Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Eight weeks and suspecting Aurelia until the wedding
‘W ell, what does it say?’ Sophie whispered as Phoebe unfurled the letter beneath the crisp white tablecloth.
They’d finally arrived at their supper spot, after a long, meandering walk that had almost settled Phoebe’s ruffled nerves. She cast a look around. The sun had melted into a late pumpkin dusk, and the gardeners had begun lighting miniature lanterns in the copse of trees surrounding them. It really was the most picturesque spot.
‘Do you think there are any severed ghosts’ heads around?’ Matilda asked loudly, much to the disapproval of several nearby mamas. ‘Josephine said the Romans buried the heads of their favourite horses here.’
‘Not beneath the picnic tables, dearest,’ Aunt Higglestone placated hastily.
‘Here, read it yourself,’ Phoebe muttered, passing her sister the letter.
Dear Mrs Mary Smith,
Please excuse my behaviour at the Assembly Ball, I had few options remaining.
Look for me at the Sydney Gardens picnic, when I hope we will be able to promenade together, and resume our friendship.
Yours affectionately,
Lady Aurelia Carlisle
‘Well, she doesn’t exactly waste words,’ Sophie concluded, turning it over.
‘But she addressed it to Mrs Mary Smith, at Aunt and Uncle’s address!’ Phoebe frowned.
‘And she tried to make me kiss a mop-head!’
‘True, but she also says she wishes to resume your friendship, and signs it affectionately ,’ Sophie countered. ‘And she’s friends with the delightful captain, too … isn’t she?’
‘Mmm, she’s making sure I know she knows,’ Phoebe mused. ‘And don’t forget the delightful captain may have something to do with Aurelia’s situation , too!’
‘Yes,’ Sophie returned, looking crestfallen for a moment. ‘What did you and the viscount speak of anyway?’ she added after a pause. ‘You appeared quite … animated.’
Phoebe shrugged. ‘The viscount continues to prove himself to be no more enlightened than any gentleman of our acquaintance, and so judgemental of my own view as to be a veritable dinosaur. Truly, I pity any lady he is to call his wife!’
Sophie regarded her sister thoughtfully, just as Matilda’s voice rose above the general chatter.
‘But how can you call it a picnic when everyone sits at a table and eats with knives and forks?’ she protested.
Thankfully, the arrival of supper beneath the stars prevented too much discourse on this point, and by the time they’d all polished off pigeon pie, cold lamb, salmagundi, various breads, and numerous puddings, the evening was considerably advanced. Alongside the steady stream of dishes, there was an even steadier stream of young ladies and their mothers, asking why Phoebe and Sophie hadn’t yet been seen at the Assembly Rooms.
‘I vow if one more doting mama asks me if she can expect to see the two of you at Bath’s most illustrious balls, concerts, and theatrical events, I shall give them your brother’s address myself!’ Aunt Higglestone warned with a hiccup. ‘And it wasn’t for the want of asking, I’ll have you both know,’ she added, waggling a finger. ‘At your ages I’d been out for a season already, and received offers from a number of— Marchioness Carlisle!’ she exclaimed, as a grand family made to sweep past their table.
Phoebe held her breath, suddenly reliving the dressing down she received at the Assembly Ball. Mrs Mary Smith may have escaped detection so far, but hawk-eyed Marchioness Carlisle was a different matter altogether.
‘ So many cheekbones!’ Sophie whispered, while Josephine snorted into a glass of negus that her aunt promptly confiscated without so much as a sideways glance.
‘A pleasure to see you again, Mrs … Higglestaff,’ Marchioness Carlisle pronounced.
Aunt Higglestone inhaled.
‘And your lively nieces, too… We weren’t going to come at all, but then the viscount persuaded Aurelia she would find the fireworks quite diverting! I trust you’re enjoying the evening’s entertainment?’
‘We are enjoying the gardens very much!’ Aunt Higglestone gushed generously. ‘And we’re delighted to see you and the delightful Lady Aurelia again so soon, too!’
