Chapter 5
TORCHES BLAZED AND gas lamps flickered their orange light on the slick brick street in front of the Clancy Assembly Rooms. For as far as Ella could see, carriage lamps illuminated the row of black carriages, shiny from the evening’s drizzle.
Pungent scents of smoke and fish drifted from the nearby Thames River and mingled with the raindrops, and a general hum of excited energy surged in the night’s atmosphere.
Ella stepped from the Hawthorne carriage, ignoring how the damp air chilled the bare skin of her arms. She gathered the thin muslin skirt of her gown, now limp from the air’s moisture, and hurried to follow Phoebe through the main entrance.
At the beginning of the season, Ella had attended this assembly room with Mr. Rawlston, and she’d portrayed confidence and happiness. They had just announced their engagement, and their fellow guests were eager to offer congratulations to the well-known, affable young man and his soon-to-be bride.
How different it all was now. Not only was she the marked woman, the result of a broken engagement, but she would also meet face-to-face the very man she was trying so desperately to avoid. Mr. Bauer.
As she stepped farther into the vestibule, curious stares were cast in her direction from both ladies and gentlemen alike. Were they feeling sorry for her? Wondering if the rumors about her were true?
Phoebe, clad in a gown of shimmery lilac gauze, with her hair forced into curls and piled atop her head, was blissfully unaffected as she looped her gloved hand through Ella’s arm. “Do not give any of them a second thought. Tonight will be delightful. You’ll see.”
Ella nodded, simultaneously wishing she could share her friend’s optimism and inhaling deeply to bolster herself.
As uncomfortable as she was, there was no denying the magical quality of the lively dancing music and the conversation’s energetic hum once she entered the ballroom.
She joined the mass of people, all searching for a place to stand or watch.
She smiled apologetically at a young man who inadvertently bumped her shoulder, and she aided a woman who dropped her reticule.
The loud, buoyant music impeded any sort of serious conversation, and she rose to the tips of her toes to locate the tearoom’s entrance.
The image of tall, awkward Abraham Abernathy flashed in her mind, and Ella tried to envision him in this environment.
“It’s so stuffy in here.” Phoebe tightened her arm around Ella’s and leaned close. “Come, let’s go to the tearoom and find Mr. Bauer. He told me that Mr. Clancy has permitted him to do demonstrations there.”
Together they left the only partly watchful eye of Mrs. Nolting, their chaperone, and wound their way through the dense crowd, weaving around clusters of people and waiting for the dancing to shift so they could make their way through.
The tearoom, which was usually set with elegant tables and light refreshments, had been transformed. It was every bit as crowded as the other chambers, but it was oddly quiet, save for the echo of music, voices, and laughter reverberating from the ballroom.
“There he is!” Phoebe said softly. “There, on the platform.”
Everything else faded as Ella locked her eyes on Thomas Bauer.
His broad back was to them, obscuring his face.
A plump woman in saffron organza was seated before him with her brunette locks loose over her shoulders.
His thick hands were placed on each side of her head, and periodically he’d whisper something to a young man next to him. He must be in the midst of a reading.
Curiosity seized Ella. She’d read everything she could find about phrenology, but she’d never actually witnessed a phrenological assessment being performed.
As Ella watched his hands glide over the lady’s head, doubt crept in.
Phrenology had gained popularity in several cities on the Continent.
Many well-educated, critically minded people embraced the study, and judging by the comments around her, those gathered were captivated.
What if she’d been wrong all along and it was a viable practice?
“Isn’t it amazing?” whispered Phoebe excitedly. “Come on. Let’s move closer.”
As they approached, Mr. Bauer pivoted and his features came into focus.
He was easily one of the tallest men in the room and cut an imposing figure, with a shock of black hair streaked with gray at the temples and side-whiskers.
His square face was flushed—due, no doubt, to the chamber’s exceptional heat and abundance of candles—with thick black brows, a strong, hooked nose, and thick lips.
“He’s quite entertaining.” Phoebe’s adoring gaze did not waver. “And so insightful. Just wait until you see what he can deduce about this lady.”
Mr. Bauer continued to move his hands methodically—mesmerizingly—over the woman’s head. Ella recognized the patterns he employed. In phrenology the head’s surface was divided into sections, and the size and shape of each section was said to give insight into a specific personality trait.
After several moments, Mr. Bauer stepped away from the woman, took the notes from the man assisting him, and, after reviewing them, turned to the crowd.
