Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

T hree minutes before seven o’clock in the evening, Daniel’s landau clattered to a halt in front of a first-rate townhome in the Parade. The four-storied townhome, with two rows of Palladian windows, made it clear Mrs. Eliot was flush in the pockets.

Mr. Savage whistled. “This is the lady to know.”

Though crass, Daniel was grateful Savage had seen fit to accompany him that night, for he never lacked something to say, and everyone seemed pleased with the flattering words that slid from his mouth.

“It’s as I told you,” Savage said. “Fresh ladies arrive daily, and we shall have our pick of them.” Tobias made a crude gesture and jumped out of the carriage. Daniel did not like the way Tobias spoke of women, and this comment was no exception. Already he’d reminded him a dozen times that one should speak of women in private the same way one spoke of them in public. With respect. But it had made no difference.

Daniel glanced at the black door, the evening sun glinting off its bronze handle. Behind it was Miss Thorpe. In a strange twist of fate, he would spend an evening with the very woman his father had chosen for him. At least it might be her. He could not be certain since no one had yet mentioned her first name, and something kept him from asking. If he knew she was intended for him and she knew the same, if they put two and two together, his forthcoming marriage would become all too real. He wasn’t ready.

When introduced at the ball, he had called himself Daniel Fletcher but had seen no flicker of recognition in her eyes. She’d given him an uninterested smile and agreed to dance with him in a flat tone that signaled to him she didn’t care. If she knew of him, her behavior would have shown it, either by more curiosity or more indifference. Perhaps she was not his Louisa Thorpe after all, but he would listen for her name.

Though pretty and pleasant with soulful eyes, Miss Thorpe was not her aunt. Mrs. Allen was not like anyone. Both demure and exuberant, ladylike and sensual, she was a paradox. A puzzle he would spend no time solving, for his loyalty stood with Almery, so if Miss Thorpe was Louisa Thorpe, he would commit to her. He would marry her for Almery. Besides, Mrs. Eliot told him at the ball that Mrs. Allen was a wealthy widow. Judging from her attire, she was just out of mourning. And why would she want an awkward bumbler who would take her to a crumbling castle in a remote county? She was interesting, enticing even, but not for him.

While he dismounted, a hackney stopped behind his landau. Daniel and Tobias mounted the steps of Mrs. Eliot’s residence as a tall, slightly stooped figure with a modest, if crooked, wig emerged from the hackney holding a cane. From the agile way the man moved, the stick was ornamental. He was of indeterminate age and so thin and tall one could imagine the man as a May pole.

The three men gathered on the steps. “Good evening. It appears we are bound for the same place. I am Mr. Bateman.” His airy voice rasped like it was a great struggle to push the sound out his windpipes.

“How do you do? I am Mr. Daniel Fletcher. This is my friend, Mr. Savage.” They bowed as well as they could huddled on the porch.

The door swung open, and the butler ushered them into the drawing room, where the ladies waited. Mrs. Eliot, tall and straight, not unlike Mr. Bateman, greeted them in turn. Mrs. Allen, possessed of a more feminine figure and less stately posture than her friend, looked beautiful in her mauve gown. His eyes lingered on her white throat. Perhaps feeling him watching her, she pressed her hand over the locket that hung around her neck. Beside her stood Miss Thorpe, a little wilted. She looked out the window and gave little heed to the men beyond a requisite greeting.

Miss Thorpe was more attractive than he remembered. If she were his Miss Thorpe, this was a lucky chance to get to know her. He gestured to a sofa, and they sat down together. “Are you enjoying Bath?” An inane question, but he could think of no other.

“I like it very much, but I miss home.” Still no evidence she knew who he was.

Daniel relaxed and smiled, pleased with her honesty. “Don’t young ladies long to escape from home and attend balls and dinners and the like?”

Miss Thorpe lifted a dainty shoulder and looked at her lap. While Daniel struggled to think of another question, his attention was caught by Mrs. Eliot’s imperious voice enumerating the advantages of Mr. Bateman to Mrs. Allen.

“… bachelor with a home in Bath and an estate in Herefordshire. Very amiable besides. There, Mrs. Allen, sit next to Mr. Bateman and ask about his sheep.” Mrs. Eliot shooed Mr. Savage away so Mr. Bateman and Mrs. Allen could sit together on a settee.

