When she had seen her mother laid down upon her bed, Trelenny returned to the Winter Parlor, and unenthusiastically picked up her former reading material, but her mind strayed. As though things weren’t bad enough, now they had to sustain a visit from the most unappealing man imaginable. Although of considerable girth, Cousin Filkins considered himself of sartorial perfection. Spotted neckcloths and garishly striped waistcoats were his favorite attire, and his conversation consisted of little more than a catalogue of his wardrobe or the fallacies of others’ dress. A self-confessed expert on feminine beauty, he had found fault with Trelenny’s thirteen-year-old figure and her freckled face, producing a platitude to rectify each awkward point. It wouldn’t do to have him about, pinching her cheeks and chucking her under the chin. She had a good mind to write and tell him she thought she was coming down with the scarlet fever, and the only thing that deterred her was a rather superstitious belief that she really might if she told such a lie. Although her father was not particularly fond of Cousin Filkins, he was unswerving in his family loyalties, and, for better or worse, Cousin Filkins was the last surviving relation he had, outside of his wife and daughter.
With the blasé incisiveness of youth, Trelenny determined that the most expedient solution would be for her father to send Cousin Filkins a supply of money that would enable him to rusticate at some watering hole and make it unnecessary for him to visit Sutton Hall. When she proposed this plan to her father, he regarded her dourly.
“Have you no sense of family feeling, Trelenny? Do you feel no obligation to anyone but yourself? It is by no means certain that Cousin Filkins is in need of money, and why you should distrust his motives in coming here is beyond me. I haven’t seen my cousin in five years, nor he me. We will have a great deal of reminiscing to do.”
“But, Papa, he only talks of clothes and you are not the least interested in fashion.”
“Clothes? Whatever are you saying? Of course he talks of things other than clothes,” her father said exasperatedly.
“Well, he never spoke of anything else to me. And I think he wears the most appalling outfits I have ever seen.”
“You are in no position to stand in judgment of your elders, Trelenny. My cousin Filkins is coming to stay with us and I have every intention of enjoying his visit. I don’t wish to hear any more on the matter, and I expect you to behave yourself while he’s here.” Her father made a gesture of dismissal.
"Yes, Papa.”
It was difficult to argue with Papa because of his weak heart. Not that he precisely used his infirmity as an excuse to terminate any disagreeable discussion; he would probably have felt his authority sufficient to do so in any case. But there was always the fear of exciting him, and Dr. Moore had said most emphatically that he must never be disturbed by the emotional upheavals to which women were prone to subject men. Trelenny considered Dr. Moore an old fuddy-duddy, but she had herself seen her father suffer a spasm after an emotional scene and she did not wish to repeat the experience. Her Papa was the dearest, kindest man in the world despite his expectation of instant obedience from his daughter, which he seldom got, and he was also very indulgent of her. Clare Ashwicke had never been given the freedom by Viscount Chessels that Trelenny enjoyed under her father’s benevolent reign, so she felt very lucky and found little cause to complain.
Another idea was forming in Trelenny’s fertile brain. If Cousin Filkins could not be pensioned off to a watering hole, perhaps she and her mother could go away. The more she thought of it, the more she could see that the plan had distinct possibilities. While Mrs. Storwood would never consider abandoning her husband to his own resources in order to go off gallivanting with her daughter, here was the perfect opportunity to leave him in the care of his own cousin. What could be better? Mr. Storwood had every intention of enjoying his cousin’s visit (he had said so), and Trelenny considered it only fair that some use should be made of Cousin Filkins, since he was insisting on imposing on the hospitality of her family. It was the perfect chance to get to London at last—and perhaps the only chance she would ever have. Cousin Filkins’ visit began to look like a blessing in disguise.
* * *
Chapter 4
“London?” Mrs. Storwood reached for her handkerchief and decided that either her nap had not been long enough, or that she should not have taken a nap at all, since obviously this pot had brewed while she so innocently slept. “Without your father? Darling, you are being unrealistic.”
