Chapter Eighteen
Cassandra
Bath, Somerset
‘Have you come to fetch me?’ Jane says, adjusting her bonnet, and smoothing her hands down her gown. She’s looking very pretty today, and I think is beginning to understand that it’s not so very terrible to be regarded in a certain fashion by young gentlemen passing by.
‘Oh dear, it will not sit quite right, and the ribbon is all knotted. Cassy, will you help me?’
‘You seem very keen to make a good impression today,’ I say. ‘May I ask whose attentions you crave?’
‘Cassy, I make myself fine for my own desire, and am not interested in any coxcomb wishing to make himself known to me. Anyway, they dare not approach … it is clear I am not yet out, and therefore I can have no conversation. But, I must admit I quite enjoy staring back to see the effect. Cousin Eliza showed me what to do, though I wasn’t very interested at the time. ’
‘I’m not certain you should be taking advice from cousin Eliza,’ I say, and then I see Jane’s eyebrows knitting together in a frown.
I do not mean to sound truculent, I am very fond of our cousin, but, there is no other way to say it …
she is a great flirt, and hardly the person to be a model of good behaviour for my sister.
The Christmas before last Eliza teased Jemmy so much, and made such a play of affection towards him, I think he is quite in love with her, and even young Henry did not escape her attentions.
Not at all the conduct of a married woman, I do not think.
Most of her behaviour was conducted under the guise of play-acting, theatricals that were well received by all our friends and neighbours, but I know how she’s turned both Jemmy and Henry’s heads.
And my sister is practising the ways of a coquette too …
how much has changed within a year. Jane thinks I do not notice, but I’ve seen her aping her cousin’s ways.
If Mama is sensible of it, she’ll be very cross, and so I must do what I can to prevent that happening.
We’re attending the Pump Rooms this morning, and I am in hopes of seeing Mr Fowle. There is to be a concert tomorrow in Spring Gardens, and I am most anxious that he knows we are to attend.
The people talking in the Pump Rooms always remind me of the dawn chorus, as voices rise and fall, twittering and chirping, relating the latest gossip, and as they fly about the room settling on another crumb of scandal, or engage on pulling up another worm of tittle-tattle, the rumours change until every tale is reported as fact.
Today the talk is all about the happenings overseas in France, and the horrors of man’s inhumanity to man.
A revolution is taking place, and there is much consternation about the safety of Englishmen who have yet to make their way home.
We wait for news on cousin Eliza’s husband, the Comte de Feuillide, but our hopes that his country life will keep him from the Paris troubles is all we can wish for.
‘The Duke of Dorset will resign his post, I am certain,’ Lucius’s father is saying. ‘Though he is a favourite of Queen Marie Antoinette, I have no doubt he will be recalled. My father has heard such shocking reports that no Englishman is safe, let alone the French.’
‘It is a sad business,’ answers my father, ‘but my sister Phila will not be surprised to hear of this escalation of events. Thank heavens my niece Eliza is safely in England with her son. I should not want any member of my family to be in such jeopardy.’
Eliza has told us stories about the vast wealth of the royal court in France and I’ve heard my mother discuss the fact that the Duke of Dorset is more than just a favourite of Queen Marie Antoinette.
I remember my cousin telling me about a ball she attended once where the queen’s gown was covered in diamonds and precious jewels, and how she recalled driving through villages where the peasants had barely enough to eat and were shabbily dressed.
It is little wonder that the people are disgruntled, but surely a revolution might have been foreseen and prevented?
Here, where elegant couples parade the room and talk of the horrors, it is hard to believe that such events are taking place across the water that divides us, and sometimes I fear what will happen to us all.
‘Will you take a turn with me, Miss Austen?’
Lucius is here and proffering his arm. My mother nods and smiles, and I take it.
What else can I do? To refuse him would be rude, and I can only do what is expected; my duty to my family must come before everything else.
I could not bring myself to tell Mama about his strange behaviour last summer in Kent, when on more than one occasion he gave both Jane and I great cause for alarm.
I am sure my mother still hopes that we will become engaged, and she has said more than once that, since our cradles, it has been the wish of Great-Uncle Frank that our families be more intimately united.
And, then I see Mr Fowle walking through the door and I want to unhook my arm from Lucius’s whose grip is too firm.
But, my arm is trapped, clamped against him so I have to stand too closely at his side.
I could not shake him loose even if I wanted to, and before I manage to turn so Mr Fowle does not see, I know he has observed me.
He is looking first at Lucius’s arm holding mine, and then his eyes meet my eyes, and I cannot show him how distasteful this predicament I’m in makes me feel.
I want to run to him, and beg that he should speak to me, that what he sees is not what I want, but it is impossible.
He bows most politely and turns away, and though I smile, he does not look back or return it. He looks graver than ever.
I escape as soon as I can to find my cousin Jane Cooper who is looking very beautiful dressed in white. Sometimes I can trace the features of her dear mother in her countenance, and feel sad that she is not here with us.
‘Isn’t that Mr Fowle over there by the pump?’ she asks. ‘It is not like him to keep his distance. He is always such a very attentive young man, especially when you are in a room.’
I cannot help but smile. ‘I do not understand your meaning, cousin.’
‘No? I have heard he is come to Bath on purpose to seek his particular friends.’
‘Shocking girl, I do not believe a word of it. Anyway, I am sure he has many friends. Look, he is talking very animatedly to one over there and he has just handed her a cup of water. Perhaps she is the special friend he looks for.’
