Holiday in Bath (22 page)

“Did Miss Storwood go to the Assembly last night?”

“Yes, and was very well-received. Rissington and Bodford joined her entourage.”

“Is Tony in town, then? I hadn’t seen him.”

“He arrived only two days ago and has been searching out lodgings for his father. Rissington found some for him.”

“Naturally.”

"A Mr. Rowle, too, seemed particularly interested in Trelenny.”

Lady Jane frowned. “Is she an heiress, Cranford?”

“She’ll have a handsome portion and a very fine property after her parents are gone. Do you know Rowle, Jane?”

“I’ve met him, and heard more.” She turned earnest eyes on Cranford. “Don’t let him get his clutches in that dear child.”

Cranford sighed. “I was afraid so. He seems to have a vast appeal for her. She told me he had an air of adventure about him.”

“Pooh! He’s a thorough-going blackguard, but not everyone sees that. Changeable as a chameleon, wriggling his way into every potential advantage. Papa had a business dealing with him, and you know, Cranford, Papa is usually astute in judging character. Mr. Rowle has an astonishing facility for endearing himself to the most unlikely people. I wouldn’t trust him out of my sight.”

“He has a stepsister named Caroline Moreby?”

Lady Jane’s eyes opened wide. “You have done some astonishingly rapid research, my dear fellow.”

“No, I met a Mr. Laytham in Preston, on his way to the border with Miss Moreby.”

“Did you?” Lady Jane laughed aloud. “You relieve me, Cranford. Gossip was rampant here as to what had become of her. It was general knowledge that the stepfather was attempting to force her into a marriage with his son, and that she was very reluctant. I didn’t think she’d have the spirit to elope, though. Laytham? He would be the tall boy who took chivalry to heart. Miss Moreby was a substantial heiress from her grandfather. The elder Rowle has as much of an eye to the main chance as his son, I hear. Having married the mother, he intended to keep all the Moreby money in the family through his son. Poor Miss Moreby couldn’t even keep her own mother on her side; the woman is a vacillating weed! When the girl didn’t appear in society a week or so ago, it was rumored that she had been sent off to the country until she agreed to marry Rowle. I must admit I thought it likely. No murmur has escaped of the elopement.”

“Is Rowle received?”

“Not everywhere. They’re minor gentry, and the high sticklers won’t have anything to do with them, especially since the father and son both act like merchants when they smell a deal brewing. Still, I’ve seen the young one in any number of good houses. If it weren’t for Papa’s experience I suppose I wouldn’t feel so strongly. You should warn Miss Storwood.”

Cranford shook his head. “It wouldn’t do any good, Jane. She’d just think I was interfering. Of course, she did try to assist Miss Moreby, but Trelenny would scarcely understand how a girl could let herself be pressured into marrying someone. She has a certain amount of experience in that line,” he admitted with a mournful grin. When his hostess made no comment he continued, “And Miss Moreby didn’t actually tell her about Mr. Rowle’s attentions. It was Laytham who told me. Nothing coming from me would carry much weight with Trelenny. She’d think Miss Moreby poor spirited (as she did Evelina) for running off at so little cause. Trelenny has a great deal of confidence in her own estimation of people—and she’s a babe in the wood.”

“I could mention something casually. Really, Mr. Rowle is insidious, Cranford. Don’t expect Mrs. Storwood to recognize him for what he is.”

“Any help you can give would be appreciated, Jane. I don’t want to see Trelenny hurt. Possibly Rissington or Bodford will take an interest and keep her too busy to pay much attention to Rowle.”

“Let’s hope so.” She would have asked if he had no hopes of winning Trelenny’s interest himself, but the question seemed impertinent. “Would you like to see Papa’s collection? It’s been years, and he’s added a number of pieces besides the wine cup.”

“He’s brought it with him? The whole collection?”

“All but the really large pieces,” she said with a laugh. “He always does.”

“A man after my own heart," Cranford said fervently, smiling. “Lead on, dear lady. And, Jane, I would be delighted to escort you to the Cheyney’s this evening if you have a mind to go."

“Why, thank you, I’d be delighted. The Storwoods...?

“Trelenny tells me Mr. Wheldrake would welcome the honor, and I’ve a mind to pursue my own path for a while.” He brushed a speck of dust from his coat and neglected to meet her eyes.

“I see.”

