Bath Tangle

and she now reside here? Or, no! I think she told me you were here only for a visit.”

“Oh, yes! We have been living since Lord Spenborough’s death in my Dower House, at Milverley.”

“Ah, then, she has not been obliged quite to leave her home! I remember that she was much attached to it.” He smiled warmly at her. “When I read of Lord Spenborough’s death, I was afraid she might be obliged to live with Lady—with someone, perhaps, not agreeable to her!—I am sure she must be happy with you, ma’am!”

“Oh, yes! That is, I am very happy,” said Fanny naively. “She is so kind to me! I don’t know how I should go on without her.”

At that moment, Serena came into the room, her copper ringlets still damp, and curling wildly. As she closed the door, she said mischievously: “Now, what an infamous thing it is that you should have come when I wasn’t here to present you to my mama-in-law, sir! She has not terrified you, I trust?”

He had jumped up, and strode to meet her, taking her hand, and holding it for a minute. “What an infamous thing it was that you should have taken me in!” he retorted, smiling down at her with so glowing a look in his eyes that her own sank, and she felt her colour rising.

“It was irresistible! Are you satisfied that she is truly motherly?”

“Serena! You never said so!” cried Fanny indignantly.

“No, not I! It was Major Kirkby’s hope!”

He drew her forward to a chair beside the small fire, and placed a cushion behind her as she seated herself. She looked up, to thank him, and he said: “Do you know that your hair is quite wet?”

“It will soon dry beside this fire.”

“Are you always so reckless? I wish you will take care!”

She smiled. “Why, do I seem to you invalidish? It’s well you didn’t see me when I came in, for I don’t think there was a dry stitch on me!”

“Then perhaps it is as well. I should certainly have been anxious.”

“Fanny will tell you that I am never ill. Do you take cold every time you are caught in the rain?”

“No, indeed! I should not long have survived in Portugal! But that is another matter: you are not a soldier!”

She saw that he would not readily be persuaded that her constitution was not delicate, and was a little amused. It was not unpleasant to find herself an object of solicitude, so she said no more, leading him instead to talk of his experiences in the Peninsula. He stayed for half an hour, and then, very correctly, rose to take his leave. Fanny, as she shook hands with him, said, in her pretty, soft voice: “You know we cannot entertain in any formal style, Major Kirkby, but if you will not think it a bore to dine quietly with us one evening, we should be happy to welcome you.”

“A bore! I should like it of all things!” he said, “May I indeed do that?”

The engagement was made, and Fanny’s hand kissed. “Thank you!” the Major said, with a twinkle.

There was a good deal of meaning in his voice. Fanny gave a little choke of laughter, and tried to look demure.

He turned from her to Serena. “I think you are very fortunate in your mama-in-law! Shall I see you, perhaps, in the Pump Room tomorrow? Do you go there?”

“Very frequently—to watch Fanny screwing up her face, and most heroically drinking the water!”

“Ah! Then I shall meet you there” he said, and pressed her hand, and went away.

Serena glanced almost shyly at Fanny. “Well?”

“Oh, Serena, how very charming he is! You did not tell me the half! I think I never saw such kind eyes! He is so much in love with you, too!”

“He does not know me.”

“My dear!”

Serena shook her head. “Do you think he does? I am so much afraid—You see, he believes me to be—oh, so many excellent things which I am not! He has no notion of my shocking temper, or my obstinacy, or—”

“Serena, you goose!” Fanny cried, embracing her. “He loves you! Oh, and he will take such care of you, and value you as he should, and think nothing too good for you! He is the very man to make you happy!”

“Fanny, Fanny!” Serena protested. “He has not offered for me yet!”

“How absurd you are! When he can barely take his eyes off you! He will offer for you before the week is out!”

9

Fanny was disappointed. It was ten days later before the Major declared himself, and he did it then at her instigation.

That he was head over ears in love no one could doubt. He went about like a man dazzled by strong sunshine, so oblivious of his surroundings or any worldly care that his anxious mother was thrown into great disquiet, convinced at one moment that he no longer held her in affection, and at the next that his restlessness and absence of mind must have its root in some deepseated disorder. Since the state of her health made her shrink from social intercourse, and her only expeditions from her eyrie in Lansdown Crescent down into the town were to the Abbey Baths, she remained in ignorance of the true state of affairs. Fashionable Bath could have enlightened her, for although the Major retained just enough sense not to haunt Laura Place it seemed not to occur to him that the spectacle of a tall and handsome young man searching the Pump Room every morning for the Lady Serena Carlow might possibly attract attention. The habitués of the Pump Room derived considerable entertainment from it, one gentleman asserting that it was now his custom to set his watch by the Major’s arrival; and old General Hendy, whose own practice was to steer a gouty and determined course to Fanny’s side, saying indignantly that he never saw such a silly, moonstruck fellow, and had a good mind to tell him what a cake he was making of himself. Whenever the Major came bearing down upon Serena, he scowled at him awfully; but as the Major had no eyes for anyone but Serena, this strong hint from a senior officer went unnoticed. General Hendy was not the only person hostile to the courtship. High sticklers viewed it with disapproval, some maintaining that it was improper for the Lady Serena to be encouraging any gentleman to pay his addresses to her while she was in mourning for her father, others considering that such a match would be scandalously unequal.

Had the Major been less besotted he must have perceived the glances, curious, amused, or condemnatory, and have realized that his goddess had become the most talked-of woman in Bath. He would have been aghast. Serena realized it, and laughed. Fanny did not realize it until Mrs Floore shocked her by saying: “A very pretty beau your daughter-in-law has got for herself, my lady, I do declare! Lord, it’s as good as a play to watch him! Morning after morning, in he comes, and if Lady Serena is here he goes plunging across the room to her, never noticing another soul, and if she ain’t he goes off like a dog that’s lost its tail!”

Dismayed, Fanny exclaimed: “Oh, how could I be so thoughtless? I never dreamed that people would notice—talk about Lady Serena—!”

“Lord, ma’am, who cares for a bit of gossip?” said Mrs Floore comfortably. There’s no harm that ever I heard of in a beautiful girl being courted, and if people choose to talk, let ’em!”

Serena said the same. “My dear Fanny, don’t tease yourself! The world began to talk about me when I drove a high-perch phaeton in Hyde Park! I was eighteen then, and much Papa cared for the exclamations of the censorious! When I declared I would no longer be burdened with a duenna hands were upflung in horror; when I jilted Rotherham I was known to be past reclaim! Add to these all my other iniquities, and you must perceive that I’ve given people so much to talk about that had I cared for their whisperings I must have retired to a nunnery! What’s more, didn’t my aunt warn you that I am an acknowledged flirt?”

“Serena, do not say so!”

“Well, it’s quite true, you know,” said Serena candidly. “How often have you accused me of trifling with some ridiculous creature’s sensibilities?”

“Oh, no, no! I never said that! Only that you have so much liveliness, dearest, and so much beauty, that— that gentlemen can’t help but fall in love with you, and you are so heedless of your beauty that you don’t quite