So much for poor Bankes. Byron, upon whose more thoughtful ‘Character Sketch’ Annabella embarked two days later, was assessed with a shrewder understanding and more forbearance. On the minus side (for which she blamed an indulgent mother), she identified pride, inability to control his passions and a disturbing volatility of temperament: ‘his mind is constantly making the most sudden transitions, from good to evil, from evil to good . . .’ On the plus side (far outweighing the faults listed in her careful appraisal of his personality), she saw chivalrous generosity and kindness: ‘In secret he is the zealous friend of all the human feelings.’ Evidently recalling the tenor of their earliest conversations, she remarked upon his uncommon candour: ‘He is inclined to open his heart unreservedly to those whom he believes good, even without the preparation of much acquaintance. He is extremely humble towards persons whose characters he respects & to them he would penitently confess his errors.’
The choice of words is revealing. Clearly, Annabella relished the prospect of becoming the confessor and saviour of a celebrated rake. Marriage was quite another matter.
On 13 October, Lady Melbourne summoned her niece for an overnight stay at Melbourne House. Together, they attended a performance of Much Ado About Nothing, and heard an actor deliver Byron’s speech in honour of the reopening of Drury Lane (a theatrical project with which Byron had become closely involved). The following morning, Annabella addressed herself to Lady Gosford, while using the letter to clarify her own thoughts.
Annabella, by any reading of the elaborate screed she wrote to Mary Gosford, was flattered both by Byron’s proposal and by the careful selection of his letters through which her Machiavellian aunt had chosen to transmit it. Clearly, it was not his fault that friends had misled him about her relationship with George Eden. Equally apparent was the inherent goodness which would always triumph over his passions. He loved her. Proudly, she quoted Byron’s words about having always wished to marry her, no matter what the future might hold. Complacently, she cited his account of her superiority to all other women.
And yet.
It was the issue of her declared perfection that remained the sticking point. Painfully conscious of her faults, and in particular, of the hot temper which she was still struggling to subdue, Annabella could not bear (or so she wrote to Lady Gosford) the prospect of witnessing his disillusion.
He speaks of my character as the only female one which could have secured his devoted affection and respect. Were there no other objection, his theoretical idea of my perfection which could not be fulfilled by the trial would suffice to make me decline a connection that must end in his disappointment.
A decision had been reached. Having loaned her aunt the character sketch of Byron (of which she was evidently proud), Annabella retreated to her parents’ house at Richmond, before despatching a letter informing Aunt Melbourne that she did not love the noble gentleman enough to marry him. That blunt piece of news was sent on to Byron at Cheltenham, together with a copy of the character sketch. Also transmitted by her aunt was Annabella’s habitual sweetener: the offer of a dignified continuation of friendship, with no reference to the past.
Annabella’s aunt was displeased. Byron’s own chagrin was so well hidden as to pass for relief. Writing back to Lady Melbourne on 17 October, he asked her to reassure Miss Milbanke that discretion would be maintained. A second letter (it was written the following day) began by praising the character sketch of himself as ‘very exact’ in parts, although ‘much too indulgent, overall’. A graceful allusion to Annabella as the ‘Princess of Parallelograms’ (a tribute to her mathematical skill) signalled his own comfortable retreat: ‘we are two parallel lines prolonged to infinity side by side but never to meet’. By 20 October, he had drawn a line under the proceedings. Miss Milbanke was to be informed (second-hand, as always), that ‘I am more proud of her rejection than I can ever be of another’s acceptance.’
Two weeks later, Byron hinted at new interests; by 14 November, he was off again, making love to the lusciously available and safely married Lady Oxford. Weary of behaving like the hero of a sentimental novel, he now adopted a tone of brutal honesty. Annabella’s delicacy was all very nice, Lady Melbourne heard from her self-adopted nephew, but ‘I prefer hot suppers.’
Neither Lord Byron nor Annabella had reckoned with the determination of their jointly appointed go-between: the intelligent and blushlessly treacherous Lady Melbourne. Annabella’s rejection – a decided setback in the ongoing battle to extricate Byron from the tenacious grasp of Caroline Lamb – might yet be overcome. And so, having complimented Miss Milbanke on 21 October for the dignity with which she had conducted herself, and having offered assurance that Byron was ‘much touch’d’ by her confidence in his future good conduct, Lady Melbourne summoned her niece back from Richmond for a second interview.
Very sweetly, Lady Melbourne now asked to be told just what dear Annabella did want from a man in order to marry him; very demurely, Annabella presented her written shopping list. Calm, equable, pleasant-looking and of good birth (a title was not required), the ideal husband would consult, but not rely upon, his wife, displaying an attachment that was balanced, never excessive. No emotional displays or ill humour would be permitted at any time, lest they should affect her. ‘I am never sulky,’ she added in an explanatory aside, ‘but my spirits are easily depressed, particularly by seeing anybody unhappy.’
If Annabella was slyly poking fun at her aunt’s blatant determination to marry her off, Lady Melbourne, a woman whose wit was sharper than her sense of humour, failed to see the joke. The wish list was, by and large, granted to her niece; the absurd request for a husband who would always control his feelings in order not to irritate those of his wife was
