Bath Tangle

by Джорджетт Хейер

  “Papa, I had no notion I was to have this pleasure! Oh, is there something amiss at home? Mama? My sisters?”

  “All perfectly stout!” he replied. “I have been spending a few days with my friend, Abberley, at Cheltenham, and while I was in the west I thought I would come to see how you go on.”

  “How very much obliged to you I—am! Very comfortably, I assure you! Oh, I must introduce Major Kirkby! My father, Sir William Claypole, Major!”

  The Major bowed; Sir William nodded, in no very encouraging style, saying briefly: “How d’ye do?”

  “The Major,” said Fanny perseveringly, “has spent some years in the Peninsula, Papa. Only fancy! He thinks he once met my cousin Harry, when they were both in Lisbon!”

  “Ay, did you so? Very likely! Are you on furlough, sir?”

  “I’ve sold out, sir.”

  This information appeared to displease Sir William. He said: “Ha!” and turned to ask Fanny how she liked her situation in Laura Place. She was distressed by his evident dislike of her visitor, and could not forbear looking at the Major, to see whether he was as much offended as she feared he must be. She encountered such a rueful smile, so much amused understanding in his eyes, that she was at once reassured and embarrassed. Within a few minutes, he recollected an engagement, and took his leave, saying in an undervoice, as she gave him her hand: “It will be better if I don’t ride with Serena tomorrow.”

  He went away, and she turned to face her father. He broke in immediately upon her inquiries after the other members of her family. “Fanny, how is this? I promise you I thought the whole tale a Banbury story, but, upon my soul, what do I find but that fellow closeted with you!”

  “The whole tale?” she repeated. “What tale, if you please?”

  “Why, that there is some half-pay officer dangling after you, and making you the talk of the town!”

  “It is untrue!”

  “Very well, very well, it appears he has sold out, but that’s mere quibbling!” he said testily.

  “He is not dangling after me.”

  The quiet dignity of her tone seemed to strike him. She had, indeed, never looked more the great lady. He said, in a milder voice: “Well, I am happy to receive your assurance on that head, my dear, but I did not expect to find you entertaining a young man tête-à-tête.”

  “Papa, I think you must forget my condition! I am not a girl! If my widowhood—”

  “The fact is, my dear, your widowhood is no protection!” he interrupted bluntly. “I don’t say, if you were older—But you’re little more than a child, and a deal too pretty to rely upon that cap you wear, to save you from having advances made to you! I knew how it would be, the instant you informed us you were removing to Bath!”

  “Pray, Papa, will you tell me, if you please, who has had the monstrous impertinence to tell such stories about me?”

  “I had it from that old fool, Dorrington, and you may suppose I did not inquire who might be his informant. I daresay he may have friends in Bath. I gave him a pretty sharp set-down, and let him see I did not relish his style of humour.”

  “Oh, how right Serena is!” she cried, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks. “Of all the odious people in the world there can be none so detestable as the Bath quizzes! I wonder you have not been told that General Hendy is dangling after me!”

  “What, is he staying here? Well, he always had an eye for a pretty female, but as for dangling after you—Good God, Fanny, he must be sixty if he’s a day! It’s a different matter, my dear, when a young jackanapes like this Major Kirkby of yours throws out lures! Now, don’t put yourself in a fuss! I daresay there’s no harm done but what may be put right very easily. I told Mama that if you had been indiscreet it must have been all innocence. The thing is it won’t do for you to be living here with no better chaperon than Lady Serena. We must decide what is best to be done.”

  In the greatest dismay, she stammered: “Papa, you are quite, quite mistaken! Major Kirkby does not come here to see me!”

  He gave a low whistle. “You don’t mean to tell me Lady Serena is the object of his gallantry?” She nodded. “Well! So it was true! Neither your mama nor I would credit it! I should have thought the young lady too high in the instep to have encouraged the attentions of a mere nobody! She must be the most outrageous flirt!”

  “Oh, no, no!” she uttered, almost extinguished.

