Jane Austen’s First Love (32 page)

The crowd all stood in anticipation, the young ladies exclaiming alternately with worry and delight, the matrons shaking their heads, the older men made youthful by their excitement, the young gentlemen clapping their hands and shouting:

“Jump! Jump! Jump!”

Charlotte looked very worried. Cassandra grasped my hand and held it tightly. All eyes were on Edward Taylor. He leaned forward now, legs bent, his attention fixed on the conflagration before him; then he broke out into a run, made a mighty leap, and flew over the bonfire, easily clearing the flames as he cried gleefully,
“meigas fora!”
When he landed neatly on the grass on the other side, a cheer erupted; but he was not yet done. He still had two more attempts to make—both of which he completed with equal success. I felt relief course through me as I joined in the general applause.

It was now Thomas’s turn. He had grown pale, his expression suggesting that he regretted making the bet.

“Thomas,” cried his mother, “your cousin is lucky but very foolish. You need not follow in his footsteps. We have all been entertained quite enough for one evening.”

“Indeed we have!” exclaimed Lady Bridges, frowning with disapproval at Edward Taylor.

“A bet is a bet!” cried Edward Taylor—and all the men began chanting their agreement, followed in short order by most of the young ladies.

I was alarmed by this foolhardy behaviour, yet at the same time, I could not help but feel a dash of excitement. Nearly all the young people and all the men, a very sizeable group, were clapping and calling out their encouragement, and the mood was infectious.

Thomas’s mouth set with determination. Without further hesitation, he repeated the steps his cousin had taken, and then boldly ran and made his own leap. His feet seemed to just miss the uppermost edges of the flames, and his landing appeared rough, but he reached the other side with impunity. I again felt relief as another roar went through the applauding crowd. The two young men were clapped on the back by their admirers.

One of the strapping young footmen now exclaimed, “I want to have a go!”

Before I knew it, he had made his own jump. Additional voices cried out that they wanted to get in on the fun. The air seemed thick with excitement as, one by one, more young men followed suit, with those who had gone before sharing their counsel as to how to accomplish the hurdle. My brother Edward took a turn, as did Christopher Payler and two more of the male servants. To everyone’s astonishment, even Frederic insisted on trying it, an endeavour which so terrified his mother that she could not stop shrieking (until I thought she might faint), and whose cries took on an entirely new tone upon his safe landing, reflecting pride and joy at his accomplishment, and the insistence that she had always known he could do it.

With so many young men successfully jumping over the fire, the aspect of danger rapidly faded. What had seemed to me a reckless enterprise now appeared very differently. I could no longer accuse Edward Taylor of poor judgement, for what a merry time we were all having, with everyone laughing and cheering! How much more cheerful had the evening become, as a result of his bold ideas and daring nature!

All at once, an unseen force took hold of me, which I could neither explain nor ignore. I felt an absolute need to prove to the group that I was not a quaking, pathetic girl; that I could be as brave as any man. Without a word, I strode to the point from which everyone else had begun their run, and assumed the runner’s stance.

A small gasp went through the assemblage. I felt all eyes turn to me in unison.

Edward Taylor let out a cheer. “Good for you, Jane!”

Cassandra was aghast. “Jane, no!”

“What do you think you are doing, Jane?” cried my mother. “Stop this nonsense at once!”

I ignored their protests. I had seen many others make the leap. I felt equal to the task. I was not afraid; pure excitement coursed through me. I drew together the folds of my skirts in one hand and raised them above my ankles.

I took a deep breath.

I ran.

I
flung myself up and over the hot, golden mass, my eyes on the dark stretch of grass on the other side.

To my relief, I landed a foot beyond the edge of the fire. I was safe! However, I landed very hard, and a sharp pain coursed up through my right foot and ankle, causing me to stumble and pitch forward head first onto the ground, where I lay for an instant, dazed and mortified. To further my confusion, a male body hurtled to the ground immediately beside me, and quickly removing his coat, used it to bat forcefully at my skirts.

“Your gown has caught fire!” It was Edward Taylor.

To my horror, from my prone position, I glimpsed sparks and flames in the region of my hem. There was some bustle as Edward Taylor continued to strike at my skirts until the flames went out; then he turned and loomed above me, his hands on either side of my waist, his face inches from my own.

“Are you injured, Miss Jane?” said he with concern.

My heart was racing so speedily, I thought it might jump from my chest. For a brief, thrilling interval, I found myself staring into his beautiful dark eyes, unable to utter a word. At last I responded: “I am fine—I think.”

“Thank God.”

“Jane!” It was my mother’s voice. The moment was over as she, my sister, and a dozen others rushed up to stare at me with worry.

Edward Taylor helped me to rise, and he gave my hands a slight squeeze before letting go. As my right foot touched down, I again felt a sharp pain stab through it, but was determined not to shew any sign that I was injured. People were all around us now, and when they ascertained that I was upright and apparently undamaged, they broke into applause and a round of cheers and compliments in celebration of my achievement. Sophia embraced me with relief; my brother Edward shook my hand. But not
all
were as pleased with me.

