I Was Jane Austen's Best Friend

by Cora Harrison

  When we get out of the coach we have to walk up the stairs. Luckily they are laid with a beautiful red carpet so I allow my train to swish up behind me, though Mrs Austen, Cassandra and Jane hold theirs up.

  The Assembly Rooms are grander than I could ever have imagined. The ballroom is painted in red and gold. The ceiling is embossed with curls and scrolls of stucco, all crusted in white. Four great chandeliers, their diamond-shaped crystal droplets flashing in the light of the hundreds of beeswax candles above, hang from the ceiling, and in their light, gowns – pink, white, green, blue – revolve in the dance.

  I can’t walk in. I can’t follow the others. I just stand, looking, until Henry comes back to me.

  ‘Come on, Jenny,’ he whispers, taking my arm. ‘You look lovely. They’re just finishing the cotillion and then they will have a country dance. You’ll be my partner, won’t you?’

  And then we are in the line facing each other and the music has begun. We move to and fro. Other couples are talking but we are just dancing: just dancing and looking at each other. His eyes are fixed on me.

  And then we take hands and Henry swings me around and around. He is smiling and I start to smile too.

  And then I see Eliza. She is dancing with a foreign-looking man. They pass down the row in front of us and they are both chattering in French. They act like old friends and he is calling her ‘chérie’.

  And then Henry and I thread in and out of the line, going down to the bottom of the row and then back again. For a moment, Jane and I are briefly opposite each other. She doesn’t even see me; she is too busy laughing with the Irish cousin of the Lefroys.

  Now Henry takes my hand and we join with Gilbert East and a girl called Charlotte Palmer, who are the couple nearest to us, and we whirl around in a circle.

  And then the music stops and everyone stands laughing and chatting.

  ‘Henry!’ It’s a fine young gentleman in a red coat with gold epaulettes on the shoulders and a high gold collar. ‘Henry, what’s the news? What did your father say? Will he be able to come up with the money to buy you a commission?’

  A commission? Suddenly I stop smiling. Does Henry really want to join the army?

  ‘Frederick!’ Henry is a bit uneasy. He looks at me and then across at his mother, sitting on a sofa by the wall.

  ‘Come on, Jenny,’ he says, ‘you look a bit tired after that dance. I’ll take you over to Mama so you can have a rest.’

  I’m not tired, but I allow him to walk me across the room. He is the most handsome man in the room, I think proudly, admiring the glossy black of his evening coat and the snowy whiteness of his cravat.

  ‘Jenny! Is it time for our dance?’ Little Charles is jumping up and down with excitement. Quickly he takes his white gloves out from his pocket and does his best to pull them as high as possible so that his fingers can come some way near to the tips of the gloves’ fingers. He is so excited that I feel ashamed. If Henry had wanted to go on dancing with me, I would have forgotten all about the poor little fellow.

  ‘Quick,’ I say. ‘The music is starting. Let’s take our place in the line.’

  I see a few people smiling when I join the line and face my little escort. His face is pink with excitement and he bows to me in a very courtly way. Gilbert East bumps into him purposely, but Charles takes no notice. He is concentrating very hard and I see his lips counting ‘one, two, three; one, two, three’ as we whirl around.

  ‘The next dance is mine, Jenny,’ says Henry as we cross over. I feel his gloved palm touch my bare arm for an instant, above my elbow. Even though my gown is so light and I didn’t obey Mrs Austen and wear a flannel chemise, I suddenly feel very hot.

  ‘Do you like dancing?’ asks Charles in a very grown-up manner.

  ‘I love it,’ I say. I hope he won’t keep talking to me; I want to think about Henry. I needn’t have worried; even those few words make him miss his step, and he goes back to counting, his lips moving silently. Jane is dancing with Tom Chute. They are having a good time; as I’m not talking I can hear them making funny remarks to each other as they stand at the end of the row, waiting their turn to go up to the top again.

  ‘A fine sight, ma’am,’ says Tom. ‘It makes one proud to be a part of this great civilization where such sprightly dancing takes place.’

  ‘Nonsense, my dear man,’ says Jane, imitating her mother’s voice as usual. ‘Every savage can dance.’

