The Bath Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  By the end of the week, both the marchioness and Lady Lucretia had become aware of her depression, if not of its exact cause, and it was Lady Lucretia who insisted that she accompany them to the Theater Royal to see Mr. Coates’s debut performance in Romeo and Juliet. Though she was not enthusiastic about accepting the, invitation, Sybilla was certainly as curious as the rest of the citizens of Bath to see what manner of actor Coates would prove to be, and she agreed to go. Lady Lucretia promptly issued an invitation to Mr. Saint-Denis to accompany them, and on Friday night her carriage set them down at the Theater Royal in the Seaclose off Monmouth Street.

  Sydney was attentive and in a very good humor, and both he and Sybilla laughed at the sight of Henrietta’s silky white head emerging from Lady Lucretia’s muff as they entered the theater, and by the time they had found their places in an elegant side box in the second tier, with its own anteroom and saloon, Sybilla was beginning to look forward to the evening with a real sense of pleasure.

  Mr. Coates’s appearance when the curtain went up was startling and unlike any Romeo they had ever seen before, for he wore a spangled cloak of sky-blue silk, red pantaloons, a white muslin vest, an enormous cravat, and a full-bottomed Restoration wig capped by an opera hat. Sybilla and her companions agreed that he presented one of the oddest spectacles they had ever witnessed upon the stage.

  His voice was peculiarly harsh, and his every movement betrayed his ignorance of dramatic gesticulation. Moreover, since his garments were all too tight for him, his movements were so stiff and awkward that every time he raised his arm or took a step, the audience erupted with laughter. When his red pantaloons split soon after the first interval, revealing white linen beneath, at first the audience appeared to believe he had done it on purpose, and there were cries of outrage, but when it became clear that he was completely unaware of his disarray, the laughter continued.

  The audience became steadily more exuberant, until in the midst of one of Juliet’s impassioned speeches, when Coates took out his snuffbox and applied a pinch to his nose, a wag in the gallery cried out, “I say, Romeo, give us a pinch!”

  Mr. Coates promptly walked to the side boxes opposite Lady Lucretia’s and offered the contents of his box, first to the men and then, with an air of great gallantry, to the ladies.

  Suddenly, Sybilla sat up straighter in her chair and peered toward the opposite side of the stage. Then, touching Lady Axbridge on the arm to draw her attention, and leaning close—for with all the commotion attending Mr. Coates’s antics, she knew her voice would not be heard—she said directly into her ear, “There, near Mr. Coates—’tis Fanny, is it not? Ned did it! She has come.”

  Her heart was beating rapidly, and since she continued to stare, it was not long before Fanny caught her eye and nodded. She was not alone, but Sybilla did not recognize the two gentlemen who sat beside her. Neither was Fanny’s husband.

  The second interval came at last, and Sybilla half expected her to visit them, but neither Lady Mandeville nor her companions stirred from their chairs. Fanny did look their way more than once as the evening progressed, and Sybilla thought she looked perturbed, and very thoughtful.

  The last act began with Coates continuing as he had begun, but his antics no longer were enough to draw Sybilla’s attention away from her own thoughts, for she had had no difficulty imagining what Fanny was thinking. Here she sat, right beside the marchioness, clearly in close association with her. How on earth would Fanny imagine that she could write in Sybilla’s name to someone Sybilla saw nearly every day?

  Clearly, she decided, Lady Axbridge could not remain in Bath, but must return to Axbridge Park, which, after all, was not so far away that they could not be pretty certain that a message from her would reach Bath in time to arrange to catch Fanny in the act of receiving the money. And Ned could just as easily go to the park, too, for that matter. Indeed, from there he could see that the money was hand-delivered to Fanny. And that, she decided, was a good idea at last. She would write to Ned as soon as she got home. She only wished they could leave at once.

  Just then the audience erupted into hysterical laughter, drawing her attention back to the stage, where she saw to her astonishment that Romeo, grasping a crowbar, was attempting to break into Juliet’s tomb. Amidst an uproar of helpless laughter and shouted offers of technical advice, the curtain was rung down only to rise again, moments later, on his death scene.

