Page 4 of Visiting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #2)

Directly after breakfast the next morning, a flurry of letter writing ensued in the drawing room. For myself, I penned a hasty (but heartfelt) note to Max and a somewhat longer one to Harriet, asking her if she had deduced anything untoward happening with Papa and Aunt, and if so, why had she not said anything to me?

Lucinda wrote a ‘we have arrived safely in Bath’ letter to her mother, who was now back in York tending to the needs of her husband and other children. Jane said she was writing to Cassie (who was currently in Godmersham helping with the Austens’ children). But when I glanced over, she had finished her letter and was writing something else that was making her lips quirk every so often and obviously amusing her. It was some scenario or conversation that she had witnessed or overheard no doubt. Perhaps the dull old couple from the pump room were, at this very moment, being immortalised by the pen of Miss Austen .

Letters written and ready for Mrs Bromley to take to the post office in Milsom Street, our party prepared ourselves ( Lucinda and I in great excitement) for our excursion to the pump room. Edward would take the waters in King’s Bath, and we ladies would promenade. Apparently, the pool allowed women’s bathing, but Elizabeth said that we could do so another time. For now, we should ‘kill three birds with one stone in the pump room’. I assumed she meant we could take our exercise, meet new people, and introduce Lucinda to eligible young gentlemen.

The situation of 13 Queen Square was such that it was a mere five-minute walk south to the pump room, which was adjacent to the Roman bathhouse and the abbey. It was also a mere five-or-so-minute walk north to the Upper Assembly Rooms, where balls were held twice weekly.

Elizabeth pointed out this fact as we strolled to the former and commended her husband on his choice of accommodation. Indeed, as he was hobbling slowly along with crutches, I thought Edward would be better off carried to the bathhouse in a sedan chair. But he insisted on escorting us and said that he could feel the healing effects of the water, which he had both drunk and bathed in, working its magic and would be ‘as right as rain and promenading with you all in no time in the pump room’.

When I queried why the place was named so, Edward said it was because the water from King’s Bath was pumped into the adjoining room so that people could drink glasses of it as it was full of health-giving minerals .

‘But surely not the water that people have been bathing in?’ I asked.

‘Of course not,’ he said, turning his head and giving me a look (he was walking ahead of us with Elizabeth). ‘The water is drawn from a different source.’ He sounded knowledgeable, so I gathered he knew what he was talking about.

Our destination was a grand collection of buildings of light-coloured stone, impressive to look at with their columns and windowed archways. One was the King’s Bath, which Edward headed to using a dedicated entrance for bathers .

Further along, a steady stream of elegant-looking people were heading through a portico, so we joined the tail end and were swept along with the chattering crowd.

Inside, Elizabeth observed the various personages heading into the salon and said to Lucinda, ‘Come along with me, dear. Jane, why don’t you go with Felicity to the fountain and take the waters?’

‘Oh, but ...’ I said, thinking as head chaperone, I should be looking after my charge. But Elizabeth obviously had other ideas .

‘Do not worry. She will be safe with me,’ she said, tucking Lucinda’s arm into her own and whisking her off into the main salon before I could protest.

Jane said that it was a rite of passage when in Bath to drink the waters, though she did warn me it was ‘an acquired taste’. We made our way to the side of the room where a large Grecian urn spouted a steady stream of water into the mouths of four jumping fishes.

A counter had glasses of water set up, which were being collected at the fountain by an attendant. People were standing around, drinking the water and conversing. It seemed to be the thing to do .

The aroma of the water resembled rotten eggs, so I was reluctant to drink it. But maybe it tasted better than it smelled? However, this was not the case. ‘Urgh,’ I said after a sip. ‘It tastes like it’s been strained through dirty stockings. How can anything that tastes so foul be considered a healing elixir?’

I said this rather loudly. A couple of young blonde ladies, a little older than Lucinda, were standing nearby with their mother. The prettiest of the two overheard me and tittered. She pointed to her mouth with a gloved finger and mimed gagging, and I smiled at her, delighted that someone else shared my opinion .

Jane had drained hers with her fingers pinching her nose, which I gathered was the way to do it.

‘Well done, you’re brave,’ I said. ‘Now that we’ve had our magical water, shall we go and find Elizabeth and Lucinda?’

Jane nodded, and eager to leave, I deposited the remnants of my glass in a potted plant without anyone noticing. I hoped it would not kill it .

