She stared at me.

‘Really, James, you are always so odd, I do not know what to make of you. I am offering you an unexceptionable young woman for a wife and do you thank me? No. You simply continue to talk of Eliza. You must put her out of your mind. She is not for you. Miss Heath, however, is an amiable and rich young woman, and would welcome an offer from you, as long as you can keep your oddities hidden for a week or two.’

‘If Miss Heath is amiable and rich, I can hardly believe she will welcome a proposal from a younger son.’

I sat down gloomily, thinking that I would rather have endured one of Great-Aunt Isabella’s lectures than my sister’s misguided attempts to find me a wife.

She hesitated.

‘There is that about her ancestry ... to be sure, it is very little ... but her father made his money in trade. There, now you have it! So you see, she cannot attach a man from one of the best families. But you need not fear that her family will embarrass you, for her father had the good sense to die last year, thereby increasing his daughter’s chances of making a respectable match; and although his wife is still with us, you will not have to see her above once or twice a year.’

‘You are too kind.’

She stared.

‘There you go again with your incomprehensible remarks,’ she said. ‘You were dropped on your head, so your nurse said, when you were an infant, and that must account for it, I suppose. But make an effort, James. Miss Heath is worth pursuing, and if you make up your mind to it, she could be your wife by the end of the summer. And now,’ she went on, looking at me from head to foot, ‘you had better make yourself presentable, for Aunt Isabella will be wanting to see you before the hour is out.’

Horsby showed me to my room, and I washed and put on fresh linen before going downstairs again to wait upon Aunt Isabella.

She was by this time sitting in the drawing room, with Aunt Phoebe on one side of her and Aunt Cicely on the other. She raised her lorgnette and looked at me disapprovingly.

‘Well, young man, and what have you to say for yourself?’ she asked me.

‘How do you do, Aunt,’ I replied.

‘Do not how do you do, Aunt me,’ she returned. ‘You are a fool, it seems, like the rest of your sex.’ She consulted the letter in her lap. ‘You tried to run off with Eliza, your father tells me.’ She looked back at me. ‘I have no sympathy for him. If he had remained single, as I advised him to do all those years ago, instead of marrying your mother, he would not be in this predicament now. I told him how it would be. I told him she would run through his fortune before the year was out, and so it was. You, at least, had the sense to fall in love with a fortune. Did you speak?’

‘No, Aunt.’

‘And a good thing, too, for you can have nothing sensible to say. And so, your father sends you to me. And what am I to do with you, pray?’

‘Nothing, Aunt. I am ready to leave at once.’

‘So you can make mischief? I am seventy-eight years old, James. I have lived long enough in the world to know you will not accept the situation. Your father knows it, too, which is why he has charged me to keep you here until Harry and Eliza are married.’

‘And do you mean to do his bidding?’

‘You will keep a civil tongue in your head. I have no interest in doing your father’s bidding, but every interest in preventing you from making a mistake that will ruin your life. You will forget Eliza immediately and marry another heiress. It is too soon; you are too young; but it appears to be the only way to prevent your doing something foolish. Your sister has found a wife for you already, I gather, a Miss Heath. You will meet her tomorrow at my ball. You will flatter her and ask her to marry you, and Eliza will be forgotten. Is that understood? ’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ I said, for I certainly understood her.

‘Very well, you may go.’

As I left her, I thought, on reflection, that it was no bad thing that I would have to remain at Aunt Isabella’s for a time. Eliza would be safe at home, and as she would never consent to marrying my brother, I would have time to secure a position in a lawyer’s office and take lodgings, arranging both by letter. Then, with everything planned, it would be time to elope with Eliza, and we would have a life already waiting for us when we returned from Scotland.



Wednesday 1 July

After a good night’s sleep, I felt refreshed, and before breakfast, I wrote to Leyton, asking him to mention my name to his father with a view to finding me employment. I finished by requesting him to look for some respectable lodgings for us. Nothing too expensive, but the sort of place that would suit Eliza, I wrote to him.

