Page 92 of Appointment in Bath

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Meg had spent most of the last week engaged with the French dressmaker Miss Adams had recommended. The talented Madame Sandrine had come to the house Meg’s father had leased in Camden Place. There, she’d outfitted Meg in day dresses, evening gowns, and ballgowns. Beautiful garments made in silks, velvets, and delicate crepes and gauze. Most of the dresses wouldn’t be ready for another week, but Madame Sandrine had managed to run up a few pieces for Meg in advance, including a gown of rosy pink moiré silk for Meg to wear to her first ball at the Assembly Rooms, set to take place Monday evening.

When not closeted with her dressmaker, Meg spent the days leading up to the ball in tending to her father’s needs—partnering him at cards or accompanying him to dinners at the houses of his acquaintances in town. The few hours she had to herself were used for visiting Miss Adams in Pulteney Street.

Meg’s former governess was exceedingly kind and patient with her. But Meg couldn’t fail to recognize that their relationship had changed since their time together at Letchford Hall.

No longer employed by Meg’s father, Miss Adams had a higher loyalty now. Her attentions were focused on her impending marriage. On the needs of her future husband and mother-in-law. Meg could claim but a distant third place in Miss Adams’s heart. Perhaps not even that.

“I enjoy our little talks excessively,” Miss Adams said, walking Meg out after just such a visit on Monday afternoon. “But I won’t monopolize you today, my dear. You must return home and ready yourself for the ball. You’ll want to look your best. You’ll have no end of partners, I suspect.”

Meg wasn’t so sure. “I’ve only met a handful of gentlemen in Bath so far,” she said, “and there are none of them I desire to dance with overmuch.”

“There must be someone, surely. Did I not see you at the Pump Room three mornings ago, surrounded by a crowd of good-looking young fellows?”

It hadn’t been a crowd. Only a few gentlemen, really. Recent acquaintances cultivated by Meg’s father. They’d been civil, to be sure, but most of their conversation had been directed toward Sir Frederick. As for good-looking…

They none of them had been anything compared to Ivo Beresford.

Meg’s heart twinged to think of him. She’d been trying so hard to put him out of her mind. But it wasn’t easy to stop thinking about a person one loved. About one’s dear, best, and truest friend. For he had been her friend. She’d taken offense at the appellation before, believing it to be a lesser designation than the one she desired. She shouldn’t have done. Friendship was nothing to sneer at. Not the kind she’d shared with Ivo.

“I understand that one of them is heir to a large estate in Northumberland,” Miss Adams said. “Lord Beaumont, isn’t it?”

“He hardly spoke to me,” Meg said. “It was my father’s opinion he was interested in. Something about farming methods. Indeed, the gentleman only addressed me to mention a possible outing tomorrow with a party of ladies.”

Miss Adams linked her arm through Meg’s. “Now that’s promising. An outing to where, pray?”

“An estate called Prior Park. It belonged to Henry VIII at one time, I believe.”

Miss Adams smiled. “And should therefore prove an interesting diversion for you. You were always enamored of history.”

“Yes, well, it’s a college now, or a school of some kind. We can’t see the whole of it. Fortunately, visitors are still permitted to view the grounds and the observatory.” Meg collected her umbrella from the footman who awaited them at the door. The sun was shining today, but one could never be sure in Bath. “It should be a pretty prospect if the weather holds.”

“Then you must enjoy the excursion, just as you must enjoy the ball this evening.”

“I will,” Meg said with half-hearted confidence.

Miss Adams gave her arm a squeeze. “Promise me. No more moping. You desired to come to Bath and now you’re here. You must make the most of it. Go out and see people. Make friends. Find yourself a suitor worthy of your affections. No more hiding in Pulteney Street with me.”

Meg’s shoulders drooped. Miss Adams was right as always. “Shall I not visit you again?”

“Don’t be silly. I delight in your company. But I’ll not have it take the place of amusements appropriate to your age. Go to the ball tonight and to Prior Park tomorrow. You may call on me again on Friday with a thorough report.” Releasing Meg, Miss Adams kissed her cheek in farewell as the footman handed Meg into her carriage. “Take care how you go!”

Meg returned to Camden Place in time for a light supper. After dining with her father, they both changed for the ball. Despite Miss Adams’s encouragement, Meg had her doubts about attending. Her father had yet to accompany her to a public event. She expected they’d remain no more than a quarter of an hour before the discomfort from his gout would compel him to call for their carriage. It seemed to her there was little point in attending at all.

“We needn’t have come,” she said as the two of them made their way through the Upper Assembly Rooms.

A small crowd had gathered in the entrance hall, comprised of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen of varying degrees of rank and wealth. Most were of an older variety—people who had come to Bath to take the cure. The younger people among them were fewer and farther between, and not all of them of the first rank.

Music drifted out from the ballroom. The opening quadrille was nearly at an end. It was still early yet. Not much past nine o’clock.

“Nonsense,” her father replied. “Lord Beaumont says this ball will be attended by the best of Bath society. Anyone of consequence must show his face.”

“Oh?” Meg half-listened to her father as they advanced through the fashionable throng.

Her father hadn’t known Lord Beaumont above a week, but the pompous Northumberland baron had already made an impression. He was a prosing gentleman who seemed to be an expert on everything. Rather than irritate Sir Frederick, the man’s seemingly vast knowledge and endless well of flattery had served to divert him from fixating on his pain.

“I expect he’ll be here,” her father said. “He’s asked us to join his party.”