Chapter 17
The following morning dawned bright and clear, which made Flora’s foul mood all the fouler.
She usually did not expect Nature herself to bend to human feelings, but in this case, the chirpiness of the birds and the clarity of the streaming sunlight were obscenely at odds with the general malaise that hung over Plas Tan and its guests.
Flora encountered several specimens clutching at their aching heads when she ventured downstairs for breakfast. Most were only drinking cups of strong tea, but a few brave souls were picking at the toast and eggs.
The only person who appeared fresh and unaffected by the disastrous bonfire fête was Verbena. She sat at the long dining table, nibbling at a muffin and chatting with an ailing artist whom Flora recalled dabbled in portraiture.
“Ah!” Verbena lit up at Flora’s appearance, her cheeks matching the pink walking dress she wore.
“I was just telling Madame Le Brun here it’s the perfect day to bathe in the sea.
Anne says the waters are wonderfully bracing, and she’s already sent for the local bathing machine.
It should arrive before long! Would you care to take a dip, Flora? ”
Flora caught a look from Madame Le Brun that seemed to indicate she, at least, would rather stuff her poor head under a pillow and sleep the remainder of the day away.
Flora could sympathize. Though she had not overindulged in drink the night before as everyone else had, she was still feeling tender from the farcical in-and-out appearances as both William and herself.
Verbena clearly wished to act as if nothing had happened, but something had. Flora still couldn’t believe that Verbena had tried to foist William on her when it was so obviously Verbena who needed to be with him. Her.
Oh, it was headache inducing, to say the least.
Flora rubbed her fingertips along her aching temples. “I’m not sure I could. I’m not myself today.”
“All the more reason to take to the sea!” Verbena insisted.
Beside her, Madame Le Brun flinched at her volume.
Verbena continued, heedless of the pain she was inflicting.
“It clears the mind and soothes the body. Most problems, I find, can be solved with the judicious application of water in some form.” Her smile held a beseeching edge to it that, despite their argumentative conversation of the previous night, made Flora weak.
“I’ve never gone for a swim,” Flora said.
“I might not take to it at all.” This was a slight dissembling.
While it was true that Flora Witcombe had never been swimming, William certainly had.
In rivers and lakes, he had swum naked as an otter with his brothers and university friends.
Of course, that had been a boyhood lark, done in relative privacy.
Bathing in the nude here was completely out of the question, as was being trapped in a tiny bathing machine with a gaggle of ladies.
Flora couldn’t imagine changing into a thin shift in front of anyone, save perhaps Miles.
Oh, poor Miles! She hadn’t spared a thought for her friend’s health that morning. She sat heavily on the bench opposite Verbena at the dining table. What sort of friend was she?
“The machine will only take us far enough for the water to come up to our necks,” Verbena said, heedless of Flora’s internal castigation. “And besides, the dipper will be there to assist if you need it. They’re strong, these ladies. They won’t let you drown.”
Flora helped herself to a subdued piece of toast and began eating it dry. “Has there been any word from Miles? Perhaps I should go into town and see how he’s faring.”
There was a clatter as Verbena dropped her teaspoon against her saucer.
Several guests groaned at the noise, clutching at their heads up and down the long table.
Verbena had the grace to wince apologetically at the assembled before answering.
“I’m sure he’s all right,” she said. “étienne wouldn’t allow anything to happen to him.
There’s no need to worry.” Her words were clipped as she poured herself more tea.
How strange. Verbena seemed as upset as Flora was about Miles’s injury, but in a different direction. Was she actually angry with the man for being burned? It wasn’t as if he’d asked for it.
Flora tore her piece of toast into smaller and smaller pieces, letting them pile on her plate. Perhaps bathing in the sea with Verbena would do them both good—it would, at the very least, allow them a chance to speak within the private confines of the machine.
But what was she thinking! It was preposterous to even consider. She couldn’t be in a state of undress in front of Verbena, not before she explained her dual nature. And she couldn’t do that if Verbena failed to hold some sort of affection for both halves of her.
She flicked her gaze across the table. Verbena was stirring her tea with unnecessary vigor, the spoon clanging against the sides of the teacup in a way that made Madame Le Brun groan. The lady rose from the table with a hard look at Verbena.
