Miss Price's Decision

by Eliza Shearer

  The number of people in the room appeared to have multiplied in the few minutes we had been outside. The crowd was like a wall and it took me a long while to arrive to the place we had occupied earlier. I searched for the reticule, but it was nowhere to be found. My throat tightened. I did not want to return empty-handed, but I had no alternative. Disheartened, I headed back outside.

  Lady Bertram was not where I had left her. With my heart pounding and a sense of dread rising inside of me, I looked around. Then I noticed that a small crowd that had congregated on one of the external walls of the building. Surrounded by half a dozen well-meaning passers-by and leaning against a wall, my aunt was nodding in the direction of a gentleman whose face I could not see from my position. He was patting her hand, in a shocking display of familiarity. Feeling powerless, I ran towards her.

  “Lady Bertram! Are you well?”

  “Do not distress yourself, miss. I have sent the usher to call for a doctor. He will be here in no time.”

  The man’s voice made me my chest tighten. I turned to take a look at his face. His eyes were bright blue and his skin had the mahogany tint of someone who has spent much time in warmer climates.

  I gasped.

  Mr Cole looked at me with a mocking smile. I avoided his gaze to give my full attention to Lady Bertram, who was now holding my hand. I was trembling.

  “Oh, Susan! Whatever took you so long?”

  “I am so sorry! There were so many people inside…”

  “I will call you a chaise. Where are you staying?” asked Mr Cole. He had the same mocking glare I had come to fear. I felt a shiver down my spine but did not look away.

  “I can tell the coachman myself,” I replied, defiantly.

  Sir Thomas arrived that very moment, rushing to his wife’s side. He was accompanied by the Allens and Miss Morland, and they were all looking very concerned.

  “What happened, my dear?”

  “I do not know,” mumbled Lady Bertram. “I was waiting for Susan when I saw a lady turn that corner. I thought…” A shadow of pain crossed her face, but it was just for an instant. “I must have fainted. When I opened my eyes, I was in the arms of this gentleman.”

  Someone pushed me aside. It was a short man with white sideburns and an air of competence who introduced himself as Doctor Stuart. He was followed by a young usher carrying a small silver tray with a glass of water, smelling salts and a fresh towel. The physician inspected Lady Bertram and determined that she had fainted due to the heat, and that she must rest. The crowd around us slowly grew thinner, but the Allens and their friend remained by our side, as did Mr Cole, in whose direction I dared not glance.

  After asking Doctor Stuart to visit Lady Bertram the following morning, my uncle finally turned his attention to Mr Cole.

  “Thank you for coming to my wife’s assistance.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Are we acquainted? I must say, you look familiar.”

  “We are, indeed, sir. We met at Mr and Mrs Yates’ a few days ago. My name is Cole.”

  “Yes, Mr Cole, I remember now. You have just returned from the West Indies, is that correct? What a coincidence.”

  “Less than you think,” said Cole, in an ominous voice that gave me goosebumps.

  A chair was called, and moments later I found myself in the vehicle, comforting my aunt and waving farewell to the Allens and Miss Morland, as my uncle shook Mr Cole’s hand and exchanged a few more words with him.

  When Sir Thomas boarded the chaise, his brow was creased but he did not utter a word. I lowered my gaze and felt my stomach churn. As the Camden Place building came into view, Lady Bertram turned to me.

  “So, Susan, did you find my reticule?”

  I shook my head. She did not answer, and instead closed her eyes. A dark mood enveloped me. I had utterly failed my uncle and aunt.

  Back at Camden Place, my uncle entrusted Lady Bertram to Murphy, who accompanied her to her bedchamber. I watched them go up the stairs, my aunt with the hesitating step of the sick, the maid with the determination of a pointer dog on a leash. When my aunt was out of earshot, Sir Thomas finally spoke.

  “I am disappointed in you, Susan. You should have never left Lady Bertram on her own.”

  “But her reticule…”

  “You could have fetched it later. It was irresponsible of you to behave in such way. I fully expect you to be by Lady Bertram’s side at all times, unless otherwise agreed.”

