Chapter Seven
I brushed my hands over the blue and white checked
poplin of my morning gown, and despaired. The hem was spattered with mud from
the walk but more than that I knew my faded dress had seen better days, and
would have been improved for having another three inches added to its length.
My hair, always unruly and curly to the point of being wild, was threatening to
fall entirely down my back from the knot on top of my head, and tucking stray
strands behind my ears was not doing a very sufficient tidy-up. Though why I
was so keen to impress the stranger come to Ashe, I could not think. I’d lived
in the world for twenty years and had not yet worried about my appearance when
meeting any single young man. But, I’d heard enough from my dear friend, Madame
Lefroy, to be exceedingly curious about her nephew Tom – his coming to visit
his aunt and uncle had often been talked about, but never accomplished. When at
last he’d been expected, every morning visit in Steventon had included a
mention of the well-composed letter his aunt had received. Every lady in the
village had been full of the news.
‘I suppose you have heard of the handsome letter Mr
Tom Lefroy has written to Madame?’ said Mrs Bramston. ‘I understand it was a
very handsome letter, indeed. Mrs Harwood told me of it. Mrs Harwood saw the
letter, and she says she never saw such a splendid letter in her life.’
We knew that he hailed from Ireland, which lent him an
air of romanticism. I loved some of the country airs and songs that were
composed by his countrymen, and I suppose I had imagined him to be something of
a romantic figure. We were told he was clever, and I remembered someone saying
that overwork was the reason for his visit. After a suitable rest, he was going
to study law in London and until then he was to spend Christmas with his
relations. When the invitation came, I couldn’t believe I was to meet him. He’d
achieved almost mythical status, and he surely couldn’t live up to the
nonpareil of my imagination.
‘Jane, your hair!’ my mother exclaimed. ‘Why did you
not let Rebecca see to it this morning?’
‘I do not like to be always asking her to be looking
after me with tasks I can do for myself. She has quite enough to do with
running errands for Nanny Littleworth and Nanny Hilliard.’
‘You will have to do, I suppose. Just remember not to
talk too much and run on like you do at home.’
We entered by the parlour door, and saw a young
gentleman sitting with Madame. The Tom Lefroy so long talked of, so high in
interest, was actually before me. He was introduced, and at first, I did not
think too much had been said in his praise. He was very tall and fair, his hair
the colour of buttercups in sunshine. But, it wasn’t his shock of yellow hair
that drew my attention. It was his eyes I noticed straight away. They were the
colour of the sea on a winter’s day and as restless as the waves crashing to
the shore. The grey coat he wore intensified the shade – one minute they were
as lavender as sea thrift, the next as pale as pebbles in sand. He was a very
good-looking young man; and his countenance had a great deal of spirit and
liveliness. I felt immediately that I would like him; but as the afternoon wore
on I found I was completely deceived in my first impressions. There was no
well-bred ease of manner, or a readiness to talk, which convinced me that he
had no intention to be really acquainted with me. Taciturn and proud were the words
that sprang to mind. He looked as if he were there on sufferance, that the
invitation from his aunt was most unwelcome.
My mother and Madame did most of the talking, but on
feeling that perhaps we were a little overwhelming for someone who was not entirely
well, I moved from my chair on the opposite side of the room to sit next to
him.
‘You have come from Ireland, I understand, Mr Lefroy.’
‘Yes, from Dublin, Miss Austen.’
‘Ah, and is Dublin the town where you were born?’
‘No, that is Limerick.’
‘Thomas has been studying at Trinity College,’ Madame
offered, as she caught our rather one-sided conversation.
Thomas nodded in assent, got up and walked over to the
window where he stood looking out. It was then that I gave up trying to engage
him further. Every now and then, I felt his eyes on me, and when once I dared
to look back at him, he stared at me in such a way as to make me feel decidedly
uncomfortable. I did not know what to make of him.
