The True Darcy Spirit. Elizabeth Aston

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СКАЧАТЬ endeavouring not to yawn, felt quite sure it had, Mrs. Cathcart would have seen to that, if she were any judge. And it was all so absurd, over an embrace in the garden that had never in fact taken place. You would think she had attempted to run off with a groom; almost she wished she had, if it had spared her the prospect of several weeks in Mrs. Cathcart’s company.

      “And there is to be none of that drawing and sketching and painting while you are here. My brother is strongly of the opinion that you have been allowed too much freedom in that direction, and what should be one of many accomplishments has taken on too much importance in your life.”

      Cassandra, before she went to bed, asked Petifer to hide the sketchbooks and crayons and water-colours and brushes she had brought with her; she wouldn’t put it past her aunt to remove them if she knew about them.

      The next morning, with the natural ebullience of youth, Cassandra awoke feeling that things weren’t so very bad. True, there was the oppressive Mrs. Cathcart, but then there was also Bath: new sights and scenes, shops and people, and the sun was shining, and who knew what the day might bring?

      The first thing the day brought was the sturdy, thin-lipped Miss Quail, come at her mother’s bidding, to take Miss Darcy out for a walk, and show her something of Bath.

      “Of course,” said her mother, “Mrs. Cathcart will go with her to write her name in the visitors’ book and all that kind of thing, but first she may learn her way around with you, for it is to be understood that she may never go out unless under supervision.”

      Mrs. Cathcart had, the previous evening, relieved Cassandra of the sum of money which Mr. Partington had bestowed upon her when she’d left Rosings. Since she knew to the penny how much this was, it was clear that it had been arranged beforehand. “It is not suitable for a young girl to have so much money”—it was, Cassandra thought, a miserly sum, to last her for a long stay—“so I will take care of it, and you may ask me for such small sums as you may need to disburse while you are here. There cannot be many expenses, you know, while you are my guest.”

      Now she gave Cassandra exactly enough to pay for a subscription at the circulating library. “I do not approve of novels, and you are not to bring any into the house”—how like her brother, Cassandra thought—“but you may borrow works of an improving nature. It is quite the thing to go to the library to exchange your books, it would be thought odd if you did not do so.”

      Along with her sketchbooks and paints, Cassandra had carefully hidden some money that her aunt knew nothing about. Her mother had given her ten pounds—guilt money, Cassandra thought bitterly—with an injunction not to tell her stepfather about it, it was for those little fripperies that a girl might need, which Mr. Partington didn’t precisely understand.

      In addition, Mrs. Croscombe had pressed a note on her, via Emily. “Mama says she is sure that Mr. P. will send you off with very little money—no, it is a present, she will be offended if you do not accept it.”

      And then she had some money of her own put by; although she spent most of her allowance on her materials, she had some money left to her by her godmother, paid quarterly; not a large sum, and one that Mr. Partington insisted on seeing accounts for, but accounts need not be strictly accurate.

      How odd it was that strict morality led to deception and less than openness, Cassandra said to herself as she put on a straw bonnet trimmed with cherries.

      The cherries did not meet with Mrs. Cathcart’s approval. “Cherries? This fashion for fruit on hats is most unsuitable. Still, if you have nothing else to wear, I suppose it is not possible to remove them just now.”

      “Not without tearing the straw away,” said Cassandra, determined at all costs to keep her cherries.

      Cassandra did not take to Miss Quail, who had a solemn way about her, and a great deal of satisfaction at being an engaged woman. She brought the phrase into her conversation at every opportunity, as they walked across Pulteney Bridge and into the main part of town. “As an engaged woman, I’m sure you will allow me to tell you how one should go on in Bath. I understand you have led a very retired life until now.”

      “I live in the country, but I suppose I shall go on in Bath much as I would anywhere else.”

      “No, indeed, for within the privacy of a country estate, behaviour passes without comment, whereas in Bath, let me assure you, as an engaged woman with some knowledge of life, this is not the case at all; one cannot be too careful about one’s reputation.”

      She lowered her voice, as if Cassandra’s reputation were in danger from the mere mention of the word.

      “A young girl, a young single girl, cannot be too careful,” she reiterated.

      They walked up Milsom Street, Miss Quail prosing on, while Cassandra’s eyes were everywhere, delighting in the busy streets and shops. Somehow, she must contrive to slip out on her own, and make some purchases, which she knew her hostess would not permit.

      “There are a remarkable number of people in chairs and on crutches,” she observed. “That must be depressing after a while, to live in a place with so many people in poor health.”

      Miss Quail bristled. “It is only a small number, I assure you, there is nowhere in the whole kingdom less depressing to the spirits than Bath. At this time of day, you know, the invalids come out to go to drink the waters, or take the hot bath.”

      “Where will you live when you are married?” said Cassandra, not wishing to goad Miss Quail any further.

      “In Bristol, my dearest Mr. Northcott lives in Bristol. Well, not in Bristol itself, not in the city, of course, he has an estate at Clifton, a house with a park around it. And we are to have two carriages,” she added with pride. “I suppose you keep a carriage at your home in Kent? Mrs. Kingston tells us that Rosings is a considerable property.”

      Cassandra stared at her; what was this talk about carriages? “We keep a carriage, yes,” she said.

      “And I dare say a great many horses? Mr. Northcott has a pair of carriage horses, in addition to his own horse. Some people merely hire them, you know, but we are to have our own pair.”

      “Is there always such a glare from the buildings? I think Bath is very hot in summer, I wonder that people choose to come.”

      “Indeed, it can be rather warm, but that is partly the hot waters, you know. People say there is positively a miasma hanging over the city on some days, but I have never noticed it, I find it a very good climate. Not as good as the air of Clifton, of course, we shall be in a very good air in Clifton. Now, here we are at the library. If you put your name down, I will show you where the books are that you will want to borrow.”

      As she led the way to a shelf full of very dull-looking essays and sermons, she felt that here was another reason for slipping out on her own, so that she might borrow the kind of books she wanted to read.

      “Why, you have chosen nothing,” said Miss Quail, clutching a fat volume. From the way her hand hid the title, and she sidled away from Cassandra to have the book written down for her, Cassandra had a strong suspicion that the chosen book was a far cry from being a worthy tome such as had been recommended to her. So Miss Quail was hypocritical as well as tiresome; it didn’t surprise her.

      They walked to the Pump Room, where they joined Mrs. Quail and Mrs. Cathcart, and Cassandra was introduced to their numerous acquaintance, a tribe of women all very much the same as themselves, all holding СКАЧАТЬ