Jane Austen Stole My Boyfriend (12 page)

This works well to distract him. Uncle suggests the landau. Aunt is against that. It won’t be worthwhile for a couple of blocks. She suggests sedan chairs for herself and Mrs Austen. Mrs
Austen thinks it is ridiculous to go two blocks in a sedan chair and says that she will walk, so Aunt Leigh-Perrot decides to walk also.

So we all set out, with Rosalie carrying our dancing slippers in a bag, and we go a little way down George Street, then up Bartlett Street, and then we walk triumphantly past hundreds of
carriages lining up to drop off their ladies and gentlemen, past sweating sedan chairmen, each staggering uphill with a lady or gentleman peering out from behind curtains. Then we are going up the
steps and in under the arches to the Assembly Rooms.

I feel sick as I follow the others into the cloakroom, where we leave our wraps and put on our dancing shoes. What if Thomas has not managed to come?

And then Jane and I follow the two ladies demurely across the octagonal hallway and through the door into the ballroom.

It is so, so beautiful.

Enormous.

High, high walls with windows set about twenty feet above the floor – all blue walls – the very palest of blues and the creamiest white surrounding the windows and the four pillared
fireplaces and the carved doors...

And the light! Magnificent chandeliers. I have never seen anything more exquisite. Five of them... Sparkling, crystal-like tiny icicles – and the blaze of thousands of candles! I
can’t lower my gaze from them, they are so beautiful.

And then a voice, Thomas’s voice, chocolate smooth:

‘Good evening, Mrs Austen. Sir, madam, at your service.’ Now he is bowing to the three adults. And then a bow to us. ‘Miss Jenny, Miss Jane, I hope I see you well.’ And
then he looks at me, and although it is only a second, it seems like there is no one else in the room but he and I. The look that he gives me is so full of love, of longing, of promise and hope,
that I wonder how I have been able to breathe without him.

Although his tone is very formal, something about the warmth in his brown eyes makes me feel that we are back in the garden at Steventon, that I am wearing my nightgown and in his arms. I blush
and look at the splendid polished wood floor.

Mrs Austen is wonderful. She is greeting Thomas with a nice mixture of surprise and pleasure, just as if he is an old friend of the family. He makes easy conversation, chatting about Bath and
about the roads and the problems with his ship which prevented him from going to see his uncle, the admiral. I hardly follow it all. I try to control my breathing. There is a thundering noise in my
ears and I feel the colour rise hotly to my cheeks. How handsome he looks in his blue-and-gold navy uniform. I can see a lot of girls stealing glances at his tall figure. They just see that. They
don’t see all the tiny things that I love about him – the way his eyes change so suddenly from being dark and piercing to the softest and gentlest of golden brown; the way he laughs;
how he remembers everything that I say and, best of all, the way he makes me feel completely loved and protected. I stand there, drinking him in as if I have not seen him for a year.

‘Perhaps Miss Jenny will favour me with the first dance?’ asks Thomas. I curtsy silently. I dare not speak. My feelings are bubbling up inside me so that I fear that if I open my
mouth I will probably laugh or cry – or both at the same time.

The crowd is swelling by the minute – everyone pressing forward to see the minuet dancers – only they are allowed to dance the first dance. I move a little closer to Thomas and now I
can feel the warmth of him and I can barely wait until we are alone on the dance floor. The orchestra plays softly and the moves on the dance floor are made with no word spoken between the
dancers.

And then it is all over – everyone claps. The elaborately dressed ladies and gentlemen retire. The floor is now empty for a moment. We all line up, facing our partners, for the country
dance. First one couple, then another and then myself and Thomas, followed by Jane and Harry and then dozens more.

This is a dance I have danced a thousand times before, back in the parlour at Steventon or in the little Assembly Rooms in Basingstoke. But now it is different. Thomas and I touch hands, part,
come together again, exchange a word, a glance... And every time that we part I almost feel as though I have lost a part of myself, something important to my life and happiness. And when we come
together again it’s as if two broken halves have been joined. My happiness seems to brim over and I suddenly feel scared that this might be the last time in my life when I will feel complete
like this. Perhaps Augusta and Edward-John will manage to part us after all.

And then I look at Thomas and forget everything else. Wouldn’t it be lovely to finish the evening in each other’s arms and then to go out into the moonlit night and drive away, just
the two of us? I think this, but I dare not say it.

