For Myself Alone: A Jane Austen Inspired Novel Page 6

  Despite the advantage of having more than enough information to relate, my letter progressed but slowly, the movement of my pen frequently pausing in suspense of further direction as I reflected upon the events at the dance. On the whole, it had been a success, I decided. I certainly had no just cause to be dissatisfied. After all, I had been allowed an evening out in Bath society far sooner than I had dared to hope, and spent it in altogether agreeable, if not particularly stimulating, company. My mistake had been in allowing my expectations to soar so high that there was no living up to them, in staking all my hopes on a man I knew nothing about.

  “You are being quite ridiculous, Josephine,” I told myself, “and it must stop now.” I resolved to think of the man no more, finished my letter, and posted it at once.

  Although somewhat improved, Papa still was not well enough to go much abroad. His limitations continued to govern his wife and daughter’s activities as well. With the exception of our regular forays to the Pump-room, we three kept to the quiet of our house over the next few days. The Grahams were temporarily gone out of town, further securing our isolation. Much as I cared for my new friend, this brief separation suited me exceedingly well, assisting me to quiet my thoughts and emotions into the more composed state to which I was accustomed.

  As a deliberate distraction, I set myself the task of writing out the story I had promised to send to Mrs. Evensong for little John. It had been gathering itself, bit by bit, in my brain until there was no more room to contain it; it needs must spill out onto paper at last. So the tale of Percival, a stout-hearted, seafaring pig, and his troublesome brothers, Peter and Pim, began to take shape. With my mind thus occupied, I was largely able to refrain from indulging the romantic reflections to which I had proved so susceptible of late.

  ~~*~~

  Our comparative seclusion lasted about a week until the Grahams returned and gave a dinner party to mark the occasion. By then, we were all ready for an outing; we accepted the invitation to Milsom Street immediately. In addition to the felicity of seeing our friends again, the event promised the advantage of expanding our acquaintance in Bath. As it turned out, however, the party was small with only one person attending who was as yet unknown to me.

  Susan met us at the door when we arrived, her countenance shining with excitement. From her animated expression and sparkling eyes, I knew at once that something out of the ordinary was afoot. As my parents proceeded upstairs, Susan drew alongside me, taking my arm.

  “I am vastly glad that you are here, Jo. I have missed you excessively!” she said in hushed enthusiasm.

  “I am very happy to see you as well, but what on earth has you so agitated, my dear? Has anything happened?”

  “Not yet, but it is about to. Oh, what a surprise is in store for you! You will never guess who has come to dine with us.”

  Since, indeed, I had no idea at all, I waited to be enlightened. “Well?” I prompted impatiently as we neared the top of the stairs.

  “Mr. Ramsey is here, and someone else whom you will be pleased to see, I daresay. No time to explain; just ready yourself for a shock, my dear.”

  As we entered the drawing room, the mystery guest stood not ten feet in front of us. His name I did not know, but his person was by no means unfamiliar to me. I suddenly found myself confronted with the very gentleman I had so diligently avoided thinking of for the last several days. It was all I could do not to gasp in surprise. Whilst he was first introduced to my parents, I had a moment to recover my composure before his attention – and those penetrating eyes I remembered so well – turned to me. His name was Richard Pierce.

  “Miss Walker, I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last after very nearly meeting you twice before,” he said in rich tones, following the formal introduction. “Do you remember?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe I saw you briefly at the dance in the Lower Rooms a week ago, and when you were kind enough to retrieve my umbrella earlier the same day,” I answered with measured control.

  “I say, that was a job well done, young man,” said Mr. Graham. “Mr. Pierce is the son of an old friend of mine from Cambridge,” he informed us. “We discovered each other in the card room whilst the rest of you were dancing last week. I thought it would be pleasant to add some other young people to our party this evening, and these two gentlemen were good enough to oblige me.”

  “So you prefer cards to dancing, Mr. Pierce?” I pointedly inquired.

