The Girl in the Mask (10 page)

I wondered with a kind of fearful fascination what punishment he had in mind. Sending the servants away sounded like a beating. I wasn’t afraid of that. Or at least only a little afraid.

I sat upright and very still at breakfast the following morning. I’d put on my comfortable old blue wraparound gown, but even so, every movement rubbed the fabric against the welts the lash had raised on my back, causing exquisite pain.

Despite this, and despite the fact that I’d not been out for my usual nocturnal ramble, I made a good breakfast. Battle was joined and I’d shown my father I wouldn’t obey him meekly.

I found it slightly disconcerting that my father was in such a good mood this morning. His trip to the baths and the pump room had cheered him greatly, it seemed. Or perhaps he was hopeful he’d got the better of me at last. When he sent me a gloating look, I was certain of it. I felt suddenly sick. I pushed away my cup and rose from the table.

‘That’s right, Sophia,’ said my aunt. ‘You go and get changed ready for the promenade.’

‘The promenade?’ I asked faintly. ‘Must I … ?’

‘Yes, indeed!’ she said enthusiastically. ‘We take chairs to the Grove directly after breakfast.’

I nodded gloomily and left the room, walking carefully. The butler bowed me out and then went back inside, leaving the door ajar. I leaned my forehead briefly against the cool wall, conquering a wave of pain that had swept over me, breathing deeply. Before I could move on, I caught my name.

‘Who do you think that fellow was who danced with Sophia last night, Amelia?’ my father asked.

‘Well?’ she prompted curiously.

‘Damn it … what’s the fellow’s name again? Can’t remember. But he’s the son of some earl, so I hear. Younger son, more’s the pity, so he’s not likely to succeed to the title, but still.’

I heard the sound of liquid splashing and pictured my father pouring himself another mug of ale. I scarcely dared breathe in case I missed anything.

‘I’m told he rarely dances, so apparently it was an honour.’

‘But a younger son, Edward,’ objected my aunt. ‘There may be no fortune at all! He was very young.’

‘There’ll be money somewhere in the family. What’s more the fellow’s popular with the ladies. You make sure you encourage him. And stay within earshot of the girl when you can. She’s not to be trusted. We can’t have her being rude to … ’

The knocker on the front door hammered suddenly, right near me. Before I could leave the hallway, Watson emerged from the dining room to answer the knock and caught me listening. I flushed with embarrassment, but he only gave me the ghost of a wink as he passed by.

The caller had brought a note for my aunt, but I didn’t wait to hear what it contained, instead fleeing upstairs to my bedchamber. Hunting through my closet for a suitable gown, I realized I had no idea what should be worn to the promenade. Reluctantly, I rang for Dawes, who soon came lumbering up the many flights of stairs from the basement, breathing heavily.

‘We’re going to the promenade, Dawes,’ I said to her. ‘What should I wear?’

She glanced out at the patch of sky that could be seen from my small window. ‘It’s a fine day, Miss, for the time of year. Would you like to wear the primrose gown with the white petticoats? Or the pink gown and cream petticoats?’

Life at the Bath had begun in earnest for me if such were the decisions around which my day was based.

The paths and walkways of the Grove were crowded with fashionables in exquisite clothes, and I recognized faces from the ball the previous night. One or two of the other girls pointed me out to one another and giggled. I was glad to think that I was becoming notorious already, and tried to ignore the slightly uncomfortable feeling it gave me. I walked with my aunt with slow, tripping steps that had no aim or purpose to them other than to show off our gowns and while away the long morning.

My aunt seemed to know a great many people, and was bowing and smiling to them as we passed, sometimes stopping to exchange dull conversation, which forced me to suppress yawns of boredom. ‘I thought you hadn’t visited the Bath before?’ I asked her at last. ‘How do you know everyone?’

‘My dear girl, the whole world is here. If you’ve spent a season in London, as I have done, then this is the same crowd. They come here the better to enjoy each other’s company, to win each other’s money and gossip, just as they did in the winter.’

