I asked her if she was going to the Assembly Rooms tomorrow night and she nodded vigorously and was delighted to hear that Uncle James approved of the idea.
‘And Jenny, you will wear your so beautiful white gown, n’est-ce pas? And Jane?’ Eliza looked thoughtfully over at Jane, who was looking up at Harry, but then was forced to reassure Phylly, who was making a fuss about whether or not she should go to a ball.
Harry then decided that he should leave us. He is a sensitive young man and he felt that Phylly didn’t like him. Nothing that Jane or I could say made him change his mind. Jane went with him to the top of the gravel walk, and I could see that she was giving him some directions. It was funny to watch them from a distance, he bending his fair head over Jane’s dark one, she vehemently talking and gesturing and he nodding from time to time.
And then we all went off to buy the new hat for Phylly. We went from shop to shop to shop until eventually the troublesome woman chose something in pink and green in Gregory’s shop, right down at the bottom of the town in Bath Street, near to the Pump Room. After all that, on the way back to Queen’s Square she kept talking about remaking the bonnet.
Just now without a word Jane handed me the rough copy of something she had been writing. ‘That’s to put in your journal,’ she said. ‘It’s in honour of Phylly. I’m thinking of dedicating one of my novels to her.’
Jane does make me laugh (I like the way she spells majestic). Poor Phylly!
Friday, 22 April 1791
The noise of the traffic woke me early this morning. Jane is still asleep so I will fill in the time by writing in my journal.
Yesterday evening Franklin and Rosalie escorted us to the supper party. Even now I keep giggling when I think about it, but I must explain it properly.
Mr and Mrs Forster are quite an elderly couple who own a fine house at Laura Place, down in the lower part of the town beyond the Pump Room. Their granddaughter Frances has just left school so they were having a little party for her and some of her friends before she left Bath to join her parents in London.
‘It sounds very dull, doesn’t it, Franklin – a party for schoolgirls,’ said Jane as we walked down the hill followed by Rosalie carrying our slippers in a neat bag.
‘Perhaps Mr and Mrs Forster thought it would be a treat for their granddaughter to meet two grown-up young ladies,’ said Franklin soothingly.
‘We’ll instruct her, won’t we, Jenny?’ said Jane with a grin. She stuck her nose in the air and said in loud, lofty tones, ‘My dear young thing, pray do not bother me with talk of globes and such things. Let us discuss our beaux. I’ve got four or five myself and I can never decide between them.’
‘Miss Jane!’ exclaimed Rosalie in a horrified voice, but Franklin just threw back his head and laughed so heartily that he set up an echo from the surrounding houses of Queen’s Square.
But when we were delivered to the door of number 3, Laura Place, we were surprised to see four cocked hats lying on the table in the hall.
‘Military men!’ whispered Jane in my ear as the stately butler was escorting us towards the drawing room. Her delighted eyes were round and full of excitement. It looked as though the supper party wasn’t going to be so dull, after all.
There were, indeed, four young men in the drawing room dressed in full regimentals. Jane’s eyes sparkled with delight when she saw them. They were all young and all handsome. I heard a little gasp of surprise from behind me and whirled round to see Lavinia and Caroline Thorpe – again!
‘So you are Mr Leigh-Perrot’s little nieces. Which is which?’ Mrs Forster, an elderly white-haired lady, swept forward, her silk gown trailing on the expensive carpet.
‘I’m Jane Austen and this is Jenny Cooper.’ Jane gave a haughty stare at the two Thorpe girls, who were smirking as we were being introduced.
‘Both looking as shabby as servant girls,’ whispered Lavinia. I could tell that she intended the whisper to reach us but not Mrs Forster.
I curtsied to Mrs Forster and kept my eyes fixed on her. I had stood up to Lavinia and Caroline at the Assembly Rooms at Basingstoke, and I would stand up to them again if they tried to bully me.
The girl at the piano turned out to be Frances Forster, and one of the military men, Colonel Forster, was her brother. Oh, and there was another girl, Charlotte Manners – very quiet, but sensible-looking.
‘Now, my dears, let me introduce the gentlemen to you. This is Lieutenant Carter, Lieutenant Denny, Lieutenant Brandon and Colonel Forster, my grandson.’
‘La,’ said Jane, ‘a colonel! And so young! You are truly blessed in your grandson, ma’am,’ she said gravely to Mrs Forster.
