Part 5 (2/2)
I was amused to observe that eight years of marriage had not dulled the wits of either husband or wife; p.r.o.ne to argue vociferously as young people, they remained as testy in their affection as ever.
”What part of Italy does Lady Oxford intend?” Swithin demanded.
”Sardinia. Or was it Sicily? I am forever confusing the two.”
”Then we shall be forced to descend upon the Lakes,” he replied. ”Have you yet been on the Continent since Napoleon retired to Paris, Miss Austen?”
It was like his good manners to recollect his acquaintance, and turn the conversation.
”I have not,” I answered, with some dignity-never having been on the Continent at all.
”My late wife,” Henry interjected, ”was so unhappy as to be deprived of extensive estates in France, bequeathed to her by her murdered husband-the Comte de Feuillide, guillotined by the mob at the height of the Terror-and it has been in my mind for some years to attempt their recovery; indeed, we once ventured together to France to push our claim, during the Peace of Amiens-but now that my wife is gone, all such efforts must be futile.”
The two men walked ahead a little, discussing Kutusov's rout of Buonaparte; and I seized the opportunity to mine the Countess for intelligence. Lord Byron had tossed Catherine Twining out of Lady Oxford's chaise; and Desdemona was intimate with Lady Oxford. I know nothing of the woman at all-except for her scandalous reputation, which I liked as little as did the Earl.13 ”You have known the Countess of Oxford some years, I apprehend?”
”Indeed. We have been friends this age-tho' she is considerably my elder. I believe she may be as old as forty,” Desdemona observed.
I winced, but forbore to announce my own decrepitude. ”I did not see the Countess at the Pavilion last evening.”
”No-she cannot abide the Regent, you know; she is all for the Princess's party, and remains in London to support her.”14 ”I commend Lady Oxford's loyalty,” I said warmly. ”I pity the Princess exceedingly; and must believe that however imperfect her conduct has been has been, had her husband's been above reproach, she should not have erred. His was the poor example; his the duty to guide; and his negligence the more to be deplored, in exposing his wife to contempt and ridicule.”
”I am entirely of your opinion, Miss Austen!” her ladys.h.i.+p cried, and slipped her arm through mine. ”But the gentlemen will not see it; they abuse the Princess as a jade and a joke. Can any woman stand mutely by, and allow such indignities to go unanswered?”
We conversed a little longer in this vein; and I could not help but be forcibly put in mind of Lord Harold Trowbridge, as I listened to his niece's sentiments. She marshalled her arguments with logic and care, as Lord Harold had been wont to do; and I thought it very likely her husband's success in Parliament owed much to the cold judgement of his primary auditor-his wife.
”And Lady Oxford is just such another,” Desdemona concluded as we achieved the far end of the Marine Parade, and halted to observe some boats putting into the waves. ”Swithin is in the right-he is always always in the right: her conduct goes beyond what is pleasing, even in so great a lady, in the constant parade of her in the right: her conduct goes beyond what is pleasing, even in so great a lady, in the constant parade of her amours amours. But she should not have behaved so ill, I am sure, had her husband not been so weak. He practically abandoned abandoned her to Sir Francis Burdett, her first lover, and when one is left entirely alone in the house for a week with so eloquent a man, I am sure one cannot be blamed for the consequences.” her to Sir Francis Burdett, her first lover, and when one is left entirely alone in the house for a week with so eloquent a man, I am sure one cannot be blamed for the consequences.”
The consequences, as even I was aware, ran to several children-members of what were unkindly called the ”Harleian Miscellany,” in a nod to their uncertain parentage. Desdemona lost me here; only friends.h.i.+p could excuse her support of Lady Oxford, and I had no such tender feelings to persuade me from what was right. Mona's frankness, however, absolved my conscience of any pang; I might be as inquisitive as I chose.
”Her ladys.h.i.+p is a great admirer of Lord Byron, I collect?”
