Belinda Goes to Bath

3

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,

And without sneering teach the rest to sneer;

Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike,

Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike.

Alexander Pope

‘It is most generous of you, my lord,’ said Belinda, ‘to provide us with shelter and accommodation.’

‘My pleasure, I assure you, Miss Earle. Do you reside with family in The Bath?’

‘I am to stay with Great-Aunt Harriet.’

‘And shall you make your come-out there?’

‘I have already made my come-out, my lord, at the last Season. I am now going “in” again.’

He looked at her curiously. ‘And why is that?’ Belinda hesitated while vermicelli soup was served. She was aware of Penelope’s eyes resting on her, and somehow aware that Penelope’s shell-like ears were straining to catch every syllable. She must not tell this marquess or anyone about the footman. Who would understand, except perhaps someone like the odd Miss Pym? To say one had run away with a footman suggested a world of unladylike passion. ‘I did not take,’ she said calmly. ‘I am lucky to be only travelling as far as The Bath. I could just as well have been sent to India or to some battlefront in hope that my not-too-obvious charms might catch the eye of a homesick member of the East India Company or some war-weary soldier.’

‘You are very frank,’ commented the marquess, feeling sure he should disapprove of any lady who openly ran down her own attractions and appearance, and yet finding in himself an odd desire to instil some much-needed vanity into Miss Earle. ‘You should not disparage yourself,’ he pointed out. ‘People will take you at your own valuation. If you go about saying openly, “I am not attractive,” then you will, I may say, find that people think you so. Which would be a pity.’

‘How so?’ demanded Belinda, her eyes dancing.

‘They might then fail to notice that your figure is good and your eyes very fine.’

Belinda should have blushed and lowered her eyes. Instead she looked at him in open gratitude. ‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. Then her face fell. ‘But of course you do not. You are merely flirting with me as a matter of form.’

‘I never flirt,’ said the marquess frostily.

‘Do you not? I long to be able to flirt with ease, but I have an unfortunate habit of telling the truth. Not all the truth all of the time, don’t you see, for if you asked me if I were enjoying myself at present, I would be obliged to say, “Yes,” for it would be churlish to say else.’

‘Obviously then you are not enjoying yourself. What is wrong? You may speak freely. Your honesty amuses me.’

‘Well … well, it is just that I sense you have offended your guests by expecting them to dine with passengers from the stage.’

He stiffened. ‘My guests have too much breeding to betray either like or dislike.’

‘Unlike me, you see what you want to see.’ Belinda lowered her voice. ‘Regard how dainty Mrs Judd takes little sips of soup with a hand that trembles with nerves. Miss Jordan is aware of her discomfort and so she stares at her openly – that is, when she is not straining to hear what we are saying – in the hope of making her feel worse. Sir Henry and Lady Jordan maintain an icy silence.’

He had promised not to be offended, but he found he was becoming very angry with her indeed. ‘In that case,’ he said coldly, ‘I suggest you turn your attention to Mr Judd on your other side and I shall devote myself to Miss Pym.

As he turned away, he heard Belinda mutter, ‘I should have known you would be angry.’

The soup had been removed and fried whitebait was being served.

Hannah’s sharp ears had heard most of the interchange between the marquess and Belinda. She felt impatient with that young lady. If that was how she had gone on during her Season, then no wonder she had not found any suitable beaux.

‘Are you a friend of Miss Earle?’ She realised the marquess was asking her.

‘I am now, my lord,’ said Hannah. ‘But it is a friendship of very short duration, having only started when I joined the coach.’

‘I understand that you like to travel, Miss Pym?’

‘Oh, so very much,’ said Hannah. ‘It is an excellent way of meeting people.’

‘Odso! I was given to understand that although a variety of classes travel together on the stage, they hardly ever exchange a common civility.’

‘True,’ agreed Hannah. ‘But this is such an adventure.’ Her large strange eyes, which changed colour according to her mood, glowed green with excitement.

