Cassandra's Sister Page 5

“Oh, thank you!” cried Jenny before her mother could speak. “Is that not a kind offer, Mama?”

  “Very kind,” agreed Mama. She, too, was making plans. “What a pity none of my boys are at home. Henry, in particular, always enjoys a ball. But Mr Lyford, the doctor’s son usually turns out, I understand.” She got to her feet. Carefully, she adjusted the lace on her sleeves. “And I have no doubt whatsoever,” she added, “that the family from Deane House will be there, including Mr John Harwood. Now, I believe I hear a horse. My husband is come home, so shall we go in to dinner?”

  William

  The Assembly Rooms at Basingstoke were not as grand as their name suggested. The hall was not wide enough for its height, and tended to become very hot, as the windows were narrow. But the young people of the district tolerated these inconveniences with serenity, because public balls were the only means of meeting anyone of the opposite sex who was not either in or known to their own family.

  Jenny loved dancing. She loved to hear the music, loud in such a confined space. She loved the tramp, tramp of shoes on the wooden floor and the swish, swish of gowns as the ladies turned at the end of the set. She loved the dusty smell of seldom-worn finery. And when enough punch had been drunk to loosen reserve, she loved the look of shiny expectation on the faces of her partners, who led her to the set with damp hands.

  Cassandra threw herself into the preparation. She sewed new ribbons on Jenny’s best dress, and mended the hole in the satin slipper which her sister had neglected after her last Assembly Rooms ball. She starched lace and pressed and perfumed gowns, and made Jenny a headdress of blue ribbons to match her new trimming. With the Bigg girls and their mother to encourage their high spirits, the girls mounted the steps to the Rooms in a state of expectation greater than the occasion afforded.

  It was always the same. The anticipation, Jenny remembered as soon as she entered the hall, was ever more enjoyable than the event. The first part of the evening would have to be passed in talking with acquaintances on inconsequential subjects. She would be obliged to admire everyone’s attire, however bizarre, and accept compliments upon her own. She must remember whose mother had died, whose father was ailing, whose daughter was near her confinement, whose grandchild had recovered from fever, thank the Lord.

  During pauses, when the necessity to speak did not present itself, she would be able to survey the collection of potential dancing partners, from someone’s sixteen-year-old brother to the man who kept the draper’s shop in Basingstoke High Street, and had done so these forty years. She would not sit down often, because the gentlemen knew she never forgot the steps or tripped over her gown. But it would not be until much later, amid red faces and increasing noise, that she would truly begin to enjoy herself.

  “So the Misses Austen are gracing the Rooms tonight, I see?”

  Jenny recognized the voice before she set eyes on its owner. “Good evening, Madam Lefroy,” she said, turning.

  “Madam” Lefroy was as English as everyone else but had married a man with French ancestors, and liked to use the English version of the French form of address. She raised her eyebrows. “Why, how delightful to see you girls here! Your mama did not inform me you would be attending, but let that pass.”

  Jenny and Cass curtseyed. “It is charming to see you, Madam Lefroy,” said Cassandra. “And Benjamin.”

  Benjamin Lefroy, fifteen years old, with a face as round as his father’s and a disposition as merry as his mother’s, exchanged a sympathetic smile with Jenny. Each knew the other, and the other’s mother, well. He bowed neatly, clicking his heels, and excused himself.

  “How tall he has grown!” observed Cassandra, looking after him. “I believe he is taller than our brother Charles, who is two years older.”

  “Do not say that before Mama,” warned Jenny. “Oh, look, here come Mary and Martha.” She waved her fan. “Good evening, Mrs Lloyd! Martha, what wonderful feathers!”

  “Do you like them?” Greetings were exchanged, and Martha showed off the feathered headdress, sent by a relative to Mary, who had shrunk from wearing it. “Mary is so much more modest than her elder sister, you see,” said Martha amiably. “Where is your mama? Did she agree to your coming tonight without her?”

  “We came with the Biggs,” explained Jenny.

  “All of them?” asked Martha. “It must have been a crush in the carriage.”

  “It was, but we were all so merry, it mattered not at all. And Mr Bigg was not there, of course.”

  “Of course,” repeated Martha, almost laughing. “Or else you would have needed two carriages!”

