Colonel Brandon's Diary

1778

Tuesday 16 June

I thought the holidays would never arrive, but I am on my way home at last.

‘Remember, you are to visit us in August!’ said Leyton to me as he boarded the stage.

‘I will not forget,’ I promised him.

His coach pulled out of the yard and I went into the inn where I ate a second breakfast before it was time for my own coach to leave, and then I was soon on my way to Delaford. As the buildings of Oxford gave way to open countryside, I fell into desultory conversation with my fellow passengers, but it was too hot to talk for long and we were soon silent, watching the fields and rivers and hamlets pass by.

The light began to dwindle. Night fell, and the coach stopped at a respectable inn. I partook of the ordinary and now here I sit, in my chamber, looking forward to the summer.

Wednesday 17 June

I dozed through the first part of the journey, but as I neared home, I took more interest in my surroundings. My eyes travelled over the fields adjoining the estate and then I saw a welcome sight. It was Eliza, walking by the river with her straw hat dangling by its ribbons and her brocade skirt held up in her hand.

The coach slowed to turn a corner. I opened the door and, much to the consternation of my fellow passengers, I threw out my pack and then jumped after it, slithering down the grassy verge before reclaiming it at the bottom and calling to her. She turned round and, eyes alight, ran towards me. I caught her up and spun her round, thinking, I cannot remember a time when I did not love Eliza.

‘Did you miss me?’ I asked her, as at last I put her down, though I kept my arms around her, for I could not bear to let her go.

‘And what am I to say to that?’ she said with a smile. ‘Am I to tell a lie, or am I to tell the truth and make you conceited?’

I laughed, and she slipped her arm round my waist, then we began to follow the river towards the house.

‘How was Oxford?’ she asked me.

‘Much as ever. The lectures were dull and the fellows, save for a few, either dissolute or boring. But never mind, in a few more years I will have qualified for the law, and then we will buy a house somewhere, a snug little cottage — ’

‘Though you do not need a profession, because we will have my fortune to live on.’

‘I will not touch a penny of your fortune,’ I said seriously.

‘Why not? It will make us comfortable, and more than comfortable. When I come into it, it will make us rich.’

‘I want to support you.’

‘Then what are we to do with it? It seems a pity to waste it, when it is there for the taking.’

‘Save it for our children,’ I said.

‘Our children? Pray, do you not know it is indelicate to speak of such a thing to an unmarried woman?’ she asked me saucily.

‘Our children,’ I said, unrepentant. ‘Once we are married — ’

‘If we are married. You have not asked me yet.’

I dropped my pack and fell to one knee, taking her hand.

‘Eliza, will you marry me?’

‘When you have nothing to offer me, indeed when you are far too young to think of marriage, being a mere stripling of eighteen?’ she teased.

‘A stripling, am I?’ I asked, rising to my feet.

‘A stripling!’ she said tauntingly, then she turned and ran. I gave chase and, easily catching her, I lifted her up and put her over my shoulder. She beat on my back with her fists, laughing all the while.

‘Put me down!’

‘Not until you say you are sorry!’

‘For what? For speaking the truth?’ she asked.

‘For calling me a stripling.’

‘Very well, I apologize.’

‘That is better.’

I put her down again.

‘It was very wrong of me. You are not a stripling, I see that now, you are a sapling,’ she said.

‘But a sapling you will marry?’

‘If you do not know the answer to that already, my dearest James,’ she said tenderly, ‘you never will.’

She lifted her hand to my face and I kissed it, saying, ‘Then as soon as we are of age we will be wed.’

‘You will have to ask your father for his permission first,’ she said, reluctantly pulling away from me. ‘He is my guardian, and he must have his say. Only do not do it yet. I want to have some time to ourselves, with no one knowing; no fuss made; no calls to make and return; just the two of us, secure in our love.’

‘Whatever you want, it is yours. You know I have never been able to deny you anything.’

We walked on for some time without speaking, rejoicing in the day, with nothing but the sound of the river and the song of the birds to break the silence. We came to the gate in the wall and entered the grounds, going in through the orchard, where the trees were beginning to swell with fruit. The house lay before us, and as I saw its solid façade I realized how much I loved it. I thought of all the happy years Eliza and I had spent there, and all the happy years to come.

We began to talk again, and I asked her what she had been doing whilst I had been at Oxford.

‘What every other young lady does,’ she replied. ‘I have been practising my music and improving with my watercolours. I painted a very pretty view of the bridge last week, though the proportions were wrong and the colours false; however, it was very pretty. And I started a portrait of Miss Jenkins.’

‘And how is the estimable Miss Jenkins? ’

‘She is very well, though a little deaf.’

‘And how did you manage to evade her this afternoon?’

‘I told her I needed some exercise, and as she was sleepy after a heavy lunch, she was content for me to go out alone, as long as I did not stray beyond the grounds.’

‘And what else have you been doing?’

‘I have been netting a purse and singing and dancing — ’

‘Ah, yes, so you told me. I believe you said you had a new dancing master. I am very glad of it, for the last time I was at home I noticed that Monsieur Dupont was ruining your feet. I believe he stepped on your toes more often than not. This new man is very ugly, I believe you said, with a face like a gargoyle. Poor fellow.’

‘Not a bit of it, he is very handsome; I will go further, and say that he is very handsome indeed. He has dark hair, clear eyes and good teeth. His chin is pronounced and his forehead is noble. Moreover, he has a finely turned calf, broad shoulders and overall the air of a gentleman. His address is good, and his manners pleasing. We are very lucky he condescends to be my master.’

We left the orchard behind us and entered the pleasure gardens, where the roses were in bloom. They filled the air with their perfume, and their dancing heads bobbed on their stalks as the breeze blew them this way and that.

‘He does very well for an elderly man, then, for I believe you said he was in his dotage,’ I remarked.

‘On the contrary, he is very young, not a day over five and twenty,’ she returned.

‘Nonsense! Dancing masters are never five and twenty. They are always at least sixty. They would not be allowed in the house otherwise, especially if they were handsome — young ladies being prone to unsuitable fancies.’

‘I do believe you are jealous!’ she said, turning to me with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

‘Of Mr Allison? ’ I snorted. ‘I hardly think so.’

‘There you are, you see, you even remember his name, a sure sign of jealousy!’

‘It is nothing of the kind. It is just because you mentioned it so often in your letters.’

‘I mentioned it once!’ she contradicted me.

‘And once was all I needed, for I have an excellent memory.’

‘Your memory is abominable,’ she returned.

‘Nonsense. I never forget anything.’

‘Then what colour is my new ball gown, which I mentioned to you in my letters?’

‘It is ... that is to say ... I believe, yes, I am sure ...’

‘Well?’ she asked.

‘I do not immediately recall.’

‘No? Not even with your good memory?’ she asked satirically.

‘Ah, I have it! It is blue,’ I said, hazarding a guess.

‘And what material is it?’

‘Broc ...’ I saw that she was about to say No and changed my mind. ‘Probably ... that is to say, it was satin. Yes, I remember now. You distinctly said it was made out of satin.’

‘Fie upon you, James. I told you at least three times, it is made of silk.’

I was undaunted.

‘Whatever it is made of, I am sure you will look enchanting in it,’ I said.

She laughed.

‘Well recovered, sir! You should be a courtier, not a lawyer. It is a great skill to be able to turn a pretty compliment, especially when you have just been bested! You should see if they have any openings at St James’s!’

We had almost reached the lawns and she stopped, letting her skirt drop from her hand and settling her straw hat on her head.

‘Here, let me help you,’ I said, tying her ribbons for her.

‘I had better go in through the French windows,’ said Eliza, when I had done. ‘I am meant to be practising the pianoforte. I promised your father I would heed my music master’s instruction and practise for two hours every day, but I could not settle to my music this afternoon, knowing that you would be home.’

‘So you came to the field on purpose to catch an early sight of me,’ I said with a feeling of satisfaction.

She raised her eyebrows and said lightly, ‘How vain men are! I merely thought some exercise would do me good and so I walked through the fields accordingly. The fact that you happened to arrive at that moment was the merest coincidence.’

And with that she left me.

I watched her walk away from me, admiring the line of her back, and I kept watching her until she was out of sight, and then I slung my pack over my shoulder and carried on my way.

I walked round the house, and as I passed the stables, I saw my brother Harry coming out of them. He was looking dissolute, with his cravat pulled awry, and he was adjusting his breeches. My mood darkened.

‘Some things never change,’ I said, as I drew level with him. ‘Who was it this time? The milkmaid, the scullery maid, or one of the farmers’ daughters?’

He leered.

‘Molly Dean, as it happens, one of the most beautiful girls hereabouts. You should take the trouble of getting to know her yourself. She’d soon put a spring in your step. A girl like Mol ly’s just what you need on a morning like this one. A roll in the hay with her would wipe that sanctimonious look off your face. It would make a man of you.’

