Chapter Seven

Marianne

E dmund is insufferable! How dare he question me about where I have been since I last saw him?

Marianne stood quivering in front of Edmund and Nelson growled at her feet.

How I wish Nelson would attack him! Rip his throat out– or at least scratch his shoes again.

And yet Edmund was looking rather bewildered and even apologetic. Was this all part of the acting he liked to boast about?

This is wreaking havoc with my emotions! Oh, but how I long to fling myself into his arms and have him press me against his heart and hold me there forever.

To say Marianne felt in turmoil would be an understatement. She felt positively split in twain. On the one hand, she longed for Edmund and desired him with body, mind, and heart. On the other, she was terrified by the depth of her feelings and conflicted by the ever-present thoughts of her great losses.

And I resent Edmund’s patronizing attitude towards me.

But most of all, she wanted to rewind to when they had kissed so passionately on the sofa in Selina’s withdrawing room.

For then I would stop his lips with mine again, to prevent him saying ’twas all an act .

“I can only apologize again, Mrs. Pembroke,” Edmund said.

I see we are on formal terms again.

“I should not have spoken to you as I did,” Edmund said. “’Tis not my place to interfere with what you do, nor to offer my protection as if I were a family member. I spoke out of turn and am mortified to have caused offense.”

Prettily said– but does this great actor mean a word of it? However, I must be gracious. And ’tis possible that in my tiredness I am misunderstanding Mr. Templeton– a little.

“I accept your apology, Mr. Templeton. Now, perhaps we should walk, for Nelson seems keen to take his daily exercise.” Marianne bent down and released the dog from his lead. “I am sorry to hear that he has not been behaving well for you. Let us see what happens today.”

Nelson turned to face Edmund and growled quite horribly before uttering a series of irritable yelps and shooting off across the grass.

“Oh, my goodness!” Marianne said. “We must pursue him, for if he somehow reaches a road, he could be mowed down by carriage wheels.”

“And Lady B would never forgive us! You stay here, Marianne. I will rescue him.”

Is he suggesting I cannot run as fast as he can?

“I am perfectly capable of catching a dog, Mr. Templeton,” Marianne said, hitching up her skirt slightly. To her horror, she then saw Nelson in the distance for a fleeting moment– before he totally disappeared.

“Ah!” Edmund said. “This is what he did the other day. He has gone right inside the mighty yew, for he enjoys scrabbling about next to the trunk. Do not worry! I will find him.”

“I am coming too. You might frighten the poor dear pug.”

It was dark inside the curtain of branches, but surprisingly roomy.

“’Tis a secret hideaway,” Marianne said.

“Selina’s husband came inside here once with his horse Trigger– but that is a story for another day. ”

Once both were fully inside, ’twas like a different world; they were shielded from all the other walkers out on the fields.

“But where is Nelson?” Marianne said. “I thought you said he would be by the trunk?”

“He is here somewhere, because I can hear him wheezing.”

“The poor dear must be terrified. Now, let me see. I might have something in my reticule for him. Nelson! Here, my sweet. I have one of Cook’s tidbits for you.”

Nelson appeared, and Marianne managed to fasten the lead again.

“Well done!” Edmund said. “I see you have Nelson’s measure; he loves his treats.”

“He is easy to please. I cannot comprehend why you have so much trouble with him.”

“That is a trifle unfair, for I believe he ran away from us both this time, did he not?”

“I suppose so, but, Mr. Templeton, pray do not rest under the illusion that you have been forgiven for your earlier comments.”

Edmund took a step towards her. “I do wish you would stop calling me Mr. Templeton.”

“I will, then– Edmund.” Marianne’s insides were full of butterflies. He had but to be near for her to forget all her previous reservations. Oh, how she longed to feel his embrace once more.

“You know what we were talking about before?” Edmund said.

“Do you mean– when we were close?”

“Yes, dash it all! I mean when we kissed on Selina’s sofa.”

I will never forget that.

“Mrs. Pembroke– Marianne! You said ’twas a mistake that we kissed. Did you mean it?”

“Did I say that?”

“Perhaps you did not use those exact words. I think you said we should not have been talking in that way, for it was bound to lead to confusion. ”

“I feel confused now,” Marianne confessed. She put her hands on Edmund’s shoulders. “Perhaps should we kiss again and then you could not say you forgot yourself and had been carried away by your acting.”

