Holiday in Bath (6 page)

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.”

“Not every girl gets out of the country.”

“I know. You must think me very selfish to have such a desire, in my situation. Well, I am selfish. I don’t think I’m mean-selfish, or inconsiderate-selfish or stomp-on-everyone-in-the-way-selfish, but I am selfish all the same. If I want something, then I try to get it. I want to go somewhere, and if I can’t go to London, then I want to go to Bath. But I will not try to convince you to escort us because—well, because you have been very thoughtful, and, and that would be stomp-on-someone-selfish."

“Not if I wanted to go there.”

“Yes, it would, because even if you wanted to go there you would not want the responsibility of looking out for Mama and me.”

“I see. Let’s leave the horses here. I’d like to see if there are fish in the lake.” He came around to assist her to the ground and they walked to the small lake. As he skimmed a pebble across the water he asked, “What did you learn about Bath to convince me to take you?”

“They found the Minerva head in Stall Street in 1727 when they were digging a sewer. When the Duke of Kingston was building a new commercial bath in 1755 they found the remains of a large Roman bathing establishment. In 1790 they found sculptured stones from the temple pediment. Several monuments were found in Northgate in 1803.”

He regarded her with astonishment as she mechanically rattled off the statistics she had committed to memory. “Good Lord! You must have been very determined, to go to so much trouble.”

“The problem was finding the information; I never have any difficulty memorizing,” she said simply.

“How long did you hope to be away?”

“Three or four weeks. I don’t think Mama could bear to be away from Papa any longer than that.”

“Very well, Trelenny, you may tell your mother that I would be pleased to escort the two of you to Bath.”

Instead of the delight he had expected, she stared at her hands. “That’s very kind of you, Cranford, but it was wrong of me to scheme so; and I would have to tell Mama what I had done, and she would not approve.” She drew a line on the lake bank with the toe of her boot. “But if I don’t scheme, if I sit around and wait for something to happen, I’ll be here all my life.”

“You don’t have to be,” he said meaningfully.

Her chin came up and she met his eyes defiantly. “Out of the frying pan into the fire? No, thank you. I’m not that grateful for a better sidesaddle.”

“We’re not talking about the sidesaddle!” Sparks of anger glinted in his eyes. “We are talking about your having a chance to see more of the world than this little backwater.”

“No, Cranford, we are talking about my freedom or captivity. Let’s not talk of it anymore. I’ll show you a cave you may not have seen before. I only discovered it myself a few months ago.” Without looking to see whether he followed, she skirted the lake and took a rough path through the wood until she came to a second fall of water.

As she crossed the stream, hopping from boulder to boulder, he said from behind her, “You’ll get your habit wet.”

“Oh, who cares? If you’re concerned for your precious Hessians you need not come.”

By the time he had crossed the stream, his boots were indeed soaked, as hers must have been, but neither of them commented on any discomfort. Trelenny continued on up the rise on the other side, pushing the shrubbery out of her way as she went and staying close to the water, which sprinkled on her from time to time as it cascaded over the rocks. The climb was steep and no evidence of the cave could be seen from below, but when Trelenny pushed aside some tangled vines, Cranford found himself at the entrance to a deep, well-defined space with jagged rock walls and ceiling.

“How did you find it?”

“There was a rock slide after a storm in July. Enough rocks came away from the entrance that I could see there was a cave, and I removed the rest. It took a few days, but isn’t it wonderful? Much bigger than Greene Cave and there are some drawings on the wall that might interest you. I wish I’d thought to bring a lanthorn.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it before?”

“Well, they’re not Roman drawings, Cranford, or anything really old. Possibly from the time of the Abbey, but they have no distinctly religious flavor—no crosses or anything. Didn’t the Abbey give sanctuary? Maybe they were drawn by some desperate fugitive who sought safety in the grounds. A hunted man who had ruthlessly murdered his employer or a jealous lover who had throttled his mistress to death.”

Cranford cast his eyes heavenward. “Or some child caught out in a storm who whiled away the hours scratching pictures of his favorite puppy on the rock.”

“You have no imagination, Cranford,” Trelenny said dolefully. “You can’t see them very well in this light. I made copies by lanthorn-light in my sketchbook. I’ll show them to you.” She attempted, unsuccessfully, to quell a sneeze.

“Not today, young lady. I’m taking you home so you can change into some dry clothing.”

Cousin Filkins arrived promptly on schedule, and Mr. Storwood indeed found it necessary to reimburse the post boys. “Temporary embarrassment,” Cousin Filkins murmured as he descended in a lavender coat, red and white striped waistcoat, and green pantaloons. Trelenny tried to catch her mother’s eye, but Mrs. Storwood would not look in her direction. “Dashed rough roads you have in this neighborhood. I think the set of my coat is permanently ruined.” Trelenny tried to catch her father’s eye, with no more success than she had had with her mother.

After Cousin Filkins had greeted her parents, he turned to Trelenny. “My, my, what a change there’s been in you, my girl.” He eyed her in such a way that the color rose to her cheeks. “Still have the freckles, I see. Not any better than you should be, ha ha. We’ll have to have a cozy chat. You’ll be wanting to know what the ladies are wearing in London.” He pinched her cheek between his chubby fingers and turned to Mr. Storwood. “Fine-looking gel you have. Pity to keep her off in the wilds. You won’t take offense if I just mention that knee breeches are out, will you? Even for evening wear, by Jove. Only the old fogies are wearing them to the balls and parties, and it’s only a matter of time before you will see the Prince Regent himself in trousers, mark my words. If you will be so good as to show me my room,” he continued, his bulging eyes now coming to focus once more on Trelenny, “I shall just refresh a bit and see what my man can do with this coat.”

