Page 3 of Breaking Free (Heart of Bath #2)
Selina
S elina stood at the window of the withdrawing room of Number 1 Royal Crescent, staring out at the depressingly gray and drizzly February skies.
“Selina, my dear,” her mother Lady Templeton said. “I’m sorry to say that Signor Allegretto has sent a note of apology. He will not be able to give you your singing lesson this morning.”
“Oh, what a shame,” Selina said. “I was so looking forward to it. What is the reason?”
“The poor man is not well. His note says he had a high fever in the night and his doctor has advised him to stay at home for fear of contagion. He will spend the day resting quietly in his lodgings and says he hopes you will carry on learning the new Handel air you have been working on together, although not before you have done a proper warm up, including the recent vocal exercises he has taught you. Does that make sense? Will you be able to do that before your lesson next week?”
“It does—and I will certainly try,” Selina said.
“Perhaps I could help you by running through the Handel tomorrow?” Lady Templeton said. “I know the accompaniment well, and it is such a pretty song; I would really enjoy playing for you.”
“That would be splendid, Mama,” Selina said.
But what was she going to do now? The morning stretched endlessly in front of her—the whole day, in fact. And at the moment, it was far too wet to go out for a walk, which was what she longed to do. If only Kitty were here in Bath, in her house right next door, instead of gadding about in London.
“You are missing dear Kitty, are you not?” Lady Templeton said.
“How well you know me, Mama. Yes, I have so much to talk to her about, but it will have to wait. And of course I am happy that she and Henry are having such a wonderful time in London. Look, here—another letter arrived this very morning with all their news. They have been to so many balls and parties. I believe Henry is very keen to show off his new wife and introduce her to his army friends, many of whom seem to reside in the capital.”
“I am sure they are having a splendid time,” Lady Templeton said. “Ah! What it is to be young and in love—and newly married.”
Selina wrinkled her nose. She knew what was coming next.
“Selina! Now, my dear.”
“Yes, Mama?” Selina used as innocent a tone as she could muster.
“We need to have a talk. Another one. You are nineteen now. Goodness, you will be twenty later this year. It is time for you to look around. Time for your thoughts to turn to matrimony. You see how happy your dear friend Kitty is with your brother Henry. Would you not like this situation for yourself?”
“No. I do not think I would.”
Why am I lying? I think of nothing else but being married to George! However, I will not discuss this with my mama.
Lady Templeton cleared her throat. “I had thought there might be an understanding between you and Mr. Fitzgerald.”
“Did you, Mama?” Selina raised her brows.
“Everyone did. You seemed very fond of him in December and January, right up to when you were both invited to Henry and Kitty’s first dinner party. You seemed tired the day after that—and rather despondent. I did not like to say anything at the time, but I wondered, my dear, did you have a disappointment ?”
“A what ?”
“Was there something you thought was starting—that did not?”
“Possibly,” Selina said. “Although George, I mean Mr. Fitzgerald, is nothing to me. Besides, I do not care.”
Will God punish me for telling these terrible lies? For I still think of George with longing every day and every night... but sadly, it was not to be.
It had been three long weeks—and three days—since the dinner party at Number 2. A considerable time had passed since Selina and George had walked together on the Gravel Walk at night in very unusual circumstances. Why on earth had George not visited? He knew full well that Selina was not at liberty to organize her social life in the way a man could but must wait until an invitation was extended. How she longed to be able to initiate action, not to have to sit timidly at home waiting for someone to show an interest in her.
Lady Templeton smoothed a wayward lock from Selina’s eyes. “I think you do care, my dear. These things happen. You need to keep busy—while you wait.”
This was one of Lady Templeton’s favorite pieces of advice. So many times, Selina’s mother had tried to interest her in starting a new embroidery project to keep her busy, encouraged her to practice her singing, or taken her to a concert or shopping. And which of these activities would Lady Templeton recommend this morning?
“I did have in mind,” Lady Templeton said, “that we might go shopping later on. I have a fancy to go to Smith’s in Bath Street. I hear Mr. Smith has some fine new ribbons in his shop; would you care to peruse them? ’Twould be my pleasure to purchase a selection and help you trim one of your bonnets—you cannot be ready for the summer too early.”
“Mama! ’Tis only February. Why would I need to prepare for summer now?” Selina glanced at the windows, where rivulets of rain snaked down the panes. “It is also pouring, and although I do not mind going out in any weather, the wilder the better, I know that you do not consider it suitable to go out when the streets are running with water.”
“February is a good time to buy ribbons,” Lady Templeton said. “You don’t want to leave it too late, only to find that the choicest ones have been snapped up. This can happen with men, too, as well as ribbons. However, you are right about the weather. Ah, wait! I see a glimpse in the clouds and believe it will not be long before we are able to visit the shops.”
Lady Templeton could be very determined when she wanted to be. Indeed, Lord Templeton had been known to refer to his wife’s “whim of iron.”