“Yes, I believe that would be a good idea, and then perhaps you might not say ’twould all lead to confusion.”

Two pairs of eyes looked together in the soft light under the tree. Two pairs of lips moved towards each other.

“You are so beautiful,” Edmund murmured.

“And you are...” Marianne’s next words were lost as their lips locked together.

I thought the first time we kissed was bliss, but ah! This is beyond everything! I have never in my life felt such passionate abandon.

Suddenly, Marianne pulled away sharply. What was she thinking? That she had never experienced this level of joy with her Richard? What nonsense! Her mind was playing tricks. And her body, too. As for Edmund– why, he was not a man one could rely on.

Marianne burst into a torrent of sobs. How could she have been so na?ve? Edmund was a practiced charmer– a rake.

How many women has he kissed– maybe even inside this mighty yew tree– and no doubt deceived? He is nothing like my dear Richard, who was a sincere and upright young man. A man, moreover, who laid down his life for his country– to protest the interests of the entitled aristocracy, such as Edmund.

Marianne started to fight her way through the branches– she was desperate to escape– but Edmund, his brows knitted together, called out to her.

“Wait! Marianne! Mrs. Pembroke. This has fallen from your reticule.” He held the small leather pouch that she always carried about her person. “Please, take it. I know how much this means to you.”

Marianne paused, then snatched the pouch from Edmund, stuffing it back into her reticule.

“You know how much it means to me?” she spat. “What do you mean by that?”

“I, I only meant that when I took you to Bristol in Lady Barrington’s carriage, I, er, I think you were half asleep when you dropped it, but I saw... and since then I have discovered what the picture signifies.”

No one has ever seen this miniature before save Richard and myself– and he is dead.

“You had no authority!” Marianne screamed at Edmund. “You had no right to touch my private things then– and you have no right now. Nor is it your place to find out things about me that are none of your business. I never want to see you again. I hate you!”

Edmund needed no further encouragement to leave. He pushed his way through the branches while Nelson growled menacingly.

Marianne bit her lip. She had thought that she was recovering, that her heart was mending– she had thought she was ready to embark on a new life, that of a governess. But this now seemed a distant possibility, for how it would be possible to have charge of other children when she still felt the loss of her unborn babe so keenly?

If only I had not spoken out in the way I did.

If only we had been able to continue in the way that we were before, sharing friendship– a friendship more precious to me than perhaps I realized.

Her body then betrayed her as she became flooded with the sensations of the quite extraordinary kiss they had shared.

If only I had clung more persistently to Edmund– and allowed him to comfort me fully. God help me, for sometimes I wish I could forget Richard and my life with him– and start again. For I am tired of grief. And tired of being alone.

Marianne dried her eyes and came out from under the tree, putting on a cheerful smile to mask her inner turmoil. As she threaded her way across the fields back to the Royal Crescent, with Nelson tugging at his lead, a respectably dressed woman approached her.

“Begging your pardon, madam,” the lady said, “but I think we have spoken before, at a ball in Bristol. ”

“Ah, yes,” Marianne said. “I remember you. I believe we exchanged views about the weather.”

“We did. Today, however, I want to talk to you about something else.”

“I am not sure this is quite proper,” Marianne began.

“But I must talk with you! I need to warn you against Mr. Teysen and have travelled from Bristol expressly to see you.”

“Mr. Teysen? I have only met the man once and have no further plans to see him again.”

“Ah, but since the ball I have come to suspect he has plans for you,” the lady said. “He is not a good man and has ill-treated many people in the past.”

Suddenly, Marianne lost patience. All she wanted to do was get back to Number 4, make her excuses to Lady Barrington, and retire to her chamber for a good cry.

“I know not of what you are talking,” she said to the woman, “and besides, I never listen to gossip.”

As Marianne walked away, the woman called after her, “Remember what I said. Oh, and please be careful!”

Marianne ran all the rest of the way across the grass and up the path. Once on the pavement, she felt she was being observed and looked up to the window of the withdrawing room of Number 1.

I thought so! ’Tis Edmund. He thinks he is king of the Royal Crescent. How dare he stand there all day long spying on passersby? Has he nothing better to do?

Marianne reflected that the answer to that was no, Edmund did not have anything better to do, for he spent his life in idleness and luxury– possibly in debauchery as well. Had she been the victim of a libertine? Were his kisses that depraved and dangerous?

