The Reluctant Rake

by Jane Ashford

  “Ah,” was the only reply.

  Not Ellerton, then, concluded Georgina, conscious of a feeling of relief. “How is Tony? When I saw him last he had just purchased the most astonishing waistcoat.”

  Marianne smiled a little. “He has another, even more brilliant.”

  “No, how could it be? I had to shade my eyes against the last.” They laughed together, and then Georgina suddenly realized why she must have come. “Susan hasn’t fallen into another scrape, has she? I know I’m imposing dreadfully on your good nature in asking you to take her about, but—”

  “No, no, Susan is very well. She is enjoying the Season hugely and has done nothing wrong.”

  Her tone implied that others were not experiencing such enjoyment, and Georgina glanced sideways at her, trying to discover the reason. “I suppose William is watching over her,” she said, simply to fill the silence.

  “Undoubtedly!” snapped Marianne, bitter and derisive. “He should be very good at that.”

  “What is it?” asked Georgina, unable to ignore her tone. “Have you quarreled with William?”

  To her astonishment, Marianne burst into tears.

  At once Georgina was all efficiency. She took the other girl’s arm and hurried her toward a spot she had found some days previously. It was a grassy nook amidst a grove of beeches near the road, invisible to the casual passerby and pleasantly warmed by the sun. Once there, she urged Marianne to sit on a fallen log and settled beside her, her arm about the younger girl’s shoulders.

  Gradually Marianne’s tears abated, and when she began to search for a handkerchief, Georgina was ready with her own.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Marianne tremulously when she had blown her nose. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

  “It doesn’t matter in the least,” replied Georgina. “But what’s the matter? Is it William?”

  Marianne gazed at the grass, sprigged with tiny pink and blue flowers. “I came to see you because I could think of no one else, but I don’t believe I can tell you after all.”

  Georgina watched her face, perplexed. “You needn’t tell me anything you don’t wish to, of course, but I shall keep your confidence. And I should be happy to help, if I can.”

  “Oh, no one can help,” responded Marianne.

  Silence fell between them. Georgina wondered what she should say. Marianne began to cut off the grass tops with her riding crop.

  “I must speak to someone!” she blurted out finally. “Mama doesn’t listen properly, and Ian and Alicia won’t be home for months. I thought of Lady Goring, but I’m not at all acquainted with her, and besides, if I called I might see…him. But I am so miserable, and I don’t know what to do!”

  “Tell me,” commanded Georgina. “No one else shall hear of it.” Her sympathy blotted out any awkwardness she might otherwise have felt at advising this polished young woman.

  Haltingly Marianne began the story of her encounter with William during the storm. As she talked, the words seemed to flow more easily, and by the end she was speaking in a breathless rush. “So I suppose he thinks me some sort of horrid fast creature,” she finished. “But I have never done such a thing before. Never! Ian used to scold me about wishing to…oh, go to a masquerade, or dance too often with the same partner, but with William—Sir William, I mean—I was just…I can’t explain it to you. I love him!”

  This last rose to an anguished cry, and it was obvious to Georgina that Marianne had been accusing herself and indulging in agonies of remorse since the day this had happened. It was equally clear that her brother’s early strictures had made her sensitive on such matters. Georgina was amazed to discover that the girl she had thought so self-possessed and at ease was prey to these doubts. And she was delighted to know that she could be of help. She had known William most of his life, and she felt confident in interpreting his actions. She’d noticed his initial interest in Marianne, and its development into something deeper. The story she’d been told confirmed her suspicions, for William was not the sort of man to give way to his impulses unless they were very strong and acceptable to his highly developed code of honor. He loved Marianne, Georgina was certain.

  “William is an admirable character in many ways,” Georgina began. “He has a strong sense of responsibility, for example. I have always thought Susan had something to do with that.” She smiled, though Marianne did not respond. “He is kind and loving and almost wholly without conceit. Unfortunately, the latter trait sometimes causes him to underrate his own abilities or attractions, and to fail to get what he wants because of diffidence in asking for it.”

  Marianne’s woeful expression began to shift, and her blue eyes sharpened.

  “I’ve seen it happen more than once,” Georgina continued, “even over quite important things, though none this important, of course.”

  “Do you mean…?” began Marianne, and stopped.

  “I believe William loves you as much as you do him, but I imagine he can’t quite bring himself to say so. I know he would blame himself for the incident you described, berating himself for taking advantage of you.”

  “Any man with sense could have seen that I—”

  “Ah, but in this area, William’s usual good sense deserts him, the more so as the matter becomes more serious. And you must remember, Marianne, that there are differences in your rank and fortune—”

  “Who cares for those?” she interrupted impatiently.

  “William,” responded Georgina. “And he would also remember your reputation.”

  “My…?” Marianne’s eyes clouded with doubt again.

  “As the girl who refused the most brilliant match the ton had to offer,” finished Georgina, teasing a little.

  Her face cleared. “But that was entirely different. Lord Devere was… I didn’t love him!”