  “I hope you will not accuse me of equivocation when I say that, in good company, I am equally content with either entertainment.”

  “Then, apparently, you liked the looks of the company in the card room better than the ballroom last week.”

  “Not at all, I assure you. I would in fact be mortified if you should believe I meant any such slight. However, if I do not mistake, you only toy with my words. For you, Miss Walker, I shall endeavor to choose them with more circumspection in future. I anticipate the challenge with the utmost pleasure.”

  “As do I, Mr. Pierce. And I shall be more than happy to accommodate you. In my experience, a gentleman only does his best work when tested.”

  “Then I am your ready pupil, Miss Walker,” he said with a bow.

  Despite a vague, pre-Bath notion of curbing my tongue in favor of a milder, more universally palatable brand of conversation, I had already thrown down the verbal gauntlet at Mr. Pierce’s feet. What was more, Mr. Pierce had picked it up without hesitation. In the continuing contest of repartee that followed, he matched me point for point, only giving ground when hard pressed by claim of chivalry.

  Dinner afforded me a fine opportunity to further observe Mr. Pierce’s pleasing manners, to hear his correct opinions on a variety of topics, and to assess his many other amiable qualities. His comportment showed him to be a well-bred gentleman of style and taste. Toward me, he behaved very charmingly indeed. I was still more impressed by the civility and deference with which he treated his elders – my own parents and Mr. and Mrs. Graham. Everything I saw and heard contributed to my good opinion of him and my desire to know him better.

  As soon as the ladies withdrew, Susan and I put our heads together on the subject of our dinner companions.

  “Susan, I know you have all manner of brilliant schemes at your disposal, but how on earth did you manage it?”

  “Is not Papa an angel for inviting such affable young men to dine with us?”

  “He is a saint, without a doubt. But surely you must have a share of the credit for arranging this.”

  “It is true that I dropped a hint about his including Mr. Ramsey. Mr. Pierce was all his own idea, I swear! Not that I would have had the least scruple in suggesting it for your sake, but how could I when I did not even know Papa was acquainted with him? It was just a stroke of incredible luck, or perhaps we should call it fate. What do you think, Jo?”

  “I hardly know.”

  “And are you pleased with him?”

  “How could I be otherwise? I was already disposed to think well of him, so perhaps I am prejudiced. But, so far, I find much to admire and nothing to criticize. His sensible, lively mind is just what I value.”

  “The fact that he is tolerably pleasant to look at is of no importance to you, I suppose.”

  “You cannot fault me for approving his quick mind, Susan, although I admit he seems to have other highly estimable qualities as well.” We both laughed. “Now, that is quite enough. We should not speak of Mr. Pierce in this way, as if there is room in our heads for nothing other than gossip. Remember our pact; we promised to guard each other against becoming stupid over men.”

  “Yes, of course. I shall try to think of a more serious subject… Mr. Ramsey, for example.”

  The card table was set out when the gentlemen reappeared, providing employment to the two older couples for the remainder of the evening. Left to our own devices, the rest of us took seats at the other end of the long drawing room and settled into conversation. What began as a foursome shortly divided into a
pair of twosomes. Susan and Mr. Ramsey, who sat side by side, embarked on an earnest discussion of poetry – the relative merits of Scott versus Cowper – leaving Mr. Pierce and myself to entertain each other as well as we might. I viewed this circumstance as no hardship. Mr. Pierce seemed equally content with his lot. He moved away from the others and placed himself next to me.

  “So, you are come to Bath for your father’s health, I understand, Miss Walker.”

  “That is correct. What about you, Mr. Pierce? What brings you here?”

  “My father has sent me on holiday, and to look out a good place for him to stay when he joins me later. You see, I lobbied him to be sent on the grand tour of the continent to round out my education before taking up my responsibilities at home. He would not hear of it. Far too extravagant, to his way of thinking. So this trip to Bath is intended as a substitute, I believe. Hardly an even exchange, I grant you, yet I mean to make the most of it.”