‘But wading through an icy river in winter is most people’s idea of hell rather than a gay adventure, Miss Pym.’

‘I am very tough,’ said Hannah. ‘I only hope the same can be said for poor Miss Wimple, and Mrs Judd is not at all strong in spirit.’

‘Have you always travelled?’

‘Oh, no, my lord. I always dreamt of it, but it did not become possible until this year, when I received a legacy from a relative. I plan to go the length and breadth of England. This is a wonderful castle. I thought such piles as this would have fallen into ruins.’

‘It amuses me to maintain it in its original splendour, on the outside at least,’ said the marquess. ‘I do not think I should find stone-flagged floors covered with rushes inside at all comfortable. But you do not take wine, Miss Pym.’

‘Although I have a great deal of stamina,’ said Hannah, ‘I fear, after the exhaustion caused by the recent accident, that wine would go straight to my head. The negus before supper was enough, I thank you.’

The marquess glanced across Hannah to where Belinda was making an obvious effort to put Mr Judd at his ease. Mr Judd, it appeared, was a music teacher at a ladies’ seminary in Bath. Belinda was saying teasingly that he must break the hearts of all his young ladies, and Mr Judd was growing visibly more expansive and swell-headed. For a young lady who claimed she did not know how to flirt, she was doing very well, reflected the marquess. He was aware that the Jordans were sitting in icy silence and felt impatient with them. He would expect, in any wife he chose, the same ease of manner with his tenants as with his peers. But the candle-light played softly on the whiteness of Penelope’s arms and on the glossy tresses of her hair and instead of blaming her for her cold behaviour, he felt obscurely it was all this Miss Earle’s fault. He could not, for example, possibly contemplate marriage to any female as farouche as Miss Earle. One would never know what to expect from her from one moment to the next. And on that thought followed another, treacherous one: that it was very boring to know exactly what anyone would say and do from one moment to the other.

‘I heard Miss Earle tell you she is being sent to Bath because she did not “take” at her last Season,’ said Hannah. ‘I find that most strange. She is a great heiress and has an openness and liveliness of mind I find enchanting.’

‘I did not think great heiresses ever remained unwed,’ said the marquess.

‘Miss Earle had several offers, but her aunt and uncle, who strike me as rather pushing sorts of people, were hanging out for a title.’

‘If her aunt and uncle are indeed very wealthy, why do they send her on the stage? Miss Earle did say they did not possess their own carriage.’

‘Do you know, I really think she was being mischievous when she said that. I happen to know that to be untrue. She arrived at the coaching inn in a very fine equipage.’

‘I cannot see why she should choose to lie.’

Hannah pulled her nose in embarrassment. The answer was that she felt sure Belinda had pretended to be on a social level with, say, the Judds in order to tease the Jordans.

She smiled at the marquess instead and turned to Sir Henry, who was on her other side. ‘I do hope Miss Wimple, Miss Earle’s companion, recovers soon so that we may continue our journey,’ said Hannah.

Sir Henry maintained a stony silence.

The marquess’s voice sounded sharp and clear. ‘Miss Pym has just said something to you, Sir Henry. Are you become deaf? Would you like me to repeat it for you?’

Sir Henry looked startled and then rallied. ‘Wits were wandering. Fact is, Miss Pym, I don’t know Miss Wimple, so it follows that I do not have any interest in her welfare.’

The marquess’s silvery-grey eyes shone with a frosty light. Good heavens, thought Penelope, this Miss Pym is outmanoeuvring us. Somehow, she is cleverly managing to make poor Papa look vulgar and unfeeling. Frenton obviously expects us to be civil to these commoners. What an odd fancy! But if I do not play my cards aright, he will take me in dislike as well.

She turned to Mrs Judd and said gently, ‘I fear you must be feeling fatigued after your experience. How shocking for you. You must have feared for your life.’

Mrs Judd blushed at the sudden attention and said in a faint voice that she was feeling overset. Hannah shrewdly judged that the gamecock on her plate with which Mrs Judd was struggling was upsetting her more than her dousing in the river. It showed a tendency to skid across her plate as she strove to a cut a piece from it.

