Chapter Four

Edmund

“W hat! The whole Templeton clan? Mama, have you taken leave of your senses?”

“Yes, they will all be here; I have arranged it,” Lady Templeton said to Edmund. “And I do not think it is particularly helpful for you to question my sanity.”

Edmund and his mother were standing outside the Pump Room, waiting for the rest of the family to arrive.

“Your father has an appointment in the city– I do hope he will not be late,” Lady Templeton said. “Ah! Here are Selina and George now– and Henry, Kitty and little Isabella. How thoughtful you all are to come to support Edmund.”

Edmund scowled at his nearest and dearest. “Once Papa arrives, we can go in, I suppose? And I can be the center of extremely unwelcome attention.”

“Try to sound more cheerful,” Lady Templeton said. “You must surely be looking forward to seeing Mrs. Pembroke?”

“I am, Mama,” Edmund replied. “But I fail to see why every person in Bath I am related to needs to accompany me.”

“Family unity is important at significant times,” Lady Templeton said. “And ’tis not every single person you are related to, is it?”

“You mean Carter?” Edmund said. “How I wish he were here, for he has a sensible word to say on every occasion.”

“Dear Carter,” Kitty said. “We so enjoy having him reside with us.”

“I did try to persuade him to come,” Lady Templeton said, “but he thought his presence would prove a distraction.”

“Even if Carter had accepted your invitation,” Henry said, “he would have had to cancel, for he travelled to Bristol very early this morning. There was a troublesome situation there that required his presence– he would give no further details.”

“His government work takes precedence over everything else,” Lady Templeton said.

“But Henry,” Edmund said, “it must be damned awkward sometimes when you require his services as your manservant, only to find that he is gallivanting round the country on other urgent business. I cannot imagine how I would manage without Voyle; who would look after my wardrobe and tidy my room? Who would dress me and arrange my hair? Admittedly I find him aggravating at times and oft wish he would leave me be, but dammit, I rely on the man’s assistance every day.”

Henry smiled. “I am more self-sufficient since my time in the army and can look after myself.”

“Not everyone is as spoilt as you are, Edmund,” Selina said.

Why must she always ram the point home so forcefully? Edmund opened his mouth to protest then snapped it shut again, for there was perchance a grain of truth in what his sister had said– and he was only just beginning to realize it.

I feel like an entitled cod’s head. And I expect this is what Marianne thinks of me– not that I care one single jot.

“Would you like to say hello to Isabella, Edmund?” Kitty asked.

Bless Kitty for trying to distract everyone from my shortcomings– she is a kind and thoughtful sister-in-law.

Edmund tickled the baby under her chin, making her squeal with laughter .

“Are you not a bonny girl?” he said to Isabella. “Your parents are very lucky.”

“Indeed, they are,” Lady Templeton said, “but remember, Edmund, a child is a blessing that can be visited upon other family members too.”

I know I can have children if I marry, Mama– thank you for reminding me.

Then, was it Edmund’s imagination, or did Selina and George exchange wistful glances?

I do believe my sister Selina and her husband George are longing for offspring. I wish them well and hope they achieve their heart’s desire ere long, for they will both of them be fine parents.

“There you are!” Lady Templeton said to her husband as he rushed towards them, a little out of breath.

“I offer humble apologies, my dear. I was held up in my business meeting.” Lord Templeton shot a meaningful look at Edmund. “’Tis almost as if I need more help– there is so much to do. And on top of everything else, Mr. Grant, my steward at Templeton Park, is ill.”

But Edmund had stopped listening.

Are my family going to take it in turns this morning to point out my shortcomings? Of course they are– for this is their daily sport.

“We are due to meet Lady Barrington and Mrs. Pembroke inside,” Lady Templeton said. “Come along, now!”

The Templetons processed into the bustling, noisy Pump Room. But where was Marianne? Could she be behind one of the Corinthian columns? Edmund’s eyes flickered over the crowds, searching for her flame-colored hair, while Lady Templeton said something quite indistinguishable.

“What was that, my dear?” Lord Templeton shouted. “The band is very loud.”

“I said, if we promenade around the room, we are sure to come across them soon.”

Then Edmund’s heart lurched. Marianne was standing right in front of him, her sweet visage framed with tumbling curls, a triple string of milky pearls adorning her delicate neck, and her eyes glittering more prettily than the crystal chandelier high above.

She is even more alluring than I had remembered.

Introductions were made, and then Marianne, Selina, and Kitty formed a little group with baby Isabella.

“What a poppet!” Marianne said.

“Would you like to hold her?” Kitty asked.

“I am not much practiced at holding infants; perhaps I had better not,” Marianne replied.

“As you wish,” Kitty said, “but look; she is reaching out to you.”

Isabella’s plump starfish hands extended towards Marianne; she relented and took the tiny girl into her embrace.

“You are a natural,” Lady Templeton said.

How delicately Marianne holds little Isabella, as if she were a fragile and rare piece of porcelain.

Then Isabella started pulling one of the pretty ringlets framing Marianne’s face.

“Careful, Isabella!” Kitty said. “Do not spoil Mrs. Pembroke’s arrangement.”

Then, unaccountably, the three young women all started talking about hairstyles– how their maids helped them perfect their ringlets, what their favorite hairpins were, and so forth. After a while, they moved onto prison reform– always a favorite subject of Selina’s.

