Once Upon a Time in Bath Read online

  The pristine waters of our city’s River Avon were the scene of a most grisly occurrence on this morning of November eleventh when the lifeless body of a young woman was discovered. Jeremiah Biggs alerted magistrates to the unfortunate tragedy this morning whilst he was powering his boat downstream.

  The body was identified as Miss Ellie Macintosh by Mrs. Isobel Starr, proprietor of a gaming establishment on Dorchester Street. According to Mrs. Starr, she became alarmed when Miss Macintosh did not show up for work last night and called at her lodgings, only to discover the young woman was not there, either.

  It was thought Miss Macintosh was twenty years of age and had been in the employment of Mrs. Starr for the past three years. “She never missed a day, so I feared something was amiss,” Mrs. Starr told the magistrates. She went on to say that Miss Macintosh had no known enemies and was very well liked.

  This leaves magistrates to believe the death may be a crime of passion, perhaps even have been perpetrated by a sex maniac. Until the murderer is apprehended and brought to justice, all young women are advised to exercise caution whilst moving about the city, especially at night.

  Dot folded up the paper, went to her bedchamber, and hid it in a drawer. Papa must never see this.

  But Mr. Pankhurst did not have to see the newspaper accounting. When he returned from taking the baths, he immediately summoned his daughter.

  “There’s been a hideously brutal murder, and I wish us to return to Blandings immediately,” he told her.

  Chapter 6

  Dot was taken aback by the panic in her father’s voice. She’d never seen him appear so vulnerable. She was at once touched because he feared losing her, and she was shocked that he’d quickly abandoned his invalid’s chair to storm about the library, ranting about the lunatic who was threatening young women. He was so distraught he’d forgotten about his own infirmities.

  For herself, Dot would risk facing the madman to stay in Bath. She must find a way to convey to her father how important it was that she be allowed to remain here.

  Then, like the swipe of a hand across a frosted window, she clearly saw what she could say to change his mind. She recalled how proud he’d been that morning when he’d said, My daughter, Lady Appleton. She didn’t for a moment believe she was fit to be Lord Appleton’s wife, nor did she believe he would ask her to be, but for now, her father must believe such a declaration was imminent.

  “Papa! I beg that you sit down so we can discuss the matter. You’ll only aggravate your gout.”

  He came to sit on his favorite chair near the fire, and Dot bent over to pull up a stool upon which he could rest his foot. Then she sat facing him upon the velvet sofa the same shade of royal blue as the room’s damask walls. “I am not going to leave Bath.”

  “You will do what I tell you to do, young lady!” His voice had risen again.

  She shrugged and sighed. “You shall ruin all my prospects. I thought you desired that I wed. Just this morning you told the elder Mrs. Blankenship how fortunate she was to have two grandchildren, and that you longed to have grandchildren. And now you’re spoiling my chances to find a husband.” She pouted.

  Next, she expertly extracted her trump. “I thought you had noticed how partial Lord Appleton is to me. . .”

  Her father’s brows shot up, and a smile tweaked at the corners of his mouth. “I most decidedly have noticed! Has he said anything?”

  She shrugged again. “Little things here and there. As you know, I’m ignorant of courting, but I believe his efforts to gain my favor must be for the purpose of asking for my hand.”

  “Well, that paints a very different picture. I wouldn’t worry so about you as long as there was a man to take care of you, to protect you, to love you.”

  Her stomach—or was it her heart?—did an odd flutter when he said to love you. “As a matter of fact, my dearest Papa, that’s exactly what his lordship pledged to do this afternoon.”

  Her father’s face went from gloomy to elated. “That sounds like a declaration to me.”

  She nodded. “He made his vow whilst a group of us were discussing the murder. He said he would not allow either me or his sister to move about this city without his protection.” She hadn’t even had to lie to her father to make her case.