‘Would you be so good,’ said Hannah to the marquess, ‘as to ask your butler to carve the gamecock for us ladies. I fear we lack the dexterity to tackle it ourselves.’

The marquess called the butler forward and Mrs Judd flashed Hannah a grateful look as the bird was removed and then brought back to her, carved into manageable pieces. But the peas were another matter. Attacking peas with a two-pronged fork was a difficult job at the best of times. She decided to leave them alone.

The marquess apologized for the scanty fare, saying it was only a light supper as they had already had dinner, but urged them all to order anything else they wished. Unlike Belinda and Hannah, who knew to take only a little of what was offered, the Judds had filled their plates at each course and now felt they had never eaten such huge quantities of food.

Finally the cover was removed and nuts and fruit were placed on the table, along with a trolley on wheels that contained decanters of madeira, canary, port and brandy. The trolley was in the shape of a sailing ship with silver sails and gold rigging. Belinda glanced about the room – at the elegance of the Adam fireplace, the Aubusson carpet, the paintings of still life, the green-and-gold damask curtains at the windows and at the sage-green silk-upholstered dining-chairs – and then back at that sailing ship. It seemed out of place, a vulgar piece of nonsense, a rich man’s toy.

‘Glad to see you’ve put it to use, Frenton,’ said Sir Henry expansively, indicating the trolley.

‘It was a most generous present,’ murmured the marquess.

There were many wax candles burning in the room and wax candles on the dining-table. The marquess was half turned away from Belinda, talking to Hannah. Belinda noticed that his white-powdered hair showed glints of red in the light and felt strangely reassured. Red hair was very unfashionable and she was glad to find there was something human and unfashionable about this rather intimidating man.

As if conscious of her gaze, he turned abruptly and found her staring at his hair. ‘Is anything the matter?’ he demanded sharply.

Belinda was too tired to do other than tell the truth. To Hannah’s dismay, she heard Belinda reply, ‘It’s your hair. It is red.’

‘If you mean my hair is not sufficiently powdered, then say so,’ snapped the marquess.

‘It is not that,’ said Belinda, wandering deeper into the thicket of bad social behaviour. ‘Red, don’t you see. Such an unfashionable colour.’

His lips tightened in disapproval as he turned back to Hannah.

Now Belinda wished this interminable supper would end. Her ankle had begun to ache again. She looked hopefully towards Lady Jordan, whose duty it was, surely, to rise to her feet and lead the ladies back to the Cedar Room and leave the gentlemen to their wine.

But it was the marquess who suggested they repair to the Cedar Rooni, and so they all rose together. The marquess led the way with Penelope on his arm, Sir Henry and Lady Jordan followed, then Hannah and Belinda, with the Judds bringing up the rear.

The confidence she had experienced during the earlier part of the meal deserted Belinda. She felt plain and gauche. Somehow, it was the Jordans’ bad behaviour that had given her courage. But now Penelope was being gracious to the Judds, and her parents, who seemed to take their lead from their beautiful daughter, were following her example. As Penelope noticed Belinda’s crushed mien, so her graciousness and courtesy grew. She begged Mr Judd to entertain them if he was not too tired, and Mr Judd, flushed with all this exalted attention, gladly agreed. He walked to a pianoforte that stood against the far wall and, flexing his hands like a concert pianist, sat down and began to play. Belinda had expected him to play a virtuoso piece in an effort to impress, but he played a selection of sentimental ballads and then he began to sing. So that’s what the attraction is, thought Hannah, looking at Mrs Judd’s radiant face. Mr Judd played beautifully and had a rich tenor voice.

Belinda listened enthralled, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes dreamy. Gone was her recent unease and depression. She had dreamt before only of freedom, freedom to live her own life, freedom from marriage. But as the liquid, sentimental music coiled around her, she dreamt for almost the first time of a lover, a merry man full of laughter who would be a companion on her travels.