Meanwhile, Henry and George conversed about the law and medicine– their respective professions.

And Mama and Papa are discussing estate business with Lady Barrington– something about a house in the Crescent.

Which conversation was Edmund meant to gravitate towards? Or, as usual, was he there merely for appearances’ sake, so that people could point to him and boast that they had seen the heir to the Templeton estate?

And now Selina was explaining to Marianne how she had given up sugar for a while last year to further the cause of abolition– inspired by the Anti-Saccharites.

“Lord, Selina!” Edmund said. “Next you will be boring Marianne about your educational ideas; you are a true expert now you have been working with the local children.”

Marianne seemed puzzled, Selina looked affronted, and Kitty showed signs of embarrassment. Only Isabella carried on gurgling and cooing as if no crime had been committed.

Dammit! What an oaf I am! That came out all wrong.

“Education is an important subject,” Selina said. “I have to do something to try and make a difference. Just because you have no purpose in your life, Edmund, does not mean that others do not. ’Tis time you resolved to stop being such a gadabout.”

“Selina!” Lady Templeton hissed. “For goodness’ sake! We are in public; this is no time for your teasing.”

Edmund felt a pang of guilt, for there was a grain of truth in what Selina had said. What did he ever do to try and improve things for anyone?

“Edmund,” Lord Templeton said, “why do you not take Mrs. Pembroke over to the fountain? Perhaps she would care to taste the waters?”

“I would like that,” Marianne said, “for their fame is widespread.”

Edmund needed no further encouragement but swept Marianne away to the other side of the room. As they walked, he was conscious of the many eyes upon them.

“I am not at all sure,” he growled, “that ’twas a good idea to appear together in the Pump Room, for we are being relentlessly scrutinized.”

“I agree,” Marianne said. “Now I know what ’tis like to be an animal in a zoo.”

Edmund secured a glass of water for Marianne from the fountain, and they stood at the window overlooking the King’s Bath .

“How extraordinary!” Marianne said as they looked down to see clothed figures below bobbing up and down in the steamy water. “I know you like swimming in the river, Edmund– but have you ever been in the baths here?”

“I have once or twice, but I find it far too hot– and ’tis impossible to swim freely with so many bodies around you.”

But how I would love to be in the waters standing close to you, Marianne– or, better still, swim with you in the river.

Marianne took a sip from her glass and then made a grimace.

“Ah, yes!” Edmund chuckled. “’Tis an acquired taste. I believe I did warn you when talking of my tenth birthday party yesterday. Please feel under no obligation to finish the glass.”

Marianne lowered her voice. “Have you found a way we can communicate in writing without our notes being intercepted by Jane and Martha yet?”

“I have not, for whichever way I approach the problem, I see the maids will outwit us.”

“And you had another scheme– you asked if I had a head for heights?”

“Pray forget that,” Edmund said. “I ran my idea past Selina, and she said I was a numbskull to think of doing anything so unwise.”

“What had you intended?”

“You will find this hard to believe, but I had thought it might be a good idea to leave Number 1 through a servant’s attic window, then walk behind the parapet to Number 4 where I would meet you on the roof.”

“Whatever put that notion into your head?” Marianne asked.

“Selina herself– for she has oft had rooftop adventures. But she has never travelled between houses as I had planned to do– she always thought it would be far too dangerous. Nor did she think it at all sensible for you to climb onto the roof of Number 4.”

“I am relieved to hear it, for I admit I am nervous in high places.”

“Luckily, Selina has a much more practical solution– and one that I am sure will meet with your full approval,” Edmund said. “There will be frequent invitations for you to visit her home– and I will also attend, but discreetly, via the back door. My sister will chaperone us at all times, and she will ensure our meetings are not disturbed by family members or servants, for we need time to formulate a plan to defeat our enemies.”

“Our enemies?”

“In a manner of speaking– I am referring to those who would marry us off.”

“This sounds a reasonable plan,” Marianne said, “but what if her servants see you entering the house?”

“Perhaps I should arrive in disguise?”

“Be serious!”

“There are a few details to iron out,” Edmund said, “but ’tis worth a try.”

Marianne giggled. “This sounds a mighty complicated way for us to have private discussions about the progress of our plan not to be married to each other.”

“Indeed! Ah! What is that I see?”

There were advantages to being tall when in the Pump Room; Edmund was able to look across the crowds to see his family and Lady Barrington making their way over.

“Wait– ’tis not all of them. Henry, Kitty, and little Isabella are leaving. I do not blame them– ’tis very noisy for a babe in here. But here come all the others.”

“And what did you think of the waters, Mrs. Pembroke?” Lady Templeton asked.

“The taste is both highly unusual and very interesting.” Marianne put her nearly full glass down. “But I find I am not particularly thirsty this morning.”

“I think we should take a turn around the baths themselves now,” Lady Barrington suggested .

“I am not quite sure I wish to bathe,” Marianne said.

“Oh no, my dear,” Lady Barrington said. “That was not my intention. We shall walk around the edge of the baths. You can see so much more of the Roman heritage from the lower level. Come– follow me, everyone.”

“I think George and I might return home at this point,” Selina said. “But Marianne, I hope you will call on me soon– we have much to talk about.”

“How about tomorrow?” Marianne said. “In the morning?”

“Excellent.” Selina clapped her hands and winked at Edmund.

