Page 5 of Breaking Free (Heart of Bath #2)

Selina

“S elina!” Lady Templeton said. “Come away from the window. Mr. Fitzgerald will be here soon enough.”

It was Thursday March 7th, and Selina was in the parlor with her mother, awaiting George’s arrival. Lord Templeton had given his blessing for the outing to the Quaker Meeting House, and Henry and Kitty, newly returned from London, would be joining them too.

“What makes you think I’m anxious to see Mr. Fitzgerald?” Selina said. “My main interest in looking out of the window is to watch the wind blowing the trees around.”

“If you say that is your main interest, I will have to believe you,” Lady Templeton said, “although perhaps you have a secondary interest in noting when Mr. Fitzgerald arrives?”

“Perhaps,” Selina said. “Perhaps not.”

I see Mama is smothering a smile in that irritating way she has when she thinks she has discovered a secret.

Selina had not seen George since the day he had rescued her from outside the gaol in Grove Street. It was a little surprising that he had not come to call or sent an invitation to a concert or suchlike. Selina sat down and dug the nails of one hand into the palm of the other. He must think she was nothing but a foolish young girl to have gotten herself into such a predicament. Dressing up in old clothes? Taking biscuits and cake to give to the prisoners? ’Twas not exactly the behavior of a mature and rational young woman. Selina had done a lot of thinking since her escapade in Grove Street, and she could now appreciate how foolish she had been—and what a narrow escape she’d had.

“Thanks to George,” she murmured.

“Did you say something?” Lady Templeton asked.

“No,” Selina said.

George was a few years older than she was, the same as her brother Henry. Therefore he might be thinking it was high time he was settled with a wife and a home of his own. Yes, that must be the reason he had not been in contact—he had been too busy searching the ballrooms of Bath for his future wife. No wonder George hadn’t bothered to try and see Selina again.

“How are you enjoying working with the children from the Sunday school?” Lady Templeton said. “I have heard very good reports from Mrs. Godwin.”

Selina brightened up a little. “I am enjoying it immensely.”

“The task has certainly kept you busy over these past weeks,” Lady Templeton said, “and it has been good to see you eager to get up in the mornings, with plenty to look forward to.”

Selina had indeed discovered a new sense of purpose since helping to educate the children. At first, she had lent a hand to Mrs. Godwin at Sunday school, reading Bible stories and helping with craft work, but now her help had been sought on other days too, taking the children for walks on the Crescent Fields, showing them how to identify different types of leaves, and supervising games. Occasionally she had done some singing with them in one of the rooms at the back of the church.

“Yes,” Lady Templeton said, “it has been good to see you busy, and I hope you feel you are contributing something worthwhile.”

“I do, Mama—and fear not. I have not tried to go and visit the gaol again.”

“That I know for sure,” Lady Templeton said, “for I have been keeping an eye on you.”

This was certainly true. Selina had felt her every move had been scrutinized by her parents following the rather frightening events outside the prison last month. She’d even struggled to find time for her usual rooftop jaunts at night because her mama was constantly popping in and out of her chamber at bedtime on some pretext or another. She would ask to borrow a comb, or make sure Selina had a good book to read in bed and that she had a glass of water.

Why, I have only once in the past week been up on the roof! Luckily it was a beautifully clear night and I was able to view the stars... how I love gazing up at the heavens.

Voices in the entrance hall! Henry and Kitty had arrived. They had been back home in Bath for over a week now, and so far, Selina had met up with Kitty every day. How wonderful it was to have her best friend next door again.

“Hello, hello,” Henry said, coming into the parlor. “I have just seen George striding along Brock Street on his way here.”

George would be with them within minutes. Maybe seconds! Selina smoothed the skirt of her dress and steadied her breath. ’Twas important she made a good impression as a sensible young woman—not the impulsive, wilful creature George must think her. And if he had news that he was engaged to be married to a young lady of the ton, then Selina would show from her demeanor how thrilled she was for him and offer hearty congratulations.

What! Must I behave like this? For if George is engaged to be married, I shall want to run to the roof and fling myself off... or at least be very unhappy for an exceptionally long time.

“Selina,” Henry said, “have you finished reading the pamphlet about slavery I sent you from London?”

“I’ve read it several times,” Selina said. “’Tis very interesting. I know a lot about the subject now—although I am not so sure how things could be improved, for all is tied up so much with finances.”

