by Jane Odiwe
Chapter 4
“HARRIET, WE HAVE ARRIVED in paradise,” cried Lydia, watching the throng from her window promenading in an unceasing procession along the cliff edge. Carriages, coaches, curricles, and phaetons, setting down new arrivals or departing with sad-faced passengers, were displayed in a series of pictures through every pane of glass, providing a constant panorama. She could do nothing but look out at the mesmerising mass of water and the waves ruffled by the wind, turquoise and white-capped with the sun glittering on the water, inviting the gulls to wheel between the fishing boats and sailing ships. What a sight! How her mama would have loved it here; the air was so invigorating, she was sure her nerves would be improved with a single sniff.
Within the hour the Colonel arrived to greet them, bestowing kisses of affection upon them both and joining them for dinner. “The officers are dining in the mess, my dears, but will join us on the Steyne later for an evening walk,” Henry Forster announced. “Now, what’s for dinner? I hope we’ll have some fish, though I can’t abide bloaters; they don’t agree with me!”
They sat down at a window table in the dining room to a splendid repast of baked fish, prawn pies, and syllabubs, all the more delicious for being eaten as they gazed at the ever-changing sea view and their more immediate surroundings.
“There are a great number of people staying here and several tables are occupied with an assortment of interesting characters,” Harriet observed. She had been silent for some time, preoccupied with the pursuit of watching her fellow guests. “I would say the lady at that table to your left, Lydia, must be a duchess at the very least, judging by her dress, her manner, and her voice, which by all accounts is the loudest I ever heard!”
Lydia was sure she had assumed correctly. “She is certainly proud enough; it is clear, from what I have heard, that she is acquainted with at least a dozen lords and ladies. And she has a very aristocratic nose, which is vital for looking down at her neighbours,” she laughed.
As the dishes were being cleared and they were partaking of some excellent tea, who should they spy, swaggering along, looking into every carriage that contained a lady, but their old favourites: Wickham, Denny, Pratt, and Chamberlayne. The men were in high spirits, following the gaze of every maid who looked their way. They bowed, nodded, and clicked their heels at a dozen or more before the dinner party saw them cross the road to enter the inn. All was as Lydia had hoped it would be; she inspired such attention, everyone fighting to accompany her on the walk, that she soon settled on them taking turns.
“Please allow me to offer my arm first, Miss Bennet,” proclaimed Mr Denny as he stepped alongside. “Did you have a good journey?”
“Oh, yes. It was so exciting to see so many places,” said Lydia, “but you poor officers, your travels cannot have been agreeable. And are your quarters comfortable? I long to hear about the camp.”
“The camp is quite excellent, everything splendidly fitted up, and I think we shall be very happy. Though to tell the truth, we are not so sure about the company we shall have to keep. We ran into some of the Prince’s own regiment this afternoon,” he explained.
“I confess I am surprised,” cried Lydia. “The fellows we saw on the road seemed affable enough.”
“I assure you, Miss Bennet, they are not in the least sociable or pleasant but think themselves far above their company,” complained Mr Denny. “You’ve never witnessed such swaggering in your life, and though I hate to shock you, every one of them has a mistress encamped up there too. Miss Bennet, they are not the gentlemen one would presume.”
These revelations did not seem to have disturbed the high spirits of her favourite beaux too much, and with the exception of the Colonel and Mr Wickham, who talked of Ramsgate, it was everyone’s first visit to the coast, and Lydia owned there could be no match anywhere for fashion and gaiety like that seen walking on the Steyne in Brighton!