Excellent, indeed! Our first meeting has been planned.

“And I must return to my business in the city,” Lord Templeton said, “but this has been a most pleasant interlude.”

Lady Barrington, Lady Templeton, Edmund and Marianne then went down the stairs to start their tour.

“There is a strange smell coming from the water,” Marianne said.

“Yes,” Edmund said. “It reminds one of eggs boiling on the stove.”

Marianne raised an eyebrow. “Have you spent much time in the kitchen?”

“Edmund was an unusual child,” Lady Templeton said. “If he disappeared, I always knew where to find him– down in the kitchen with Cook. She showed him how to make all sorts of dishes.”

I had forgotten that. I used to love all the weighing and mixing that goes on below stairs– and tasting the results.

“There is another smell too,” Marianne said. “’Tis very sweet.”

“Yes,” Lady Barrington said. “You see the little floating dishes? They contain fragrant oils and pomanders.”

“Doubtless to mask the smell of boiling eggs,” Edmund said.

They walked carefully around the paths at the side of the baths, past the colonnades of pillars, and across the uneven flagstones.

“’Tis very close down here,” Lady Templeton said.

“My word, yes,” Lady Barrington agreed. “’Tis almost stifling. Is it time to go back? ”

As they reached the Pump Room again, Marianne commented, “What a beautiful piece of Mozart.”

“Do you like music, Mrs. Pembroke?” Lady Templeton asked.

“Oh, yes! I adore it.”

“Edmund and I are due to attend a concert tomorrow night in the city.” Lady Templeton beamed at her son.

“We are?” Edmund said.

“What a coincidence!” Lady Barrington cried. “Marianne and I are attending that concert as well.”

Marianne looked startled to hear this.

“Lady Templeton,” Lady Barrington said, “if you would be so kind as to remind me where this concert is?”

Then Marianne looked very much as if she wanted to giggle.

Oh, how captivating she is!

“’Tis in the Guildhall,” Lady Templeton said.

“Ah, yes! And doubtless there are many more concerts in the city,” Lady Barrington said.

“There are– and balls, too,” Lady Templeton added.

Lady Barrington smiled. “And I have heard there is to be a very special guest visiting the city soon. What a thrill ’twould be to see him! Of course, the rumor might not be true.”

“We can but hope,” Lady Templeton said. “But even if he does not appear, there are countless social occasions where young men and women can mingle– and get to know one another.”

“Shall we leave all the planning of our romance to them?” Edmund whispered in Marianne’s ear. “For it seems that neither of us is to have a say.”

“Absolutely! I consider it best to submit,” Marianne whispered back. “’Tis less trouble in the long run.”

“As long as we stick to our agreement and remember that all this is to save us from being pushed towards others.”

What fun this is all proving to be! Marianne is such a good sport that I almost regret not wanting to marry her.

*

Marianne

Early the next day, there was a further delivery from Madame Dubonnet’s emporium.

“How wonderful!” Lady Barrington cried. “She is getting through the list at great speed. Look, Marianne! Let us unpack them right here in the parlor.”

Marianne looked in wonder at the gorgeous gowns. “Are these really all for me?”

I cannot think what I have done to deserve such generosity.

“They are indeed all for you,” Lady Barrington said. “Now, which would you care to wear today? We shall inspect each in turn. How splendid the amber silk looks fashioned into evening wear– the frills! The detailing! You will look simply stunning at the next ball. And here is a pretty primrose gown that will be ideal for this morning, and this more decorated crimson frock will suit for the concert tonight. Perfect! I am glad you agree with me.”

I am beginning to feel like a favorite doll that Lady Barrington takes pleasure in dressing. Still, they are all beautiful clothes, and ’twould be churlish of me to be ungrateful.

“I believe you are visiting Selina soon?” Lady Barrington said.

“Yes– that is, unless there is anything else you would like me to do?”

“No, no; you should see her, for you cannot meet up with Edmund every minute of the day. Would you mind taking Nelson with you? He could do with another walk, even if ’tis only next door– and he does enjoy social occasions.”

Nelson evidently heard the word walk and began charging at full tilt around the room.

“How excited he is!” Lady Barrington said. “He is very fond of visiting Selina, as her cook always saves savory tidbits for him. ”

I am excited to go to Selina’s house too– but not for the reason that my aunt thinks. Unless Edmund might be considered a “tidbit?” Oh, my!

“You must hasten upstairs to change into the primrose gown,” Lady Barrington said. “And when you leave, take Jane with you, for you need a chaperone in the street.”

“Aunt! What do you think is going to happen to me, merely stepping next door?”

“You cannot be too careful– I insist you are accompanied by Jane.”

The air was chilly and the sun weak when Marianne and Jane finally left the house.

“Come along Nelson,” Marianne said. “’Tis this way.”

But Nelson was having none of it and pulled Marianne off the pavement and over the cobbles to the railings, while Jane hurried after them.

“Oh, all right, little one,” Marianne said. “A few minutes will not hurt. Now, what is it you have found?”

The pug sniffed a dry leaf, then pinned it to the ground with his paw to stop it fluttering in the wind.

“’Tis not a mouse, or anything interesting, Nelson. ’Tis merely a leaf. Come with us now, back onto the pavement. We cannot have you run over by a carriage, can we?”

