Carolina's Walking Tour (2 page)

Carolina hesitated but briefly. "I will," she agreed.

Without further discussion, he took the lead, southwest across the Field to Marlborough
Buildings then south to Great Stanhope Street. She had no objection to his management, for she
sensed he was accustomed to command even though he no longer led his soldiers.

All the while they walked, he kept up a good-humoured conversation on Bath and its
residents.

They had exchanged views on all the recent arrivals in the town, when he said, "My
mother told me that you were not resident, but Lady Chersham is?"

"My grandmother has lived in Bath these thirty years. My grandfather found relief of his
gout in the waters apparently, and they would not countenance lodgings, so they purchased a
house. When my father inherited, Lady Chersham moved to this residence rather than the dower
house at Beckon Hall."

"The Hall is your home?"

"Near Salisbury, yes." As they walked New King Street and rounded a corner at Charles
Street to enter Queen Square, Carolina realized how much she had revealed of herself and her
family in the past hour. And she was quite suddenly aware of how far they had walked. Her feet,
in their neat jean half boots, protested, as did her calves, and she was no longer easily keeping
pace with her companion.

After guiding her unerringly to Lady Chersham's house, Lord Quainton handed her up
the two steps before it and pulled the bell.

"Will you come in?" Carolina was suddenly loath to have the afternoon end, though
clouds now clotted the blue sky and threatened rain.

"I thank you, but no. I am promised to my mother for the rest of the day." His dark,
damaged face was unreadable.

She coloured, furiously deriding herself for supposing he would wish to spend further
time in her uninspiring company.

"Will you walk out with me again?" he added suddenly. "Perhaps the day after
tomorrow? We may go further afield. I should welcome your opinion on the Sydney
Gardens."

Carolina caught her breath. It was more than she could ever have hoped. She must not
have bored him utterly. She was at least deemed better than no one in terms of company. "If my
grandmother has no need of me, I should be pleased to walk again," she said in a colourless
voice.

"Then do sound a little happy," he teased very, very gently.

Her glance flew to his ravaged face which was alight with laughter. A genuine smile
warmed her face and she wished--oh she wished--she was pretty. "I shall be delighted," she said,
putting out her left hand to shake his.

He hesitated only a moment, then accepted it. "'Til Thursday then."

The door behind her opened and Lady Chersham's sedate butler greeted her. Carolina
slipped within, conscious that Lord Quainton waited until the door was closed before he
departed. She paused, deep in thought, in her grandmother's finely decorated entry. Dare she
hope this might be the beginning of a special summer?

* * * *

"I think I cannot walk so far!" With a half-humorous, half-serious wail, Carolina
opposed Lord Quainton's suggestion of a hill path ramble, some five weeks later. They stood on
the pavement before Lady Chersham's Queen Square residence, debating their route for the day
in a bright late morning sun.

"Nonsense. For more than a month you have kept pace with me in all sorts of weather,
no matter what jaunt I suggested. You have your new boots, so much better than the old." His
dark face intent, Quainton nodded at the brown leather tips of her stout footware, peeping from
beneath her cornflower blue Madras muslin gown.

Carolina regarded him with mingled affection and exasperation. They had become firm
friends over the past weeks, walking about Bath until they knew every street of consequence,
every garden and grove, and every bend of the River Avon and the Kennet and Avon Canal.
Once they had toured the town, they had begun to walk further afield to the surrounding
hills.

"I truly think I can't; it is very hot." The late summer was offering a dry, clear spell of
weather that excited comment from all the residents of the town. "This expedition is much
farther than our journey to Richmond Hill and All Saints Chapel. Or the walk up Holloway to
Beechen Cliff. Or the one by the Bristol Road, when we returned by that farmer's cart." She
laughed, despite her concern, at the recollection of the soaking they had got that day and how the
farmer's doubts had been overcome by Quainton's gold sovereign. Laughter came more easily to
her than it had six months before.

