Once Upon a Time in Bath

by Cheryl Bolen

  “Because I had reason to believe word was getting out about Miss Pankhurst’s fortune, and I feared her drawing room would turn into a bloody mob of suitors.”

  Elvin gave him a quizzing stare. “And you don’t have confidence that you could have won her affections amongst a broad field of admirers?”

  “I had no desire to prolong the courtship. I’d made up my mind and was ready to act on my decision.”

  “Then you have no doubts? No regrets?”

  Of course he had regrets! He’d longed to marry a beautiful woman who captivated him the same way Glee had bewitched Blanks or Catherine Bexley had won Melvin’s undying devotion.

  But he vowed to never mention those regrets to anyone. He owed Dot that much respect. “I have found that Miss Pankhurst and I suit very well, and I’m a most fortunate man.”

  He actually was most fortunate to have secured the lady’s hand. Had he not met her on the precise day he did, someone else might have snared her affections. Thank God for that bloody cat of hers!

  “My only regret is that you feel things will change between you and me.” Appleton’s gaze locked with Elvin’s. “They won’t. You’ll always be my closest friend. And confidant.”

  Elvin drank up. “Then I’ve behaved like a bloody woman.”

  They both laughed. “God, don’t say that. You’re my respite from the fair sex—with whom I’ve spent far too much time as of late.”

  “I must say there’s been a remarkable transformation in your intended. Misjudged her. She does credit to her gender. Wouldn’t know she’d not always mingled with the likes of our sisters.”

  Sir Elvin regarded his friend, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. “I am given to understand she attended the musical last night without her cats.”

  Appleton really did not appreciate anyone, not even his closest friend, thinking Dot peculiar. “I believe the lady’s excessive attachment to her felines was encouraged because of her isolation. She’s an only child. Now she has me, Annie, and many new friends that should supplant those demmed cats.”

  “Good to know. Didn’t like to think of you toting around those cats.”

  “There are some things at which I will draw the line.”

  Laughing, Elvin got up to refill their glasses. “How can you possibly have anything in common with a lass from Lincolnshire?”

  “Surprisingly, we get along far better than I had expected. In fact, she intrinsically understood how upset I was about Ellie’s death. Even though she’d never met her, she has been very disturbed over the murder.”

  “What woman wouldn’t be?” Sir Elvin shook his head. “I can’t dispel it from my thoughts. Such a terrible thing. It’s the kind of tragedy one might expect in London, but not here in Bath, and not to someone we saw regularly. Ellie was so pretty. And young. Terrible pity.”

  “Did you ever hear of her mixing with any of the patrons outside of Mrs. Starr’s?”

  Elvin’s eyes rounded. “Ellie? Never. There was something . . . well, something innocent about her.”

  Appleton nodded. “I too felt that way about her.” He hesitated a moment, then decided to share with Elvin the inquiries he and Dot had made. “I found out from Mrs. Starr where she lived, and Dot and I went there.”

  “I take it Dot is Miss Pankhurst?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whatever did you go to Ellie’s for?”

  “Miss Pankhurst feels it’s our duty to bring the murderer to justice.”

  Elvin’s brows scrunched together. “She knows who he is?”

  “Good lord, no! But it’s our aim to discover his identity.”

  “Sounds bloody dangerous. The blighter’s killed once already!”

  “Be assured I won’t let Dot out of my sight.”

  “You are not invincible! Looks like I’m not going to be able to let you out of my sight!” Elvin took a long sip of Madera. “So what did you learn at Ellie’s lodgings?”

  Appleton told him everything they’d discovered.

  “There’s no way Ellie could have saved up fifty pounds on the pittance Mrs. Starr gives her girls,” Elvin said, “and we know Ellie wasn’t interested in earning money in other ways.”

  “I will own, it’s highly suspicious, but the only explanation is that she likely did earn money and likely from one of the patrons of Mrs. Starr’s. Now we have to find out who he was.”

  “Maryann must know. Apparently Maryann was her closest—and possibly her only—friend. Do you want me to speak to her?” Elvin asked.

