Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Madness of Lord Byron

I suppressed a smile. “Recollect that Lord Byron cannot publish an iota of your unfortunate encounter without bringing the whole world’s indignation on his own head. You may rest easy, Miss Twining — indeed you may. Do but remain by your father’s side, and all shall be well. You are certainly safe from dancing with his lordship.”

“True, he never dances,” Catherine said despairingly. “Not even with Lady Caroline Lamb.”

I gazed at her in astonishment. “You are acquainted with Lady Caroline?”

“Not at all,” Catherine admitted. “All the world is aware of her connexion with Lord Byron. It is said that he forbade her to waltz at Almack’s , because he could not bear to see her in the arms of another; and that she submitted to the prohibition!”

“We may assume Lady Caroline is waltzing again,” I said drily, “Lord Byron having formed a rival attachment.”

Catherine flushed. “I think her a very dashing female,” she said wistfully. “Quite out of the common way. I should like to have a glimpse of her. Did you know that she is come to Brighton?”

“I had heard as much, yes.”

“But oh, Miss Austen — ” this was becoming a refrain with Miss Twining, rather as tho’ she had learnt it from a novel — “I am ready to sink! Papa shall retire to the card room as soon as the first dance is struck up; and I shall be consigned to the care of Mrs. Silchester. She is Papa’s chosen chaperon on every occasion, having been at school with dear Mamma; but she shrinks from offending the gentlemen. You saw how little her protection availed me with Colonel Hanger — and this is Byron ! Could I not accompany you to your rooms, and sit with you for a little while?”

I studied the hectic looks of my young friend — the wide, startled eyes — and saw that she had worked herself into a nervous passion. “You are looking far too pretty to give up an Assembly, Miss Twining, and should be wasted on the closed air of my rooms!”

“Catherine!” the General’s voice called peremptorily from behind his daughter.

“Could you not stay a little?” she pressed in an urgent whisper.

“Even were I of a mind to sit down throughout, I am told that the Master of Ceremonies — Mr. Forth, is it not? — is very strict in observing the proprieties. I should not wish to excite his censure.”

“No — that is, I quite understand — ”

“Catherine!” the General barked. “You are not attending! Make your excuses to your friend — Mr. Smalls awaits your pleasure!”

“Coming, Papa.” Catherine made her curtsey. “May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Austen?”

“ — And relate every detail of your Success. I shall be in the Castle’s writing room at one o’clock. I absolutely forbid you to be abroad any earlier — after the fatigues of the Assembly, you shall require a late morning.”

“I shall depend upon finding you.” And with one last, speaking look, Catherine Twining hurried off to place her flower-like hand in the crabbed paw of Mr. Hendred Smalls.

“WHY IS THE GENERAL DETERMINED TO THROW AWAY HIS daughter upon that aging cleric?” I demanded of my brother as we mounted the stairs to our rooms. “Were she a lady of my age — long since upon the shelf, and every prospect of romance blasted — I should understand his grasping at the most grotesque fellow who offered; but to thrust poor Catherine — who has everything to recommend her: youth, birth, and beauty — at a man who has none of these, is beyond my comprehension!”

“Do not be offering her a place in our curricle, Jane,” Henry warned as he paused before my door.

“I shall be as firm as you desire.”

“Our journey home shall be sadly flat,” he sighed, “without the prospect of duels or abduction to lend it spice.”

THE MUSIC AND BUSTLE THROUGHOUT THE CASTLE BEING likely to keep me awake some hours, I settled down to pen this account in my journal; and as my candle guttered low, and the cessation of the instruments suggested supper was being served, I stirred up Betsy’s excellent fire, replenished my candlestick, and got into bed to read by the dim light. The improving nature of the text — I had selected a volume of sermons in deference to Recent Events of a Melancholy Turn — was unequal to the fatigue of so advanced an hour; my mind was prone to wander. Laughter and hubbub drifted up from the Assembly Rooms, and I had an idea of the overheated girls, catching a chill as they moved from ballroom to supper, picking at their ices and smoked salmon. Catherine should yet be among them; I hoped for her sake that Lord Byron had quitted the rooms at an early hour, and that Mr. Smalls had retired, as the elderly must, to the card room — leaving the object of his fancy to more suitable partners. Poor Catherine! To be caught between the rage of the poet, and the simpering of the clergyman!

What she required, I thought, was a simple, bracing sportsman like my brother Edward had been. Henry, indeed, was confident that just such a suitor must appear. But what if the Unknown came too late? Jane, Jane , I scolded myself as I snuffed out my candle near two o’clock, when at last the sounds of revelry had died from the rooms and streets below — You ought to have nothing to do with the child’s troubles . But Lord Byron had decided that; it was his abduction that had ensnared me.

TUESDAY, 11 MAY 1813

“SUCH A SCENE, MY DEAR MISS AUSTEN, YOU CAN NEVER have witnessed!”

Lady Swithin threw back her head — which bore a pert little jockey bonnet this morning, worn with a spencer of French twill — and crowed with laughter. “Caro Lamb, with a circlet on her brow, a robe fit for a Greek chorus, sandals, and her toenails painted with gold leaf . She stopped all conversation dead when she appeared in the Assembly Rooms; and I am certain one of the violinists snapped a string, from the resounding twang ! that greeted her arrival.”

“But she was known to be a guest of the Regent’s,” I observed reasonably. “I suppose she may attend the local ball, if she chuses.”

“It was not Caro , so much as her appearance! I do not think she could have aroused greater comment had she paraded through the Assembly naked. She was determined to figure as Lord Byron’s Attic Muse — the breathing heart of Childe Harold . When instead, as poor Swithin observed, she succeeded merely in suggesting a Cyprian Goddess.”

By this, of course, Lady Swithin meant a harlot.

“And Lord Byron?” I enquired.

“ — Was a veritable picture of Persecuted Genius. His brow darkened stormily; he threw off all restraining hands; he muttered imprecations in Caro’s general direction; and departed without speaking so much as a word to her.”

“Very ungentlemanly. He thus exposed Lady Caroline to the ridicule of her world; and I cannot admire him for it.”

“No; but you shall be glad of one thing — Caro’s arrival freed your little friend, Miss Twining, from Byron’s pursuit at least! He was most determined last evening. She had only to quit the floor at the close of a dance, and loose the hand of her partner — who might be gone in search of lemonade, or pineapple ice — to be set upon by his lordship, blind to all else, and quoting impassioned words over her shrinking form. Poor goosecap, I quite pitied her; Swithin was just such an one, you know, when in the throes of passion for me. ”

I had seen Lord Swithin in disappointed Love; he had never approached the diabolical figure who struck terror in Catherine’s heart.

“Then Miss Twining has cause to be grateful to Lady Caroline,” I observed.

“Yes, indeed! And I observed the two ladies conversing, if you will credit it, later that evening — so perhaps your friend found occasion to convey her thanks, however awkward Lord Byron might regard such a conversation, did he know of it. And now I must be off — Swithin has a horse running in the race, you know, and I dare not stay away. I wish you would make another of our party!”