  ‘There’s Anna Terry over there,’ I say to Charles when the dance has finished. ‘Why don’t you go and ask her to dance?’ Anna Terry is younger than Jane and she looks a bit bored, leaning up against the sofa where her mother is sitting.

  Charles eyes her doubtfully for a moment; I fear that he will want me to dance with him again, so I quickly say, ‘I’ve promised the next one to Henry.’

  He nods and saunters off towards Anna in a very ‘man-of-the-world’ fashion. I don’t look after him though, because I am looking for Henry. This will be a beautiful dance, a dance to remember. I know that by the slow, sweet music that is coming from the violins.

  And everything is perfect. Henry doesn’t want to talk either, so we just move silently through all the figures of the dance, going forward, reversing, bowing, curtsying, threading our way in and out, crossing over, the skirt of Henry’s frock coat brushing against my hip as we pass one another.

  And then the dance is over. Henry and I are standing beside the refreshment table and I am drinking a small glass of wine. I don’t like it much, but I drink it because Henry has fetched it for me. He is standing so close to me. I remember the time that he lifted me from the coach in his arms.

  And then that friend of Henry’s, the officer, comes up with a very fashionable lady. She is wearing a jaconet dress, and the muslin is the finest and softest that I have ever seen. It fits her like a glove and it is cut so low that I can see most of her bosom. She is the only young lady wearing a hat, and a splendid hat it is, beaded all over and crowned with some very tall ostrich feathers. It makes her look even taller than she is – she towers over me. I don’t care. Tonight I don’t mind being small. I don’t mind not having a hat. I like the way that Jane and I are wearing our hair. And I like the velvet ribbon and the feel of the curls falling down my back. Henry likes them too, I think. I felt him touch my curls once when he was leading me back to my place.

  ‘Miss King,’ says the officer, ‘may I present my friend Mr Henry Austen.’

  I know who she is now. She’s the heiress from London, the one who is staying with the Portals at Laverstoke House. Jane overheard Mrs Austen yesterday, joking about her to Henry and telling him that Miss King has a fortune of thirty thousand pounds.

  And now Henry is bowing over her hand. ‘May I have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss King?’ he enquires.

  I feel my cheeks burn. I put down the glass of wine. I don’t know what to do. I had assumed that Henry would dance with me next. The officer has gone back to his own party and I am left standing there feeling awkward. I have a quick look around for Jane, but she is with the Lefroy party. Perhaps I should just walk across the room and go to sit beside Mrs Austen. Perhaps that was my last dance and I shall spend the next three sitting out. I start to move away, but then Henry suddenly remembers me.

  ‘My cousin Miss Cooper, Miss King,’ he says, and we both bow stiffly at each other. I can see her looking me up and down, perhaps trying to assess what my gown cost or how old I am.

  Then Henry beckons to Frank. Frank instantly comes across. He gives Henry a glance and then turns to me.

  ‘Dance with me, Jenny,’ he says. He sounds uncomfortable and self-conscious. I wonder whether Henry has teased him about me, although we have often danced together at Steventon. Now he’s awkward with embarrassment. I put my hand in his though. At least it gets me away from Henry and Miss King.

  Frank is not much of a talker; he is too busy looking around the room to see if there is anyone from the navy present. He spends all of his time talking just about t
he navy, and he is always going to visit naval men. While we are waiting for the music to begin he tells me all about how someone he knows captured a French frigate-or perhaps it was Spanish – and all the officers got a fortune.

  ‘When do you leave to join your ship?’ I ask him politely as we meet in the centre, but he has gone, moving around Tom Fowle with a cheerful grin.

  I give up trying to talk. It leaves me time to watch Henry and Miss King. He is smiling at her in just the same way as he smiled at me, bending his head and then laughing at something she says. I suppose she is very witty, not shy and quiet like me.

  ‘Guess what,’ says Jane as I move around her on my way down to the end of the row.

  ‘What?’ I slow down a little. I don’t suppose Frank will miss me.

