The Dowager raised her lorgnette and examined them one by one, as if they were three indifferent specimens of Lepidoptera pinned on a board, said “Charmed” to Mrs. Mallow and Prudence, and allowed Clarence to shake three fingers briefly. She was in a particularly genial mood that day.
They were just turning to leave-no offer of joining the Pillar’s table was extended-when another gentleman seated across the room hastened towards them. He was of Dammler's approximate age and height, but slender and of fair complexion. Lady Cleff’s smile broadened as she spotted this addition to the group.
“Ah, Mr. Springer,” she said, offering him all four fingers and the thumb. “Dammler, here is someone who knows you, I believe. Just the very friend for you. I think you are dull with no companions but my old crones.”
A few stiff and stilted phrases were exchanged between the two old colleagues, giving a foretaste of how agreeable they found each other’s company. The Mallows and Mr. Elmtree made their farewells and left.
“I see you are anxious to be off, Mr. Springer,” the Dowager said coyly. “We shan’t detain you, but you must be sure to call. We will look forward to seeing you at Pulteney Street very soon.”
Springer fairly dashed off after the departing company, and Dammler was left with yet another obstacle in his wooing of Miss Mallow. A rival, one who had the advantage of a long acquaintance and an unblemished reputation.
He turned to his cousin. “Springer is Miss Mallow’s beau, I take it?”
“Yes, he is often with her. Usually escorts her home from the Pump Room. Truth to tell, I wish him success with her. She seems a nice enough sort of a girl, now that I have met her. Not forthcoming in the least. I had heard she was just a trifle fast-oh, not loose. I do not mean to imply she is loose. With a good solid husband like Springer she would be no poor addition to Bath society.”
This suggestion of Springer being considered as a husband for Prudence threw Dammler into alarm. “Surely they are not on the point of an engagement. Prudence- Miss Mallow-has not been here above two weeks.”
“It is a long-standing attachment. Quite romantic, really. Friends for years in Kent. It often happens that old friends met under different circumstances become more than friends. I think she might get him if she plays her cards well.”
This idea so appalled Dammler that he abandoned his plans of being circumspect and wearing the costume of a dull, respectable gentleman for a few weeks. He went that very afternoon to Laura Place and asked Prudence to drive out with him. In fact, he arrived just as she was leaving the luncheon table.
Her chagrin was possibly greater than his own. She had already given Springer permission to call that same afternoon. “I am busy this afternoon,” she said, in a stricken voice.
“Oh. I see,” he answered with sinking heart. “Busy, eh? Well, I had better leave you then.”
“Oh, no-that is, I do not go out until four o’clock. It is only a little after two o’clock. We have time for a little visit.”
Clarence was smiling and nodding in one corner, and Mrs. Mallow furrowing her brow across the room. There was no private study where they could pretend to be discussing literature, and the situation appeared hopeless.
“Would you like to go for a short drive?” Dammler asked, knowing it sounded absurd, as she had mentioned her outing was to be a drive.
“Yes, that sounds delightful,” she answered promptly, and went straight off to get her bonnet.
There was so much to be said between them, yet both were bereft of meaningful words. They mentioned the weather, the sights of Bath, even their respective states of health.
Sensing that his precious bit of time was slipping away, Dammler asked bluntly, “Are you angry with me for coming to Bath?”
“No, why should I be? You are free to roam as you like,” was her unencouraging reply. “You have been in London 'til now, I collect?”
“Yes.”
“How is Lady Melvine?”
“Very well. Murray also. I told him I would enquire how your book goes on.”
“I have written to Mr. Murray just recently.”
“He cannot have had your letter when I saw him last then.”
“No.”
After a quarter of an hour’s uninteresting conversation of this sort, they were on Milsom Street, and Dammler asked her if she would like to get down and walk a little. The outing was going so poorly that he feared he had lost her to Springer, but he didn’t want to hear it confirmed, so he did not ask.
As they strolled they passed the circulating library, and Dammler drew up to see her cartoon in the window.
“Your uncle will like this,” he said. “You might get that other shelf out of him yet.”
“Oh, now, with you borrowing all my books I scarcely have need of the two I have.”
“Have I been borrowing your books?” he asked, hoping to get back on the old footing with these joking references to old times.
“Indeed you have, and you with ten thousand of your own. Hog.”
A few people were standing beside them looking in the window display, where Miss Mallow’s three novels were on view. One lady, her attention caught by the prepossessing appearance of Dammler, noticed that the lady with him was none other than Miss Mallow. She had just bought The Cat in the Garden and, with an apology for disturbing them, asked if the author would sign it.
“I read all your books, Miss Mallow. I like them very much.”
"Thank you; you are very kind,” Prudence said, signing her name.
“I am surprised you come to Bath to work,” the woman went on. “You must find it dull after London.”
“No, I like it very much.”
“I have heard a rumour Lord Dammler is here, too, but I shouldn’t think it’s true.”
“Oh,” Prudence turned to Dammler, thinking to present him, but he shook his head discreetly.
“No, there would be nothing here to interest him,” the lady continued in a disparaging tone. “No harems or Indian princesses.” She thanked Miss Mallow and went on her way.
"Lo, how the mighty have fallen,” Dammler said sadly.
“It is your not having on your patch that prevented her recognizing you,” Prudence consoled him.
“You try to put a good face on it to recover my disgrace, but it is clear you have outpaced me.”
“How nonsensical you are.”
“She has my number. Harems and Indian princesses. But you see she is wrong. I am here in dull old Bath.”
“Why are you here, if you find it dull?”
“Why do you think?” he asked with a long look that caused Prudence to take a great interest in her cartoon. He said no more, but offered her his arm to continue their walk."
“You are staying with Lady Cleff, aren’t you?” Prudence asked.
“Yes, she is a cousin. A very respectable cousin.”
“She is quite the terror of Bath. You will not care much for her set, I think.”
“I like them excessively. I hardly know whether I am more interested with the Right Reverend Thomas Tisdale or the gentleman-the name eludes me but he resembles a sheep-who is doing a study on the Dissenters. I was shocked to see you missed the lecture on Dissenters, Miss Mallow. Very informative. The Scottish Anglicans, you know, are not included in the group, nor are the Recusants. They dissent, but for some reason they are not officially included in the group.”