Marianne turned back to the Crescent and saw a military man walking briskly at the far end, outside Number 30. The breath was all but knocked from her and she feared she would faint. ’Twas Richard, surely– in his scarlet jacket?

I must be hallucinating! For he lies cold in his grave.

The figure drew nearer. “Mrs. Pembroke!” a deep voice said. “I am so glad to see you; Charlotte has told me you are in Bath.”

“Why, Captain Wyndham! How delightful to see you.”

’Tis not my dear Richard– but Charlotte’s brother, Frederick, enjoying a stroll around the city.

“How are your parents?” Marianne said .

“Very well, thank you. And yours? And Lady Barrington?”

“All well. And I wanted to thank you,” Marianne said.

“Thank me? Whatever for?”

“For your very great kindness. I know I was a very wretched houseguest when I stayed with your family after Richard died– but you, Charlotte, and your parents were so kind at a most difficult period in my life, and I have never thanked you properly.”

“There is no need,” Captain Wyndham said in a gruff voice. “We were all pleased to help, and ’tis heartwarming to see you so restored.”

Nelson started pulling fiercely at his leash, perhaps desperate to go into Selina’s house for the promised tidbits.

“Ah!” Captain Wyndham said. “I see this little chap is eager to move on.”

“Nelson is a determined creature.”

“Nelson, eh? ’Tis an unusual name for a dog, I must say.”

“As an army man, you would perhaps have preferred to hear that he was called Wellington?” Marianne teased.

“Very possibly,” Captain Wyndham said with a smile, “but Nelson was a great hero too. Does Lady Barrington have seafaring connections?”

“Yes. Her dear departed husband had two brothers who were in the Royal Navy– and one of them served at the Battle of Trafalgar with Nelson.”

“How fascinating!” Captain Wyndham bent down to pat Nelson. “Your namesake was a distinguished Englishman– never forget that. And now, Mrs. Pembroke, I must take my leave.”

“It has been a pleasure to see you again.”

The captain’s cheeks warmed. “Would it be acceptable for me to call on you while you are here? And I know my parents would be overjoyed to receive you in Laura Place.”

“Both of those suggestions are very welcome.”

“Until we meet again.” Captain Wyndham gave Marianne a small bow– and an exceedingly friendly smile.

Marianne knocked at the door of Number 3, which after a few moments was flung open to reveal a smiling Selina.

She does not seem to realize that one is supposed to let one’s servants open the front door– either that or, more likely, she simply does not care a fig.

“And now you may return to Lady Barrington,” Marianne said to Jane.

“I believe Lady Barrington thought I might stay with you– that you might need my services,” Jane replied.

“How very considerate of her,” Marianne said, “but I do not believe ’twill be necessary. Thank you, Jane. You may go.”

My aunt misses no opportunities in her quest for information– but this time she is out of luck.

“Edmund has told me all about Jane,” Selina said once they were inside.

“I thought he might have.”

“Perchance she is even now on her way to visit her sister Martha,” Selina suggested, her eyes shining with merriment. “She might be telling her that you have just been talking to a handsome young officer in the street. Who is he, by the way?”

“The brother of an old friend of mine. But Selina, please tell me that you are not also spying on me?”

“How could I not see the encounter? For I have been standing at the window of my withdrawing room this good half hour waiting for you to arrive.” Then Selina lowered her voice. “And Edmund is already here– he slipped in through the back door when no one was around. I have told my servants that I need nothing more this morning and that you and I need no refreshment, nor are we to be disturbed. Let us hasten to him.”

Edmund’s first words to Marianne were: “Who the devil were you talking to out in the street?”

Where has this come from? ’Tis almost as if Edmund has forgotten that we are only pretending to be attached to one another. Perhaps he was out on the town last night and has a sore head?

“Why, good morning, Edmund,” Marianne said. “I hope ’twas not too painful for you to rise before noon.”

“Touché!” Edmund said with a laugh. “A very good morning to you too– and no, ’twas not too bad dragging my weary body from slumber this morning. But had I known I was to be thus tormented, perchance I would have stayed abed.”

“I will leave you two to chat,” Selina said. “Or should I say, to spar? If you want me, I shall be in the far corner– reading.”

“Thank you,” Edmund said.

“Yes,” Marianne said. “We do appreciate you coming to our rescue like this.”

“Think nothing of it,” Selina said. “When Edmund explained the pressure Mama and Papa are putting him under to marry, why it brought it all back to me; I used to feel as if I were in a gilded cage sometimes. ’Tis not that I did not appreciate all that my parents did for me– but how I longed to break free.”

“And now you are married to George, the perfect foil for your rebellious nature,” Edmund said.

“Indeed,” Selina said. “And he has made me very happy. Now, pray waste no time talking to me.”

She ran to the other side of the room, slipped off her shoes, flung herself into a chair and buried her nose in a book.

“Well, Marianne,” Edmund said, “it would appear that you and I are going to the same concert this evening.”

“And when we are there, you must try to behave yourself and give the impression that we are fond of each other– but not yet engaged.”

’Twill not be hard for me to give the impression I am fond of Edmund– for he is a dear character once one gets to know him.

“Do you mean I should look at you like this?” Edmund opened his eyes very wide and gave a small gasp of astonishment.