Now the first dance is over. People are moving in every direction. Some crowd around the fireplaces, others meekly return to their chaperones, others like Jane stand talking and laughing with
their escorts. Suddenly Thomas bends down, kisses my hand and whispers, ‘Have you got the forget-me-nots safe?’ I whisper,’Yes,’ but I dare not tell him that I have tucked
the pressed flowers into my stays! Jane sees Newton and calls across to him. Phylly, who is talking with some gentleman by the fireplace, cannot restrain herself from saying, ‘Jane!’
sharply, and everyone looks at Jane, who laughs.

And in this moment of confusion, when no eyes are upon us, Thomas leans down and kisses my hand – his gaze never leaving mine. Even through the silk of my glove I can feel the warmth of
his lips and it takes all my strength not to fall into his arms.

Jane is telling Newton all about her cousin Phylly.

‘And then she put on this hat and stood on her toes and peered into the mirror in the shop and she gave this little chirping sound and said, "Oh, fancy me! How pretty!" She was just
like a little parrot in a cage! I could have died laughing!’

Newton laughs heartily, though with a slightly guilty look around, to make sure that Phylly has moved away. But she is talking earnestly to Harry, so Jane and Newton start exchanging jokes about
her and about parrots. I am just thinking of asking Thomas whether we should join them, when I notice an elderly gentleman in naval uniform staring at me. He sees that I have seen him, but he does
not smile nor move towards us. He has a rather disagreeable face, I think.

‘My uncle!’ exclaims Thomas. ‘He must have got my letter and followed me to Bath. Wait for me,’ he says abruptly. He takes me over to Jane and then crosses back across
the room towards the gentleman in uniform. They talk while I watch anxiously. The man in uniform takes a folded letter from his pocket, holds it up rather threateningly towards Thomas and then
speaks vigorously, tapping the letter against Thomas’s chest as if to emphasize his point. Thomas faces him with a hard look, saying nothing, just bowing slightly from time to time. Jane
speaks to me, but I don’t reply. I am watching intently.

They have finished talking now and Thomas is leading him towards me, threading his way through the throngs of people laughing and talking happily.

‘May I introduce my uncle to you, Jenny?’ asks Thomas. His voice has the crisp, assured note that I am now beginning to recognize means battle. He takes me by the arm and I drop a
curtsy to his uncle – very splendidly attired in the full uniform of an admiral of the fleet. ‘I didn’t know that he was in Bath, Jenny,’ he says in my ear.

‘Miss Cooper, this is my uncle, Admiral Williams. Sir, I have the honour of presenting Miss Cooper.’

The admiral bows stiffly and I curtsy again wordlessly, thanking my lucky stars that Jane and I had been practising our curtsy earlier in front of the splendid looking glass in our bedroom. He
does not speak to me, but addresses Thomas in a brusque tone, ‘Your sister, sir, was without a partner for that dance. She is standing over there with that fool of a governess that you
engaged for her. She’s too young for this sort of affair. She would be better off in school. Anyway, Bath is not what it was in my young day. Where is the master of ceremonies? It’s his
business to find partners for young ladies and gentlemen.’

Thomas is calmly saying something about Mr King, the master of ceremonies, but his uncle cuts him short and orders him to fetch his sister.

Now I am alone with the admiral and I stare at him wordlessly, wondering whether I should say something as he looks me up and down, as if mentally assessing the cost of my muslin gown and my
white cotton gloves. I am on the point of asking him whether he is enjoying Bath when I hear a voice behind me, a familiar voice with the Hampshire burr in it.

‘And she’s a lovely little dog, that black pointer of mine. I could give you one of the puppies when she has them in June.’

There can be only one man in Bath who would be discussing black pointer dogs at a ball so I swing round quickly as Jane says thoughtfully:

‘I quite fancy myself in a shooting jacket. Dearest Harry, could you get one of those for me, also?’

And then she dropped a neat curtsy right before the astonished admiral.

‘Jane, this is Thomas’s uncle, Admiral Williams. My cousin, Miss Jane Austen. And this is Mr Harry Digweed of Steventon Manor,’ I say.

