Belinda Goes to Bath (8 page)

Dinner was served at four in the afternoon, so at three-thirty all were assembled in the Cedar Room, Belinda having been carried in by two footmen.

With the single-mindedness of the aristocrat, the marquess studied Belinda Earle quite openly, unaware of the consternation he was causing in the Jordan family. She attracted him and he still remembered that kiss vividly and wanted more. But to seduce, say, a London widow who knew very well what she was about was one thing. To go to the bedchamber of a gently reared girl whom her family was obviously trying to reform was another. In some way, Belinda must show him she knew what she was doing and was prepared to face the consequences.

Hannah saw that studied look and her heart fell. There was something more of the predator about it than the lover. Her mind went back to a certain
groom who had worked for Mr Clarence. Hannah had been courted and then rejected by a perfidious under-butler and had been left feeling raw and stupid. The groom, Harry Bates, was rumoured to be the bastard son of a noble. He had a certain aristocratic elegance, strange in a groom, and more intelligence than was usual. He was witty and made Hannah laugh at a time when she did not feel like laughing at anything. It was well known among the staff at Thornton Hall that Hannah rose very early before the rest to spend a little time by herself in the servants’ hall. It was there Harry had approached her one morning. She had been delighted to see him, but he had sat down very close to her at the table, and then he had taken her hand and gazed into her eyes. In his eyes, Hannah had seen the same look that the marquess had in his when he studied Belinda – that authoritative air of reaching out and taking what he wanted. And all in that moment, Hannah had realized that Harry thought she had had an affair with the under-butler and so was fair game.

She had snatched her hand away, and with her face flaming had said, ‘I am still a virgin,’ and had walked out of the servants’ hall. Harry had never come near her again.

In her heart, she cursed Miss Wimple. She was sure the companion had gossipped about Belinda. The Jordans, she noticed, were looking furious. Little did they know they had nothing to be furious about, thought Hannah gloomily.

And Belinda! A pox on the girl! Hannah felt quite
savage. Belinda was glowing and her looks had taken on a radiance.

‘I hear Miss Wimple is all but recovered,’ said Penelope in a thin voice. ‘You will soon be able to take your leave.’

‘Not in this weather,’ said Hannah.

‘But the weather has changed,’ said Sir Henry with satisfaction. ‘Listen!’

They all listened, and sure enough, instead of snow whispering at the windows, they heard the sound of drumming rain.

‘The roads will be flooded for days,’ Hannah pointed out.

‘But not as far as the nearest inn, where no doubt your stage is waiting,’ put in Lady Jordan.

‘Come now,’ chided the marquess, ‘you must not be in such a hurry to speed our guests on their way. I, for one, am hoping that Mr and Mrs Judd will entertain us again this evening.’

‘Gladly,’ said the Judds in chorus.

Dinner was announced and the guests filed through to the dining-room. Once more, Belinda was seated beside the marquess.

‘I am amazed, Miss Earle,’ said the marquess, almost as soon as they were seated, ‘that you were not besieged with suitors during your Season.’

‘I do not remember you at the Season,’ said Penelope, forgetting her manners in her anger and talking directly across the table.

‘I was mostly hidden from view,’ said Belinda with a gurgle of laughter. ‘I used to take a book with me
and try to hide behind a potted plant to while away the tedium of the evening.’

‘Penelope,’ said Sir Henry heavily, ‘was never without partners.’

The marquess frowned. He could hardly be so rude as to remind them of the conventions and urge them to talk only to the people on either side. The unsophisticated Judds had taken a leaf out of the Jordans’ book and were talking openly to all at the table, inoffensive chit-chat about the weather and the perils of the English roads.

Penelope saw her advantage and took it. She began to talk directly to the marquess about people they both knew, leaving Belinda and Hannah excluded.

