“Well-acquainted? Astonishment very nearly deprived me of speech. “But I have not met with Lord Harold these eight months at least.”
“I am excessively surprised,” Mr. Emilious cried. “I had understood from his latest communication that you were completely in his confidence; that he regarded you, indeed, as one of the few among his friends who might wholly be trusted.”
I flushed. “Trust, Mr. Emilious, is a suspect quality in Lord Harold's hands.”
“So I comprehend.” He was silent an instant, his gaze fixed absently on Lady Elizabeth's hideous candelabra. A faint breeze — or the current of conversation in the room, perhaps — stirred its flames fitfully.
“Are you at liberty to disclose the nature of His Lordship's errand to Russia?” I enquired delicately. “Or does discretion forbid the particulars?”
Mr. Emilious regarded me with calculation, a fine line between his brows; his easy manner was entirely fled. “I am told it is impolite to mention politics before a lady,” he said slowly, “but I intend no disrespect to yourself, Miss Austen, in declaring that you have never been accorded that fragile status by Lord Harold. He assures me that you possess the keenest understanding in the world, and are conversant in everything that one must, from convention, reserve solely to the affairs of men.”
“I cannot admit to having bagged a grouse, Mr. Finch-Hatton, nor to having sported a pipe of Virginia tobacco; but I may confess to a glancing acquaintance with the London papers.”
“You have heard, then, of the Anglo-Russian accord?”
I stared at him indifferently. “Is there anyone who has not? It was ratified, I believe, but a few weeks ago.”
Mr. Emilious had the frankness to smile; he glanced involuntarily at his niece, Miss Louisa, and said: “Few ladies, Miss Austen, have the strength to tear their gazes from the fashion plates of La Belle Assemblee, in support of news from abroad. I doubt that one in an hundred could tell me what you clearly apprehend— that the Tsar of all the Russias, Alexander the First, has at long last admitted to a distrust of Napoleon, and pledged to stand with England against the French.”
“I shall value His Imperial Majesty's pledges the more when once they are put to the test,” I observed. “My naval brothers assure me that we must benefit from the exchange, in gaining freedom for our ships in northern waters; Mr. Pitt has long since struck a bargain with Gustavus of Sweden towards this very end — but what good can England hope to return, to the Tsar of all the Russias? Did the French purpose to acquire his snowy steppes, we should hardly intervene.”
“But we may serve to further Alexander's dearest interest,” Mr. Emilious countered. “The Tsar has long desired the conquest of Ottoman lands to the south of his present borders; and in this, he rivals the French. A year ago he recalled his ambassador from Paris; as recently as May, he was made distinctly uneasy by Buonaparte's seizure of the Italian crown. The fall of the Lig-urian Republic this summer has further excited his anxiety. But he bears us no love, for all that; in clasping the hand of the English, Alexander has chosen the lesser of the evils available to him.”
“I must believe that the Russian mind is forever closed to the open heart of an Englishman.”
“—unless that Englishman be Lord Harold Trow-bridge.”
I smiled involuntarily. Mr. Emilious was correct; in the Gentleman Rogue, Tsar Alexander's ministers would meet the most inscrutable of adversaries. “His Lordship was instrumental in the accord's completion, I collect?”
“He was — tho' the credit shall go publicly to another. That is only as he would wish; he has quitted the Russian court already some weeks, and at present exerts his delicate influence with the Hapsburg Emperor. For an alliance to stand firm against the French, Mr. Pitt must secure the Austrians at any cost.”[44]
“But of course,” I murmured, as though the subtlety of the Prime Minister's conduct could never be lost on so keen a female mind. “I must wonder, sir, whether any coalition might avail us comfort, when the French are rumored to have left Boulogne.”
“Ah,” Mr. Emilious returned; and his eyes glinted. “And yet you will perceive, Miss Austen, that I credit rumour so little, I remain as yet in Kent.”
“As do we all. Town can offer few delights in August.”
