Mr. Rushford's Honor

by Meg Alexander

  Isham rose from his desk and took his wife in his arms. ‘You must not listen to rumour, India. This is gossip, pure and simple. No one can be sure of what has happened.’

  ‘Then you still believe that she has run away? Oh, Anthony, I do so hope so. Another murder would be more than I can bear.’

  Thomas was looking mystified, and India was quick to notice it.

  ‘I do apologise,’ she said. ‘You cannot have heard the story, but the villagers have thought of nothing else for months.’

  ‘Giles told me that the Marchioness was missing,’ Thomas admitted. ‘Pray, ma’am, don’t distress yourself. Sywell has an evil reputation, and his wife, so I understand, is but a girl. Is it not more likely that she found her life with him intolerable, and decided to go away?’

  Lord Isham gave him an appreciative look. ‘There, my love, you see that it is obvious. Would you not have run away yourself?’

  ‘I’d never have married him in the first place,’ India said with feeling.

  ‘So you married another ogre instead?’ Isham’s eyes were twinkling.

  ‘A dear ogre!’ India squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘Shall we dine at home tonight?’

  ‘I believe so, my dearest. Then you may regale Mr Newby with the full story of Sywell’s iniquities.’ Isham smiled as he looked at his companions. ‘It is a favourite topic with my wife,’ he explained.

  ‘How can I ignore them?’ she protested. ‘The man has ruined half the village girls. Now they are left to bring up his children. I beg your pardon, Mr Newby. It is an ugly tale and I should not trouble you with the details.’

  ‘But, ma’am, he cannot still be up to his old tricks? His age must tell on him, I feel.’

  ‘That’s true, but how I wish that he would sell the Abbey and move elsewhere. I can’t imagine how he manages to run the place. The villagers avoid him, except for Aggie Binns, the laundress, who goes in from time to time. Apart from that he has only a single manservant.’

  ‘Solomon Burneck must be a masochist,’ Giles announced with feeling.

  ‘You are right. Not only does he put up with his master’s rages, but he must find it difficult to persuade any of the local tradesmen to supply the Abbey. A mountain of debt has ruined one or two of them.’

  ‘A thoroughly undesirable character, ma’am. You would be well rid of him.’

  ‘I think so, but he gives no sign of leaving Abbot Quincey.’

  Thomas grinned. ‘He could be struck by lightening, Lady Isham.’

  ‘That fate would be too good for him,’ India said with feeling, but she was laughing as she left the room.

  Isham felt relieved, but he summoned his butler without delay.

  ‘You will call the staff together,’ he said firmly. ‘I want it clearly understood that Lady Isham is not to be troubled by gossip. Anyone who disobeys my orders will take the consequences.’ As always, he did not raise his voice. There was no need. Isham did not make idle threats. He turned to his companions. ‘Shall you care to fish tomorrow?’ he enquired. ‘I can promise you good sport.’

  Giles was tempted to protest that he had work to do, but his brother-in-law forestalled him.

  ‘It will give you an opportunity to check the work of the water bailiffs, Giles, and Mr Newby will enjoy it, as I shall myself.’

  There seemed little more to say, but Giles was longing to lose himself in the more detailed work of checking the accounts. It was all very well to be invited to fish the river, but it would give him time to think of Gina.

  He couldn’t dismiss her from his mind, and his conversation with Thomas seemed to have tied his stomach in knots. Why should he have been surprised by Thomas’s decision to offer for her? He should have suspected something of the kind.

  To be fair, he knew that Thomas had not considered Gina’s fortune. His friend had seen only a charming woman, little more than a girl, possessed of wit and a delightful sense of humour. Gina was no fool, and that, allied to her vivid little face and voluptuous figure, had been enough to sweep Thomas Newby off his feet.

  For Gina it would be an excellent match, Giles thought miserably. He’d already convinced himself that she would marry again, and Thomas was an eligible suitor. He was of good family, his wealth would match her own, and all other considerations aside, Thomas was a kindly, good-humoured person. His wife would come first in all his dealings. Gina could do far worse.