Belinda had never been jealous in her life, but now she was shaken to the very core of her being. She hated Penelope Jordan. He had kissed
her
, not Penelope, and he had said she enchanted him. Belinda craved some sign from him that he cared for her. Her strict upbringing was being undermined with jealousy and all her usual common sense had fled. This was agony! She would ask to see him alone and, yes, she would ask him if he loved her.

Things were worse when they retired to the Cedar Room. The Judds gave a virtuoso performance, each liquid note of their voices tearing at Belinda’s heart. Mrs Judd was so very happy and it showed in her singing. It was obvious to Hannah that the Judds had taken her advice, but she was so worried about Belinda that it gave her little satisfaction.

Belinda had fallen helplessly in love, and she did
not know what to do. The marquess looked so very handsome, but unapproachable. His hair was powdered and he was dressed in fine silk and the jewels in his cravat and at his fingers winked and blazed in the candle-light. His eyes gave nothing away. He seemed totally wrapped up in the music, as indeed he was.

Hannah edged her chair closer to that of the marquess and when the Judds had finished one number and were looking through their music, she said softly, ‘It is a pity two such fine singers should languish forgotten. They need a patron.’

‘Meaning I should sponsor them,’ he said, looking amused.

‘Why not?’

‘Why not, indeed, Miss Pym. I shall speak to them about it.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Hannah. ‘Did … did Miss Wimple mention anything to you about Miss Earle?’

‘Such as?’ His eyes were quite blank.

‘I feel Miss Wimple is not a suitable companion for Miss Earle,’ said Hannah. ‘She …’

But he held up his hand for silence, for the Judds had begun to sing again.

Belinda decided she would write him a note, asking him to meet her. She would do it as soon as she retired and give the note to one of the servants. But Miss Pym must not know.

At last the evening was over. The marquess suggested Belinda might like to retire to rest her injured ankle and his glance included the other stage-coach passengers. He was sitting beside Penelope, engrossed
in conversation, when Belinda and Hannah left the room. Belinda hobbled and leaned on Hannah’s arm, for she felt being carried by footmen presented too undignified a spectacle. She twisted her head and looked back. Penelope was smiling at something the marquess was saying and leaning towards him, creating an island of intimacy, while her parents beamed on the pair as if already blessing the newly-weds.

After Belinda had said good night to Hannah, she went to her room. She dismissed the maid, saying she would prepare herself for bed. Instead, she sat down at a tiny escritoire in the corner and wrote a short note, asking the Marquess of Frenton to exchange a few words with her before he retired for the night. She sanded the letter and sealed it. She reached out a hand to the bell-rope and then paused. Miss Pym might hear the sound of the bell and come to see if anything was wrong.

She gently opened her bedroom door and walked along the corridor. A small boy was trimming one of the lamps that stood in an embrasure. Belinda handed him the letter and told him to take it to the marquess and then returned to her room, feeling very alone and frightened and wondering if she had run mad.

The lamp-boy was too inferior a being to convey a message to the marquess directly. He gave it to the fourth footman, who took it down to the servants’ hall and gave it to the butler in front of everyone, saying it was from Miss Earle to the marquess. The butler put on his coat, put the letter on a silver tray, and carried it upstairs.

The Jordans were in the Cedar Room and on the point of saying their good-nights to the marquess. The butler handed him the letter, but, being a good servant and scenting an intrigue, he did not say who had sent it.

The marquess turned away slightly and scanned the short note. His lips curled in a smile.

Penelope Jordan found out who had sent that letter as her maid prepared her for bed. All the servants knew. So she, too, wrote a letter and sent her maid with it to Hannah Pym.

‘As you are obviously concerned for the welfare of your fellow passenger,’ she wrote, ‘I suggest you stop Miss Earle writing letters to the Marquess of Frenton proposing assignations.’ Penelope of course did not know what Belinda’s letter had said but felt sure that as Belinda had written something she could obviously not say in public, that meant an assignation. ‘I beg you to tell the silly child that I am engaged to Frenton and any attempts on her part to secure his affections would only lead to ridicule.’

