Cake and Courtship (Mr Bennet's Memoirs #1) Page 17

  “But you are in England, now, Mr Barton. Perhaps I should ask my old governess to offer you English lessons?”

  “What is so amusing, James?”

  “Nothing. I was merely thinking of the last time we danced.”

  “Ouch!” Lizzy’s partner, it seemed, was even worse at dancing than Mr Collins. I would not have to worry about his name, income or character. If he could not dance, then no Bennet girl would marry him. Though Jane would express sympathy for his plight.

  “Again, James, it seems your thoughts are elsewhere. A happier place, I hope?” The words were soft but a tight smile suggested otherwise.

  “My apologies, Abigail. It has been a while since I was on the dance floor. I had quite forgotten what it was like.” The dance took us away from the others. “Lizzy is delighted by your daughter.”

  “But you are not?” Unfortunately, she twirled away from me before I could give an immediate answer.

  “Of course I am,” I said on her return. “But my opinion of young ladies is of little interest to anyone.” The music stopped, so we moved away from the other couples. “Miss Hayter is certainly very popular in Bath. Every time we take tea, the men come swarming like flies.”

  “They do.” She pointed to the table serving punch. I recognised Mr Huddlestone, standing with another gentleman, both trying to offer a silvered cup to Miss Hayter. John was nowhere to be seen.

  Abigail looked me in the eye, all humour gone from her face. “I will not see her happiness sacrificed on the altar of comfort and position. I have seen to it she will need neither from a partner.”

  “For many, such comfort and position is happiness.”

  “But not for everyone, James. Not if you can neither love nor respect your husband. Or your wife. Is that not so?”

  I did not reply immediately. “I cannot say.”

  “Cannot? Or will not? Do not look so stern. Your sense of propriety prevents you answering. It is to your credit.”

  “You always were free with your opinion, Abigail.”

  “And you should have been freer with yours. It might have prevented much suffering.” I did not dare ask her meaning, my courage failing me when needed.

  “Thank you for the dance. It was a delight,” she said, lifting her gown and moving swiftly away. Before she had gone more than two or three feet, though, she spun around. “Those should have been your words, James. For a moment, before we reached the dance floor, I thought I saw your old self. But I was wrong. You are much changed.”

  I wanted to reach out, offer some protest with a word or a gesture, but she had turned away and the moment was lost.

  Departures and revelations

  With our time in Bath drawing to a close, I took Lizzy down to meet Miss Hayter one last time. I had wanted to visit Madiston’s anyway, where I hoped to buy a copy of Quod vero de Papilionibus. I could have had it sent from London, but it provided a useful excuse to stroll through the city again.

  As we walked, we exchanged little witticisms about some of the people we passed. It was unkind of us, perhaps, but the young men in particular were wont to make fools of themselves in public. It seemed a shame to waste the opportunity.

  Miss Hayter was waiting for us with her mother outside a milliner’s shop on Milsom Street.

  “You go on ahead, Lizzy,” I said, waving to the Hayters and preparing to make a hasty withdrawment.

  “Will you not join us for a moment, Mr Bennet? We see so much of the daughter, yet so little of the father,” called Abigail.

  I felt the now familiar tug of long-lost feelings returning to haunt my presence of mind. “It would be my…pleasure,” I said as we approached, taking care not to hold the eyes of Abigail. I feared what mine would reveal.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Are you scared of me, James?” My cup rattled against its saucer as I placed it on the table. On the other side of the tearoom, Miss Hayter was introducing Lizzy to some acquaintance.

  I was terrified. “Do not be silly, Abigail,” I replied, before stuffing myself with cake to excuse further elaboration.

  “If you say so.” She stretched her arms out on the table until they almost touched my hand. “I loved you, you know.”

  I swallowed, but could not speak.

  She pulled her hands away. “Why did you never ask me to marry you? I quite expected it. Hoped for it.”