  “Well, I won’t argue with you, but I can tell you this, Fanny, if she should get into a scrape you will be blamed for it!”

  “Who told you this story?” she asked faintly.

  “Your Aunt Charlotte had it in a letter from Mrs Holroyd, and told your mama. She said your Major was for ever in Laura Place, and careering all over the countryside with Lady Serena besides. I need not tell you that was coming a bit too strong for me, my dear! It made your mama and me disbelieve the whole.”

  Fanny sat limply down, and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, how careless I have been! I should not have allowed—I should have gone with them!”

  Sir William regarded her in the liveliest consternation. “You don’t mean to tell me it’s true? Upon my word, Fanny!”

  “No, no, it is not what you think! Papa, you must not spread it about—Serena does not wish it to be known while she is in mourning—but they are engaged!”

  “What?” he demanded. “Lady Serena engaged to a Major Kirkby?”

  “Yes!” she said, and, for no very apparent reason, burst into tears.

  12

  Beyond saying: “Well, well, there is nothing for you to cry about, my dear!” Sir William paid very little heed to Fanny’s sudden spring of tears. Women, in his view, were always bursting into tears for no reason comprehensible to the sterner sex. He was very much taken aback by the news she had confided to him, and, at first, inclined to dislike it almost as much as he would have disliked the news of her own engagement. But Fanny, quickly wiping her eyes, soon contrived to talk him out of his disapproval. He was not much impressed by the touching picture she painted of a seven-year attachment. “Very fine talking!” he said. “It may be so with him, though I take leave to doubt it! He may think he never fancied another female, but all I can say, if he found no little love-bird to entertain him in seven years, is that he must be a nincompoop! No, no, my dear, that’s doing it too brown! As for Lady Serena, all this constancy didn’t prevent her from becoming engaged to Rotherham! But what you tell me of his having come into property puts a different complexion on the matter. Not that I think the Carlows will take kindly to the match, but that’s no concern of mine!”

  Guiltily aware of having conveyed to him the impression that the Major’s estate was extensive, and his fortune handsome, Fanny devoutly trusted that he would not question her too closely on the subject. He did ask her in what part of the country the estate was situated, but the timely entrance of Lybster, with wine and glasses on a large silver tray, made it unnecessary for her to say more than: “In Kent, Papa.” His attention was drawn off; he poured himself a glass of sherry; was agreeably surprised at its quality; and for some minutes was more interested to learn where it had been procured than in the size or whereabouts of the Major’s property.

  By the time Lybster, after discussing with Sir William the respective merits of Bristol Milk, Oloroso, and Manzanilla, had departed, Sir William had refilled his glass, and was feeling in charity with the world. He told his daughter that she had a good butler; bored her very much by recalling how in his youth Mountain-Malaga had been much drunk; what he had paid for a tun in the ’80s; how one was rarely offered it in these degenerate days: and at last came back to the subject of Serena’s engagement. The more he thought of it the more he liked it, for if Serena were to be married before the end of the year the way would be clear for Agnes to pay her sister a prolonged visit. “That is to say, if she doesn’t go off this Season, and although your mama is making every effort I need not scruple to tell you, my dear, that I entertain very few hopes. She does not take. It’s a pity
you cannot give her a little of your beauty! Though to my mind handsome is as handsome does, and a spoonful of honey on her tongue would get her a respectable husband sooner than a bushel of strawberries squashed on her face. Yes, Mama is determined to clear her complexion, and they say strawberries will do the trick. I hope they may, but so far it seems to me a great waste of good fruit. Kitty, now, is another thing. You would be surprised at the improvement in her since you saw her last! She is not unlike what you were at her age, and should go off easily, Mama thinks.”

