For Myself Alone: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel (5 page)

8

The Lower Rooms

Upon returning to the house, my parents and I found that the post had come in our absence bringing a letter from Agnes at Wallerton and another from Tom at Oxford. On a single sheet, Tom reported that he had already settled back into the hospitable embrace of his college, and he pledged – as indeed he did every term – to apply himself to his studies with renewed vigor and devotion. The brief, perfunctory note hardly seemed to merit the tender reverence with which Mama handled it. Apparently, she alone could discern the fonder sentiments and more noble aspirations concealed beneath and between the words so carelessly scrawled upon the page.

My letter from Agnes was not intended for general consumption and held no fascination for anyone but myself. Accordingly, I carried it off to my room for a private perusal. The thick folds of paper promised well for its being a more generous and edifying correspondence than the other. However, even though Agnes was very liberal with her words and far more candid expressing her sensibilities, she ultimately related little information. That very lack of news figured prominently in the theme of her discourse.

“I declare that nothing interesting ever happens in Wallerton,”
she wrote,
“and I am convinced that I shall never enjoy so much as one ounce of excitement as long as I remain here. My dearest friend, I depend on your letters so. Let me hear from you very often, so that I may sample vicariously that which I hope will soon be mine to savor in person. The prospect of joining you in Bath is what sustains me.”

“Poor Agnes,” I thought aloud, “I do pity you. Well, I shall write you a good, long letter tomorrow, I promise. By then I hope to have some news worth telling, some experience truly deserving of your envy.”

After dinner, I began the delightful ritual of dressing for the ball. As I did so, I pictured the scene in my imagination and wondered who my dance partner would be. In answer, the face of the intriguing gentleman I had encountered earlier that day once again sprang unbidden to my mind. He had made quite an impression on me. One minute I fervently prayed that he would come to the ball and procure an introduction, and the next I reproached myself for allowing such an idle fancy to dominate my thoughts. I was not accustomed to this sort of emotional agitation.

Mama, coming in to check on me, discovered me fully ready to go and impatiently pacing the length of my room.

“My dear, how well you look,” she said. “That gown is so becoming. I am glad you chose it for tonight. Green has always been your best color. But why so anxious? It is not like you to become overexcited by the prospect of a ball.”

“This is no ordinary ball, Mama. At a dance in Wallerton, one knows exactly what to expect – who will be there, how they will behave, what dances we will have and in what order they will be played. Tonight, everything is different – new people, a new place. Anything could happen.”

“And you are hoping that something does, I suppose.”

“What?”

“I was once your age, you know, and it does not seem so long ago either. Believe it or not, I can still remember how nervous I felt before a ball. That was always the way with me, but I have never seen
you
like this before.”

“I am sorry, Mama. I do not know what is wrong with me.”

“No need to apologize; I rather like it. It makes me feel as if we have a little more in common. I never thought that I had much to teach you. Perhaps now, at this juncture, you may find that you need a mother’s advice after all.” Taking my hand, she continued, “I will never force a confidence from you, but I want you to know that you can come to me with your problems at any time. I have some knowledge and experience with affairs of the heart. I was quite admired in my day, and your father was not the first to notice me.”

“Mama!”

“Why so shocked, my dear? Did you never consider the possibility that your mother might know what it is like to be pursued by a man, or even more than one?”

No, I had never given it an instant’s thought in the whole course of my existence.

She went on. “I do not suppose that you have, any more than I did at your age. Well, nevertheless, it is true. So remember, you can talk to me about such things if and when you have the need.”

I promised to bear it in mind.

At length, my party arrived and Mr. Graham came to the door to collect me. The afternoon rain had left behind a pattern of puddles of various sizes, scattered at random like so many mushrooms sprung up across the forest floor. Lest my carefully arranged dancing clothes be spoilt at the very outset of the evening, I held my skirt and carefully picked my way to the carriage. Mrs. Graham and Susan waited therein. One glance at my friend’s face was sufficient to convince me that she felt the same exhilaration of spirits that I myself could hardly contain.

