Page 31 of Appointment in Bath

“A platform halt,” Mr. Beresford clarified. “It’s not as obtrusive as a railway station, but it’s equally as convenient to the villagers.”

“Dangerous, more like,” Nigel said.

Mr. Beresford turned to him with interest. “How so?”

“Don’t want to live too close to a railway. Causes all manner of ailments, I’ve heard.”

“Does it, indeed?” Miss Colfax murmured. “How fascinating.”

“Aye,” Mr. Pinnock concurred. “It’s the motion of the train that does it. I’ve read accounts of folk being driven mad by the vibrations. It shakes something loose in their heads, I reckon. Might have the same result for people living near a station, or one of them platform halts, as you describe.”

Mr. Beresford’s mouth hitched in an amused half smile. “Those are old wives’ tales. That, and elaborate fabrications conjured up to sell newspapers.”

Mr. Pinnock’s brow wrinkled with doubt. “You dispute the truth of them?”

“Wholeheartedly. There’s nothing dangerous about living near a railway. Not unless you stand on the tracks in the path of an oncoming train.”

Miss Colfax gave an elegant shudder. “How wretched. Does that happen often?”

“Rail accidents occur but rarely,” Mr. Beresford said. “When they do, they’re usually an engineering matter. Nothing so exciting as you might read in a penny horrible.”

“Still,” Mr. Pinnock said, “one doesn’t like to take the risk.”

“And why not?” Mr. Beresford inquired. “The greatest achievements in our history have been brought about by risk takers and dreamers. We shouldn’t be afraid of their ideas. We should embrace them. Indeed, we should follow their example and take a few risks ourselves.”

Meg listened to him avidly, captivated by the energy in his speech. In repose, Mr. Beresford was as coldly beautiful as his father and brothers, but when he was speaking about the railway—or about something as seemingly simple as a medieval clapper bridge—his face lit with glorious animation. He became at once both more dazzling and all the more approachable.

“Some risktakers end up in the parish graveyard,” Mr. Pinnock said sagely. “Isn’t that so, parson?”

The vicar reluctantly agreed. “There’s danger in being too ambitious.”

Mr. Beresford leaned forward in his chair, his excitement over the project backed by a seriousness that denoted the substance of his ambition. “The railway is coming regardless. It’s already poised to expand across England. The only question is, how soon will it come to Maidenbridge.”

“Master Ivo likes his trains,” Mr. Ruggiero remarked to Meg in an overloud whisper.

Mr. Beresford flicked his former guide a quelling look before resuming his conversation with the Pinnocks. “If we construct a platform halt in Maidenbridge, think how many new shoppers it will bring into the village. Residents of other villages in other counties who will soon be clamoring for a Pinnock’s Emporium of their own.”

Mr. Pinnock’s face grew thoughtful. He plainly hadn’t considered this aspect of the business. “You feel it would aid in my expansion?”

“I’m confident it would,” Mr. Beresford said.

The housekeeper came to the door of the parlor. “Dinner is served, Vicar.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Colfax stood. “Shall we continue this discussion in the dining room?”

* * *

Ivo wasn’t put next to Miss Burton-Smythe at dinner, much to his disappointment. He had Miss Colfax on his right and Mr. Pinnock on his left. Miss Burton-Smythe was seated across the table from them between Ruggiero and the vicar. Ruggiero was talking to her about something, gesturing wildly with his hands as he often did when he was passionate about a topic.

A frown notched Ivo’s brows.

He couldn’t think what the man could be saying, but judging by Miss Burton-Smythe’s closed expression, it was nothing she found very entertaining.

Not for the first time, Ivo regretted having brought Ruggiero with him. He’d fully intended to leave him at Beasley Park, but once again—as so often happened—the man’s entreaties had weakened Ivo’s resolve. Ruggiero was, after all, trying to reestablish himself in England. What could it really hurt to allow him a brief meal at the vicarage and an even briefer conversation with Mr. Pinnock?

But Ivo hadn’t reckoned for the presence of Meg Burton-Smythe.

He hadn’t seen her since their disagreement by the river. Despite his invitation, she’d failed to appear to ride with him. Never mind that he’d waited for her at Sefton Bridge each morning. That he’d lingered in the rain, only giving up when the elements grew too fierce to withstand.