‘I do not think I like your idea of being a man.’

‘No? University has taught you nothing, then. A pity. I was hoping you would learn to hold your liquor and develop a taste for women, so that we could carouse together, as brothers should, but it seems that you have returned as dull as you went.’

We went into the house together, but we could not think of anything further to say to each other. We parted in the hall, he to go upstairs and I to go in to my father.

I found him in his study, looking through a pile of papers.

‘So, you are back,’ he said, glancing up once then continuing with his work.

‘Yes, indeed, Father, as you see.’

‘And what have you been doing since you went away?’

‘I have been studying, sir.’

‘Studying?’ He threw his quill down on the desk, then looked up at me in astonishment; whether feigned or real I could not tell. ‘Studying! You take my breath away. I had no idea you would do such a thing. It seems I have raised a scholar! Dear me.’

‘Hardly that,’ I said uncomfortably, for somehow he always manages to disconcert me.

‘No? ’

‘No, sir, I have simply been trying to repay your kindness in sending me to Oxford by working hard for my degree.’

‘A degree?’ he asked, as though it were some kind of rare and exotic animal. ‘So that is what you hope to gain, is it? It seems an unusual desire for a young man of your background. Pray, tell me, what do you intend to do with it when you have it? Do you mean to set yourself up as a clerk, perhaps? Or maybe you have higher aspirations?’

‘I have indeed, sir,’ I said, trying hard not to squirm.

‘I am glad to hear it. And to what do you aspire? To become a schoolmaster, perhaps, or do you hope to reach the exalted ranks of a tutor?’ he asked satirically.

‘No, indeed ...’

‘No? Surely you do not have an even higher calling in mind, for what could be a higher calling than looking after another man’s brats; brats who will treat you with insolence, at best, and more probably openly revile you? ’

‘I hope to go into the law.’

‘Ah. The law,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. ‘The law,’ he repeated, savouring the words as though they were a glass of wine; though what his pronouncement would be on the vintage, I could not guess. ‘I congratulate you,’ he went on, with a smile that lacked any humour. ‘If you work hard, then at the end of ten years you might have enough money to buy yourself a horse.’

‘The law has greater rewards than that — ’ I said, stung to reply.

‘But not for an honest man,’ he interrupted me, ‘and you have always struck me as honest, James. Unless you mean to surprise me? ’

‘No, sir.’

‘I should not have sent you to university this year, it was too soon, but I allowed myself to be swayed by your tutors, who assured me that you had learnt everything they could teach you, and that you were intelligent and likely to thrive. But you were not mature enough. And now you have set your feet on the wrong path and you stand in need of some advice. Abandon all these notions of hard work and degrees and do what I intended you to do when I sent you to Oxford in the first place. Make some friends — ’

‘I have friends, sir.’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘Really? You pick a strange time to mention them. Nevertheless, I am very pleased to hear it. Friends are the basis of life. They can be very useful if treated properly, so tell me about these friends of yours, James, and tell me of what use they can be to you?’

As so often, when talking to my father, I felt as though we were speaking different languages, which shared the same words but not the same meanings.

‘I do not understand you, sir.’

He sat forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his desk.

‘Dear me. I must have been very remiss in my duties towards you if you do not know what I mean by useful. What connections do they have? What help can they give you? And how many sisters do they have?’

‘I never took any account of those things ...’

‘You astonish me. How is it that a young man such as yourself, not deficient in intelligence, an avid student — so he tells me — with no defects of person or manners can fail to take account of such things? Tell me, how do you mean to live once you are out in the world?’

‘By going into the law, sir, as I have already told you.’

‘And as I have already told you, a man cannot live on what the law provides. Therefore, my advice to you, James, is to return to Oxford in a better frame of mind than the one in which you left. Think of your friends in the light of the help their families can provide. They might have livings at their disposal, or better yet, they might have impressionable daughters with generous dowries who would welcome the attentions of a handsome young man such as yourself. Cultivate those who can be useful to you and disregard the rest.’

‘I do not think — ’

‘No, my boy, I’m well aware of that!’ he said with a dry laugh.

‘What I mean is, I prefer my friendships to be with my friends.’

‘Ah. I have not just raised a scholar, I have raised an idealist, it seems. Well, my boy, I wish you well of it,’ he said, taking up his quill. ‘I hope you will be very happy. You will invite me to your lodgings one day ten years hence, I hope, so that I might see the splendours you have won with your labours.’

He said no more, but turned his attention to his books, and after waiting a minute or two to see if he would speak again, I left the room.

I wriggled my shoulders, as if to shake off something unpleasant, a habit acquired through long years of conversations with my father, and then I found myself wondering what he would have said if I had told him of my plan to marry Eliza. Would he have congratulated me on becoming affianced to an heiress? No, probably not. He would have berated me for not finding another one. Nothing would please him more than to marry Eliza to an earl and gain a string of great relations, and I believe he would have laughed at me if I had told him of my intentions.

I returned to my room and found that my trunk had already arrived. Dawkins had unpacked it and my evening clothes were laid out on my bed.

I had time to write a few letters before changing for dinner and then I went downstairs. Eliza was in the drawing room, her hair bound up with a ribbon that matched the blue of her eyes. Harry was already drunk. As we walked into the dining room, his gait was unsteady. My father merely smiled, as though Harry afforded him great amusement, and I guessed that this was not an unusual state of affairs.

‘I will be giving a ball in three weeks’ time,’ said my father to me as we began our meal. ‘It is a long time since we have had such a gathering at Delaford and it is time we entertained our neighbours. They need an opportunity to criticize our house, find fault with our arrangements, disparage the efficacy of our servants and revile our taste. Your studies will allow you time to attend, I hope?’

‘Yes, Father. As you know, I am on holiday now.’

‘Very true. But an industrious young man such as yourself might wish to work on high days and holidays. Indeed, if you are to advise the neighbouring farmers on their contracts, you must work hard now to make sure that you do not lead them astray in the future.’

Eliza glanced at me and we both hid our laughter behind our napkins, whilst Harry laughed outright.

‘What! You mean to become a lawyer!’ he said, reaching for the bottle and pouring himself another drink. ‘My brother, the attorney!’

‘It is a noble calling,’ replied my father gravely. ‘If your brother applies himself, then he might one day own a gold watch.’ He turned to Eliza. ‘I hope you are looking forward to the ball, my dear. Now that you are seventeen it is time you went into company. You have your new gown, I know, and a very pretty gown it is, I am sure, but is there anything else you require? You have only to ask and it will be yours.’

‘A fan, perhaps,’ said Eliza, ‘and some new slippers.’

‘Then you must go into town and buy anything you wish. You will be opening the dancing with Harry, so you must look your best.’

Eliza looked at Harry and then sighed as he spilt wine down his coat, but he only laughed and poured himself another glass.

I was glad when the meal came to an end. When Eliza withdrew, my father and Harry were silent, and I waited only five minutes before following Eliza. She was singing with great sweetness when I entered the drawing room, and as I sat and listened to her, I thought I would endure a dozen such evenings for the pleasure of hearing her voice.

My father and Harry did not follow for some time, but when they returned, they robbed our time together of its sweetness. Eliza finished her song and then retired. I soon followed. If not for Eliza, I would be off again tomorrow, but her presence keeps me here.

Friday 26 June

I rose with the dawn, awakened by the birds, which sang lustily outside my window. I was soon dressed and went down to the stables, where I lost no time in saddling Ulysses and setting off across the fields. There was an early mist which hugged the ground, turning the green fields white, but it soon burnt off to reveal a glorious day. The sky was a brilliant blue and skylarks soared, and I felt my heart expand with the joy of being at home again. I rode down to the village and then I walked back along the country lanes with the trees making a canopy above me.

I returned to the stable yard with a hearty appetite, and having given Ulysses into the charge of my groom, I went inside. There was no sign of Harry but my father was there, eating his breakfast. He looked up once as I entered the room, but after a few remarks on the poverty of lawyers, he returned to his steak. Soon afterwards he finished his meal and, without another word to me, left the room. I helped myself to ham and eggs from the food laid out on the sideboard and made a hearty meal.

Sitting back at last, I looked out of the window, over the lawns and down to the lake. It was a perfect morning for rowing, and I decided to see if the boat was in good order or if it had been allowed to decay.

I went down to the boathouse and I was pleased to find that the boat was sound. Once I had taken it out and tied it up by the jetty, I returned to the house to ask Eliza if she would care to spend the morning on the water.