“Please do no such thing! You look as if you have had a terrible shock– and have perchance seen a ghostly specter. ”

“I will have you know that I was attempting to look overwhelmed by the vibrance of your beauty. I am sorry my acting was not up to scratch.” Edmund affected a disgruntled look, allowing his lower lip to jut forward.

Marianne laughed. “And now you look like a petulant child. Nelson agrees with me– see how he is gnashing his teeth?”

“Perchance I should practice the compliments I might pay you in public?” Edmund said.

“Are compliments strictly necessary?”

“Yes, I believe they are essential. I might compare your eyes to the deep Atlantic Ocean off the west coast of Ireland– a clear, brilliant, emerald green.”

“Ha! At school, a friend once told me my eyes were the color of boiled gooseberries.”

“She was jealous,” Edmund murmured. “Your eyes are quite exceptionally lovely.”

How tender Edmund is being– is he acting now?

“And I might compare your hair to a flaming wildfire, with its amazing orange and red hues.” Edmund stretched out his fingers to caress a curl. “Nature at its very best.”

Oh my! My insides are turning to liquid at his touch.

“Well again, ’twould be an improvement on what people called me as a child,” Marianne said.

“Tell me! What did they call you?”

“Carrot head!”

“I might have guessed,” Edmund said with a chuckle.

“And what did your friends call you in your youth?”

“Mostly ‘beanpole,’” Edmund admitted, “for I grew very tall quite early on.”

“You are very tall.”

And handsome.

“You looked like a weedy sapling,” Selina said, “until you grew into your height. ”

“Selina!” Edmund said. “I thought you were reading.”

“I was– for a while. But then I started listening– and realized that you two need to be alone. The situation is not quite as I had been led to believe.”

With that, Selina put her shoes back on and marched out of the room grinning broadly, pausing only to say:

“I will be back in ten minutes– not a moment sooner.”

“What the devil?” Edmund said. “My sister is a terrible tease. Can you understand the meaning behind her enigmatic comments?”

“I cannot!”

Unless she somehow senses that I have a growing affection for her brother? That I am beginning to enjoy his company more than I ever thought I would? Oh! I am feeling a trifle muddled.

“We, we are supposed to be planning how we are to behave in public,” Marianne said.

How I am struggling to remember the true purpose of this meeting!

“I would rather plan how we behave in private,” Edmund said softly, drawing Marianne towards him as they moved closer and closer on the sofa.

My heart is beating faster with every passing second!

“Marianne!” Edmund’s voice was hoarse. “What if we have got this all wrong? What if...”

Ah! The feel of his arms around me!

Marianne lifted her face to Edmund’s and felt long-buried desire burn within her as he slowly lowered his lips to hers and they shared a sweet and gentle kiss.

I wish this could go on forever! Perhaps, as Edmund suggested, we have got this all wrong. What if...

“I, I am sorry.” Edmund stood up abruptly. “I forgot myself in the heat of the moment and got carried away by the strength of my own acting. I offer you a thousand apologies.”

“No, the fault was mine.” Marianne moved to the far end of the sofa. “We should not have been talking in the way we were; ’twas bound to lead to confusion.”

He kissed me! My lips are still aflame with the beauty and emotion– oh! Can he not feel it? Is he in truth nothing but a shallow rake? Oh, how I regret betraying my Richard.

“I must return home,” Edmund said. “Until this evening, then.”

“This evening? Ah, yes. The concert.”

Thus it was that when Selina returned to the withdrawing room, she found Marianne alone– and in tears.

*

Edmund

How could I have been such a dunderhead?

Edmund strode along the Royal Crescent and briefly hesitated before the door of Number 1; but he could not go home yet, for he was both incandescent with rage and burning with unspoken words of love. He had to go on a walk– the longer the better.

What in God’s name is the matter with me? I have ruined everything!

Edmund continued through The Circus and across to Belvedere, then up the hill until he reached Lansdown Crescent. ’Twas a steep climb, but one he was pleased to make, as the necessary exertion diverted his mind from his former shameful conduct.

Once in the middle of Lansdown Crescent, Edmund gazed out at the glorious view across the city and tried to take stock of what had just happened in Selina’s withdrawing room. He had been getting on so well with Marianne– dash it all, they had been teasing each other, perhaps flirting, and he had truly felt a close intimacy combined with friendship that he had never before encountered with any woman.

And the exquisite kiss! I could have stayed like that forever– in perfect Elysian bliss.

Edmund shivered as the memory of the sensation streamed through his body, like the aftershock of a mighty volcano. Then he sobered up.

’Twas the kiss that ruined everything.

He had apologized as best he could and moved away quickly, but dammit! Was not that Marianne’s chance to say that the kiss had been just what she wanted? That the tide of their friendship was changing– to something entirely different? Had Edmund not said to her earlier, “What if we have got this all wrong?” She could have answered in the affirmative, agreeing that yes, they had both made a huge mistake in not understanding the true situation– and then told him that she loved him, just as he loved her.

Do I love her? Oh, all is confusion!

But no, Marianne had said nothing of the sort; instead she had moved to the far end of the sofa and said they should not have been talking in the way they had, for ’twas bound to lead to confusion.

Is a kiss really best described as “confusion?” Did the kiss not signify friendship moving naturally to love?

The sheep on the lawn in front of the crescent carried on grazing. The sweet creatures had nothing much to concern them in their day-to-day lives, save chomping through acres of grass.

How I wish I could lead such a simple life, with so little to trouble me.

