Chapter Two
Amy waited until they reached the street before she rounded on him. Her face was pale with anger.
‘What on earth is the matter with you?’ she demanded. ‘You shall not treat me as a child, or attempt to dictate my choice of acquaintance.’
‘Did it appear so? I am sorry for it, Amy.’ James appeared to be his usual amiable self, but she was not deceived.
‘The Comte de Vionnet is a charming man. I can’t imagine why you should have taken him in such dislike. Aunt Trixie found him most amusing.’
‘I don’t doubt it, my dear, but she does not know him well and nor do you. Charm is a part of his stock-in-trade, you know.’
‘I see. You despise him because he is forced to live upon his wits? No soldier of fortune would find favour in your eyes.’
‘Now you are putting words into my mouth. Have I said that I despise him?’
‘There was no need. I have not known you to be so stiff and hateful before tonight.’
‘Will you not trust my judgment, Amy?’
‘Not unless you give me some explanation for your behaviour.’
James was silent for some time. He knew that Vionnet was a dangerous man, but he had no intention of informing Amy of that fact. The mention of danger might rouse her interest to new heights, though possibly she would laugh him out of countenance.
‘I find him a little suspect,’ he said carefully. ‘He is thought to be something of a mountebank.’
‘By whom?’ Her tone was scornful.
‘By those who think him a swindler and a cheat.’
‘They have proof?’
‘No, Amy, they do not, else he would not be at liberty in Bath.’
‘So he is to be condemned by gossip? I had thought better of you, James.’
He squeezed her arm. ‘Must we quarrel about him, Amy? We have other matters to discuss. Let me say only that I met the Count in India—’
‘So it was there that you formed your opinion of him?’
‘It was!’ There was something final about this statement and Amy knew that it would be useless to pursue the matter further.
On an impulse she tucked her arm through that of her companion. ‘I can be a dreadful crosspatch,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I should be travelling by broomstick instead of walking along Great Pulteney Street.’
‘You could be right,’ he told her solemnly. ‘Mrs Skelmersdale would certainly agree with you.’
‘Wretch! You are supposed to disagree with that remark!’
‘Very well, then, I will disagree. There can be no question to the redoubtable Miss Wentworth travelling by broomstick. For one thing I doubt if it would bear her weight…’
‘Monster!’ Amy aimed a playful blow at him. ‘Do you suggest that I live upon a diet of vinegar and potatoes, like Lord Byron?’
‘I beg that you won’t consider it.’ He was smiling. ‘Few of that gentleman’s habits are worthy of imitation.’
‘You are not an admirer?’
‘No! Are you?’
‘I tried to read his verse. It is all the thing, you know, but I found it overblown. It isn’t fashionable to say so, of course…’
‘Have you met him?’
Amy gave her companion a demure look. ‘To date I have managed to avoid that pleasure. Lord Byron will, I am sure, bear up well under what must be a serious disappointment for him.’
‘So you were not seduced by his romantic appearance? He is said to be extremely handsome…’
‘And doesn’t he know it! He has cornered the market in soulful looks, sighs and long silences when he gazes into space, to indicate that he is on a higher plane than the rest of us poor mortals. I am sorry that he is lame, but his manner in society is just a little ridiculous. It made me want to laugh.’
‘Pray don’t mince your words, my dear. That would astonish me.’ James looked down at her, his face alive with amusement. He hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in years.
Now he was beginning to understand why this vivid, witty girl was still unspoken for. Amy was painfully honest. There would be no false gods for her. She would despise pretension and pomposity alike. He marvelled that one so young should take so clear a view of the society in which she found herself. It matched his own, but he was almost old enough to be her father. For some unknown reason the thought did not please him.
‘Now you are looking grave again,’ she challenged. ‘May I not know the reason?’
He managed a rueful smile. ‘I am lamenting my lost youth,’ he said. ‘It has just occurred to me that I am old enough to be your father.’
