“She thinks you are scandalous, to put it mildly. You and I spoke of this after the ball, but I had not yet known of her disapprobation. She has had me over to tea twice or thrice in the last few weeks, and the subject of your behavior always comes up. I told you that tongues would wag, and so they are. And yet you do not seem to have paid my advice any mind. I saw the two of you hobnobbing there under the tree a few moments ago. You seem as if you are encouraging the poor man, though you tell me you have no desire to marry him.”
“I understand your concern, Charlotte. But frankly, I do not see how it is any business of Lady Charles’ what I do or do not do. She does not like me; I do not think she ever has, and she is looking for reasons to turn my friends against me, though I do not know why.”
“It is her way, I suppose, to be rather strong in her opinions,” responded Lady Holcomb. “But you cannot simply dismiss her. She has a great deal of influence in this neighborhood.”
Cassandra sighed. “Charlotte, if I have offended you with my behavior, than I apologize. I do not care what Lady Charles thinks, but I do care if my friendship with you jeopardizes your standing in the neighborhood. In light of that, I appreciate that you still want me to go to Bath with you, and that you would allow Mr. Johnston to join us.”
“Well, Lady Charles realized that we could not very well invite James without you, and as for Mr. Johnston, I suppose she cannot stop him. I, myself, could not imagine making the trip without you. I still very much consider you my dear friend.”
“I promise that I will be the picture of propriety in Bath. You will not have reason to regret the invitation. I am just so sorry that I have caused you any pain or alarm.”
“Oh, my love, I could not stay angry with you.” She clasped Cassandra’s hands in hers. “Not that I was exactly angry, but Lady Charles’ words were having such an effect on me! She is very persuasive, you know.”
By now Mary had come and gone with the tea service and a tray of diminutive sandwiches and sweets, and the ladies took a moment to enjoy them.
Cassandra dove into the subject again. “If you do not mind, Charlotte, would you tell me just what it is that Lady Charles does say about me?”
Her friend’s face colored. “You know, just that—well, she thinks you are too…different.”
“That is all? She thinks I am different?”
“That is not exactly how she puts it. She thinks there is something wrong in your manner and your actions. It is not just how you are with Mr. Johnston. She says that there is something very unusual about you, and that she does not trust you.”
“Does she think I am a spy for the U.S. government?”
“Oh my goodness! Oh, Cassandra, I see that you are joking. No, I guess if it is anything, she would say that in an earlier era she might suspect you of being a…oh, I do not know, it is just that you are flouting moral convention terribly. She finds it distinctly non-Christian.”
Cassandra wondered what word Charlotte could not bring herself to say. “Non-Christian? I am sure she says that I am a loose woman.”
“Well, no, not exactly that, but she says that she thinks you have enchanted the people of the neighborhood, Mr. Johnston included, to all love you. That they are all under your spell—the farmer’s wives, the shopkeepers, everybody.”
Cassandra saw clearly the situation now. “Does she think I am some kind of sorceress?”
“Oh, that is putting it in very strong terms.”
“What do you mean? Does she actually perceive me as having unnatural powers?”
“Yes, if she were to iterate it that clearly, I believe she would say that.”
“Are we not past the time of such superstitions?”
“Of course we are!”
“And James?”
“She says that James is innocent in it all. That she is sorry for him to have such a mother.”
Cassandra felt the blood rise to her face.
Lady Holcomb hurried on. “Let us not continue to discuss it, my dear. It does not matter anyway. I am sorry for repeating her rantings. Let her think what she will. I know the kind of person, and mother, you really are. I am sorry for having let her influence me.”
Cassandra was having difficulty seeing how she could spend a vacation in Bath with the woman who saw her essentially as an evil, unfit mother. She absentmindedly arranged the sugar bowl and creamer on the tea tray.
“It is fine, Charlotte,” she finally said with a shaky smile. “I will begin to make plans for Bath, and you shall see. We will have a fine time together, and perhaps I will even turn Lady Charles’ opinion of me around.”
“If anyone can do it, you can,” the lady replied.
“Now, do tell me what you hear of Jeffrey. Have you received any mail from the ship yet?”
An hour or so after Lady Holcomb left, Ben returned. The couple ensconced themselves in the sitting room, playing music until James returned late. And then, as if in defiance of what she’d learned that day, Cassandra walked her lover out to the stables and kissed him goodbye under the moonlight.
******
It was finally decided that the group traveling to Bath, including the Holcombs, the Charleses, Edward Clarke and Ben, along with James and Cassandra, would plan to stay for at least two weeks. The season was under way there, and Cassandra was dying to experience the place that Jane Austen wrote about with such piercing insight.
Edward and James planned to leave on horseback a few days ahead to secure rooms. The Charles family had their own townhouse in Bath and pointedly did not offer to have Cassandra and James stay with them. However, a few days before the trip, Lady Charles threw a dinner party for all those planning to go so that they could discuss what to see and do there. Cassandra was mortified to find that Sir Robert was in attendance, for she had been informed he would not be joining them in Bath. He sat sulkily in his seat, ate his dinner, and excused himself to go smoke as soon as he could. He made a point to avoid Cassandra’s eyes, and she did the same. Lady Charles was not unpleasant, but obviously cooler to Cassandra than she was to the others.
Cassandra had been seated as far as possible from Ben; next to him sat Jane Holcomb. Cassandra was determined to be engaged in conversation with Edward, seated to her left, and not notice when Jane laughed at something that Ben said, or to let him see that she was looking in his direction at all.
James was directly across the table from his mother, Elizabeth Charles seated closely by his side. Cassandra thought she perceived Lady Charles looking fondly at the couple from the head of the table. She definitely noticed Elizabeth gazing dreamily at James. He was doing his best to seem detached, but she could see that he was weakening dangerously under the young woman’s charms. Cassandra knew that Lady Charles was just that kind of indulgent mother, who, if her daughter wanted something badly enough, would be hard pressed to deny her. She imagined the lady must think that if she could just get rid of his mother, the son, with a hefty inheritance, wouldn’t be such a bad match for her daughter after all.
The situation was made all the more obvious when Lady Charles invited the young people to stay for cards. Then there was confusion about who would go home in which carriage. Ben offered his to Lady Holcomb and Cassandra so that James could have his mother’s to go home in later. Lady Charles decreed that Edward and Jane would be driven to their respective homes in her own vehicle.
Ben rode on the outside seat with the driver until they had deposited Lady Holcomb at the cottage. Then, once out of sight, they stopped, and he climbed into the carriage with Cassandra.
“Are you angry with me, my love?” he immediately asked.
“No. Why?”
“Because you did not look at me all evening.”
“I am surprised you noticed.” Cassandra did not like the jealous tone in her own voice.
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing. I am being silly.”
“Please tell me.”
“No, it is not worth bringing up.”
<
br /> “Is it because I was talking with Jane Holcomb?”
“It is…only because you seemed so happy to talk with Jane Holcomb.”
“I had no choice. She was my dinner partner.”
“And yet you were so engaging with her, so very charming.”
“She is nothing to me. She is a girl.”
“A pretty one, at that.” Cassandra’s eyes began to sting and she cursed herself for becoming emotional.
“I cannot believe you are jealous of her. She is less than nothing compared to you. You are the love of my life, Cassandra! I would do anything for you, go anywhere, risk anything. Do you not understand that?”
Cassandra turned her head to him, surprised at the vehemence in his voice. “No, perhaps I did not.”
He looked out his window. “Surely you must know that by now.”
She looked out her own but said nothing. The moon shone full in the sky and lit the ground like daylight. They turned into the drive of Sorrel Hall.
“Cassandra,” he said after several moments. “I have been very patient. I will continue to be patient. But I want you to know that this love affair of ours is not a game to me. The only logical conclusion is marriage. I will wait for you as long as I have to wait, but I will not accept any less than you becoming my wife.”
She looked at her gloved hands. The carriage rattled to a stop in front of the house. Ben flung the door open and leapt out, then came around and opened the door for her, offering his hand. His expression was severe. As she stepped down, he said, “I will see you in Bath.”
She nodded and hurried into the house, fighting back tears.
******
After James and Edward left for Bath, the remaining members of the party departed within a few days, each on their own schedule. Cassandra offered her carriage to Lady Holcomb and Jane; the Charles group came the next day. She had not heard from Ben, but knew was planning to bring his phaeton to use in and around Bath when he finally did come.
When Cassandra arrived with the Holcombs on the tenth of October, James was waiting for them in front of the hotel. When she stepped out of the carriage to behold the Royal Crescent, the perfect semi-circle of four-story townhouses, all attached and uniform of which their hotel was a part, she marveled that three hundred years in the future, it would not have changed at all. The Crescent overlooked a handsome park, one of the favorite gathering places of the townspeople on fine days, and on the afternoon of their arrival, it was alive with ladies and gentlemen strolling in the sunshine.
As the Holcombs arranged to have their luggage taken to the suite above the Franklins’, James led his mother to the third floor to inspect their own rooms. He opened the door for her onto a small foyer with golden yellow walls and a diminutive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To the left was a circular space with four doors positioned around it. These were the entrances to the two bedrooms, the water closet, and bathing room. James led his mother through the farthest door to the right, where Cassandra found a perfectly feminine room: a four poster bed with white lace covers and bed curtains, a white vanity and wrought iron chair, and a painted white dresser and armoire.
Her luggage was brought up, accompanied by one of the hotel maids assigned to their suite. Cassandra directed the luggage to her room and left instructions for the maid to begin to unpack. She and James then continued with their tour. He led her back through the foyer to a large parlor, sunny, with tall windows that overlooked the Crescent. The furniture consisted of a pale green, satin sofa and two armchairs to match, with curved, carved legs and arms. There was a grey marble coffee table in the center of the seating area. Another grouping of stiff-backed chairs huddled around a card table. Cassandra’s eyes settled on the finely carved, rectangular piano of golden oak, occupying a position just before the parlor windows. She went to it and ran her hands over the keys.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
“I knew you’d like it,” replied James.
Moving towards the dining room, she stopped in front of the gold-framed mirror hanging over the fireplace mantle to arrange a stray hair; then touched the cool green-veined marble that made up the mantle and front-piece. The double doors connecting the dining room to the parlor were now open wide, creating a feeling of spaciousness between the two rooms. In the dining room was a smaller fireplace. The walls were painted a robin’s egg blue, and on the ceiling were murals of angels and clouds. Cassandra looked up at them and smiled.
She went to dress for the evening, donning a white, silk gown with a low neck and capped sleeves and a slight train. She added long gloves, drop earrings, a fan, and a warm silk and woolen shawl patterned in red and purple flowers, with long purple fringe. She met James in the parlor, he wearing the same suit of clothing he had for the Darrington ball, only with a blue cravat instead of red. They ate a light repast in the dining room, then descended to find the Holcombs waiting for them in the lobby.
The theater they attended on their first night in Bath was a grand venue with many tiers of seats and boxes for the upper class. The entire party had been invited to join Lady Charles and her two girls in a box situated on the second level above the ground floor, so near the stage Cassandra felt she could almost reach down and touch the top of the actors’ heads. Once the play started, Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, she and James looked around at the audience who would not quiet their loud whispering conversations. Though Cassandra knew that a night at the theater was more a chance to see and be seen then to take in the offering, she found it very distracting.
She felt bad for her son, and kept looking over to catch his eye. This was an experience of a lifetime, and it was hard to take in because of the chatter. Although the actors spoke their lines in a stilted and overblown style, Cassandra felt that, as was true throughout history, the British had a grasp on Shakespeare that actors of other nationalities could never really master. More than once Lady Holcomb tried to engage Cassandra in talk about a woman’s gown in the box across the way, but the American merely smiled at her friend and turned her head back to the stage. She watched James rebuff the attempts at conversation by both Elizabeth and Jane, who were seated on either side of him, with only a friendly nod. At the end of the performance, she and James burst into wild applause, and it took the rest of the audience a few moments to catch up to their level of enthusiasm.
In the mornings, they attended the Pump Room, a cavernous space fitted with columns and arches, a great chandelier hanging from the center of the high ceiling, and walls painted in soothing pastels. This is where the Bath high society assembled. At one end of the room the healing waters, hot and sulfurous, were distributed in cups by an attendant. At another, an orchestra played. Cassandra and James met their friends there, and were soon introduced to many more of the Holcombs’ and Charles’ acquaintances. By the end of their first week, Ben had still not arrived.
******
October 17, 1820—I recall a simulation I did as I prepared for my journey, of the public bathing experience in Bath. The men and women sat together in the great Roman bath, speaking little. The men all wore brown, linen suits, the women brown jackets and petticoats, slightly different than the bathing costume James bought for me in Bathingstoke. I was wearing one of these outfits, getting ready to submerge myself, looking around at the room of rough, stone walls, etched with worn-down carvings of suns and other Roman symbols, taking in the high, arched ceiling. I had difficulty summoning up the desire to get wet and hesitated before stepping in. The clothes felt like they would be heavy and clingy. Some of the people in the water looked up at me curiously. The warm, moist air swirled around me, and I knew I would only get hotter as I stood there. I moved to the steps and descended into the murky water. Once in, almost up to my chest, the warmth of it was, indeed, quite relaxing. The fabric alternately clung and billowed away from my body. Bowls of pomanders and sweet oils floated on the water, but didn’t make much of a dent in the sulfurous odor of the place. It didn’t take long for me to feel
like I’d had enough. How long should I stay in, I wondered? It was not only boring, but not exactly what I long for in a spa experience.
As the people all faded away, and the ancient Roman bath turned into the black simulation room, I became miraculously dry. I removed the porous sensory mask covering my entire head, and, looking down, now saw only the sensory jump suit I was wearing. Since I had such a vivid simulation of the experience, I now actually have no desire to get into that icky looking water in real life. James says he’s going to give it a try—I say, have fun.
******
In the evenings, the group from Selborne usually attended the Upper Rooms for dancing. The ballroom was a vast hall with tall ceilings, windows on the second story, and no less than five crystal chandeliers. On those evenings Cassandra found herself appealed to by many partners but took no pleasure in the dancing, always looking around the room, hoping for Ben to suddenly appear.
The night of the eighteenth, Cassandra was dancing with an officer of the navy who was in town with his regiment. He’d been introduced to her by Lady Holcomb. He was a tall man, with dark hair, graying at the temples. His face was weathered, but Cassandra found his dark complexion handsome. His features were chiseled, his teeth straight and white. They spoke about Jeffrey as they danced; the man, Captain Wayne, had known him during the young man’s training. Another couple came into view and Cassandra immediately saw that it was Ben dancing with Jane. She almost missed a step. He glanced at her, then looked away. Cassandra got through the end of the dance, making only the cursory responses to Captain Wayne’s remarks. She curtsied and hurried to grab her cloak from the coat room. In moments, she felt a touch on her shoulder and looked around. Ben stood before her. He put his hand on her wrist.
“Wait, Cassandra,” he whispered.
“What is the meaning of your behavior, Ben?” She said in a low voice as people milled around them. “I do not understand. Why have you waited so long to come to Bath? Why have you not at least written?”
The Time Baroness (The Time Mistress Series) Page 18
