Her condescension pricked Trelenny, whose eyes flashed with annoyance. Very likely she would have retorted had she not seen Cranford slightly shake his head at her. “I suppose I shall, ma’am.”
“I can’t see the fascination country people find in drinking nasty-tasting water and fatiguing themselves strolling along the promenades,” Lady Babthorpe commented with a nod of dismissal to Trelenny and one last intriguing smile at Cranford before she continued her progress with her insistent husband.
Since her mother was not at hand, Trelenny was strongly tempted to tell Cranford exactly what she thought of his friends, but he watched the anger boiling up in her and said firmly, “Mind your tongue, Trelenny.”
Resentfully she bit back a stinging epithet she had devised and said, with a sweet smile at him, “They are well suited.”
Cranford was genuinely amused, and might have let her know it, but for the arrival of yet another acquaintance of his. “Now here is someone you will enjoy meeting, Trelenny, and might do well to pattern yourself after.” Too late he realized he could have said nothing which would more likely put up her back and rule out any possibility of friendship between the two ladies. “I don’t mean that as I said it. Lady Jane does not deserve your antagonism for my blunder.”
“I shall try to keep an open mind,” Trelenny assured him as she offered a smile to the tall woman who approached. Lady Jane, for all her unusual height, carried herself with an unconscious elegance which made her appear more attractive than her less-than-classical features would otherwise have allowed. Her pleasure at seeing Cranford was evidenced by a warm smile which lit her entire face, making the hazel eyes shine.
“Dear Lord, it’s been years, Cranford! You remember my father, Lord Barlow.”
“Of course. How do you do, sir? I read your speech in the House some months past and would have written to tell you of my enthusiastic agreement if I had not feared you would think me presumptuous.”
"I always defended your intelligence, Ashwicke, no matter what I might have thought of your occasional folly,” the older man replied wryly as they shook hands.
When Cranford had presented Trelenny, the four stood chatting for a while before Lord Barlow was called away. At the time, Lady Jane and Cranford had moved slightly aside so that their reminiscences would not disturb the others, and Trelenny found herself a bit discomposed, not wishing to interrupt the obviously enjoyable tête-à-tête by inserting her presence. At that uncomfortable moment her mother had arrived to spare her, and for the first time Trelenny realized that not everything would be perfect, even now that she had achieved her goal of being in Bath. Somehow it seemed to her that if she could just get there, the rest would take care of itself. She was taken in to dinner by Mr. Wheldrake, as Mr. Waplington took her mother and Cranford took Lady Jane. Mrs. Waplington believed in preference above precedence.
Seated between Mr. Wheldrake and Cranford, Trelenny once again found herself in an unenviable position. Although both men, out of simple good manners, conversed with her during the meal, it was evident to her that each was more interested in talking with the lady on his other side—in Cranford’s case Lady Jane, and in Mr. Wheldrake’s Mrs. Storwood. And when they did speak with her, it was generally of episodes with which she was unfamiliar.
Witness Mr. Wheldrake: “I remember when your mother made her debut in London, Miss Storwood. Long before I ever met her I had heard her praises sung in Brooks, but I hardly credited the truth of such dazzling rumors until the night of Lady Knavesmire’s ball. Was there ever such a night? Tom Whimple broke his leg climbing over a sofa to reach your mother before anyone else did, and Charlotte Lawrence cried all night because Henry Lambert asked your mother for a dance before he asked her. The men were three-deep around her and I didn’t have a chance to dance with her until at least two weeks later.” Etc., etc., etc.
Cranford was, if anything, worse: “Did I ever tell you that it was Lady Jane who first interested me in antiquities, Trelenny? She had been with her family to Rome and Athens at the time of the Treaty of Amiens when she was but a child, and Lord Barlow knew Lord Elgin very well, so she had seen the marbles any number of times before I met her. When I proposed an excursion one day, she suggested we see the marbles, and I thought she must be quizzing me.” He glanced fondly at Lady Jane, who was in animated conversation with a gentleman whose name Trelenny could no longer remember. “They are enough to fire anyone’s imagination, those marbles, and Lady Jane knew the stories they depicted. Imagine my surprise at finding the expedition I had expected to be a dead bore turn into a fascinating journey into the past! Do you know what Centaurs are? Well…” Etc., etc., etc.
