Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

by Susanna Clarke

“Happily, it is what you and I have never known any thing of,” she finished up, a little breathless, “to have one’s peace continually cut up by the sight of one’s husband paying attentions to other women.” “I suppose so,” answered Lady Pole, somewhat doubtfully. This annoyed Arabella. She tried to make allowances for all Lady Pole’s oddities, but she found it rather hard to forgive her her habitual coolness towards her husband. Arabella could not visit at Harley-street as often as she did without being aware of how very devoted Sir Walter was to Lady Pole. If he ever thought that any thing might bring her pleasure or ease her sufferings in the slightest, then that thing was done in an instant, and Arabella could never observe without a pang the very meagre return he got for his pains. It was not that Lady Pole shewed any dislike towards him; but sometimes she scarcely seemed to know that he was there. “Oh! But you do not consider what a blessing it is,” said Arabella. “One of the best blessings of existence.” “What is?” “Your husband’s love.” Lady Pole looked surprized. “Yes, he does love me,” she said at last. “Or at least he tells me that he does. But what good is that to me? It has never warmed me when I was cold – and I always am cold, you know. It has never shortened a long, dreary ball by so much as a minute or stopped a procession through long, dark, ghostly corridors. It has never saved me from any misery at all. Has the love of your husband ever saved you from any...