Elizabeth Mansfield (13 page)

Isabel nodded. "That's exactly what I was thinking," she said.

* * *

Two hours later, the sleet stopped falling. The weather was, therefore, deemed clear enough for the departing guests to take their leave. Madge and Charles stood shivering on the outside staircase as the three Ainsworths, the two Tyndales, and the two Rendells prepared to depart. All of them were going at the same time. Without warning, the once-happy hosts were being completely deserted. Though smiling and waving good-bye, they were utterly bewildered by the abrupt departure of their most desired guests.

Hurt and disappointed, they stood watching as Leonard climbed into his emblazoned coach after his father. Then Harry, after helping his grandmother and his brother into their carriage, jumped aboard without a backward look. And, finally, Kate and Isabel emerged from the house, the hoods of their cloaks clutched closely about their heads. The cold air rang with the slam of the carriage doors, the coachmen's clatter as they climbed up on their boxes, the shouts of Good-bye! Good-bye!, and the crack of whips.

Well aware of their own disappointment, the two hosts could not know of the disappointments being suffered by the passengers in all three carriages and by their own daughter, who was standing right above them in her bedroom window, weeping, with her nose pressed against the pane.

All too soon the three carriages, one after the other, lumbered off down the drive, their wheels crunching the ice pebbles coating the roadway as they disappeared into the deepening twilight.

TWENTY-ONE

An icy December, a snowy January, and a wet February brought visitations to a halt. They were the most uneventful months Kate had ever endured. Her most interesting occupation during that time was reading to her mother while she stitched. Only two small incidents occurred to shake her, if only momentarily, out of her lethargy. One was a communication from Mr. Crowell on a matter of business, in which he added a postscript relating that Lord Ainsworth was still trying to track down the painting for which he'd been hunting, but he'd confided that he didn't expect it to be of the quality of the one he'd seen at Rendell Hall. The other was the delivery of a package for her mother from Sir Edward Tyndale. In it was a large skein of fine merino wool the color of old wine. The card read:
When I saw this at the Pantheon Bazaar, I thought of you. Yours, Tyndale.

"Isn't that dear of him!" Kate exclaimed, looking at the card over her mother's shoulder.

But Isabel only snorted. "It's his way of laughing at me for always being at my needlework," she snapped. And she sent the gift back without a word to the sender.

On an unusually balmy afternoon early in March, a carriage bearing the Quigley coat of arms drew up to the entrance of Rendell Hall. Because no visitors were expected, it was several minutes before Havers, the butler, responded to the coachman's horn and opened the door.

Inside, in the drawing room, Isabel was stitching away at her embroidery frame, while Kate sat nearby reading to her from the second volume of
Tristram Shandy.
The absurd antics of the characters in the novel had kept them laughing through many hours of the winter, but Isabel was beginning to tire of it. "Here we are, approaching the end of Book Two and Tristram hasn't even been born," she was complaining as the door flew open and Deirdre burst in on them.

Kate jumped to her feet. "Deirdre!" she gasped in astonishment.

Deirdre struck a pose with arms akimbo. "What do you two mean by sitting here at the fire on this beautiful spring-like day?" she demanded before dashing across to her aunt and bestowing a quick kiss on her cheek. Then she whirled round and threw her arms about Kate.

"Heavens," Isabel cried, picking up the needlework she'd dropped at her niece's entrance, "what are you doing here, child? You didn't come all this way alone, did you?"

"No, of course not. Mama and Papa are right behind me," the girl giggled, releasing the bewildered Kate and pulling off her bonnet.

The door opened again. This time it was Havers. "Lady Madge and Lord Quigley," he announced formally, and Madge and Charles made their entrance. Madge, breathless as usual, promptly dropped her huge bulk into the nearest armchair, while Charles strode across the room and embraced his sister-in-law. "I'm happy to see we find you both well," he said.

"No thanks to you," Isabel said with a laugh. "Surprises like this can give one an attack of apoplexy! Why didn't you let us know you were coming?"

"Because we're not staying," Charles said, turning to embrace his niece.

"We've only dropped in on our way to Bath," Madge said from the depths of her chair. "We've rented a lovely, large house in Queen Square for the month."

