Chapter Six

Edmund

“’T is very kind of you to walk with me this morning, Mr. Templeton,” Lady Barrington said.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Edmund replied. “I say! Steady, Nelson. If you continue pulling like that, I will topple over and get mud on my pantaloons again.”

Edmund and Lady Barrington were walking on the Crescent Fields on a crisp February morning; clumps of snowdrops round the trees were waving merrily, and occasional glimpses of the tips of purple and yellow crocuses could be seen peeping through the grass to foreshadow the spring to come.

“Is there any news from Clifton?” Edmund asked.

When will Marianne come back to me?

“The last letter I had was very encouraging,” Lady Barrington said. “My dear sister is making great progress. She has been tending her herb garden and was talking about walking along the Avon Gorge again. But has Marianne not been keeping you informed? I thought perhaps you two would be corresponding– for surely you have much to plan for the future?”

Edmund coughed. “We have not been corresponding.”

Not unless a couple of lines penned on Selina’s letter counts. Sending her a full letter would have been far too risky, with the amount of surveillance that goes on in my life.

“We are nothing more than good friends, Lady B, as you very well know. Are you teasing me?”

“Perhaps! Yet I suspect you will become much more than good friends one day. Has that thought never crossed your mind? Edmund?”

“Nelson!” Edmund shouted as the dog managed to slip from his lead and shoot off across the grass. “Excuse me, Lady B. I will fetch the wretched, erm, I will fetch Nelson. Oh, why does he keep wanting to run away from me?”

But Nelson had no intention of being caught; instead, he ran inside the overhanging branches of an enormous old yew tree, barking excitedly.

“What are you doing?” Edmund pulled the branches aside and went into the middle of the tree after the pug. “You are scrabbling at the ground like a squirrel hiding acorns. Careful! Oh, my pantaloons– not again!”

Edmund picked Nelson up and then reversed, bowing his head in a vain attempt to stop the branches shedding their needles upon his hair and jacket.

“I must apologize,” Lady Barrington said when they were reunited. “I simply cannot think what has got into Nelson except that I know that he has warm feelings for Marianne and misses her very deeply.”

He is not the only one! Dash it all, I miss her intensely. I may even have feelings for her– but of what nature those emotions are, I could not say.

Lady Barrington brushed a few yew needles from Edmund’s shoulders, then, taking charge of Nelson’s lead with one hand, she linked her other arm firmly through Edmund’s and led him back to Number 4.

Once inside the hall, Jane was summoned to refresh Edmund’s clothes, but he waved her away. “Do not worry; Voyle will deal with everything once I get home.”

“If you are sure, sir.”

“I am, thank you. ”

In truth, Voyle might already be waiting with a brush, such is the speed of communication between Numbers 1 and 4.

“Now Mr. Templeton– Edmund– will you join me for a coffee?” Lady Barrington said.

“Gladly.”

“Let us go to the parlor. Jane! See if Cook can rustle up something special for Mr. Templeton.”

“You are too good to me,” Edmund said. “I have lost count of the number of times you have showered me with delicacies from your kitchen over the past few weeks. And tell me, Lady B, how are Augusta and Amabella? I trust all is well?”

“They are in superlative health, and are lucky they suffer not from the ailments I was plagued with when I was in a similar condition. The stories I could tell you!”

Edmund’s attention wandered a little as Lady Barrington outlined each of her four pregnancies in an abundance of frequently rather unwelcome detail.

I wonder what my dear Marianne is doing now.

“My doctor said that with his help I would manage well, but oh! If you only knew how I suffered. And sometimes with quite rare conditions, for example I fell victim to pica and occasionally felt compelled to taste the ashes from the fireplace and to eat coffee grounds. Naturally, these substances did my digestion no good at all, and my poor husband was at his wits’ end, until the doctor told him ’twas a sign of both a sensitive constitution and great refinement to be thus afflicted.”

Edmund closed his eyes and could see the diminutive figure of Marianne, her beautiful hair blowing softly in the breeze, green eyes shining with merriment.

“But my trials ended well,” Lady Barrington continued, “with four daughters, all of them beauties. Do you know, my dear husband insisted on having their portraits painted considerably larger than life– you may have noticed the masterpieces upstairs in the withdrawing room?”