  “No. Dot and I will. I wish you could have seen the clever way Dot handled the landlady. I will need you to speak to Maryann for us and set up a meeting since I refuse to step foot in a gaming establishment ever again.”

  Elvin looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted a halo. “You really were serious?”

  “Have you ever in these past twenty plus years that you’ve known me known me to go back on my word?”

  Elvin pondered the question a moment, and then shook his head. “You’re the most truthful fellow I know, save for Melvin.”

  Appleton stood. “So you’ll speak to Maryann about meeting us?”

  “I will.” Elvin got up. “There’s something else I wanted to ask you.”

  “Yes?”

  “What do you plan to do about Mrs. Pratt?”

  Appleton sighed and sank back into the chair. “I’d forgotten all about her.”

  “How does one forget about one’s mistress?”

  “Since the night I lost my fortune, I’ve had more important things on my mind. There was also the fact that I had no money with which to either maintain her or to give her a parting settlement. Still don’t.”

  Nodding, Sir Elvin grabbed the decanter and poured out two more glasses. “Those problems will be solved once you’re married and acquire the Pankhurst wealth.”

  Appleton slowly shook his head. “I can’t use Dot’s money to keep a mistress, you idiot!”

  Elvin’s lips puckered. “You can’t?”

  “Course not. And even if I had my own money, being an unfaithful bridegroom would make me feel like a traitor.”

  “Like you thought your father a traitor to your mother?”

  “Good lord, did I tell you that?”

  Elvin nodded. “When you were quite young—and far more religious than you are now.”

  Appleton might sometimes think like a bloody moralist, but he no longer went around lambasting those who didn’t. After all, he had his reputation as a profligate to uphold.

  He just hoped Dot hadn’t learned of that.

  He sighed. “I believe I will have that glass of Madera.”

  He did need to consider what to do about Mrs. Pratt.

  * * *

  “What, pray tell, is that sedan chair doing in our entry hall?” Dot demanded, eyeing her father impatiently.

  In his usual armchair near the fire, his feet resting on an upholstered stool, Mr. Pankhurst looked up at her, a sheepish expression on his face. “’Tis a shame to waste two such strapping footmen when the act of getting around this hilly city is so difficult for one with my infirmities. Gives them something to do, carrying me to and from the baths and such.”

  She put her hands to hips and glared at him. “We came to Bath to get you well, not to make you even more of an invalid. You will become so reliant on the chair, you’ll become a cripple. Is that what you want? At nine-and-forty? To be a frail, reclusive old man?” She knew she was being harsh, but it was the only way to treat him.

  He was like a spoiled child accustomed to always getting his own way, and like a child, he did not always make decisions that were in his best interest. Lamentably, because he’d been born to great wealth, he’d always been uncommonly lazy. Even too lazy to walk.

  Her father effected a persecuted expression. “Of course I don’t choose to be an invalid. You have no idea how I long for the days of my youth when I was fit. I don’t mind telling you I was one mean cricket player! And I wasn’t half bad a
t boxing and fencing and any manner of young men’s pursuits that required physical stamina.” He sighed. “And now walking has become an ordeal.”

  She came to sit on a chair facing him and spoke in a more tender voice. “I don’t mean to be an ogre, but it’s my belief you’ve brought much of this infirmity upon yourself.”

  “How can you say that? How cruel!”

  “I believe one of the reasons walking’s an ordeal is because you do so little of it, your bones and muscles cry out from disuse. The best thing for you is activity.”

  She prayed she was right, that she was not misjudging a potentially chronic condition of her father’s. “And I truly believe that your penchant for brandy exacerbates problems, like gout, that contribute to painful walking.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Fiddlefudge!”

  She shrugged. “You’re not only hurting yourself. You’re hurting me. I love you. And what about my future children? Would you deprive them of . . .” The very notion of losing her father caused tears to spring to her eyes.

  Topham entered the chamber and stood just inside the doorway, erect as the king’s own sentries. “A Mrs. Blankenship is calling, sir. She has brought two small persons with her and says she has come to see the kittens.”