Mrs. Allen frowned at her friend and put as much distance as she was able between herself and Mr. Bateman. Mr. Bateman’s sharp elbow pressed into Mrs. Allen’s side, and she scooted farther from him until finally putting her hand over the place where the elbow intruded. Mr. Bateman pressed closer, leaning toward her even as she bent away.

Beside him, Miss Thorpe puffed air through her lips. “Mrs. Eliot can be such a bore.”

Daniel agreed.

Mrs. Allen answered her assailant’s questions. “I live in a cottage on an estate where sheep are the main source of income. While they are frequently discussed, I cannot say I know much about them, as I find the business of sheep rather uninspiring.” She moved to a chair and crossed her hands in her lap, her manner stiff and cool.

Daniel turned fully toward Mrs. Allen and her disinterested expression. She caught his eye and raised a brow. Hoping she did not misunderstand his interest as disapproval, he gave her what he hoped was an affirming smile. She was her niece’s superior in looks and manner. Her husband must have recently passed, else she’d surely be remarried.

Dinner was announced. Daniel escorted Miss Thorpe but watched Mrs. Allen attempt to make space between herself and Mr. Bateman, who offered her his arm and then drew her to him. Mrs. Eliot gave an encouraging nod to Mr. Bateman.

Steaming bowls of savoy soup arrived, and Daniel tried to make conversation with Miss Thorpe but was again distracted by Mr. Bateman’s behavior toward Mrs. Allen. He could not heed her answers. Mr. Savage winked at Daniel and stepped in to entertain Miss Thorpe.

“Mrs. Allen,” Daniel said, “do you find Bath much changed from the last time you were here?”

A smile bloomed over her face, and she turned toward Daniel. “Yes! I was only sixteen when I last came, and it is almost a new city.”

Daniel retained Mrs. Allen’s attention as much as was polite, but Mr. Bateman’s determination did not waver. He even tapped her on her shoulder when her back was toward him. She turned, and Mr. Bateman spoke to her through a mouth full of peas. Her dismay showed only in a slight twitch of her jaw.

“Mr. Fletcher, tell me about your situation. I hear you are a partner at Smith’s.” Mrs. Eliot’s command could not be ignored. He gave the briefest of answers and tried to turn his attention back to Mrs. Allen, but Mrs. Eliot followed up with educated questions that required thoughtful responses. Mrs. Allen was left to Mr. Bateman.

He turned toward Miss Thorpe. “Where are you from?”

“Cornwall.” She showed no interest in continuing the conversation.

“Ah. And what brings you to Bath?”

“My aunt. She thinks it will be good for me to see more of the world.”

To see the world before she settled into marriage? This guessing was ridiculous. He would simply ask her name.

“Louisa, are you speaking of me?” Mrs. Allen asked.

Louisa! She was his intended but gave no indication of knowing their connection. On the contrary, when Mrs. Eliot had garnered partners for her at the assembly rooms, she spoke of Miss Thorpe as one searching for a husband. In this case, his announcing their engagement would certainly not be welcome. She probably sought a match of her own to avoid her father’s arrangement—or had not been told of his intention. It put him in the difficult position of knowing their proposed relationship when she did not. Did honesty compel him to tell her? Becoming acquainted before she knew may benefit them both, decreasing discomfiture on both sides.

“I am just explaining that you brought me to Bath,” Louisa said.

Mr. Bateman tapped Mrs. Allen’s shoulder. She turned to him with a biting smile, which did nothing to deter Mr. Bateman from commandeering her conversation.

“And what will you do after your time here?” He wanted her to give something away. Did she know who he was? Did she know her father had promised her away to a stranger?

“I will follow the tradition of all proper females and marry.” On the word marry , she stabbed her knife into a bloody piece of beef. She seemed ignorant of their engagement.

After dinner, the women retreated to the drawing room, leaving the men to their port. Mr. Bateman stretched his legs and began pacing the room, with no apparent desire to converse with the other two gentlemen.

“What do you think of Miss Thorpe?” Daniel asked Mr. Savage.

“She is pretty enough, though a little melancholy.”

Daniel had yet not told his friend that his father intended for him to marry her. “Do you have designs on her?”

He snorted. “I am in no position to marry.”

This surprised Daniel. Tobias inherited his estate only a few years ago. Marriage should be his next step, but Savage was a bit of a rake.