"If you're on your way to Bath, Rendell Hall is quite a roundabout way to get there," Kate pointed out. "So surely you had a greater purpose than just dropping in."

"We're taking you with us," Deirdre clarioned excitedly.

Kate's eyes lit up. “Taking us to Bath? Really?"
 

"Abducting you," Charles said cheerfully. "We've plenty of room, and we want you with us."
 

"Abducting us, indeed!" Isabel retorted promptly. "Thank you very much, but we've no intention of going to Bath. We're perfectly comfortable here at home."

"Nonsense," Madge said firmly. She heaved herself up from the armchair and waddled across the room to her sister-in-law. "You can't prefer staying here in virtual seclusion. It's bad enough to keep yourself a recluse, but it's the outside of enough to keep your daughter hidden away. Just think, my dear, of the pleasures that await the two of you. You can meet old friends in the Pump Room—"

"—and drink the waters," Charles put in.

"—and there are all those lovely concerts at the Assembly Rooms," Madge went on.

"—and the maze at the Sydney Gardens," her husband added, "and the Theater Royal, and the Paragon and the Abbey and..."

While they continued to urge Isabel to change her mind, Kate pulled Deirdre aside. "I thought you weren't speaking to me," she whispered.

"Of course I'm speaking to you," Deirdre replied with a grin. "I lost my head for a while, that's all. I didn't really mean a word I said."

Kate searched her face closely. "Didn't you mean it about your feelings for Lord Ainsworth?"

Deirdre lowered her head in embarrassment. "I thought I did. Harry is so... so dashing. A regular out-and-outer, don't you agree? But Leonard came to see me a few weeks after you left, and he was so loving and tender that I realized I love him after all. Really and truly love him. By the way, he and his father are going to Bath, too."

"So you're still engaged!" Kate exclaimed in relief, and the two cousins embraced warmly. Kate couldn't help wondering, however, if her delight at Deirdre's news was entirely unselfish. Despite her conviction that Harry Gerard was a rake, she found him often on her mind. And that kiss in the library remained vivid, no matter how hard she tried to banish it from her memory.

Isabel, meanwhile, was wavering. "You may be right, Madge," she said thoughtfully. "It might very well do Kate some good to move about in polite society."

"A great deal of good," Madge agreed.

"Kate," Isabel called across the room, "do you think you'd like us to go to Bath?"

Kate, envisioning a reunion between her mother and Sir Edward, smiled broadly. "More than anything!"

Isabel surrendered. "Very well, then, we'll go."

Madge clutched happily at her breast and exhaled a relieved bream.

Charles made no such signs of triumph. "Good, then," was all he said, merely adding in his most masterly voice, "tell Havers to bring us some tea. By the time we've downed it, I expect you to be packed and ready to set off!"

TWENTY-TWO

It was dark when the Quigley carriage trundled into Bath, but the streets were clogged with carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians. Even at this late hour, the little city throbbed with the rumble of traffic. Windows glowed with light. They saw so many passers-by that they became convinced that the denizens of Bath never slept. When they rode past the Assembly Rooms, they found the streets clogged with well-dressed revelers. The air rang with squeals of laughter and the tinkle of music. Kate, after months of quiet country life, felt like a lonely little firefly who'd suddenly found itself bouncing among the sparkles of a firecracker. She squeezed her mother's hand in excitement.

Deirdre and she would have liked to jump down from the carriage and join in the merrymaking, but their parents would not give permission. The hour, they argued, was late, they were tired from the journey, and they still had to settle into their new abode. Good sense and a respect for moderation prevailed.

The next morning, Deirdre rose before ten, early for her. She was eager to prepare herself for an expected visit from Leonard. He'd promised to call on her and take her for a stroll through the Sydney Gardens. She dressed herself in a pale yellow, figured muslin gown with a wide blue sash tied at the back with a huge bow, the tails of which hung down like a train. When she looked at herself in the pier mirror and whirled about, the flounce of the skirt and the wide ribbons made a very satisfactory flutter. And when her maid had brushed her hair into a very enticing curl that fell over one shoulder, Deirdre was quite pleased with her appearance.