As I approached, I heard music coming from the ballroom. When I passed the window, I saw Eliza practising her steps with an elderly gentleman whose hair was white and whose shoulders were bowed. I laughed, and she turned and saw me. I clutched my hand to my chest in a charade of a broken heart, and she had the goodness to laugh, too. I heard her dancing master asking her what she found so amusing, and she was chastened until the lesson came to an end.

I waited for him to leave and then I joined her in the ballroom.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked me. ‘I thought you were out riding.’

I pulled a tragic face.

‘I have come to release you from our engagement. I see now that I was wrong to ask for your hand. Your dancing master is so handsome that I cannot keep you from him. I wish you happy, my dear.’

She looked at me saucily, and stopping only to fetch her bonnet, gloves and parasol, she took my arm and walked out into the garden with me.

‘Were you a little bit jealous?’ she asked me.

‘My dear Eliza, I was so jealous that, if he had been as handsome as you declared, I would have asked my father to dismiss him at once.’

‘Good. I am glad you were jealous.’

‘And I am jealous of Harry for being able to open the ball with you.’

She frowned.

‘I would rather open it with you. But I am only to dance the first two dances with him and then my card is empty.’

‘Then you must dance the next two with me.’

She sighed happily.

‘Is this not perfect, James?’ she asked, looking round her. ‘The sun up above and the scent of the roses perfuming the air? How I love the summer. I believe I could never bear to leave here, with everything so dear to me, if it were not for you. We must have a rose garden when we are married.’

‘We will have one, even if I have to make it for you myself,’ I promised her. ‘And we will have everything else your heart desires. My father may laugh, but I am young and ambitious, and I have a reason for succeeding. We will be happy and prosperous, Eliza.’

‘I do not doubt it.’

We walked down to the water’s edge and I helped her into the boat. She steadied herself as it rocked from side to side and then, having gained her balance, she sat down, arranged her skirt and opened her parasol, which framed her face as beautifully as a picture.

I climbed into the boat, untied it and picked up the oars. Having settled them into the rowlocks I pulled on the right oar and sent the boat out onto the lake. The water lilies were in bloom, their leaves as large as saucers and their white flowers opening like stars to reveal the gold at their heart, whilst around them the water reflected the bright blue sky.

Eliza removed her glove and let her hand trail in the water. I watched the quicksilver liquid flow over her slender white fingers, mesmerized.

‘How perfect this is,’ she said. ‘To be here, with you.’ She murmured softly, ‘Rejoice, waters of the Lydian lake, and laugh out loud all the laughter you have at your command. Your master is home.’

She smiled at me, and I was so much in danger of drowning in her smile that I reprimanded her, and said, ‘Your Catullus is faulty,’ hoping to break the mood, but it was no good; the mood was not to be broken.

‘My Catullus might be faulty, but not my heart,’ she said softly.

I could fight it no longer. The splashing of the water against the oars, the soft kiss of the breeze, and the sight of Eliza there before me, drew me into the moment and held me there as though silken tendrils had wrapped themselves around my heart.

‘If I could write the beauty of your eyes,

And in fresh numbers number all your graces,

The age to come would say, “This poet lies;

Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.” ’

As I spoke, I felt that Shakespeare must have written those lines for Eliza.

She lay back, allowing the sun to slip beneath her parasol and drift across her face, painting her skin with golden rays, and I marvelled at her beauty, and the wonder of her loving me.

‘If I could trap a moment in time, then I would trap this moment and hold it for all eternity, with the sun on my skin and the water cool on my hand and the skylarks singing and you here with me,’ she said. ‘When I am old and grey I will come back here in my memory and we will be young again, in the first throes of love.’

‘When you are old and grey I will bring you back here and we will row on the lake, just as we are doing today,’ I said.

We fell silent, needing no words, and we did not go in until the clouds began to thicken, and the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

I tied up the boat and gave Eliza my hand, and we ran back to the house, reaching it as the rain began in earnest.

‘I have a fitting with my dressmaker this afternoon,’ she said.

‘Then I will not see you until dinner time.’

‘No.’

We could not bring ourselves to part and we lingered there a while, but when the clock on the stable chimed, we knew we had to go our separate ways so that we could meet again this evening.

I passed the afternoon on horseback, riding hard, and then went in to change for dinner, arriving early in the drawing room in my impatience to see her again.

She came in at last, in a yellow dress that set off her hair.

‘Was your fitting successful?’ I asked her, going forward.

‘Yes. I need make only one more visit to the dressmakers and my dress will be ready.’

‘Good, good,’ said my father, who had entered the room in time to hear her. ‘You need something special to wear, for the ball will be one to remember. James, you must wear something special, too. In the light of your future plans, perhaps you will honour us by appearing in a periwig.’

‘I am glad I thought of going into the law, since it has afforded you so much amusement,’ I said, having grown used to his ways again.

‘My dear boy, pray do not do it on my account. Your brother affords me quite as much amusement as a man has a right to expect from his children,’ he said, glancing at Harry, who looked the epitome of a dissolute rake. ‘Indeed, I have been very fortunate in that respect.’

Harry ignored him, but poured himself another drink and carried it through to the dining room.

When we were all seated and the soup had been served, I said, ‘I am glad you are holding a ball, sir.’ For he spends too much time alone, and I am sure that that is the cause of his strange humours.

‘At this present time I must make the effort, indeed I must,’ said my father, tasting the soup and adopting a resigned expression, for, in truth, it was insipid. ‘It is not every day that my son and heir contracts an eligible alliance.’

I almost dropped my spoon in my astonishment.

‘An eligible alliance?’ I asked, looking at Harry and then back to my father.

‘Yes, your brother is engaged,’ remarked my father calmly, between mouthfuls of soup.

‘But I have heard nothing of this!’ I said.

‘And will not hear anything of it, officially, until the ball,’ said my father. ‘That is when it is to be announced. The ball will add an element of grandeur to the announcement, and will lend it due weight and importance. Ladies like such things.’

Eliza and I exchanged startled glances, for to hear of my brother’s engagement in such a manner seemed strange indeed.

‘And who is the lucky lady?’ asked Eliza.

Harry lifted his glass to her and smirked. ‘You.’

‘Me? ’ she asked in bewilderment, then laughed.

‘I am glad to see it affords you so much joy,’ said my father, dabbing his lips fastidiously as he finished his soup.

‘But who is she really?’ asked Eliza. ‘Is she anyone we know?’

‘My dear, I know that Harry is not always the most honest young man in the world, but on this occasion he speaks nothing but the truth. His bride is, indeed, to be you.’

‘But ... this is a joke!’ said Eliza, but she did not sound sure.

I was not sure, either, and now the glances we exchanged were perturbed.

‘A joke! How you young people express your good humour these days! In my young day, we would have said, This is delightful. But times move on and language, just like fashion, is always changing. Yes, my dear, it is a joke.’

‘You are teasing me, sir,’ she said, looking at me anxiously and then looking back at my father.

‘Is this another of youth’s sayings?’ he asked. ‘I am sadly behind the times, I fear, and I do not always understand them.’

‘Pray, do not jest with me, sir,’ she said. ‘Put me out of my misery and tell me it is not true.’

‘Your misery? My dear Eliza, not a moment ago you were in raptures about it,’ he said incredulously; but, as so often happens with my father, I did not know if his manner was real or feigned.

‘I assure you, sir, I was not,’ said Eliza. ‘I thought you were teasing me.’

‘For what purpose?’ he enquired curiously.

‘I do not know.’

‘Nor do I. I cannot see how claiming you are to marry my son and heir can be construed as teasing, but since you seem to be in some doubt then I will say it plainly. As your guardian, I have found you a suitable husband. The engagement will be announced at the ball and the marriage will take place at the end of the summer.’

‘No!’ said Eliza, rising in her seat and throwing her napkin down on the table.

‘No?’ asked my father in surprise.

‘No, sir, I am sorry, but I cannot marry Harry.’

‘Well, well, that sounds very definite.’

‘I do not love him.’

‘And what, pray, does that have to do with anything?’

‘It has everything to do with it,’ she cried passionately.

‘Marriages are contracted for the good of the parties involved, not for some romantic notions. You are of a marriageable age and it is my duty as your guardian to find you a husband. Your fortune entitles you to an eldest son, one from an old and respectable family with a fine estate, who can provide you with comfort, ease and security, and that is what you will have.’

‘It is not enough for me. I will not marry without love!’ she declared vehemently.

‘Dear me, you have been reading too much poetry. You have confused it with reality. There is no such thing as love.’

‘That is where you are wrong, sir. There is; I have found it. I am in love with James.’

‘James?’ asked my father, surprised. ‘The future attorney? My dear, it is you who surely jest. What kind of life can he give you, a mere boy of eighteen with no influential friends or relations to help him, and no prospects? Unless he marries an heiress he will have next to nothing, and if he marries a young lady with thirty thousand pounds then he can hardly be expected to marry you as well.’