  “William wouldn’t be sure of the difference.”

  “What idiots men are!” But Marianne’s misery had dissipated.

  “They do seem very dull at times,” agreed Georgina.

  “But what am I to do? I utterly refuse to propose to him!”

  Georgina smiled. “Indeed, you should not. Shall I speak to him?”

  “You mean, tell him to offer for me? No!”

  “I believe I could be a bit more subtle than—”

  “If he can’t muster the courage to ask me himself, then that’s that.”

  “But don’t you think—”

  “No.” Marianne jumped up, all her confidence and vitality restored by Georgina’s assurances. “I have no patience with him if that’s what he thinks. He ought to be able to see how I feel.”

  “Well…but, Marianne—”

  “Promise you won’t say anything.”

  “I have promised, but—”

  “Promise again!”

  Georgina met her eyes for a long moment, then sighed. “I promise.”

  “Good. And thank you. I must be starting back to town now. I will be late for dinner as it is.” Marianne turned back toward the road.

  “Won’t you think it over and come to see me again?” asked Georgina, hurrying to keep up with the other’s long strides.

  “There is nothing to think about.”

  “But…”

  Marianne stopped abruptly, causing Georgina to collide with her. She turned and grasped both Georgina’s hands, gazing earnestly into her face. “I thank you for being such a good friend,” she said. “But there is nothing more to be said on this head. I hope you will simply forget it.”

  “I couldn’t!”

  “Well, put it from your mind, then. I intend to.”

  Georgina frowned, trying to think of some argument to sway her.

  “And now I really must hurry. Will you be all right if I go on?”

  “Of course,” she responded automatically.

  “Good-bye, then.”
And with a wave, Marianne departed, nearly running. In her haste, she did not remember that she had also meant to talk to Georgina about Baron Ellerton.

  Georgina followed more slowly, pondering what she’d learned and racking her brain for some way to make it right. Her promise bound her to reluctant silence, but mightn’t Marianne thank her if she broke it? Her forehead creased with this dilemma, Georgina returned to the inn.

  Thirteen

  Ellerton’s visitors were still with him when Georgina returned, so she went directly upstairs and sat down in her bedchamber to think. She’d always prided herself on her honesty and trustworthiness, but the current problem seemed to bring these into conflict. If she was honest with William in a matter which could decide his life’s happiness she would betray Marianne’s trust. And though she felt that such a betrayal might be best for both in this situation, she could not make up her mind to it. Marianne had been angry, and revealing her confidences might simply make her more so. She might make matters worse, Georgina thought, by sending William to make an offer that Marianne refused out of pique and annoyance at her.

  There seemed no satisfactory solution. Georgina was called down to dinner in the same state of mind, and ate abstractedly, paying no attention to the remarks of the landlady when she served, and thereby almost offending that kindly woman. She finished without any idea of what she’d eaten and returned to her room in the same state. She did not go to the baron. Jenkins would be with him by now, serving his dinner and later readying him for sleep. Georgina’s duties ended with dinnertime.

  She tried to read, but her thoughts kept coming back to her two young friends and the question of the best way to help them. Considering both their characters, Georgina thought they might suit one another very well. The match would be a bit unequal in the world’s terms, but not unduly so. Marianne would rouse William’s liveliness and sense of fun, and William would provide a bulwark and useful channels for her energy. Smiling at her solemn wisdom, Georgina said aloud, “And they are obviously in love, which of course counts for a great deal.”

  But this brought her no closer to deciding what to do. At last she concluded that she must talk to Marianne again, since she was forbidden to speak to William. Perhaps, when her temper had cooled, she’d be more amenable to Georgina’s suggestions. Thus, just before going to bed, Georgina wrote a note to be carried to the MacClain house first thing the following morning, asking Marianne to visit her again. This much settled, she was able to put the matter from her mind and fall asleep.

  The following day dawned beautifully clear, without even the scattered clouds that had dotted the sky yesterday. Georgina woke to a breath of cool, verdantly fresh air from her window, and as she rose and dressed and went down to breakfast she felt much more optimistic. Something would happen to make things right, she couldn’t help believing, and when she gave her note to one of the stableboys to carry to town, she smiled so broadly that he was led to tell his fellows that the “nursing lady” was not so Friday-faced after all.

  Ellerton was alone in the downstairs parlor when she sought him out. Jenkins had seen to his needs and helped carry him down before going off to bed, Georgina was told when she inquired. “He looked dead beat,” the baron added. “I’ve told him over and over that there is no need for him to sit up all night. I’m on the mend and unlikely to take a fit and wander off. But he won’t listen. Sometimes, you know, I feel that I exist for the sake of my servants, rather than the other way about.” He smiled to show that this was a joke, and when Georgina didn’t respond, added, “You are far away this morning.”