  Now it was my turn to pull my hands away, gripping the table to steady myself. Moments passed before I found my voice. “I…I did not ask you because you were not there to be asked.” I sought Lizzy out in the crowded room. She was still engaged in conversation. “If you must know, I came back to Bath with the express intention of speaking with your father, only to discover from a gossip on the coach that Miss Abigail Spencer was newly engaged to a local landowner of great wealth and promise. I did not even disembark.”

  “You did not write to me,” she said. “I heard nothing more from you.”

  “It would not have been seemly.”

  Her face hardened. “And then you married Mrs Bennet. How fortunate that your affection for me was so easily—and so quickly—replaced.”

  “Papa?” The girls had returned. “Are you well? You have a strange colour about you.” Lizzy put her hands on my shoulders.

  “I am perfectly fine. Perhaps I have eaten too much and should take to the fresh air.”

  “What a wonderful idea!” said Abigail. “We shall all walk together up to the Circus.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Lizzy and Miss Hayter kept far enough ahead to stay out of earshot. Abigail and I walked without talking at first, her hands firmly entrenched in a muff, mine fixed at my sides.

  I stopped and turned to her. “It was neither easy nor quick.”

  “So what did you do to bridge your disappointment? If I had to guess, I would say you retreated into drink, books, or travel.”

  “America,” I said, quietly.

  “But there was all that fighting?” She paused for a moment. “Oh, I see.”

  “I only caught the tail end. No battles. Just the odd skirmish, nothing recorded in newspapers or books. We were not even officially fighting anymore. But I saw enough blood for a lifetime. Just not enough to drive away the memories of Bath, memories of…” I looked away from her for a moment, glad that the clatter of a passing carriage excused me from finishing the sentence. “We should catch up with the girls. It is getting late and I must attend to matters in Gay Street. Abigail—Mrs Hayter—I beg your pardon but I must abandon you. My thanks again for your kindness to Lizzy.”

  I could not read her face and feared, again, what she might read in mine. But on leaving, I did not forget the purpose of my Bath visit.

  “I am pleased your daughter and Lizzy have found each other. It has the makings of a fine friendship.” After a few paces, I turned back to her. “In my experience, those who have lost in love often become cynics, finding relief in the barbs of conversation. They are all too keen to build walls around themselves.”

  “Are we talking about you…or me?” she asked, holding her bonnet to prevent it blowing away.

  I did not answer, but went on my way, bidding Miss Hayter farewell and taking the long way back to our lodgings.

  ~ ~ ~

  John left for Gloucestershire in the afternoon, but I managed to draw him to one side before he departed.

  “And?” I said, gripping his arm. I had not been able to speak to him alone since the dance.

  “I am still in love, if that is what you ask.”

  “Of that I am sure, John. But is there hope that I and my friends might go back to talking about other matters? Spring will be here and we need to plan our collecting trips.” I was half serious. Ever since that first letter from John I had become altogether too distracted.

  “At the dance, well, I believe she may now only dislike me. It is an improvement. Before last night I was convinced she must hate me.”

  “Progress indeed. In a few years, we may persuade her to be merely indifferen
t to you.”

  “Did Elizabeth invite her to visit Longbourn?” Now it was his turn to grasp my arm. “Was the invitation accepted?”

  I gently removed his hand from my sleeve. “I have not yet seen to it, but believe Lizzy will be amenable to the idea. One step at a time.”

  “Thank you, sir, for all you have done.”

  “Yes, well, we shall see where it all leads us. Hopefully not to more disappointment. Leave it with me. Return to your estate and await my news.”

  “I shall do so, with more optimism than when I left.”

  His words reminded me of Jane, so my thoughts turned to London and whether the Gardiners had helped her recover her spirits. I hoped so. One broken heart was enough in the Bennet family.

  ~ ~ ~

  The whole family enjoyed a small supper together at the end of our last full day in Bath. Tucking into an excellent soup and even better wine, I looked forward to a quiet read by candlelight.

  Lizzy put down her spoon. “Papa, do you think we might invite Anne Hayter to stay with us at Longbourn?”

