February 7, 1889 #2
The train whistled, signaling the next stop. Mira set her napkin on the table, ready to escape the conversation altogether.
“Only two stops left. We probably ought to get back to our compartment.”
***
The village of Combe Down sat on a ridge just south of Bath, surrounded by ample woodland and pleasant walking paths.
Aunt Eleanor’s residence, a limestone house called Davenguard, sat within a copse of trees just outside the village.
Mira’s second-floor room had a beautiful view down to the city.
She and Liza were neck deep in petticoats, hairpins, and all the other accoutrement necessary for attending the music recital that evening.
Luckily, they had plenty of time to dress at their leisure.
“You see why I need to make a good second impression, don’t you?” Mira said, having explained the terrible introduction she’d had with Byron’s family.
“I still can’t believe you would go out in public without thinking of what you were wearing.” Liza fluffed up a rat of false hair and pinned it in place on the back of Mira’s head, adding more volume.
“I wasn’t thinking at all. Which is why I can’t afford for this next meeting to go poorly.”
“Isn’t the purpose of attending this recital to gain an understanding of society in Bath?” Liza asked. “So that you and Mr. Constantine can determine the most likely suspects for the thefts? Not so you can impress the Sherards?”
“Yes, but the Sherards will be there, and I must recover from that terrible first impression.”
“Well, I shall ensure that you look the part. Proper dress and attire is crucial for these sorts of things.”
“That won’t be enough.” Mira turned to face Liza. “Is the etiquette for music programs much different here in Bath? Is there anything I should know?”
Liza laughed a little. “It isn’t anything to be worried about. Certainly, your first meeting left much to be desired, but you don’t need to overcomplicate things. Why are you so anxious?”
Mira swallowed, taking a moment to consider her words as she turned back to the mirror. She trusted Liza, but it was difficult to determine why this whole affair was so arduous for her.
“I feel like no matter what I do, I never know quite how to do it the right way. I know that there is a correct way to do it, a proper way, and yet no matter how hard I try something goes wrong.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been to several parties with you and I don’t remember seeing you.
..” Liza stopped halfway through pinning a silk lily into Mira’s hair.
“Oh, I suppose there was the time I caught you and Mr. Constantine exiting a room alone together at Sutherland’s party.
But surely, that was due to your chaperone’s negligence. ”
“We didn’t have a chaperone then. And we were in the middle of an investigation.
But to the outside eye it was entirely indiscreet.
Add to that those countless times when my hair has gone unruly, I’ve tripped over my own skirt, spilled something or said the wrong thing or been in the wrong place . . . you start to see a pattern.”
Liza stifled another laugh. “It can’t be that bad, surely.”
“I assure you that it is. And of course, I have to consider how that looks to my potential future family. The Sherards come from generations of fortune and status. My family’s fortune is quite new, and while my uncle cares a good deal about status, we often forget about propriety as it doesn’t come naturally to us. ”
A pit formed in her stomach as the words came out.
She hadn’t really voiced her insecurities in quite that way before.
At least not to someone else. In an attempt to lighten her tone, she held her hand to her forehead and said, theatrically, “I’m a hopeless case!
It seems that my years of finishing school were wasted. ”
“This really is bothering you, isn’t it?” Liza set down the brush.
Mira averted her gaze. “I don’t want to disappoint them.”
Liza set her hands on her shoulders. “And you won’t.” She picked up another flower to weave into Mira’s hair.
“The most important thing to know about music recitals in Bath, and particularly ones held in the Grand Pump Room, is that you are to be silent for the entirety of the performance. Any coughing or whispering is considered a disrespect. There are two parts, with an intermission between, and one is expected to walk for the entirety of the break, discussing the music.”
“Is that all?”
Liza nodded. “Most of the recital you will only need to look pretty and stay silent.”
Mira let out a breath. “I can do that.”
***
Mira felt as though the Sherards were staring a hole in the back of her head.
She, Walker, and the Renaldis were sitting in the third row.
Byron and his family in the fifth. And worst of all, the longer they sat listening to some pieces by Mendelssohn, the more a ticklish sensation crept up the back of her throat.