"You were a game one that occasion. The weather was not so fine then. You have been a
valiant companion on every excursion." The baron looked across the near deserted square, fairly
twitching in his desire to be active.

Carolina sighed inwardly at this description. 'A valiant companion'. She could have
wished for a more emotive portrayal. But Alexander Quainton, despite their close association,
had never indicated the slightest libidinous awareness of her, or indeed had ever indicated that he
was conscious of her as a woman. They had discussed, over the weeks, a dizzying variety of
topics from politics and religion to society and finance, and even, a little, the war. He never gave
her reason to suppose he thought less of her intellect because she was a woman, or that he would
accommodate any feminine weakness. He treated her in fact as a comrade, as he must have
treated the youngest and most tender of his inexperienced soldiers.

It hurt. She alone knew that she wished more than anything that he would take an
interest--a deeper interest--in her. For she, without expecting it and certainly without welcoming
it, had come to an intense awareness of him. She was conscious of every breath he took as they
walked the streets of Bath. She knew every expression of his mobile features, recognized every
nuance in his reflections. Their conversations gave her great joy, but even their frequent,
congenial silences satisfied her. His companionship had become her delight.

She could not think he felt the same. She did think he had relaxed in her society but still
she sometimes glimpsed melancholy, dejection, and even despair, deep in his gaze. Suddenly she
could no longer contain the observations that had plagued her for a month. Despite that she knew
he wished to walk, she said, "You need not always smile and jest with me. I am aware that
laughter will keep people at a distance more effectively than any short or harsh temper. But
surely you need no longer keep me at an impersonal distance."

At first, she thought he would stride away from her, and her heart sank. He was silent
for long minutes, staring at her with that solitary dark blue eye. She fiddled with the ribands of
her wide Gypsy hat nervously.

Then suddenly he said, "Do you wish to walk today?"

"I do," she answered, feeling she stood at the edge of a precipice, rather than in a polite
square in the bastion of rectitude that was the town of Bath.

He started off at a brisk pace that would have daunted her a month previous. Now she
kept pace with ease. A few strides took them from the Square to Union Street towards the baths.
Five minutes more brought the Bath Bridge in sight.

Just when she thought he would not answer her words, and she feared that she had
destroyed their fellowship, he spoke.

"I have every need to keep you at a distance. I will not reveal my true nature to you
anymore than to any other; I will wrestle my demons alone. I have enjoyed your company; you
have been kind, patient and tolerant. You must be aware that while we walk I manufacture
light-hearted nonsense to distract the curious from my injuries. You help me to do that, even if you are
unaware of it. I thank you for your assistance, but it does not entitle you to my deepest
thoughts."

His cold assessment of his situation and their association appalled Carolina. She had not
before seen this side of his nature. "You cannot wish to keep the world at a distance for the rest
of your life!"

"Yes, I can." He paused and stared at her once more. "I can, and I will."

She shivered under the coldness of his gaze. Her dreams were only that, and her fragile
hopes were destroyed almost before even they were admitted.

He returned to his usual manner as if the exchange had not taken place. "Now I think
you are correct. My planned walk is too ambitious. Let us instead go up Bathwick Hill and return
by Sydney Place if you tire. If not, we may continue to the Bathwick Ferry and return to Queen
Square by the Paragon and Axford Buildings."

Carolina knew her answer before he had finished speaking. She would accept his every
suggestion, even if it proclaimed her a sycophant. "A good plan. Very well, do let's go."

It was not too long a walk. Despite her lowered spirits, Carolina found herself
invigorated by the exercise. Since his outburst, the baron seemed to lay himself out to be good
company. It was four of the clock by the time she was returned to Queen Square, and the hours
had flown by.

As always she greeted Quainton's brisk farewell with regret, but she produced a calm
good-bye. She watched him walk down the Square and realized that his clothes no longer hung
upon him, but rather fit his lean and muscular frame to a nicety. There was no longer any
hesitation in his stride. She could be thankful that their summer had at least returned him to
health.