  In my sudden excitement, the hot soup escaped down the wrong channel. All I could do was cough and splutter.

  “My apologies, Papa, you think it too soon. It is only that I feel a strong attachment to her. We are already almost as close as sisters.”

  Still spluttering, I waved my spoon-free hand in an effort to dismiss her objections.

  “Yes, you are right, Papa,” said Mary. “We should not be hasty in pursuing further acquaintance until we are all more familiar with each other.”

  “Give your father a glass of water, Mary, he is quite beside himself,” said my wife.

  I managed to gasp “no” before another bout of coughing.

  “Your father has spoken, children. Let that be the last word on the matter.”

  They continued eating while I removed the last traces of the itinerant soup. “Perhaps your idea has merit, Lizzy, despite my initial reservations. Although you have not known Miss Hayter long, one should never stand in the way of a good acquaintance, especially one which might throw all you girls into the paths of eligible bachelors.” I may not have been the best spouse in England, but I did know where my wife was ticklish.

  “How am I to understand you, husband?” Mrs Bennet cocked her head to one side like a magpie espying silver. “You said the Hayters have no male relatives.”

  “Miss Hayter did say that gentlemen are always calling and that several seem determined to marry her,” said Kitty.

  “There you go,” I said. Then I remembered who I was trying to help. “Several? How many exactly?”

  “I think it would be unsupportable to seek Miss Hayter’s company solely for the sake of her connections, though,” said Lizzy.

  “Besides,” added Lydia, “I have heard talk of Mrs Hayter.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Yes,” said Kitty, leaning forward and looking across at Lydia. “I have heard things, too.”

  “What things?” I said.

  “It is not seemly to gossip,” said Lizzy, as Kitty seemed poised to answer my question.

  “Not seemly at all, Kitty,” said my wife. “I abhor gossip. I should not like people to gossip about us.” She frowned. “Not that we give them reason to do so. But tell us,” she ventured after a brief silence. “What exactly do they say about Mrs Hayter?”

  I watched the conversation like a condemned man.

  “Apparently, she was quite the beauty when she was younger,” said Lydia. “Is that true, Papa?”

  “I could not possibly say.”

  Lydia’s eyes gleamed. “They say dozens of men sought her hand, for she was also wealthy.” They all looked at me but I merely shrugged my shoulders. “They even say that Miss Hayter may be…”

  “Enough! I will not hear any more. I will not tolerate innuendo and supposition in this family. And as far as this Mrs Hayter goes, Lizzy is as fine a judge of character as I know. Besides, if there was any doubt about her she would not be seen so freely in the Pump Room or elsewhere. Why, back in the day, there were three other men who would have gladly married your mother. Are we to condemn her as quickly, merely for having looks and a dowry?”

  Mrs Bennet mumbled something through her wine glass.

  “What is that, dear?”

  “Five, husband. There were five other suitors. I believe you may have forgotten the Mayhew brothers…though I have not.” She smiled. “Now I think upon it, it was six. I am sure Captain Greenwich would have made an offer if you had not.”

  “It does not matter if it was five, six or six hundred. Lizzy, you will invite Miss Hayter to visit at Longbourn. And that is truly my last word on the matter.”

  Back to Longbourn

  The family deemed the trip to Bath a triumph. Lizzy’s new friend lightened the loss of Charlotte. Mrs Bennet returned bearing enough gossip to last several suppers with Lady Lucas and Mrs Philips. And all saw enough of society to desire some temporary relief in the tedium of home.

  Most importantly, Miss Hayter soon accepted our invitation and, weather permitting, would join us a few days later. All that was needed was to ensure John visited at the same time.

  Bath was still close enough in memory to ensure good spirits as we walked home from the morning service. Toke’s sermon on generosity set the right mood for broaching the topic of another guest. Even Mary was less grim-faced than usual, perhaps because of a look or two exchanged with Mr Spigott.

  “John Barton will pass through Meryton shortly. I thought we might ask him to stay. You all seemed to enjoy his company so much, both here and in Bath.”

