The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [332]
The house Mr Grockleton had found was certainly a fine one. Like most of Bath’s houses, it formed part of a handsome Georgian terrace and was built of a creamy stone.
The houses rose up the steep hills in rows and tiers, in elegant terraces and crescents, staring out at the sky and down into the city’s valleys through which the local river snaked between cliffs of stone. If God had asked Mrs Grockleton how she thought He should create heaven, she would probably have told Him: ‘Make it like Bath.’ She might, however, have added, considering her own plans: ‘You can put it by the sea.’
Fanny, although she did not say so, liked the look of it less. The house, while certainly well-proportioned and elegant, had no garden. Few houses in Bath did. Nor, except in one or two parks, which were anyway given over mainly to lawns and flower beds, did there seem to be any trees. But when she gently remarked upon this to Mrs Grockleton, that lady was able to put her right at once. ‘Trees, Fanny? But have you not considered, in a place like Bath, all those leaves would make such a mess. And besides,’ she added with perfect truth, ‘there are woods in profusion on the hills all around where, I dare say, they look very elegant.’
The house was quite big. The Grockletons had brought their children, but there was a nursery for them on the upper floor. The main reception rooms were on the level above the street and had splendid views down over the city. Fanny quite enjoyed sitting and looking over this prospect. She even tried to sketch it. But there was seldom time for sitting long when Mrs Grockleton was in charge.
She certainly gave Fanny a change of air. They went down to the Pump Room where, by the old Roman baths, one took the medicinal waters. In the big yard, with an old Gothic abbey church making a charming contrast, men in blue coats and gold buttons waited to convey people in sedan chairs. Mrs Grockleton insisted that she and Fanny use these upon the first occasion.
The next day they attended a concert at the Assembly Rooms. These were large and very handsome. They learned that there was to be a subscription ball two evenings later, which Mrs Grockleton insisted they must attend.
The next day was taken up chiefly with shopping – which was not to say that they bought anything, but they inspected the fashionable shops and observed all the people in them.
‘For Bath sets the tone, Fanny,’ Mrs Grockleton obligingly explained. ‘Bath is where polite society is born. Bath is’ – she was delighted by the sudden thought – ‘like our academy. Even the most charming young ladies, those of the highest birth who have lived all their lives in the country, can benefit from being exposed in Bath.’
The ball turned out to be a slight disappointment. If the fashionable world was at Bath, it had not descended on the Assembly Rooms that night. Instead, a large collection of the spa’s widows, invalids, half-pay officers and eager tradesmen danced the night away very cheerfully and with a certain decorous noise. They encountered the family of a Bristol merchant whose two sons asked Fanny to dance. So did a very pleasant army major, whose coat collar had taken on that slightly greasy look, which cloth has just before it starts to fray. ‘You need have no fear of me,’ he genially remarked to her. ‘I’m here to find a rich widow.’
The major, in fact, turned out to be an amusing man, who told her much that was useful about the town. ‘For people like yourself in the higher part, there are the upper rooms to go to in the evening. Better company up there. But the best sort, the gentry, don’t come to the Assembly Rooms often. Not unless there’s something worth seeing. They have private parties. That’s where you belong.’
In her different way, Mrs Grockleton had come to a similar conclusion. ‘I’m afraid’, she remarked to her husband when they were alone that night, ‘the Rooms were full of people like us.’
‘You don’t care to meet people like ourselves?’ her husband mildly enquired.
‘If we wanted to meet people like us,’ Mrs Grockleton