A Convenient Fiction

by Mimi Matthews

  “Good God.”

  “She dipped Henrietta, and then she dipped me. Apparently, it’s all part of the fun of sea bathing, but I confess I could find no enjoyment in it.”

  “I should think not. It sounds appalling.”

  “And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Once she dipped us, we were stuck under a canvas awning. Six of us ladies, with no view of the sky, and scarcely any room between us, paddling in place in our woolen bathing costumes like a pack of wet dogs.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever looking like a wet dog.”

  She laughed again. “Is that meant to be a compliment? If so, I shudder to think what sorts of praises you’ve been heaping on Henrietta’s head.”

  His chest constricted. “Laura…”

  She looked up at him, smiling.

  And he wanted to tell her that she was extraordinary. That she was beautiful and brave. That it made his heart ache to look at her.

  But he couldn’t say any of those things. He didn’t dare. Not when it couldn’t lead anywhere.

  His voice went gruff. “I’m not known for my fulsome compliments.”

  “Pity. Henrietta likes a pretty compliment now and then.”

  “And you don’t?”

  She lifted one bare shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve no experience with them. Not from anyone I care about. Those are the only compliments that matter.”

  The music swelled, the chords gathering to a close.

  His hand tightened at her waist. “Then what I say wouldn’t mean anything anyway. Not to you.”

  Her smile dimmed. “I expect not.”

  “Because you don’t care for me.”

  “How can I care for you? You are not mine.”

  It was the last thing she said to him. Seconds later, when the music ended, he let her go. She went back to her aunt and her brother—and to George and Henrietta, who had just finished dancing themselves. But Alex didn’t follow. As the orchestra struck up a polka, he shouldered his way through the crowd and out the front doors through the colonnade.

  Once on the street, he inhaled a ragged breath of cold night air. It was sea air, salty and damp. It burned in his lungs, and in his memory.

  He’d walked away from the people he cared about before. Left them without a backward glance. This time was no different, surely.

  But perhaps he was.

  Laura settled the strap of her waterproof mackintosh bag more firmly over her shoulder as she crossed the beach with Henrietta. It was—along with the woolen bathing costume within—yet another item she’d borrowed from her friend. Though Henrietta could be pettish, she was really quite generous most of the time. Generous, kindhearted, and worthy of every happiness.

  Or so Laura had been telling herself since last evening.

  She was determined to be happy for her friend. There would be no more pining after Alex Archer. Instead, Laura was going to refocus her attention back where it belonged.

  “Don’t do anything foolish,” Henrietta said. “The sea is too dangerous for ladies to be mucking about in it.”

  “It isn’t dangerous. Only look.” Laura nodded at the water. The morning sun was shining brightly, reflecting down upon a sea that was as smooth as a sheet of glass. “There’s not a wave in sight.”

  “It is rather calm this morning,” Henrietta conceded. “Though why you should want to swim in it, I don’t know. I’d never expose myself to those old biddies with their telescopes. And they weren’t the only ones ogling bathers yesterday. I saw a fellow or two with a telescope as well. Horrible creatures. I’ll not call them gentlemen.”

  “I don’t know what they imagine they can see,” Laura said. In truth, she didn’t really care. Her borrowed bathing costume covered her from shoulders to knees in acres of dark blue wool. It was modest enough by anyone’s standards. Besides, she hadn’t come this close to fulfilling her dream only to forgo it because of a few beach-faring busybodies with spyglasses.

  “It’s a shame we can’t stay another day,” Henrietta said. “How divine it would be to go dancing again this evening! But Papa is anxious to get home. He can’t be away more than three days without fretting about the estate. If it were up to him, we’d have already left this morning.”

  Laura was glad they were taking a later train. It gave her one last chance to go into the water. And this time, she was determined not to abide by the silly rules.

  “Perhaps I’ll have a dance at Edgington Park when we return?” Henrietta suggested. “Or a ball?” Her eyes brightened. “I know! I shall plan a betrothal ball. Something grand. An event the villagers will talk about for years to come.”

  Laura gave her a sharp look. “He didn’t propose last night, did he?”

  “Gracious, no. There wasn’t any privacy. But when he danced with me, and when he gazed into my eyes… Oh, Laura. I pray that one day you shall know what it is to be admired by such a man.”

  “We are speaking of Mr. Archer, aren’t we?”

  “Who else?”

  “You danced with George, as well.”

  “Oh, George is a dear. I won’t argue that. But if I were to marry him, I’d spend my entire life managing his little weaknesses. Monitoring his drink, and seeing that he didn’t wager too much at cards.”

  Laura smiled. “If anyone could manage him, you could.”

  “There’s no question of that. But I’d far rather have a tall, dark-haired stranger sweep me off my feet. Someone with a little bit of mystery about him.” She glanced at Laura. “What about you? You’ve always admired George.”

  “I haven’t. Not for a long while.”

  “What? But I thought—”

  “And he’s never cared for me,” Laura said. “Not like that. It’s you George has been holding a candle for, ever since we were children. We asked him once, do you remember? Whether he favored guinea gold or raven black?”

