I could tease her no more, for we were joined by Mrs Allen, the woman with whom Miss Morland was staying. Indeed, it was Mrs Allen, along with her estimable husband, who had brought Miss Morland to Bath. Journaling and letter-writing were forgotten and muslins became the subject, on account of Mrs Allen’s fearing she had torn hers. She was astonished that I understood muslins.
I told her I understood them particularly well, for I always bought my own cravats, and my sister had often trusted me in the choice of a gown.
‘I bought one for her the other day, and it was pronounced to be a prodigious bargain by every lady who saw it. I gave but five shillings a yard for it, and a true Indian muslin,’ I remarked.
Mrs Allen was quite struck.
‘Men commonly take so little notice of those things,’ said she. ‘I can never get Mr Allen to know one of my gowns from another. You must be a great comfort to your sister, sir.’
‘I hope I am, madam,’ I replied.
‘And pray, sir, what do you think of Miss Morland’s gown?’ she asked me.
I looked at Miss Morland and thought it looked uncommonly charming. I could not say so, however, for fear of producing expectations of an early call, or indeed, an offer of marriage. And so I said, ‘It is very pretty, madam, but I do not think it will wash well; I am afraid it will fray.’
Miss Morland was laughing now, having decided she could, or having realized that she could not help herself, one or the other. ‘How can you,’ she said, ‘be so—’
I had the delightful feeling she was going to say strange, and indeed I was willing her to do so. It would have been amusing to hear such honesty. But she never finished her thought, and Mrs Allen continued to talk of muslins.
I listened politely, though my eyes kept straying to Miss Morland, delighting in her delight at the novelty of her evening. I have been to Bath so many times I had quite forgotten how delightful it can seem to someone who has never been before. So well did I like Miss Morland that when the dancing recommenced I asked for her hand once more.
‘What are you thinking of so earnestly?’ I asked her as we walked back to the ballroom. ‘Not of your partner, I hope, for, by that shake of the head, your meditations are not satis-factory.’
She coloured, and said, ‘I was not thinking of anything.’
‘That is artful and deep, to be sure; but I had rather be told at once that you will not tell me.’
‘Well then, I will not.’
‘Thank you; for now we shall soon be acquainted, as I am authorized to tease you on this subject whenever we meet, and nothing in the world advances intimacy so much.’
She looked delighted at the thought, and was too innocent to disguise it, and my evening was more agreeably spent than I had ever expected.
‘You look very pleased with yourself,’ said Charles, coming up to me.
‘Indeed. I have been thinking that it is company that makes the occasion. The Rooms are often tedious but tonight I found them quite charming.’
‘It is good of you to say so.’
‘My dear Charles, I was not talking of you.’
‘Of course not. Who would be charmed by me when Margaret was by?’
‘I was not thinking of Margaret, either,’ I said. ‘You seemed to dance with her half the evening. It is not done, you know. A man should never pay too much attention to his wife.’
‘I beg you, leave me one of my pleasures. I can no longer scandalize the neighbourhood by stealing apples and so I must make what scandal I can from the means at my disposal.’
‘Very well,’ I conceded. ‘I give you leave to dance with Margaret as much as you like.’
‘You are prodigiously good to me, Henry.’
‘My dear Charles, what are friends for?’
Margaret then joining us, we went out to the carriage.
‘Who was that young lady you were dancing with?’ asked Margaret. ‘I thought her rather pretty.’
‘I danced with any number of pretty ladies,’ I said, as we climbed into the carriage.
‘She is new to Bath. I have not seen her before.’
‘Ah, that young lady. Her name is Miss Morland. She is newly arrived from the country.’
‘You made a handsome couple. When you return to Bath with your family, I hope you will dance with her again,’ Margaret said.
‘When are you returning?’ asked Charles.
‘Charles! Henry has not even left us yet!’
‘No, but I must do so tomorrow, and I hope to return next week,’ I said.
‘Will Mrs Hughes be coming with you?’ asked Margaret.
‘Yes, she comes to keep Eleanor company.’
‘Good. I will look forward to seeing them both. It seems an age since we met. Eleanor will be astonished to see how much the children have grown.’
The conversation then naturally reverted to the three Plainter sprigs and their remarkable ability to increase their height and girth without any effort at all.
Saturday 16 February
An early start, a good journey and arrived at the abbey in time for luncheon. I told my father and sister about the rooms I had taken. My father was pleased with my description of them and said we will occupy them on Thursday. Then it was back to Woodston for me, where I exercised the dogs, thanked Miss Olsen for the pen-wiper she kindly brought round to the parsonage and then put the finishing touches to tomorrow’s sermon.
Sunday 17 February
A good turnout at church today. It had nothing to do with the mild weather and a desire to gossip and everything to do with my oratory skills, I am perfectly convinced. Indeed, if not for Mrs Attwood’s new bonnet, I would have had the ladies’ undivided attention. The gentlemen I was more certain of. They had no interest in bonnets, new or otherwise, and listened in pleasing silence, broken only by an occasional snore.
Thursday 21 February
Having made arrangements for my absence with Langton, my pleasingly eager curate, I drove over to the abbey where I found Eleanor with her nose in a novel.
‘There is no time to read,’ I said. ‘We must be off to Bath.’
‘My father has had to delay our journey on account of business,’ she said. ‘We do not now go until Saturday, and so I thought I would start one of the books you bought for me in London.’
‘I hope it is a good one, for we will need something to entertain us until we leave for Bath.’
‘It is excellent,’ she said. ‘Even better than A Sicilan Romance . I believe it is Mrs Radcliffe’s best novel.’
I saw the cover and said, ‘Ah, you have chosen The Mysteries of Udolpho. Excellent.’
She had only just begun, and after allowing me to catch up we read on together, becoming quickly engrossed – so much so, that we could scarcely bring ourselves to put the book down in order to eat. Poor Julia’s trials were as nothing to Emily’s tribulations. Sinister castles, murderers and banditti all conspired to instil terror in our heroine as she travelled through Europe, and we passed the day very pleasantly.
The evening was less pleasant. My father was at home, testy because his business had compelled him to delay our visit to Bath and expressing his dissatisfaction with his doctors and their advice that he should take the waters.
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ he said. ‘But at least some of my friends will be there.’
He did not appear to think it unfair that he had refused Eleanor the pleasure of a friend for company, for although she will have Mrs Hughes, and greatly enjoy her company, she needs companions of her own age, too. But perhaps Miss Morland ... Though some years younger than Eleanor, I think the two of them will like each other.