The brief ride to our destination had no very soothing effect upon either of us, and we arrived with nerves still on edge. As Susan and I entered the crowded ballroom, arm in arm for mutual support, Mr. Graham had a word with the master of ceremonies. An august personage with a fitting appellation, Mr. King reigned over the dance, directing decorum and introductions as he saw fit. In his hands rested the power to dash or delight the hopes of all the young ladies in the room, including my friend and myself.

We counted ourselves fortunate to find seats where we could view the large company engaged in the spectacle of the dance. Once settled, I cast my eyes over the throng, looking for the gentleman I had encountered that afternoon on the street. I saw instead Mr. King approaching with quite a different person at his side. The young man had a pleasing countenance but was rather shorter than average, giving me one more reason to hope that he was intended for my petite friend instead of for me. Unfortunately, that was not the case, as I soon discovered. Mr. King, with proper formality, introduced Mr. George Ramsey to me as my partner for the next dance. I smiled as graciously as possible, and allowed him to lead me out onto the floor for a quadrille.

Had I not already been entertaining thoughts of someone else, I would no doubt have found Mr. Ramsey’s company completely acceptable, even agreeable. He was an excellent dancer, and he expressed himself well in conversation. After politely inquiring about my home and family, he in turn informed me that he lived in London, where he was a student of the law. If I could not have the partner I had envisioned – and he was nowhere to be seen – Mr. Ramsey would do as well as any other and probably better than most, I decided.

By the commencement of the next dance, Susan had been provided a partner as well. His name was Mr. Cox, as I later learned. The pair of them stood up together in the same set with Mr. Ramsey and myself. Soon the lively music and the animated scene captured my spirit completely. I set aside my reservations and threw myself altogether into the fray, feeling the satisfaction of exhausting my excess energy by means of the vigorous exercise. Thus we continued until the break.

At tea, Susan and I introduced our partners to the others in our group. Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Graham engaged the young men in conversation, I had opportunity for a few moments’ private discourse with my friend.

“What a lucky girl you are, my dear,” whispered Susan. “You have made another splendid conquest. Mr. Ramsey appears very agreeable, and oh so handsome too.”

“Do you really think so, Susan? He is pleasant enough, I agree, but hardly the man I had in mind, as you well know.”

“In that case, would you consider switching partners? Mr. Ramsey may not be your first choice, but I believe he will do very well for me.”

I had no very high hopes for finding Mr. Cox any more to my personal taste than my first partner. Still, seeing Susan’s excitement at the chance to further her acquaintance with Mr. Ramsey, I willingly acceded to her plan.  Advancing my friend’s happiness seemed a worthwhile and more achievable goal for the evening than accomplishing my own. The gentlemen made no objection when changing partners was proposed, and Mrs. Graham firmly supported the idea.

“Yes, by all means, make the change. It would not do to start tongues wagging by keeping too long to one partner,” she reminded us stridently. “I cannot speak to what may be acceptable in other places, but where we come from, it simply is not done.”

So it was settled accordingly. When the orchestra struck up a fresh tune, we made our way back onto the floor, keeping side by side in the set for maximum companionship. Mr. Cox danced nearly as well as Mr. Ramsey, and his address was pleasing enough. Nevertheless, his society held no particular charm for me.

We had been about our business several minutes when Susan caught my attention with a small gesture toward the room’s main entrance. There the gentleman so earnestly sought before could be seen surveying the company. The dance presently carried me in his direction, and I felt my embarrassment increase as the distance between us narrowed. I attempted to keep my eyes averted. Yet, when I passed so near to where he stood that we could almost have shaken hands, I looked up to find his gaze fastened upon me. He smiled and gave me a nod of recognition before my partner and I were swept away again.

I caught only a glimpse or two more of the handsome stranger during the course of my obligation to Mr. Cox. When I was free to look about myself thereafter, he was nowhere to be seen.

“You are a little flushed, my dear,” said Mrs. Graham upon my return to our seats. “You must be fatigued from all this exertion. Do sit down and rest yourself. Mr. Graham has gone to the card room, so you shall keep me company for a little while, until you recover your strength.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Graham. I believe I shall,” I agreed, sitting down as instructed. “I am suddenly quite weary indeed.”