  A huge smile lifted her father’s face. “See! I was right. The man’s besotted over you.” He looked at her with shimmering eyes. “Lord Appleton is possessed of very fine taste in everything—especially in young women.”

  As they spoke, the raindrops began to spray upon the windows. They would not be leaving their home for the rest of the day. When would she see Lord Appleton again?

  * * *

  Appleton sat at the desk in his library, rain thumping against the windows, gray skies contributing to his forlorn mood that had been mounting all day.

  The door squeaked open and Annie poked her head in. Her brows lowered as she regarded him with a quizzing look. “Bertram said you wished to see me?”

  He stood. “Yes, please come. Let’s sit by the fire. It’s certainly turned much colder.”

  She pulled her scarlet shawl about her shoulders. He would never understand women’s fashions. Why in the devil did style dictate the exposure of delicate female skin when it was cold enough to tint that skin purple?

  “Indeed,” she said.

  They sat together on the sofa that faced the hearth. Save for his bed, this was the coziest place in the house. That’s why he’d selected it for this conversation with his sister.

  Asking her to join him in the library was most irregular, but owing to the closeness the two had always shared, this meeting was necessary.

  He drew a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you I’m going to offer for Miss Pankhurst.”

  Annie gasped.

  “You don’t approve?” he asked.

  Her eyes met his, scrutinizing him as if he were a stranger. He kept waiting for her to speak. “I approve of Miss Pankhurst very much,” she finally said. “She’s intelligent, refreshingly honest, and she is possessed of a kind heart. The man who marries her will be most fortunate—and not just in material wealth.”

  Her gaze went to the flickering flames, and her voice lowered. “What I don’t approve of is that you don’t love her. She deserves to wed a man who will love her and cherish her. And that man is not you.” She turned back to him, her eyes as cold as her voice. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  He swallowed. “Nor do I. I won’t lie to you and claim that I’m in love with Miss Pankhurst, but I do admire her, and I would never hurt her.”

  Annie did not respond for a moment. “You and I have never spoken on such matters before, but I’ve long known about your Mrs. Pratt.”

  His stomach plummeted. He hated like the devil that his sisters knew of his mistress. This was not a matter he wished to discuss with Annie. So he stayed silent.

  “Having a mistress would hurt Dorothea Pankhurst. She’s the kind of young lady who, when she consents to marry, will love a man with all her heart and would never understand a husband who wanted to share his bed with another woman. It would destroy her.”

  He swallowed again. “But a great many married men keep mistresses.”

  “I’m well aware that our father did, but I would never wish to marry a man who behaved as did our father. It’s wrong.”

  He bowed his head. “I know.”

  “Miss Pankhurst, tender-hearted creature that she is, would never be able to tolerate an unfaithful husband. She’s never known anything but total love. You’ve seen how her father dotes on her. And look at her and those adorable cats! She only understands love. She would know it and be deeply hurt if she discovered you didn’t love her.”

  Of course, his sister was right. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Miss Pankhurst. It would be crueler than kicking one of his trusting and loyal hounds. “What if I agreed to dismiss Mrs. Pratt? Then would you look more favorably upon my union with Miss Pankhurst?”

  He hadn’t even see
n his mistress since before that fateful night he lost his fortune at Mrs. Starr’s. He’d known he was going to have to dismiss her because he simply had no funds to keep her.

  Strangely, the prospect of parting ways with her did not disturb him. He only hoped she would quickly find another generous protector to replace him.

  “I would.” Annie turned once again to gaze into his eyes, so much like her own. “I don’t fully understand why you’re so compelled to offer for a woman with whom you are clearly not in love, but since you are, you must agree to make every effort to fall in love with the woman you want to make your wife.”

  What a foolish thing his sister was trying to mandate! One simply couldn’t will oneself to fall in love. However, he did owe it to Miss Pankhurst, if she did him the goodness of consenting to become his wife, to try to be a loving, faithful husband.

  Like Annie, he had not approved of his father’s infidelities. It wasn’t fair to the lovely woman who’d been their mother—and a devoted wife. He vowed to be a better husband.

