She helped Belinda through a pretty sitting-room decorated in the Chinese manner and into a bedroom where blue silk, blue wallpaper, and a four-poster bed and fire-place copied the red room in everything but colour.
Their trunks were brought in, followed very quickly by the baths, which were filled by the footmen, and then the two ladies were left in peace.
Hannah sat in the bath in front of the fireplace, carefully holding the guidebook clear of the water. ‘I have found it,’ she called through the open door to Belinda. ‘Baddell Castle. Ah, it used to belong to the Earls of Jesper. The last earl died in 1590 without children, his estates escheated to the Crown, and all the court rolls and records went to London and disappeared in the middle of the seventeenth century, so it was a castle without much history that anyone knows of or ghosts or what have you, so everyone forgot about it. It says that the present owner, the Marquess of Frenton, repels visitors.’
‘I am glad he did not repel us,’ called Belinda.
‘The Crown gave the first Marquess of Frenton the castle and estates.’
‘What shall I wear?’ asked Belinda. ‘If we are to dine here, we could dine in our undress.’
‘I think we should dress for a formal supper, just in case.’
‘The marquess is hardly likely to ask coach passengers to sit down with him,’ protested Belinda.
‘He did not need to take us into his home,’ Hannah pointed out. ‘He could have left us at some inn.’
As soon as they had bathed and dressed, servants appeared to remove the baths, and then a physician made his entrance. He said that Miss Wimple was still unconscious but he had hopes she would soon recover. He then examined Belinda’s ankle and confirmed that it was a bad sprain and strapped it up.
Then a lady’s maid came in. She said she was called Betty. Hannah thought it quite likely that she had some other name, for employers very frequently called their lady’s maids Betty.
Hannah enjoyed the luxury of having her hair done and her large shawl arranged tastefully on her shoulders. Then, while Belinda’s hair was being arranged, Hannah asked the maid, ‘When you have finished, can you take us to Miss Wimple? She is the lady who has suffered a bad accident.’
The maid nodded, and after she had dressed Belinda’s fine hair in one of the new Grecian styles, she led them out and along the corridor and into Miss Wimple’s bedchamber.
Miss Wimple was lying like one dead. Hannah felt her forehead and found it hot. A little chambermaid was piling logs on the fire. ‘The doctor said she would live,’ said the chambermaid.
A footman appeared in the doorway. ‘His lordship’s compliments,’ he said. ‘You are to follow me.’
‘I will stay here,’ said Hannah firmly.
‘Beg pardon, madam,’ said the footman. ‘Mrs James, the housekeeper, will soon be here to sit with the poor lady, and she will let you know as soon as there is any change.’
Belinda and Hannah followed him out, back along a chain of corridors, and then down the main staircase to the first floor. ‘His lordship is in the Cedar Room,’ said the footman, and flung open the double doors.
Belinda hesitated nervously in the doorway until Hannah gave her a little push.
The Cedar Room was enormous. The cedar-wood panelling which gave it its name was hung with family portraits. Huge chandeliers hung from the ornately designed ceiling. There was a large Adam fireplace in the centre of the opposite wall, and a French carpet covered the floor.
Huge windows had thick velvet curtains with heavy swags of fringe drawn against the winter’s night. The gigantic area of the room was dotted about with little islands of tables and chairs.
At the island nearest the fireplace sat a very beautiful lady and a middle-aged couple.
The marquess was standing by the fireplace. He was wearing an evening coat of dark-blue watered silk with a high collar and a ruffled shirt. His breeches of the same material were fastened at the knee with gold buckles. His silk stockings were of gold-and-white stripes and his black shoes had gold buckles. He had a fine sapphire in the snowy folds of his cravat and a large square sapphire ring on his finger.
Hannah shot a covert glance at Belinda and was glad that young lady was looking every bit as finely dressed as the marquess’s guests.
She was wearing a gown of pale lilac satin and a fine necklace of amethysts set in old gold. She had lilac silk heelless slippers to match with ribbons crossed across the ankles, and, on her arms, long gloves of lilac kid. Hannah had put on a fine and delicate muslin cap. She knew the Norfolk shawl about her shoulders was of the finest quality, as was her plum-coloured silk gown with matching silk gloves.
The marquess approached Belinda and Hannah, his eyes narrowing a little in surprise, for there was no denying the richness of the ladies’ gowns. He wondered briefly what they had been doing travelling on the stage.
He introduced them to Miss Penelope Jordan and her parents. Mr and Mrs Judd made their entrance, Mrs Judd clinging tightly to her husband’s arm. Belinda saw a mocking smile curving Penelope’s lips and the teasing look she threw the marquess as if to say, ‘My dear, what people!’
All in that moment, Belinda found herself disliking Penelope very much indeed.
The Judds were plainly and respectably dressed. But Mrs Judd’s gown was of an old-fashioned cut and Mr Judd was in morning dress, not having brought any evening dress with him, which, thought Belinda crossly, was perfectly understandable. She flashed a contemptuous look at Penelope and then realized the marquess was watching her and blushed faintly.
A butler and two footmen entered bearing trays of hot negus for the ladies and decanters of wine for the men.
All sat down on chairs arranged for them in a circle in front of the fire. Belinda sipped her negus and covertly studied the Jordans. Sir Henry Jordan was fat and florid with a jovial manner belied by the hardness of a pair of small brown eyes. Lady Jordan showed traces of an earlier beauty in thick, luxuriant, if grey-streaked hair, a statuesque figure, and large brown eyes. But little lines of discontent had caused her mouth to set in a permanent droop and two heavy vertical lines caused by frowning marred her forehead.
‘Why are you travelling on the stage, Miss Earle?’ demanded Penelope, her eyes flicking over the splendour of Belinda’s gown.
‘To get to The Bath,’ said Belinda calmly.
‘I would have thought you would have preferred to travel in your own carriage,’ pursued Penelope.
Seized with a mischievous desire to lower her social status to that of the Judds, Belinda said airily, ‘My family do not own a carriage.’ She turned to the marquess. ‘All my concern is for Miss Wimple, my poor companion.’
‘I have told the physician to return within the hour,’ said the marquess. ‘He will stay here for the night and so be available to help when he is required.’
‘Thank you, my lord. You are so very kind.’ Belinda’s face suddenly lit up in a charming smile. The marquess smiled back, oddly intrigued by this young lady with the wispy-fine slate-coloured hair and the wicked-looking sensual mouth.
‘You have a very fine place here, my lord,’ said Mr Judd nervously.
‘It’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, hey?’ said Sir Henry, all mock joviality. ‘I wager you never thought, considering your social station, to be the guest of an earl.’
Belinda winced and Hannah’s lips clamped tightly together in disapproval. How quaint, thought Penelope, amused. These upstarts of the stage-coach actually consider that Papa is being vulgar. But then she saw the chilly, calculating way in which the marquess was regarding her father and felt a stab of unease.
The marquess rose to escort them to supper. Penelope’s feeling of unease grew, for the marquess placed Belinda on his right hand and Hannah on his left. Moreover, the long dining-table had been replaced by a round one. The marquess had not liked the way Penelope had automatically taken the opposite end of the long table from him as if she were already established as his wife, and so had ordered the round table and had had it delivered that very day.