All right. She had established that most important thing between them had not been a lie. That was enough for now. “Sea-bathing, you say?”
She looked around for his friends. Reading her mind, he said, “They’ve gone back to the Pavilion. Simon didn’t get enough of it, apparently.”
She could feel herself smiling. The Effie she knew was adventurous and impulsive, and while a week ago she would have said that although she admired those qualities, she did not share them. But was that true? She was here, wasn’t she, in Brighton? Perhaps Effie and his . . . Effieness was infectious.
Her smile deepened, as if mirroring some inner part of her, some primal core, that had already made her decision. “All right.”
“Hooray!” He performed a little leap that was both ridiculous and endearing.
On the walk to the sea, Effie made up for his earlier silence. “Why are you here, Jules? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here the same time I was? Though what if you had? Would I have responded by abandoning my plans?”
She waited for him to answer his own questions—that last one, anyway, but he did not. “I don’t know why I’m here,” she said, addressing his first. “And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know I was coming until the morning I left—yesterday. It was a rather impulsive decision.”
“That seems unlike you.” He paused. The head tilt, which she was beginning to recognize as a signature mannerism of his—returned. “And yet in some ways, it is in character.”
“I suddenly found myself with a dismayingly empty schedule.” She told him about how printing problems had ensured she had nothing to do until next Thursday, and about the way she had found herself in an almost fugue state as she packed and bought her ticket for the coach. “I honestly don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking at all!”
“Well, I’m glad you weren’t!” He flattened her with that smile of his, and she was glad, too. Glad to be flattened.
At the beach, he said, “We shall have to part ways here. Ladies are on one side and gentlemen on the other.”
Yes. She could see the nearby bathing machines marked with a sign that read “Ladies,” and as she peered up the beach, she could see another cluster of machines in the distance.
“Can a person just walk up? Does one need to . . . make an appointment?” And what about attire?
“I have no idea,” Effie said. “I’ve only ever swum by myself.”
“Well,” Julianna said, tilting her head to the sun and opening herself. Letting Effie’s spirit of adventure fill her up. “Let us try.”
“Excellent. Let us reconvene here in, say . . . I have no idea how long sea-bathing takes!”
“When you swim, how long does it take?”
“Oh, ages, but that’s just me. Once I’m in the water, if it’s calm enough, I can float on my back and gaze at the sky endlessly. But I suspect things are more circumscribed here.”
Something about the image of Effie floating in the sea was . . . stirring. What would he wear—or not wear—while doing that?
“Let us meet there when we’re done.” He pointed to a nearby bench. “I will endeavor to make my immersion brief so as not to keep you waiting. You, though—you take your time. I will wait for you.” He was staring at her again with that intense look. She didn’t dislike it anymore. “Look at the sky while you’re out there, Jules, and I shall, too.”
* * *
The bathing machines dotting the beach looked like covered carriages that had been parked at the edge of the water. Inside, after changing into the bathing costume provided, Julianna discovered that was exactly what they were. She entered through one door from the beach and was towed out a way. Once situated, she emerged into the sea from the opposite door. Julianna laughed to think that she had been concerned she might not be “allowed” to sea-bathe on her own. In fact, the whole operation was designed for maximum privacy. The bathing machine itself shielded her from the beach and it from her. She could almost believe she was alone but for the dipper, a sturdy, red-faced woman who seemed profoundly uninterested in her charge. She didn’t introduce herself, or even make a greeting. Julianna could have been anyone. She didn’t need a mother, or a maid, or even her ring. It was refreshing.
Another thing the dipper didn’t seem interested in was giving Julianna a chance to acclimate. She merely took Julianna’s arm and marched her down the few steps to the seafloor. It was sandy beneath her toes—how wonderful. Julianna had never been barefoot in the outdoors before, not on grass or dirt, much less on the seafloor. She wiggled her toes and laughed as the sand oozed over them.
“Come on, then, ma’am,” the dipper said brusquely, leading her farther out. Julianna wished her bathing costume wasn’t so voluminous. It weighed her down as it got wet.
“Are you in search of a cure?” the dipper asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Sea water is the cure for so many things—the gout, all manner of glandular issues.” She lowered her voice. “Some say it even helps the unfortunate lady who is unable to conceive.”
“I am not in search of a cure,” Julianna said. But . . . was that true? She could feel herself, lately, grasping toward something. Something more than control over her magazine. She sometimes felt as if something was missing from her life, but she couldn’t articulate what it was.
She shook her head. She wasn’t in search of a cure for anything that seawater could put to rights. “I am merely here for overall health and vigor.”
“Well, shall we get on with it?”