Then Edmund smiled ruefully, seeing the absurdity of wishing to live an ovine existence instead of being heir to the Templeton fortune. And he resolved to attempt to accept Marianne’s rejection with better grace, for he would never want to force unwelcome attention onto a woman.

Now, more than ever, I am determined to continue with our plan. We can be useful to one another, Marianne and I, as we share a common aim– and one I must try very hard to remember– the wish to remain unwed.

Edmund began a rapid descent down the hill, past Camden Place, on and on, until he was in the very middle of Bath, mixing with throngs of high society personages. And where to next? Should he perchance visit the Pump Room?

No! For ’tis too full of sweet memories of Marianne .

He would walk across Pulteney Bridge, down Great Pulteney Street, and thence to Sydney Gardens where he could walk off the remainder of his dark mood.

Many were the times Edmund and his friends had gamboled about in the Labyrinth, running hither and thither in their attempt to reach the center and take a ride on Merlin’s Swing. Edmund blushed as he remembered that sometimes they had visited at night, when they were foxed. It was a different sort of society there, after dark.

Edmund quickened his pace as he marched through the Labyrinth, taking a few wrong turns as his concentration was not at its best.

Where am I? Curses! This is not the usual way.

There were few people about, so Edmund sat down on the path to regroup and allow his sense of direction to return. And his sense of proportion too– for he was still battling to accept his lot in life.

I have missed my chance with Marianne– and yet I must accept the necessity of continuing with the farce of pretending that we are intended for each other, however confusing and painful– ludicrous even– it seems.

Edmund stood up and adjusted his jacket. ’Twas time to be positive– and make the best of a tricky situation.

I do not intend to marry for many years, if at all; therefore this pretense with Marianne is a good thing, surely? ’Tis key to the preservation of my unwed state. And while I remain unwed, I am free to live a normal life, keeping whatever hours I wish, seeing who I choose, and going wherever I want.

Just then, Edmund heard voices on the other side of the hedge; he peeped through a tiny gap to see the scarlet coats of two army officers. Good Lord! They were discussing their plans to go to a concert that evening– the very same recital that he and Marianne were attending at the Guildhall.

“I have heard there are many attractive women in Bath for the season,” one officer said.

“Yes,” his companion replied. “I am on the lookout for a flirtation. ”

“You had better be careful,” the first cautioned, “for ’tis dangerous sport to dally with young ladies in Bath, for they are generally seeking marriage.”

“Unless you happen to find a willing widow or married lady,” the other said, “for sometimes they are after the same sport we are.”

Frustratingly, the men’s voices then disappeared– they must have taken a different turning– and Edmund could no longer hear what they were saying.

Yet I have heard enough. My blood is boiling to think of the way these fellows are talking.

And yet, in all honesty, did these sentiments not sound a little like the opinions bandied about by some of Edmund’s bolder friends, when they were the worse for wear? And did not Edmund himself enjoy flirting?

But what if they pursue Marianne at the concert?

Then another thought struck Edmund like a thunderbolt. What if one of these young officers was the repugnant captain he had seen greeting Marianne that very morning, yards from Selina’s house?

I say “repugnant,” because although the man seemed more than unusually blessed with good looks, I could easily judge how unpleasant his character was straight away. For what right had he to brazenly accost a lady in the street like that?

Edmund bit his lip; perchance he was not being entirely rational. Marianne had said she knew the gentleman in question, so it was not such a departure from civilized behavior for the captain to say good morning to her in the street. In reality, ’twas quite the reverse– a fine example of good breeding and gentlemanly manners.

Nevertheless, Edmund determined that he would follow the men to the center of the Labyrinth, for he felt increasingly sure that one of them must be Marianne’s acquaintance, Captain Wyndham. His memory of the geography of the Labyrinth came flooding back, and Edmund raced through the last few twists and turns and catapulted himself out into the middle where he saw the two officers standing on the other side of Merlin’s Swing.

I will challenge Captain Wyndham concerning his disrespectful comments– perhaps to a duel?

Edmund ran over to the pair and yelled, “How dare you!”

His anger soon changed to acute embarrassment as he realized that neither officer looked remotely familiar. Overcome with mortification, Edmund then muttered, “I beg pardon– ’twas my mistake. I thought you were someone else,” before plunging back into the Labyrinth with such force that the hedge scratched his boots quite horribly.

At least ’tis not that accursed Nelson ruining my footwear this time.

Edmund marched home full of resolve that tonight at the concert he would do his very best to protect Marianne from unwelcome advances– especially from members of His Majesty’s Armed Forces. But if he and Marianne happened to find themselves alone together this evening, he would hold her at arm’s length, for he no longer trusted himself– or his tender feelings.

And perhaps there is no real need for us to meet privately at Selina’s again. For I have no wish to offend her with another kiss.

And so it was that by the time Edmund met Marianne at the concert in the Guildhall, he had his feelings totally under control and had made a firm pledge to act his part to the very best of his ability.

“May I say, Mrs. Pembroke,” Edmund said in a loud voice, “how ravishingly beautiful you look this evening.” He bowed and kissed her hand, giving every appearance of a gentleman greeting his intended.

Whereas the truth is that I have hardened my heart towards Marianne. I was compelled to do so– ’twas a matter of self-preservation.

“Why, good evening Mr. Templeton,” Marianne said.

