Kate’s hobbies, when she is not writing or reading Regency romance, include playing classical piano, and walking and hiking the beautiful Gold Coast Hinterland. Kate lives with her three teen sons and one cat on the Gold Coast of Australia.
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A Bath Affair
One
Bath, 1813
‘Shan’t you get married at all, Aunt Clemence?’
The little girl who sat on a chair in the breakfast room, which overlooked Queen Square, was charmingly dressed in a white-on-white long-sleeved muslin with embroidered skirts, a pink ribbon to decorate the waist, and a matching pink ribbon in her long red hair. She was, to an outsider, almost a complete replica of her three and twenty-year old aunt, with her auburn hair, wide eyes and snubbed nose scattered with freckles. The only difference, and one which was often remarked upon with great astonishment, was that while her aunt’s eyes were a brilliant blue, those of her niece were a dark, scintillating brown.
Of course, as with any family, those who love us most dearly pay the most attention to details, and to others in Clara Bastable’s family, most of whom did indeed love her dearly, the similarities between the child and its aunt were not only in countenance, but in character as well. Like her aunt, Clara Bastable had a sweetness of manner, and a generally amiable countenance. But in her young character was breeding a stubbornness, a disinclination for following, and an inclination for outspokenness which her mother considered a hinderance to her daughter’s future happiness. In this, she resembled her aunt, for Clemence openly owned that she had little respect for behaviour as befits ones’ breeding, and was always beforehand in speaking her mind and behindhand in consideration of the consequences!
But those coffee brown eyes of Clara’s were now turned upon her beloved aunt, who sat with the rest of the family, partaking of a rather late breakfast as they were wont to do since they were come to Bath. The rather singular smell of smoked kippers filled the room, and mingled cheekily with the scent of the warm chocolate which Bell, the butler, had just served. Clemence pushed away her chocolate with a sigh.
The conversation which had just taken place had been a rather serious one, to Clemence’s mind; she did not like being taken to by her younger brother, who seemed as insensitive as Papa for urging her on a course which she had no desire to follow. But because her little niece was in the room, she kept her tone gentle and playful.
‘Well, Clara, to say I shall not ever marry, I cannot own it for a certainty, but I can say that I am most disinclined at present.’
‘But do you not wish to have children, Clemence,’ cried her younger brother, ‘and run a household of your very own? Why, Isabelle and I cannot contain ourselves for the joy of expecting a child! A child is the making of a woman, they say!’
‘You know I am very happy for you and Izzy.’ Clemence smiled at her sister in law, who sat next to her husband. ‘But to own the truth, George, that is no great temptation to me! I cannot agree that marriage or children “make” a woman! All I have seen of the life of married women, is that they become dried up before their time, towing behind them an ill-tempered, ancient husband and six or seven children after a mere five years of marriage, and this all accomplished by only the middle of their second decade!’
Clemence had, for a moment, forgotten that her half-sister, present at the table, was just such a woman. Seraphine, at three and thirty years, looked as care-worn as one of forty, with hints of premature grey in her dark brown hair, and that air about her that married women with children frequently take on, of resignation to an unkind fate. Seraphine Bastable had married ten years previously. Complete with five of Clemence’s predicted “six or seven” children already, she might have taken umbrage at her younger half-sister’s words. The older woman however, did not flinch, but quietly continued cut up her Bath bun.
George gave a strained laugh. ‘I hope you don’t think me ill-tempered now that I am married!’
Clemence’s eyes glinted. ‘No, dear, but you haven’t yet been married five years! Let us see how you do yet!’
Isabelle said, in her fine, feathery voice, ‘I shall forgive him if he is grumpy, for if it is so, it is only because I have vexed him!’ She giggled. ‘Although my George is so good-natured that I never seen him ill-tempered yet! But Clemence, do you really intend to go against your father?’ Her eyes were wide as they contemplated such a revolt against authority.
‘You know, too,’ George added in a lower voice, ‘that Papa only thinks of your well-being, that he wants to see you settled to a most eligible prospect. Surely you must feel the weight of all that you owe our parents and please them in this?’
