by Anne Ireland
“There is no fear of that,” Geraldine replied. “Oh, we are going into supper now. Please, do ask Miss Weston and her companion to join us, Paul. I want Mama to ask them to our evening next week.”
“Yes, of course. I shall convey your invitation,” Paul said and walked leisurely towards Miss Weston and the countess of Danbury. He made his bow to the countess. “Ladies, Miss Holbeach begs the favor of your company at supper. I believe she would like her Mama to make your acquaintance.”
“I know Lady Holbeach slightly,” the countess said. “I am giving a little card party myself in ten days time. If you are still in Bath, sir, I should be delighted to welcome you.”
“My time is not always my own,” Paul replied with a slight bow of his head. “But if I am not called away, I shall be delighted to attend.”
* * * *
Hester looked at him gravely. She believed that she understood his reluctance to commit himself, for it had become clear to her that he was a man with a mission. However, he was a perfectly pleasant companion and since her cousin had accepted his invitation, she must be pleased to be counted amongst his friends that evening.
At supper, Hester found herself liking Geraldine and Lucinda more and more, and she was delighted when they formed an arrangement to meet the next morning. Charlotte and Lady Holbeach were to meet at the Pump Room to take the waters, and the young people would go walking and visit the shops, joining the older ladies for lunch.
The rest of the evening passed very quickly, for having become one of their group Hester was never allowed to remain seated during the dancing. She found the time so pleasant that she was surprised when Charlotte told her they must leave.
She bid her new friends goodnight and left with her cousin, feeling happier than she had for a long, long time. When they were back at their lodgings, Charlotte looked at her with a little smile on her lips that made Hester ask why she was amused.
“I smile because the evening went so well, my love,” her cousin said. “You were a little nervous at the start, I believe, but you have found friends, and I think you enjoyed yourself.”
“Lucinda and Geraldine are such charming girls,” Hester said. “They made me so welcome that I could not help enjoying myself.”
“And the gentlemen, too,” Charlotte said with a quirk of her mouth. “Did you not think Captain Crawford a pleasing companion?”
“He was very kind to me,” Hester replied for he had danced with her twice when she had no other partner. “Yes, he is a very nice gentleman.”
“Nice is not the word I should apply to Captain Crawford,” her cousin told her. “I know he is spoken of as a flirt, but I think any man with his looks and fortune would naturally have a few female admirers—and mistresses, of course. Yet, they say that rakes make the best husbands.”
“Oh, I think you wrong him, Charlotte,” Hester cried. “Captain Crawford is much too serious a gentleman to be called a rake. I dare say he has his . . . mistresses.” She blushed faintly. “But that does not truly make him a rake, does it?”
“No, dearest, I was merely teasing,” Charlotte said. “But I dare say we shall not see so very much of him for I believe he is a busy man.”
“Yes, I think he has something much on his mind,” Hester said. She had not told her cousin of her conversation with Paul on the balcony, but she retained the impression that he had some kind of mission that was more important to him than his personal life.
She was pleasantly tired when she prepared for bed that evening, and slept almost as soon as her head touched the pillow. The memory of her brief meeting with Richard Mortimer had been banished by the friendship she had discovered and her dreams were pleasant rather than tortured by memories of the past.
Hester was not the only one to be thinking of Richard Mortimer that night. Paul was eager for the interview, though he had no doubt that Mortimer would deny any wrong doing, but at least he could fire the first warning shot across the man’s bows. Perhaps if he became aware that Paul was breathing down his neck he might become careless.
Hester chose a grey-striped silk twill walking gown for her outing the next morning, teaming it with a black fringed pelisse of a deeper grey and a bonnet of bleached straw trimmed with a scarlet ribbon that tied under her chin. She carried a black velvet reticule and gloves of soft scarlet leather to match the ribbon on her bonnet.