‘I am an heiress,’ she said defiantly.

‘Ah, I see,’ he said, turning to me. He raised his glass. ‘I must congratulate you, James. It seems I have underestimated you. I believed all your nonsense about studying hard and gaining a degree, but I see now that your interest in the law was nothing but a screen. You have not been cultivating useful friendships at university, for you needed none. You have been courting an heiress closer to home.’

‘I do not want Eliza’s fortune,’ I declared, having had enough of his humours and, being so nearly touched, becoming angry. ‘Indeed, I will not touch a penny of it.’

‘I should hope not, for it will belong to your brother, and although he is an idle fellow in many respects, I imagine he would make a fuss if you tried to steal his money.’

‘You cannot marry Eliza to Harry, sir. Look at him!’ I said, for Harry was slumped across the table. ‘Let me marry Eliza. Give me your permission, give us your blessing, and you will not regret it, I promise you.’

‘There can be no question of it. I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed my ward to marry a younger son.’

‘But a younger son who loves her!’

‘Love again! And this time from a young man, who ought to know better, instead of a naïve young girl. It must be education that has done this to you. Indeed, education appears to have ruined both my sons; it is the curse of literature. My eldest son seems to think he is Tom Jones, for he is busy seducing every wench in the countryside, whilst my youngest thinks he is Romeo! Worse still,’ he said, turning to Eliza, ‘he has convinced you that you are Juliet, my dear.’

‘It is nothing of the sort,’ I said. ‘We are not children who do not know the ways of the world. We are quite old enough to understand the realities of life, sir, I do assure you. But we have known for some time that we are in love with each other, and we planned to marry anyway.’

‘Do you not think, if your intentions towards Eliza had been honourable, you should have asked her guardian’s permission to pay your addresses to her?’ he asked.

‘I ...’ I drew myself up. ‘You are right, sir. I should have done so. I ask you now. May I have your permission to address your ward?’

‘Certainly not. You are far too young, and you have nothing to offer her. Furthermore, she is already engaged.’

‘To a man she does not love. You are abusing your position. You are marrying her to Harry for her money.’

‘It is good of you to give me the benefit of your experience and to advise me on my responsibilities as a guardian, but you must allow me to do as I think fit instead of following the guidance of an eighteen-year-old boy.’

‘Harry can have my money,’ said Eliza. ‘I do not want it. I will marry James without it.’

‘My dear, I cannot allow it. It seems sensible to you now, at seventeen, but you would never forgive me at twenty-seven, and rightly so. You will gain stability and security from your marriage, as well as standing in the neighbourhood, and your future will be assured. Harry, in return, will gain the means to pay off the family debts and restore the estate. It is an estimable match in every way.’

‘I cannot stand by and — ’ I began, but he cut me off.

‘What have they been teaching you at Oxford? Sedition and revolt, it would seem, when they should have been teaching you to respect your elders. However, amusing as this conversation might be, I regret I must now put an end to it. Eliza, you will wed Harry, and, James, you will find your own heiress to marry.’

He pushed his chair back from the table.

‘And if I do not want to be Harry’s wife?’ asked Eliza defiantly.

He stood up.

‘We none of us have what we want in this world. If we did, I would have dutiful children who would do as I bid them with a smile; instead of which I have a drunkard for an heir, a fool for a younger son and a disobedient girl for a ward. But we all have our disappointments in life, and I see no reason why you should not have yours as well as anyone else.’

He would discuss it no more in the dining room, and once we retired to the drawing room, he took up his newspaper so that we could not discuss it then, either.

Harry snored in a corner. Eliza played the piano listlessly and soon, declaring she was tired, retired for the night.

‘I will not marry him,’ she said to me in an undertone as she passed me on her way out of the room.

‘Never fear, it will not come to that,’ I said.

And it will not. I will not let her marry my brother.

Saturday 27 June

I slept badly, and when I found Eliza walking in the garden at dawn, I knew that she had slept badly, too.

‘James!’ she said, turning towards me with an anguished face. ‘What are we to do? I cannot believe that twenty-four hours can make so much difference. Yesterday we were so happy — and now ...’

‘Never fear,’ I said, taking her hands consolingly. ‘I will speak to my father again. Now that he has had time to think about it, he must see that it is impossible and he will relent.’

She sighed from the bottom of her heart.

‘That is a vain hope, you know it as well as I do. He has already decided, and nothing you or I can say will change his mind. Even if he relents as far as your brother is concerned, he will never allow me to marry you.’

‘Courage!’ I said, taking her arm and walking on with her. ‘We will be together, no matter what, Eliza. That I promise you.’

‘But how can you promise it? If he refuses to see reason, then we are lost.’

‘No. If all else fails, then we will elope.’

‘Elope?’ She turned to me with hope in her eyes. ‘Oh, yes, James, that is what we must do. We can go to Scotland and be married there.’

‘But first I must speak to my father again,’ I said. ‘I must give him a chance to change his mind. An elopement must be our last resort, for it will ruin your reputation — ’

‘What do I care for my reputation if I can be with you? ’

‘And we will have very little to live on. I have some money from my mother which should enable us to manage — ’

‘Until I come into my inheritance.’

‘Until I find some employment. I have told you before — ’

‘The situation is different now. You must see that! Without the support of your family, we will need more money, and I have money. We must use it, James.’ She set her chin stubbornly. ‘I will not marry you otherwise.’

‘We will talk about this later.’

‘No,’ she said, determined. ‘We will talk about it now.’

‘Very well,’ I conceded. ‘We will use your fortune if we need it.’

‘And that is as much as I can hope for, I suppose, though it seems nonsensical to do without it when our lives would be so much more comfortable with it.’

‘You forget, it will not be yours for some years yet. Even if I agree to use it, we will have to manage on our own for some time. We will have to live simply, and we will not have money for the elegancies of life, but we will be together.’

‘As long as your father gives in. Go and speak to him now, James, do not delay. See if you can persuade him. Let us know our fate.’

‘There is no point in speaking to him before he has had his breakfast, for he will not listen to me favourably on an empty stomach. But once he has eaten, I hope to find him in a mellower frame of mind, and then, perhaps, he will see that we are determined not to be parted.’

We continued on our way, making plans for the future, until at last I felt it was late enough to speak to my father. I went indoors and found him in his study. He looked up when I entered but then looked down again and carried on with his letter.

‘I hope you have not come to speak to me again about your brother’s engagement.’

‘No. I have come to speak to you about Eliza’s engagement. ’

‘They are one and the same.’

‘You cannot mean to force her into a marriage that is distasteful to her,’ I said. ‘She deserves more from you than that.’

‘She will soon accustom herself to it, as will you, no matter how much you both think otherwise at the moment. Young people always think it is the end of the world if they cannot choose their own spouse, but they quickly realize that the elegancies and comforts of life are worth more than so-called love, for elegancies and comforts are solid and longer lasting. If the young couple are fortunate, and have sensible elders to protect them, they realize this fact before they rush into a precipitate marriage. If they are unlucky, they realize it afterwards, when they are left with nothing but penury and bitterness to comfort them for their folly.’

I remonstrated with him, but he would not listen, and at last I had to retreat, defeated.

Eliza saw by my face that my news was not good, and when I had told her what he said, she replied, ‘Then we have to elope.’

I did not like it, but I could not see any way of avoiding it.

‘You are right, my love, there is no alternative.’

‘We can leave tonight.’

‘Yes, tonight. Have your maid pack your things whilst we are at dinner. We will leave at midnight, when my father and Harry have retired. I will have a carriage meet us at the end of the lane, so that the horses do not disturb the household, and then we will be away.’

She took my hands and I felt them tremble.

‘Frightened?’ I asked her.

‘No. Excited at the thought of our new life together. Where will we go once we are married, do you think?’

‘We will go to Oxford. We can take lodgings and set up house there. You will like Oxford, it is an interesting place, and there are some remarkable people. Besides, I have a friend whose father is a lawyer there and I think he might find a place for me.’

She took my arm and squeezed it as we walked towards the stables.

‘I am looking forward to it already!’ she said. ‘This has been a good thing, after all, James, for it has brought all the waiting to an end. Now we can be together, as we were meant to be.’

We continued to talk of our future until we reached the stables, then she left me and I went into town to make the necessary arrangements.

Once my business was done, I returned home and told my valet to pack my things as I was going away. I wrote a letter to my father and put it in my pocket, ready to place on his desk just before midnight.

I dressed for dinner and was about to go downstairs when the door opened, and to my surprise, my father entered the room. His presence there was so unusual that my heart misgave me, and as soon as he began to speak, I knew that we were undone.