Before dinner was concluded, Trelenny was suffering from the headache and worse was to come. When the ladies retired, Lady Jane made a point of speaking with her, and, assuming that she shared Cranford’s interest in Bath’s Roman history, owing to her polite attention at dinner, Lady Jane kindly imparted what information she could on the subject, and she was very knowledgeable. Aware of her intended thoughtfulness, Trelenny was forced to smile encouragement, and only after a lengthy dissertation was she able to change the course of their talk.
“Do you come often to Bath?” she asked in desperation.
“Perhaps two or three times a year, for a retreat from the estate. And my father suffers from the gout occasionally; he finds the baths soothing.”
“Just the two of you come?”
“Yes, my mother is dead and my brothers and sisters are all married.”
“Have you a lot of brothers and sisters?” Trelenny asked wistfully.
“Two of each.” Lady Jane smiled. “That’s how I originally met Cranford, you know. He was an especially close friend of my second brother, Geoffrey, and he ran tame in our town house in London during the season. My older brother, Samuel, kept complaining to my father that Cranford was a bad influence on Geoffrey, and in some ways I suppose he was, in those days, but Geoffrey took no permanent harm.”
Trelenny’s eyes lit at the possibility of learning about Cranford’s obscure past. “What did he do? Cranford, I mean.”
“Oh, just the sort of thing all restless fellows do before they find something better to occupy their time.”
Disappointed, Trelenny tried again. “Like drinking, and gambling, and…women?”
Lady Jane’s gaze drifted to where Lady Babthorpe sat with another rather dashing young matron. “Yes, that sort of thing,” she replied vaguely, and finally.
“Cranford’s sister Clare was my best friend. I miss her dreadfully. Do you know Lord Hinton?”
“Very well, and I met Clare when she was in town.” A shadow crossed her face so briefly that Trelenny could not be sure it had been there. “Do you hear from them?”
“Sometimes, but they haven’t come to Ashwicke Park since they’ve been married. Cranford went to visit them. You know how brothers are, I suppose. I haven’t any myself, but he couldn’t even remember if her hair was still short or whether she had said anything that would be of particular interest to me. I don’t see why they can’t settle at Lord Hinton’s seat in Derbyshire,” Trelenny suggested questioningly.
Lady Jane only smiled softly. “Newlyweds like to be away from familiar places and faces, I think. They need time to really get to know one another.”
Of course she would never have asked, but Trelenny would have liked to know how Lady Jane arrived at such a conclusion, since she was herself obviously still unmarried, and not in her first blush of youth either. Why, she can’t be a day younger than Lady Babthorpe, Trelenny decided, and felt a moment’s pity for the older woman. But she flushed at the thought, realizing that it was as condescending as Lady Babthorpe’s previous remarks on country people, and Trelenny would have had no difficulty in recognizing Lady Jane’s quality and worth, even if Cranford had not rashly suggested that she pattern herself after the lady. If he thinks she’s such a paragon, Trelenny thought mutinously, why doesn’t he marry her and leave m
e alone? The question seemed superfluous, however, since he seemed to be doing a very good job of leaving her alone that evening.
Among the first of the men to drift in from the dining hall, Cranford joined them immediately, commenting, “I’m glad you two are getting to know one another. This is Trelenny’s first visit to Bath, Lady Jane, and she is all eagerness to plunge into the social whirl. It occurs to me, Trelenny, that you probably don’t know how to waltz.”
Chagrined, Trelenny shook her head. “No, Clare was to teach me when she returned from London, but then she got married.”
“Do you know of a dancing master here, Lady Jane?” Cranford asked.
“Several, but that’s such a dreary way to learn. Who wants to whirl around with a stately fop who bounces about on tiptoe all the time? Might I suggest something?”
“Certainly.”