Phoebe cast a covert look at Aurelia, standing demurely beside her mother. There was no trace of the girl who’d got drunk, played Questions and Commands, or kissed a soldier before blaming the whole thing on unsuspecting Mrs Mary Smith at all.
‘All the delightful Misses Fairfaxes,’ Lady Aurelia trilled with a pretty laugh. ‘How lovely it is to see you all again, and looking so well, too! Is not this picnic spot divine? I do so admire it and wonder if Mama and Aunt Higglestone might permit Phoebe and I a short promenade, so we may appreciate it fully?’
Phoebe felt her aunt beam her approval, before she even opened her mouth.
‘I should be thrilled,’ she replied. ‘Besides parlour games, promenading is one of my favourite things!’
* * *
‘How did you know?’ Phoebe asked as soon as they stepped onto the pretty wooded path circling the picnic area.
‘Know what?’ Aurelia teased through her fluttering broderie fan.
‘Know it was me!’ Phoebe returned. ‘And do spare me any airs and graces, I know you aren’t who you profess to be.’
‘Is anyone quite who they profess to be in polite society?’ Aurelia pouted, as Phoebe eyeballed her with abject dislike. ‘You don’t really do small talk, do you?’ she added.
‘Not with people who feign friendship, no.’
‘Feign?’ Aurelia frowned faintly.
‘You blamed everything on me! The side room, the card game – even that mop-head’s…’ Phoebe paused to shudder. ‘I’d be the gossip of the ton if your mother hadn’t hushed everything up!’
‘Well, your terrible powdered hair and cap certainly would be!’ Aurelia snorted.
‘You don’t understand!’ Phoebe scowled, her temper flaring. ‘Mary Smith was my only chance…’
‘Of an adventure ?’ Aurelia quizzed. ‘You do know we all dream of those, don’t you?’ she added with a sigh. ‘And we can have them, too, so long as we’re prepared to accept a few small…’
Captain Damerel, is that you stealing up behind us?’ she diverted loudly. ‘I do believe I’d know your tread anywhere! And please don’t say you’re the search party!’ She paused to roll her eyes. ‘It’s been barely five minutes and I can still see the picnic tables!’
Phoebe stared as though Aurelia had taken leave of her senses, just as low voices reached along the path behind them. In disbelief, she glanced back to discover the captain and his infuriating brother were indeed turning the leafy corner behind them, and briefly, she smothered a desire to curse the universe and everyone in it.
‘Please be assured your secret assignations are always safe with us, Lady Aurelia!’ the captain called gamely, though Phoebe detected a fleeting strain. ‘I am also impressed by your powers of detection, you would be an asset to the military!’ He nodded at Phoebe. ‘Miss Fairfax,’ he added with a smile. ‘I do hope you’ll excuse our interruption, Alex was quite insistent on a walk. Did you enjoy your al fresco picnic? We partook last year, and particularly enjoyed the venison if I recall correctly – quite the finest picnic platter I’ve ever seen!’
He turned to his brother and chortled good-naturedly.
‘It was delicious, thank you, captain,’ Phoebe returned, avoiding the viscount's gaze, ‘though my sister was rather unimpressed by the lack of jam sandwiches!’
She was still stinging from their last conversation, and had no desire to pretend to exchange civilities now, especially in front of Aurelia.
‘Perchance she wishes for a quart of devil’s brew, with which to wash them down,’ the viscount muttered.
Phoebe stiffened, while Aurelia chuckled with delight.
‘Oh, my lord, what droll things you say!’ she smirked. ‘Pray, what is this devil’s brew you mention? Perhaps I should try some.’
‘I was referring to my youngest sister, sir,’ Phoebe returned in her most dignified voice, ‘who is still but twelve years old!’
To her satisfaction, the faintest flicker of chagrin passed across the viscount’s impassive face.
‘Excellent!’ he recovered swiftly. ‘Then let us hope she remains incurious for as long as possible; there are few things less appealing than a lady who likes her liquor.’
‘I assure you, sir, that none of my sisters are so afflicted!’ Phoebe retorted. ‘Though I would challenge anyone who called them incurious.’
