A Summer in Brighton, page 7
As abruptly as it began, the contraption stopped, and a moment later, Elizabeth heard a sharp knock on the door leading out under the awning, signaling that her dipper was ready to assist with Elizabeth’s descent into the sea. Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth removed the last of her clothes and opened the door.
The light under the awning was muted, yet it was still abundant enough to see clearly. To the side of the stairs, standing on the sea floor, stood a woman whom Elizabeth assumed was her dipper. The woman was older—likely her mother’s age—and though she was somewhat large and was not what could be termed “handsome,” her face was set in a broad smile, and she appeared amiable.
She introduced herself as Millie, and then she invited Elizabeth to come down into the water, responding with a smile when Elizabeth returned the favor of the introduction.
“Do not be embarrassed, my dear,” said Millie when she noticed Elizabeth’s hesitation. “I have been employed thus for nigh on ten years now. There is very little in the way of young ladies’ attributes I have not seen. Now, come. The water is fine today, and I dare say it will do you good. It always does.”
Taking courage from the woman’s tone, Elizabeth smiled gratefully and took a step down into the water, only to withdraw her foot with a hiss of discomfort. The water was exceedingly cold!
Millie chuckled. “Your reaction tells me that this is your first time sea bathing, my dear. Once you are in the water and become accustomed to how it feels, you will not be uncomfortable.”
Drawing on all her fortitude, Elizabeth stepped down into the water and allowed Millie to hold her as she lay back and floated upon the gently undulating waves. It was a most enjoyable experience, and the soothing tones of her dipper, coupled with the feeling of weightlessness while bobbing on top of the water, was relaxing to Elizabeth, and she nearly fell asleep in Millie’s arms. When Elizabeth attempted to apologize most profusely for her inattention, Millie simply chuckled and told her that it was a common occurrence. In fact, she much preferred a pleasant young woman such as Elizabeth to many young ladies who were often demanding and never satisfied.
Elizabeth found her experience completely to her taste and spent the time alternately rolling upon the waves and standing on the seafloor, marveling at the feeling of the sand between her bare toes. Millie’s company was also enjoyable, for she took pleasure in relating anecdotes about her experiences, imparting some of the information she knew of the area, and telling of the delights to be found on the seabed.
Unfortunately, as with all good things, this one had to come to an end. Thanking Millie for a most enjoyable time, Elizabeth ascended into the square room and soon found herself dressed and sharing the story of her experience with her friend, who had also loved her time under the awning.
“Is it not the most amazing thing, Elizabeth?” cried Harriet as Elizabeth emerged from the wagon. It turned out that Harriet had finished her own sea bathing experience only a few minutes before Elizabeth had herself.
“It is indeed, Harriet,” replied Elizabeth with delighted sincerity.
“Then we simply must do it again.”
“Agreed! I believe I am free again tomorrow morning,” said Elizabeth with a laugh.
“But we cannot do it again so soon,” said her friend. “After all, according to Blanche, ‘one cannot partake in such pleasures to excess, or the activity shall lose its novelty.’”
The words were spoken in such an apt imitation of their imperious friend that Elizabeth was forced to laugh gaily. “Indeed, we must not! However, I think I am quite willing to risk the lady’s wrath in order to experience such a wonder far sooner than she would advise. If you are agreeable, of course.”
“You know I am, Elizabeth,” replied Harriet, taking Elizabeth’s arm and steering her toward the entrance to the beach. “I suggest we wait until next week, and then we shall visit this marvelous place yet again.”
Their plans set, the two young ladies walked toward the location where they had left Woodston when they arrived, talking gaily, laughing, and completely enjoying themselves. Sea bathing had turned out to be an experience that neither would soon forget, and both ladies were in the highest of spirits.
They were nearing the entrance to the ladies’ beach when Elizabeth saw a flash of red ahead. She froze in indecision before rushing forward and off the beach. Behind her, she heard Harriet crying out after her: “Elizabeth! Where are you going?”
Unable to help her curiosity, she continued on, increasing her speed.