“Shall we take our seats?” Lady Barrington said. “’Twill not be long before the concert starts.”

“Yes! Oh, how frightfully exciting!” Lady Templeton said.

“Let us sit here,” Lady Barrington said. “Marianne, you sit on my right, and Mr. Templeton, if you would care to sit next to Marianne? ”

Edmund found it torturous to sit in such close proximity to Marianne after the embarrassing misunderstanding of the afternoon.

I must pull my leg away from hers, in case I inadvertently touch her thigh– and endeavor to lean away from her so that my shoulder does not caress hers. Oh, why are these chairs so small? And so close together? Ah, me! I need to exercise every ounce of self control I possess, for how I long to take her into my arms and enjoy another sweet kiss.

“Do you like Mozart, Mr. Templeton?” Marianne asked.

“I do,” Edmund said. “I am not as knowledgeable about music as the rest of my family, but I find it strangely moving. Selina oft sings Mozart arias.”

“Oh yes,” Lady Templeton said. “And her performance of one of her favorites played a special part in George’s courtship of her– did you not think so, Edmund?”

“I think ’tis very possible, Mama,” Edmund said, “for music has magical powers.”

Just then, a group of army officers entered the room, including the two Edmund had seen in Sydney Gardens earlier.

“I had heard there were military men in the city,” Lady Templeton said. “These here will set hearts aflutter.”

“And I have heard, my dear Marianne,” Lady Barrington said, “that you yourself had a conversation this morning with a dashing young officer.”

Lord! Jane has informed on Marianne. For once, I thoroughly approve of her loose talk, for ’tis quite right that Lady Barrington should know about this matter.

“Yes. That was Captain Wyndham,” Marianne said. “He is my friend Charlotte’s brother.”

Lady Barrington pursed her lips. “You have not mentioned a brother before.”

“I did not think I needed to.”

Marianne stayed with his family, did she not, after her husband died? I hope Captain Wyndham did not try to take advantage in any way. You cannot always trust a military man– or so I have heard.

“Ah!” Lady Templeton said as the musicians trooped in. “The music is about to begin.”

Whatever piece was played next, whether Mozart or not, Edmund had absolutely no idea, for his whole mind was eaten up with jealous imaginings of Captain Wyndham and Marianne. When he saw the audience clapping at the end, he belatedly joined in.

“What are your thoughts about the piece?” Marianne said to Edmund.

“’Twas quite delightful,” Edmund mumbled.

Marianne smiled– and Edmund was relieved to find he had managed to make the correct response.

During the interval, the party went into the next-door room for refreshments, and soon everyone was furnished with cool glasses of lemonade.

How I wish for something stronger– yet I must keep my wits about me in this unfamiliar situation.

“Mrs. Pembroke! What a joy to see you twice in one day.”

Confound it! Captain Wyndham stood before them. Why must the man be so well turned out? Edmund stood up as straight as he could, attempting to match the confident bearing of the officer.

“And you remember my parents, of course.” Captain Wyndham indicated the couple beside him who were responsible for producing this paragon of all the virtues.

Introductions were made amongst the whole party, and warm greetings exchanged. Then Lady Barrington and Lady Templeton gravitated towards Mr. and Mrs. Wyndham, while Marianne, Edmund, and Captain Wyndham were left to converse amongst themselves.

“The music is very beautiful, do you not think?” Marianne said.

“I do indeed.” Captain Wyndham beamed with pleasure. “In my humble opinion, Mozart is the greatest composer who ever lived, surpassing even the mighty Bach himself. I doubt we shall ever see his like again.” Captain Wyndham’s eyes creased at the corners in a slightly repulsive fashion– like a lizard, perchance?– then his voice dropped to a sickening, conspiratorial whisper that Edmund found decidedly irritating. “Marianne, pray do call me Frederick, for if all goes well, I believe we will be family soon. After all, I know a certain question has been asked of you.”

What is the man talking about? And Marianne is simpering and blushing. Ye gods! Could it be possible? Does Captain Wyndham intend to make Marianne his bride?

“I thought Charlotte would have confided in you,” Marianne said, “and this reminds me that I must write to her directly to accept. She and her husband do me a great honor by asking me to be godmother to their child.”

I see ’tis not quite as bad as I had feared– and yet I am not sure I altogether approve of the easy familiarity this connection will bring. And the invitation to use Captain Wyndham’s first name is presumptuous– added to which, Frederick is the sort of name for a hero in a romance novel. How I wish he had been called something far uglier and more suited to what I think his true nature must be. Perhaps Adolphus– or Cecil?

Captain Wyndham then held forth at length about the many pieces of Mozart he had heard recently– the list seemed positively endless. Marianne took this all remarkably well, smiling and occasionally murmuring her agreement, while Edmund was forced to remain silent until the end of the interval.

Surely his name is Captain Windbag, not Captain Wyndham? I can scarce believe Marianne enjoys listening to the tripe he is spouting.

At least Captain Windbag had to leave them when the second half of the concert began, as he and his parents had seats on the other side of the room– which meant Edmund no longer had to endure his noble countenance and pretentious prose.

As the music recommenced, so did Edmund’s exquisite torture, for he was once again seated next to Marianne.

She is perfection! Ah! She dreams deep in the music, her complexion glowing, pearls nestling in the hollow of her adorable neck, her crimson dress enhancing her divine form. How I long to embrace her! But sadly, she wants to have nothing to do with me.

