Once Upon a Time in Bath

by Cheryl Bolen

  It had not escaped her notice that he had not mentioned the word love. Though she was well aware that he did not love her now, she believed that because he was a good man, his duty as a husband would compel him to fall in love with the woman to whom he plighted his life.

  This wasn’t how she had always envisioned a proposal of marriage. It was not a sunny day. They were not surrounded by lush trees or blooming flowers. The man proposing to her was not on bended knee. They were not even facing each other. They stood like two lifeless statues facing the fireplace. No hands were clasped.

  And, of course, he was not in love with her.

  She turned to him. “It will be my honor to become your wife.”

  He peered into her eyes with great intensity. Then he took her hands in his and bent to press his lips to them. “You’ve made me very happy.”

  He squirmed a bit, and she looked down to see Lover Boy vigorously rubbing the length of his body against Lord Appleton’s leg. “Is my kitty bothering you?”

  He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “No, not at all.”

  That slight hesitation indicated her betrothed might not be speaking with complete honesty, but she credited him with doing his best to be tolerant of what mattered to her.

  She thought to tease him. “Would you like to pick up Lover Boy for a kitty cuddle?”

  He hesitated again. “I’d best not. My man would not be happy were I to return with orange cat hair over my coat.”

  She nodded. “May I ask you a question, my lord?”

  He did not respond for a moment. Did he fear she was going to ask how much he really liked cats? Or worse—did he fear she would ask if he was in love with her? “Of course, my love. Anything.”

  She almost lost her breath when he referred to her as my love. She could not credit it. But she vowed to do everything in her power to make him fall in love with her—if it were possible to make one fall in love. “If you’re going to be my betrothed, I should wish to call you something less formal than Lord Appleton. What is your Christian name?”

  His eyes flashed with mirth. “My given name’s Forrester Timothy Appleton, but my friends have always referred to me as Appleton. We are one of the few noble families, like the Spencers and Cowpers, whose title is the same as the family name. That said, members of my family have always referred to me as Timothy. You, my dear, may take your choice.”

  “Would you mind awfully if I call you Forrester?” She liked the notion of having her own name for him, something no one else used. But certainly not a silly name like she’d give to one of her cats.

  He kissed her hand once again and chuckled. “Not at all, love. Now, what shall I call you?”7

  “My name’s Dorothea, but Papa has always called me. . .”

  “Dot. I like it very much. It suits. May I call my future wife Dot?” His gaze dipped to skim her breasts. A tingle coiled through her. For the first time in her life, she felt like a woman. Now she was a woman standing before the man with whom she would become one.

  Her heartbeat stampeded. My future wife. She felt as if she were a make-believe character in a happy-ending fantasy. “You may.”

  “I know it would have been more proper of me to ask your father’s permission to court you, but I am not a patient man. I couldn’t wait another day.”

  His flattery lifted her even higher than she already felt.

  “Can you forgive me?” he asked.

  “Of course. You did the right thing.”

  “Shall I relay the intelligence to your father, or would you like to do so?”

  “Allow me to lubricate the way for you. It’s essential that my father know this marriage is what I want, or he would never countenance the union. If you care to, you can return here tomorrow to speak to him.”

  “Then I shall take my leave. I’ll call on your father in the morning.” He kissed her hand and left.

  She wished he would have taken her in his arms and kissed her.

  * * *

  The drawing open of her silken draperies the following morning awakened Dot. She could tell by how high in the sky the sun was that she had slept late, owing to the fact she had been far too excited the night before to fall asleep.

  “My, miss, but you’ve slept mighty late today,” Meg said.

  Dot smiled at her maid. It was difficult not to smile at Meg, who was perpetually cheerful. The slender girl with a head of fiery hair was probably five years younger than Dot and, to Dot’s great surprise, was thrilled at the prospect of serving a fine lady as a maid. Dot could not imagine why anyone would desire a life of servitude, but she vowed to make such a life as pleasant as possible for those who served her.

