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Charity stood and waved the siblings over with a warm greeting, and Patience caught her friend’s hands with a bright smile.
“Ho!” the gentleman cried. “A bright face for this dreary morn.” He greeted Charity.
“The sun is shining,” Charity laughed at the absurdity of the gentleman’s claim and felt instantly better than she had felt all week. “I cannot claim to compete. This day is lovely.”
“That it is,” Reginald confirmed.
“I thought Lord Beresford was delayed in parliament and you would not be here until next week,” Charity said to Patience.
“My husband remained behind. I have come with Reginald and Mother and their household.”
“Oh?” Charity said concerned. “And you only just married? Is there some distress?”
“No,” Patience said “Quite the contrary. But tell me, what brings you to the gardens?” Patience asked as she squeezed her friend’s hand.
“Father is taking the waters,” Charity announced.
“Have you time for a stroll?” Patience craned her neck toward the bathhouse which was teeming with patrons.
Charity glanced at Jean who nodded without looking up from her needlework. “I shall be happy to wait for The Earl, Milady,” Jean said.
“Yes,” Charity confirmed. “Father should be an hour yet.”
“Then you must walk with us,” Patience begged. The siblings informed Charity of their intent to stroll through the gardens and toward the town center in search of some small gift to send to London for a cousin’s wedding.
“I should rather like a walk,” Charity accepted the offer with a smile. The day was hot and the prospect of waiting upon the park bench for her father’s return promised nothing, but discomfort and unladylike perspiration. At least at a walk she might catch a breeze or even stop in the shade of a shop or sample some cool drink.
Jean would remain at the park to keep watch for Charity’s father and manservant, though there was no indication of their appearing for quite some time. Charity might walk in the protection of her friends without causing alarm, nor would her father need worry that she had gone missing. Bath was, after all, a bustling town, not quite as big as London of course, but it had its own charm.
Charity and Patience excitedly discussed about the opening ball, and made guesses about who might be coming to Bath this summer. Charity began to feel quite revitalized by Patience’s happiness. She admitted that she was looking forward to the arrival of the socialites that would be soon making their appearances in the vacation town.
“It has been nothing but a bore,” she admitted to her friend. “There are few enough of us here to form a true party, and even then I seem the only one without a pair. It’s quite ghastly,” she confessed. “It appears, everyone has been married.”
“And what of me?” Reginald feigned offence. “Have I been wed without my notice? My word, someone might have told me.” He glanced over his shoulder as if to see a surprise wife there on his arm.
Charity laughed. “You have only just arrived,” she consoled the gentleman. “For today we might be the only two to ourselves, Lord Barton.” She realized that the comment might be construed as forward, but Reginald did not see her as a possible bride, and neither did she see him as a suitor. She had known Patience and the Evans family too long. Although there was no true impediment to their marriage, she could not see Reginald so, although her mother would have had them trussed together in no time if she had her way. Still Reginald teased her as an older brother might.
All in all, they spoke more as relations than acquaintances and therefore the conversation was nothing more than a lighthearted banter to pass the time as they made their way to the shops.
“I am undecided,” Patience mused. “A new parasol, or shall I trim a fine shawl for the bride?”
“Something for the house,” Reginald offered, but Patience shook her head.
Charity shrugged. She had no need for such items for her mother kept her armoire bursting with such finery. She always wondered what a marriage might provide that she did not already possess. There was only one answer, she thought as a flush filled her face, for it was not something that could be gifted by a guest.
Reginald stood kicking his fine kid boots in the dirt as he listened to the women debate the usefulness of each item. Charity bit her lip as she thought him rather like a school boy who itched to run in the fields rather than sit for his lessons.
“Why don’t we peer into this shop ahead,” Charity suggested.
“If you wish,” Patience agreed, “But I find I am parched.”
“Perhaps your brother might fetch us a refreshment,” Charity said, but Patience shook her head. “Let us but glance in this next shop, and Reginald might procure our drinks while we browse. Then we shall meet him to sit a while in the café. This is the café, is it not?” Patience inquired of her brother, gesturing towards the corner establishment.
Lord Barton lit up at the suggestion of a pause in the shopping. “It is,” he agreed.
“It is far too hot to walk very far without a sip of something cool,” Patience said. Charity looked at the establishment. As evening drew nigh, the room, may become more of a pub, but in the light of the morning, it was respectable enough.
“We shall meet you in a few brief moments,” Patience promised.