  “How are you enjoying your stay thus far, sir? Are the amusements, scenery, and society all to your taste?”

  “Until very recently, I was undecided on the question.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I have good reason to revise my opinion,” he said with a meaningful look.

  “In which direction? For the better or for the worse?”

  “Oh, for the better. By all means, for the better.”

  I accepted this pleasantry as the gentleman clearly intended it, as a compliment to myself. I cannot deny the thrill of satisfaction it gave me. When my spirits recovered from this little flutter, I invited Mr. Pierce to tell me about his family and situation. He explained that he was the only son of his widowed father, his mother having died some five years earlier. His two sisters – one his senior and one his junior – were unmarried and still resided at home, that being an estate called Wildewood, in Surrey.

  “Have you been to that part of the country, Miss Walker? It is known for its beauty. ‘Surrey is the garden of England,’ as the saying goes. Have you not heard it called such yourself?”

  “Oh, yes, and I quite agree. I visited my uncle there many times. My brother Frederick has just inherited his estate, in fact. Perhaps you know of it; it is called Millwalk.”

  “No, I cannot recall that I ever heard of it. Still, Surrey is not that large. It may be that your brother and I are neighbors after all. So, now I know that you have at least one brother, and your honored father and mother I have met. Tell me the rest. Tell me about the place you come from and all your friends there.”

  In my limited experience, it was more usual for young men to rattle on and on about themselves and their own concerns, without thought for anyone else. Therefore, Mr. Pierce’s interest both flattered me and spoke well of his character. By this time, I felt so at ease in his company that I did as he asked. I told him about Tom, Frederick, Arthur, Agnes, and our home in Wallerton. About myself, I had little to say. As I saw it, nothing much had yet happened to me (except for receiving my inheritance so unexpectedly, and that I was not willing to divulge). “I fear there is not much more to tell. I have lived a very quiet life,” I concluded.

  “Well, this trip to Bath will add another chapter to your book, and a few more friends to your list, I daresay. How long have you known the Grahams, Miss Walker?”

  “Only a short time; just since they arrived here. My mother was acquainted with Mrs. Graham years ago when they were girls at school together. Apparently, Bath is the perfect place to find and renew old acquaintances. You and I both discovered a connection with the Grahams, which gives us something admirable in common, Mr. Pierce. They are excellent people – so friendly and obliging.”

  “Salt of the earth, I make no doubt. I must say that Mr. Graham seems a very worthy sort of man, although…” He chuckled, leaning forward and continuing in a much lower voice. “…my father is fond of saying that it is a great mercy that the man inherited his money for he is rather too simple to make his way in trade.”

  “Dear me. That is hardly fair, is it, Mr. Pierce?” I said, stifling a laugh.

  “My father’s words, not mine,” he disclaimed. “And they were spoken with good-natured affection, I assure you. As for me, I make no such judgments. I find the whole family quite delightful.”

  “I am relieved to hear it.”

  “Observing people is prodigiously interesting. Would not you agree, Miss Walker? It has become rather of a hobby with me. I am always diverted since I am always meeting with something unexpected. Mr. and Mrs. Graham are the perfect example,” he continued for my ears only. “Without a doubt, two of the finest individuals you will find anywhere. Yet together they certainly qualify as one of the oddest couples I have ever come across: a domineering little lady married to such a big mouse of a man. It really is quite comical, you must allow.”

  “Truly, Mr. Pierce, you mustn’t say such things,” I scolded mildly. “I know you only jest, but I am afraid you go too far.”

  “Do I? Then I am sincerely sorry,” he said with comfortable grace. “I would not offend your sensibilities for the world. I suppose I shall have to find some other means of entertaining you, then, since you do not care for my style of humor. Perhaps we should keep to safer subjects. What shall it be, Miss Walker? Poetry? Politics? Social reform? What is your pleasure?”