  “It’s because I didn’t fall asleep until dawn,” Dot confessed.

  Meg’s green eyes brightened. “So you be thinkin’ about your young lord what you’ll be marrying?”

  “Indeed I was.”

  Still smiling, Meg nodded as she set a tray in front of her mistress and proceeded to pour hot chocolate into a porcelain cup. “I’ll be back in a bit to help ye dress, miss.”

  Throughout the night, Dot had lain in her bed, enclosed within the bed curtains as the fire crackled in her hearth and rain pounded upon her casements, remembering every word that had passed between her and . . . Forrester. She sighed to herself each time she thought of her betrothed by that special name only she would use.

  She thought, too, of the sweet words he’d said to her. My love. . . my dear. . . You’ve made me very happy. Not as happy as he’d made her.

  And her father.

  Papa had been ecstatic when she’d told him of his lordship’s proposal, so happy that once again he’d forgotten about his afflictions, flung himself from his sick bed, and begun to dance around his bedchamber. “My daughter, Lady Appleton. Oh, how I wish your dear mother could have lived to see it.”

  Such a reflection did not make Dot sad because she could not remember her mother at all.

  When she finished her chocolate, Meg returned with a freshly pressed dress that Mrs. Gainsworth had just delivered. “Oh, Miss Pankhurst! I never seen anything so beautiful.”

  Had Dot not been to Bath’s elegant Assembly Rooms, she would never have seen a dress as fine as this, either. It was snowy white and embellished with hand-embroidered ivory flowers and trimmed in white lace. She couldn’t wait to wear it for Forrester.

  “You’ll never guess,” Meg said, “who’s in yer father’s library right now.”

  Dot knew very well who was there. Would her father and her betrothed be discussing marriage settlements and those boring financial matters? How happy she was that she was not taking part in those discussions.

  * * *

  The prospect of addressing Dot’s father made Appleton even more nervous than actually asking the lady for her hand in marriage. He supposed his fears emanated from guilt. Knowing how dearly Mr. Pankhurst cherished his daughter and would expect his daughter to be cherished, Appleton worried that the father would suspect Appleton’s true motives for wishing to wed his only child.

  What would he say if the father asked him if he was in love with Dot? Appleton abhorred lying.

  Mr. Pankhurst put him at ease immediately, clasping his hand and shaking it vigorously as he smiled and referred to him as my boy. “Do let’s come into my library.”

  Like the rest of the house, the scarlet library was decorated in excellent taste, with walnut paneled walls and furnishings. “Let us sit on the sofa before the fire. There’s quite a chill after all this blasted rain.”

  They sank into a plush red velvet. “So I’m finally going to have a son,” Mr. Pankhurst began. The man could barely contain his glee. He was as excited as a pauper who’d won the sweepstakes. “And a lord at that! I don’t mind telling you I couldn’t have wished for a better mate for my girl.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I’m the fortunate one.” He hoped such a remark would appease the adoring father.

  “You certainly are! Just you wait and see what a
fine wife you’ve selected, my lord. Tell me, when do you plan to marry my girl?”

  “I thought we ought to spend a bit of time together to get to know one another better, but I’d like to marry before the month’s out. I shall, of course, procure a special license.”

  Mr. Pankhurst nodded. “A good plan, I daresay. You need to have time with each other without a lot of other people. Just you and Dot, free to talk to each other without disruptions.”

  “I agree.”

  The older man cleared his throat. “I’ve done a bit of asking around about you.”

  Appleton’s stomach dropped. “As a dutiful father should.”

  “It’s come to my attention that you’ve recently come into some serious financial losses.”

  Uh oh. He felt as if he’d been walloped with a tree trunk. How in the devil had Pankhurst learned that? Appleton supposed that a man with very deep pockets could obtain whatever information he sought. “I won’t deny it. It’s the first time in my thirty years I’ve ever done anything so foolish, and I give you my word it will never happen again.”

  Mr. Pankhurst’s face grew solemn as he nodded. “I suppose you know I’m a very wealthy man?”