How could anyone miss them? Those intense gazes linger in the mind.

“Yes. I have oft admired them,” Edmund said.

She may describe them as beautiful. But neither Augusta, Amabella, Aurelia nor Alicia can hold a candle to their fair cousin, Marianne.

“I love to have family memories.” Lady Barrington walked across to her desk and opened a drawer. “I have the most charming miniature of Nelson here. What do you think?”

Edmund inspected the tiny portrait of his canine friend– and sometime attacker.

Now, this is interesting! There is a mystery to unravel here.

“’Tis not done by a professional,” Lady Barrington said, “but you would never know.”

“I agree. ’Tis admirably executed.”

“You will never guess who gave this to me,” Lady Barrington said. “’Twas Captain Pembroke, Marianne’s dear departed husband. He was a talented amateur painter. He only saw Nelson once when he and Marianne came to visit shortly before their wedding, but he took the trouble to make a few sketches of Nelson and then afterwards sent me this superb representation to thank me for my hospitality.”

“How unusual! A military man with artistic flair.”

Edmund’s mind seethed with questions, for the miniature was not only of a strikingly similar style to the one Marianne carried in her reticule, but it also possessed a virtually identical frame. He would put money on the pair being by the same hand– therefore it would seem that the portrait Marianne treasured was not of her as an infant, for the timing was wrong.

But wait! Had Marianne given birth to a child after her husband’s death? However, it would still have been impossible for the portrait to have been executed by Captain Pembroke in that case. And if she had given birth, where was the child? And why did no one talk about him or her?

Edmund handed the miniature back, opened his mouth to question Lady Barrington, and then closed it quickly. ’Twas none of his business. Besides, ’twould be tricky to frame a question that did not sound impertinent or prying, and yet he longed to know the truth, for whatever the answer was, ’twas part of Marianne’s story.

After a pause, Edmund said, “Did Captain Pembroke paint other miniatures?”

“I believe he did a good few,” Lady Barrington said. “He found painting relaxing, and something totally different from his military duties.”

How strange it must be to have a profession that you need respite from. My whole life seems to be relaxation. How lucky I am!

Or am I?

“Richard painted a beautiful miniature of Marianne as she was when they were first engaged,” Lady Barrington said.

Edmund nodded attentively.

“’Twas a very good likeness, although Richard was a little dissatisfied and thought it did not capture her full beauty. Be that as it may, he was very attached to the picture and kept it in his pocket constantly when away soldiering. Unfortunately, when his body was found by his commanding officer, the miniature of Marianne was not about his person.”

“I wonder what happened?”

“Well, when my dear husband was alive, he once told me that after battles, soldiers are sometimes stripped of their uniforms and valuables by scavengers. Can you imagine someone unscrupulous enough to steal the scarlet jacket from the back of a fallen hero, together with his personal possessions?”

I can imagine this scenario only too well, for I have heard many shocking tales of the battlefield from my brother Henry.

“Perchance this happened to Richard,” Lady Barrington continued. “His commanding officer made no mention of this in his letter of condolence to Marianne, merely saying that Richard had passed away instantly, without any pain whatsoever, and had been given a fine funeral and burial.”

“’Tis possible official narratives from the battlefield are oft sanitized to spare loved ones’ feelings.”

“I believe you are right,” Lady Barrington said, “for it serves no useful purpose to burden bereaved families with additional distressing details. Marianne suffered enough that summer, with the double loss of first her husband, and then her unborn child.”

My poor, dear Marianne. She lost her Richard– but for a while at least must have been consoled with the thought of the new life growing within her. But then, how cruel to have that taken as well. My heart bleeds for her.

Does this not point the way towards understanding her solemn determination never to marry again? For she has already lived through more distress and pain than she can bear.

“But enough of sadness and the past,” Lady Barrington said. “Here is Jane with fragrant coffee and a plate of deliciousness.”

“Goodness! What a feast Cook has supplied for us this morning.” Edmund eyed the pastries in front of him appreciatively. “I feel thoroughly spoiled. Jane, pray give my very best regards to Cook, and all the staff downstairs, for I know you all work as a team.”