“Well!” cried my mother, frowning furiously. “I hope you are proud of yourself, Jane! What a ridiculous display! Jumping over the fire, indeed! You are fortunate you did not break your arm or your leg! Look what you have done to your gown—the hem is all in tatters! I dare say it is forever ruined!”

“I am relieved to see you alive and standing,” whispered Cassandra, eyeing me with a stern look of censure.

I was spared from responding to either of my relations, for at that precise moment, Elizabeth announced:

“Good heaven! It is three minutes before midnight!”

“Oh!” cried Sophia, Fanny, and Charlotte at the same instant. They, and a bevy of other young ladies, with cries of excitement, ran to fetch their baskets of rose petals. Cassandra held out her hand to me. “Come, Jane. Let us go make our wishes.”

I darted a glance at Edward Taylor, but he was engaged in conversation with others now; and I allowed my sister to lead me away.

“Are you limping, Jane?” said Cassandra with concern, after we had retrieved our baskets and shawls.

“No,” lied I; but I could not hide my injury from my perceptive sister, any more than I could help favouring my left foot.

“You
are
limping! Well, I am sorry that you hurt yourself, but glad that it is no worse.”

Further reproach, I suspected, would come later; but I could not regret my leap, for it had landed me in Edward Taylor’s arms.

As Cassandra and I moved slowly across the grass, my ankle smarted with every step. Although it was dark, the night sky was bright with stars, and the waning moon cast a glow luminous enough to light the entire area, and to see each other’s features. We stopped at a point some ways off from the bonfire, apart from the other young ladies, who had dispersed across the lawn. I saw them flinging petals into the air, and heard their cheerful murmurs as they recited the old Midsummer’s Eve saying, calling their loves to them.

“Shall we?” said Cassandra eagerly.

I nodded, scooping a handful of rose petals from my basket. We were about to begin when, behind us, I heard male laughter, and turning, became aware of an assemblage of young gentlemen standing around the edge of the bonfire, gazing in our direction and chattering with great mirth. Was Edward Taylor among them? I could not tell; but I felt my cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

“Do you feel silly doing this?” I asked my sister.

“A bit,” admitted she, “but you promoted it with such enthusiasm to Fanny and Sophia, that I fear it would be rude were we not to participate. And—as we
both
have young men we should like to call to us—
if
it is true that magic is strongest at this very hour on Midsummer’s Eve, then we would be foolish not to try it.”

“You are right. Let us not delay another moment!” In unison, we pronounced the ancient words as we scattered handfuls of rose petals into the night air:

Rose leaves, rose leaves, rose leaves I strew;

He that will love me, come after me now!

We repeated the saying until no petals remained in our baskets. When the rite had been completed, the joy, exhilaration, and absurdity of the moment caught up to us, and we both burst out laughing. The other young ladies were returning to the bonfire; Cassandra, shivering, proposed that we do the same. Not wanting to admit how much my ankle hurt, and hoping I might escape notice if I walked back on my own, I said:

“It is such a beautiful night, I think I shall stand here a few minutes longer, to contemplate the moon.”

My sister warned me not to stay away from the fire too long, and she left me to my reflections.

It had been a long and eventful day; when I looked back on it, I could scarcely believe that we had performed a Shakespearean play that very afternoon, and that the ensuing, dire consequences (Mr. Cage’s and Mr. Deedes’s departure, Fanny’s and Sophia’s broken hearts, and my first overtures to remedy the evils) had also occurred during the same period. I had yet to organise the final step of my plan with regard to those events—I needed desperately to speak to my brother Edward—and I was mentally preparing the speech I intended to make to him, when I heard a sudden foot-fall, and a deep male voice:

“It is a lovely night.” Edward Taylor stopped not two feet from my side, eyeing the sky with a smile.

I was alone, and distant from any other people; he could have come thither with only one purpose in mind: to speak to me. My heart drummed; I was thrilled and flattered. Around us, crickets chirped, and a light breeze rustled the leaves in the distant trees, as he continued to glance upwards. I struggled for something to say, at length returning my gaze to the heavens and uttering:

“There is Boötes, the bear driver, and Arcturis.”

“You know the stars and constellations?”

“I often look at them at home.”

“I believe that Boötes is the most ancient constellation in the sky. Homer wrote of it in
The Odyssey.
There is the Little Bear, my favourite.”

“Mine too. And how bright Polaris is to-night! When I look up at a night sky such as this, I feel as if there can never be any sorrow nor evil in the world—that such a sublime canopy can only shelter harmony and repose.”

“I quite agree. It leaves all painting and music and prose behind; even poetry cannot hope to accurately describe it.” We shared a smile. Unexpectedly, he added, “That was brave, what you did earlier.”

“What? Jumping over the fire?” returned I carelessly. “You did it. So did many others.”

