Mary Nichols - Marrying Miss Hemingford

‘Miss Hemingford?’

Startled, she looked up to see the disembodied head of Dr Tremayne not six feet away, his wet hair springing into tight curls all over his head. Treading water, he lifted a bare arm in greeting, making her wonder what he was wearing; the water was not clear enough to see, for which she was grateful. Even thinking about it made her heart beat at an alarming rate. ‘Dr Tremayne, fancy seeing you here.’

‘I am here most mornings. I find it refreshing before the rigours of the day.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘At least, I begin the day clean.’

‘And cleanliness is next to Godliness, so I am told,’ she said, treading water beside him.

‘I do not know about that, but what I do know is that dirt spreads contagion and disease and it behoves me to set a good example.’

She was aware that this was not the sort of conversation a well-bred young lady should be having with a man, certainly not in their present state of undress, but she could not bring herself to turn away from him. He fascinated her. ‘Oh, I am sure you do.’

‘You are a long way from the beach, Miss Hemingford,’ he said, looking back towards the bathing huts. ‘Should you have come so far? The tide can be very strong…’

‘I am a good swimmer, Dr Tremayne. Have no fear, you will not be obliged to rescue me.’ She laughed, but he did not respond and she wondered if he ever smiled. ‘I—I can keep going for hours.’

‘You do say.’ His tone was amused, almost disbelieving.

‘I do and, to prove it, I will race you to that rock.’ Before he could respond, she was off, cleaving powerfully through the water.

He kept up with her stroke for stroke, and it was not until they reached the rock that she realised she could not clamber out because what had been a shapeless garment when she put it on, would have a very definite shape now, clinging to every curve of her body: breasts, hips, legs.

‘I must return to my aunt,’ she called out to him, making for the shore. ‘She will be wondering what has become of me.’

‘And I must return to my patients. Good day to you, Miss Hemingford.’

He swam away from her towards a cove below the cliffs and she could see he was wearing breeches, but nothing else. Even in the cool water, she felt herself going hot. She turned and swam back to where Mrs Bartrum floundered in three feet of water. Her aunt was not alone.

Major Mancroft was beside her, wearing a loose-fitting jacket and trousers of the same rough cotton as her dress, which was a relief, for she had heard that the men often swam naked. ‘Miss Hemingford, good morning,’ he called as she approached. ‘I have been endeavouring to persuade your aunt into deeper water.’

‘No, no,’ the lady said, thoroughly embarrassed. ‘I am perfectly at ease here.’

‘Madam, you will become cold if you do not move around a little,’ he said, moving closer. ‘Pray, let me assist you. Take my hand. There is nothing to worry about. We are unobserved from the shore and no one thinks anything of it when ladies and gentleman meet in the water. It has a calming influence, you know.’

Anne laughed. ‘Is that another of its cures?’

Her aunt was shivering. ‘I think I have been in the water long enough for a first encounter,’ she said, turning back to the bathing machine where Susan waited at the top of the steps with a large towel. ‘I will dress and wait for you on the promenade. Do not hurry, if you are enjoying yourselves.’ And with that she disappeared under the hood.

‘I, too, have had enough for my first dip,’ Anne told the Major, making for the machine she had been using, glad of the shelter of the canvas hiding her as she climbed the steps and hurried inside.

The horse was put back into the shafts and the little vehicle was pulled up on to dry land, and half an hour later she stepped down, fully dressed again and feeling thoroughly refreshed. She would come again if the weather remained calm.

When she regained the promenade, she discovered Major Mancroft, once more in uniform, had arrived before her and was sitting on a bench talking to her aunt. ‘Ah, Miss Hemingford, I thought I would wait and escort you home. I am not on duty today.’ He rose and offered both arms and the ladies took one each and strolled along the sea front, talking easily as they went, with Amelia and Susan falling in behind them.

‘Did you see service in the Peninsula, Major?’ Mrs Bartrum asked.

‘Alas, no. I am on the staff, which is why I am in Brighton at the moment. In case his Highness needs me.’

‘Is he in residence?’

‘He is expected, I believe.’

‘And does Lady Mancroft come to Brighton every year?’

‘Almost ever year. My father finds sea water very efficacious for his gout, you know. He drinks it with milk every day.’ And when Anne pulled a face, added, ‘I believe there are other ingredients, even more unappetising.’

‘I think I will confine myself to bathing in it,’ she said.

‘I agree wholeheartedly. Perhaps we shall meet in the water again before long.’

‘Perhaps,’ she agreed, thinking of Dr Tremayne.

He declined an invitation to come in for refreshment when they arrived, saying his mother was expecting him, but he looked forward to having supper with them that evening, and with that he bowed and departed.

‘He really is most agreeable,’ her aunt said, as they divested themselves of their outer garments and went to the morning room for a light nuncheon. ‘But I was mortified when he approached me in the water. I am quite sure that it is not the thing, for all he says people think nothing of it. No doubt he thinks he has stolen a march on his friend Gosforth. If they see themselves as rivals, it could make our stay very interesting.’

‘Rivals, Aunt?’ Anne teased. ‘You mean for your hand?’

‘Do not be ridiculous, Anne. How can you say such a thing? I am a widow and shall remain one to the end of my days. It was your hand I was thinking of.’

‘You promised not to matchmake.’

‘Nor will I. There is no need, the gentlemen will come flocking.’

‘If you are right, they will be torn between my fortune and your sweet nature.’

‘Then we shall have some fun, shan’t we?’ Her aunt, mischievous as always, laughed.

After they had eaten, Mrs Bartrum declared that bathing in the sea had made her tired and she wanted to be at her very best for the supper party, so she proposed to lie on her bed for an hour or two and suggested Anne do the same. But Anne was full of energy; besides, she had a secret mission she wanted to accomplish. She waited until her aunt’s bedroom door had closed and Amelia had settled down in the parlour to stitch the lace and flowers on her evening gown, then left the house to visit the bank where Harry had arranged she could draw on funds as she needed them. She drew a hundred guineas in cash and, weighed down by the clinking coins, set off for Doctor Tremayne’s house.

The waiting room was as crowded as ever and she wondered if she was wrong to interrupt him at his work, but when Mrs Armistead told him she was there, he instructed the woman to conduct her to his private room at the back of the house and he would be with her as soon as he could.

Mrs Armistead led her to a small drawing room, bade her be seated and asked if she would like refreshments, but Anne declined. ‘I can see you are very busy,’ she said. ‘I shall be quite content to wait until the doctor can see me.’

‘Do you wish to consult him? There is no need for you to come here; he would visit you at home.’

‘Oh, I am not ill, Mrs Armistead, I never felt better. But you may recall I promised a donation. And to tell the truth, I am fascinated by the doctor’s work and should like to know more.’