“In Laura Place.” She looked round her suddenly, and burst out laughing. “Good God, do you know how far we have walked? Unless my eyes deceive me, we have reached nearly to the end of Great Pulteney Street! If I have at least led you in the right way it must have been by instinct! I have no recollection even of crossing the bridge!”

“Nor I,” he admitted, turning, and beginning to retrace his steps beside her. “I have been walking in a dream, I think. I could wish we were at the other end of the town, so that I need not part from you so soon. My fear is that when you leave me I shall wake up.”

“Major Kirkby, I begin to think you are turned into an accomplished flirt!”

“I? Ah, you are quizzing me! I never flirted, I think, in my life.”

“Good gracious, will you tell me that there is not one beautiful Spaniard left mourning your departure?”

He shook his head. “Not one, upon my honour!”

“I had no notion life was so dull in Spain!”

“I never saw one whom I thought beautiful,” he said simply.

They walked on, and were soon in Laura Place again. He parted from her at her door, lingering, with her hand in his, to say: Tell me when I may call on you!”

“When you wish,” she replied, smiling at him.

His clasp on her hand tightened; he bent to kiss it: and at last released it, and went striding away, as though he dared not trust himself to look back.

A minute later, Fanny was greeting Serena with relief. “Oh, I am so glad you are come in! I feared some accident had befallen, for you have been away this age and more! Good God, dearest! What has happened? You look as if a fortune had dropped on you from the sky!”

“Not a fortune!” Serena said, her eyes very bright and sparkling, and a smile hovering about her mouth. “Better than that, and by far more unexpected! I have met—an old acquaintance!”

“That would not make you look so! Now, be serious, love, I do beg of you!”

“Oh, I cannot be! You must hold me excused! Did you ever feel yourself a girl again, in your first season? It is the most delightful thing imaginable! I have told him he may call on us: pray be so obliging as to like him! It will be a study to see his face when I present him to you: he pictures you in a turban, Fanny!”

Fanny let her embroidery frame drop. “He?” Her face brightened suddenly. “Not—Oh, Serena, you don’t mean you have met that young man again? the man you told me you had loved—the only man you had loved?”

“Did I tell you so? Yes, it is he!”

“Oh, Serena!” sighed Fanny ecstatically. “How very glad I am! It is exactly like a romance! At least—Is he still single, dearest?”

“Yes, of course he is! That is to say, I never asked him! But there is no doubt! I wonder how soon he will think it proper to call on us? I fancy it will not be long!”

It was not long. Major Kirkby, in fact, paid his visit of ceremony upon the following day, arriving in Laura Place on the heels of a heavy thunderstorm. Lybster, relieving him of his dripping cloak and hat, sent Fanny’s page running to fetch a leather to rub over the Major’s smart Hessians, and permitted himself to scrutinize with unusual interest this visitor who was not deterred by inclement weather from paying morning visits. He had been informed that her ladyship was expecting a Major Kirkby to call sometime, but no suspicion had been aroused in his mind that the unknown Major might prove to be a visitor quite out of the common. If he had thought about the matter at all, the picture in his mind’s eye would have been of some middle-aged Bath resident; and when he opened the door to a tall, handsome gentleman, nattily attired, and not a day above thirty, if as old, he suffered a severe shock, and instantly drew his own perfectly correct conclusions. While the page wiped the mud from those well-cut boots, and the Major straightened his starched neckcloth, Lybster took a rapid and expert survey, contriving in a matter of seconds to ascertain that the long-tailed blue coat of superfine had come from the hands of one of the first tailors, that the Major had a nice taste in waistcoats, and knew how to arrange a neckcloth with modish precision. He had a fine pair of shoulders on him, and an excellent leg for a skin-tight pantaloon. His countenance, a relatively unimportant matter, came in for no more than a cursory glance, but the butler noted with approval that the features were regular, and the Major’s air distinguished. He led the way upstairs to the drawing-room, the Major following him in happy ignorance of the ferment of conjecture his appearance had set up.

A door was opened, his name announced, and he trod into an elegantly furnished apartment, whose sole occupant was a slender little lady, dressed all in black, and seated at the writing-table.

Taken by surprise, Fanny looked up quickly, the pen still held between her fingers. The Major checked on the threshold, staring at her. He beheld a charming countenance, with very large, soft blue eyes, and a mouth trembling into a shy smile, golden ringlets peeping from under a lace cap, and a general air of youth and fragility. Wild thoughts of having entered the wrong house crossed his mind; considerably disconcerted, he stammered: “I beg your pardon! I thought—I came—I must have mistaken the direction! But I asked your butler if Lady Spenborough—and he led me upstairs!”

Fanny laid the pen down, and rose to her feet, and came forward, blushing and laughing. “I am Lady Spenborough. How do you do?”

He took her hand, but exclaimed involuntarily: “The Dowager Lady Spenborough? But you cannot be—” He stopped in confusion, began to laugh also, and said: “Forgive me! I had pictured—well, a very different lady!”

“In a turban! Serena told me so. It is very naughty of her to roast you. Major Kirkby. Do, pray, be seated! Serena will be down directly. She was caught in that dreadful storm, and was obliged to change her dress, which was quite soaked.”

“Walking in this weather! I hope she may not have taken a chill! It was very imprudent.”

“Oh, no! She never does so,” responded Fanny placidly. “She was used to ride with her Papa in all weathers, you know. She is a famous horsewoman—quite intrepid!”