5

Belinda looked at the little gilt clock on the mantel which was flanked by a shepherd and shepherdess. Midnight!

Surely he would come.

She bit her lip remembering the conversation she had had with Hannah Pym before that lady retired for the night. Miss Pym had said roundly that the marquess’s intentions were definitely dishonourable, doubly so as he had kissed Belinda while courting another. Belinda had only pretended to listen, as she had in the past when someone was giving her a jaw-me-dead.

But Hannah’s words echoed in her brain. If he was an honourable man, then he should have called on her immediately after reading her note. If he was dishonourable, then he would wait until he was sure everyone was asleep and then call on her. That could not be the case. He must be waiting until morning.

She gave a disappointed little sigh. Slowly she removed her clothes and washed herself and pulled on a lacy night-gown and tied her nightcap on her head. She climbed into bed and blew out the candle on the bedside table. She studied the patterns made by the flickering flames from the fire on the walls. Then she realized the rain had ceased to fall. She climbed down from the bed again and drew the curtains and looked out. A full moon was shining and the courtyard glinted with puddles of melting snow. She tugged open the window and leaned out. The air was soft and spring-like. Her days at the castle were numbered. She had looked in on Miss Wimple with Hannah before they retired to their rooms and Belinda had been astonished at how quickly her companion was recovering her health.

She limped back to the bed, sadly climbed back in, and drew the blankets up to her chin.

There came a soft knock at the door and her heart began to thud. Servants never knocked. She got out of bed and went to open it.

The Marquess of Frenton walked straight past her and stood in the middle of the room. He smiled at her and opened his arms. Belinda closed the door and then turned and ran straight into them. Faint warning
bells were ringing at the back of her mind; he was wearing a night-gown and dressing-gown and she herself was in her undress. But as his lips closed down over her own in a passionate kiss she forgot time and space and everything but the hot surgings of her own body pressed so tightly against his. Her fingers wound themselves in his long red hair still faintly scented from the hair powder that he had brushed out, and she moaned against his lips.

Hannah Pym awoke and was immediately uneasy. The first thing she thought of was that Belinda Earle had accepted her strictures too easily. She was sure that young lady was planning mischief. She was thirsty and decided to get herself a glass of water. She lit the bed-candle and then rose and went to the toilet table, which held a decanter of drinking water. Then she saw a note that had been pushed under the door. When Penelope’s maid had come to deliver it, she had scratched at the door and, receiving no answer, decided Miss Pym was asleep.

Hannah opened it and read it. Then she cocked her head to one side and pulled her nose in embarrassed distress. She was sure there were faint sounds coming from Belinda’s bedchamber.

Hannah lifted the candle and walked with a determined step through the sitting-room and straight into Belinda’s bedchamber.

Belinda was clasped in the marquess’s arms. They did not hear her come in. Both were apparently deaf to the world.

‘Stop that!’ said Hannah. ‘Stop it this minute, I say!’

The couple fell apart. Belinda was flushed and aghast, the marquess angry.

‘What do you want, Miss Pym?’ he demanded in a cold, thin voice.

‘What do I want?’ echoed Hannah. ‘The question, my lord, is what do you want?’

‘A word with you in private, Miss Pym,’ he said grimly.

Hannah led the way into the little sitting-room and closed the door firmly on Belinda.

‘My lord,’ said Hannah, ‘I do not wish to abuse your hospitality by interfering with your pleasures. But Miss Earle is no woman of the world. Nay, sir, neither is she a woman of the streets. It is well known in this household that you are courting Miss Jordan. I must ask you what your intentions are towards Miss Earle.’

‘And may I point out,’ he said calmly, ‘that my intentions are none of your business.’

‘Someone must make it their business,’ exclaimed Hannah. ‘You cannot seduce a virgin and expect me to stand by and see it happen.’

