‘How did you like the performance, Sara?’ Cameron said, turning to her as the curtain was lowered over the stage.
‘I liked it very much, I was just saying to Mary that I should love to see the same in London one day.’
‘I do hope you can,’ Cameron said, smiling at her.
By now the audience was filing out of the seats, and there was a general jostling, which allowed the Duke of Mantelhurst the opportunity to place his hand on Sara’s hip once more, escorting her to the door where the Treblingers were waiting with Daisy and Susan.
‘We’ve looked after her well,’ the Duke said.
‘So I can see,’ Lady Treblinger replied.
‘You can’t blame an old dog for trying, now can you?’ the Duke said, as they filed out.
Bartholomew had remained quiet after the performance, eyeing Sara from a few feet away; it seemed that he had lost her attentions to his friend, though he had been under some delusion that he had acquired them in the first place.
But Bartholomew Dinkster was more concerned with acquisition than that which was acquired. Any woman, of a certain sort of course, would do, and here he was presented with three sisters. If the youngest would not fall to his charms, he would turn them towards the others.
Of the three sisters, one can objectively say, for the storyteller is always objective, that Sara was by far the prettiest. As the youngest, she possessed an innocence which was yet to be corrupted by the ways of the world, though her encounters in Bath were beginning to change this. At nineteen, Susan had spent most her life buried in her father’s books and there were few in Springside who could match her intellectual abilities. Her learning had proved something of a barrier when it came to finding a suitable match, for many men were intimidated by the fact that she clearly knew more than them on almost any topic. This too was Bartholomew’s attitude, for though he was a graduate of Oxford University, his time there had been spent upon the art of learning how to be a gentleman rather than studying in the libraries and lecture halls of that august institution. Thus, only one sister remained, and that was of course Daisy Mills, who at twenty-one was fast approaching an age when she really should be married and with child.
As the first of the Mills children, both her father and mother had always regarded her as something of a prototype. She did not have Susan’s intelligence, but neither was she possessed of Sara’s beauty and innocent charm, nor the spark which possessed the twins, who gave everyone who encountered them the impression that they were destined for something rather special. ‘Plain Daisy,’ as some of the more unkind residents of Springside occasionally referred to her as, was thus the person whom Bartholomew Dinkster settled upon as an easy target for his next seduction. She would, he thought, do reasonably well as the wife of aristocracy. Of course it had to be said that his time was running out, and it was imperative that he found a wife, and right now she was the one upon which his sights were set.
~
‘We always have a picnic,’ Lord Treblinger said as his wife entered the salon the following afternoon, ‘I insist we have a picnic.’
‘I just thought it might be nicer for the girls to go to the river on Wednesday; we could have a picnic another day.’
‘I don’t put my foot down very often, Elizabeth, but today I am doing so,’ his Lordship said, ‘on Wednesday we are having a picnic here in the garden, and what’s more we shall invite our friends to join.’
‘As you wish, George, as you wish,’ Lady Treblinger said, a look of mild exasperation and amusement on her face.
‘Well I think a picnic would be fun,’ Susan said.
They were taking tea in the salon, nearly a week since the performance at the Burgher’s hall, during which their time had been spent in the pursuits which only the English aristocracy partake in, and which, if one were to be uncharitable, amounted to not a great deal at all. The prospect of a picnic was therefore one to relish.
‘It’ll be great fun,’ his Lordship said, ‘Lady Treblinger just has rather bad memories of picnics, don’t you, Dear?’
‘Enough of that, George,’ she said, ‘A picnic will be fine, but you can issue the invitations. Now I must go out to the tailors and see if my dress has been taken in. I shall see you later.’
With Lady Treblinger gone, his Lordship explained that it had been at a picnic that Lady Treblinger had found herself seated next to the Duke of Mantelhurst a year ago. After he had imbibed several glasses of Claret, she had been unable to extract herself from his unfortunate advances. An experience she had vowed never to repeat.
‘It’s all in good fun, he’s harmless of course,’ Lord Treblinger said, ‘just don’t sit next to him on Wednesday.’