‘What nonsense! James Richmond, you are thirty-two years old. I know because Aunt Trixie told me. Are you saying that you might have sired me at the age of fourteen?’
He was forced to laugh. ‘It was a slight exaggeration,’ he admitted. ‘And rightly disposed of in your usual forthright way.’
‘It was more than that. Besides, it is not always so very wonderful to be young. I wish I could count the times that I have been told that I will understand when I am older. It is lowering, you know.’
‘I’m sure that you don’t hear it from your aunt.’
‘Oh, no! Aunt Trixie is a dear. You saw that she made no difficulty about my walking back to Laura Place alone with you, or about our expedition to Bristol, although she cannot go with us.’
‘Then I shall reconcile myself to my advancing years…’
‘Not so! It is simply that she trusts you.’ Amy was silent for some little time and it was James who broke the silence.
‘You seem preoccupied, my dear. Are you happy here in Bath?’
‘Of course!’ She gave him a dazzling smile. ‘I love my aunt and I love this city. I believe it is my favourite place on earth. Some members of the ton may find it stuffy and unfashionable, but that isn’t so. You are a native son. Don’t you agree with me?’
‘I do, but I am prejudiced. When I lived abroad I used to dream of the rolling hills about us here. They are the perfect setting for this jewel of a city.’
‘Now that is much more poetic than any of Lord Byron’s vapourings,’ she told him firmly. ‘Will you stay in England now?’
‘I believe so, I have done with trying to escape myself. My work abroad was interesting and useful, but there are sites close by which will well repay examination. One cannot run forever, and I’ve learned that one cannot flee unhappiness. Sadly, it travels with us. Forgive me, Amy, I had not meant to speak of these matters to you.’
‘Why not?’ She pressed his arm. ‘Is this not what friends are for?’
‘Perhaps, but it is unfair to burden them with private troubles. Sometimes I am disgusted with myself. I’ve behaved as if I were the only man on earth to suffer a loss.’ He shook his head as if to rid it of the images which had haunted him for years. Would he ever manage to forget the vision of his dead wife in her coffin with the doll-like figure of her dead babe in her arms?
‘James—’
‘No, don’t speak of it, I beg you. I must put the past aside. Life must go on, as my friends are fond of telling me.’
‘But you must remember Anne and the happy times you had together. If you carry her in your heart, she will never be entirely lost to you.’
He stopped then in the darkened street and took her in his arms. ‘Thank you!’ he said quietly. ‘You are wise beyond your years, my dear.’ He dropped a kiss upon her brow and they resumed their walk.
‘Now, what of your own plans?’ he asked. ‘Shall you have another Season?’
‘Oh, Lord, I must hope not! I couldn’t go through that again. I am not in the least romantical, you know, and I find it difficult to keep my countenance whilst gentlemen are praising me to the skies and adding up my bank balance.’
‘But your parents must be hoping that you will marry.’
‘Papa doesn’t care. He would be happy for me to stay at home forever, but Mamma has pointed out the dreadful trials of spinsterhood. Even she would not force me in
to a match, you know.’
‘You are fortunate, my dear. They must be very understanding, but…’
‘But they cannot live forever.’ Her voice was low. ‘I know that well enough, James. What I would like more than anything in the world is to find some way in which I could be useful.’
‘To whom?’
‘I don’t quite know. I wish I did. I thought of nursing the sick, but everyone pours scorn on that idea. Who could train me? Such nurses as there are have no vocation. Most of them are thought of as gin-swilling harridans, filthy and ignorant.’
‘I know that is the general view. What else? Teaching?’
Amy laughed openly. ‘I have no special skills in drawing or embroidery, or even music. I keep abreast of politics and economic conditions, but who would wish to have their daughters educated in those particular subjects, especially by Miss Amy Wentworth?’
‘What would you say to helping me?’
Amy stopped and stared at him. ‘You can’t mean it? Are you serious?’
‘Certainly!’
‘But, James, I have no training or experience. What could I do to help?’