She went within to discover her grandmother awaiting her return in the drawing room.
She drew off her beribboned straw hat slowly. Lady Chersham was seated on a chaise with a
light shawl over her legs. She regarded Carolina with stern consideration and looked to be in a
combative mood.

"Well, miss, I need not ask where you have been. Walking with Quainton again, no
doubt. What you do on these walks, what you discuss, I cannot imagine. At first I thought he
must be looking to fix his interest with you. I was quickly disabused of that notion. Then I
thought he must be a mere trifler, or making game of you, but in closer converse with Lady
Quainton I discovered him to be honourable and reliable. So I have allowed you to be constantly
in his company for weeks now."

Carolina subsided to a straight chair, smothering a sigh. Today of all days, she felt
unequal to cope with her grandmother's strictures. She had hoped to escape to her chamber to
consider all that Alexander had said, and all that she had felt. Instead she straightened and
prepared herself to hear more of Lady Chersham's reflections.

"The exercise has benefited you; I must needs be blind not to see it. You are more
robust, you have a blush in your cheeks and can dance at assemblies for hours. As well you have
more assurance in your manner; you can converse with anyone without embarrassment. So the
baron has done you some good. Yet I am not certain his company is entirely efficacious. Several
gentlemen have expressed an interest in you, but they have been frightened off by Quainton's
constant attendance.

"So it is a good thing his mama is retiring to Wakeridge Court, and that he is to attend
her there."

Carolina, who had allowed her mind to wander during her grandmother's declamation,
was brought to attention by the lady's last words. "Lord Quainton is leaving Bath?"

"Ah, mention of that captured your notice, did it?"

"He...he said nothing of it today." Carolina put her hat aside, and stared at her tightly
clasped hands.

"Well, he would not. Typical man. Don't know how to broach a difficult subject." The
dowager snorted delicately. "He's made you notorious, and now he'll depart leaving me to patch
your reputation."

Carolina uttered a horrified gasp. "Grandmama...surely not..."

"Oh, very well, notable not notorious. As you've been striding about in full view of
everyone all the summer, your reputation is not precisely damaged. But there has been a good
deal of talk."

Carolina was astonished. She had not, at any point, thought that anyone would take
notice her activities or diversions. And she would never have believed that anyone could
possibly find something in her about which to gossip.

Two days later, Quainton himself was telling her of his imminent departure. They met in
the Pump Room where the two older ladies settled down for a comfortable gossip over their
glasses of restorative water.

The baron offered his arm.

Carolina placed her gloved fingertips on it with carefully simulated indifference. It was
an unexpected pleasure. When they walked on their expeditions, they had not observed such
niceties. Of course, that he had but one useful arm made the action perilous. He had told her his
balance was occasionally unsound.

"I am escorting my mother into Lancashire on Tuesday next," he said without
preliminary.

"Lady Chersham told me that Lady Quainton was soon to reestablish her residence in
the country." Carolina was proud of her unemotional response.

"I shall return to Bath to see to the closing of the house here for the winter. I have
bespoke a chamber at the Bell Inn where I shall stay while seeing her residence put in Holland
covers."

He seemed at a loss for further conversation.

Carolina could not find a word to offer. Her newfound assurance had deserted her and
she was as shy and tongue-tied as ever she had been in the spring before their meeting. Finally
she said, "My grandmother has begun to make her farewells. Of...of course not because she
departs the town but because others do." She was appalled by her own inanity.

"Of course," he said with no more than a quiver of laughter in his deep voice.

"You need not mock." She lost all vestige of awkwardness and resumed their normal
mode of discourse. "You were offering no conversational gems. Anyway, you shall go home to
Wakeridge and administer your estates and be busy about your affairs...and I...I..."

"What shall you be about, Caro? Shall you return to Beckon Hall, or perhaps London?"
He had never used the diminutive of her name before, indeed despite their time together he had
only one or twice called her 'Carolina'. It was an age since she had begun to think of him as
Alexander, though she had never voiced her thoughts. She always addressed him as 'Lord
Quainton'.