“Now, Selina, why do you not read a book until it is time to go out? But first, please spend some time over your appearance. Standards, my dear. Standards!” Lady Templeton stared at Selina’s hair. “Perhaps a little rearrangement?” Then her feet. “Put your shoes on, my dear.”
“All right, Mama,” Selina said. “I will do as you say.”
I will make sure I look my best—for there is always the chance that if I go into the city, I might see George. Not that I will acknowledge him, for he means nothing to me.
Once Lady Templeton had left the room, Selina reached under a cushion and pulled out a pamphlet she had been reading about Elizabeth Fry.
The prison reformer, Elizabeth Fry, had occupied a great deal of Selina’s thoughts this February. She had first heard about her at dinner with her parents when Kitty’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Honeyfield, had come to dine at Number 1 shortly after Henry and Kitty had left for London. The conversation over the main course had opened Selina’s eyes to the appalling conditions those awaiting trial found themselves in while they were incarcerated in gaol.
Lady Templeton put her head round the door of the withdrawing room. “Selina! I thought you said you were going to get ready to go out before you read your book. And that is not a book! What do you have there?”
“A pamphlet.”
Lady Templeton held her hand out, and Selina handed it over.
“Ah yes, I see. Elizabeth Fry. Yes, she is a good woman. A Quaker, I believe. Where did you get this?”
“Henry,” Selina said. “I told him in a letter how interested I was in Elizabeth Fry and prison reform and you know how interested he is in justice—well, with his connections in London and his law studies, he is able to obtain all manner of reading material, and so he sent me this improving pamphlet to read.”
“Are you really interested in prison reform?”
“Well, yes. I have been since the Honeyfields came to dinner—do you remember?”
“Ah, yes,” Lady Templeton said. “I remember talk of the appalling conditions in gaol—although this is hardly a suitable subject for you to study, my dear.”
“I feel sorry for the people who are locked up, and I wish things could be better for them. Is that not part of my Christian duty?”
Lady Templeton put her head on one side. “Possibly. Well, all right then, read your pamphlet instead of your book, for the rain is still lashing down. But promise me you will spend some time on your appearance before we go out.”
“Promise.”
“I must have a word with the housekeeper—and will be back directly.”
Selina ran to the gilt mirror on the wall and stared at herself critically, turning her head from side to side. She could see what her mother meant; her hair could do with a tidy up. First she smoothed down the worst of the flyaways on the crown of her head, and coaxed the locks framing her face back into spiral curls with nimble fingers. Then she pinched her cheeks to increase her already healthy glow, and posed in several dramatic poses before flinging herself down on the sofa and resuming her reading. She would put her shoes on later.
“Good Lord!” Selina said to the empty room a few minutes later. “This pamphlet is interesting.”
About half an hour later, Selina set out with Lady Templeton on the shopping trip. The sun was not exactly shining, nor had the clouds dispersed, but it was no longer actively raining, and the pavements were not too slippery as they walked down Milsom Street.
“Very fine,” Lady Templeton said, peering into the window of a shop. “Would you like a new hat, my dear—to cheer you up?”
“Mama! I know you think I’ve had a disappointment—which I have not—but if I had, how would having a new hat make it seem any better?”
“If it were only a slight disappointment,” Lady Templeton said, “the thought of a new hat might make you feel better. Now I can see that perhaps the disappointment has gone deeper. Do not worry. I will not say another word on the subject.”
It was quite infuriating the way Selina’s mama tried to find out what was going on in her mind—and was often successful, too.
“Tell me more about your pamphlet, my dear,” Lady Templeton said. “What have you found out about Elizabeth Fry?”
“I have discovered details of her prison visits. She found very degrading conditions, particularly for women, and so she decided to do something about it.”
“That is truly admirable,” Lady Templeton murmured.
“And she started a school for the children of the prisoners. She taught lessons inside the gaol herself, too. Is that not a fine thing?”
“It certainly is. However, I do wonder how she bore it—being in a place full of criminals.”
“Not everyone inside a prison is a criminal, Mama. Many are waiting for their trial.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Lady Templeton said. “There should be a presumption of innocence—until proved otherwise by trial.”
“I agree with that,” Selina said. “Anyway, Henry told me people sometimes have to wait for months and months because there are not enough officials and courts. If they are eventually found innocent of a crime, they have been locked up all that time for nothing, and there’s never any recompense made.”
“This does not seem at all fair.”
“And another thing, apparently Elizabeth Fry wants to teach the women in prison how to make stockings, so that when they leave prison, having served their sentence, they have a respectable trade they can carry on and not need to do whatever it was they used to do before being arrested. Stealing. And...”
Selina’s voice trailed off. Perhaps some of the women were ladies of the night?
“I do not think we need to talk about ladies in prison anymore,” Lady Templeton said. “Nor speculate as to what crime they might have committed to end up there.”
If Mama is trying to shut down the conversation, then it appears my supposition is correct about these unfortunate women. What lives they must lead! How desperate they must feel. No doubt some of them have children too. Perhaps they commit crimes because they do not have enough money to feed their children? Could this happen in a beautiful city like Bath?