‘Oh, Cassy, what nonsense. I watched the sparks flying between you at the last ball. You cannot deny it to your old cousin of so many years. Tell me, is it true that you like him as much as your dancing gives you away?’
I am laughing because I cannot help myself, and for once cannot pretend anything but the truth. ‘I do like him.’
‘I knew it, and I’m glad to have my suspicions confirmed. Tell me, are you going to the concert in Spring Gardens tomorrow evening?’
‘Yes, there are plans to go. It does sound delightful … music, fireworks and a turn round the bowling green. Jane cannot wait to cross the river by ferry. You know how romantic she can be … she says she will be Fanny Burney’s Evelina arriving at Vauxhall Gardens.’
‘And does your suitor have plans to attend?’
‘I have little idea, and I doubt he will speak to me now. It is clear he is otherwise engaged, and besides, he saw me arm in arm with my cousin Lucius. He thinks it is my desire that we will marry, but he couldn’t be further from the truth.’
My cousin Jane takes my arm and leads me away from our party. ‘Oh, Cassy, I am most relieved to hear it. I had begun to wonder, it’s been talked of as a great match.’
‘My mother has certainly talked much on the subject, and longs for such a union, but I do not depend upon it.’
‘Yet, your cousin Lucius is very attentive, Cassy. He seemed to enjoy dancing with you at the ball, and look, he’s coming over now. I think it’s high time we fetched some water.’
‘I really do want to avoid him, but to walk over to the pump while Mr Fowle is standing there, I do not think …’
My cousin takes my arm before I can argue further and then we are soon lost in the crowd, and queuing for water.
When I look behind me, I can see Lucius has changed his mind and found a group of young men to talk to, though when they all look in my direction and barely disguise the fact they find me amusing, I cannot look a minute longer.
And then I see my sister with our cousin Thomas, and her cheeks are quite pink as she talks to him.
I know she is very fond of him, and that they shared some fun together last year.
I can see by the way she regards him, she holds him in high esteem.
From what I hear of their animated discussion, they are talking about battles, and the British army, a subject close to Thomas’s heart, and I’m not sure who is the more teasing.
Jane misses Henry so much while he’s at Oxford, but I think she’s found a good replacement for the present.
When I think about Lucius and compare him to Thomas, I cannot help thinking how different two brothers can be.
The crowd is moving, and we’re almost at the stand when Mr Fowle suddenly appears from nowhere to tip his hat at us.
‘Good morning, Miss Austen, Miss Cooper,’ he says, and I can hardly disguise my disappointment because he smiles at my cousin and doesn’t even look in my direction.
‘Good morning,’ answers cousin Jane on our behalf, and I become dumb, flustered, and unable to speak.
But, they are discoursing happily enough, and I am relieved.
I know sometimes I am accused of being too reserved in company, and that people think me grave and unbending, yet in my heart I am none of the above.
I just cannot rattle away as some do, or laugh where I do not find humour, but I wish I could be as engaging as my beautiful cousin.
Mr Fowle looks completely entranced as they talk; he hasn’t taken his eyes off her the whole time.
He looks extraordinarily handsome this morning, his navy coat very becoming to his dark looks.
‘Shall you be attending the concert tomorrow evening, Mr Fowle?’ my cousin asks, and tucks her arm through mine, as if to draw his attention to me.
‘I have no plans for such delights, Miss Cooper, as I will be spending the evening with my parents, and they have chosen to spend a quiet night in with some friends.’
‘But, that is most disappointing,’ my cousin continues to say, ‘there are to be fireworks, and all kinds of performing acts, as well as the music. Could you not be excused from your party at home? We’d love to see you in Spring Gardens, Mr Fowle, would we not, Cassy?’
I am mortified beyond belief at what my cousin is saying, and when Mr Fowle regards me with an enquiring glance, I cannot meet his eyes. I look away, and now he must think I do not wish to see him there because I do not speak. If only I had the courage, I would implore him to come to the concert.
‘I am expected to help host a small evening party, and in any case, I think on this occasion it will be best if I stay at home, Miss Cooper. I daresay you will not miss me … you will be occupied with your Kentish cousins, and I could not hope to compete for your attention.’
With that, he bows curtly and leaves us.
‘Why did you not say something? One word of encouragement from you and he would have changed his mind, I’m sure.’
‘I do not think my speaking to him would have made any difference,’ I say. ‘You know I have not your gift for such open discourse, and he seemed determined to snub us.’
‘You’re just a little shy, and all the more so because I know how much you like him. But, you must encourage him, Cassy. How can a gentleman know your partiality otherwise?’
My eyes follow him, and I see he is talking to the same young lady as before. She is as fair as I am dark with golden curls framing her countenance, her white skin touched with the soft bloom of a peach, and the suggestion of graceful movement in her stance, even though she is perfectly still.
My mother appears, and supplies the information I do not want to hear.
‘Don’t look now, girls, but the young lady talking to Mr Fowle is a Miss Penelope Brooke from Newbury.
Mrs Fowle has been telling me that she is the young lady of the season in Berkshire …
she is the only child of the Brooke family of Donnington Hall, and that she is to inherit everything on her father’s death.
Mr Brooke made his money in trade … apparently starting his working life as a corn chandler, and is not at all puffed up with importance.
Indeed, since arriving in Bath the Fowles have dined with the Brookes at their house on the Crescent, and are returning their hospitality tomorrow evening. ’
I try not to stare, but I cannot help noticing her fine clothes, and the way she looks up at Mr Fowle as if she admires him. No wonder he doesn’t want to attend a concert in Spring Gardens. He is clearly engaged and delighted by the company of a certain Miss Brooke.