When John came into the breakfast room, Kate buried her letter underneath the sprawled Walker’s Hibernian littering the table. He didn’t seem to notice.
“My darling,” (The gentle up and down of John’s voice sounded like no one she knew.) “Sun’s out. We’d best leave now. The road won’t be passable for at least another week, maybe longer. The cliff path’s acceptable?”
“Of course. I’ve told you. Is Mary joining us?”
“I don’t think so. She may not want to venture too deep. Please be kind to her.”
“Dear girl. Where’s she been all morning?”
“In the garden. Perhaps waiting for us to leave.”
“Will you come into the water?”
John smiled. “If it’s not too cold.”
Kate asked about clothes, about towels, even about clean stockings. John had arranged everything. Although she was perfectly capable, she took his arm. He would appreciate this.
Through the halls, on the terrace, then among waving, smiling squills, eyebrights and asters, Kate pretended not to notice the ever present scurry outlining their progress. Nodding, part of a game she had made for herself, at William and Mary’s oddly prim faces etched into the rim of the estate’s fountain spouting supreme over all the introductory statuary, she thought she saw their Mary’s pony cart round the corner and head toward the west gate. Ahead, Eamon directed a group of servants with picnic supplies. Kate looked the other way.
It had rained every day for a week so each tree, shrub, flower, blade of grass, now opened wide to the bright light. Today was sharp and perfect. Once again, talking through his upcoming travel, John gave her his lists. An indispensable visit with Mary to the Hawkes. Correspondence to share with Mary. Correspondence to forward. The expected flow of Lady Mim’s engagements. A dinner, if she were ready, to include a select company, the Hawkes, Lady Leigh, Reverend and Mrs. Brownlow, Lady Darlington, Colonel Andrews, perhaps the Bellinghams, Dr. Braxton and his wife.
For the first time in months, John would be away from Kate. Kate clenched her lips together so that he would see how difficult this might be for her. He did love to rehearse. She searched for some other topic, not what she hoped to say; she would save that for later. Leaving the grounds, they came to the edge of the cliffs. The wind picked up just enough to cool her neck. He went before her and handed her down, one rough landing at a time.
“John, how will Lady Mim ever be able to do this? She’d so like to come.”
“When the sea road dries out a little more, she can go the long way by carriage.”
“At dinner, the beach seemed her favorite place.”
“I’m not sure you should pay her any mind. She says whatever comes into her head.”
“And that is why I’m so fond of her.”
“She’s very fond of you.”
Congregated at the foot of the cliffs, Connor, Lila and Bette were opening baskets and passing plates between them. A table was laid at the point where the rocks gave way to sand. Pale blue muslin tenting washed into the sky. And then she saw the bathing machine. A little out of place because it was alone; at Weymouth, lines and lines of brightly painted boxes rolled in and out of the sea, some even with flounce curtains. Her machine had a gold brush drawing of dolphins jumping into the air. It was beautiful. She became impatient to be in the water.
John asked her if she wanted tea. Because he sat as he spoke, Kate sat as well. He chatted more about Dublin Castle, assured her that he intended to return in less than a month. She knew this; during at least their last six meals, they had projected out, in fine detail, the next few weeks. Allowing crumbs of her biscuit to fall into her tea, Kate concentrated upon the delicious jumble in her mouth. Smiling as if he knew what her answer would be, John mentioned Jane. Kate joined in the joke; no, Miss Fairfax was not arriving any time soon. She seemed to be perpetually ill. But then Jane had so many worries. And he knew Jane’s troubles must be her own. At that moment, her question almost popped out, but the light on the water brought her to herself. She should wait. Kindly, John moved on to Eliza and Margaret. She would tell him later about the letter. No clouds overhead, it was past the time they should go in. Kate set down her cup.
“As remote as we are, we might simply put a dressing tent somewhere in the rocks. Your machine’s wonderful, but perhaps too extravagant. Though I very much appreciate the gift.”
“My darling, we do nothing, if we do not do it well.”
“Are you ready to try it?”
They had not discussed exactly how he believed the bathing would happen. Kate wondered if he would come into the water. Calling to Connor for help, John held out his hand to her. She took it, hoping that everything she needed was in the machine. Bette and Lila quietly bustled about. Because a horse could not yet get down to the shore, John had landed the machine mostly in water and anchored its posts into the sand. No one spoke as Kate lifted her skirt. She decided to go ahead and take off her shoes so that she would not ruin them, but left her stockings on. Seeming not to care about the mud, John walked next to her, then jumped her onto the stair. She smiled. He made a slight bow. She quickly disappeared behind a whitewashed door.
Light seeped in from carved holes between the roof slats. Kate sat on a bench and began to undress. The floor swayed back and forth underneath her. She pretended not to hear Connor and her husband’s grunts as they pushed her machine deeper into the water. Pulling her bathing gown over her head, she smiled at its pale rose softness. He had indeed thought of everything. Now her box gently rolled side to side. Listening to their plans to reconnect shafts to a line from the shore, Kate waited for John to invite her.
“Are you ready?”
At the very last, Kate decided to take off her wet stockings. She would move quickly into the water; surely, no one would notice. When she opened the shuttered door, Kate looked out into a whirl of seablue, gold and white. Sunlight bounced ahead of her from ripple to wave. She passed over a stair so her feet would be fast under the water. Cold and sticky salt ran up her legs. She was so happy. Waves and foam to his waist, John held her steady. Connor on the other side of the machine, it was somehow just the two of them. Her gown twisted around her legs, yet she managed to sink into the surf up to her neck. John was about to protest, but she let go of his hand and started to paddle with her arms. The current rocked her about. Reaching out to her, John slipped, but bobbling in the swells, he managed to right himself. The two of them splashed and floated together. She put her head underwater then came up. Kicking her feet to keep herself above water, she took in the sparkle of the horizon jutting out before her.
He wondered at her swimming.
