Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Eight weeks and suspecting the captain until the wedding
‘A nd it wasn’t even in the least bit heroic!’ Phoebe groaned as their smaller carriage pulled up at the Sydney Hotel, behind their aunt and uncle’s comfortable chaise.
She’d recounted the full agony of the Assembly Ball, while Josephine and Matilda were safely ensconced with their kindly relatives, and Sophie was suitably horrified.
‘Which bit? The Ball? The questions? The kiss?’ she asked faintly. ‘At least it was an adventure I suppose…’
‘I never kissed the mop-head!’ Phoebe protested. ‘Though he did get a little too close for comfort.’
She closed her eyes and shuddered.
‘I’ve no idea why the universe keeps sending all the codfish my way, but it’s the kind of adventure I can be doing without!’
Sophie’s lips twitched as she eyed her sister with concern.
‘And the viscount was there … but he didn’t recognise you?’
‘He was too busy being disagreeable to the disagreeable marchioness! ’ Phoebe retorted, taking care not to look her sister in the eye.
The whole evening had been a disaster, but it was the viscount’s appearance that had occupied her thoughts since waking. While his attendance at the same Assembly Ball in Bath was regrettable, his appearance in a highly embarrassing situation not of her making felt misfortunate indeed. Her only consolation was that he seemed too preoccupied with protecting his betrothed from scandal, to notice that Mrs Smith was the same hare-brained simpleton he’d found on the roadside a few weeks before.
A dull flush reached across her cheeks as she conjured his overbearing displeasure. He seemed to have a unique ability to agitate the most peculiar mix of emotions, and currently she was unsure if she felt more chagrin, disappointment or relief.
‘So, now what?’ Sophie asked, pursing her lips.
‘Well, Mrs Mary Smith has clearly taken the polite world by storm, so the possibilities are endless…’ Phoebe rolled her eyes.
‘That was never the intention!’ Sophie laughed. ‘Besides, this arrived for you this morning.’
Phoebe stared as her sister handed over a thick, cream-coloured envelope with beautiful ornate lettering. She didn’t recognise the hand, but for some reason she knew the sender right away.
‘It came just before we left. I took it directly from the hall table and I don’t think Aunt or Uncle noticed.’
‘Mrs Mary Smith,’ Phoebe frowned, just as the carriage door was yanked open.
‘Hurry up, you two! Or we’ll miss the picnic!’ Matilda danced, whirling around in front of the gated entrance to The Grand Georgian Hotel.
‘Hush now, dear,’ their aunt fussed. ‘There’s plenty of time! And do tie your pelisse, though it is so unseasonably warm I do believe we may be able to promenade without… What do you think, dearest?’ she asked Uncle Higglestone, who was still immersed in a smuggled copy of the Bath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette .
‘Oh, yes, quite, quite,’ he mumbled absent-mindedly. ‘Though perhaps we’d best not throw all caution to the wind, lest the girls wish to see the fireworks, or Merlin Swing?’
‘Ooh, yes! I wish to see all of it!’ Matilda grinned, her eyes wide with excitement.
‘Maybe a walk to the lantern boats after supper, too?’ Phoebe smiled, glancing at the busy entrance to the dusky garden.
Josephine had read the Bath’s Royal Pleasure Gardens pamphlet aloud numerous times over the past few days, so Phoebe could readily understand Matilda’s excitement. The gardens were unlike anywhere any of them had ever been before, with entertainers, a bandstand, a Grecian Temple, an assortment of classical ruins, and numerous lantern-lit nooks and pathways.
‘A walk to the lantern boats after supper sounds very agreeable.’ Her aunt nodded approvingly. ‘Now, then, girls,’ she said, regrouping their small party inside the entrance. ‘While the picnic is by invitation only, the gardens themselves remain public , and there is always the chance of crossing paths with an undesirable .’
She enunciated the last word very carefully while shaking out her new ivory parasol and giving the busy gardens one of her suspicious looks.
