“But of course,” said Henrietta as she and her friend sat at breakfast, “I still don’t know if Anna managed to slip into the dormitory undetected. I promised her that I’d call on Miss Mynford this morning so that if matters had turned out badly, I might be at hand to intercede for her. I can only hope that I’ll not be required to do so, however, for what extenuation in the world can be pleaded for her offence?”
Louisa declared airily that Henrietta would surely think of something. She was in her brightest spirits this morning, and announced her intention of walking with Henrietta as far as the Pump Room.
“I’ll just look in for a while, and you may join me there if you choose, Hetty, when you come away from the seminary. How very pleasant to turn with real enjoyment to our familiar pursuits.”
Once they were out in the street, Henrietta half expected that Captain Barclay would join them, but there was no sign of him. She noticed Louisa glancing surreptitiously behind her once or twice as they walked along. A shade of disappointment crossed her face for a moment, but was soon gone. She could not be gloomy today.
They parted outside the Pump Room, and Henrietta continued on her way to Queen Square. Miss Mynford, gratified by this attention from a former favourite pupil, received her amiably. For a time they chatted inconsequentially, and Henrietta became more and more convinced that Anna’s secret must be safe. If not, surely something would have been said by now. She decided, however, to put the matter more definitely to the test by asking after Anna.
Miss Mynford shook her head gravely. “I regret to tell you, Miss Melville, that I am at present seriously displeased with Anna Florey.”
Henrietta’s heart sank. “Oh, dear, I am sorry. What has she done, ma’am, to incur your displeasure?”
She hardly dared to put the question and waited in some trepidation for the answer.
“One of the teachers came to me this morning with a complaint about the girl’s conduct that I cannot overlook,” replied the principal in a severe tone. “So I fear that if you were intending to ask permission for Anna to accompany you on an outing, I shall be obliged to tender you a refusal.”
It required all Henrietta’s presence of mind to prevent her from showing her alarm. Anna’s escapade must have been discovered; nothing else could account for the degree of Miss Mynford’s severity. Poor Anna! Was there anything that could be urged in her defence that might prevent the ignominy of expulsion? It would be such a dreadful blow to her parents, even if Anna herself might pretend not to care.
She decided, however, to wait before launching into a defence of the girl. There was just the faintest possibility that Miss Mynford might be speaking of some other misdemeanour.
“No, I had no such intention today,” she said as calmly as possible. “But may I know, ma’am, precisely what Anna has done?”
“She has neglected her pianoforte practice,” pronounced the principal, as though naming one of the seven deadly sins.
“I — I beg your pardon?”
The words came out weakly, for Henrietta’s relief was so overpowering that she could scarcely speak.
Miss Mynford looked at her in a kindly way.
“I can see, my dear, that this defection distresses you as it should. You may recall that all my senior girls are required to spend one half hour in turn every day at the pianoforte. The music mistress informs me that she has just discovered Anna has not been taking her turn over the past week, but has persuaded one of the other girls to perform in her stead. Such duplicity cannot be countenanced.”
“Oh, dear, no,” agreed Henrietta, trying very hard not to laugh.
“Of course, Anna Florey has no real talent for music, while the girl who took her place is very fond of it,” conceded Miss Mynford. “But that’s quite beside the point. Playing and singing are necessary drawing-room accomplishments, and as such, are essential to a young lady’s education. I am sure you will agree.”
Henrietta would scarcely have dared to do otherwise. She did venture to remark, however, that unfortunately such subterfuges were not uncommon among schoolgirls.
“Of course I realise that only too well, with my many years of experience,” replied Miss Mynford, mellowing slightly. “The girl is no worse behaved than many of her companions, but they must all learn the lesson of obedience. So I have decreed that Miss Florey will for the next week spend one hour at her practice under supervisions The girls are not usually supervised as you know; nothing is so trying to a teacher’s nerves as listening to a pupil’s practising,” she said, with an austere smile.