  Henrietta gave a sudden tinkling laugh. “Oh, I’d quite forgotten. He said guinea gold, didn’t he? George has never had any tact.”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “But it didn’t hurt you, did it, Laura? Being second to me?”

  “It might have once, when we were children. Not anymore.”

  Two open bathing machines stood ahead, their large wooden wheels parked in the wet sand. One was already hitched to a horse, waiting to be hauled out into the sea.

  “What luck,” Henrietta said. “We’ll be right beside each other.”

  “Good,” Laura said. “We can—”

  “Laura!” Teddy’s voice called out to her.

  She looked back over her shoulder to see her brother waving in her direction. He was seated on the beach in his wheeled chair, nearer to the jetty than the water.

  Alex was with him. He raised a hand in greeting.

  She lifted her hand in return, even as her stomach performed a disconcerting somersault.

  “You are not mine,” she’d told him last night.

  And he never would be.

  The sooner she accustomed herself to that fact, the better it would be for all of them.

  “Really, Laura,” Henrietta scolded as the pair of them walked on. “You should say something to your brother.”

  “About what?”

  “About shouting your name out across the beach as if you were a common doxy.” Her lips pursed. “And what are the pair of them doing so close to the women’s bathing machines? They should be farther away from us.”

  “They’re not that close. No more so than anyone else this morning. It’s the machines that move from day to day. Can’t you tell? Yesterday they were closer to the cliffs.”

  “Going in the water today, ma’am?” one of the gentlemen driving the horses asked. He was a weathered fellow of indeterminate age, sitting sideways on the horse’s back, with a straw hat pulled down over his brow.


  “We are,” Laura said. “You go ahead, Hen. I’ll use the other machine.”

  A heavy-set woman assisted Laura up the steps, closing the door behind her. The bathing machine was windowless, equipped with benches on either side, and wooden pegs on the walls. Laura quickly removed her skirts, petticoats, and bodice, and unhooked her corset. She was in the process of opening her bag to retrieve her bathing costume when the machine lurched forward.

  Yesterday, she hadn’t expected the jolting motion, and had been tossed from side to side, nearly losing her balance. Today, however, she was ready for it. As the horse pulled the machine out into the water, she braced her body against the wall, and slipped into her bathing costume.

  Composed of a knee-length tunic, Turkish trousers, and a belt, the cumbersome ensemble wasn’t ideal for swimming. Nor were the canvas slippers she was obliged to wear, secured with ribbons that laced up her legs.

  How much easier it would be to wear only her chemise and drawers! Or to leap into the water in a primitive state as the male swimmers were rumored to do.

  But this wasn’t Talbot’s Pond. And she was no man.

  She tugged an oilskin cap over her plaited hair and tied it beneath her chin. When the attendant opened the exit door, Laura was ready. “You needn’t dunk me. I know how to swim.”

  “As you please, ma’am.” The woman assisted her down, squeezing tight to her arm until Laura was submerged in the water. “Off you go, now.”

  Laura waded out from beneath the canvas awning that shielded the steps of her bathing machine from public view. Henrietta was already there, along with several other ladies, paddling in the surf.

  “Fine weather today!” an older lady bellowed in Laura’s ear.

  “Your first time at Margate?” a younger lady enquired. “Did you arrive on the steamer?”

  Laura made polite replies, conversing in what she supposed was the way many genteel strangers conversed when on holiday at one of England’s watering places. “I’m going a little farther out,” she said at length.

  “Be careful, Laura,” Henrietta warned.

  Another of the older ladies watched Laura with concern. “Are you a strong swimmer, my dear?”

  “I am,” Laura said. “My mother taught me.”

  And she was a strong swimmer. Though the sleeves of her tunic impeded her arms, and though her Turkish trousers weighted down her legs, she managed to cut through the water with a sure stroke.

  Several yards from the other ladies, she dived beneath the surface. All those hours spent strengthening her lungs in Talbot’s Pond hadn’t been for nothing. She was able to dive deep, before turning in the water and kicking her way back to the surface.

  “Are you nearly finished?” Henrietta asked after a quarter of an hour had passed. “I’m ready to get out.”

  “Go ahead,” Laura said. “I’m going to swim awhile longer.”

  “Laura—”

  “It’s all right. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

  Henrietta pursed her lips, but she didn’t argue.

  Laura wouldn’t have heard her if she had. She dived again and kicked away from the bathing machines. She swam until she was no longer surrounded by curious travelers. Until the noise of the beach was drowned out by the sound of the surf. Until she had no thought for romance, or money, or London solicitors.

  It was freedom. Glorious freedom. Everything she could have imagined, and more.

  It was also exhausting.

  The sea was still smooth as glass, but beneath the surface, there was an unmistakable undertow. She hadn’t noticed it at first. It was subtle closer to the shore. Only when she’d swum out far past the bathing machines, did she begin to feel the relentless power of it.

  It caught her in its grasp before she recognized the danger. When she did, she tried to swim against it, kicking as hard as she could—so hard that one of her canvas slippers came loose.