The main salon was humming with people, a twisting throng that had a life of its own, and I could not spy Elizabeth and Lucinda within it. Jane linked arms with me. ‘Come on, we’re sure to find them soon enough. ’

I was not one for parading around indoors. The green meadows of our estate and the woods surrounding it were far more to my taste than tramping up and down on floorboards. But the room itself was lovely, with high arched windows along the side and a raised balcony at one end. Presiding over everyone was an enormous tiered chandelier dripping with crystals. There were far worse ways to spend a morning than being amidst such grandeur.

I wondered how Edward was faring in the bath and if he was stomaching the smell of rotten eggs. Perhaps it was like all bad smells: the longer you smelt them, the more your nose became accustomed to them.

As Jane and I walked around the room, we passed couples of varying ages and pairs of single men and women who had stopped to converse and look each other over. It was rather like attending the stock sales. You saw a cow you liked the look of, so you enquired of its breeding and made an offer to the farmer for a good price .

I was musing along these lines as we paused at the far end of the room for a breather, and I caught sight of Lucinda and Elizabeth. They were over by the window talking to a gentleman in his early twenties. As I gazed at him, taking in his countenance and stature, veritable sparks flew out of my eyes.

I leaned into Jane. ‘Who is that ? ’ I whispered.

‘I am not sure,’ she whispered back. ‘But whoever he is, Lucy certainly seems captivated—she cannot take her eyes off him.’

Indeed! I thought. For he was tall and lithe, wearing a dark-blue tailcoat and breeches, his snowy cravat impeccably tied. His hair was slightly longer than fashionable, but it was a rich dark brown, groomed and parted in the middle—the glossy locks framing a superbly handsome face. He tilted it now, smiling at something Lucinda said, and my stomach tingled—it was a smile that could ruin a woman’s good intentions.

‘Well, he is very good-looking. I do not blame her,’ I murmured .

Jane glanced at me. ‘Quite, but he is still a stranger. We should go over and make his acquaintance before Elizabeth agrees to anything on Lucinda’s behalf. ’

I shook myself out of my trance. Jane was talking sense as usual. You should not judge a book by its cover, especially when it came to men. I, of all people, should know that, having misjudged Max poorly when we first met and deemed him ‘dour’ and ‘unfriendly’ .

Speaking of Max, I was a happily married woman and should not be getting distracted by such an attractive male specimen !

As we walked over, I felt rather jittery but composed myself and was ready to make his acquaintance in a calm(ish) manner. But the gentleman had finished his conversation and strode away on long legs, the tails of his coat flicking behind him, before we had the chance. I let out a breath that was tinged with rotten eggs. It was a good thing he had gone, for in truth, I did not think I could remain composed in his presence. Yet part of me was disappointed that I had been denied the opportunity to meet him .

It seemed I was not the only one who had been fascinated by the gentleman. My niece was all aflutter when we reached her .

‘Aunty Fliss!’ breathed Lucinda. Her throat and cheeks were flushed pink, and her rosy skin complemented her soft dark hair becomingly. She clutched at my hands, and I could feel the heat of her palms through her thin gloves. ‘Oh, you have just missed the most amiable gentleman!’

‘Oh, believe me, we saw him,’ I assured her. ‘From across the room. Did you have a nice conversation? Was his manner pleasing?’

‘It was! I do not know how I managed a single word as I was so impressed by him, but he was easy to talk to, and I did not feel too awkward. How strange that such a handsome gentleman should want to talk to me! ’

‘Not at all, Lucy,’ said Elizabeth indulgently. ‘He has a pair of fine eyes in his head, and you are a pretty young thing. Your mama should be well pleased if he becomes her son-in-law.’

She threw Jane and me a self-congratulatory smile, as if to imply that if this occurred, she should be the one to get the credit for instigating the match .

‘We should learn more about this man before we start planning Lucinda’s wedding,’ Jane said, frowning. ‘What is his name to begin with?’

‘Mr Dorian Hart,’ supplied Elizabeth .

‘Isn’t it sublime?’ said Lucinda dreamily. ‘He sounds like a poet.’

Elizabeth and I agreed that it was a very poet-like name. Jane didn’t pass comment.

‘And does he stay in Bath or ...?’ I enquired.

‘He is visiting for the Season but is a resident of the county, though he did not say where exactly,’ Elizabeth said.

‘Why was he here alone?’ asked Jane, sounding suspicious. I noted that she did not seem quite as taken with Mr Hart as we all were .

‘He was promenading with his friend from Eton, a Mr Smith-Withers. But Mr Hart lingered for so long talking to Lucinda that his friend excused himself as he had an appointment.’

‘But why did he speak to you in the first place?’ Jane pressed. ‘It was very forward that he should make your acquaintance without being introduced, at least by the master of ceremonies.’ She did not look impressed about Mr Hart having an Eton education, but to me, it signified he was at least intelligent and possibly wealthy .

