For Myself Alone: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel (7 page)

11

Agnes Arrives

Mr. Pierce’s absence cast a pall over his friends left behind in Bath. No doubt I felt the loss most acutely, but my pain was eased by the remembrance of all that had passed between us at the ball before his departure. He left me in little doubt of his intentions and wishes. My own feelings were more difficult to define. I could no longer deny being completely enamored with him. He charmed and fascinated me beyond anyone I had hitherto encountered, and my preoccupation with him defied my own reason. But was that love? Since mental confusion is said to be one of the most promising symptoms of the disease, I decided it was perhaps just as well that Richard had gone away, so that I could ponder the question in solitude.

My isolation lasted but two days before Miss Pittman made her entrance onto the scene. We were all three at home to receive Agnes and her unavoidable effusions of happiness. She declared Bath the most charming place she had ever seen, and her kind hosts the most obliging creatures in the world for enabling her to visit it, thereby securing her felicity and her eternal gratitude. My parents accepted this extravagant praise with grace and relative composure.

Agnes and I demonstrated less restraint. After such a protracted separation, we required fully ten minutes to reaffirm our mutual affection before the flood could be stemmed and our sensations returned to tolerable good order. When this unbecoming display proved too tiresome for my father’s nerves to bear, he gave us leave to continue the reunion in private.

“I am so grateful for your invitation, my dearest friend,” Agnes resumed after we retreated to my own chamber. “I shall be forever in your debt for taking me away from dreary old Wallerton to such a fresh, exciting place. I can hardly wait to see the famous Pump-room and to meet all your friends! Your last letter was full of hints of some new development but very little solid information. What a tease you are! Now, do not keep me in suspense any longer; tell me your news. What has happened?”

For a moment, I held back, anticipating with pleasure what the effect would be of the intelligence I had to share with Agnes. Then, at her insistence, I confessed. “I do have news that will surely surprise you, Agnes, for indeed it has astonished me exceedingly. You see, I have a suitor – Mr. Richard Pierce, from Surrey. He has been courting me these four weeks.”

Agnes squealed with delight, and then demanded a thorough description of the gentleman’s person, situation, and manners, along with a detailed account of all events leading up to the present. I gladly obliged her with an exhaustive report on the amiable Mr. Pierce and his solicitous behavior toward me, including the current state of affairs between us.

“You imposter; I have found you out. ‘Just a bit of sport,’ you boasted before you went away, as if you were somehow immune to the attractions of the male sex. Now look at you – blushing at the very mention of Mr. Pierce’s name. You are no different, after all. It only took the right man to teach you to know yourself.”

“I daresay you are right, Agnes. I am quite embarrassed to remember what I said then. What arrogance to think I could play with fire and not be touched by it. Mr. Pierce has opened my eyes.”

“Do you really think he means to make you an offer?”

“I can scarce believe it myself. Yet can there be any other interpretation of what he said to me at the ball? I think he is only waiting on his father’s approval.”

“And he knows nothing of your inheritance?”

“No. He must presume that I have a dowry appropriate to my station, although he has never asked and I have given him no reason to hope for more.”

“So, it is just as you desired. But you have not said how you will answer Mr. Pierce. Do you wish to marry him?”

“My father considers it an eligible match,” I hedged.

“I should think so! To be the mistress of a fine estate instead of a curate’s wife; that is a vast improvement. You are to be congratulated, my dear.”

“For my part, the decision has nothing to do with rank. Had I loved Mr. Summeride, I would have accepted him at once, regardless of his lowly state. But as you know, I have sworn never to marry anyone without benefit of love.”

“Then the only question that remains is do you love Mr. Pierce?”

“’Tis a difficult thing to answer with certainty. I admit that I like him very much. He excites and interests me more than anyone with whom I have ever been in company. I think most probably I am in love with him. That is, I believe I must be. Oh, I cannot seem to think straight where Richard is concerned.”

“My dear Jo, many people consider that the most positive proof of love.”

“I hope not, Agnes. I should be sorry to discover that I must surrender my reason in proof of my affection. In any case, I do not have to decide the matter this minute, which is clearly just as well. Now, as we are speaking of affairs of the heart, it is only right that you should have your turn. What do you hear from Arthur?”

“Arthur?” she snorted. “You should know better than to class him with your Mr. Pierce. Arthur is no romantic hero.”

“What? Surely there is no finer man in all the world.”

“Do not mistake me. I quite agree with you, Jo. I am dotingly fond of the dear boy. And I do not require grand passion. It will be enough for me to marry a gentleman of some prestige with a handsome income, which Arthur shall be when he is well established in his career with a sizable living in hand, or better still, more than one. You know how he excels at all things academic and moral. Barring any serious scandal, he is sure to make bishop someday. The Right Reverend Arthur K. Evensong: how well that sounds! I should much rather he had a
real
title, of course, but I intend to be satisfied with being wife to a bishop. No, all Arthur’s other merits aside, I only meant to say that he is not particularly romantic, not as you describe your Mr. Pierce – dashing to rescue your umbrella, contriving ways to meet you, wooing you so persistently, and saying exactly what a girl desires to hear.”

“Naturally, I am in no position to judge; Arthur would hardly show his most tender side to me. I thought perhaps with you, however…”

“You suppose wrongly if you imagine him more demonstrative in private. It is simply not in his nature.”

“A minor shortcoming, you must admit.”

“Yes, and one that I am perfectly willing to accept considering his other advantages. I thoroughly intend that he will make me an excellent husband one day, just as my father and his arranged together years ago.”

