Belinda Goes to Bath

‘But Miss Earle should be your concern, Miss Wimple. That, after all, is what you are being paid for. You did not, by any chance, let fall to his lordship about Miss Earle’s unfortunate episode with the footman?’

‘I cannot remember what I said,’ said Miss Wimple huffily. ‘My head aches. Go away.’

‘I wish to counsel you to hold your tongue on that matter in future,’ said Hannah, ‘for the young lady may arrive in Bath with a reputation already ruined and, if that be the case, I shall have no hesitation in telling her parents the reason for her downfall. If you did let fall anything indiscreet about your charge, then I suggest you tell his lordship as soon as possible that you were rambling.’

Miss Wimple lay very still after Hannah had left. She did recall what she had said to the marquess. She had felt it her duty, thought Miss Wimple defiantly, not knowing that she had been prompted by the jealousy of an unmarried middle-aged woman of small means for a young lady of fortune. She would not eat her words when she saw the marquess, but mindful of her job and Miss Pym’s threat, she would beg him to keep silent on the matter.

And so it came about that Miss Wimple did more damage to Belinda’s reputation than she had done before. She sent for the marquess and begged him so emotionally never to speak of Belinda’s affair with the footman that she left him thinking that Miss Earle must have behaved very shockingly indeed.

Dinner was served at four in the afternoon, so at three-thirty all were assembled in the Cedar Room, Belinda having been carried in by two footmen.

With the single-mindedness of the aristocrat, the marquess studied Belinda Earle quite openly, unaware of the consternation he was causing in the Jordan family. She attracted him and he still remembered that kiss vividly and wanted more. But to seduce, say, a London widow who knew very well what she was about was one thing. To go to the bedchamber of a gently reared girl whom her family was obviously trying to reform was another. In some way, Belinda must show him she knew what she was doing and was prepared to face the consequences.

Hannah saw that studied look and her heart fell. There was something more of the predator about it than the lover. Her mind went back to a certain groom who had worked for Mr Clarence. Hannah had been courted and then rejected by a perfidious under-butler and had been left feeling raw and stupid. The groom, Harry Bates, was rumoured to be the bastard son of a noble. He had a certain aristocratic elegance, strange in a groom, and more intelligence than was usual. He was witty and made Hannah laugh at a time when she did not feel like laughing at anything. It was well known among the staff at Thornton Hall that Hannah rose very early before the rest to spend a little time by herself in the servants’ hall. It was there Harry had approached her one morning. She had been delighted to see him, but he had sat down very close to her at the table, and then he had taken her hand and gazed into her eyes. In his eyes, Hannah had seen the same look that the marquess had in his when he studied Belinda – that authoritative air of reaching out and taking what he wanted. And all in that moment, Hannah had realized that Harry thought she had had an affair with the under-butler and so was fair game.

She had snatched her hand away, and with her face flaming had said, ‘I am still a virgin,’ and had walked out of the servants’ hall. Harry had never come near her again.

In her heart, she cursed Miss Wimple. She was sure the companion had gossipped about Belinda. The Jordans, she noticed, were looking furious. Little did they know they had nothing to be furious about, thought Hannah gloomily.

And Belinda! A pox on the girl! Hannah felt quite savage. Belinda was glowing and her looks had taken on a radiance.

‘I hear Miss Wimple is all but recovered,’ said Penelope in a thin voice. ‘You will soon be able to take your leave.’

‘Not in this weather,’ said Hannah.

‘But the weather has changed,’ said Sir Henry with satisfaction. ‘Listen!’

They all listened, and sure enough, instead of snow whispering at the windows, they heard the sound of drumming rain.

‘The roads will be flooded for days,’ Hannah pointed out.

‘But not as far as the nearest inn, where no doubt your stage is waiting,’ put in Lady Jordan.

‘Come now,’ chided the marquess, ‘you must not be in such a hurry to speed our guests on their way. I, for one, am hoping that Mr and Mrs Judd will entertain us again this evening.’

‘Gladly,’ said the Judds in chorus.

Dinner was announced and the guests filed through to the dining-room. Once more, Belinda was seated beside the marquess.

‘I am amazed, Miss Earle,’ said the marquess, almost as soon as they were seated, ‘that you were not besieged with suitors during your Season.’

‘I do not remember you at the Season,’ said Penelope, forgetting her manners in her anger and talking directly across the table.

‘I was mostly hidden from view,’ said Belinda with a gurgle of laughter. ‘I used to take a book with me and try to hide behind a potted plant to while away the tedium of the evening.’

‘Penelope,’ said Sir Henry heavily, ‘was never without partners.’

The marquess frowned. He could hardly be so rude as to remind them of the conventions and urge them to talk only to the people on either side. The unsophisticated Judds had taken a leaf out of the Jordans’ book and were talking openly to all at the table, inoffensive chit-chat about the weather and the perils of the English roads.

Penelope saw her advantage and took it. She began to talk directly to the marquess about people they both knew, leaving Belinda and Hannah excluded.

Belinda had never been jealous in her life, but now she was shaken to the very core of her being. She hated Penelope Jordan. He had kissed her, not Penelope, and he had said she enchanted him. Belinda craved some sign from him that he cared for her. Her strict upbringing was being undermined with jealousy and all her usual common sense had fled. This was agony! She would ask to see him alone and, yes, she would ask him if he loved her.

Things were worse when they retired to the Cedar Room. The Judds gave a virtuoso performance, each liquid note of their voices tearing at Belinda’s heart. Mrs Judd was so very happy and it showed in her singing. It was obvious to Hannah that the Judds had taken her advice, but she was so worried about Belinda that it gave her little satisfaction.

Belinda had fallen helplessly in love, and she did not know what to do. The marquess looked so very handsome, but unapproachable. His hair was powdered and he was dressed in fine silk and the jewels in his cravat and at his fingers winked and blazed in the candle-light. His eyes gave nothing away. He seemed totally wrapped up in the music, as indeed he was.

Hannah edged her chair closer to that of the marquess and when the Judds had finished one number and were looking through their music, she said softly, ‘It is a pity two such fine singers should languish forgotten. They need a patron.’

‘Meaning I should sponsor them,’ he said, looking amused.

‘Why not?’

‘Why not, indeed, Miss Pym. I shall speak to them about it.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Hannah. ‘Did … did Miss Wimple mention anything to you about Miss Earle?’

‘Such as?’ His eyes were quite blank.

‘I feel Miss Wimple is not a suitable companion for Miss Earle,’ said Hannah. ‘She …’

But he held up his hand for silence, for the Judds had begun to sing again.

Belinda decided she would write him a note, asking him to meet her. She would do it as soon as she retired and give the note to one of the servants. But Miss Pym must not know.

At last the evening was over. The marquess suggested Belinda might like to retire to rest her injured ankle and his glance included the other stage-coach passengers. He was sitting beside Penelope, engrossed in conversation, when Belinda and Hannah left the room. Belinda hobbled and leaned on Hannah’s arm, for she felt being carried by footmen presented too undignified a spectacle. She twisted her head and looked back. Penelope was smiling at something the marquess was saying and leaning towards him, creating an island of intimacy, while her parents beamed on the pair as if already blessing the newly-weds.

After Belinda had said good night to Hannah, she went to her room. She dismissed the maid, saying she would prepare herself for bed. Instead, she sat down at a tiny escritoire in the corner and wrote a short note, asking the Marquess of Frenton to exchange a few words with her before he retired for the night. She sanded the