The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series) (18 page)

There was a call for music, and Cassandra was in the mood to oblige. The guests gathered in the sitting room while Cassandra entertained them with some popular tunes on the piano. Soon toes were tapping, and James suggested a dance in earnest. There was a small spinet piano in the conservatory for just such occasions, with a stack of sheet music for dancing. Everyone convened in the large room, and the servants moved the sparse furniture to the walls while the young people paired off. Cassandra launched into a favorite country dance, and James led the way with Elizabeth. These dances he now knew well enough. Everyone was stepping, jumping, clapping, bowing, linking arms and hands—all the variations of the familiar dances. Cassandra played with enthusiasm, delighted to see her son and all his friends having such a wonderful time. She thought that he probably had never imagined such simple, uncomplicated fun could be had, and honestly didn’t know when she’d last seen him so happy. She glanced around for Ben, but he was nowhere to be seen.

After she had played another few dances, she heard a small commotion and realized that Ben was standing by the spinet, taking his violin out of his case. He must have sent a servant for it. A crowd was gathering round, so she finished up her song and looked up at him in wonder.

“I thought I would accompany you,” he said with a smile. There was clapping all around, and the dancers formed sets again. They began another country dance, suddenly made all the livelier by what could only be called fiddling in the style of Mr. Overstreet. Cassandra had never heard Ben play like this, and she laughed in delight. They performed more pieces until Cassandra was finally worn out. Ben then took the music over on his own, fiddling to shouts of enjoyment, and applause.

When the dancers had also tired, Ben treated them to a final piece, a beautiful and haunting solo violin concerto by Vivaldi that she had never heard him play before. The guests were entranced, and when he was done, they all realized that the evening had reached its conclusion, and slowly took their leave as each carriage came round to collect its family. As Ben departed, he gazed into Cassandra’s eyes and kissed her hand. She felt there had been a breakthrough. They had played together in public, and it was accepted. And he was accepted as a musician in Selborne Society.

September 12, 1820 – Well the party went off perfectly without a hitch. The last of the stragglers have finally gone, the Charles girls among them with Jane, whom they gave a ride home in their carriage. I realized as they were leaving that Lady Holcomb left without saying goodbye as she had promised. When Jane came to bid me farewell and thank me for the evening, I asked her to send her regards to her mother and tell her I hoped she was feeling better. The girl flushed, and stammered and said she would, then was whisked out the door by her friends before I had the chance to say anything more. It was odd behavior and it makes me uncomfortable. Did Charlotte not want to be here? What on earth is going on with that woman?

October 5, 1820—The harvest is still underway throughout the county, and the smell of smoked meats and freshly cut hay hover in the air. I am outside on the veranda, looking out over the landscape of changing leaves in the bright afternoon light. I am so charmed by the loveliness of the season I can hardly bear it. I remember that long ago, at my parents’ Hudson Valley home, autumn brought these feelings, of skies so blue they shimmered, of a cozy sweater after the shorts and t-shirts of summer, of going to pick pumpkins at the local farm, the smell of leaves burning, climbing on haystacks, staying inside with my mother to bake. When did I lose that awareness that the change of season was special and sacred?

I am seeking refuge, at the moment, from the busy Selborne social calendar that is in full swing. James is out for a ride with his new group of friends, having thrown himself into the fall activities wholeheartedly. It seems every the day he is out on horseback either by himself or with friends in a curricle to visit some interesting site or another. He has befriended Edward Clarke and Thomas White and sometimes they go hunting together and joke about James’ bad luck with a kill (they have decided that Americans just weren’t born to hunt). Nearly every evening he has a card party, supper, or impromptu dance to attend.

I join occasionally in the events and outings that include the older people, but I prefer my quiet nights, usually spent with Ben
—he will be here soon for an evening of music and dinner
. Often we just talk or read to each other by the fire, or go for walks under the moonlight. I am beginning to see how this companionship could easily turn into a life together. I cannot think about the inevitable a few months off. I realize now that his is not the only heart that will be breaking.

As if on cue, Ben came walking through the doors of the conservatory. Cassandra hurriedly shut her journal and rose to meet him. They walked back through the house, Cassandra detouring into the office where she could deposit the journal in the desk under lock and key. She then met him at the front door and they proceeded out onto a section of the grounds where she wanted to show him a cluster of mushrooms and get his opinion on whether or not they were edible. They had bent down near a birch tree and were examining the fungi, when they perceived the rattle of a carriage. They looked up to see Lady Holcomb’s approaching at a clip. They were easily within view of the drive and stood up with a start. Cassandra moved away, hoping they hadn’t been seen conferring so closely together. The carriage slowed—she was too late. It rolled to a stop, and the footman hopped down to help Lady Holcomb descend. Her face appeared stern as she waved to Cassandra, more a beckoning than a greeting. Cassandra and Ben hurried over to her, and Ben took the lady by the arm as they walked to the house.

