Jane and the Unpleasantness at Scargrave Manor by Stephanie Barron Read Free Book Online

windows. I had only tucked myself behind them, doing violence to my hair and gown, when the door was thrust open and a gentleman burst from the room, the fury of his words propelling him with like energy from the Earl's presence.
    I stole a look around the curtain edge, certain to see Lord Harold—and found myself confronted, to my astonishment, with George Hearst, the Lieutenant's older brother. What could it mean? The gloomy ecclesiastic, revealed as a man of hot temper?
    Mr. Hearst was not a moment gone when the Earl himself appeared in the hall, his face reddened as with apoplexy. I remembered then Isobel's care for her husband's health, and smiled. It was not an excess of claret that plagued the Earl, but a surfeit of family; and of this, no one was likely to cure him.
    The Earl made for the ballroom, and after an instant's pause to right my feather and settle the clumps of curls about my cheeks, I followed my host. I was in time to see him raise a glass before the assembly to his newly-won bride, drink it to the dregs, and double over in a fit of acute dyspepsia. Protesting and declaring himself to be very well, our host was borne from the room on the broad backs of two footmen, an anxious Isobel in his wake; and so the revels ended.
    I WAS JUST NOW RETURNED TO THE PRESENT BY ISOBEL'S appearance at my door.
    “Jane,” she said, with great steadiness, “the crisis is passed.”
    “God be thanked!” I cried, and threw down my pen.
    “Is He, indeed?” She gave me a strange look. “You mistake my meaning. The crisis is passed, my dear friend, and the Earl is dead.”
    I went to her in an instant, my countenance conveying all my sorrow, and bent her head upon my breast. But Isobel had no tears; her beautiful sherry-coloured eyes were blank and unseeing, her form as rigid as the Earl lying cold within her marriage bed. I released her without a word, feeling as though my heart should break, and watched her tortured progress down the corridor.
    At my window now, I pull back the heavy draperies smelling of must, and gaze out upon a desolate dawn. No sun shall rise today for human eyes to see; the world entire is wrapped round in whirling white, an impenetrable cloud of cold and ice that chills the heart as it freezes the ground. Scargrave's vast parkland is adrift, its black trees etched like wraiths against the grey sky of morning. I think of Frederick, Earl of Scargrave—of his soul gone forth too soon from earthly happiness, and on such a frigid day—and I am consumed with sorrow for all of mortal men. What are last night's revels, its frivolities and petty triumphs, against the magnitude of the grave? I let fall the draperies, blocking out the snow, and shiver in my nightdress.
    I came into Hertfordshire seeking diversion; and what I have found is Death, in more vivid and horrible a form than I had yet been taught to expect. I may take it as my reward for cowardice—for so such a flight from one's worst nature is always revealed—to witness the agonising end of the Earl of Scargrave, and be utterly powerless to reverse it.
1. It is possible that Austen eventually turned Fitzroy, Viscount Payne into her most famous male character, Fitzwilliam Darcy, although strong evidence is lacking. First Impressions , in which Darcy is the main male character, was written in 1796, and rejected for publication in 1797. Later retitled Pride and Prejudice , it was revised substantially in late 1802 or early 1803, following Austen's visit to Scargrave, and again before publication in 1812.— Editor's note.



14 December 1802
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    THE LIVING EVER FEEL UNEASE, WHEN THE DEAD ARE IN residence.
    I had determined to leave for Bath the morning after the Earl's death, believing such a passing to be a family burden; but Isobel would have me stay, and so here at Scargrave I remain, tip-toeing along its labyrinth of corridors and hoping to draw as little notice as possible. Upon further acquaintance, the Manor is revealed as an incongenial