  To the great delight of his audience, he first whisked a dirty silk handkerchief from his pocket and carefully swept the floor of the stage. Then he placed his opera hat in position to use for a pillow and laid himself down. After various odd gyrations, he relaxed at last; however, voices from the house bawled out, “Die again, Romeo!”

  Obedient to the command, he rose up and repeated the ceremony, but no sooner did he lie down again than the call came again, and although he was clearly prepared to enact a third death, Juliet now emerged from her tomb and gracefully put an end to the ludicrous scene by saying firmly, “Dying is such sweet sorrow that he will the again tomorrow!” Sybilla’s party did not stay for the farce.

  In the carriage, Lady Lucretia said abruptly, “I never saw such a thing in my life, and poor Henrietta was so disturbed by all that din that she did not so much as pop her head out of my muff.” She patted the small head that emerged now and was rewarded with a lick.

  “Well,” the marchioness declared, “I never before heard of anyone’s taking a dog to the theater, Lucretia, so if she was disturbed, I daresay ’tis you and not Mr. Coates who is to blame. What did you think of his performance, Mr. Saint-Denis?”

  “Too energetic by half,” Sydney drawled. “Quite wore me out. After the heavy pace of London, I had hoped for more peace and quiet here, you know. At least the rain has stopped.”

  Sybilla grinned at him. “Poor Sydney.”

  Lady Lucretia said tartly that had she known he tired so easily, she would have asked someone else to accompany them. Then, scarcely giving him time to murmur an apology, she went on to discuss the play at length with the marchioness. Sybilla, wanting to think, was very glad to be let down at her own doorstep a quarter-hour later.

  Lady Lucretia’s footman saw her to the door, and inside, Robert awaited her. She could see at once that he was big with news. “What is it now?” she asked wearily.

  “M’lady, you’ve a visitor.”

  She suddenly felt rather breathless. “His lordship?” When he nodded, her heart began to pound until it occurred to her that Ramsbury might well have traveled to Bath with Fanny. “When did he arrive?” she demanded.

  Robert said, “An hour ago, but he don’t want it noised about that he’s here, ma’am. I know, and Mrs. Hammersmyth knows, of course, but no one else. He is waiting in the drawing room.”

  Sybilla hurried up the stairs, pausing at the pier glass on the landing to remove her headdress and smooth her hair. Then, shaking out the skirts of her apricot-colored evening dress, she entered the drawing room and came to a stop just inside the door, pausing there for a long moment to look at him.

  He was sprawled on his back, asleep, on the hard sofa, his right arm dangling to the floor, his left tucked beneath his head as a pillow. The flickering candles in the sconces flanking the sofa cast dancing shadows over his face. He looked very tired.

  She shut the door and moved toward him, touching him lightly on the shoulder. “Ned … Ned, wake up.”

  One sleepy eye opened. “Sybilla, that you?” Then, as he stirred, “Put out those damned candles, will you, before they give me a headache, dancing about like they are.”

  Obligingly, and with her expression carefully controlled, she found a candlesnuffer and snuffed the ones above the sofa. He had straightened up by the time she finished and was looking at her with a critical eye.

  “I like that dress,” he said. “The color suits you.”

  “You can scarcely see it in this light,” she retorted.

  “Don’t start up with me, Sybilla. Just say ‘thank yo
u’ for the compliment. That will be a new experience for you. Is there any brandy about?”

  “There is a decanter in the library. I’ll fetch it.” But before she turned away, she favored him with another long look. “Are you sure you want brandy, Ned? You look as though you’ve been going the pace too hard already.”

  “I have, but brandy won’t hurt me. I’m suffering from lack of sleep, not an overabundance of spirits. I’ve been traveling since yesterday, and I’d have been here a good deal sooner had I not lost a wheel outside Speenhamland. Thought they could fix it in a trice, but it took so long I made it only to Reading before I couldn’t stay awake any longer. Then the roads were a mess from all the rain, and I couldn’t make good time at all today. Nonetheless, here I am at last.”

