Chapter 22
In the days that passed following Mr. Lambert’s imposition upon Marianne, a change seemed to have come about in the family.
For one thing, their father had become more solicitous, asking if the girls planned to take their maid if they were going out.
It did no good to tell him it truly wasn’t necessary for short excursions in the town itself, for he had become suddenly protective, sending both the maid and his vial of witch hazel to ward off persons with evil intention.
He also absented himself from their rooms less often, but Amy wasn’t sure this was a good thing.
It was only when he was distracted by philosophical arguments, such as whether birds ought to be classified by their spiritual inclinations or whether Vesuvius had been a wrathful mountain or merely a subjugated one, that he could forget his own affliction.
It also meant he was not out walking as much as he should be, which James had recommended him to do.
Their father’s solicitude touched Amy, but she began to appreciate just how much his harmless diversions kept him happy and sane. When he focused on those, he remained jovial. Without them, he tended to fret and grow ill-humored.
At least, Amy thought, there were the baths.
He refused to say definitively whether they were helping.
She thought they were, but with how little he moved out of their rooms, she feared his joints were growing stiff, thereby counteracting the good effects.
She ought to talk to James but felt reluctant to reach out to a betrothed man, even if he were a family friend and her father’s physician.
Amy knocked on Marianne’s door and entered. Her room was in the back of the hotel as Amy’s was, and she sat at the window, staring through it. Amy went over to sit on the bed, her eyes on Marianne.
“Are you well?” She could not help but worry, for her usually animated sister had become withdrawn, as though transformed into a different person.
Marianne raised her eyes to Amy, then lowered them with a sigh. “I am simply angry at myself for being so naive. I was taken in by a man who had appeared cordial and disinterested in all but my talent, only to have him reveal himself as the worst kind of scoundrel.”
“Anyone could have been fooled by him,” Amy assured her. “Many with more years than you still are.”
Marianne swiped at a tear that had fallen in an angry gesture. “I will never again fall prey to such a man.”
Amy went over and threw her arms around her, murmuring into her hair, “I know you won’t.”
After a moment, Marianne pulled back to meet Amy’s regard. “I will regain my composure more easily once we leave Spa and I need not fear to run into him at every turn.”
Amy’s heart sank. Leaving would be for the best. She knew it would.
For one thing, she would not have to see James marry.
It would also save Marianne from the discomfort of Mr. Lambert’s presence.
Still, it would be hard to leave James again, even when they were not meant to be together. It hurt just to contemplate it.
“It appears Papa has not changed his mind about leaving early, so I believe you will have your wish.”
“He is of that mind today,” Marianne replied with a glimmer of her usual smile.
Although it did indeed seem that they would continue to Paris and Aix within the week, it was never a settled matter.
Sometimes Mr. Bridwell spoke of staying on a while since they were comfortably situated.
But then he recalled that Spa was damp and therefore injurious, although Amy did not find it so.
Her father tended to shift his opinion according to the time of day, and Amy could never be quite sure what he truly wished to do.
Marianne glanced at her trunk, which was partially packed. “When Papa comes home in the mornings, he declares the baths to be beneficial, but by the time we have dinner, he has forgotten about his pronouncement and says his joints are worse than ever and the baths are having no effect.”
“Only time will tell, I suppose.” Amy gave her another hug and promised to bring her tea.
That night, as they all sat together in the parlor, Hannah was more direct. “Papa, I wish you will tell us whether the treatment is working. Will we stay in Spa and go directly to Paris as originally planned?”
“I am inclined to think it is not,” he said, after a considering moment.
Hannah shot Amy a look. Privately, she had poured out her fears that if they headed straight for Aix-en-Provence or even Spain, which Mr. Bridwell had not ruled out, they might not spend any time in Paris at all.
“And I do not know why Mr. Fletcher does not pay me a visit,” he continued. “He should do so apart from my treatments at the baths. After all, he is acting as my physician.”
“I do not know,” Amy said, swallowing a lump of misery. James likely did not come because of her. It was only natural that he must cut off his past life so he could build on his future.
