A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  He frowned, considering for a moment. “Yes, I do recollect. But surely a recently widowed young woman will not make the most cheerful of company.”

  “Mrs. Fordyce shows no signs of melancholy; quite otherwise. I must confess that Louisa says she intends to take me on a round of dissipation if I do go to stay with her. Dissipation!” She laughed. “I must admit, it sounds prodigiously attractive, and quite different from my accustomed life these past years. Exactly what I need at the present time.”

  “Doubtless you are right. I see now that my declaration was ill timed, to say the least, and that I must abandon all hope of success. Pray forgive me for my importunity, and accept my most sincere wishes for your future happiness, ma’am.”

  Henrietta looked contrite. “You should rather forgive me for receiving your proposals with such scant ceremony. I have not even spoken of the great honour you do me. Only,” she went on, returning to a more natural manner, “I’m quite sure that when you come to consider it, you will feel that you’ve had a fortunate escape. Perhaps you may yet meet someone else who can make you truly happy, Mr. Aldwyn; for my part, I don’t at all subscribe to the view that one cannot love a second time.”

  He made a gesture of repudiation, almost of distaste.

  “Oh, I know you think you don’t wish to fall in love,” she continued, greatly daring, “but no one can be certain of schooling one of the strongest of human emotions. There, now you think me monstrously impertinent, I don’t doubt, and will be glad to be rid of me. Nevertheless, I, too, wish you all possible happiness.”

  He bowed, rising to take his leave. There was nothing left to say.

  He was suddenly conscious of all the confusing emotions within himself, one of which was pique. He had been so very certain of Miss Melville, in spite of his rival the vicar. He had so much more to offer than the clergyman in worldly goods. And he had been persuaded that she liked him well enough to build with him a satisfactory and even mildly affectionate relationship.

  The devil fly away with all women. Unpredictable, inconsistent creatures they were, even those seemingly most sensible! Surely the confounded female could see that it was in her own best interests to accept his offer? Freedom might seem attractive enough in youth, when ties of any kind were irksome, but surely it had acquired a lonely look for her by now. With maturing years, the comforts of hearth and home began to beckon. Had he not reluctantly reached that very conclusion recently himself? Well, she would come to it, too, in time, most likely too late. The thought gave him a moment’s bitter satisfaction, after which he at once felt slightly ashamed.

  She rose, too, and held out her hand.

  “You won’t stay for my brother, sir?”

  “No.” He spoke tersely. “I am not in the mood for social conversation at present. Good day to you, Miss Melville.”

  He took her hand, hesitated, then carried it briefly to his lips. It was trembling slightly as she drew it away.

  “It may be that we shall chance to meet again in company with others,” he said stiffly. “Let me assure you that such meetings need occasion you no embarrassment, ma’am. I shall make no further reference to this interview.”

  She nodded. “I think it unlikely that we shall meet again for some time,” she said a little breathlessly, “But if we do, sir, on my side it will always be in friendship.”

  He bowed again and left her.

  After he had gone, Henrietta stood for some time at the window, gazing out at the garden, where yellowing leaves were drifting slowly down from the trees. And all the while the tears were falling unbidden and unheeded down her cheeks, blurring the melancholy autumn scene.

  Chapter VII

  Few towns could equal Bath for its handsome streets, crescents, and squares surrounded by elegant buildings of honey-coloured local stone fashioned in classical style. Centuries ago, the Romans had come there for its curative waters, constructing a series of public baths, which still survived. It was in the previous century, however, that the Spa had become a fashionable resort under its famous Master of Ceremonies Beau Nash. Domestic building began on a large scale, fortunately in the hands of gifted architects, who gave the town its symmetrical beauty. Handsome public rooms were also provided: The Pump Room, where visitors came to gossip or take the waters, and the magnificent Assembly Rooms for balls and other entertainments.