‘Well,’ said my mother on the walk home, ‘what a very
proud and conceited young man. And never to open his mouth the whole time …
Irish airs are all very well, but he’ll not make many friends if he looks down
his nose at his aunt’s Hampshire neighbours. I suppose his father is a Colonel
and fancies himself very high and mighty, and there I was thinking that I’d
heard his mother was a very sensible woman.’
‘I understood from Madame that Thomas has been ill,
that he is suffering the effects of too much work and that his eyesight has
been affected.’
‘A poor excuse to behave badly, in my opinion,’
answered my mother. ‘He is most disagreeable, and rude. Why, I should have
given him a dressing down if I were his aunt. To stand up and walk away when
you were trying your very best to converse with him, I never heard of such a thing!’
He was dressed in a dark coat and satin breeches for
the Basingstoke Assembly just a day later, a distinguished figure who seemed to
have no wish to join in either the conversation or the dancing, merely standing
at the edge of the dance floor with the Lefroy party almost as if he looked
down on anyone who chose to take part. He walked here and there, occasionally
whispering something in his cousin Lucy’s ear, which despite his serious
expression seemed to make her laugh heartily. Nevertheless, there was something
about him I could not dismiss, and I was intrigued by his haughty manner. It
seemed improbable that he’d look my way, and yet I wished he would. I wanted
him to notice me. He intrigued me in a way no other person ever had, and yet,
he made me cross. I was angry with him for being so superior in his manners,
but I loved a puzzle, and there was no doubt, Tom Lefroy was an enigma. I could
not help staring at him, enjoying the way his yellow hair curled into the
collar of the coat that closely fitted broad shoulders and skimmed over neat
hips. He didn’t smile; he only observed the other dancers. I wondered if he
knew that I watched him, but all I could see was his static expression, and an
eyebrow twitching in response to his observations.
My admirers were plentiful, and I sat down not once,
getting up with Mr Heartley, Reverend Powlett and Mr John Warren, to name but a
few. As I danced, I felt him watching me, those grey eyes of his followed me
about the room as I whirled and skipped. Once, I glanced towards him and our
eyes met. He made the smallest bow before looking away so I could not be sure
if it was intended for me at all.
Sitting at the edge of the ballroom my mother observed
everything, gossiping with the other Hampshire mamas, punctuated by complaints
of being too hot. I was tempted to say that was bound to be the case if one sat
almost on top of the fire, but I bit my tongue and offered to fetch her fan.
That meant I had to run back through the cold, narrow passageway that separated
the ballroom from the inn, and I shivered in my thin, muslin gown. It was there
that I bumped into him. We were alone in the dimly lit space with hardly room
to pass the other, and I was so shocked to see him, so conscious of every
unspoken thought of mine, that I jumped.
Tom nodded, and clearing his throat, muttered, ‘Miss
Austen’, the smallest smile curving upon his lips. He could see my discomfort
and for a moment I felt he held all the power. It was just that the space was
so small; we were so close, almost intimate. I knew I would have to be the one
to speak, but then he surprised me.
‘I have been to fetch my Aunt Lefroy’s fan,’ he said,
waving the forgotten accessory, by way of explanation.
‘And I am on my way to collect my mother’s,’ I
rejoined, unable to suppress a laugh at the absurdity of discussing nothing in
particular and in such polite terms in the freezing, draughty corridor. The
balance of power was shifting.
Tom bowed and moved to walk past me as I stepped the
same way, more by design than accident. He instantly coloured, and made another
attempt to escape after a cursory, ‘Forgive me’. But I was in a teasing mood
and moved again, springing with a light foot to block his path once more. I was
determined to get a reaction from him, one that was real and human. When he saw
me laughing with such open friendliness, he could not help but smile also. It
lit up his eyes, the flint-grey warmed by tones of sapphire.
‘Why, we are almost dancing, Mr Lefroy,’ I said,
adding with a serious expression, ‘but, I am quite wrong, I think, because
you do not dance … or perhaps, cannot dance.’
This time his glowering eyes met mine. ‘Indeed, you
are quite mistaken, Miss Austen. I enjoy dancing quite as much as you do
amongst my own friends and neighbours who would be only too happy to assure you
of my pleasure in the activity.’
