Holiday in Bath (30 page)

At the breakfast table Trelenny was especially cheerful in an effort to persuade her mother and friends that she had suffered no ill consequences from her misadventure. She gave a vivid account of Cranford’s pugilistic skills and an impressive recitation of his coldly delivered demands to Rowle. Anyone observing her, even her very closest companions, could have had no idea of the problems she had wrestled with when she awoke early in the morning.

First, there was the problem of Cranford and Lady Jane. Trelenny flushed to recall her own forwardness in the carriage. Kissing him as though her life depended on it! What recourse had she given him but to finally make good on his word and offer for her? Her realization that she loved him had come too late, and much as she wanted to marry him, she could not in all honor accept him when she knew he had given his heart to Lady Jane. It was difficult to even resent Lady Jane, much as she wished she could. Not since Clare had she met someone she so liked and respected. Trelenny despaired of offering Cranford an acceptable excuse for her behavior should he press her; he would have to think the worst of her.

And her mother. Trelenny had had qualms before as to the intimacy growing between her and Mr. Wheldrake, but the scene upon which she had entered the previous evening had shaken her as nothing else could have. Reluctant to enter into the social whirl of Bath without her husband, Mrs. Storwood had leaned on Mr. Wheldrake for support and the relationship had grown into—what? In her own rush to savor every moment of her stay, Trelenny had not fully comprehended the dangers of placing her mother constantly in company with a charming, affectionate gentleman who clearly felt a great deal for her. Even in her thoughts Trelenny shied away from comparing Mr. Wheldrake and her own father. Not only did it seem disloyal but unfair. Who was she to say that her mother should deny the pleasures of society and be tied to the Westmorland wilds? Could this taste of high life have awakened Mrs. Storwood’s longing for a different kind of life from the one she had? Refusing to consider the matter one inch further, Trelenny had come to a decision. She would not go with the Waplingtons to London but home with her mother to insure that her father suspected nothing of what had passed (if anything had), and to comfort her mother (if she needed it).

Since Mrs. Storwood was loath to let Trelenny out of her sight, Cranford found the two of them in the sitting room. Making up for her scanty thanks of the previous evening, Mrs. Storwood proclaimed her undying gratitude for the better part of half an hour during which time Cranford and Trelenny attempted to indicate to one another that they wished to speak privately. Neither of them was forced to ask her to leave, however, as eventually she was overcome by emotion and excused herself.

After an awkward silence Cranford said, “We reached no conclusion in our discussion last night.”

“Did we not? I was sure we had.”

“You had a misconception as to why I offered for you."

“I cannot see that makes any difference to the conclusion.

“Trelenny, come here.”

They had not reseated themselves after her mother left and she had nervously walked to the window, as far as she could get and not appear positively rude. “Why?”

“Come here.”

Though she did not hasten to his side, making a circuitous and lengthy progress about the various chairs, she did eventually reach him, her chin raised and her eyes fearful. When he took her in his arms and kissed her, she valiantly tried to remain passive but her own emotions were more than she could manage. She responded, as she had the night before, with every evidence of passion.

He released her, smiling ruefully. “Well?”

Flushed and angry with herself, she murmured, “That proves nothing but that I like to kiss.”

“You did not respond that way when Rowle kissed you.

“No, well, I didn’t like him.”

“And you do like me?"

“Of course I like you.”

“Trelenny, you act as though you like me well enough to marry me.”

“I don’t!” She sought desperately for some way to persuade him of her sincerity. “You’re like your father, Cranford. Not always,” she hastened to add at his stricken look. “But see what you did to Clare! That was autocratic and heartless, not the act of a kind, decent man. And you think of me as you do Clare, as someone to be treated as a misguided child. You aren’t like that with Lady Jane! She’s an adult and an equal in your eyes. But I’m not.”

His hurt was evident and the pain in his eyes bothered her, but she refused to let him sacrifice himself. He said slowly, “I see. You’re wrong, you know, Trelenny, but I can’t prove it to you.”

“Don’t try! Please let’s not discuss the matter further, Cranford. I have something very important to ask you. I want to go home. Will you take us? Tomorrow?”

“You don’t want to go to London?” he asked incredulously. “I thought that was very important to you.”