  “Sshh!” warned Jenny, “Alethea and Catherine are behind you.”

  Martha turned. “They are speaking with two girls I have never seen before.” She turned back to the little gathering. “Let us hope some gentlemen arrive soon, or I fear we shall be dancing with each other.” She leaned closer and spoke lower. “I see that Elizabeth Bigg and her mother have engaged the attentions of Mr John Lyford. Well, they are welcome. If he asks me to dance I shall refuse.”

  “You will not,” predicted Jenny. “It is very difficult to refuse a gentleman when he is standing before you. The trick is to avoid being asked in the first place.”

  “True. But Elizabeth Bigg has not avoided it. See, she is curtseying to him. How lovely she looks this evening! Perhaps if we stay away from her, if that is possible in a room this size, we shall get some offers from people’s fathers and uncles.”

  “To be sure. Though we can always dance with Ben Lefroy. He is at least tall, as Cass pointed out to his doting mama.”

  “Did she?” Martha laughed softly. “Dear Cass. If only her Tom were here, or his brother Charles, whom I have always considered personable.”

  All this was exchanged as Jenny and Martha threaded their way between knots of nervous girls, fanning themselves and breaking into unprovoked giggles. Martha nodded her feathers and Jenny her ribbons to their many acquaintances as they passed.

  Alethea Bigg caught sight of them. “What a lack of gentlemen!” she cried. “We should have brought Harris!”

  All three girls laughed. “By the time Harris achieves eligible status,” said Martha, “I shall be even more of an old maid than I am already, and Jenny will be a famous author. No, there is nothing for it but to wait by the wall for whatever comes our way.”

  “Or rely on Madam Lefroy,” suggested Alethea. “She never gives up trying to match-make me and my sisters with her nephews. I daresay she would do the same for you if you prevailed upon her.”

  “I do not want a Lefroy nephew,” said Jenny, mock-peevishly. “I want a dashing stranger, with a fortune and a magnificent seat in the most beautiful county in England.”

  The other two smiled indulgently. “You are asking a great deal, Jenny,” said Martha. “Your disadvantage is that most of the single men in the vicinity happen to be your brothers!”

  They laughed again. Jenny started to enjoy herself. It was very pleasing to stand among such warm-hearted friends, criticizing or admiring familiar back-views, feeling perfectly at ease. Her “disadvantage”, as Martha had called it, was not so great.

  “Jenny!” Cass emerged from the crowd. “I have had an offer for the first dance from Madam Lefroy’s brother-in-law,” she announced breathlessly. “Apparently, he arrived at Ashe this evening unexpectedly, and when Reverend Lefroy told him Madam and Ben were gone to the Rooms, he decided to join them. Are you not impressed at my conquest? Although he has asked Mary, too.”

  “Is this not marvellous?” asked Martha dryly. “If you had been there, Jenny, he might have asked you as well.”

  “But, Martha, he is by no means an unacceptable partner,” protested Cass solemnly. “He may be over fifty and as grey-haired as Papa, but he is charming.”

  “He would be even more charming if he had a son, perhaps?” suggested Alethea.

  “Oh no, a Lefroy nephew!” groaned Martha.

  “He does have a son, actually,” said Cass, “though he is n
ot here this evening. The family lives in Ireland, I understand. This Mr Lefroy came over to London for a friend’s wedding, and decided to call on his brother, Reverend Lefroy, quite at the last minute. Madam Lefroy has only met him once before, at her own wedding.”

  “So the son remains a mere rumour,” concluded Martha. “Still, the father is better than nothing, if, as you say, Cass, he has the charm of the Irish.”

  The first dance began. Jenny saw Cass with a thin, upright man in an old-fashioned, frogged tailcoat. Elizabeth Bigg had indeed failed to avoid dancing with John Lyford. Watching him lead Elizabeth’s fashionably dressed figure down the dance, Jenny wondered why he came repeatedly to balls, parties and dinners without succeeding in attaching anyone. John Lyford was destined to follow his father into the medical profession and was therefore an eligible prospect as a husband, and he was by no means the plainest man she had ever seen. What was it about him that so repelled people – even Martha, that most generous of souls?

  “Do you not consider Mr Lyford’s eyes to be too close together?” asked Catherine Bigg, who had joined Jenny at the side of the room.