‘It is my understanding that Miss Earle is not a virgin, and she certainly does not behave like one. I was in her bedchamber at her invitation.’

‘You silly … lord, she thinks you love her. Has Miss Wimple been filling your ears with some tale about a footman?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I feel it my duty to tell you exactly what happened.’

And Hannah did.

The marquess stood frowning as she talked. There was no doubting the honesty of the story Miss Pym told. He began to wonder what on earth he would have done had he stayed in Belinda’s arms much longer. He might have seduced a highly respectable lady.

But he was a gentleman, and gentlemen never apologize because everyone knows gentlemen never make mistakes.

‘I was misled,’ he said. ‘But I think it would be too mortifying to explain to Miss Earle that I thought she was a hussy. Pray tell her I was foxed.’

‘I will try,’ said Hannah doubtfully, ‘but you look cold-stone sober.’

‘Tell her anything you like. I note the weather is improving. My servants tell me that your stage is repaired and waiting at the Queen Bess in Comfrey. We will give Miss Wimple another day’s rest and then convey you all there. Whether Miss Wimple feels up to travelling on further from the inn will be a matter for her to decide.’

‘It is a pity,’ mourned Hannah. ‘You are both so well suited.’

‘Miss Jordan and I?’

‘No, my lord, you and Miss Earle.’

He looked on her in dawning amusement. She was an odd creature with her strangely coloured eyes and her thin spare body and crooked nose. ‘Marriage is a serious business, Miss Pym. I fear you have been reading romances. I will choose some lady who will grace my home.’

‘Like an art treasure?’

‘Miss Pym, has anyone ever told you that you get away with murder? I really do not know why I am standing here listening to your strictures. Pray tell Miss Earle I behaved badly and am ashamed of myself.’

‘Why not tell her yourself?’

Why not? The marquess paused. He had never shirked an unpleasant duty in his life before. But the effect Belinda Earle had on his senses was devastating.

‘To be brutally frank, Miss Pym, I do not trust myself alone in a bedchamber with Miss Earle.’

‘Ah!’ Hannah’s eyes gleamed with a gold light. She decided to say no more at present. With any luck, this marquess was in love with Belinda and did not know it.

‘Then if you will leave this way, my lord,’ said Hannah. She showed him through her bedchamber to the corridor door, ushered him out, and then returned through the sitting-room to Belinda’s bedchamber.

Belinda was sitting by the fire. She had lit an oil-lamp and her eyes were bleak as she looked at Hannah. ‘How dare you!’ said Belinda.

Hannah silently handed her the letter from Penelope Jordan. Belinda read it and her face went as red as the fire she was sitting beside.

‘Yes, all the servants must know. To whom did you give your letter?’

‘To a lamp-boy,’ said Belinda.

‘A humble lamp-boy is of too low a rank to carry a letter to a marquess. You should have known that. Do your aunt and uncle not have many servants?’

Belinda shook her head. ‘No, we only have a butler, two footmen, two housemaids, two chambermaids, a lady’s maid, a cook, a housekeeper, one kitchen maid, one odd man, and of course the coachman and groom.’

‘Then I must tell you that the lamp-boy would take that letter of yours to the servants’ hall, where it would be delivered to the butler. The lamp-boy would tell the butler in front of the others from whom it came. So it would no doubt get to the ears of Miss Jordan’s lady’s maid and so to me.’

Belinda’s anger had died. The full horror of what she had done was slowly dawning on her. Love had blinded her to the fact that the Marquess of Frenton regarded her as a slut and therefore easy game. How shabby and brassy and common she now must appear set beside the beautiful Penelope.