  If he had the opportunity.

  His chest tightened. If only he loved Miss Pankhurst at the outset. How much simpler things would be. Simpler and more enjoyable. Far more enjoyable.

  * * *

  Between the dampness and the unrelenting rain over the next three days, Dot insisted that her father not leave the house. “I don’t need you to take lung fever and die on me,” she told him.

  “And whilst you are housebound, my dear daughter, I shall insist that we take this opportunity to bring in a real dancing master. I’ll not have the daughter of Westmoreland Pankhurst being a wallflower at these Bath assemblies.”

  She could not refuse. She shared her father’s wish that she be able to move with ease in the same society with Lord Appleton—not that she expected to win his lordship’s affections, of course. But a girl had her pride.

  And, besides, she admired Miss Appleton very much and did not want to cause any embarrassment to that lady because of her own deficiencies.

  So it was that over the next three days her father was able to obtain the services of one Mr. Gibby, who was said to be the most sought-after dance master in Bath. Owing to the man’s girth, it was difficult for Dot to imagine he could ever have cut a dashing figure on a dance floor, but she had to concede that it had been many years since he had been in the prime of his youth.

  When she’d asked her father—who watched each day’s proceedings from the comfort of his chair, brandy glass in hand—how old he thought Mr. Gibby was, he’d thought the man might be older than himself.

  To his great credit, Mr. Gibby worked tirelessly. When Dot grew winded and begged to rest, the older man carried on with the stamina of a man half his age.

  It soon became apparent why the dance master had come so highly recommended, and why he could demand a higher fee than others. He was not only excellent at executing the steps and imparting them to his pupil in a particularly patient manner, but he was also knowledgeable about dances deemed appropriate for a young lady to learn.

  Dot became acquainted with the quadrille and the cotillion, which she tended to get mixed up. They practiced longway dancing, and he taught her the old English favorite Sir Roger de Coverley—of which she had been ignorant.

  “I have failed my fatherly duties,” Mr. Pankhurst lamented. “My daughter’s never heard of the Sir Roger. I remember well from the days of my youth when we closed out every assembly with the Sir Roger.”

  During those three rainy days, her father would not permit her to gallivant about the city. In addition to her dance lessons, she had two other distractions to prevent her from going mad with boredom: reading speculations in the Bath Chronicle about Ellie Macintosh’s murder and the excitement of daily deliveries of her new wardrobe. One day, two dresses came.

  Though the murder continued to occupy the top news spot in each day’s Chronicle, the murderer had not been apprehended, and virtually no new information had been uncovered.

  On the third day, when Topham announced that Lord Appleton was calling, she felt like a butterfly released from a jar.

  She and her kitties were on the floor of the drawing room when she looked up to see his lordship stroll into the chamber. All by himself.

  Her breath felt trapped in her chest. She didn’t know when he’d ever looked better. He had already divested himself, no doubt, of a dripping coat, and stood before her in a jacket the same bark colour as his fashionably styled hair. He paired it with buff breeches and chocolate-coloured boots—all set off with a starchy ivory cravat his valet must have labored over for a considerable period of time. His appearance was sheer perfection.

  She couldn’t quit staring at him. He was not an exceptionally big man, but he emanated a remarkable strength. This was a man capable of protecting the women in his life.

  How she longed to be such a woman.

  Since her father had taken to his bed, she instinctively knew she should not be permitted to entertain a single gentleman caller all by herself without benefit of a chaperone. All she could think to say was, “Where is Miss Appleton?”

  “I thought it best not to expose the fairer gender to such miserable weather.” He cleared his throat. Why did he look so nervous? “And, I wished to speak to you today on a private matter.”

  She’d been petting Fur Blossom, who curled up purring loudly on her lap. With Lord Appleton’s statement, Dot flung away her cat and leapt to her feet. Dare she hope her father’s prophesy was coming true? Could Lord Appleton really be seeking her hand in marriage? Her heartbeat drummed.

