Stephanie Barron - Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor

Next I was suffered to meet the eldest son of the Earl's deceased sister. Mr. George Hearst is a quiet gentleman of seven-and-twenty, charged with all the management of the home farm, which I understand from Isobel is not at all to that gentleman's liking. He wishes rather to take Holy Orders, with the view to obtaining one of the three livings [7] The term living applied to a clergyman's post — his salary and usually his home — which passed from one man to another, often as the gift of a patron who “owned” the living, or, if the clergyman himself had purchased the living, through the sale of the position before the incumbent's death. Sale of a living after the incumbent's death was considered trafficking in Church property — a violation of the laws of simony. — Editor's note. at the Earl's disposal when it should next come vacant. Pale and gaunt, his eyes shadowed with a care that must be ecclesiastical, he bears the stamp of a man long in converse with his God. His melancholy aspect and glowering looks, in the midst of so much rejoicing, cast a pall over the immediate party that even I, a relative stranger to them all, must feel acutely. Mr. George Hearst gave me an indifferent nod, and then returned to his contemplation of the grave — or so I assumed, from his stony aspect.

Isobel hastened then to make me known to Lieutenant Thomas Hearst, the ecclesiastic's younger brother; and as different from him as two men formed of the same union maybe.

Tom Hearst possesses a life commission in an excellent cavalry regiment, a face creased from laughing, unruly curls that bob when he bows low over a hand, and a charm that has undoubtedly reduced many a fashionable miss to tears and sighing. That the Lieutenant cuts a dashing figure in his dark blue uniform, and dances with more enthusiasm than skill, I may readily attest. When Isobel presented him, he bobbed in the aforesaid manner and immediately asked for my next dance; and so I instantly recovered from my fit of nerves and set out to determine something of the Lieutenant's character.

I did not have far to seek. At the glimpse of a blond head hovering over my shoulder and the scent of violets assailing my nose, I turned and surveyed Miss Fanny Delahoussaye, resplendent in a peacock-blue gown that displayed to excellent effect her ample bosom. Miss Delahoussaye laughed a little breathlessly — the result, no doubt, of too much activity and too little corset string — and reached a plump hand to her coiffure.

“And so you have met that rascal Tom Hearst,” she said, and actually winked in my direction. Miss Fanny is Isobel's cousin from the Barbadoes, a well-grown girl of youthful and boisterous appearance, but sadly lacking in sense. “He has snatched you up for a dance or two, I warrant, and now I shall have to go begging for a partner. I am sure Tom should have monopolised my card,” she added, displaying that elegant slip attached to her fan, already overwritten with eager suitors, “but for his delicacy in appearing too forward.”

“Is Lieutenant Hearst a man of delicacy, then?” I enquired, with more interest in Miss Delahoussaye than I had heretofore felt.

“Oh, Lord, no!” she cried. “As rash a scapegrace as ever lived! But Tom is that afraid of Mamma” — at this, she tossed her blond curls in Madame Delahoussaye's general direction — ”as to be overcareful. I am sure that J should not fear her half so much. It is not as though I have a brother, you know, to fight with him and send him off.”

“Why should any fight with the Lieutenant?” I said, somewhat bewildered.

“Why, because he is in love with me, of course,” Fanny declared, rapping my shoulder with her fan; “and his fortune is hardly equal to my own. And if I did have a brother to fight him, it should be the worse for us; for you know Tom is come to Scargrave having killed a man in an affair of honour.” [8] To kill one's opponent in a duel was considered murder in England, and as the nineteenth century wore on, the successful combatant was often forced to flee the country if he did not wish to face the law. Around the turn of the eighteenth century, however, the authorities still occasionally winked at dueling — particularly among military men, for whom the concept of personal honor was as vital as wealth or high birth. As Lieutenant Hearst is a cavalry officer, it would be left to his commanding officers to decide his fate. — Editor's note.

My distress at this intelligence being written upon my countenance, Miss Delahoussaye laughed aloud.

“I wonder you had not heard of it. Lord, it is the talk of the entire room! He has left his regiment at St. James for a little until the scandal dies down; though I am sure he should not have engaged in such an affair had he not been cruelly insulted.”

With this, Miss Delahoussaye attempted to look grave, but her blue eyes danced with approbation for the terrible Lieutenant.

“Undoubtedly,” I replied, “though we cannot know what it is about.”

“I mean to find out,” Miss Fanny said stoutly, “for the affairs of officers are to me the most romantic in the world! Do not you agree, Miss Austen? Is not an officer to be preferred above any man?”

“I had not thought them blessed with any particular merit—” I began, but was cutoff in mid-sentence.

“Then you cannot appreciate Tom as I do, and I shall not fear your charms any longer. He is wild about me, Miss Austen; do you remember it when you are dancing with him.” And with a flounce of her peacock-hued gown, Fanny Delahoussaye left me to await the return of her heart's delight.

It was but nine o'clock, and light refreshment was laid in a parlour at some remove from the great room; a crush of gentlemen and ladies circulated about the long table, seeking ices and champagne, cold goose and sweetmeats, sent forth from Scargrave's kitchens with a breathtaking disregard for expense. I considered the swarm of the unknown, some of whom were very fine, indeed, and for an instant wished myself returned to the hearth in my room, with a good book for company; but Isobel had taken my arm, and I was not to be so easily released.

“This is what it means to be a married woman, Jane,” my friend said, with an arch smile; “one is forever expected to forego refreshment so that others may dance. You may eat to your heart's content, but / must allow my husband to lead me to the floor, or suffer the contempt of my guests.” Isobel then swept off on the arm of the Earl, and proceeded to the head of the room; others equally eager to join in the revels formed up in pairs alongside them, as the musicians laid bow to string.

I felt the absence of Tom Hearst, and knew not whether to wish for the return of such a man or no. But my confusion was to be of short duration. A parting of the crowd, a sight of a curly head, and a jaunty bow in my direction; and I found myself facing the Lieutenant not four couples removed from the Earl and his lady, in all the flushed excitement of a first dance.

The knowledge of Lieutenant Hearst's having killed a man put flight to every other thought in my head, but since it is impossible to move through the figures without some attempt at conversation, I cast about in desperation for the slightest word. I fear I blushed, and turned my eyes to the ground, and appeared in every way as missish as possible, giving the Lieutenant as inaccurate a picture of myself as perhaps Miss Delahoussaye had drawn of him. My wordless confusion made him hesitate to utter a syllable; and thus we laboured in profound stupidity, for fully half the dance's span. But of all things detestable, I most detest a silent partner — and thrusting aside my horror of pistols at dawn, I took refuge in a lady's light banter.