“Yes, my love,” Charlotte approved when she came down that morning. “That touch of scarlet lifts the ensemble out of the ordinary, for, otherwise, the black and grey might mislead others into thinking you in mourning.”
“Papa has been dead only nine months,” Hester replied. “Most of my clothes are either grey trimmed with black or of a dark hue. Mama would not allow colors.”
“I see,” Charlotte said with a frown. “We must see what we can do about your wardrobe, dearest. Your gowns were well enough for the country, but you need a new touch.”
“surely not?” Hester said. “I have the evening gown you bought me, Cousin, and another two that I had before my father died. I have worn each of them only once. Besides, I am not here to catch a husband but as a companion for you.”
“And I am so grateful for your company,” Charlotte replied. “But I believe we must ask Madame Fouquet to make more gowns for you, Hester. Now that you have made such delightful friends you will not care to appear less fashionable than they are.”
“No.” Hester frowned. She had not envisaged having a whole new wardrobe, believing that she could get away with little touches like the scarlet ribbon and gloves. “But the expense would fall on you, cousin, for Mama did not give me sufficient funds to buy several new gowns.”
“And that is exactly what I intended,” Charlotte told her with an affectionate smile. “I think we shall ask Madame Fouquet to call on us tomorrow and see what she feels would be suitable.”
Hester did not argue the point. Her cousin would not say so, but it might reflect on her if Hester were to be branded dowdy. Besides, she could not help thinking that it would be nice to have some fashionable clothes again.
A carriage had been brought round to take them to the Pump Rooms, but once there, the young people met up and decided that they would walk to the shops. It was a very pleasant July day, the sun almost hot so that they needed the pretty parasols they carried to protect their complexions from the sun, for it was not fashionable to have freckles and they must have resorted to one of the lotions available to keep their skins fair. Hester could hardly believe that she was in Bath and in such happy company, and it seemed as if she had emerged from a long dark tunnel into the light.
* * * *
Paul was shown into a small private parlor at the lodgings where Richard Mortimer was staying and asked to wait. He was left for some minutes to tap his heels impatiently, but then Mortimer came in.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Crawford. Our meeting had slipped my mind for a moment and I was not quite dressed.”
“I imagine you know why I have come?” Paul said, his eyes narrowed with anger. “The cannon you sold me were faulty and men were killed.”
“Yes, I was sorry to hear it,” Mortimer said. “But you must know that I acted for the foundry and received only a small commission. I would offer to return it, but I hardly think it would compensate?”
“You are right, it would not,” Paul said, controlling his temper with difficulty. “Do you ask me to believe that you offered me that contract in good faith? Do you say that you had no idea that Hanwell’s company did not forge them? Or that they were inferior goods?”
“As I told you, I was merely a go-between. I was approached to make the contract and to be paid when I handed it over, that was the limit of my involvement.”
“Did it not strike you as suspicious that you should be approached in the matter?”
“The person who paid me was not a gentleman,” Mortimer replied. “He argued that he would be at a disadvantage and asked if I would undertake the commission.”
&n
bsp; “But you told me that you were Joseph Hanwell . . .”
“No, indeed, you are mistaken. I told you that I represented Hanwell’s company, as I believed I did. Good grief, Crawford—I am not a murderer or a traitor. My brother was killed fighting for the army.”
“I believe there was little love lost between you?”
“Then you believe wrongly,” Mortimer said, his lips drawn into a thin line. “I had no time for my father, but as it happens, I cared for Simon—though that is none of your business.”
“No, perhaps not,” Paul agreed. “Very well, I must take your word for the moment, sir. As yet, I have no proof that the cannon sold to us were deliberately spiked—but I am working to discover the truth, and I must warn you that it is my intention to bring the guilty men to justice.”
“And I must tell you that you may go to Hell,” Mortimer said, a sneer on his lips. Think what you please, Crawford, and be damned to you! I was as much a victim as you—but if you refuse to take my word, I’ll waste no more on you. Good day, sir. I wish you luck with your search.”
