A Scandalous Life. Mary S. Lovell

her fifty yards from the countess’s gate, where she transferred to it and drove up the drive to the entrance. Felix ‘arrived’ five minutes afterwards. When they left at ten o’clock that night Felix drove out and waited for her carriage to catch up. Jane then joined him in his closed chaise and they travelled to within a short distance of Elm Grove, where he handed her out and she returned home in her own carriage, while he continued on to London.

      But mostly, unless they met in public, their meetings were confined to 73 Harley Street, when always, whether clothed in a walking dress or riding habit, she wore a light veil over her face. This was not regarded as unusual; many fashionable women lowered veils to protect their complexions. Indeed, a lady’s magazine of the day warned its readers that the complexion could be discoloured by moonlight as well as sunlight.

      Towards the end of 1828, an observant neighbour glanced across the street into the house opposite and saw the veiled visitor in Prince Schwarzenberg’s arms. A door behind them had been left open, letting in light behind them. How long the neighbour stayed glancing across the street he did not say, but it was long enough to notice that the prince was dressing himself, and subsequently laced up the lady’s stays.³³

      It would be easy to write off Jane’s behaviour as that of a promiscuous woman deceiving her busy husband. But to sit in judgement one must also take into consideration that her conduct was no better or worse than that of her husband and their closest friends of both sexes. Jane regarded the attachment as more than a casual love affair, which was, for her, sufficient justification. That she did not choose to conceal her relationship with Felix, indeed that she broadcast her feelings so openly that it was almost guaranteed to get back to her husband, was certainly a departure from the norm. But Jane went even further. Her love for Felix had now made sexual intercourse with Edward abhorrent. So, giving as her reason the fact that she did not care to have another child, she told Edward that in future she wished to sleep alone.³⁴

      Her poems to ‘F.S.’ passionately denied that her feelings for him were a passing fancy, as he had suggested to her; ‘Oh say not that my love will pass … my love is not the love of one who feels a passion for a day.’³⁵ Felix had already been warned by his ambassador to be more discreet. Prince Esterhazy was visiting Dietrichstein one day when Jane called at 73 Harley Street and, seeing her husband’s friend in the hall, chatted to him ‘without a shade of embarrassment’ before going up to Felix’s rooms.³⁶ After an informal admonishment Felix moved from the house in Harley Street to a similar one in nearby Holles Street, and the meetings between the lovers went on as before.

      By this time everyone, except – apparently – Edward, was talking about ‘Ellenboriana’.³⁷ Joseph Jekyll, who took a puckish delight in reporting scandalous gossip to his sister-in-law Lady Sloane Stanley, was a little behind with the news when he wrote, ‘Torrents of scandal afloat! They call Schwarzenberg “Cadlands” because he beat the Colonel out of Lady Ellenborough’s good graces. It is added that she talks openly of her loves.’³⁸ From their correspondence, on the other hand, it seems certain that the Digbys, Cokes and Ansons found the situation between Jane and the prince not amusing at all.³⁹

      However, at this point another family matter removed Jane from centre-stage. Earlier that year George Anson’s younger brother Henry, accompanied by his friend John Fox Strangways, had set out on an extended Grand Tour of Europe, the Holy Land and the Near-Middle East. With only three years separating them, Henry was the cousin to whom Jane had been closest in the years growing up at Holkham. She was as anguished as anyone in the family when news came that the two men had perished of the plague in Syria.

      In fact Fox Strangways survived. The two young men had entered a mosque in Aleppo disguised as Muslims, but foolishly neglected to remove their shoes. They were set upon and beaten by a mob who deeply resented the intrusion by Christians into their sacred place. The two Englishmen were then flung into a prison, where they languished in appalling conditions before diplomatic persuasion was able to effect their release. Their incarceration in a cell below ground with only a pinprick of light was at least cool during the worst of the day’s heat, but the prisoners were given the barest of rations, and water whose source was dubious. Sanitary arrangements were non-existent, and many of the inmates were ill.

      Their eventual release came too late for Henry Anson, who having contracted the plague was already a dying man. Strangways assisted him from the prison and they walked as far as a field on the outskirts of Aleppo, where Anson lay down, unable to move further. Strangways did what he could for his stricken friend, but Anson died before medical aid arrived. The manner of his death was rendered more horrible to all the family by virtue of its being in such a far-off place. Syria might have been on a different planet, so far removed from their lives was that alien country. More than a quarter of a century later Jane would stand at the site of Henry’s death, recalling her childhood friend.

      The tragic news at least effected a reunion between Jane and George when she went to pay a duty call on her Aunt Anson, who was staying at Holkham. The cousins had seen little of each other during the past months, for Felix was jealous of George.⁴⁰ He had no cause for jealousy, as Jane’s final poem to George Anson shows; it was written while she and her parents stayed at Holkham over Christmas, and he at his parents’ home in the neighbouring county.

      I’ll meet thee at sunset, but not by the bower

      Where with thee I’ve gathered love’s gory, torn flower,

      Since that would be only recalling to mind

      Bright visions of pleasures now left far behind.

      What tho’ the cold stoic proclaim it as mystery

      The feelings of youth are as lasting as history

      And the rays with which love has once lit up the heart

      May fade for a while but they cannot depart.

      Then come, but come not with the accent of love,

      I would not its echo reply from the groves

      Oh! Come as if all, save old friendships, were o’er

      And, – I’ll meet thee at sunset once more.⁴¹

      They were bound to each other now more by grief for Henry than by their child. For Arthur was undoubtedly George’s son and not Edward’s. Jane openly said so, as a friend wrote to a correspondent in the country:

      The other day Belfast was riding with Lady Ellenborough and said to her ‘Do you see much of your child?’ ‘No,’ was her answer. ‘It would grieve Felix if I was to see much of George’s child …!!! ‘⁴²

      Nine-month-old Arthur had been poorly with a respiratory complaint. In November he had been sent off to Brighton with his nursemaid and nanny for three months’ convalescence. His parents visited him in January and a month later, having been advised that her son was doing well, Jane decided to drive down and spend a night there before bringing the little boy home to Roehampton.

      She reserved a suite at the Norfolk Hotel, where she and Edward always stayed when in Brighton. Felix also reserved a room there. The opportunity to spend a night together was irresistible. The date was carefully chosen; Ellenborough’s day was fully committed to a parliamentary debate, and furthermore he had a dinner engagement that evening.

      On 6 February 1829, Jane travelled down to Brighton in a closed chaise, accompanied by her maid Anna Gove; Felix was only a short distance behind. The going was heavy on the unmade-up road because of the seasonal heavy rains, so it took longer than usual. By prior arrangement, the horses were changed at the halfway point and left at a livery stable for collection on the return journey.⁴³ Every mile of that journey took Jane inexorably closer to ultimate disaster.

       5 Assignation in Brighton 1829–1830

      Jane arrived at the Norfolk Hotel just as the winter light was fading at about five o’clock. She was shown to the suite of apartments in the east wing which she and her husband often used. Entrance