An Indelicate Situation (The Weymouth Trilogy)

by Lizzie Church

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Wright, I could not see the reticule in Mrs Staveley’s room at all. Are you sure you left it there?’

  Mrs Wright hardly looked at her.

  ‘Oh, not to worry, Miss Owens – I have found it here after all. I thought I had left it there but obviously I had not.’

  A little annoyed that her employer had not even the manners to thank her for her effort, Maggie left her to her own devices and resumed her original mission back to the sanctuary of the schoolroom.

  Although she generally taught – or attempted to teach – the twins throughout the day, that particular afternoon was turning out to be somewhat different from usual. Will had been excused the schoolroom for once, having caught some nasty infection from another child of his acquaintance on a brief visit to him earlier in the week, and with Augusta safely ensconced with Mr Hayward Maggie actually found that she had an unexpected and very welcome hour all to herself. The feeling of perfect freedom was delicious, and though she had half planned to spend the time in preparation for some further lessons she managed to convince herself of the absolute necessity of purchasing some extra materials with which to embellish them. The decision reached, the choice of supplier was easily made. As well as serving its main function of lending books to the literate Weymouth public Harvey’s library, a five minute walk along the Esplanade, also stocked all nature of interesting treats and trinkets. Together with the added attraction of providing a pleasant walk along the busy sea-front it was the obvious place to go.

  Maggie quickly donned her spencer and a neat little small-brimmed bonnet and, parasol at the ready, slipped out of the heavy front door and into some glorious August sunshine outside. She blinked in the unaccustomed brightness and sniffed the sea air appreciatively. The greatness of the outdoors, with the clear blue of the sky and the vast twinkling sea across the road, provided a stark and instant contrast to the dingy closeness of the world in Grosvenor Place. It was just like escaping a prison and she suddenly felt a great surge of happiness and freedom as she stepped lightly down the roadway. At one point she crossed over and stood for a moment, staring out to sea, watching the children as they played happily together on the broad sandy beach and eyeing up the curious octagonal bathing machines which stood idly along its edge, their work apparently over for the day.

  It was as she was standing there, lost in herself for a moment, that she suddenly became aware of a movement next to her and the touch of a hand upon her arm. She looked round and her eyes were immediately confronted by the eyes of Mr Wright looking smilingly at her and, next to him, those of Mr Staveley doing exactly the self same thing.

  Mr Wright’s face crinkled a little.

  ‘A pleasant surprise, Miss Owens.’

  It appeared that the two gentlemen had been drinking.

  Maggie bobbed a little curtsy in their direction.

  ‘I find myself at leisure for a few minutes, Mr Wright. I am come to Harvey’s in order to buy some provisions.’

  ‘Ha – then you must come along with us,’ said Mr Wright, boldly. ‘Mr Staveley and I were just about to take a look through the telescope there. Mr Staveley is hoping to identify the ships in the bay,’ here Mr Wright gestured vaguely in the direction of the far horizon on which, just visible, Maggie could see a number of indeterminate small dots which could, indeed, have been ships. ‘Have you looked through the telescope, Miss Owens? It is much to be recommended, I can assure you.’

  Maggie acknowledged that she had never had the pleasure of looking through the telescope, which was apparently housed on an upper floor of the library, and in another minute she found herself being taken by the arm, propelled into Harvey’s and directed immediately up the stairs.

  ‘Here,’ Mr Wright was saying, finding a vacant position in a corner and guiding her towards it. ‘Allow me to set it up for you, Miss Owens.’

  William fiddled about with the telescope for a moment, although, perhaps due to the slightly intoxicated state of his brain just then, he did not appear to be having much effect. It was probably fortunate, therefore, that Mr Staveley – although demonstrating a similar level of incapacity to that of his cousin – was a good deal more familiar with the workings of a telescope than his companion was. Whilst William indulged himself – and, to be fair, Maggie as well – by ensuring that she was in just the position to see through the lens – a situation which required her to stoop a little in order to achieve a proper view - Mr Staveley obliged her by taking her commentary and undertaking the task of focusing it on her behalf. As he did so Maggie became aware that Mr Wright had taken the opportunity provided by his close proximity to allow his hand to discover her bottom, where it was now in the process of a surreptitious exploration which involved a lingering appraisal of its curves.

  Now Maggie well knew that, fuddled or not, it was not at all proper for her employer to be investigating her person in quite so familiar a manner. She similarly knew that, as a young lady of respectable upbringing and impeccable credentials, she should immediately stand herself upright, remove herself from the vicinity and even, perhaps, slap the gentleman in the face for his trouble. She knew all of this very well. But she also knew that – well, that she was enjoying the sensation that William’s touch was eliciting, that she was enjoying the knowledge that she was attractive to him – and that she was finding it singularly difficult to tear herself away.

  She managed it in the end, however – although, sadly, more by dint of a singular lack of success with the telescope than through any real conviction of what it was right for her to do. Standing up straight once more and turning, blushingly, to face him, she had to admit that unfortunately she would not have the time that day to acquire the skill that was apparently involved in successfully utilising a telescope, and begged leave of both him and his companion to resume her errands on the floor below.

