Beatrice Goes to Brighton Read online

‘So soon?’ Hannah was appalled.

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  They walked together along the pier. Behind Hannah came the sound of Benjamin’s voice. He was obviously doing his best to impress Lady Beatrice’s lady’s maid. She hoped he was not regaling her with horrendous lies.

  Lady Beatrice restrained an odd impulse to take Hannah’s arm. She wondered why she felt so safe, so at ease with this Miss Pym.

  Hannah was reflecting that masters and mistresses would be amazed if they knew how very alike in character they could be to their servants.

  There was the care of Fanny, Mrs Clarence’s lady’s maid. Hannah vividly remembered her. She had been a haughty, elegant creature, often mistaken for her mistress when she went out shopping. She was generally disliked by the other servants. There was an air of coldness about her which repelled all overtures of friendship. So she was damned as ‘too hoity-toity’ and suffered the consequent punishment handed out to hoity-toity servants. The footmen put spiders in her bed and the chambermaids put dye in her washing-up water.

  And then Mrs Clarence had run away and Fanny’s services were no longer required. Hannah had come across Fanny slowly packing her clothes, and had noticed that the lady’s maid’s fingers were trembling. Something had prompted Hannah to put a comforting arm about those rigid shoulders, and say, ‘Whatever ails you can be helped, if only you will ask for help.’ And Fanny had turned her face into Hannah’s flat bosom and wept bitterly. It had come out that she would need to return home until she found another post. Her father was a drunken, violent brute and her mother little better, and Fanny was terrified. Hannah had immediately remembered a Mrs Jessingham, a friend of the absent Mrs Clarence, who had been complaining that she could not find a suitable lady’s maid. So Hannah had taken Fanny to Mrs Jessingham and Mrs Jessingham had hired Fanny on the spot. Hannah had caught a glimpse of Fanny one day on one of her rare visits to London. Fanny looked grander and haughtier than ever. But then, Hannah thought, with a little sideways darting glance at Lady Beatrice, perhaps, because of her parents, Fanny had built a brick wall around her to keep humanity at bay, and perhaps Lady Beatrice had done the same.

  ‘I have no plans for the day,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘I have been ordered to cultivate your society. Would it bore you too much to endure my company?’

  ‘I would consider myself honoured,’ said Hannah. ‘But will it all not rebound on you when Sir Geoffrey finds out that I am Miss Pym of Nowhere?’

  ‘I shall say I did not know,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘In this life, it is very important to live in the minute, do you not think? Would you like my maid to bring you one of my ball gowns so that it may be altered?’

  Hannah told her that Monsieur Blanc had been unexpectedly generous and had said she might have the gown for the night of the ball. ‘I do not know how Benjamin managed it,’ said Hannah uneasily. ‘But he assured me he had told only the truth.’

  ‘He is an unusual fellow,’ commented Lady Beatrice. ‘How warm it is today. We must make the most of it, for the English weather is so fickle, it could be snowing tomorrow.’

  ‘I would like to go into the water.’ Hannah stopped short and looked down at the surging sea.

  Lady Beatrice laughed. ‘Then why not?’

  ‘The usual problem. I have nothing to wear.’

  ‘Easily remedied. Marianne!’ Lady Beatrice called over her shoulder. ‘Run home and bring two flannel gowns and two caps and a quantity of towels and meet us by the bathing machines. I am sure Miss Pym will allow Benjamin to accompany you.’

  Hannah was already rehearsing in her mind what she would say to Sir George Clarence when next they met. ‘I went sea bathing in Brighton with Lady Beatrice Marsham.’

  ‘I do not suppose Princess Caroline will be at the ball,’ Hannah realized Lady Beatrice was saying. ‘In Brighton, Mrs Fitzherbert is the wife, and you would think, to hear the gossips talk, that our prince had never even married Caroline of Brunswick.’ She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘At least I have something in common with Prinny; he loathes his wife and I loathed my husband and am well on my way to loathing another. The common people do not have to endure such miseries.’

