“Only since then have I been able to be honest with myself. I wanted to see your home at Banford Hall and to let you have something very personal to me. I had heard that your parents, perhaps in particular your mother, want you to marry someone quite above my social circle—Lord Brandon, perhaps—and I knew that I might never see you again.”
Her grey eyes looked at him without wavering for a moment.
Then she said, “Men have more freedom than women in such matters, Mr. Hatton, as I have been finding to my cost.”
“True, but I will always be the younger son of a self-made man who made his fortune in trade. The fact that my mother was the daughter of a baronet does not seem to compensate for that.”
“But your father made his fortune by his own efforts—surely many people would say that is praiseworthy?”
“Maybe, but not enough to make me or my brother respectable in the highest circles, removed as we are only one generation from a grandfather who was a small farmer.”
She looked out over the side of the boat, then back to face him.
“I appreciated your gift very much, Mr. Hatton, then and now, and I’m very happy to be able to thank you. I should have done so before. As to the future, so much depends on my father’s health. The doctor has told us that he has serious problems with his heart, and that there is little that can be done. As long as he lives, I should not be forced to marry someone I dislike or despise. But if anything happens to him, my mother might have very different priorities.”
“There must be an expert physician here who could help him? Or someone from London? Sir William Knighton treated my godmother successfully in Bath for her heart affliction for several years with a carefully measured dosage of digitalis, made from the leaves of the foxglove plant. He is very well recommended.”
“Bath and London are a long way from Derbyshire, Mr. Hatton. Papa is not well enough to travel any distance, and the cost of taking a doctor to him would be very considerable, even if that could be arranged.”
“Do you have the red shoes with you?”
“No, sir.” She saw his expression change and he turned his head away. Almost without knowing why, she added, “I could not risk losing them.”
The change in his face was wonderful to see as he looked back at Julia, and he was about to reply when Emily returned, saying that they were approaching the lock on the canal. She stood between Mr. Hatton and Julia as they watched with careful attention the raising of the water and the boat in the confined space of the lock up to the next level of the canal.
“You are interested in how things work, Miss Brandon?” he said. “It seems a very elegant solution to moving the boat around the contours of the hill, and that presumably means less work in digging the canal.”
“Julia would be more anxious than I to know the exact details, Mr. Hatton,” said Emily, smiling at her friend.
“Yes. It’s true that I am more interested in how problems can be solved, Mr. Hatton. So was my brother, for he told me that, without change, there can be no progress.”
He laughed. “Yes, that is very true, although not everyone would agree with you, Miss Maitland. And the next change lies ahead of us, for now we can see the Chinese bridge ahead.”
“Was that made of iron in the foundry at Coalbrookdale started by Abraham Darby? My father has told me about the factory there.”
“Yes, as well as the second and wider iron bridge beyond. And can you see the entrance to Sydney Gardens coming into sight between them, on the left?”
Once disembarked at the Gardens, the three young people followed the other groups of visitors around the gravel walk. Music was being provided by the Pandean Band—several exotically dressed musicians playing pan pipes together with percussion instruments, making sounds the likes of which Emily and Julia had never heard before.
On the other side of the path, there was a sign advertising the new Cascade, with water making a tinkling noise, and appearing to rush down a village street.
“That is powered by clockwork and, if you look closely, the ‘water’ is really moving bits of tin plate.”
“You are very knowledgeable, sir,” said Emily, impressed.
“Perhaps, Mr. Hatton, you might have read about it in this week’s edition of the
“It is very difficult to gain much personal credit with either of you ladies around, Miss Brandon! But let me divert you, for I understand that there is to be a balloon ascent in a few minutes at the other end of the Gardens.”
Julia and Emily walked across the gravel with Mr. Hatton, watching with amazement as the aeronaut lit the fire under the canopy and his passenger looked on as the assistants released the ropes securing the basket below to the ground. Then the balloon rose steadily above the upturned faces of the crowd as the fire roared, and it was blown southwards away from them above the city. Afterwards, they walked back together towards Pulteney Bridge and the centre of Bath, enjoying the view in each direction after they had crossed the river.
Aunt Lucy was highly entertained by their account of these events at the breakfast table on the next day, but refused to promise that she would take a canal trip herself, although they assured her that she would not feel seasick.
Over the next few days, Emily continued to encourage Julia to accept Mr. Hatton’s invitation to accompany her aunt.
“You have never been to Dorset, and I am told that it is very beautiful and quite different from Derbyshire. Why don’t you go? Your aunt would be delighted to have your company. I won’t be able to stay here much longer now that I need to go back to London, as I have had a letter to say that my aunt and uncle will be arriving at their town house soon.”
Julia promised to think carefully about what she should do. In fact, she realised now, she knew exactly what she wanted and, for once, she could not think of any reason why she should make a different decision.
The day came when the Master of Morancourt kept his appointment to visit Aunt Lucy. She had not pressed Julia any further, and so it was with some curiosity that she waited to hear what her niece’s reply would be.
Mr. Hatton repeated what he had said to Julia in private in the Assembly Rooms, that he would value her opinion on what he should do at Morancourt.
“Very well, sir, since you are so very persuasive, and Aunt Lucy has made it clear that she would like to have my company during her visit. My only proviso must be that, if I have any message about my father’s health, I might need to cut short my stay to return to Derbyshire.”
Aunt Lucy was delighted at this news, and smiled at Emily, who was sitting quietly in a chair on the other side of the room.
Julia was more interested in Mr. Hatton’s reaction, but that was only confirmed as he left. He took her hand in farewell and, as he did so, he whispered, “I shall be so delighted to have your company, Miss Maitland. Thank you.”
He was escorted from the room by her aunt and, as soon as they had left, Emily said, “Bravo, Julia, well done. I haven’t dared say so before, but he is quite the most agreeable young man that we have met during our stay here. But how will you return home, Julia, if you do not travel with me?”
“Aunt Lucy has said that she will take me home to Derbyshire herself. It is some time since she visited my parents, and so she has very kindly said that she will bring forward her next visit to the north.”
Julia could have added that she suspected Aunt Lucy of some curiosity to meet the heir to an earldom that Julia’s mama had in mind as a suitor for her niece, although they had had very little discussion about it.
However, her friend then changed the subject to quite a different matter.
“Do you remember, Julia, when we met Mr. Hatton at the Assembly Rooms, that I told you about my conversation with Mr. Jepson. But I didn’t tell you about everything that was said.”
Julia looked at her curiously.
“He said that Dominic is very short of money. That is despite the very generous allowance I know he gets every month from my uncle and aunt. If that’s the case, he must be spending a very great deal on Christina, or other young women, or on gaming, or must have very large debts of some other kind.”
“Well, Emily, that’s not unusual for young men of quality—they seem to think that it’s fashionable to waste as
