‘Oh, so do I, my lady. I should be out all the time if I could. I am always outside at Brandrigg. My mother quite despairs of me at times.’
‘We had some lovely walks in the Cotswolds. I was fortunate in living quite close to the canal. Its towpath, though muddy at times, provided a beautiful waterside walk with all the little birds upon it. I used to ramble there for hours together. I enjoyed standing by the locks in particular. I have always enjoyed the sound of rushing water.’
‘But did your papa not mind you wandering about there on your own?’
’No, it never concerned us, to be honest – I never felt in the slightest bit under threat. I should find it much more difficult nowadays. Even were my uncle to allow me the freedom that my papa used to do I’m afraid that my cousin, Alfred, would endeavour to keep me at home. Alfred is always most – well, particular. Particular and sedate. It takes all the fun away when he’s at home. It drives me quite to distraction.’
Their walk that day was sedate enough even to satisfy an Alfred, though the young ladies’ delight in it was multiplied by the discovery of a song thrush, seduced by the early sun, practising his springtime song from the privacy of a laurel. His singing was rather subdued, as if in embarrassment, but even so they both instantly stopped, delighted, to listen to him. Together with the brilliance of the winter sunshine and the blueness of the sky they both agreed that it was a promising portent of spring.
They meandered their way through the gardens and up the hill towards the canal. Ahead of them they could see the green hillsides to the east of the city, thrown into exaggerated relief by the gently slanting sun. A number of blackbirds – less optimistic, or more experienced, than their cousin the thrush – were busily engaged in a clucking exchange of hostilities from towpath and park. A robin was singing wistfully nearby. Where the ground faced north and the sun couldn’t reach it the plants retained a faint mantle of white frost, with here and there a symmetrical cobweb, glistening silver between the twigs. The weather had attracted a number of nursemaids with their charges into the gardens. Little boys, still in smocks, raced around noisily in scuffy boots. Little girls skipped hand in hand together, laughing and giggling in some private world of their own.
The cold of the afternoon gradually became more intense, not helped by a developing easterly wind which penetrated even Miss Forster’s thick woollen pelisse like a knife. They had talked hopefully of trying their luck in the labyrinth, but after a while, albeit reluctantly, the two young ladies had to admit defeat and retrace their steps back down the hillside to the unwelcome noise and bustle of the road at Sydney Place.
‘Shall we take some tea at my house, my lady, rather than going all the way back to yours?’
It was very well done, for no sooner had they achieved the warmth of Lord Barnham’s now deserted drawing room than Mr Forster appeared, book in hand, apparently intent upon reading it. But he cast it aside as soon as he saw that he was not alone and, pulling up a chair close to the ladies by the fire, enquired about their afternoon instead.
‘The cold air and exercise have certainly brought the roses to your cheeks,’ he informed them, pleasantly. Cecily’s cheeks immediately blushed even rosier than before. It was most embarrassing, though she could do nothing to prevent it. ‘I am a great believer in regular exercise. It has undoubted beneficial effects upon one’s health. Why, I have been known to watch a prize fight for hours together – and a whole day watching cricket. I was never so pleased in my life as to spend a day at Mr Lord’s ground up in Town. A day watching cricket is sufficient quite to wear a fellow out.’
‘But I think that you will find the effects beneficial only if you participate in the activity, Mr Forster. I cannot say that merely watching will do you any good.’
‘No – really? Well, I must say you startle and disappoint me, Lady Cecily, though I remain convinced of its efficacy in spite of what you say. For see – am I not quite fit and healthy? And yet I have never felt the least inclination to participate in any sport.’
‘Now stop teasing Lady Cecily, Robert,’ put in his sister, laughing. ‘Take no notice of him, my lady. He is funning you again. I know for a fact that he was quite a distinguished sportsman up at Eton – or I know not how he came by all his cups.’
‘It’s probably a good thing that you do not, Rachel, for I stole half of them before I came away. But I think you said that you, too, went to school for a while, my lady, though I do not expect that it taught you very much.’