The rest of the journey down the hill to Smith’s in Bath Street was spent in silence.
“Well,” Lady Templeton said as they arrived outside the milliner’s shop with its pretty pair of matching bow windows. “Would you look at that fabulous display! Quite enchanting.”
The swirls of color and myriad textures were undoubtedly attractive. Was it right, though, to enjoy such things, when some poor creatures were in gaol? Selina felt inside her reticule to check her pamphlet was there—she had brought it with her in case there was a chance to read a few more paragraphs.
As Selina and her mother went inside the shop, the bell on the door gave a high-pitched tinkle.
“Good morning, Lady Templeton,” the shopkeeper said. “Miss Templeton. How may I assist you today?”
“We would like to look at some ribbons,” Lady Templeton said. “We are thinking it is not too soon to trim our hats for the warmer weather to come, and have heard you have taken delivery of new stock.”
“Excellent,” the shopkeeper said. “Allow me to assist you. These are new and very fine. There are some delicate pastels here, or these patterned designs if that is what you prefer...”
Despite herself, Selina was fascinated with the range before her and eagerly inspected the wares.
“What about this?” Lady Templeton said to her daughter, holding up a shiny blue ribbon. “It matches your eyes perfectly.”
“I prefer this one,” Selina said.
“Ah, the green satin,” the shopkeeper said. “A fine choice.”
Yes—the green matches George’s eyes and brings his dear face to my mind. I freely admit he is handsome, even though his personality leaves a lot to be desired.
After much discussion and holding lengths of ribbon up and exclaiming, Selina and her mother made many selections.
“We will have all these, please. And yes, pray wrap them for me,” Lady Templeton said to the shopkeeper. “Thank you. Most kind.”
As they left the shop, Lady Templeton turned to Selina. “Did you know there was quite a scandal about Smith’s?”
“No!” Selina was amazed to think that anything scandalous could have happened in a milliner’s shop at the lower end of Bath. “What happened?”
“You were but a tiny child at the time,” Lady Templeton said. “There was a wealthy lady, Mrs. Leigh-Perrot, who was accused of stealing a card of lace worth one pound.”
“I cannot believe it! Why have I not heard this tale before?”
“’Twas all hushed up, after she was found not guilty. Mrs. Leigh-Perrot is a wealthy woman, and she lived in The Paragon with her husband at the time. They may live there still, for all I know.”
“If she were wealthy,” Selina said, “why would she have stolen some lace? She could have afforded any amount of it.”
“It must have been a mistake,” Lady Templeton said. “I do not know the details. The case has come back to my mind because of what we were talking about before—the time people spend in prison before a trial. Well, Mrs. Leigh-Perrot spent eight months in gaol awaiting trial, and when her trial eventually started, after ten minutes she was pronounced not guilty.”
“Eight months in gaol—for nothing!” Selina’s eyes were round as saucers. “That is very unfair. I will ask Henry about it when he comes back.”
“Yes,” Lady Templeton said. “It would be interesting to hear what he thinks. And I believe Mrs. Leigh-Perrot went to gaol in Ilchester.”
“Is that because there is no prison here? What a shame for her to be away from her home city while she awaited trial.”
“There is a gaol in Bath, but I do not know why she was not sent there—however, I have been told her devoted husband insisted on staying with her in Ilchester. Inside the prison!”
“Fancy that!” Selina marvelled. “Refusing to be parted from your spouse.”
“Yes, and apparently he also said that if she were found guilty and transported to Australia, he would go with her.”
True love indeed! I wonder if my husband would be that loyal. Would George—if we were married?
“Where is the gaol in Bath?” Selina asked. “I have not heard of it before.”
A prison in Bath! How extraordinary.
Lady Templeton put her head on one side. “Do you know, I’m not entirely sure. ’Tis possibly in the Pulteney area.”
’Twas worth investigating, was it not? If only to find out what conditions the poor prisoners were kept in. Would Elizabeth Fry’s reforms have reached Bath?
“This is not altogether a suitable conversation, Selina,” Lady Templeton said. “People might overhear us.”
“Sorry, Mama. But oh, look! There are the Honeyfields! They have seen us—and are coming over. ’Tis wonderful to see Kitty’s mother looking so much better.”
“Yes, it is indeed.” Lady Templeton said. “Especially since her illness was so very long.”
And Mr. Honeyfield will know where the Bath gaol is.
“Ah, good morning to you both, my dears!” Lady Templeton greeted her friends warmly. In truth, they were more than friends now—they were family, ever since Henry and Kitty had married last Christmas. “How serendipitous our encounter is.”
There followed a lively chat about how Henry and Kitty were getting on in London, the necessity of acquiring good hat ribbons and, much to Selina’s joy, the whereabouts of Bath gaol.
“’Tis over Pulteney Bridge, Miss Templeton,” Mr. Honeyfield said to Selina. “Take a sharp left down Grove Street, and after a little while you will see it on the right-hand side of the road. ’Tis an interesting building—not like the old-fashioned prisons of yesterday which look more like fortresses. However, I cannot quite see why you want to know—I do hope you are not thinking of ending up there.”