“Ah! Mr. Fitzgerald,” Lady Templeton said as George stepped into the parlor. “Now the party is complete, and I will leave you young people to make your way to Lower Borough Walls. I hope you find the meeting fascinating, and I look forward to hearing all about it.”

“Are you sure you do not want to come with us, Mama?” Henry said.

“Perchance another time,” Lady Templeton said. “I have much to do here, and your father and I have an engagement this afternoon as well. Besides, with three companions, I do believe that Selina will be safely supervised.”

“Why, Mama!” Selina said. “I am no longer a child.”

“I know,” Lady Templeton said. “However, you need protecting from danger—and from your own impulses.”

How can Mama talk to me like this in public—in front of George?

“Do not forget to take your cloak, Selina,” Lady Templeton said, “for ’tis cold outside.”

“Yes,” Henry said, “and make it your normal everyday cloak, not one of those strange garments you like to wear from the dressing up box. We have all heard how you were dressed when you went to the gaol.”

Selina swatted Henry on the shoulder. “Enough! If I am to behave, then you must not provoke me, Henry.”

“See what I have to put up with, George?” Henry said as they set off for the Meeting House. “My sister has been attacking me on a daily basis since infancy.”

George opened his mouth as if to say something—then closed it again with a grin.

“Come, George,” Henry said. “Walk beside me, and we will leave Kitty and Selina to gossip behind us.”

“How was your singing lesson this morning?” Kitty said to Selina. “I know how much you enjoy your time with Signor Allegretto.”

“We had a good lesson,” Selina said. “We always have fun, and he’s so knowledgeable about music—although today he was more subdued than normal. And there was something rather strange—he was sporting a black eye.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with a black eye,” Kitty said. “I’ve read about it in books, after people have been fighting or maybe fallen off a steep cliff.”

“Dear Kitty,” Selina said, “you love your reading so much, do you not? I believe you see the whole of life through the prism of literature.”

“I confess that sometimes I have found a book more exciting than real life,” Kitty said, “though that was in the past—not now that I’m married to dear Henry.”

“So being married to Henry is like living inside the pages of a novel?” Selina said. “I can scarce believe that!”

The two friends started giggling.

“What are you two talking about?” Henry said, turning round. “Did I perchance hear my name mentioned?”

“We were discussing books,” Selina said.

“Is this true?” Henry asked Kitty.

“Oh yes,” she said. “We were definitely discussing books.”

Henry laughed and turned back to George. “My wife is very fond of reading—but not very fond of telling me what she talks to Selina about. ’Twas ever thus!”

“Go on,” Kitty said to Selina, “tell me more about Signor Allegretto’s black eye.”

“Well, of course I asked him how he got it,” Selina said, “but he did not seem to like me mentioning it. He is very particular about his appearance.”

“Did he have no explanation to give you?” Kitty said.

“Some silly story about tripping over his shoes in the dark at home,” Selina said. “I did not believe a word of it.”

“I remember you said you saw him in the street a few weeks ago when he was meant to be teaching you,” Kitty said. “Did you ever ask him about that?”

“I tried to,” Selina said, “the next time I saw him at my lesson. Again, he didn’t wish to talk about it. There was the same embarrassment—and a touch of indignation.”

“He must have something else going on in his life that we know not of,” Kitty said.

“I am sure you are right.”

“Oh no!” Kitty said. “I know that look. You are planning to find out what it is.”

“I am quite determined,” Selina said.

Once the four young people reached Lower Borough Walls, they joined the queue of people waiting to go into the Meeting House.

“I had no idea it would be this popular,” George said to Selina.

“And why would it not be?” she said, “for there must be many in Bath who are concerned about a serious subject like this. I am so pleased to see there are lots of ladies here, for many consider we females have feathers in our heads instead of brains. We are more than capable of considering deep matters.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I, I did not mean...” George’s voice trailed away, and he looked a little downcast.

Why does George not understand when I tease him? And why do I always want to goad him?

Once inside the building, they found seats on the narrow benches facing into the middle of the room. Henry sat next to his wife, and Selina sat beside her—and next to George.

The men have sandwiched us ladies between them—to protect us or to make sure we behave ourselves? I would not like to hazard a guess as to which is the correct assumption.