  “Do come, let’s stand by the fire,” she said. “It’s beastly cold today. I can tell from the red in your cheeks that you’re cold, my lord.”

  Surely nothing immoral could occur between two people standing in front of the hearth.

  “I pray you did not get out in this dreary weather merely to call upon me, my lord.”

  “Indeed I did, Miss Pankhurst.”

  They stood silently, the only noise the hiss of the fire on the grate.

  “It’s been such an awful week,” he finally said. His brows lowered as he looked downward, his leg twitching.

  She followed the movement and saw that Lover Boy was rubbing himself on his lordship’s leg, back and forth like a saw.

  Because of the gravity of the topic they were discussing, she chose to ignore her kitty’s actions. “Yes, it has. And I didn’t even know Miss Macintosh.”

  He gave her a wondering gaze. “It’s remarkable how well you’ve come to know me. I have dwelt on Miss Macintosh’s murder.”

  “Me, too. It’s a ghastly business.”

  “It’s a wonder your father has permitted you to continue in Bath.”

  She wouldn’t lie to him. Precisely. “I’ve hidden all the newspapers from him.”

  “Does that mean you’re in favor of staying in Bath even though your life could be at risk from that madman?”

  “It means I wish to stay in Bath, but have you forgotten, my lord, that you vowed to protect me from the wicked man?” She was so nervous she feared her voice was trembling, like the rest of her.

  He chuckled. “So I did.”

  “It’s a pity no one has discovered anything that will lead to the beast’s apprehension. I’ve a mind to make inquiries myself.” She looked up at him. “Together with you, of course.”

  “Do you think because Ellie was just a hostess in a gaming establishment with no family to speak of, no one cares?” he asked.

  “I think that could be a sad reality. Were she a duke’s daughter, I daresay everyone within a thirty-mile radius of Bath would be questioned, and everyone would be searching for the killer.”

  He nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  She placed her hand on his forearm. “Do let us make some inquiries. After the rain ceases.”

  He turned to her and smiled, then placed his hand over hers. He made no effort to remove it.

  He also made no effort to speak.

  Perhap
s she needed to help him. “What is the private matter that brought you here today?”

  He let out a sigh. “It may have come to your attention that I prefer spending my time with you more than with any other young woman.”

  “Yes. A most perplexing choice, I must say. I wondered about that. I can’t imagine why you would single me out. Surely there are other women in Bath more worthy of your attentions.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, not at all, Miss Pankhurst. You are a most singular young woman.”

  She was happy that he hadn’t praised her beauty which she would have known to be unmerited. But singular she did know herself to be.

  “And,” he continued, “I have exceedingly enjoyed every moment I’ve been in your company.”

  “And I yours, my lord.”

  He cleared his throat again. “I have found in you much to admire, and it would be my greatest wish and a very great honor if you would do me the goodness of consenting to become my wife.”

  Chapter 7

  Ever since she’d seen him standing there in her drawing room, Dot had known why he’d come alone today. Still, she was completely unprepared for the magnitude of his proposal. Its impact was as powerful as a visit from the departed Ellie Macintosh would have been.

  How could being singular outweigh beauty and pedigree? That must indicate Lord Appleton himself was a most singular man.

  Then it occurred to her that somehow, he must have learned of and have need of her fortune. Such knowledge stung.

  But she was not about to deny herself this chance at happiness because of potentially bruised pride. For now that she’d met Lord Appleton, she knew no other man would ever appeal.

  It wasn’t as if she knew him that well. Yet she intrinsically did know him. When he’d spoken with such compassion of the unfortunate Ellie Macintosh, she had come to know all she needed to know about the purity of his heart. He was more than a caring brother to Annie. He was a caring person.

  And that was all she needed to know. He would be a fine husband—even to an unsophisticated daughter of a wealthy country squire.