‘It was only because he bumped my shoulder rather hard that his attention turned to us,’ explained Elizabeth. ‘After he apologised most profusely and hoped that I was not injured, he noticed Lucinda and immediately enquired as to our situation here in Bath. Of course, I happily told him as I saw he was quite struck with her. My shoulder is now a little sore and may in fact be bruised, but I do not mind as it brought about this meeting. In fact, I see it as a happy accident!’ She clapped her hands excitedly despite Jane shaking her head at her .

‘And was there any talk of a future meeting?’ I asked Lucinda, hardly daring to enquire in case the man had not said anything of that nature.

‘He said he hopes to see me at the ball tonight and become better acquainted,’ Lucinda murmured, blushing furiously and looking as if she might melt into a puddle on the floor .

‘Gracious,’ I said. ‘So I suppose we will be attending too?’

‘Upon my word, we shall not miss it for the world,’ said Elizabeth firmly. ‘Even if I have to drag Edward there on his crutches.’

Speaking of her husband, the man had availed himself of a sedan chair and was resting on the sofa when we returned from the pump room.

‘Ladies! How was your outing?’ he enquired. The baths must have been hot as his shirt was half unbuttoned, and he was perspiring heavily and mopping his forehead with a small white towel.

‘It was excellent, my dear,’ said Elizabeth, patting his red sweaty cheek and then wiping her hand on her skirt. ‘I have procured a suitor for Lucy, and we shall see him at the ball tonight.’

Edward began to protest that he was in no fit state for a ball, but Elizabeth would hear none of it.

‘We shall be taking Lucy to the ball. Sometimes, my dear, we must sacrifice our own comfort for the happiness of others.’ She touched her right shoulder gingerly and winced. ‘Excuse me, I shall ask the cook to fix me a poultice to ease my bruising and see about luncheon.’

The rest of us removed our pelisses and bonnets and flopped down on the other sofa when she’d left. Lucinda looked as deflated as I felt. After the excitement of meeting Mr Hart, the afternoon was sure to be a dreary one. But Jane suggested that we could visit the circulating library, so that was better than nothing.

Elizabeth came back soon after and said luncheon would be served in half an hour, so my spirits lifted upon hearing that. I was starving after all the walking around in the pump room, and I wanted to rid my mouth of the taste of the water.

‘Felicity, you have a letter. Mrs Bromley brought it back from the post office,’ said Elizabeth, taking it out of her skirt pocket and handing it over. I recognised the handwriting on the front instantly, and my heart leapt.

‘It’s from Max!’ I said joyfully, all thoughts of Mr Hart instantly forgotten (indeed they had never really taken root as the words of my husband were the true emotional nourishment I desired) .

Wanting privacy, I said I would read it in my room and flew up the double flight, my feet pounding on the stairs so loudly it was like an elephant ascending. How lovely of Max to write before receiving mine , I thought, jumping onto the bed. But now he shall get my letter from this morning, and I won’t have replied to anything he has written in his!

Breaking open the red wax seal, I eagerly scanned the contents of the letter .

My darling Fliss,

You will be in Bath by now, so I wanted to write a short note for you to receive on your arrival. How was your trip, dearest? I trust you did not suffer too much. I know how much you detest long carriage journeys. Have you been out in society already with Jane and met some nice people? Has Lucinda been a help or a hindrance? Only time will tell perhaps !

It is evening here, and you have been away for three days, and I know not what to do with myself. I miss you more than I can say, and any words I write here will not do my emotions justice. I have taken a little red wine as solace these past nights, and I may take a little more tonight. But do not worry. It is only to soothe the ache around my heart, and I will not fall victim to dependency. I will write again when I have received your first letter (or perhaps your second as our letters may now have crossed) .

Love your Max x

PS: George sends his best whinny. The stable boy took him for a ride yesterday, but he refused to go any farther than the second paddock. He is no doubt missing you as much as I!

I frowned in concern when I read that Max had ‘taken a little red wine’. Oh dear, that did not bode well. I hoped it was only a little as I knew exactly what happened when Max partook of red wine in excess. The servants would not be impressed if he stumbled around the grounds singing badly.

Oh, Max! His angst at my absence was loud and clear from his letter, and I wished I was with him right this second—my husband needed me, Bath and its balls be damned!

But short of packing up my trunk and leaping into the next passing carriage to head north, there was nothing I could do about it. And I could not leave Lucinda now that she had attracted attention from an eligible young gentleman—my duties as a chaperone were more pressing than ever. All I could do was pray Max would receive my letter shortly and that it would put him back on an even keel.