same?”
    “They are called by their middle names to distinguish them,” answered my brother Edward. “Brook Henry is called
Henry
, Brook John is called
John
, and so forth.”
    “Will we meet them all when we go to Goodnestone on Saturday?” asked Cassandra.
    “Not all,” replied Mr. Knight, “for their eldest son is away on the Grand Tour at present, and Henry, who was recently ordained, is obliged to begin his duties at his benefice at Danbury, Essex, this very month.”
    “Sir Brook and Lady Bridges have no love for Eton after what happened to their first-born son,” added Mrs. Knight, “so the youngest three are being educated at home.”
    “What are the daughters like?” asked I.
    “They are all graceful, brown-haired beauties,” answered Mrs. Knight, “the eldest of whom were educated in town at a prestigious school in Queen Square, and came away very elegantly accomplished.”
    “How long a drive is it to Goodnestone Park?” inquired my mother.
    “About sixteen miles,” replied Mr. Knight.
    “Sixteen miles!” cried my mother in dismay. “Well! That is a very long way indeed. I had no idea it was so far! And them expecting us in a week’s time! I am afraid we shall have to put off going a while longer, Mr. Knight, for after three days on the road, I have done with travelling and need to rest my stomach. I could not bear to see the inside of a conveyance for another fortnight at the very least.”
    This idea was met with great disappointment and protest from Charles, my sister, and myself. As I pointed out to my mother, we had come all this way to meet the Bridgeses, and Elizabeth in particular; to put off our visit for another two weeks would nearly cut in half the