But the beach-seeking crowd was too thick and the distance between her and the red-clothed form too large, and she lost the person in her sights. Sighing, she slowed to a stop, gazing off in the direction where the figure had disappeared. It was too late to get close enough to determine the man’s identity.
Still, though she could not be sure, she was almost certain the person had been Mr. Wickham. And she was also convinced that the man—whoever it was—had been staring at her.
Perhaps her mind was tricking her. Perhaps it was just another officer, such as Mr. Denny. Or maybe it had merely been someone in red who had briefly been looking at someone behind her.
Yet though she tried to rationalize it, she was almost certain the man had been Mr. Wickham. And if it was him, had he specifically sought her out, only to change his mind, or had it been a coincidence that he was near the women’s beach?
She did not know. But regardless of the reasons for Mr. Wickham’s appearance—if it was really him, of course—she did not like it.
“Elizabeth,” said a voice at her side. “Why did you run off like that?”
She turned to Harriet. “I am sorry,” muttered she, pulling her mind away from what had just happened. “I thought I saw someone.”
Harriet gave her a puzzled look, but Elizabeth simply smiled and said lightly: “Shall we find Woodston, then? The poor man is probably scaring passersby with his imposing figure.”
Harriet chuckled. “You are correct. His is a form that sends rabid dogs away howling like frightened puppies. Perhaps we should take pity on those near him and fetch him to ourselves.”
The two women walked away, laughing about Woodston and then chatting about their experiences in the sea. But though she had had a pleasant time, Elizabeth could not wipe away the sense of unease that had been created by her accidental spotting of that man who had looked very much like Mr. Wickham.
The next day, Elizabeth and Harriet reported to Blanche on their sea bathing trip. The wealthy widow insisted upon hearing every detail, and since they were in the privacy of her drawing-room, with no servants to overhear their conversation, she even went so far as to say: “It is very freeing, is it not, being loose in the sea without the encumbrances of clothing? It is as if one is taking a bath as nature intended.”
Elizabeth and Harriet exchanged an uncomfortable look. Considering the newness of their acquaintance, Blanche’s words were quite bold, yet even as there was something disconcerting about her boldness, so was there something refreshing in it. After all, Blanche had made certain they were utterly prepared for what they were to experience while bathing in the sea, and both women were quite grateful for that. And though there always seemed to be something which Blanche knew and the bulk of the world did not, both Elizabeth and Harriet realized that the woman would not hesitate to tell them anything she believed they truly needed to know.
“Some people desire to view their trips to the sea as bracing, as if the main purpose is scouring the imperfections from their bodies,” said Blanche, “yet I find that a trip to the sea is most enjoyable when the weather is fine. It makes it seem as if the sea is not quite so cold.”
“It certainly was shocking when I first touched the water,” said Elizabeth in agreement. “Had the day been windy, I should have been quite terrified to actually venture into the sea.”
“There have been some terrible squalls out there,” said Blanche with a tone of worldly wisdom, “or so I have heard, at least.”
Elizabeth noticed Harriet seemed to be trying to suppress a snort, so she ventured: “My dipper was very kind.”
“They usually are,” said Blanche. “An unpleasant dipper does not attract many customers, as the activity is already a sensitive one. Am I correct in assuming you wish to go back again?”
“You know you are,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “Anyone who dislikes sea bathing either hates nature or hates the sea. One who hates either can probably not be a good friend of mine.”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” said Harriet, shaking her head, “I am certain you would not shun anyone simply because they detest water!”
“Well, I certainly shall not embrace them either! If they detest water, then they probably detest bathing—”
“And their odor would most likely drive all polite company away,” finished Blanche for her. “I must say, Elizabeth, your conversation does delight me.”
“It is not so easy to craft such witticisms,” said Elizabeth. “There is a fine line to tread between insulting and playful. There are some that consider me quite impertinent.”
“Well, I am certain I should find those people boring indeed!” replied Blanche. “I had much rather be amused than pleased. In the former, there is laughter; in the latter, there are only smiles.”