“I will, sir,” Jane said, moving towards the door.

“And Jane,” Edmund called after her, “Make sure everyone below stairs knows that I consider the domestic arrangements both in this house and in Number 1 to be equally superlative. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

For I do not want it reported to our cook at Number 1 that I consider the pastries here superior– for she can be quick to take umbrage at the slightest whiff of dissatisfaction. Oh! Why cannot each household be private? This constant passing of information is beyond annoying.

“Here, Nelson,” Lady Barrington said. “Taste the crust from this fruit tart.” Nelson licked his lips and ran to Lady Barrington.

“I am not sure that sugary tidbits are awfully good for dogs,” Edmund said, biting into a tart. “George says that dessert pastries are a little over rich, and hard for animals to digest. ”

“Well, much as I hesitate to criticize a medical man, I simply cannot believe that. For if sweet pastries are bad for dogs, they would also be bad for humans, would they not? And I can honestly say that I believe they are one of the best foods possible for nourishment. Would you care for another?”

Edmund held his hand up. “I am defeated, Lady B. But I thank you. And now I should be going home.”

“There is no rush, is there? Look at Nelson’s dear face; he is quite upset at the thought of your departure.”

“He actually looks as if he wants to take a bite out of my pantaloons. Not content with covering them with mud, now he wishes to savage them. I wish I knew what I had done to disturb him. Perchance he heard me caution against too many sugary tidbits for him and is angry?”

“Edmund! How excessively amusing you are! As I said before, Nelson is upset at Marianne’s absence– and perchance he realizes you are, too? He is empathizing with you.”

“Can dogs empathize?”

“Of course!” Lady Barrington scooped up the pooch and held him to her bosom. “My Nelson is a sweet, sensitive soul. He and I have so much in common.”

I feel laughter threatening to erupt. How I wish Marianne were here to share the jest.

Breathing heavily, Nelson glared at Edmund from Lady Barrington’s lap.

“You will make Nelson very sad if you abandon us now.”

“Nelson’s feelings notwithstanding, I must regretfully take my leave.” Edmund stood up. “My mama is expecting me home as I am accompanying her on some visits today. We are to visit various of her friends who have daughters, and then I am to be paraded through the city, perchance visiting the Pump Room and Sydney Gardens, then this evening I shall be forced to attend a ball. I am forced to become a gadabout! ”

Lady Barrington frowned. “Your dear mama has no need to search for an alternative wife for you, for once Marianne returns, I feel sure all will be settled between you.”

Zounds! What a tangle this is becoming.

“I thank you for your kind hospitality,” Edmund said as he left the room. “Farewell, Lady B. Until our next encounter.”

Stepping out into the winter sunshine, he sniffed the fresh air appreciatively. Then he saw Kitty on the pavement outside Number 2 with her maid and little Isabella, who was well wrapped up against the cold.

“Edmund! How delightful to see you,” Kitty said. “Look, Isabella. Are you not pleased to see your uncle?”

The babe cooed and gurgled.

“But what happened to your pantaloons?” Kitty said.

“A long story,” Edmund said, “and one involving Nelson.”

Kitty smiled. “He is such a dear. Did you perchance do something to provoke him?”

“No! We have to accept that Nelson loves everyone in the world– apart from me.”

“Da! Da! Da!” Isabella said.

“Is she trying to say ‘dog?’” Edmund was astonished at the precocious behavior of his niece.

“I do not think so,” Kitty said. “Babies like to join in a conversation with their babbling– it does not signify anything.”

“For a moment there I thought you might have to start thinking about hiring a governess to teach her to read.”

Kitty shuddered. “We will delay finding anyone as long as possible, after my experiences with my former governess, Miss Steele.”

“Ah! Yes, I remember the lady well, and her fall from grace– not to mention that hideous brooch she used to wear all the time. Whatever happened to her?”

“She moved to Bristol to live with her married sister,” Kitty said. “ If I am being honest, she was more sinned against than sinning– but she needed to leave Bath.”

Ten minutes later, Edmund was in his chamber removing his pantaloons so that Voyle could deal with the mud– and the light dawned.

For the lady I saw on Sion Hill in Clifton a while ago and Kitty’s Miss Steele are one and the same. I am sure of it.