‘I attended a very good school indeed, Mr Forster, and I happened to acquire a wealth of useful skills and information. I can put a map of the world together within the space of half a minute – embroider the most beautiful table cloths and fire screens imaginable, all to my own inestimable designs – and as for reciting the Kings and Queens of England – well, I could list them all from Edgar onwards by the time I was seven years’ old.’
Mr Forster gave her his charming open smile. The roses immediately blossomed once again.
‘All useful skills undoubtedly, my lady. But I hope they taught you nothing more than that? I hope they did not teach you French, for example. The Kings and Queens would not leave time for that?’
‘Mais certainement, monsieur. Pourquoi pas, en effet?’
‘But how very unpatriotic of you – to speak the language of our deadly foes. Much better, surely, to learn Spanish, or Portuguese. They – currently, at any rate – are at least the best of friends.’
‘But Spain was our enemy when I went away to school,’ she reminded him. ‘One cannot be held responsible for the vagaries of a war. And yet, perhaps it is better to speak the language of one’s enemy than that of one’s friend. A friend should hopefully say nothing unkind or untruthful about you. You cannot have the same faith in someone you see as a foe…’
Chapter 9
The young ladies had been so well pleased with their walk that they planned to take a further outing later in the week. Their hope had been to take a ramble along the riverside. But this time the weather forsook them. The day turned out to be so wet and miserable that despite their inclination they felt compelled to revise their plans. So instead of a walk in the cold and wet they agreed to spend an afternoon in Lord Barnham’s drawing room, to practice some duets together and share their opinions on the world.
They had the drawing room to themselves and while Miss Forster ordered the tea Cecily amused herself by looking through the musical scores by the pianoforte. Amongst the usual pieces – Bach, Scarlatti, Haydn’s sonatas - she found a book called ‘Ritson’s Northern Garlands’ which turned out to be an edition of popular songs, many of which she had never even heard of before.
‘Do you often play these songs, Miss Forster?’ she asked her, really quite intrigued.
Miss Forster blushed deeply.
‘Oh dear – wherever did that come from? It must be one of the landlord’s booklets. I cannot say that I have ever even opened it before.’
‘Do you mind if we try some? It might be quite good fun.’
Miss Forster looked at her a little quizzically.
‘Do you really mean it, my lady? Well – if you do not mind it, of course we can. I’m sorry – I had perhaps put you down as a – well, not exactly conventional lady, but…’
Cecily laughed. Poor Miss Forster was looking most confused.
‘You think I should be stuffy? Well, I daresay that I can be when I need to, though I should hope that I can enjoy myself as much as anyone else as well. I’m rather partial to popular songs – especially for playing. They are usually much more straightforward than the usual classical works. Here, let’s try one together while we’re waiting for our tea. There’s no-one else around just now to catch us having fun.’
Here, however, she was mistaken. For scarcely had they sat down together, giggled over one or two of the more risqué pieces, selected a slightly more seemly one to start with and, after a few false starts, launched hesitantly but increasingly confidently into an elegan
t rendition of ‘A Lamentable Ditty’ before commencing a more riotous performance of ‘The Keel Row’, with Cecily playing the high notes and Miss Forster taking the low, than the drawing room door opened and a gentleman stepped in.
Cecily did not immediately discern him. After all, she was having to concentrate fully on the musical score. She had never played these particular pieces before and was quite unused to focusing her attention on only half of the required notes. Even had she noticed the opening of the door she would probably have thought nothing of it. After all, was a servant not expected, with the tea? So it was with a good deal of surprise and not a little shock that she suddenly found a confident masculine voice joining in with the two feminine ones and, on looking up quickly from the keyboard, found Miss Forster’s brother at her side.
