‘I’ll go.’
‘Capital!’ She adjusted her wrap while a smile brightened her face. ‘I shall leave your name at the box office and instruct them to give you a token for my box. The performance will start at eight.’ As she took a step back the faint scent of roses went with her. ‘Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr Lane. I hope you find it improves.’
She had asked him to spend the evening with her. He couldn’t deny that it already had.
Chapter Nine
The next afternoon Clara sat in the back garden of The Fountain Head Hotel across the table from her cousin Phillip Edwards, trying a new selection of bread that the hotel’s cook had been interested in serving during breakfast. While Clara owned the hotel, it was Phillip who managed it for her and gave a face to the public of being the probable owner.
She moved in elevated social circles. One of her three nieces was a duchess. She herself had been married to the youngest son of an earl who had seen it as beneath him to own a lodging establishment and that was why when he was alive he never agreed with her that it was a wise investment when they had the funds. If word got out that she owned a hotel, she would be shunned by members of the ton, the very Society her family moved in, and she had no desire to bring any shame to those nieces whom she loved as if they were her own daughters. And when she was serving as chaperone for her unmarried niece, she would never have taken the chance of hurting Juliet’s ability to make a strong match.
Phillip had agreed to run the hotel for her when she had purchased it not long after she became a widow and was free to buy the property she had long coveted. He was competent with her most valued investment and could keep her secret.
Two years ago, Clara had decided to turn the garden into an area where guests and local residents could go for a light breakfast to begin their day. The hotel mostly catered to bachelors since the families who were staying in Bath for an extended amount of time would rent houses. Bachelors didn’t have cooks with them and she soon saw that they appreciated not having to travel far to break their fast after a late night out at one of the town’s various entertainments. Serving breakfast had become a profitable venture and Clara was always looking for ways to improve upon it. Today, she was discussing her latest idea with Phillip.
‘Gentlemen enjoy hearty meals,’ she said needlessly to him as he sat across the table from her. ‘So maybe we should offer them something more substantial than toast and tea.’
‘This will give more work to the kitchen. We might need more staff.’
‘Then we hire more staff.’
‘There are already a number of places in town that serve a more substantial breakfast.’
‘Yes, taking potential profits away from us. It doesn’t make sense not to offer it on the menu. Yesterday morning, the Lower Assembly Room was filled with gentlemen coming in later in the morning after tending to their early morning business or going out for a ride. A good number of those men would enjoy a quieter, more refined experience.’
‘I don’t think it will bring the return in that you think it will.’
Clara picked up her cup and took a sip of the warm tea, which had cooled in her cup since they began this discussion. To those around them who knew them, it appeared to be a monthly family meal shared by the two cousins.
‘But I disagree. We shall try it for a month. If in that time we find that it is not to our benefit, we change the menu back.’
His round face looked pinched as he stared across the table at her as if he were suffering from an aching head. ‘Very well. Write up a menu and I’ll discuss it with the cook.’
She could tell by his expression that he did not believe it would succeed. Even though the hotel was putting a good amount of money in her pocket every month, it was important to her to look for ways to make certain it remained a desirable place to stay. This hotel was everything to her.
* * *
The remainder of the day seemed to crawl by as she looked forward to heading to the theatre that night. Finally, at seven p.m., she entered her carriage with Harriet to see the opening-night performance of Sheridan’s play.
‘I have invited a few friends to join us tonight. It will give you an opportunity to meet some other people here in Bath.’
A flicker of nervous uncertainty crossed Harriet’s face in the dim light of the rocking carriage. ‘I hope you didn’t go to any trouble for me. I know that my mother expressed an interest in meeting as many people as we can while we are here, but I am not of the same nature.’
‘It was no trouble. I have asked Mr Lane to join us.’
Harriet’s expression fell. ‘I do not think Mr Lane likes me.’
‘Nonsense. Mr Lane barely said two words to you.’
‘That is my point. I don’t believe I left him with a good impression. He might think I am too inquisitive, but the truth is I thought asking him about where he was from would be a good way to begin a conversation.’
‘It is a fine way to begin a conversation. Don’t let his gruff demeanour make you question your behaviour. He informed me that he had been having a trying morning. His reaction to our discussion had more to do with his troubles than our words.’
She hadn’t seen the woman interact much with gentlemen during assemblies. Harriet would typically stand beside her sister while Ann received all the attention and Ann appeared quite comfortable talking with both gentlemen and ladies alike. Having Harriet converse with Mr Lane tonight, while she was with her, hopefully would help her practise feeling more at ease with gentlemen in the future.
And Mr Lane really did need to see more of Bath while he was here, so inviting him to join them for a lovely night out at the theatre was a benefit to him as well. It would be a pity if he returned to London without experiencing all the wonderful things Bath had to offer. If he enjoyed himself, he might recommend the town to his friends which would bring more people here and possibly to her hotel.
‘You aren’t just saying that to make me feel at ease in his presence tonight?’
‘No, I am saying that because it is the truth. You will see. I am certain he will be more talkative this evening.’