***
Lydia and Harriet were dressed and downstairs by seven o’clock next morning to go bathing. They left the Colonel snoring away, as he was not due to inspect his troops till one o’clock, and hastened down to the beach to be dipped by Martha Gunn and her ladies. The girls decided to share a bathing machine for changing, but as there was hardly any room to manoeuvre, they kept falling over, partly because of the necessity of standing on one leg to undress and partly because they were laughing so much. Once they had on their flannel gowns and caps, it was time to face Martha Gunn, chief dipper and a woman not to be opposed. She stood in the water whilst her servant and helper led them hand in hand down the steps, but as soon as they hesitated with a first toe in the freezing water, she stepped up and very firmly took charge. She was a strong woman, and before they realised what was happening, they were submerged. Lydia would never forget that first occasion. She declared the horror of it would stay with her forever. Such was her surprise at being forcibly plunged into the icy brine, she forgot to hold her nose as instructed and as she emerged, coughing, feeling half drowned, she was convinced she had drunk several day’s dosage of the recommended amount.
“I cannot imagine any circumstance where I would be induced to try this heinous activity again, unless I was desirous of drowning myself and anxious to have done with my life,” she spluttered.
“I cannot agree, Lydia,” Harriet declared, splashing her friend till she shrieked for mercy. “I find it most refreshing and invigorating, and I profess that the water is exactly the temperature I prefer.”
“You are clearly most insensible, my friend. I always knew that, of the two of us, I was the most sound of mind and feeling,” shouted Lydia, as she escaped another assault and ascended the steps, dripping and cold.
Getting dried, dressed, and changed into one’s clothes, not to mention trying to dress one’s hair so as not to appear a complete fright, was a skill which they had not yet mastered after sea bathing. They almost ran back to the inn, which fortunately was opposite the steps they had descended, but as they reached the summit and were stepping out to cross the thoroughfare, they were intercepted by a curricle which swerved, making the horse rear, forcing Harriet to fall backwards, sending Lydia reeling to the ground. As she recovered herself, she saw that the driver had at least had the courtesy to stop, but she could have died as she slowly recognised the buff and blue livery of his servant, the buff and blue paint of his carriage, and, finally, the blue cloth of his coat, his buff breeches, and cockaded hat, a picture of perfection and in great contrast to the one which the girls presented.
Lydia scrambled to her feet, aware not only of her unkempt hair poking under her bonnet but of her general appearance of dishevelment, now that her white muslin was covered in grime and dust. She bit her lower lip, tasting the salt encrusted there, and cast her eyes down to the floor in the vain hope that he would not recognise them.
“Dear ladies,” Captain Trayton-Camfield declared, leaping to the floor and bowing before them, “forgive me, I did not see you. I hope you are well. Please tell me that you are not injured at all, for I shall never forgive myself if you are harmed in any way.”
“Please, sir, do not be alarmed, and thank you for your concern,” said Harriet, “but we are just returned from a little sea bathing, and I am afraid that in our haste to return to our inn, we did not see you.”
“Would you allow me to insist that you rest awhile in my chariot or may I escort you to a safe haven? Are you staying near? Please let me take you to your home,” the Captain entreated.
“Sir,” replied Harriet, “we are entirely at fault. It is we who should be apologising to you, sir. Pray, do be easy; we are not harmed in any way, though a touch shaken, to be sure, but nothing that a little rest in our rooms over the way will not cure.” Harriet brushed at Lydia’s gown and thrust her forward.
Captain Trayton-Camfield looked across to the Ship Inn. “I should have known that two such genteel ladies would be accommodated in refined surroundings. Please, may I beg
your permission to introduce myself. I insist that it is quite the thing in Brighton to dispense with the formality of waiting for Mr Wade to perform the introductions! Indeed, I feel I know you already as I never forget a pretty face; haven’t we already met on the Brighton Road?”
Lydia was inclined to giggle at his forthrightness. I must admit, I like his open manner, she thought. But Harriet had suddenly become more than a little reticent in her replies. She clearly thought the Captain was overstepping the bounds of propriety and was keen to make her escape. She dismissed him as politely as she could; he took his leave, jumped onto his seat, and with a wave of his hat, cantered off in the direction of the Marine Parade.
“That wasn’t very friendly, Harriet,” Lydia protested. “He was nice, very pleasant in fact; he was only trying to make amends.”