  “I won’t deny that, either, sir.”

  “Dot has a generous dowry, and when I’m gone, all my property will go to her.”

  “You must know that as head of the Appleton family I’m obliged to live on our estate. When not at Bath, I plan to live at Hawthorne Manor as my ancestors have for the past two-hundred-and-fifty years. If Dot should inherit . . . Blandings, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  “It would always stay in our family, but I see it going to one of our children, perhaps a second son. He could even take on the name Pankhurst.”

  It was a few seconds before the older man responded. Had he offended him? Was something wrong? Then Appleton saw that Mr. Pankhurst must be overcome with emotion. His eyes moistened. “A grandson. A grandson to carry on all I’ve built. My own father would be so proud.”

  Appleton had not contemplated having children with Dot, but now the prospect held vast appeal. The more sons, the better! “I should be very proud to enter into a parental partnership with one as . . . as intelligent and as caring as your daughter.” He hadn’t lied. He truly meant what he said. And he hadn’t stretched the truth and professed to be in love with this man’s daughter.

  “I believe the two of you will have very fine children, and I give you my blessing. My solicitor will draw up the settlements.”

  The meeting had gone as well as Appleton could have hoped. He rose and shook his future father-in-law’s hand. “I’d like to see Dot now, if she’s seeing callers.”

  “She’s received another of her lovely dresses, therefore, I believe she’ll be wanting to display herself in it to her betrothed.” Mr. Pankhurst rang for a servant and when the butler came, instructed him to tell the lady that Lord Appleton was calling on Miss Pankhurst.

  “Now,” Mr. Pankhurst said, “I’ll let you be alone with your betrothed.”

  Unlike his own sisters, who could take hours to make themselves presentable, his affianced came downstairs almost immediately. He could scarcely credit it when she entered the cozy library. It was as if sparkling sunshine burst into the chamber from beyond the scarlet draperies. It was impossible not to be cheerful when confronted with Dot’s perpetual smile.

  Miss Dorothea Pankhurst could now hold her own amongst the most fashionable ladies in London’s finest ballrooms. Not that she was overly dressed this afternoon. Was his sister responsible for the perfection of Dot’s new wardrobe? Although he did not consider himself an expert on female clothing, he believed the simple lines of the dress she wore today not only to be in excellent taste, but the dress was also most becoming.

  Its stark white dotted with tiny hand-emroidered flowers complemented her dark colouring. Those very dark locks of hers swept back elegantly as if fashioned by an expert stylist.

  He’d not previously noticed how very white her teeth were. He supposed the white of the dress accentuated them.

  The more he was discovering about Miss Pankhurst, er, Dot, the more he realized he’d done fairly well for himself. He’d been prepared to sacrifice himself for his family, and while he was still denying himself a true love, he realized the tender-hearted Miss . . . Dot had many fine attributes.

  Plus a large fortune.

  “I am bereft of words to describe your loveliness, my dear Dot.”

  She came and offered her hand, and he pressed his lips to it. While he normally only air kissed a woman’s hand, this time his lips actually touched her flesh. It was far more intimate than he’d meant.

  Colour rose in her cheeks.

  “I am gratified the rain has stopped,” he said.

  “As am I.”

  They stood motionless.

  “I thought perhaps you and I could stroll the city. Now that we are properly betrothed, you won’t need the benefit of a chaperone.” He proffered his arm.

  She moved to him. “I should like that very much.”

  She went to procure gloves, hat and cape—which he helped to drape around her. Once they were on the pavement, he asked, “Have you been yet to Sydney Gardens?”

  “No.”

  “It’s probably not the best day because it will be soggy, but the walk will do us good after this wretched rain that’s kept us indoors for so many days.”

  “The gardens are on the other side of the River Avon, are they not?”

  “Yes, but everything’s close in Bath. So different than London.”

  “I would love to see London one day.”

  “I’ll take you there after we’re married.”

