“Such a pleasure, madam,” said Byron, reaching out to take her hand and bring it to his lips.
Mrs. Ditterswith flushed, pleased by this. Mrs. Ditterswith was a widow, but she was not that old, leastwise not to Jane’s thinking. She was but three and thirty, and she could likely catch the eye of another man and remarry, for she’d had no children in her first marriage.
However, currently, Mrs. Ditterswith seemed content to busy herself with the comings and goings of Alton. She was rail thin, incredibly short, and yet she seemed to cut an imposing figure. She carried herself with an air that bespoke her own inner assurance that she was very important.
“I have already heard tell of you,” said Byron.
“Have you?” Mrs. Dittersworth brought her hand back to her chest.
“Oh, yes,” said Byron. “I’ve heard your teas are legendary. I’ve been wondering what one must do to be invited to one—”
“Oh, you must come to tea, yes, you simply must,” said Mrs. Ditterswith. “Would you really acquiesce to such a thing?”
“But of course,” said Byron.
“Marvelous,” said Mrs. Ditterswith. “Tomorrow, then.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” said Byron. “And it goes without saying that Miss Austen may come?”
“Oh, quite, of course,” said Mrs. Ditterswith. “You, Miss Austen, and your sister and mother are very welcome.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“YES, BUT IT’Snot really a tea,” said Cassandra. “It’s some exercise in madness that you and Byron have embarked upon. You aren’t really solving a murder. What you’re doing is having a bit of a lark finding out all the deepest and darkest hidden things about our neighbors.”
“It’s not a lark,” said Jane.
She and Cassandra were speaking in the sitting room that evening. Their mother was on the opposite side of the room, knitting, and she wasn’t looking up at them, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t listening to everything they were saying.
“Oh, but you don’t deny the rest of it?” said Cassandra.
“It does seem to be going that way, but neither of us set out to do such a thing,” said Jane. “It is only that when you attempt to uncover one secret, you end up uncovering quite a lot of other secrets, it seems. However, you must believe me, I would rather not know the things we have uncovered.”
Cassandra put her hands on her hips.
“I would not!” said Jane. “And you do not have to come along to Mrs. Ditterswith’s, of course. You can stay clear of it.”
“I think I shall,” said Cassandra.
Mrs. Austen spoke up. “I shall come along. I’d like a bit of time out of the house.”
“All right,” said Jane, smiling over at her mother. She turned back to Cassandra. “I don’t see why you’re so up in arms against it all of the sudden.”
“All of this, with that man, it does nothing but indulge the worst elements in a body,” said Cassandra. “Lord Byron is a demon in disguise, I think.”
Jane didn’t even argue with her.
“You think it, too,” said Cassandra. “But you do not care. You will simply do whatever it is that you wish with him. And I wonder how far it will all go.”
“Oh, Cassandra,” said Jane. “You worry far too much.”
WHEN JANE ANDMrs. Austen arrived at Mrs. Ditterswith’s for tea, they were surprised at how crowded it was. The sitting room was simply packed with women from town. There must have been twelve of them. They were all dressed in their best, like they were out to church on Sunday, and they were all silent as Jane and her mother walked in, but then, when they saw that Byron was not with them, they began to chatter amongst themselves.
Jane and her mother sat down on a couch at one side of the room, and Jane began to realize that all these women were talking about Byron.
Two women next to her were having a long conversation about poor Childe Harold.
“He has such melancholy, you know. It’s strange, because you might think that melancholy would put you off him, but somehow, it draws you in. He’s in need of some love, that is all, I think.”