  He continued in this strain for some minutes, so well-pleased with his scheme for foisting an unmarriageable sister on to Fanny that her marked absence of enthusiasm quite escaped his notice. Over his third glass of sherry he once more returned to Serena’s engagement, but this time it was to warn Fanny against allowing the Major to be too particular in his attentions. “It won’t do to set tongues wagging, if the engagement is not to be announced until the autumn,” he said. “Ten to one, it will come to the ears of her family that one man is dancing attendance on her. If I were you, Fanny, I would relax a trifle: permit people to call, you know! It is more than six months now since Spenborough died, and although I should not wish you to be leaving off your mourning, or going to public parties, I think there could be no impropriety in your entertaining—quite quietly, of course!—select company in your own house. A card-party, perhaps, or a dinner or two. No doubt there are plenty of other gentlemen in Bath who would be happy to be given the opportunity of dancing attendance on your daughter-in-law, for she’s a fine-looking girl, and an heiress besides. I suppose there’s no fear of Rotherham’s thrusting a spoke into the wheel?”

  “We do not know how he will like it, Papa, but he has no power to prevent it.”

  “No power! I should call the strings of the purse power enough!”

  “Neither Serena nor Major Kirkby would do so, however.”

  “More fools they! But it’s not my business, after all. What I am concerned with is that there shan’t be any more gossip about it, for that must draw you in, my dear. A good thing if the young man were to remove from Bath, but I suppose there’s no chance of his doing that. The next best thing is to render him less conspicuous, and that you may achieve by allowing others to visit you.”

  “If you think it right, Papa,” she said obediently. “I own, it would be agreeable if I might go out a little sometimes, and it was on that subject that I was talking to Major Kirkby when you arrived. You must know that the Masters of Ceremonies here have been most civil to us, and in particular have frequently been begging us to go to lectures or concerts. It so happens that there is to be a concert at the Lower Rooms which I should very much like to hear. Mr Guynette came to tell me of it yesterday, and to promise, if we would go, that we should have seats in a retired place. Do you think we might? Major Kirkby sees no harm in it, and if he does not I feel there can be none.”

  “None at all,” replied Sir William. “A concert is not the same thing as a ball, you know. But if the Major means to escort you, take along some other gentleman as well! I daresay you are acquainted with some?”

  “Oh, yes!” Fanny said, rather doubtfully.

  “You could invite old Hendy!” said Sir William, laughing heartily.

  “Yes—except that I don’t think he likes the Major very much,” said Fanny.

  “Jealous of him, no doubt! Thinks he will be cut out by a fine, upstanding young man!” said Sir William, still much amused; and apparently forgetting his earlier and less flattering description of the Major.

  If Fanny felt that her father’s scheme was not very likely to achieve his object, she did not say so. She was more concerned to know how Serena would receive the news that her secret had been betrayed. But Serena, when she came in pleasantly refreshed by a seven mile walk with a similarly energetic acquaintance, took it in very good part, merely begging Fanny to adjure Sir William not to mention her engagement to anyone but his wife. She came down to dinner looking so handsome in dove-grey with black ribbons that Sir William was quite captivated. Knowing that it would please Fanny, she laid herself out to amuse him, and succeeded so well that when he took up his candle to go to bed he declared he had seldom enjoyed an evening more. In his own home, no one regaled him with lively conversation, or encouraged him to recount anecdotes of his youth. He would not, in fact, have approved of it had any of his daughters talked in the Lady Serena’s racy fashion; and he would certainly not have played piquet with them for penny points, for that, win or lose, could have done him no good at all.

  So well pleased with his entertainment was he that he decided to remain in Bath for another night. He told Fanny that it would do no harm for the Major to be seen in his company, and said that he would go with both ladies to the Pump Room, and promenade with them there. It did not seem to Fanny that the sight of her father lending his countenance to the Major would be very likely to allay the suspicions of the Pump Room gossips, but having a strong disposition to think anyone’s judgement more to be trusted than her own, and being, besides, still a good deal in awe of him, she made no demur. It was by no means certain that the Major would visit the Pump Room, for ever since the daily rides with Serena had become the rule he had taken care not to go there too often.

  But the Major, wishing to discover from Fanny the probable length of Sir William’s stay, did visit it, and was considerably taken aback to find himself being shaken warmly by the hand, and greeted in much the same way as he could fancy Sir William greeting a favourite nephew.