‘Lord, Alex!’ the captain chortled. ‘You sound like the vicar! I see no reason why a lady need not enjoy herself as much as any gentleman, providing it does not compromise her of course. Personally, I feel the fairer sex would be twice as responsible with half our freedom, were we just to relax our collar points a little. This is 1820, after all!’
Phoebe flashed the captain a look of intense gratitude.
‘And yet we would risk every decent offer of marriage, were we to admit to any of the mischief in which you gentlemen indulge on a daily basis,’ Aurelia purred with a gleam.
‘Truth!’ the viscount nodded abruptly. ‘Far better to accept the reality of the world in which we live than dream of one that doesn’t, for surely that must lead only to disappointment.’
‘Then I am destined to be a disappointed dreamer, sir!’ Phoebe ground furiously.
‘I too, Miss Fairfax,’ said the captain. ‘And I often remind my brother there is room for dreamers and pragmatists alike in this world!’ He smiled. ‘Now, I believe we have detained you ladies for far too long, and you will be much missed from your party. Lady Aurelia, Miss Fairfax…’
Phoebe sank into a curtsey as the gentlemen made their bows, and waited only until they were out of earshot before spinning to address her companion.
‘What were you saying before? About an adventure?’ she asked, the viscount’s insufferable arrogance making her bloodboil.
A gleam crept into Aurelia’s eyes, as she picked up her skirts.
‘This way,’ she nodded, stepping off the path.
Phoebe hesitated only briefly, before following her into thetrees.
‘Of all the people to run into unchaperoned!’ Aurelia rolled her eyes. ‘And yet here, it is perfectly respectable for us to have a short walk – unlike in town where one has to be presented, and chaperoned, and presented again until one feels quite exhausted! What do you think? Isn’t the season a bore?’ She yawned prettily, pushing her way through two thick rhododendron bushes.
‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve only attended one Assembly,’ Phoebe muttered, staring down at a crumpled pamphlet entitled Mary Wollstonecraft and Women’s Equality .
It seemed particularly poignant, with the viscount’s words still ringing in her ears.
‘Our education being solely for the purpose of marrying has rarely made sense to me,’ she added. ‘My brothers are encouraged to learn and travel, while we are treated as little more than fragile butterflies, to be collected and pinned. As though we don’t have minds and voices of our own at all!’
Aurelia paused to look back at Phoebe, a look of curious satisfaction on her face.
‘I knew you were a bluestocking!’ she replied. ‘And in answer to your question about how I knew : you gave yourself away! When I asked if I looked with child, you pulled exactly the same expression you pulled in the modiste’s, when we discovered you fencing with a parasol. Oh, how funny that was! I knew right away it was you, but what I couldn’t understand was why you’d gone to such garish lengths to attend a boring Assembly Ball of all things!’
She smirked before stepping through to a pretty, lantern-lit glade, where she withdrew a small ivory snuff box from her reticule, flipped it open, and raised a pinch.
‘And I certainly don’t intend to be collected and pinned!’ she observed, inhaling swiftly. ‘When I marry, I shall run a fashionable townhouse, host parties of the ton, own more ball dresses than I can ever hope to wear and be a dutiful wife in every way, but … I shall also have as many adventures as I wish, because for people like us marriage is a business contract. So you see, there’s no need to be quite so concerned about our education, when fragile butterflies can be masters of their own disguise! Snuff?’
Phoebe shook her head, suppressing a rise of feelings as she recalled the viscount’s view.
‘Such behaviour in young ladies of quality would be reprehensible to many gentlemen with a name and reputation to protect…’
Somehow, she doubted Aurelia’s intentions accorded with his own expectations of his marital union – and yet she was sure they couldn’t be more suited, either.
‘It’s my own special recipe,’ Aurelia smiled, taking another pinch. ‘Finely ground tobacco, scented rose petals and something extra with a little rush at the end!’
Phoebe watched as Aurelia inhaled again, her delicate eyelashes fluttering, before stepping back to steady herself.
‘Do try it. Consider it a … first step to equality!’ She giggled.
‘I’m not really sure snuff is up there with education and worker’s rights,’ Phoebe muttered.
