The Bath Trilogy

by Amanda Scott

  “Sudbury, no doubt,” Lady Flavia said with a satisfied nod. “Nell, dear, compose yourself. I must tell you, I had not the least notion that you were acquainted with any young men in Bath. Indeed, I had been racking my brain trying to recall if there were any young gentlemen in town at this season and had quite decided there were none at all and we would have to make do with the older ones, and here you are with two splendid young ones in your train. ’Tis quite providential.”

  Recovering her equanimity at last, Nell shook her head, mopped her eyes and cheeks with the handkerchief, and said, “Not precisely providential, ma’am. I became acquainted with them only this morning when, apparently believing me to be on the brink of inheriting your vast wealth, Mr. Manningford attempted to abduct me in order to win a wager.”

  “On the brink!” Lady Flavia exclaimed, ignoring the rest and favoring Manningford with a basilisk glare. “On the brink! Do you dare to think me decrepit, young man? Do you expect me to pop off just to oblige you or any other young chub? I’ll thank you to know that I am but three-and-seventy, and in excellent curl. Why, I expect to live a score of years and more yet!”

  “Indeed, I hope you do, ma’am,” Manningford said with a grin, taking a seat near her and signing to Mr. Lasenby to do likewise. “I had no such notion, you know, but only of winning four thousand pounds. That is reprehensible enough, however, so if you still want to ring a peal over me, I shall not object.”

  Lady Flavia stared at him. “Four thousand?” When he nodded, she said, “Do you hear that, Nell? Four thousand pounds, merely for a wager. Did you ever hear the like?”

  “Well, in actual fact, Aunt—”

  “Oh, well, of course you have heard the like, but four thousand, Nell! Perhaps … but no, it would not do, more’s the pity. Unless … I say, Mr. Manningford, will the fact that you have not abducted my grand-niece after all mean that you will have to pay out the four thousand?”

  There was a moment’s stunned silence before, with a look of comical chagrin, Manningford said slowly, “No, ma’am, I shan’t, because in point of fact, there was no wager.” He looked at Mr. Lasenby. “I did tell Halstead that I’d be da—” He broke off, glanced at Lady Flavia, then continued smoothly, “That I should never think of abducting Miss Bradbourne. Did I not, Seppi?”

  “You did,” Mr. Lasenby agreed. “Might have refused to pay if you’d shown up with her after that, come to think on it. Fool thing to do, Bran, without making all clear with him first.”

  Another gurgle of laughter from Nell, albeit immediately stifled, drew Manningford’s attention, and with a rueful grin he said to her, “Go ahead and laugh. I can’t think when I last made such a fantastic mull of anything as I did of this, but I cannot say I am altogether sorry I made the attempt.”

  Sudbury, entering just then with a tray bearing a decanter and glasses, went first to Mr. Lasenby. “Your wine, sir. A very fine mountain sherry.” Turning next to Manningford, he said, “I took the liberty of giving your dog a marrow bone, sir.”

  “An excellent notion. Thank you.”

  Nell had been thinking, and once Sudbury had ascertained that nothing further was wanted, and departed, she said calmly, “Mr. Manningford, there was something you wished to discuss.”

  He glanced at Lady Flavia, gazing at him now with open curiosity. “This is perhaps not the best time, Miss Bradbourne. You said that your great-aunt had objected … That is—” He broke off, at a loss for words.

  With dignity, Lady Flavia pushed the little stool aside with one foot and got up, reaching for the cane that rested beside her chair but showing no sign of leaning upon it. “I believe I shall speak to Botten, Nell. She was to have visited her sister today, but her nephew is occupied for some time yet and cannot accompany her, so she might as well have a look at my Pomona-green crepe. I intend to wear it when we call upon Maria Prudham today.”

  “Aunt Flavia, do sit down,” Nell said. “Surely, you do not mean to leave me alone with two gentlemen!”

  “Pish tush, my dear. You are one-and-twenty, which ought to be quite old enough to look after yourself.”

  “Yes,” Nell agreed, “and to make my own decisions, too, but I do not mean to keep secrets from you, so you might as well hear the whole for yourself firsthand. I shall only have to repeat it to you later, if you do not.”