*

Marianne

“The dress is absolutely perfect, my dear Marianne. Amber suits your coloring so well. What do you think, Betsy?”

“Why, Miss Marianne looks as pretty as a golden sunset.”

Marianne was getting ready to attend the ball, assisted by her mama and Betsy. All three were squeezed into Marianne’s chamber in Clifton as she stood in front of her mirror.

How glad I am that Madame Dubonnet delivered this gown and other oddments before I had to leave Bath– and that Jane slipped the outfit into my case on that strange evening when I was packing to come home, not knowing in what state I would find Mama.

“And I have just the thing to go with it,” Mrs. Oakley said. “Betsy, would you mind fetching my jewelry box?”

Betsy returned a few minutes later with a rosewood box inlaid with mother of pearl, and Mrs. Oakley pulled out a string of amber beads.

“I remember you wearing these years ago,” Marianne said. “Thank you for allowing me to borrow them, Mama. I promise I will take great care of them.”

“There is no need to borrow them; they are yours to keep. My mama gave them to me, and now ’tis my turn to pass them on.” Mrs. Oakley stood up, still a little wobbly on her feet. “Let me fasten them for you. There we are. They are perfect!”

Marianne smiled at her reflection.

“What elegant gloves,” Betsy said, unwrapping them from tissue paper. “And the shoes! So dainty, and dyed to match the dress.”

“My sister has thought of everything,” Mrs. Oakley declared. “And her dressmaker, Madame Dubonnet, is a genius. Look here– there is a matching silk band to tie up your hair.”

“I am indeed a very fortunate recipient of my aunt’s generosity,” Marianne said. “And I am pleased there is something to help control my tangle of curls.”

If only ’twas as easy to control the tangle inside my head!

Betsy set to work coaxing Marianne’s locks into spirals, then she used two tortoiseshell combs and the silk band to secure the style.

“Thank you, Betsy,” Marianne said. “I have missed your skillful fingers. Lady Barrington’s maid is very capable and kind– but she is not your equal in lightness of touch and speed.”

“Thank you,” Betsy said softly.

Mrs. Oakley picked up the midnight blue velvet cloak lying on Marianne’s bed. “Try this on, my dear. And if we add the fur tippet– that’s it– you will be as warm as toast in the Radcliffe’s carriage. Promise me that you will have a magnificent time and come and tell me all about it on your return.”

“If I find you still up on my return from the ball,” Marianne replied, “I shall be very concerned. I shall tell you all about the ball at breakfast.”

“If you imagine you will feel like getting up for breakfast,” Mrs. Oakley said, “you are sadly mistaken; I do not anticipate you will be home till the early hours.”

Marianne laughed. “Let us agree, then, that the next time we see each other, we will dissect the ball– the music, the fashion, the food– and the gossip. ”

“And the eligible young men?” Mrs. Oakley added.

“Mama! I can tell you are feeling better.”

As Marianne got into the Radcliffes’ carriage, she felt a little nervous– for the last time she had attended a ball in Bristol Assembly Rooms had been with Richard, a memory that was both painful and exquisitely tender.

Ah! What an evening that was, dancing with my beloved spouse, his eyes sending messages of steadfast love, and our conversation full of our hopes for the future, in blissful ignorance of what fate had in store for us.

She need not have worried, however, for both Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe took great pains to put her at her ease, chatting merrily as the carriage rattled along the cobbles on its way to Prince Street.

“We are thrilled you accepted our invitation,” Mrs. Radcliffe said. “Now all our children have flown the nest and have their own families, we find we miss the company of young people. Really, you are doing us the most tremendous favor by accompanying us this evening.”

As soon as she arrived at the ball, Marianne saw to her relief that she knew quite a few of the young ladies there.

“You must go and talk to your friends, my dear,” Mrs. Radcliffe said. “We will sit by the side here and watch the dancing; I have no doubt you will have a great many dance partners this evening.”

Marianne’s friends greeted her with obvious affection.

“How wonderful to see you!”

“You are looking so well.”

“What a gorgeous frock!”

“’Tis lovely to see you in brighter colors again.”

