by Hazel Holt
“He may not like this.”
“Then you must be firm – after all, if he really cares for you he will quite understand how much all this means to your happiness. You may think of it as a test of his love.”
“Indeed I will!”
So there I had to leave the matter. I trust that she is vain and silly enough to be swayed by my arguments, and I hope that Mr Rivers’ situation is so urgent that he will give up all thoughts of taking her with him. Now I must find some way of letting Sir Edward know what I have done. I believe our father has invited him to shoot over our covers tomorrow so I will hope to find an opportunity of speaking with him without attracting too much notice.
I am delighted that you are making the most of your remaining time in London – “The Clandestine Marriage” and “Midas” at Covent Garden – how I envy you , though I suppose I might claim to have had a deal of drama (I might well say melodrama) here!
Your affectionate sister E.C.
1st December
My Dear Charlotte,
So Mr Rivers has gone – and without Miss West! Sir Edward came this morning to inform our father and we all heard his account of what had happened. It seems that Mr Rivers left at some time during the night – none of the servants stirring. He took with him the Barbados accounts and Mr Woodstock’s second best horse. Whether the sale of the latter will be enough to provide for his passage to Barbados I do not know – if, indeed, he has sufficient effrontery to return there.
Sir Edward’s assuring me that Mr Rivers had left alone, led to his explaining the part Miss West had played in the story. Our father did not quite like my part in the matter, but Sir Edward assured him that I had acted solely at his request and that my intervention had undoubtedly saved an innocent girl from possible ruin.
Mr Russell, it seems, was very loud in his condemnation of Mr Rivers and horrified (he said) at the way Mr Woodstock had been deceived. Now, of course, he will have the field to himself and I have no doubt his uncle will pay off all his debts.
“Do you think,” I asked, “that Mr Rivers was the person responsible for the shooting? It would have suited him to have Mr Russell removed.”
“It is possible.”
“And,” our father asked, “are we to assume that Mr Rivers was responsible for Mrs Woodstock’s death?”
“That does seem probable. Though we may never know by what means he accomplished that end.”
“The syllabub?” I suggested.
He smiled. “Very likely, Miss Cowper, since she would have consumed it at a time when he was dining away from home.”
“Well,” our mother said, “I’m sure it is all very dreadful and I hope that vulgar Mrs West will keep a closer eye on her daughter in future. But as for Mrs Woodstock’s death, I do believe Dr King was in the right of it all along and that it was an angina that carried her off.”
So that is the end of our mystery, which has provided so much material for my letters to you. It is, I admit, an unsatisfactory ending with no villain brought to justice and so many matters left unexplained. But it has given me much entertainment and has provided sufficient stuff for gossip and speculation in the town.
I fear Miss West will be quite distraught at the news of Mr Rivers’ precipitate departure – I trust that the lenient hand of time ( and information concerning his disgrace and subsequent lack of prospects) may bring her to see that she has had a very lucky escape. I suppose I should visit her and allow her to pour out her feelings on this matter, but fortunately the weather has altered and we have had a touch of almost everything in the way of weather; two of the severest frosts since the winter began, preceded by rain, hail and snow, so no-one, in all conscience, could expect me to venture forth in that! Perhaps, with Mr Rivers gone – Miss West (urged thereto by her mother), may yet rediscover her partiality for Mr Russell.
I feel Sir Edward is greatly put out that Mr Rivers has vanished before he could bring him to justice. But he is, I believe, a person of great persistence and will no doubt pursue him by whatever means are possible to bring this business to a more satisfactory conclusion. And it is to be hoped that Sir Matthew will be sufficiently occupied by the Duke of York to prevent his further intervention regarding his sister’s death, and we may all be allowed to agree with our mother that Dr King’s diagnosis was the right one – a much more comforting conclusion.
The boys are to come tomorrow to go with our father and Bates to see the water let off from the fish-pond. They are to bring each of them a spare suit of clothes so that, when the water is drained away enough, they may plunge into the mud and capture the smaller fish in landing nets and chase after the eels with eel tongs. As you know, this is a sport our father greatly enjoys and it is a sign of no small benevolence that he suggested that the boys might be allowed to accompany him. Our mother and I will, as usual, remain quietly at home.
Your visit to the exhibition at Somerset House sounds most agreeable, especially since young Mr Morton and his parents joined the party and drove you all home in their barouche. I long to hear a longer account of all your gaieties.
Yours affectionately, E.C.
5th December
My Dear Charlotte,
The boys duly arrived for their excitements at the fish pond. Sir Edward, whom our father had also invited (as a spectator, I believe, rather than as a participant) was unable to come since Mr Woodstock’s keeper had found two of the tinkers snaring rabbits in his covers and they had been taken up by the constable and were to be brought before Sir Edward, as the magistrate, that day. He waited upon us the next day, however, to thank our father, we thought, for the boys’ entertainment, which, indeed, he did. But he then said he had something of a grave nature to tell us.
