The silence stretched too long.
Mrs. Gardiner, as if reading Elizabeth's concern, set down her teacup with a quiet clink. "After breakfast, we shall take a short walk before the town grows too crowded."
"So, no Pump Room this morning?" Elizabeth asked.
"A short walk first. The Pump Room is better visited after noon—it does wonders to cool the body."
"I would rather remain this morning," Jane said, her voice soft but final. "The journey has left me more fatigued than I supposed."
It was a lie, and they all knew it.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it. What good would it do? Jane would not be persuaded, and pressing her would only deepen the wound.
She looked at their aunt and uncle. No one was pushing the subject either. It was reason enough to justify not pushing it herself.
"Rest, then," she said instead, reaching across the table to touch her sister's hand. "We shall not be long."
Jane's fingers tightened briefly around hers—gratitude, perhaps, or desperation. Elizabeth could not tell which.
Mrs. Gardiner rose. "Very well. But you must come to the Pump Room this afternoon, Jane. I insist."
Jane nodded without meeting her eyes.
Elizabeth withdrew her hand and followed her aunt from the room, casting one last glance at her sister's bowed head before the door closed between them.
TWO
Bath, August 1812
Elizabeth
The pavement below was already animated when Elizabeth and her aunt stepped into the street. Beyond them, the market had begun its morning industry, and Elizabeth watched as the traders pursued their several occupations with quiet diligence. A milliner's apprentice arranged ribbons within a shop window, while a tradesman lifted his shutters with practised ease. Around them, voices blended into a low and agreeable hum.
Mrs. Gardiner took Elizabeth's arm as they passed a modiste's window.
"You must not watch over her so anxiously," she said gently, "that you deny her the chance of moving beyond it all."
Elizabeth did not need her aunt to elaborate to know that she was referring to her not pushing Jane to come out with them on the walk.
She gave a short laugh. "Moving past it is easier said than done. Not with how much she thought he cared for her."
"I know," her aunt returned. "That is precisely why she needs to try. Otherwise, she will not allow any other gentleman to pay their respects towards her with this incessant desire to stay melancholy and indoors."
Elizabeth only grunted in agreement, but made no further attempt to reply.
They continued, almost in silence, enjoying the scenery of Bath. They had nearly reached the turning toward Trim Street when the cry came, sharp and unmistakable.
"Fire!"
Another voice echoed it just as Elizabeth and her aunt made to turn towards the shout. A few shop owners hurried to close their shops, as if someone had said the fire was on its way to visit. Behind them, people scattered as smoke rose beyond the roofline, dark and immediate.
Mrs. Gardiner tightened her grip. "We must not approach too near."
But Elizabeth had already quickened her step, tearing from her aunt's grip. Mrs. Gardiner followed in tow, perhaps to restrain her, perhaps to see for herself and maybe help.
They turned the corner and found chaos.
Flames burst from the upper windows of a narrow lodging house. The door below was entirely engulfed, fire licking up the frame and across the lintel, rendering entry impossible. Smoke billowed outward in thick, choking waves. A woman stood in the roadway, wringing her hands and crying that her maid and a child remained trapped above. Men shouted over one another, forming a bucket line at the pump. The heat pressed forward, fierce and suffocating.