  Captain Robert Barclay of the Royal Navy stood before the window of his drawing room looking down into Pulteney Street. He was a tall, lean man in his mid-thirties. His strong, resolute countenance was still bronzed from long exposure to the elements, in spite of almost two years ashore. Although living at present on half pay, his style and manner gave no indication of straitened means, for indeed he had not the slightest occasion for economy, since he had amassed a considerable fortune in prize money during his years of naval service. He occupied a house in one of Bath’s most select quarters, at which he kept a stable of blood horses, a smart town coach, and a sporting curricle. Always well turned out, without in any way aspiring to dandyism, he was a very eligible bachelor, a state of affairs the ladies of Bath were determined to remedy.

  Lately, however, they had noticed that his attention seemed to be caught by his neighbour, the attractive widow Mrs. Fordyce, not long settled in the town. They could not but feel aggrieved by this; surely when a female had been once married, she might in fairness leave the field to less fortunate sisters who had yet to make a first catch? But far from showing any sporting instinct for the rules of the game, Mrs. Fordyce seemed bent on playing it her own way. The captain was only one of several eligible gentlemen who gathered about her.

  Captain Barclay’s keen eyes quickened suddenly, for he had detected the flutter of a skirt on the steps of the house next door. Yes, there she was, looking delectable in a cherry red velvet gown and black spencerette, with a high-crowned bonnet of the same colour velvet tied under her chin with pink ribbons. In a trice he had snatched up his hat and cane, ready beside him, and covered the distance to his own front door at a pace more suited to boarding an enemy ship.

  They both reached the pavement outside the captain’s house at the same moment. He removed his hat and bowed.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Fordyce. A fine day. Do you walk to the Pump Room, ma’am? Perhaps I may accompany you?”

  She acknowledged his greeting with a smile that lit up her fine hazel eyes, and cordially accepting his escort, she placed her hand in its shapely pink kid glove lightly on his arm. As they progressed along Pulteney Street in the direction of the town, she chattered away in her usual light, airy style. He seldom replied, seeming content to listen to her while he watched her lively face constantly change expressions.

  “I am prodigiously excited today!” she exclaimed as they crossed Laura Place. A boy, who had been bowling a hoop around the central enclosure, almost collided with them, but drew away quickly when he saw the captain’s warning frown. “I am to have a visitor — a very special visitor — tomorrow!”

  The frown remained, and the keen grey eyes momentarily shadowed. “Indeed, ma’am?”

  “Well, I would make you guess who it might be,” she said, laughing, “but that you could not, as you have never met the lady.”

  He relaxed a little. “A relative of yours, Mrs. Fordyce?”

  “Oh, no, I have no relatives — that’s to say, no relatives on visiting terms,” she amended quickly. “This lady is a friend from my childhood days. I haven’t set eyes on her these four years or more. And now she is to come and stay with me for, oh, I don’t know how long — as long as I can persuade her to remain!”

  “That will be very pleasant for you. Old friends are the most comfortable, after all. They understand us without the need of explanations.”

  “Now I declare you’re prodigiously clever, Captain Barclay! You’ve such a way of putting matters in a nutshell.”

  “I’m a plain man, I fear.” He shook his head sadly. “But I trust your old friend will not lead you to neglect your more recen
t ones?”

  “Oh, no, certainly not, for I mean to make Miss Melville acquainted with you all. And I know everyone will like her. She’s the dearest, sweetest creature imaginable!”

  Privately Captain Barclay considered this description best fitted to the lady presently holding his arm, but as he was a shy man where females were concerned, and not given to paying fulsome compliments, he held his peace.

  They had by now crossed to the far side of Pulteney Bridge, where they paused to look down on the swans sailing peacefully across the river Avon.

  “I always wonder why it is that swans’ necks look so yellow,” remarked Mrs. Fordyce thoughtfully. “Do you suppose it’s because they are too long to wash?”