  ‘Fanny Dashwood opened the ball with Mr Wickham and now she is dancing with William Denn. They say that she is going to jilt Mr Wickham,’ Jane hisses in my ear and then we part, she moving up the room still opposite the Irish cousin of the Lefroys, and me going down opposite Frank. I can see that she is using her fan energetically and he is laughing aloud as she explains it to him.

  ‘You’re looking lovely, Jenny,’ says Frank, as he holds my hand and twirls me around.

  I smile at him and think it is nice of him to make the effort to compliment me, but his head has twisted around almost before the words are out of his mouth.

  ‘Who’s that?’ he asks. ‘Look, Jenny, the chap who has just come in – the fellow in the blue coat. Who’s that, I wonder?’

  He doesn’t expect me to know, or even to answer him.

  But I do know who it is.

  It is a tall, black-haired, handsome young man wearing the blue uniform of a naval officer, his coat opened at the top to show the white ruffled shirt. It is Captain Thomas Williams.

  I just can’t believe it. I never expected to see him again in my life. What is he doing here? Why isn’t he in Southampton? Or why isn’t he on his ship? I am glad that I am holding Frank’s hand, otherwise I might faint. What am I going to do? What if he sees me? What if he tells someone about me?

  Frank and I have danced to the end of the line and now it is our chance to talk. I look at him and he looks at me. We both begin to say something at the same time, but Frank’s remark is probably more interesting than mine.

  ‘Do you know, Jenny, a fellow told me that Captain William Parker has got forty thousand in prize money after only ten years of being in command of his own ship.’

  ‘Really,’ I say, trying to control the panic in my voice. ‘That sounds a lot of money. How did he get all that?’

  Frank gives an impatient sigh. ‘By capturing frigates, of course! Each petty officer and midshipman gets his share. Freddie was only a midshipman on his last voyage, but he got seven hundred and ninety-one pounds as his share of the prize money … and eight shillings and a halfpence,’ he added after a minute. At any other time this would have made me giggle, but now I am too worried about Captain Williams.

  I wonder what the prize money for the captain was, but I don’t ask as we have started to dance again. Is there any way of avoiding Captain Williams? He’s bound to tell everyone where and how he met me. What will Mrs Austen say if she hears that I was out in the streets of a rough place like Southampton at midnight? What if Augusta gets to hear of it? I close my eyes at the terrible thought.

  ‘Jenny?’ Suddenly I realize that the music has stopped and that Frank has asked me a question.

  ‘Sorry, Frank, what did you say?’ My voice sounds as distracted as I feel.

  ‘Would you like me to take you back to Mama?’ Two other naval officers have joined Captain Williams and I can see that Frank is itching to join their group.

  ‘No, don’t worry about me, Frank. Look, there’s Jane over there. I’ll join her.’

  Jane has left the Irish Lefroy cousin. I rush over and seize her by the hand.

  ‘Jane,’ I whisper, ‘help me. I’m in terrible trouble. I don’t know what to do. He’s here.’

  ‘Who? The love of your life? The man that has your heart? Oh, Jenny, Jenny, show him to me, I pray.’ Jane’s eyes are sparkling with fun; obviously she has not understood the situation.

  ‘Jane!’ I hiss. Usually I find it funny when Jane talks like the characters in Mrs Radcliffe’s novels, but now is not the time.

  ‘What’s the matter, Jenny? You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’ Jane’s voice changes: she knows that this is not a joke.

  ‘It’s that man,’ I whisper. ‘He’s here.’

  ‘What man?’ Jane looks all around the crowded Assembly Rooms.

  ‘The man at Southampton. The man I told you about. The man I met when I went to post the letter to your mother.’

  ‘What! The one waving the sword?’ Jane stares over at a crowd of scarlet-coated army officers who are laughing uproariously at some joke.

  ‘No, not him.’ Quickly I duck beneath one of the huge parlour palms. Its fronds make a dark cave from which I can peer out. I can still see the naval officers. Frank has joined them now. ‘No! The other one – Captain Williams the naval officer.’

  ‘Well, you’d better keep out of his way,’ says Jane, looking all around her. ‘Anyone except me would die of horror if they knew that you were out at midnight in the streets of Southampton without a chaperone.’