‘I have some advice for you, James,’ he said, in his dry manner. ‘Always believe the worst of people, my boy, and then they will never disappoint you. I have thought the best of people, and I have been sadly deceived, for I have discovered that my ward has been planning to elope to Scotland behind my back, and that my son has been her partner in this treachery; and this, when he has plans to become a lawyer.’

‘I can assure you, sir — ’

‘You can assure me of nothing, my boy, so pray do not add falsehood to your many faults. Eliza’s maid is loyal to me, or, at least, loyal to the reward she hopes I will give her, and she has told me everything I need to know. You will go to your great-aunt Isabella, and you will not be welcome in this house until your brother is safely married to Eliza.’

I drew myself up.

‘Then, sir, I shall never be welcome here again, for Eliza will never marry my brother.’

‘Dear me, how vainglorious young people are! I hesitate to shatter your illusions, but Eliza’s future has nothing to do with you. She will see reason and she will do her duty, like every other young girl before her.’

‘She does not love him, and you cannot force her to marry him,’ I said coldly. ‘Would it not be better to accept that she is in love with me and allow our marriage?’

‘We have already spoken of this at length and we will speak of it no more. You will leave for your aunt’s house at once. The carriage is at the door.’

‘I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I will not go without Eliza.’

He grew irascible.

‘That sounds very definite, but I assure you, you are mistaken, for if you refuse to leave, then the footmen will escort you to the coach.’

I looked beyond him and saw that two of the footmen were standing in the passage behind him. I could tell that they did not like it, for their faces were grim, but I knew that they would do their duty or lose their positions, so to spare them, and myself, the indignity of a forcible ejection, I said, ‘You have me at a disadvantage, I see. Very well. I will do as you say.’

I knew there was no more I could do for the moment, so I picked up my portmanteau and he stood aside to allow me to leave the room. I went along the corridor, followed by my father and the footmen, but as I did so, I was already planning to return for Eliza. I would do it when my father was away from home, making his annual visit to London to attend to business matters. I was only sorry that I would not have a chance to speak to her before I left and tell her of my new plan.

As I reached the top of the stairs, however, I heard the sound of footsteps and I saw Eliza running towards me from her chamber in the east wing. Harry, unusually alert, was following her, and he caught up with her at the top of the stairs, putting his arms round her to restrain her. He grinned at me as he did it, and I lunged towards him, ready to knock him down. But the two footmen closed in behind me and held my arms.

‘I will never marry him!’ cried Eliza, struggling to free herself. ‘Never. They cannot make me. Nothing will ever make me abandon you. I love you, James. Only you.’

‘We will be together, I promise you,’ I said.

She became calm and my brother let her go. My last sight of her was of her standing upright, with a defiant gleam in her eye, at the top of the stairs.

I went out to the carriage.

Instead of setting out for Gretna Green, as I had hoped, I found myself setting out for my great-aunt’s house. But I knew that all was not lost. It was a delay, and not a disaster.

Tuesday 30 June

The journey was long and uncomfortable, for my father had ordered the old coach, and it rumbled along at a funereal pace, stopping only to change the horses on its way to Langley Castle. I fell asleep at last, rocked by the motion, and arrived with aches and pains in my neck and legs but otherwise refreshed.

The house was as grim as I remembered it. Grey turrets were outlined against the gloomy sky, and I felt my spirits drop as I went inside.

There was an air of decay in the hall, with its suits of armour and weapons from bygone eras displayed as though they were treasures. They had not been cleaned for a very long time. The metal was dull. The portraits of dour ancestors frowned down on me, as if condemning me for being young and in love.

Horsby, looking even more ancient than the last time I saw him ten years ago, walked unsteadily in front of me with a disapproving air and showed me into the drawing room.

It was as cheerless as the hall, with its heavy, old-fashioned furniture and its tapestries on the walls. But there was one unexpected gleam of colour, for a young woman was sitting on a faded sofa, and as she rose in a rustle of silk, I saw that she was my sister.

‘Catherine, what are you doing here?’ I asked her.

She looked at me as though I were a disobedient seven-year-old.

‘George and I are visiting Aunt Isabella. I do not need to ask what you are doing here. A letter arrived from my father several hours ago, delivered by messenger; and if you needed any proof of how angry he is, you have it in the fact that he went to the expense of using a messenger instead or relying on the post. Really, James, I cannot think how you came to be so foolish! Attempting to elope with Eliza. What nonsense!’

‘I happen to love her,’ I said, with dignity.

‘That would be ridiculous enough coming from a school-girl, but coming from a man it is unforgivable. I am not surprised that our father sent you away. Fortunately, I know just the young woman to make you forget about Eliza. Her name is Miss Heath. She is utterly charming. Her hair and eyes are just like Eliza’s. In fact, she is so like her that you will scarcely notice the difference.’

‘I believe that I can tell the difference between the woman I love and a complete stranger,’ I remarked.

She stared at me.

‘Really, James, you are always so odd, I do not know what to make of you. I am offering you an unexceptionable young woman for a wife and do you thank me? No. You simply continue to talk of Eliza. You must put her out of your mind. She is not for you. Miss Heath, however, is an amiable and rich young woman, and would welcome an offer from you, as long as you can keep your oddities hidden for a week or two.’

‘If Miss Heath is amiable and rich, I can hardly believe she will welcome a proposal from a younger son.’

I sat down gloomily, thinking that I would rather have endured one of Great-Aunt Isabella’s lectures than my sister’s misguided attempts to find me a wife.

She hesitated.

‘There is that about her ancestry ... to be sure, it is very little ... but her father made his money in trade. There, now you have it! So you see, she cannot attach a man from one of the best families. But you need not fear that her family will embarrass you, for her father had the good sense to die last year, thereby increasing his daughter’s chances of making a respectable match; and although his wife is still with us, you will not have to see her above once or twice a year.’

‘You are too kind.’

She stared.

‘There you go again with your incomprehensible remarks,’ she said. ‘You were dropped on your head, so your nurse said, when you were an infant, and that must account for it, I suppose. But make an effort, James. Miss Heath is worth pursuing, and if you make up your mind to it, she could be your wife by the end of the summer. And now,’ she went on, looking at me from head to foot, ‘you had better make yourself presentable, for Aunt Isabella will be wanting to see you before the hour is out.’

Horsby showed me to my room, and I washed and put on fresh linen before going downstairs again to wait upon Aunt Isabella.

She was by this time sitting in the drawing room, with Aunt Phoebe on one side of her and Aunt Cicely on the other. She raised her lorgnette and looked at me disapprovingly.

‘Well, young man, and what have you to say for yourself?’ she asked me.

‘How do you do, Aunt,’ I replied.

‘Do not how do you do, Aunt me,’ she returned. ‘You are a fool, it seems, like the rest of your sex.’ She consulted the letter in her lap. ‘You tried to run off with Eliza, your father tells me.’ She looked back at me. ‘I have no sympathy for him. If he had remained single, as I advised him to do all those years ago, instead of marrying your mother, he would not be in this predicament now. I told him how it would be. I told him she would run through his fortune before the year was out, and so it was. You, at least, had the sense to fall in love with a fortune. Did you speak?’

‘No, Aunt.’

‘And a good thing, too, for you can have nothing sensible to say. And so, your father sends you to me. And what am I to do with you, pray?’

‘Nothing, Aunt. I am ready to leave at once.’

‘So you can make mischief? I am seventy-eight years old, James. I have lived long enough in the world to know you will not accept the situation. Your father knows it, too, which is why he has charged me to keep you here until Harry and Eliza are married.’

‘And do you mean to do his bidding?’

‘You will keep a civil tongue in your head. I have no interest in doing your father’s bidding, but every interest in preventing you from making a mistake that will ruin your life. You will forget Eliza immediately and marry another heiress. It is too soon; you are too young; but it appears to be the only way to prevent your doing something foolish. Your sister has found a wife for you already, I gather, a Miss Heath. You will meet her tomorrow at my ball. You will flatter her and ask her to marry you, and Eliza will be forgotten. Is that understood? ’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ I said, for I certainly understood her.

‘Very well, you may go.’

As I left her, I thought, on reflection, that it was no bad thing that I would have to remain at Aunt Isabella’s for a time. Eliza would be safe at home, and as she would never consent to marrying my brother, I would have time to secure a position in a lawyer’s office and take lodgings, arranging both by letter. Then, with everything planned, it would be time to elope with Eliza, and we would have a life already waiting for us when we returned from Scotland.

Wednesday 1 July

After a good night’s sleep, I felt refreshed, and before breakfast, I wrote to Leyton, asking him to mention my name to his father with a view to finding me employment. I finished by requesting him to look for some respectable lodgings for us. Nothing too expensive, but the sort of place that would suit Eliza, I wrote to him.

I was half-afraid my aunt would read it after I had sent it to be posted, but the house was in a state of turmoil as last minute arrangements were being made for the ball, and the letter left the house with its seal unbroken.