“I hope that I may call upon you one day this week? You are quite fixed for the present at Godmersham?”
“Until Monday, sir, when I shall pay a visit to Lady Bridges, at Goodnestone Farm.”
The footmen then appearing to carry out the remove, and unfurl the clean cloth, all discourse was at an end.[45] I had little doubt that Mr. Emilious intended no idle pleasantry in his last remark. He had approached me with a purpose this evening, and had set about to sound my depths. Whatever Lord Harold's intention in directing his friend to my door, it was not of a sort to be broached over the dinner table; and I found myself impatient to know what it was. Indeed, my thoughts were entirely in a whirclass="underline" for I exulted — there could be no other word — in the knowledge that I had not been entirely forgot. Lord Harold elusive at so small a remove as Town, was cause for pain; Lord Harold despatched to remotest Russia, was quite another instance. My spirits, of a sudden, had soared ridiculously; Mr. Sothey, the murdered Francoise Grey, even the invading French — all consigned to oblivion in respect of Mr. Emilious's words.
Patience was to be my trial in the present instance, however. Having devoted the entirety of the first course to the amusement of Mr. Emilious Finch-Hatton, I should accord my elegant phrases to the gentleman seated at my left, Mr. Brett, during the second. When the covers were settled upon every square inch of the table's surface, I turned, and found the poor man's gaze fixed pensively on Miss Louisa Finch-Hatton.
That young lady was seated farther up the table, as suited the eldest daughter of the house; she was placed between my brother Henry and Mr. Sothey, whose interest she had tenaciously engaged, and refused to give up despite the appearance of the second course. Poor Henry looked quite put out, and in the throes of boredom, since his companion to the right was Miss Anne Finch. I perceived that that excellent lady was presently in full flood upon the subject of whalebone corsets, and the mortification of their creaking, particularly for a gentleman. This might be considered a daring launch in Miss Anne Finch's mind. One look at Henry's face reminded me of my duty to Mr. Brett.
“And how do you find the practise of law in Kent, Mr. Brett?” I began, my fascinated gaze fixed firmly on his profile.
He tore his eyes from Louisa and sought my countenance almost blindly. “I beg your pardon? I fear I was not attending.”
“You are a solicitor, I believe?”
“I am.”
“Then pray tell me, sir — what sense can you make of my brother's unfortunate business with Mrs. Grey?”
“I should rather have called it Mrs. Grey's unfortunate business,” he observed, with a quelling look, “and your brother's duty, Miss Austen.”
“But of course,” I murmured, “as who better than an Austen should know?”
Mr. Brett, I made no doubt, was burdened by an inclination to find all women dangerously forward in the expression of their opinions, excepting his delightful Louisa — who could be counted upon to voice nothing more challenging than a view of the weather, or the latest rage among the ton. “Then you have escaped the general fit of curiosity, Mr. Brett, as to the nature of Mrs. Grey's end?”
“If you mean the morbid preoccupation with her death — I can think of nothing less seemly. Curiosity in such a cause must be abhorrent.” His eyes strayed involuntarily to Mr. Sothey and Louisa, and of a sudden, I considered the utility of the Green-Eyed Monster. Many a man might be goaded by jealousy, where a judicious reserve should counsel otherwise. I should be very much surprised if Mr. Brett had not already acquainted himself with the chief failings of his rival, the better to combat the latter's power.
44
Presumably, news of the Austrian accord had not yet reached London at the time that Jane conversed with Mr. Emilious Finch Hatton. In fact, the Austrians had joined what came to be known as the Third Coalition on August 9, but the passage of news over land was slow and uncertain in time of war, and almost equally so when conveyed by ship. —
45
It was the custom in Austen's day to present at least two courses at a formal dinner, each comprising up to twenty dishes of a variety of vegetables, meats, and salads. When one course was consumed, the dishes were removed along with the tablecloth, which would be relaid for the second course. —