‘So, you do not consider yourself to be amongst
friends, Mr Lefroy? I am sorry to hear it, for the generous hospitality of
Hampshire folk has often been remarked upon. Indeed, I hoped that my own efforts
to welcome you into our small circle yesterday would satisfy.’
‘I was very happy to be introduced to you by my aunt,
Miss Austen.’
‘Yet, I daresay you are used to finer company in
Ireland. In Basingstoke we are a little rougher round the edges, I think.
Perhaps we are too countrified for your taste. No doubt, Limerick and Dublin
have far finer assemblies to boast of than a country dance in an upstairs room
above an inn, and far more rarefied company.’
Tom Lefroy looked completely shocked at my speech. I
felt I had done all I could to startle him into conversation and made my way to
leave.
‘Please forgive me, Miss Austen, if I have given the
impression that I am above my company or that I have no desire to dance.
Nothing could be further from the truth.’
He hesitated. I felt a little shame-faced. Now that
he’d spoken and hinted at his wish to dance in a most gentleman-like
manner, I felt I should not have been so frank. I detected something more from
the grey eyes that peered at me under fair lashes. Was there a reason for his
rudeness?
‘I confess, I am apt to be ill at ease with strangers.
I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily
with those I have never seen before.’
He looked sincere and suddenly, I had a change of heart.
Could he be shy, after all? My judgement that he considered himself too good
for the company could be false. Perhaps Tom’s behaviour was understandable if
he was attempting to protect his shyness from being exposed, shielding a
vulnerability within. Yet, his whole manner had led me to believe that the idea
of dancing was the furthest thing from his mind.
Well, even if he’d contemplated asking me before, I
felt certain he would not ask me to dance now. On the other hand, I decided,
how was I to have known that his haughty demeanour, which I had first
decided was the result of misplaced pride was a mask he wore to hide
his diffident nature?
I turned to go. Tom held out his hand, touched my arm
slightly to arrest me. ‘Miss Austen,’ he faltered, ‘Will you dance with me?’
My first inclination was to say no, to spite him. I
reminded myself that he was the son of a gentleman, Colonel Anthony Lefroy, and
as such, had received a fine education and was now taking a step on the ladder
of his chosen profession. He could not be ignorant about the ways of the world.
Being shy was a poor excuse. Why would a man of sense and education, who has
lived in the world, be ill qualified to recommend himself to strangers? Was it
simply the case that Mr Thomas Lefroy had forgotten his manners until I
reminded him of them? I hesitated, and willed myself to refuse him.
‘I have promised to dance with Mr Powlett next,’ I
said promptly, unable to completely dismiss his request yet avoiding those
steel grey eyes I felt regarding me steadily.
I met his gaze with an expression of defiance.
‘But, Miss Austen, do you think it would be wise to
dance with Mr Powlett for a second time this evening?’
I looked up to regard the eyes that looked so
intensely into mine. Mr Lefroy’s countenance bore such a serious expression
that I couldn’t think what his thoughts must be. Surely he did not disapprove
of dancing twice with the same gentleman, though I admitted to myself that
dancing again with Charles Powlett was not an event to which I looked forward.
That young clergyman was the clumsiest partner I knew.
‘I … do not think it imprudent to step up with a
gentleman for two dances, Mr Lefroy. Perhaps in Ireland it is not the custom,
but I assure you, that here in England it is quite good form.’
‘And does good form and fashion allow for the abuse of
one’s toes whilst dancing? I could not help but notice that yours were
thoroughly and most cruelly mistreated the first time round.’
I could not help laughing especially when Tom’s eyes
crinkled at the corners and he grinned, unable to keep his serious expression.
‘Mr Lefroy, you are provoking me, I think, for your
own amusement, and I cannot agree with your wicked observations though I will
allow that dancing has its hazards as well as its joys.’
‘Then, on the grounds of safety, and the preservation
of your good health, I implore you, Miss Austen, to forget your promise and to
dance with me instead.’
