Henrietta (24 page)

“I declare, all peace and quiet has fled,” said Henrietta, throwing down her book. “Even the night is made hideous with the rattle of arriving carriages and the eternal bang-bang-banging of the builders.

Miss Scattersworth set another crooked stitch in her tapestry, looked down at her sensible walking shoes and sighed.

“I must say, I welcome all the bustle, Henrietta. Life can be
too
quiet, you know.”

“But we are better as we are, Mattie,” said Henrietta, looking at her friend anxiously. “We are having a pleasant stay here and I have been able to read… oh so many books. You must confess the London Season became boring after we had got used to all the balls and parties.”

Miss Scattersworth sighed again and then bit her lip. Her friend’s recovery was all that was important and if a certain silly old spinster pined for the noise and excitement of the city, then she must keep her thoughts to herself.

A year had passed since Henry Sandford had tried to lock up his sister. As soon as Henrietta had recovered, Miss Scattersworth had travelled with her to Luben, determined to sacrifice her life in caring for her friend.

Although Miss Scattersworth’s moods changed like quicksilver, she was good-hearted and very grateful to Henrietta for rescuing her from a life of genteel poverty. Had her friend shown any signs of remaining sickly, then Miss Scattersworth would happily have given up any thoughts of her own entertainment.

But Henrietta seemed to be completely recovered. Admittedly, she had not mentioned Lord Reckford’s name once, which was still a bad sign, but she did seem to be enjoying the fuddy-duddy life of the small spa and had taken to wearing caps again, saying that, since she was doomed to spinsterhood, she may as well look the part.

Miss Scattersworth reflected that her brief Season had spoiled her own tranquility. For years, she had endured a dull tedious life in the rooms above the bakery. So why should she find her present existence nigh unbearable?

The day began with early breakfast at nine o’clock. Then she and Henrietta would stroll along one of the many paved walks and then visit the pump room to watch the octogenarians imbibing the sulphur-laden water. Luncheon at twelve was followed by a long afternoon of reading and sewing, lasting until tea at four. Dinner was served at six sharp and then, to all appearances, the whole town went to bed.

Henrietta had engaged suites of rooms for herself and Miss Scattersworth at the principal hotel, which, from the sound of frenzied banging, was now rapidly in the process of turning itself into a palace.

Miss Scattersworth watched the tranquil face of her friend, wondering if she ever thought of Lord Reckford or of her brother. The sound of another carriage arriving broke into her thoughts and she idly crossed to the window which overlooked the courtyard. Henrietta heard Miss Scattersworth’s indrawn hiss of breath and looked up startled. “What is it, Mattie?”

Miss Scattersworth hurriedly let the curtain fall. “Oh, nothing!” she remarked gaily with an attempt at lightness which even to her own ears rang terribly false. Two rapid steps took Henrietta to the window. She jerked back the curtain and stared down.

Lady Belding, complete with nose and a plethora of bandboxes and trunks was descending from her travelling coach. Her daughter, Alice, was just discernible behind a heavy veil.

“I am not a child,” said Henrietta slowly. “There is nothing the Beldings could say or do which would matter to me now. After all it was Lady Belding herself who recommended Luben. She was most insistent and kept informing me in sinister accents that all the most
interesting
people come here. But now it seems that she actually does favor the place herself. I must confess I thought at one time that she might have had a nasty motive and I would not have come here had I been able to think of anywhere else outside of the country to go.”

“Then I shall go and investigate,” said Miss Scattersworth brightening. The prospect of seeing a familiar face, however detested, was a welcome diversion.

After she had gone, Henrietta picked up her book. After some minutes, she realized she had been reading the same sentence over and over again and put down her book, staring into space, experiencing a dawning feeling of panic.

What if Alice Belding were engaged to Lord Reckford? Or, for that matter, married to him.

Henrietta leaned her head against the cool glass as memories came flooding back. It had been easy to shut Lord Reckford out of her mind after she had endured the first hurt of his seeming neglect. When she was recovered, she had even timidly written a note to say that she was travelling to Luben and would not be back in England for some time. He did not reply. Perhaps, Henrietta had thought bitterly, his lordship is high in the instep after all and does not wish to associate with a family containing a murderer. She had steadfastly schooled herself to forget him since then. Why, she had even toyed with the idea of accepting Mr. Montmorency Evans proposal of marriage.