A plainly dressed man welcomed everyone there and told them they were going to hear some things that might upset them but that were nevertheless of great significance. They were lucky enough to have a special speaker that day—Mr. John Freedman, a gentleman from the other side of the world who was making it his life’s work to travel all over England to bear witness to what was being suffered abroad. At the end of Mr. Freedman’s speech, there would be plenty of time for other individuals to speak, and for questions to be taken.

How thrilling! Selina could not wait to see the main speaker. She, along with many members of the crowd, gasped with astonishment as a gentleman of middle years entered the chamber to talk to them.

“Ladies and gentlemen...” Mr. Freedman began. “I am an escaped slave and am here to tell you my life story—to describe what it is like to be born into slavery on a plantation in the West Indies, to grow up a slave, to be taken from your parents and spend your life doing the bidding of others. To have children, only to be separated from them...”

This is indeed shocking! I already knew everything he is telling us in theory—but how much more vivid is his personal testimony.

The atmosphere in the chamber was extremely quiet and attentive. No one interrupted the gentleman or made any comments to their neighbor. All sat in rapt attention.

At the end of his speech, thunderous applause broke out.

“Bravo!” Henry shouted, echoed by many around the chamber, and then one by one, everyone got their feet and cheered the man.

The plainly dressed man who had introduced Mr. Freedman then stood up again.

“You may think that we in England have already done enough, for was not the slave trade outlawed nine years ago? But my friends, I tell you, slavery continues in British colonies unchecked, and stories such as we have just heard are depressingly commonplace. There is still much to do before this evil is wiped off the face of the Earth. We need to make it our goal to eradicate slave ownership. We must look to our territories abroad.”

“Hear, hear!”

“Bravo!”

“This must be done!”

“Now,” the man said, “please raise your hand if you wish to speak.”

George’s hand shot up so suddenly that Selina was forced to move slightly to the side as his strong arm whooshed past her ear.

“Yes, you sir,” the man said, pointing at George. “Please, stand and start our discussion. The floor is yours.”

I cannot wait to hear George’s words.

*

George

George started by catching the eyes of the people in front of him, then slowly turned all the way round until he had surveyed every single soul in the room. ’Twas important to keep them waiting because then what he said would have more impact—wasn’t that what his papa had told him?

“Make your words count,” Doctor Fitzgerald had counselled. “And remember, there could be people there in the chamber whose finances are tied up with slavery—you must convince them we have a duty to our brothers and sisters all over the world that transcends the hunger to accumulate more wealth.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” George began.

I will not look directly at Selina during my speech, but must endeavour to think of the greater good—for then I will not be nervous.

“In our society, you will often hear people say they do not have the freedom to do what they want. They may want to purchase a field—but find it is not for sale, or the price is too high. They may want to travel to London quickly—but find the weather is against them or their horses are too tired and a change of steed is not immediately available. They may wish to buy some strawberries—but find they are not in season...”

There were a few smiles at the thought of people’s desire to consume strawberries being thwarted.

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we do not always have the freedom to do what we want in this life, and this can be a source of irritation and an occasion for grumbling. And yet I tell you, it is my firm belief that most of us here today have precious little idea what a loss of freedom really means. Specifically, what a loss of freedom means to an enslaved African.”

I need to listen to myself! None of us here save Mr. Freedman have any idea what this loss of freedom means.

George crumpled his carefully prepared notes in his hands and allowed them to drop to the floor.

“I was intending to outline the indignities, sufferings and hardships experienced on a daily basis in the plantations, but what right have I to do so? Today, we have had the absolute privilege of hearing a firsthand account from our esteemed colleague, Mr. Freedman, who is seated here amongst us.”

A spontaneous round of heartfelt applause filled the chamber, with many getting to their feet to honor Mr. Freedman.

“I commend you, sir, for your bravery in speaking out and for devoting your energies to educating the public. You are our brother, and your testimony is vital. Thank you for your determination to make the world a better place, a world where all men—and women—have an equal value and opportunities...”

What is that tapping sound? Ah! Selina is stamping her foot. I know how much she would like to improve conditions for women in particular. The percussive sound at least means she is still wearing her shoes.

“...and where no person is deprived of their liberty and kept in servitude in order to gratify the greed of others. We should all strive to move towards full abolition. Pray God ’twill come soon, and I thank you for listening.”

Several ladies dabbed their eyes with pocket handkerchiefs at the mention of other human souls being kept in servitude. At least, George hoped that was what it was. Heaven forfend they were thinking of how much money their families would lose if full abolition were to be passed in law.