I could not help but be amused by Tom, and was almost
prepared to forgive him anything, even his pride.
‘I cannot break my promise to my dancing partner, Mr
Lefroy, but I will dance with you directly afterwards, if you wish.’
To my complete surprise Tom took my hand and raised it
to his lips planting a kiss as he observed my expression with an intensity I
found most disconcerting. I felt scorched, almost branded: my heart was
hammering so loudly I feared he would hear it. These were not the manners of a
shy boy; I could not make him out. And whilst in the midst of such thoughts, he
seemed to vanish as quickly as he had appeared. I hurried away to retrieve my
mother’s fan and though the temperature in the corridor was somewhere
approaching freezing, I felt the heat upon my cheeks as if I had been standing
before an open log fire.
Entering the ballroom once more, I was struck by the
fact that there appeared to be a heightened expectation in the very air of the
place, a sense of excitement in the vibrations of the fiddles tuning up again,
and in the incessant chatter of the observers and dancers, as they frantically
rushed for places on the dance floor. Everywhere looked fresh and bright, a
picture of Christmas celebration in the evergreens strung along the
mantelpieces at either end of the room, and in the looking glasses above them reflecting
green wreaths and scarlet berries winking like ruby jewels in amongst the
towering plumes of the dancers and the twinkling lustres of the chandeliers.
Mr Powlett claimed his dance and my hand. I felt a sea
of faces turned in our direction as the country dance began. I noticed Mrs
Terry who had travelled from Dummer turn to her neighbour and pass comment as
she fixed her eyes upon us. Whilst I loved dancing, being scrutinised by all
the ladies eager to marry off every single young woman or gossip about her
particular prospects with a partner was most disagreeable. And, I knew every
dance was remarked upon and my partners numbered. All this could be endured,
however, if I could just make sure that the one person I most minded watching
me dance with Mr Powlett could keep his countenance. I would not seek him out,
I would maintain eye contact with my partner and take little notice of those
who sat or stood at the edges of the ballroom.
But, I might have known it would be impossible. Far
from behaving as he had before, silently regarding the scene with an expression
of hauteur, Mr Thomas Lefroy did not once remove his eyes from my face and
every time I passed once more along the dance, he merely inclined his head
towards me with such a saucy expression I was sure the whole room observed it!
Far from keeping my head, I became flustered even to the point of moving the
wrong way down the set to my utter mortification.
At last, the tortuous dance was over, Charles led me
back to my place and I waited for Tom to claim me. Looking about, he was
nowhere to be seen, and as the seconds ticked by, I perched up out of my seat
looking eagerly round for him. He simply wasn’t there. Oh, I was so vexed! To
think I had been looking forward to dancing with that proud puppy, and now, he
was going back on his word. Well, I was not going to be fooled like that again,
I decided. Miss Jane Austen was not to be toyed with by some upstart with a
honeyed Irish lilt to his voice that was such pleasure to my ears that I
wondered if he’d bewitched me by fairy means. I swore there and then I’d never
be taken in by such fairness of face or feature again. How dare he!
‘Are you by chance looking for someone?’ whispered a
voice very close to my ear that had me jumping out of my seat.
Tom Lefroy was standing behind me, bending his
handsome head down toward mine to tease me yet again. On seeing my expression
he merely bowed, and holding out his hand said, ‘Miss Austen, I do hope you
will do me the honour of dancing with me.’
I could not refuse him, however much I wished. And
when he took my hand and led me out onto the floor, I knew he would be the
perfect partner. Tom and I danced three times together during the course of the
evening, and though I knew I should not, I could not help myself.
‘Miss Jane Austen of Steventon has found a new beau,’
I heard the gossiping neighbours whisper. ‘My, she is a lively one tonight. How
many times has she stood up with that young man? She is certainly setting her
cap at young Mr Lefroy, and well, she might!’
The gossips might remark all they liked and my mother
could scold me all night. I did not care: I was only intent on enjoying myself.
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten
