A Drowning in Bath

by L. A. Nisula

  As we returned to the tables, the Fredricksons had managed to get the children all moving in the same direction towards the door, leaving behind a rather sticky and spilled-on but vacant table. I was debating whether to suggest to Milly that we sit there or hope that the gentlemen would be finished soon—although from the attention they were showing their newspapers, I doubted they would–when Miss Bates waved to me. I bumped Milly’s arm and led the way to her table.

  “Miss Pengear, Miss Prynne, how nice to see you. Have you met Miss Caldwell and Miss Morrison? We’ve just finished eating ourselves, so why don’t you all get acquainted? It’s not quite so sticky here.”

  “Thank you,” I said and took the place she had vacated.

  Milly glanced back at the gentlemen’s table, then at the one vacated by the Fredricksons, and sank into Miss Emmaline’s chair. “Thank you.”

  Miss Emmaline’s eyes darted to the end of the buffet and back. I glanced in that direction and saw Miss Grangeway and Mrs. Grangeway glare in our direction then make for the Fredricksons’ table. I wondered if they were merely annoyed at having to take that spot or if there was more to it, and if Miss Bates had invited us over out of friendship or to annoy them. But I couldn’t think of any way to ask, and the Misses Bates were already wishing us a pleasant day and making for the door, so I turned my attention to our dining companions.

  Miss Morrison was wearing another fashionably expensive gown, this one blue and not quite as fashionable or expensive as Miss Caldwell's. She sat up very straight and smiled at us. “I suppose as we’ve been introduced, you may speak with my charge.”

  Miss Caldwell almost started laughing at that.

  Milly started chatting at once. “We’re from London. What about you?”

  “Manchester,” Miss Caldwell answered with a straight face, so I assumed it was true.

  “And are you having a nice time here?” I asked as it seemed a safe enough topic.

  “Oh, absolutely wonderful. Helen—Miss Morrison—and I are having such fun.”

  “I was her governess, you see,” Miss Morrison added for no reason I could see.

  I was tempted to ask her some question about literature or mathematics just to see what she would do, but their deception wasn’t really any of my business, so I settled for, “She’s lucky to have had one so close to her in age.”

  Miss Morrison smiled a little and seemed to be checking that statement for some hidden meaning.

  I changed the subject before she could find it. “So what have you been doing here that’s been so fun?”

  “Oh yes,” Milly said. “We need lots of ideas for what to do.”

  I had the feeling that Miss Caldwell’s idea of fun would not be the same as mine, but it would probably appeal to Milly.

  “The bathing, of course. If you’re feeling daring, they have mixed bathing in the afternoon.”

  “Oh, Cassie, we have to try that,” Milly said, as if we hadn’t already been told about it multiple times.

  “I didn’t bring a bathing costume.” An intentional oversight.

  “Oh, you can rent them here,” Miss Caldwell said before Milly could protest. “I didn’t have one either.”

  I pretended to consider that option.

  Milly smiled. “See, Cassie, it’s all planned out here. We’ll look into renting bathing costumes this afternoon. I suppose there’s plenty to see.”

  For a moment I wondered if she meant the town, but Miss Morrison giggled. “Plenty of fine gentlemen. I was watching Mr. Douglas yesterday.”

  I sighed. “And, I suppose, Mr. Langley.”

  “Naturally.”

  I glanced at Miss Caldwell. “Yes, I suppose he is quite appealing.” But she wasn’t as enthusiastic as everyone else had been. I found myself wondering if Mr. Langley was too old for her, or if there was someone else.

  “What about in town?” I asked. “I suppose there are so many things to see there.”

  “Oh, Cassie, you’re not going to drag me off to something terribly literary, are you?”

  “Of course not. I was going to go by myself. I’m sure Miss Morrison would be happy to keep an eye on you, as well.” An interesting situation, as I was almost certain Milly was a good ten years older than Miss Morrison.

  Milly glared at me then turned to Miss Caldwell and asked her about hat shops, which kept the three of them—Miss Morrison had plenty to add to the conversation; apparently they had been in desperate need of hats when they arrived—busy while I finished my breakfast.

  When I’d finished eating, Milly had barely started and seemed in no hurry to leave the table, so I excused myself, saying I had unpacking to do, and made my escape. As I’d only packed for six days, there wasn’t much to do besides hang up a few things to let the wrinkles fall out. I was considering whether to go downstairs and find out if the hotel provided a way for their guests to get into the more interesting parts of town or wait for Milly when she answered the question for me by returning.

  “You don’t seem to have unpacked much.”

  “I didn’t pack much to begin with.”

  “I suppose we did leave in a bit of a rush. Oh well, I’m sure you brought something suitable for walking in the garden.”

  Why did I suddenly feel my plans were about to be disrupted? “I wasn’t planning on walking in the garden just now.”

  “Of course not, I just arranged it. With Mr. Gibson and Mr. Douglas.”

  “But I don’t particularly want to go walking in the garden with Mr. Gibson and Mr. Douglas.”

  Milly went on as if she hadn’t heard me. “I suppose you could wear that blue dress on the hook there, unless you had something else, then I wouldn’t have to unpack.”

  I had no intention of letting her wear my blue dress, particularly if we were walking down muddy garden paths. “I was planning on wearing that, but it was to go walking in town.”

  “But we can’t just leave Mr. Gibson and Mr. Douglas waiting; that would be quite rude.”

  Almost as rude as accepting on my behalf. Or, more likely, proposing it on my behalf. “Couldn’t you ask Miss Caldwell and Miss Morrison to go with you?”

  “First of all, there are only two gentlemen. How could I ask three ladies? And second, they’re planning on sketching this morning. Weren’t you listening at breakfast? Miss Caldwell has to sketch where she is so she can send it to her father.”

  I wondered if Milly’s phrasing was awkward or if there was some requirement placed on Miss Caldwell’s artistic abilities. “Milly, I was hoping to go into town.”

  “But you can do that anytime. Mr. Douglas and Mr. Gibson want to go walking this morning. It will be right here on the grounds, all perfectly safe and respectable. We can go into town tomorrow.”

  I sighed. I was looking forward to having a rest while we were here, and while it hadn’t exactly been Milly’s fault I’d been mixed up in my last murder case, I wouldn’t have been if it hadn’t been for her, so I was more than a bit annoyed with her to begin with. “I know how that will go. Tomorrow there will be something else. Walking with Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Longridge, no doubt. And the next day it will be Mr. Langley and Mr. Fellcroft wanting to show us something. Or...”

  “Cassie, do you really think I would do that?”

  “Do you really think that you won’t?”

  “I promise. Tomorrow you can do whatever you’d like without me. And any risk to my reputation will be on my own head, is that good enough?”

  “How do I know you mean it?”

  “I heard the Bates sisters planning to go somewhere related to Jane Austen in the morning. Her house, maybe? When we see them next, I’ll hint that you want to go there and see if they’ll invite you along. Will that do?”

  I meant to sigh, but it came out more of a groan. “All right. Today I will go walking with your gentlemen and pick out a rented bathing costume and see these new baths. But tomorrow I will start doing what I want on this holiday.” I didn’t think it was too much to ask, particul
arly as I was here after solving a murder she had dragged me into.

  “Fair enough. Miss Caldwell and Miss Morrison were planning something, I think. I’ll see if I can go along with them.”

  I shuddered to think what the lot of them would get up to, but I wasn’t actually Milly’s chaperone, so it wasn’t my worry.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  The gentlemen were waiting for us by the large glass doors leading out to the garden. I couldn’t tell if they had been expecting each other or not, but I rather suspected not. Milly made the introductions then asked, “Where shall we walk to?”