‘Finds need recording, maps must be drawn, and notes made. At first you might be simply taking dictation.’
Amy’s eyes were sparkling. ‘I could do that, and in my very best handwriting. Oh, James, would you really allow me to work with you? I’d try so hard to be a help.’
‘Let us speak to your aunt. Miss Langrishe may object. You would be out each day, possibly in the most inclement weather…’
‘I could wear my oldest clothes, and if I get wet it will not matter in the least.’
James looked at her eager face, and brought up his last objection. ‘There is one obstacle,’ he said. ‘You would be the only female on the site. Your aunt would not care for that. Can you think of a solution?’
Amy was lost in thought for several minutes. Then she gave a cry of victory. ‘I have it! Let’s ask Charlotte Skelmersdale!’
James groaned. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ he said. ‘Her mother would have a fit!’
Amy’s face was a mask of cunning. ‘Not if my Wentworth cousins were involved,’ she said in triumph. ‘Mrs Skelmersdale would promote the idea with every means at her disposal.’
‘But, Amy, your cousins hate antiquities!’
‘They don’t hate impressionable young women. Shall we see how the trip to Bristol goes?’
From the start the expedition promised well. Her cousins, Henry and Crispin, entered with enthusiasm into plans for the proposed outing to Bristol. Thomas, their elder brother, had been their natural leader, but he had married the previous year. Now they were ripe for any kind of new experience.
‘Tell me about this Charlotte Skelmersdale,’ Henry insisted. ‘Is she Friday-faced?’
‘Why should you think that?’ Amy demanded hotly.
Her cousin gave her a wicked grin. ‘Spare females invited on an outing, Coz? Ape-leaders to a woman, in my experience.’
‘Which is vast, is it not?’ Amy was at her most withering. ‘For her part she must be wondering about the level of conversation possible with halflings. Schoolboys barely out of their leading-strings…’
‘Steady on, Amy! There’s no call for that! I didn’t say that we should not be polite to her.’
‘You will be more than that,’ Amy told him firmly. ‘Charlotte Skelmersdale is my guest, and she will be treated as such.’
‘Well, I hope she ain’t as bossy as you.’ With that fervent hope Henry took himself off to the stables.
‘Amy, what is she really like?’ Crispin asked gently. He was the quietest of her cousins and Amy loved him dearly.
‘She’s shy, and very much overshadowed by a dominant mother. I’m hoping that, freed from that constraint, she will enjoy herself with us.’
‘I hope so too. We’ll do our best to make her welcome. Henry is more talk than substance, as you know. He’s always kind, in spite of what he says.’
Amy looked at her cousin and nodded. The boys were gentle souls. She knew that well enough in spite of the fact that they filled her aunt’s exquisite drawing-room to capacity. Each had the Wentworth dark good looks, the height and the breadth of shoulder which she associated with her family. Better than that, they had the generosity and the charm of manner which she found so irresistible.
It did not fail them when they met Charlotte for the first time. She was in an extremely nervous state. Days of admonition from her mother had done nothing for her self-confidence. Charged in turn with being insipid and sorely lacking in social graces, she had been dreading the meeting with the two young bucks of whom her mother had such hopes. Only the thought of Amy’s friendly advances had reconciled her to her fate.
In the event the meeting was less daunting than she had feared. Crispin, she felt at once, was a kindred spirit. Quieter and less ebullient than his older brother, he seemed diffident to the point of self-effacement. She was surprised to find herself attempting to draw him out, rather than the other way round.
‘Do you know Bristol well?’ she asked as the carriage rolled out of the town.
‘No, ma’am! And you?’
‘It will all be perfectly new to me, though I hear that Bristol is steeped in history.’
‘That’s true! There are echoes of King Charles’s nephew, Rupert of the Rhine. These days, alas, there are even uglier stories.’
Charlotte gave him a look of utter incomprehension.
‘I am speaking of the slave trade, ma’am. Surely a blot on any civilised society?’