Henrietta remarked that she was quite sure Anna would benefit in more than one way from her punishment, and would not err again. She reflected with amusement that she wished she could be more certain of this. Such a high-spirited girl was decidedly a handful; thank goodness she was at least cured of her adolescent attachment to Mr. Aldwyn.
Soon afterwards, Henrietta took her leave and strolled back in the direction of the Pump Room.
Inside, she could see no sign of Louisa. She did catch sight of Almeria and Sir Giles, however, and was about to go over to them when she was detained by Miss Dyrham. The lady had an expression on her face that betokened she was bursting with the latest gossip.
“Have you heard the news, Miss Melville?” she demanded in a malicious tone. “It seems that the charming Mr. Colby has run out of the town, leaving debts behind him at the York Hotel, and dear knows where else! I always had my doubts about the creature, as you may recall, but of course there was no turning you against him, such a favourite as he was. I quite compassionate you, my dear! You are not very fortunate in your choice of beaux!”
“I’m beginning to be persuaded that I’m not very fortunate in some of my acquaintances, at any rate,” retorted Henrietta dryly, giving her a meaningful look. “Pray, don’t waste your compassion on me, ma’am; no one could be less in need of it. As I once told you, I came to Bath in search of entertainment only, and that I have found in full measure. Indeed, I am grateful to you for helping to contribute toward it.”
This speech, unusually biting for Henrietta but not, she felt, unwarranted, seemed to have routed her opponent for the moment. Before she could make a recovery, Henrietta went over to Almeria, who had that moment seen her and was already approaching.
“My love, I must talk to you!” began Almeria. “Let us go and sit down on one of those chairs in the far corner, where no one will disturb us.”
She took Henrietta’s arm, steering her through the crowd until they reached their objective.
“There, that’s better!” she exclaimed. “I’ve heard such a tale from Julian, and I simply can’t wait to learn what you think about it all! Who would have thought that our engaging rogue Colby would turn out to be such a monster of depravity?”
She gave Henrietta an anxious, searching glance.
“Dearest Hetty,” she went on in a hesitant voice, “I do trust… That’s to say, I’ve often wondered if perhaps you might not have come to care for him more than you realised. If so, any ill-judged levity —”
To her great relief, Henrietta laughed.
“Jane Dyrham has just been sympathising with me — in her own peculiar style, of course — over that very matter, so for Heaven’s sake, don’t you begin! This should teach me the folly of attempting my hand at a flirtation. It’s plain that I’m not near so expert at it as Louisa, for no one ever credited her with being serious!”
Almeria understood her too well to suppose that she was acting a part.
“I’m so glad, for now I can ask you everything I’m dying to know,” she confessed. “Julian told me something of this extraordinary affair of Louisa’s, but men have not the slightest talent for relating such matters. Poor, dear Louisa! She must have suffered dreadfully, and yet one could never have guessed. Do tell me the whole, Hetty.”
“But haven’t you seen Louisa herself this morning? She intended to come here, for I left her at the entrance less than an hour since, while I went on to
Queen Square. I quite expected to find her waiting here for me.”
“No, we’ve not set eyes on her. But then we didn’t arrive until about a half hour since. Possibly she looked in and then went on to somewhere else.”
“She never mentioned any such intention,” said Henrietta in a puzzled tone. “But then, she’s always impulsive, and today she was in such a lively mood that there’s no saying what may not have taken her fancy! I’m sure she’ll return presently, however. Would you not rather wait until she comes and then ask her about it?”
Almeria shook her head. “Don’t you feel, Hetty, that it would be an unnecessary reopening of old wounds? She was obliged to explain matters to you, of course, but I dare say now her most fervent wish might be never to speak of the past again. But it will be more comfortable for her if her most intimate friends know her history, so I’m sure she would not object to your confiding the whole to me.”