  Dot popped up from her seat, swiped at her moist eyes, and turned to her father. “How delightful! You be all that is gracious to the lady whilst I gather up my kitties.” Only Nellie was currently in the drawing room, curled up sleeping on the window seat.

  Which Mrs. Blankenship was calling, Dot fleetingly wondered, but decided it must be Glee since she had broached the subject of bringing her son and daughter to visit Dot’s cats.

  Locating three more cats might not be an easy task. She quickly found Preenie Queenie curled up on a window seat, this one in Dot’s bedchamber, the sun almost sparkling off her white fur.

  But Dot was having no luck finding Lover Boy or Fur Blossom.

  Then she saw that the chambermaid must have left her father’s bedchamber door open. That would be an invitation to her curious cats, who were not permitted in her father’s rooms. She followed her instincts and quickly saw Fur Blossom’s glossy black-and-white fur coiled into Papa’s wash basin. “Come, you naughty kitty,” she said as she picked up the cat.

  Someone had left open the drawer to her father’s desk, and that silly Lover Boy had tried to stuff his fat orange body into the drawer half his size. She had to laugh.

  Moments later, she strolled into the drawing room carrying Lover Boy and Fur Blossom. She was surprised that it was the elder Mrs. Blankenship who had brought her grandchildren.

  When the children looked up and saw her with the two cats, they squealed with delight.

  “Why do you not sit down so we can put a cat in each of your laps?” Dot suggested.

  The lovely little girl, who looked about five and who vastly resembled her fiery-haired mother, almost flew to the sofa, then patted the spot next to her for her little brother to come sit.

  And little he was! The lad obviously could not yet talk and had only just learned to walk. With dark hair and eyes, he was the image of his father. Dot could well understand how the parents and grandmother could dote on such adorable children.

  “This cat’s name is Lover Boy,” Dot said as she placed him on the little girl’s lap.

  The little girl giggled.

  When the little boy went to pet Lover Boy, his sister snapped at him. “This one’s mine.”

  “And this is yours.” Dot placed Fur Blossom on the lad’s lap. His little hands immediately began to stroke the cat’s soft hair. “Her name is Fur Blossom,” Dot said in a softened voice.

  “That’s a silly name,” the little girl said. Then she eyed her brother and slowly pronounced the word “Kitty” in an attempt to extend his vocabulary while she went to pet the animal.

  “Mine!” he said.

  Dot could see he’d learned at least one word.

  “Children, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Pankhurst’s daughter, Miss Pankhurst,” their grandmother said. Turning to Dot, she placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “This is my granddaughter Joy.” Then she settled a gentle hand on the little boy’s dark hair. “This is my grandson we still call Little Gregory.”

  “He certainly resembles his father. How old is he?”

  “Fifteen months.”

  “I daresay that’s still a baby,” Mr. Pankhurst said.

  Dot directed her attention at the little girl. “And how old are you, Joy?”

  “Four and a half.”

  Before Dot left to find Nellie, she observed that her father had removed his feet from the stool and sat erect. He looked far more vibrant.

  “I’ve one more cat to fetch,” Dot said. “I cannot vouch for how long these cats will behave themselves. Perhaps with four from which to choose we can manage two on decent behavior.”

  When she returned with Nellie, her father and Mrs. Blankenship scarcely noticed. They were deep in conversation.

  It occurred to Dot they were not very far apart in age. Blanks was the same age as Forrester—thirty. But now that she thought about it, hadn’t someone said something about this woman being Blanks’ stepmother? Yet she was old enough to have a son who was married to a woman in their circle. So she had to be close to Dot’s father’s age.

  This lady did look exceedingly handsome for a woman in her mid-forties. She had far fewer gray hairs in her dark brown hair than Dot’s father, and she had not gone to fat. And, like all those Dot had mingled with since she’d been in Bath, this woman dressed in excellent taste.

