Hope - Lesley Pearse [152]
Heavily stuffed Royal Mail sacks, crates of live chickens, trunks and parcels were all on carts waiting to be put on the London train. Hope had looked into the first-class waiting room and seen there was a roaring fire lit in there; there was a tea shop too, and porters in smart uniforms waiting to carry people’s luggage.
Yet the sights at the station were nothing compared with the thrill of getting on to the train, settling down in a comfortable seat and then hearing the guard blow his whistle and wave his flag for it to start.
If she lived to be ninety-eight, Hope didn’t think she would ever forget the sound of those pistons going round, the chug, chug, chug as the train gradually picked up speed, and suddenly they were racing along at a terrifying speed, the countryside flashing past the windows.
She knew it would take two or more hours to get to Bath with a carriage and four horses, and almost all day by cart. But the journey by train was completed in half an hour.
When they came out of the station, Hope wanted to stand still and just watch, as Bath was astoundingly different to Bristol. While the streets were every bit as crowded with people and horses and carriages, and there were just as many beggars, crossing sweepers and ragged urchins, it had a far more sedate and genteel pace. Exquisitely dressed gentry sauntered arm-in-arm in the spring sunshine, and even the more soberly dressed matrons looked far more well-to-do than their Bristol counterparts. But it was the city itself which impressed Hope most. The main streets were wider and the yellowy stone buildings very elegant, now here near as old and ramshackle as those at home. Even the river Avon looked cleaner here, and Hope loved the bridge which had little shops all along it.
‘That’s because most of it was only built in the last hundred and fifty years,’ Bennett said by way of an explanation. ‘Can you see how similar some of the houses are to those in Clifton? Many were designed by the same architects. But Bath doesn’t have the industry of Bristol to make it so grimy; the Roman Baths are the main attraction. The rich flock here for their health, foolishly imagining a few gulps of the evil-tasting water will cure anything from gout to syphilis.’
Hope smiled to herself. Clearly Bennett didn’t believe there were any magic properties in it at all, and disapproved of those who traded on the gullible.
He seemed to know exactly where he was going, for he pointed out the Pump Rooms where he said the idle rich congregated, then led her into a series of narrowlanes, finally stopping at the door of a small bow-windowed shop.
‘This is where I buy your present,’ he said, kissing her cheek.
‘But coming to Bath was my present,’ she said, glancing at the bow-windowed shop and suddenly realizing it was a jeweller’s. ‘You can’t afford to buy anything in there!’
‘I can,’ he said with a grin. ‘But first I have to ask you something.’
Hope looked up at him expectantly. ‘Go on.’
‘Will you marry me?’
She had expected that he was going to ask if she’d like a brooch to go on her cloak, or maybe even a locket. Not in even her most fanciful of daydreams had she imagined him asking her to marry him, at least not until they had resolved how to tell his uncle how they felt about one another.
‘But we can’t! Your uncle!’
‘I didn’t mean immediately.’ He laughed at her shocked expression. ‘I just wanted you to know my intention, and to buy you a ring as my pledge.’
It took a second or two for her to take in what he’d said. Then she threwher arms around him, giggling with delight. ‘I’d love to marry you, this year, next year, anytime. Your word would have been enough for me. I don’t need a ring.’
‘But I need to show you all you mean to me,’ he said, hugging her back. ‘Even if that means you can’t display it to the world right now.’
‘Then I’ll wear it on a chain around my neck for the time being. I love you so much, Bennett.’
*
Later, sitting on a bench in the park by the river, Hope held out her hand to Bennett.