Her first instinct was to cease playing immediately and then to run away, but she dismissed it as quickly as it came and carried on playing regardless. After all, Mr Forster seemed more than happy to join in the performance, and his sister, now that she had finally agreed to submit herself to taking some enjoyment, was playing along with some relish. So Cecily continued steadfastly to the end, only stumbling at the very last moment through being quite unable to control her giggles any longer. Her laughter was infectious. Miss Forster, catching it from her, found herself totally incapable of concluding the final chorus whilst her brother sang defiantly, if somewhat raggedly, to the end before coughing magnificently and turning swiftly away, with his shoulders shaking heartily in a decidedly suspicious manner.
‘So this is how you entertain your guests, Rachel,’ he chided, once they had all settled down again and the tea things were being brought in. ‘I must confess, I had often wondered – though I’m heartily ashamed of you now that I’ve discovered the truth. I dread to think what Lady Cecily must think of you. I cannot imagine for one moment that she expected to find a riot in the house.’
‘You are too hard on your sister, Mr Forster. It is I who am entirely to blame for the selection. Miss Forster would have chosen a much more demure and decorous piece had I allowed it. Much more demure, I am convinced of it – but by far a lot less fun.’
Mr Forster rewarded her with a devastating smile. She fielded it coyly, looking down.
‘Then you are obviously no better than my sister. There’ll be no restraining her at all from now with a patron like you for her to blame.’
‘But I like the more refined pieces as well as the riotous, you understand. Indeed, I have a most catholic taste in music. It’s just that I generally have no-one with whom to indulge it. My uncle and aunt are no musicians, and neither, I fear, is my cousin.’
‘Then perhaps you will allow me to escort you and Rachel to the concert tomorrow night, my lady? I am told to expect a variety of chamber music. It is a little more demanding than ‘The Keel Row’, I believe, though I think you might enjoy it still.’
Cecily could feel a thrill pass through her. She looked at Miss Forster enquiringly.
‘I should be most happy, Mr Forster – if your sister will agree to it?’
Miss Forster smiled at them indulgently.
‘Well, I do not see why I should oblige you, Robert, after what you have just accused me of – but if Lady Cecily really is prepared to go with you then I would not say her nay.’
‘Good. Then that’s all settled. Shall we walk to the assembly rooms, or would you prefer a chair?’
Cecily assured him that she was perfectly amenable to a walk and that, indeed, as soon as she had finished her tea she should have to walk back to Pulteney Street to prove it.
‘Then allow me to escort you there, my lady. It would give me a very great deal of pleasure, I assure you.’
Cecily inclined her head graciously and quickly drained her cup. It was not only for his great pleasure that she accepted his arm for the too-short ramble back home.
Chapter 10
‘I have just had a letter from Alfred, Lady Cecily.’
Mrs King, taking breakfast the next morning, looked up sharply from her muffins to gauge the effect of this announcement on her niece.
Cecily could feel her look upon her. She ignored it studiously and continued with her meal.
‘Have you really, aunt? I’m very pleased about it. And what does cousin Alfred have to say?’
‘He is planning to visit us in Bath, he says. He has organised some leave, he… and will be coming down post from Guildford.’
Cecily could feel her heart sink. She carried on eating her ham.
‘How splendid,’ she said disingenuously, between morsels. ‘I daresay he deserves a holiday. In fact, now I come to think of it I cannot ever remember him taking one before.’
Cecily could tell that her aunt was hoping for a little more enthusiasm than she was actually prepared to pretend.
‘Yes, my dear. We will all be glad to see him, that’s for sure…’
Despite her surprise at her cousin’s suddenly projected appearance it was perhaps fortunate that Cecily had no suspicion of what had actually led up to the announcement of it. Why should she, indeed? Alfred was entitled to ask for a holiday, and what was more natural for him than to join them all for a week or two in Bath? But had she known the preliminaries to this brief but meaningful conversation she would have realised that the visit was no mere accident. For Alfred’s communication had actually been in response to an urgent letter from his father – a letter in which he had alerted Captain King to a matter of grave concern, and in which he had suggested that, really, he should forget his regimentals for a while and get himself down in a post chaise to pursue some more immediate interests of his own.