Mrs Forster looked a little taken aback; Lavinia Thorpe sniggered and gave a sly look at her sister Caroline.
Colonel Forster, however, swept Jane a very deep bow. ‘You pay me too much honour, ma’am,’ he said respectfully.
‘Pray tell me, sir, how do you like Bath?’ enquired Jane in rather a middle-aged fashion.
‘Very well indeed, ma’am,’ he returned.
‘I mean to like it very much myself, but I have yet to make an appearance at the assemblies,’ said Jane coquettishly.
‘I feel quite assured that you will be a huge success, ma’am!’ Colonel Forster was a good-looking young man. The scarlet uniform suited his dark good looks and he had a magnificent pair of grey eyes, fringed with jet-black lashes. He seemed amused by Jane, and I could see that Lavinia Thorpe had ceased to look scornful and now had an angry flush on her cheeks.
‘Pray, ma’am, do you plan to dance the minuet at the Assembly Rooms?’ Lieutenant Denny had left Caroline Thorpe’s side and joined his friend Colonel Forster.
‘I require some practice first, sir,’ said Jane. She sighed. ‘Alas, I live in the depths of the countryside and I haven’t danced the minuet for many a long year!’
‘Oh, we can’t have that,’ said Colonel Forster. His face was very serious, but his large grey eyes were full of laughter. ‘Grandma, you will play a minuet for us, won’t you? Denny, Carter, Brandon, move the furniture back like good fellows.’ He swept Jane a low bow and said, ‘Pray take my hand, ma’am.’
Jane curtsied. ‘I’m vastly obliged to you, sir.’ Her eyes had a wicked glint in them as they flicked towards Lavinia Thorpe, but she wore a demure smile as she went forward.
Jane, of course, is an expert dancer, and Eliza had taught us both the minuet, but Jane artistically made a few errors and all in all she managed to keep both lieutenant Denny and Colonel Forster busy instructing her until supper was announced.
After supper – which was quite a fun meal with Colonel Forster and the three lieutenants exchanging witticisms with Jane – Mrs Forster suggested that Frances might like to bring the young ladies to her bedroom to freshen up and tidy their hair and the girl took us off. She was quite friendly to me but very cold to Jane. Lieutenant Denny had been sitting by the piano next to her when we arrived, but had deserted to instruct Jane in the minuet. Charlotte asked us a few polite questions about what it was like to live in the country, but she didn’t seem interested.
The two Thorpe girls just scowled at us both.
‘How are you enjoying Bath?’ I asked Lavinia, in an effort to make conversation.
‘What concern is that of yours?’ she replied with a sneer.
‘Tch,’ said Jane reprovingly, clicking her tongue in a motherly way. ‘Dear girls, you are shortly to enter the world where you will meet with many wonderful things; let me warn you against suffering yourselves to be meanly swayed by the follies and vices of others!’
‘You are so ridiculous, Miss Jane Austen,’ said Lavinia, turning away disdainfully. ‘My dear creature,’ she said to Frances, linking her arm affectionately, ‘pray take no notice of those foolish girls. Let’s go back to the drawing room.’
‘Oh yes, let’s,’ said Jane enthusiastically. ‘I can’t wait to dance with Colonel Forster again.’
‘Just you watch out, Jane.’ Caroline’s fac
e was blotched with angry red patches. She plucked at Jane’s sleeve to delay her and hissed, ‘Colonel Forster is my sister’s beau. Don’t you go stealing him!’
‘As if she could,’ said Lavinia disdainfully, turning back. She shifted her glance from Jane to me and muttered. ‘Jenny, you’re just as plain as ever. Do you think that you will ever grow?’
I could feel Jane stiffen by my side, but I put a hand on her arm.
‘Don’t, Jane,’ I said. ‘Perhaps these girls can’t help being ill-bred. They may never have learned proper manners. We have to remember how lucky we have been with our good upbringing. Pray let us go back with no more hard words spoken.’
Lavinia’s shocked expression was so amusing that I entered the drawing room with a smile stretching from ear to ear. Lieutenant Carter was at my side instantly.
‘I say, what a beautiful smile. You must favour me with this dance, Miss Cooper.’
Not just Colonel Forster but also Lieutenant Denny came forward to claim Jane’s hand.