I was half-afraid my aunt would read it after I had sent it to be posted, but the house was in a state of turmoil as last minute arrangements were being made for the ball, and the letter left the house with its seal unbroken.

I did my best to avoid the bustle as footmen carried chairs into the ballroom and set them against the walls for those guests who preferred not to dance, or arranged card-tables in the sitting room, or placed vases of flowers on console tables. Maids ran about with dusters and the housekeeper followed them, inspecting everything they had done and calling them back to finish any work they left half-finished.

I escaped into the library, where peace reigned, broken only by the ticking of the longcase clock. Dust motes swirled in the air, revealed by sudden beams of sunlight that danced in through the window and then dimmed as though crushed by the pervading gloom.

I thought of Eliza and wondered what she was doing. Having her dancing lessons and music lessons as usual, I supposed; listening to my father’s lectures; and counting the days until we were together again.

I had no enthusiasm for the ball but I knew it could not be avoided, so, dressed in my knee-breeches and ruffled shirt, I went downstairs as the guests began to arrive.

I headed towards the card room, meaning to spend the evening there, but my sister waylaid me. To my dismay, she had a vulgar-looking woman, accompanied by her daughter, in tow.

‘James, I want you to meet Mrs Heath and her charming daughter, Miss Heath,’ said my sister.

Mrs Heath was dressed in a gown more suited to court than a country ball. Her panniered gown was covered in swags and flounces, her hair was powdered and her cheeks were highly rouged. She walked with the air of a woman who thought she was in the height of fashion, but in this she was deluding herself, and my aunt’s friends pulled their skirts out of her way as she walked past.

Miss Heath was dressed with more restraint. Her hair was unpowdered and her face was unrouged, but she had her mother’s expression.

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Heath. She turned to her daughter. ‘What d’you think of him, then, Sally? An ’andsome one, ain’t ’e? Look at ’is calves!’

I saw my sister shudder, and I believe only the sight of Miss Heath’s exquisitely matched pearls encouraged her to continue with the introduction.

I bowed politely but coldly.

‘Well, go on then, Mr Brandy, ain’t you going to ask ’er to dance?’ said Mrs Heath jovially.

I wished I was not a gentleman, for then I would have been able to walk away, but as it was, I offered Miss Heath my arm.

As I led her onto the floor, she looked around her, saying, ‘Coo, ain’t it grand?’

I wondered if my sister knew what kind of paragon she had picked for me to marry, or whether Miss Heath’s blue eyes, corn-coloured hair and thirty thousand pounds had blinded her to her protégée’s faults.

‘Miss Heath,’ I said. ‘I believe my sister has given you to understand ... that is, I want you to know that I am not in a position to marry. I am already in love, with a lady my family does not approve of — or, rather, they do not approve of her for me. If they have misled you in any way, then I apologize.’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said, in completely different tones. ‘I am in love, too, with our curate. I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I wanted to repulse you so that you would not offer for me. Mama wants me to marry into the gentry, you see, and so I have to humour her, but I would never be happy with rarefied people, living in a house like this. A country parsonage is where I belong, with people I know and love.’

‘Then we may enjoy our dance together,’ I said with relief.

‘We may indeed! And if you would care to dance with me again, and to take me into supper, we may be comfortable then as well. Our relations will be satisfied, for they will see us together, and so they will not plague us and tell us we are disobedient. I confess, it will be a relief, for I am tired of being paraded in front of the gentry like a prize mare and then berated for not being grateful.’

The orchestra began to play and we danced, talking, when we passed each other, of our loves, I of Eliza, and she of Mr Abelard.

Catherine smiled on me for paying attention to Miss Heath, and even my aunt managed something that passed for a smile when she saw me at supper, whilst Mrs Heath watched at us benignly and declared that I was a right ’un.

I danced with Miss Heath again after supper and we talked of our loves again, and the evening passed agreeably.



Thursday 2 July

The ball did not end until the early hours, and it was almost midday when Fildew pulled back my curtains this morning. I thought myself back at home to begin with, and leapt out of bed, eager to see Eliza. Then I remembered, and I dressed more slowly before going down to breakfast.