Everyone laughed heartily at this witticism. And Selina had an idea.
Just then, her eye was caught by the flash of a red silk waistcoat. Signor Allegretto! He was but yards away. Their eyes met, and he grimaced, then held a finger to his lips before vanishing. The man was meant to be contagious! How surprising that he would risk both his health and that of others by appearing on the streets of Bath. Selina did not betray she had seen her singing teacher, but instead stored the information away to be inspected later. What a thrilling day this was turning out to be.
“We must bid you farewell,” Mrs. Honeyfield said to Lady Templeton, “for we have promised to meet friends at the Pump Room. Maybe you will join us there later?”
“Perhaps,” Lady Templeton said. “Thank you.”
With smiles and many promises to meet again soon, the Honeyfields took their leave. How wonderful to encounter pleasing and unexpected company in the street; Bath was such a sociable place. Perhaps they might chance upon someone else—George, for instance?
Selina closed her eyes briefly.
“Miss Templeton!”
That beautiful deep voice, like honey-strewn gravel... was her mind playing tricks? Could wishes come true? Selina opened her eyes to see a tall handsome figure standing before her, doffing his hat.
“George! I mean, Mr. Fitzgerald!”
*
George
My God! She was so beautiful standing there in a dream with her lashes closed. I could not imagine a more beautiful sight—until she opened her eyes and I found myself gazing into their cerulean depths—for now I have a glimpse of heaven.
“Mr. Fitzgerald,” Lady Templeton said. “What an unexpected pleasure!”
“Lady Templeton.” George nodded his head. “The pleasure is all mine, I do assure you.”
Selina looked around. “And where, pray, is Trigger? I cannot believe you have abandoned your horse to walk the city streets.”
George smiled. “Trigger occasionally allows me to go out without him—and that is the case today.”
“We are on our way to the Pump Room,” Lady Templeton said.
“Are we, Mama?” Selina said.
“You know full well we are, my dear, for have not the Honeyfields begged us to join them just five minutes past?” Lady Templeton turned to George. “We would be glad of your company.”
“Very kind, I am sure, but first, I have an errand to complete in the town.”
How I wish I had already completed this task.
“Well, we plan to be there for some time,” Lady Templeton said, “and we would be delighted to see you there.”
“Thank you,” George said.
Ah! Fate is smiling upon me today!
“What sort of errand do you have to undertake?” Selina asked George.
“’Tis nothing of much importance—an appointment with a tailor. I have packages to pick up.”
Should George tell Selina what he was collecting from the tailor? Describe the new items of clothing, all part of his plan to win her heart? Last month at Henry and Kitty’s dinner party, Selina had stared at his muddy breeches, perchance with disapproval, and George had taken this as a message that it was time to smarten himself up. More recently, George had been taking advice from his valet about the sort of clothes one should wear to attract a lady—and today he was due to collect a new outfit.
George raised his hat again as Selina and her mother took their leave, then he sprinted up to Milsom Street.
“Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the tailor said. “Your new clothes are ready to try. I do hope you will be pleased.”
“Is that necessary? I could try the clothes on later at home.”
“’Tis all part of the service, sir, and there are occasionally a few last-minute adjustments to be made—if, for example, a gentleman has put on weight...” The tailor coughed. “Not that this is the case here. You have a fine figure, Mr. Fitzgerald! Very fine indeed. And I for one cannot wait to see how this new outfit will enhance your already splendidly muscular appearance.”
What is he talking about? This all seems a bit personal—and unnecessary.
A while later, George stood in front of a full-length mirror while the tailor pulled at his jacket and smoothed his collar.
Lord! These breeches are tight! How do people walk in them, let alone ride?
“Are these breeches the right size?” George said. “They seem a little, er, constricting.”
“They are not breeches, but pantaloons, and designed for standing in,” the tailor explained. “They are much tighter than past fashions, granted, but look at the line. Superb!”
“I think I see what you mean,” George said. “And I’ll be careful to keep standing up and not attempt to sit.”
“Very droll, Mr. Fitzgerald,” the tailor said.
George turned his head, instantly regretting it when the point of one side of his high collar jabbed into his cheek.
“Is this collar meant to be so prominent?” he queried.
“Yes!” the tailor said. “’Tis the height of fashion—pun fully intended.”
George’s mother had often complained about being uncomfortable while forced to wear highly fashionable clothes when she was younger; George had never really known what she meant until today.
“The cravat . . .” George said.
The tailor sighed. “Is there anything wrong with the cravat?”
“Not at all. I like the look and feel very much. The jacket, too.”
“I am relieved to hear it. Now, if I might make a suggestion? Would you allow me to attempt to change your appearance further?”
“What do you want to do?” George said.
The tailor produced a large tortoiseshell comb. “Might I suggest that you get into the habit of combing your hair forward and to the side like this, then back towards the first side... let’s ruffle a few locks here, get some bounce into the coiffeur—that’s better. And I think a touch of Pomade de Graffa to hold it all in place. No? As you wish.”