‘I don’t suppose it is my happiness Papa thinks of, as much as the status such a connection will bring to the Hurst family name,’ she said with a hint of acid in her tone. ‘He wants only to boast of a having a ‘Lady Underwood of Hyde Hall’ for a daughter! You know how fond he is of that sort of thing, George.’
Here, they both could not help but glance at their sister. ‘No’, continued Clemence, ‘I am quite content to live out my days as a single woman. I’ll live at Grandacres with you and Izzy; why, I can tutor your sixteen children in French and German, and teach them to play the pianoforte so dreadfully that you will beg them to stop!’ She gave him a mischievous look, her temper never out of sorts for long.
George refused to be in good temper with his older sister. ‘Don’t be disagreeable for the sake of it, Clem. It is no laughing matter. You are a woman; therefore, it is your duty to marry!’
‘What’, replied Clemence, her blue eyes glinting with passion, ‘if I have no wish cleave myself to the ball and chain of a marriage? Why, a poor woman might need to marry – indeed, she must, if she cannot support herself, but a wealthy one might do very well without a husband; better, in fact, for she has no one to answer to, and no one to displease!’
‘Then you do your duty to our father very ill, I must say, when he has gone to great lengths to bring this about for your good. He means to make you accept Sir Richard, like it or not, or he will disinherit you! It is not worth losing your little fortune over, Clem; you will not lose your independence, you know, if you marry, for you will still have money.’
‘My husband’s money you mean! I shouldn’t have any of my own, for you know a husband controls a woman’s settlement, and then he will have Mama’s money too, when she dies, and ever so generously dole it out to me as pin money! No, I mean to be independent in the world, to move about in it as I wish, and not on the arm of a male to whom I am tethered by an invisible leading rope! I wish you would not refine upon the point any further, George.’
Clemence looked to her half-sister for support. She felt quite set upon this morning, and would have wished Seraphine to take her part, but her sister had only silence to offer. Clemence repressed the vexation which had risen in her and determined to change the subject. ‘What time is your mama to arrive, Izzy? Does she come alone? I am not sure we have room for a second maid, but I shall ask Jane to share her bed, if Mrs Harris brings a woman with her.’
‘Oh, Mama never goes anywhere without Eliza! She quite considers her indispensable, you know! But the maid is a slight little thing, and could hardly take up much room in Jane’s bed! Mama says she underfeeds her, so as to keep her fit for work – is that not excessively droll! Mama says fat maids are sluggish and apt to laziness. She says George and I must only employ thin servants, for a thin-looking maid, Mama says, signifies that they are unlikely to eat one out of house and home. Do you not agree, my dear?’ Isabelle looked doubtfully at her husband, who was still frowning at Clemence.
‘Clemence, you must not make Sir Richard wait too long, or he may withdraw his o
ffer. Surely you cannot be so—'
Seraphine put down her tea cup loudly, and four sets of eyes turned to her in some surprise. ‘That is enough,’ she interjected sharply. ‘Leave Clemence alone, George. She must make her own decisions. Indeed, that is why she has been sent to Bath, to consider the offer. Allow her to think in peace. Now, who is coming with me to the circulating library? I am bereft of reading material and plan to go directly after breakfast if this rain holds off. Isabelle?’
Seraphine, being the oldest of the three siblings by a great deal, commanded the authority of both familial habit and natural seniority. As for Isabelle, she looked upon her sister-in-law with something akin to a combination of awe and terror, being herself a mere nineteen years and used to being dominated at home by Mrs Harris. Now, she obediently stood with a rush, ready to depart at once, should her sister in law command it of her. ‘Yes, I ought to go; that is, I should like a new book, if only I can find one that I can understand – they all seem so learned to me! Even the novels! Why, I tried Castle Rackrent last week, as you urged me, Clemence, but can make not head nor tail of it!’ She tittered nervously into the silent room.
‘I am a great fan of the novels of Mrs Edgeworth,’ cried Clemence, eager now to keep the subject moving on from her own tangled affairs. ‘I admire Mrs Edgeworth beyond anything! I shall explain the story to you, if you like, Izzy. And I can find you one that is better suited to your taste.’