  The thought did not comfort him. It was useless to hope that Gina would refuse his friend. Had she not admitted that she liked him very much? It might be a short step from there to feelings of true affection. When Thomas went upstairs to change Giles turned into his tiny office and busied himself with a new design for his seed drill.

  After only a few moments he threw his pen aside in disgust. Inspiration would not come, and after all, what was it? Hardly a scheme to cause a woman’s heart to beat a little faster. Gina must think him a dull dog, in spite of her pretence of interest in his inventions. In the blackest of moods he summoned his valet and went upstairs to dress for dinner.

  Gina, as he had suspected, had much upon her mind. She’d accepted her father’s invitation with much pleasure, though, at the time, she hadn’t imagined that her uncle planned to extend his stay in Abbot Quincey.

  Now she was in a quandary. She was tempted to go alone, claiming that Mair was suffering from a migraine and that Elspeth had stayed behind to keep her company. Would she be believed? Unsure, as yet, of their changing position in society, her parents might imagine that they were unfit to entertain the daughters of Sir Alastair Whitelaw. She could not risk it.

  Yet the risks of taking the girls into Samuel Westcott’s company might be even greater. She shook her head impatiently. Her warnings to her uncle had been clear. In a family gathering he would not dare to make advances to the girls, and she would watch him like a hawk. Even so, she could not feel easy in her mind.

  Two days later, as they set off for the new house, she looked closely at her charges. It had been a struggle, but Mair and Elspeth were now clothed in the most modest of garments. The high necks of their gowns and the long sleeves were perhaps unsuitable for a dinner engagement, as they had told her.

  ‘Bear with me!’ she’d said. ‘This is quite different from your visit to Lord and Lady Isham. I would not have my parents think that you intended to pull rank. They are simple people, and they would not take it kindly.’

  It was enough to convince the girls that they must do as she wished.

  That evening she was proud of them. Their curtsey to her mother and father had been deferential, and their manners could not be faulted. At dinner she was careful to make sure that they were seated by her side, and far from any possible attention from Samuel Westcott.

  That gentleman was surrounded by the members of his own family. The older girls were married, as was his eldest son, but George, the youngest, had accompanied his father.

  Gina had greeted the young man without enthusiasm, but now she took herself to task. He must not be blamed for his father’s misdemeanours. George was quiet and polite, but he was quick to address himself to putting the girls at ease.

  Gina looked around the table, marvelling at the fine array of plate and glass. By dint of hard work her father had done well, and now he was proud of his new home.

  ‘Well, Gina, what do you think of it?’ he asked proudly.

  ‘I think it very fine,’ she said. She turned then to her brother and questioned him about his family. He answered readily enough, but Gina was conscious that his wife’s eyes were resting upon her in no kindly way. She had no way of knowing that a bitter conversation had ensued earlier that evening.

  ‘So your father is to kill the fatted calf?’ The younger Mrs Westcott had complained. ‘I don’t see why we are to make a fuss, when Gina ran away without a word of explanation.’

  ‘Hold your tongue!’ her husband had replied. ‘Gina is now Lady Whitelaw. You will treat her with respect.’

  ‘Oh, hoity-toity! I wonder
if your sister will do the same?’

  It seemed unlikely. The former Miss Westcott eyed her younger sister with undisguised envy.

  ‘Gina, where do you buy your clothes?’ she asked. ‘I think you did not purchase that gown in Abbot Quincey.’

  ‘I’ve had it for some time,’ Gina told her quietly. ‘If you wish I’ll give you the name of the woman who made it for me in London.’

  ‘The famous Madame Fe´lice?’ her sister jeered. ‘Her prices are above my touch.’

  ‘No, she does not dress me. I am not quite in her style. She looks for those who will carry her creations well. I am too short, you see.’

  ‘But you look charmingly,’ George Westcott assured her shyly.

  ‘It is kind of you to say so, sir.’ Gina turned her attention to her cousin. ‘Are you based in London with your father?’

  ‘No, ma’am. I am here to learn the business from your father. My elder brother will take over the London side…’

  ‘And are you happy in Abbot Quincey?’

