Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Man of the Cloth

“Are you intending to pay a call, my dear? And in the middle of the night?”

“It is not above ten o'clock,” I replied crossly, and turned from him in haste. “I do but go to Mr. Dobbin, and shall return directly.”

Comprehension dawned on my father's face. “But do you know the proper direction? Had not I better accompany you?”

At this, I paused — for indeed, I had not the slightest idea of where the justice of the peace was to be found. “I shall have James to accompany me,” I said, with an air of decision that brooked no reply. “He will know the way, and may serve as greater protection in case of need. Do not alarm yourself, Father, and endeavour to disguise the truth to my mother. Inform her I have been called to the side of a sick friend — Mrs. Barnewall, if need be — at the lady's request.”

“Are you certain, Jane, that such activity is required of your benevolence?”

“Justice demands it, Father. I shall not be long.” I gave him a swift kiss, and received his hand on my head in blessing, and turned from him in a swirl of my wool skirts.

It was as James and I stepped out upon the threshold of Wings cottage, and turned up Broad towards the center of Lyme, that the glow upon the horizon — so incongruous in so dark a sky — astounded our senses. We stood aghast, our purpose forgotten at the sight of the blaze, and smelled the sharp odour of wood and tar upon the wind.

“FIRE! FIRE!”

All was chaos, with the old wooden buildings at the center of town aflame. Fire licked at the stone pavements, and found no purchase, and so turned to leap greedily from thatched roof to thatched roof, in a crackle and volley of sparks that suggested a riotous celebration, as though the Devil himself had determined to hold a party. Several of the principal buildings along Silver Street were ablaze, and a long line of men were engaged in swinging buckets from the town's main cistern; but the water was as a drop to the throat of a dying man; it had no power to stem the course of events, except in that it allowed the onlookers to feel comfort in the activity of refusal.

“How did it start?” James cried hoarsely to a passing man.

“Dunno,” the fellow replied. “Does it matter?” and he handed my manservant a sack of burlap and a stout shovel. “Get you to the fireguard, there, and join in the diggin’. If the flames come near, beat at ‘em with the sack.”

James did not hesitate; in an instant he had disappeared into the thick cloud of smoke and townspeople collected near the blaze; and I was alone at the periphery of Hell.

I gazed in horror, remembering Sidmouth's words of but a few hours ago — unless it be that chaos reign and fire cover the earth — and that swiftly, I felt I knew how the blaze had begun, and the object of so much general diversion. Did the townsfolk exert their energies in an hour of true crisis, they should be little likely to guard the gaol. The Royalists had done as their leader predicted. Fire rained down from the heavens, and chaos reigned [76] This description of the Lyme fire appears nowhere in Jane Austen's surviving letters to Cassandra, and it is probable that it is among those that Cassandra is known to have destroyed before her own death, as too revealing of Jane's personal life. A reference to the flames does appear in letter #57 in the LeFaye edition of Jane Austens Letters, which LeFaye attributes to the November 5, 1803 fire known to have occurred in Lyme. The account of a blaze recorded here, however, some ten months later, may in fact be the one to which Jane refers in letter #57. — Editor's note. ; and in the midst of it all, I knew that Sidmouth was fled.

I turned away from the prospect of Silver Street, and ducked down a narrow alley towards the whitewashed stone keep. The fire was at just enough distance from the gaol, and threatened so valuable a number of shops, as to ensure complete distraction. A very few moments sufficed to bring me to Gordy Trimble's cubby; and to find it deserted, and the doorway beyond flung wide. I did not bother to look within; for I knew I should find the manacles burst, from the blow of an axe, and the prisoner gone into the dark.

I turned — in the grip, at the moment, of indecision; and nearly collided with a gentleman at my back.

“Miss Austen!” he cried, and despite the disorder of our surroundings, did not neglect to bow.

“Mr. Crawford!” I replied, in a tremulous tone — and wished, of a sudden, for James by my side. “The blaze has brought you out, I see!”

“How could it not? I observed the light of the flames from Darby's high position; and waited only long enough for Miss Crawford to put up some bread and cheese, before mounting my horse and hastening to town. You cannot know, I realise, that we are very much prey to such blazes, here along the coast; a similar fire not a year ago quite nearly levelled the lower part of town; and every man's aid must be necessary at such a time.”

His earnest face was as good-natured as ever beneath the balding pate, and he betrayed not the slightest hint of his propensity for evil, nor the incongruity of us both, as we stood many streets away from the conflagration he had hastened so far to combat. I forbore from suggesting that he might find his way closer to the flames, from fear of arousing his suspicions; and endeavoured to appear as though my anxiety were active only on the crisis's behalf.

“But what do you here, Miss Austen — at such a remove from both your home and the blaze together?” he enquired, bending nearer. Did I imagine it — or did his tone bear a sharper construction?

“I began by observing the activity in some proximity,” I attempted, “but found the heat from the flames and the noise of the townsfolk to be too great; and so sought relief in this removal. I hardly know where I have got to.”

“Indeed,” Crawford said. “I think you have fetched up quite close to the Lyme gaol.” And at that, he peered over my shoulder into the yard beyond, and his eyes widened. “I see that Sidmouth's friends — if, indeed, he retains any — have profited from the confusion, to effect his escape. Mr. Dobbin must be informed!”

I turned about, and pretended to as great a surprise as Mr. Crawford, though I imagine neither of us saw anything very unexpected; and delayed only a moment to speed the gentleman on his way to the justice of the peace.

“Do you hasten, Mr. Crawford, sir, lest the villain be lost in the general alarm!” I cried, with as much fervour as my desire to be rid of the man allowed. “With such criminals about, I believe I shall make my way back to Wings cottage, and take refuge there with all my dear family, until a general order is restored. I declare, I had not an idea of such terrifying adventures — such utter disregard for propriety, or such a propensity for revolution — when I undertook to travel to Lyme. Our sojourn in this place has been one long trial of fortitude; I wonder that either you or your good sister can long sustain a residence in the place.”

“It is possible,” he replied, “that we shall seek a removal in the near future — for I may admit that Miss Crawford's views are very similar to your own, Miss Austen. But I hesitate to send you off so very alone — I fear that perhaps I should accompany you — for great are the misfortunes that might befall so gentle a nature as your own, in the general recklessness of these streets.”

“I would not delay your errand for the world!” I cried, with energy. “Only consider the consequences!”

“Indeed,” he said, in some hesitation; and I felt him to have anything but the justice's house in view. His object, rather, should be to see me safely out of the way, before proceeding himself in pursuit of Sidmouth; for Crawford's plans had been too carefully laid to be put so awry. Sidmouth must serve as scapegoat for Crawford's crimes; and if the man were lost as a result of the fire, and never appeared again, so much the better. I knew, of a sudden, what Crawford intended. He would make his way to the beach below the Grange, there to search for Sidmouth as he awaited removal by boat; his friend had no reason to suspect Crawford's motives, and did he appear in the guise of aid, should welcome him with open arms. It but remained to thrust a dagger through his heart, or turn him over to the justice, and complete his betrayal.