She danced downstairs to the breakfast room only to discover that there was no one there to admire her but Pruitt, the butler. He informed her that her mother and Lady Isabel had already left for the Pump Room, her father had gone to meet a friend at the Guildhall, and Miss Kate was still upstairs, unpacking. "But there is a message for you," he added, handing her a letter.

It was from Leonard, begging her pardon for not being able to keep their appointment. He and his father were delayed because of an urgent business matter and would not arrive in Bath for another two days.

Miserably disappointed, she dismissed Pruitt and sat down at the table. There was nothing to do but eat. She began absently to pick at a sweet roll when Pruitt again appeared at the door. "There's a gentleman here to see Miss Kate." he said

"Oh?" Deirdre looked up with interest. "Who is it?"
 

"Sir Percival Greenway."

"Percy? Here in Bath?" Deirdre's mood brightened at once. Here, at least, was someone who would appreciate her appearance. "Do send him in, Pruitt. And then, if you please, let Kate know he's here."

Pruitt admitted Percy and then marched up the stairs. When he delivered the news to Miss Kate, she did not show the same pleasure in it as Deirdre had. "Dash it all," she muttered, "must he follow me everywhere? I suppose he expects me to invite him to breakfast."

"Is that what you want me to say to him, Miss Kate?" the butler asked. "That you'll join him for breakfast?"

Kate ran a desperate hand through her tousled mop of hair. "No, I don't. But what else can I do? I wish I'd gone with Mama and Aunt Madge to the Pump Room. Then I wouldn't have to endure his company."

Pruitt studied her speculatively, his rheumy eyes lighting up. "I can tell him you went out to the Pump Room with 'em," he suggested.
 

Kate's eyes lit up. "Pruitt, I had no idea you were such a scamp. What a delicious, naughty idea! Yes, do go down and lie to the fellow. In fact, if there were some way I could slip out of the house and join Mama, it would almost be the truth."

The old fellow threw her a conspiratorial grin. "Well, Miss Kate, you can always take the back stairs..."

Down below, Deirdre invited Percy to join her at the table. From the moment of his entrance, with the tassels of his elegant boots swinging with every stride, his stylish appearance had made a good impression on her. Now, sitting opposite him, she was studying his neckcloth. It was made of a heavy gray satin and was wound three times round his neck, then tied with a small tie at the throat. It was the most dashing neckcloth she'd ever seen. She loved the way it pushed his starched shirtpoints up tightly against his cheeks.
Why doesn't Leonard dress like that?
she asked herself. "I truly admire you, Percy," she said aloud. "You always appear so
comme il faut.
"

When Pruitt again made his appearance, neither Deirdre nor Percy seemed glad of the interruption. "What is it, Pruitt?" Deirdre asked.

"Miss Kate is not at home," Pruitt said, straight-faced. "Her abigail tells me she went off to the Pump Room to her mother." And he bowed himself out.

"I'm so sorry you missed her, Percy," Deirdre said. "You must be terribly disappointed."

"Not at all," Percy assured her. "Your own company is more than any man might wish for."

"Ha!" Deirdre scoffed. "What butter sauce!"

"Not so, indeed!" Percy cried with utmost sincerity. "Surely you must know that you're the prettiest creature in all of Bath. And in that gown, with your hair over your shoulder that way, you quite take my breath away!"

"Why, Percy," Deirdre breathed, her huge blue eyes widening as she gazed at him as if she'd never seen him before, "what a lovely thing to say. You take my breath away, too."

TWENTY-THREE

After tying back her mop of unruly hair and throwing a shawl over her shoulders, Kate made her way down the back stairs and out to the street. The Pump Room was only a short distance away, though an icy March wind made the walk seem longer. When she arrived there, she was surprised to see so much activity. Crowds of people were parading round a large room that seemed to Kate as high as it was wide. Sunlight slanted down from the rows of oval windows placed way up in the rafters and separated by lovely, fluted columns that decorated the walls. The height of the ceiling caused the noise of dozens of chattering voices to echo and re-echo round the room. Those who were not strolling about were sitting on the carved wooden benches, drinking the famous waters. They were, for the most part, ignoring the efforts of the eight musicians who were thrumming away enthusiastically from their places on a platform in a large recess in the wall to her right. All in all, Kate thought, it made a very lively, cheerful scene.