“I was sorry to hear of your mother’s illness– but how pleasing to know she is recovering.”

“You must tell us all about your time in Bath.”

“Have you met my cousin? I believe he would like to be the first to ask you to dance this evening. ”

“Here comes my brother– with a group of his friends.”

Marianne felt exhilarated as she flew around the ballroom.

My first ball since Richard died– oh! How I have missed all this.

In the break, Marianne went to the refreshment hall with Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe.

“Punch all round?” Mr. Radcliffe asked. “’Tis an excellent drink for a chilly night.”

“And while we wait for our drinks, Marianne,” Mrs. Radcliffe said, “pray look around the room. Are there any gentlemen here that you wish to be introduced to?”

’Tis a kind offer– but I cannot help feeling that the Radcliffes are in league with my mother and my aunt, and wish for nothing more than to see me paired off with someone suitable. They think this is the only way I will get over my heartbreak– and secure a sound financial future for myself.

But I cannot ever think of replacing my Richard and therefore am resolved to remain unmarried– to that end, I will seek Charlotte’s help.

Marianne could imagine herself enjoying the beauties of the Lake District while introducing her charges to sketching and nature studies.

Perchance I should search for a position in other areas too, in the west of England?

What a shame little Isabella, Kitty’s daughter, would not be needing a governess for many years yet– for would it not be convenient to live and work in the Royal Crescent?

If I lived with Isabella’s family at Number 2, I would reside next door to Edmund, and we would be able to continue our friendship. Did he not write at the end of Selina’s letter to me, “Know that you are missed?”

Mr. Radcliffe returned with drinks. “I have been talking to a gentleman of my acquaintance, Mr. Teysen, and he has expressed a wish to be introduced to you, Marianne. Would you mind? ’Tis entirely your choice.”

“I have not heard you speak of Mr. Teysen before,” Mrs. Radcliffe said.

“He has not been in the city long,” Mr. Radcliffe replied. “I met him at my club, and he seems a decent sort of fellow– and wealthy. He has been abroad for some time.”

“I can see that he is very tanned,” Mrs. Radcliffe said.

“He says he has been refashioning his life. Between you and me, I think he has suffered from some sort of loss, possibly a bereavement.”

How well I know how hard ’tis to recover from loss.

“I would be happy to meet any friend of yours,” Marianne said.

“Ah!” Mr. Radcliffe said. “Mr. Teysen is coming over to us now.”

The gentleman approaching them was old enough to be Marianne’s father. And he seemed to have an unnaturally thick and abundant thatch of hair– could it be a wig?

“Good evening, Mr. Teysen,” Mr. Radcliffe said. “Might I present my wife, Mrs. Radcliffe, and our young friend, Mrs. Pembroke?”

Mr. Teysen gave a deep bow. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Would you honor me with a dance, Mrs. Pembroke?”

His expression was haughty– and his eyes blazed darkly.

“I thank you for the honor– and believe I do have one free. ’Tis the first dance after the refreshment break.”

“In that case, would you allow me to escort you back to the ballroom? I believe the music is about to commence.”

Marianne smiled tentatively, Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe nodded their permission, and Mr. Teysen led Marianne to the dance floor.

How I wish ’twas Edmund I were about to dance with! Now that Mama is so much recovered, every day I miss him more and more. I wonder how long ’twill be before I might enjoy his dear smile– and handsome countenance– again.

The band struck up the introduction to a lively jig, and the couples took their places.

“I see you enjoy dancing,” Mr. Teysen commented after a few measures.

“Yes, I do.”

And Mr. Teysen is surprisingly nimble for a man of his age.

“Your face is familiar, Mrs. Pembroke. Have we met before? ”

“I do not recollect having made your acquaintance.”

“How strange. Perchance you have been to London? Could I have seen you at a concert or ball?”

“I did spend some time in London with my dear departed husband before he left for Waterloo.”

“Ah! Was he one of the fallen at Waterloo?”

Marianne nodded.

“I am sorry for your loss, my dear. How proud you must be of your husband.”

Proud? I suppose I am proud of his sacrifice– all army widows are encouraged to feel thus– but how I wish with all my heart he had not been called upon to offer up his life. In my darker moments, I fully wish he had never joined the army but had chosen quite another profession.