“I believe we must leave here when the week is over, especially now that Marianne fears to enter society where she might see that blackguard.” Mr. Bridwell’s face went dark for a moment, before his look brightened.
“Besides, I have always longed to visit Aix-en-Provence, and it must be a vastly more agreeable bathing town with its warm weather. No, I am quite determined we shall remove there as planned. We shall leave on the fifteenth, for the winds are to be in alignment on that day.”
Amy did not remind him that a detour to Aix-en-Provence was not actually what had been planned. Apart from Spa, they had not sought accommodations anywhere but in Paris and Rome. Hannah looked mutinous at his mention of skipping Paris and stalked out of the room.
Early in the afternoons, Amy went to spend time with the Princess Orlova, Anastasia, and Pavel.
This diversion proved to be a happy one, for heavy rains kept them indoors for several days in a row.
She enjoyed the hours spent helping the family with their English, despite knowing that whatever instruction she delivered in their short time together would bring little advancement.
The princess treated her with an amazing degree of cordiality, a memory Amy would always cherish fondly.
Only in Spa could she meet such interesting people from all over the Continent, who accepted her with warmth no matter the difference in station.
Only here could she enjoy the healthful waters and backdrop of nature while also enjoying diverse society of a more comfortable size than what was found in London.
She would have been content with her days in Spa were it not for their looming departure, and of course her continual heartache over James—one she was now convinced she would take to her grave.
Mr. Bridwell and Hannah had returned from having tea at La Redoute by the time Amy finished her lesson with the princess.
Their father sat down to read a copy of the Liège Gazette, which contained everything of interest in Spa and its surrounding areas—anything of note that had to do with les bobelins.
“Well, what do you know? Fletcher is no longer engaged to that Miss Prexley creature,” he said, looking at Amy. “She has ended their betrothal saying they do not suit. What do you think of that?”
Amy was sorting through a stack of books, and she dropped the one she had been holding. She bent down to retrieve it, feeling her face flush a deep red.
Marianne and Hannah shared a look, with Hannah sparing Amy’s need to answer by saying, “Indeed!”
Amy’s heart thudded against her chest, and her mouth went dry. He was free, then? Was he . . . sad? He must have been, or he would have visited her, would he not have?
Her father continued, “I suppose it is all for the best. Fletcher is an intelligent man, and Miss Prexley appears to be less gifted in that domain. Ah well.”
Hannah’s gaze returned to Amy, her eyes lit with sisterly understanding. “He is well out of that affair, I believe.”
Amy licked her lips and averted her eyes to the pile of books. She was used to keeping her feelings hidden, but now she felt on display. Her face flamed, her arms tense at her sides, and she had to clutch the book on her lap to keep her fingers from trembling.
Fortunately, Mr. Bridwell expected no answer, for he had received a letter from Mrs. Waiting in that day’s correspondence.
He slit the seal and began reading, stopping to sip from a glass of warmed wine.
He continued his perusal, then let out an exclamation of surprise. Amy turned to see what news he had.
“Why, here is more news about Fletcher,” he said.
Wordlessly Amy waited for him to continue, and he held the letter up. “Mrs. Waiting writes of James, although in this case the news is not propitious. His great-aunt died and has left the entirety of her fortune to the eldest son.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open. Oh, poor James. How that must have hurt. He did not have a particularly close relationship with his family, but to be cut out of the inheritance like that?
“But that is natural, is it not?” Hannah asked.
James had once confided in Amy that the expectation had always been his and explained why, but this was not public knowledge.
She wondered if he had received the news by now and was sure he must have.
It caused a small ache in her heart that he would be overlooked in such a way.
Could that have caused the broken engagement?
“It would be natural,” Mr. Bridwell replied, “except Mrs. Waiting writes that the younger Fletcher was supposed to receive the inheritance, for Mrs. Twinem did not like their father and did not want her fortune incorporated into the Fletcher estate. Mrs. Fletcher had let it slip that since James’s birth, the expectation had always been that he would have it.
And now everyone in Charing is talking of it. ”