  Captain Barclay laughed. “’Pon my soul, ma’am, you raise a tricky point there, and one I haven’t the knowledge to answer. I suppose we might search it out in some learned library or other.”

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Oh, no. It’s not at all my notion of entertainment to be passing my time in a fusty library! But see, there is Mr. and Miss Dyrham just ahead of us, and doubtless bound for the Pump Room too. Do let us walk a little faster and come up with them, for there is something I particularly wish to ask Miss Dyrham.”

  The captain obediently lengthened his stride, though he had no real desire to join the Dyrhams. Roderick Dyrham was a personable man approaching forty, and he was obviously quite taken with the attractive Mrs. Fordyce. There were far too many men in Bath, thought Captain Barclay gloomily, who had their eye on this lady and though she showed no sign of favouring any one above the others, it disheartened him, to say the least. As for Miss Dyrham, it was no matter for wonder to the captain that she was still a spinster, in spite of her modishly attired trim figure. He could never abide a gushing female, and moreover, he shared the dislike of most men for being too industriously pursued. As soon as the two couples came together, Miss Dyrham opened up a barrage of arch glances and playful banter in the captain’s direction and he was thankful when Mrs. Fordyce drew the lady aside to consult her on a matter concerning female fashion. By the time they reached the promenade in front of the Pump Room, they had been joined by several other of their acquaintances, and the captain reluctantly became separated from Mrs. Fordyce.

  The Pump Room was Bath’s morning social hub. Here visitors came to drink the waters for reasons of health, while residents and others gathered to meet acquaintances and hear the latest gossip. It was a large, elegant room surrounded by classical columns and extended at each end with a curved recess. In one of these, a fine long-case Tompion clock stood, and above it, in a niche, rested a statue of Beau Nash, who was, in his lifetime, the undisputed ruler of Bath society, and who now looked down upon it in a slightly disapproving fashion.

  Once inside the Pump Room, Louisa Fordyce had no difficulty in shaking off Miss Dyrham, who was by no means a favourite with her, and she was soon surrounded by a group of other acquaintances and admirers. Presently Sir Giles Barrington, a pleasant-looking man in his thirties, entered the room with his wife Almeria on his arm. Louisa waved airily to them, and they at once came to join her group.

  “My dear Almeria, I must tell you!” began Louisa to her friend. “Henrietta is to come to stay with me tomorrow. Is it not famous?”

  “Henrietta?” Almeria’s expression was not quite as rapturous as the other had expected. “Oh, is she so? You told me you had the intention of asking her, but I thought perhaps she might —” She broke off suddenly and smiled. “Oh, yes, of course, it will be such fun for you both!”

  Louisa regarded her with a speculative frown. “Were you about to say you thought she might refuse?” she asked bluntly.

  “Well, yes, I did wonder,” admitted Almeria.

  “Had you a particular reason?”

  Almeria shook her head uncomfortably. “No — that’s to say, Henrietta rarely pays visits. I have invited her often enough myself in the past, but I gave it up entirely of late years, since it was always Papa or one of the girls who could not be left. But, of course, there is nothing now to keep her at Westhyde Manor,” she said without conviction.

  Louisa could not help feeling that her friend was not being entirely frank. But she had her own reticences, and was quite prepared to respect those of others.

  “Well, at any rate she is to come, and I leave you to judge how pleased I am! She tells me she wishes to go round the shops while she’s here in order to refurbish her wardrobe.”

  “No, does she indeed?” Almeria drew her friend a little aside, so that no one else might overhear. “Louisa, I do beg you to use your influence to make her purchase some more attractive garments than her present style! I know you are as devoted a friend to her as I am, so I don’t scruple to confide in you that Henrietta has allowed herself to become beyond anything dowdy. I collect that it all began because of some pinchpenny attitude of her father’s after his wife died, but it’s become a fixed habit with her now.”

  Louisa nodded. “Yes, I recall that even before I left Somerset, she was practising economies in her dress. But there is surely no need. She is possessed of a comfortable fortune, is she not?”