‘Don’t worry, Aunt,’ Matilda placated, ‘Phoebe is an old hand when it comes to undesirables, did you know she once fought?—’
‘Where is the picnic, exactly?’ Phoebe interjected, taking hold of her sister’s arm and propelling her swiftly towards a miniature ruin with water cascading over its cracked walls.
‘Have you seen this?’
‘But I was just––’
‘Matilda!’ Phoebe remonstrated as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘How many times do I have to remind you? There must be no mention of highwaymen, duels, trousers, card games, wig powder, or anything else vaguely incriminating!’
‘That list is too long!’ Matilda returned, scowling.
‘Oh, it’s so pretty,’ Sophie chimed in loudly, peering closely at the ruin. ‘... Or devil’s brew, or questions about what men are born with,’ she added under her breath, making Matilda scowl even harder.
‘I don’t see why…,’ she objected.
‘Well, if it isn’t the intrepid pirates!’ a new jovial voice exclaimed. ‘Although, there appears to be no swordplay among you this evening, only a host of delightful young ladies ready to enjoy the Sydney Gardens spring picnic. What a happy coincidence! Captain Elliot Damerel at your service, Miss Fairfax and Miss…’
‘Fairfax – they’re all Fairfaxes!’ Aunt Higglestone beamed, bustling forward.
‘Good evening, Captain, and Viscount Damerel, too! What a pleasure! I do recall your mentioning you might be here this eve, and it is delightful to make your further acquaintances. May I present Miss Phoebe Fairfax, Miss Sophie Fairfax, Miss Josephine Fairfax, and Miss Matilda Fairfax, my wonderful nieces!’
Phoebe straightened instantly, relieved to find herself behind a wall of excitable sisters, amid the clamour of greetings. She inhaled deeply. To cross paths with the viscount at the modiste’s and Assembly Ball was unlucky enough, but to run into him again at a garden picnic felt an injustice of the highest order.
She raised her eyes reluctantly, taking in the brothers’ gleaming Hessian boots, spotless pantaloons and fitted coats of superfine cloth before reaching their faces – one filled with mirth, the other seemingly devoid of anything at all. The viscount regarded her directly, and she felt a brief rise of agitation, wondering what part of a spring family picnic a disdainful viscount could possibly find of interest.
‘And of course, you remember Mr Higglestone? From the races?’
Clearly, neither had any such recollection of the owlish Uncle Higglestone, who’d found himself on the receiving end of one of Aunt Higglestone’s sharpest prods, but were too polite to say so.
‘But of course! It is a pleasure to meet you again, Mr Higglestone, and all the very fair Miss Fairfaxes too,’ the captain responded.
Phoebe watched the pleasantries being exchanged, feeling as though her stomach was already aboard the Merlin Swing. Even if the viscount hadn’t seen through her disguise at the Assembly Ball, it was clear he still thought her a hoydenish miss – while the captain was a prime suspect for Aurelia’s spot of bother .
‘We have a party bent on pleasure this evening, Viscount,’ her aunt continued delightedly. ‘Why don’t you accompany us for a short while?’
Furiously, Phoebe trod on Sophie’s boot, but her sister appeared to be entirely transfixed by the captain.
‘That is kind, but—’ the viscount began.
‘We should be delighted!’ his brother returned, overriding the objection.
Phoebe inhaled silently. She could hardly blame her sisters’ excitement. The captain’s smile was clearly disarming, and his dancing eyes full of mischief, too, but the viscount was the last person with whom she wished to spend time. An echo of his ridicule in the modiste’s reached through her thoughts, and she bristled instantly.
What gave him the right to make his opinion so evident? He held no authority over her or any of them, nor was likely to anytime soon.
She glanced at Sophie, who was dimpling far more than necessary, as they joined the busy main path.
‘Do the Misses Fairfax like to ride?’ the captain enquired, proffering an arm to Sophie, who happily fell into step beside him. ‘If so, I can certainly recommend Prior Park, especially before breakfast.’
‘Oh, do call us by our first names, Captain Elliot,’ Sophie insisted. ‘The Misses Fairfax makes us sound like old governesses!’
She trilled off into a frivolous laugh while Phoebe glared at the back of her animated head, thinking all sorts of uncharitable thoughts.