  “There aren’t really any beauty spots near here,” Mr. Douglas said, “so perhaps we should simply walk down to the edge of the grounds, and you can have a nice view of the hotel?”

  As this was Milly’s entertainment, I didn’t offer an opinion when she glanced at me.

  “It sounds lovely. Cassie, why don’t you walk down with Mr. Douglas, and Mr. Gibson and I will walk together.” She offered Mr. Gibson her arm.

  I did the same to Mr. Douglas, and we set off. We passed Miss Caldwell and Miss Morrison on the terrace and stopped to exchange pleasantries. They were sketching, as they had planned, but the views looked nothing like what I could see from the terrace, or like anything I would have imagined existed in Bath, and I found myself wondering where their parents thought they were and whom they thought they were there with. But I reminded myself that they were not my problem, Mr. Douglas was, and followed the group down to the gardens.

  As we started down the path that I assumed would lead us to the view of the hotel, Mr. Douglas began to make conversation. “So, you are both living in London?”

  “Yes.” As that seemed abrupt, I added, “for a couple of years now.”

  “And what do you do with yourself there?”

  “I’m a typist.”

  “In an office, then?”

  “No, I have clients recommended to me.” That made it sound as respectable as it was.

  “I see. And who is your most interesting client?”

  Since most of my clients had me typing up inventories or the occasional contract, it wasn’t difficult to choose. “Scotland Yard.”

  “Do they give you any of the really interesting cases?” So it seemed he knew something of how things worked there.

  “Only if one of my friends worked on it and slips it through.” I didn’t add that I also got them when I was the one who solved them. At least he didn’t seem shocked yet. I decided to change the subject before that happened. “What about you? What do you do?”

  “I am a gentleman of leisure. I devote my time to new experiences.”

  I noticed it again, his eyes darting towards Miss Caldwell on the terrace. “So you travel, then?”

  “Whenever I can.”

  “If you’re a gentleman of leisure, that must be quite often.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” But his mind was clearly still on the terrace.

  I remembered what Miss Bates had said about him. The only reason I could think of for him to pretend to have more wealth than he did—the only reason that had any chance of being true at least—was to find a rich wife. And Miss Caldwell certainly qualified. I wondered if I ought to warn Milly.

  Then Mr. Douglas turned his attention back to me. “So tell me about some fascinating case you’ve typed up.”

  As they all involved dead bodies, I didn’t think it was a particularly good topic of conversation for a casual stroll through a garden. “I’d rather hear about the most fascinating place you’ve traveled to.”

  “How to choose just one?”

  But I wasn’t to be put off that easily. “Then the last place you traveled to.”

  “That would have been Tours, in France.”

  I had traveled there, so it seemed a safe topic of conversation that I could contribute to. “And what did you enjoy most?”

  “Walking along the river.”

  “Which?”

  “Oh, the main one.”

  I was going to ask which he considered the main one—there were two rivers in Tours—but Milly caught up to us then. “Cassie, why don’t you walk back with Mr. Gibson, and I’ll go with Mr. Douglas.”

  As I didn’t particularly care either way, I nodded and let Milly take Mr. Douglas’s arm. I turned to Mr. Gibson.

  “Your cousin tells me you type things up for people.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “A very interesting profession, I’m sure.”

  I didn’t want to be asked about Scotland Yard cases again, so I replied, “And I was told you’re in cloth. That must also be interesting.”

  “It is indeed.”

  “What sort of cloth?” I asked, to prevent us from walking all the way back in silence.

  “We used to be in woolens, then Father began importing cotton from India. He told me that was where the money would be, but I said, ‘Father, this is England. There’ll always be a market for woolens.’ So now we deal in both, although I’m thinking of trying to find another source of cotton closer to Leeds, or at least doing the printing nearby.” He went on about the difficulty of getting the prints he wanted without once describing them. It was the most boring discussion about fabric I could remember having. I understood why Milly had wanted me along; she was checking to see whether either of the gentlemen was interesting enough to spend more time with. She must have already found a way to judge the others, unless a stroll with Mr. Longridge and Mr. Armstrong was upcoming. Or worse yet, a swim. At least Milly knew I wasn’t a strong swimmer. If she intended more than sitting at the edge of the bath, she would be on her own.