  “Of course we must ask him, even if he did forget his easel last month,” said my wife. “He is not as amiable as Mr Bingley and was a little morose in Bath. But such fine manners and a handsome face, is that not so, Kitty?” My daughter smiled in agreement.

  “Will he be here at the same time as Miss Hayter?” said Lizzy.

  I paused for a moment. “Let me think. Yes, he will at that.”

  “Would that be wise?” said Mary. “Miss Hayter might consider it improper.” She looked to me for confirmation.

  “There is nothing in the idea to suggest impropriety, Mary,” I said.

  “Though from what I heard, the two did not get on in Bath,” said Lydia.

  “I grant they enjoyed some robust conversations,” I said. “But nothing unpleasant. Lizzy?”

  She took her time replying as she stepped carefully around a small puddle that sat indelicately in the middle of our path. “I do not believe there was any animosity. Simply a difference of opinion on some matters. Well, if I am honest, on many matters. John is normally so open and eager to please, but with Miss Hayter, he seemed almost argumentative. I expected him to be more amiable around a young lady.”

  “Perhaps that tells us something about Miss Hayter, Lizzy. She is…spirited,” I said.

  “Forgive me, Papa, but you must allow a woman of education and standing to hold opinions. It is not so improper.”

  “It is not her opinions as such that concern me, Lizzy, merely her way of expressing them.”

  “Perhaps if men were more inclined to listen, she would not have to express them so forcibly.”

  “Lizzy!” said her mother. “Do not get above yourself.”

  “We should ask her mother, though? About Mr Barton’s presence.” Mary’s question ended any further argument.

  “There is no need to trouble the mother.” I picked up my pace.

  “Did you not find her company amenable while dancing?” called Kitty.

  “You danced, Mr Bennet?”

  “Yes, briefly.” I looked back over my shoulder at my wife. “Do not look so surprised. It was against my better judgement, forced upon me by duty and obligation.”

  “How extraordinary. When was this? It must have been on the Monday. Do tell, girls. Your father was very fleet of foot during our courtship. How does he now dance?”

  I held one palm up for all to se
e and to ensure my wife’s question remained unanswered. “Since we were much engaged with her daughter, I felt duty bound to extend my compliments to Mrs Hayter by asking her to dance. It gave me no pleasure. And how I dance is not a topic for a Sunday, or for any other day. And that is an opinion you would all do well to listen to.”

  Without thinking, I touched my arm where Abigail had held it.

  ~ ~ ~

  With John and Miss Hayter circling toward each other slowly, like two leaves caught in the gentle swirl of a pond’s eddy, the Fates decided to place a little worm in the apple of my plans. It seemed Mr and Mrs Collins would be visiting Meryton at the same time as our guests. Mr Collins’s unerring knack of wreaking verbal havoc was a dangerous card in the game of lovers’ whist. The only comfort was that he would stay at Lucas Lodge, not Longbourn.

  “I shall have to hope they never meet,” I said, staring out of one of the Flighted Duck’s windows at the end of a Society meeting. The others had long dispersed in search of home comforts and warmer fireplaces, but Fielding, as was traditional, still lingered.

  “This Mr Collins seemed harmless enough when we met him last year,” he said.

  I tapped the bottle between us. “A drop of wine is harmless enough, dear friend, but too much of it and you soon find yourself head down in a ditch missing your breeches. I am serious. We should drop Mr Collins in Paris. He would drive away the French faster than any army.”

  “At least our Bath plan was a success. But tell me, Bennet, what does the future now hold for your young bachelor? Does our Miss Hayter show any sign of attachment?”

  “He seems to set her aflame at each encounter.”

  “Well that is good news, indeed. A toast to your Mr Barton!”

  I put my hand over his glass before he could lift it. “The fires might well be anger, not affection.”

  “Ah. Still, let Longbourn weave its magic and then we shall see. Jackson was right: neutral ground may prove more fertile for love to blossom. And since we are on that very subject, I have another question for you.” Fielding folded his hands in his lap and seemed to search for the right words.