Harry and Thomas have returned with two large trays of food, and Eliza turns her attention back to her French escort. She is speaking French to him but calling him ‘Monsieur Baddy’, which he seems to find very funny. They are discussing whether they like syllabub or not – they all do, except Harry, who thinks it is too sweet. Thomas and I are in our private little world, eating very little but just looking into each other’s eyes. I find the courage to tell him how much I am going to miss him. I can hardly bear to think that he will be away for almost a year.
‘How much do you love me?’ His mouth is very close to my ear. Everyone is talking so loudly and music is playing in the background so that there seems to be a solid wall of sound all around us. I turn my head so that my mouth is near to him. ‘I love you more than the sun and the moon and the stars,’ I say, and I don’t really care if someone hears.
The others at our table are playing a noisy game of ‘likes’ and ‘dislikes’ – everything that Jane likes Harry likes – even syllabub, which a few minutes earlier he had said he disliked!
‘I don’t think your uncle liked me,’ I say to Thomas.
‘Probably jealous of me,’ says Thomas. He doesn’t seem to care whether the admiral likes me or not and that cheers me. I did wonder though whether the admiral was regretting that Thomas was not having tea with an earl’s daughter.
‘What if he cuts you off without a penny for marrying a lowly person like myself?’ I say it in a light-hearted way and he responds instantly with an equally light-hearted ‘Who cares!’ and I hope that he means it. Perhaps Thomas will also get twenty thousand pounds if he marries according to the admiral’s wishes. When he is away from me, will he remember that? And will the thought of a marriage with someone like Newton’s sister, Clotilde, be more attractive to him?
And then I realize that Mrs Leigh-Perrot and Mrs Austen have come over and are standing beside me.
The three men stand up and Eliza introduces Monsieur Baddy (who turns out to be Monsieur le Comte de something or other). Mrs Austen mentions Harry’s name, and Mrs Leigh-Perrot nods at him and tells him that he has grown since she saw him last – and Harry goes bright red. Then she looks at me expectantly.
‘Aunt, may I introduce Captain Thomas Williams,’ I say.
‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Williams!’ Mrs Leigh-Perrot sounds quite enthusiastic. ‘Harry,’ she says, just as if he were still a small boy, ‘perhaps I could borrow your chair? You could get me a cup of tea while I have a chat with Captain Williams.’
‘Would you like to sit down also, Mrs Austen?’ asks Thomas politely, but she shakes her head and says guiltily that she must get back to Phylly.
‘Let’s go and arrange our hair, girls,’ says Eliza gaily. ‘Monsieur Baddy –’ she taps him on the arm with her fan – ‘you behave yourself while I am gone. You may fetch yourself one more cake, but only one. There are many dances to come, so not too much cake.’
And then we are on our way, pushing through the crowded tables, leaving Thomas alone with Mrs Leigh-Perrot. I see that Elinor is still sitting with her governess and her uncle, none of them talking, and I feel sorry for Elinor. Perhaps we should have asked her to join our party. And then I get a shock. She is looking at me with a strange expression – almost as though she hates me.
And yet, she has only just met me!
‘Look, Eliza,’ says Jane as we pass through the Octagon Room. ‘There’s still one table of people there in the card room. Don’t they want any supper?’
‘Hush, they’ll hear you,’ I whisper, but I realize that the people at the table have eyes and ears for nothing but cards and the bets.
‘Oh la, ma chérie,’ says Eliza. ‘There are some men, and women too, who cannot stop gambling. To give up a supper! Pouf! C’est rien! Nothing! I’ve known men to put a fine house and a great estate on the throw of a card.’
Eliza looks around to make sure that no one is within earshot and then hisses, ‘Do you see that woman over there, the one with a very large hat with cherries and apricots on it? That’s Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, and she cannot stop gambling; ‘tis said she owes fifty thousand pounds!’
I have a quick look at the duchess, a plump fair-haired woman with a very large hat, but I’m more interested in the handsome Sir Walter Montmorency and the expression of despair on his face as he flings his cards on the table and pushes over the pile of money in front of him. He looks even more upset than the duchess, despite all of her debts. I begin to understand why Thomas doesn’t want him as a husband for his sister despite his charm and good looks.
