A waitress came over to take their order, and because Mr. Hutton insisted so pleasantly that it was the perfect hour to have cakes with their tea, the young woman returned with their tea service on a trolley laden with cakes, pies and biscuits.
Peggy didn't need prompting twice to choose something from the selection, which annoyed Bathsheba.
She really is lacking in restraint, Bathsheba scolded Peggy in her thoughts. Now I shall have to choose a cake to show that I am appreciative of Mr. Hutton's generosity too. Blast! The last thing I wanted was to be in his debt. Tea was one thing, cakes were another.
She chose the tiniest fairy cake on the tray and then regretted it because she had to watch Peggy eating her slice of rich chocolate cake with fresh cream. If she hadn't so many petticoats tangled around her feet, she'd kick herself.
“I was delighted to meet you here,” Mr. Hutton said to Bathsheba. “May I assume that you are a fan of the fine arts?”
“I was until today,” she answered. But the way she'd said it, made it sound as though he were the reason she was reconsidering.
“I mean - I still am, but it was - the painting - a subject that I wasn't expecting,” she tried to explain. She quickly looked at Peggy to see if she were following the conversation and was happy to see that she was thoroughly occupied with her cake.
He laughed at her obvious discomfort, in spite of himself.
“We have all had moments that have been a shock because we have not been expecting them. As a young man, my worse moment came after I had asked a young lady to the theatre and she declined because of a cold. I went alone as I already had the loan of a box.
Imagine how I felt to see her in perfectly good health in the box opposite with another man. It wasn't so much the rejection that hurt as the fact that she had lied.”
“Oh, how humiliating that must have been,” Bathsheba sympathised.
“The humiliation was for the young woman, because she didn't expect to see me staring at her. She had supposed that I wouldn't go without her. During the interval she came with a woman friend to make some excuse but soon left when I said not a word of what I was thinking. In fact, I said not a word at all.”
Bathsheba had relaxed a little while listening to Alistair. She had been taught never to lie so felt somewhat outraged on Alistair's behalf. She too had experienced the untruths of certain suitors. For her, a life riddled with lies had no value. She looked at Alistair a little more discerningly.
Her cousin James was twenty-five, so she supposed that Alistair was about the same age, perhaps a little more. He had removed his hat in the tearoom so she was able to admire his head of thick brown hair. His jaw was square and freshly shaven. Dark brown eyebrows were well placed above hazel eyes. His teeth seemed to be good too. On the whole, he was a decent looking man.
All right, she was forced to admit, he's better than decent looking. But he is rather forward when it comes to society's rules.
She'd sipped her tea the time it had taken to examine him.
“Thank you, Mr. Hutton, for suggesting we take tea. It has comforted me. I am sure that I would be able to face any number of 'Exotic Rooms' now.”
Her dazzling smile left him speechless for a moment.
When she frowned, she looked positively daunting. The serious look she wore the rest of the time did not encourage conversation either. But, from their first meeting in the street, he had been drawn to her inexplicably, seriousness and all. Now, this smile actually seduced him. He was feeling much like the satyr in the picture. He was going to have to rein in his rampaging urges because this was indeed a naïve young lady and if he wanted any chance with her, he would have to go slowly.
Bathsheba was a dark blond with blue eyes. Her figure was slim but shapely, which was not in the Rubenesque fashion of the day. Alistair was wary of those women who were well-endowed at an early age. They quite often finished by being overly endowed in later life. He liked to feel the solidness of a woman when he held her. He also related it to a solidness of character.
“Do you enjoy music, Miss Baxter?” It had occurred to him that they might share that pleasure.
“Yes, I do, Mr. Hutton. I am fortunate in that I have friends who often invite me to their musical soirées, some of which are of a very high standard. I have my mother to thank for introducing me to fine arts in all its forms. My father was an unpolished rock until he met her.”
“Do you play an instrument or sing? I have been known to sing on the odd occasion but I have had no training,” he informed her. He was pleased to have found a subject that encouraged her to reveal a little of herself.
“I play the pianoforte but I'm afraid my voice is not very strong, although I am told I sing well.”
“Perhaps I may have the good fortune of hearing you play and sing at some time?” he paused.
“I wonder... could I interest you in coming with me to a concert? You may know Mrs. Pemberton?” He saw her nod her head.
“Yes, I know her casually. Mrs. Pemberton was an acquaintance of Mama's. When Mama died, my father lost his connection with the family as he had no desire to socialize with Mama gone. I was too young at the time to entertain.”
“Well, Mrs. Pemberton is having a musical evening on the 21st of this month and I am invited. Would you do me the honour of accompanying me?”
This afternoon's outing had developed into much more than she had expected. Now she was in a quandary. Having tea with Mr. Hutton was one thing. Suddenly being asked to spend an evening with him entailed more. She didn't know him. He must be very sure of himself to ask her after such a short acquaintance.
“May I give you my answer tomorrow? I must see if there are commitments on our calendar. My father may already have other things planned, you understand.”
It was the best she could do to delay giving a reply. She would have time to think on it and possibly contact her Cousin James before committing one way or another. He could enlighten her about Mr. Hutton.
