A few days later, Ada apologised to the grandson of Byron’s publisher for having fainted while dining at his house. The Murrays had assumed for one dreadful moment that all was at an end. Their guest’s capacity for miraculous recovery remained as extraordinary as the swiftness of the attacks that she described to Mr Murray as spasms of the heart. A week later, Ada was well enough to host an intriguing dinner party of her husband’s contriving.
Over twenty years later, much public merriment would be expressed when Harriet Beecher Stowe, launching her passionate defence of the late Lady Byron, would describe the reclusive Lord Lovelace as ‘a man of fashion’. Back in 1846, however, Stowe’s description seemed to fit. Newly situated at Horsley Towers (Ockham Park had been conveniently rented to Stephen Lushington), William wanted to expand his social circle. One of his letters instructed Ada to invite the eminent geologist Sir Roderick Murchison to stay, simply because of the Murchisons’ access to a large and influential group of friends. In the country, William began making week-long visits to those fellow landowners who shared his passion for Gothic architecture. In London, shortly after Ada’s collapse at John Murray’s house, the earl urged his wife to invite a fashionable Italian lady to dine at their home.
Light-hearted references in Ada’s letters to ‘Countess Italia Italia’ have led biographers to deduce that Lord Lovelace was planning to entertain Teresa Guiccioli at St James’s Square. But Byron’s ageing inamorata was still in Italy (from where Mrs Jameson maliciously reported to Lady Byron on 12 November 1846 that the fair contessa had lost her looks and even her pleasant smile, while still displaying a superabundance of radiant hair). In fact, and to Ada’s consternation, the exotic lady whom her husband was so anxious to invite to dinner was the notorious Countess Ida von Hahn-Hahn, author of Countess Faustine, a book about a beautiful courtesan. The infamous authoress, so an apparently gratified Lovelace had been accurately assured, bore a striking resemblance to none other than his own wife.
The problem was not with the countess, nor with her book, but with her companion. Turning to Babbage (an unlikely master of etiquette) for advice, Ada expressed uncharacteristic concern about society’s view. She herself did not mind if the countess brought along her lover, Baron Bystram. Lovelace himself was entirely open-minded on such matters. But what would others say? Would such behaviour get her into ‘a scrape with the other lady-guests’, or even with society in general? No further mention being made of the dinner invitation, it seems that the plan was abandoned. The incident stands as an intriguing example of Ada’s Byronically unpredictable nature.
Where Lovelace’s own difficult family were concerned, Lady Lovelace remained fiercely loyal to her husband. On 22 June 1846, Ada fired off a furious letter to William’s maternal uncle, reminding Lady Hester’s brother – in the haughty third person – of ‘the repeated & unjust condemnations of Lady Lovelace’s husband during this series of years’, accusations which had caused her own feelings for Lady Hester to have passed beyond forgiveness. Secretly, however, Ada knew that her odious mother-in-law’s claims to be terrified of her eldest son were not without justification. William did have a fearsome temper. Visiting Ashley Combe that autumn, Ada herself was briefly exposed to the blackness of spirit that may have helped to earn her husband his teasing nickname of the Crow.
The details are vague. The Lovelaces drove along the coast to Minehead, where they dined with old friends, the Pearces, who offered their frank opinion that Byron Ockham and his sister were turning into rude little beasts. (The Pearces’ criticisms were confirmed by Ada’s request to her mother on 7 October to find a governess who could teach better manners to her outspoken daughter. Young Byron’s impudence was a continual source of anxiety.)
The Pearces’ comments rankled. After dinner, while still seated at the table, the earl lost his temper and vented it on Ada. Backed by her shocked hosts, Ada decided not to go back to Ashley that night. Instead, she went straight from Minehead to join her mother at Moore Place, Lady Byron’s Surrey home. She said nothing about her return. Lovelace, she believed – and Lady Byron agreed with her daughter – deserved a fright.
He got one. Dismayed and crestfallen, Lovelace told the Pearces that he believed his wife had gone for good. Six weeks later, accompanied by young Ralph and his new tutor, Ada was welcomed back to Ashley Combe. Lovelace was all deference and affection. The Hen’s advice had been spot on, Ada cheerfully reported to her mother. A stern peck from his little brown Thrush was all that had been required to bring her moody old Crow back into line.
Further evidence of Ada’s closeness to her mother at this time surfaced ten days later. Writing to Annabella from Ashley Combe on 29 November, Ada confirmed that everything was going smoothly and according to the plans that the two of them had hatched during her stay at Moore Place. Stroppy little Lord Ockham was to be packed off to Kirkby the following year for a few months of tuition in schoolwork and estate-craft training by Charles Noel. Ralph, accompanied by Mr Herford, would shortly be returning to live with his grandmother at Esher. Lovelace’s proposed annual payment of £100 towards his youngest son’s upkeep sounded about right, Ada added. It wasn’t much, but any more would give William a feeling that he had the right to intervene: this was something that neither Ada nor her mother wished to happen. Ada, it is clear, favoured her mother’s skills as an educationalist and mentor over those of her husband.
The year 1846 ended with a crash. On 10 December, her thirtieth birthday, Lady Lovelace wrote to tell her mother that she had just undergone a near brush with death. Out driving a light