“But, Mama, it is the very best possible time to go, can’t you see? Cousin Filkins will be here to keep Papa company. Just for a few weeks, Mama. It is not the season, but we would have a chance to see the shops, and perhaps one of your old friends would give a very small party for us. And we could go to the theatre...”
“No,” Mrs. Storwood said firmly. “London is not simply an enlarged Kendal, Trelenny. It is a frightening city to be in without a male escort. My especial friends are not there now; Mrs. Waplington is in Bath and Lady Sandburn is at their seat. Have you considered the journey? No, no, it won’t do. Highwaymen, footpads.” She shuddered delicately. “I know it is very hard on you, dear, living secluded as we do. If you were to marry Cranford, I don’t doubt you’d have a chance to see a bit more of the country, London…”
“Cranford again. How can you think I would marry him just so that I might have a chance to see London? What a despicable reason to marry someone.”
“My dear, you misunderstand me. Of course you wouldn’t marry him just to see London. I merely say that he would probably take you there one day.”
“More like he would take me to see some Roman graveyard—on our honeymoon!” A strange light suddenly glistened in Trelenny’s eyes, causing her mother to press the handkerchief once more against her lips. “If we had someone to escort us to London, could we go?”
“No, my love. I’m sorry, but somehow I would feel disloyal to your father going to London without him. That is where we met, you know, and I could not bear to think of him here alone.”
“With Cousin Filkins!”
“Thinking of me there amongst all that gaiety. No, no. It wouldn’t be fair to him, Trelenny. He cannot make the journey with me, and I cannot go without him. Don’t you see how unhappy it would make him? He frets enough that our life is restricted. You would not wish to add an extra burden. Think of what Dr. Moore said.”
“Dr. Moore is an old woman. Oh, I know we mustn’t upset Papa, but I can’t imagine that he would be so alarmed at our going to London. Don’t you think he would be happy for us? Glad that I would have a chance to get about a little?”
“Trelenny, I will not take you to London. Let’s have no more discussion of the matter, and I strictly forbid you to broach the subject to your Papa. You must simply accept the situation, my dear.” Mrs. Storwood regarded her daughter with sad eyes. “I don’t know how to make it up to you, dear. Perhaps we could go to Kendal to buy some material for a new gown."
The girl bit her lip to still the rebellious reply that rose swiftly to mind. Not only would she not get a trip to London, but she would have to sustain a visit from the ludicrous Cousin Filkins as well. Swallowing painfully, she said, “I don’t really need a new gown, Mama, but thank you. If you don’t mind I think I shall go for a ride now. Is your head feeling better?”
“Much better,” her mother lied gallantly.
~ ~ ~
Several days passed during which Trelenny did her best to hide her disappointment. Cranford did not come to visit her, and the arrival of her father’s cousin was imminent. Surprisingly, it took her all that while to see that there was another avenue of escape. This time she did not precipitately reveal her thoughts to either of her parents, but spent several hours in the study going over travel books and guidebooks, as well as any of the antiquarian literature that might suit her purpose. She was browsing through the latter when there was a knock at the door. “Yes?”
A footman entered. “Mr. Ashwicke has called, Miss Sto
rwood. He is with Mrs. Storwood in the Blue Drawing Room and your mother asked that you join them.”
“Thank you, Hodges. I’ll come directly.” Before closing the book she held, Trelenny consigned the information on the page to memory. Drawing a deep, courage-engendering breath, she smoothed her dress and glanced in the glass to be sure that her blonde tresses had not come undone. She moistened a finger to rub away a smudge on her forehead and then, trying to remember all the lessons her mother had given her on deportment, walked as gracefully as she could to the drawing room. Her habit was to enter any room with more enthusiasm than poise, but today she forced herself to slip quietly through the door and wait until she was noticed.
“Ah, Trelenny, there you are. Look who has come to call,” her mother said needlessly, a faint twitch of alarm stirring in her at the beatific smile her daughter wore.