Penelope, who was tone-deaf, sat like a classical statue with her mouth in the same little curved smile and her eyes as blank.

The marquess leaned back in an armchair and stretched out his buckled shoes to the blaze. He looked with admiration at Penelope, at the lines of her body, at the proud set of her head, and then, almost despite himself, his gaze was drawn to Belinda.

Her eyes were full of dreams, and her wispy, baby-fine hair gave her an elfin look. That splendidly passionate mouth of hers was in repose, just waiting for a kiss …

He gave himself a mental shake. The evening had turned out very pleasant after all. Judd was a superb performer. Penelope was behaving just as she ought. Mrs Judd looked happy and at ease for the first time. She was a dainty little thing, thought the marquess, despite her unfashionable gown. Her fair hair was dressed in ringlets and her wide eyes were pale blue and her skin was fine and delicate. When Mr Judd ceased playing for a moment, the marquess asked her, ‘Do you sing as well, Mrs Judd? It would give me great pleasure to hear you.’

Belinda expected Mrs Judd to blush and disclaim but she rose and walked quietly to the piano and stood beside her husband. She began to sing ‘Cherry Ripe’. Belinda sat up straight, her eyes wide with amazement. Mrs Judd had a beautiful soprano voice, as clear as a bell.

What a pair of nightingales! thought the marquess. And what are they doing hidden away in a ladies’ seminary in Bath?

Only Hannah and Penelope remained unmoved; Penelope because music meant nothing to her, good or bad, and Hannah because her mind was busy with plans. Mrs Judd was eminently bullyable. But what was it that started friction in a marriage? Why, debt, lack of money, thought Hannah with satisfaction. Rows began and went on. Mr Judd was a weak man and in a perverse way had begun to enjoy ill-treating his wife. The crushable Mrs Judd had begun to sink under such treatment and, thinking little of herself, obscurely felt she deserved it, which, in a woman, was an open invitation for more bad treatment.

Before leaving her husband, Mrs Clarence, wife of Hannah’s late employer, had held a musicale in Thornton Hall, their home in Kensington. Ever considerate of the servants, she had arranged for the staff to listen outside the room in which the concert was being held. A couple of singers, man and wife, had been engaged at great expense. But they had not been nearly so good as the Judds, thought Hannah. Something must be done about them. It was no use saying Mrs Judd would be better off without that husband of hers. Women like Mrs Judd would simply go ahead and find another bully. They need a patron, thought Hannah, eyeing the marquess covertly. That gentleman was sitting enraptured by the singing, his normally austere face looking younger. He and Belinda looked similar in that moment, each wrapped up in the pleasure of the music.

They must marry.

Hannah gave a little sigh. She had set herself a great task, but she was determined that if Hannah Pym had any say in the matter, then Belinda Earle would arrive in Bath as an engaged lady.

The song was finished. The marquess, despite his absorption, had nonetheless sensed that it was Belinda, not Penelope, who had shared his pleasure in the singing and music.

Hannah decided to retire and have a good night’s sleep while she made her plans. She usually needed very little sleep, but the bitter cold of the day and the alarms of the accident had left her feeling tired. Belinda rose at the same time, curtsied to the company, and followed Hannah from the room. The Judds, too, made their escape.

‘An unexpectedly charming evening,’ said Penelope. ‘It is very educational to study people of a rank lower than oneself.’

‘I think you will find Miss Earle is of our rank in life,’ said the marquess. Having been toadied to and then pursued by adventurers and wastrels from an early age, he had developed a nice eye for social distinctions. ‘In fact, I know I have heard the name before. Untitled aristocracy, I believe.’

‘Are you sure?’ cooed Penelope. ‘Miss Earle is a delightful creature and I quite dote on her already, but a little strange in her ways, do you not think? A certain gaucherie? I could not help but overhear what she said to you at supper. To remark on the colour of a gentleman’s hair! I declare I was shocked. But she has been badly brought up perhaps.’