“Certainly, Cousin Filkins.” As she led him through the hall and up the stairs she said, “I hope your journey has not been too trying. Sometimes the post boys go over the most hazardous roads at breakneck speed. You would think they would have more consideration for the horses.”

“Wouldn’t travel at all if I could avoid it,” Cousin Filkins grumbled as he puffed up the stairs behind her.

“Well, you’ll be settled here for a while now and I’m sure you will be comfortable. This is your room. I think you will find everything you need.”

“And where is your room, young lady?” he asked with a jovial laugh.

“In the other wing, sir.”

“This dress now,” he said, reaching out to touch the lace at the neckline, “would not be worn so high in London. It would be cut much lower, about here.”

Trelenny hastily stepped back to avoid his touch. “Clothing for the countryside is more practical, I think. Here’s your man to see to you.” Whereupon she fled.

The days took on an aura of unreality for Trelenny. Every vacant corridor became a potential meeting spot with Cousin Filkins. No matter that she had just left him with her parents in the drawing room, somehow he disengaged himself and appeared like a nightmare as she was turning the corner to her room, leering at her and making familiar comments under the guise of cousinly interest. Because of her disdainful comments on him before his arrival, she did not wish to go to her mother with tales of his behavior; and she would never have considered alarming her father with the story. Unschooled in how to handle such advances, she tried at first to placate him by turning the subject, and later by escaping by whatever means she could devise. The only place she was safe from him was when she rode, for the aging dandy would not come near a horse and never walked when he could be comfortably settled in a chair before a plate of biscuits.

But even if she had wished to, she could not ride all day, and her father admonished her for ignoring their guest when she absented herself for too long. On the night of his arrival Cousin Filkins had walked straight into her bedchamber as she was removing her shawl, laughed, and said, “Now how could I have made such a stupid mistake? I see your maid is not here. Can I help you with those buttons?” Fortunately her maid had appeared just then, and, not under the same restraints as Trelenny, harshly bade the old man remove himself immediately. Henceforth Trelenny had kept her door locked at all times.

Viscount Chessels and his son came to dine a few days after the visitor’s arrival, and Cranford was surprised at Trelenny’s lack of animation on the occasion. He had not expected her to show him any particular welcome, and she had not; but she was unusually subdued and started visibly when addressed by Cousin Filkins, who had come up behind the sofa on which she was seated. Cranford agreed with her assessment of her relation as ridiculous and found the evening in his father’s company a trying duty. It was not until he lay restlessly in bed that night that a possible explanation for Trelenny’s behavior occurred to him, and he set out for Sutton Hall directly after his breakfast the next morning.

As it was Cousin Filkins’ habit to lie abed until an advanced hour of the morning, Trelenny escaped into the gardens as soon as she had finished her meal. If she rode now, she would not have an excuse for doing so when her father’s cousin descended and tried to corner her in the study or the drawing room for a discussion of “fashion.” She was pacing agitatedly along the gravel paths beside the hedges when the odious man himself appeared at her side.

“You startled me, Cousin Filkins. We are not used to seeing you abroad at this hour,” she remarked as she tried to edge away from him into a more observable portion of the grounds.

“I saw you from my room, my dear, and could not bear to think of you alone on such a delightful morning. Have you no suitors who come to rhapsodize on your. . . charms?” His bulky form blocked her way into the lawn which sloped from her father’s study, where they might have been under his watchful (though obviously benevolent) eye.

“I have no suitors at all, sir.”

“What? You are teasing me, you naughty puss. I will not believe that there is no young man whose eye—” his own eyes rested hungrily on her ample bosom “—is not drawn by your beauty. Someone who does not slip his arm about you and give you a little pat on that saucy bottom of yours."

When he attempted to suit his action to the words, Trelenny smashed her elbow into his protruding stomach and dashed blindly away from him, only to run headlong into Cranford, who had witnessed the whole scene as he approached. “Steady, now. Stay right where you are. I won’t be a moment.”

Shaking, she nodded miserably and watched as he approached the gasping Filkins. Although she could not hear the words which passed between them—or rather, which Cranford addressed to the older man, since Cousin Filkins apparently had nothing to say—she saw the pudgy dandy blanch and step back as though struck. Cranford turned on his heel and rejoined her, pressing her arm under his for support. “He won’t bother you again. Why did your father do nothing about this situation?”

“He doesn’t know,” Trelenny whispered.

“You should have told him.”

“His heart…”

“Then you should have told your mother.”

“Why are you angry with me? It wasn’t my fault. I tried to stay away from him, to discourage him.”

“But you didn’t bother to tell your mother.”

“How could I tell her? He is my father’s cousin, for God’s sake, and they expect me to treat him with the respect due a relative. They were both annoyed with me for making fun of him before he came. And what could mama do if I told her? She would be very upset, but she would not dare tell Papa.”

“Of course she would. She would have to. Trelenny, your parents are there to protect you. Do you think they would have wanted this situation to continue?”

“No, but, Cranford, think how upsetting it would be to Papa. I could not do that.”

“Then you should have spoken to me.”

She darted a glance at his rigid face. “It never occurred me. I wouldn’t have thought you could do a thing about it.”