  “Yes,” agreed Jenny. “But a man can have worse faults.”

  “Why, Jenny!” exclaimed Catherine. “Are you prepared to dance with him?”

  “If he asks me. I never did learn how to refuse.”

  “Have a care. He is famously boring, you know.”

  “Have you ever spoken to him?”

  “No, but Alethea has, and Mama says—”

  Jenny did not hear Catherine’s mama’s pronoucement upon Mr Lyford. Her hand, and her attention, were seized by Madam Lefroy.

  “Are you not dancing, Miss Jenny? And you, Miss Catherine? I can soon remedy that.”

  Two gentlemen stood behind Madam Lefroy. Jenny recognized one as John Portal, the son of a local landowner, who sometimes went hunting with Henry. The other, the younger, was a stranger.

  “This is Mr William Heathcote,” beamed Madam Lefroy. “Mr Heathcote, let me present Miss Jane Austen and Miss Catherine Bigg.”

  Mr Heathcote was the most beautiful man Jenny had ever seen. Acutely aware that Catherine must be equally impressed by his handsome face, she curtseyed as elegantly as she could, and lower than usual. “We are honoured, sir,” she said before Catherine could speak.

  “And Mr Portal you know, of course.”

  John Portal, blessed by good looks and an easy manner himself, bowed neatly to the girls. “Delighted, ladies.”

  Madam Lefroy was beside herself. “Is this not a wonderful surprise? First of all my brother-in-law arrives at Ashe and insists upon joining us here, then our dear friend Mr Portal appears with Mr Heathcote, from … where did you say your home is, Mr Heathcote?”

  “Near Winchester,” replied Mr Heathcote. He nodded amiably towards Jenny. “I have met your brothers, Mr Henry and Mr Edward Austen. They joined John and me on a hunting party last season.”

  Jenny’s imagination straight away put Mr Heathcote in a red coat, urging his horse to a gallop, the reins in one hand and his crop in the other. It would be an arresting sight, to be sure. “Oh, yes!” she recalled. “When Edward was visiting from Kent. Henry is now in the militia.”

  “Indeed,” said Mr Heathcote, with a small dip of his head.

  “William intends to enter the clergy,” offered John. “He expects to be ordained within the year.”

  And is therefore seeking a wife, said Jenny to herself. “Is this your first visit to the Basingstoke Assembly Rooms, Mr Heathcote?” she asked aloud.

  “It is, but I am persuaded it will not be my last. My friend John told me of the superior beauty of the girls I would find here, and I must admit he was correct.” As he said this his eye caught Catherine’s, and she giggled.

  “William would willingly dance with all the ladies in the room, if he could,” put in John.

  But which one will he choose first? wondered Jenny. She took note of William Heathcote’s gallantry, and his unembarrassed, unhurried manner. His attentive eyes returned her gaze calmly. His hair was brushed neatly, with no display of fashion, and his clothes were well pressed and simple, like her own. There was a languor, though not an unattractive languor, about him, which Jenny warmed to.

  “William must be forever on the move,” John Portal informed the ladies good-naturedly. “I simply cannot imagine him composing sermons.”

  “It is not unusual to enjoy a ball,” observed Mr Heathcote. Then he turned purposefully to Jenny. “Are you engaged for the next dance, Miss Austen?”

  “No, sir, I am not.” Jenny could feel herself blushing. How she hated herself for the sensibility she could not control, especially when a gentleman requested a dance! The ridiculousness of it struck her even as she accepted his invitation. At a ball, what else did she expect gentlemen to do?

  “Indeed, who does not enjoy a ball?” agreed Madam Lefroy, looking purposefully between Catherine and John Portal. “Come, shall we circulate?”

  Mr Heathcote bowed as they departed, and, while the opportunity presented itself, asked for another dance. “Perhaps the last, Miss Austen? The cotillion, if it pleases you?”

  “With pleasure, Mr Heathcote,” she replied. “But are you not neglecting the many other young ladies present, who would no doubt like to dance with you?”

  His interested expression indicated that she had said something unintentionally coquettish. Her cheeks continued to blaze. Perhaps if he were not quite so handsome, she would be not quite so confused. “That is,” she added quickly, “who would like to dance with someone they have not met before. And as you hinted yourself, you would be pleased to make the acquaintance of as many partners as possible.”