“How kind of you to visit us, Cranford,” Trelenny murmured as she extended her hand to him. A shadow of disappointment crossed her features when he merely shook it, but she persevered. “I hope you have not stayed away because I was cross the other day. Your visits are a bright spot on my horizons.” There, that should do it, she thought, but she added the flutter of her eyelashes for good measure.
The corner of his mouth twitched but she did not see it, having demurely lowered her eyes. “Were you cross? I didn’t notice, I assure you. A project I was working on took a great deal of my time. I had hoped you might come out riding with me this afternoon.”
“Would that be all right, Mama?” When her mother nodded she said, “I won’t be a moment changing, Cranford. Perhaps you would like a comfit? Mama brought me a box from Shap this morning."
Offering me treats, too, Cranford thought with amusement. What’s the little devil up to now? “Thank you, no, Trelenny. I’ll just talk with your mother while I wait.”
The moment Trelenny was out the door she raced up the stairs calling frantically for her maid, who fortunately happened to be nearby. “Alice, could you do something with my hair? Right now? Something that would make me look older and more ladylike, perhaps?”
“It takes time to curl it, Miss Trelenny, and you seem in a powerful rush.”
“Well, I can’t keep him waiting long. Drat! Is there nothing you can do?”
Alice surveyed her critically. “We could take out the braids; they’ve probably left a little wave in it.” Her fingers darted about, suiting the action to her words. “Hmm, not enough to dangle a curl here and there. If you want it different, it will have to be a bun at the back. Will that do?”
‘‘I suppose so.”
In her scarlet riding habit with the hat tilted slightly forward to accommodate the new bun, Trelenny presented herself breathless in the drawing room. Mrs. Storwood was saying, “We expect Cousin Filkins to make a good, long stay with us. I’m sure you will want to meet him. Perhaps we could have you and your father to dine. T-Trelenny?”
“Yes, Mama. Forgive me for taking so long, Cranford. We couldn’t find the hat,” she explained ingenuously to her mother.
“I ... I see, dear.”
“You look charming,” Cranford assured her, “and well worth waiting for.”
Trelenny bestowed another beatific smile on him. “I had hoped you would like it. The hat won’t fit over my braids, you know, so I had put it in another closet, and just wore the black beaver. It seemed a shame, though, for I saw one very like it in Le Beau Monde, so it must be the height of fashion.”
“It’s delightful.” He tucked her arm through his and said with suspicious gravity, “I do hope the feather won’t make you sneeze."
“It is too long?” Trelenny turned anxiously to her mother. “I thought perhaps it was just supposed to brush my cheek, and not tickle my nose the way it does.”
Mrs. Storwood suppressed the laugh which bubbled in her. “It’s just that you have tilted the hat forward, which is very becoming. Here, we’ll tuck the feather further into the band. That’s perfect, my love. Have a nice ride.”
The crisp fall day greeted them as they stepped out the front door and Trelenny forgot for a moment her afternoon’s goal. “I love this time of year. The air smells so good and the trees are glorious. Would you like to ride over to Lady Wood? The colors are spectacular just now, and the hills are gold and purple in the autumn light.”
“The trail will be a bit hazardous after yesterday’s rain.”
“Yes, well, if you’d rather not.”
“I didn’t say I’d rather not. Actually, I think it might be a good idea.”
Confused as to whether he wished her to break her neck or wanted to please her by accepting her suggestion, Trelenny abandoned the subject. “Mama told you that my father’s cousin is coming.”
“Yes. Do you like him?”
Trelenny wrinkled her nose distastefully. “He’s ridiculous. I’ve never seen such a popinjay and he must be fifty if he’s a day.”
“Unfortunate,” he murmured sympathetically.
“There is something I particularly wished to speak about with you, Cranford. You see, Papa will have company while he’s here. That is, Mama won’t ever leave Papa here alone, so naturally we never go anywhere. I can understand that, of course.” She paused while Cranford gave instructions for the saddling of their mounts, and then smiled sweetly at him. “It’s so comforting to have someone assume these little tasks for one.