“I cannot catch Susan’s eye or I would direct her to do the same.”

“No. I believe Mr. Ramsey claims her full attention.”

“Well, he seems a nice young man, and I am glad Susan is enjoying herself.”

I sat out the next two dances on the chance that the gentleman who had so thoroughly captured my interest might return with Mr. King to be introduced and claim my hand. He did not. In fact, I saw nothing more of him that night, rendering the evening sadly lackluster in my final estimation.

Mr. Graham returned from the card room to join us when the dance was almost over. “Well, Miss Walker,” said he directly, “I hope you have had an agreeable ball.”

“Very agreeable indeed,” I replied, vainly endeavoring to hide a great yawn.

9

An Introduction

I stayed behind from the daily pilgrimage to the Pump-room next morning for the purpose of fulfilling my sworn obligation to Agnes, that of sending her a long, newsy letter. Having written before about the town, the shops, the Pump-room, and our acquaintance with the Graham family, the body of this missive could be devoted to the proceedings of the previous night. I flatter myself that I waxed quite lyrical about the scene at the Lower Rooms, describing in detail the look of the place, the finery of the ladies, the quality of the music, and the liveliness of the dancing – all subjects that I knew would be of special interest to my friend. I fancied what Agnes would ask if she could.

“What gown did you wear, Jo? Tell me about the size of the room and the look of the people there. Was it as grand as we have heard? Were there enough gentlemen to go round? The ladies were all dressed very elegantly, I suppose, in the latest fashions from London and Paris. How large and how many were the sets of dancers? Did you see anyone of your acquaintance? Tell me all about your partners!”  

I answered each of these imagined inquiries as thoroughly as possible, the last question being the most difficult of which to give a satisfactory account, my partners having been so distinctly unremarkable from my own point of view. I omitted any mention of the man to whom I compared them, against whom they came up curiously wanting in my mind. Instead, I gave each one credit on his own merit, with Mr. Ramsey receiving the best review for pleasing Susan so well.

Despite the advantage of having more than enough information to relate, my letter progressed but slowly, the movement of my pen frequently pausing in suspense of further direction as I reflected upon the events at the dance. On the whole, it had been a success, I decided. I certainly had no just cause to be dissatisfied. After all, I had been allowed an evening out in Bath society far sooner than I had dared to hope, and spent it in altogether agreeable, if not particularly stimulating, company. My mistake had been in allowing my expectations to soar so high that there was no living up to them, in staking all my hopes on a man I knew nothing about.

“You are being quite ridiculous, Josephine,” I told myself, “and it must stop now.” I resolved to think of the man no more, finished my letter, and posted it at once.

Although somewhat improved, Papa still was not well enough to go much abroad. His limitations continued to govern his wife and daughter’s activities as well. With the exception of our regular forays to the Pump-room, we three kept to the quiet of our house over the next few days. The Grahams were temporarily gone out of town, further securing our isolation. Much as I cared for my new friend, this brief separation suited me exceedingly well, assisting me to quiet my thoughts and emotions into the more composed state to which I was accustomed.

As a deliberate distraction, I set myself the task of writing out the story I had promised to send to Mrs. Evensong for little John. It had been gathering itself, bit by bit, in my brain until there was no more room to contain it; it needs must spill out onto paper at last. So the tale of Percival, a stout-hearted, seafaring pig, and his troublesome brothers, Peter and Pim, began to take shape. With my mind thus occupied, I was largely able to refrain from indulging the romantic reflections to which I had proved so susceptible of late.

~~*~~

Our comparative seclusion lasted about a week until the Grahams returned and gave a dinner party to mark the occasion. By then, we were all ready for an outing; we accepted the invitation to Milsom Street immediately. In addition to the felicity of seeing our friends again, the event promised the advantage of expanding our acquaintance in Bath. As it turned out, however, the party was small with only one person attending who was as yet unknown to me.