“Bring Miss Storwood to Queen Square tomorrow morning, and I shall play for you while you teach her. That’s how we all did it when it first became the rage, do you remember? We had more fun, I swear, during those morning practice sessions than ever we did at the balls where everyone had an eye on us.”
“Cranford teach me?” Trelenny gasped, unable to even imagine him in a ballroom.
Lady Jane regarded her with surprise. “Why, he’s one of the most accomplished dancers I know, Miss Storwood.”
The corners of Cranford’s lips twitched suspiciously. “Trelenny tends to view me rather sternly, Lady Jane, and to believe that I have no social graces whatsoever. Not that I blame her, you understand, as she has never seen any exhibited, I dare say.”
“You are very polite to Mama,” Trelenny offered generously. Lady Jane and Cranford shared an amused glance which made Trelenny bite her lip. “Do you want to teach me, Cranford? Mama could arrange for a dancing master.”
“I’ll be pleased to teach you, Trelenny. Shall we accept Lady Jane’s kind offer?”
“Yes, thank you very much,” she replied automatically, unable to meet either of their eyes and feeling that they were laughing at her.
Impulsively Lady Jane pressed her hand. “We’ll have a lovely time, Miss Storwood. There is nothing so comfortable as learning something new when there are no critical eyes to alarm you.”
“Cranford is always critical of me.”
When Lady Jane lifted a questioning brow at him, Cranford shrugged helplessly. At this silent acknowledgment of the truth of Trelenny’s statement, Lady Jane said, “I’m surprised to hear it. When I think of the mischief he and Geoffrey got into. Perhaps I should tell you about the time they—”
“That’s blackmail” Cranford protested, laughing. “Very well, Lady Jane, I’ll try not to be too severe with Trelenny. I am only thinking of her own good.”
“People always say that,” Trelenny scoffed, “and it usually means they are thinking of their own convenience.”
“Touché.” Lady Jane chuckled. “Just remember, Miss Storwood, that I have a whole warehouse full of wonderful anecdotes about Cranford, and, if you feel he is unjustly censorious, I might be bribed to tell you one or two.”
Quickly warming to the older woman, Trelenny smiled her thanks. “I’ll remember.”
“No doubt I’ll live to rue the day the two of you were introduced,” Cranford complained with mock despair, though in actual fact he was disgruntled by the confederacy between the two ladies. Not that he supposed Lady Jane would purposely undermine any little authority he had with Trelenny. His respect for the lady was too great to believe her imprudent, and she could not help but see that Trelenny needed a guiding hand. Still, Trelenny could be an engaging little thing, and any hint of previous misadventures of his wheedled from Lady Jane would be blown out of all proportion in her active, nay fantastic, mind.
Mrs. Waplington interrupted them to ask Lady Jane to play for the company, a request she graciously agreed to after ascertaining that Trelenny had no desire to perform. There was a magic in her fingers and all but the most obtuse sat spellbound during her recital. Trelenny, whose appreciation far outstripped her patience to work at such an accomplishment, felt transported to those days with Lady Chessels and Clare around their pianoforte. A curious glance at Cranford assured her that he, too, if he was not recalling those days was at least mesmerized by the music. Even Lady Babthorpe contributed to the entertainment by singing a ballad of unrequited love in a rich, husky voice which filled the room with sensuous overtones, her husband preening himself on his wife’s accomplishments while that lady’s eyes were locked on Cranford.
Tables were then set out for cards, and the company settled to indulge themselves in modest stakes and good-natured ranglings over whether each hand had been played to its fullest potential. Trelenny found herself partnered by Lord Babthorpe at the start of the evening, and though she was an excellent player, he insisted on blaming his own errors on her in a loud, obnoxious way which made her blush for his rudeness, and squirm in her desire to answer him back.
Cranford looked over at the commotion from where he sat talking with Lady Jane on a sofa and immediately assessed the situation. “Would you mind…”
“Not at all,” she replied mischievously. “I have undertaken just such a task with his lordship before and it gives me infinite pleasure.”