Elizabeth nodded. “But there are some people who prefer to neither smile nor laugh. With such people, you can either ignore them or attempt to breach the barrier of their dourness.”
“And which do you prefer to do, Elizabeth?” asked Harriet.
Elizabeth’s thoughts jumped immediately to Mr. Darcy. She had attempted to ignore him, yet she had evidently broken through his taciturnity despite herself. At least, she had led him to make a proposal, even if that proposal were not particularly pleasing. Suddenly, she felt almost like laughing. If she had agreed to marry him, would he have scowled at their wedding? While teasing him, she had seen a lighter side to him which she had initially thought could not exist. Yet she was not certain she had seen him give her a genuine smile—a smile that held the love which his mouth had professed but his face had seemed to deny. If she had seen such a smile, would her heart have softened toward him, or would the words of his proposal have merely seemed even more repulsive?
Pulling her thoughts back to her friend’s question, embarrassed to have been thinking about Mr. Darcy yet again, Elizabeth answered firmly: “I should prefer to ignore such a person. It is not my duty to make unhappy persons merry. I shall instead seek to make myself happy without heeding their unhappiness.”
Blanche gave her a pensive look which made Elizabeth fear she had been silent in thought for too long. But Blanche only said in response: “We differ somewhat there, Elizabeth. I fear I sometimes attempt to make people happy when I had best leave well enough alone.”
“Well, your placement in life is such that you can do what you wish,” said Elizabeth lightly.
Blanche gave a small smile. “Yes. I need not expend my energies in search of a husband. A widow certainly has greater freedom in our society than a woman who has never been married. It is a respectable enough position. Perhaps you should marry a wealthy old man, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am not so desperate as to need to marry someone I expect shall die within a few years.”
“Are you certain?” said Blanche, a teasing glitter in her eyes. “I think I know a few men who are well past their prime and would find your company to be very pleasant indeed.”
“I thank you for your benevolence, but I do not mind being unmarried. After all, it means I am able to serve as a companion to my dear Harriet.”
“And I should certainly be sad if my friend were taken away from me,” said Harriet with a smile. “I might then have to accept the companionship of someone more interested in bonnets than witty conversation.”
“Perhaps I am merely skilled at hiding my love of bonnets,” teased Elizabeth. “Perhaps I secretly obsess over the right ribbons and fabrics and colors. The face we put on for the world does not always match the expression we carry inside.”
“Do you hide a great pain, Elizabeth?” Blanche’s question was light, yet there appeared to be a seriousness in her eyes that made Elizabeth clench her fingers a little.
Was Elizabeth so transparent that Blanche could see how troubled Elizabeth felt about everything involving Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham, and Mr. Bingley? She had not yet told Blanche much about her life in Hertfordshire, but the woman was very perceptive. It was certainly possible that Blanche—who was very perceptive—would be able to see that Elizabeth, in spite of wanting to enjoy herself in Brighton and put the troubles of Hertfordshire and Kent behind her, was finding it difficult to utterly dismiss thoughts of missed chances and close calls.
Somehow, Elizabeth managed to stretch her mouth into a smile and answer: “I suspect we all have our pains, but I do not believe mine to be greater than anyone else’s. My greatest pain at this moment is that I have not found one perfect seashell to take home to my father. I am afraid his desk shall have to go unadorned, and he shall be severely disappointed.”
“There is still time yet to find that seashell,” said Harriet. “We must go bathing in the sea again! I should be very happy to assist in your noble endeavor. We cannot have your father disappointed, after all, for want of a single shell.”
The three ladies laughed together, and Elizabeth was grateful for close friends to pull her from her heavy thoughts and melancholy reflections.
Their visit soon ended, and the two younger ladies prepared to depart. While Harriet moved to one side to accept her gloves and parasol from one of the servants, Blanche stepped up to Elizabeth and spoke in a low voice:
“I shall not pester you for any accounts of your past which you do not wish to share, Elizabeth, and I understand every person’s need for their own private affairs. But I believe you hold some measure of sorrow in your recent past, and I wish you to know that I am always available to provide counsel or a sympathetic ear, should you wish to discuss your troubles.”