“Good Lord!” George said, taking a step backwards. “I look as if I’ve fallen off my horse with my foot caught in the stirrup and have been dragged along the ground for some considerable distance. In fact, that happened to me once when my horse bolted—and this is exactly what I looked like.”
“’Tis the latest style,” the tailor said. “Your hair has been artfully disarranged. The style gives you a poetic look.”
“I am not sure I want to look like a poet.”
“The ladies demand it,” the tailor said.
“I bow to your judgement.”
They say one must make sacrifices for love, and I suppose these are mine.
“We could fabricate you a very fine greatcoat, if you wish,” the tailor said, “with eight capes. Doubtless you have seen these being worn on the streets of Bath and admired them? No?”
“I don’t think I have,” George said. “There again, I have not looked at men’s coats much.”
Lord alive! Why would anyone need more than one cape on their greatcoat? Why do you need even one cape on a coat? Does not the greatcoat replace the cape?
George walked out of the shop in Milsom Street feeling like a different person, with his old clothes in a package tied with string under his arm. He was amazed to receive admiring glances from members of the ton passing by.
I wonder what Selina will think of this motley ensemble?
George’s plan was to join Lady Templeton and Selina in the Pump Room, and he needed to hurry. To his dismay, he found that it was not possible to stride out as he usually did. He was forced to take smaller, mincing steps due to the tightness of his pantaloons. How did normal people cope with this? And why did they? Was it always to make an impression on the ladies?
George fervently hoped two things: one, that Selina would be impressed, and two, that once she had been impressed, there would be no further need for him to dress in this inane way. He could not wait to revert to his more comfortable clothes.
The Pump Room was more crowded than he had ever known it, and the sound of the orchestra, mixed with the hubbub of several hundred people chattering, was almost deafening. How would he find Selina in the crush?
Eventually, aided by his superior height, George spotted Selina in the distance and started making his way across the room; in his haste, he inadvertently trod on a footman’s toes.
“Heartfelt apologies!” George said to the man. “I do beg your pardon.”
“’Twas my fault entirely, sir—’tis very busy today,” the footman said. “Perhaps you are seeking a restorative glass of water? If you continue to travel in this direction, you will soon reach the fountain.”
George nodded his thanks and continued in his quest, waiting a few moments before muttering under his breath, “Not that I am particularly fond of the vile-tasting mineral water here.”
“Mr. Fitzgerald!” Lady Templeton said. “We are so pleased to see you here. And I think you know Mr. and Mrs. Honeyfield, do you not? Good, good.” She turned to Selina, whose eyes were sweeping over George.
Pray God she does not find my altered appearance too comical!
“Mr. Fitzgerald would no doubt like to sample the waters,” Lady Templeton continued. “Why do you not go with him, Selina? I will be quite happy here with Mr. and Mrs. Honeyfield.”
“A capital suggestion,” George said. “I have much need of refreshment.”
And soon my spirit will be refreshed, by virtue of being in the company of the prettiest and liveliest young lady in the room—ah, did I not say earlier that fate was kind to me today?
“Follow me,” Selina said. “There is quite a throng around the fountain, but I’m sure we will be able to push in.”
Once they were away from Lady Templeton and the Honeyfields, Selina turned to George.
“I know you do not think much of the waters,” she said, “for I heard you describing them as ‘vile’ but a few moments ago.”
“Miss Templeton!” George said. “I am shocked! Do you mean to tell me you have been eavesdropping again?”
Selina giggled.
This was more like it! She was teasing him, and he was teasing her back. After a bit of skilful maneuvering, George managed to secure two glasses of cloudy water with rather strange bits of who-knew-what floating in them, and he and Selina moved over to the large window overlooking the Roman Baths.
“Your mother is watching us,” George said.
“Welcome to my world,” Selina said. “My whole life is spent under observation; it can become a little wearisome.”
George was silent.
Quick, man! Think of something witty to say!
George lowered his head—regretting the move instantly as his collar stabbed him in the cheek again.
“So,” Selina said, “this is what you were collecting from your tailor. A completely new outfit.”
“Indeed, it is.”
Selina reached up and pulled the points of the collar down a little. “That will be more comfortable. I intend no criticism, but I do think perhaps your tailor has made the collar rather large.”
“Damn right,” George said, pulling at his collar to try to get comfortable. “I do beg your pardon. I mean absolutely right. My new tailor might know all about style, but he knows nothing about comfort. He says these breeches, or as he calls them, pantaloons, are made primarily for standing. I have not attempted to sit down in them yet—and seriously wonder if they contain enough fabric to allow a fellow to do that.”
Selina looked at George’s legs—and flushed pink.
“Do not say a word,” George said. “I know they are unsuitable. I have been a muttonhead and allowed myself to be persuaded to wear something over-fashionable. In his defense, the tailor said they had a very good line.”
Selina looked at the garment again. “They do have a very good line.”
Then she looked up at George. “And I rather like the new hairstyle.”