The three young ladies were all more than aware of the Duke’s dispositions. Sara in particular seemed to have caught his eye. Each vowed not to sit close to the Duke ever again. Picnic or no picnic.
~
In Springside, the Mills children had often picnicked in the woods and glades of the estate, and by the brook which ran past the house. There it was always a simple affair, some bread and cheese, apples from the orchard, a raised pie filled with rabbit and onions, and perhaps thick slices of cured ham placed between bread, spread with freshly churned butter, all washed down with Mr. Mills’ ‘special’ cider, brewed with the windfalls from Lord Treblinger’s garden.
But in Bath ‘a picnic’ did not resemble anything which the Mills children had experienced before, and in the run up to Wednesday they found out an astonishing amount about hosting such an event, beginning with the food.
‘Now as you know his Lordship and I are not extravagant people,’ Lady Treblinger said on Tuesday afternoon, ‘but when one is entertaining the likes of Bathian society, one must make a good impression. Snooty aristocrats who look down their noses must be fed only the finest delicacies,’ she laughed.
Such high expectations ensured that a steady stream of tradesmen could be seen arriving at the house as the day went on. They brought fresh salmon, ready to be dressed for the centrepieces, exquisite confectionary the likes of which the sisters had never before seen, sides of meat and great cheeses also appeared. In the garden, the servants made ready the tables, fortunate that the summer weather showed no sign of abating.
‘Oh, it all looks so lovely, doesn’t it?’ Sara said, as she and Daisy watched the footmen laying out the highly polished cutlery on the dressed tables which had been setup on the lawn.
The garden itself was looking at its best and the roses were in full bloom, such that one was constantly enveloped in a sweet perfume.
‘I wonder who is coming,’ Daisy said.
‘Well no doubt our friends the Treblingers, and Mr. Styles too, perhaps the Hareburns. Why, I should imagine that the whole of Bath society will be joining us tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Mr. Styles will be eager to see you again,’ Daisy said.
‘I am eager to see him, although I know also that I must endure the attentions of the others.’
‘Well Bart is not so bad. This past week I have warmed to him a little. He has written to me, you see.’
‘He has written?’ Sara said, a little surprised.
‘Don’t sound so surprised, Sara,’ Daisy retorted, ‘you are not the only person to receive attention from the opposite sex.’
‘Forgive me, dear sister,’ Sara said, ‘I simply meant that he seems to have changed his allegiance most suddenly, but I am most happy if his attentions should make you happy.’
‘They do indeed; he speaks of his anticipation at our meeting very soon.’
‘Tomorrow then,’ Sara said, ‘tomorrow we shall see, there is so much to tell Mother in our next letter.’
‘Not a word of those who would seek our attentions,’ Daisy said, ‘Mother would worry so if she thought we were not properly chaperoned.’
‘I think it is only the Duke of Mantelhurst she should have cause of concern about,’ Sara said, laughing, ‘and I am sure we can humour hi
m. Poor Lady Treblinger though, I can only image her reaction to him, if Lord Treblinger’s story is to be believed.’
The two women went inside arm in arm. Truth be told, Sara was greatly pleased by the news that Bart had taken an interest in her sister. She would feel no guilt now in offering her full attention to Cameron Styles, for how she longed to discover more about him, and this she was to do the very next day.
~
Not a day had passed in Bath since their arrival that they had not awoken to bright sunshine and clear blue skies, and the day of the picnic was no exception.
Sara opened her eyes as the maid, Hettie Longstaff, drew back the curtains in her room.
‘Good morning, ma’am,’ she said, ‘it is to be another beautiful day, and the picnic too. Such fortunate luck.’
‘I think every day in Bath is just wonderful, Hettie,’ Sara said, rubbing her eyes, ‘they must be busy downstairs already.’
‘I believe so, ma’am, I just keep myself to myself and look after you ladies.’
‘You do it ever so well, I shall miss you when we return to Springside.’