  “I thought you might have come with Fanny,” she confessed, not meeting his look. “I’ll fetch the brandy.”

  She did so, and when she returned with the decanter and a glass, he poured out for himself before he said calmly, “I didn’t come with her, but I am responsible for her being here.”

  Sybilla turned one of the gilt-wood chairs to face the sofa. “How did you do it?”

  “Emily Rosecourt’s little gaming parties,” he said with a smile. When she only looked bewildered, he explained. “It took some doing, and you will undoubtedly hear some rumors you won’t like, but she lost nearly three hundred pounds to me in the end. I daresay it was ungentlemanly of me to encourage her, especially since she’s been plunging deeply elsewhere of late and seemed to believe that while I held the bank she could bet as wildly as she chose, no doubt in hopes of winning enough to pay her other debts and apparently in the certainty that either her luck would change or I would tear up her vouchers afterward.”

  “But you didn’t,” Sybilla said, beginning to see where he was leading.

  “No, I didn’t. And I know that Mandeville won’t frank her. One reason it took so long to set it all up was that I wanted to be certain of that. And though she has been thick with Brentford since Norfolk’s party, I doubt he would agree to pay her debt to me, or that she would be brazen enough to ask him to do so.”

  “If she is only flirting with him, surely an application for money to finance her gaming would be a trifle premature,” Sybilla suggested delicately.

  “Very true,” he said, “but as I happen to know she has lost to him as well, it would be more than premature; it would be foolhardy. He is a dangerous man to cross. In any case, she was greatly discomposed when I demanded payment by midweek, and I believe she will do whatever she can to find the money.”

  “Good,” Sybilla said, “but she still might not apply to the marchioness, you know.”

  “She has no other recourse,” he said, “unless I am mistaken about Brentford and he agrees to help her. But since I believe gaming to be his primary source of income—although his victims are generally young men who are much more naive than Fanny—and since he has never been noted for his generosity, I cannot think she will win him to her cause. Moreover, I am convinced that it will appeal to her to apply to my own mother for the money to pay me. To know she was doing so right under my nose would probably add spice, too, but I don’t propose to let her know I am so near until the moment of reckoning.”

  “Well, but I have been doing some thinking, Ned, and I cannot see how she can possibly make such a demand with your mother in Bath. Surely, it would be better if the marchioness went back to Axbridge Park. You could go with her, and that way when Fanny’s demand comes, you can arrange to have the money delivered by hand. It would be a great deal simpler.”

  “Trying to take the reins again, my sweet?” he asked, sipping his brandy.

  “I am only suggesting—”

  “I have no wish to make the thing simple,” he said abruptly. “I want to make it dashed difficult for her. Moreover, my esteemed father has returned to Axbridge, saying London has worn him to the bone, and I don’t want to spoil Mama’s visit to Bath by sending her to join him there. I’ll wager she’s having the time of her life with my aunt, despite the beastly weather. Where did you go tonight?”

  “To the most ridiculous production of Romeo and Juliet that I have ever seen,” Sybilla said tartly. But she could not deny for one moment that the marchioness had enjoyed it. To insist that Lady Axbridge return to her husband now would be wrong. Following that train of thought, she said, “But how can Fanny possibly manage to give herself away, if we do not help her?”

  “Let her worry about that,” he said. “Trust me, Sybilla.”

  “You keep saying that,” she retorted, “but how can you expect me to trust you when your lack of trust in me is what began all this. If you had believed me when I told you—”

  “That accusation falls easily from your lips, love, but the fact of the matter is that that is the only occasion upon which I have failed, for in the ordinary course of things, I do trust you. I never raise a dust about the money you spend. Nor do I interfere in your decisions about the house or even my stables. And I have never objected to your charging about the countryside in your own phaeton—Well, at all events,” he amended quickly, “not until I thought I had good reason to do so. And don’t take me up on that small point before asking yourself if you have given me the same consideration, my girl.”

