Lucinda wrote a ‘we have arrived safely in Bath’ letter to her mother, who was now back in York tending to the needs of her husband and other children. Jane said she was writing to Cassie (who was currently in Godmersham helping with the Austens’ children). But when I glanced over, she had finished her letter and was writing something else that was making her lips quirk every so often and obviously amusing her. It was some scenario or conversation that she had witnessed or overheard no doubt. Perhaps the dull old couple from the pump room were, at this very moment, being immortalised by the pen of Miss Austen.
Letters written and ready for Mrs Bromley to take to the post office in Milsom Street, our party prepared ourselves (Lucinda and I in great excitement) for our excursion to the pump room. Edward would take the waters in King’s Bath, and we ladies would promenade. Apparently, the pool allowed women’s bathing, but Elizabeth said that we could do so another time. For now, we should ‘kill three birds with one stone in the pump room’. I assumed she meant we could take our exercise, meet new people, and introduce Lucinda to eligible young gentlemen.
The situation of 13 Queen Square was such that it was a mere five-minute walk south to the pump room, which was adjacent to the Roman bathhouse and the abbey. It was also a mere five-or-so-minute walk north to the Upper Assembly Rooms, where balls were held twice weekly.
Elizabeth pointed out this fact as we strolled to the former and commended her husband on his choice of accommodation. Indeed, as he was hobbling slowly along with crutches, I thought Edward would be better off carried to the bathhouse in a sedan chair. But he insisted on escorting us and said that he could feel the healing effects of the water, which he had both drunk and bathed in, working its magic and would be ‘as right as rain and promenading with you all in no time in the pump room’.
When I queried why the place was named so, Edward said it was because the water from King’s Bath was pumped into the adjoining room so that people could drink glassesof it as it was full of health-giving minerals.
‘But surely not the water that people have been bathing in?’ I asked.
‘Of course not,’ he said, turning his head and giving me a look (he was walking ahead of us with Elizabeth). ‘The water is drawn from a different source.’ He sounded knowledgeable, so I gathered he knew what he was talking about.
Our destination was a grand collection of buildings of light-coloured stone, impressive to look at with their columns and windowed archways. One was the King’s Bath, which Edward headed to using a dedicated entrance for bathers.
Further along, a steady stream of elegant-looking people were heading through a portico, so we joined the tail end and were swept along with the chattering crowd.
Inside, Elizabeth observed the various personages heading into the salon and said to Lucinda, ‘Come along with me, dear. Jane, why don’t you go with Felicity to the fountain and take the waters?’
‘Oh, but ...’ I said, thinking as head chaperone, I should be looking after my charge. But Elizabeth obviously had other ideas.
‘Do not worry. She will be safe with me,’ she said, tucking Lucinda’s arm into her own andwhisking her off into the main salon before I could protest.
Jane said that it was a rite of passage when in Bath to drink the waters, though she did warn me it was ‘an acquired taste’. We made our way to the side of the room where a large Grecian urn spouted a steady stream of water into the mouths of four jumping fishes.
A counter had glasses of water set up, which were being collected at the fountain by an attendant. People were standing around, drinking the water and conversing. It seemed to be the thing to do.
The aroma of the water resembled rotten eggs, so I was reluctant to drink it. But maybe it tasted better than it smelled? However, this was not the case. ‘Urgh,’ I said after a sip. ‘It tastes like it’s been strained through dirty stockings. How can anything that tastes so foul be considered a healing elixir?’
I said this rather loudly. A couple of young blonde ladies, a little older than Lucinda, were standing nearby with their mother. The prettiest of the two overheard me and tittered. She pointed to her mouth with a gloved finger and mimed gagging, and I smiled at her, delighted that someone else shared my opinion.
Jane had drained hers with her fingers pinching her nose, which I gathered was the way to do it.
‘Well done, you’re brave,’ I said. ‘Now that we’ve hadour magical water, shall we go and find Elizabeth and Lucinda?’
Jane nodded, and eager to leave, I deposited the remnants of my glass in a potted plant without anyone noticing. I hoped it would not kill it.
The main salon was humming with people, a twisting throng that had a life of its own, and I could not spy Elizabeth and Lucinda within it. Jane linked arms with me. ‘Come on, we’re sure to find them soon enough.’
I was not one for parading around indoors. The green meadows of our estate and the woods surrounding it were far more to my taste than tramping up and down on floorboards. But the room itself was lovely, with high arched windows along the side and a raised balcony at one end. Presiding over everyone was an enormous tiered chandelier dripping with crystals. There were far worse ways to spend a morning than being amidst such grandeur.
I wondered how Edward was faring in the bath and if he was stomaching the smell of rotten eggs. Perhaps it was like all bad smells: the longer you smelt them, the more your nose became accustomed to them.
As Jane and I walked around the room, we passed couples of varying ages and pairs of single men and women who had stopped to converse and look each other over. It was rather like attending the stock sales. You saw acow you liked the look of, so you enquired of its breeding and made an offer to the farmer for a good price.
I was musing along these lines as we paused at the far end of the room for a breather, and I caught sight of Lucinda and Elizabeth. They were over by the window talking to a gentleman in his early twenties. As I gazed at him, taking in his countenance and stature, veritable sparks flew out of my eyes.
I leaned into Jane. ‘Who isthat?’I whispered.
‘I am not sure,’ she whispered back. ‘But whoever he is, Lucy certainly seems captivated—she cannot take her eyes off him.’
Indeed!I thought. For he was tall and lithe, wearing a dark-blue tailcoat and breeches, his snowy cravat impeccably tied. His hair was slightly longer than fashionable, but it was a rich dark brown, groomed and parted in the middle—the glossy locks framing a superbly handsome face. He tilted it now, smiling at something Lucinda said, and my stomach tingled—it was a smile that could ruin a woman’s good intentions.
‘Well, heisvery good-looking. I do not blame her,’ I murmured.
Jane glanced at me. ‘Quite, but he is still a stranger. We should go over and make his acquaintance before Elizabeth agrees to anything on Lucinda’s behalf.’
I shook myself out of my trance. Jane was talking sense as usual. You should not judge a book by its cover, especially when it came to men. I, of all people, should know that, having misjudged Max poorly when we first met and deemed him ‘dour’ and ‘unfriendly’.