‘I should love to go out to the country, ma’am, I picture it as being so pretty.’
‘Oh, I would swap it for Bath any day, now that I have had a taste of city life,’ Sara said.
Hettie assisted her with her morning routine and she was soon going downstairs where her sisters and Lady Treblinger were at breakfast, his Lordship having taken the carriage out early on business.
‘I shall be glad when the picnic is over,’ Lady Treblinger said as two footmen arrived to lift the sideboard from the dining room out into the garden, ‘His Lordship has gone quite overboard with the preparations.’
‘I suppose he just wants to make a good impression,’ Susan said.
‘Good impression? He’ll bankrupt himself. You should see the bills that have arrived, he has spent £3 on confectionary alone!’ Lady Treblinger said.
‘I think it will be spectacular,’ Daisy said, ‘I can’t wait to see everyone.’
‘Well we have until twelve noon to prepare,’ Lady Treblinger said, ‘and then we must all guard our honour against his Grace. I have no doubt he shall be eager to make our acquaintance as usual, though what he sees in me anymore is beyond me.’
In actual fact, for a woman of her age, Lady Treblinger was most handsome, and as a young woman had had the attentions of much of London society. But it had been the young Treblinger boy who had first caught her eye, his wit and charm more than enough to overcome the fact that his title placed him somewhat below that of the many others who had vied for her attention. They had married young and neither had ever set eyes again upon a member of the opposite sex, leading many to comment that they were amongst the most well matched of the aristocracy. This fact was evident in the love they still had for one another after so many years of marriage.
Lord Treblinger returned to Springside House around eleven o’clock. He had been to place a final order at the bakery, and the confectioner’s cart outside the house signalled its arrival. In the back gardens, all was now prepared; a lavish feast laid out and the tables dressed magnificently, and with such abundance of freshly cut flowers that they appeared almost like an extension of the beds surrounding them.
The Mills sisters were now gathered in the garden awaiting the arrival of the first guests, who promptly at twelve noon began to arrive, announced by the footman. His Lordship had hired a string quartet to play, and the garden was now filled with their gentle sounds as the guests began to mingle and talk together, all commenting on the beautiful setting and the warmth of their hosts.
‘His Grace, the Duke of Hareburn and Charlotte, Duchess of Hareburn,’ the footman announced, as the young couple appeared in the garden.
‘So glad you could make it,’ Lord Treblinger said, greeting the Duke warmly.
‘We would not have wished to miss it,’ the Duke said.
‘And we so wanted to see the young ladies again,’ his wife said.
‘His Grace, the Duke of Mantelhurst, Bartholomew, Marquess of Digby, Lady Mary Dinkster, and Mr. Cameron Styles,’ the footman announced.
‘And here comes the cavalry,’ Lord Treblinger said.
The arrival of the Dinksters was the cue for the party to get under way properly. Despite his shortcoming, the Duke and Lord Treblinger were the oldest of friends, and his Lordship could tolerate the Duke’s shortcomings since his company was, on the most part, congenial.
‘Greetings, greetings,’ Lord Treblinger said, ‘so glad to see you all, and Mr. Styles, it is an honour once again to make your acquaintance.’
‘The honour is mine, sir,’ Cameron said, ‘I believe I speak for everyone when I say we have been so greatly looking forward to this afternoon.’
‘Indeed,’ Mary said, ‘now where are my dear friends? Ah, Sara.’
Sara and her sisters were on the lawn, engaged in conversation with the Duke and Duchess of Hareburn, and Sara excused herself to greet Mary.
‘Cameron is here,’ Mary said, ‘he is so eager to see you.’
‘And what of Bart?’ Sara said.
‘Observe,’ Mary said, smiling.
Bartholomew Dinkster had wasted no time in separating Daisy from Susan, who was now speaking to the Hareburns alone. The two were walking by the rose beds, and it was evident from observation that Daisy had fallen for his charms, though Sara still wondered what exactly those charms might be.
