Such were the hopes and schemes that animated the heart of Mr Norrell’s dearest friend but, unfortunately for Mr Drawlight, so cast down was Mr Norrell by Sir Walter’s rejection that he scarcely noticed the change in the style of entertainments and Drawlight succeeded in punishing no one but himself.

Now that Sir Walter was quite beyond Mr Norrell’s reach, Mr Norrell became more and more convinced that Sir Walter was exactly the patron he wished for. A cheerful, energetic man, with pleasant, easy manners, Sir Walter Pole was everything that Mr Norrell was not. Therefore, reasoned Mr Norrell, Sir Walter Pole would have achieved everything that he could not. The influential men of the Age would have listened to Sir Walter.

“If only he had listened to me,” sighed Mr Norrell one evening as he and Drawlight dined alone. “But I could not find the words to convince him. Of course I wish now that I had asked you or Mr Lascelles to come with me. Men of the world prefer to be talked to by other men of the world. I know that now. Perhaps I should have done some magic to shew him – turned the teacups into rabbits or the teaspoons into goldfish. At least then he would have believed me. But I do not think the old lady would have been pleased if I had done that. I do not know. What is your opinion?”

But Drawlight, who had begun to believe that if anyone had ever died of boredom then he was almost certain to expire within the next quarter of an hour, found that he had lost the will to speak and the best he could manage was a withering smile.

7
An opportunity unlikely to occur again

October 1807

“Well, sir! you have your revenge!” cried Mr Drawlight appearing quite suddenly in the library in Hanover-square.

“My revenge!” said Mr Norrell. “What do you mean?”

“Oh!” said Mr Drawlight. “Sir Walter’s bride, Miss Wintertowne, is dead. She died this very afternoon. They were to be married in two days’ time, but, poor thing, she is quite dead. A thousand pounds a year! – Imagine his despair! Had she only contrived to remain alive until the end of the week, what a difference it would have made! His need of the money is quite desperate – he is all to pieces. I should not be at all surprized if we were to hear tomorrow that he has cut his throat.”

Mr Drawlight leant for a moment upon the back of a good, comfortable chair by the fire and, looking down, discovered a friend. “Ah, Lascelles, I declare. There you are behind the newspaper I see. How do you do?”

Meanwhile Mr Norrell stared at Mr Drawlight. “The young woman is dead, you say?” he said in amazement. “The young woman that I saw in that room? I can scarcely believe it. This is very unexpected.”

“Oh! Upon the contrary,” said Drawlight, “nothing was more probable.”