This blog explores social attitudes in Jane Austen's time, discusses her novels, reviews forgotten 18th century novels, and throws some occasional shade at the modern academy. The introductory post is here. My "six simple questions for academics" post is here. |
As I finish the third volume, I am disappointed that there haven't been any big revelations or plot twists. Not that any of the characters were implying that there was some Big Secret. We continue with the angst of the secret forbidden love some young people are holding in their hearts, due to the obduracy of Viscount Fortescue. Everyone says he's a great guy, very humane, very just, very intelligent--it's just that he will not consider dropping the family feud with the De Courcis. I've provided an updated family tree below the break.
If angst and some fine purple prose is your thing, there is plenty to be had in this book. Everybody is pining for somebody....
After that brief and passionate tussle in the garden, Sidney Fortescue reasons himself out of love with Elvira, who is not worthy of his affections, and into love with Julia Aveland, who is worthy. So he proposes to Julia, both families are delighted, they get married. But Lady Elvira liked having Sidney hanging around eating his heart out for her. She goes hysterical at the news and even rushes out of the house to destroy herself. Thanks to the combined pleading of Henry and Angeline, she pulls herself together and a scandal is averted. Their joint action gives Henry and Angeline another chance to admire each other's virtue and conduct. Lady Elvira goes off with her husband Everard Wrottesley to his country seat, vowing to try to be a good wife and a better human being. So she is off stage for most of Volume III.
Meanwhile....
Reginald, who was very ill from filial distress, is reconciled with his father, the current earl and uncle of Elvira and Angeline. Reginald's wife Mary is accepted into the family and is brought to London to be presented at court. All the family and their friends are kind and welcoming to her, even though she is not of noble stock. So, a big problem (being disowned for marrying beneath him) is solved when dad just drops the issue.
RIP to Henry's wife Lucinda Fortescue, who went to the ball in defiance of her husband and her doctor, and collapsed. "Mrs. Fortescue, on her return home, was immediately put to bed, and [the doctor] sent for; but he had little comfort to afford her anxious relations. A constant succession of fainting fits brought on a premature labour, and Henry lost his infant and its imprudent mother at the same moment.” Everyone is sad, but that doesn't keep them from observing that she should have cut back on the dissipation. Henry is now a widower. That changes nothing between him and Adeline because of the family feud.
Angels of Charity
Since they live side by side in a London suburb during the Season, the young people of the two families run into each other when they bring charitable assistance to an impoverished widow with eight children to feed. The young people vie with each other to help. The older children are taken on as servants, the youngest are given clothes and fees so they can attend school. Little five-year-old Harry sets a very high bar for urchin purity and gratitude: he rejoices that with the guinea Angeline gave him, he can buy his mother a dress fit for going to church in. “I am happy, so happy, that my dear mammy can go to church and pray to God to bless your ladyship and the other ladies who have been so good to us.”
Most of the extended De Courci family heads off for the summer to the castle by the lake, including the dowager Lady Desmond, Emma De Courci as was. She revisits the haunts of her girlhood, the place where she said goodbye to Henry that final time (Henry senior that is) 23 years ago. She soliloquizes in the place where they used to meet, the root house, while he is busy soliloquizing on the other side of the lake.
You would think all the young people would drag the two of them together to see if they still love each other. It couldn't make things any worse than they are. But no, if anyone is going to attempt a sneak reunion I'm guessing the loyal servants, Phoebe and Robarts, will scheme to get their master and mistress together in Volume IV. We'll see.
Cecil and Robert, Lord Desmond (Lady Desmond's son) start meeting in secret with Lady Angeline serving as their chaperone. Cecil gradually confesses her love to Lord Desmond; they vow eternal constancy, they exchange rings. “Ah!” cried his lordship, in an agony of despair. “the attainment of my wishes has only increased my misery. I shall see you, beloved of my soul, compelled to give your hand to another, while my tortured heart is racked…”
“Never can I be your’s, my lord; yet never will I become the wife of another.”
Ah, I can imagine my little clutch of milliner's apprentices sighing over that one.
One night, Angeline comes alone to explain that Robert couldn't make it. Henry stumbles across the clandestine meeting and reminds the girls that this is filial disobedience. A widower now, Henry is yearning to clasp Angeline to his bosom, but his respect for his father prevents it. “Well do I know the fixed determination of my father remains as unshaken as ever… Great have been his sufferings, great may be mine, but they will ever remain unknown to the Viscount.” Angeline admits that he is right, she shouldn't have been chaperoning the lovers, and she prepares to sail back home.
“I will fetch our boat, and see her safe across the lake.” Henry tells Cecil. “No,” replied [Angeline] with firmness. “I cannot accept your company. The wind, which is now rising, will enable me soon to regain the forbidden shore.”
Well! was I surprised when she did get safely back across the lake--no incidents whatsoever, and after a lead-up like that! Strange thing about that lake, when you consider the number of times the ladies have crossed it without having a boating accident and requiring rescue. Still have another volume to go, of course.
So, we have the Viscount holding his grudges on one side of the lake, and the girl who was torn from him, Lady Emma, on the other side of the lake, and the young people are all miserable. What to do... what to do?
Predictions. I still hope that the long-dead Cecil (of the older generation, not the current Cecil) will show up, or that we get some kind of a twist revelation. Otherwise, after some more angst, the Viscount and Lady Desmond will meet, the Viscount will relent on the feud and meet Lady Desmond's son and see how nice he is and he will allow Cecil to marry him. Henry will declare his love for Lady Angeline. Elvira, if reformed, will grow attached to her husband, and Sidney and Julia are already happily married. Maybe the author will marry a minor character to Angeline's rejected suitor, because someone has to address the problem of handsome, rich, eligible, well-principled young noblemen who can't find wives.
One problem with the tale is that the "good" girls --Cecil, Angeline, Julia, and Mary -- are identical. Virtuous, beautiful, accomplished, prone to weeping, etc. And with Elvia offstage rebooting herself, Volume III has no antagonist except for the Viscount and he is also offstage most of the time. So I hope the author can offer us more than this ongoing angst. This impasse can be cleared up easily if the Viscount relents and maybe reconciles with his long-lost love Emma, but it will be a letdown if the problem that is cleared up quite easily. So I am hoping for an additional plot twist.
I wondered why a poor widow was living so close to the posh people in the posh neighbourhood. My question has been answered by this website which explains: "Working class people lived in the service streets behind opulent townhouses. Narrow alleys with slum tenements snaked between broader roads lined with tradesmen’s homes." It was before the days of zoning bylaws, basically.
Root House
Why were the lovers meeting in the "root house" by the lake? This term confused me, because I could only think of a root cellar. They were meeting a place designed for storing potatoes? I did a bit of digging (ha) and found that in 18th century English gardens, a little picturesque cottage, called a "root house" might be built with some roots attached--perhaps in or beside some huge burls or roots of an old oak. I could not find a representative picture but here is a description of one: “A foot bridge crossing the rivulet unites with this building, and seems to form a part of it. This little edifice is erected of the simplest materials, has two openings, one the door of entrance, and the other nearly opposite, hanging over the stream. In the root-house are a few chairs and tables of the simplest construction; the walls ornamented with knots of crab-trees fantastically arranged, and the floor composed of various-coloured pebbles.”
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