I did my best to avoid the bustle as footmen carried chairs into the ballroom and set them against the walls for those guests who preferred not to dance, or arranged card-tables in the sitting room, or placed vases of flowers on console tables. Maids ran about with dusters and the housekeeper followed them, inspecting everything they had done and calling them back to finish any work they left half-finished.

I escaped into the library, where peace reigned, broken only by the ticking of the longcase clock. Dust motes swirled in the air, revealed by sudden beams of sunlight that danced in through the window and then dimmed as though crushed by the pervading gloom.

I thought of Eliza and wondered what she was doing. Having her dancing lessons and music lessons as usual, I supposed; listening to my father’s lectures; and counting the days until we were together again.

I had no enthusiasm for the ball but I knew it could not be avoided, so, dressed in my knee-breeches and ruffled shirt, I went downstairs as the guests began to arrive.

I headed towards the card room, meaning to spend the evening there, but my sister waylaid me. To my dismay, she had a vulgar-looking woman, accompanied by her daughter, in tow.

‘James, I want you to meet Mrs Heath and her charming daughter, Miss Heath,’ said my sister.

Mrs Heath was dressed in a gown more suited to court than a country ball. Her panniered gown was covered in swags and flounces, her hair was powdered and her cheeks were highly rouged. She walked with the air of a woman who thought she was in the height of fashion, but in this she was deluding herself, and my aunt’s friends pulled their skirts out of her way as she walked past.

Miss Heath was dressed with more restraint. Her hair was unpowdered and her face was unrouged, but she had her mother’s expression.

‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ said Mrs Heath. She turned to her daughter. ‘What d’you think of him, then, Sally? An ’andsome one, ain’t ’e? Look at ’is calves!’

I saw my sister shudder, and I believe only the sight of Miss Heath’s exquisitely matched pearls encouraged her to continue with the introduction.

I bowed politely but coldly.

‘Well, go on then, Mr Brandy, ain’t you going to ask ’er to dance?’ said Mrs Heath jovially.

I wished I was not a gentleman, for then I would have been able to walk away, but as it was, I offered Miss Heath my arm.

As I led her onto the floor, she looked around her, saying, ‘Coo, ain’t it grand?’

I wondered if my sister knew what kind of paragon she had picked for me to marry, or whether Miss Heath’s blue eyes, corn-coloured hair and thirty thousand pounds had blinded her to her protégée’s faults.

‘Miss Heath,’ I said. ‘I believe my sister has given you to understand ... that is, I want you to know that I am not in a position to marry. I am already in love, with a lady my family does not approve of — or, rather, they do not approve of her for me. If they have misled you in any way, then I apologize.’

‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she said, in completely different tones. ‘I am in love, too, with our curate. I am sorry if I embarrassed you, but I wanted to repulse you so that you would not offer for me. Mama wants me to marry into the gentry, you see, and so I have to humour her, but I would never be happy with rarefied people, living in a house like this. A country parsonage is where I belong, with people I know and love.’

‘Then we may enjoy our dance together,’ I said with relief.

‘We may indeed! And if you would care to dance with me again, and to take me into supper, we may be comfortable then as well. Our relations will be satisfied, for they will see us together, and so they will not plague us and tell us we are disobedient. I confess, it will be a relief, for I am tired of being paraded in front of the gentry like a prize mare and then berated for not being grateful.’

The orchestra began to play and we danced, talking, when we passed each other, of our loves, I of Eliza, and she of Mr Abelard.

Catherine smiled on me for paying attention to Miss Heath, and even my aunt managed something that passed for a smile when she saw me at supper, whilst Mrs Heath watched at us benignly and declared that I was a right ’un.

I danced with Miss Heath again after supper and we talked of our loves again, and the evening passed agreeably.

Thursday 2 July

The ball did not end until the early hours, and it was almost midday when Fildew pulled back my curtains this morning. I thought myself back at home to begin with, and leapt out of bed, eager to see Eliza. Then I remembered, and I dressed more slowly before going down to breakfast.

‘I told you how it would be,’ said my sister as I sat down beside her. She, too, had only just risen. She had finished her plate of rolls and was drinking a cup of chocolate. ‘Did I not predict this very thing? I knew you would forget Eliza. And who can blame you? Miss Heath is a charming young woman. There is everything in her favour. She has beauty and wealth, and, best of all, her mother approves of the match. But you still have work to do, and you must not rest until she is your fian cée. You need to propose to her whilst she is in the country, for after she finishes her visit in the neighbourhood she will be returning to town. She will no doubt be surrounded by suitors there, so you must ask her to be your wife in the next five weeks. You will marry quickly, in an autumn wedding, and then you will have finished your wedding tour in time for Christmas. You will be safely established in town by the new year, and George, and I can visit you for the Season.’

I listened in silence, glad that Miss Heath and I had come to an understanding, for I could not have borne my sister’s words otherwise, nor her determination to order my life.

Catherine took my silence to mean that I agreed with her, and continued to tell me what to do as I ate.

As soon as I had finished, I excused myself and went down to the stables, where I chose a suitable mount and I went out riding, relieved to be away from my relations and from the house.

As I wore off the worst of my frustrations, I found myself thinking of Leyton and hoping that he had received my letter, so that he could act for me whilst I was incapable of acting for myself. From there it was a short step for my thoughts to stray to Eliza, and to picture her in our new home.

I wished she was with me, for it was just the sort of morning she loved: fine, with hazy cloud and a light breeze to temper the glare of the sun.

When I returned to the house, my aunt summoned me to her sitting room. She was an impressive sight, with her hair powdered and arranged in a towering style and her brocade dress taking up most of the sofa.

‘Your sister tells me that you are making good progress with Miss Heath,’ she said. ‘She will no doubt be overawed by your style of living but that is all to the good as she will be eager to please. Your sister has an idea of visiting you for the Season, but if you have any sense, you will not allow your wife to use her London house once you are married, except out of season. A woman with a London house is prey to all sorts of temptations that do not exist in the countryside, and she is apt to forget her place. Well, boy?’

‘I was not aware that you needed an answer,’ I said.

‘Do not be impertinent. What do you have to say?’

‘Yes, Aunt,’ I replied.

It satisfied her, and she went on.

‘I have invited the Heaths to dine with us tomorrow. It will give Miss Heath an opportunity to become more intimately acquainted with the family, and it will give her a chance to exhibit. Her mother has spent a great deal on her education and she will wish her daughter, at the least, to play the pianoforte and to sing.’

‘I look forward to hearing her.’

‘As well you might. Miss Heath, so her mother tells me, is a proficient. I should not be surprised if she also plays the harp. You will compliment her on her taste, and you will say that it is a most superior performance. You will also compliment her mother on providing her with the very best masters. ’

I thought of Eliza’s music masters, and of her light touch, and of her sweet voice, and I smiled.

‘Why are you smirking?’ my aunt demanded.

‘I — nothing,’ I said.

‘You will not smirk tomorrow, or our guests will think you have a toothache. If you wish to smile, you will lift the corners of your mouth, like so.’

She demonstrated with a grimace, and I nodded my head.

She eyed me as though I was a poor specimen, and then, with a wave of her hand, she dismissed me. I left her sitting room to amuse myself by fishing and then by playing billiards with George.

Friday 3 July

I looked for a letter from Leyton this morning, but the only letters on the silver salver were for my aunt. I was not surprised, for although I had hoped for a letter, I knew I could not really expect anything so soon. I could not expect Leyton to leave his own business and attend to mine straight away, and so I hoped for a letter in a few days’ time.

I escaped the house with George and we rode into town. He had some business to attend to and so we parted, he to go to his lawyer’s office and I to go to the local inn. Once there, I was tempted to write a letter to Eliza, but I knew it would be hopeless because my father would not let her see it, so I contained myself, thinking that, God willing, it would not be long before we were together again.

When I returned to the house, I found that the table had already been laid for dinner. The party was to be a small one, just ourselves, Mrs and Miss Heath, the Bormans and the Maidstones. I was thankful for it as I had no mind for company.

‘Do you like Miss Heath?’ asked George idly as we went into the billiard room.

‘She is very agreeable,’ I replied vaguely.

‘Agreeable before marriage is not the same as agreeable afterwards,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I know. Stand out against them, my boy, if you do not wish to marry; and I am sure you do not wish it. Let them blow and bluster, and then go back to Oxford and forget all about it.’

I was glad of his support, and we passed the time with a game or two before we changed for dinner.

The Heaths arrived promptly, a fact which would have annoyed my aunt had she not been so desirous of my marrying Miss Heath.

Miss Heath was looking very pretty, and if I had not been in love with Eliza, I believe I might have been in some danger, for I knew her to be agreeable and intelligent as well, but as my feelings were already attached, I could approach her without risk. We fell into conversation, and were smiled upon by those around us.