Susan met us at the door when we arrived, her countenance shining with excitement. From her animated expression and sparkling eyes, I knew at once that something out of the ordinary was afoot. As my parents proceeded upstairs, Susan drew alongside me, taking my arm.

“I am vastly glad that you are here, Jo. I have missed you excessively!” she said in hushed enthusiasm.

“I am very happy to see you as well, but what on earth has you so agitated, my dear? Has anything happened?”

“Not yet, but it is about to. Oh, what a surprise is in store for you! You will never guess who has come to dine with us.”

Since, indeed, I had no idea at all, I waited to be enlightened. “Well?” I prompted impatiently as we neared the top of the stairs.

“Mr. Ramsey is here, and someone else whom you will be pleased to see, I daresay. No time to explain; just ready yourself for a shock, my dear.”

As we entered the drawing room, the mystery guest stood not ten feet in front of us. His name I did not know, but his person was by no means unfamiliar to me. I suddenly found myself confronted with the very gentleman I had so diligently avoided thinking of for the last several days. It was all I could do not to gasp in surprise. Whilst he was first introduced to my parents, I had a moment to recover my composure before his attention – and those penetrating eyes I remembered so well – turned to me. His name was Richard Pierce.

“Miss Walker, I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last after very nearly meeting you twice before,” he said in rich tones, following the formal introduction. “Do you remember?”

“Yes, sir, I believe I saw you briefly at the dance in the Lower Rooms a week ago, and when you were kind enough to retrieve my umbrella earlier the same day,” I answered with measured control.

“I say, that was a job well done, young man,” said Mr. Graham. “Mr. Pierce is the son of an old friend of mine from Cambridge,” he informed us. “We discovered each other in the card room whilst the rest of you were dancing last week. I thought it would be pleasant to add some other young people to our party this evening, and these two gentlemen were good enough to oblige me.”

“So you prefer cards to dancing, Mr. Pierce?” I pointedly inquired.

“I hope you will not accuse me of equivocation when I say that, in good company, I am equally content with either entertainment.”

“Then, apparently, you liked the looks of the company in the card room better than the ballroom last week.”

“Not at all, I assure you. I would in fact be mortified if you should believe I meant any such slight. However, if I do not mistake, you only toy with my words. For you, Miss Walker, I shall endeavor to choose them with more circumspection in future. I anticipate the challenge with the utmost pleasure.”

“As do I, Mr. Pierce. And I shall be more than happy to accommodate you. In my experience, a gentleman only does his best work when tested.”

“Then I am your ready pupil, Miss Walker,” he said with a bow.

Despite a vague, pre-Bath notion of curbing my tongue in favor of a milder, more universally palatable brand of conversation, I had already thrown down the verbal gauntlet at Mr. Pierce’s feet. What was more, Mr. Pierce had picked it up without hesitation. In the continuing contest of repartee that followed, he matched me point for point, only giving ground when hard pressed by claim of chivalry.    

Dinner afforded me a fine opportunity to further observe Mr. Pierce’s pleasing manners, to hear his correct opinions on a variety of topics, and to assess his many other amiable qualities. His comportment showed him to be a well-bred gentleman of style and taste. Toward me, he behaved very charmingly indeed. I was still more impressed by the civility and deference with which he treated his elders – my own parents and Mr. and Mrs. Graham. Everything I saw and heard contributed to my good opinion of him and my desire to know him better.

As soon as the ladies withdrew, Susan and I put our heads together on the subject of our dinner companions.

“Susan, I know you have all manner of brilliant schemes at your disposal, but how on earth did you manage it?”

“Is not Papa an angel for inviting such affable young men to dine with us?”

“He is a saint, without a doubt. But surely
you
must have a share of the credit for arranging this.”

“It is true that I dropped a hint about his including Mr. Ramsey. Mr. Pierce was all his own idea, I swear! Not that I would have had the least scruple in suggesting it for your sake, but how could I when I did not even know Papa was acquainted with him? It was just a stroke of incredible luck, or perhaps we should call it fate. What do you think, Jo?”

“I hardly know.”

“And are you pleased with him?”