Alistair smiled softly. She was skittish and needed time to reflect. He was hopeful, however, because she had changed her mind about having tea with him, hadn't she? That was a good indication.
“Naturally, Miss Baxter. I admit that it was a rather spontaneous invitation prompted by our mutual like for music. I shall look forward to your response tomorrow.”
Bathsheba felt the tension leave her body. His pleasant answer relieved her of any pressure.
She remembered her previous dealings with Gregory who had been very demanding and a little threatening with it. He had been a great disappointment to her. In the beginning, she had hoped that they might rub along well together and had even considered marrying him.
She shuddered involuntarily. Thank goodness he had revealed his true self before it had been too late. Her hand went to the wrist that he had twisted leaving a mark for several days and some of his cruel comments came to mind also. That was more than two years ago and seemed like a good while longer now.
Alistair could see that Bathsheba was lost in thought, so didn't interrupt.
Suddenly she realised that he was watching her and wondered if he were waiting for her to add something else to the conversation. Until now, he had been the one to keep their exchange flowing.
“How do you know James?” she asked. As she intended to contact him, the question had come out of her mouth without thinking.
“James and I have known each other from boarding school days. I am two years older and there were moments when he needed someone older to look out for him. There are a lot of bullies in boarding school. I don't care what anyone says about bullies toughening you up. There are better, more intelligent ways of developing 'depth of character'.”
Bathsheba hadn't realised until then that James and Alistair must have known each other for more than ten years. Why hadn't she crossed paths with Mr. Hutton sooner? Now she was decidedly curious.
“I am reasonably close to my cousin James, Mr. Hutton. How is it we have never met before, do y
ou know?”
“I expect it is because I have been out of the country for the last five years. We may have met when you were younger but I doubt I would have made much of an impression on you then,” he commented.
She didn't respond with the obvious social retort that she was sure to the contrary that he would have made an impression on her. She was too busy wondering where he had been for five years. To go anywhere out of England was an achievement, in her opinion, let alone live abroad for any time.
“May I ask where you have been for the last five years?” she dared to enquire.
“You may, but you might not like my answer....” He had lost his smile.
Chapter 2
Bathsheba knew immediately that she had touched upon a subject that was better to be avoided.
His words along with the tone of his voice alerted her. Even Peggy had stopped sipping her tea. Bathsheba could swear that the whole tearoom was holding its breath as it waited for Alistair's answer.
“No!” The word came out more forcefully than she had intended.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hutton. It really is not my business and I shouldn't have asked. Please forget my impertinence for asking.”
These bloody skirts, she thought again. If only I could kick myself once and for all, perhaps I'd stop embarrassing myself.
“Well, Miss Baxter, I don't mean to be a mystery, so I'll simply say that I have been in our ex-colonies.”
In fact, his statement only confused the issue more, because the war in North America had only ended three years ago, a few months before the war on the continent against Napoleon. Now she was more than curious, she was intrigued. Her mind was racing.
Alistair watched the expressions that passed fleetingly over Bathsheba's face; first surprise and then alarm followed closely by indecision and then, curiosity. If only she knew how much her face gave away. He was surprised that she didn't chew on a finger as she thought things through. He could see the wheels turning and he smiled to himself.
Oh, Miss Baxter, if only you knew how much you have told me without saying a word, you would be more careful with your reflexions, he thought.
All right, Bathsheba thought, I'm hooked. What was he doing in North America during the war years? She knew that her curiosity would be her downfall one of these days, but she couldn't help it.
“It is rather silly of me, Mr. Hutton. Now that I think about it, I am sure that Papa would have mentioned an engagement to me had he accepted one for this month,” she explained rather lamely.
“I would like to accept your invitation now as I am sure I would enjoy Mrs. Pemberton's concert.” She realised then how her statement had omitted him in the equation, so quickly added as social niceties obliged, “And of course, it will be all the better for sharing the event with someone who enjoys music, too.” Again that stunning smile.
There was nothing untoward about going to an evening's entertainment at a known matron's home. She was considered out of the marriage mart now, so the fact that she would be accompanied might give rise to speculation the time it took to raise eyebrows and then lower them. No doubt, those knowing her would assume that her cousin James had coerced his friend into escorting her as a favour.
It was Alistair's turn to smile in such a way that her stomach turned over, in spite of her stays.
“If you are quite sure? I don't mind waiting until tomorrow,” he proposed, more from politeness than conviction.
She nodded with a blush tingeing her cheeks.
“Yes, I'm quite sure, Mr. Hutton. I seriously doubt that there is anything of any consequence planned.”
What have I done? she wondered. I do believe that there must be something in the stars because I have been behaving quite out of character today. Her cheeks even ached from her unaccustomed smiles.
Peggy had finished her tea and cake, and although she'd pretended that she hadn't been paying attention to them, she'd heard every word the two of them had exchanged. It was easy to see that they were both attracted to the other.
This should prove interesting, Peggy was thinking as she was a romantic at heart.
