Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 27

27. In the Pump Room

The music playing in the Pump Room, the heat and scent generated by the crowd, and the constant chatter all triggered Richard Spencer’s headache.[1] He resisted the urge to rub his left temple, which throbbed as if it were screaming.

The Pump Room, constructed with ivory-colored stone atop a natural hot spring, was the social hub of Bath. Richard had once described the building as a grotesque hybrid that combined every imaginable style.

The Ionic columns flanking the entrance, the Corinthian pillars adorning the northern façade, and the interior designed in Ingrintian Neoclassical style—all topped off with a pediment inscribed in Latin proclaiming, “Water is best”—struck him as utterly ridiculous.

“It’s truly beautiful,” Eleanor d’Estrée remarked as soon as she stepped into the Pump Room. Richard guided her inside with the flawless escort technique of minimum contact for maximum efficiency, nodding in agreement as a dutiful fiancé.

Originally intended as a place to drink hot spring water, the Pump Room’s purpose evolved after Queen Anne revitalized Bath. Wealthy and high-ranking individuals flocked to the city, transforming the building through repeated expansions and renovations until it reached its current form.

According to Romian mythology, a goddess preserved her youth by bathing daily in the waters of the Catano Spring. Visitors to Bath exaggeratedly praised the hot spring water as though it were the goddess’s elixir, eagerly rubbing it on their bodies and drinking it to their hearts’ content.

Observing the people clustered in the Romian-style baths like monkeys, Richard stifled a laugh, wondering whether they’d leave more sick than healed. The water’s murky green hue, tinged with moss-like deposits, only added to his skepticism.

“What do you think, Miss Gurton?”

Lancelot Spencer, trailing behind Richard and Eleanor, directed the question to Grace.

Freya had taken two maids and gone shopping on Milsom Street, leaving the gathering today to four attendees. Her reason for avoiding the meeting was simple: she refused to sit in the same room as Grace Gurton, whom she deemed unworthy company.

During the carriage ride to the Pump Room, Lancelot had chatted amicably with Grace about various topics. While society in Lydon had already caught wind of Grace’s story, Lancelot refrained from acknowledging it and treated her with his usual cheerful demeanor.

“I-it’s… a fascinating sight.”

Grace answered, glancing around nervously at Lancelot’s question.

The Pump Room was packed with people eager to enjoy their afternoon tea. Being the most popular time of day, it seemed that every person in Bath appeared here in staggered waves. Crowds came and went constantly, swarming through the doors and climbing up and down the stairs.[2]

An orchestra performed lively music from the gallery, providing a backdrop as elderly patrons sipped hot spring water instead of tea and young men and women strolled slowly through the hall in pairs, observing one another.

“Just like in Lydon, the social seasons here are in June and October. That’s why everyone has gathered here,” Lancelot explained kindly.

“I’d love to stay here for a while. I like it very much. It’s so delightful.”

Eleanor chattered unusually, much like wealthy tourists from Prussen or Gallia when they first arrived in Bath.

It might be enjoyable for exactly six weeks, but any longer, and it would become the dullest place in the world.[3]

Richard Spencer swallowed those words. It was a sentiment Lydon nobles often voiced when visiting Bath. After indulging in leisure and society to their hearts’ content, they’d return to their Lydon estates without a hint of regret.

“I’d like to go to the ball this evening.”

Nobles spent their daytime at the Pump Room but flocked to the Assembly Room by night. The Assembly Room hosted balls and music concerts, as well as spaces for theater performances or card games.

Richard exhaled a faint sigh at Eleanor’s ambitious suggestion. It would be improper to let his fiancée attend the Assembly Room alone, so her words essentially meant, “You’ll escort me.” Eleanor seemed to be adapting to the Ingrintian rhetoric better than he had expected.

“You had a long journey yesterday. Aren’t you tired? You should rest for a few days,” Richard responded.

His reply, also steeped in Ingrintian rhetoric, was a veiled refusal. It meant, “You can’t be serious about going out at night less than a day after arriving. The dark circles under your eyes still betray your exhaustion.”

“Tonight, ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ will be performed at the Assembly Room,” said Lancelot, who had been chatting with Grace Gurton.