Dinner was announced, and Mrs Heath entertained us by comparing my aunt’s plate to her own. She then launched into a description of her wealth.

‘Folks say Miss Stallybrooks is an heiress, but she’s no more than twenty thousand pounds. My Sally’ll ’ave thirty thousand pounds when she marries. What d’you say to that?’ she asked, looking at each of us triumphantly.

Miss Heath murmured, ‘Mama,’ reproachfully, but did no more, being well used to her mother’s ways.

My aunt ignored her, whilst my sister murmured, ‘De lightful.’ Mrs Borman hid a smile and Mrs Maidstone looked shocked.

‘And an ’ouse in town,’ added Mrs Heath, for good measure. ‘Nothing but the best for our girl, that’s what ’er pa and me decided. Got to look after ’em, eh, Lady Graves?’ she asked of my aunt.

‘Lady Greaves,’ corrected her daughter.

‘Children!’ said Mrs Heath indulgently. ‘What would we do without ’em? D’you ’ave any children, Mrs Poorman?’ she asked Mrs Borman, who murmured that she had two, a girl and a boy.

‘Grown up by now, I’ll be bound,’ she said.

‘Henry is seven and Katherine is five,’ replied Mrs Borman repressively.

‘Lawks, I took you for forty!’ said Mrs Heath. ‘And you, Mrs Mandibles? D’you ’ave any little ’uns to bless your ’earth?’

Mrs Maidstone dabbed her mouth fastidiously with her napkin and revealed that she had five, the eldest being fourteen and the youngest seven.

‘A fine family,’ said Mrs Heath. ‘Me and Arthur wanted a fine family, but — ’

Fearing a description of Mrs Heath’s troubles, my sister cut in with, ‘Do you play, Miss Heath?’

‘A little,’ said Miss Heath.

‘A little! Lawks! The best player in the country is my Sally,’ said Mrs Heath. ‘All the masters said so. “Ain’t my Sally the best little thing you’ve ever ’eard?” I used to ask them, and they all agreed, every one!’

‘Mama,’ said Miss Heath, shaking her head.

‘You must perform for us after dinner,’ said my aunt.

‘There you are, Sally. Singing for a Lady!’ said Mrs Heath, much pleased.

The ladies soon withdrew, and the gentlemen lingered over the port.

We talked of the political situation, but at last we could delay no longer and we joined the ladies. Miss Heath was sitting at the pianoforte when we entered the drawing room, and she was soon persuaded to play. She had a fine voice and it was a pleasure to listen to her as she entertained us.

‘What d’you think of that?’ asked Mrs Heath triumphantly, as Miss Heath came to the end of her song.

‘A fine performance,’ said my sister. ‘Do you not agree, James?’

‘Very fine,’ I said with a smile at Miss Heath.

‘There you are, Mrs Mandrake,’ said Mrs Heath. ‘Pay for the best masters, and one day your little ’uns could be playing like that.’

Mrs Maidstone did not deign to reply.

The party then broke into groups, some playing cards, some gossiping, and some turning over the pages of a fashion journal. The evening passed agreeably enough, but I was glad when it was over, all the same, for I would swap a dozen such evenings if I could spend one moment with Eliza.

Saturday 18 July

At last! I heard from Leyton today. He would have replied sooner, but he was away from home when my letter arrived. He promised to speak to his father and he assured me that he would search for some suitable lodgings.

My father will soon be going to London and I must have everything ready, for then I can rescue Eliza and take her to her new life. I am looking forward to it. It will be difficult, at first, for we will not have a proper establishment when we are married, but we are young and strong, and as long as we are together, then nothing else matters.

I hope that Leyton will be able to find some lodgings with a garden, for I do not want Eliza to be separated from her precious roses. But, good fellow that he is, I am sure he will find something that will suit.

Monday 27 July

My aunt summoned me to her sitting room this morning. She was dressed in her usual style, in heavy brocade and with an elaborate wig that extended her height by eight inches. When I entered the room, she was seated at her desk, and she held a letter in her hand.

‘You wanted to see me, Aunt?’

She raised her lorgnette and looked at me through it for a full minute before speaking. Then she lowered it and said, ‘Your father has written to me and desires me to tell you that you may return home whenever you wish.’

I was astonished, and then I thought, Of course! He has seen that he will never have his way, and he has relented.

I could not hide my joy, for now there was no need for me to approach the house in stealth. I could go home and marry Eliza in church, for if my father had seen that she would never marry anyone else, then he must surely give his permission for her to marry me.

I did not deceive myself. I knew that her fortune was the temptation for him, and that, seeing she would not marry my brother, he had decided she had better marry me, for in that way her fortune would enrich the Brandons. But I did not care about the reason, just so long as Eliza could be mine.

I wondered when he would allow us to marry. Would he make us wait until I was of age? Or would he be so eager to secure her fortune that he would let us marry at once? The latter, I hoped, for once Eliza was mine, he could not change his mind.

‘You are pleased?’ asked my aunt.

‘I am. I thought he meant to stick to his word and forbid me the house until Eliza had married Harry. But now, everything will be different.’

‘Your father has many faults, but going back on his word is not one of them,’ said my aunt. ‘He has stuck to his word, as you put it. Eliza was married yesterday.’

I could not take it in. I was bemused.

‘I do not understand you,’ I managed to say at last.

‘It is simple enough. Eliza and Harry are now married, and as they have embarked on their wedding tour, your father feels it is safe for you to return to the house.’

‘But this is impossible,’ I said, wondering what game my father was playing.

‘I cannot see why you are so surprised,’ she remarked, looking at me as though I were a half-wit. ‘You knew they were to marry.’

‘But Eliza would not marry my brother. She does not love him. She does not like him. She has given me her word that she will not consent to the match.’

‘A word like that means nothing. No young woman can give her word to a young man without her guardian’s approval. Come, come, now, you must have known how it would be; that, with time, her own conscience and common sense would show her that she was in the wrong. It would have been nonsensical for her to refuse a good marriage on nothing more than a whim.’

‘A whim, you call it? Love is a vast deal more than a whim,’ I said, still not knowing whether to believe it or not.

‘Whatever the case, she is now married; and you, I might remind you, are as good as engaged to Miss Heath.’

I gave an exclamation of disgust.

‘I mean nothing to Miss Heath and she means nothing to me.’

My aunt raised her thin eyebrows and looked at me again through her lorgnette.

‘You cannot mean to say you have been making love to her all this time without any serious intentions? Such conduct is unbecoming for a gentleman.’

‘She knows my intentions, and I know hers,’ I remarked.

‘And you know hers?’ demanded my aunt sharply. ‘Pray, what do you mean by that?’

I regretted my hasty words, for I was not willing to give her away.

‘Nothing,’ I said.

But my aunt was not so easily satisfied.

‘I will not be trifled with. You have declared that you know Miss Heath’s intentions, and you will be so good as to tell me what you mean.’

‘I mean nothing, Aunt.’

‘You have been a considerable disappointment to your family all your life, James. I suggest you make amends for it by being frank with me now.’

‘I have nothing further to say to you. Since my father has given me leave to return home, that is what I intend to do. I will leave at once.’

‘You will leave when I say you may go.’

‘No, Aunt, I will leave now,’ I said.

And without waiting for further argument, I left the room.

I packed my things myself, not wishing to involve any of my aunt’s servants in case they incurred my aunt’s wrath, and ran down the stairs.

‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’ asked my sister, coming out of the drawing room.

‘Home.’

‘But you have been forbidden — ’

‘My father has changed his mind.’

‘But what am I to say to Miss Heath?’

‘Pray tell her that I wish her happy,’ I said.

She attempted to argue further, but I ran on through the hall and out the front door, arriving in the stables where I had a horse saddled and, accompanied by a groom, rode to the stage. There I dismounted, and telling the groom to lead my mount back to the stables, I waited for the coach.

How different were my feelings from the last time I had taken a stagecoach. Then, I had been full of happiness, for I had been going to see Eliza. Now, I was full of apprehension, for I did not know what I would find at home.

Tuesday 28 July

I travelled overnight and arrived at Delaford before dawn, when the birds were just beginning to wake and the air was full of promise. But what did it promise for me? Good or ill?

Good, surely. Eliza could not have married Harry. She would never have agreed to it, and my father could not have forced her to the altar if she had refused. He did not have so much influence in the neighbourhood that he could compel Mr Liddle to perform the ceremony when the bride was unwilling, and Eliza did not lack the courage to tell him that she was being coerced.

Then, too, there were the neighbours. My father did not court their company, but he had too much family pride to turn them against him by committing such a monstrous act.