“Yes, I know,” said Harriet, “and if you are to keep him interested, then it is not a good idea to go throwing yourself completely in his path, although,” she added with a chuckle, “you could not have succeeded better in that! Do not worry, Lydia. I am sure we shall meet with Captain Trayton-Camfield and be introduced with all due decorum as a matter of course, and I do not think you will have to wait very long before we will be assured of seeing him again! I would lay a bet that he will see to it himself. Mark my words, Lydia: if we do not formally meet before the week is out, I shall forfeit my subscription to the Castle assemblies!”
“He is very handsome, almost as good looking as Mr Wickham,” Lydia said sighing, “whose eyes are the most beautiful of anyone I have ever known, deep brown like a cup of chocolate, all velvety on the bottom.”
“Lydia, I believe you are quite right,” Harriet replied. “Next to my darling Henry, George Wickham has the sort of eyes that could command one to do almost anything, but perhaps as a married woman, I should not say so,” she giggled. They laughed so loudly that the “duchess,” who was passing out of the inn as they were entering it, glared in their direction, pursed her lips as though she had detected a nasty stink, and announced in a loud voice that she was concerned that the Ship Inn was not continuing to attract the right sort of clientele, that in its heyday there had not been a single personage accommodated there under the rank of a duke, and that in future, she was considering a move to Worthing, which she deemed far more refined!
Tuesday, June 1st
How wonderful is the sight of the sea, its sound so delicious on the ear, and its vast waters swimming with gentleman bathers! We have rooms overlooking the water, which provide the most excellent looking post! It is heaven, indeed!
There is an odd assortment of people staying here: Mr and Mrs Rand are a very jolly pair, though she must spend a small fortune on rouge, which I fear is daubed on in vast quantities in an effort to match her husband’s ruddy cheeks. Mrs Falkener, “the duchess,” enjoys snubbing us whenever she can, which only has the effect of making me want to behave outrageously whenever we see her. Harriet has discovered that she is a close friend of a royal duke, but I think if I describe that relationship as “intimate” that will be nearer to it! She is not a titled lady of any description but likes to give the impression that she is of great rank. Dr Blair is a man with a permanent cold who hides whenever he sees “the duchess” approaching—she has a habit of engaging him in conversation on her ailments, of which there are many; the poor man can be seen glazing over as soon as she starts. Then there is Signor Ricardo, the Italian opera singer with a cockney accent who performs once a week at the Promenade Grove. Captain and Mrs Montague are gentility itself—I am tempted to change my allegiance to the navy he looks so well in his uniform. And finally, there is the beautiful Miss Westlake. She appears to be a pleasant enough young woman and is a fount of gossip about the notables in Donaldson’s and Tuppen’s. Mr Wickham has wasted no time in introducing himself to that lady!
Wednesday, June 2nd
We have been to Donaldson’s library to sign the arrivals book and take out our subscriptions for all the entertainments. Everybody who is newly arrived is quizzed to an extent that is enough to unnerve all but the most confident creature. We have taken out subscriptions for the Castle and Ship assemblies, will attend card parties, the Promenade Grove, and public teas for our delight.
I amused myself by looking at the scandal sheets, which are laid out on a central table for everyone’s perusal. Poor Prince George and Mrs Fitzherbert, their caricatures are most cruelly drawn. It is rumoured everywhere that they are secretly married, and Harriet says that they even have a love child! I do hope the royal couple will be in Brighton shortly; I long to see them.
A souvenir fan caught my eye, which I bought before I could be talked out of its purchase. It is very fine, made of ivory and parchment, painted with scenes showing the layout of the different camps around Brighton. There are many treasures in Donaldson’s, which persuade one to part with money: jewellery, exquisite Chinese parasols, perfumery, and scented gloves. I have been sorely tempted by some sprigged muslin in a shop on the Steyne, which arrived this morning, reportedly smuggled in the cushions of a chaise brought all the way from Dieppe. So persuasive was the proprietor that Harriet marched me outside before I had a chance to reach for my pocket. We played the rattle traps next, staking a little money against the fall of dice—a very pretty nutmeg grater with a painting of the Marine Pavilion on its box was my prize after four throws! Fortune smiles on me in Brighton, though Harriet is inclined to think that I might not have been so fortunate if the boy in charge had not taken such a shine to me. C’est la vie!