‘Is riding of interest to yourself, Miss Fairfax?’ came a much quieter enquiry. ‘Or perhaps I should ask if your shoulder has recovered sufficiently yet?’
Startled, Phoebe glanced up to discover that the viscount had fallen in beside her, leaving Josephine and Matilda to bring up the rear of the party with their beaming aunt and uncle. She drew a deep breath, starkly aware that the proximity between them might yet prompt him to realise that she was the fast widow who’d led his betrothed astray.
‘I love to ride, and my shoulder is much recovered, thank you, sir,’ she returned stiffly. ‘I also like to climb trees, swim, and do all the things my brothers do, given half the chance!’ she added, lest he think her any less the girl he’d met on the roadside.
‘And I warrant are much better at such pursuits than they are, too,’ the viscount murmured.
Phoebe glanced up, but his expression was schooled.
‘I must own to being somewhat surprised that the picnic is one of your seasonal highlights,’ she frowned, after a beat. ‘It seems rather tame entertainment for a gentleman…’
‘Yes?’ he prompted.
Phoebe swallowed, his proximity was beginning to unnerve her.
‘For a gentleman of your sophistication ?’ she finished, recalling the way he’d threatened to withdraw his patronage at The Swan Inn.
A curious smile played around his lips.
‘Actually, I think you would find my tastes quite variable ,’ he returned, a gleam creeping into his eyes. ‘And, unlike balls, these gardens feature horses – which always have my distinct approval.’
‘Is that what brings you to Bath?’ she quizzed.
He paused to chuckle and, quite inexplicably, Phoebe caught her breath
‘Unfortunately, not,’ he returned. ‘I’m in Bath on family matters and will return to Ebcott Place when they are concluded.’
There was a moment of quiet while Phoebe fixed her gaze ahead, conscious of the oddest rush of feelings. Undoubtedly, he was speaking of his betrothal, and she was certain he and Aurelia would suit exceedingly well – which didn’t explain her agitation at all. Except that, perhaps, it made her think of her own wretched, forthcoming announcement.
‘You are fortunate that you have some control over your future,’ she commented, after a beat. ‘It is a privilege most ladies must forego.’
‘I am. Though in my experience, not all ladies wish for adventure , as you do.’ He frowned faintly, dark eyebrows arching.
‘Perhaps most gentlemen don’t wish for a young lady then,’ Phoebe retorted. ‘Perhaps they actually wish for a songbird they can admire and remove from its cage occasionally, so it can perform!’
‘Rather a songbird than a wife who doesn’t know how to behave!’ the viscount countered.
‘Marriage shouldn’t be a behaviour test!’ she flared. ‘And if a lady lacks imagination or adventure, it’s because she hasn’t been allowed to dream further than a respectable marriage. In my view, the frailer sex are rarely frail at all! We are just as curious, and just as capable, as any man, though some of the polite world would term us dangerous radicals for such thoughts.’
‘Indeed!’ he returned, his eyes glittering. ‘As evidenced by the success of your recent endeavours, I suppose.’
She felt a sudden scorch of heat reach across her cheeks.
‘And why shouldn’t I wear trousers and drink devil’s brew and duel if I so wish?’ she demanded. ‘Surely, I am just as capable of managing myself as any gentleman?’
‘Phoebe!’ Aunt Higglestone called in a strangled, yet polite tone.
She bit her lip, conscious she was drawing attention to herself, even if they couldn’t hear what she was saying.
‘I’m sure there are many who would agree,’ he acquiesced coldly, ‘and yet such behaviour in young ladies of quality would be reprehensible to many gentlemen with a name and reputation to protect.’
There was a poignant pause, during which all Phoebe could hear was Sophie’s tinkling laughter, and she wrestled with an overwhelming urge to land the viscount yet another leveller.
Thankfully, Matilda came to the rescue.
‘The Merlin Swing!’ she shrieked, her ribbons catching the breeze as she bolted ahead. ‘Last one there is a gundigut !’
‘Matilda Fairfax!’ their aunt wailed after her, shaking her parasol in dismay.