  ‘For your daughter’s music lesson must end in an instant, Mr Wright,’ she reminded him, as her employer looked inclined to try to detain her. ‘It would be most inappropriate for me to be absent when it does.’

  The gentlemen bowed gravely.

  ‘It is a pity that you must go, Miss Owens,’ conceded William, slurring ever such a little, ‘though I can see in those pretty eyes of yours that you are determined to do so. But before I allow you to slip away entirely I require a solemn promise from you that you will honour me with another visit when your time is more your own.’

  In saying this he tried to catch her by the hand to prevent her from escaping before making the required promise. In this, however, she was just too quick for him. Giggling and blushing, she sprang away and surveyed both gentlemen a little impishly.

  ‘You will need to do better than that to exact such a promise from me, sir,’ she assured him, tossing her head just a little. ‘Though I find the thought of some further exploration most alluring, I can assure you.’

  Maggie bobbed both gentlemen a little curtsy and slipped off down the stairs, an appreciative smile just lingering on Mr Wright’s handsome face.

  Chapter 9

  Mr Staveley was not the only young gentleman to escort his lady to the assembly rooms later that same evening. Mr and Mrs Berkeley, both of whom were extremely fond of dancing, had also engaged to attend with Captain and Mrs John. Much to the amusement, and not a little teasing, of their friends, the Berkeleys always insisted on dancing together for far more dances than was generally thought desirable, and when they were finally prized apart by their reluctant acknowledgement of other claims to their attention they attempted, by any means possible, to remain in the same set as each other at every opportunity.

  This evening, however, Kathryn being a little tired and her brother-in-law not being a great dancer, she suggested that her husband might like to treat his sister to a turn about the floor whilst she sat down for a quarter hour with Captain Wright. It was as she did this that her attention was suddenly caught by a little drama which was then being enacted before her very eyes. For standing close enough for her to
touch him, though totally oblivious to her presence, was the familiar, careless form of a young gentleman who appeared to be watching Mr Staveley dancing with Miss Brewer with the air of someone who would rather be doing the self same thing himself. Not that this particular young gentleman would have looked quite so cumbersome as Mr Staveley did. No indeed. Despite now approaching his thirtieth year he retained the athletic frame, dark curls, silver ear-rings and compelling eyes that Kathryn remembered from a brief acquaintance with him several years before, and she had no doubt of his ability to throw himself about a dance floor with an exquisite, if somewhat careless, grace. For the young gentleman in question was none other than Mr Augustus Rowley-Jones, the Captain of a particularly comely privateer, who had once lodged with Captain and Mrs John whilst his boat was berthed on the quay. Now Mr Rowley-Jones was memorable to Kathryn for being a gentleman who had played some role in ensuring her own happiness in this life. For, having materialised just when Mr Berkeley had foolishly become entangled with Miss Brewer and been induced into asking her to be his wife, Mr Rowley-Jones had very quickly managed to introduce her to the more exciting potential offered by a rich and adventurous gentleman such as himself to a fascinating young lady such as she, as opposed to the distinct lack of potential offered by a former landscape engineer who had tied up all his capital in developing the town. In persuading the young lady of the error of her ways Mr Rowley-Jones had succeeded in establishing himself for ever in Kathryn’s mind as a gentleman worthy of a good deal of gratitude. And indeed, at that moment she was thanking God for his surfeit of prize-money - ever of prime interest to the selfless Miss Brewer - his adventurous spirit and his dark, seductive eyes – the same seductive eyes that were still fixed admiringly on the vision of loveliness that he could obviously see before him. Poor Mr Staveley possessed none of the advantages of Mr Rowley Jones, and yet it was he who, just at that moment, was clasping Miss Brewer’s delicate hand in a desperate attempt to maintain his position in the set.

  Captain Wright having wandered away for a moment in order to find her some lemonade, Kathryn was able to watch the three protagonists at her leisure, which she did with a good deal of interest. She could see that Mr Staveley was perfectly innocent of Mr Rowley-Jones’ presence not four yards from where he was currently standing – but that Miss Brewer most certainly was not. She could also see that Miss Brewer was flirting outrageously with her bear-like companion – fluttering her fan tremendously, half smiling as she lowered her eyelids when he happened to look in her direction (which was not often, to be sure, as Mr Staveley was finding it necessary to study the couple before him for most of the time in case he should show himself up and quite lose his way), and taking his hand for a moment longer than was strictly necessary, at every opportunity. And before her brother-in-law had returned to her side, lemonade duly acquired, she had fully determined that the charming Miss Brewer was making good use of Mr Staveley in a most ungenerous attempt to generate some jealousy in the hitherto unconquered heart of Mr Rowley-Jones. Kathryn saw and determined all of this inside five minutes and it came as quite a surprise to her to realise that none of the other protagonists appeared to have the slightest inkling of what was going on at all.

  ‘I can see that there will be some heartbreak there,’ she remarked to her husband, once the dance was over and he was safely restored to her side. ‘Poor Mr Staveley is no match for the likes of a Rowley-Jones and yet she is leading him on quite tremendously. The wretched man can hardly believe his luck. It doesn’t seem quite fair on Miss Brewer’s part.’