Paul narrowed his eyes. Mortimer might be telling the truth, but on the other hand, he might be a clever schemer. For the moment, there was no more to be done, but he would not give up until he had seen justice done for the men who had lost their lives.
“Then I shall leave you for the moment,” he said and walked to the door, where he turned and looked back. “But be warned, sir. I intend to discover the truth no matter how long it takes.”
* * * *
The next few days passed in a whirl of pleasure for Hester. In the mornings, she met Geraldine and Lucinda to go walking or shopping. Sometimes they visited the library or the Pump Room with Charlotte and Lady Holbeach or partook of delicious cakes and coffee in charming little rooms where the ladies met to gossip and while away the hours. In the afternoons, they often went driving to places of interest or local beauty spots. Josh Farnham was their usual escort, though Captain Crawford accompanied them on several occasions, and a certain Mr. Thomas Jones was quite often to be found wherever they happened to be.
“Mr. Jones likes you, Hester,” Geraldine teased her after they had bumped into him for the third time in as many days. “I believe you have an admirer.”
Hester shook her head, for she suspected that the handsome, though rather shy Mr Jones, was far more interested in Geraldine than in her. Indeed, she believed he might be the admirer her friend had spoken of in confidence. However, she did not tease her over it, because Mr. Jones was only one of many gentlemen who flocked about Geraldine. She to her credit treated them all with an equally shy charm that only made them redouble their efforts to engage her attention.
As Geraldine’s friend, Hester was a valuable member of their group, and her quiet but friendly manner had drawn more admirers than she had any idea. Her air of coolness had found favor with the older ladies, even if some of the gentlemen had begun to call her the citadel and wager on the chances of various gentlemen who had set their sights on winning her.
Hester would have been disquieted had she learned that more than one gentleman had thoughts of marriage, but since she was unaware of their private thinking, she was able to enjoy herself without worrying. It was for her a time of pure delight, like a thirsty soul drinking at the well of heaven, and she was determined to make the most of her stay however brief it might be.
Chapter Three
On the evening that began their second week in Bath, they had been invited to a private dance given by Lady Blackwater. Her nephew Henry, a handsome gentleman of whom she was very fond, had joined her in Bath. As her favorite, Henry was expected to inherit a large part of her fortune. She introduced him to Geraldine with an air of expectancy, clearly hoping he would take to the pretty young woman of whom she approved.
Henry, mindful of his aunt’s fortune, obligingly asked Geraldine to dance, but gravitated to Hester’s side shortly afterwards.
“Will you grant me the honor of a dance, Miss Weston?”
“Thank you, sir.” Hester checked her card. “Yes, as it happens I am free for the next.”
Hester had carefully kept three spaces on her card in case Captain Crawford should ask her for a dance, but he had not yet arrived. She willingly accepted Mr. Blackwater as Captain Crawford’s substitute, and since he was a pleasant companion as well as an excellent dancer, she enjoyed herself very much.
Indeed, Mr. Blackwater was truly one of the most striking gentlemen present. He had a most elegant figure, dark eyes, and short, fashionably cut hair. His cravats rivalled any that Beau Brummell might have sported in his heyday. As if that were not enough, he had a droll humor, and his comments about various gentlemen, who considered themselves to be high steppers and fine fellows, made her laughter ring out again and again. She had seldom enjoyed herself more for he had a wicked sense of fun.
“You are a terrible tease, sir,” she charged him, tapping her fan lightly on his arm. “I do not believe you should say such things to me.”
“But it makes you laugh, and you look so delightful when you laugh, Miss Weston, that I cannot think it wrong. Indeed, I would do far more for the privilege of amusing you. You can have no idea of how charmingly you laugh.”
“Oh no, do not say it,” Hester denied with a flush. She found him charming company, but his compliment frightened her because she could not permit him to come too close. He seemed to approve of her, but what would he think if he knew her shameful secret?