At length, the guests had all arrived, excepting the Comptons of Linton, whose carriage had met with an unexpected incident on the way into town, a runner arriving to inform the hosts that they would not make the party.
‘Good afternoon, dear friends,’ Lord Treblinger said, standing on a little platform erected for just this purpose, ‘as you know, my wife and I do not stand upon airs and graces. So I welcome you, not according to rank, but by friendship, your being all equal in our affections. We have been so delighted by the kindness shown to us since our arrival here in Bath, and especially the kindness shown to the three young ladies who have graced us with their presence. We thank them too, and before we sit down to eat, might I propose a small toast firstly to you our friends and also to Daisy, Susan and Sara, truly the finest young ladies we have had the pleasure of encountering.’
‘To friends, and to Daisy, Susan and Sara,’ the assembled guests cried, raising their glasses.
After one or two further formalities, for even the most relaxed of gatherings must have formalities, the guests sat down to eat.
Sara found herself, of course by design, seated between Mary and Cameron. To Cameron’s right was Bartholomew and next to him was Daisy. Bart had granted Sara with only the most cursory of greetings, and it was evident that his full attention was now turned to her sister, who relished every moment. Susan sat across the table, next to the Duchess of Hareburn. She was a young lady who took little interest in the opposite sex, and was happiest engaged in lively conversation with whomever might offer it. The sisters therefore found their placement at the picnic table to be most congenial.
The food tasted as good as it looked. Lord Treblinger had spared no expense, and the savouries were a great treat. At length the sides of meat, pies and dressed fish were consumed, and the remnants cleared away; now was the time for the confectioner’s art to be revealed. With great ceremony, the footmen carried the large cakes and delicate fancies out to the tables, deftly laying them before the assembly, much to the delight of those gathered.
Indeed, such was the attention given to the arrival of the confectionary that no one noticed the air becoming heavy, the gentle warmth of that pleasant summer day replaced by the overbearing headiness of an approaching storm.
‘What wonderful looking sweet treats,’ Mary said.
‘I declare that the finest shops in London do not sell such finery,’ Cameron said, turning to Sara, with whom he had been in animated conversation throughout the day’s proceedings.
‘Lord Treblinger spared no expense,�
� Sara said, ‘he just had to …’
At that moment, a large drop landed on her, then another and another.
‘Why, it’s raining,’ Mary said, ‘I didn’t even notice the clouds.’
But by now the thick, black clouds had overshadowed the gardens, and momentarily they burst forth with such ferocity as to immediately drench everything in sight.
A general panic ensued as the ladies and gentlemen, in no way dressed for inclement weather, found themselves immediately soaked to the skin, as the rain poured down and a sudden boom of thunder announced the end of the picnic.
‘Goodness me, quick,’ Cameron said, we must get under shelter, we don’t want to be caught outside if there is to be lightning.’
The tables had been set up some distance from the house, and to get inside the guests would have to pelt across the grass, which was now resembling a water garden; the hard, dry earth failing to soak up the torrential rain which saw no signs of ceasing.
The elegant confectionary was now melting in front of them, under the assault of water on the sugared creations, and his Lordship could be heard exclaiming what a terrible bother this all was.
Around them the guests were risking the dash across the lawns to the house, and Sara observed the Hareburns and Susan making it onto the terrace and through the doors inside.
‘Come,’ Cameron said, ‘let us shelter in the rhododendron bushes a little while,’ for that end of the garden was surrounded by the tall flowering bush which provided several arch ways of shade and protection from the worst of the weather until it was more conducive to make the run across the lawn.
Mary Dinkster had taken the latter option, and was now soaked to the skin and shivering with Lady Treblinger, who she had helped inside.
Sara and Cameron now found themselves alone beneath the shelter of the rhododendron, laughing at the spectacle which had just unfolded.
‘Did you see old Mantelhurst?’ Cameron said, ‘He was soaked through; that’ll teach him for trying to sit next to the mayor’s daughter, and poor Lady Treblinger, she didn’t want to have a picnic in the first place.’
A Most Congenial Lady Page 5