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I glanced expressively at Manon, who had adopted a position of watchful interest near the kitchen door; the maid rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Julia Radcliffe appears to have been not unmoved by A
“And your friend accepted these jewels?” I cried. “I did not think she was so lacking in honour!”
Eliza shrugged. “One does not arrive at one’s fifth decade without certain compromises, Jane— and one never does so in style if one is determined to be improvident! I ca
“She was paid off,” I said grimly, “and with such a treasure as must have landed her on the scaffold, if it does not land us there first. Did Miss Radcliffe disclose the source of her bribe?”
“I ca
A faint doubt assailed me. “Eliza, you did not disclose the truth about the jewels?”
“When you had charged me expressly not to do so?” she returned, scandalised. “Naturally, I breathed not a word of Rundell’s despicable setting on of the Ru
“You will do nothing of the sort,” I returned with asperity. “By the time Henry has quitted Oxford, we shall have discovered the whole of this tangled business — or been brought before the Bow Street magistrate. In either case, your friend will learn the unhappy truth. I ca
Chapter 22
The Consolations of Religion
Sunday, 28 April 1811
WITH A HOST OF CLAMOUROUS THOUGHTS DEMANDING my attention, and no ready resolution presenting itself to my understanding, I found sleep elusive last night. I could not help but canvass the merits of each of the figures that must fall under suspicion, whether as jewel thieves or murderers or both. Was Lord Castlereagh indeed the gentleman whom the Princess had loved — and Druschka’s avowals of her i
By half-past six o’clock, I abandoned my bed for the book room and sat in my dressing gown by the ashes of yesterday’s fire. I schooled myself to look over the pages of Sense and Sensibility most lately delivered from Mr. Egerton’s press — he has at last arrived at Chapter Ten, which must be felt to be a triumph — but the gestation of these slim volumes begins to seem like that of an elephant. The effort of concentration, upon a task so generally felt to be enjoyable, proved too much for my strained nerves; by eight o’clock I had abandoned it.
Henry was abroad when I entered the front passage: shaved, put into his neat dark coat by his man, and ready to be thrown up onto his horse.
“I have urged Eliza not to come down,” he told me in a voice more suited to the tomb; “we have said our adieux. Pray look after her, Jane — I shall send word when I have reached Oxford safely.”
“Enjoy the solitary splendour of the Blue Boar,” I advised him, “and do not be mourning your undergraduate days. You improve with age, Henry.”
I watched him wave from the back of his hired mare and clatter off down the silent streets of Hans Town in a westerly direction; and reflected that there are few sights so gratifying to a female eye, as a handsome man in a well-made coat and hat, astride a horse on a spring morning.
I accepted a cup of coffee from Manon and dressed myself for service in the Belgrave chapel.[21] The day — so nearly May — was fine enough for walking, provided I might persuade Eliza to the exertion; she was prone, however, to suggest a hackney coach bound instead for the Chapel Royal, as being the house of worship most likely to offer an array of Fashionables in Pious Attitudes, for our amusement. Eliza is frank in admitting she is rarely able to keep her mind on higher things, even of a Sunday — but I was determined this morning to be firm. Fa
“But, Jane,” Eliza faltered from amidst the bedclothes, where she was imbibing a cup of chocolate, “should I not stay the sacrament? I ca
I left her propped up on her pillows, reading her French novel in perfect enjoyment; and walked alone through the brightening morning to church.
The Tilsons caught me up on my way, all of them handsome and virtuous; and I saw that Fa
“Your sister does not accompany you?” Fa
“I am sorry to say that most of Eliza’s notions are improper,” I tranquilly agreed, “which is why she is invariably such excellent company! But this morning her cold persists in troubling her; I am charged by my brother with taking the utmost care for her health, and could not permit her to put her foot out of doors. However bright the sunshine, the air is not so warm as one would like.”
“And your brother, I collect, has quitted Hans Town for Oxford this morning? You will not reproach me, Miss Austen, for confessing how much I deplore Sunday travel; it has not been the habit of my family. But there is a carelessness to Town life that may encourage the lapse of every observance, even among persons one must generally regard as unimpeachable; the business of this world is accorded more weight than the business of the next; and in our hurry to pursue a monetary gain, we very nearly lose our eternal souls! James is to join your brother at the Blue Boar tomorrow — but I could not be easy in my mind, should he have travelled today.”
21
According to Austen historian Deirdre Le Faye, this may be Jane’s personal name for St. George’s, Five Fields, Chelsea. In Austen’s day this would have been on the edge of what is now Belgravia, and would have provided a pleasant walk. — Editor’s note.