  My pleasure was listening to practically anything Mr. Pierce cared to say. He had such an engaging manner, such a charming way of expressing himself, that whatever he said sounded uncommonly clever. The fact that he demonstrated equal regard for my opinions only heightened his appeal.

  Mr. Pierce set the tone for a refreshing openness between us by his relaxed attitudes. From the outset, no awkwardness hindered our conversational intercourse; ideas, wit, and humor flowed unreservedly in both directions. I doubt Mama would have approved our uninhibited discourse, had she known of it, but I found a private satisfaction in setting aside the undue restraint of artificial niceties. Yes, I saw a new world of delicious freedom expanding before me, thanks to Mr. Pierce.

  10

  Courtship

  After such a promising beginning to our acquaintance, there was nothing to hinder Mr. Pierce and myself from progressing on to what can only be described as the early stages of courtship. With my cavalier attitude toward men and marriage, I would have been hard pressed to admit it at the time, but so it was. He began with invented excuses to call on me, and I with contrivances to go out where we might happen to meet. When we encountered no opposition at home, these pretenses were swiftly discarded in favor of a more open acknowledgement of our mutual regard.

  I saw him nearly every day. On an even footing and without reserve, we talked about every topic under the sun. The more Mr. Pierce made clear his preference for me above any other, the more sincerely I began to return his affection. After knowing him a fortnight, it first occurred to me that I might be in a fair way of falling in love. He showed unmistakable symptoms of the same, and all without the promise of fortune to tempt him. He had not asked for, and I had not volunteered, any specific information about my financial status. The general means of our family he could approximate from our style of living and from my talk about Fairfield. It appeared that was enough to satisfy him, just as I would have hoped.

  Once it became clear that Mr. Pierce was developing serious intentions, my father made prudent inquiries into the gentleman’s background and character through our solicitor. According to all available information, Mr. Pierce hailed from a very respectable family, and no one had ever heard any harm of him. He had recently earned his degree from Cambridge and, as an only son, looked forward to the happy prospect of inheriting the prosperous estate of Wildewood. In the meantime, his allowance kept him in stylish comfort. With all his questions answered satisfactorily, Papa declared that he would not object to such a creditable match for his daughter.

  Mr. Pierce also won my mother’s approbation with little difficulty, partly on the strength of seeing her daughter made so happy and, I suspect, partly due to t
he working of the same manifold attractions which had fixed my interest. Being a woman herself, I suppose she was not entirely immune to these influences, even at her different age and station in life. Still, her maternal instinct had not been so thoroughly overcome as to forget her responsibilities altogether.

  “Jo, my dear, I thought you and I might have a little chat,” she said one morning, coming into my room.

  “If you wish, Mama.”

  She sat down upon the bed beside me. “Mr. Pierce is a delightful young man, and you like him very much.” It was a statement, not a question. “As do I, to be sure. Yet I do feel it is incumbent upon me to recommend a bit of caution. I can well imagine what you must be feeling. A first romance is a very intoxicating thing. It is easy to find oneself… swept away… by a flood of unfamiliar emotions,” she said with a far-off look in her eyes. “Still, you mustn’t lose your head. Use the good sense God has given you, as you would in making any other important decision.”

  “Mama, really, I do not think this is necessary.”

  “I know, and you are probably right, my dear. Yet I could not bear to see you hurt when I might have prevented it with a word or two of warning. So humor me just this once, and then we shall say no more about it. All I am advocating is that you proceed slowly; take plenty of time to get to know the gentleman before you commit yourself in any way. It is for his protection as well as your own that you should. Nothing will give me more pleasure than seeing you well married someday. But you are still young and there is no reason to rush.”

  “You needn’t worry, Mama. I have no intention of ‘losing my head,’ as you call it, for Mr. Pierce or anybody else. My wits have not as yet deserted me, I assure you.”