‘Pulling rank on me, old boy, aren’t you?’ said the lieutenant cheerfully as Jane went off triumphantly on the colonel’s arm.
So Jane and I lined up for a country dance, and Lieutenant Denny asked Frances to dance. Lieutenant Brandon looked in a worried way at the remaining girls, but as Charlotte was the only agreeable-looking one of the three, he bowed before her. Both Lavinia and Caroline were left to gaze out of the window.
When the dance was finished Lavinia came up to us. She ignored me and just spoke directly to Jane.
‘Come into the bedroom,’ she said abruptly.
‘Certainly,’ said Jane. The light of battle sparkled in her eyes. She went eagerly forward with the two Thorpe girls. I followed unwillingly behind. I could not desert Jane, though I don’t like quarrelling.
‘Now look here, Miss Jane Austen,’ said Lavinia aggressively when the door had closed behind us. ‘I don’t suppose you are going to the Assembly Rooms tomorrow, but if you are and you dance even one dance with Newton Wallop, then you’ll be sorry.’
‘Oh, will I?’ enquired Jane in a surprised tone. ‘Well, I suppose that I might. He’s not a great dancer and he may stand on my foot. Is that what you mean?’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean,’ hissed Lavinia, turning an ugly shade of red. ‘I’m warning you.’
‘You keep warning me,’ complained Jane. ‘I wish you’d tell me what you are going to do. And then I could decide if it’s worth dancing with Newton – that’s if he is going to be at the Assembly Rooms.’
‘I’m going to tell all Bath about you,’ hissed Lavinia. ‘I shall tell them that you come from a beggarly family and that you are just desperately trying to find a rich husband. I’ll tell that you are determined to steal other girls’ beaux and that no one can trust you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jane gravely. ‘I’m glad to know that you are more interested in Newton than you are in Colonel Forster. Now I know which one to concentrate on.’ She smiled sweetly at Lavinia and swept past her, saying, ‘Come on, Jenny, I must keep in practice.’
And she went straight over to Colonel Forster and asked him to tell her all about his regiment. Soon the small crowd of military men were gathered around Jane and myself, while the other girls pretended to be interested in some books of artworks.
And then Franklin and Rosalie arrived to escort us back.
And the four officers decided that they had to go also!
Jane has just woken up and asked me what I am writing. I told her that I had just written about the party last night and warned her that Lavinia Thorpe would probably tell the whole of Bath that she was a dreadful flirt.
‘Don’t care,’ was Jane’s answer to that. ‘I mean to have hundreds of beaux before our holiday in Bath is over.’
Poor Harry, if he is interested in Jane – I don’t think that he has much of a chance, I thought, but I didn’t say anything.
Jane has just given me this, saying, ‘You know you are my best friend. I promise to dedicate a whole volume of my writings to you.’
The Assembly Rooms at Bath
Jane and I are dressing for the ball at the Upper Assembly Rooms. Mrs Leigh-Perrot sends up her own maid to help us, but we are almost ready by the time she arrives. We are in our chemises, waiting until the last moment to put on our beautiful ball dresses – both made from the same material: a gorgeous sprigged muslin, whiter than snow and with tiny sprays of silver dotted all over it.
Each of them is made in the latest fashion, fitting the figure softly, tied with a sash under the bosom and then flowing out into a train behind. My train has some exquisite blue glass beads sewn to it – they were part of my mother’s wedding gown and she had saved them for my first ball gown – but otherwise the gowns are the same.
‘Let me fix that curl for you, miss,’ says Rosalie after admiring our dresses. She is obviously skilled at hairdressing because she reties my side curls into a beautiful bunch on top of my head and fastens the blue velvet rose to them with great dexterity. Afterwards she pulls one short curl out from the bunch and allows it to rest on my forehead and fastens the gold chain around my neck. I gaze into the looking glass and admire the beautiful cross studded with tiny seed pearls that Thomas gave me for my birthday.
Then Rosalie does Jane’s hair, fastening her chignon with a red velvet rose, and helps us both to pull our gowns very carefully over our heads.
‘Don’t worry about partners, girls,’ says Aunt Leigh-Perrot kindly after we have been admired. ‘The master of ceremonies at the Assembly Rooms, Mr King, is very good indeed about finding partners for visitors. He is a great friend of mine and we can rely on him finding a pair of suitable young men.’ I can see Uncle just about to open his mouth and tell about the young man we met at the Pump Room yesterday morning so I quickly ask whether we will walk to the Assembly Rooms.