The marquess should have agreed because he did feel that Miss Earle was regrettably outspoken, but some imp of perversity prompted him to say, ‘I find her inoffensive and much to be pitied. Miss Pym assures me she is an heiress. I can only think it reprehensible that her uncle and aunt found it necessary to subject her to the rigours of a stage-coach in winter.’

He studied the toes of his shoes while the Jordans exchanged startled glances. This Belinda Earle must be sent on her way as soon as possible.

Belinda and Hannah made their way to Miss Wimple’s room. The physician, a Dr Patterson, was bending over the bed, shaving Miss Wimple’s head. Belinda let out a cry of alarm. ‘It is the necessary treatment for concussion,’ said the doctor, pausing in his work. ‘I shall then apply leeches to her head. After that, I shall apply this salve, which is made with half an ounce of sal ammoniac, two tablespoons of vinegar, and the same quantity of whisky in half a pint of water. Then Miss Wimple, should she show any signs of regaining consciousness, will be given a pill made from five grains of camomile and some quantity of antimonial powder with a little breadcrumb. Do not fear, ladies. I am persuaded Miss Wimple is of a strong constitution.’

The ladies edged out of the room, retreating backwards as if before royalty, so grand and imperious was Dr Patterson’s manner. Once back in their own sitting room, Belinda began to giggle. ‘Poor Miss Wimple. She will be outraged when she comes to her senses and finds she is as bald as a coot.’

Betty, the lady’s maid, entered, but Hannah dismissed her, saying they would make themselves ready for bed.

‘Rather high-handed of you,’ said Belinda crossly when Betty had left. ‘Now I shall have to untie the tapes of my gown myself and brush my own hair.’

‘You are quite able to brush your hair yourself, and I shall help you with your gown. What if you were up the Amazon River or somewhere monstrous interesting like that? You could not expect a lady’s maid to be on hand.’

‘True, but if I and everyone else decided to do without lady’s maids, there would be a great number of unfortunate servants left unemployed.’

‘But I want to talk to you,’ said Hannah. ‘I have to talk to you.’

‘What about?’ demanded Belinda, stifling a yawn.

‘Have you noticed the Marquess of Fenton?’

‘Of course I have. A very kind host.’

‘He is a handsome man.’

Belinda scratched her head in an unladylike way. Then she laughed. ‘Why, Miss Pym, you are like all the rest. If a man has a title and a fortune, then of course he is handsome.’

‘I think you are both well suited,’ said Hannah.

‘My dear Miss Pym, your wits are addled with fatigue. The man must be in his thirties. He is very cold and austere. Did you mark the fine paintings, the objets d’art? That is what he loves. He will probably wed this Miss Jordan and add her to his collection.’

‘But he is fastidious, and she is not very clever, I think, and has no gentility of manner,’ said Hannah eagerly. ‘I tell you this because I was alarmed to hear the openness of your speech at supper. You must never tell him about the footman.’

‘Of course not. I am not such a widgeon. Ladies who run away with servants are always credited with having vulgar and lustful passions. Probably the ladies were simply bored to tears.’

‘You may have the right of it,’ said Hannah sadly. ‘Poor Mrs Clarence.’

‘Who was Mrs Clarence?’

‘I shall be open with you. I am but lately risen to the ranks of gentility. For years I was a servant in the Clarence household at Thornton Hall in Kensington.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Belinda, brightening at the prospect of a story.