And yet, she kissed me! Oh, if only all had turned out differently.

Edmund clenched his teeth and endeavored to concentrate on something other than the incomparable beauty beside him. But what could he do– ah yes! What about scrutinizing every aspect of the grand room he found himself in? His governess used to advise him to do just that when a small fidgety boy, and it oft helped keep him in his chair when all he really wanted to do was run.

Edmund started by allowing his eyes to rove over the highly decorated ceiling, inspecting the delicate molding and plaster work as if he were the famous architect Robert Adam himself. And then he counted the elegant pillars topped with decorative carvings– and checked they were arranged symmetrically around the room.

Though what I am to do about it if I find they are randomly scattered, I have not the slightest idea.

Next, Edmund studied the oil paintings. The bewigged man high on the left wall looked rather haughty and conceited– but his horse was a prime beast.

I would be happy to place a bet on that fine black bay.

Ah! There was a portrait of a lady next.

Damn and blast! ’Tis a Titian, and the lady therein looks so like Marianne, with her smooth complexion, copper red locks, and enigmatic smile that I find I am quite undone.

Somehow, Edmund survived the rest of the concert, before stumbling disconsolately towards the Templeton carriage.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” Lady Templeton asked on the journey home.

“Tolerably well.”

“Is that all you have to say? I thought ’twas very interesting to meet Captain Wyndham. He is unmarried, you know.”

“Why would that be of interest to me?” Edmund grunted .

“Why, it signifies that if you intend to make an offer for Mrs. Pembroke, you should not delay.”

Edmund stared out into the darkness. Would his mother ever leave him alone?

Lady Templeton tapped Edmund on his knee with her fan. “I am sure Mrs. Pembroke is just the sort of young woman that Captain Wyndham might wish to make his wife– as a matter of fact, his mother confided to me that one of his purposes in visiting in Bath is to find a bride. His career has been going well, the war is long over, and he now feels his position is secure enough to contemplate entering the bonds of matrimony.”

Well, good for him! He can contemplate away to his heart’s content, and enter the bonds of matrimony with whomsoever he likes–just as long as it is not with Marianne.

“I cannot believe Captain Wyndham and Marianne are suited,” Edmund said through gritted teeth.

“Why ever not? They seemed to get on remarkably well this evening and share a common interest in music. Moreover, he is the brother of one of her dearest friends. If you are serious about her yourself, Edmund– which we all believe you are, for your obvious partiality is hard to ignore– then I would advise you in the strongest possible terms to secure her affections while you can.”

Edmund flung himself back in his seat and said precisely nothing during the rest of the short carriage ride back to Number 1. Once home, Lady Templeton retired to her chamber pleading an “overwhelming fatigue– exacerbated by my elder son’s refusal to take life seriously,” leaving Edmund to help himself to a stiff drink from the tantalus in the dining room. One brandy was not enough to fully drown his sorrows– nor two– and as he was taking his third through to the parlor, he spotted Martha coming into the hall, twisting her hands in her apron.

“Is everything all right?” Edmund said. “You look a smidgeon worried. ”

“I have some news,” Martha replied, “and need to talk to Lord and Lady Templeton.”

“Lord Templeton is still out at his club, and I am reluctant to disturb my mother, as she has already retired for the night. Could it wait till the morning?”

“I, I am not sure.”

“Why do you not tell me what the problem is? You look as if you need to unburden yourself, and who knows, I might even be able to help.”

“Very well, sir. It’s just that there is something very wrong at Number 4. An urgent message arrived earlier in the evening from Clifton, and now Lady Barrington and Mrs. Pembroke have returned, the house is at sixes and sevens.”

“Why, exactly?”

“Mrs. Pembroke’s mother has been taken ill very suddenly, and her father has requested Mrs. Pembroke’s presence as soon as possible.”

“Is she gravely ill?” Edmund asked.

“I believe so, although I do not know what is wrong,” Martha said. “The doctor has advised that the family should gather– and prepare for the worst.”

“Have plans been made for Mrs. Pembroke’s return to Clifton?”

“The intention is there, but no one is quite sure what has been arranged. Mrs. Pembroke is crying and trying to pack some clothes; she says she is determined to travel as soon as possible– while Lady Barrington is not taking it well, no, not at all. In short, it would seem they need help.”

“I thank you for telling me, Martha; I will take it from here. And there is no need to wake Lady Templeton, for I will go round to Number 4 directly to see what can be done. Now, you should retire, for ’tis way past your bedtime.”

Martha scurried away with a relieved expression on her face, and Edmund downed his drink and made for the front door. If there was any service Marianne required him to perform at this time of crisis, he would gladly undertake it.

Perchance I could escort her to Clifton? It matters not that I had planned to spend the day with Lymington and Forbes, for my social life is nothing compared with Marianne’s predicament. Papa’s carriage could be commandeered, although the fastest way would be on horseback. I wonder how accustomed Marianne is to riding? She might be better off on my horse– with me.

A captivating vision of Marianne nestling against him while his horse galloped along, the wind pulling at her fiery curls, appeared in Edmund’s brandy-fueled mind.

She is so tiny and delicate, ’twould hardly be any extra weight– and she would have my strong arms around her, to steady her. Ah! How I long to protect her from all that is harmful in this life.