Much to his surprise she nodded. ‘A dreadful business, Mr Wentworth, and fuelled by greed for money. When will it end, I wonder? We are all to blame for its continuance.’
Crispin warmed to her. Charlotte Skelmersdale was no beauty. Her garments were of the richest quality, but they sat uncomfortably upon her spare figure. She had no address to speak of, but suddenly he was aware that this was no ordinary girl. Now he studied her face intently, intrigued by the combination of dark eyes and the pale gilt hair.
‘Do you care?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Sympathy costs nothing, and has little effect where it is expressed.’
Charlotte blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘Perhaps I was speaking out of turn,’ she whispered. ‘It is a fault of mine. I beg you to forgive me.’
It was Crispin’s turn to look embarrassed. ‘I must ask for your forgiveness,’ he told her gallantly. His words were followed by a rueful grin. ‘Sometimes I speak too freely,’ he admitted. ‘But on this particular subject I feel strongly. What do you know of the trade?’
‘Only what I have read. And you?’
It was enough to launch him into a lengthy conversation and Charlotte forgot her shyness as her interest mounted.
Amy looked across to the young couple, smiling at the contrast they presented. Charlotte looked almost fragile beside the large figure of her cousin, but after a time the girl began to hold her own in the discussion.
James looked across at Amy and raised an eyebrow. Then he nodded, pleased that the outing was going so well.
It was Henry who took him aside when they reached Bristol.
‘Sir James, may I have a private word?’ They were standing on the harbour wall, watching the mass of shipping as the great craft sailed like flightless birds across the choppy waters.
‘Of course. What is it, Henry?’ James moved into the shelter of a massive stanchion.
‘It’s Amy, sir. Does she know what she’s about?’
‘I don’t quite understand you.’
‘I’m speaking of her friendship with Miss Skelmersdale. The word is out that the young lady’s mother will stop at nothing to get her daughter wed.’
‘You may be right,’ James told him cautiously. ‘But what has that to do with Amy?’
Henry gave him a long look. ‘You know her as well as I do myself. How did she persuade that harridan to grant her daughter so much freedom?’
‘Freedom, Henry?’
>
‘I’m thinking of this outing.’ He paused. ‘Pray don’t think that we set too high a value on ourselves, but I must ask you. My brother and I…were we the bait?’
‘Mrs Skelmersdale knew that you were to join our party.’
‘I see. Has Amy considered where all this may lead? Her meddling may plunge Miss Charlotte into even deeper disgrace with her mamma if she does not receive an offer. I have heard something of the lady. She is famous both for her arrogance and her cruelty.’
James laid a reassuring hand on his companion’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be too hard on Amy,’ he pleaded. ‘She meant her actions for the best. You are right about the cruelty, of course. Amy could not stand by whilst Charlotte was humiliated in public.’
Henry was silent for some moments. ‘I’m not blaming Amy,’ he said at last. ‘But she does rush in like a bull in a china shop without considering the possible consequences.’
‘Would you change her?’
Henry smiled at last. ‘No, I wouldn’t, even if I could. Amy is all heart, but even so, I think I’ll have a word with her.’
‘Not at this present time, I hope. We are due to dine within the hour and argument is bad for the digestion. Shall we join the ladies?’
He was careful to avoid Amy’s eye as he led the little party back to the coach. She had not missed his private talk with Henry, but he shook his head as she laid a hand upon his arm.
‘Later…we’ll speak later,’ he told her.
It was but a short drive to the Llandoger Trow, a handsome timber-framed inn built in the seventeenth century. The girls exclaimed with pleasure as they drew up at the entrance.
‘What a strange name! What can it mean?’ Amy was craning up to see the inn sign which bore the picture of a sailing ship.
‘It is named after the barge, which sailed between Bristol and Wales.’ James nodded to the landlord, who prided himself upon his ability to recognise the Quality when such important personages visited his hostelry. He led them into a private parlour and settled them by the fire, with his assurances that their meal would be served without delay.
The Matchmaker's Marriage Page 3