And then the dancing starts again. I forget about Elinor, forget about the admiral, forget about everyone, because I am in the arms of the man that I love...
Saturday, 23 April 1791
Such a wonderful evening at the Assembly Rooms! Dancing with Thomas, in the magnificent ballroom with its blue walls and five sparkling chandleliers. Having tea with Thomas in the pink-and-white tea room, peeping into the long, thin grass-green card room. And last of all, saying goodbye.
If only we could have slipped outside to the moonlit street. If only we could have gone anywhere. I shut my eyes and try to imagine what it would be like to be in that bluebell wood with Thomas.
But could I ever have said goodbye in a place like that?
So Thomas and I had to say goodbye in the Octagon Room under the watchful eyes of the Leigh-Perrots and Mrs Austen and half the population of Bath.
I don’t think I will ever forget the Octagon Room. The eight slanting walls of primrose yellow, the four double doors, the four marble fireplaces and the sixteen paned windows above them.
And Thomas, very formally holding my hand in his, bowing to me.
But his hand, even through our gloves, burned through to mine, and his fingers pressed my fingers so tightly . . .
And his eyes when he raised his head . . .
Suddenly all the noise faded and it seemed as though we were alone . . .
Looking at each other . . .
‘I’ll be back,’ he said softly.
‘If only Thomas’s uncle and sister liked me and Edward-John gave permission for the marriage, then I would be just so happy,’ I remarked to Jane as we were getting ready for breakfast.
‘Well, at least you have found the man of your dreams,’ pointed out Jane. She sighed theatrically, saying, ‘Hélas,’ in just the same way as Eliza does.
‘Jane,’ I said, diverted from my own troubles, ‘don’t be ridiculous. You have the whole of Bath paying court to you. You just have to choose. Who exactly do you like best, Newton Wallop, Captain Forster, Lieutenant Carter, Lieutenant Denny, Lieutenant Brandon or any of the other men who have been queuing up to dance with you?’
Jane sighed again. ‘I need some advice, I think. My love life is getting too complicated for a simple country girl like myself.’
And then the bell rang for breakfast and we raced down, giggling as usual.
We have just finished our dinner, and Jane and I have come up to our bedroom for a little rest. We are all going to a concert in the Lower Rooms in the evening. My uncle thinks that Thomas will be unlikely to be back from Bristol today, so I shall have to wait for tomorrow morning to see him. He has promised to take me to call on his sister Elinor after church so that will probably be the time.
Jane has just lifted her head from her paper to ask me whether I have written about our new gowns yet so I must do that now.
This morning at breakfast time our uncle asked us if we had enjoyed the evening. We were both so enthusiastic that he beamed at us, and even Mrs Leigh-Perrot gave a smile.
‘They were both looking very pretty, I thought,’ she said to Mrs Austen. ‘Those white muslins are so fresh. Just right for girls of that age.’
‘And what are you going to wear at the ball next Saturday?’ asked Mr Leigh-Perrot.
Jane and I looked at each other. Another ball in seven days’ time!
‘The same,’ I said after a mi
nute.
‘Oh no, you can’t do that.’ Mr Leigh-Perrot was as aghast as if he were a leader of fashion.
‘We’ve only got one ball dress each,’ said Jane, ignoring her mother’s frown. ‘Our old ones were falling apart.’
Mr Leigh-Perrot looked at his wife. ‘What do you think, my dear? Shall we make the girls a present of a new gown each? Do you think that your dressmaker could make them in time?’
‘I’m sure that she could.’ Mrs Leigh-Perrot was also in a good humour. ‘You can get up-to-date fashions here in Bath, as fine as London. No, no, Mrs Austen. Your brother and I would love to do this. Now, girls, as soon as you finish your breakfast, go upstairs and put your bonnets on. We’ll take Franklin with us to carry the parcels,’ she added to her husband, and he nodded benignly.
Jane and I were first down. Franklin was already waiting for us, standing outside by the railing, wearing a top hat and a pair of white gloves.
‘Franklin,’ asked Jane as soon as we reached him, ‘have you got a wife?’