This so exactly echoed what Louisa herself had said on the subject yesterday evening that Henrietta was bound to agree. She therefore set about filling in those details that she had thought it better to omit from the story when she had related it to Almeria’s brother.
Almeria listened almost without interruption and was evidently much moved.
“If only she can find happiness now!” she whispered at the conclusion. “Poor love, she has suffered enough for one lifetime.”
Henrietta agreed and, glancing across the room, saw that Louisa had just entered. After a moment, she caught sight of her two friends and made her way toward them, weaving in and out of the gossiping groups standing about the room.
Henrietta at once realised that Louisa was in an even more exuberant mood than when they had parted. Her hazel eyes shone and her whole face was radiant.
“And where have you been?” Henrietta asked, laughing. “I quite thought to find you awaiting me here.”
“Oh, not far away,” replied Louisa with a roguish smile.
“You look to me as if you’ve been enjoying yourself prodigiously, wherever you may have been,” said Almeria.
“I took a stroll round the abbey.”
“The abbey!” they both exclaimed in chorus.
“Yes, why not? It’s very quiet there on weekdays.”
“I dare say,” said Almeria, giving her a quizzical glance. “But you don’t look like someone who has been passing her time in peaceful meditation! Come now, you may as well tell us what you’ve really been up to!”
Louisa sat down beside them and leaned across, speaking in an excited whisper.
“Very well then, but you mustn’t exclaim or make any fuss, for I don’t wish to broadcast it today. Promise?”
Her mysterious manner carried the others back to their far-off schooldays, and they could not suppress their answering chuckles. Henrietta, however, had a shrewd notion of what was to be revealed.
“I am betrothed,” announced Louisa, still whispering, “to Captain Barclay!”
They wished her joy in muted accents, but with full hearts.
“Hush!” she warned, looking warily about her. “He’s gone to insert a notice in the Bath Chronicle, and until it appears, we’ve agreed to tell no one but our closest friends. Oh, I’m so happy! Too happy, too confused to remain here taking part in idle chatter with all these people! Hetty, would you dislike it very much if we went home now? And then, you know,” she added naively, “I can tell you all about it.”
She was still engaged with the same topic when Mr. Aldwyn called after luncheon. Henrietta thought he looked very handsome in his buff pantaloons and cinnamon brown coat that set so well over his shoulders; but she wondered why his expression should be so grave.
After greeting them both, he went on to wish Louisa joy.
“I heard the news from Barclay himself when I called in next door before coming here,” he said. “I never saw a happier fellow, assure you! But I rather think he’ll be telling you of that himself presently, ma’am, as he declared his intention of following me here before long to try and persuade you to join him in a stroll about the Sydney Gardens. Of course,” he added with a twinkle, which for a moment relieved the seriousness of his countenance, “I dare say he has small hope of success.”
Louisa laughed and blushed.
“I’ve so much to thank you for, Mr. Aldwyn,” she said warmly. “Had it not been for you and dear Henrietta, my situation must have continued wretched indeed! How can I ever adequately express my gratitude, or make a return for your kindness?”
“My part was little enough, but by all means thank Miss Melville. She’s a lady with a deal of initiative and perseverance,” he replied, smiling at Henrietta. “I dare say she’ll tell you that your present happiness is all the thanks she needs. But I must let her speak for herself.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of the captain to make his request. Henrietta gave him her warmest congratulations, but soon sent Louisa upstairs to don her pelisse and bonnet. It was evident from the looks exchanged between the newly betrothed pair that very little sense would be obtained from them at present. They civilly invited Henrietta and Aldwyn to join them in their walk, and succeeded tolerably well in concealing their gratification when the offer was declined.
“I can think of nothing less appealing than playing gooseberry,” said Aldwyn with a chuckle after the couple had departed. “But I must not take up any more of your time, ma’am.”
He rose to go. Was it the rules of propriety that urged him to depart, or did he wish to be rid of her company? Henrietta could not decide; she only knew that she did not want him to go, and sought desperately for a way to detain him, if only for a little longer.