  And, after all, Fanny perceived, Sir William did not manage so badly. He discovered several acquaintances in the room, and to each one he contrived to convey the impression that Major Kirkby, an old and valued friend, had been devoting himself to Lady Spenborough and her daughter-in-law at his express entreaty. The Major’s quickness in following this lead pleased him so much that he began to think him a very good sort of a man, and invited him to dine in Laura Place that evening, and to play a rubber or two of whist afterwards. Fanny, an indifferent card-player, was too thankful to have prevailed upon Serena not to introduce her father to Mrs Floore to protest.

  At dinner, Sir William continued to be pleased both with the Major and with Fanny’s cook, some Spanish fritters earning his special commendation. The port was very tolerable too; and he sat down presently to the card-table in a mood of great good-humour. This, however, did not long endure, for hecut his daughter for partner, and if he was the most skilled of the four players, she was by far the least. The first rubber reduced Fanny almost to tears, so acid and incessant were the criticisms made by her parent of her mistakes. By good fortune, she cut next with the Major, and he smiled at her so reassuringly when she said, with a nervous little laugh, that he was to be pitied, that she quite plucked up courage, and, in consequence, played very much better. Sir William continued to point out her errors to her, but since these were now to his advantage, he did so in a tolerant spirit which did not much discompose her. The Major encouraged her with as much praise as he could, without absurdity, bestow, found ingenious excuses for her blunders, and, when the rubber ended in their defeat, said: “Lady Spenborough, shall we challenge these expert gamesters to a return? Do let us have our revenge on them!”

  She was very willing; and as Serena was a skilled player Sir William raised no objection. Serena was so grateful to the Major for shielding Fanny from assault that she gave him both her hands and her lips at parting, a thing that she was not very prone to do, and said warmly: “You are quite the kindest man alive, Hector! Thank you!”

  Sir William went back to London next day, and his daughter did her best to carry out his instructions to her. Rather to her surprise, Serena approved of them. So a very respectable and correspondingly dull gentleman of their acquaintance was invited to accompany them to the concert; and Fanny wrote careful notes to a number of persons, bidding them to a small evening reception. Life settled down into a slightly more variegated pattern, enlivened by morning visitors, and an occasiona
l party. Several expeditions were made to places of historic interest in the vicinity of Bath, and if the Major rode behind the barouche, so too did some other gentleman. There was no difficulty in finding a suitable fourth to these parties: the only difficulty lay in deciding whose turn it was to be honoured with an invitation. Every unattached gentleman who had cudgelled his brains for weeks to hit upon a way of becoming acquainted with the most beautiful woman in Bath no sooner heard that the bereaved ladies were now receiving visitors than he scoured the town for some common acquaintance who could be persuaded to perform the coveted introduction. One or two lost their hearts to Fanny, but these were in the minority, Serena’s admirers far outnumbering them, and behaving with an ardency and a devotion which made Fanny fear that the Major might be hurt. He seemed, however, to be rather amused; and whenever one of her flirts contrived to draw Serena away from her mama-in-law, to show her a very fine view, or to conduct her to the top of a ruined keep, he made no attempt to go after the truants, but walked with Fanny instead, concealing whatever chagrin he might have felt.

  Fanny, incapable herself of conducting the sort of light flirtation of which Serena was an accomplished exponent, was distressed, and ventured to remonstrate. But Serena only laughed, and said that she was following out the spirit of Sir William’s advice. “The Bath quizzes will now say of me that so far from being violently attached to one man I am shockingly volage!”

  Fanny could only hope that the Major would not share this opinion. She told him once, when she saw Serena positively encouraging the gallantry of young Mr Nantwich, that Serena had a great deal of vivacity. “In her set, you know,” she said, trying for an airy note, “that sort of—of liveliness is quite the thing! It doesn’t denote the least want of delicacy, or—or unsteadiness!”

  He glanced down into her perturbed countenance, smiling a little. “I am not jealous, I promise you,” he said.

  “Oh, no! I am persuaded you could not be!”