When her aunt berated her for the coolness, she shrugged. "Do you want me to marry him immediately, and thus save the expense and inconvenience of our trips to Bath and London?"
Aunt Susan's face fell. She decided that perhaps becoming engaged so young was not such a good thing after all.
Pamela smiled to herself. She had managed to put off her aunt for now, but she was not going to be so easy to manipulate as the Season went on, and she put more and more pressure on Pamela to make a good match.
She actually began to wonder what a 'good match' was. The Earl seemed to think that women should do nothing but knit or crochet doilies, do needlework, and make tatting. Certainly not be educated, or useful around an estate. She looked at Sarah, a model of intelligence and useful endeavor, and observed the contrast.
She also noted her own inconsistencies. A few short months ago, she had thought Jonathan a pleasant acquaintance, no more. They had seemed to have so little in common. Compared to the other handsome young men in the neighborhood, he had seemed a rather unlikely first choice of companion.
Now she found she could hardly wait to see him on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and looked forward to running into him in the village. The prospect of daily meetings with him at the Duke's house in Bath was more than she could bear. She anticipated it with unalloyed delight.
Chapter Sixteen
During the first week of March, the weather turned so warm and fair that it was agreed by all parties that the time for their departure for Bath had at last arrived. With all the boxes loaded, and farewells exchanged, Pamela took Jonathan's hand, and felt as if she were jumping from a great height down into a swirling sea.
He was an entertaining companion, pointing out interesting landmarks from the coach window, and regaling her with the history of the Baths.
"They were first used by the Romans, you know."
She nodded, and hung on his every word with an intensity which was both flattering and a relief to the handsome young vicar. He was becoming more and more convinced that her feelings for him were moving beyond mere friendship.
He knew it was unfair of him, after all his promises to his former fiancée Jane, to the whole Eltham family. But lately he had begun to wonder if he was not indeed being gifted by God with a rare prize.
But what to do for the best? How could he move forward, act upon his feelings, without sacrificing every principle he had ever sought to live by? He had promised God he would devote himself to Christian works. How could he turn his back on the poor mad soul who needed him?
It took the little party a couple of days to get settled in the house in the Royal Crescent, but the tall, raven-haired Duke of Ellesmere, and his charming and equally dark-haired wife Charlotte could not have been more kind.
The home was the most splendid townhouse Pamela had ever seen. From the vast marble entry hall, the house split into two.
Pamela and her aunt were given the best rooms in the eastern portion. Her chamber was decorated in peach and cream, her aunt's in pale green and gold. Both were lofty, with large windows nearly floor to ceiling and vast four-poster beds. The furnishings were rich and valuable, but not ostentatious. Pamela was pleased to see she had a very fine desk in her room, and someone had placed a goodly array of reading matter there.
Once they were unpacked and had bathed and changed, they went into the drawing room to get to know one another better, and form their plan of attack.
In addition to the Duke and Duchess, and his sister Elizabeth, a pretty dark-haired sixteen-year old with green eyes, she renewed her acquaintance with the Stones. She was delighted to find Vanessa as unpretentious a daily companion as she was educated, and was astonished at how quickly time passed without them ever once leaving the townhouse.
Little Arthur Stone was now almost five months old. Pamela took great delight in playing with the baby as they sat chatting. She was shocked to find Vanessa did everything for him herself. She was more than a bit embarrassed seeing her breastfeed the child.
Noting her obvious dismay, Jonathan pointed out it was the most natural thing in the world, and said that it put him in mind of the Madonna and child.
"After all, Mary didn't not have a wet nurse, now did she?"
"No, I suppose not. But most fashionable women--"
"What, better to appear fashionable than to do the utmost for one's child?" he asked, his brows knitting.
She blushed and shook her head. "No, of course not. It's just, well, a different way of doing things that did not occur to me. Step-Mama had several nurses for the girls, that's all."
"I am of course a mere man, but nevertheless I am entitled to my opinion. It's a lovely thing to see, not the least disgusting, and any good husband would most whole-heartedly agree."