Carolina's Walking Tour Read Free

every bend of the River Avon and the Kennet and Avon Canal.
Once they had toured the town, they had begun to walk further afield to the surrounding
hills.
    "I truly think I can't; it is very hot." The late summer was offering a dry, clear spell of
weather that excited comment from all the residents of the town. "This expedition is much
farther than our journey to Richmond Hill and All Saints Chapel. Or the walk up Holloway to
Beechen Cliff. Or the one by the Bristol Road, when we returned by that farmer's cart." She
laughed, despite her concern, at the recollection of the soaking they had got that day and how the
farmer's doubts had been overcome by Quainton's gold sovereign. Laughter came more easily to
her than it had six months before.
    "You were a game one that occasion. The weather was not so fine then. You have been a
valiant companion on every excursion." The baron looked across the near deserted square, fairly
twitching in his desire to be active.
    Carolina sighed inwardly at this description. 'A valiant companion'. She could have
wished for a more emotive portrayal. But Alexander Quainton, despite their close association,
had never indicated the slightest libidinous awareness of her, or indeed had ever indicated that he
was conscious of her as a woman. They had discussed, over the weeks, a dizzying variety of
topics from politics and religion to society and finance, and even, a little, the war. He never gave
her reason to suppose he thought less of her intellect because she was a woman, or that he would
accommodate any feminine weakness. He treated her in fact as a comrade, as he must have
treated the youngest and most tender of his inexperienced soldiers.
    It hurt. She alone knew that she wished more than anything that he would take an
interest--a deeper interest--in her. For she, without expecting it and certainly without welcoming
it, had come to an intense awareness of him. She was conscious of every breath he took as they
walked the streets of Bath. She knew every expression of his mobile features, recognized every
nuance in his reflections. Their conversations gave her great joy, but even their frequent,
congenial silences satisfied her. His companionship had become her delight.
    She could not think he felt the same. She did think he had relaxed in her society but still
she sometimes glimpsed melancholy, dejection, and even despair, deep in his gaze. Suddenly she
could no longer contain the observations that had plagued her for a month. Despite that she knew
he wished to walk, she said, "You need not always smile and jest with me. I am aware that
laughter will keep people at a distance more effectively than any short or harsh temper. But
surely you need no longer keep me at an impersonal distance."
    At first, she thought he would stride away from her, and her heart sank. He was silent
for long minutes, staring at her with that solitary dark blue eye. She fiddled with the ribands of
her wide Gypsy hat nervously.
    Then suddenly he said, "Do you wish to walk today?"
    "I do," she answered, feeling she stood at the edge of a precipice, rather than in a polite
square in the bastion of rectitude that was the town of Bath.
    He started off at a brisk pace that would have daunted her a month previous. Now she
kept pace with ease. A few strides took them from the Square to Union Street towards the baths.
Five minutes more brought the Bath Bridge in sight.
    Just when she thought he would not answer her words, and she feared that she had
destroyed their fellowship, he spoke.
    "I have every need to keep you at a distance. I will not reveal my true nature to you
anymore than to any other; I will wrestle my demons alone. I have enjoyed your company; you
have been kind, patient and tolerant. You must be aware that while we walk I manufacture
light-hearted nonsense to distract the curious from my injuries. You help me to do that, even if you are
unaware of it. I thank you for your assistance, but it does not entitle you to my