“I am here to tell you,” she said to Cassandra after they had exchanged greetings, “That the young people: your son, my daughter, Miss Charles, Miss Fairchild, and Mr. Clarke, have been eagerly discussing a plan to travel to Bath for a fortnight. This is usually the season when Lady Charles goes, and I often partake of the waters there for a few weeks in the autumn myself. She and I spoke yesterday, and we thought it was a good scheme. What do you think? We insist upon having you as a part of the group.”

Her tone seemed to have shifted from the easy pleasantness of just a few weeks ago. There was something of Lady Charles’ imperiousness in it.

“Well,” Cassandra began, “it has been a great desire of mine to see Bath, and I would love to take advantage of the opportunity. I am honored by the invitation.” She was aware of how formal she sounded. “And what about Mr. Johnston here,” she ventured, “Is he included in the invitation?”

“Of course, if he should wish it,” Lady Holcomb said, turning her head with a forced smile to acknowledge him.

“I will certainly consider the invitation, thank you,” returned Ben pleasantly.

They were nearly at the entrance to Sorrel Hall, and Ben detached himself from Lady Holcomb’s arm. “Let me leave you here, if you do not mind. I have some business I must attend to at home. I am sure you would enjoy a chat alone together.”

Cassandra nodded her farewell to him. He took Lady Holcomb’s hand and kissed it gallantly, and when the lady’s head was turned, winked at Cassandra. Her heart sank as she watched him walk away to the stables.

Cassandra led Lady Holcomb into the sitting room and rang for Mary to take their wraps and bring in the tea things. She and her friend took two chairs by the fire.

“Charlotte,” she said simply, “will you please tell me what is going on?”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Cassandra?” The lady fluttered her handkerchief around her neck. “You startle me with that terribly direct manner of yours.”

“You do know what I mean. Your attitude toward me has changed as of late. You seem cold and disapproving, not like the warm and friendly Charlotte Holcomb that I have come to love so much.”

“My dear, there certainly has been no intention on my part of seeming distant. But Lady Charles has lately been sharing with me her opinion of you and your friend Mr. Johnston, and, well, I have to say, I see her point.”

Cassandra struggled to hold in her anger. “And what exactly is that opinion?”

 “She thinks you are scandalous, to put it mildly. You and I spoke of this after the ball, but I had not yet known of her disapprobation. She has had me over to tea twice or thrice in the last few weeks, and the subject of your behavior always comes up. I told you that tongues would wag, and so they are. And yet you do not seem to have paid my advice any mind. I saw the two of you hobnobbing there under the tree a few moments ago. You seem as if you are encouraging the poor man, though you tell me you have no desire to marry him.”

“I understand your concern, Charlotte. But frankly, I do not see how it is any business of Lady Charles’ what I do or do not do. She does not like me; I do not think she ever has, and she is looking for reasons to turn my friends against me, though I do not know why.”

“It is her way, I suppose, to be rather strong in her opinions,” responded Lady Holcomb. “But you cannot simply dismiss her. She has a great deal of influence in this neighborhood.”

Cassandra sighed. “Charlotte, if I have offended you with my behavior, than I apologize. I do not care what Lady Charles thinks, but I do care if my friendship with you jeopardizes your standing in the neighborhood. In light of that, I appreciate that you still want me to go to Bath with you, and that you would allow Mr. Johnston to join us.”

“Well, Lady Charles realized that we could not very well invite James without you, and as for Mr. Johnston, I suppose she cannot stop him. I, myself, could not imagine making the trip without you. I still very much consider you my dear friend.”

“I promise that I will be the picture of propriety in Bath. You will not have reason to regret the invitation. I am just so sorry that I have caused you any pain or alarm.”

“Oh, my love, I could not stay angry with you.” She clasped Cassandra’s hands in hers. “Not that I was exactly angry, but Lady Charles’ words were having such an effect on me! She is very persuasive, you know.”

By now Mary had come and gone with the tea service and a tray of diminutive sandwiches and sweets, and the ladies took a moment to enjoy them.

Cassandra dove into the subject again. “If you do not mind, Charlotte, would you tell me just what it is that Lady Charles does say about me?”

Her friend’s face colored. “You know, just that—well, she thinks you are too…different.”

“That is all? She thinks I am different?”

“That is not exactly how she puts it. She thinks there is something wrong in your manner and your actions. It is not just how you are with Mr. Johnston. She says that there is something very unusual about you, and that she does not trust you.”

