Chapter Eighteen
And so it was that little over an hour later, Mr. Darcy and I found ourselves on a train pulling out of Paddington Station. In a panic, and without any real forethought, I’d decided we should go to Bath. It was where I’d gone to university, so I knew it well. Plus, it was only an hour and twenty minutes on the train from London, but still far enough away that Nick wouldn’t be able to track us down there, tell Darcy who he really was, and ruin my only chance of happiness. I’d left Mrs. Atallah a note asking her to feed Mr. Wickham but hadn’t told her where we were going. I felt bad about this, but in my paranoid state, I was concerned that Nick might turn up at the house and torture/charm her into telling him where we were.
“Where shall we be residing in Bath?” Darcy asked me as the train passed Didcot Parkway. “I have been to the city once before so that Georgiana could take the waters, and we stayed in a delightful house on the Royal Crescent.”
“I’m afraid it’s nothing that fancy. Most hotels were fully booked at this short notice, but I managed to find us a B and B in the north of the city.”
In truth, I was feeling a bit nervous about the place, given its website clearly hadn’t been updated in years and everything looked very pink and chintzy. But it had been the only accommodation available with two rooms that didn’t cost a fortune, so beggars couldn’t be choosers.
At eleven, our train pulled into Bath Spa station and we set off toward the center. If you’ve never visited Bath before, it’s a beautiful historic city in Somerset, first settled in the Roman times because of its hot springs. In the seventeenth century, someone decided that the water had healing properties, something the Georgians later went crazy for and built a whole town around the baths. Much of that Palladian architecture still existed, and I could see Darcy relaxing as we walked north up toward the Abbey, his hands clasped behind his back. Clearly, he felt more at home here than he did in London.
“This was a most excellent suggestion,” he said, looking around in satisfaction. “When last I visited, we attended Sabbath prayers at this very Abbey, and I see it is not much changed at all.”
“You know, there’s a historic restaurant around the corner that might have been here when you last visited too. It’s called Sally Lunn’s.”
“My word, I remember it!” Darcy gasped. “I recall that we used to take tea there. Georgiana was most partial to their Bunns.”
As he said this, I saw Darcy’s face fall, clearly with grief at the memory of his sister. Damn, why had I just reminded him of her?
“I was thinking we could visit the old Roman baths later,” I said, to try to distract him. “They have an excellent, informative museum, which I think you’ll enjoy.”
Darcy nodded, and as we carried on walking, I started to relax a little. We could hardly hide in Bath forever, but at least this would give me twenty-four hours breathing space while I worked out how I was going to keep him away from Nick. Plus, it was nice to be backin the city I’d called home for three years. We walked past the Pump Room restaurant, where I used to work as a waitress to fund my studies, and the library where I spent hours writing drafts of my novel when I should have been doing uni work. And there was the pub where Bianca and I—
“Praise the Lord, for it is a miracle!” Darcy suddenly shouted, jolting me out of my memories.
I spun around to look at him. “What is it?”
“I am not alone!” he said, his face shining with wonder and relief.
I followed his gaze along the road, and then I ground to a halt.
Oh. My. God.
Up ahead, there was a large group of people dressed in Regency clothing—the men in top hats and tailcoats, the women in long dresses and bonnets, many carrying parasols. Darcy had taken off toward them at top speed, and I hurried to catch up with him. What on earth was going on?
“There are hundreds of them!” Darcy cried with delight as we got closer, and he was right. A long procession of people stretched back over the bridge and ahead toward the Assembly Rooms, all slowly promenading along.
Promenading.
I felt suddenly sick. How could I have been so stupid? I knew exactly what was going on, because I’d seen it when I’d studied here. Every September, Bath held a huge Jane Austen festival, where people traveled from all over the world to take part in events celebrating the author and her work. And the festival always started on a Saturday with the Grand Regency Promenade, where hundreds of people in Georgian costumes walked through the town. How the hell was I going to explain this to Darcy?
“Wait up!” I shouted, but he was already ahead of me, approaching a middle-aged man in the scarlet jacket of a soldier.
“Officer!” he cried as he reached the man. “Tell me whence you have come?”
The man stopped walking and turned to Darcy with a grin. “Well, hi there! You’ve really worked on that accent, haven’t you?”
The man’s own accent was a thick Texan drawl, and I saw Darcy scowl. “Are you from the Americas? Then for what treasonous reason do you wear the uniform of King George’s army?”
“My Mary Lou has always had a thing for men in uniform—haven’t you, hon?”
The woman next to him, rosy faced and slightly sweaty in her long dress, shawl, and bonnet, smiled at Darcy. “Don wanted to wear a tailcoat and top hat, but I told him I was like Lydia and thought a man looked best in regimentals!”
Darcy was still scowling. “I do not comprehend. Are you also trapped here as I am? How did you find yourselves in this place?”
“Well, we flew from Dallas to Heathrow and spent a couple of days in London,” the woman said. “Then we took the train to Oxford—which is darling—and then we got a coach here yesterday. Are you kids here for the Jane Austen Festival too?”
“Festival? W-who is Jane Austen?” Darcy stuttered.