Chapter 11
Mr Forster had offered to escort his mother and sister to the pump room that morning, something he never did as a rule. While they were there, parading around the room and speaking briefly to acquaintance, Cecily and Mrs King appeared as usual, and were immediately claimed by Lady Barnham to join her party, which they were more than happy to do. Cecily and Miss Forster greeted each other kindly and shook each other’s hands. Cecily exchanged courtesies with her ladyship, and cast a demure, though happy, little smile in the specific direction of her son, who charmingly responded in kind.
‘I enjoyed our afternoon together yesterday, Miss Forster,’ said Cecily, trying not to stare at her brother. He was looking particularly attractive today, she thought, in a most well-fitting blue tailcoat and stylish hessian boots. ‘Though it is probably just as well that your mama was not at home. I doubt that she would have appreciated our deplorable musical taste.’
‘Maybe not, Lady Cecily, though I, for one, enjoyed it immensely and I know that Robert did as well.’
Cecily allowed herself another swift glance in the direction of Mr Forster. It was gratifying to find that his eyes were resting entirely upon herself.
‘Well, perhaps your brother’s taste is as inferior as our own,’ she suggested, smiling. ‘Though we shall not find out until this evening whether it is catholic as well.’
‘Do I hear you talking about me, Rachel?’ demanded Mr Forster, stepping a little nearer. ‘It will not be anything good, I know.’
‘We were discussing your taste in music, Robert. Lady Cecily was wondering how superior it is.’
‘Oh, it is execrable, as a rule, though I know I should not admit to it. I am prepared to put up with something more refined occasionally, however, if only to have the pleasure of feeling superior to most of my friends.’
Cecily had to admire his honesty.
‘Well, even if not in music I expect your taste is superior in many other things, Mr Forster,’ she suggested, finding herself accepting his arm and being drawn a little away from the rest of their party towards a vacant bench in a corner of the room. ‘In architecture, for example, art, or furnishing, or possibly landscape design?’
‘I hardly know it, to be honest, Lady Cecily. My father has never involved me in his decisions on the houses – we have a house in London as well as Brandrigg, you kno
w - though I regret that they remain very much unmodernised, and the estate is similarly unimproved. I would welcome an opportunity of becoming more involved in their running. I might be able to do some good.’
‘It is certainly something to be recommended, Mr Forster. My father was most interested in his. He spent many a long hour in conference with his steward. He used to allow me to sit with him sometimes, as long as I was quiet. They used to discuss all kinds of things – breeds of sheep, the wool market, winter feed, rotation. My mother used to despair of ever getting him in to his dinner on time. I daresay that you would enjoy it. Perhaps your father is simply waiting for you to ask?’
Mr Forster looked quite startled. He had obviously never thought of this before.
‘Perhaps he is,’ he conceded, ‘though he has never been terribly inviting. Maybe I should seek a way of subtly finding out?’
Chapter 12
Mr Forster and Lord Barnham rarely saw each other in town. Their habits were quite dissimilar and Mr Forster, for one, was more than happy to see as little of his father as possible. They did spot each other accidentally outside the pump room that morning, as Mr Forster was attending Lady Cecily and her aunt gallantly to the door. They acknowledged each other via stiff little bows. His lordship spotted the rather warmer appraisal with which the young lady was honouring his son, and allowed himself a somewhat appreciative little smile. Things appeared to be going along quite nicely there, at least. He, for one, would be delighted to think of Lady Cecily as a future daughter-in-law.
But it was once they had parted – Mr Forster to his debating club, his lordship to his baths – that the most important meeting of the day was destined to take place. For as his lordship stepped gingerly into the steaming pea-green water he suddenly found himself a neighbour of Mr King, who was similarly taking his dip. Knowing, as they both did, of the amount of time that Cecily and Robert were spending in each other’s company it was a matter of only a very few moments before their respective charges formed the chief topic of the gentlemen’s conversation.
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