And yet he was a dear friend of mine at one point. How did everything go so wrong? Oh, how ashamed I am to have spoken to him with such venom!

When Marianne reached Number 4, she opened her mouth to make her excuses, but Lady Barrington pre-empted her .

“Marianne! You are going straight to your room.”

Ah, so the cheerful expression I have plastered onto my face is not convincing my aunt.

“I will instruct Jane to light a fire and bring tea and toast immediately. You are positively worn out from looking after your dear mama and from your long journey today. I can see that you have a megrim brewing, for I know a fellow sufferer when I see one. Why, the pain I have endured over the years with aches in my head– you would not believe it.”

A little while later, Marianne found herself sitting on her bed sipping tea, with a comforting fire burning merrily in the grate. In her hand she held the tiny portrait of the future that never came.

I must think of Richard and what he would want for me– and I must pray to God for the strength to make a new life.

She kissed the miniature tenderly and put in back into its leather pouch then hopped off the bed and placed it in her top drawer with her trinkets.

I have carried my grief around for too long. ’Tis time I put it aside– not to forget, for I will never forget– but so that I can have a new future.

I will have a sleep as my aunt suggests, and then maybe later today I should write my long-delayed letter to Charlotte and entreat her to find me a family who have need of my services.

*

Edmund

Edmund stood steadfast at the window of Number 1’s withdrawing room to ensure Marianne’s safety, only turning away when he was quite sure she had reached Lady Barrington’s house without mishap.

I am fairly sure she noticed me, and doubtless thought I was spying, but I care not, for ’twas my duty as a gentleman to make sure she arrived home in one piece– and that little Nelson did too, bless his canine soul. Unseen dangers can lurk in the most unlikely places– who knows when and where a stranger might take advantage of an unaccompanied young woman in this city of ours?

My, but Marianne had been volatile that morning. She had positively exploded with anger when launching into her catalogue of Edmund’s wrongdoings.

’Tis all to do with her loss, both of Richard and her unborn child. Even I am sensitive enough to realize that– and to know she was in the grip of such high emotion that she scarce knew what she was saying– nor the effect it might have. For truth to tell, ’tis not possible that she hates me.

Is it?

But from whom could Edmund seek advice? There was no point in talking to his mother, for she would merely redouble her efforts to find Edmund another suitable bride. And Selina had enough heartache in her own life at the moment. His friends would not be interested– and besides, they usually met in a large group, which did not leave much opportunity for personal debate. And most of them, as Selina was very fond of pointing out, were just as immature and wooden-headed as Edmund himself was.

Edmund began to pace the room in an attempt to restore his equanimity.

I am not used to this; people find me irritating, people ignore me, and some are envious of my circumstances– but hate?

He reflected that the only person who had ever truly seemed to hate their family had been the infamous Lord Steyne.

Just then the door to the withdrawing room opened and Carter appeared. He was a frequent visitor to Number 1 and came and went as he pleased, visiting both the family and the servants’ quarters.

“Hello, Edmund. I am looking for your parents.”

“They are out and will not be back for some time.”

“That is a shame.” Carter’s face clouded over. “I had something quite particular to say to them.”

“Will I do?” Edmund said. “I am happy to listen to important matters.”

“Do not trouble yourself,” Carter said. “Now that Mrs. Pembroke is back in Bath, your calendar must be full of social engagements.”

“’Tis funny you should mention that; she is not too happy with me at the moment and wishes never to see me again.”

“Is there perchance conflict in paradise?”

“Look here, Carter, I do not appreciate your tone. I have had a very trying time already today and ’tis taking all my self-control and maturity to calm my mind.”

Carter opened his mouth and looked very much as if he were about to make another quip, possibly something about the paucity of self-control and maturity Edmund possessed, but then he closed his mouth again and his eyes softened.

“You look as if you could do with a drink, lad.”

“How well you know me.”

“Come on,” Carter said. “We are going downstairs. I find on a chilly day like this, especially when affairs of the heart are concerned, a strong coffee with a nip of brandy is efficacious.”

“Only a nip?”

“Perchance a slug!”

The two men left the withdrawing room.

“I will fetch coffee from below stairs,” Carter said. “You go and sit in the parlor.”

“My preference is to come with you,” Edmund said. “I enjoy going to the kitchen– or used to.”