“One of the tinkers,” he said “was caught, as you know, in Mr Woodstock’s covers. Perhaps with some thought of lightening the sentence that might be given, he had a strange story to tell. He said that one day, a few weeks ago, he was (as he admitted) on his own, setting his snares when he saw Mr Russell – he described him most accurately – taking off his coat and hanging it over a bush. He then produced a pistol and shot at the sleeve of the coat, making (presumably) a tear and a powder burn. After this he took out a knife and to the tinker’s amazement, made a tear in the sleeve of the shirt and then proceeded to cut his arm until the blood ran. The tinker, not wishing to betray his presence in the wood, made his escape and told no-one what he had seen.”
“But why,” our mother asked “should Mr Russell wish to do such a dreadful thing?”
“That I cannot tell, since I have not yet been able to speak with him. He was in Exeter performing some task for his uncle, who, as you may imagine, was still in a state of great agitation over Mr Rivers’ disappearance and unable to engage in any sort of rational conversation. However, I questioned his valet, who denied all knowledge of the affair, saying merely that he had dressed the wound since his master did not want a fuss. When I asked him how his master had come to be shot, he said Mr Russell thought it must have been a poacher letting off his gun accidentally. None of this seems to me satisfactory and I have no hopes of getting to the bottom of the affair until I can come face to face with Mr Russell himself.”
So you see, My Dear Charlotte, what amazing things have been happening in your absence. It is to be hoped that on your return home a more peaceful and rational state of affairs will be resumed.
I had just thought of closing this letter when Mrs Holder called in a state of great excitement. She had just come from visiting Mr Woodstock (to give him comfort she said but, more likely, to gather the latest intelligence) and had the most extraordinary news. Mr Russell has disappeared. You will not believe it – first Mr Rivers and now Mr Russell! He was expected back from Exeter before dinner-time, but he did not return and nothing has been heard of him since. Most mysteriously, Sir Edward called at Holcombe and has taken Mr Russell’s valet away to be questioned. Mr Woodstock is in a state of collapse and Dr King is in permanent attendance. Needless t
o say, Mrs Holder only stayed with us long enough to give us her news and departed to spread the word throughout the whole of Lyme.
I will write immediately the next instalment of this astonishing story is available to me.
Your affectionate sister,
E.C.
7th December
My Dear Charlotte,
Faithful to my promise I take up my pen to acquaint you with the whole story. Sir Edward called upon us this morning and gave us a full account of all his findings. It seems that Corbett, Mr Russell’s valet, taking fright at being questioned by Sir Edward and being privy to his master’s affairs, took a horse and went to meet him on his way back from Exeter to warn him. Mr Russell told him to return to Holcombe and to pack as many of his belongings as he might conveniently transport and to meet him secretly at the White Hart in Exeter next morning. Corbett returned to Holcombe, but Sir Edward, summoned by Mr Woodstock that evening to investigate his nephew’s disappearance, grew suspicious of his evasive answers and took him away to question him more closely.
The valet, now much frightened, and wishing to save his own skin, then confessed everything. The shocking fact is that it was Mr Russell who caused his aunt’s death! He knew she would never pay his debts (and she was inquiring most precisely into their nature) and he felt more certain of persuading his uncle to do so. His creditors were growing more insistent so he decided he had no choice. He exchanged the laudanum bottle for an identical one containing pure opium (replacing it with the original bottle when the deed was done) and when this strong medicine caused his aunt to fall into a deep slumber he crept into her room and smothered her with a pillow.
For a while he thought he was safe, but then Sir Matthew raised doubts about his sister’s death. Also he was afraid that Mr Rivers was becoming too close to Mr Woodstock and that he would supplant him. As Sir Edward’s questioning became more difficult to avoid, he thought he would portray himself as the victim and staged the shooting incident, hoping, perhaps, that suspicion would fall upon Mr Rivers. He dropped hints to his uncle about the Barbados accounts (though he had no idea that they were, indeed, false) and he was, of course, delighted when Mr Rivers became alarmed and left.
Sir Edward rode straightway to the White Hart, but Mr Russell had gone. The ostler said he had hired a post-chaise and left early that morning, it seemed for London. However, even as Sir Edward was considering whether to go after him, the London mail coach arrived with news of a terrible accident – a post-chaise had lost a wheel, had run off the road and overturned, killing its driver and passenger.
You see I have given you a plain unvarnished account of these dreadful happenings, but you may well imagine our mother’s exclamations and our father’s anxious inquiries which punctuated the tale. For myself, I do not know what to think. I find it hard to believe anyone of our acquaintance could have acted in such a monstrous way and, indeed, he deserved to pay for what he has done. For poor Mr Woodstock’s sake I believe that this ending (painful for him though it was) will relieve him of the horror of seeing his relation subjected to the necessary proceedings of the law.