“I am going back to bed,” she announced.
“I wish you luck, Miss Montrose, in trying to find anyone at Plas Tan who is amenable to your seaside scheme. Lord knows they’d have to be made of steel to stomach you.
” And with that, she took her leave, groping at the doorframe to support herself as she exited.
Flora stared at the doorway through which Madame Le Brun had left, then back at Verbena. Verbena laid her spoon quietly upon its saucer. The tea sat untouched.
“That was unaccountably rude of Madame Le Brun,” Flora said to her. “You weren’t the one pouring punch down her throat last night. She has no right to be angry with you.”
Verbena managed a smile, though it was not at all happy. “She’s quite correct, though. If even you will not accompany me, I doubt anyone else will.” She sighed through her nose, gaze fixed on her cup. “That’s all right. I should not bully you, or anyone else, into doing as I like.”
A pang shot through Flora. She rose from the table.
At first Verbena watched her with wide, betrayed eyes, no doubt thinking she was going to leave as well, but Flora only rounded the long table and took the spot so recently vacated next to her.
She dropped her voice into the barest whisper.
“Truthfully? I would love to go bathing today. It’s only—I can be quite shy.
” She shrugged a shoulder. “And as I’ve said, I’ve never used a bathing machine.
It fills me with anxiety to think of the mechanics of the thing. ”
She had only seen these machines from afar in Brighton.
They were, in essence, wooden sheds that sat perched atop a set of carriage wheels.
A folded canvas shade was fastened where a carriage driver would normally sit.
Once loaded with bathers, they were driven into the water so that one might swim without the indignity of flopping about in plain view of everyone on the beach.
Yet they seemed rickety and ripe for uncomfortable closeness.
Verbena’s whole countenance blossomed. “Of course, I should have realized. If you are shy, I will turn my back when the time comes, and we two can change into our bathing costumes very quickly. The machine will give us the utmost privacy whilst we bathe, as well. It is an altogether civilized affair, I promise.”
“And it will be just the two of us?” Flora asked.
She could imagine nothing worse than another lady tagging along at the last moment and ruining any chance to speak of private matters.
And Flora did want to speak of private matters—perhaps not the entire truth, as she had no desire to reveal herself to the woman she loved in untoward (and unclothed) circumstances, but she did want to press Verbena on the matter of William.
There had been a spark between them, she was almost certain, if only Verbena would admit it.
Verbena grinned, wide and true. “You and I and no one else.”
The bathing machine arrived as promised by midmorning.
Flora stood at her window and watched the contraption trundle across the grounds, heading along a worn path that led down to the beach.
She clutched a plain muslin shift in her hands.
Anne had given it to her, saying it was the best sort of bathing costume a lady could have.
It would cover Flora from throat to toe with hardly any flesh exposed.
And yet, with only the one layer, which would soon be soaked with seawater, she would be more vulnerable than she ever had been.
At least with Miles, the cloakroom had been dark and the final layer of underthings had remained in place.
Flora took a deep breath and stuffed the shift into a woven bag that already held a bath sheet and other necessities. She would be brave. There was no other path to happiness. She left the manor and walked toward the shore.
Verbena was already waiting at the appointed place where the rocky earth gave way to the black sand. She wore a beautiful bonnet with a clutch of fluffy white feathers pinned to one side, which swayed in the breeze like grasping fingers.
“The dipper says this is about the best weather one could hope for!” she said as Flora came nearer.
Flora shot a look toward the machine, which sat at the very edge of the water. A middle-aged woman wearing a headscarf stood up to her ankles in the surf, tending to the horse. Having finished her examination of the harness, she turned to them.
“All right, ladies,” said the attendant in her Welsh drawl. “In you go. Calm seas today.” Her gruff demeanor and strong, bulky physique put Flora in the mind of a champion pugilist, if pugilists assisted ladies up rickety steps with a firm hand.
Inside, the bathing machine was dark and cramped. There was only one small window at eye level set into the door they’d come through. Low wooden benches were built into either side with a high shelf near the ceiling.