Chapter 8 #3
“That was Madame Necker from France. She said that some swear by anise or cardamom to flavor the waters. Others say we must bring orange confit to overcome the taste. As for her, she uses sugared cinnamon sticks.” Hannah looked at her still-full cup doubtfully, then shook her head.
“I do not think I can do it, even with the cinnamon. Not even with all the sugar in the world.”
“What was she saying about those ivory markers?” Amy asked as their father called for her to come and assist him up the steps again.
“It is to count the cups of water.”
“Papa,” Amy said, taking his arm, “we must purchase some ivory counters for you. In that way you may count the number of glasses you drink each day.”
“An excellent idea.” He patted her hand. “In any event, it would be judicious to procure ivory before the next full moon, as it will increase my clairvoyance. The counters will serve the purpose very well.”
Amy helped him up the stairs and into the carriage, wondering where she could find one of those counters for him. Not for clairvoyance, but his movements appeared to be even more stiff than usual, and he did require relief for his joints.
It was not long before the progression of visitors rejoined their carriages, then made the slow and arduous journey down the hill toward town.
Mr. Bridwell said there were other sources to try, such as the Géronstère, but that would be for a different day.
For this small mercy, Amy could only send up thanks.
Her gratitude at having finished the morning excursion increased as the amount of water she had drunk began to press.
She clutched her knees together, wondering how long it would take before they arrived at the hotel, and tried to distract her mind by thinking of something else.
After all, even if their horse were not a plodder and the path not so rocky, they would be just as hemmed in as they were now.
The road was not wide enough for any one carriage to overtake another.
Training her mind on other things only worked for so long before the need had grown too urgent, and she looked around wildly, searching for a solution.
The entire chain of carriages came to a sudden stop, and she was almost desperate enough to call out to the driver to ask what had happened.
That was when she looked through the window and saw first one woman, then another, running over to the bushes to relieve themselves.
She glanced at Hannah, whose eyes widened.
“I don’t care,” Amy announced. “I am going too.”
Her father climbed out of the carriage, allowing her to alight, then went the opposite direction, where the men were headed.
She hurried to the bushes and wished she had worn a gown made of a sturdier linen than the one she had on now, which might be ripped by the branches.
Could they buy some of those peasant dresses the way they bought the shoes?
Not as coarse as the Princess Orlova’s, but perhaps that of a maid’s?
It seemed others had done so. Her thoughts touched on this briefly, but she was mainly weak with relief that she had had the chance to answer nature’s call.
Feeling considerably lighter and almost happy, Amy strolled back to the line of carriages, looking past them to the countryside and wooded hills in the distance that flanked Spa.
It was cold, but the surroundings were very fine, and she took a moment to appreciate them.
It was the first moment of the day that her thoughts weren’t hovering around James, and it was exactly what she had needed.
She turned to look downhill, focusing on a solitary gentleman riding against the current of carriages, his horse picking its way up the rocky incline. His figure seemed familiar, and her eyes narrowed when she realized it was James. As he approached, her heart kicked up a beat.
Helpless to resist greeting him, Amy came to a halt, although she should now be treating him as a formal acquaintance.
A glimpse of how fine he looked on horseback only caused her pain, for he was no longer hers to admire.
To seal her misery, he must certainly have guessed what she was doing outside of the carriage.
He reined in and smiled down at her. “Your first experience of taking the waters?”
She nodded, then added wryly, “Along with all of its consequences.”
This made him laugh. “How did you like the water from the Sauvenière?”
She could have answered truthfully that it was dreadful, but he would already know that, and she had grown weary of stiff, cautious speech.
He was to marry someone else, and she was to continue on with her life.
It sparked a certain recklessness in her to respond flippantly and hide her true feelings.
She would not let him think she was wearing the willow for him.
“Why, sir—I have never tasted anything more delightful.” She arched her brow.
He smiled again, his eyes crinkling in the way she remembered. “Try the Groesbeek source behind the Sauvenière, only a few feet away. It’s lighter in taste and equally as beneficial, although quite cold.” Then he waved and continued uphill.
She stopped to catch her breath and let the rhythm of her heart settle into something more normal, successfully resisting the urge to turn her head and follow his progress with her eyes. Their days of backward glances were over.