Where do I start? This book is an intense ride through a lot of human emotions that mingle themselves in such ways that they are not defined anymore by the end. The story itself: the Earl-to-be, Edmund, discovers on his father deathbed that he is not the legitimate heir: he has an half-brother, Philip Guise, who is the rightful successor but has no knowledge of it. The dying Earl, father of the two, does this revelation out of spite for the son, Edmund, always fair, noble, upright. Edmund embarcs on the journey to find his half-brother Philip still not sure he if wants to reveal the truth to him, as his morals compels him to do, as by doing so he will lose everything, but in his heart wanting to do the rightful thing. He wants to find his lost brother, wants to see what kind of man he is, compared to his own self. He succeeds. He finds Philip and even before knowing he is his half-brother, Edmund kind of falls for him. The book does not clearly says it, but the description of their first encounter is what I can only define as "falling in love at first sight":
"Shalford was as held by the personality of the organist as he had been by his playing; immediately and deeply interested by this man of about his own age, uncommonly handsome, assured, with an air noble and magnificent, yet carelessly, shabbily dressed in a peculiar worn scarlet coat from which the braiding appeared to have been ripped, a threadbare flowered waistcoat, old-fashioned in cut, a plain neckcloth and a faded ribbon tying his long, thick black hair away from his face. At first he appeared indifferent to Shalford's scrutiny, then amused, and, as Shalford continued to look at him without speaking, he laughed.
"Did ye come to speak to me?" he asked. "Perhaps when ye have considered me to your satisfaction I may ask your business?"
Shalford flushed, conscious of ill manners and of the impossibility of telling this man how extraordinary he found him, how deeply he was impressed by his beauty, his ease, his air of composure, his splendid figure, his musical skill. "He," thought Shalford, "has all the qualities I most lack and most envy."
Aloud he said:
"Sir, I fear I have no business here at all; I came on an aimless errand. I, too, am a dilettante in music—your playing attracted me, though your instrument is poor and you are, if ye will forgive me, not the man one expects to see at the organ in a decayed church."
Without either resentment or good nature the other replied:
"It suits my humour to play here sometimes. I detest idleness and often lack a more notable employment."
Shalford had no excuse for lingering; he knew he had already overpast his appointment with the hackney driver, and the sun had dropped so that no more rich light cast a lustre over the organ pipes, and the church was filled with a chilly grey shadow out of which, ghastly, loomed the dusty urns and cracked mural tablets of alabaster and marble.
"I am entrusted to lock up the church," said the organist with what Shalford felt to be a contemptuous accent, as if he despised the other's hesitation and reluctance to leave.
"Do you play the sonatas of Paradisi?" asked Shalford.
"Yes; but I assure you, sir, I am no musician. I have friends here whom I have taught a little—sometimes we make up a quartet or trio, but 'tis for pure diversion."
"I should like again to hear you play," said Shalford. "May I invite you to my house?"
"I do not keep fine company."
"How do ye know that I do?"
"One can see ye are a man of quality."
"I should have said the same of you," the young lord smiled. "My name is Shalford."
"I fear that means nothing to me. I am ignorant of the great world. My name is Philip Guise."
And the organist pulled out his keys indifferently and turned to the door.
Shalford felt both trapped and struck, as if he had walked into a springe and, while it gripped him, been buffeted in the face; for a moment he was unable to use his wits and leant stupidly against the organ case. Philip Guise had gone towards the door and did not perceive this."
Then the story enveils: it sort of becomes a love triangle, where Cecilia, Edmund's betrothed, falls in love with Philip, and Philip sort of uses this to enrage Edmund, whom having not reveal the family ties to Philip, is becoming attached to Philip in a way Philip does not understand. In a waterfall of misunderstandings, the two becomes enemies, and Edmund abandons his morals and pursues ways to get rid of Philip as his obsession for him he cannot fully understands...
I won't spoil the end. The end of this book is magnificient. It is a love story.
I found this book right after finishing "Black Magic", a book from the same author I absolutely adored. First off, I have to say I found this book in a list of "Occult and other stories by Bowen" and therefore I was expecting the same gothic and fantasy atmospheres of "Black Magic". Yes, well, unfortunately this books falls in the "other" category. "The Devil's Jig" is an historical novel set in XVIII century. The protagonist is Edmond, the son of an Earl, that is told, on his father's deathbed, that he is in fact a bastard, because his father already married a woman in his youth, had a child with her, but discard her and left her to die in poverty. Why he did that? BECAUSE HE IS EEEEEVIL. No other serious explanation given. Edmond is torment by guilt but, at the same time, he is scared he will loose his title and station. HOWEVER, he decide it is a great idea to look for his forsaken brother. He found him and is so struck by his beauty (I kid you not) that he decide to BRING HIM HOME AS A VALLET. Which is, of course, a terrible idea. From there, a story that is both very predictable and full of deus ex machina unfolds. The story was suppose to follow Edmond corruption arc while he deals with this secret, which is something I usually love, but the circumstances of this story are so unrealistic, that I found impossible to be interested in the character personal struggle. The forsaken brother is beautiful, perfect and goodTM to the point of being unsufferable. He does nothing wrong ever and he is such a good man that even the villain of the story (not Edmund, another one) has a change of heart. The only female character is a spoiled ans stupid noble woman who spend the entire book acting like an idiot because "she is in love". At a certain point someone says basically "who knows what she think about. She is a woman, after all." Is this book really by the same author who wrote a gender-nonconforming protagonist in her second novel? What happened to you, ma'am? And let's not talk about the slave Black woman who was inserted into the story to do NOTHING but being insulted with slurs and being described as a "lazy servant". Really, she had no plot reason to be there aside for that. In fewer words, a disaster.