Admiral Williams bows to Jane and then nods at Harry. He stares intently at me. I get the feeling that he does not think much of me. A tall, thin, kind-looking woman comes up, followed by
Thomas. A blonde girl is clinging to his arm, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

Thomas smiles down at her and then, taking no notice of the admiral, says, ‘Jenny, I’d like you to meet my sister Elinor. Elinor, I’ve told you about Jenny.’

I smile at Elinor, but she does not smile back. She moves even closer to Thomas, squeezing herself up against him and looking up at him as if she is about ten years old. My heart sinks. I had
hoped that we would be friends, but she is now eyeing me with an air of dislike. I wonder whether she is jealous of Thomas’s interest in me. I suppose since their parents died when Elinor was
very young, she has got used to thinking of Thomas as her property. Neither she nor the admiral seems anxious to welcome me as a new member of the family.

I try to keep a smile on my face. I so want her to like me, for us to be like sisters. Elinor is a pretty girl, a little younger than me, I think – very pale, very thin – even her
blonde hair is pale. Thomas has his arm around her now and is smiling down at her, his little sister. I find myself feeling slightly irritated. After all, she is not that young!

And then I look at the admiral who is still glaring at me critically. He glances up at the balcony where the orchestra are beginning to tune their instruments.

‘My dear,’ he says to Elinor, ‘I think if you look at your card you will see that the next dance has been given to Sir Walter.’ He looks at the governess and abruptly
tells her to escort her charge. Then he says, ‘Perhaps, Miss Cooper, you will do me the honour of dancing this with an old man. Thomas, the Honourable Clotilde Wallop is here. You should ask
her to dance. It was very kind of the Earl to put you up when you were in Hampshire. Come with me – I must greet her also. Excuse us for a moment, Miss Cooper.’

Thomas gives me an apologetic look and I try to smile cheerfully.

And now Thomas is bowing before Clotilde, the eldest sister of Newton Wallop. She is beautifully dressed in a flowing gown of gold silk embroidered with gold thread. As the daughter of the Earl
of Portsmouth she will have a huge dowry. When the admiral makes his way back to me the look of satisfaction on his face is sickening.

‘And your family comes from Bristol?’ he says to me when we reach the bottom of the line and have the opportunity to talk to each other.

I nod silently.

‘And your father, is he a . . . merchant?’ He pauses before the word ‘merchant’. I’m not sure whether he is pleased at the idea – after all, most merchants in
Bristol are rich – or whether he thinks I am under-bred, but I tell him briefly that my father is dead, but that he used to be a clergyman. This makes him look as though some bad smell has
reached his nose. I see Jane laughing with Newton and I envy them their easy companionship. They are sharpening their wits on each other and whispering in each other’s ears.

‘Good, good,’ says the admiral, but the tone of his voice says,
Bad, bad.
‘And where did you meet my nephew?’

‘At Basingstoke Assembly Rooms; my cousin Frank Austen introduced us,’ I say. I feel my face flush guiltily. What would he say if he knew that we had met at midnight on the streets
of Portsmouth?

Thomas and Newton’s sister seem to be getting on very well. Of course he knows her – they were probably great friends when he stayed at their house not long ago. He is laughing at
something Clotilde says, throwing his head back, the candlelight shining on his black hair. I gaze at it, wishing I was in his arms. Then I realize that the admiral has asked a question, so I
apologize.

‘I just asked whether you are enjoying Bath.’ He sounds annoyed and I drag my eyes away from Thomas and tell him that I love Bath. I try to be enthusiastic about the Assembly Rooms,
but he just nods in a bored way and then I fall silent. He asks me whether I have had a season in London and I am so taken aback that I blurt out the fact that my family could never afford
something like that for me. He raises his eyebrows and greets an old acquaintance over my shoulder, but says no more to me, and I can’t think of anything else to say.

When the dance finishes, I curtsy to him and he allows me to make my own way over to where my two aunts are sitting with Phylly perched on the bench below them. He doesn’t think that I am
worth paying any more attention to. I am acutely miserable and feel that I should have tried harder to impress him.

‘Who is that?’ Aunt Leigh-Perrot is staring at the admiral.

‘Admiral Williams, Aunt,’ I say. ‘Where’s Eliza?’

‘Dancing with a Frenchman,’ says Mrs Austen. ‘Is that the uncle of Captain Thomas, then?’