He shook his head disbelievingly. “What is it you want, Trelenny?”
“Well, Mama won’t take me to London because none of her friends are there right now, and we have no escort, and besides, she wouldn’t feel right going there without papa. They met there, you know.”
“I’d never thought about it.”
“No, of course not, but they did, and she just can’t bring herself to go there without him. But it does seem foolish to waste this perfectly providential opportunity, doesn’t it?”
“Does it? What opportunity?"
“Cousin Filkins’ being here. I mean, how often is there someone here to be with papa while we’re away? But we couldn’t go to London, so I thought… That’s not my saddle. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s Clare’s saddle and I brought it for you. I’ve done some experimenting to give it a better seat. You’re quite right that sidesaddles are not designed for our rough area. Will you try it?”
Trelenny blinked at him. “You did that for me?”
“Certainly. May I hand you up?”
Bemused, Trelenny nodded.
“Your left thigh goes under the crutch. When you jump, you need only raise your left heel and press in and up while you bring your right leg down tightly against the horn, gripping the two crutches. It should give you a three-point contact that is unshakable.”
“Have you tried it?” she asked wonderingly.
“Yes.” He watched her for signs of amusement, but there were none.
“I think perhaps that is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said softly. “Thank you, Cranford.”
Just when he thought she could no longer surprise him, she did. “I enjoyed doing it. You’ll see that I’ve also removed the knee rest to the right of the horn. It’s a hazard if you fall and catch your skirt on it, but you may be used to it and feel less secure without it. If so, I can have it put back.”
Unable to adequately express her gratitude, Trelenny merely nodded again and urged Stalwart forward. They rode in silence for some time as she accustomed herself to the new security of her seat. “May I jump now?” she asked at length.
“Whenever you’re ready. I’d advise taking something easy at first.”
She chose a low wall with secure ground on either side and set the mare to it. Never had it been so easy to maintain her seat, to feel at one with her horse. Her face was alight with enthusiasm when she returned to Cranford. “It’s perfect. Almost as simple as riding astride, and I don’t miss the knee rest, either. How can I thank you?”
“You have, Trelenny. I’m glad
you’re pleased with it.” As they rode on toward the cataracts which coursed down the rocks and flowed into the small lake by Lady Wood, he watched her covertly. She made no attempt to reinitiate the conversation she had started before they reached the stables and his curiosity grew. “You were telling me of your plans to go away for a spell with your mother.”
She flushed slightly. “Oh, no, well, I had thought of it, but it’s not possible.”
“But your Cousin Filkins would be here to stay with your father.”
“I don’t suppose Mama would really want to go when we have a guest, though I have always felt she disliked Cousin Filkins as much as I do.”
“Then perhaps she would go. Is there some other problem?”
Trelenny’s flush deepened. “Doubtless there are a dozen problems I have not even thought of. It was silly of me to mention the matter.”
“If I hadn’t worked on the saddle you would have told me. You are under no obligation to me, Trelenny. I appreciated the challenge.”
“I was going to ask you to escort us to Bath,” Trelenny confessed, idly toying with her reins. “Mama’s friend Mrs. Waplington is there, and Mama could not have the same objections as she does to London. I know Bath is not so fashionable these days, but still there are assemblies and shops and the theatre and concerts. There were Roman baths there, you know. They called it Aquae Sulis and some years ago they found a gilded bronze head of Minerva. I read everything I could find on it, so that I could persuade you that you would be interested in going there.”
“Persuade me,” he urged, a smile playing about his lips.
“I know it was wrong of me to try to use you that way, but, oh Cranford, I want so much to go somewhere. You have never been restricted to one spot so I suppose you cannot understand. It’s not that I don’t love Sutton Hall and my parents, but I want to see what else there is. I want to meet some people of my own age and do the things other girls do.”
Holiday in Bath Page 4