  “Indeed she is, but you know how easy it is to go on in the same way, even after the reason for doing so is gone. I declare I could positively shake her at times, seeing her wearing hideous caps and odiously depressing gowns just like an old maid. Although she’s still an attractive female, one needs to look very hard nowadays to discern it, I vow! You will do your utmost possible, won’t you?”

  “You may rely on me completely,” promised Louisa, her eyes twinkling merrily. “By the time I have done with our dear Henrietta, she will be as completely transformed as — as Cinderella after the fairy godmother waved her wand! She will quite shine down all the females of Bath, and have the gentlemen flocking round her like bees around a honey pot!”

  Almeria laughed. “If you achieve only half as much you’ll earn my undying gratitude, and Henrietta’s, too, I vow.”

  In her own mind, she added Julian’s name to the list of Louisa’s debtors in this project. She had been surprised and somewhat disappointed to learn that Henrietta proposed to leave Westhyde Manor just at present. A brief note, which she had lately received from Julian, seemed to suggest that he and Henrietta were going along together very well, and had led her to hope that a declaration from Julian was imminent. It was a pity if Henrietta should remove from his neighbourhood just as he might be on the point of making it. However, Almeria was too sensible not to realise that there was a point beyond which one could not meddle in the affairs of even the closest connections. If Julian had a mind to secure Henrietta for his wife, he would doubtless find his own way about the business. And perhaps a short separation might be no bad thing for both of them, if indeed absence made the heart grow fonder. She sighed; hearts, unfortunately, did not come into this. What a pity it was all so unromantic!

  Miss Mynford’s Select Seminary for Young Ladies in Queen Square was conducted on liberal lines compared to many other establishments of the kind. Although she required her pupils to retire at eight o’clock every evening, and regularly inspected the dormitories at half past to make sure all bedside candles were extinguished, she was quite aware that the senior dormitory girls did not always compose themselves immediately for sleep. As long as the chatter was conducted in whispers, however, so that the younger girls in adjoining dormitories were not disturbed, she turned a deaf ear to a little clandestine social intercourse, contenting herself with listening at the door of the senior dormitory for a few moments on her way up to bed at ten o’clock. Usually all the young ladies were fast asleep by that time, for they arose at seven o’clock every morning and followed a rigorous regime throughout the day.

  On certain special occasions, however, the senior girls considered it worthwhile to miss a few hours of sleep in order to partake of a dormitory feast after their preceptress was safely abed. Birthdays were celebrated in this way, and for some years it had been the custom to hold a f
east on the occasion of their reassembling after the long summer vacation. This was a particularly propitious time, as goodies from home could be concealed among their ordinary luggage.

  This year there were ten girls in the dormitory, of ages ranging from fifteen to seventeen. When Miss Mynford stealthily opened the door at precisely ten o’clock, her lighted candle revealed ten heads of assorted colours peacefully settled on white pillows, just as they should be. Those nearest to her were sleeping with such angelic looks on their countenances that Miss Mynford, had she not been privileged to know more of their real characters, might have supposed they were not long for this wicked world. She smiled cynically, shut the door quietly, and repaired thankfully after a hard day’s work to that haven of rest, her own bedchamber.

  Three-quarters of an hour later, ten figures in white nightgowns threw back the covers and, having rekindled the bedside candles, crept cautiously about the room retrieving from various hiding places the ingredients of the feast. This done, one of their number produced a quantity of curl papers, which she passed among the others for use as plates.

  “I’ve brought a cold broiled ham!” hissed a plump girl, in a triumphant whisper.

  “Oh, famous!” breathed several others.

  “But how shall we slice it?” asked Caroline Bovill.

  “We might tear it apart with our fingers, as they did in the Middle Ages,” suggested another girl, who was fond of history.

  This caused giggles, which were quickly hushed by Charlotte Brisbane, the eldest girl and the ringleader.