‘Lucky man,’ said Frederick wryly.
His gaze had lingered on Miss Morland and when she looked up he caught her eye, but failing to win a smile or a flirtatious glance, his attention passed on to her friend. Miss Thorpe looked very pretty and was obviously longing to dance.
‘There is someone I would like to know better. We collided when I was in pursuit of a drink and the experience was most agreeable. Introduce me,’ said Frederick.
‘Nay, Miss Thorpe is engaged, indeed she is engaged to Miss Morland’s brother.’
‘Is she indeed?’ said Frederick with interest. ‘And where is the happy Mr Morland?’
‘He is still in Wiltshire, where he is no doubt discussing details of the marriage settlement with his parents.’
Frederick did not take his eyes from Miss Thorpe.
‘What mischief are you planning?’ I asked him.
‘My dear little brother, how mistrustful you are. I? Mischief ? For once in my life I am behaving myself, and doing my duty. There is a young lady in the room with no partner, and it is my concern, as a gentleman, to offer her my hand. You are dancing with her friend. Ask her if she thinks Miss Thorpe would like to dance.’
I was unwilling, but knowing Isabella Thorpe to be no innocent, and knowing that my brother could do her no harm in the assembly rooms, I did as he wished; that is, I asked Miss Morland if she though Miss Thorpe would have any objection to dancing.
‘My brother would be most happy to be introduced to her,’ I said.
‘I am very sure Miss Thorpe does not mean to dance at all,’ said Miss Morland.
I returned to Frederick with the news, and he appeared to accept it, for he walked away, but not two minutes later I saw him talking to Mrs Hughes and guessed that he would ask her for the introduction he had not received from me.
‘Your brother will not mind it, I know,’ said Miss Morland, knowing nothing of Frederick and assuming he was as generous and innocent as herself, ‘because I heard him say before that he would never dance here; but it was very good-natured in him to think of it. I suppose he saw Isabella sitting down, and fancied she might wish for a partner; but he is quite mistaken, for she would not dance upon any account in the world.’
How is it possible for anyone to be so innocent and so charming?
I smiled, and said, ‘How very little trouble it can give you to understand the motive of other people’s actions.’
‘Why? What do you mean?’
‘With you, it is not: How is such a one likely to be influenced, What is the inducement most likely to act upon such a person’s feelings, age, situation, and probable habits of life considered, but: How should I be influenced, What would be my inducement in acting so and so?’
‘I do not understand you.’
‘Then we are on very unequal terms, for I understand you perfectly well,’ I said.
Honest, good-natured, artless and – for she likes me – intelligent! And also unwittingly funny, for she replied, ‘Me? Yes; I cannot speak well enough to be unintelligible.’
I laughed.
‘Bravo! An excellent satire on modern language,’ I returned, pleased.
She was perplexed, which made her look even more enchanting.
‘But pray tell me what you mean,’ she said.
‘Shall I indeed? Do you really desire it? But you are not aware of the consequences; it will involve you in a very cruel embarrassment, and certainly bring on a disagreement between us.’
‘No, no; it shall not do either; I am not afraid,’ she returned.
‘Well, then, I only meant that your attributing my brother’s wish of dancing with Miss Thorpe to good nature alone convinced me of your being superior in good nature yourself to all the rest of the world.’
She blushed and disclaimed, and the peach flush suffusing her cheeks made her eyes look even more bright.
Her blushes and smiles subsided, however, when she happened to glance to her right and saw Miss Thorpe standing up with my brother. She was astonished; I, alas, was not at all surprised. Frederick had decided to seduce Miss Thorpe and there was not anything I could do to stop him. The only person who could stop him now was Miss Thorpe herself.
If she had been defenceless I would have stepped in, but she was in Bath with her family, and engaged to a good and honest man. And so I let him have his way, knowing that she had plenty of people to look after her, and that one word from her own lips would send Frederick on his way. For although he is a rake he is not cruel, and has never yet seduced a woman too young or friendless to be able to resist his charms.
Miss Thorpe, seeing herself observed, shrugged her shoulders and smiled, the only explanation of this extraordinary change which could at that time be given; but as it was not quite enough for Miss Morland’s comprehension, she spoke her astonishment in very plain terms to me: ‘I cannot think how it could happen! Isabella was so determined not to dance.’
‘And did Isabella never change her mind before?’ I asked.
‘Oh! But, because – And your brother! After what you told him from me, how could he think of going to ask her?’
‘I cannot take surprise to myself on that head. You bid me be surprised on your friend’s account, and therefore I am; but as for my brother, his conduct in the business, I must own, has been no more than I believed him perfectly equal to. The fairness of your friend was an open attraction; her firmness, you know, could only be understood by yourself.’
‘You are laughing; but, I assure you, Isabella is very firm in general.’
‘It is as much as should be said of anyone. To be always firm must be to be often obstinate. When properly to relax is the trial of judgment; and, without reference to my brother, I really think Miss Thorpe has by no means chosen ill in fixing on the present hour.’
The dance over, Miss Morland was claimed by her friend, and they walked about the room arm in arm, with Miss Thorpe no doubt explaining why she had broken her steadfast resolve of not dancing, and Miss Morland being surprised and yet generous enough to believe whatever her friend cared to tell her.
Monday 11 March
Just as I thought we were settled in Bath, my father announced at breakfast that we would be returning to the abbey on Saturday se’ennight. A couple of letters were the cause of his change of plan: one from his steward, saying that his presence was needed at home and one from General Courteney, saying that he and the Marquis of Longtown had been unavoidably delayed and would not be coming to Bath after all.
Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief that the general and the marquis would not be joining us, but she was as disappointed as I was to be leaving Bath until my father said, ‘You must invite your friend to come with us, Eleanor. I am sure she would like to see the abbey and it will be company for you, you know.’
I was surprised, not sorry for the suggestion and neither was Eleanor.
My father set out immediately to ask the Allens for their consent to the scheme and I asked Eleanor if she knew of any reason why our father has singled out Miss Morland, more than any of the other young ladies of our acquaintance.
‘I like her very well, and so do you,’ I mused, ‘but our father is disposed to dislike people in general, and I see nothing in Miss Morland which would impress him.’
‘Except perhaps for her sweetness and her willingness to please and be pleased,’ said Eleanor. ‘I hope she accepts our invitation but I fear she might not want to leave her brother. I am sorry for him, engaging himself to Miss Thorpe. She is not good enough for him.’
‘No, far from it, but she is pretty, lively and flirtatious, and he is not the first young man to lose his head over such a one as Miss Thorpe.’