The rest of the dance was spent in silence, and Marianne was pleased when it was over, for she found Mr. Teysen stared at her face rather too much for her liking.

The rest of the ball passed in a happy blur of country dances and reels– and snatched conversations with her friends. Marianne made many new acquaintances too, for everyone was in the best of spirits and seemed more than happy to have fleeting conversations about the weather, the beauty of the music, and the elegance of the ballroom.

But all too soon, ’twas time to return to Clifton.

“Well, my dear,” Mrs. Radcliffe said as the carriage left Prince Street, “have you had a good time?”

“I have enjoyed the evening greatly. Thank you!”

“Mr. Teysen spoke to me after your dance,” Mr. Radcliffe said. “He is convinced he recognizes you from somewhere.”

“Yes, he told me the same, but I am afraid I could shed no light on his recollection.”

Mr. Radcliffe smiled. “I hope it would not be improper of me to say, my dear, that a beautiful lady is unforgettable. Why, the first time I saw Mrs. Radcliffe, ’twas as if her face became forever etched into my mind. And the sad thing was, I was far too shy to say anything to her for such a long time.”

Mrs. Radcliffe chuckled. “In the end, I had to help him out. I may even have dropped my handkerchief for him to pick up.”

How lovely it is to see a couple who married for love and who have enjoyed a fruitful and happy family life together.

Yet I am sure I will enjoy being a governess– for I hear there are great comforts to be had from teaching. The children I teach will be like my own offspring, and I will have as great a satisfaction from being a governess as if I were the mistress of a household with my own husband and children.

Will I not?

*

Edmund

A fortnight later, Edmund was looking out of his chamber window when he saw a carriage arrive at Lady Barrington’s house.

“Quick, Voyle,” Edmund said. “Hurry with my jacket!”

I cannot believe how fast my heart is beating– for I have missed my dear friend Marianne so much.

Both Lady Barrington and Selina had conveyed the message to Edmund a few days ago that Marianne’s return to Bath was imminent. She had been offered an opportunity to travel with the Radcliffes, who had already planned to make a trip to the city to take the waters and generally enjoy the season.

“Marianne’s mama is much recovered,” Selina had said to Edmund.

Lady Barrington had been more blunt. “Marianne had to be positively forced to return to Bath,” she had said to Edmund. “She was enormously reluctant to leave her mother, saying that she felt it was her duty to stay longer until her parents could accompany her, but in the end ’twas decided, after a lot of discussion, that she should accept the Radcliffes’ offer to escort her back here. ”

I would willingly have gone to collect her– as I assured her in my note so long ago.

Edmund stood transfixed at his window– for the ravishing Marianne was descending from the Radcliffes’ carriage, her hair glistening in the sunlight.

Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe look like very pleasant people. How lucky they are to have had the pleasure of Marianne’s company during the journey.

Mr. and Mrs. Radcliffe stood for a while looking along the elegant terrace, then they turned and faced the lawn and fields. The Royal Crescent and surrounding greenery were always a wondrous sight, no matter if one had seen it many times before.

But the beauty of Bath has been dimmed over the past weeks, without the fair Marianne as the jewel at its center.

The door of Number 4 opened and Nelson shot out, thrilled to see Marianne again. He did not approach the Radcliffes until she bent down to stroke him and whisper in his ear. After that, the dog ran to them with an enthusiastic greeting.

Nelson can be persuaded to trust almost everyone in the world– apart from me.

Once fully dressed, Edmund left home, intending to pay a call on Lady Barrington– and Marianne. However, as he passed Number 3, Selina appeared at her front door.

“Edmund! Come in, will you not? I can ring for coffee.”

“Thank you, but no. I am on my way elsewhere.”

“I know exactly where you are headed, and I have to tell you that ’tis too soon. Imagine if you had been travelling from Clifton and had recently arrived travel-stained and weary.”

Edmund’s reply was in a somewhat indignant tone. “Marianne did not look at all travel-stained nor weary. She never looks anything but perfection.”

Selina sighed. “Edmund, please! Come in for a few minutes; they will not want to see you yet.”

Edmund glowered .

“Let me put it another way; they will be more pleased to see you if you wait a while and let them catch their breath.”