Isabelle put her hand to her mouth suddenly. ‘Oh, but dear me, but I do not have the money for the subscription. How silly I am, I have spent all my pin already!’
‘What? But you had six guineas, dearest! I can hardly imagine on what you have spent it,’ answered her husband, a little astonished, ‘but here, take another guinea or two; there, that ought to keep you in books and fripperies for at least another week or two.’ He put away his pocket book, kissed his wife’s cheek absently, and she, blushing guiltily, tucked the guineas into her handkerchief quickly.
The women stood to follow their sister in law from the room, and Seraphine took Clemence’s arm as they left George mulling over his tea cup. ‘Don’t mind our brother, he’s simply worried about you. He knows what Papa will do if you refuse Sir Richard. You already know my feelings on the matter!’
‘Oh, Sophie,’ was all her sister said. Her blue eyes were eloquent enough.
Clara crept to the side of her aunt and mother, and took both by the hand. ‘Don’t worry, Aunt Clemence. I think if you don’t want to marry Sir Richard, you should tell him so. What does disinherit mean?’
Over the little girl’s red hair, Clemence met the eyes of her sister. ‘It means that money which is meant to come to you when you marry, or when your parent dies, is given to another brother or sister instead.’
‘Oh.’ Clara was thoughtful. ‘But I still think you ought not to marry Sir Richard if he will only take it all. Perhaps he will spend it all on disgusting things like cigars and port!’ She made a face.
Clemence laughed aloud. ‘After my own heart, you are, Clarabelle!’ she cried affectionately.
Seraphine did not find amusement in her daughter’s comments. ‘Don’t encourage her, Clem.’
It was too late, for Clara, quite delighted she had amused at least one of her favourite adults, added, ‘I do not think I should want to marry, either, if my husband was going to take all my money! I’d rather be poor!’
‘I think,’ said her mother, fastening her daughter’s bonnet with more force than was necessary, ‘at ten years old, you are far too young to think of marriage yet! Besides, if your aunt has her way,’ she added drily, ‘she will have had all the laws changed by the time you are ready to marry and wives will manage their husbands’ money instead!’
Two
The arrival of Isabelle’s mother, later that day, caused a great deal more confusion than ought to be generated by the arrival of one widowed mama and a maid. Mrs Harris, of somewhat low birth, had been married for a time to a baker by trade, who had a shop in a good street in London, and by which he was able to make an adequate living and educate his daughter. His death, most surely ill-timed to fall immediately after Isabelle’s thirteenth birthday, left his wife with a small house in Cheapside and a modest amount to live on for life, provided she practised a severer economy than she had been used. Consideration of her lowered circumstances in life brought her quickly to the conclusion that a new scheme was in order.
Ambitious for her own betterment, and for a good marriage for her daughter, through which she saw her own salvation, she had early invested in such a scheme, spending more frivolously than her friends thought wise, to buy herself into a higher society. Her friends, who had been of her husband’s set, now were left behind with ill-concealed disdain, in pursuit of higher circles, and with both ambition and shrewd investments, she had been, to some degree, able to achieve her object, although there were some, observing her toadying and rising behaviours, and being subject to her vulgar turns of phrase, who ridiculed her in their drawing rooms, even though they would not do so to her face.
Spending the great sum which was sufficient to feed Isabelle headfirst into the mechanism of a quality ladies’ school, and churn her out the other side ready for consumption by society, Mrs Harris had alternately palpitated at the thought her extremes might be for naught, and then comforted herself in the knowledge that since her daughter had beauty on her side, all men with eyes to see were equally the same when it came to looking for a wife. Isabelle could just as easily be approached by a Lord as a leper, and Mrs Harris had taken great pains to ensure that all probability was on the side of the Lords.
At any rate, by the time Isabelle had become ready to launch into society for her come-out, Mrs Harris could be well pleased with her endeavours, since they had received the looked-for invitations by the right sort of people, so that Isabelle could be introduced to the right social circles. Mrs Harris had congratulated herself on this achievement, and as a result, fancied herself to be of rather more consequence than others might have thought her privately.
