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Her Season in Bath
_A STORY OF BYGONE DAYS_
BY EMMA MARSHALL
AUTHOR OF "BRISTOL DIAMONDS," "THE TOWER ON THE CLIFF," ETC., ETC.
"One loving hour
Full many years of sorrow can dispense.
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sour."
SPENSER
LONDON
SEELEY & CO., ESSEX STREET, STRAND
1889
[Illustration]
CONTENTS.
I. COIFFEUR
II. THE TIDE OF FASHION
III. ANOTHER SIDE OF THE PICTURE
IV. MUSIC
V. GRISELDA! GRISELDA!
VI. GRAVE AND GAY
VII. THE VASE OF PARNASSUS
VIII. ON THE TRACK
IX. WATCHED!
X. A PROPOSAL
XI. A LETTER
XII. DISCOVERED
XIII. THE PLOT THICKENS
XIV. BRAWLS
XV. CHALLENGED
XVI. IN THE EARLY MORNING
XVII. THE BITTER END
XVIII. IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
XIX. TEN YEARS LATER--1790
Her Season in Bath
CHAPTER I.
COIFFEUR.
It was the height of the Bath season in 1779, and there was scarcely any
part of the city which did not feel the effect of the great tide of
amusement and pleasure, which set in year by year with ever-increasing
force, and made the streets, and parades, and terraces alive with
gaily-dressed fashionable ladies and their attendant beaux.
The chair-men had a fine trade, so had the mantua-makers and
dressmakers, to say nothing of the hairdressers, who were skilled in the
art of building up the powdered bastions, which rose on many a fair
young head, and made the slender neck which supported them bend like a
lily-stalk with their weight. Such head-gear was appropriate for the
maze of the stately minuet and Saraband, but would be a serious
inconvenience if worn now-a-days, when the whirl of the waltz seems to
grow ever faster and faster, and the "last square" remaining in favour
is often turned into a romp, which bears the name of "Polka Lancers."
There was a certain grace and poetry in those old-world dances, and
they belonged to an age when there was less hurry and bustle, and all
locomotion was leisurely; when our great-grandmothers did not rush madly
through the country, and through Europe, as if speed was the one thing
to attain in travelling, and breathless haste the great charm of travel.
And not of travel only. Three or four "at homes" got through in one
afternoon, is a cause of mighty exultation; and a dinner followed by an
evening reunion, for which music or recitations are the excuse, to wind
up with a ball lasting till day-dawn, is spoken of as an achievement of
which any gentlewoman, young or old, may feel proud.
The two ladies who were seated with their maid in attendance in a large
well-furnished apartment in North Parade on a chill December morning in
the year 1779, awaiting the arrival of the hairdresser, had certainly no
sign of haste or impatience in their manner. The impatience was kept in
reserve, in the case of the elder lady, for Mr. Perkyns and his
attendant, for Lady Betty had now passed her _premiere jeunesse_, and
was extremely careful that every roll should be in its right place, and
every patch placed in the precise spot which was most becoming. Lady
Betty's morning-gown was of flowered taffety, and open in front
displayed a short under-skirt of yellow satin, from which two very small
feet peeped, or rather were displayed, as they were crossed upon a high
square footstool.
"Griselda, can't you be amusing? What are you dreaming about, child?"
The young lady thus addressed started as if she had indeed been awakened
from a dream, and said:
"I beg your pardon, Lady Betty; I did not hear what you said."
"No, you never hear at the right moment. Your ears are sharp enough at
the wrong. I never saw the like last evening at Mrs. Colebrook's
reunion. You looked all ears, then."
"It was lovely music--it was divine!" Griselda said earnestly, and then,
almost instantly checking the burst of enthusiasm which she knew would
find no response, she said:
"Will you carry out your intention of paying a visit in King Street? Mr.
and Miss Herschel receive guests to-morrow forenoon."
"Indeed, I vow I have but little inclination that way, but we will see.
But, Griselda, take my word for it, you are playing your cards
ill--staring like one daft at that singer who is no beauty, and
forgetting to acknowledge Sir Maxwell Danby last evening when he made
you that low bow. Why, child, don't you know he is a great catch?"
Griselda's cheeks flushed crimson.
"Your ladyship forgets we are not alone."
"Ha! ha! as if my waiting-maid was not in all my little secrets. No
love-story is new to her, is it, Graves?"
The person thus referred to, who had been engaged in plaiting ruffles
with a small iron, and sprinkling the fine lace with a few drops of
starched water as she did so, on hearing her name, turned her head in
the direction of her mistress, and said:
"Did you speak, my lady?"
"_You_ know--_you_ know, Graves. You know all about my billets-doux, and
my pretty gentlemen."
If Melia, otherwise Amelia Graves, knew, her face showed no sign of
intelligence. It was a stolid face, hard and plain-featured, and she was
a strange mixture of devotion to her frivolous mistress, and strong
disapproval of that mistress's ways and behaviour. The real devotion and
affection for a family she had served for many years, often gained the
day, when she turned over in her mind the possibility of leaving a
service which involved so much of the world and its customs, which she
was the indirect means of encouraging by her continuous attention to all
the finery and gauds, in which Lady Betty Longueville delighted.