Hannah did not want to add to Belinda’s distress by telling her the marquess knew about that footman episode. Both Belinda and the marquess were ashamed of themselves. Good! If the passage of true love ran smooth, then it could not possibly end happily, in Hannah’s experience. She remembered a gamekeeper at Thornton Hall who had fallen in love with a pretty chambermaid, and she with him. Mrs Clarence was still in residence and had smiled on the lovers. Everyone had thought they were a perfect match and said so. Before the gamekeeper had even thought of popping the question, Mrs Clarence had called him in and offered him a cottage on the estate where he could live with his bride. The couple had
grown shy and embarrassed and awkward at all this headlong enthusiasm to get them to the altar, and love had faded away. Such a pity, thought Hannah. Their characters had been so well matched. She always thought that had a few obstacles been thrown in their way, then they might have tied the knot and lived happily ever after because they were so compatible, and couples must have something other than love between them to survive the rocky road of marriage.

‘I suppose I should be grateful to you for interrupting us when you did,’ said Belinda awkwardly.

‘It was very painful for me,’ said Hannah. ‘In future, Miss Earle, no matter how strong your feelings, you must let the men do the pursuing. That is the way of the world. Any bold move on the female’s part is always misinterpreted, and men only value what is hard to get. The weather is improving, and we shall shortly be moving on.’

‘I would rather leave on the morrow,’ said Belinda in a low voice.

‘Too soon,’ said Hannah. ‘One more day. Take my advice and keep to your bedchamber and do not venture belowstairs. Or sit and read to Miss Wimple. She needs her mind improved. The marquess will at first be relieved at your absence and then he will miss you.’

‘I do not want him to miss me,’ said Belinda pettishly. ‘The least he could do is apologize.’

‘You can hardly expect him to do that after having sent that letter and given him the wrong impression.’

‘Am I so very bad, Miss Pym? Am I going to be damned as an Original? Why cannot I behave as
other young misses?’ Tears stood out in Belinda’s eyes.

‘Not your fault,’ said Hannah gruffly. ‘If that uncle and aunt were here, I would wring their necks. This is the direct result of overmuch discipline and reaching too high in the Marriage Market. Had they left you alone, you might have waited until your inheritance and found someone suitable without a title.’

‘It is dangerous to live on dreams,’ said Belinda with a little sigh. ‘I thought I was in love, but perhaps it was only because I am dreading the thought of Great-Aunt Harriet and months and months of moralizing. It would have been a triumph to arrive on her fusty doorstep already engaged to a marquess. Heigh-ho! I am feeling much chastened, Miss Pym, but better in spirit. I shall survive.’

The marquess, next day reviewing the events of the night, began to wonder if he
had
been drunk. He convinced himself that the repairs begun on the roof of a tenant’s cottage at one of the farther corners of his estate needed personal attention. Then he decided to ride on to the Queen Bess in Comfrey. There he met the new driver of the stage-coach, who told him that the young driver and the guard who had caused the accident had been fired. The landlord assured his lordship that rooms would be available for the stage-coach passengers when they arrived. The road from the castle to the Queen Bess was clear. They would need, however, to stay at the inn for about two days, as the roads farther on were flooded. The marquess
paid the innkeeper for their care and accommodation. Satisfied, he rode back to the castle. The stage-coach passengers could leave the next morning. Miss Wimple would be conveyed lying down in a separate carriage. She would be put to bed at the inn, and from then on she would no longer be the marquess’s responsibility.

He dressed carefully for dinner that afternoon, as if armouring himself in silk and jewels for the confrontation with Belinda. But when he descended to the Cedar Room, he was told by Miss Pym that Belinda’s ankle was still hurting and she preferred to take her meals in her sitting-room and to read to Miss Wimple.

The marquess was at first relieved, and then, as dinner progressed, disappointed. The day had turned flat. He looked at Penelope Jordan and imagined sitting with her at dinner-tables and supper-tables day in and day out, and suddenly realized it was a prospect he could not face.

After dinner Mr Judd, trembling with nerves, took the marquess aside and asked him if he could really be of any help in finding them singing engagements. The marquess, glad he could do something so simple, agreed and wrote the Judds letters of introduction to all the leading luminaries of Bath, including the Master of Ceremonies at the Pump Room.