Chapter 6
A Meeting of Minds
“Yes, yes we will have a snug walk together, and I have something to tell you as we go along.”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
“Such a crowd,” remarked Mrs. Lynn to Sir Anthony Kinsdale as they entered the Pump Rooms. “So many new faces!”
“And so few worth looking at.” Sir Anthony smiled at his own quip. Mrs. Lynn allowed herself a pretty roll of her eyes that might have been agreement, or a moment of shared amusement with Elizabeth, who walked along with them.
The Pump Rooms were a peculiar Bath institution—a grand building created so that the haut ton could drink the spa’s healthful waters in comfort, and at the same time see and be seen against a graceful backdrop.
To manage this, the rooms had been designed as a sort of indoor park.
Guests strolled about with each other, admired the view from the soaring windows, and, of course, engaged in all manner of gossip.
Flirtations were carried out. Private plans were concluded, and notes furtively passed between young lovers.
The fact that the rooms allowed for the mixing of all conditions and classes of persons was routinely decried by those who valued exclusivity, and yet all of fashionable Bath came anyway.
It was early afternoon and the rooms were full almost to bursting with fashionables, spa patients, and those who came to gawk at both.
Therefore, the arrival of Sir Anthony Kinsdale, his eldest daughter, and her pretty companion caused rather less of a stir than that gentleman may have wished.
Nonetheless, he walked with a great swinging of his stick, reflective of his general desire to take up as much room as possible.
Mrs. Lynn, who rested her hand lightly on his arm, recognized this particular tendency and had carefully fluffed out her skirts to their maximum extent.
Elizabeth Kinsdale walked a pace behind the companionable couple but did not regard either of them. Her gaze swept furtively over the crowd, searching for someone or something, but trying not to show it.
Sir Anthony knew no such hesitation. He scrutinized all the persons they passed, looking for particular acquaintances, or persons with whom he wished to become acquainted.
He nodded his head this way and that, or sketched a lazy swoop in the air with his stick to indicate that he had in fact seen some such person.
If the reaction to these eloquent gestures was a puzzled glance, Sir Anthony did not deign to notice.
He understood that appearance was the thing.
Therefore, he would appear to be a grand and much regarded man.
“It is a great a pity Cynthia could not be with us today,” said Mrs. Lynn in an effort to spur conversation.
“Oh, my dear.” Sir Anthony’s lazy drawl, like his restless stick, was an affectation. The world understood that even the speech of a truly fashionable gentleman should never be hurried. “You know Cynthia does not care for society. She is better off at home where no one will see her frowns.”
“Still.” Mrs. Lynn sighed. “It cannot be good for a girl of her age to be so much alone. I should warn you, Sir Anthony, I mean to set myself to drawing her out.”
“There is no need to concern yourself over Cynthia. She will hardly thank you for it,” said Sir Anthony.
“Now, there is Lord Harringdon.” The stick swept toward a portly gentleman in a flamboyant silver and blue waistcoat.
“I’m afraid I must go and speak with him.
I’m sure I can rely on you ladies to keep each other company?
” Without waiting for an answer, Sir Anthony slipped his arm from under Mrs. Lynn’s hand and sauntered toward the unsuspecting Lord Harringdon.
Mrs. Lynn stepped back so she now stood beside Elizabeth, who had not yet left off searching the crowd.
“What do you suppose Sir Anthony wishes to speak about with Lord Harringdon?” she asked. Then, she leaned in close to the younger woman and said more softly, “I don’t think your beau’s here yet.”
“Oh.” Despite this depressing news, Elizabeth managed to keep her expression tolerably still.
She even made herself turn her attention toward her father, who by now had pinned his quarry in a corner.
“Lord Harringdon is a sporting gentleman,” said Elizabeth.
“I expect Father is talking about the races.”
Part of the reason that the Pump Rooms were so full was the rapid approach of Race Week.
The town, and its famed racecourse at Lansdown, were readying themselves for a week of thoroughbred racing.
The annual event drew great crowds of people from across Great Britain, indeed, across the Continent, all come to watch, to bet, and to buy.
“A sporting gentleman, you say?” murmured Mrs. Lynn, craning her neck to get a better look at Lord Harringdon. “Is he someone we should invite to the card party, do you think?”
Elizabeth considered. “He might be interested,” she said. “I’m told he has bet large sums on other races.”
“Well, then, I shall speak to Sir Anthony and make sure he has issued the invitation.” Mrs. Lynn squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. “Do you spy anyone else who might be helpful to our general enterprise?”
“Are you sure we need anyone else?” murmured Elizabeth. “I worry we are too large for safety as it is. What if people start talking?”
Mrs. Lynn laid her hand on her friend’s arm. “It will be all right, Elizabeth.”
“Will it?” asked Elizabeth sharply.
“Trust a woman who has some experience of the world. I understand that right now is an anxious time, but it will pass. And as for the size of the thing, the bigger the better.”
“Well, if it falls apart, I suppose we can still rely on Clara and her good Lord Casselmaine to save us all.” Elizabeth pulled a face.
“Stop that,” Mrs. Lynn said. “You mustn’t be frowning when your father returns. He will exile you as he does Cynthia, and then how will you contrive to meet your beau?”
Elizabeth looked abashed for a moment, but then managed to regain control of her features.
“Much better.” Mrs. Lynn squeezed her arm. The latest gaggle of visitors streamed through the main doorway, causing the crowds to stir and reform themselves. Mrs. Lynn noted two faces in particular among the new arrivals.
“Oh, look, Elizabeth, is that not your friend Miss Summerscale?”
Elizabeth’s face brightened at once. “It is. Mrs. Lynn, will you mind very much if I go speak to her?”
“Not at all,” said Mrs. Lynn breezily. “In fact, I spy one of my own friends.” She nodded toward the tall, stout man with the pink face who was writing his name carefully in the visitors’ book.
“A male acquaintance?” breathed Elizabeth with mock horror. “Why, Mrs. Lynn!”
“Shh, you little terror.” Mrs. Lynn nudged Elizabeth playfully with her shoulder. “You will have Sir Anthony turning me out into the street.”
The two women shared a brief giggle. Then, Elizabeth turned and hurried to catch up to her acquaintance.
Miss Summerscale was a rather gawky young woman who, Mrs. Lynn happened to know, fancied herself a social rebel.
This made her glad to help Elizabeth slip her father’s (admittedly very loose) nets.
Once Mrs. Lynn saw that Elizabeth and Miss Summerscale were safely engaged in conversation, she looked toward Sir Anthony.
He and Lord Harringdon were now talking with a third gentleman, which was a most welcome development.
Satisfied she was not needed or too closely observed, she set about making her way toward the pink-faced gentleman.
He had finished laboring over his signature and now moved toward the windows.
The movement seemed to cost him some effort, because a sheen of perspiration now covered his brow.
He pulled a large handkerchief from his pocket with which to mop his face.
He saw her approaching through the crowd and beamed broadly.
“Mrs. Lynn. How delightful.” He bowed. “I had heard you were in Bath.”
“Mr. Wallace.” She made her curtsy. “How do you do?”
“Very well, very well, thank you.”
“And your friend, Mr. Spence. How is he?”
Wallace chuckled ruefully and tucked his handkerchief away. “Dissatisfied as always, but I think not more than is usual for him.”
“Is he here?”
“Out in the gardens, I believe. You know his penchant for the delights of fresh air.” They smiled sagely at each other. “Do I find you alone?”
“No, no.” Mrs. Lynn waved casually toward the room. “I am here with Sir Anthony and his eldest daughter, but both are engaged at the moment.”
Wallace nodded. “Well, I trust Sir Anthony will not think it improper for you to take a turn with me?”
“I am sure he will not mind in the least, as you are such an old friend of my family.”
Mr. Wallace offered Mrs. Lynn his arm. Together, they joined the procession of fashionables walking in a large, lazy circle about the room’s perimeter.
Their various conversations made a constant noise, much like the rush of a river.
Everyone was so busy with their own affairs and gossip, and no one wasted a moment attending to what this new couple might have to say.
“Have the middle Kinsdale girl and her duke returned from London yet?” inquired Mr. Wallace.
“They have,” replied Mrs. Lynn calmly. “She’s been breezing about the house, making a great show of being contentedly involved in her engagement preparations.
Honestly, she should take acting lessons from her sister.
” She lifted her gaze to the broad doorways just in time to see Elizabeth stroll out with her friend beside her.
“Syl,” said Wallace suddenly. “I’ve been thinking we should consider closing shop early.”
Sylvia bit down hard on her initial startled exclamation.
“Whatever for?” she asked, making sure that the tone held a casual laugh, in case anyone was listening.
It was true that a crowded room was one of the safest places for one to engage in private conversation, but one must still exercise discretion.
“One of our fish is getting suspicious,” replied Wallace softly.
“If you mean Miss Clara, it is all in hand.”
“What do you mean? You must know that she and her duke meant to visit this Rosalind Thorne woman?”
“Of course I knew, and they did.”
That startled him. His arm tensed. “How do you know what they did?”
“I sent Sophia after them.”
“What!” he cried.
“Hush, Wallace!” She dug her fingers into his arm. “You’ll have people looking.”
Wallace dropped his voice to a polite murmur, but his tone lost none of its urgency, or its outrage. “You sent Sophia on an errand without saying anything to me!”
“What, and have you tell Spence? He would have raised a hue and cry and tried to forbid it, and we would have had to argue with him, and that would take up time that we do not have.”
Wallace glanced away, unable to deny her assertion.
“And what, exactly, was your plan when you decided to haul Sophia away from her post?” he murmured.
“To delay Miss Thorne’s arrival, of course. Sophie gave out that she’s my illegitimate daughter, and that this is the dread secret I am harboring, and begged her to please give me time to tell Sir Anthony the truth in my own way.”
“You think Miss Thorne will believe her?”
Sylvia shrugged. “She might, especially given the gossip circling the Kinsdale girls. But to tell you the truth, I’m hoping she won’t believe it.”
The force it took to hold back his immediate exclamation turned Wallace’s pink face an alarming shade of red. “Then why …?”
“Because if Sophie’s done her job properly, Miss Thorne is even now taxing her imagination for ways to try to hunt her down.
After all, whoever Sophia may be, she must know some vital secret that she and I are trying to protect.
Otherwise why would she appear so suddenly to make such a dramatic claim?
And if Miss Thorne is chasing Sophie about London, she can’t be here causing trouble. ”
Wallace stared at her, his look slowly changing from disbelief to admiration.
“I never should have doubted you, Syl.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” She beamed at him. “Be patient, Wallace. We only need to delay Miss Thorne for another se’en night, and we’ll all have everything our hearts could desire. Now,” she said, firmly changing the subject. “Tell me how things are on your end. How goes the betting talk locally?”
“Very much as we would hope,” answered Wallace. “Sir Anthony’s helping us at every turn.” He nodded toward the corner where Sir Anthony was still in confidential conversation with Lord Harringdon and the other gentleman.
“I was sure that he would,” Mrs. Lynn murmured, at the same time another, unwelcome worry stirred. This one, she could not successfully keep out of her expression.
“What is it, Syl?” asked Wallace. “And don’t tell me nothing. You haven’t gone soft on the mark, have you?”
“Never,” said Mrs. Lynn firmly. But she saw she must give him some answer. “It’s the girls. They’re going to be crushed when this is over.”
“Pfft.” Wallace waved this away. “The duke will take care of them. They’ve nothing to fear.”
“It’s not always about money, Wallace.”
“So I’ve heard.” He touched her elbow. “You’ll keep to your part in this, won’t you?”
“When have I ever not?”
“First time for everything, isn’t there?”
Her brow knitted. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m frightened, Syl,” said Wallace. “If we don’t pull this thing off, there will be some very angry people looking for us and not all of them are gentlemen.”
Sylvia fell silent, her mind racing. She thought of the money, of course, and Sir Anthony and all his daughters, and the famous Miss Thorne, who might soon be swooping down on them like a witch out of legend to work her evil deeds.
She thought about Elizabeth’s concern that their little enterprise had grown too large for safety, and found herself wondering if the girl might be sensing something that she herself had missed.
If that was the case, though, what could be done? It was already too late to change course.
Wasn’t it?