“How could I be otherwise? I was already disposed to think well of him, so perhaps I am prejudiced. But, so far, I find much to admire and nothing to criticize. His sensible, lively mind is just what I value.”

“The fact that he is tolerably pleasant to look at is of no importance to you, I suppose.”

“You cannot fault me for approving his quick mind, Susan, although I admit he seems to have other highly estimable qualities as well.” We both laughed. “Now, that is quite enough. We should not speak of Mr. Pierce in this way, as if there is room in our heads for nothing other than gossip. Remember our pact; we promised to guard each other against becoming stupid over men.”

“Yes, of course. I shall try to think of a more serious subject… Mr. Ramsey, for example.”

The card table was set out when the gentlemen reappeared, providing employment to the two older couples for the remainder of the evening. Left to our own devices, the rest of us took seats at the other end of the long drawing room and settled into conversation. What began as a foursome shortly divided into a pair of twosomes. Susan and Mr. Ramsey, who sat side by side, embarked on an earnest discussion of poetry – the relative merits of Scott versus Cowper – leaving Mr. Pierce and myself to entertain each other as well as we might. I viewed this circumstance as no hardship. Mr. Pierce seemed equally content with his lot. He moved away from the others and placed himself next to me.

“So, you are come to Bath for your father’s health, I understand, Miss Walker.”

“That is correct. What about you, Mr. Pierce? What brings you here?”

“My father has sent me on holiday, and to look out a good place for him to stay when he joins me later. You see, I lobbied him to be sent on the grand tour of the continent to round out my education before taking up my responsibilities at home. He would not hear of it. Far too extravagant, to his way of thinking. So this trip to Bath is intended as a substitute, I believe. Hardly an even exchange, I grant you, yet I mean to make the most of it.”

“How are you enjoying your stay thus far, sir? Are the amusements, scenery, and society all to your taste?”

“Until very recently, I was undecided on the question.”

“And now?”

“Now I have good reason to revise my opinion,” he said with a meaningful look.

“In which direction? For the better or for the worse?”

“Oh, for the better. By all means, for the better.”

I accepted this pleasantry as the gentleman clearly intended it, as a compliment to myself. I cannot deny the thrill of satisfaction it gave me. When my spirits recovered from this little flutter, I invited Mr. Pierce to tell me about his family and situation. He explained that he was the only son of his widowed father, his mother having died some five years earlier. His two sisters – one his senior and one his junior – were unmarried and still resided at home, that being an estate called Wildewood, in Surrey.

“Have you been to that part of the country, Miss Walker? It is known for its beauty. ‘Surrey is the garden of England,’ as the saying goes. Have you not heard it called such yourself?”

“Oh, yes, and I quite agree. I visited my uncle there many times. My brother Frederick has just inherited his estate, in fact. Perhaps you know of it; it is called Millwalk.”

“No, I cannot recall that I ever heard of it. Still, Surrey is not that large. It may be that your brother and I are neighbors after all. So, now I know that you have at least one brother, and your honored father and mother I have met. Tell me the rest. Tell me about the place you come from and all your friends there.”

In my limited experience, it was more usual for young men to rattle on and on about themselves and their own concerns, without thought for anyone else. Therefore, Mr. Pierce’s interest both flattered me and spoke well of his character. By this time, I felt so at ease in his company that I did as he asked. I told him about Tom, Frederick, Arthur, Agnes, and our home in Wallerton. About myself, I had little to say. As I saw it, nothing much had yet happened to me (except for receiving my inheritance so unexpectedly, and that I was not willing to divulge). “I fear there is not much more to tell. I have lived a very quiet life,” I concluded.

“Well, this trip to Bath will add another chapter to your book, and a few more friends to your list, I daresay. How long have you known the Grahams, Miss Walker?”

“Only a short time; just since they arrived here. My mother was acquainted with Mrs. Graham years ago when they were girls at school together. Apparently, Bath is the perfect place to find and renew old acquaintances. You and I both discovered a connection with the Grahams, which gives us something admirable in common, Mr. Pierce. They are excellent people – so friendly and obliging.”