“Really? Is this a jest? The tailor attacked me with a comb and then ran his fingers through my hair to finish it off. He tried to put some fragrant potion on, but I was having none of it. The sooner I manage to get my hair under control again and wear it in my usual way, the happier I will be.”
“I disagree. I like this natural style. It suits you; you look as if you have been out galloping through a field with the wind in your hair. You look like yourself, George. Always be yourself.”
Selina likes my hair! The collar is regrettable and the pantaloons make her blush, but she likes the hair. One out of three is not bad.
“It has been some time since I saw you at Henry and Kitty’s dinner party,” Selina said.
“Yes,” George said. “And since then, have you been out on the parapet at night much?”
“Shush! Mama might hear you.”
“Do not worry. I will keep your secret.”
What could George say next? What topic of conversation would interest Selina? He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that he had not seen her for many weeks—ah, how he longed to tell her the reason, namely, that he had been busy trying to formulate a plan to win her heart.
The first step of his plan, phase one, had been the visit to the tailor. The second step, and all subsequent ones, George had yet to work out. However, he knew that they would involve change. He would definitely have to transform himself if Selina were to like him, for she did not seem much enamored of him as he was. Although, she had just told him to always be himself. Admittedly, she had only been referring to a hairstyle. Hadn’t she?
“And how have you been,” George said, “since I saw you last?”
“I have become interested in gaols.”
“Gaols?”
“Well, more prison reform,” Selina said. “I’ve been reading about Elizabeth Fry. In fact, Henry has sent me the most fascinating pamphlet.”
Selina pulled the text out of her reticule, smoothing it straight before passing it to George.
“Interesting,” George said as he scanned it through. “Mrs. Fry sounds a formidable woman.”
“Yes. She is not afraid to do what is right—she simply gets on with things, regardless of what people think.”
“Do you think that is good, not caring what people think?”
“I do,” Selina said decisively.
Perhaps I should not care so much what people think. Although, if I do not care what Selina thinks, I will not be able to please her. How confusing.
“I have something to tell you,” Selina said.
George’s heart beat a little faster to hear this. Was she going to confide in him—about her feelings?
“I will simply burst if I do not tell someone,” Selina said. “And I cannot tell my mama. ’Tis about my music teacher, Signor Allegretto.”
Does she have feelings for Signor Allegretto? People say he is very good looking. Ye gods, please, no!
Selina leaned forward to whisper in George’s ear that she had seen Signor Allegretto near Bath Street that very morning—after he had sent a message saying he was ill in bed with a fever and could not come to give her a singing lesson. “Do you not think that is strange?”
“Perhaps he did not want to teach you,” George said. “Teaching singing can be rather monotonous, I believe.”
He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, for the corners of Selina’s mouth drooped. Then she searched her reticule for her handkerchief and dabbed gently at the side of her eye as if to wipe away a tear.
“I do beg your pardon.” George was stricken to the core. “I meant no offense.”
To his surprise, Selina then swatted him on the shoulder and started laughing. “I was teasing!”
Teasing? Will I ever understand this mercurial creature? Does this mean she likes me as a potential husband—or that she is treating me as she treats her brother Henry? How will I ever find out? I must be bold!
“I, I would like to see you again,” George said. “I wonder if I might call on you at home... sometime?”
“Of course you may,” Selina said. “We can discuss gaols again. And I will tease you. Now I must go, for Mama has been trying to catch my eye for a few minutes and is beckoning.”
Hallelujah! Selina said I might call on her! Granted, the mention of discussing prisons again was not quite so romantic—but every love story has to start somewhere.
*
Selina
“How was it?” Lady Templeton asked Selina as they walked across Queen Square and up the hill towards Number 1 Royal Crescent.
“How was what?” Selina asked.
She knew full well what her mother was referring to but was playing for time. Lady Templeton was asking how she had got on talking to George, the man otherwise known as her disappointment. And Selina did not have the faintest idea how to answer. She clenched her fists. Granted, there had been a little jesting and fun—they had got on with each other tolerably well—but how despondent she felt! She did not want a superficial friendship with George—nor did she want to tease him in quite the same way she teased her brother Henry.
I want so much more . . .
And George had seemed ill at ease for much of their conversation—perhaps because of his visit to the tailor? Why on earth had he felt the need to change his appearance?
“Selina!” Lady Templeton said. “I asked you a question.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Selina said. “There’s nothing to report.”
For how can I tell my own mother how much I enjoyed staring at George’s fine legs, and yet feel downcast for I know that nothing will ever come of this attraction. Nothing will blossom as it should—for our personalities are incompatible.
The pace slowed as the two women walked up Gay Street towards The Circus.
“I do believe this hill gets steeper every time I attempt to climb it,” Lady Templeton said.
Selina spun round at the top and looked down through the city and across to the wooded hills beyond. “A fine view, is it not?” she said.
I will never tire of looking towards where George lives.
“Did Mr. Fitzgerald express a wish to see you again?” Lady Templeton said.