  “I am sorry, sir.”

  I dug my nails into the palms of my hand, fighting a stray tear.

  My uncle, with a pensive look, went back into the drawing room and I was left standing in the hallway like a weather-beaten scarecrow.

  In the afternoon, the sky appeared to reflect my mood, for it turned grey and dark. To pass the time, I borrowed a book from the reasonably stocked library and sat in the small parlour. Someone had placed a gorgeous bouquet of perfect pink roses on a console table, but alas, I did not have anything to sketch them with, so reading would have to do. However, I did not read past page four. Instead, I looked out of the large window, observing the rain fall on the many puddles and watching the water transform into mud. I was thus engaged when Murphy knocked on the door.

  “Is my aunt asking after me?”

  “No, miss. She is fast asleep. But you have got visitors. A Mrs Allen and a Miss Morland.”

  It was an odd time for a visit. I checked my appearance in the mirror, tidied a stray lock of hair and asked Murphy to let them in. Mrs Allen entered with a worried look on her face.

  “Dear Miss Price, you must tell me if your aunt has recovered. What an awful fright. Is she well?”

  “Lady Bertram is much better, I thank you.”

  “I must see her.”

  “I believe she is asleep…”

  “I insist, Miss Price. I am worried sick. I must see her with my own eyes.”

  She insisted so, and she was so adept at it, that she was soon following Murphy upstairs to see her old friend.

  After she had left, Miss Morland smiled at me. Then, upon noticing the book that I had left on the table, she looked at me with bright eyes.

  “A novel! Is that what you are reading? Do tell me that it is the story of a beautiful heroine who, against all odds, finds the love of her life. I long to be in that position,” she sighed. “Oh, Miss Price, my heart aches so, and I do not know what to do!”

  A heartfelt sob came from within her. I patted her hand, and Miss Morland took my gesture as encouragement to tell me all about the doomed love between her and a young man she had met in London, where she had stayed for two months in the company of the Allens.

  “He is so very perfect in every way. Such a good-humoured disposition, such agreeable manners. And so very lively!”

  “Is he handsome?”

  “I declare him to be. Mrs Allen thinks him a tad too short, but I believe it is only because his friend is so tall. I could not think of a better man, not in a million years. And he loved me so very much!

  “Did he say as much to you?” I asked with caution.

  “He never used those words, but he let it be known every time we spoke, every time we danced, and whenever our eyes met in a crowded room. Mrs Allen was quite convinced that he would propose at any time, but it never happened. His family and friends came between us.”

  Miss Morland started to cry again. I patted her hand, trying to calm her down.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “It is my settlement,” she exclaimed, clutching her lace handkerchief. “He is a wealthy man with 5,000 pounds a year, and I have but 3,000 pounds to my name.”

  “He is wealthy, but you are not exactly penniless. I wish I were in your situation. And in any case, true affection will not be swayed by such fripperies. A man in love will fight until his last breath before being torn apart from his lady.”

  “Do you mean it was not true love?” Miss Morland said in a surprisingly calm voice.

  I hadn’t expected
our conversation to take such a turn. However, once she started on that course, she would not stop.

  “That would explain many things,” Miss Morland said excitedly. “For example, he never took notice if my hair was different, or if the bonnet I was wearing was new, or if I was sitting in this or that seat at a concert. Perhaps I should have behaved in a more guarded manner.”

  “Men prefer to chase than to be chased,” I said softly.

  “You are right. My affections were too obvious.” Her tone was of genuine surprise. “Oh, now I know what to do next time! I shall be aloof and enigmatic, smiling just so that the man I love thinks I am interested but can’t be quite sure!”

  “Perhaps it is not too late for you and your beloved.”

  “Oh, he does not deserve my affection,” she said, waving her hand. “He can go ahead and marry a rich woman, which is what his connections insist that he should do. I wish him every happiness but I would rather never set my eyes on him again.”

  Miss Morland patted the corners of her eyes with her embroidered handkerchief and let out a satisfied sigh.

  “Our chat did me a world of good. I am so very glad to have a particular friend in Bath. You should come to the Assembly Rooms with us tomorrow.”