‘Oh, la, you’re so stuffy! And I thought you were looking for adventure? Such a shame – I really didn’t want to tell your aunt and uncle about your little Assembly Room escapade, but it seems you leave me no choice!’
She spun abruptly and started walking back across the glade.
‘Tell my relatives anything, and I will have no choice but to divulge your situation ,’ Phoebe threw, beginning to regret her willingness to accompany Aurelia anywhere.
Aurelia turned back.
‘Bravo!’ she smirked. ‘I was beginning to doubt you had it in you! But you see, we really aren’t that different, after all.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Phoebe snapped. ‘I would happily give up marriage and all it entails, for one true adventure – whereas you will use marriage and all it entails to have a thousand!’
‘Well, the moral high ground does have its price,’ she sighed, ‘but if you’re prepared to help me – if Mrs Mary Smith is prepared to help me – then I can promise an adventure in return…’
Phoebe glared silently, the viscount’s mockery still infuriating her. She didn’t want to help Aurelia at all, but his snobbish arrogance felt like everything she despised most. What right did he have to judge her family in any way? They’d come to Bath with one purpose in mind, and social disaster or not, she had no intention of becoming incurious . Now, or ever.
She reached out and took a small pinch of snuff, eyeing Aurelia warily.
‘No private rooms or parlour games!’ She scowled.
And then she inhaled before she could change her mind.
Instantly, the glade whirled like a carousel, while a delicious rise of feeling coursed through her veins. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before, except perhaps at the Midsummer Fair, when she and Sophie had consumed so much candy they challenged the Bilch brothers to a three-legged race, and even so, this was different. This made her feel so deliriously happy!
Slowly, she spread her arms and turned on the spot, watching the way shafts of light from the hanging lanterns glistened with magic, or fairies, or possibly both. Briefly, she wished her sisters were there to see them.
‘Come on!’ Aurelia called from the far side of the clearing.
She laughed then, but to Phoebe’s surprise it no longer sounded irritating, just highly infectious, and within seconds she too was laughing so hard, she felt sure she might actually pop her corset.
‘It’s just a little further, so long as you’re not afraid of the dark?’ Aurelia called, disappearing down another narrow path.
Phoebe couldn’t recall ever being afraid of the dark – and was far too mesmerised by the fairies to concern herself now.
She hurried after Aurelia into the next glade, wondering if she might have misjudged her, after all.
‘In truth, it’s because of my situation ,’ Aurelia began as Phoebe joined her beneath a maple tree ‘and my marriage to the viscount on my twenty-first birthday, that I find I’m in need of a little assistance.’
‘Yes … well … as we’ve already ascertained, I know nothing on the matter that will assist you,’ Phoebe returned doubtfully, willing the glade to stop spinning. ‘But perhaps if you tell the viscount, he will?—’
‘Tell the viscount?’ Aurelia scorned. ‘He must know nothing, you little goose! Why else do you think I’m asking for your help?’
‘Well, bring the date forward, then,’ Phoebe tried again. ‘And no one need know anything at all.’
Aurelia threw her eyes skywards.
‘And why would I want to tie myself down even sooner than my parents planned?’
Phoebe frowned. It was one thing disliking the viscount, vehemently, quite another being complicit in deceiving him.
‘The truth is, there is someone who can help me, but she’s an actress, and not company I can easily keep. However, the widowed cousin of a famed actress?’ A slow smile spread across Aurelia’s face. ‘She can go wherever she pleases. All you need to do – all Mrs Mary Smith needs to do – is slip backstage at the theatre and collect a package for me. What could be easier than that?’
‘That’s all?’ Phoebe asked, willing the fairies to disappear now.
Aurelia nodded.
‘And I thought a girl seeking adventure – such as yourself – might enjoy it. Have you ever been backstage at a real theatre?’
Phoebe shook her head, and then regretted it; she’d always wanted so much to experience a real theatre.
‘Fine,’ she conceded reluctantly. ‘But then Mrs Mary Smith leaves Bath for good.’
‘As you wish!’ Aurelia nodded, her eyes gleaming. ‘Now, we really do need to go back. This way, come on.’