Edmund admitted defeat and stepped into the hall.

“I only saw by chance that they had arrived,” he said.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“’Tis true! I happened to glance out of the window as I was dressing.”

Selina burst into peals of laughter. “You were still dressing– at this hour? Edmund! You should have a proper routine to your day.”

“I do have a proper routine and generally rise much earlier than I used to, for I have been in the habit of walking with Lady Barrington and Nelson most mornings, sometimes almost before daybreak.”

“So what happened this morning that meant you were reluctant to rise at a decent time? No, do not tell me, for I already know. You were with your friends last night, carousing and drinking, and ended up with one of your famous swims in the river.”

Edmund was astonished. “How do you know this?”

“I saw Carter earlier this morning, and he reported your antics to me.”

Carter! He is always abroad in the city at night, on some special secret business or other.

“Come and sit in the parlor,” Selina said, “and try not to scowl so.”

Edmund followed Selina. “’Tis hard not to scowl when you cannot lead a private life.”

“You have great freedoms, as well you know.”

Just then, there was the sound of voices from the street, and Selina and Edmund both pressed their noses against the window.

“The Radcliffes are departing in their carriage,” Selina said. “They must be going to their lodgings.”

“Do you think now is a good time for me to go round to Lady B’s?” Edmund asked.

“I do not, for Marianne will want to change her clothes for one thing, and then have a good breakfast. Lady Barrington has told me that there were further deliveries from Madame Dubonnet when Marianne was away; perchance she might want to wear something new.”

“Why would she want to change her clothes? She looked perfectly fine in what she was wearing.”

“Oh, Edmund! You must learn to be patient– and you should admit the reason you are so anxious to see Marianne. Are you still maintaining the fiction that you are but friends?”

“We are friends– nothing more. I have no idea what might give you any other impression.”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “Have you not? And I had thought you a perceptive individual.”

After more of his sister’s infernal teasing, Edmund settled down to read the newspaper with freshly brewed coffee beside him.

Would that Selina had offered me something stronger!

“I must go and talk to the housekeeper,” Selina said. “Can you manage on your own?”

“Of course I can,” Edmund snapped. “I am not a child.”

At the mention of the word child, Selina’s face fell.

“I, I am sorry if I have pained you,” Edmund said. “I meant no offence.”

“There was none taken. ’Tis only that I have been hoping to be blessed for some time.”

Lord! What a blundering ninny hammer I am, to be sure!

Edmund stood up, crossed the room rapidly and folded his sister in his arms. “Please forgive me,” he said gruffly. “I had no intention to upset you by my ill-judged remark– indeed, I had suspected previously that you and George were longing for a child. And although I know nothing of these matters, I believe all will work out in time.”

“Thank you,” Selina whispered. “Apparently ’tis most likely a matter of waiting– at least that is what George says.”

“And after all, he is a medical man.”

“Indeed. ”

“Now, dry your tears. Damnation! How I wish I had never visited you today, for I have distressed you greatly.”

“It does not take much to set me off these days,” Selina said. “I cry at the slightest thing, and my moods change with the wind. I have hoped for a child since the day George and I married last summer. When Kitty and Henry were wed, Kitty seemed to be blessed almost straight away.”

“I know one thing for certain. When you do have a baby, you and George will be commendable parents. And I shall be proud to be an uncle again.”

Selina managed a half smile. “You are not quite such an irritating brother as usual today.”

“High praise! Might I visit Number 4 now? Do you think ’tis a good time at last?”

“I would not bother to visit Number 4,” Selina said on looking out of the window again, “for I see that Marianne is now on her way out with Jane. They are taking Nelson for a walk.”

Edmund shot out of Selina’s house like a bullet from a gun, and then stood awkwardly in front of Marianne, twisting his hands together.

“How delightful to see you again,” he mumbled.

“Edmund! The pleasure is all mine.”

I had forgotten just how bewitching her eyes were.

Lady Barrington’s front door opened, and she called out, “Jane! I am afraid I need you back here; ’tis a matter of some urgency as my knee is suddenly misbehaving. I need you to fetch my embroidery from the withdrawing room.”

