Part 12 (2/2)
”How do the odds run at present, Hodge?” Mona enquired.
If any gentleman were likely to know the state of the betting, it should be Hodge; he embarked on a fluent discourse regarding the points of the various horses and the weight of their riders; the variability of one animal's response to dry turf, versus another's liking for mud; the possibility of Lord Wyncourt's gelding being a trifle touched in the wind; and the excellent action of Lord Swithin's horse, which was called by the lovely name of China Trade. From which we concluded that the Earl's entry was a high favourite.
”Then put it all on the nag for me, Hodge,” Lady Oxford said gaily, tossing him a silken purse that clinked delightfully with coins. ”You know I cannot approach the bookmen.”
”Your servant,” Hodge said with a bow, and sprang down from his curricle, quite deserting Mrs. Alleyn. I might have s.h.i.+fted my place to supply her want of a companion-but that I observed her eagle eye already fixed on an elegant sporting figure making its way on horseback to the curricle's side: Sir John Stevenson. He tipped his hat, acknowledged his old acquaintance Lady Oxford, and soon made Mrs. Alleyn the grateful recipient of his exclusive attentions.
”Did Byron say whether he intended the race-meeting?” Lady Oxford asked carelessly of Desdemona.
There was a pregnant silence, both Mona and I being well aware that Byron's determined drinking must make all exertion impossible; but then some imp in the Countess's soul encouraged her to declare, ”I do not recollect. Jane-Miss Austen-may have heard him mention it, however...they were much in conversation....”
”I cannot say,” I stuttered, as some memory of that engrossing tete-a-tete obtruded. He had penetrated the secret of my authors.h.i.+p. Stripped me naked with a single look. And called me a writer greater than himself....”Indeed, we spoke so briefly-the merest nothings...but were I pressed, I should imagine his lords.h.i.+p too greatly fatigued by the labours of his morning, to venture out-of-doors so soon after the inquest. And then, too, there is the undesirability of drawing notice-”
”Whatever do you mean?” Lady Oxford retorted coolly. ”Byron adores adores drawing notice. It is as life-blood to the man.” drawing notice. It is as life-blood to the man.”
”But I do not think his Bow Street Runner should advise it.”
Lady Oxford turned her head to frown at me a little. ”Are you suggesting he means to skulk within doors within doors, from fear of the rabble? His innocence has been declared!”
”I beg your pardon-say rather that his guilt guilt has been has been doubted doubted. Until some other some other is charged with the murder of Catherine Twining, the general feeling against his lords.h.i.+p remains high.” is charged with the murder of Catherine Twining, the general feeling against his lords.h.i.+p remains high.”
Her ladys.h.i.+p emitted a brittle little laugh. ”I collect you are entirely unacquainted with Lord Byron's character, Miss Austen; and it is as well that I have remembered the fact, else I should resent your picture of the gentleman-for it is the picture of a coward coward. Good G.o.d! He can hardly have known the chit who drowned-a brazen piece who thought nothing of wandering the s.h.i.+ngle at the dead of night, and got herself tossed like a sack of flour into a stranger's bed-”
Understanding shot through my brain with the clarity of a lightning-bolt. I glanced swiftly at Desdemona, whose countenance was alive with anxiety. She gave the barest shake of the head in my direction; it was true, then: Lady Oxford had no notion of her lover's pa.s.sion for another.
”I had understood, had understood,” Mona said breathlessly, ”that the two had met had met some once or twice.” some once or twice.”
An exclamation of annoyance escaped Lady Oxford's lips. ”Very probably! The better part of the known world has thrown itself at poor George's head! If you only knew knew, Miss Austen, the throngs of ladies desperate for his lords.h.i.+p's notice!-The stratagems and schemes to which they resort, without the slightest regard for their own dignity! Did I not possess a keen delight in the absurd absurd, I should be reduced to tears tears by the folly of their display! But his lords.h.i.+p remains insensible to all!” by the folly of their display! But his lords.h.i.+p remains insensible to all!”
”Not quite quite all,” came a whisper from somewhere beside us. all,” came a whisper from somewhere beside us.
A s.h.i.+ver ran up my spine, as tho' an incorporeal spirit and not a human form had spoken.