“I had forgotten that. Cook was only saying the other day what a very practical interest you took in making scones when you were but a boy.”

Edmund grinned. “My early childhood days were the happiest of my life. Once we had done our lessons, we were essentially allowed free rein– and I oft found tasks to occupy me in the kitchen.”

Carter shook his head. “You need to find something to occupy yourself now, Edmund. There is plenty to do in this world of ours.”

The two men went down the narrow back stairs to the basement kitchen.

“Carter! And why, as I live and breathe, ’tis Mr. Templeton.” Cook said. “You have not been down here for years.”

“I miss the old times,” Edmund said. “Ah! I see you are making one of your delicious chocolate puddings.”

“I am, sir. And might I be so bold as to request your assistance?”

“Try and stop me!” Edmund peeled the blue paper from a sugar cone and started to use the nippers to break off lumps.

Cook smiled broadly. “I knew you would not forget all that I had taught you.”

I am thoroughly enjoying this. Domestic tasks allow the mind to quieten and rebalance– how could I have forgotten this?

Meanwhile, Carter busied himself making a pot of coffee.

When all was ready, the pair took the tray to the dining room and poured liberal amounts of brandy from the tantalus. They then repaired to the parlor and topped up their brandies with a small amount of coffee.

“Now then,” Carter said, stretching his legs out in front of the fire. “Tell me all about you and your Marianne.”

And so Edmund did. He started at the very beginning and continued with an account of all their time together since– save any mention of the two kisses, and their recent argument, for those occasions were too personal. And none of Carter’s business.

“But our friendship has fractured, now,” Edmund said, “and Marianne says she hates me. Moreover, I find my own emotions are perplexingly jumbled.”

“Balderdash! You obviously love the woman and want to marry her– so declare yourself.”

A further long monologue from Edmund followed, outlining the many reasons why this was not straightforward. Even Nelson’s dislike of Edmund was offered as a reason for any romance to be doomed before it began.

“Well, there are obstacles aplenty, that is for sure,” Carter agreed. “But you can forget the one about the pug– for that is plain ridiculous.”

“You do not know Nelson as I do,” Edmund said darkly. “He does not approve of me.”

“He is but a dog.”

“Allegedly. Anyhow, today, I have made everything worse. The trouble started when I became insanely jealous upon hearing that Marianne had recently attended a ball, socializing with both old friends and new acquaintances.”

“Where was the ball?”

“Clifton. No, wait. ’Twas in the Assembly Rooms in Bristol.”

Carter’s back became ramrod straight.

“Whom did she meet amongst these new acquaintances?”

“She only mentioned one by name– a Mr. Teysen– and Mr. Radcliffe, a friend of Marianne’s father, vouched for him.”

Carter slumped down in his chair again. “I have never heard of Mr. Teysen. But I have heard good accounts of Mr. Radcliffe.”

“You are always on the lookout for trouble.”

“’Tis the nature of my work to be suspicious, for there are oft plots afoot where you least expect them. I had occasion to visit Bristol early last month after a tip off, but the trail went cold. And my purpose in coming here today was to inform your parents of a report, as yet unverified, about– oh, no matter. I am sure all will be well.”

“’Tis only by the covert actions of heroic people like you that the public are kept safe.”

Carter laughed. “Flattery? If you are fishing for details, I am afraid you are out of luck.”

“Fair enough! But would you like some more coffee?”

“Not particularly. But I would not say no to another brandy.”

Edmund stood up. “Wait here! I will bring the whole bottle this time.”

After a few more drinks and much merriment, Edmund felt considerably better.

Then Martha put her head round the door. “Begging your pardon, but Cook was wondering if you would like some sandwiches sent up.”

“I wonder what makes her think we need feeding,” Edmund said.

“I would not like to say, sir.”

Carter slapped his thigh and shook with mirth. “I know why! Cook can hear us enjoying ourselves and thinks it might be wise to soak up the alcohol before Lord and Lady Templeton return. Am I right?”

Martha giggled, then nodded.

“In that case, some sandwiches would be very welcome,” Edmund said. “Thank you.”

While waiting for the food, Edmund’s eyes lit upon the mahogany box of alphabet letters on the desk. “How about a few games?”

Carter nodded his agreement.

Edmund spread the letters over the table. “We used these as children to spell our names backwards.”

“For what purpose?”