  “Do you have a house there?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just the one here in Bath and the family seat in Shropshire.”

  “What is it called?”

  “Hawthorne Manor.”

  “And when you’re in London, where do you stay?”

  “As close to Westminster as possible. The Appletons have always let houses there for the Parliamentary season.”

  “You’ll serve?”

  “I’ve been putting it off. My brother did and my father before him.” He drew a breath. “It’s my duty. None of my friends serve. I’ve been trying to persuade Sir Elvin to stand for the House of Commons. He can afford to.”

  “Keep trying. He seems to be rather influenced by you.”

  She was uncommonly perceptive. How could she have known after just a couple of brief meetings how easily Elvin was persuaded by him? “I do feel that if I were in Parliament, Sir Elvin would be more interested in serving.”

  Cloudy skies and puddled streets kept many indoors but seemed not to have affected the chair men’s brisk business. If anything, these burly men were busier than ever on these muddy days. Appleton thought it might be cheaper to use a sedan chair than to repair damage to mud-stained clothing and shoes. Particularly ladies’ shoes.

  Dot turned to him. “Do you know where Ellie Macintosh lived?”

  “I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

  “I just thought . . . I thought I’d like to make inquiries about her. It’s not right that her killer not be punished.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, but surely you’re not suggesting that you plan to try to track down a murdering maniac?”

  Her step slowed, and she looked up at him with those big, nearly black eyes. “Not me. Us. Did you not vow to be my protector? You said you wouldn’t permit me to go about the city without you.”

  “So I did.” Before he’d left his house that morning, he’d warned Annie not to leave. Bath was not a safe place for unescorted young women as long as the madman was loose.

  They reached Pulteney Bridge. “The architecture of the buildings on this bridge seems different than the uniformity of architecture throughout the city,” she commented. “I do love the designs of the Woods.”

  She was a remarkably observant young woman. “This bridge was not de
signed by the Woods. It was designed by the Scottish architect Robert Adam.”

  “Oh, my sweet heavens, I should have been able to recognize it! Mr. Adam designed the orangery at Blandings for my grandfather, and I’ve always been interested in his work.”

  “How fortunate you are. I must tell you Hawthorne Manor has nothing as grand as an orangery nor is it as grand as the least of Adam’s designs.”

  She squeezed his arm. “I’m certain I shall love it.”

  How strange it seemed that this woman he’d known for so short a time would be mistress of his ancestral home. At least he’d selected someone he admired. Not just any woman could be permitted to step into his dear mother’s slippers.

  As they continued walking, he grew solemn. Now that she had brought up Ellie, he was not able to dispel the poor girl from his thoughts. “When you mentioned Ellie Macintosh’s lodgings, did you think I might . . . I would never bring this up with you if we were not betrothed . . . did you think I might have been . . . intimate with the young lady?”

  She shrugged. “I thought there was some likelihood that she might have been the sort of young woman who mingled with her patrons in such a manner.”

  “You are right to think that many women employed in such a place conduct themselves in such a way, but Ellie wasn’t like that.”

  “Which makes her death even sadder, does it not?”

  “It does. There was an innocence about her.”

  “We must do something.”

  “You’re right. What do you propose?” He couldn’t believe he was asking her for advice. This was a young woman who had admittedly never before been away from rural Lincolnshire. She was seven years his junior. But she was possessed of admirable common sense.

  “You must ask Mrs. Starr where Ellie lived. Then we must go there and speak to her landlord and to her neighbors. Someone had to have seen a man milling around. There’s a very good probability that man is responsible for her death.”

  Chapter 8

  That night Forrester escorted Dot and his sister to a musical. To make the evening even more enjoyable, Mrs. Gainsworth, who surely must have seamstresses employed around the clock, sent over a pair of extraordinary dresses from which Dot could select this evening’s ensemble. She settled on an exquisite dress of crimson crepe with a long-sleeved robe of the same colour, its center opening trimmed entirely in ermine. Dot paired it with ivory satin slippers trimmed in silver.