Page 55

“Try,” Lady Stonely said. “The aftermath of immersion makes you feel—what?”

The answer was out before she could overthink it. “Invincible.”

Later, by the fire, Lady Stonely asked Diantha to write an account of the pool for her magazine.

“What do you mean? The bit about how it’s best to get in all at once?”

“Yes, but not only that. The feeling of invincibility it confers. The overall experience, empirically and subjectively. A report and a review simultaneously, if you will.”

“I …” Diantha had been poised to decline, as if by rote. But why? Why could she not write an account for a lady’s magazine? She had told Lord Marsden, all those weeks ago, that even though she wasn’t using her education, she did have it. Another thought landed.

“How much would you—”

She cut herself off. One wasn’t supposed to talk about money in polite company.

But perhaps the rules were relaxed when polite company included a woman of business wearing a wet shift?

“How much would I pay?” Lady Stonely posed the question for Diantha, her tone suggesting it was not an unwelcome one. “Generally not a great deal for first-time writers, but I am open to negotiation.”

“I …” Diantha didn’t know how to negotiate.

“Name your price, Miss Brown.”

“Ten shillings?” she tried, having no idea if she was under- or overselling herself, though it did seem rather a lot of money for what would amount to a few hours of work.

“Done.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.” The countess extended her hand, and Diantha gathered she was meant to shake it, in the fashion that gentlemen did.

It was a bit of a thrill.

“Well, don’t you drive a hard bargain, Miss Brown?” Miss Morgan said.

“I have need of funds,” Diantha said, seeing no need to dissemble, given that no one was finding the frank discussion or the striking of a business arrangement untoward.

“Do you now?” Miss Morgan said, her eyes narrowing, not unkindly but in a way that made Diantha think she ought to have dissembled.

She could only take this truth-telling so far. What would she even say? Yes, I am paying an odious man called Anthony Baldwin half my life savings to appear to ruin me, after which time I shall retire to a life of deprivation, so please send all the blunt my way?

“Don’t you think it would be lovely to immerse oneself in the pool at night?” she asked as a means of changing the subject.

It worked. Miss Morgan shuddered. “I do not think. Imagine how bone-chilling that water would be without the tempering impact of the sun.”

“But imagine what an experience it would be to sit in the water and tip one’s head back and see the sky awash in stars. It would add a layer of sensory stimulation. Perhaps two layers, for have you noticed that if you pay attention, you can hear the gurgling of the brook over there?”

Both the ladies made expressions that seemed to indicate that they were listening to the water.

“Oh!” Miss Morgan exclaimed. “I’ve just got the name! Gurglewood! ‘Gurgle’ plus ‘wood’!” She tilted her head. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

“You must try it, Miss Brown,” Lady Stonely said. “Take the waters at night and incorporate your observations into your report.”

Diantha laughed, as she believed the lady to be in jest.

“In fact, as your editor, I insist.”

Oh, dear. “While I would be happy to indulge you, I can’t see how it can work, operationally.”