  While Dot played with the children and the cats, she pondered her father. Had the isolation back at Blandings contributed to his malaise? Judging from the lively way he was conversing with this woman, he must have missed being around people of his own age and background.

  Coming to Bath had been the best thing they had ever done. For her father—and especially for Dot.

  Now she needed to integrate him into the city’s social activities.

  Mrs. Blankenship tossed a glance at the assemblage of cats. “My but you have several—and they’re all vastly different.”

  Dot nodded. As much as she loved others to admire her cats, she needed to be a better hostess.

  Fur Blossom suddenly leapt from Baby Gregory’s lap, and the tot attempted to run after her.

  Dot disturbed the sleeping Nellie. “Here, Gregory. Why don’t you make friends with this kitty? Come sit on the floor.” She patted the floor.

  He came and plopped down on the Turkey carpet in front of the hearth, and Dot placed Nellie on his lap. She kept her hand there a moment, stroking the cat in the hopes of keeping Nellie from abandoning the little boy.

  “What’s that cat’s name?” Joy asked.

  “This is Nellie.”

  Joy picked up Lover Boy and hugged him. “So they’re all girls except my Lover Boy?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you get to sleep with your kitties?” Joy asked.

  Dot nodded.

  “I wish I had a kitty,” little Joy said in a forlorn voice. “In the country, we are permitted to have dogs, but they live outdoors.”

  “Have you ever asked for a kitty?”

  Joy shrugged. “I’m going to go home and ask for one today. I think I’ll ask Papa. He never tells me no.”

  Dot laughed to herself. That tall, handsome Gregory “Blanks” Blankenship was easily commanded by his tiny, adored four-year-old daughter.

  She felt a fluttering in her breast. Would Forrester ever be similarly smitten over a daughter Dot might one day bear him? The very notion turned her insides to porridge.

  The children played with the cats for another ten minutes before their grandmother stood. First she turned to Dot. “I neglected to offer felicitations on your forthcoming nuptials to Lord Appleton. What a wonderful match it is for both of you. I was very happy to learn of it from Glee after she attended the musical.”

  “Thank you,�
�� Dot said. “I’m rather happy myself.”

  “We need to go now, children, but perhaps Mr. and Miss Pankhurst will permit us to come again?” Mrs. Blankenship eyed Dot’s father.

  “It will be our pleasure,” he said. He then stood and walked them to the door without the slightest sign of a limp.

  Once they were gone, Dot took up the afternoon’s edition of the Bath Chronicle and returned to the drawing room to sit before the window and read it where the light was best. Lover Boy came to curl up in her lap.

  Her father, too, came to sit near her, his customary glass of brandy in his hand. “I found the Blankenship children to be well behaved.”

  She nodded. “I wish my kitties behaved as nicely.”

  “Mrs. Blankenship is a most handsome woman. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Dot set down her newspaper and regarded her father. This was the first time in her life he had ever taken notice of a woman’s appearance. “I certainly would. In fact, I’m surprised some widower has not snatched her up. It’s my understanding she’s been widowed for a few years.”

  “Yes, she told me her late husband has been gone for six years.”

  “It seemed to me the two of you did not want for conversation.”

  “Indeed. She’s remarkably easy to talk to. It’s as if I’ve known her for quite some time, like we’re old friends.”

  “I daresay it’s because you have a great deal in common.”

  “I believe you’re right, but then you always are.”

  “The next time we go to an assembly or a musical at night, we must see that Mrs. Blankenship also comes,” Dot suggested.

  “A capital idea!”

  How happy it made her to see her father in such good humor. She picked up her paper and continued reading. First, she looked for news about Ellie Macintosh’s murder. There was no new information, only sensational interviews with women thoroughly convinced they were to be the next victims of the evil madman.

  When she finished that, she turned to another page. Even though she knew very few people in Bath, she enjoyed reading the silly Society column that was always filled with scandalous tidbits. Today’s mentioned a certain flirtation observed at the Pump Room between a Mrs. A____y and a Mr. P-----n. Then she read one that caused her heartbeat to roar.