  Lady Flavia plumped down again in her chair. “Well, what is it, then?” she demanded, her gray eyes sparkling. “I adore secrets.”

  V

  NELL SMILED AT LADY FLAVIA, then turned to Manningford and said calmly, “Since my great-aunt has objected only to my desire to seek employment, I collect from your comment that you might know of a situation to suit me. There can be no good reason not to discuss that subject immediately.”

  Mr. Lasenby sat up and gazed around the elegant room in confusion. “Employment! You cannot be serious, Miss Bradbourne. No one in such circumstances as these seeks employment.”

  “My circumstances are not what they appear to be, sir,” Nell said with an apologetic look at Lady Flavia. “My great-aunt is in no way responsible for me.”

  “Now, Nell,” that lady said tartly, “I will not have you giving people the notion that you are not welcome here for as long as you like to stay. You know perfectly well that you are.”

  “Yes, Aunt Flavia, I do know, but I have already given the facts away to Mr. Manningford—inadvertently, I promise you. He rather leapt from one small fact to the grand whole, I’m afraid.”

  “The whole?” She regarded Manningford fixedly. “What is this whole that you think you know, young man?”

  He flicked a glance at Mr. Lasenby, who still looked confused, Nell thought, as well he might. Taking pity on him, she said to her aunt, “I fear that Mr. Lasenby does not know what any of us is talking about, ma’am. He was not present during my conversation with Mr. Manningford, you see. Do tell me, Mr. Lasenby,” she added abruptly, “why it is that Mr. Manningford addresses you as Sep. I believe Sudbury announced you as Joseph Lasenby, did he not?”

  Lasenby looked at Manningford and said, “’Twas all Bran’s doing. Eton together, don’t you know, and his sisters had an Italian governess at the time. Had the notion of calling me Giuseppe—the Italian form of Joseph, that is—and has done ever since. ‘Sep’ for short. But look here. No cause for pointless diversion, you know. Want to talk about private matters, I’ll just step outside and have a look at that fountain, or step into another room inside, for all that.”

  “No, don’t do that!” Nell said quickly as he got to his feet. “I mean, do sit down, Mr. Lasenby. The matter of my seeking employment is truly not so private as all that.”

  “Yes, but dash it, ma’am, you haven’t explained why the deuce you must needs consider such a thing.”

  Manningford said bluntly, “Her father was the late Lord Bradbourne, Sep.”

  “He was? Well, fancy that. Daresay I didn’t know him, you know.” Mr. Lasenby frowned. “But wait! Wasn’t he—” Breaking off, he flushed deeply, looked from Nell to Manningford and back again, then said manfully, “I do remember, and I’m deuced sorry, Miss Bradbourne. Expect that explains your need, right enough.”

  Manningford shook his head. “No, it does not. At least, if he was completely run off his legs, I didn’t hear about it. At all events, though his manner of death might explain why she won’t wish to make a stir here in Bath, it cannot explain why she is no longer an heiress.” He looked at Lady Flavia.

  Returning his look, she said firmly, “She is still heiress to all I have, young man.” When he remained silent, watching her, she sighed at last and said, “There might not be so much as people think, of course. Still, I simply will not hear of her visiting a registry office or otherwise letting it be known that she seeks employment!”

  He nodded. “I think I understand you, ma’am, and I promise that you have nothing to fear from me. Indeed, I mean to make you privy to a secret that, as yet, only two other persons in the world know, so you will see that it i
s as much to my benefit as to your own that I keep your secret. And though Sep appears to be a sad rattlepate, he is as close as an oyster when it matters. I’d trust him with my life.”

  Mr. Lasenby shifted uncomfortably in his chair and grimaced, as if Manningford had accused him of doing something shocking.

  Manningford didn’t wait for comments. He said bluntly, “The fact is that my father has been hiding away on the top floor of the Royal Crescent all these years, penning gothic romances and calling himself ‘a Gentlewoman of Quality, Residing in Bath.’”

  “Goodness,” said Nell, awed. “I have read some of those books. But surely to goodness, he hasn’t written all the ones that are so inscribed! Why, there must be dozens of them that claim to have been penned by a Gentlewoman Residing in Bath!”