“I haven’t told you about my visit to the seminary this morning,” she began, resolutely remaining seated. “I went to see the principal, thinking that if, after all, Anna had been discovered last night, I might be able to urge something in her defence. Well, I had such a shock!”
The ruse worked, for he seated himself again, a look of dismay crossing his face.
“Turned out badly, did it? I am sorry.”
She disclaimed hastily, then proceeded to relate her interview with Miss Mynford. He laughed genially when she had finished.
“I can imagine what an unpleasant shock you must have had when the principal spoke in such terms of Anna’s conduct. What a resty little chit she is. I dare say her parents find her a bit of a handful. By the way,” he added, “she made one remark to me last night in parting that puzzled me somewhat. She thanked me prettily enough, then went on to say she hoped the night air hadn’t affected me adversely — for all the world as if I were a septuagenarian!”
He noticed Henrietta’s guilty look and glanced at her quizzically.
“I’m afraid that was my doing,” she admitted.
“I can see that from your expression,” he accused, smiling at her. “Out with it, ma’am; let me know the worst!”
“Well, I trust you won’t be vexed, sir, but I was obliged to humbug Anna a trifle. You may not perhaps have noticed it, but she had developed a — a schoolgirl attachment for you. One of these adolescent romantic fancies, you know.”
“Good God!” he exclaimed in failing accents.
“I don’t know how it is with boys, but girls are very prone to such transports,” went on Henrietta. “In general, they quickly recover, once they realise their idol sports clay feet, so to speak. I considered it was time to put a period to Anna’s infatuation, seeing that it had indirectly caused her to fall into a dangerous situation. Colby had observed it, you see, and used it as a bait for his trap. When he mentioned in his letter that you would be present at this supposed fete, all caution was driven from Anna’s mind, and she agreed to the scheme without a second thought.”
“What it is to inspire such devotion!” he remarked cynically. Then, in a kinder tone, “But after all, I understand well enough, since once I myself fell into a similar trap. Poor Anna; adolescence is a painful business.”
For a moment, neither sp
oke. Then he regarded Henrietta with an air of amused challenge.
“Do I collect that you, Miss Melville, set about displaying my clay feet? Not too difficult a task, but I’m consumed with curiosity about your method. Pray, enlighten me!”
“Oh, dear!” She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “You see, she thought of you as a romantic hero such as Lord Orville —”
“Lord who?” he interrupted.
“The hero of Miss Burney’s novel Evelina. You may not know the book, sir, but Anna is a devoted novel reader.”
“Oh, I see. Yes, I have read it, some time ago. Devilish stick of a fellow, if my recollection serves me. I must say, I don’t feel at all flattered by the comparison. But pray continue, ma’am.”
“My object was to make her think of you as rather old and — and decrepit, so to speak,” went on Henrietta, glancing nervously at him from under her long lashes. “I told her that you were almost thirty — Anna thinks thirty is the end of everything, you know — and that you were afflicted with rheumatism, so that you were obliged always to wear a flannel waistcoat.”
“Good God!” He glanced down at the waistcoat he was wearing, a stylish garment of striped silk, and shuddered.
“I think it was the flannel waistcoat that carried the day,” she said, trying hard not to laugh at his outraged expression. “She confessed herself quite taken in! Then I went on to say that you were a most worthy gentleman —”
He groaned, covering his eyes with one hand in a theatrical gesture.
“— and that, although some elderly spinster might value you sufficiently, it was scarcely to be supposed that Anna would relish the task of fashioning your warm waistcoats. Well, that completed your downfall. I’d only to refer to the pleasures of her come-out, not so very far ahead, and all the eligible young gentlemen she would then meet, to give her thoughts quite another direction!” His eyes met hers, and they both burst out laughing.
A Conformable Wife: A Regency Romance with a spirited heroine Page 30