George allowed himself one look at Selina as he sat down and nearly overbalanced.

Lord! The way she’s gazing at me. She looks so disappointed. Perchance she was expecting a longer speech? She must think I had not prepared properly for the occasion, which is so far from the truth. But I have made the right decision. I could not deliver my planned words—’twould have been insensitive and wrong. Thank God I realized in time.

George then felt a sting of guilt about his reasons for writing the speech in the first place. Selina no doubt thought he had been motivated to speak out purely for reasons of justice and fairness, but the truth was, he had spent hours and hours studying and composing his speech because he wanted to impress Selina. After all, his oration in the Quaker Meeting House was to be phase two of the plan to capture her heart.

“Well done, George,” Henry said, leaning over Kitty and Selina. “Sound words.”

“Short,” Selina said, “but to the point.”

She held up George’s discarded crumpled speech.

“And I intend to read the full version just as soon as I can.”

“Anyone else who wishes to share their views, please raise your hand,” the plainly dressed man said. “We will be pleased to listen.”

“Please, do not read my speech, Selina,” George whispered. “’Tis pompous and idiotic. I see that now.”

Selina stuffed the speech into her reticule and then put her finger to her lips as another person stood up to address the room.

The afternoon continued, with speaker after speaker adding details of the appalling conditions that slaves endured and resolving that this practice must end. Many had sensible suggestions for how to educate the public; some offered to write pamphlets, while others were keen to help distribute the literature and debate with people in the street. Many also pledged to do their best to rely less on imports from the West Indies, in order that pressure might be applied to the finances of the slave owners.

“Well, that has given us much food for thought,” Henry said as they came out of the Meeting House and started to walk back to the Crescent. “What do you think, Selina?”

“All very interesting,” she replied. “But I am wondering what I can personally do to help.”

To George’s consternation, she then reached into her reticule and pulled out his speech, smoothing down the crumpled sheets.

“Perhaps I will find ideas in your full speech, George? The one you unaccountably decided not to deliver?”

“That is harsh, Selina,” Henry said. “George will have had very good reasons for deciding to censor his own words.”

“Exactly what were these reasons?” Selina asked George.

“Well, after I had heard John Freedman speak, I no longer felt qualified,” George mumbled.

“But I am left short of information!” Selina’s eyes danced—did this signify amusement—possibly at George’s expense? Or was she merely exasperated?

“How am I to help the cause, Mr. Fitzgerald, if I do not have the full facts?”

Zounds! Mr. Fitzgerald. So formal again.

“Wait! Let me see—ah! I think I have the answer.” Selina pointed to a page. “This is intriguing. ’Tis about the Anti-Saccharites. I will read this section aloud.”

“Only with George’s permission,” Henry said.

George nodded. Who was he to refuse Selina anything?

Selina grinned broadly and stood as if delivering a speech in Parliament.

“I would remind you of the Anti-Saccharites who did so much to support abolition at the end of the last century. For those who know not of what I speak, the Anti-Saccharites drastically reduced their use of sugar—for sugar is produced by slaves. The Anti-Saccharites stopped taking sugar in their tea, and in cooked dishes, no doubt finding the sweetness of the argument against slavery was enough to sustain them. They gave up the freedom of enjoying sugar to try to help others find their own freedom.”

“Wise words,” Henry said.

“Yes, indeed,” echoed Kitty.

“This gives me an idea!” Selina held the pages of George’s speech high in the air, like a soldier bearing a flag into battle.

“Oh no!” Henry said. “You are already hatching one of your plots. Let me see. Are you to revive the Anti-Saccharite movement? Demand that we should forgo puddings made with plantation sugar?”

“Mm, I am not sure about puddings,” Selina said. “Are they not nutritious? As well as delicious? George, help me. As a medical man, do you consider puddings to be good for us?”

“Not especially,” George said. “Many people eat very healthily without them.”

“Are you to take the sugar from my tea?” Henry asked Selina.

“I think even you could manage to give up sugar in your tea,” she retorted. “Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a cup of tea right now.”

“I tell you what,” George said, “why don’t we go to Hunter’s? My treat. ’Tis very near—but a stone’s throw from the abbey.”

“A capital idea,” Henry said. “Oh, Kitty—are you all right? What is the matter, my dear?”

Kitty was holding a handkerchief to her mouth. “The thought of tea—ah! I think I need to sit down.”