Lady Caroline Lamb had condescended to join the race-meeting.
19 Jane would appear to be describing what we should term a steeplechase; a race derived from the gentlemanly habit of riding to hounds at a punis.h.i.+ng pace, rather than a flat course designed solely for speed.- Jane would appear to be describing what we should term a steeplechase; a race derived from the gentlemanly habit of riding to hounds at a punis.h.i.+ng pace, rather than a flat course designed solely for speed.-Editor's note.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Incident on the Downs WEDNESDAY, 12 MAY 1813 1813.
BRIGHTON, CONT.
SHE WAS MOUNTED ON A LEGGY BLACK COLT, PERHAPS three years of age, with a strong Arab nose and a venomous look-culled from the Regent's stables, no doubt. I may say that she had an excellent seat, and became it to admiration in her Prussian blue riding habit, cut as severely as tho' Weston had fas.h.i.+oned it for the Marquis of Wellington, with a stiff, high collar and narrow sleeves. The colt was restive, snorting and tossing its head, but she paid it no heed, her tiny hands in their doeskin gloves grasping the reins with ease. three years of age, with a strong Arab nose and a venomous look-culled from the Regent's stables, no doubt. I may say that she had an excellent seat, and became it to admiration in her Prussian blue riding habit, cut as severely as tho' Weston had fas.h.i.+oned it for the Marquis of Wellington, with a stiff, high collar and narrow sleeves. The colt was restive, snorting and tossing its head, but she paid it no heed, her tiny hands in their doeskin gloves grasping the reins with ease.
”Lady Caroline,” Desdemona murmured. ”How delightful. I hope you are entirely recovered from your misadventure on the s.h.i.+ngle?”
But Caro Lamb ignored her. Her queer, light eyes were fixed entirely on Lady Oxford, and as I watched, a smile quirked at her mouth-not with malice, but with the threat of uncontrollable laughter.
”Poor Aspasia! Did you believe believe his lies? Did you truly think he never met that wretched girl?” his lies? Did you truly think he never met that wretched girl?”
”Go away, Caroline,” her ladys.h.i.+p spat. ”I have nothing at all to say to you.”
The smile widened. ”What fools we women are! I have an idea of the two of you, in your Herefords.h.i.+re idyll; your complacent and stupid husband absent for weeks at a time; the fireside in January, the hectic conversation over books-laughing until you died died at how easily you had rid yourselves of me, wretched little Caro Lamb, with her broken heart and hysteric looks-How n.o.bly poor William stands by her! And at how easily you had rid yourselves of me, wretched little Caro Lamb, with her broken heart and hysteric looks-How n.o.bly poor William stands by her! And you you, believing all his lies, believing when he claimed he had never had a lover quite as rich rich as you, content to think a callow youth of four-and-twenty fascinated by your worldliness...for he, who is older in his bitterness than as you, content to think a callow youth of four-and-twenty fascinated by your worldliness...for he, who is older in his bitterness than recorded time recorded time, is too adept at playing the callow youth....Telling yourself that it was right and just he should wors.h.i.+p a woman whose teeth are almost all dropt out!-A woman, moreover, taken in love by so many others that she has long since given up reckoning the countless pokes she's suffered in the night-”
”Lady Caroline!” Desdemona cried.
The severe figure on horseback, as tho' backed with military steel, tossed her head defiantly. ”Pathetic Aspasia. You are quite in the autumn of your reign, are you not? You Aspasia. You are quite in the autumn of your reign, are you not? You require require the lies. You beg for them, with your t.i.t in his mouth. You wish to think them purest Truth! Whereas I hear the golden words that drip from his blessed lips and love them for their sheer deceit. I the lies. You beg for them, with your t.i.t in his mouth. You wish to think them purest Truth! Whereas I hear the golden words that drip from his blessed lips and love them for their sheer deceit. I cherish cherish them for their mockery, their trickster's toils. I am quite otherwise from you, them for their mockery, their trickster's toils. I am quite otherwise from you, dearest Jane dearest Jane-at whose knee I once sat, to learn the wisdom of the World. You require his lies, the better to hide from yourself-whereas I hear them in order to know exactly exactly how degraded I am become.” how degraded I am become.”