  “I see.” He adjusted the white stock at his throat. Not uneasily, Jenny thought. More in the manner of one who feels himself challenged. Why did conversations with young men never follow the scheme her imagination laid down for them? She should have accepted with good grace his apparent desire to attach himself to her. Now, he had been left with no alternative but to indulge in awkward gallantry.

  “You must not think my words presumptuous,” she began. “I only meant—”

  “You meant to be polite,” he interrupted. His eyes glittered with something that might have been amusement, or anticipation, or some masculine emotion which Jenny was unqualified to detect. “Until the next dance, then?”

  He bowed, and was gone so quickly that Jenny had not time to complete her curtsey. She stood alone for a moment, swallowing her agitation. Then she set off to find the two voices of reason.

  Cassandra listened, frowning a small frown. “A Mr Heathcote? From Winchester? Oh, from Hursley Park.” Her frown cleared. “I have an idea his father is a baronet. They are very wealthy, Henry says, and Henry always knows how much money people have.”

  “And this Mr Heathcote has engaged you for two dances?” said Martha.

  “And I received an offer for only one,” said Cassandra, pretending envy.

  “Is that the gentleman in question?” Martha closed her fan and used it to indicate, as discreetly as possible, William Heathcote being curtseyed to by Mary and Alethea.

  “Yes,” confirmed Jenny. “How do you like his looks?”

  “He is extremely handsome,” replied Martha “Let us hope his dancing is as well executed as his features, for your toes’ sake, Jenny.”

  The lines were forming for the dance. Jenny found herself sought out and handed to the set without delay. Mr Heathcote’s expression was inscrutable, but as they turned to take their place he remarked, “Madam Lefroy is dancing with her son. Do you not think they look well together? How charming a ball like this is, when friends and relatives can mingle without formality.”

  Jenny could not immediately reply. The opening bars of the music sounded and she and Mr Heathcote took their first steps. When they had completed the measure she asked him if he often went to balls.

  “Not often, perhaps,” he replied, pleasantly but without smiling. “But during the L
ondon season I do attend some public balls in town, and am occasionally invited to a private one. I must observe that you would not see the range of age and rank evident here at a London ball.”

  Jenny shrank from making further comment. They danced in silence for some minutes. Unease crept over her. When they had first been introduced she had taken him for a country-dwelling, country-loving man with a background and interests not unlike her own. But now she saw that he was worldlier than that. Like Eliza, he had a house in London and enjoyed the far greater choice of society he could find there.

  They had reached the end of the set, and faced each other. “Are you by any chance acquainted with the Comtesse de Feuillide?” she asked.

  “I have had the honour of being introduced to her. I believe she is your first cousin?”

  “That is correct,” said Jenny, taking his hand for the cross-over.

  “Are you often in town, Miss Austen?” he asked.

  “Never,” replied Jenny. “London life does not beckon me.”

  He did not speak. They began the next measure. Jenny’s heart was oppressed. She felt herself exposed by her partner’s superiority of years, and greater social experience. She must seem to him a simpering youngster, with no claim other than the chance one of blood on Eliza de Feuillide’s glittering circle.

  The music slowed; they took their positions for the final reverence. “It is a great pity you do not go often to London,” he said as he led her back to where Mrs Bigg and Cassandra sat. “It would be a great pleasure to meet you at the Comtesse’s house, or indeed at any other place.”

  “Thank you, Mr Heathcote, for the dance,” she said.

  “We are engaged for the cotillion.”

  “I have not forgotten. Oh!” Jenny remembered. “You have not been introduced to Mrs Bigg. And this is my sister, Miss Cassandra Austen.”

  Mr Heathcote bowed to both ladies. “I hope your sister will report my performance happily, Miss Austen,” he said, bestowing a smile on Cassandra. Then he bowed to Jenny, and walked off.

  The evening wore on. Jenny danced with John Portal, who pleased her greatly with his swiftness of foot and lightness of conversation. Then she was asked by Samuel Blackall, a young clergyman attached to the Lefroy party, whom Jenny had met many times, and who achieved neither of these things. But, determined to be pleasant, Jenny found herself accepting another dance from him.