3
Next morning Elizabeth was awoken at seven o’clock by Justina’s maid, with instructions to dress at her leisure and go to the drawing room. The maid, Sarah, ordered mint tea and warm water for washing before deftly pinning Elizabeth’s hair. In comparison with Longbourn these ministrations were calm and unobtrusive: no mad sisters rushing around; no hysterical cries of ‘Hill!’ from Mrs Bennet. In the quiet of the back room Elizabeth could hear faint piano exercises from the first floor.
Outside the drawing room Elizabeth listened to a four-octave scale in thirds, an exploit she had never attempted. Should she enter or wait? With a shrug she advanced: it was only an exercise after all. Lady Justina paid her no attention until the impossible-sounding scale was completed, then swivelled to face her.
Elizabeth bobbed. ‘Good morning.’
A glare. ‘You took your time.’
Elizabeth studied her, noticing hair roughly pinned and a plain comfortable dress, and with mock remorse replied, ‘So sorry, your ladyship. I was unaware you needed help.’
Justina grinned. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t ask you. And you don’t need to call me your ladyship.’
‘Madam? Miss Selborn?’
‘Justina. Except in company naturally. So, Elizabeth. Can you write musical notation?’
‘I’ve never tried. But I don’t see why not.’
‘I want to make a set of exercises for the last movement of the Waldstein. The idea is to practise something similar but harder, until the actual notes become easy. I’ll make up phrases. You write them down.’
They began to work, and in her absorption Justina shed her mocking manner and showed hints of genuine friendliness. At first Elizabeth made errors in the bass clef, but these were calmly corrected, and soon she had the hang of it and Justina no longer bothered to check.
A maid entered, announcing breakfast in ten minutes, and Elizabeth saw they had been working over an hour.
‘Do you need to smarten up?’ Justina asked.
‘You tell me.’
A shrug. ‘It’s informal. I’ll go as I am.’
‘Then so will I.’
‘I’d like to try the last movement all the way through. Can you turn the pages?’
Elizabeth stood at her shoulder, following the score and wondering how one was supposed to play it with only two hands. Justina made mistakes, groaned, slowed down, tried again, but Elizabeth noticed she was never tentative. Every gesture, whether forceful or delicate, was incisive.
‘There!’ Justina rose. ‘What did you make of that?’
‘I discerned, ah, scope for improvement.’
Justina laughed, and took Elizabeth’s arm. ‘Breakfast.’
Lord Selborn had dined at his club the evening before, so Elizabeth was meeting him for the first time. Even though older than his wife, he was lean and handsome, with coppery grey hair brushed well back, a fine brow, straight nose, strong chin, intelligent eyes: the resemblance to Justina was striking. As befitted a diplomat he radiated controlled elegance, in dress as well as manner. The dark navy frock-coat fitted perfectly, as did a perfectly starched white shirt ruffled at the neck. Eggs, ham, kidneys, rolls, and fruit were laid out on silver platters, in quantities far too large for four people. Having greeted Elizabeth formally, Lord Selborn paid her no mind, talking instead to his wife about a group of Greek islands, including Corfu, transferred earlier that week from French to British rule. This transaction, apparently, would be of great benefit to the inhabitants, who in addition to modern methods of transport and education, would learn to appreciate afternoon tea and cricket.
Eventually Lord Selborn’s attention shifted to Justina, and he asked mildly, ‘Practice finished for today?’
Justina glanced at her mother, and sighed. ‘Papa, you know I do three hours a day at the minimum. Signor Forlani would prefer I did four.’
‘Four hours a day, devoted to a pastime in which you are already proficient?’ He sighed. ‘Are there not more important ways to pass one’s time, even for a member of the fair sex? Music is not essential. It is merely, so to speak, icing on the cake.’
There was an awkward silence in which Justina looked resigned rather than angry, as if she had endured such comments many times before. Lady Selborn calmly carried on eating. On impulse, Elizabeth faced Lord Selborn and said, ‘If I may offer an observation, sir …’
He regarded her curiously. ‘Yes?’
‘I understand that gentlemen such as yourself do vital work to keep our society peaceful and prosperous. But in the end, what is it all for? Not just to stay alive, surely, but to experience delight in all its forms, one of which, for me at least, is music. In which case, should we not esteem the skilled musician, or artist, as much as the soldier, or doctor, or statesman?’
Elizabeth flushed, having said more than she intended, as all three Selborns regarded her with shock. Eventually Lord Selborn resumed eating, and replied in his usual mild tone, ‘You give your opinion very freely, Miss, ah …’
‘Bennet,’ Lady Selborn said.
‘Pardon me.’ He smiled indulgently. ‘I fear, young lady, that you will never excel in diplomacy. But I admire courage. And you have it.’
Elizabeth was moved by this shift from severity to kindness. ‘I should apologise, sir, for my outburst.’
‘No need.’ He spread his palms. ‘Let’s forget it and enjoy our breakfast.’
When Lord Selborn left for the library, Lady Selborn whispered to Elizabeth, ‘May I have a word?’
‘Of course.’ Elizabeth paused. ‘I should tell Justina …’
‘She can practise alone. Let us go to the morning room, which is at the back of the house beside the garden.’
They passed a servery and a privy, and reached a sitting room; looking through the French window Elizabeth saw a tiny lawn covered with leaves from a row of cherry trees.
‘A bit dreary now,’ Lady Selborn said. ‘But in summer we sit out and take afternoon tea. If I may ask, how are you finding it here?’
‘You have been most generous. Regarding the dresses, I mean, and the bedchamber, which is lovely.’
‘And Justina?’
‘She is challenging. But never dull.’
‘I was struck at breakfast by your loyalty to her, which I think lay behind your response to my husband.’
Elizabeth was impressed by Lady Selborn’s perceptiveness. ‘I could not bear the implication that your daughter’s application and talent were being frittered on an activity of no importance.’
A nod. ‘I feel the same way. It is one reason I serve as a patron of the London Philarmonic.’
‘Then why …’
‘Why did I not speak up?’ Lady Selborn smiled. ‘I have seen a great deal of society, Miss Bennet. Our social circle embraces the most powerful men in the land. My husband contributes to decisions that affect millions of people both at home and abroad. He is at heart a kind and reasonable gentleman, but not accustomed to having his opinions refuted by any lady—and certainly not one in his employ.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t misunderstand.’ Lady Selborn raised a finger. ‘I believe a woman may, on occasion, think more clearly than a man. But she must make her point subtly. A gentleman feels uncomfortable debating with a lady. To lose feels humiliating. To win feels unchivalrous.’
‘So what can we do instead?’
‘Guide his thoughts to the correct conclusion, while giving him the impression that the idea was his own.’
Elizabeth paused, taking this in.
‘I am too—forthright?’
‘You grew up, you said, in a household with no men except a tolerant father. I would guess that in such a family you would acquire a habit of speaking plainly. If I may hazard a guess, this would explain why you have received only two offers of marriage, both unsatisfactory.’
Again Elizabeth hardly knew what to say. Whether Lady Selborn was correct was hard to say; but she was certainly persuasive.