Lady Betty was the widow of a rich gentleman, to whom she had been
married but a few years, when death ended what could not have ever been
more than a _mariage de convenance_. An orphan niece of Mr.
Longueville's, the child of a sister who had made what was considered a
_mesalliance_, had been left to Lady Betty as a legacy, and was
particularly mentioned in Mr. Longueville's concise will. His estate in
Ireland devolved on the next heir, but Mr. Longueville had accumulated a
pretty little fortune, which he had the power to settle on his wife. The
estate was entailed, but the money was his to leave as he chose. Lady
Betty had fully grasped the situation before she had accepted Mr.
Longueville's proposal, and the understanding that Griselda Mainwaring
was to be thrown into the bargain was rather agreeable than otherwise.
Strange to say, Mr. Longueville did not leave Griselda any money, and
simply stated that his niece, Griselda Mainwaring, the only issue of the
unhappy marriage of his sister, Dorothy Mainwaring, _nee_ Longueville,
was to be companion to his widow, and maintained by her, Lady Betty
Longueville, for the term of her natural life.
It did not seem to have struck Mr. Longueville that either Lady Betty or
Griselda might marry, and Griselda was thus left as one of the bits of
blue china or old plate, which, being not included in the entail, fell
to Lady Betty with the "household effects, goods and chattels."
Perhaps the feeling that she was a mere "chattel" weighed at times on
the tall and stately Griselda, whose grave eyes had ever a wistful
expression in them, as if they were looking out on some distant time,
where, behind the veil, the hopes and fears of youth, lay hidden.
Griselda was outwardly calm and even dignified in her manner. She moved
with a peculiar grace, and formed a marked contrast in all ways to the
little vivacious Lady Betty, whose grand ambition was to be thought
young, and who understood only too well how to cast swift glances from
behind her fan upon the gay beaux, who haunted the city of Bath at that
time. For although the palmiest days of the Pump Room, under the
dominion of Beau Nash, were now long past, still in 1779 Bath held her
own, and was frequented by hundreds for health, to be regained by means
of its healing waters, and by thousands for pleasure and amusement.
Amongst these thousands, Lady Betty Longueville was one of the foremost
in the race; and she spent her energies and her talents on "making a
sensation," and drawing to her net the most desirable of the idle beaux
who danced, and flirted, and led the gay and aimless life of men of
fashion.
Graves was presently interrupted by a tap at the door; and, putting down
the lace, she went to open it, and found the hairdresser and his
assistant waiting on the landing for admission.
The hairdresser made a low bow, and begged ten thousand pardons for
being late; but her ladyship must know that the ball to-night in
Wiltshire's Rooms was to be _the_ ball of the season, and that he and
his man had been dressing heads since early dawn.
"That is no news to me, Perkyns. Am I not one of the chief patronesses
of the ball? Have I not been besieged for cards? Tell me something more
like news than that."
The assistant having spread out a large array of bottles, and brushes,
and flasks on a side-table cleared for the purpose, Mr. Perkyns wasted
no more time in excuses; he began operations at once on the lady's head,
while Griselda was left to the hands of the assistant.
Lady Betty was far too much engrossed with her own appearance to take
much heed of Griselda's; and it was not till something like a discussion
was heard between the young lady and the "artist" that she said sharply:
"What are you talking about, Griselda? Pray, make no fuss!--you will
look well enough. A little less curl on the right side, Perkyns. Oh!
that bow is awry; and I will _not_ have the knot of ribbon so low. I
said so last week."
"The top-knots are not worn so high, my lady. Lady Cremorne's is quite
two inches lower than the point you indicate."
"Folly to talk of _her_!--a giant who might be a female Goliath! As if
_her_ mode was any rule for mine! I am _petite_, and need height. Thank
goodness, I am not a huge mass of bone and flesh, like my Lady
Cremorne!"
"As you please, my lady--as you please. But it is my duty to keep my
patronesses up to the high-water mark of fashion."
"I dare say folks with no taste may need your advice; but as I am
blessed with the power of knowing what I like--and with the will to
have it, too--I insist on the top-knot being at least two inches
higher."
"Very good--very good, my lady. What is it, Samuel?"--for the assistant
now approached.
"Shall I proceed to Sydney Place, sir? I have finished this young lady's
coiffure."
"Finished!--impossible! Why, child, come here; let me see! Why, you are
not made up!--no rouge, nor a touch to your eyebrows!"
"I do not desire it, madam; I do not desire to be painted. I have
requested the hairdresser to refrain----"
"Well, you will look a fright for your pains by night! Nonsense, child!
powder must have paint. However, take your own way, you wilful puss! I
have no more to say."
"I have done my best to persuade the lady," Sam said; "but it is
useless--it is in vain;" and, with a sigh, he began to gather together
the cosmetics and the little pots and bottles, and prepared for
departure.
Mr. Perkyns turned from the contemplation of the top-knots to give a
passing glance at Mistress Mainwaring. He shrugged his shoulders, and
murmured:
"A pity that what is so fair should not be made still fairer! But do not
stand wasting precious time, Samuel; proceed to Sydney Place, and
announce my speedy arrival. You can leave me what is needful, and I will
follow and bring the smaller bag. Be quick, Samuel; and do not go to
sleep--on a day like this, of all days!"
