But unhappily the unstable and eccentric side of Lady Caroline held its own, and overshadowed her more sober and serious moods. The news of Byron’s death was brought to her at Brocket and introduced with the remark, “Caroline, behave properly. I know it will shock you. Lord Byron is dead.” A fever ensued, and the first day she was well enough to drive out in an open carriage she met a funeral procession. Her husband, who was riding on in front, asked whose funeral it was, and was told Byron’s. Lamb was much shocked and affected, and naturally forbore to tell his wife. But as she kept on asking where and when Byron was to be buried, she had to be told. A fresh bout of illness was brought on, and she became more unmanageable than ever, more reckless and unaccountable. Once in the country she wished to drive out to call on an acquaintance. There was no one to accompany her, so she insisted on occupying the seat beside the coachman. On arriving at the house, the footman waited to help her down, but she exclaimed, “I am going to jump off and you must catch me.” Before the man could prevent the catastrophe, he found her in his arms. She then proceeded to pay her visit in a perfectly calm, decorous, and dignified manner. Another time, when the butler was laying the table for a dinner-party, she chanced to go into the dining-room, and not liking the decorations, leaped into the middle of the table amid all the epergnes and china and glass to demonstrate by her attitude the way in which the centrepiece should be arranged, leaving the servant open mouthed with astonishment. Her husband was equally subject to the annoyance of her vagaries. After a worse outburst than usual during dinner at Melbourne House, as soon as Lady Caroline had left the room, Lamb ordered the horses and drove off to Brocket. He sat up very late, but soon after he had gone to bed he heard sounds in the corridor. He got up to investigate what they might be, and found his wife lying on the doormat outside his room, convulsively sobbing.