Elizabeth could barely keep her emotions in check. It was in this that Blanche was different from Lady Catherine. She could not imagine the great lady offering to allow a friend to unburden herself, no matter what the circumstances.
“I thank you, Blanche,” replied Elizabeth with much feeling. “If I should feel such a need, I certainly shall speak with you.”
Blanche smiled fondly and squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “You are a good girl, Elizabeth, and I desire for you to be happy. Any teasing aside, I am not certain one of the officers would be a good husband for you; most of them seem to be somewhat of a simple lot for an intelligent young lady such as yourself. I am sure, however, that there is someone out there who can keep up with you. I shall be vigilant and direct him toward you if I should happen to come across him.”
“Then I cannot fail to meet him one day!” cried Elizabeth, laughing gaily.
Harriet turned toward them, raising an eyebrow in question, but Elizabeth shook her head. Then they said their final goodbyes to Blanche and departed from her house.
Chapter VI
Sea bathing was not the only activity on their list, and although they were able to visit the beach several more times, the majority of Elizabeth’s time with her friend was spent in other pursuits. They shopped, walked in the many parks and along the beautiful beaches, visited museums and art galleries, went to theaters and concerts, and participated in a vast array of activities.
Of course, they were also invited to many assemblies, and they were occasionally called on to entertain the officers of the regiment and attend gatherings with the members of other regiments.
It was a pattern remarked upon by Harriet that Elizabeth had two officers who paid attention to her above all others, namely Mr. Denny and Mr. Wickham. Yet though they both were interested in Elizabeth’s doings and could often be found in her company, they did not do so in tandem, for their behavior soon proved that they had suffered a falling out in their friendship. Though Elizabeth had been given to know that their acquaintance prior to Mr. Wickham’s joining the militia had been a slight one, the two men had given every appearance of camaraderie and had often been seen in company together while the regiment had been quartered in Meryton.
Since their arrival in Brighton, however, they seemed to be at odds. Very seldom were they seen speaking to each other, and though they took some care to conceal their disagreement from the colonel, Elizabeth witnessed many instances in which one or the other glared at his former friend when he thought he was not being observed.
Alarmingly, it appeared that the source of their disagreement was her.
She had nothing specific about which she could complain concerning either man, as neither had done anything improper. Lieutenant Denny was all that was agreeable, attentive, and pleasing, and he almost appeared to be courting her in his actions, though his words left much to be desired, as he did not impart the subtle hints one gives a person to whom one wishes to attach oneself. He often claimed the first dance in an assembly and would endeavor to sit next to her at dinner or claim her as a conversation or card partner when they were in company. Yet he did not speak words of admiration to her, kiss the back of her hand, or otherwise act in a manner which would suggest that he was trying to woo her. It was all very vexing, especially since Harriet, seeing the young officer’s behavior, had taken to gently teasing Elizabeth over her conquest of the “boy” of her dreams.
Mr. Wickham, on the other hand, was more erratic in his behavior. He would often speak with her at great length, engaging her attention, sometimes long after it was polite to do so. Other times, he would stand apart from others, staring at her covertly or brooding over his drink. The only experience with which she could compare it was when she had been in Mr. Darcy’s company the previous autumn. Mr. Darcy had frequently stared at her, and she had scarcely known what to do other than to ignore it. Wickham acted in much the same way—particularly when she was in Denny’s company. The major difference was that Mr. Darcy’s stare, though somewhat irritating, had never made her uncomfortable. Mr. Wickham’s scrutiny, however, brought her to extreme levels of discomfort. The more time Elizabeth spent in his company, the more certain she became that what Mr. Darcy had informed her of Wickham’s character was the absolute truth. She fancied that seeing Mr. Wickham in such a state, so contrary to the façade he presented to the world, was merely an instance of his true character shining forth.