‘Not me, Miss Jane,’ said Franklin. He had a very dignified air when he answered the question and I felt embarrassed that he had been asked.
I think Jane was a bit embarrassed too because she thought for a few moments before speaking again – and that is not like her.
‘I just asked because I wondered if you could give me advice on choosing a husband.’
Franklin laughed at that for a long time. I liked the way that he did it. He just threw his head back and roared quite loudly. I saw a few passers-by look at him with surprise.
‘Don’t you worry your head about that, Miss Jane,’ he said when he had recovered. ‘Your father and mother will do the choosing, and they will choose someone just right for you.’
Jane made a face. When the two ladies came out Franklin walked in front of them, and Jane, taking my arm, fell back a little.
As we were walking along the west side of Queen’s Square I heard a bright squeaky voice saying, ‘Come along, Eliza, let’s go for a brisk walk. That’s what we need after being cooped up in those stuffy old Assembly Rooms yesterday evening. Walk quickly, dear. You’ll be glad that I got you out of bed at a reasonable hour.’
‘It’s Eliza,’ I said quickly.
‘And Phylly,’ groaned Jane.
Queen’s Square had a garden in the centre of the four lines of houses. There were some tall bushes on the side we were walking, but in a moment Phylly emerged, strutting along quickly and followed by a very sleepy-looking Eliza.
Mrs Austen grinned at the sight. ‘You’re up early, Eliza,’ she said.
‘Chère Madame, I don’t think I ever got up as early as this since I was a child,’ said Eliza earnestly, doing her best to smother a yawn. ‘That is unless I hadn’t gone to bed the night before,’ she added.
‘Uncle and Aunt are going to buy Jenny and myself new gowns! Do come with us, Eliza, and help us to choose,’ said Jane enthusiastically. She dropped back and allowed the Leigh-Perrots and Mrs Austen to get ahead of us. She turned eagerly to Eliza, but Phylly pushed her way between them.
‘Dear, dear, Jane,’ said Phylly, ‘may I give you a word of advice?’ She stood on her toes and whispered loudly into Jane’s ear. ‘I’m just a little worried about you. You should not get too interested in balls at your age. You are getting quite a name as a flirt. A little bird told me last night that you set out to steal young men from other girls, and that is not nice at all. There’s another thing too, Jane dear, if you will forgive me mentioning it. I think you are trying to turn the head of that nice young man Harry Digweed. I’m sure that he is too sensible to take very much notice of you, but you have to be careful about your reputation, you know.’
Then she stood back from Jane and nodded sternly. Jane stared at her in wide-eyed innocence and Eliza looked from one to the other in an embarrassed fashion and then took matters into her own hands by decisively changing the subject.
‘What style of gown will you have?’ Eliza took my arm and Jane’s and teetered along on her very high heels between us.
Jane told her that we weren’t sure, and Eliza immediately began discussing the latest fashion, still walking fast and doing her best to catch up with the other three. She didn’t look too upset when Phylly, from behind us, said disdainfully, ‘Well, I am going to continue my morning constitutional. I’ve made a resolution to go ten times around the square’s garden every morning. Otherwise my health will suffer in this stuffy city.’
‘How strong you are, Phylly dear,’ said Eliza admiringly over her shoulder, but to our relief she made no effort to persuade her cousin to accompany us.
‘I’d like to have something in the latest fashion from Paris,’ said Jane with determination. ‘Something which would make a lord with ten thousand pounds a year immediately seek my hand in marriage.’
‘Jane,’ I said reproachfully. I felt sorry for Harry, who was so devoted. Even Phylly had noticed that. Harry wouldn’t care what Jane wore.
‘What about the latest idea of having an underskirt, a train and an overskirt each of a different colour?’ suggested Eliza. She released both our arms and stood in the middle of the pavement making wide gestures with her hands over her own body, outlining a loose style gathered in under the bosom, flowing out to a train behind and then outlining a sharply pointed V-shape in the front. I could see immediately what she meant. Something like this:
We were now in the middle of Milsom Street and a small crowd of interested shoppers began to gather around to listen to Eliza’s mixture of French and English. She was so fashionably dressed herself that most people had a look of earnest attention that made me shoot a glance at Jane, and I could see that she, like me, was having a hard time stopping a giggle escaping. Mrs Leigh-Perrot had an air of annoyance, but Mrs Austen just wore the usual look of amused tolerance that she reserved for her husband’s eccentric niece.
