Belinda Goes to Bath (5 page)

He introduced them to Miss Penelope Jordan and her parents. Mr and Mrs Judd made their entrance, Mrs Judd clinging tightly to her husband’s arm. Belinda saw a mocking smile curving Penelope’s lips and the teasing look she threw the marquess as if to say, ‘My dear, what people!’

All in that moment, Belinda found herself disliking Penelope very much indeed.

The Judds were plainly and respectably dressed. But Mrs Judd’s gown was of an old-fashioned cut and Mr Judd was in morning dress, not having brought any evening dress with him, which, thought Belinda crossly, was perfectly understandable. She flashed a contemptuous look at Penelope and then realized the marquess was watching her and blushed faintly.

A butler and two footmen entered bearing trays of hot negus for the ladies and decanters of wine for the men.

All sat down on chairs arranged for them in a circle in front of the fire. Belinda sipped her negus and covertly studied the Jordans. Sir Henry Jordan was fat and florid with a jovial manner belied by the hardness of a pair of small brown eyes. Lady Jordan showed traces of an earlier beauty in thick, luxuriant, if grey-streaked hair, a statuesque figure, and large brown eyes. But little lines of discontent had caused her mouth to set in a permanent droop and two heavy vertical lines caused by frowning marred her forehead.

‘Why are you travelling on the stage, Miss Earle?’ demanded Penelope, her eyes flicking over the splendour of Belinda’s gown.

‘To get to The Bath,’ said Belinda calmly.

‘I would have thought you would have preferred to travel in your own carriage,’ pursued Penelope.

Seized with a mischievous desire to lower her social status to that of the Judds, Belinda said airily, ‘My family do not own a carriage.’ She turned to the marquess. ‘All my concern is for Miss Wimple, my poor companion.’

‘I have told the physician to return within the hour,’ said the marquess. ‘He will stay here for the night and so be available to help when he is required.’

‘Thank you, my lord. You are so very kind.’ Belinda’s face suddenly lit up in a charming smile. The marquess smiled back, oddly intrigued by this young lady with the wispy-fine slate-coloured hair and the wicked-looking sensual mouth.

‘You have a very fine place here, my lord,’ said Mr Judd nervously.

‘It’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, hey?’ said Sir Henry, all mock joviality. ‘I wager you never thought, considering your social station, to be the guest of an earl.’

Belinda winced and Hannah’s lips clamped tightly together in disapproval. How quaint, thought Penelope, amused. These upstarts of the stage-coach actually consider that Papa is being vulgar. But then she saw the chilly, calculating way in which the marquess was regarding her father and felt a stab of unease.

The marquess rose to escort them to supper. Penelope’s feeling of unease grew, for the marquess placed Belinda on his right hand and Hannah on his left. Moreover, the long dining-table had been replaced by a round one. The marquess had not liked the way Penelope had automatically taken the opposite end of the long table from him as if she were already established as his wife, and so had ordered the round table and had had it delivered that very day.

Penelope’s beautiful eyes narrowed as they surveyed Belinda. There was something definitely odd
about that young woman. Her arrival on the scene seemed just too opportune. Perhaps she had engineered the accident, thought Penelope pettishly, not stopping to consider that the idea of any young lady causing a coach to crash down in an icy river in the faint hope that the marquess would come riding by was stupid in the extreme.

Penelope had been told from her earliest days that she was beautiful beyond compare. She had practised a certain elegance of manner but had stopped there at improvement, considering her looks enough to contribute to any company.

Belinda, on the other hand, had assiduously practised the art of conversation to make up for what she felt was her own lack of attractions. She turned to the marquess and began to speak.

3

‘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.