Desdemona smiled. ”That young man has been practically living in her pocket all winter, if you will credit it! And he is barely of age, Miss Austen! And she is old enough to be his mother-or very nearly! It is one of the on-dits on-dits of Town; and we are forced to treat the liaison as the merest commonplace, tho' he has been staying at Eywood-the Earl's estate in Herefords.h.i.+re, you know-since before Christmas, and has only exchanged it for London once the Countess quitted the place. He has settled in lodgings in St. James's, but hardly dares show himself out-of-doors, for fear of meeting Caro Lamb.” of Town; and we are forced to treat the liaison as the merest commonplace, tho' he has been staying at Eywood-the Earl's estate in Herefords.h.i.+re, you know-since before Christmas, and has only exchanged it for London once the Countess quitted the place. He has settled in lodgings in St. James's, but hardly dares show himself out-of-doors, for fear of meeting Caro Lamb.”
”I had hoped that lady might have learnt resignation,” I said. ”But still she pursues Lord Byron?”
”For a wonder! I should not be capable of enduring such ridicule as she wins-for all the world is talking of it, you know. Lady Melbourne, Caro's mother-in-law, is no friend to her; she has taken up with Byron herself, and serves as the poet's maternal counselor-all from vanity, of course, at succeeding where her daughter-in-law has failed! I wonder that William Lamb can bear it-to have both wife and mother enthralled by the same swaggering boy, nearly ten years his junior, and admitted on terms of cordiality in his own home!”
”Lady Melbourne, the intimate friend of her son's rival,” I gasped. ”How does Lady Caroline bear it?”
”Seethingly,” Desdemona said. ”She communicates with her mother-in-law solely by writing. They inhabit separate floors of Melbourne House; and such scenes as must occur upon the stairs I do not like to think! But I feel some pity for Caro Lamb, tho' she has brought her ruin upon herself; she is become the most tragic sort of spectacle-hardly anyone receives her now. One cannot predict what she is capable of-one cannot know what she may do. Violence Violence, perhaps, to herself or others. Emotion has carried her beyond the bourne of reason.”
”And yet,” I observed, reverting to our earlier subject of conversation, ”Lady Oxford is Byron's current inamorata- inamorata-and Lady Oxford is welcome everywhere.”
Desdemona smiled. ”Not quite quite everywhere. The Regent will not receive her, on account of her support for the Princess; and so Byron, too, is given the cut direct when he descends upon Brighton.” everywhere. The Regent will not receive her, on account of her support for the Princess; and so Byron, too, is given the cut direct when he descends upon Brighton.”
”I am glad to know that man has suffered some some rejection, at least!” rejection, at least!”
But the Countess was no longer attending. Her eyes had narrowed, in gazing at a particular boat just then thrusting out to sea. It was a sailing vessel, not at all large as such things go: but a single mast and sail, and what my Naval brothers should have called a jib-I might almost have ventured abroad in it myself. It had been some years since I had rowed my nephews in a little boat about Southampton Water. But Desdemona was not lost in contemplation of the boat, pretty tho' it was, with its gay sails and dark red paint.
”And so the Devil is come to Brighton,” she murmured softly. ”And I do mean do mean Devil, Miss Austen. That is Byron himself-just there, springing into the boat with a quickness surprising in one who is lame-George, Lord Byron, about to set sail. Is there not something poetic about the scene?” Devil, Miss Austen. That is Byron himself-just there, springing into the boat with a quickness surprising in one who is lame-George, Lord Byron, about to set sail. Is there not something poetic about the scene?”
She spoke a simple truth. There was the boat: bright-hulled, bucking on the waves like a horse impatient for a gallop; and the broad-shouldered, lithe young man with the windswept black locks, his deft fingers working at the ropes. A timeless image; beautiful in its clean lines and brilliant colours, its implicit promise of freedom- ”My dear,” called the Earl of Swithin, from where he stood a little advanced from us in company with Henry, ”I believe we should beg our friends' pardon for detaining them so long, and enquire whether they might dine with us, before the a.s.sembly tomorrow?”
But Desdemona was deaf to her lord.
I was scarcely more attentive myself. For a young boy had raced, barefoot, across the sand directly for Lord Byron's boat. His blond hair was cropped short, in curling waves over nape and forehead; his nankeen breeches were so loose on his wiry frame that they were lashed to his waist with a stout leather belt; and his s.h.i.+rt-a rough linen one with flowing ruffles and sleeves, that put me strongly in mind of a Gypsy's-was so blowsy as to suggest it might better have fitted Byron himself. A local urchin, I thought, whose intent was to earn a copper or two by helping his lords.h.i.+p heave his vessel into the sea.
