Bath Scandal Read Free Page B

Searle realized she had been well and thoroughly taken in and was furious. That nice letter from Southam—probably dictated by Deborah Swann! They were using her, shoving this uncouth girl onto her, and she scarcely knew them. After all her plans and preparations, Lord Southam was not coming at all. An extremely troublesome and expensive dinner had been ordered—for this tomboy and her companion.
    “Where is Miss Pittfield?” she asked. She determined on the spot that Miss Pittfield would take complete charge of Lady Gillian. As Southam and Deborah had pulled the wool over her eyes and got her agreement to the visit, she would make some nominal effort to smarten Lady Gillian up, but she would not have her whole life turned upside down to oblige Deborah Swann. Lord Southam was not the man she had taken him for if he had let himself be bullocked into an offer by that insufferable lady.
    “She didn’t know whether she was supposed to eat with us.”
    “Of course she will eat with us. She is your cousin, is she not?”
    “A distant cousin. I’ll tell her,” Gillie said, and hopped up from her chair.
    “We have servants in this house to perform errands, Lady Gillian. Pray sit down. And don’t jump up again until dinner is announced, if you please.” She took out all her annoyance on poor Gillie. “I can see why Deborah was displeased with your manners at any rate. You behave like a hoyden.”
    Mrs. Searle watched as her guest’s boyish face tightened up like a fist. She held her breath, waiting for an outburst of stable language. “Yes, ma’am,” Gillie said, and resumed her seat, where she sat without speaking for five minutes, while Mrs. Searle summoned a servant and sent the message off to Miss Pittfield.
    That dame had been awaiting her summons and came below immediately. “Will you have a glass of sherry, Miss Pittfield?” Mrs. Searle said, and till dinner was announced, such conversation as occurred was between the two older ladies, while Gillie tapped her fingers, pulled at her curls, and glanced at regular intervals at the clock.
    Miss Pittfield corroborated what Gillie had already said in blunter terms. Lord Southam had no intention of coming personally to Bath. Mrs. Searle swallowed this monstrous news and behaved like a lady for the remainder of the evening, but a lady with a grievance. She would brook no impertinence from Lady Gillian, nor would she curtail her own normal pursuits one iota. She had been taken in, but she would not allow anyone to know just how high her hopes had flown.
    There followed a few days of curt civility between the hostess and her guests. The guests were presented to Mrs. Searle’s callers. Gillie found very little amusement in doddering ladies and gentlemen in their thirties and forties. They were also taken to the Pump Room, but as horses were not allowed, Gillie screwed up her nose at the water and asked how soon they could leave. At least on the street one could see horses, even if one could not ride them. The city offered challenging riding, with hills all around.
    At the end of a week Mrs. Searle had assimilated her anger and adjusted to the situation. She was saddled with a country bumpkin for six weeks, which was the established duration of the visit. At the end of that time she would be going to London, where she would enjoy the Season with Leonard’s aunt, Mrs. Louden. This annual visit was her major treat of the year and much anticipated. Meanwhile she decided to make the best of a bad situation and befriend Lady Gillian.
    It was with this Christian thought in mind that she tapped at Gillie’s door. She waited to be asked in, but no voice answered her knock. The girl couldn’t be asleep. They had just returned from Milsom Street ten minutes before. She tapped again, more loudly. When still there was no reply, her vague worry escalated to fear. She turned the knob, fully expecting to see an empty clothespress and a note on the dresser.
    To her astonishment she