Mr. Evans had been a visitor in the little spa for almost as long as Henrietta. He was suffering, unromantically, from a complaint of the bowels and longed to be cured and return to England to take up his studies. For Mr. Evans, although hailing from a wealthy Welsh landowning family, was an amateur engineer and pined for the delights of London—different from the delights Miss Scattersworth sighed for. He longed to see Trevethick’s locomotive, the Catch-Me-Who-Can, with all the passion that Miss Scattersworth longed for another evening at Ranaleigh with her court of adoring young men.

Henrietta was not allowed to brood much longer for Miss Scattersworth errupted into the room, the ribbons of her cap flying and her eyes shining with excitement The spinster forgot all about her determination not to mention Beau Reckford’s name again, plumped herself down in an armchair, and began.

“Well, I had such an exciting gossip with Lady Belding’s maid….”

“Gossiping with the servants. Really, Mattie!”

“… and she told me all about the scandal, my dear…” said Miss Scattersworth, ignoring her friend’s interruption… ‬the scandal involving Lord Reckford and Alice.

“It happened like this. Lady Belding was becoming desperate. The Beau showed no signs of fixing his attention with Alice. So she engineered another invitation to Lord Reckford’s home in the country. There were a lot of guests invited. One evening, Lord Reckford sat up later than usual with the men, the ladies having retired to bed. It was about two of the morning, he was headed for his bedchamber, when he saw Alice standing outside his door. He drew into an alcove and watched. She hesitated, looking up and down the corner, then she opened the bedroom door and slipped in, after signalling to someone out of sight.

“Lord Reckford immediately grasped that there was a plot afoot to compromise him so he dashed off and rounded up several of his friends to bear witness that he had not yet gone to bed. I think there were about four of them.

“They hid at a turn in the corridor and waited for results. Lady Belding came along, shouting at the top of her voice, ‘I know you have my daughter in there, you lecher,’ and other things of that nature. Alice came to the door and said, ‘Go away, you silly fool. He is not yet come to bed and I shall never get him to wed me if you do not play your cards aright,’ and then both of them turned round and found Lord Reckford and his friends listening to every word.

“Well, there was nothing else to do but for Alice to rusticate. Although Lord Reckford swore them all to secrecy, Mary Britton—and you
know
what a gossip she is—was one of the guests and heard every word. It went round every saloon in London so it was not enough for Alice simply to retire to the country. She had to retire
out
of the country. So here they are!”

Miss Scattersworth finished breathless and excited and then looked at her friend in dismay. “Oh, I am
so
sorry, Henrietta. Lord Reckford’s name was not to be mentioned to you again and I forgot.”

“What is all this rubbish?” said Henrietta faintly.

“Well, it was the doctor. He told Lord Reckford, the first day you were ill, that it would be best if he never saw you again… because of the damaging effect on your poor brain.”

Henrietta sat down, suddenly feeling very weak at the knees. “Mattie, I was in danger of going out of my mind because I thought he had forgot me!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” screamed Miss Scattersworth. “And we have endured this stuffy town for so long, listening to complaints of agues, humors and disorders. Oh, Henrietta! How
could
you.”

As ever, Miss Scattersworth was able to bring Henrietta’s strong sense of the ridiculous to the fore and she began to laugh. “Mattie, you will be the death of me. I was bored to tears myself but I did not mind because I had decided that
you
were enjoying this tranquil existence very well.”

“Then let us go!” said Miss Scattersworth, getting to her feet and pulling clothes out of the closets and drawers, flying round the room like a whirlwind.

“Wait, Mattie. Wait! You have forgot Mr. Evans.”

“A pox on Mr. Evans!” cried Miss Scattersworth, cheerfully throwing a lifetime of ladylike speech to the winds. “That man and his steam engines and hobbyhorses and sewers. Pah!”

“Just another day,” pleaded Henrietta. “Poor Mr. Evans. I feel I must explain things to him gently. He will miss me, you know.”

“Set him to re-designing the drainage system of this hotel, and he’ll soon forget all about you. Ah, well, one more day, it shall be. Now let us go down for tea, my dear. I am sure Lady Belding will not upset you any more.”