At least she hoped he would be. If his day had gone as poorly as her day, then perhaps he would not be in the mood to chat with poor Harriet. ‘It might be in our best interest to evaluate Mr Lane’s disposition before trying to start a conversation with him.’
‘And how are we to do that if we cannot speak with him?’
‘There are other signs besides his speech that will be an indication.’
‘Such as?’
‘Harriet, can you tell when your father is out of sorts when he walks into a room?’
‘Usually.’
‘Well, most men are the same. Pay close attention to the line of his brow. One can typically tell a lot about a person by their eyes.’
Her friend looked down and picked at her pale blue silk glove. ‘I think I will wait to say anything to him until I see how you proceed.’
‘Very well, if it makes you feel more at ease, then follow my lead. I assure you, you will have no problems with the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale. She will be joining us as well and she is delightful.’
‘A dowager duchess?’ There was a distinct crack in Harriet’s voice and her hands flew to her stomach. ‘There really was no need to invite these people for my sake.’
‘I assure you, she is lovely.’
‘Maybe to people who have vouchers at Almack’s, but my father is a barrister.’
‘That’s a very noble profession, Harriet.’
‘Yes, but she is a duchess.’
‘I would not invite people who I thought would make you feel uncomfortable.’
‘Mr Lane already made me feel uncomfortable.’
‘Yes, but he will be redeeming himself tonight. You will see.’
Harriet did not look at all convince
d as she turned from Clara and stared out of the window of the rumbling carriage as they drove past houses silhouetted against the glow of the pink and blue evening sky.
* * *
It was particularly crowded at the theatre and Clara attributed it to being opening night for this production. As they made their way into her box, they found the Dowager Duchess was already seated in the front row with a young dark-haired gentleman whom Clara did not recognise. The Dowager turned as they entered the box and immediately the gentleman stood up. It was apparent from the way his formal black evening attire fitted his tall, slender frame that this was a man who had taken time with his appearance tonight and could afford well-made clothes. Although he was slender, his cheeks still possessed the round, smooth glow of someone who was not yet in the full maturity of his manhood and was probably only a few years past Harriet’s nineteen years.
The Dowager stepped out from where she had been sitting and met them near the doorway. ‘Thank you for the invitation to attend this evening’s performance. It was such a nice surprise. I’ve always loved Sheridan.’
‘I’m so glad you were able to join us. May I present Miss Collingswood to you. Miss Collingswood, this is Eleanor, the Dowager Duchess of Lyonsdale.’
Although Clara knew the woman was nervous, Harriet executed a graceful curtsy and waited politely for the Dowager to address her.
‘It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Coll-ingswood. Mrs Sommersby has told me much about you and I am glad that we’ve been given an opportunity to meet. May I introduce you both to Mr Greeley. Mr Greeley, this is Mrs Sommersby and Miss Col-lingswood. Mr Greeley is the grandson of Sir Percy Fullerton, an old friend.’
Harriet seemed frozen in place as she watched Mr Greeley extend his greeting.
‘Greeley, why don’t you point out the new lights on the stage to Miss Collingswood that you were showing me earlier?’ the Dowager said, arching her brow at him. ‘He has assured me, Miss Collingswood, they are a bit extraordinary. I cannot explain them myself, but he knows a lot about them. Apparently, this theatre was built almost twenty years ago and he knows one of the architects personally. Isn’t that right?’ She gave him an encouraging smile.
The poor man had been staring at Harriet and the Dowager’s words seemed to bring him out of his stupor. ‘Oh, yes. Mr Palmer was a family friend. He would tell me about building this theatre when I was a young boy. Hearing those stories helped develop my interest in architecture.’
Harriet was smiling a bit shyly at him. ‘I like architecture as well, Mr Greeley. I am a great admirer of Mr Adam’s work. I have a fondness for the classical designs.’
Apparently, her statement was met with approval from Mr Greeley, who was practically beaming. ‘I’ve studied his work extensively. You have excellent taste, Miss Collingswood.’
‘Greeley is an architect,’ the Dowager interjected. ‘And a fine one at that. He will be working on a number of follies on the grounds of Lyonsdale Hall later this year. Katrina, my grandson’s wife, was very happy with his designs.’
‘Oh, that sounds positively delightful,’ Harriet exclaimed bringing her gloved hands together. From appearances, Mr Greeley might be the first architect that Miss Collingswood had ever met. ‘What a wonderful project to be working on. Will they follow the classical designs or are you trying something else?’
‘All resemble Greek or Roman temples except one. That one will look like a ruined abbey.’
Harriet’s eyes lit up. ‘Oh, how very Gothic.’
‘Congratulations,’ Clara said, tilting her head, trying to get his attention.
Mr Greeley barely looked away from Harriet for a minute to extend his ‘thank you’ to Clara. The Dowager nudged Clara’s side and raised that brow of hers again. Apparently, she was very pleased with herself for her decision to invite the man.
‘I believe Her Grace mentioned something about the lights here in the theatre.’ With her hand, Harriet gestured to two seats in the front of the box.