“No,” Selina said. “Oh, wait. He did ask if he could call to see me sometime.”
Sometime. That does not mean soon, does it? Sometime is a very lukewarm sort of arrangement.
“Oh, that is good,” Lady Templeton said. “And when did you say you would be at home?”
“I did not specify a day or a time,” Selina said, “although I did say he could call and we could discuss prisons.”
“Selina, that cannot be a very encouraging prospect for a young man such as Mr. Fitzgerald. You should have taken the chance to tell him exactly when it would be convenient for him to call by mentioning which mornings you would be at home. I believe he is a busy young man with all his medical work—far too busy to travel over to the Crescent without being sure you will be in.”
“If he had wanted to see me again after Henry and Kitty’s dinner party, he would have made more of an effort,” Selina said. “Mr. Fitzgerald left it for over three weeks, and we have only just met by chance. He is not interested in me, Mama.”
“Time will tell,” Lady Templeton said. “You may be surprised.”
I’ve messed everything up! Of course I want George to call on me, but I am still somewhat put out that he has not attempted to before. And how unfair it is that young women should sit at home waiting for gentlemen to pay their respects. Why cannot I go to Beechen Cliff and call on George? Not that I want to, of course.
By the time she got home, Selina had decided that she never wanted to see George again. Moreover, she was far too busy for romance, due to her burgeoning interest in prison reform. She would make something of her life—she would make a difference. Her mission could be to help unfortunate creatures, as Elizabeth Fry had found a way to make life less awful for the poor women locked away in gaol. Perhaps Selina should learn how to make stockings, so that she could go into prisons and teach the skill to the poor women incarcerated there?
“Your father and I will be going out after luncheon,” Lady Templeton said. “And I believe your brother Edmund will not be back for ages. He said he would be out all day, I am not sure where, and possibly for the evening too. You will have plenty to do, Selina dear; there is your embroidery to finish, and of course you can practice the Handel air that you are learning with Signor Allegretto.”
How come Edmund has complete freedom to go around doing whatever he wants, with no questions asked? Life is unfair.
“I wish I could go out this afternoon too, Mama,” Selina said. “I feel like a good walk around Bath.”
Lady Templeton narrowed her eyes. “You have just been for a long walk, Selina—and it looks as if it will rain again this afternoon. I tell you what: if you are determined to go out, why not accompany us? Your father and I have a few social visits to make.”
Selina blanched. “No thank you, Mama. I’m very fond of all your friends but believe you are right. There is an opportunity this afternoon for me to get on with my embroidery and my music. Maybe I will undertake some reading as well—something suitable and improving.”
“If you are sure, my dear,” Lady Templeton said. “Now, I must go and see Cook and make sure that luncheon is ready.”
Later that afternoon, after her parents had gone out, Selina lay shoeless on the sofa in the withdrawing room. She had opened all the sash windows to their fullest extent and was enjoying the invigorating air howling round the room.
“Miss Templeton? Excuse me,” a voice said. “Will you be requiring tea?”
Selina looked up from her daybed to see a maid standing near the door. “Yes, please! And if Cook has any of those special biscuits, I’m starving!”
The maid smiled. “I’ll bring a tray directly. And would you like me to close the windows? ’Tis rather chilly in here.”
“I like chilly.”
“Very well, Miss Templeton.”
On the maid’s return, Selina was delighted to see that Cook had filled a plate with biscuits and added a couple of slices of cake too. She must feel sorry for Selina, confined to the house when everyone else was out.
Everyone else was out—ah! An opportunity not to be missed. Selina could do whatever she wanted.
“Thank you for bringing this tray,” Selina said to the maid. “I will enjoy the tea, and then I do believe I will go and lie down in my bed for a while to rest. I do not quite feel myself.”
“Are you unwell?” the maid asked. “Should I have a message sent to Doctor Jenkins?”
“Certainly not,” Selina said. “I am not ill—I have just had a tiring morning. And I did not sleep well last night. A rest will be most beneficial.”
“Very well—if you are sure?”
“Quite sure. And ’tis most important that I am not disturbed.”
The maid nodded.
“Please pass this message onto the rest of the staff,” Selina said. “No one need trouble themselves to try and find me this afternoon, for I will be fast asleep on my bed. Maybe in my bed.”
Once alone again, Selina sat up on the sofa and hugged her knees in excitement.
Now is the time for me to put my plan into action!
Inspired by the account of Elizabeth Fry’s prison visits, Selina intended to visit Bath City Gaol and see how she might help the prisoners. She would go in disguise, for it would not do if news reached her parents of a visit.
Selina drank a cup of scalding hot tea, wrapped the biscuits and slice of cake in a napkin, and took the stairs to the old nursery at the top of the house two at a time. She was soon rifling through the dressing up box. Excellent! Everything she needed was there.
Very soon, Selina was dressed in an ancient cloak and old-fashioned bonnet; in her hand she carried a drawstring bag bulging with biscuits and cake. No one would recognize her but instead would think she was a much older woman—not a young lady at all. She tiptoed down the stairs and opened the front door as quietly as possible. ’Twas imperative not to alert the servants.