  I gave her a sad smile.

  “I doubt I will be able to join you. I must keep my aunt company.”

  “It is not fair that you should stay indoors with so much happening around you. Mrs Allen will speak to Lady Bertram. She is really very kind, although at times her company is a tad too much. Also you must call me Harriet.”

  “Then, please, call me Susan,” I smiled.

  “So, Susan, have you ever been in love?”

  I considered my answer with care.

  “Not yet,” I replied.

  It was, of course, a lie, and one I would come to regret very much.

  Mrs Allen returned from the sickroom much comforted by the brief visit, but nevertheless made me promise I would send a note to the Allen lodgings on Pulteney Street if there was the slightest change in Lady Bertram’s condition, and they departed shortly afterwards.

  After Mrs Allen and Miss Morland’s visit, the dark clouds that enveloped me refused to lift. The conversation with Harriet left me thinking about how easy it was for some women to fall in love, often fooled by men who do not return their affections. For some reason, Harriet’s sad story made me think of Maria. She, too, had seen the man she loved treat her with contempt, condemning her to a life of social isolation and ignominy. Surely, their feelings were just an illusion; they could not possibly be equal to true love. True, steady, reliable love was bound to be something else.

  An uncomfortable thought began to materialise. What if my long held affection for Jamie was also an illusion? After all, he was much changed and I knew little about his current circumstances. He had left Portsmouth an orphan boy with no relations, and in spite of his childhood friendship with my brothers, after Richard’s death he had not corresponded with any of them, at least to my knowledge. I had no way to know what had happened in his life. It was perfectly possible that he might have forgotten his promise. He might be engaged. He might be married, for all I knew.

  I felt a shiver down my spine and my hands began to tremble when there was a knock on the door. Before I could answer, Murphy’s round face was looking at me with concern.

  “Is my aunt calling for me?” I asked, perhaps too brusquely, for Murphy’s eyes widened and her lips drew a firm line.

  “No, she is asleep.”

  “Then, what is it?” I noticed that the maid had a bundle in her hands. It was small, and covered with coarse calico. “What do you have there?”

  “Never mind, miss. It is nothing of importance,” mumbled she, pulling a face and closing the parlour door.

  I covered my face with my hands. The maid’s behaviour upset me, but even more the thought that I had somehow caused it through my thoughtless words.

  As Harriet had so confidently stated, in the morning the butler brought in an invitation from Mrs Allen asking my aunt and uncle for the pleasure of my company in the outing they were planning to the Assembly Rooms that same evening. She also invited my aunt, uncle and me to dinner at the Allens’ place on Pulteney Street on Friday, should Lady Bertram have fully recovered.

  Sir Thomas read out loud Mrs Allen’s letter from his favourite drawing room chair, where he had been reading the newspaper. My aunt, languidly stroking her pug while lying on the sofa, appeared surprised at the first invitation, less so at the second.

  “I do not care much for dining out, but I suppose we must accept the Allens’ dinner invitation. After all, Mrs Allen is an old friend, and she has very good taste. But how odd of them to invite Susan tonight. I cannot possibly spare her.”

  I tried to keep still and perfectly composed, watching pug’s laborious breathing and avoiding my uncle or my aunt’s gaze so as to hide my disappointment.

  “I know how difficult it is for you, my dear, but Susan, like any young woman, will be eager to experience Bath. I am sure you will agree she deserves a token of our gratitude after her years of ensuring your comfort. To do so, she will require a chaperone. It is a role that I dare say you are not eager to play, whereas Mrs Allen appears very keen to offer her services in this respect.”

  “Should I let her go, Sir Thomas? But how am I to spend the evening without her?”

  “We will do very well. I promise to read to you any book you suggest, without complaint,” said he, patting Lady Bertram’s hand. “Or we can play card games for two.”

  “Let us play piquet. I cannot quite remember the last time we played piquet together. Yes, I shall write to Mrs Allen just now, and tell her Susan can go with them tonight. I do not know what I would do without you, Sir Thomas.”