But why, then, did my aunt say that Eliza had married? To persuade me that the case was hopeless, and so encourage me to offer for Miss Heath? Perhaps. But why, then, was I allowed to go home, where I would discover the truth for myself?

Unless my father had sent her to London and had lured me home so that, when I found her missing, I would believe the evidence of my own eyes, as I would not necessarily believe his assertions, and believe that all was lost.

It seemed only too likely.

With a lighter heart I shouldered my bag and completed the last part of my journey on foot.

The early morning mist was covering the lake, like a quilt covering a sleeper who had not yet awoken. There was a hush in the air, a sense of expectancy, and I lingered there, unwilling to go on, for I knew that the morning would either bring me the fulfilment of my dreams or else dash my hopes for ever.

The birds began to sing more lustily and the mist began to rise from the lake. Morning was coming in earnest and I could delay no longer.

I went in to the house through a side door and I went upstairs, calling for Eliza, softly at first and then more rousingly, until I had reached the door of her room. Throwing decorum aside, I went in and found it empty. Her hair brush was not on the dressing table. There was an air of abandonment everywhere.

This only tells me that she has left the house, I reminded myself.

I went downstairs, and then, deciding there was only one way to know for sure, I began to walk, then run, to the village and to the church. The venerable building, with its Norman spire, was serene in the early morning light. The low sun was casting long shadows from the tombstones in the graveyard, and from the body of the church itself.

I approached from the east, with the sun on my back, and went in. I felt the cold as soon as I stepped through the door, and I shivered.

I looked around me for the register and saw it on the lectern. I went over to it and opened it with trembling hands. And there was recorded the marriage of Eliza Williams and Henry Brandon, concluded three days before.

I reeled. It could not be.

But it was.

I went outside and sank down amongst the gravestones, feeling I belonged there, amongst the dead.

How had it happened? How had she been induced to marry?

I let out a wail, and my cry was heard.

Mrs Upland, an elderly widow, came to my side and looked at me pityingly. She put a hand on my shoulder.

‘You are the Brandon boy? ’ she asked me.

I turned my face to hers.

‘Ah,’ she said, recognizing me, for she had often seen me out walking or riding with Eliza.

I sat up, ashamed of my tears.

‘You are mourning Miss Williams?’

‘You know what happened?’ I asked, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. Then I remembered that she had a granddaughter who had just started as a maid at the house. ‘How did they persuade her to marry my brother? There must have been some trickery involved.’

‘There was no trickery, but there was great unkindness,’ she said.

I began to grow angry. What had my father done to her?

I listened as she told me that Eliza had been confined to her room. She had not been allowed any society, and her virtual imprisonment had been the talk of the neighbourhood.

I was angry with myself. Why had I not returned sooner? Why had I not guessed what they would do? With no one to turn to, she had been ground down, until at last, in a moment of weakness, she had given her consent to the union, and had then been married by special licence before she could take it back.

I thanked Mrs Upland for her kind words and left her to lay her flowers on her husband’s grave, for though he had died ten years earlier, she still placed fresh flowers there every day.

Without any idea of what I was going to do, I started walking towards the house. I grew more and more angry as I went on. I entered through the French windows and went straight into my father’s study. He was there, sitting at his desk, his quill in his hand as he examined a pile of papers.

He looked up when I entered the room, and then continued with his work.

‘So, you are home.’

‘Yes, sir, I am home, and I demand an answer from you. What did you mean by it, blighting the happiness of a young woman, your own ward, for ever? When I think of the inducements, nay the cruelties, you used to get her to consent to the match — ’

‘How very dramatic you are,’ he said drily, without favouring me with so much as a look. ‘You speak as though I locked her in a dungeon and fed her on bread and water.’

‘You locked her in her room — ’

‘Which is a comfortable apartment, decorated to her own taste, complete with a sitting room, filled with needlework, paints and other amusements to help her to pass the time.’

‘You deprived her of society — ’

‘She had her companion.’

‘ — and frightened her into the match.’

‘Not a bit of it. She saw the folly of clinging to you when she knew I would never consent to the match, and she grew to like your brother. He presented himself to her in a sober condition and sat with her on many occasions in her sitting room, taking her gifts, and telling her of the happy future that awaited her as his wife.’

‘She would never have married him if she had not been ground down. You cannot deny it, for if she had changed her mind freely, then there would have been no need for a hurried wedding, nor any need to forbid me the house until she was married.’

‘Whatever the case, she is married now, and in London, which means that there is no purpose to your rantings. Accept it. It is done.’

‘Never.’

‘Now that she has gone, you may stay here for as long as you wish,’ he said, as though I had not spoken.

‘Remain here, where every corner reminds me of her?’ I asked in disbelief. ‘Where I have to see you every day, and be reminded of the heinous thing you have done?’

‘Then return to Oxford, and go on with your studies,’ he said, whilst giving nine tenths of his attention to his papers, and only one tenth to me. ‘Let me know when you achieve your ambitions. Perhaps I will employ you as my clerk.’

To say more was useless. I left the study, passing my hand over my eyes as I reached the hall, and then, turning my back on Delaford, I walked to the stage post and at last boarded the stage for Oxford.

As it travelled away from the neighbourhood, I felt myself travelling away from all my happiness in life, into a future that was cold and dark.

Wednesday 29 July

My thoughts were in turmoil this morning, for I knew I could not resume my studies without the backing of my father, and I was determined never to touch his money, or anything of his. Besides, the idea of becoming a lawyer was suddenly abhorrent to me, for its purpose had been to support Eliza and without that purpose there was no point to it.

I was in the midst of this turmoil when the stagecoach stopped at the Black Swan. Feeling tired, for I had not eaten since yesterday, I left the stage and went inside. I ordered a plate of mutton and sat in a corner, not wanting company, but as luck would have it, company found me anyway, and company of a sort to do me good.

‘Brandon? Brandon, is that you? It is!’

I looked up to see Geoffrey Parker and his uncle.

‘You look as though you need some company,’ he said.

My mood began to lift at the sight of his friendly face, for we had been friends at Oxford, and when he asked me how my family was, and how Eliza was, saying, ‘Is she as pretty as ever? No, don’t tell me, she is prettier!’ I broke down and told him everything.

‘And now I must find something to do with myself, or go mad,’ I finished.

‘You should join the army,’ said his uncle.

It turned out he had some influence and he promised to help me if I had a mind to enlist.

‘I have a little money from my mother,’ I said. ‘How much would it cost me to buy a commission?’

He gave me all the particulars and I saw that it could be done.

‘You will have activity, employment and company,’ he said, ‘all good things for a man in your condition.’

I began to see a future for myself; not the future I had wanted, but one in which I could at least be respectable and respected.

It was little enough, but it was better than the alternative, to spend my days sunk in despair, lost in the past, a past to which I could never return.

And so I thanked him, and asked him to use his influence, and now, who knows what the future holds?

Tuesday 6 October

‘It was a bad business, a very bad business,’ said Leyton, shaking his head, as we met again for the first time in months, in Oxford, an Oxford changed for me for ever, for it was no longer the scene of youthful hopes, but the scene of a fool’s paradise.

I told him what had happened to me.

‘I wondered why you had changed your mind about the lodgings,’ he said, ‘but when your letter arrived two months ago, I was too busy to wonder very much, and I am only sorry the reason was such a sad one. I can understand why you did not feel you could continue at Oxford, but whatever induced you to buy a commission?’

I could not help thinking that if things had been otherwise, our conversation would not have been about my plan of going into the army, it would have been about the lodgings he had found for Eliza and me, and our future in Oxford.

‘I had to do something,’ I said. ‘I thought the bustle of a new career would distract my thoughts, but I still think about her constantly. I cannot stay in England, and I plan to purchase an exchange.’

‘Where will you go?’

‘The Indies. Once I am far away, I must hope to forget her, as I must hope she forgets me.’

He looked at me doubtfully.

‘I must hope she forgets me,’ I said. ‘How else can there be any happiness for her? If she remembers what we were to each other and compares it with what she has now ... But if Harry treats her well, if she has friends and fine clothes and parties, with plenty of distractions, I am persuaded she can be happy in her new life.’

He looked at me pityingly, for he knew I believed it as little as he did.

But Eliza was married. She was beyond my reach. If I went to her, I would dishonour her, and so I must go far away.

‘Give it some time before you purchase your exchange,’ he said. ‘You will grow more accustomed to the situation with time, and you will find a hundred miles as efficacious a distance as a thousand.’

‘I do not trust myself with only a hundred miles between us. I must have half the globe, or else what is to prevent me from going to her and ruining her? For to live without her is agony. I must have occupation, and change, and distance from Eliza.’

He looked at me sympathetically then turned the subject, trying to take my mind from my troubles by his lively conversation. I was grateful to him, but it did no good. I could not tear my thoughts from Eliza.