‘Frederick seems interested in her, too.’
‘Frederick is interested in her only because he cannot have her; unless he has some mischief planned,’ I remarked. ‘However, Miss Thorpe knows what she is about. She will have to look out for herself. It is Miss Morland in whom I have an interest, and so, too, for some reason, does our father.’
‘Perhaps it is just that he noticed I have a liking for her.’
‘I think it must be, for I can think of no other reason. And so she is to visit us at the abbey?’
‘I have not asked her yet. She might say no.’
‘What? Say no to staying in a real abbey?’ I enquired. ‘No lover of Gothic novels could resist.’
‘You must promise me not to tell her it is haunted. I think she might believe you, and I would not have her frightened.’
‘Frightened? My dear Eleanor, if she saw a ghost in the abbey it would delight her for the rest of her life. A headless horseman or a spectral woman wringing her hands, or some ill-fated nun, would thrill her to the core.’
She smiled.
‘I suppose it would. Very well, you may tease her if you will.’
Miss Morland arrived at that moment and my father returned soon after. He added his entreaties to Eleanor’s and Miss Morland was very quickly persuaded to accept the invitation, as long as her parents gave their consent.
She returned to the Allens happily, leaving Eleanor and myself scarcely any less happy with the promise of her company.
Tuesday 12 March
Our change of plan has necessitated a change in my arrangements. I called on the Plainters to let them know that I will not be able to dine with them on the twenty-fifth and as they were just about to set out for a drive with a party of friends they persuaded me to go with them. I knew some of the party but there were some I did not know and some I wished I did not know. Miss Smith was there, as scathing as ever about her fellows; barbed comments delivered with humour I can enjoy but not those without. Miss Crane was also there, shy and demure. I tried to laugh her out of it, for, like Miss Morland, she is fresh from the country, but she would not even smile. I asked her about her hobbies – she has none; her favourite books – she does not read; the assemblies – she has no opinion. I relinquished her with gratitude to Margaret and found myself the object of Miss Brown’s attention. Miss Brown said she was not surprised we were leaving, for Bath had nothing to offer: the assemblies were dull, the people without taste and the concerts not worth listening to. I confounded her by saying that I liked the place and was only sorry not to be staying longer.
‘Well, and do any of the ladies take your fancy?’ asked Charles as we reached our destination and waited for the rest of the party to dismount or climb out of the carriages.
‘Alas, no.’
‘I thought at one time you were partial to Miss Morland but I hear she is to marry Thorpe,’ he said, as he threw the reins of his horse over a branch.
I was astonished.
‘Do you indeed?’ I said.
‘Yes. I had it from Thorpe himself. He tried to sell me a horse and when he saw he could not sell it to me for myself he tried to sell it to me for Margaret, remarking that he had intended to give it to his betrothed but that Miss Morland did not happen to like bay.’
‘But is it certain?’ I asked. ‘It seems a strange match to me.’ Thinking: And a highly unlikely one.
‘Thorpe seems to think so. His sister marrying Miss Morland’s brother gave him the idea and Miss Morland apparently agreed.’
Margaret had by this time joined us and remarked, ‘I should be very surprised if Miss Morland thinks herself engaged. There has been no announcement and from what I can gather, the proposal was hardly conventionaclass="underline" Mr Thorpe said that marriage was a good thing and when Miss Morland agreed he took it as a “yes” to a question he does not appear to have asked.’
‘That seems more likely,’ I said, ‘for whenever I have seen them together she seemed to regard him with aversion.’
‘I regard him the same way myself,’ said Charles. ‘He has no interest in anyone but himself and tells the most preposterous stories about his exploits. To hear him talk, anyone would think he was the best swimmer, rider, billiard-player, boxer, hunter and everything else the world has ever seen.’
‘Charles would not let me invite him today, even though we were short of gentlemen,’ said Margaret.
‘Ah, so that is why you invited me,’ I said.
‘Of course,’ said Charles with a laugh. ‘Why else?’
‘And, being short of gentlemen, you would very much oblige me if you would escort Mrs Redbridge and her daughter to the top of the hill. They are waiting for a gentleman’s arm.’
I viewed the Redbridges with some misgivings, for their faces wore an assessing look, as though they were measuring everything from the capes on my greatcoat to the value of my tithes. But I did my duty and was rewarded by a fine spread eaten in the sharp March wind, before persistent rain broke up the party and returned us all to Bath.
What was my pleasure to find Miss Morland in Milsom Street. As I entered the drawing room I heard her asking Eleanor, in excited tones, ‘And was the abbey once a convent?’
‘Yes, and a richly endowed one, until the Reformation,’ said Eleanor. ‘It then fell into the hands of one of our ancestors on its dissolution.’
‘And is it very ancient?’ asked Miss Morland breathlessly.
‘Quite as ancient as you could wish. A large portion of the original building still makes a part of the present dwelling, although some has decayed.’
‘And does it stand in a valley, surrounded by heavy trees?’
‘Yes, if you call oak trees heavy.’
‘I should think they are,’ said Miss Morland with delight.
‘Pray, do not let me interrupt,’ I said as they looked up and saw me.
‘I cannot believe I am to stay in a real abbey,’ said Miss Morland.
‘I only hope it does not disappoint you,’ said Eleanor.
‘Oh, no! I am sure it could never do that.’
The new fittings and sound masonry are perhaps not what she is expecting, nor are the neat gardens and the useful offices, but I am glad to be taking her away from the Thorpes and I mean to make sure she enjoys herself.
Wednesday 13 March
We were late arriving at the Pump-room and to my disappointment I learnt that Miss Morland, who had been there earlier with Mrs Allen, had already left. Her friend Miss Thorpe was there, however, busily flirting with Frederick. Eleanor and I both noticed, and we exchanged glances.
‘Why do you think the fair Isabella is flirting with Frederick?’ I asked her. ‘Is it because her swain is absent and she is practising for his return?’
‘Do you think that is the reason?’ she said.
‘No, alas. I think that Miss Thorpe is a hardened flirt, and I pity Morland from my heart.’
‘For his sake or his sister’s?’
‘Both. He has done nothing to deserve this, save being wilfully blind and attributing perfection to the object of his affections and ignoring her feet of clay. But that is no more than the best of us will do in love, and he is to be pitied rather than blamed.’
‘And have you attributed perfection to your favourite, instead of looking at her feet?’
‘I have attributed nothing to Miss Morland that she does not already possess: charm – the kind that comes from within, which is seldom met with, and not the practised kind, which is to be found everywhere; originality, for there is nothing more original than speaking one’s mind, without dissemble or disguise; and a love of Mrs Radcliffe, which is the most important of the three.’