‘It will not make any difference. Our father will never give him permission, you know that as well as I. The general is eager for Eleanor to make a grand marriage, and if she cannot attract an earl or a viscount, or failing that a man with fifteen thousand a year, then he will marry her off to a relative of one of his cronies. I only wonder that he has not found some friend with a single relative for you.’
‘He has often tried to do so. I am more surprised that he has not found someone for you. He is not happy with you, you know. He expected you to have risen beyond the rank of captain by now.’
‘That is the trouble with having a general for a father, he expects me to reach the same exalted rank, but I have very little interest in soldiering. If I can drink in the mess room and wear a fine coat I am satisfied.’
‘It may satisfy you, but it will not satisfy him, so have a care when you next see him to sound more enthusiastic, or he will stop your allowance.’
‘I wish I did not have to see him at all,’ said Frederick grimly. ‘But enough of the general. I am meeting some friends at a tavern outside town. Come with me.’
‘No, I thank you, I am meeting Charles in half an hour and must away.’
‘Then I will see you tomorrow.’
He looked at me quizzically.
‘Have no fear, I will not tell our father you have arrived.’
He nodded in thanks and I watched him go out of the farrier’s, drawing admiring glances from a family of young ladies walking past. And then I was on my way, meeting Charles and riding on the hills and talking of his plans to return to his old neighbourhood.
‘Bath is all very well,’ he said, ‘and when Margaret’s family were alive we were settled here, but now that they have gone we are thinking of returning to the country. I want the children to have more space to run about and indulge in country pursuits. What do you think of the idea?’
‘You will always be very welcome to us, you know that. I think it an excellent idea.’
‘Good. We are thinking of looking for somewhere in the summer.’
Margaret was less enthusiastic, having lived in Bath all her life, but over dinner she warmed to the idea.
‘I do not say it will be a bad thing,’ she remarked, ‘just that I will have to become accustomed to it. I would like the children to have more space to play, too, and I confess I would like to ride more, but I must insist we return to Bath each February. It is such a dull time in the country, but here there are the theatres and shops and concerts to brighten the month.’
Charles was agreeable, and being happily circumstanced, it was not impossible for him to promise it.
Theirs is a happy marriage and I wish Frederick could see it, but he seems to avoid his old friends and I fear he will refuse them. It is as if he does not want to let go of his ideas, for if he does he will have to throw himself once more back into life, heart and all, and risk having it broken all over again.
Wednesday 6 March
We were a subdued party at dinner tonight. It should have been a cheerful occasion, for Miss Morland joined us, but she brought with her the news that her brother is engaged to Isabella Thorpe, and that was not uplifting. Even worse was my father’s overbearing manner, which cast a pall over everything.
Eleanor had a further reason for being quiet. I had told her that Frederick meant to pay Mr Morris back, but instead of pleasing her the news reminded her of what she had lost. It was left to my father, therefore, to entertain Miss Morland.
He must be serious about encouraging a friend for Eleanor for I can see no other reason why he would flatter Miss Morland so. But I am happy that he is pleased with her. The more I see of her, the more I am pleased with her myself, and I am looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow.
Thursday 7 March
Frederick arrived at Milsom Street this afternoon and was resolutely interrogated by my father as to his activities during his absence.
Having answered all my father’s questions about his companions, his drinking habits and his spending, Frederick managed to lead the subject by degrees to the war. He engaged my father in a discussion of strategies and tactics for dealing with the French until it was time for us to leave for the Assembly Rooms.
My spirits were lifted by the presence of Miss Morland and I determined to make it up to her for the dullness of last night’s party. I was soon laughing with her and teasing her and enjoying myself.
I enjoyed myself even more when she noticed Frederick, for although she evidently admired him – as who would not? – she did nothing to attract him, as other women have always done. This roused my admiration so much that I said I had a mind to dance and I was just about to ask her when Frederick laughed at me for finding it possible.
‘In the Assembly Rooms? In Bath?’ he mocked. ‘You would not find me dancing here.’
‘Then it is lucky I am not you. Miss Morland, would you do me the honour?’ I asked.
Miss Morland, with a becoming smile, accepted.
The conversation soon turned to the outing she had missed in order to honour her engagement with Eleanor and myself.
‘Did your friends put it off until you could join them?’ I asked her.
‘Oh, no, they went on their own; that is, Mr Thorpe drove his sister in my place.’
‘That was not well done of him,’ I said, ‘but you seem to have survived the disappointment.’
‘There was no disappointment at all, I assure you, although I thought they meant to go to Blaize Castle, and that I would have liked to see.’
‘It is a fine old place.’
‘You have been?’ she asked me eagerly.
‘On more than one occasion.’
‘And is it very ancient?’
‘Quite as ancient as you could wish, and quite as terrible. The venerable stones speak of all sorts of horrible incidents in its terrible past. Many a heroine has been forced into a travelling chaise and four and found herself transported to the castle, where she has been incarcerated, there to await her doom: marriage to an evil baron who will steal her fortune and then murder her, throwing her body into the deep limestone gorge that forms a dramatic backdrop to the castle.’
Her eyes sparkled.
‘Do you really think so?’ she asked with a pleasurable shiver.
‘My dear Miss Morland, I am sure of it. Why, the folly alone has seen a dozen murders,’ I remarked.
She looked momentarily disconcerted.
‘But I thought it was only built some thirty or forty years ago,’ she said.
‘But where was it built? On the ruin of St Blaize’s Chapel,’ I said in a doleful voice.
‘How perfectly horrid,’ she said with delight.
‘Yes, is it not? And to think, you were willing to forgo it in order to take a walk with Eleanor and myself. We cannot thank you enough for such a sacrifice.’
‘It was not such a sacrifice,’ she said artlessly, ‘for they did not go to the castle in the end. I asked Isabella all about it. They merely drove to the York Hotel, where they ate some soup, and then walked down to the Pump-room, and after tasting the waters they ate an ice at a pastry-cook’s, and then had to hurry back to the hotel and swallow their dinner in haste, to prevent being home in the dark.’
‘Very well, you missed nothing of any interest, I grant you, but you did not know that at the time, and your sacrifice is no less noble,’ I said.
At the end of the first dance, Frederick pulled me aside.
‘You seem very taken with Miss Morland,’ he said.
‘I find her charming.’
‘Who are her family?’
‘No one in particular. She is here with neighbours, a Mr and Mrs Allen, and her brother is also here. He is the young man you saw at the farrier’s. You will be delighted to know that his parents gave their consent to the match and he is now betrothed.’