“But I must say it for it is true and I am a very honest fellow, don’t you know? Now, look at that turban, Miss Weston. It patently outshines my aunt’s own and that is an achievement of moment, do you not agree?”
Hester looked at the towering monstrosity of purple, yellow, and gold and understood perfectly. She had the greatest difficulty in hiding her mirth for the turban was quite the worst she had seen in an age.
“Sir, you are incorrigible,” she said in mock disapproval but inwardly she was smiling. “And now I believe your aunt looks for you and my next partner will soon on his way to claim me.”
She left him and went to join Geraldine and Lucinda. Geraldine was looking unusually pale, and she complained of a headache, which was most unlike her.
“I think it must be the heat. Is it stuffy in here? Or is it just me?” she asked.
“It is a little over-warm,” Hester said. “Shall we go outside to the terrace for a few minutes? Or would you prefer to go home?”
“No, no, I am sure I shall be well enough once I have cooled down,” Geraldine assured her. “Lucinda’s partner comes now. Would you mind accompanying me, Hester?”
“You know I shall not. Come, let us go at once.”
They walked together to the long French windows, which were opened to let some air into the room, but the press of bodies and the heat of the candles had combined to make it almost unbearable. The terrace had been strung with pretty lanterns that hung from poles, and beyond in the trees there were more lanterns that twinkled as they swayed a little in the slight breeze. One or two other ladies and gentlemen were taking the air, but the girls soon found themselves alone as they strolled to the far end of the terrace, where deep-scented yellow roses were spilling over the stone balustrade.
“Oh, how gorgeous they smell,” Geraldine said. “I am so foolish to have this wretched head!”
“You cannot help having the headache.”
“I have not been sleeping well,” Geraldine confessed. She looked at Hester oddly, her bottom lip trembling as she asked, “May I confide in you please?”
“Yes, of course, if you wish. You know that I shall respect your confidence.”
“It is so uncomfortable, but I have not wanted to tell Mama, because it would upset her terribly.”
“Does it concern the gentleman who so obviously admires you?”
“Oh no. Thomas is the sweetest thing and never causes me the least distress. It is the letters. . . .” She blushed. “I have received five of them so far.” She hesitated,
then said, “I think I am being blackmailed.”
“Blackmailed?” Hester was shocked. “But why?”
“It concerns my youngest brother William,” Geraldine said. “The first letter purported to be from an admirer, and I simply ignored it for it was unsigned. The second told me that the writer had some news of William, and it was signed by a well-wisher, but I knew it was from the same person for I recognized the hand. And then . . .” She gave a little sob. “The others have seemed to threaten me. They said that unless I agreed to meet the writer alone, he would expose my brother for cheating at the card table.”
Hester was horrified, for it was one of the worst things that could happen to a young man, and even if it were proved false, the mud would stick to him forever and his reputation would be tarnished.
“That is blackmail. You must continue to ignore the letters, Geraldine. No true gentleman would send such a letter to a young lady. And they must have come from a gentleman, I think.”
“Oh yes, I think so.” Geraldine’s eyes held a look of apprehension. “I believe I know who may have sent them. I have refused to have anything to do with him thus far, and this could be his revenge.”
“Can you mean . . . Richard Mortimer?” Hester read the answer in her eyes. “You must never agree to meet him. He is a dangerous man, ruthless. Please, promise me you will not give into his blackmail!”
“But what of William? Supposing Mortimer does what he has threatened? My brother would not cheat. I am easy on that score, but he has a hasty temper. If accused, he would call Mortimer out, and he might be killed.”
“Could you not tell your Mama?” Geraldine shook her head emphatically. “Why not write to your brother? Warn him never to play cards with Richard Mortimer.”
“Yes, I have considered that,” Geraldine said looking thoughtful. “Except that William would probably come haring down here and find a way of challenging him. He is such a firepot! That is why I fear for him. I know that he would not walk away from a fight.”