“Let us hasten to Hunter’s,” Henry said. “A refreshing cup of tea will do you good, and I have heard their ices and mousses are divine.”

Poor Kitty had gone quite green by now. “No, Henry, you misunderstand me. I cannot bear the idea of tea and certainly do not want to go to Hunter’s and smell it—let alone drink it.”

“Of course. What a thoughtless, blundering idiot I am,” Henry said. “Would you like me to take you home, dearest Kitty?”

She nodded. “I am sorry to be such a nuisance,” she said to George and Selina, “it’s just that, er...”

With his medical training, George knew exactly why Kitty could not bear the smell or taste of tea. Earlier, in the Meeting House, she had looked a little drawn, and now she seemed to feel nauseous. There was no doubting the reason—Henry and Kitty must have exciting news that they had not yet shared: their family was to increase.

“Do not let us spoil your fun,” Henry said to George. “You and Selina should continue to Hunter’s. I will walk Kitty home. In fact, I think I will call for a sedan chair.”

“There is no need,” Kitty said. “I am not an invalid! I am perfectly able to walk—and would prefer it.”

“If you are sure,” Henry said, taking his wife by the arm. “Lean on me, my dearest. And goodbye, George! Do not be a stranger. Selina, doubtless we will see you tomorrow, as we do every day. Goodbye, goodbye...”

“The fresh air will do Kitty good,” George said.

“Yes,” Selina said. “’Tis far more refreshing than being shut in a stuffy sedan chair in her condition.”

“You knew?” George said.

“No,” Selina said. “I suspected, then had my suspicions confirmed. I will have a lot to talk to Kitty about when we meet tomorrow. By the way, do I have your permission to borrow your speech? I have been much struck with the portion about the Anti-Saccharites and would like to read through the full prose.”

“Of course you may borrow it—and keep it if it interests you, for I have another copy at home.”

George and Selina walked the short distance to Hunter’s Tea Shop and sat at a table in the window.

“I think you will want tea with no sugar,” George said to Selina. “Will you allow yourself to have an ice? Or perhaps a fruit tart? I believe they contain sugar as well.”

“Do not tease me, Mr. Fitzgerald!” Selina said. “I am not in the mood. However, you are right, we need to be conscious of all we consume and have in our homes that comes from across the seas. And for that reason, perhaps I will have a piece of bread and butter with my tea.”

“A fine idea,” George said, “and we did have rather a lot of cake and biscuits on our return from the gaol last month. We have both been well fed with sugar.”

“Indeed!”

Ten minutes later, George and Selina were enjoying cups of tea—with no sugar—together with wafer-thin triangles of buttered bread.

“What have you been doing with yourself since last I saw you?” George said.

This simple question lit a fire beneath Selina, and she talked animatedly and at length about Mrs. Godwin, the children she had been helping, and what fun it had been.

“I take them for long walks across the Crescent Fields,” she said. “I know every tree and ditch there, for I have been running around that glorious space since infancy. ’Tis a joy to help the children enjoy nature.”

How beautiful she looks! She has thrown herself life and soul into helping these children.

“One of the boys has a bad leg,” Selina said, “and sometimes struggles to keep up. Yesterday I ended up giving him a lift on my back, which was rather tiring, I can tell you. A pony would have been useful! Come to think of it, it would be wonderful to give them all riding lessons.”

Riding lessons for the children? An interesting idea.

“I told you it was Mama’s suggestion, didn’t I?” Selina said. “Helping out with the children, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“She’s trying to keep a close eye on me now after, well, you know, after how silly I was about visiting the gaol. I’m sorry about that, by the way. You went considerably beyond the call of duty and were such a hero when you rescued me that day.”

“I only did what anyone would’ve done,” George said.

“You did more than that, and you know it,” Selina said. “I am truly sorry I put you in that position. Your clothes were quite ruined.”

“Ah! Those clothes,” George said. “I did not want to wear them again.”

“I know all about that,” Selina said, “for as soon as Martha got back to Number 1, she told everyone downstairs about how wonderfully generous you had been; the news filtered upstairs very quickly. That was a fine thing you did and meant a lot to Martha and her mother.”

“I was glad to be able to help them.”

Selina smiled warmly. George opened his mouth—then closed it again. There was so much more he wanted to say to her. He longed to explain why he had not tried to see her since that day at the gaol, to tell her how busy he had been, spending almost every waking hour either undertaking his medical work, or studying the various books and pamphlets he had about slavery and discussing them with his father, so determined was he to make his speech the very best he could.