By the end of the second piece, the tickle turned into an itch, and halfway through the fifth it felt as if she was going to erupt in a series of raucous coughs.
Luckily, as she was considering how to best muffle her impending outburst with a handkerchief, the first part of the program ended and she was able to escape with dignity to an alcove outside the room before commencing her coughing fit.
Unluckily, she was spotted by an old acquaintance.
“Why, Miss Blayse! Is that you?” Maureen Harris said, her red curls bobbing as she cornered Mira who was gasping for breath. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you since, why yes, since you spilled the punch at my gala last year.” She fell into a series of tittering giggles.
Mira’s lungs recovered, her eyes watering and cheeks red as she forced herself to laugh as well. Maureen was nice enough, and it wasn’t her fault that disaster always followed Mira at social events. “Miss Harris, I didn’t know you were in Bath.”
“Since September.” A wistful expression crossed her face as she looked into the crowd. “The society here is much different to London, but I daresay it’s lively enough.”
Mira nodded. “Is your family only here for the season?”
Maureen looked away. “My Aunt Rosila Callan refused to be too far from the sea because of her health, you understand. Not that it helped her.” She sighed.
“And now that I’m under the guardianship of Admiral Hoddle, he doesn’t want to move.
I’m afraid that Bath is where I will stay, at least until my trust is available next year when I turn twenty-one. ”
Mira’s eyes widened. She knew that Maureen’s mother had died in childbirth, but she’d spoken with Mr. Harris at the gala the previous February. Had something happened to him? And to her aunt? “Miss Harris, I didn’t realize . . .”
“It was a quiet affair,” Maureen said. “And I don’t wish to speak of it, if you don’t mind.”
“I understand,” Mira said. “I am sorry though.”
“Me too.” Maureen looped her arm through Mira’s and turned towards the crowd. “But enough about that. What about you? What brings you to Bath?”
“I’m here with the Renaldis. My brother is soon to be engaged to Miss Liza Renaldi, and they invited us down.”
“How splendid! And when did you arrive?”
“Just this morning.”
“Why then, you haven’t had the opportunity to scout the society circles. Allow me to help.”
She turned, pulling Mira along to a vantage point behind a potted tree that didn’t do much to hide them.
She made a vague gesture towards an older man in naval uniform with grey mutton chops and a pleasant expression.
He held a drink, laughing at something one of the porters had said, slapping him on the back.
“That is Admiral Hoddle. He was good friends with my father, which is why my guardianship fell to him. He, unfortunately, has no sense when it comes to good connections, but has at least acquainted himself with the Risewells since coming here.” She pointed to a group of four people, two men and two women.
“Mr. Risewell’s fortune might only span a few generations back, but rumor has it that he is one of the richest men in England at the moment.
” She gestured to the younger woman, who wore a light blue evening dress and had gorgeous honey-colored hair.
“Thus, his only daughter, Theresia, is one of the most eligible debutantes in Bath at the moment. She has as many as two to five suitors at any time, though she never shows much interest in them. Currently, there are two in the running. Silas Treadway is the one doting on her now.”
The man in question had dark brown hair and light skin. It was hard to tell his age at a distance, but Mira would guess he was around thirty. He smiled as he spoke out of the side of his mouth, obviously feeling clever about whatever it was he was saying. Theresia was unaffected.
“The other,” Maureen continued, gesturing to a young man standing off on his own with black hair and a beard, “is Bertie Corbet, of the Shropshire Corbets, you know.”
Mira didn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“It’s unfortunate that your party didn’t arrive until this evening. Why, I’m sure if you had come yesterday the Risewells would have offered you an invitation to their ball tomorrow evening. By the way, that’s Catherine Meredeth over there. She and her brother—”
Maureen continued after that fashion, pointing out each family she deemed important, from Reverend Knott and his four spinster daughters, to Dr. George Sherbrooke Turpin and his second wife who had recently moved into the neighborhood.
The topic of conversation briefly shifted to the construction of the museum for the Roman ruins and how much it had changed social gatherings, before Maureen abruptly changed the topic again.