Threading through the city via less crowded back streets, Selina soon arrived at Pulteney Bridge, which was thronged with shoppers. She put her head down when she saw one or two acquaintances; luckily, no one seemed to recognize her.
At the end of the bridge, Selina turned into Grove Street and inched down a slippery damp slope, drawing closer to the level of the river. Where exactly was the prison? Mr. Honeyfield had said this morning that the gaol did not look like a fortress but was an interesting building. Selina stood on the pavement looking around. There was something indefinably different about this area. She felt as if she had opened a door to another world—yet she was only a stone’s throw from the elegant shops on Pulteney Bridge.
Selina kept on walking. Ah! There was one building larger than the rest on the right-hand side—four stories high with a stone balustrade around the top. The black front door had a central round knob and was studded with huge black nails. This must be the gaol! Selina shivered. Had coming here been a mistake? She could always hasten home directly—the sensible choice.
No! If Elizabeth Fry is not afraid to mix with unfortunate souls, then neither am I.
Perhaps it would be a good idea to investigate the perimeter of the building before she attempted to gain entry? Selina went down an alley at the side and found that there was an enormous rough stone wall enclosing an area at the back. It would not be a garden—perhaps a yard of some sort, where the prisoners might be allowed to have a little fresh air occasionally?
Not that the air is fresh here—I can smell dampness and rotten decay.
Selina went back to the front of the gaol, which certainly had a much more pleasing appearance than the strange area at the back.
Just then, a man passing by snatched the bonnet from her head and ran off with it down the street. Selina knew that clothes had a second-hand value—however, she did not expect her bonnet to be stolen in broad daylight. And in Bath!
Unfortunately, now that Selina was hatless, she was revealed to be a young lady, not a more mature female, and that attracted interest from two other men loitering in the street.
“All on your own?”
“What you doin’ here?”
“Yeah, go back to the fancy streets what you came from...”
“Lost your hat, have you?”
Selina assumed the haughtiest expression she could muster and pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair before pulling the bell beside the front door of the gaol. To her relief, the men in the street ran off.
She rang the bell again—for longer—and a gaoler with a particularly lugubrious face appeared. “Your business here?”
“I—I have come to see the prisoners.”
“Ain’t visiting hours,” the man said as he tried to close the door.
Selina pressed forward. “I have not come to see any particular person. I have come to see all the prisoners because I want to make their lives easier. ’Tis not right that you give inmates so little access to bathing facilities and keep them short of drinking water.”
The gaoler gurned. “Do-gooder, are you? Plenty of water here. We get flooded regular like, on account of being so near the river.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it!” Selina snapped. “I wish to speak to the governor of the prison.”
“He’s out,” the man said. “Only comes in occasionally.”
Selina tried to peek behind the gaoler’s back to see inside the building, but all she could glimpse was a large entrance hall.
“Who exactly is in there?” she demanded. “How many prisoners do you have?”
“Only about forty at the moment.”
“How many of these prisoners are awaiting trial?” Selina asked. “And how many will be set free after their trial, meaning they should never have been in gaol at all—like Mrs. Leigh-Perrot? Have you heard of her?”
“Can’t say that I have,” the gaoler said. “What is she? Some sort of vagrant? Got a few of those in ’ere. And debtors. Owe money, did she?”
Selina turned away in despair, and the man slammed the door. How on earth did Elizabeth Fry manage to remain calm and do her good works? Selina hadn’t really thought this through. She stamped her foot. Would she have to return with a man in order to be taken seriously? It was a man’s world, when all was said and done.
The thief who had earlier made off with her bonnet reappeared in the street with a couple of companions—none other than the men who had been so impertinent before.
“Want your hat back, love?” the thief said.
“I would like it back, actually,” Selina said. “Please return it.”
“You can have it back. Ain’t worth nothing,” the man said. “Tried to sell it, but no one wanted it because it’s so old.”
He put the bonnet on his head and affected what he must have thought was a ladylike walk, swinging his hips from side to side, up and down the pavement. Suddenly, he took the bonnet off his head and threw it high in the air.
“Have to catch it if you want it back!”
Selina leapt in the air, but she was not tall enough to catch the bonnet before one of the man’s companions snatched it. This second man then proceeded to throw the bonnet over Selina’s head to the third man.
“Catch it, catch it,” they jeered.
This went on for some time, back and forth between the three men, until Selina was so exhausted from leaping about that she was on the point of giving up. Then, as she was turning to leave, one of the men held his foot out, and she tripped and went flying.
“How dare you,” she screamed. “You did that on purpose.”
The men advanced on Selina as she lay on the ground—she was totally surrounded.
“Get away from her, you villains!” a voice roared as a man thundered down Grove Street. “How dare you treat a young lady in this way? You will live to regret your actions, mark my words!”
’Tis George! George has come to my rescue!
George took on the three men in one go, lashing out with his fists, kicking with incredible strength and vigor—and using language the like of which Selina had never heard in her life.