  ~ * ~ * ~

  When we returned to the hotel, I was ready to go up to the room and forget all about Mr. Gibson and Mr. Douglas and their respective businesses or lack thereof, but Milly had other ideas. “Mr. Douglas said they serve a lunch buffet in the breakfast room starting at eleven.”

  “It seems as if we just had breakfast.”

  “They do feed us well here, don’t they?”

  I sighed and followed Milly towards the breakfast room. She had promised me I could have the rest of the holiday to do what I wanted; one lunch shouldn’t be too difficult.

  The buffet did prove to be nice, the sort of thing one would find at a well-run house party. I was surprised when Milly finished filling her plate before I did, until I followed her out into the dining area. Despite the fact that there were several empty tables, Milly went directly to the one being shared by Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Longridge. Both were dressed for business in somber suits with neatly combed hair, and the ever-present newspapers allowing them to share the table without speaking.

  “You don’t mind if we sit with you, do you? The light’s so bright by the window.”

  As we had just been out walking in that very light, it didn’t seem like much of an excuse, but both men were too polite to protest. I considered saying something along the lines of “Milly, we don’t want to bother them,” but if they had any manners at all, they would have felt obligated to say we weren’t bothering them, and Milly would forever take that as truth and not the polite fib it most likely was, so I settled for glaring at her and giving the men an apologetic smile as I sat beside her, hoping to eat as quickly as possible. Milly didn’t even start on her food. “What brings you gentlemen to Bath?”

  Mr. Armstrong gave his newspaper a longing look but replied, “My bank is considering a loan to someone looking to expand their business here. I came to check the viability of the project and the verify that the fundamentals are as they were described.”

  Mr. Longridge gave us a more welcoming smile, although I didn’t doubt he’d been looking forward to eating in silence as much as Mr. Armstrong had been. “I have several clients in town that I am calling on. We like to make certain everything is running smoothly. And why are you ladies here?”

  “A holiday,” I said before Milly could decide to tell them all about the recent murder case in London.

  “I hope yo
u’re enjoying it.” Mr. Longridge smiled again then took a large bite of his sandwich. I wondered if he wanted to finish it quickly and get away from us.

  “Yes, yes, I hope you are having a nice time,” Mr. Armstrong added belatedly, as if he’d just realized that was the polite thing to say.

  “And are you planning to take advantage of the baths here?” Milly did not seem to realize both men were trying to return to their newspapers.

  “Yes, yes, I suppose, as I’m here,” Mr. Armstrong said.

  “If business and time permit, I would like to try them, of course,” Mr. Longridge answered.

  “Naturally, if time permits,” Mr. Armstrong added. I had the feeling Mr. Armstrong was trying not to sound too stuffy and at the same time not appear frivolous in comparison to Mr. Longridge, but conversation of any kind did not come naturally to him.

  “Speaking of time permitting, I’m certain you ladies will forgive me if I must plead a prior engagement and flee.” Mr. Longridge didn’t wait for a reply but gathered up his newspaper and started for the door as a gentleman I assumed was Mr. Mulgrove walked in. They attempted to side-step each other and finally managed to pass and continue on their way, with Mr. Mulgrove glaring after Mr. Longridge with what I thought a quite unnecessary show of temper for such a small slight.

  Mr. Armstrong looked down at his plate, clearly not certain how to continue the conversation. When Milly didn’t offer any conversational options, I said, “We’re not keeping you from your work, are we?”

  “Oh no, not at all. But I really ought to get back to it. If you’ll excuse me.” He hurried for the door without finishing his food.