  ‘I like it here. London is all dirt and noise and bustle. I prefer the country.’

  Gina warmed towards him. His father might be anathema to her, but this young man, though shy, was eager to please. She was happy to encourage him, a fact which did not escape her mother’s notice.

  When the ladies retired she took Gina aside.

  ‘What do you think of your cousin George?’ she asked without preamble.

  ‘I like him. Is he living here with you?’

  ‘He is. George has always been a favourite of mine. Had you not gone away, we hoped that in time you and he would make a match of it.’

  ‘First cousins, Mother? Surely that can’t be?’

  ‘There is no law against it, Gina, either from Church or State…’

  ‘But it can’t be wise. Interbreeding brings such dangers…’

  ‘Not always. I could tell you of many successful marriages between cousins.’

  Gina gave her mother a steady look. ‘Don’t set your heart on it, I beg of you. I would never consider it.’

  ‘Your uncle Samuel will be disappointed. He thinks it best for the family…’

  ‘For his family, perhaps, but not for me. I don’t intend to marry again just yet, and when I do the choice will be mine alone.’

  ‘Oh, Gina, you haven’t changed! Always a hothead! It can’t be right for you to live alone. Don’t you want children of your own?’

  ‘In time, perhaps, but not just yet. I have the girls to think of…’

  ‘Take care that you don’t wait too long,’ her mother warned. ‘Youth does not last for ever.’

  Gina smiled. ‘I’m not at my last prayers, nor am I in my dotage. Trust me, mother dear, I may surprise you yet.’

  ‘Then there is someone…someone who is dear to you?’

  Gina seemed not to have heard her mother’s last remark. She turned her attention to the girls, to find that George was entertaining them with stories of ghostly happenings at the Abbey and the sighting of mysterious lights in the woods.

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ Mair said stoutly.

  ‘I do!’ Elspeth gave a delicious shiver.

  George heard a grunt of displeasure from his father. He was at a loss to understand it, but perhaps he had been wrong to frighten the girls. He stopped in mid-sentence and addressed himself to his hostess.

  ‘I must thank you for an excellent dinner, Aunt. I much enjoyed it.’

  ‘Aye, lad, and you did it justice.’ His uncle beamed at him. ‘I like to see a good trencherman.’

  Gina smiled to herself. Her father had always prided himself on keeping a good table. ‘Father, you’ll put me to shame,’ she teased. ‘I must have the recipe for those mushroom fritters and the curd pudding. You’ll dine with me next week, I hope?’ By that time she hoped that Samuel Westcott would have returned to London, so she did not include him in the invitation.

  ‘We’ll see…we’ll see! Your fine friends may not care to meet the likes of us…’

  ‘They’ll be delighted, Father, but if you prefer we shall make it a family party. George must come too, of course.’

  She knew that her father was pleased with the invitation. Society was changing fast, but he was of the older generation. Wealthy as he was, he prided himself on knowing his place. He had no desire to be thought encroaching. With him it was still a touchy subject and he had no wish to risk a snub from any member of the aristocracy.

  ‘You’d like to see the rest of the house, I expect?’

  Gina nodded. Good business management and hard work had provided her parents with the means to build this symbol of their success. She was delighted for them.

  ‘I believe I’ll take a turn round the garden,’ Samuel Westcott said. ‘I fancy a pipe of tobacco. George, what do you say?’

  George looked startled. His father did not often evince a desire for his company, and he had never smoked. He left his other cousins to their gossip and followed Samuel on to the terrace.

  The reason for this private conversation was not far to seek. Samuel rounded on him with a curse.

  ‘Damn your eyes!’ he hissed. ‘What are you about, my lad?’

  George was mystified. ‘What is the matter, Father? Should I not have spoken of the ghosts and the lights in the woods? I thought the girls did not seem frightened, but perhaps I’m wrong.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m wrong,’ his father mimicked. ‘I’ll tell you how wrong you are! Here is your cousin, Gina, with more money than any woman has a right to own, and you must waste your time in talking rubbish to those girls.’

  George stared at him, open-mouthed.