‘Voyons,’ concluded Eliza. ‘Let us go in. This is the shop, n’est-ce pas?’
The drapery shop was built like a small version of a church, with pillars dividing the space into lanes. Very cleverly each pillar was encircled with a band bearing five or six large hooks which were used to drape long swathes of muslin or silk in assorted colours. In between the pillars and set against the walls were numerous tall cheval looking glasses and the colours were reflected in them. While Mrs Leigh-Perrot had a friendly conversation with the owner, Jane and I wandered up and down the aisles, gazing at the beautiful fabrics.
‘Muslin or silk?’ Eliza joined us.
I quickly told her muslin. Silk would be very expensive, and I did not want to take advantage of the Leigh-Perrots’ generosity. In any case, silk was difficult to clean, whereas muslin could be washed again and again. Jane had been admiring a glossy gold-colour silk, but she nodded reluctantly when I explained the advantages of muslin to Eliza. By the time Mrs Leigh-Perrot joined us we had both decided on muslin.
‘Much more suitable for young girls,’ said Mrs Austen decidedly, and I could see that she was pleased with our decision.
‘I think I’d like this one, but what would I have for the underskirt?’ Jane was examining a pale yellow.
‘Too pale for you, chérie.’ Eliza was always very definite about these things. She moved with quick, almost dancing steps between the draped pillars. Jane and I followed her obediently.
‘. . . too much liberty given to children nowadays. They are asked what they want, rather than told what to do. When I was five years old I was put on a ship without a mother or father or any relation and I was sent all the way from Barbados to England and put in a boarding school. I didn’t see my family for another ten years. Didn’t do me any harm.’
Mrs Leigh-Perrot was carrying on this conversation with Mrs Austen now as the shop owner hovered around us. I wondered if she thought we were getting our own way too much in being allowed to choose the stuff for our gowns. Hurriedly I moved away, leaving Jane and Eliza staring at some yellow muslins, and walked down the long aisle tryi
ng to make my mind up. The trouble was that every one of the muslins was so beautiful. I thought about the Duchess of Devonshire, whom we had seen playing cards at the Assembly Rooms. If I were her I would spend fifty thousand pounds on muslins rather than waste it at the card table.
‘What about this?’ Jane was eying a rich yellow. I came back and joined them. It was easier to choose for Jane than for myself.
‘Parfait!‘ enthused Eliza, picking up the end of the muslin and holding it against Jane, glancing quickly from Jane’s deep brown hair and dark hazel eyes and then back at the material.
‘I rather like it,’ said Jane. ‘It’s the colour of daffodils. My favourite flower.’ She lowered her voice and whispered wickedly to me, ‘And Harry’s favourite – don’t forget that.’
Suddenly I made up my mind. Jane’s remark about the daffodil had given me an idea.
‘What about a bluebell colour for me?’ I asked Eliza, and she nodded enthusiastically. While Jane dithered between two different shades of pale yellow for the train and the V-shaped panel in the front of the gown, I walked along scanning all the blues. But funnily enough it was Mrs Austen who, getting tired of Mrs Leigh-Perrot’s reminiscences of her childhood and the shock of an English boarding school after the warmth and fun of Barbados (she had probably heard them all hundreds of times), called me over to a dark corner.
‘Look, Jenny,’ she said.
This pillar was draped in nothing but soft shades of blue. The shop owner was down in a minute. ‘You’ll need some light to see them properly, madam. Abigail, bring a lamp.’
Abigail brought the lamp. Mrs Austen said something about seeing them by daylight, but Eliza, who had now joined us, leaving Jane contemplating her daffodil yellow, shook her head firmly.
‘My dearest aunt, not daylight – Quelle horreur! These gowns are meant to be seen by candlelight. Fetch two candles, ma petite,’ she said to Abigail, who handed the lamp to her mistress, curtsied, flew down the shop and returned with two candles and a lighter.
Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend Page 9