“Coming, Lady Barrington,” Jane said as she went back and the door to Number 4 closed firmly.

Edmund grinned at Marianne. “It would seem Lady B is keen to leave us alone. I assume you were going for a walk– might I accompany you and Nelson? ”

“You may.”

They walked in silence along the Crescent until they reached the path that led down to the Crescent Fields; Nelson pulled at his leash, straining towards the open space.

“I have joined Nelson on his walks many times since you have been away,” Edmund said.

“He does love to scamper about the fields.”

“Nelson is definitely a nature lover. Why, only the other day he dragged me inside the branches of a large yew tree. I was covered in needles by the time I came out.”

“I am sorry that Nelson has not been on his best behavior with you. I gather mud was involved, too?”

“How do you know that?” Edmund asked.

“Selina’s letters have kept me informed. And I have seen the yew tree of which you speak.”

“Yes, ’tis quite a landmark– I remember hiding from my governess within its leafy embrace when but a boy.”

Nelson growled to hear this.

“It would seem that Nelson is on the side of the governess,” Marianne said.

“He is probably right to be, for we gave her many troublesome moments.”

“I hope you will not be offended to hear that I can fully believe that.” Marianne cleared her throat. “Thank you for the lines you penned at the end of one of Selina’s letters. ’Tis good to know I was missed.”

Edmund looked at Marianne, and his heart stopped.

Ah! The luminous depths of her incomparable green eyes are drawing me inexorably closer and closer. Is she a siren? I must hold my nerve– and remember we are but friends.

“But tell me,” Edmund said, “how is your mama now? I am so sorry for all she has had to endure– and ’twas not easy for you, nor your papa. ”

“Mama is much recovered, thank you. Her life is returning to normal; she has been going for daily walks and has resumed most of her activities. And Edmund, I hope you will accept my long overdue thanks for escorting us to Clifton at a most worrying time; I will never forget your kindness.”

“I was happy to help. And how are you?”

“I am well and have been enjoying life. I even went to a ball recently. The Radcliffes were kind enough to take me.”

Edmund jerked his head in surprise. A ball? Marianne attended a ball when he was not there to make sure she was properly treated?

“I hope the Radcliffes took good care of you.”

“Oh, they did,” Marianne said with the sort of smile that suggested she was nursing a particularly joyful memory. “I already knew quite a lot of people there, but they introduced me to their friend Mr. Teysen, and I met many other new acquaintances too.”

Edmund felt a frisson of envy.

“I expect you were not short of dance partners?”

“No, I was not. I love to dance– and was on the floor for every number.”

Now the frisson of envy had become a mighty torrent of jealousy surging through Edmund’s arteries. Marianne had danced for the entire evening– with other gentlemen! And although Bristol was meant to be a fine place, ’twas not as elegant nor as favored with the ton as Bath. No doubt there were unscrupulous fellows in Bristol, the sort of lowlifes who might try their luck with a beautiful young widow like Marianne. Why, even in Bath there were undesirables like the two officers Edmund had heard talking in Sydney Gardens. Not to mention Captain Wyndham. How much more dangerous, then, was a ball in Bristol.

“I wish I had been there to protect you,” Edmund said.

“Protect me?” Marianne laughed. “From what, pray? Edmund, you forget yourself. I am allowed to go to a ball and dance, am I not? Or are you saying that my duty was to stay by my mama’s side every hour of the day and night?”

Marianne’s eyes flashed and Edmund felt alarmed.

“I will have you know that initially I did not want to attend the ball. It took some persuasion on the part of my parents before I dropped my opposition.”

“I must apologize,” Edmund said. “I, I forgot myself.”

“You used those very words before, when we kissed,” Marianne retorted. “You must have a very poor memory.”

Edmund looked down at the ground, hoping it might open and deliver him from Marianne’s wrath. But no! She took another breath and continued.

“We are just friends. You have been speaking to me as if I were your intended. And another thing! When we made that silly mistake– when we embraced– you said something about acting. Are you acting now? Possibly the fool?”

I did say that, about acting. And I am a fool. Marianne thinks me shallow, as everyone does– and she thinks me an entitled hedonist. Perhaps that is the truth?

I have ruined everything. I always do.