  “He probably did write them all,” Manningford said gloomily. “Unfortunately, he has recently had an apoplectic fit of some sort in which his vision and right arm were affected. He can still see but he cannot write, and before it happened he had already begun a book that is bespoken to be finished by mid-August. He insists that it must be finished. By me.”

  Nell bit her lower lip, trying to imagine the reckless, unpredictable Manningford writing any book. “Do you think you can do such a thing, sir?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “By Jove,” Mr. Lasenby said, “I should rather think not! Why, no one could. That is to say, I suppose your father really did write those others if he claims to have done, but—”

  “He wrote them all right,” Manningford said, “but worse than that is that they have attracted royal attention. According to what he let fall in the course of his ranting yesterday, his fit was caused by a letter from his publisher informing him that the Prince Regent has condescended to grant permission for this next book to be dedicated to his royal self. Not that permission was invited, of course, but ’tis as good as a command, and thus one can understand my father’s insistence that the book be finished.”

  Nell looked confused. “But his publisher must know his identity if he writes to him. Can you not simply write and tell him that your father is too ill to continue?”

  “My father insists that because of the Regent’s interest the novel must be finished, and in any case, his publisher knows nothing about him. Letters for the Gentlewoman of Quality are addressed to a Miss Clarissa Harlowe, care of the receiving office. My father’s man collects them for him there.”

  Lady Flavia frowned. “That name sounds familiar, but I cannot think why it should do so.”

  “He told me it comes from a novel by Samuel Richardson that was written all in letters, although I must tell you that had he not chosen it years and years ago I should more likely believe it amused him to think how much my brother’s wife, Clarissa, would dislike having her name used in such a fashion. No doubt the choice was made just as he said it was, however.”

  Lady Flavia chuckled. “No doubt.”

  Nell looked at the tips of her fingernails and said, “I think I can imagine where this conversation is leading us, sir, but I cannot possibly pretend to be any kind of authoress.”

  “Oh, you needn’t be one. ’Tis merely his right eye and hand that refuse to obey him. He can still talk and think well enough. What I had in mind was that you might, for a proper fee, act as his scribe. Since you do not want it widely known that you seek employment and he does not wish any of this known, you ought to suit each other down to the ground, don’t you agree?”

  “I should think he would prefer to engage a proper secretary,” Nell said. “I have no experience in such matters.”

  “He will not want a secretary,” Manningford said. “In fact, I expect to have the devil’s own time convincing him that he wants anyone.” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “The plain truth is that he threatened to cut me off with no more than the proverbial shilling if I do not see the fool thing through, and I mean to offer him your services as a compromise. He must know I cannot write such a novel myself.”

  “But if he accepts the notion of a scribe, will he not insist that you take that role, sir?”

  “Not,” Manningford said with the smile of a mischievous boy, “when it is pointed out to him that no one has ever been able to decipher my lamentable scrawl.”

  “Fact,” agreed Mr. Lasenby, nodding judicially. “Can’t read it at all myself.”

  Manningford grinned at him, saying, “I assume your education included learning a creditable copperplate, Miss Bradbourne.”

  Nell nodded, her thoughts awhirl, but Lady Flavia said, “Nell’s hand is particularly elegant, Mr. Manningford; however, I daresay Sir Mortimer will not agree to having her in his house. In any event, one could not approve such a plan as seemly.”

  “Wait, Aunt Flavia,” Nell said quickly. “’Twill answer well enough, I think, if we consider carefully. I cannot stay there, of course, nor can I go every day to Royal Crescent as Miss Nell Bradbourne, but I daresay we can think of a way to get by that, you know. As to the rest, if he will allow me to do so, I should be pleased to help Sir Mortimer. I know I can get on well with elderly gentlemen, for several were accustomed to visit Papa, so the only difficulty will be to convince him to accept my help.”

  Mr. Lasenby said succinctly, “Dash it, must do so if he wants his book written. Bran won’t do it.”

  Manningford smiled at Lady Flavia. “I should like to take your grand-niece at once to make my father’s acquaintance, ma’am. Will you agree to accompany her, for propriety’s sake?”