~~*~~

I wasted no time fulfilling Agnes’s wish to become immediately familiar with the people and places of Bath. The very next morning, we began by attending the Pump-room, to there parade up and down with the rest of the company – a ritual by now common enough to me but irresistibly novel to my friend. The exercise served the additional purpose of introducing Agnes to nearly all our acquaintance currently in town. As luck would have it, the Grahams arrived shortly after we did, enabling Agnes to meet the family about whom she already knew a great deal from my information. Susan joined us, and ten minutes later Mr. Ramsey appeared, undoubtedly by design. He took up his usual place at Miss Graham’s side and was introduced to the newcomer. After the customary civilities, he and Susan broke away to navigate their own course through the room.

As Agnes and I drifted about in the circulating sea of humanity, I soon became sensible of the effect my pretty friend was having on the members of the opposite sex. They had directly detected the presence of an attractive new prospect in their midst, and they apparently could not help but admire her beauty to the temporary exclusion of all other considerations. I was hardly surprised at this reaction; I had seen it a dozen times before. Heads always turned when Agnes entered a room.

Their resolute interest in Miss Pittman notwithstanding, the majority of the poor, simple fellows could do no more than look; it was not within their power to procure an introduction. There was one exception, however. Mr. Cox, on the strength of his prior acquaintance with me from the dance some weeks earlier, approached.

“Miss Walker, I am very pleased to see you again. How do you do?” Though he addressed me, his eyes were fixed steadfastly on Agnes.

“Very well, I assure you, Mr. Cox.”

Undoubtedly expecting the coveted introduction to come next, he waited and continued gazing at Agnes.

I was suddenly struck by an irresistible impulse to toy with him a bit first, so I insisted on hearing his considered opinion of the current break in the rain, and on the prospect for the weather continuing fair. Then, when I had delayed as long as I decently could, I gave him what he wanted. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir. Where are my manners? You will think me very badly brought up, I fear. Allow me to present my good friend Miss Pittman. Agnes, this is Mr. Cox.”

The lady curtsied and the gentleman complimented her with a deep bow. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Pittman. Have you been long in Bath?”

“No, sir, I arrived only yesterday.”

“Ah, then you are yet to discover all the place has to offer. There is much to amuse a refined young lady such as yourself – so much to entertain.”

Mr. Cox made it his business to act as our escort for the duration of our time at the Pump-room that day. On no account could he be persuaded to leave us unprotected and friendless in such a crowd. When he at last returned us to the safety of my father’s care, he left Agnes with this parting thought:

“I hope you will allow me to be of some small service to you during your stay here, Miss Pittman. I should be only too happy to show you the sights – and Miss Walker as well, of course – at any time you wish. Perhaps I might be permitted to call on you in a day or two.”

Given leave to do so, Mr. Cox reluctantly bid us farewell.

We left the Pump-room behind and turned toward home on High Street. Papa, who was in rare form, asked after Miss Pittman’s first impressions of Bath, and received a very favorable report. He then proceeded to expound on his own opinions of the place after a considerably more lengthy exposure.

“I must tell you, Miss Pittman, that when my wife and daughter first proposed this trip, I was less than enthusiastic. I did not think such a place would suit me at all, but I have since been converted. I find that a change of scene and society is just the thing; it gives new strength to the body and revives the spirit most remarkably. I feel like a new man.”

“Papa has been a model patient, and you see how much improved he is.” As if to emphasize the point, my father added a little spring to his step.

“Yes. You seem quite recovered, Mr. Walker,” agreed Agnes.

“Indeed, I am. Indeed, I am. Dr. Oliver says that two or three weeks more should do the trick. I shall be right as rain by then and ready to return home. Still, other considerations may detain us. We are in no great hurry to quit Bath, are we, Jo?”

“No, Papa. We certainly are not.”

~~*~~

The next two weeks flew by in a whirlwind of activity. On the pretext of entertaining our house guest, Mama indulged her own inclination for a wide variety of social intercourse. She filled our days with shopping and calls, and our evenings with dinners and visits to the ballrooms, theatre, and concert hall. Her efforts were not thrown away. Agnes felt her luck at being the recipient of such uncommon benevolence, and we both took every opportunity of enjoying ourselves.

Mr. Cox did his part by way of contributing to Miss Pittman’s entertainment. He kept his word, coming to call on us in Pultney Street and doing his best to shadow our public movements, with or without the invitation to do so. He seemed always to be turning up at the same assemblies and parties we attended, and encountering us on the street, invariably discovering that his way lay in exactly the same path as our own. I did nothing to promote these attentions. Agnes, however, seemed perfectly willing to accept them. If she did not precisely encourage Mr. Cox, she did precious little to discourage him either.

Finally, I felt compelled to express a word of concern. “Agnes, my dear, do not you think we have been seeing entirely too much of Mr. Cox? Perhaps we should give him a hint to direct his interest elsewhere.”

“Good heavens! Why on earth should we do that? I find him so very diverting. I should dislike giving up the pleasure of his company above all things.”

“I am afraid that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety. Moreover, it seems unfair to accept his attentions when neither of us is really free.”

“As far as I am aware, you are not engaged and neither am I. Until such time as we are, we break no rules of propriety by keeping company with Mr. Cox.”

“Strictly speaking, you are correct, I admit. Still, I believe it would be most impolitic to encourage him. Consider how it would appear to Arthur. Consider Mr. Cox’s eventual disappointment. No good can come of it, surely. Your own conscience must tell you it is so.”

“My dear friend, I would not vex you for the world, and for your sake I would be prepared to sacrifice a great deal. But I truly believe you are over scrupulous in this case. You needn’t fear for Mr. Cox. He is a grown man; he knows what he is about. As for Arthur, his sensibilities are in no danger. He would not be alarmed by this trivial business, even if he were to learn of it. It is a harmless flirtation that has nothing whatever to do with him.”