“Yes, but we are men; as it turns out, it is not a recommended activity for a lady.” Observing my indignant expression, he added hastily, “
Not
by virtue of her sex; I mean only with regard to her
attire
. Clearly you had the prowess to complete the exercise as well as any man—but leaping over flames, it seems, is injurious to the health of a lady’s gown.”

I laughed as I glanced down at my ruined hem. “I hope I can repair it with a border of lace or other fabric; otherwise, I fear I shall never hear the end of it from my mother.”

“I hope she will not judge you too harshly. I admired your spirit.”

“I admired
yours
. Although I admit, at the first, I thought it foolhardy.”

“Sometimes one must let go of fear, and take a leap of faith—as
you
did to-night.”

The look in his eyes was so admiring, it made me shiver. My thoughts scattered on the breeze. Again, I searched for something to say. It occurred to me that it was now Midsummer’s Day. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Frowning, he added, “Are you really leaving in two days?”

“We are.”

“I will be sorry to see you go.”

“I will be sorry to leave.”

“Do you have any idea when you might return to the neighbourhood?”

“No. Perhaps in a year or two? We will have good reason to visit, as my brother and his wife live here—and I look forward to becoming an aunt.”

“If you return next year, or soon after—if my father comes home from Italy as planned—then we will all be living at Bifrons again.
I
look forward to welcoming you there, and to introducing you to my whole family.”

“I should love to meet them!”

“Pray, come back again in summer, or I may be away at Oxford.”

“You do intend to go to Oxford, then?”

“I doubt I shall have a choice, unless my father has a sudden, miraculous change of heart, and allows me to enter the military—but I do not foresee that happening.”

“And after Oxford? What will you do?”

“After Oxford? I shall return to Bifrons under my father’s rule, and—one day, I suppose, I shall marry.”

It was the first time he had ever mentioned marriage, and my breath caught in my throat. “Who shall you marry, Mr. Taylor?”

He smiled. “That remains to be seen. But I assure you: on
that
subject—the most important of all subjects—I will never be swayed by anyone else’s wishes, but must be free to follow my own heart.” As he spoke, he seemed to glance at me with meaning.

My heart turned over, and my pulse raced. Was it truly possible that he would one day consider me as his bride? Yet I could not prevent myself from saying, my words slow and measured, “Surely, though, a gentleman like yourself will be obliged to marry a young lady of wealth and property.”

“If being the eldest son affords a man any benefit at all,” countered he, “it is the freedom to marry for love, and not be dependent on an income from his wife.”

“That is a fine sentiment,” persisted I, “in
theory
—but what if said eldest son found and wished to marry a respectable gentleman’s daughter, who had no dowry nor any property? Would not his family object?”

“His family might indeed object, and
he
might find it difficult to be reconciled to such a match as well; but,” added he, his dark gaze dancing, “if the woman in question were intelligent, lively, spirited, good, and in possession of a pair of very fine eyes—if she made him forget every other woman he had ever met—I think it entirely possible that he would fall in love with her, and highly likely that he would marry her.”

The affection in his eyes nearly made my heart stop. I drank in his words, feeling all the power and promise of them. I wanted to freeze the moment in time; I wanted to tell him what was in
my
heart. I wanted to say,
I love you, Edward Taylor
. If I had the nerve to say the words aloud, would he say them back to me?

But our conversation went no further, for at that moment Thomas Payler’s voice came to us out of the darkness as he dashed across the lawn: “Edward! We are leaving!”

The bubble around us burst. I became aware of much bustle at the bonfire site: the musicians were packing up their instruments, and all were gathering up their things. Thomas stopped before us, announcing breathlessly: “Mamma is cold and tired. Father has ordered the coaches to be brought round; we are to return to Ileden immediately. You are to come, now.”

“Thank you.”

Thomas ran back to join his family. Disappointment tore through me. “You have to go.”

“I promised to go home with the Paylers to-night. They want me there in the morning for some kind of birthday surprise—I have no idea what—but I will see you at my party later in the day?”

“Yes, you will.”

Our eyes met and held in the moonlight. “I wish we could stay up until sunrise, like the Bulgarians. I feel that I could talk to you all night.”

“I feel the same.”

What happened next took me by surprise. He leaned in close—very close—and said softly: “We proved the ancient Midsummer’s Eve legend to-night, did we not, Miss Jane?”

His nearness took my breath away; I could barely speak. “What do you mean?”

“Did not you toss the rose petals and recite the saying?”

I nodded.

“Was it
me
you hoped would come after you?”

A blush warmed my cheeks, silently admitting to the truth of his observations. He smiled.

“Well: it is Midsummer’s Day, and here I am, answering your call.” So saying, he gently kissed my cheek. Drawing back slightly, he paused for a long moment, looking at me. Then he turned and strode away across the grass.

I hardly know how I returned to the fire; I was in too dazed and blissful a state to notice the pain in my ankle, or to be aware of anything except the memory of Edward Taylor’s lips brushing against my skin.