“Fun! It can be very amusing. For example, my name backwards is Notelpmet Dnumde . I recall saying to our governess I could no longer answer to the name Edmund Templeton, as I had changed my name to Notelpmet Dnumde . She said in that case, I could have no food or water that day, but must only eat Doof and drink Retaw – which prompted me to change my name back very quickly.”

“She sounds a sensible woman,” Carter said.

“Anagrams can be fun too.” Edmund moved some of the ivory letters around. “I can make Templeton into pelt me not .”

“Not bad,” Carter said. “And what about this? I have made Barrington into bring art on .”

“Ah!” Edmund said, picking out some more letters. “I will try your name. Excellent! Carter becomes Crater . ”

But Carter did not seem to be listening. “There must be something I can make from this,” he muttered, as he stared at the word in front of him, then shuffled the letters this way and that.

Edmund decided to try another name while Carter’s attention was elsewhere.

What about Marianne Templeton? Oh, how annoying! I cannot find a word or phrase that uses all the letters, but the word ‘temperamental’ is in there– well, they say redheads are fiery, and she is no exception. Despite her oft rather shy demeanor, she is a woman of strong passions– as I know only too well.

Suddenly, Carter banged his fist on the table. “Eureka! I might have guessed as much! Excuse me, Edmund– but I must be going, for there is danger emerging.”

And with that, Carter rushed from the room.

What on earth was going on? Edmund moved to Carter’s chair and looked at the last word Carter had formed: Steyne .

Edmund started rearranging the letters. If one put the first here, and moved the others thus, what new word could be created?

My God!

Edmund stared at the table in horror. For he had managed to change Steyne back into Teysen .

*

Marianne

“Mr. Teysen! I had not expected to see you in Bath.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I do assure you.”

Marianne was on a walk with Nelson and Jane that same afternoon. She had enjoyed a refreshing sleep and was now keen to inhale fresh air before she tackled writing her letter to Charlotte.

“I have but lately arrived from Bristol,” Mr. Teysen said.

What a coincidence! Perchance I would do well to heed the mysterious lady’s warning?

“Mrs. Pembroke, I have thought of you many times since I met you at the ball.”

Ah, I feel a little alarmed to hear this. There is something quite strange about Mr. Teysen.

His thick thatch of hair had looked unusual at the ball, but now that it sported a large hat, the effect was bizarre in the extreme.

I am being unkind. One should not judge by appearances. And I have no grounds for being suspicious, for did not the Radcliffes introduce me to Mr. Teysen? Mr. Radcliffe said he was a personal friend. No, wait! Perchance he said he was a new acquaintance? Oh dear!

“I must return home,” Marianne said. “’Twas very pleasant to meet you here on the Crescent Fields, but now I must bid you farewell.”

“Please stay a while,” Mr. Teysen said, “for I have come to tell you I have remembered where I saw you.”

“You saw me at the ball in Bristol.”

“I have seen you before– many times.”

Mr. Teysen uttered no further words, because a tall burly figure appeared as if from nowhere and knocked him to the ground– then another man sat upon him.

What is happening?

“Oh, good heavens, Carter! ’Tis you!” Marianne said. “And Edmund! I mean, Mr. Templeton. Why are you treating Mr. Teysen thus?”

“His name is not Mr. Teysen,” Edmund said.

“No,” Carter said. “He is Lord Steyne– the infamous villain who has plagued the residents of Bath too many times.”

“Lord Steyne?” Marianne said. “But he drowned in the river, did he not?”

“It would appear not,” Carter said. He pulled the hat from Lord Steyne’s head– and the wig came with it.

“You are looking more like yourself now,” Edmund said, “and the sooner you return to gaol, the better.”

“I do not understand what is going on,” Marianne said.

Edmund launched into a puzzling tale about coffee with brandy, alphabet letters– and managing to catch up with Carter after he had run from the house.

“And Carter had received news of a possible sighting of Lord Steyne in Bath and tried to warn my parents this very morning,” Edmund said. “And back in January, when we were in the Pump Room, Carter was in Bristol following a reported sighting in the Assembly Rooms.”

“Stop!” Carter shouted. “There will be time for full explanations later. Our mission now is to send for a constable to arrest this man.”

“But I have not done anything wrong,” Lord Steyne said. “Well, not recently.”

“I think you were about to,” Carter snarled. “I know what you are like!”