  ‘Oh, yes, they do,’ said Hannah tartly. ‘The baker’s son may fall in love with a farm labourer’s daughter, but he is not allowed to marry her, for she is far beneath him and he will be expected to marry a girl with a good-enough dowry so that his parents may expand their bakery, and so it goes on. It is money that makes the world go round. Romance is a rare luxury.’ And having said that, Hannah thought of Sir George Clarence, so far above her, and felt quite dismal. Even if he were ruined and lost all his money and friends and ended up living in a hovel, there was the tremendous barrier of birth. ‘But Mrs Fitzherbert is still the favourite,’ she said, wrenching her thoughts back to the present. ‘And surely that is love, for he did marry her, although the marriage is not recognized.’

  ‘He has been philandering with Lady Jersey for some time,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘When Princess Caroline arrived on these shores for her wedding, the prince even sent Lady Jersey to meet her. But he keeps the connection with Mrs Fitzherbert.’

  Hannah felt uncomfortable. She revered the prince and thought Lady Beatrice’s conversation bordered on sedition.

  To change the subject, she asked, ‘Were you so very unhappy with your first husband?’

  ‘To begin with.’ Lady Beatrice gazed out to sea. ‘You see, I was so young and so innocent and I found myself married to a drunk, a libertine, and a gamester. He tried his best to degrade me and nigh succeeded. Let us talk of something else.’ Her face was cold and hard again.

  ‘We are nearly at the bathing machines,’ said Hannah nervously. ‘Will the water be very cold, do you think?’

  ‘Yes, very.’

  ‘Then perhaps …’

  ‘Courage, Miss Pym. It is a fine day and you must at least try. Here comes Marianne and your Benjamin.’

  Soon Hannah found herself in a dark bathing machine with sand and seaweed on the floor. She undressed and put on the flannel gown and oilskin cap Lady Beatrice had lent her and then rapped on the door as a signal that she was ready. Then she sat down gingerly on the hard little bench at the back of the box as it began to roll forward, pulled by a strong farm horse.

  When it stopped, Hannah stayed where she was, cowering at the back of the box. The door of the bathing machine opened.

  ‘Come along, madame,’ said the bathing attendant, a large, burly woman. Hannah walked out on to the small platform at the front of the box. The horse stood patiently, little waves lapping against its legs. The bathing attendant took Hannah under the arms. ‘Down you go,’ she ordered. ‘Nothing to fear. I’ll have you safe.’

  Hannah cast a wild look around. Lady Beatrice was already in the sea. She waved to Hannah. ‘You will not drown,’ she shouted. ‘You can stand on the bottom. It is not deep here.’

  Hannah allowed the attendant to lower her into the water. She gasped with shock as the icy sea flowed around her body. Then she felt ground under her feet. ‘Are you all right?’ asked the attendant.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hannah faintly. ‘You may release me.’

  The attendant removed her arms and Hannah stood still for a moment with her arms spread out to balance herself. Lady Beatrice moved towards her. ‘Give me your hands,’ she ordered. ‘And then jump up and down. You will feel yourself floating.’

  Hannah obediently did as ordered, feeling exhilarated as a large wave swept her to one side. She experienced a tremendous sense of freedom. Hannah had never followed the extremes of fashion that meant going around without stays. Now that she was used to the chill of the water, all she could feel was a marvellous sense of liberation. She began to laugh and jump up and down and splash the water with her hands. Lady Beatrice began to laugh as well and splashed water into Hannah’s face. Hannah splashed water back until they were frolicking and yelling and shouting like schoolchildren.

  ‘My lady is in trouble!’ cried M
arianne from the stony beach.

  ‘She’s laughing, that’s all,’ said Benjamin, sitting on a rock and smoking a cheroot.

  ‘But my lady never laughs.’ The little maid ran up and down on the shore like a worried terrier.

  ‘Miss Pym makes life better for everyone,’ said Benjamin. ‘Look! They’re both going in. I told you they was all right.’

  The little maid came back to join him, smoothing down her dress and assuming the air of hauteur she had copied from her mistress. ‘I must speak to my lady about her behaviour,’ said Marianne, maintaining that fiction beloved of lady’s maids the world over that they were able to remonstrate with their mistresses. ‘An excess of emotion is vulgar.’

  ‘That statue you works for,’ said Benjamin laconically, ‘could do with a bit of life.’

  ‘I do not understand her behaviour,’ mourned Marianne. ‘She would not even let me assist her to undress.’

  Hannah and Lady Beatrice at last joined them. Hannah’s face was glowing. Her clothes were sticking to her salty body, and some sand had worked its way into one of her stockings, but she felt like Sir Francis Drake and every bit as bold.