‘I was taken from the orphanage when I was very young and sent to Thornton Hall as a scullery maid. Mr and Mrs Clarence were newly-weds. I was very fortunate. The house was warm, and there was food to eat, which could not be said about the orphanage. It was a happy household. Most ladies never see the inside of their own kitchens, but not Mrs Clarence. She was so pretty and gay.’ Hannah sighed. ‘Mr Clarence was a good man but very withdrawn and morose. At first Mrs Clarence got her way and there were plenty of parties and balls and picnics, and occasionally we servants were allowed to go to the play. I worked very hard and became between-stairs maid, then housemaid, then first housemaid, and then my greatest ambition was realized, and I was made housekeeper. I was competent, but my work was not so arduous, and I had more time to realize that the Clarences were not happy. A few parties were still held, but Mr Clarence would cast gloom over every assembly. And then, one day, Mrs Clarence ran away with one of the footmen. It was a shock to us all. She had not seemed to favour him overmuch. It was considered that passion had got the better of breeding, but now I wonder. I could see her beauty fading and her high spirits being worn down under her husband’s moodiness and disapproval. The footman was a happy young man, very cheerful and good-natured. But the world still thinks ill of Mrs Clarence and assumes she died soon after in disgrace. But she was a wealthy woman in her own right, so they would not starve. I would like to find her again and tell her that her husband is dead, and that she is free to marry, but I do not know where she can be found.

‘Mr Clarence died and left me a legacy. How I longed to be free to travel in those long years during which he became a recluse.’

‘Why did you stay?’ asked Belinda curiously.

‘I was loyal. I never managed to save much money. I ran the house my own way. I could perhaps have moved to a livelier household, but might have been badly treated by some new mistress. But as to your future, miss, would it not be better to be mistress of this grand castle and a marchioness than to go to Bath in disgrace?’

Belinda rose to her feet and stooped and dropped a kiss somewhere in the air above Hannah’s head. ‘Dear Miss Pym,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I shall endure my stay with Great-Aunt Harriet and dream of my future as a spinster. You need not help me to bed. I am not really such a spoilt brat that I cannot look after myself.’

Hannah took herself off to her own bedroom. She chided herself for having been too forward too soon. Belinda obviously did not view the marquess with a loverlike eye and probably never would.

The marquess said good night to the Jordans and mounted the stairs. He decided to see how Miss Wimple was faring. He was startled at that lady’s shaven head, and then realized she had probably been leeched. The doctor was holding a glass to her lips, as she had just regained consciousness.

‘I am very pleased with our patient’s progress, my lord,’ said Dr Patterson.

‘I see she has recovered her senses.’ The marquess approached the bed. ‘You have finished leeching the lady’s head. It might be a good idea to tie a nightcap on her.’

‘Just about to do that,’ said the doctor. A maid appeared from the shadowy recesses of the bedroom, stooped over Miss Wimple and tied on a lacy nightcap, and then collected the empty glass from the doctor and left the room.

‘When will she be fit to travel?’ asked the marquess.

‘Hard to tell. A week. Two weeks. Of course, if these passengers weary you, they could be conveyed to the Queen Bess within, say, a couple of days. As you know, my lord, it is an excellent hostelry, not far from here, and our patient could be taken there lying in one of your carriages.’

‘We shall see,’ said the marquess. ‘You may retire for the night, Doctor. I shall wait with the patient until a servant arrives to watch over her. Ask the housekeeper for a suitable maid. She herself has done her stint of duty at the bedside.’

The doctor left. Miss Wimple appeared to be trying to speak. The marquess drew even closer to the bed. ‘Belinda – Miss Earle?’ whispered Miss Wimple in a weak voice.

‘She is safe and well, madam. Your only concern is to regain your health.’

‘Wayward girl,’ said Miss Wimple in a stronger voice. ‘You are the Marquess of Frenton, Dr Patterson tells me.’

‘At your service, ma’am.’

‘My compliments to your wife, my lord.’

‘I am not married.’

‘Ah. You must, my lord, forgive my charge’s wayward ways. Running off with a footman indeed.’

Miss Wimple’s voice was becoming stronger by the minute.

‘Ran off with a footman, did she?’ asked the marquess.

‘Nothing came of it.’ Miss Wimple’s voice became suddenly weary. ‘A wicked, wicked girl, but even the footman did not want her.’ Her voice trailed away and her eyelids began to droop.

And having successfully demolished Belinda’s reputation in the eyes of the Marquess of Frenton, Miss Wimple folded her hands on her massive bosom and fell asleep.