 “Does she think I am a spy for the U.S. government?”

“Oh my goodness! Oh, Cassandra, I see that you are joking. No, I guess if it is anything, she would say that in an earlier era she might suspect you of being a…oh, I do not know, it is just that you are flouting moral convention terribly. She finds it distinctly non-Christian.”

Cassandra wondered what word Charlotte could not bring herself to say. “Non-Christian? I am sure she says that I am a loose woman.”

“Well, no, not exactly that, but she says that she thinks you have enchanted the people of the neighborhood, Mr. Johnston included, to all love you. That they are all under your spell—the farmer’s wives, the shopkeepers, everybody.”

Cassandra saw clearly the situation now. “Does she think I am some kind of sorceress?”

“Oh, that is putting it in very strong terms.”

“What do you mean? Does she actually perceive me as having unnatural powers?”

“Yes, if she were to iterate it that clearly, I believe she would say that.”

“Are we not past the time of such superstitions?”

“Of course we are!”

“And James?”

“She says that James is innocent in it all. That she is sorry for him to have such a mother.”

Cassandra felt the blood rise to her face.

Lady Holcomb hurried on. “Let us not continue to discuss it, my dear. It does not matter anyway. I am sorry for repeating her rantings. Let her think what she will. I know the kind of person, and mother, you really are. I am sorry for having let her influence me.”

Cassandra was having difficulty seeing how she could spend a vacation in Bath with the woman who saw her essentially as an evil, unfit mother. She absentmindedly arranged the sugar bowl and creamer on the tea tray.

“It is fine, Charlotte,” she finally said with a shaky smile. “I will begin to make plans for Bath, and you shall see. We will have a fine time together, and perhaps I will even turn Lady Charles’ opinion of me around.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” the lady replied.

“Now, do tell me what you hear of Jeffrey. Have you received any mail from the ship yet?”

An hour or so after Lady Holcomb left, Ben returned. The couple ensconced themselves in the sitting room, playing music until James returned late. And then, as if in defiance of what she’d learned that day, Cassandra walked her lover out to the stables and kissed him goodbye under the moonlight.

It was finally decided that the group traveling to Bath, including the Holcombs, the Charleses, Edward Clarke and Ben, along with James and Cassandra, would plan to stay for at least two weeks. The season was under way there, and Cassandra was dying to experience the place that Jane Austen wrote about with such piercing insight.

Edward and James planned to leave on horseback a few days ahead to secure rooms. The Charles family had their own townhouse in Bath and pointedly did not offer to have Cassandra and James stay with them. However, a few days before the trip, Lady Charles threw a dinner party for all those planning to go so that they could discuss what to see and do there. Cassandra was mortified to find that Sir Robert was in attendance, for she had been informed he would not be joining them in Bath. He sat sulkily in his seat, ate his dinner, and excused himself to go smoke as soon as he could. He made a point to avoid Cassandra’s eyes, and she did the same. Lady Charles was not unpleasant, but obviously cooler to Cassandra than she was to the others.

Cassandra had been seated as far as possible from Ben; next to him sat Jane Holcomb. Cassandra was determined to be engaged in conversation with Edward, seated to her left, and not notice when Jane laughed at something that Ben said, or to let him see that she was looking in his direction at all.

James was directly across the table from his mother, Elizabeth Charles seated closely by his side. Cassandra thought she perceived Lady Charles looking fondly at the couple from the head of the table. She definitely noticed Elizabeth gazing dreamily at James. He was doing his best to seem detached, but she could see that he was weakening dangerously under the young woman’s charms. Cassandra knew that Lady Charles was just that kind of indulgent mother, who, if her daughter wanted something badly enough, would be hard pressed to deny her. She imagined the lady must think that if she could just get rid of his mother, the son, with a hefty inheritance, wouldn’t be such a bad match for her daughter after all.

The situation was made all the more obvious when Lady Charles invited the young people to stay for cards. Then there was confusion about who would go home in which carriage. Ben offered his to Lady Holcomb and Cassandra so that James could have his mother’s to go home in later. Lady Charles decreed that Edward and Jane would be driven to their respective homes in her own vehicle.

Ben rode on the outside seat with the driver until they had deposited Lady Holcomb at the cottage. Then, once out of sight, they stopped, and he climbed into the carriage with Cassandra.

“Are you angry with me, my love?” he immediately asked.

“No. Why?”

“Because you did not look at me all evening.”

“I am surprised you noticed.” Cassandra did not like the jealous tone in her own voice.

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing. I am being silly.”

“Please tell me.”