Jane and The Wandering Eye by Stephanie Barron

Author:Stephanie Barron [Barron, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: det_irony, det_history
Published: 2011-07-29T09:07:07+00:00

Chapter 10

The Comforts of Cooling Tea

14 December 1804, cont.

DANCING OF A FRIDAY EVENING IN THE LOWER ROOMS BEGINS precisely at six o'clock, and runs no later than eleven -- which custom we owe to the autocratic tendencies of the late "Beau" Nash, that arbiter of all that is genteel in Bath society.[56] Accordingly the Austens put in our appearance at precisely ten minutes before six; paid our respects to Mr. King, the present Master; and the Reverend George then abandoned the ladies of the party for the delights of the card-room. My father being happily taken up by a rapacious set of whist-players, we were free to move about the Assembly in search of acquaintance, and found it presently in the form of Henry and Eliza. I was astonished to discover the little Comtesse in attendance -- for it is her usual custom only to dine at six or seven, and to her the Assembly's hours must seem shockingly provincial.

"Dear madam!" Eliza cried, with a salute to my mother's cheek. "This is courage, indeed, to venture the crush of the Lower Rooms, and on such a chilly night! And here are the girls -- positively ravishing, I declare!" She stepped back a pace, the better to view my sapphire gown and Cassandra's spotted muslin, and turned to her husband for support. "We must hope for a glimpse of Lord Harold, Henry, when Jane is in such good looks."

I coloured -- for some thought of the Gentleman Rogue had counseled me to put aside my cap this once, and run ribbons through my hair -- and felt Cassandra stiffen beside me.

"I wonder you seek to press his lordship's suit, Eliza," she objected. "He cannot be respectable."

"Pooh! And what should that signify to me? Or to Jane, for that matter? We shall leave such tedious fellows as have only their respectability to recommend them, entirely to yourself, my dear -- and find contentment in the reflected glow of virtue."

I reached a self-conscious hand to my throat, and fingered my topaz cross. "You look very well this evening, Eliza. Purple is not a hue that many may wear -- but it entirely becomes you."

"Oh, this old thing," she said, with an indifferent shrug. "I should not dare to attempt it in London, where it has already been seen this age -- but in Bath -- well--" Her bright eyes roved about the room. They were filled with an animation that belied her three-and-forty years.

"Mrs. Austen!" cried a tall woman with a long white neck, her hair done up in a bewitching demi-turban of Sevres blue and gold. She reached down to the diminutive Comtesse and pressed her gloved hand. "How delightful to see you! It has been an age!"

"Isabella Wolff, I declare!" Eliza replied in kind, and seized the beauty in a determined grasp. "You grow lovelier with every year. Jane, Cassandra -- allow me to introduce Mrs. Jens Wolff, the wife of the Danish Consul. My sisters, the Miss Austens."

Cassandra and I curtseyed.

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