Sir Edward seemed much affected by the events, holding himself responsible for Mr Russell’s flight and his dreadful end, but I do not think he is in any way to blame for Mr Russell’s death since he brought his end upon himself by his own wicked actions, and so I shall tell Sir Edward.
I may, however, end upon a more cheerful note. Sir Edward told us that he had heard from his cousin (as I told you, an Admiral of the White) who writes of our brother William “I have mentioned to the Board of the Admiralty his wish to be in a frigate and, from what I hear of Lord Spencer’s proposals, it is certain that his promotion is likely to take place soon.” Upon this good news I will end what has, otherwise, been a dismal letter. We greatly wish for your return. I hope you have enjoyed the gaieties of London and the new acquaintances you have made there and, indeed, you will miss them, but I am sure the comfort of getting back into your own room will be great.
Yours affectionately,
E.C.
11th December
My Dear Charlotte,
You may imagine the commotion the news of Mr Russell’s infamy and death has caused in the neighbourhood. I felt obliged to call upon Miss West, but her mother told me that she was quite overcome and had taken to her bed (dosed no doubt with Mrs West’s remedies) and could see no-one. Poor creature – to have lost not one but two suitors in the space of a week; it is no wonder she is quite distracted. Mrs West, too, will have to find other prey – I wonder if she will remain in Lyme to do so, or if she will return to her original hunting ground in Kent. I fear for young Mr Cooke of Axminster!
Poor Mr Woodstock was in such a state that, according to Mrs Holder, his very life seemed in danger and Dr King has been in attendance upon him every day. He now prescribes a complete change and has advised him to go at once to Bath for an indefinite period. He has recommended a lodging in Westgate Buildings, and his friend Dr Parry will arrange suitable attendance and treatment for him. Our mother has given her approval to Dr King’s suggestions but Mrs Holder (not wanting Mr Woodstock away from her observations) says he would surely be happier and make a speedier recovery with his friends about him.
Later
Sir Edward arrived back from London yesterday, where he has been informing the authorities of the events of the last week. He called here this morning. As our mother was in the dairy instructing Susan on her special methods of cheese making and our father was with Bates at the farm, I was alone in the library, beginning this letter to you.
“Have you come to see my father?” I asked. “He is at the farm but I can send for him.”
“Yes, I have come to see Mr Cowper – that is – I hope to see him, but, pray do not send for him yet.”
He appeared agitated and began walking up and down.
“Please sir, will you not be seated?”
“Yes, yes, in a moment.” He stood by the window, his back to me, then he turned suddenly and said very brusquely, “Miss Cowper I think you know very well why I am here.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Indeed, Elinor. Come now, you cannot be unaware of my feelings toward you. I am here, as I am sure you have guessed, to ask your father for permission to address you. I believe – I hope – you will not refuse to hear me. You must know what pleasure I have in your company and it is my greatest wish to enjoy that pleasure all my life. I know my circumstances are not favourable – two young boys are an undertaking that might well be considered daunting – and I am aware that the home I am offering you lacks the cheerfulness and sense of ease of that which I am asking you to leave.”
He stopped suddenly and held out his hand towards me and, for some reason, I felt compelled to take it. “You must understand, sir,” I said “I am only accepting your kind offer because of those delightful boys. You know how my mother dotes upon them and if I were to refuse the opportunity for her to become more closely related to them I am sure she would never speak to me again.”
Dearest Charlotte please come home very soon – there are many things I wish to tell you that cannot be conveniently put in a letter. Our mother (as you may imagine) was delighted with our news and our father, giving his consent, said that he was surprised and pleased to find a sensible man who was prepared to take his frivolous daughter. Sir Edward has promised that I shall have a free hand in changing Marshwood Abbey into something more agreeable – poor man I hope he realises what he has agreed to – so I shall want your good taste to guide me in what I feel must be a complete transformation!
My heart is too full to write more, but, indeed, I am very happy.
Your affectionate sister,
E.C.
16th December
My Dear Charlotte,
Your dear letter yesterday made me very happy and I long to have you home to share in our joy. We are very glad to have the time of your and Frank’s return fixed. Your trunk has arrived safely and is even now being
unpacked by Lucy.
We hear that Mr Woodstock is settled in Bath and has been lately seen much in the company of a handsome widow with a grown son of six and twenty!
Your affectionate sister who signs herself for (almost) the last time,
E.C.
1 Deirdre Lynch, “Jane Austen and Genius,” A Companion to Jane Austen, ed. Claudia L. Johnson and Clara Tuite (Chichester, UK: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), p. 394.
2 Here and elsewhere in this introduction, page numbers refer to R. W. Chapman’s editions of Austen’s novels.
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