“No, indeed!” said Henrietta. “I’m quite looking forward to the meeting.”

The public rooms and terraces of the hotel were crowded with the new fashionable arrivals. The older residents glared at the silks and satins and elaborate dress of the aristocratic newcomers with disdain.

Mr. Evans was already seated at their customary table on the terrace and for all her new found hope and bravery, Henrietta noticed, with a slight sinking sensation in her stomach, that Lady Belding was at the next table, her high-bridged nose pink with disapproval as she recognized Henrietta.

Alice stared at her plate but Lady Belding said, “Good day to you Miss Sandford,” and then stared straight ahead.

Miss Scattersworth greeted Mr. Evans with a cheerful cry of, “Good afternoon, Mr. Evans. Miss Sandford and I consider that the drainage system of this hotel is abominable and we feel you are the man to reorganize it.”

Mr. Evans eyes began to burn with an almost religious fervour. He was a small, dark thick-set man in his thirties, plain and correct in his dress, and with the wide-eyed stare of a curious and intelligent child. Henrietta suddenly found that two separate sets of remarks were being addressed to her as Lady Belding turned her head and Mr. Evans rhapsodised on drainage.

“Have you heard from your dear brother! A much maligned man, I fear.” (Lady Belding)

“… put the water closets under the stairs or somewhere like that—
without
a window
or
a ventilated pipe. Why, we could
die
in our beds from the foul gases….” (Mr. Evans)

And so the conversations went on, neither Lady Belding nor Mr. Evans paying any attention to each other.

“Lord Reckford was too high-handed in the matter of Mr. Sandford. No one could deny you were acting strange…”

“… a stink trap is what is needed. Gaillet’s trap is not self-cleansing but Cumming’s trap is infinitely superior. The valve in the closet takes the form of a
slide
although Bramah gets the credit…”

“… and of course, Reckford is not to be relied on. Nothing but a Dandy. Why, the other day….”

“… envisage a Golden Age when the
drains themselves
are ventilated….”

“… looking considerably older, Henrietta, although I am glad to see you are wearing caps…”

“… unless you live in the Strand,
no
sewers in London
at all
,” finished Mr. Evans triumphantly.

Lady Belding suddenly took note of Mr. Evans. “The water closet is
not
a subject to be discussed in the presence of ladies.”

“And never will be,” said Mr. Evans, “so long as pride goes hand in hand with stupidity.”

Lady Belding rose to her feet and uttered the classic reply of those who have been left almost speechless. “I have never been so insulted in all my life.”

“Then it’s time you were,” said the unrepentant Mr. Evans seriously.

Lady Belding made a peculiar sound like “Euff!” and marshalling her daughter and her belongings swept from the room.

Henrietta laughed till the tears ran down her face. Mr. Evans looked at her in some surprise. “I was not being funny, my dear Miss Sandford. It behoves every Englishman and woman to take his or her drains seriously.”

“Indeed,” choked Henrietta.

Mr. Evans turned to Miss Scattersworth who was hiding her head behind her fan. “I had not realized before, Miss Scattersworth, what a highly intelligent woman you are. I shall see the hotel manager directly. Pray excuse me, Miss Sandford.”

He bustled off and Miss Scattersworth slowly lowered her fan to reveal her face crimson with supressed laughter. “I told you Henrietta,” she giggled. “Drains will outweigh your attractions every time.”

Henrietta composed herself. “I shall write to Lord Reckford, then we shall have a whole big bottle of the hotel’s best champagne for dinner and then, tomorrow morning, we shall go
home
. Oh, Mattie! I had forgotten so many things. Have you been pining for Mr. Symes?”

“Frequently,” said Miss Scattersworth cheerfully. “But we are leaving this dreadful, dreadful place so nothing matters. And if anyone so much as
mentions
Friars Balsam or rhubarb or Family Plaisters or roasted onions or agues or humors, I shall… I shall call them out!”

Henrietta composed several drafts of a letter to Lord Reckford. They varied from the cold to the coy to the downright formal. At last she wrote a simple, straightforward declaration of love, saying how much she missed him and how she longed to see him again.