But the lad was too late-his lords.h.i.+p was already afloat-and in desperation, the boy surged out into the waves, hailing the vessel in a high, excited accent, the linen s.h.i.+rt ripping free of his breeches in the brisk wind.
Byron turned and fixed his gaze upon his pursuer's countenance-and his own visibly darkened. As Desdemona and I observed the scene, his lords.h.i.+p's beautiful mouth curled in contempt and hatred. ”Little Mania!” he shouted. ”You may go to the bottom and welcome, for all I care!”
And he let out his sail with an impatient twitch of line, willing the little boat to surge forward, away from the boy.
”How cold the water must be,” I murmured. ”I have only a.s.sayed it once, in Charmouth-and that, from a bathing machine-I am sure it is far colder in the midst of the ocean, against one's sodden clothing. Poor lad-what can can be his purpose?” be his purpose?”
Desdemona's gloved hand gripped my wrist with painful urgency. ”Turn away, Miss Austen. Turn away this instant! We must not look, or I shall not be answerable for the consequences-Oh, Lord, that I had not seen what I have! That I should not feel myself compelled compelled to inform Lady Oxford-” to inform Lady Oxford-”
I stared at her in wonderment. ”Whatever are you speaking of? It is only a boy. Observe! His lords.h.i.+p is waving him off! He is letting out more sail, and the wind has taken it! The water is too deep for the lad-he cannot reach the boat, and indeed, indeed, Lady Swithin, I believe the poor fellow is drowning!”
The Countess whirled on the instant, her eyes seeking the fair head as it bobbed, sank, and disappeared beneath the waves. Byron was staring resolutely in the opposite direction, out to sea; at least fifty yards now separated him from the desperate boy.
”Good G.o.d!” Mona cried. ”Swithin-Swithin, do something do something, for all our sakes! Do you not see? There, in the wake of that vessel? It is Lady Caroline Lamb who is peris.h.i.+ng in the sea!”
13 Jane confirms here an opinion of Lady Oxford already expressed to her friend Martha Lloyd in a letter dated 16 February 1813. See Jane Austen, Jane confirms here an opinion of Lady Oxford already expressed to her friend Martha Lloyd in a letter dated 16 February 1813. See Jane Austen, Jane Austen's Letters Jane Austen's Letters, Deirdre Le Faye, ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), Letter No. 82.14 By this, the Countess of Swithin refers to Princess Caroline, the Regent's estranged wife, who maintained a separate residence and household. Such a degree of hatred subsisted between the two royals that one could not be a friend to both.- By this, the Countess of Swithin refers to Princess Caroline, the Regent's estranged wife, who maintained a separate residence and household. Such a degree of hatred subsisted between the two royals that one could not be a friend to both.-Editor's note.
CHAPTER NINE
A Remedy for Drowning 9 MAY 1813 1813.
BRIGHTON, CONT.
MY BROTHER H HENRY, I KNEW KNEW, COULD NOT SWIM COULD NOT SWIM.
The Earl of Swithin's fingers were already working at the b.u.t.tons of his dark blue coat, however, and his hat was tossed on the paving at his feet. ”Hullo the boat!” he cried towards Lord Byron's diminis.h.i.+ng vessel. ”Byron! Lord Byron!”
I saw what he was about in an instant; Byron should be more likely to reach the drowning woman, did he abandon his vessel in an attempt to save her; but the wind carried Swithin's words back into his throat.
Henry leapt from the Parade to the s.h.i.+ngle below, and began to halloo in company with Swithin; but it was of little use. The only notice he secured was that of the fishwives who gutted the local catch on trestles set up near the sea, their skirts kirtled high about their waists and their heads wrapped in bright scarves. Several stilled their knives and stared up at us in wonderment, as tho' we were drunken or mad.
”She surfaces!” Desdemona cried.
Her husband, boots discarded and clad only in pantaloons and linen s.h.i.+rt, pelted over the stony sand with the speed of a schoolboy; and as he plunged into the sea, fighting against the waves that dragged at his thighs, I saw the dark gold head of Lady Caroline Lamb-was it truly she?-rise like a seal's and then disappear, almost instantly overwhelmed. Beside me, Desdemona was dancing with anxiety and fear, muttering imprecations and encouragement, her eyes narrowed in a desperate attempt to locate Lady Caroline once more. I, too, was searching the serrated water frantically with my gaze; but the sodden curls did not reappear.
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