So why was George not saying it? What was preventing him? George clenched his fists into angry balls. The truth was, he wanted Selina to think he had managed to do his fine speech without all that preparation. He wanted her to think he had a brilliant mind, to admire him—and then love him.

But he must not be downcast! He had completed phase two of his plan to woo her, and it hadn’t gone too badly, especially in contrast with phase one, trying to change his appearance with new clothes. That had been both embarrassing and undignified. Even now, when George thought of those ripped pantaloons, he winced. No, there was plenty of room for optimism. Onward and upward! Phase three of his plan would be starting soon.

When I have managed to work out what it should be...

“We had better be getting back soon,” George said, “for your mama might become anxious.”

Without warning, the heavens opened and there was a sudden squall outside in the street. Rain lashed the panes of the window and made it difficult to hear.

“Ah! We cannot leave now,” George said, raising his voice, “or you will be wet through by the time we get home.”

“I do not mind a little rain,” Selina said. “In fact, I love to feel its freshness on my face.”

“This is not a little rain,” George said. “This is a torrent! You will be drenched.”

A sudden, intimate vision of Selina wearing one of her delightful white muslin frocks while dancing in the rain sprang to mind. George swallowed nervously.

“We should wait another five minutes or so,” he said. “Let the weather settle.”

“’Tis not much of a spring we are having, is it?” Selina said. “We must hope for better when the summer months come.”

A figure rushed past Hunter’s window, splashing awkwardly in the puddles. No! Surely not? It couldn’t be...

“What is wrong?” Selina said.

“Oh, nothing. Excuse me a minute.” George dashed away, causing the bell to tinkle alarmingly as he flung the entrance door open and looked up and down the street. There was no one there. Perhaps it was his imagination? Or had the person already gone round the corner?

George went inside and sat down again.

“I thought I recognized someone. However, visibility is poor out there in the rainstorm and I could easily have been mistaken.”

George decided he would mention this to Lord Templeton when he returned with Selina to Number 1—and he could ask him to tell Henry discreetly as well. There was no need to alarm the ladies at this point.

For unless I am very much mistaken, I have just seen the most unwelcome figure of Lord Steyne passing by.

*

Selina

“George! Who was it? This person you thought you recognized?” Selina said.

Who could be so important that George felt compelled to run into the street in a rainstorm?

Interesting—how I love a mystery!

George ran his fingers through his damp hair. This new hairstyle suited him so much better—and was enhanced by a few drops of rain and a bit of ruffling. How Selina longed to run her hands through his locks...

George looks so romantic! Like a poet.

“’Twas no one important,” George said, “if it even were him.”

Clear as mud—I see George is determined not to take me into his confidence about whoever it was he saw—or didn’t see.

“Now, shall I order more tea?” George suggested. “We will not be able to leave quite yet, on account of the weather.”

“Yes please,” Selina said. “And—oh, dear me. How tempting.”

If only I had not thought to give up sugar, for I see little pastry tarts being eaten all around us, and they look so delicious.

George smiled. “I expect you’re wondering how much sugar is in a pastry tart.”

“Indeed I am,” Selina said, “and you know full well why. For if ’tis only a few grains, my conscience might allow me to eat one, but alas, if there are a few teaspoons in each tart, that is a different matter. For then I will have to stick to my resolve not to consume sugar—all for the greater good, the total eradication of slavery.”

“If something is wrong, it is wrong,” George said. “Whether it be a few grains or a few teaspoons, the crime is the same, surely? For if someone picks your pocket and steals a sixpence in the street, they can be punished in the same manner as someone who takes a great deal more in a house burglary.”

Ah! George is terribly handsome when he is passionate about a subject. Would it not be wonderful to be in his arms right now and have him loose that passion on me?

The door to the teashop flung open at that point, rudely interrupting Selina’s blissful imaginings, and a man ran through to the very back of the shop and seated himself at a table in a shadowy corner.

“’Tis Signor Allegretto!” Selina clasped her hands together. “How nice to see him here.”

“Signor Allegretto?” George said. “Your singing teacher?”

“Yes, the very person. But why would he rush through to the back of the shop at such a pace? You think he would look around to see if there was anyone he knew. He could have come to sit at our table—’twould have been perfectly acceptable.”