Mr. Wheldrake was flattered to have his offer of escort accepted again, and without benefit of Mr. Ashwicke on this occasion. Amongst the half dozen invitations on her desk for the evening, Mrs. Waplington declared her intention to attend only three: a rout at the Hunsingores, a drum at the Cheynes, and lastly a ball at the Buttercrambes. Cards had come for Trelenny and her mother for each of these occasions and the thought of attending three functions in one evening sent Trelenny into alt. She was so pleased with the white satin gown she wore and her new hairstyle with its solitary diamond butterfly clip that she almost regretted that Cranford would not see her.

At the Hunsingores she met Mr. Bodford, who, though addicted to the card table, found time to introduce her to several of his friends and kindly partnered her at one of the whist tables long enough to see her several pounds the richer, before excusing himself to the higher stakes in the back drawing room. Mrs. Waplington also rose a winner and announced that she was ready for her chair to the Cheynes, if the others could be persuaded to desert such good company.

Trelenny, flushed with her success, mounted the steps at the drum with every expectation of pleasure. If she was not mistaken, Mr. Rowle had mentioned the Cheynes that morning and she had hopes of finding him among the assembled guests. She was not prepared to find Cranford there with Lady Jane.

In spite of his avowed intent to treat Trelenny more kindly, Cranford felt as though she’d slapped him when he saw her. That beautiful golden hair that had reached to her waist—gone! Those silken tresses that had slipped through his fingers when he released the pins—vanished, to be replaced by a madcap fringe that floated on her head like a naughty angel’s halo. He quickly transferred his stunned gaze to Mrs. Storwood, who shook her head unhappily.

“Good evening, Lady Jane,” Trelenny said nervously, offering her hand and trying to avoid Cranford’s fulminating glare. “I . . . I’m so pleased you had me to Queen Square to learn the waltz, for we’re going to a ball next.”

“I trust you will enjoy every moment, my dear. Your haircut is charming. How very clever of you to find something completely original. No matter what we do with mine, it’s always an imitation of someone else’s.”

“Actually,” Trelenny confessed, “I got the idea from Miss Tooker. Do you know her?”

“Yes.” Lady Jane’s eyes twinkled. “But I don’t think she chose that particular style.”

“Well, no, but I thought it looked like fun. And don’t you think she’ll feel more comfortable if someone else has short hair? She seemed rather miserable.”

Lady Jane pressed her hand. “That was sweet of you. Isn’t it wonderful when our own desires fall in with doing a good deed?”

An impish smile dimpled Trelenny’s face. “Cranford once told me it’s called rationalization.”

“Cranford is marvelously apt sometimes.” Lady Jane pointedly surveyed his scowling face. “Of course, at others he’s a stuffy pedant. You know, I don’t believe I’ve told you about the time he took Geoffrey to Newmarket. There was to be a match between him and Sir Lowell, but the night before—”

“Very well.” Cranford spoke between tight lips. “Geoffrey shouldn’t have told you that, Jane. Good evening, Trelenny. You are looking... well. May I get you a glass of punch?”

“Thank you, no,” Trelenny replied stiffly. She touched a finger to the butterfly clip to assure herself that it hadn’t come loose and began to back away from the couple. “It’s all right, Lady Jane. I. . . I knew he wouldn’t approve. Mama doesn’t either.” Flashing a hesitant smile at the older woman, she fled to her mother’s side and managed to keep her eyes averted from Cranford for the entire length of their stay at the drum. Of course, the task was made easier by the arrival of Mr. Rowle, who teased and flattered her alternately, but she could not entirely lift her spirits to their former level and, except for leaving Mr. Rowle behind, she was happy enough to leave the Cheynes for the ball.

From across the room Lady Jane watched the departure of their party with worried eyes. “You are going to push her right into his arms with your disapproval, Cranford. Why should you care if she cut her hair? It looks adorable.”

“She had beautiful hair, so long it came down to her waist, and it felt like silk.”

Resisting the temptation to ask him how he knew, she responded astringently, “Then she probably had a great deal of trouble keeping pins in it, and that much hair piled about her head must have been most uncomfortable, and near impossible to keep tidy.”

“She cut it to annoy me.”

“You flatter yourself! She wanted to do something original—not look like everyone else. I have often had the same desire, but I lack the courage to carry it through. It’s easier when you’re young, of course, but still, I admire her.”