  How had she managed to drift so far from the shore? Had the current been pulling her out the entire time?

  She stroked her arms through the water with renewed effort. They were beginning to feel heavy. So were her legs. Had she pushed herself too far? The shore seemed a very long way away now. And her lungs were burning.

  A flare of panic set in.

  Perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she’d thought she was.

  Alex stepped back to view Teddy’s painting from a different angle. It was the seashore—that much he recognized. As for the rest…

  “There’s something compelling about it,” he said. “A feeling of movement. Of emotion, rather than accuracy. But I’m no expert.”

  “It’s an experimentation with light. The way it hits the water.” Teddy cocked his head, squinting as he laid down another swipe of color with his brush. “If it comes out well, I’ll give it to Laura for her birthday next week.”

  Alex went still. “I’d no idea it was her birthday.”

  “She doesn’t like anyone making a fuss over it. Especially not this year.”

  “What’s so special about this year?”

  “She’ll be five and twenty.” Teddy raised his head, looking out past Alex’s shoulder. “There’s Henrietta. I wonder where Laura is?”

  Sure enough, Henrietta Talbot walked toward them from across the sand. Her dress was a little wrinkled, and her golden hair somewhat flattened—from a bathing cap, Alex suspected.

  “Good morning,” she said brightly. “Have you seen Laura?”

  A frisson of tension tightened Alex’s muscles. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s not been by, has she?”

  “Wasn’t she with you?”

  “Yes, but…she wanted to swim away from the others. She said she’d meet me on the beach. It didn’t occur to either of us to specify the place. Do you suppose she’s gone back to the hotel?”

  “We’d have seen her walk by,” Teddy said.

  “Perhaps you didn’t notice?”

  Teddy gave Henrietta a vaguely contemptuous look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if we didn’t see her, she would have seen us. It makes no sense for her to have passed by without saying anything.”

  Alex stared out at the sea, past the women’s bathing machines. It was too far away to make anything out. He flashed a look at Henrietta. “Stay with Teddy.”

  “But where are you going?” Henrietta demanded.

  “Just wait a moment!” Teddy objected at the same time.

  Alex scarcely heard them. He was already striding down the sand to the women’s bathing machines. It was early in the morning. The beach wasn’t yet as crowded as it had been the previous day. There were a few fashionable couples having their morning promenade on the jetty. And the cadre of elderly ladies with their telescopes were seated near the bathing machines.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said to one of them as he plucked her telescope from her fingers. “If I may?”

  “I say, young man!” she cried out. “Look here! That isn’t a plaything!”

  “Heavens,” a second elderly lady gasped. “Is he looking at the bathers?”

  Alex ignored them. The telescope wasn’t very powerful, but it was strong enough to permit him to see out past the machines. Unfortunately, the sun was shining too brightly for him to get a clear view. There was a glare on the water.

  “May I borrow this?” He didn’t wait for permission. As he set off, he heard the ladies’ voices behind him rise to a crescendo.

  “Get back here, sir! Get back here, I say!”

  “He’s stolen it, Mildred! Summon a policeman!”

  He didn’t stop until he reached the shore. The water was calm, lapping up onto the sand in a gentle froth of sea foam. It wet his shoes and the hem of his trousers as he took another step forward and raised the telescope to his eye.

  Some of the female bathers were visible, wading jus
t beyond the canvas awning of their bathing machines. It was difficult to tell one from the other. Their hair was covered in matching oilskin caps, their torsos nearly indistinguishable in drooping wet wool.

  “Alex!” Henrietta ran toward him across the sand. “What in the world are you doing?”

  He looked back at her sharply. “I told you to wait with Teddy.”

  “That manservant of his…Yardley, or whatever his name is, is with him now. Papa and Mrs. Bainbridge are up on the promenade as well.”

  “What color was Laura’s bathing dress?” he asked.

  “It’s my bathing costume, actually. She borrowed it from me—” She stopped short at the look on his face. “It’s dark blue, with a white trim.”

  Alex looked through the telescope. Laura wasn’t with the other bathers. He couldn’t see her anywhere.

  A visceral fear rose within him, squeezing at his heart and lungs. He was vividly reminded of that day on the cliffs at Abbot’s Holcombe so long ago. The sea hadn’t been smooth then. It had been wild. A roiling stew.

  He’d been climbing down the cliff face with Justin, Tom, and Neville, just as they’d done dozens of times. Clinging to the familiar outcroppings. No one had noticed the rocks skittering beneath Neville until it was too late.

  Neville had tried to move away from the crumbling stones, and in the process, had lost his foothold. He’d slipped sharply to the right, his hands scrabbling on the rocks. And then he’d fallen. He’d struck his head and gone down into the sea, where he disappeared. As if he’d never been there in the first place.

  Justin hadn’t hesitated. He’d dived in after him, straight from the cliff face, heedless of the danger.

  Alex and Tom had descended the rest of the way to the beach. And they’d waited, and waited, Alex pacing the water’s edge like a caged lion. But when Justin, at last, came out of the sea, Neville wasn’t with him.