“Possibly he wants some time on his own. People do, sometimes.”

“Well, you might like being solitary,” Selina said, “but I cannot believe that of Signor Allegretto. He is the most gregarious man I have ever known—always laughing and joking and definitely happiest in company. In fact, he’s oft told me that when he goes home at night, he can be quite lonely in his lodgings and he longs for a lady to share his life.”

George raised an eyebrow, and Selina giggled.

“Oh dear,” she said, “that came out all wrong. I am sure he used different words—I did not mean to imply that Signor Allegretto said anything improper.”

“I should hope not,” George said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“I have decided. I am going to go and speak to Signor Allegretto and ask him to join us at our table.”

“Do you think that is wise? I’m not sure...”

Selina rattled her teacup in its saucer.

Lord! Cannot a woman even walk across a room on her own and ask someone if they want to share a pot of tea?

“If you do not think it is wise for me to ask on my own,” she said, “you will have to come with me while I issue the invitation.”

George followed Selina to the back of the room, and they greeted Signor Allegretto and asked if he would like to join them at their table in the window. He sprang to his feet and seemed very surprised to see them, so it was obviously not a deliberate act to fail to greet them when he had come in.

“I do not wish to appear rude,” Signor Allegretto said. “’Tis just that I am much more comfortable sitting at the back of the shop. I am, of course, very happy to take tea with you—but do not want to sit in the window for passers-by to gawp at.”

“Well,” Selina said, “we could join you at your table.”

“I would be honored.” Signor Allegretto gave a deep bow and, with a flourish, indicated a chair for Selina at his table.

“I will order fresh tea,” George said, “and let it be known to the staff that we have moved tables.”

While George was busy doing that on the other side of the room, Selina decided to take matters into her own hands. After all, there was an intriguing mystery to solve. Possibly several mysteries.

“Signor Allegretto!” Selina whispered. “Please, confide in me. I think you are in some sort of trouble.”

“Why do you think that?”

Was Selina going to have to spell it out?

“First, you have a black eye—I know you gave me an explanation for that this morning, but I was not entirely convinced. And, some time ago, you said you could not teach me because you had a fever, however on the same day I saw you on the streets of Bath. Do not think I will give up asking you about that! You were out, walking around, on the very day you were apparently contagious. Now you are cowering at the back of Hunter’s, not wanting to be seen. Are you afraid of someone? Oh, pray tell me what is going on.”

“I cannot,” Signor Allegretto said, “for I do not want to put you in danger.”

“Danger?” George said as he sat down. “If Miss Templeton is in danger, it is your solemn duty to tell me what is going on.”

Signor Allegretto covered his face with his hands. “’Tis to protect her that I am doing this. Everything is such a mess! I know not what to do.”

“Is this danger to do with a certain member of the ton ?” George said.

“Yes,” Signor Allegretto said. “How the devil . . . ?”

George’s voice shrank to a whisper.

“I believe I saw the gentleman concerned just now in the street. He looked far scruffier than I have ever known him—he was completely unkempt. And there was an incident back in January when a man threatened me. I was not sure then, but now...”

“So that’s why you ran out of the door?” Selina said. “Why didn’t you explain before? I have a right to know these things.”

Danger? George is in danger? This is not good news.

“So that we are clear,” Signor Allegretto said, “are you talking about a certain lord whose name begins with S ?’”

“Lord Steyne,” George whispered.

Selina realized that this was a serious matter, of course she did, and yet she could not help feeling quietly thrilled. So little ever happened in her life, and certainly nothing to do with black eyes, threats, or people hiding at the back of Hunter’s. She leant forward eagerly.

“When were you threatened, George?” she asked.

“After Henry and Kitty’s dinner party, when I was traveling up Holloway on my way home. I stopped for Trigger to drink from the trough, and someone cursed me. I could not see them because they were concealed behind a bush, but I thought I recognized the voice as Lord Steyne’s. That was puzzling though, for everyone said he had fled abroad, so I more or less dismissed the suspicion. However, now that I am convinced I have seen him here, outside in the street a mere ten minutes ago, I feel sure it was also him I heard on Holloway that evening.”

“When you say someone cursed you from behind a bush,” Selina said, “what exactly did he say?”

“I cannot repeat his words in front of a lady.”

“Fiddlesticks! I assure you, growing up with my two brothers Henry and Edmund, I probably know every swear word there is in the English language.”

