‘High praise indeed!’
Eleanor’s hand was sought and although the floor was crowded, Miss Morland let her in. I had the satisfaction of seeing them dancing and talking together. I rather hoped Miss Morland would be free for the next dance but she was standing up again with Thorpe, and having been disappointed in my first choice I led Miss Smith on to the floor. Miss Smith, alas, was no substitute for Miss Morland, for if she was not laughing at a young lady who had torn her gown, she was regaling me with an account of her conquests.
‘Do you see that gentleman over there, the one with the blue coat? He has told me on three separate occasions how lovely I am and he has five thousand a year. Mama is certain he will offer for me any day. But I do not think I will accept him. I do not like his cravat.’
‘Then on no account consider it,’ I said. ‘It is possible to compromise in certain areas when choosing a partner for life, but never on a cravat.’
She looked at me in admiration.
‘That is exactly what I think,’ she said. ‘You are amazingly clever.’
‘It is very good of you to say so.’
‘Papa says I am the cleverest girl he has ever met. Captain Dunston remarked upon it as well. But I think he is a very stupid fellow.’
‘He must be,’ I said, a remark which she did not understand, but which made her smile, for she liked to think of my sharing her opinion of the captain.
At last tea was over, and I found Eleanor and Mrs Hughes in order to take them home. Mrs Hughes exclaimed upon the chance of having met with her friend Mrs Thorpe again. She spoke of Isabella’s prettiness and John’s fine figure, which last was something of a slander on the word fine, for I never saw such an ill-looking fellow. From there she began talking of her own children, and we were glad to speak of them, for we were both conscious of the great kindness she is doing us by coming to Bath and acting as Eleanor’s chaperone.
Back in Milsom Street, Mrs Hughes declared herself tired and retired for the night but Eleanor and I sat up for some time, talking.
‘You seemed to be well entertained by Miss Smith,’ said Eleanor, as we sat by the fire in the drawing room. ‘I saw you laughing twice and smiling often.’
I recounted our conversations and she said, ‘Oh dear!’
‘And you?’ I asked. ‘Did you make any new friends? Miss Thorpe, perhaps, or Miss Morland?’
‘Miss Thorpe is not to my taste, but I would like to know Miss Morland better,’ said Eleanor. ‘She has engaging manners.’
‘Did you have much chance to speak to her?’
‘No, very little, only to exchange commonplaces. We asked each other how well we liked Bath, and talked of how much we admired its buildings and surrounding country. I asked her whether she drew, or played, or sang, and whether she was fond of riding on horseback, and she asked the same of me.’
‘And what did you discover?’ I asked.
‘That she drew, played and sang as much as any other young lady who is not especially accomplished: that is, a little; and that she rides very little as she prefers to walk and there is not always a horse to be got.’
‘Well, that is honest enough! Would you like to see more of her, do you think?’
She considered the matter.
‘Yes, I think I would. Would you?’
‘I?’ I asked in surprise.
‘Yes, Henry, you.’
‘Now what makes you ask that?’
‘Because you have spoken of little else since we returned,’ she said.
‘Am I so transparent? It would seem so. Very well then, I will confess I like her, what little I know of her. She is interesting,’ I replied.
‘And, moreover, she likes you.’
I was flattered, and thought it was something to be added to Miss Morland’s store of virtues. But I did not allow Eleanor to see it.
‘She hardly knows me, and what little she does know of me she must think very odd,’ I said. ‘I talked nonsense to her when we first met, for what else can one talk in the Upper Rooms with someone one has never met before?’
‘But oddness is always forgiven in a man who is young and handsome.’
‘Be careful or such praise will go to my head.’
‘Why? I said that it is forgiven in a man who is young and handsome, I made no mention of you!’ she said with a laugh.
It was good to hear it. She has not laughed once these past two months. I am glad we came to Bath.
Tuesday 26 February
My father being busy, Eleanor, Mrs Hughes and I took the air. We had no sooner turned into the Crescent than we met Mrs Allen and Mrs Thorpe. Miss Morland was not with them, but we soon learnt that she had gone for a drive with a small party comprising her brother, Miss Thorpe and Mr Thorpe.
‘They are gone to Claverton Down,’ said Mrs Allen. ‘I am very glad. Catherine needs friends of her own age. I am sure they will all enjoy themselves immensely.’
‘And I am sure they will, too,’ said Mrs Thorpe. ‘I know I am a mother, and partial but I am sure that Catherine could not wish for a better person to drive her than John. He is my idea of what a man should be. He is up at Oxford, you know. I was worried about him at first, for one hears stories of all sorts of things, but he laughs them to scorn. “What? Drinking!” he said to me. “There is no drinking at Oxford now. You would hardly meet with a man who goes beyond his four pints at the utmost. It was reckoned a remarkable thing, at the last party in my rooms, that we cleared about five pints a head. It was looked upon as something out of the common way. Mine is famous good stuff, to be sure. You would not often meet with anything like it in Oxford – and that may account for it. But this will just give you a notion of the general rate of drinking there.” ’
‘Is not four pints rather a lot?’ asked Eleanor.
‘Why, I dare say it sounds it to you and me, but John assures me it is not,’ said the happy mother. ‘He is doing very well for himself. He often buys horses for a trifle and sells them for sums that would astonish you, and he is an excellent shot. Why, the last shooting party he went to, he killed more than all his companions together. Hunting, too, though he has to deal with the mistakes of others in a way you would not credit, and correct the mistakes of even the most experienced huntsmen. And I cannot count the times he has astonished his friends with the boldness of his riding, though I criticize him for this, for although it never endangers his own life for a moment, it leads others into difficulties, and has been the cause of other young men breaking their necks.’
‘Dear me,’ said Eleanor.
‘He sounds a marvel,’ I added.
‘Aye, I believe he is,’ said Mrs Thorpe complacently. ‘And my Isabella is no less so. There are always men following her, though she does not give them the least encouragement, and chastises them roundly for it. Why, I have heard her say that she detests young men and the way they give themselves airs, and that she would not encourage them for the world.’
‘You are very happy in your children,’ said Mrs Allen.
‘Yes, I am. But you are happy, too, in your young friends,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘Catherine is a taking young thing, and her brother James is a gentleman. How did you come to bring them to Bath?’
‘We did not bring James, he came of his own accord, but we brought Catherine. The Morlands are a good sort of family, you know, neighbours of ours, and as we have no children of our own, and as Catherine is of an age to enjoy the balls and parties, and as Mr Allen had to come here on account of his health, we thought she might like it.’
‘Well, I dare say she is enjoying herself this morning. My John will see to that. He is the best driver in the world, and he will make sure she has an agreeable outing to Claverton Down.’
Eleanor and I exchanged glances, for we had both seen John drive and thought him likely to overturn his carriage before the week was out. I feared for Miss Morland, and only hoped that the inevitable accident did not occur whilst she was in the carriage.