As no one wanted more tea, Mr. Hutton offered, yet again, to accompany them home. He hailed a cab easily, and they were soon on their way. A half hour later, they were back at the terrace of Georgian houses where they lived side by side. Peggy rushed ahead to knock on the door, while Alistair came up the flight of steps with Bathsheba. Patterson, the butler, opened the door for the women.
They had already established in the cab the details for their evening at Mrs. Pemberton's so there wasn't a lot left to say.
Bathsheba thanked him one last time for the tea and stepped over the threshold.
“Miss Baxter,” Alistair caught her attention one last time before the door shut.
“You may like to keep this as a souvenir or as an indication of what is still awaiting your perusal.”
He thrust the gallery's programme into her hands with a chuckle and left without waiting for a comment. It was probably just as well because Bathsheba had been caught off guard and didn't know what to say. She watched him turn right at the bottom of the steps before Patterson shut the front door.
Her stomach was doing strange things once more.
“Blast!” she said, much to Patterson's surprise, who quickly opened the door again, afraid that he had been too hasty in closing it.
She was not aware though, because her mind was already focussing on the 21st of the month. Patterson stood wondering if his mistress was ailing? In any case, she was behaving most peculiarly.
Chapter 3
The first thing Bathsheba did was to search for her father to quiz him on any upcoming events in which they might be involved. The search barely took a couple of minutes as Mr. Baxter was in the library, where he spent the majority of his time. He confirmed that the Baxter family did not have anything on their agenda for the 21st of the month, which didn't really surprise Bathsheba. His attention returned to what he had been doing without so much of a raised eyebrow. That was her darling father, who loved her dearly, but who was ever consumed by his latest business endeavours.
As soon as she had reached her bedroom, she'd gone through her wardrobe in search of suitable evening wear, but had found nothing to her liking.
This is ridiculous. Why am I bothered about what I wear? My clothes are decent and Mrs. Pemberton is known to be unimaginative when it comes to fashion. She usually wears something quite unsuitable. She was talking to herself as she re-examined her dresses a third time.
If I am honest, it is because I don't wish to disappoint Mr. Hutton. I like him. There, I've said it.
She put both hands to her cheeks. She could feel that the admission had warmed her face. She wanted to cry because she knew that it would end badly, once again. If she were classified as a spinster today, there was a good reason. The men she was drawn to were almost inevitably, all wrong for her. Years had been lost with trials and errors through no fault of her own. The duds had always come to her.
Well, this will be my last attempt at socialising. It will be agreeable for a change to be escorted to a soirée on the arm of a gentleman.
She'd made a feeble attempt to contact her cousin James hoping to learn more about Mr. Hutton. It was feeble because contacting him had made her feel guilty, like she was going behind someone's back, which she was, of course. James wasn't in London, so she had been able to breathe a sigh of relief. She had committed to going to the concert and that was it. It hardly constituted a declaration or obligation of any sort.
As nothing in her closet pleased her, she made a trip to her dressmaker's to see what she would be able to offer. She had two weeks to produce something.
As everyone knows, the servants are always aware of what is going on in neighbouring households. It was Peggy who casually informed Bathsheba that Mr. Hutton was away on business. She had guessed that her mistress was disappointed that Mr. Hutton hadn't called since their afternoon in the museum. As a result, sh
e quietly patted herself on the back as she saw Bathsheba's mood brighten. She would love for her mistress to find someone with whom to settle down and make a home. She wasn't yet too old to have children, either. Peggy was projecting herself onto her mistress because there would be little chance for a maid to marry now that she was thirty-five and without a prospect in sight.
The morning of the 20th, Mr. Hutton left his calling card with the intention of returning in the afternoon to see Mr. Baxter and his daughter. It was all Bathsheba could do not to giggle upon seeing the card. She was no better than a sixteen-year-old.
Her dress had been delivered the day before and she had tried it on twice; just to make sure it had nothing wrong with it. Her dressmaker had worked wonders in a short time. She had had the advantage of adapting a dress that had been ordered and then declined by another client. It was a smidgen more extravagant than Bathsheba would normally have considered, but only a wee bit. In a way, she was glad that her hand had been forced, because the dressmaker couldn't promise anything else in time.
Because of her age, Bathsheba could now wear dresses of a darker colour. This dress was a deep burgundy silk crepe over a deep burgundy sarsenet. Its body was cut low and square around the bust with the bosom trimmed with a slender roll of crepe intermixed with jet beads. The skirt was not too full. It finished in fairly wide scalloped edges, each scallop with an embroidered burgundy rose. The weight of the embroidery contributed to the attractive way the skirt fell to her feet. The jewellery she would wear with it was of jet to match the dress's trimmings. The aigrette headdress was also trimmed with jet.
Bathsheba had never felt this elegant - or nervous.
Mr. Hutton called in the afternoon as his card had indicated.
Her father came out of his library to make his acquaintance, only to discover that he had already met Alistair Hutton some years previous. They immediately fell to talking about things that had taken place since their last meeting. The conversation then turned to current affairs, leaving Bathsheba waiting patiently to garner Mr. Hutton's attention. In the end, she laughed and went about making sure they both had sherry rather than tea.
The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters Page 11