Although when George fought those ruffians outside the gaol to save me, I believe my vocabulary increased somewhat. I was amazed to hear the phrases he used and am not sure I actually know what all of them mean.

“You must take this threat seriously,” Signor Allegretto said to Selina. “’Tis no laughing matter. Perhaps if I explain to you what has happened to me, it will fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle for you.”

Then he turned to George.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, will that be all right? Do I have your permission to speak freely in front of Miss Templeton—or would it be more proper if we talked man-to-man?”

What? Am I to be left out of all the excitement—as usual?

“I think we can proceed as we are,” George said, “for I do not believe Miss Templeton frightens easily.”

“True,” Signor Allegretto said. “She has the courage of a lioness.”

A compliment, I suppose. Although it does annoy me that men think women are such tender creatures that we are to be kept in the dark most of the time.

Signor Allegretto then started detailing every move Lord Steyne had made against him.

“It was back in January,” he said, “when I first began to be aware that I was being followed. I would turn round suddenly in the street, convinced that someone was on my heels—but there was never anyone there. I do not mind admitting it made me feel very uneasy.”

This situation went on for some time until one day, two ruffians forced Signor Allegretto down a narrow alley and he came face-to-face with Lord Steyne.

“I could not believe my eyes,” Signor Allegretto said, “for everyone thought this man had gone abroad after all the trouble.”

George’s mouth set in a grim line.

“Lord Steyne mentioned your name,” Signor Allegretto said to George. “He has quite a grudge against you.”

“Why?” Selina said. “What has George, I mean Mr. Fitzgerald, ever done to Lord Steyne... oh, wait. It is because of what happened in the Octagon, is it not?”

Signor Allegretto nodded, turned to George, and said, “Lord Steyne cannot forgive you for that. He’s done many, many bad things—everyone knows that—but the one thing that destroyed his reputation forever with the ton was being exposed as a card cheat. That was the end for him. You managed to push him over the precipice, and he moved from being a pampered member of Bath society to a virtual nobody. Regardless of how much money he has, no one wants to socialize with him now that you have destroyed his reputation.”

“I still don’t understand,” Selina said. “Lord Steyne is angry with George—so why was he having you followed, Signor Allegretto?”

“I am coming to that. Lord Steyne said that I could be useful to him as I visit Number 1 to teach you, Miss Templeton, and he thought I would be able to find out all sorts of things and pass on details—let him know if and when Mr. Fitzgerald came to visit, and so on. This is all part of an extremely unpleasant scheme he is dreaming up.”

Signor Allegretto’s story got even more complicated at this point, and Selina found it hard to follow, but she understood that Lord Steyne had not left the country as everyone had thought after his disgrace. He had instead hidden out in one of his properties in the countryside around Bath, while making frequent—secret—trips into the city.

“He is determined to get me to act as a spy for him,” Signor Allegretto said, “and that I will never do.”

“Bravo!” Selina said. “And this is the reason for the strange happenings, is it?”

“Yes,” Signor Allegretto said, “for the day I said I had a contagious fever and could not teach you, it was because Lord Steyne said I had to meet him down by the river. He tried again to force me to work for him—I said no.”

“And later,” Selina said, “the black eye?”

“Lord Steyne set his ruffians upon me, but I was not to be persuaded by violence. I am immovable and will never spy for such a man—I will never betray any family I work for, particularly the Templeton family, which I hold in such high regard.”

“I can understand that Lord Steyne has a grudge against me,” George said, “but what has the Templeton family got to do with this?”

“How better to punish someone, than to harm the person they love,” Signor Allegretto said.

“What on earth do you mean?” George said.

Yes—what is he talking about? The person you love . . .oh! Could it be . . . ?

Signor Allegretto stared at George and then at Selina for quite some time.

“Why, Lord Steyne means to spoil things between you two,” he said at last. “Do the pair of you not realize you are in love with each other? I apologize for talking in such a direct way—I am Italian and cannot help it. We wear our hearts on our sleeves. It is plain to everyone that you, Miss Templeton, and you, Mr. Fitzgerald, belong together. You love each other—and have done so since before Christmas. You are both looking shocked. One day I will be proved right, mark my words.”

Well, really! I am attracted to George—sometimes—but that is not love. And I think he used to be attracted to me, although alas, he has not shown the same signs more recently, for he seems reluctant to see me very often. But love? George, in love—with me? Arrant nonsense!

Isn’t it?