“Yes, so I believe. I never saw her in the saddle, however. Our—our former acquaintance was in London. You and she now reside here? Or, no! I think she told me you were here only for a visit.”

“Oh, yes! We have been living since Lord Spenborough’s death in my Dower House, at Milverley.”

“Ah, then, she has not been obliged quite to leave her home! I remember that she was much attached to it.” He smiled warmly at her. “When I read of Lord Spenborough’s death, I was afraid she might be obliged to live with Lady—with someone, perhaps, not agreeable to her!—I am sure she must be happy with you, ma’am!”

“Oh, yes! That is, I am very happy,” said Fanny naively. “She is so kind to me! I don’t know how I should go on without her.”

At that moment, Serena came into the room, her copper ringlets still damp, and curling wildly. As she closed the door, she said mischievously: “Now, what an infamous thing it is that you should have come when I wasn’t here to present you to my mama-in-law, sir! She has not terrified you, I trust?”

He had jumped up, and strode to meet her, taking her hand, and holding it for a minute. “What an infamous thing it was that you should have taken me in!” he retorted, smiling down at her with so glowing a look in his eyes that her own sank, and she felt her colour rising.

“It was irresistible! Are you satisfied that she is truly motherly?”

“Serena! You never said so!” cried Fanny indignantly.

“No, not I! It was Major Kirkby’s hope!”

He drew her forward to a chair beside the small fire, and placed a cushion behind her as she seated herself. She looked up, to thank him, and he said: “Do you know that your hair is quite wet?”

“It will soon dry beside this fire.”

“Are you always so reckless? I wish you will take care!”

She smiled. “Why, do I seem to you invalidish? It’s well you didn’t see me when I came in, for I don’t think there was a dry stitch on me!”

“Then perhaps it is as well. I should certainly have been anxious.”

“Fanny will tell you that I am never ill. Do you take cold every time you are caught in the rain?”

“No, indeed! I should not long have survived in Portugal! But that is another matter: you are not a soldier!”

She saw that he would not readily be persuaded that her constitution was not delicate, and was a little amused. It was not unpleasant to find herself an object of solicitude, so she said no more, leading him instead to talk of his experiences in the Peninsula. He stayed for half an hour, and then, very correctly, rose to take his leave. Fanny, as she shook hands with him, said, in her pretty, soft voice: “You know we cannot entertain in any formal style, Major Kirkby, but if you will not think it a bore to dine quietly with us one evening, we should be happy to welcome you.”

“A bore! I should like it of all things!” he said, “May I indeed do that?”

The engagement was made, and Fanny’s hand kissed. “Thank you!” the Major said, with a twinkle.

There was a good deal of meaning in his voice. Fanny gave a little choke of laughter, and tried to look demure.

He turned from her to Serena. “I think you are very fortunate in your mama-in-law! Shall I see you, perhaps, in the Pump Room tomorrow? Do you go there?”

“Very frequently—to watch Fanny screwing up her face, and most heroically drinking the water!”

“Ah! Then I shall meet you there” he said, and pressed her hand, and went away.

Serena glanced almost shyly at Fanny. “Well?”

“Oh, Serena, how very charming he is! You did not tell me the half! I think I never saw such kind eyes! He is so much in love with you, too!”

“He does not know me.”

“My dear!”

Serena shook her head. “Do you think he does? I am so much afraid—You see, he believes me to be—oh, so many excellent things which I am not! He has no notion of my shocking temper, or my obstinacy, or—”

“Serena, you goose!” Fanny cried, embracing her. “He loves you! Oh, and he will take such care of you, and value you as he should, and think nothing too good for you! He is the very man to make you happy!”

“Fanny, Fanny!” Serena protested. “He has not offered for me yet!”

“How absurd you are! When he can barely take his eyes off you! He will offer for you before the week is out!”

9

Fanny was disappointed. It was ten days later before the Major declared himself, and he did it then at her instigation.

That he was head over ears in love no one could doubt. He went about like a man dazzled by strong sunshine, so oblivious of his surroundings or any worldly care that his anxious mother was thrown into great disquiet, convinced at one moment that he no longer held her in affection, and at the next that his restlessness and absence of mind must have its root in some deepseated disorder. Since the state of her health made her shrink from social intercourse, and her only expeditions from her eyrie in Lansdown Crescent down into the town were to the Abbey Baths, she remained in ignorance of the true state of affairs. Fashionable Bath could have enlightened her, for although the Major retained just enough sense not to haunt Laura Place it seemed not to occur to him that the spectacle of a tall and handsome young man searching the Pump Room every morning for the Lady Serena Carlow might possibly attract attention. The habitués of the Pump Room derived considerable entertainment from it, one gentleman asserting that it was now his custom to set his watch by the Major’s arrival; and old General Hendy, whose own practice was to steer a gouty and determined course to Fanny’s side, saying indignantly that he never saw such a silly, moonstruck fellow, and had a good mind to tell him what a cake he was making of himself. Whenever the Major came bearing down upon Serena, he scowled at him awfully; but as the Major had no eyes for anyone but Serena, this strong hint from a senior officer went unnoticed. General Hendy was not the only person hostile to the courtship. High sticklers viewed it with disapproval, some maintaining that it was improper for the Lady Serena to be encouraging any gentleman to pay his addresses to her while she was in mourning for her father, others considering that such a match would be scandalously unequal.