  ‘We had best return to our lodgings,’ said Lady Beatrice, ‘and have warm baths. Salt water is so sticky.’

  ‘I shall go tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,’ said Hannah dreamily, ‘until I am able to swim like a fish.’

  ‘Is that not your friend Lord Alistair?’ asked Lady Beatrice. They had reached the promenade. Lady Beatrice pointed with her walking-cane.

  Hannah looked and then stared. Lord Alistair Munro, as naked as the day he was born, was strolling nonchalantly towards the sea with a party of friends, all equally naked. He had a beautiful figure, tall and strong and athletic with broad shoulders, slim hips, and a trim waist.

  ‘Come along, Miss Pym,’ murmured Lady Beatrice, amused. ‘We are not supposed to stand and stare, you know. When the gentlemen are in their buffs, we are not meant to know they even exist.’

  ‘He is a very fine gentleman, a very kind gentleman,’ said Hannah, averting her eyes and walking along beside Lady Beatrice.

  Lady Beatrice did not reply. ‘I mean,’ pursued Hannah, ‘it is very reassuring to know that there are kind and noble men in the world.’

  ‘I do not believe in the existence of kind and noble men,’ said Lady Beatrice, suddenly and savagely. ‘They affect to be in love, but all have gross appetites. I am convinced that when Lord Alistair is not being charming to you, Miss Pym, he is off over the countryside, roistering with his friends, and seducing innocent girls.’

  ‘You make all men in general and Lord Alistair in particular sound like villains in Haymarket plays,’ commented Hannah.

  ‘And fiction is based on fact.’

  ‘Indeed! What then of the noble heroes?’

  ‘Miss Pym, let us talk of something else or I shall become cross with you. Ah, here we are at your residence. May I call on you in, say, about an hour’s time?’

  ‘Gladly,’ replied Hannah, suddenly wishing that Lord Alistair could see Lady Beatrice in that moment, as she stood at the gate, the stiff breeze tugging at her muslin skirts, one hand holding her bonnet, her cheeks pink and her large eyes sparkling.

  Hannah went indoors to instruct Benjamin on his duties, the first of which was filling a bath. And Hannah took her first bath naked. Like most ladies, she usually wore a shift so that the sight of her own body should not bring a blush to her cheeks. But now it seemed perfectly natural to lie in the water stark naked and not feel ashamed. Sea bathing, mused Hannah dreamily, was almost pagan. It changed one’s mind about all sorts of things. She wondered if she could find the courage to go about without stays.

  She had no sooner dressed again than Lord Alistair Munro called to tell her of his success with the Prince of Wales. He was on the point of telling Hannah also that it might not be a good idea for her to appear at the ball. Brighton society blamed her for tricking it and he knew several ladies who would go out of their way to be nasty to her, but Hannah looked so elated, so happy at the idea of going that he did not have the heart to dim her pleasure.

  ‘Lady Beatrice Marsham,’ announced Benjamin in the strangulated and refined tones he used for polite company.

  Lady Beatrice sailed in. She was wearing a modish bonnet with a high crown and a striped silk gown which flattered her excellent figure. She looked slightly taken aback to see Lord Alistair and Hannah noticed the shutter coming down over her eyes.

  ‘Lord Alistair has been to see the prince,’ cried Hannah, ‘and all is well. His Highness was vastly amused and not cross at all!’

  ‘Then you must have charmed him,’ said Lady Beatrice to Lord Alistair.

  He laughed. ‘I was diplomacy at its best, I assure you,’ he said.

  ‘I had my first dip in the sea, my lord,’ said Hannah proudly, ‘and would not have dared had not Lady Beatrice elected to join me. It was the most liberating experience. I felt quite wanton!’

  Lady Beatrice looked at Hannah with affection and Lord Alistair studied her curiously. Why had the haughty Lady Beatrice stooped to be kind to the undistinguished Miss Pym?

  Hannah rang the bell and ordered Benjamin to bring in tea and cakes.

  ‘But we haven’t got no cakes, modom,’ said Benjamin in injured tones.

  ‘Then run and get them,’ snapped Hannah, thinking, not for the first time, that Benjamin had a lot to learn.

  ‘Stay!’ said Lord Alistair, holding up his hand. ‘Allow me to entertain you ladies at a pastry cook’s. There is a very good one near the pier, where we may sit and look out of the window at the waves.’