“Mrs. Whetham,” his deep voice boomed, “can you please confirm to these good people that you and I are not acquainted and that I know nothing of your character or life?”
Mrs. Whetham toyed with the glittering topaz pendant at her neck and, almost like a coquettish schoolgirl, blushed. “Of course not, Mr. Bauer. I’ve never met you before this night.”
“Then I will rely on those of you present who are well acquainted with Mrs. Whetham to confirm the validity of my assessment. Based on my findings, I can attest that Mrs. Whetham has a very calm disposition and is rarely incited to anger. If she does rise to anger, injustice or mistreatment of the less fortunate is certainly the cause. Even though she has the propensity to feel emotions very deeply, she displays valiant self-moderation and controls them admirably. Loyalty is perhaps her strongest virtue, and her awareness of the needs of others often guides her generous actions. I suspect she is quieter than she is outspoken—she listens more than she speaks—and she is limited in what she shares with others.”
Hushed whispers circled the crowd, followed by a burst of applause.
Surprised at the report’s brevity and the trivial nature of the qualities addressed, Ella joined in the clapping.
Next to her, Phoebe applauded the demonstration emphatically. A deep rose stained her cheeks, and her chestnut-brown eyes shone with such brilliance that Ella feared her friend might cry.
Still unsure of what to make of the spectacle she had just witnessed, Ella observed the chamber. Even more onlookers had gathered, drawn no doubt by the thunderous acclamation.
The scene sparked recollections of the notes in her mother’s journal—that phrenologists were using such amusing demonstrations to bring attention to the discipline.
The problem was that the phrenologists were bending their findings to depict their specimens in the most favorable light, and what was more, they were even accepting payments to use phrenology as a means to mold a person’s image.
This had been her mother’s fear—that the science and anatomical truths associated with phrenology, if they indeed existed, would devolve to nothing more than a parlor trick.
With each moment that passed, Ella’s discomfort grew, and after Mr. Bauer finished speaking with some of the guests, he approached Phoebe.
At first he didn’t seem to notice Ella. His attention was focused entirely on Phoebe, and his expression, which until this point had been distinguished, lightened to one much more flirtatious. “Miss Hawthorne! What a pleasure to see you. I hoped you would be here tonight.”
Phoebe curtsied prettily and extended her hand. “You know I’d never miss a demonstration of yours if it could be helped.”
He touched his fingertips to her gloved ones and bowed low, then leaned closer to her. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I always enjoy your demonstrations. But see? I’ve a surprise for you. Someone you’ve long wanted to meet.”
He raised his thick dark brows. “Oh?”
Ella straightened her posture and lifted her chin.
Beaming, Phoebe pivoted toward her. “May I present my very dear friend, Miss Eleanor Wilde of Keatley Hall.”
Mr. Bauer jerked. He stared at her, and then a captivated smile quirked his full lips, as if he were assessing a rare jewel. “Why, this cannot be! Miss Wilde, Mrs. Leonora Wilde’s daughter. Of course, I would know you anywhere.”
Ella ignored the statement as a mere nicety, for indeed she bore no physical resemblance to her mother. She curtsied. “Good evening, sir.”
As much as she attempted to downplay the situation and avoid drawing any attention, Mr. Bauer seemed to grow larger before her eyes.
His baritone voice boomed in the vast chamber and echoed from the ornately plastered ceiling.
“Oh, it is my most delighted pleasure! All these years I have wondered about you. Indeed I have! There now, I see the disbelief in your eyes, but you forget, your mother was a friend of mine.” Mr. Bauer lifted his gaze to glance around the chamber. “Is your father present tonight?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ella responded. “He remains at Keatley Hall.”
“Meeting you, then, must be enough to tide me.”
Someone called his name, and he looked back over his shoulder.
“If my time were my own, I would spend every moment with you ladies, but it is not. I have promised more assessments, and what better way to share my passion for this theory than to share it with the world, eh?” He bowed, ostentatiously low and formal, his eyes fixed firmly on Phoebe’s. “Perhaps later we might speak again.”
As quickly as he had joined them, he was absorbed back with the others.
Nothing he said would be considered inappropriate or unfriendly. Indeed, everything had happened as politely and smoothly as possible.
Ella told herself not to let her predetermined opinions interfere, especially if he was to be her dearest friend’s beau, but the stilted display she’d witnessed made her even more concerned.
She had hoped that meeting him in person would change her mind for Phoebe’s sake, but what she had seen did little to calm her nerves.