Thursday, June 3rd
Harriet and I went bathing this morning. What a sight met our eyes! Some daring young men were exercising the horses that pull the machines into the water. We watched them as they sat straddled upon the great beasts, prancing in and out of the waves. Not only were they sitting bareback, but the “gentlemen” in question were wearing nothing but their breeches, and even they were rather too low slung for the close scrutiny of some ladies present who affected to be shocked and kept turning away. It must be noted, however, that despite calling for salts, none of the ladies were too distressed to return to their lodgings. Harriet and I are agreed that, despite the rough manner of the young men, they could not but help make a handsome exhibition. It was exceedingly difficult not to giggle, as they crashed through the water and their breeches became soaked through—there was nothing left to the imagination, especially when one of the riders jumped up onto the back of his animal. What a fine education for young women!
We stood thus, watching for half an hour until they tired of their sport, whence they departed, swimming in deft strokes to the other side of the groynes to dip any gentlemen bathers who might be up early enough to partake of the pleasure. It has to be said that the only gentlemen we saw on our walk to the beach this morning were on the cliff top, telescopes in hand, effectively perusing ships at sea but with their instruments trained in our direction!
Was knocked to the ground by Captain Trayton-Camfield’s curricle—now there is a handsome man!
Chapter 5
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON FOUND Harriet and Lydia taking a turn along the seafront. They were standing watching some ladies riding on donkeys when Lydia was startled by a voice in her ear which seemed to come from nowhere. “Mr Wickham,” she cried as she turned to face him, “whatever do you mean by pouncing on young women in such a manner?! You quite frightened the life out of me.”
“Forgive me, Mrs Forster, Miss Bennet, but you were so engrossed, I could not resist making you jump. I declare, Miss Bennet, that I never saw you in such studied contemplation since I saw you outside the milliner’s in Meryton!”
Lydia could not help herself; she struck him on the arm for his insolence. “As it happens, we are whiling away a pleasant afternoon by watching the fashionables on horseback. It is vastly entertaining. Look over there; that poor creature can hardly stand for the two comely dames he has on his back.”
“Ah, yes,
that is most amusing, though for myself, there is nothing so delightful as a horseback ride for two in my opinion, especially if you can share a saddle. Now wouldn’t that be a prospect, Miss Bennet? I am sure you would enjoy a ride with me above all else!” Mr Wickham twirled his cane with a flick of his wrist. “However,” he went on, “press me not, I am unable to oblige today. I have important matters to attend, and in any case, I have promised Miss Westlake a turn in a donkey cart first.”
Lydia regarded Mr Wickham’s countenance, so smug and self-satisfied. He presumed too much if he thought that she would instantly say yes to his suggestion. She was most vexed to be considered only as an afterthought to Miss Westlake. He was full of his own importance, she decided, and determined right there and then that, if he ever should suggest they go out on horseback or in a donkey cart for two, she would refuse immediately. She was on the point of answering with a cutting retort when he started again, leaving her to gape with her mouth wide open.
“No, I must go,” he announced, clicking his heels. “I can spend no longer standing here in idle chatter; our Colonel awaits me! I look forward to tomorrow evening, and Miss Bennet, if you stop scowling and smile pleasantly at me, I shall engage you for the first two dances. Good day, Mrs Forster.” With a short bow he set off at a march along the promenade before Lydia had a chance to answer him. She left her friend in no doubt of what she thought of his behaviour.
“Well, of all the conceited, arrogant . . . good Lord! That man is the end! He thinks he has only to say the word and I shall jump. Well, I will not! I shall endeavour to dance all night with Denny and Chamberlayne or indeed anyone who might wish to partner me but Mr Wickham!”