“You shall not arrest me! I will find Lord Templeton and explain all to him. He will listen.” Lord Steyne wriggled free, leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could across the grass towards the Crescent.

“You will not get away that easily,” Edmund said as he chased after him, with Carter but a yard behind.

“Stay there, Marianne,” Edmund yelled over his shoulder. “I would not have you in any danger from this villain.”

Is not a woman capable of facing peril as well as any man?

Marianne hesitated, for she knew in her heart ’twould be unwise to run after the men, but then Nelson made the decision easy by slipping his leash and chasing after Carter.

“Hasten back to the house,” Marianne said to Jane, “and tell Lady Barrington to send for a constable.”

She then headed off after Nelson, but by the time she reached the cobbles, she had lost sight of him. Wandering across the road, Marianne noticed that the door to the servants’ entrance of Number 1 was open.

Perchance they have all gone in this door, for did Lord Steyne not say he wished to find Lord Templeton?

Once inside the servants’ quarters, all was chaos.

“Have you seen Carter and Mr. Templeton– and Nelson?” Marianne said.

“They have just gone upstairs,” Cook said.

“Yes,” Martha said. “Lord Steyne came in first, demanding to see the master– but he is not at home.”

“Then the rascal fled up the back stairs, pursued by all,” Cook said. “But madam, you should stay down here with us. The man is an escaped convict!”

“What if Lord Steyne has a pistol?” Martha said.

“Oh, what is to become of us?” Cook wailed.

Marianne heard Nelson yelping upstairs.

If Lord Steyne has harmed a hair on the body of that sweet pug, I will not be answerable for the consequences.

She climbed the four flights of narrow stairs, right to the servants’ attic chambers, and found Carter and Edmund cornering Lord Steyne in the end room. Nelson, to his credit, was uttering a series of menacing growls.

Marianne scooped the dog into her arms. “There, there, my dear. You are safe now. I will take you back to Lady Barrington.”

“But I need to talk to you, Mrs. Pembroke,” Lord Steyne pleaded. “You do not understand; I am a changed man. I am no longer the villain you think.”

“Just because you have dressed yourself up and changed your name to Mr. Teysen means nothing,” Carter said.

“It means everything,” Lord Steyne said. “When I nearly died falling into the weir, my entire life paraded before me in grotesque detail, and I truly repented of all my wickedness. Why do you not believe me? Why will you not give me another chance?”

“Because we do not trust you,” Carter roared. “Now, surrender yourself. There is no escape from this room.”

“Oh yes, there is!” Lord Steyne flung open the sash and climbed outside.

“Good God, man!” Edmund said. You are surely not going to go out there?”

Heavens! Selina is wont to climb onto the rooftop, but I cannot believe ’tis safe for anyone unfamiliar with the layout.

“I must give Mrs. Pembroke something first,” Lord Steyne said. “I need to tell her about seeing her sweet face before.”

“How dare you say her face is sweet?” Edmund shouted. “You have no right because she is...” He stopped abruptly.

What was Edmund going to say about me? I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I have no need of his protection.

When Marianne next looked at the window, Lord Steyne had disappeared.

“I will go after him,” Edmund said, “along the ledge.”

“You will not,” Carter said. “Leave it to me.”

But Edmund had already gone.

Marianne ran to the window, holding Nelson firmly in her arms. Outside, Lord Steyne was walking along the narrow gulley behind the parapet, clinging to roof tiles and stones for support, pursued by Edmund.

Oh my goodness! Now they are climbing over the ledge to the next house. This is too much!

Marianne could no longer bear to watch and fled from the room.

I will stand underneath and attempt to break Edmund’s descent if he slips and falls– and I care not if I die in the attempt.

By the time she was at ground level, the word had spread, and throngs of people stood on the cobbles, necks tilted back, to see Edmund pursuing Lord Steyne across the rooftops.

I pray God Edmund takes care! I could not bear it if anything were to happen to him– even though I am still furious with him.

Marianne turned her conflicting feelings over and over in her mind– and her anger evaporated as her courage increased.

I love him! Oh, my heart is beating so wildly!

Lady Barrington rushed to Marianne’s side. “My dear! This is frightfully thrilling, is it not?”

“No! ’Tis absolutely terrifying. I cannot believe that one or other of them will not fall to their doom.”

“Well, as long as ’tis not Mr. Templeton, it does not matter, does it? Lord Steyne has a terrible reputation in Bath.”