  ‘Perhaps you think to fix your interest with one of the Whitelaw girls? I’d advise you to forget that scheme. I know Gina. Neither of them will be allowed to wed the son of a grain merchant, however wealthy.’

  ‘It hadn’t entered my head,’ George replied with dignity. ‘They are little more than schoolchildren.’

  ‘The elder one comes out next year, but that’s beside the point. Gina should be your target. She is one of us. There can be no difficulty there. You and she are of an age and she’s a cosy armful. Wed her, and you’ll keep the money in the family…’

  ‘Why should she consider me? We hardly know each other.’

  ‘What has that to say to anything? Goddammit, boy, can’t you make a push in your own interest? She don’t appear to have taken you in dislike.’

  George gave his father a mulish look. ‘I won’t do it,’ he announced. ‘For one thing I’m already promised…’

  ‘Really?’ Samuel Westcott’s tone grew silky. ‘And who, may I ask, is the object of your affections?’

  ‘Ellie works in my uncle’s bakery.’ George awaited an explosion, but when it came he was astonished by the virulence of his father’s anger.

  Samuel seized his arm, thrusting his face up close. Then he began to curse with great fluency.

  ‘I won’t listen to this.’ George began to walk away.

  ‘Don’t turn your back on me, you dog! Will you throw yourself away on some trollop of a servant girl? I suppose you’ve got her in the family way?’

  ‘Ellie will become my wife,’ his son assured him. ‘Her family is respectable, and you shall not malign her.’

  ‘Shall not? Who are you to tell me what I shall and shall not do? Let me tell you this, if you defy me, you won’t see a penny of my money.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ George said simply.

  ‘But you want your job with your uncle, don’t you? I need only tell him that I’ve changed my mind and I want you back in London. As for this wench of yours, I’ll think of some excuse to get her turned off without a reference, and that won’t be all she’ll suffer.’

  ‘No! She is the only breadwinner in her family…’

  ‘Well then, you won’t wish to injure her.’ Samuel had not expected such resistance from his normally docile son. He decided to change his tactics. ‘Gina will wed again, and we all wish her we
ll, I believe. There is naught to say that you cannot make a friend of her…be agreeable, I mean?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ George agreed. ‘I like her very much.’

  ‘Well then, why not spend some time with her? Gina has been away for years. She knows few people here in Abbot Quincey. It would be a kindness to make yourself useful to her. Won’t you please your old father in this at least?’

  ‘I’ll be glad to, but on one condition. You must give me your word that you won’t attempt to injure Ellie.’

  ‘Why, lad, I don’t even know the girl. I spoke in haste, but out of concern for your best interests. You know my temper, George.’

  ‘I do. Will you give me your word?’

  ‘Of course. Let us be friends again.’ Samuel took out his handkerchief and wiped away a non-existent tear. ‘There is nothing like family, my boy.’

  Privately, George could only agree, but he made no comment. There was nothing like family indeed. It was only the desire to keep Gina’s money in the Westcott family that had caused his father’s outburst.

  The confrontation had shaken him, but it was the threat to Ellie that worried him most. He knew Samuel Westcott to be a ruthless man and his promise could be worthless. Somehow he must think of a way to keep his beloved safe until he was in a position to wed her. Well, two could indulge in deception.

  ‘Do you believe that Gina will marry again?’ he asked innocently.

  ‘There’s nothing more certain.’ Samuel grew jovial. ‘Wed to a man who was old enough to be her father, and widowed for two years? Why, she’s ripe for plucking.’

  ‘I doubt she’ll lack for suitors. There’s something about her, father, that is not in the common way. I find her charming.’ Fear for Ellie’s safety had made George cunning. He must give the impression that he was not indifferent to Gina.

  ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Samuel was pleased to hear that there was still some hope of persuading George to woo his cousin. His attempt to ride roughshod over his younger son had not succeeded. Now he must be more subtle.

  ‘Gina has faults, of course. She has always been outspoken and accustomed to having her own way, but a vigorous husband will put an end to all that. What she needs is a babe each year. That will calm her down.’ Samuel knocked out his pipe and waddled back into the salon.