  Lady Beatrice opened her mouth to refuse. But her eyes fell on Hannah, who looked like a child at Christmas and the refusal died on her lips.

  Soon they were seated at a small round table at the bay window of the pastry cook’s. Hannah looked out at the fluttering muslins and fringed parasols of the ladies and the military strut of their gallants and beyond them to the magnificence of the restless sea. Her eyes glittered with tears and Lady Beatrice put out an impulsive hand. ‘What ails you, Miss Pym?’

  Hannah took out a small but serviceable handkerchief and dried her eyes. ‘I was thinking of Sir George Clarence,’ she said.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Lady Beatrice looked anxious.

  ‘Oh, no.’ Hannah shook her head. ‘Sir George Clarence took me to tea at Gunter’s in Berkeley Square. It was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. I can still hear the chink of china and smell the confectionery …’

  ‘Of course you can,’ teased Lady Beatrice. ‘Are you not in a pastry cook’s?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I was thinking how much my life has changed since that very day. I was thinking how very happy I am and I was praying that both of you could be as happy.’

  Lord Alistair looked surprised. ‘You underrate the charms of your company, Miss Pym. I am having a delightful time.’

  A shadow fell across Lady Beatrice’s face and she studied the table. For she was suddenly and sharply aware that she had been enjoying herself that very day as she had never enjoyed a day since her late husband had led her to the altar. To her horror, tears welled up in her own eyes, and she brushed them angrily away.

  Lord Alistair looked at her curiously. He had already damned her as a hard, cold bitch, devoid of feeling. Now all he could see was a beautiful woman in distress. Something tugged at his heart, but his mind told him angrily that Lady Beatrice was an experienced flirt and probably a good actress.

  ‘Getting like a wake,’ said Benjamin. Hannah sharply reproved him for impertinence, but Lord Alistair laughed and said, ‘That man of yours must have Scotch blood in him. No one can rival Scotch servants for speaking their minds.’

  But Benjamin’s remark had the effect of lightening the atmosphere. Lord Alistair told them a story of two friends of the prince’s who had bet on a couple of geese to see which one would cross the road first. A certain Mr Rothmere won the bet and was so grat
eful to his winning bird that he adopted it and took it everywhere with him on a lead, just like a dog.

  Lady Beatrice capped that by telling a story of her visit to a ladies’ gambling club in London, and how the women turned their pelisses and spencers inside out before playing, imitating the men who wore their coats inside out for luck, and how all had played with the same intensity as their male counterparts, until a Lady James had won a great deal of money and one of her opponents accused her of cheating. Lady James had snatched off that opponent’s cap and jumped on it, and so a regular battle had broken out, with women screaming and tearing each other’s hair and gowns.

  She had just finished her story when she glanced out of the window and saw Sir Geoffrey and his mother walking past. She shrank back in her seat. Lord Alistair twisted his head and looked to see what had frightened her. He recognized Sir Geoffrey.

  ‘That was your fiancé, I think,’ he said to Lady Beatrice. ‘Would you like me to call him?’

  ‘No, that is not necessary,’ said Lady Beatrice. ‘I shall no doubt see him this evening. I must go. No, do not rise, Miss Pym. You have not finished your tea.’

  She hurried out, with her maid scurrying after her.

  ‘Now, what was all that about?’ Lord Alistair gave Hannah a quizzical look.

  ‘Oh, my lord,’ said Hannah earnestly, ‘I am sore worried about dear Lady Beatrice. She is being constrained to marry a monster.’

  ‘Impossible! She is a widow of independent means.’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘You see, Blackstone left her nothing but debts. Her parents paid them and settled a comfortable income on her, but she has had only a year to enjoy her freedom. If she does not marry Sir Geoffrey, then her parents say they will cut her off without a shilling.’

  ‘How very Gothic,’ he commented drily. ‘Are you sure you are not being gulled?’

  ‘No, my lord. I am a good judge of character. Servants must be good judges of character, you know, for they are always being subjected to the whims of their employer or his guests. I got to know which ladies to be wary of. Once one of Mrs Clarence’s guests insisted on giving me two sovereigns. The following day she lost heavily at cards, and instead of just asking me for the money back, she told Mrs Clarence I had stolen money from her and demanded that my room be searched.’