“Admire her?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes, for not letting herself be hedged in by traditions and conventions. And don’t tell me she isn’t aware of the rules, for I have no doubt Mrs. Storwood is a perfect model of propriety.”

“She is. Would that her daughter followed in her footsteps.”

Lady Jane regarded him coolly. “If you feel that way, Cranford, I would advise you to abandon your pursuit of her. Trelenny doesn’t need a heavy hand, merely a guiding one. There’s Emily Harper beckoning to us. I should like a word with her.”

Chairs were coming in and out of the Buttercrambes’ brilliantly lit hall with regularity, and still there was a line of them before the door, as well as several carriages awaiting their turn to disgorge their occupants at the entrance. Bewigged footmen in truly magnificent liveries showed no sign of haste as they opened carriage doors and lowered steps for their aristocratic employers. Let the common folk hurry; footmen were too conscious of their reflected dignity to fall to such vulgarity. Trelenny watched the scene with fascination and amusement but none of the trepidation her mother experienced. For Mrs. Storwood this was Trelenny’s real testing, and she could not but feel that her daughter had put herself at a disadvantage with her unusual hairstyle. It was all very well for Elsa Waplington to laugh and call Trelenny a naughty puss; she had no daughter of her own to agonize over should the tide of opinion sway against her. Mrs. Storwood hardly noticed the satin-hung walls or the ice sculpture of a fabled sea monster; her eyes searched the room for some friendly, familiar face.

At her elbow Mr. Wheldrake murmured encouragement. “She’ll do very well, Maria.”

“But people are staring at her. That woman by the pillar is frowning and a gentleman across the room has lifted his quizzing glass with the most supercilious air. Oh, I shan’t be able to bear it if they ostracize her. She had so longed for her first ball.”

“Here’s Lord Rissington coming to speak with her now. Never fear. Others will follow his lead.”

Although Trelenny had not overheard the whispered conversation of her companions, she too had noticed raised eyebrows and knew a moment’s alarm. How comforting it would have been to have Cranford at her side! But no, his brows had been raised higher than any here. She held her head proudly and forced a smile to her lips; no one could intimidate a Storwood. Impeccable birth, unassailable breeding, and a more-than-respectable fortune stood behind her. Her eyes flashed a challenge to any who dared malign or laugh at her.

As he approached, Rissington was struck by the figure she made. Incongruous, perhaps, the stature all dignity and the hair an elfin nonsense, but captivating, nonetheless. “If you are trying to frighten me off, I promise you I am made of sturdier stuff,” he informed her valiantly. “He who has not been quelled by the eye of Her Royal Highness refuses to allow any mortal to so much as make him tremble. Though I confess to a certain weakness in the knees, I do implore you to honor me with this set, for the eyes of the room are upon me, and if I don’t succeed I shall be shamed before them all.”

“What a farago of nonsense! Have you met the Queen then? Is she so very forbidding?”

“I have and she is. Cranford didn’t escort you this evening?”

“No. We saw him at the Cheynes with Lady Jane.”

“He’s always been very attached to the Reedness family. Shares a great many interests with Lady Jane. Old things, you know. Not my sort of style, but then, each to his own. Will you dance with me, Miss Storwood?”

“Certainly, my lord, if you feel your knees are strong enough to support such activity.”

Mrs. Storwood breathed easier after that initial set. As on the previous evening, there was no shortage of men to solicit her daughter’s hand, and, though she could not quite approve of the waltz, she was delighted to see that her daughter performed creditably. “I can see no reason,” Mrs. Waplington declared, “that she should not dance it, though perhaps it would be well if Mr. Wheldrake led her out the first time. Rissington is itching to do so, of course, but let us err on the side of caution. There will be another later in the evening for his lordship should he still desire it.”

And he did desire it. Constituting himself as Trelenny’s escort in the absence of Cranford, Rissington propounded his extreme suitability as her partner above the claims of Mr. Bodford, who had just arrived and had yet to gain a solitary set with Miss Storwood.

“The two of you make game with me,” she protested, laughing. “Mr. Bodford was so good as to see me through the shoals at the Hunsingores, and I believe I owe him this dance.”

Surprised but pleased, Tony gallantly offered his arm. “Who’d have thought you’d choose me? It’s the only waltz left this evening, Miss Storwood.”