This works well to distract him. Uncle suggests the landau. Aunt is against that. It won’t be worthwhile for a couple of blocks. She suggests sedan chairs for herself and Mrs Austen. Mrs Austen thinks it is ridiculous to go two blocks in a sedan chair and says that she will walk, so Aunt Leigh-Perrot decides to walk also.
So we all set out, with Rosalie carrying our dancing slippers in a bag, and we go a little way down George Street, then up Bartlett Street, and then we walk triumphantly past hundreds of carriages lining up to drop off their ladies and gentlemen, past sweating sedan chairmen, each staggering uphill with a lady or gentleman peering out from behind curtains. Then we are going up the steps and in under the arches to the Assembly Rooms.
I feel sick as I follow the others into the cloakroom, where we leave our wraps and put on our dancing shoes. What if Thomas has not managed to come?
And then Jane and I follow the two ladies demurely across the octagonal hallway and through the door into the ballroom.
It is so, so beautiful.
Enormous.
High, high walls with windows set about twenty feet above the floor – all blue walls – the very palest of blues and the creamiest white surrounding the windows and the four pillared fireplaces and the carved doors...
And the light! Magnificent chandeliers. I have never seen anything more exquisite. Five of them... Sparkling, crystal-like tiny icicles – and the blaze of thousands of candles! I can’t lower my gaze from them, they are so beautiful.
And then a voice, Thomas’s voice, chocolate smooth:
‘Good evening, Mrs Austen. Sir, madam, at your service.’ Now he is bowing to the three adults. And then a bow to us. ‘Miss Jenny, Miss Jane, I hope I see you well.’ And then he looks at me, and although it is only a second, it seems like there is no one else in the room but he and I. The look that he gives me is so full of love, of longing, of promise and hope, that I wonder how I have been able to breathe without him.
Although his tone is very formal, something about the warmth in his brown eyes makes me feel that we are back in the garden at Steventon, that I am wearing my nightgown and in his arms
. I blush and look at the splendid polished wood floor.
Mrs Austen is wonderful. She is greeting Thomas with a nice mixture of surprise and pleasure, just as if he is an old friend of the family. He makes easy conversation, chatting about Bath and about the roads and the problems with his ship which prevented him from going to see his uncle, the admiral. I hardly follow it all. I try to control my breathing. There is a thundering noise in my ears and I feel the colour rise hotly to my cheeks. How handsome he looks in his blue-and-gold navy uniform. I can see a lot of girls stealing glances at his tall figure. They just see that. They don’t see all the tiny things that I love about him – the way his eyes change so suddenly from being dark and piercing to the softest and gentlest of golden brown; the way he laughs; how he remembers everything that I say and, best of all, the way he makes me feel completely loved and protected. I stand there, drinking him in as if I have not seen him for a year.
‘Perhaps Miss Jenny will favour me with the first dance?’ asks Thomas. I curtsy silently. I dare not speak. My feelings are bubbling up inside me so that I fear that if I open my mouth I will probably laugh or cry – or both at the same time.
The crowd is swelling by the minute – everyone pressing forward to see the minuet dancers – only they are allowed to dance the first dance. I move a little closer to Thomas and now I can feel the warmth of him and I can barely wait until we are alone on the dance floor. The orchestra plays softly and the moves on the dance floor are made with no word spoken between the dancers.
And then it is all over – everyone claps. The elaborately dressed ladies and gentlemen retire. The floor is now empty for a moment. We all line up, facing our partners, for the country dance. First one couple, then another and then myself and Thomas, followed by Jane and Harry and then dozens more.
This is a dance I have danced a thousand times before, back in the parlour at Steventon or in the little Assembly Rooms in Basingstoke. But now it is different. Thomas and I touch hands, part, come together again, exchange a word, a glance... And every time that we part I almost feel as though I have lost a part of myself, something important to my life and happiness. And when we come together again it’s as if two broken halves have been joined. My happiness seems to brim over and I suddenly feel scared that this might be the last time in my life when I will feel complete like this. Perhaps Augusta and Edward-John will manage to part us after all.
Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend Page 7