“But if a young lady catches your fancy, you may change your mind?” Daniel asked.

A sneeze erupted from the quarter of Mr. Bateman, a sound which may have signaled the beginning of battle. Both Daniel and Mr. Savage turned toward the man, who hastily pulled out his handkerchief but did not wait to finish his nasal cleanse before addressing the other two men.

“I am partial to Mrs. Allen. She is a suitable woman, proper and lovely, soft, malleable.” He then blew his nose so profoundly that it rivaled the sneeze. “I may propose in a day or two, once I am certain of my feelings.” He mopped his nose.

Daniel could not help himself. “How will you gauge her regard for you?”

Mr. Bateman waved his soiled handkerchief in the air as if brushing away the concern. “She is likely desperate for the guidance of a husband and will take little time in forming an attachment to me. At her age, and having been a widow for so long, she will be thrilled for any proposal. To receive compliments from a man such as myself? Well, I hardly need wait.”

Mr. Savage scratched his chin, moving his hand over his mouth to disguise his amusement.

“A widow for how long?”

“Decades. According to Mrs. Eliot, she was married and widowed before she turned twenty.”

“But Mrs. Allen seems very comfortable in her situation. She is quite independent and, if I understand correctly, has a profitable estate in Ireland.” Mrs. Eliot had spread the private details of Mrs. Allen’s life to all unmarried gentlemen last evening.

“Quite. Only think how much value I will add when it’s under my stewardship. Having been run by a woman, there are bound to be a multitude of improvements awaiting my hand.”

Disgusting. Why did Mrs. Eliot press him on her friend?

When they joined the ladies, Daniel paused in the doorway. Mr. Bateman hesitated not at all to take a seat beside Mrs. Allen. The impulse to cast Bateman out of the house had him balling his fists. Why did he care so much for Mrs. Allen’s comfort? One dance did not make him her protector. Mr. Bateman’s pompous assumption that Mrs. Allen wanted his company rankled, and Daniel refused to watch the poor woman endure the attentions of so insufferable a man. In a space half-wide enough to fit him, he wiggled between them so that Mr. Bateman drooped off the edge of his seat. He used his cane to keep himself from slipping to the floor. Mrs. Eliot, seated across from their trio, grinned and clasped her hands under her chin as if watching a delightful scene in a play. As if she were directing it.

Under Mrs. Eliot’s feline scrutiny, he became aware of his ludicrous behavior. He had just squeezed himself between two people. Beyond the fact that no woman deserved to be accosted by the likes of Mr. Bateman, the motive for his behavior remained murky.

Across the room, Miss Thorpe brightened under Mr. Savage’s attentiveness. She spoke with animation, and Daniel’s gratitude for his friend strengthened. To atone for his neglect, he would take her up in his landau tomorrow, where they may become acquainted.

The guests rearranged themselves when tea and coffee were served, and Daniel found an opportunity to make the invitation. Louisa glanced to her aunt, who smiled in approval.

“You shall come too, Aunt. Surely it is not fitting for me to go alone.” It would perfectly correct for Daniel and Miss Thorpe to go together so long as his groom attended, but if she felt uncomfortable, Daniel would not dissuade Mrs. Allen from chaperoning.

Mrs. Allen pursed her lips before speaking. “I will accompany you, if you wish.” To Daniel she said, “Is there room for three?”

He assured her there was, and they made plans to meet the following day at half past five. He could not tell if he looked forward to learning more about Miss Thorpe or her aunt, but made the decision not to tell them of their connection. It could only complicate matters, particularly should Miss Thorpe develop feelings for someone else.

The evening continued with the usual entertainments. Daniel offered to turn the pages for Miss Thorpe, who played the pianoforte while the others gathered to play whist. Mr. Bateman fixated upon Mrs. Allen. From across the room, Daniel riled against his powerlessness to intervene when the presumptuous man inclined himself toward his prey to touch her forearm or whisper in her ear. Mrs. Allen squirmed, bent away from him, gently swept his hand off hers, and gave every indication that she did not enjoy the attention. Unlike many ladies, there was no tittering at his demonstrations. She seemed well-equipped to handle herself.

Daniel turned a page for Miss Thorpe, admiring her attractive, turned-up nose. She was his objective. He focused on her.