  Andrew had managed to catch the eye of Mr Rowley-Jones and they were just then in the process of exchanging familiar little bows.

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry about it over much, my dear,’ he assured his wife airily. ‘Mr Staveley will quickly get over his disappointment, that’s for sure. It is Mr Rowley-Jones who perhaps deserves your sympathies the more. After all, if you are right and Miss Brewer really has set her cap at him then the poor man will need to look to himself if he is going to survive the onslaught. Now – would you care to do me the honour of standing up for the next dance with me, or would you prefer just to call it a night and go along straight home?’

  Chapter 10

  In recognition of her largesse in welcoming them twice into her dining room, Mrs William was soon possessed of an invitation from Mr and Mrs Berkeley to take her place amongst the guests at a garden party in the grounds of Belvoir House. It is probably not necessary to report that Mrs William was overjoyed by this attention, which, for her, marked her family’s acceptance into the highest echelons of the society that remained in Weymouth now that Royalty no longer patronised the town, although this rapture was muted somewhat by the explicit inclusion of Miss Owens in the Wright family invitation. Indeed, had it been left entirely to her Mrs William would most definitely have refused permission for Maggie even to think of attending. After all, this was exactly what she had feared by including her in the dinner party at Grosvenor Place in the first place and was guaranteed to give the wretched girl a sense of importance that she patently did not deserve. But sadly, and rather unaccountably, her husband seemed to be of the opinion that Mr and Mrs Berkeley would take it as a personal insult should Maggie be refused the opportunity to attend and so, albeit with little attempt at good grace, his gentle wife finally agreed to be persuaded as to the absolute necessity of her participation, and Maggie was to go to the event after all.

  Mrs William’s excessive joy might well have suffered some mitigation had she been party to the conversation which had immediately preceded the issue of the Berkeleys’ invitation, the jist of which had been ‘how they could provide the return invitation to the Wright family that politeness demanded whilst exposing themselves as little as possible to the lady’s unpleasant and overbearing presence.’ The idea of a garden party having been immediately hit upon as being just the thing, as it would enable them to reward not only their immediate friends and relatives but also the wider community of Weymouth of which Mr Berkeley, in particular, formed a valuable part, Kathryn had straightway set about organising and arranging it with the utmost care but the minimum of fuss.

  The day of the garden party dawned bright and sunny. Maggie dressed carefully, delighted that Mr Wright had intervened on her behalf, although maybe a little nervous at the thought of actually attending the event itself. Given the grandeur of the occasion it was extremely fortunate that many of her old gowns still fitted her. She had been reckless enough to order a number of them on going to school several years before, and her father, despite his own concerns, had done nothing to prevent her. It was equally fortunate that fashions had altered only marginally in the ensuing years and that her own sewing skills, though utilised with little enthusiasm, were sufficient to effect the slight changes required to bring them reasonably up to date – some taking up of trains here, some extra flounces there. She hoped that Mrs William would not disapprove of her selection. Maggie had always been careful to dress modestly and soberly whilst carrying out her official duties but she reasoned to herself - not altogether successfully – that her employer should actually have no reason to complain about her garbing herself a little more attractively on her very occasional day off. The selected garment was a pale pink muslin gown with a darker lavender overdress and tiny puff sleeves, which Maggie considered to reveal the excellence of her figure in a subtle sort of a way without it coming across as at all saucy or immodest.

  Be that as it may, Mrs William did eye her askance as she appeared in the hallway to await Mr Brewer’s carriage at Grosvenor Place on the afternoon of the Berkeleys’ party. The offer of this carriage was the happy result of Miss Brewer’s kind consideration, the Wrights not maintaining an equipage of their own. Needless to say, the offer had been most readily and speedily accepted by Mrs Wright, not least because it allowed her the gratification of an outing in a very smart landau at absolutely no expense to herself at all. Although there was a shorter pedestrian route to Belvoir House along a
trackway leading up from the brewery square, the distance there from Grosvenor Place by road was probably a couple of miles or so on the other side of the river - certainly far too far for a lady of Mrs William’s sedentary habits to attempt on foot in the heat of a summer’s day. On the other hand, as the distance was not too excessive it had been determined that the one carriage would be able to undertake two trips, with Mr and Mrs William with Mrs Staveley and Mr Brewer in the first iteration, and Freddy, Maggie and Miss Brewer in the second. This being the case, and the carriage just then appearing, Mrs William was whisked into it by her husband - who had given Maggie a much more appreciative appraisal than his wife had done - and Miss Brewer equally swiftly whisked out of it, before she had too much time to complain.

  Mrs William was not the only lady to eye her with disapprobation that afternoon, for no sooner had Miss Brewer appeared with her papa and seen him off in the carriage than she spotted Maggie without immediately recollecting who she was. She was just on the point of favouring her with a slight nod when, remembering just in time that she was little better than a servant (and wondering at the egalitarian leanings of the Berkeleys in deigning even to think of inviting a governess to so grand an event as this one) she immediately rectified her error by transferring her look to Mr Staveley and bestowing a devastating smile upon him instead.