‘I see,’ I said, feeling depressed. A thin, sallow gentleman paused to greet my aunt at that moment, bowing over her hand and casting a covert glance at me. They drew apart, enjoying a low-voiced exchange, and he discreetly passed my aunt a note which she concealed in her reticule. I fidgeted uncomfortably, unsure what to do with myself. I glanced around me, and saw my partner from the previous evening, the desirable
parti
, in conversation with several ladies nearby. They were chatting to him, casting him worshipping looks that turned my stomach. He was smiling and listening to them, but his eyes were intent on my aunt and her companion. When he saw me watching, he gave me a polite bow. The ladies looked daggers at me and I smiled a little to myself.

My aunt broke off her conversation. ‘Sophia, you must be bored! You don’t want to spend the day with a dull matron like me,’ she said. ‘Now, I had a note this morning … friends of ours from home are here at the Bath.’ She began looking around her, as though seeking someone. ‘My dear Jane!’ she said, beckoning to a stout older woman and a plain young one. They approached and my heart sank as I recognized them. The girl was Mary Welland, my least favourite neighbour. Her mother and my aunt had grown up close friends, but we’d spent the majority of our childhood disliking one another cordially.

My aunt kissed them both and turned to me with a smile. ‘I thought it would be lovely for you and Mary to spend some time together while Jane and I enjoy a cosy chat about old times.’

I scowled. Mary simpered, looking scarcely more pleased than I was, but my aunt was already fishing in her reticule for something, and a moment later held out some coins and a ticket to me. ‘Why don’t you girls go and treat yourselves to a bun or a syllabub in the pastry-cook shop and then meet us at Harrison’s Assembly Rooms in an hour or so?’ she suggested.

My impulse was to refuse indignantly to do any such thing.
I
spend an hour or so in Mary’s company? No, thank you. But the precious coins pressed into my hand made me think differently. So I allowed the obnoxious Mary to tuck her arm through mine and lead me off to her favourite pastry-cook in the nearby High Street.

‘Dear me, Sophia,’ Mary said. ‘You seem to have succeeded in making yourself a figure of fun in Bath in no time at all. I thought you might want to make a new start if you came away here. I know that was your aunt’s hope.’

She looked up at me, pretending sorrow and sympathy at my waywardness, but I wasn’t fooled. I could see the malicious gleam in her eyes.

‘I care nothing for a parcel of Bath dandies,’ I said contemptuously.

‘Clearly not. Only one evening in public and you’ve offended two gentlemen already!’ She sniggered behind her hand.

I pulled my arm out of hers. ‘As I said, I really don’t care.’

‘How
brave
you are, Sophia!’ she said, mock-admiringly. ‘As for me, I should hate to be a figure of fun. I prefer to please.’

‘How very galling it must be for you then, to fail so dismally,’ I said spitefully. I regretted the words at once, but didn’t know how to say so. An angry flush darkened Mary’s features and she sent me a look of pure loathing. Then she schooled her features into a pious resignation that made me want to slap her. ‘You always were unmannered,’ she said. ‘But I
forgive
you. This is the cook house.’

We entered together, and Mary chose a table by the window. ‘So we can see everyone passing by,’ she said. ‘It is quite the best seat in the place!’

I disagreed. To sit in full view of the street and to be ogled by every gentleman that passed by might be Mary’s idea of fun, but it wasn’t mine. I didn’t argue, however, still feeling guilty at my nastiness. I sat down quietly and very cautiously, so as not to hurt my sore back.

‘What can I get for you, ladies?’ asked the waiter.

‘Order anything you like,’ I told Mary. ‘It’s my aunt’s treat.’

She ordered a jelly, but I said I wanted nothing. ‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ I excused myself to Mary. ‘One is fed so heartily here, I find.’ I clutched the coins tightly in my hand, already planning the letters I wished to write.

‘Strange then, that you’re looking so thin,’ said Mary with a false smile.