Samuel obeyed, and took leave; while Griselda, after a passing glance at
her head and shoulders in the mirror, retired to her own room on the
upper story, and, taking a violin from a case, began to draw the bow
over the strings.
"If only I could make you sing to me as their fiddles sang last night!
If only I had a voice like that sister of Mr. Herschel's! Ah! that song
from the 'Messiah'--if only I could play it!" And then, after several
attempts, Griselda did bring out the air of the song which, perhaps of
all others, fastens on ear and heart alike in that sublime oratorio:
"He shall feed His flock like a shepherd."
"So poor it sounds!" Griselda said; "so poor! I _will_ get to Mr.
Herschel's, and ask if he will teach me to play and sing. I will. Why
not? Ah, it is the money! She dresses me, and keeps me; and that is all.
She would do nothing else. But I have bought you, you dear violin!"
Griselda said, pressing her lips to the silent instrument, where the
music, unattainable for her, lay hidden. "I have bought you, and I will
keep you; and, who knows? I may one day make you tell me all that is in
your heart. Oh that I were not at her beck and call to do her bidding;
speak to those she chooses; and have nothing to say to those she thinks
beneath her! Ah me! Alack! alack!"
Griselda's meditations were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door;
and Graves came in with a bouquet in her hand, tied with pale primrose
ribbon.
"That is for you, Mistress Griselda. The gentleman brought it himself;
'and,' says he, 'give it to the young lady in private.' And then he had
the impudence to offer me a crown-piece! Says I, 'I don't hold, sir,
with sly ways; and I don't want your money.' Then he looked uncommon
foolish, and said I was quite right; he hated sly ways. He only
meant--well, _I_ knew what he meant--that I was not to let my lady know
you had the '_buket_;' but I just took it straight into the room, and
said, 'Here's a _buket_ for Mistress Grisel;' and, what do you think?
she was in one of her tantrums with Mr. Perkyns, who vowed he would not
take down her hair again; and there she was, screaming at him, and you
might have had fifty _bukets_, and she wouldn't have cared. Ah, my dear
Mistress Griselda, these vanities and sinful pleasures are just Satan's
yoke. They bring a lot of misery, and his slaves are made to feel the
pricks. Better be servants to a good master--better be children of the
Lord--than slaves of sin. It's all alike," as she gave the violin-case a
touch with her foot; "it's all sin and wickedness--plays, and balls, and
music, and----"
"Nonsense, Graves! Never tell me music is wrong. Why, you sing hymns at
Lady Huntingdon's Chapel--_that_ is music!"
"I don't hold with _that_ altogether; but hymns is one thing, and
foolish love-songs another. I am trembling for you, my dear; I am
trembling for you, with your flowers and your finery. The service of the
world is hard bondage."
Griselda had now put away her violin, and had taken up the flowers which
she had allowed to lie on the table, till her treasured possession was
in safety; and, as Graves departed, she said, as she saw a note hidden
in the centre of the bouquet:
"I am sure I don't care for these flowers; you may take them down to her
ladyship, if you please."
But Graves was gone.
A girl of twenty was not likely to be absolutely without curiosity, and,
though Griselda tore the scented, three-cornered billet open, and read
the contents with some eagerness, her face was flushed and her lip
curled as she did so.
"To the fairest of the fair! These poor flowers came from one who lives
on her smile and hungers for her presence, with the prayer that she will
grant him one dance to-night--if but _one_----"
Then there was a curious tangle of letters, which were twisted in the
form of a heart, the letter "G" being in the shape of a dart which had
pierced it.
Griselda tore the note in pieces, and said:
"Why does he not send his ridiculous billets to the person who wants
them? I hate him, and his finery, and his flattery. I know not which is
worse."
Hours were early in the eighteenth century, and by seven o'clock the two
ladies met in the dining-parlour of the house in North Parade ready for
the ball, and awaiting the arrival of the sedan-chairs, which were
attended by Lady Betty's own man.
Lady Betty had recovered her good temper, and her rose-coloured sacque,
with its short-elbow sleeves and long puckered gloves, was quite to her
mind. The satin skirt was toned down by lamp-light, and the diamond
buckles on her dainty shoes glistened and gleamed as she went through a
step of the minuet, with her fan held in the most approved fashion.
"Upon my word, we are a pretty pair to-night! But, do you know, Carteret
vowed he thought I was younger than you were at the last ball! Fancy! I,
a widow, not quite fat, fair, and forty, but in my thirties I freely
allow! Child, you look as pale as a ghost! But it is a vastly pretty
gown. Lucky for you it did not suit my complexion; dead white never
does. But perhaps you are too white--all white. For my part I vow I like
colour. Your servant, madam! How do you fancy my new curtshey?" and the
little lady went through elaborate steps with her tiny twinkling feet,
and made a bow, which, however, she was careful should not be too low to
run any risk of disarranging her high coiffure, the erection of which
had cost so much trouble and sorrow of heart.