Inhaling deeply, Phoebe followed Aurelia through two large hydrangea bushes to find herself on a main, lantern-lit path. She felt cheered immediately, and had just turned in the direction of faint music and a small crowd, when a loud whinny distracted her.
Startled, she glanced up to spy a small shelter and a series of watchful eyes, staring back in the murky dusk.
‘Misty!’ she exclaimed joyously, before making her way across the path.
It wasn’t Misty, but a chestnut mare bearing a remarkable likeness to her Dartmoor pony, and, without hesitation, Phoebe buried her face in her homely scent, letting all thoughts of infuriating viscounts, garden fairies, and mysterious actresses slide from her mind.
‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone waiting,’ she frowned, looking around the immediate vicinity.
‘No one, at all.’ Aurelia smiled, looming up out of the dusk. ‘Plus, we’d get back twice as fast. Of course, the viscount said you might still be feeling too delicate for riding, but…’
Phoebe was astride the mare in a heartbeat; the thought of the viscount passing any such comment on her person all the encouragement she needed. She pushed her aunt’s warning from her mind, as Aurelia pulled the reins from their tether.
‘Excellent!’ Aurelia laughed in her tinkling way that always put Phoebe in mind of a ballroom chandelier. ‘I’ll follow on Diamond, who looks a little forlorn.’
Phoebe nodded, barely listening, as she turned the mare with ease. It felt so good to be back in the saddle, with stars peeping through the sky above and the soft sound of hooves beneath.
‘Really, I’ve no idea why Aunt was so against a ride,’ she muttered to herself as she reached forward to scratch the mare between the ears. ‘Riding should play a part in every convalescence.’
Which was precisely when the sound of a resounding slap filled the air.
For a briefest of moments, everything stilled, and then the mare sprang forward as though several impressive carnivores were in direct pursuit. Phoebe didn’t immediately connect the sound with the mare’s rump, or indeed, Aurelia herself, but after spending several seconds clinging to the neck of a bolting horse, she had little choice but to accept the two were highly likely to be related.
‘Get back! Move!’ she yelled to the looming crowd, with as much dignity as she could muster.
The crowd, however, seemed singularly disinterested in their impending doom. With a valiant effort, Phoebe leaned forward and shortened her reins. She was a seasoned horsewoman, but she also knew that the very worst thing she could do was force the mare into a violent halt. So instead, she drew a deep breath and reverted to one of Fred’s favourites.
‘I said … mind your lazy rumps!’ she yelled.
Happily, this time the crowd heard every word, and with a series of audible gasps, parted to let her blaze through, giving Phoebe the chance to observe two highly important things: the first was that the crowd actually appeared to be a long queue of people waiting on one side of the path; and the second was that the last of them looked disturbingly familiar.
Phoebe shrank in disbelief. Even though she was beginning to suspect the little extra ingredient in Aurelia’s snuff to be something quite different from ground tobacco and rose petals, she’d know those perfect eyebrows anywhere.
Numbly, she clung on as the horse bolted down the main path, only becoming aware of a second rider in pursuit as they approached a bridge over the canal. But the terrified mare showed no signs of slowing, even when a trio of revellers spilled out of the bushes before them. Then, just when Phoebe thought she must ride right out of the garden itself, she glimpsed a familiar party beside the lantern boats, on the canal-side below them.
‘ A walk to the lantern boats after supper sounds very agreeable.’
The echo reached through the fog in Phoebe’s head as she stared, transfixed by the silhouette of a child, dancing along the pontoon as though it were a park bench. And all at once, nothing else was important.
Without hesitating, Phoebe swerved and forced the mare into a dangerous leap, barely skimming a hedge and the outstretched branches of an old apple blossom, before landing and stumbling to a halt. Then she slipped from her back, and plunged down the bank, all thoughts of fairies and riding replaced with a stone-cold fear for her errant younger sister.
‘Matilda!’ Phoebe yelled, as an explosion of fireworks lit up the sky in such myriad colours that everyone was completely mesmerised.