That was quite a bold move for Harriet and it made Clara feel all warm inside as she watched the gentleman escort her friend over to the chairs that looked down at the red velvet curtain with gold trim that was closed on the stage.
To give them some privacy the Dowager took Clara by the arm and guided her away from the front of the box. ‘I hope you do not mind that I invited Greeley to join me. He is a lovely young man and was the perfect escort for me. And it is so nice to have gentlemen about on evenings like this. They come in handy for fetching you a glass of wine and the like.’
‘Is that why you did not want to accompany me in my carriage this evening?’
‘It was.’
‘I’ve invited a gentleman here tonight as well.’ Now this could prove to be a bit awkward since Clara wasn’t certain what she expected to happen between Harriet and Mr Lane.
‘You have? Why did you not tell me?’
‘I didn’t think I needed to. I thought you were going to leave things up to me. He is the gentleman from out of town who we spoke about from the Pump Room. His name is Mr Lane.’
The Dowager brought her gloved hands together, eliciting a muffled clap. ‘Capital! A girl should always have the option of choosing from more than one suitor.’
‘I wouldn’t exactly call him—’
‘They do seem to be getting on rather well.’ The Dowager motioned to Harriet and Mr Greeley who had their heads bent together in an animated discussion. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Well, yes, but I thought you were going to let me find her a suitor.’
‘I told you I was bored here in Bath and needed something to occupy my time.’ She dipped her chin into an almost coquettish look.
‘I know what you’re about. You want to see who is the better matchmaker.’
‘That thought never crossed my mind.’ Yet her expression told a different tale.
‘What made you think Mr Greeley would be suitable for Miss Collingswood?’
‘Have you not looked at him? My dear, he is a quite pleasing young man. Even at my advanced age I can see that.’
‘Is that all he has to recommend him?’
‘No. He has a charming manner, is affable, has a budding career as an architect and his father is a well-respected barrister who has presented cases before Parliament. That is a very well-respected position for a gentleman his age.’
‘Her father is a barrister.’
The old woman tried to appear innocent. It wasn’t working.
‘You knew that.’
‘You might have mentioned it the day we were sitting in your garden. You remember that day. Your dog seemed taken with the flowerpot.’
‘Do not bring Humphrey into this discussion. I see that look in your eyes. You had every intention of making this a competition.’
‘As I said, I was bored and a competition will make this more exciting. Now tell me about your Mr Lane.’
‘He is the blond-haired gentleman we spoke to by the fountain. The one you suggested might be a good match for her.’
‘The one who was reluctant to drink the water.’
‘That’s him.’
‘The one I caught watching you a number of times while we stood around the fountain?’
Just as he was watching her yesterday during breakfast...
‘So you said.’
‘The one you also seemed to study that day.’
Clara looked down and tugged her white-silk glove above her elbow. ‘I don’t believe that is exactly accurate.’
‘The one with the strong set of shoulders and square jaw.’
‘I hadn’t realised you yourself had studied him that closely.’
‘I had. And you invited him here...for Miss Col-lingswood.’
‘I saw him yesterday in the Lower Assembly Room during breakfast. I was inspired.’ That inspiration had more to
do with giving Harriet opportunities to feel comfortable conversing with a gentleman than it did with arranging a courtship.
‘I see. Well, we will have to wait and see which one she prefers.’
From the time she was a young girl, Clara had had a competitive streak. It was not her finest quality to be sure, but it was a part of her that would surface every now and then. And right now that part of her nature was screaming that she was a better matchmaker.
Looking over at Harriet, she found her listening intently to what Mr Greeley was saying while their heads were lowered close to one another. She looked very comfortable and happy with him. Less than an hour ago she looked as if she had wanted to jump out of the carriage when Clara mentioned that she would be seeing Mr Lane again.
If she were to seriously propose Mr Lane as a potential suitor, she needed to know far more about him than she already did. She knew nothing of his background. She didn’t know where he lived, aside from London, or anything about his family. He was a businessman, but what kind of business was he involved in? And she still needed to find a way to repair the damage he had done with his brusque manner yesterday.
Clara did not like losing and she did have a skill for matching up suitable partners. Mr Lane was handsome, at times charming, and she knew he hid a wonderful dry sense of humour. She got the impression he was an intelligent man. And while he might not be a gentleman who favoured the very latest fashion, the cut of his clothes showed off his athletic form and she could tell they were well made. And he was just the right height for a man. Not overly tall and not diminutive either. He would make an ideal suitor...for Harriet.
‘The performance is about to start. Are you sure he’s coming?’
‘He said he would be here.’
One thing she didn’t know about him was if he was punctual—or if he was a man of his word.
Chapter Ten
Lane was not fond of crowds. But he had given his word to Mrs Sommersby that he would be here and he never went back on his word. However, the next time someone invited him out to a social engagement, he would find a reason to decline. It was moments like this that he was reminded why he preferred to stay in at night. He had a much better time obsessing over his business ventures.
Mrs Sommersby's Second Chance Page 7