“What is that?” Eleanor asked, her expression as blank as if she had just encountered a foreign language for the first time.

“It’s a play by Shakespeare, Eleanor,” Lancelot explained kindly.

Eleanor tilted her head in curiosity before asking again, “Is it famous?”

“It’s a well-known play. The story fits this season perfectly.”

“What is it about?”

“It’s a tale of lovers whose hearts are misaligned.”

“What does ‘misaligned’ mean?”

“It means they don’t see eye to eye. People who are supposed to marry fall for others instead, and those others, in turn, love someone else. It’s a storyline full of such mix-ups. A fairy smears a potion made from violet juice under the lovers’ eyes to cause confusion.”

Lancelot demonstrated remarkable patience in explaining the story to Eleanor. Richard, observing Lancelot taking over his role, felt a mix of ambiguous emotions. It was a peculiar sensation—a mix of comfort and unease—similar to drinking tea that was both scalding and chilled. He chuckled to himself at the thought.

“I would like to see an Ingrintian play. While it may not be as excellent as Gallia’s Molière, I think it would still be enjoyable.”

The generous assessment that Eleanor had adapted to the Ingrintian rhetoric was promptly revoked. In the end, Richard couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh.

“Why go out of your way to watch an Ingrintian play inferior to Molière’s? I’ll inform you when a Molière play is performed next. You can watch it then,” Richard replied, covering his mockery with the back of his hand.

“……”

Eleanor responded with a faint smile, turning her gaze elsewhere. Her manner was one of naturally shutting out unwelcome comments—a behavior Sebastian would have described as a perfect match for Richard Spencer’s noble disposition.

“What about Miss Grace Gurton?”

Eleanor shifted the focus to Grace, steering the conversation in a different direction. Until then, Grace had been mesmerized by the view of the Pump Room.

“P-pardon?”

Her response revealed her lack of attention to the conversation. Blushing, Grace apologized.

“I-I’m sorry. I-I was so fascinated by the surroundings that I didn’t listen properly.”

Eleanor’s hollow eyes deepened as she observed Grace. With a gaze filled with pity, she looked at Grace as if she were a helpless animal.

“Miss Gurton…”

Eleanor, too, had heard about Grace Gurton’s background. Stories of someone of low status, born to parents in an inappropriate relationship, were bound to spark interest in both Ingrint and Gallia’s social circles. And Eleanor was very much a part of those circles.

That was why she had invited Grace Gurton to today’s gathering. Associating with a woman of low status and dubious parentage was far from elegant. But Eleanor’s noble compassion and magnanimity had brought Grace to the Pump Room.

Freya’s advice had also played a role. Freya had pointed out that Grace was to become Lady Mary Montague’s adopted daughter and that Mary Montague was highly regarded by Richard Spencer. There was no reason to antagonize Grace—a sound piece of advice.

However, Freya Spencer had conveniently excluded herself from the gathering, leaving only the parting remark that “not making an enemy doesn’t mean you have to become friends.”

Regardless, since Grace was to be the adopted daughter of the woman Richard Spencer deeply respected, Eleanor deemed it necessary to learn more about her. That was why Eleanor had brought Grace along, despite Freya’s objections.

During the carriage ride, Grace Gurton had conversed with Lancelot. Despite her awkward speech, she struck Eleanor as a witty and intelligent woman. Eleanor, being from Gallia, where “tolerance” was considered the highest virtue, appreciated that quality.

Even so, inattentiveness during conversation was unacceptable. Breaching etiquette was something that needed correction.

Ignoring it would have been an option, but Eleanor’s noble upbringing dictated otherwise. She firmly believed that correcting the mistakes of those beneath her was the duty of someone in her position.

“When engaging in conversation…”

However, just as Eleanor began to form her words to appropriately admonish Grace, Richard Spencer intervened. Looking directly at Grace, who had been awaiting Eleanor’s rebuke with a demure expression, he firmly said,

“Miss Gurton, under no circumstances should you apologize lightly.”

Author’s Footnotes:

[1] Partially modified quotation from Lydia’s dialogue in Tobias Smollett’s The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

[2] Partially modified description of the Pump Room from Catherine’s perspective in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey

[3] Partially modified quotation from Henry’s dialogue in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey