Every part of Wood Lodge with its small, gated gardens, breakfast terrace and musty, well-stocked library warmed her soul, and she could have spent a very pleasant few weeks traversing between the Abbey, the Baths and all the classical colonnades and neat squares, were it not for the fact that her impending nuptials were drawing closer every minute of every day. And while it was no secret that there was to be a wedding in the family, her aunt seemed far more preoccupied with the itinerary of their stay than taxing Phoebe with questions she couldn’t answer.
‘I thought we might try a different walk after our visit to the Pump Room today,’ their aunt chattered brightly, over a generous portion of kippers and eggs.
Phoebe speed-buttered her toast, trying not to meet Sophie’s gaze. They’d started every day of their visit so far with a dutiful trip to the Pump Room, and while she wasn’t about to challenge anyone who believed the waters to be healing, their sour taste suggested quite the opposite.
‘Do we need to go to the Pump Room today, Aunt?’ she appealed. ‘They were quite busy yesterday, and I do wonder if a crowded room is altogether good for Josephine?’
Josephine flashed her an indignant look, while Matilda snorted into her hot chocolate.
‘Nonsense, child! The benefits of the waters far exceed a little crowding, and I do believe they’re putting some colour inyourcheeks, as well as Josephine’s…’ Her aunt frowned anxiously. ‘Both of you were as pale as ghosts when you arrived! I said to your uncle: I can’t wait to see what the waters do for those girls… Didn’t I say that, Uncle Higglestone?’
She prodded her studious husband with her elbow, who grunted his support from behind a leatherbound copy of John Galpine’sBritish Botany.
Phoebe ignored a kick beneath the table, and bit into her toast. She had yet to hold a full conversation with her uncle, beyondgood morningorwould you please pass the butter, and was quite tempted to see if cutting a pair of eyeholes in his morning newspaper, or the latest periodical on British plant life, would help. Sophie was aghast when she suggested it and made her promise to do no such thing.
‘Phoebe says the water tastes like mud!’ Matilda offered mischievously.
Phoebe glared at her younger sister, and made a mental note to withdraw the offer of a trip to North Parade to buy sherbert lemons.
‘It does,’ Uncle Higglestone concurred unhelpfully, from behind his periodical.
‘Indeed? Well, howyoung ladies of qualitywould know such a thing is a great mystery to me!’ their aunt remonstrated with a twinkle in her eye. ‘All the same, it is Thomas’s dearest wish thatbothof you benefit daily from the waters, and exert yourself as little as possible.’
She smiled mistily.
‘He does so care about you all, and we mustn’t misplace the trust he has shown in me since your dearest mother…’ She tailed off to fumble for a lace kerchief she always kept for moments such as this.
‘Mother would be so happy we are here with you!’ Phoebe rushed, alarmed her aunt was about to weep all over the breakfast table. ‘And I believe the waters have worked wonders already, I feel much fitter and quite well!’
She smiled brightly. It wasn’t a complete lie, her shoulder had knitted very well, and she was certain fresh air and time would do the rest.
‘In fact, I was wondering whether, in celebration of my swift recovery thanks to your care, Aunt, my sisters and I might enjoy a shortride one day next week?’
At this, her aunt forgot all about their dearest mother, and inhaled sharply.
‘A ride? On a horse, dear? So soon after your accident?! Oh… NowthatI am sure Thomas would not allow!’
She paused to fan herself rapidly.
‘However…’ She smiled conspiratorially at the cover of Uncle Higglestone’s periodical. ‘Your uncle and I are not againstsmallpleasurable diversions, and may know of something that will delight you young ladies very much indeed, don’t we, dearest?’
There was another grunt, which could have meant any number of things, but clearly satisfied their aunt.
‘An evening picnic at the Sydney Gardens, next weekend!’
She paused to glance around with a look of real triumph.
‘There will be fireworks and lanterns and music and more fireworks! We attended one last year and were quite taken by the whole event, weren’t we, Uncle Higglestone? We’re positive it will be just the thing to entertain you young ladies!’
She ploughed on without waiting for an answer.
‘Now, there is the spring weather to consider but so long as we take warm pelisses, we really can’t complain about the temperature. There is also the Sydney Hotel itself, of course, should we require shelter for one of you more delicate souls.
‘But, on the whole, we believe you will all enjoy it, and it’s low enough on the seasonal agenda for your brother to be content, too. Actually, I was rather wondering if we might pop into the modiste on the way back from the Pump Room this morning, as I suspect you might not have anythingquitesuitable for a spring picnic, have you?’
Aunt Higglestone finally paused to beam round the table.
Sophie was the first to find her voice.