  As my aunt drafted a short note in her elegant hand, I shot my uncle a look of gratitude. He nodded curtly. Inside, I was ecstatic at the chance of being granted freedom for a few hours, and my happiness quietened the fear of disappointing my aunt and uncle that had been gnawing at me all day.

  Chapter 9

  As night fell, the weather turned wet and miserable, but I did not care one bit: I felt very lucky to be able to attend a proper ball. My friends, too, were in good spirits. Mr Allen was his usual congenial self, and the ladies were visibly excited, Mrs Allen in splendid maroon silk and Harriet in a pretty pale green frock.

  The Assembly Rooms were an extraordinary sight. The place was even more refined than the Theatre Royal in London. The airy proportions, giant chandeliers and abundance of candlelight gave it a sense of majesty, and the crowd was very fashionably dressed. I recognised some of the Pump Room patrons in their finery. They were looking remarkably less old, pale and infirm, particularly some of the ladies, who had the disconcerting flush that comes with a too liberal application of rouge.

  Following Mr Allen’s lead, we advanced through the sea of people. His purposeful stride, slowly but surely, led us to the ballroom, where there were dancers and musicians playing a jolly tune from a makeshift half-stage. I was enjoying the general air of merriment when Harriet grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her.

  “He is here!”

  Her face was pale, her eyes wide open.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “My London beau!” whispered my friend. “He is here with his sister, in the corner over there. Look!”

  I discreetly glanced in the direction that Harriet had indicated. To my surprise, I saw Mr and Miss Bingley.

  Harriet whispered excitedly in my ear.

  “He is wearing his blue coat!” whispered Harriet excitedly. “It’s my favourite. Is he not the best-looking man in the room? And look at the size of his sister’s feather! It surely is the biggest you will see outside of Court.”

  Miss Bingley was listening to her brother while watching the crowd. In her perfect features I could read a faint look of disdain. I turned to my friend and whispered back.

  “If you refer to Mr and Miss Bingley, they
are good friends of my cousin, Mrs Yates.”

  I did not consider it wise to consider them as acquaintances of mine. Although my brief encounter with them at the Drury Lane theatre certainly allowed me to consider them so, I was not foolish enough to think they might remember me.

  “I suppose that in London everybody knows everybody. Mr Bingley is very amiable, is he not?” asked Harriet excitedly.

  I observed the gentleman with interest. Surrounded by the aloof and world-weary, he appeared to be the only person genuinely joyous to be in attendance.

  “Indeed.”

  “Oh, look, his friend is also with them. “

  “Do you mean Mr Darcy?”

  I searched for the perfectly chiselled features and dark locks that had so reminded me of Jamie, but could not see him.

  “No, I mean the gentleman who is just back from the East Indies, or the West Indies, I cannot for the life of me remember which.”

  At that moment, Mr Cole’s pointy nose emerged from behind Miss Bingley. I immediately looked down and felt foolish. It wasn’t as if my childish gesture would prevent him from seeing me.

  “Here, my ladies! Over here!”

  Mr Allen was shouting in our direction, his baritone voice barely audible above the noise in the room. His tenacity had found us three chairs near the dance floor, which by sheer luck had just been vacated. After gallantly ensuring we were all comfortable, he proceeded to observe the room like a captain watching the manoeuvres of an enemy frigate.

  The music stopped, and there was a general cheer, followed by the scramble of new couples and dancing partners. To the disappointment of Mrs Allen and her charge, Harriet was not asked to dance then, or in the following two dances. It was not surprising, for there were many more young ladies than gentlemen in attendance. As for me, the sight of Mr Cole had dampened my spirits, so when Mr Allen suggested a refreshment, we all readily agreed.

  We rose from our seats, joined the crowd heading upstairs and eventually found ourselves in a narrow room with large windows overlooking the street below. Mr Allen immediately decided that it would be best for our party to split into two. He instructed me to stay with Mrs Allen and not move from our spot by the door, while he asked Harriet to assist him with the tea. As they headed towards the side of the room where refreshments were being served, I spotted Mr Bingley and realised with alarm that the path of my friends necessarily crossed with his.