“Mama is more important.”

“Trelenny, I shall take the greatest care of her.”

“It’s not that! Of course you will. I just want to go with her. I want to see Papa. I’m sorry to take you away from Bath right now, Cranford, but it’s important.”

“We were due to go in a few days anyhow.” There was something here he didn’t understand, but her dear face was politely masked and he knew it would avail him nothing to pursue the subject. “Very well. I’ll have the traveling carriage here at ten.”

“Nine?”

He tapped a restless finger against a chair back. “Nine.”

The return journey was very different from its predecessor. Cranford purchased
Emma
for her, but had not the heart to read it aloud, and Mrs. Storwood could not erase from her mind the heartbroken Trelenny who had come to her when Cranford left.

“I did the right thing, didn’t I, Mama?”

“Yes, my poor love, you did the right thing. Oh, how I ache for you.”

“He’ll be happy with Lady Jane. They’re so perfectly suited. I told Cranford I want to go home tomorrow.”

“But…but your trip to London.”

“I couldn’t enjoy it right now, Mama. Perhaps another time Mrs. Waplington will invite me.”

Four days they spent in the carriage, each covertly observing the others: Trelenny thinking that her mother looked very sad, and Cranford, well, he had become impassive again; Mrs. Storwood admiring her daughter’s perpetual good humor and wondering at the gaze Cranford bent on her when she didn’t see him; Cranford hoping against hope that his letter to his sister would bring permission to tell her secret, and watching the mother and daughter for some answer to the perplexing aura of sadness which surrounded them.

As the countryside grew familiar Trelenny became more agitated by the minute. Cranford tried to distract her by enumerating the reasons Kirby Thore was believed to be the Bravoniacum of the Romans, though why he chose to bore her with such a subject he was at a loss to explain even to himself. When she responded, “Since Camden’s time it was thought to be Galacum, but I suppose Horsley has proved that Appleby, agreeing more nearly to the distance in the Itinerary, holds that claim,” he was dumb struck and uttered not another word until they drove through the gates of Sutton Hall. Forewarned by a note, Mr. Storwood was waiting at the front door, outwardly calm but filled with almost unbearable anticipation at being reunited with his family. Mrs. Storwood’s eyes filled with tears the moment he came in view and she waved until the carriage stopped, impatiently waited for the steps to be let down, and raced to his waiting arms.

“Oh, James, how I’ve missed you!” And right in front of everyone she allowed him to hug her to him and kiss her for such a long time that Trelenny murmured, “Well, really! She would scold me for such behavior.” But after a moment she smiled and sighed. “It’s all right then. I should have known.”

Cranford eyed her suspiciously. “Were you afraid an attachment had grown between her and Mr. Wheldrake? Goosecap! I could have told you it was no such thing.”

“She saw so much of him, and danced with him, and they would talk for hours."

“About you and your father and his sons. Didn’t you ever hear them?”

“Mama has a right to her privacy. I wouldn’t have dreamed of eavesdropping on them.”

“You have the most infernal sense of honor, Trelenny.”

But Mr. and Mrs. Storwood had broken from their embrace and Trelenny, after one painful smile, dashed to her father to be almost as rapturously greeted as her mother. Mr. Storwood held her at arm's length then and surveyed the much maligned haircut. “I like it,” he pronounced. “It suits you perfectly.”

If Cranford’s greeting from Mr. Storwood had been all cordiality and gratitude, that from his father was otherwise. Lord Chessels was immediately apprised of Trelenny’s rejection and took it in very bad part. Cranford would have left Ashwicke Park but for the letter he awaited from his sister. And when an answer came it was in a surprisingly different form from what he had expected, and its delivery was not only to Ashwicke Park but Sutton Hall.

Although Cranford called twice in the week following their return, he took tea with the whole family and had no discussion alone with Trelenny, as neither of them made any opportunity. The sidesaddle was there, of course, and when she rode out she was unable to keep to her resolve not to think of him, but sometimes, when she practiced the pianoforte, she could dull the pain for a while. It was when she was playing one afternoon that a visitor arrived in the doorway of the parlor, unperceived until she spoke.

“Cranford didn’t tell me you had advanced so far in your playing, Trelenny.”