  ‘Oh, Jane, what will I do?’ I am in despair. I can’t spend the rest of the evening hiding under a potted palm.

  ‘I think you’d better go and sit by Mama for the next dance. He won’t notice you there; young men are looking at the young ladies on the dance floor, not at the old ladies by the wall,’ says Jane wisely. ‘Walk on this side of me. Keep your face turned towards the wall. Here, link your arm in mine.’

  ‘Is he looking?’ I whisper.

  ‘Which one is he?’ Jane speaks in her normal tone.

  ‘The black-haired one.’

  ‘He’s quite handsome.’

  ‘Quite handsome!’ He’s as beautiful as a god, I think, but I don’t say it aloud. I can see Jane smiling though, so I think she is just trying to tease me.

  ‘Well, very handsome. I see what you mean about those cheekbones. He probably is a man of property. His breeches are very white. That shows the wool is of superfine quality,’ says Jane, sounding like Cassandra in one of her instructing moods. ‘No, he’s not looking. He’s chatting to Frank.’

  I keep my head turned away and Jane links me so tightly that we are almost like one girl as we move through the room.

  ‘My dear creature, let us keep together; let no man come between us.’

  Jane is getting as much fun as she can out of the walk down the room, but I feel my legs trembling and I can’t help peeping around Jane to see if the dark head and the splendid lace shirt of Captain Williams are turned in my direction.

  Mrs Austen is not best pleased to see us. Mr Austen has gone to play cards in the card room and his wife is enjoying a good gossip with an old school-friend of hers, a Mrs Allen.

  ‘Very rich indeed,’ she is saying in a penetrating whisper as we draw near. ‘It would be just the thing for him. He’s always had a way with him, you know. Could always charm the birds out of the trees. I … Yes, girls?’ Her tone to us is quite sharp.

  ‘Jenny is tired,’ says Jane. ‘I thought she could sit the next dance out here with you.’

  ‘Sit here, my dear.’ Mrs Allen is probably getting tired of the conversation about Henry and the very rich Miss King, because she makes room for me on the sofa beside her.

  ‘Come on, Jane.’ Tom Chute comes up and takes Jane by the hand. She puts her fan into the ‘maybe’ position and then they both laugh uproariously. I envy her. She is having such fun at this ball and I am not. I am torn by worries and by jealousy. Henry and Miss King are taking their place in the line again and they seem to be on very good terms. I shrink back behind Mrs Allen’s bulk as I see John Portal approaching. I don’t want to be asked to dance now. I don’t want to stand in the line. Only two more dances
and then my ordeal will be over. I’m beginning to hope that I might get out without being seen. I peep cautiously at Captain Williams. He hasn’t moved; nor has Frank; the three young men are talking and joking and waving their arms around.

  ‘Jenny, could you go and bring two glasses of wine from the buffet for myself and Mrs Allen.’ On the dance floor, Miss King is laughing heartily as she touches her hand to Henry’s and he is laughing also. They look as if they are getting on very well indeed, and Mrs Austen probably wants to talk it over with Mrs Allen. There is no help for it. I get to my feet and walk across the room to the buffet. I take the two glasses of wine and walk back. The music pauses, everyone is still. Only one person is moving, and that one person is me.

  And our eyes meet. Captain Williams sees me and he knows me. He doesn’t bow, but I know that he recognizes me; I can see from the way that his tall, broad-shouldered figure suddenly becomes rigid and his head turns towards me – not moving, just looking – while all around him the other naval officers are laughing noisily and slapping each other on the back. His brown eyes are focused on me and somehow they seem darker than I remember them – almost black. His lips are just parted – I’d forgotten what a beautifully shaped mouth he has. I look carefully at the two drinks and hear the first bars of the new set strike up. In a moment the whole room is in motion again. I keep walking; my eyes are now on the sofa. I will not look at anything else. I carefully hand the two glasses to Mrs Austen and her friend. I don’t sit down on the sofa again. There is no point now.

  He has seen me.

  I go and stand by the window and look down into the street below. If only I had not met him that night at Southampton. If only we were strangers, and then Frank could introduce me and he would ask me to dance and he would say to me, ‘Tell me all about yourself.’