I got up abruptly to look at the newspapers that were available; it was a shame that Mary had not chosen to go to the bookstore, but the London newspapers were better than nothing.

I joined her at the table again, flicking through the paper, pretending to be engrossed, but actually bored. I’d never been one for news. Plays, tales and poetry interested me far more. The only story that caught my attention was an account of riots: they had spread outwards from London. People had been smashing things, toasting the late queen, the Stuart heir, and shouting for the Church and the Tories. Oxford, Wolverhampton and Chippenham had had their share of mobs and violence in recent weeks. ‘Chippenham … is that not close to Bath?’ I asked Mary.

‘Oh, Sophia, you are so ignorant,’ she sighed.

I went back to reading, ignoring Mary. She watched the passers-by, chatted sometimes to the other guests and ate her jelly.

Harrison’s Assembly Rooms were set in gardens down by the river. I presented my ticket, Mary presented hers, and we were admitted to the enclosed area that was for subscribers only. It was prettily laid out, with a smooth lawn in front, the rooms fresh and attractive. We entered the tea room, which was already crowded with visitors, and Mary left me at once, going back to her mother. I looked around for my aunt, but couldn’t see her.

I walked through to the second room. Here, tables were set out for cards, all of them full. I spotted my aunt in a far corner, engrossed in a game with some other ladies. My father sat at another table, cards fanned in his hand and a glass of red wine at his elbow. I was completely useless at all card games, so I sighed and wondered whether I should walk home. But there was nothing to do there either.

I wandered back into the tea room and was offered tea, which I accepted, and a small cake too. I stood alone, drinking my tea, wishing my back would stop smarting. Although the room was crowded, there was plenty of space around me; the other visitors avoided me as though I had some infectious disease. Mr Bedford passed by and moved on quickly without looking at me. The dandy from last night stared insolently and then pointedly turned his back. I held my head high and told myself I didn’t care.

After a long, awkward wait, a familiar figure approached me and bowed. It was last night’s mysterious dance partner, and I greeted him uncertainly. I supposed it was a relief to know there was one person here willing to talk to me.

‘Good day, Miss Williams. All alone, I see.’

‘That’s how I prefer it,’ I told him.

‘Really? It’s one thing to despise and dislike the people of Bath, but a different thing altogether to be despised and disliked
by
them, wouldn’t you say?’

‘If you despise and dislike me so much, sir, I wonder you acknowledge me at all,’ I said as disdainfully as I could.

‘I wasn’t one of those you insulted yesterday,’ he pointed out.

‘That can be remedied,’ I told him swiftly.

‘Please. Feel free to insult me all you like,’ he said with a mischievous look that I confess appealed to me. His face in repose was rather stern, but when he smiled it transformed it, making him look much younger. ‘You’re with your aunt?’

‘My aunt is playing cards, sir,’ I replied.

‘You’re not a card player?’ he enquired politely.

‘No. Cards bore me. Besides, I have no money to gamble.’

‘You are very wise,’ he said. ‘I’m no card player either. You haven’t seen the gardens yet. Would you like to accompany me out to view them?’

‘You tell me everyone hates and despises me,’ I said indignantly, ‘and then you ask me to walk with you! Why would I want to?’

‘Curiosity?’ he suggested. Again, there was just a hint of a smile in his eyes. Almost against my will, I nodded. It was no part of my plan to form friendships at the Bath, especially not with young men my father considered eligible, so it was difficult to account for my acquiescence.

My companion offered his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, I laid my hand on it. As we went out through the door, my companion let go of me for a moment and placed a guiding hand on the small of my back. His touch was too light to hurt, but I flinched instinctively and caught my breath. The man said nothing, however. I made some remark, I hardly know what, about the mild weather and the moment passed.

The gardens were laid out in a formal walk that led down along the river. It was much more spacious than the Grove. I took cautious steps, the fabric of my gown chafing my tender back. ‘This is the famous Harrison’s Walk,’ said my companion. ‘What do you think of it?’