“He was trying to say that he had changed; he said he recognized me from somewhere. And pray tell me what has he done that is so bad?”

Lady Barrington kept her eyes firmly on the parapet above them while she outlined Lord Steyne’s hideous deeds.

“He is an out and out scoundrel,” Lady Barrington declared at the end of her rant. “I am surprised he has not tried to kidnap my Nelson before now, for he is capable of the most heinous skullduggery.”

“Ah! I begin to understand why everyone is so perturbed about his re-emergence,” Marianne said.

But sometimes people change– do they not?

Suddenly there was a massive intake of breath from the crowd. Lord Steyne and Edmund had reached the opposite end of the Crescent– the roof of Number 30– and there was nowhere left to go. All the while, Edmund seemed to be arguing with Lord Steyne.

“And now Lord Steyne has passed a small item to Mr. Templeton,” Lady Barrington shouted to the growing crowd, observing the action through her telescope. “And Mr. Templeton is nodding.”

A small attic window in the roof of Number 30 opened behind the men.

“Carter is there!” Lady Barrington yelled.

He must have slipped round the backs of the houses. Oh! I do hope Edmund is being careful up there.

“And the Constable is with him,” Lady Barrington said. “We are safe! ”

Much later, when they were all sitting in Lady Barrington’s withdrawing room, many explanations were made, and many mysteries solved.

“The Constable has taken Lord Steyne back into custody,” Carter said. “He went as meekly as a lamb this time.”

“I think the man has changed,” Edmund said.

“You believe him?” Lady Barrington asked.

She sounds a little disappointed at his reformation.

“I do,” Edmund said.

“And I,” Carter added. “He said he has had much time to reflect and no longer wants to be Lord Steyne. He is happy to be Mr. Teysen.”

Marianne frowned. “And you say this Miss Steele– the lady I met at the ball in Bristol and here on the fields– has in the past been both an ally and a victim of Lord Steyne’s? And you saw her in Clifton?”

“Yes,” Edmund said. “I saw her right outside your parents’ house. She was enjoying a stroll near the Avon Gorge, and would have had no idea at that time of your existence. Then, at the ball in Bristol, she must have seen through Mr. Teysen’s disguise, but chosen not to reveal his identity to anyone out of a misguided sense of loyalty. We presume she observed his keen interest in you later that same evening, and then some while afterwards reflected upon the situation and became concerned for your welfare.”

“She seemed so convinced he was a danger to me,” Marianne said. “Fancy travelling fifteen miles to warn someone you scarcely knew.”

“Yes, she was brave to do so,” Edmund said, “and very resourceful to have tracked you down to Bath. Would that there were a way to thank her. But in actuality, Lord Steyne was not a danger to you. He wished to give you something.”

Edmund reached into his pocket and handed Marianne a small leather pouch.

“Be brave, Marianne,” Lady Barrington said, “for Edmund has already told me what lies therein. You may find it distressing– but also comforting– to be reunited.”

Marianne opened the pouch and pulled out a tiny likeness of herself. ’Twas the portrait Richard had painted when they had become engaged– the portrait he had taken with him to Waterloo.

“But how can this be?” she said.

“Lord Steyne was at Waterloo in the aftermath of the battle,” Carter said. “There is no need to dwell on what evil deeds he committed there concerning Henry– God knows we have all tried hard enough to forget them. But we know that many scavengers took items from fallen soldiers and shockingly, this is how Lord Steyne acquired not only this miniature, but many other mementos from the fallen of both sides.”

“When he met you by chance in Bristol,” Edmund said, “he thought he recognized you, but could not remember from whence. Then, later, he realized you were the lady in the picture. His conscience had been plaguing him for some time since becoming Mr. Teysen, and although there were many past misdemeanors he could not change, returning this picture to its rightful owner was a step he could take. Put simply, he wished to right a wrong. And I for one cannot blame him for that.”

Alone in her chamber that night, Marianne studied the portrait. The young woman there was but a girl, whose eyes were full of happiness– and hope.

And now Marianne was a woman. She had loved. And lost.

She put the miniature with the one of their child painted by Richard and closed the drawer firmly. If a character like Lord Steyne could start again, then so could she.

Sitting at the desk, Marianne took a piece of paper and began writing .

My dearest Charlotte,

I have a favor to ask, for I am determined to begin my life as a governess as soon as reasonably possible.