Almost before she realized what was happening, Trelenny found herself replaced at the table by Lady Jane. Her relief was profound and she smiled uncertainly at Cranford. “I can’t think what I did to upset him, for it was his own mistakes which caused our downfall, I feel certain. Unless Papa has taught me incorrectly...”
“Hush a moment. I know you play very well. Watch how Lady Jane handles him.”
It was not uncommon for Lord Babthorpe to spend too long at the dining table over his port, with a consequent fuzziness about his mind for the remainder of the evening. He became argumentative or indolent, and frequently shifted from one extreme to the other. Possibly he was not aware that his partner had been switched, for he continued to harangue at length after Lady Jane was seated, thumping a gnarled hand on the table to emphasize each point.
Lady Jane paid not the least heed to him. First she turned to the lady on her right and commented on the continuing warm weather. Next she informed the gentleman on her left that she had seen the most remarkable print in Milsom Street and wondered if he had possibly noted it. Her inattention to Lord Babthorpe incensed him still further until he roared, “You are not listening to me!”
Slowly turning her gaze in his direction she asked, “Did you speak, sir? I fear I did not notice.”
“I was speaking directly to you,” he growled.
“Oh, no, sir, you could not have been. No one speaks to me that way.”
Scattered titters about the room indicated that there were any number of auditors to this scene, and Lord Babthorpe, red faced, tossed the new hand he had been dealt onto the table. “I think I won’t play another hand, if you will excuse me.” With a glowering countenance he withdrew to a far corner of the room, dropped onto a chair, and promptly fell asleep.
During the commotion Lady Babthorpe maintained an uninterested calm and followed her husband’s retreat with scornful eyes. Her apparent disregard of any feelings of either mortification or shame, let alone concern or compassion, shocked Trelenny in spite of Lord Babthorpe’s extraordinary behavior. In a whisper to Cranford she asked, “I know he is a hideous man, but why did she marry him if she hated him?”
“For his wealth, for his title. It’s the way of the world, Trelenny.”
“I don’t feel very well. Do you think Mrs. Waplington would mind if I retired?”
“I’ll make your excuses. It’s been a busy day for you.” He touched her pale cheek with a gentle finger. “It’s not all ugliness, you know. Don’t be discouraged.”
“Of course not,” she said stoutly. “Good night, Cranford.”
~ ~ ~
Standing in front of the glass in her room, she pulled the headdress apart with impatient fingers as A
lice unfastened her gown. What high hopes she had had for the evening! Before going downstairs she had thought herself looking prettier than she ever had before, and she had expected to have a very gay time meeting new people and getting her first taste of polite circles. The event had proved otherwise. Her reception had been indifferent, and she had made no acquaintance she wished to pursue, with the possible exception of Lady Jane, who was, after all, Cranford’s friend. Trelenny allowed Alice’s chatter to wash over her, not caring what headdresses and styles would most become her for future occasions; not caring, in her disappointment, if there were future occasions.
* * *
Chapter 12
The resiliency of youth and Trelenny’s natural optimism asserted themselves overnight and she woke to a cloudless day, full of enthusiasm for exploring the city and making the most of her precious time. Less than three weeks remained to them, and Trelenny considered it her duty to squeeze every drop of enjoyment out of that period. There were the Pump Room, the libraries, the shops to be visited, assemblies in the Upper and Lower Rooms, card assemblies, concerts, the theatre, Sydney Gardens, the Abbey. Never had so much entertainment been at her fingertips, and she laughed aloud to think she had been feeling low the previous evening. A Rowlandson print entitled Exhibition Stare Case caught her eye with its lively satire on the gentry’s avid interest in art, and she scrambled out of bed determined to ignore the failings of human nature and glory in its finer achievements— such as Bath.
On days after she had entertained, Mrs. Waplington kept her room until an advanced hour of the morning, but Trelenny found her mother already in the breakfast parlor when she descended.
“I came to your room when Cranford told me you weren’t feeling well, my love, but you were already sound asleep. Has your indisposition passed? You look blooming.”
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