  She hesitated on the brink of a scathing condemnation of his behavior, then bit back the words unspoken. He was right.

  He said more gently, “If you hadn’t insisted upon debating everything I said till I was so angry I couldn’t think straight, I might have listened when you told me you didn’t write the letters. You didn’t give me a chance, and you never made much of an attempt afterward to talk about it at all.”

  “I wanted you to see for yourself how wrong you were to accuse me, and apologize,” she confessed. “I could have proved easily enough that I had not been in London all those times, but I didn’t. I wanted you to have more faith in me.”

  “We want the same things, love,” he said gently, “and we have both made mistakes. I ought to have made it clearer to everyone that the only woman who attracts me is my own wife, but it seemed simpler at the time to avoid offending Fanny. She would cling to my arm, and short of pushing her away, there seemed little to be done about it, especially since it is not customary to spend all one’s time with one’s wife.”

  “I blamed your father, not only you,” she said.

  “We’ve both blamed our fathers, but you at least have done your duty by yours. In defense of myself, I can say only that many others are in my position, and that the common reaction seems to be to wallow in excesses. It excuses none of us—”

  “It does seem unfair that a man must wait until his father dies before he can have a say in how his birthright is managed,” she said, “and your father is more difficult than most, but I think he will begin to welcome your help as he grows older.”

  “Well, yes, but I make you no promises about him. First we must attend to Fanny, and you will do well for once to try letting others take the lead. We’ll let Fanny make her own plan, and then we will discuss what to do, when we know what she means to do. You must not leap at the first sign of anything to handle it all yourself, however. If I trust you that far, can you trust me to deal with the rest in my own way?”

  She bit her lip, wanting to be honest but not certain how he would react. Finally, deciding nothing would be gained by prevarication, she said, “I don’t know, Ned. I think you are wrong to believe she will do anything while your mama is in Bath. How could she possibly think Lady Axbridge would not simply come to me here? What will she tell her is the reason I need more money? And won’t she think your mama has learned that I am not the guilty party?”

  He sighed. “She has no reason to believe that Mama knows anything other than that you have had financial difficulties and that I believe you have tried to make trouble for me with my parents. Since I believe her motive in all this has been to make mischief between you and me, she must think she has succeeded very well. All she has
to do now is figure out a way to make Mama think she cannot just hand you the money.”

  “She will certainly have to explain her ‘cousin’s’ rapid departure from Mr. Grimthorpe’s office,” Sybilla reminded him.

  “True, but I doubt that that is beyond her capability, and as for the reason she will give for wanting the money, I have no notion. I do not think she will fail to think of one. If you insist upon giving her a reason for Mama’s not giving the money directly to you, however,” he added with a lazy grin, “perhaps I should simply move into Royal Crescent with you, and forget about concealing my presence in Bath. Mama can scarcely come to you here if I am known to be with you, never leaving your side.”

  “No!” The exclamation was out before she knew she was going to speak, but the thought that he would simply move back in with her as easily as that was too much to bear. The time they had spent together in London had shown her that it was too easy to slip back into old patterns, and she knew she had to have room to think. Though she realized now that she wanted nothing so much as to be reconciled with him, she could not simply give in. She wanted time to accustom herself to the idea, time to adjust to the changes that would be necessary. The last thing she wanted was to have him constantly at her side in the manner he had just suggested, knowing that he might then use his skill in bed to bring her to heel in other ways. “I cannot do it so suddenly as this, Ned. Please understand, and don’t be angry with me.”

  Setting his glass down on the floor, he stood up and moved toward her, but the look on his face gave her to understand that he was not in the least angry. When he held out his hands to her, she arose and moved into his embrace, sighing deeply when his arms folded around her and he held her tight.

  He murmured against her curls, “I want us to find a way to make it work, love. I have missed you.”