”Shut up, Caroline,” Lady Oxford muttered; but there was violence in her words.
Lady Caroline had begun to sob: dry, wracking sobs that lifted her frail breast as tho' a vast bellows filled it.
”Make him tell tell you!” she shrieked. ”Make him tell you how he loved the Twining girl to the point of you!” she shrieked. ”Make him tell you how he loved the Twining girl to the point of madness madness! He could not bear to keep away-flying south from your arms to haunt the lanes and rooms she frequented. He could not endure her unsullied innocence-the childlike purity of her tender frame-he wished for nothing more than to ravish her, and break that innocence on a stone!”
I saw Lady Oxford wince. Then she stiffened, as tho' some barbed point had found its home in her flesh. ”I do not believe it,” she whispered, groping for her friend's hand like a palsied ancient. ”Mona-Tell me she lies.”
The black colt jibbed, and backed; the little hands must have clenched on the reins.
”Did you know,” Lady Caroline queried in the mildest amus.e.m.e.nt, ”when you pressed your chaise upon him for the ease of his travels-poor boy, he worked so long into the night, scrawling verses for his Leila, he ought ought to take refreshment, he to take refreshment, he ought ought to steal a day or two in sailing o'er the seas-Did you know that it was to to steal a day or two in sailing o'er the seas-Did you know that it was to her her he coursed, in your golden carriage? he coursed, in your golden carriage? Her Her, he bound by wrist and mouth, to carry off to Gretna, for a Border wedding? She would not have him, Aspasia, by fair means or foul. Innocence is innocence still, that can reckon up the lies and find them short in weight. She threw all his pa.s.sion in his face-and still she was his Leila Leila! Not you!”
All around us, a hush had fallen over carriage and horse alike, every fas.h.i.+onable head averted, but nonetheless in thrall to the slight figure who sat her mount as brutally as any Ca.s.sandra, crying doom to Agamemnon's house. There had been nothing to equal the charm of this Season in Brighton for a decade, at least!
A tall figure thrust its way through the crowd; the Earl of Swithin, come to claim his lady at last. I saw his broad frame, his unbowed head, with profound relief; but even Swithin's face was white at the scene he had been forced to witness. He paid no heed to Caro Lamb, merely slapping the flank of her colt from his path, his eyes fixed on Desdemona's phaeton.
”Have we not a race to run?” he cried. ”The gun is about to fire!”
All heads swung as one towards the far end of the course, past the spectator stand, some fifty yards distant from our position, where a ragged line of seven horses fretted and sidled at the starter's mark; and then, an indeterminate figure raised its arm and triggered a duelling pistol.
The thunderous pack shot forward.
I had no idea which was China Trade. For an instant-or even an hour, perhaps, so thoroughly is one's sense of time suspended in contemplating a race-the horses seemed barely to move at all as they advanced upon us; we could not easily gauge their speed or distance in staring directly at them. Once they had swept past our position, however, in a surge of pounding flanks and striving forelegs, their jockeys crouched at their necks, whips flying, the sensation of speed was immediate. And suddenly one horse had leapt a stile, and another, and a third- ”That is China Trade,” Mona murmured for my benefit; ”the neat little bay with the small head and long neck. She is not so powerful as a stout hunter, mind, but she is built for speed-and leaps every obstacle like a gazelle, Swithin says.”
I strained my gaze to distinguish the mare, flying away from us towards the far end of the course; it seemed to my eye that she was gaining. I had quite forgot Lady Caroline Lamb in all the excitement of the turf-but she obtruded suddenly and emphatically on my notice.
”Hola, Sir!” she cried.
The black colt surged powerfully forward, past our phaeton and into the mounted crowd before us; I thought with thankfulness that her ladys.h.i.+p had done hounding the Countess of Oxford for a moment.
”Dear G.o.d,” Mona muttered. ”What queer start will she next attempt?”
And it was true: Caro Lamb did not merely seek a better position from which to view the race. With a slackening of her hold on the reins and a kick to her mount's belly, she shot through the a.s.sembled viewers and dashed headlong out onto the course.
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