“It is no more than you should have expected, I am sure,” said Cassandra from her place by the fire. But her eyes, when they met mine, held no triumph. “One cannot engage in public display without drawing the notice of the most impertinent and voluble of gossips.”
“Am I to be denied, then, the common right of privacy with regard to my personal affairs?” I retorted hotly.
“I believe you forfeited it wwhen you undertook to receive Lord Harold,” my sister replied.
“Cannot you put an end to the acquaintance, my dear?” my father protested. “The present publicity alone must convince your friend that he may only do you harm with his attentions; and no honourable man would require further explanation. You cannot desire so much notoriety, I am certain.”
I hesitated, for the warmest sensibility has always warred with reason in my character, and the impulse was strong to champion Lord Harold at the expense of my reputation. But in deference to my father, I said nothing of the outrage bubbling in my breast, or of the regard I felt for the gentleman’s character. I took refuge, instead, in prevarication.
“For my part, I have always believed Lord Harold merely hoped I might strengthen my friendship with his niece, Lady Desdemona — who lacks a broad acquaintance in Bath, and must feel her brother’s present misfortunes most acutely. I believe, moreover, that Lord Harold is much attached to another, and henceforth is likely to further his interest with the lady.”
“Indeed, Jane? But what is this? Jilted by the Gentleman Rogue?” my father cried. “Pray to fetch my paper and pen. The Chronicle must know of it immediately!”
I attempted a smile at his unfortunate raillery; but an oppression of spirits must defeat the effort.
“My poor Jane,” Cassandra murmured. She set aside her napkin and gazed at me with pity. “I feel for the disappointment of your hopes. But considering Lord Harold’s character, we could not have hoped for better. For is it not to be preferred, that his falseness and levity be revealed in the present hour, than discovered far later, when a greater damage had been done?”
A comforting thought, indeed.
“I am sure I shall learn to see the matter as you do, Cassandra,” I replied; but the words came only with effort.
I COULD NOT REFLECT UPON THE PREVIOUS EVENING’S MISADVENTURE without the greatest trepidation; there was no one to whom I might confide my distress, other than Lord Harold; and yet the sly calculation of the Bath Chronicle had rendered comfort in that quarter suspect. I stood some moments before the looking-glass, to study my throat with the most acute eye, and imagine the descent of a blade — and all attempt at composure remained well beyond my reach. And so, a few hours after the Chronicle had been burnt in the sitting-room grate for the deception of my mother, I set out on foot to Dash’s Riding School. Lord Harold had said that Lady Desdemona would ride there; and perhaps he might make one of the party. I could think of nothing so calculated for the relief of my mind, than the relation of the whole to that gentleman.
My heart was heavy, however, and I moved as though under the scrutiny of all Bath. An absurd emotion, of course — did even half the citizens I encountered along my route peruse the morning papers, only a handful were likely to have read the speculative column, and none of them were familiar with my face — but a blow had been struck, all the same, and I laboured under the wound.
Cassandra had barely uttered a word, when I had declared my intention of walking into Montpellier Row, where the riding school is situated; but the diffidence of my speech, regarding my intention to remain on terms of intimacy with Lady Desdemona despite her uncle’s probable defection, could not disguise my true misery. In my father’s eyes I read the reflection of my sister’s doubts; and the disapproval of the entire household must weigh heavily upon me. It is the Austens’ considered opinion that I am entirely lost to Lord Harold Trowbridge, and that my character now hangs in the balance; at the advanced age of nearly nine-and-twenty, I have consented to play the fool, and serve as pawn in the designs of the great. In vain have I pled the cause of friendship, and the lamentable misfortune of Simon, Lord Kinsfell. These are weighed as nothing in the scales of feminine virtue, which have clearly tipped in the direction of impropriety, subterfuge, and deceit.
And so to Dash’s I have gone, with lowered spirits and a fading courage; for we are never so confident in our activity, as when we move with the certainty of the world’s approbation — nor so dragging of feet, as when the contempt of the beloved is foremost in our minds.
“MISS AUSTEN!” THE DOWAGER DUCHESS EXTENDED A gloved hand and smiled up at me from her chair. “How delightful to see you again! I see we may claim one friend at least!”
“The honour is mine, Your Grace,” I replied, and pressed the offered hand. “Miss Wren. You are well, I trust?”
“As you find me, Miss Austen.” She bobbed a curtsey, but did not trouble to smile. “I do fear the onset of an inflammation of the lungs — it is ever a danger at this time of year, is it not? — though I should never complain, when dearest Mona is bent upon her little pleasures.”
I turned to gaze at the riders circling within the ring, and presently located a fresh-faced lady in a dark blue habit. “How well she looks!” I exclaimed involuntarily.
“Like a general advancing upon the field,” the Duchess agreed. “The soutache and braid are cunning, are they not? I had the design of her habit myself. And the hat is a perfection!”
The article thus described was a shako with feathers, and completed Lady Desdemona’s air of having emerged triumphant from the battlefield; her cheeks were bright, and her eyes sparkled, as she gazed up into the face of the officer riding beside her. I recognised her partner from the Lower Rooms.
“Is that Colonel Easton I see, Your Grace?”
“The Earl of Northcote’s second son. A well-bred, gentleman-like fellow enough, and quite martyred to my Mona.”
“He is very handsome.”
“—and possesses not a farthing to his name,” Miss Wren sniffed.
“You exaggerate, my dear Wren,” the Duchess countered. “He has an excellent commission, and the pay of a colonel’s rank — a thousand pounds a year, at least. He lives in very easy circumstances.”
“Or would, did he learn to abhor the gaming tables,” Miss Wren retorted acidly. “But he is nothing compared to Lord Swithin. Mona’s fortune should be entirely thrown away on such a fellow — and he cannot even offer her a title!”
The topic, I judged, had been canvassed before; but it was allowed to dwindle away, at the advance of two very fine ladies, habited to ride. Their hair was golden, their smiles complacent; and they might as readily have been a pair of china dolls, for all the animation I observed.
“The Lady Louisa Fortescue! And Lady Augusta, too! I am happy to see you.” The Dowager spoke with an amiable nod. “You do not yet brave the ring, I see.”
“We merely await the appearance of our brother, Your Grace; but could not delay another moment in offering our deepest sympathies regarding the misfortunes that have plagued your household.” The elder Fortescue arranged her features in a poor display of sincerity. “Our brother has told us of the stupidity of the local magistrate. We were excessively miserable! For what is the kingdom coming to, if an heir to a dukedom may be summarily thrown into gaol? When, I beg, may we expect Lord Kinsfell to be restored to the bosom of his family?”
“Presently, we have reason to hope. And is the Earl of Swithin to ride today as well?”
“We should not consider it without him,” the younger girl cried, with a look for her sister. “I cannot think it would be proper.”