Which just happened to be exactly the moment that Matilda lost her balance, and fell with a barely discernible splash, between two of the largest lantern boats. For a second, everything stilled again, and then the world loomed back in multicolour, together with a delighted cheer from the bank.
‘Phoebe!’
Matilda’s cry was barely audible as Phoebe flew towards her, a strange asphyxiation threatening her throat. Then she, too, was plunging into the black canal water, without so much as a backward glance.
Unlike Matilda, Phoebe was a strong swimmer, but she also knew the real enemy was the weight of the boats themselves, especially when tethered to the pontoon. She struck out fiercely and reached the first lantern-lit craft within seconds, before drawing a deep breath and ducking down into the long weeds beneath. The water was deep and dark, and the swaying tendrils deceptive, but she kicked and fumbled among the icy weeds until finally, her hands closed around a small arm. Then frantically, she pulled with all her strength, just as someone else loomed up beside her and began pulling too. For one confused moment she thought it was Fred, and then the only thing that mattered was reaching the surface before her chest burst.
‘Matty,’ she choked on the sweet dusk air, as two gentlemen pulled her sister’s still body from the water.
‘Matilda!’ she heard her aunt shriek. ‘What have you done, child, what have you done?!’
Then Phoebe, too, was hauled onto the narrow pontoon where she watched in a numb haze as her rescuer rolled Matilda onto her side. For a moment, there was only a deathly hush, when even the lantern boats seemed to still until, finally, there was a small cough and a splutter.
The crowd exhaled in abject relief.
‘Give her your cloaks,’ the rescuer muttered. ‘She needs comfort and warmth.’
Aunt Higglestone was beside her in a heartbeat, throwing her arms around Matilda’s limp form, before wrapping her in a dozen proffered cloaks. Then, as the crowd closed around them, he stood up.
Phoebe drew in a ragged breath. His hair was soaked, his shirt glued to his chest, and there was canal water dripping from his pantaloons. He looked every inch a Michelangelo that had been left out in the rain, yet there was no mistaking his stony expression, either.
‘ You are the original head-in-the clouds-schoolroom-chit who has run away and found out the world is nothing like the inside of a novel! Such behaviour in young ladies of quality would be reprehensible to many gentlemen with a name and reputation to protect.’
His words resonated between them as she stared, unable to believe that he was the rescuer. And that she was destined to be the object of his disapproval too. Gritting her teeth, she pulled a long piece of pond weed from her hair, acutely aware that she’d defended a right to swim in her petticoats earlier.
She drew a hollow breath.
‘Sir… I cannot thank you enough … that was…’ She faltered, unsure what to say to a glacial viscount turned unexpected rescuer, twice in a matter of weeks.
‘Anyone would have done the same, Miss Fairfax,’ he replied in a chilled tone. ‘What is perhaps less understandable, is your theft of a horse while––’
To Phoebe’s horror, he broke off to lean forward and inhale, with exactly the same expression she first saw at the roadside.
‘––under the influence, again .’
‘Then let us hope she remains as incurious as possible, for there are few things less appealing than a lady who likes her liquor.’
The injustice of his accusation was such that no heated retort or witty comeback seemed appropriate. Instead, Phoebe could only eye him with bristling resentment, as he retrieved his evening coat and squelched back up the bank.
‘Phoebe! Wrap a cloak around yourself, child, or you’ll catch your death, too!’ Aunt Higglestone fretted, suddenly beside her. ‘We’ve sent for a carriage, and the sooner we get you both home and properly warmed the better! Oh, what a thing to happen!’ she added, her voice cracking. ‘I know I mustn’t be maudlin, dearest, your uncle detests it so, but thank goodness you were nearby! And Viscount Damerel, too, what a surprise that was! I can’t imagine what we would have done if you hadn’t––’
She broke off her pink-eyed lamenting to stare as a riderless chestnut mare trotted past them, whinnying reproachfully.
Phoebe closed her eyes and exhaled, wondering what had happened to their small pleasurable excursion.
Of one thing she was certain – as soon as her aunt knew all the facts, she would ban her from outings for the rest of her woeful little life.