  “Propriety?” Lady Flavia shook her head. “There is little enough of that in any of what you have suggested, young man, but I cannot think it any more proper for two gentlewomen to visit a bachelor establishment than for one to do so.”

  Mischievously, Nell said, “I daresay my aunt would enjoy a ride in your phaeton, Mr. Manningford.”

  That was too much for Mr. Lasenby. “Now, see here, Bran, you can’t take the Lady Flavia up in that rig! Not the thing, dear boy. Not the thing at all. Not enough room, for one thing. That dashed dog of yours, for another. Must hire a chair. I shall walk beside it, if you like.”

  The rueful look returned to Manningford’s eyes. “I am not generally known to rush my fences this way, Miss Bradbourne. You must forgive me. ’Tis only that I think I see an answer to my problem if only I can clear away the obstacles.”

  “Yes, and so do I see it, sir, but not if Aunt Flavia is to attempt to play propriety. She is too well known, and even if she were to agree to adopt a disguise, it would not answer. I think I know of a way, unless … But surely, your father has at least one or two female servants in his house.”

  “Cook is still there,” he told her. “The others have gone, but Borland—my father’s manservant—has promised to hire more. The difficulty is that my father frequently sacks them; however, he has said he means to turn such affairs over to my management, so I ought to prevent any future fits of such capriciousness.”

  “Then the answer is not so difficult. I shall simply become one of your new servants. No, no, Aunt,” she said, laughing. “Such a ruse will answer perfectly, for I am persuaded, Mr. Manningford, that your maids do not live on the premises.”

  “No, they come to the house daily, and have done since my elder sister married and went to live in London.”

  “Excellent. I shall simply arrive each morning at the same time the maids do and leave when they leave.”

  “Nell,” exclaimed Lady Flavia, “you cannot think of doing such a thing! Why, how will you get there? Royal Crescent is clear the other side of town!”

  “Fiddle,” Nell said. “Even at that, it cannot be more than a mile from here. I am country bred, ma’am, so such a distance is as nothing to me.”

  “The crescent’s atop a mighty steep hill,” Mr. Lasenby informed her anxiously.

  “I can manage a hill,” she told him. Then, looking at Manningford, she lifted her eyebrows. “Will it answer, sir?”

  “No.”

  “No? But I t
hought—”

  “The maidservants arrive very early, Miss Bradbourne.”

  Nell smiled at him. “Do you think me a layabout, sir?”

  “No, but I do think you ought not to be out at such an hour and certainly not alone. I shall send a carriage for you.”

  “Nonsense. Even in my short time here, I have seen that practically no one takes a carriage. You would draw too much attention to me if a one were sent to collect me each day.”

  Lady Flavia had been listening with more than usual patience to this dialogue and now said thoughtfully, “You could take my chair, Nell. Of course, there must be chairmen, but I daresay Sudbury will know a pair of lads glad to make an extra shilling or two, and who will keep still tongues in their heads. You might then find use for them during the day, Mr. Manningford, or they can simply return for her each afternoon.”

  “But that will be almost as bad, ma’am,” Nell protested. “It will be much better if I walk than if a chair is seen—”

  “It needn’t be seen,” Manningford said abruptly. “The stables are in Julian Street, behind the crescent. Your people can take you there, and you will enter the house through the garden. Our people will know who you are, though, and as for the proprieties, Lady Flavia, I can arrange for a maidservant—once we have some—to remain on the upper-floor landing the whole time Miss Bradbourne is with my father. Will that satisfy you?”

  Lady Flavia smiled at him. “As to that, young man, I am more concerned with the appearance than with the reality, for I daresay Nell can look after herself. However, if she is truly going to insist upon this dreadful course, your plan is certainly more acceptable to me than any she has suggested.”

  Mr. Lasenby murmured, “Dash it, take her pistol. Safe as houses then, I daresay.”

  Lady Flavia looked surprised. “You have a pistol, Nell?”

  “Yes, ma’am, does that shock you?”

  “Not at all, my dear. I should have fretted less about your walking alone in the gardens, had I known you had it. ’Tis rather odd, of course, but I daresay your father taught you.”