Now, as she ascended the stairs in a great labour of effort, for she was not a small woman, she commanded her poor maid with an air of great authority, so that the girl ran this way and that in a frenzy of panic.
‘Why, what an enormous number of steps!’ cried the lady, huffing and puffing. ‘Be careful with that box, girl! Where is my blue fan? I simply must stop and rest! What an ill thought indeed, to take a house with three flights of stairs!’
This bustle of getting the numerous hat boxes, trunks and other paraphernalia to the guest room, and then the moving of Mrs Harris’s ample frame up the stairs to the civilized part of the house, as George called it, took upwards of thirty minutes, during which commotion two boxes were presumed lost, alarm raised, boxes located, and hysteria quieted, so that, when Mrs Harris was finally seated heavily on the sturdiest chaise longue in the drawing room, four or five silent sighs of relief were breathed around her. Her mob cap, which sported so many ruffles and trimmings as to make its wearer an object either of derision or pity, Clemence could not decide which, had fallen to one side in all the fuss, but no one dared to remark upon it for fear of giving offence to the wearer.
‘Well, what an agreeable situation you have here, George,’ she began to her daughter’s husband, as soon as she was gotten comfortable. ‘The furnishings are a little worn, I grant you,’ she added, looking around with a critical eye, ‘but you have no need to feel shame if you receive Quality here. And that window there,’ nodding with her head, ‘that is happily placed to give an aspect over the Square, I collect. I would go immediately to see the prospect, but I am so comfortable here I cannot think of moving again until dinner time! Does that window command an agreeable prospect? I only wish I could see it myself!’
George opened his mouth to thank his mother in law for the kind observation but was interrupted.
‘Perhaps it is not so very fine as the prospect from the windows at the apartments of my intimate fr
iend, Lady Alvers, who is located in the Paragon buildings, but I dare say you don’t feel your lack excessively, not having been in the Paragon, since you will have no connections there yet, I should think! I shall introduce you myself to Lady Alvers, while I am here and then you may suppose yourselves thereafter welcome to call upon her, and look out of her windows all you like.’
Seraphine composedly answered for her brother, who was sputtering into his tea. ‘Indeed, Ma’am, the view is generally considered to be very fine from that window.’
Although her sister forbore to mention the fact, Clemence could not hold back, and ventured to add with barely disguised amusement, ‘And though we are most obliged to you for your kind intentions to introduce us to Lady Alvers, I do believe we have been to one or two of her private evenings, Ma’am. Why, we attended an evening party only last week, at her house. I think, yes, I do believe it was in the Paragon Buildings.’ She ignored her sister’s warning look and primly studied her tea cup.
However much she should try, Clemence found it difficult to repress the urge to let loose her impertinent thoughts, which flew about her mind like bees, buzzing in her head! She had, in her youth, been called impudent, pert, even shameless, in her tendency to speak whatever came into her head, and she admitted such accusations to be true enough. She had learned prudence with age, however, and now she hoped she had enough wit about her not to allow some of those bees out of the hive, for despite her impetuous nature, she was not truly unkind, and she was sensible of the power of those bees to sting!
Isabelle added breathily, ‘Lady Alvers invited us because of knowing me, Mama; was that not very kind? She doted on me excessively and fed me so many cakes that I thought I would be ill!’ She giggled nervously.
Mrs Harris was only briefly put out. ‘Yes, yes, that is all very well, but what of this weather? How you can stand to stay here for more than a week or so in this wet, I can only surmise at! Isabelle, you must always wrap yourself up if you go out, and in your condition, you ought not to go about in the rain! I shall not hear of it, while I am come to stay! You look quite pale and tired, my dear. But how many weeks is your stay to be here, George? And your sisters, do they continue here for the winter? No, but of course they cannot, I see that now, for I am sure Lady Bastable will need to return home soon to her children and husband, and Miss Hurst will be soon required by her mother. To a father, a long absence can signify little, but to a mother, it is a trial indeed!’
Beauty and the Beast of Thornleigh Page 24