Her face lifted with an incredulous smile. “Clare! I didn’t know you were coming! How long have you been here? Are you well? Are you happy? Are your daughter and Lord Hinton with you?”

“You haven’t changed, I see,” Clare laughed, “except your hair. Are you setting a new fashion with it?”

“I certainly hope so! Come and sit with me and tell me everything.”

“That’s why I’m here, love. Cranford, Thomas, and Catherine are with your parents, but I begged a word alone with you first.” She bit her lip momentarily and then smiled. “No one but Thomas, Cranford, and I know what I am about to tell you, and I feel certain you will guard our secret as closely as we do ourselves.”

Trelenny frowned. “If it is a secret, Clare, you have no need to share it with me.”

“I don’t mind. You have always been my friend and, in time, I might have told you because I had so indiscreetly written you that letter.”

“Cranford told you I mentioned it! I never meant to! You see, I am not to be trusted with a secret.” Trelenny hung her head remorsefully.

“You didn’t really mention the letter, I gather; only that you knew I loved someone else.”

“It was enough! I don’t want to cause you pain by going over the past.”

Clare shook her head serenely. “Listen a moment and you will understand that I no longer feel any unhappiness. When I wrote you that I had fallen in love with Alexander Bradley, I believed it to be true. Lord Hinton—Thomas—had been courting me and I was deeply attached to him when along came this dashing soldier. Papa was delighted with Thomas and immediately threw all sorts of nasty barriers in Alexander’s way, and you know what Papa is, Trelenny.”

“Yes.”

“If he had done nothing, I probably wouldn’t have taken any interest at all. His autocracy just cried out to be rebelled against. Cranford did, and that spring I did. Alexander and I met secretly as often as we could and thought ourselves head over ears in love. It was partly the excitement of a clandestine relationship, partly that he was a wildly lovable fellow.” She sighed. “I felt the only way I could force Papa to let me marry him was to let Alexander compromise me.”

Trelenny’s eyes widened but she said nothing.

“Napoleon had escaped and rapidly built up an army. Alexander went off to fight in April, promising to return and marry me the moment the menace was over. It was not until after he left that I found I was increasing. I was terrified. I couldn’t tell Papa, and so I did nothing for a month or so. Perhaps I hoped I might lose the baby, perhaps I thought Alexander would be back before I began to show.” Clare twisted her hands in her lap. “Eventually I could stand the suspense no longer and I told Cranford. Lord, he was so understanding! Not once did he lecture me as I deserved to be for my folly. He set off for the continent immediately, but Alexander was moved from place to place. By the time Cranford reached Belgium, Waterloo was underway but he went onto the battlefield to find Alexander. When he finally located him…”

Clare paused for a moment. She had never been in the position of telling the whole story before, and it was more difficult than she had expected. “Alexander died in Cranford’s arms. Of course Cranford said nothing about my condition and told me Alexander’s last words were of me.”

“I’m so sorry, Clare.”

“When Cranford returned we talked for hours and hours about what best to do. I was heartbroken and desperate, but he wouldn’t let me make a decision until I grew calmer. In a few days he asked my permission to tell Thomas, who was a great friend of his, and who, Cranford believed, loved me enough to marry me, even when in possession of all the awful details. And do you know, Trelenny, he did.” Her eyes sparkled with joyful tears. “Thomas is the most astonishing man. We were married early in July with the baby due in December, but he arranged for us to live away from everyone so that no one would know when she was born, and we could announce her birth several months later.”

“But what if it had been a boy? His heir?”

“He would have done the same. I’m glad, for his sake, that it was a girl. She’s the dearest thing, Trelenny, but we thought the longer we waited to show her to anyone the less obvious it would be that she is older than we say she is. I would hate for her to have to pay her whole life for my indiscretion.’’

“And Lord Hinton? How does he feel about her?”

“She’s our baby, born out of the secret we share. Oh, Trelenny, I hope you will get to know Thomas. I can’t imagine how I could have preferred Alexander to him for so long as a minute!” She wiped away the stray tear that had fallen and smiled. “So you see, my love, Cranford was not the least autocratic in the whole affair but the kindest, most helpful brother who ever lived.”