  Again, she didn’t seem to hear, and Ellerton examined her face more closely, realizing that he’d become accustomed to their daily conversations, and looked forward to them. Georgina’s viewpoint was, like his own, interestingly slanted, and at the same time different enough to make her insights fascinating. He’d met his match for the first time. She shared his interest in human nature, but she saw what he did not and understood things he missed, adding to his knowledge and deepening his perceptions. Indeed, he realized, Georgina Goring was his counterpart, a thing he had not really expected to find in a woman. The fact had somehow crept up on him during these days together, and emerged abruptly full blown.

  Georgina, becoming conscious of the silence, looked up, and said, “What?”

  He merely smiled and shook his head.

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.”

  “Evidently. And something of compelling interest. What?”

  “I can’t…” Georgina hesitated. She could not, of course, tell him the whole story, but might she not give the outlines in order to ask his opinion? She’d come to respect his judgments about people, for he seemed to sense things that she did not. “Two friends of mine have had a falling-out,” she began haltingly. “They are, I believe, very dear to one another. Indeed, I think they might marry. But this…misunderstanding has separated them. One confided it to me, after making me promise that I would never speak of the circumstances, and when she had done so, I could see that it was nothing more than a muddle. I wished to speak to… my other friend, but she absolutely forbade it. It seems such a shame. I mean to talk to her again, to try to change her mind, but… What would you do?”

  She raised clear gray eyes to his, her confidence in his perspicacity evident, and Ellerton felt an unexpected pang in the region of his heart. For a long moment he could only gaze at her delicately etched features, framed by pale blond curls and so full of sincerity and concern. Then, seeing her begin to frown, he replied, “I suppose I would speak to the second friend.”

  “Even though you had sworn not to do so?”

  “Some promises are unreasonable.”

  She pondered this. “I don’t believe I would want those who made promises to me to think so,” she answered finally.

  “You implied that the happiness of two people rests on your actions,” he responded.

  Georgina nodded slowly.

  “Do you think a moral scruple should stand in your way, then?” Ellerton felt more interested in her answer than in the problem.

  “It’s not only that. M… my friend might be so angry at my interference that she would refuse him. Or I might put it badly, and ruin everything.”

  “That, I cannot allow,” he said. “But it is true that when one begins to take a hand in others’ lives, the outcome is uncertain.”

  “Have you ever done so?” she asked, curious.

  “Once or twice.”

  “And you regretted it,” she accused.

  He shrugged. “I must admit I did. But neither case was as clear-cut as yours seems to be.”

  Georgina looked down. “I don’t believe such things are ever clear-cut. I think I must do as I had decided already.” She sighed.

  “Perhaps I could help,” he offered.

  Georgina raised her head, surprised. “You? How?”

  “Well…” He couldn’t think of a way. He’d been moved to offer by her disappointment. It seemed very important that he justify her confidence in him. “I don’t suppose you would tell me the whole story, and allow me to speak to the man?”

  She smiled. “But in that case, I may as well tell him myself. I’m still betraying a confidence.”

  “I had hoped you might overlook that.” He smiled, and after a moment she smiled back. “You’re very scrupulous,” he added.

  Something in his gaze held Georgina silent. It made her throat tight and her breath constricted.

  “Indeed,” he added, “I don’t believe I’ve ever known a person so concerned for others and at the same time so conscious of their foibles. An admirable combination. It allows you to be compassionate without losing your sense of the ridiculous. I must strive to emulate you. I tend too much to the latter side.”

  This did nothing to restore Georgina’s powers of speech. That the polished Baron Ellerton would want to be l
ike her was too astonishing an idea. Georgina had always seen herself as a bit clumsy.

  His blue eyes started to twinkle. “I shall, however, strive to maintain my perspective.”

  “It is just so…strange,” Georgina blurted out. “That you should say such things to me.”

  “That I? What do you mean?”

  “Well, you are so…grand. I mean, I am awkward in company, and…oh, I don’t know. You see?”

  “I’m not sure that I do.” His expression was wry. “But I believe I’ve been insulted.”

  Georgina shook her head, aghast.

  “To be called ‘grand.’ It calls up visions that make one shudder.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way. Not that you look down your nose, but…”

  “Thank God for that, at least.”

  “You are just so…so…” Georgina paused, with no idea how to finish this sentence or repair her gaffe.

  “I see I must make a determined effort to convince you of my sterling worth,” he said, half-serious, half-teasing. “And I find I have a strong desire to do so.”

  “I think your character is…” began Georgina, ready to say more than perhaps was wise to repair her mistake. But at this inopportune moment, Jenkins entered the room.

  The valet looked from one to the other of them suspiciously in the charged silence that followed his appearance. “I came to see about luncheon, my lord,” he said. “And I believe Miss Goring’s is waiting downstairs. What would you like today?”

  “Don’t you ever sleep, man?” was the baron’s reply.

  Jenkins drew back, startled.

  Georgina, embarrassed by his hostile scrutiny as well as her own emotional state, turned and fled, flinging, “I must go,” over her shoulder. Both men watched her, Ellerton annoyed and Jenkins indignant.