Mr. Rushford's Honor

by Meg Alexander

  Her household duties were quickly undertaken, leaving her time to read, to study, to choose plants for the new orangery, and to consider embellishing her wardrobe. She found that nothing could hold her interest.

  More than anything she longed to feel that familiar leap of the heart whenever she saw Giles. Now she dwelt on every detail of that beloved face, loving the way his mobile mouth turned up at the corners when he smiled, the strong line of his jaw and the look in his blue eyes whenever she caught him unawares.

  Giles was handsome, certainly, but she’d have loved him if he had been the ugliest man alive. They were soul-mates. If only he’d accept that the bond between them held them both for life.

  She pushed the wish away. She had a pile of correspondence to attend to. Her friends in Scotland must not be neglected, but her stay there seemed to have taken place in another existence.

  ‘Mr George Westcott, ma’am.’ Hanson ushered her visitor into the room.

  Gina turned with a welcoming smile. For the past two weeks her cousin had been her most frequent visitor. She was puzzled. Surely he did not share her parents’ hope that she would wed him?

  Had he shown any sign of making advances to her, she would have sent him to the rightabout, but George seemed to be content to be her friend.

  This morning he seemed troubled.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.

  ‘My father is returned to Abbot Quincey,’ he said miserably.

  ‘I see…and you are come to tell me that we shall be one more for dinner this evening?’

  It was only with the greatest reluctance that Gina made this offer. Her uncle was not welcome in her home, but not to invite him would give rise to unwelcome comment.

  ‘Not exactly!’ George seemed unable to sit still. He rose and began to pace about the room. ‘I haven’t been honest with you, Gina. Haven’t you wondered why I call on you so much?’

  ‘I hoped it was because you enjoyed my company.’ Gina prayed that he was not about to make a declaration.

  ‘Well, I do, of course, but you see, I had to come. My father would have made enquiries, and I’m afraid for Ellie.’

  Gina saw that he was in great distress. ‘You had better tell me all about it,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t understand you, I’m afraid…’

  George sat down then and poured out his story to her. ‘It isn’t that I don’t like you, Gina,’ he explained at last. ‘But I love Ellie and I want to marry her.’

  Gina thought for a moment. She had no doubt that Samuel Westcott would carry out his threat to harm the girl if his son did not obey him.

  ‘It’s time for some play-acting, George,’ she said. ‘This evening you must follow my lead, and remember, you must not laugh. That would give the game away…’

  George looked mystified. ‘I cannot come at your meaning, cousin…’

  ‘I mean that you must make up to me. I promise to languish under your ardent gaze. I may even rest my head upon your shoulder…’

  George looked startled. ‘Would that not be doing it too brown?’

  ‘Perhaps. We must keep it within the bounds of decorum…Are we agreed?’

  ‘It would help to throw my father off the scent,’ he admitted. ‘It’s the money, you see. He wants to keep it in the family…’

  This bald statement was a severe trial to Gina’s composure, but she kept her countenance.

  ‘I didn’t imagine that it was my delightful temperament, or my beautiful blue eyes,’ she replied.

  George stared at her, uncertain as to whether or not she was teasing, and Gina groaned to herself. Ellie, whoever she was, would find George heavy going unless she shared his lack of humour. Even so, she sympathised with him.

  It would give her the greatest pleasure in the world to outwit her unpleasant uncle. He deserved a sharp set-down. Her only worry was that she might over-play her hand, but she thought she could judge her manner to a nicety.

  The inclusion of her uncle had made them nine for dinner. He apologised for upsetting the arrangement of her table, but she made light of it. In a further blow to convention she seated George at her right hand.

  Her brother exchanged a speaking glance with his wife, and her sister did the same. The Westcott brothers nodded and smiled at each other. Only Gina’s mother eyed her daughter with some suspicion.

  Gina affected not to notice. She kept the conversation light, chattering about her plans for the garden, and asking for advice from the assembled company.

  ‘I plan a shrubbery, of course,’ she said brightly. ‘George, what do you think? Shall it be a circuit walk around the garden walls, in the serpentine style, or shall I plump for the theatrical? Mr Garrick had twin theatrical shrubberies in his Thames-side garden at Hampton House, you know.’

  George did not know, and it was all too clear, but he made a manful effort.

  ‘Cousin, I’ve always admired your taste,’ he replied. ‘Whatever you decide will be perfection, I am sure of it.’

  ‘Too kind!’ Gina replied in sentimental tones. Apparently without thinking she laid her hand on his and pressed it warmly. ‘When it is finished we shall walk there. In Horace Walpole’s words I plan “odours beyond those of Araby”. It will be a haven of delight…’

  George felt it was time to bring her down to earth. ‘What plants will you choose?’ he said.

  Gina lavished an adoring look upon him. ‘I thought of roses, pinks, honeysuckle and lilac among others. Are they your favourites too?’

  George did not know a honeysuckle from a daffodil, but he did his best. ‘I like snowdrops,’ he said stoutly.

  ‘Then we shall have those too, and other bulbs, as well as carnations and sunflowers. Oh, I can’t wait to order all these treasures.’

  ‘They’ll cost you a pretty penny, my dear, but then, I suppose that is not of any concern to you…’ Samuel Westcott seemed about to lick his lips. ‘Tell me, where are your girls this evening?’

  Gina gave him the briefest of looks, but it was enough. ‘They are at dancing classes this evening,’ she said. She did not miss his dreadful smile.

  ‘Are they not over-young to be allowed out in an evening?’ her mother said anxiously. ‘You do not fear that they may be in danger?’

  Privately, Gina considered that Mair and Elspeth were likely to be in more danger in her uncle’s company, but she did not say so. He had a nasty habit of trapping young girls in passageways or hidden corners.

  ‘They are in no danger outside this house.’ Her look at her uncle was filled with meaning. ‘I sent them in the carriage with two grooms for company…’

  Samuel Westcott turned his head away and began to engage his brother in conversation.

  ‘What do you say to this latest stab in the back?’ he asked. ‘I fear our trade will suffer even more.’

  ‘The declaration of war by our former colonies? It isn’t altogether unexpected. They’ve always resented our blockade of European ports, and they have no love for England.’

  ‘We should have crushed that rebellion when we had the chance.’ Samuel replied savagely. ‘We should have sent more troops to the Americas. It’s beyond belief that we could have been defeated by a rag, tag and bobtail of undisciplined farmers.’

  ‘Yet they had something which our troops had not,’ Gina observed. ‘They were fighting for their belief in freedom. What was it they said; “No taxation without representation?” That sounded reasonable to me.’

  Her uncle gave her a sour look. ‘Much you women know about it, Gina! Leave it to those who understand these matters. Now they have invaded Canada. I regard that as the basest treachery. Our war with Napoleon has given them the chance they needed to strike when our backs were turned.’

  Gina was about to reply when her mother caught her eye. As Mrs Westcott shook her head, Gina rose from the table.

  ‘We’ll leave you to your politics then,’ she said as she led the ladies from the room.

  Her mother took her to task at once. ‘What can you be
thinking of?’ Mrs Westcott said severely. ‘It’s so unbecoming to put forward your opinions on matters which are of no concern to females.’

  ‘Wars are of concern to everyone, Mother. Females have husbands and sons who may be called upon to fight. We cannot stick our heads in the sand like ostriches.’

  Mrs Westcott sighed. ‘You haven’t changed, my dear. You were always such a forthright child. It will not do, you know. Gentlemen do not like it. Take care, or you will become known as a blue-stocking.’

  Gina kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘Is that such a dreadful fate?’ she teased.

  ‘You may not think so, but I do. Poor George looked shocked.’ She gave her daughter a sideways glance. ‘How do you go on with him?’

  ‘George is a dear. He calls on me quite often,’ Gina told her truthfully. She was well aware that this item of information would be passed on to both the Westcott brothers, and she had promised to help George.

  ‘George looks quite moonstruck,’ her sister observed. ‘Shall you wed him, Gina?’

  ‘I hardly know him well enough as yet. Besides, I have no thought of marriage for the present.’ Gina’s look was demure. Hopefully, the three ladies would take it as a sign of interest in her cousin.

  ‘I’m not surprised!’ Her brother William’s wife was undeceived. ‘Why should you re-marry? You have money enough for all your needs. Why condemn yourself to submitting to a husband’s wishes, producing a child each year?’

  Mrs Westcott scowled at her daughter-in-law. ‘There is such a thing as a woman’s duty, Alice. William would not like to hear you speak so freely. Besides, Gina would like children of her own. She told me so herself.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Gina said with perfect truth. ‘But I must consider carefully. There is no hurry for the moment.’

  ‘You won’t be young for ever,’ her sister snapped. ‘The years will take their toll, as they have done for all of us.’

  Gina looked at both Alice and Julia with new eyes. Each of them was close to her in age, but the casual observer would have guessed at a wider gap. Discontent was evident on each face and the reason was not far to seek. They envied her her money and her freedom.

  She tried for a lighter touch. Gossip was a favourite topic of conversation in all the Abbey villages.

  ‘Do you hear anything of the Marchioness of Sywell?’ she asked.

  As she had hoped this brought immediate response from all three of her companions. They vied with each other to bring her up to date with all that had happened at the Abbey since she left.

  ‘You’d be too young to understand the implications when the Earl of Yardley lost the Abbey to Sywell,’ Mrs Westcott told her. ‘That was the start of the trouble.’

  ‘But I do remember something about it, Mother. We children sang silly songs about it at the time. Did not the Earl of Yardley lose the Abbey in a gambling session? Then he blew his brains out?’

  ‘It was a tragedy, Gina. The Earl had had a serious quarrel with his son. Something about the Viscount’s wish to marry a French Catholic, I believe. His father cut him off, but when Lord Rupert was reported killed in Paris the Earl was distraught. He almost drank himself insensible whilst gambling. In the end he lost everything to Sywell, and then he killed himself.’ Mrs Westcott shuddered. ‘He could not have imagined what we would get in his place.’

  ‘I don’t know much about Sywell,’ Gina admitted. ‘He is not seen in Abbot Quincey…’

  ‘He durst not show his face,’ Julia told her. ‘For years he and his cronies regarded the village girls as fair game. Orgies were the least of it. He has ruined not only the girls, but also some of the tradesmen. He does not settle his accounts, and no one will deliver to the Abbey now, and none of the villagers will work there.’

  ‘So how does he manage to live?’

  ‘One man has stayed with him. His name is Burneck. He is some kind of valet cum general servant. Occasionally he hires domestics in town, but they don’t stay long.’

  ‘And yet the Marquis married?’ Gina said in wonder. ‘The girl was very young, so I understand…’

  ‘She was little more than a child, my dear. Heaven knows what pressure was brought to bear upon her to cause her to accept that monster. Now she has disappeared.’

  ‘I shouldn’t be the least surprised if the Marquis has done away with her,’ Alice insisted. ‘He’s capable of anything.’

  ‘But not of murder, surely?’ Gina was shocked.

  ‘Why not? I can’t think of a crime which cannot be laid at his door.’

  ‘She may have found her life intolerable. Perhaps she ran away…?’

  ‘Perhaps!’ Alice was unwilling to give up her belief in the ultimate perfidy. ‘How I wish that the man would sell the Abbey and move elsewhere!’

  ‘The Earl of Yardley has tried to buy back the Abbey,’ Mrs Westcott told her. ‘It would be a great relief to all of us to have the original family back again.’

  ‘But Sywell will not sell?’

  ‘No, Gina. He takes a perverse pleasure in taunting the Earl.’

  ‘But I thought that Yardley killed himself?’

  ‘The present Earl is a relative. He made his fortune in India and purchased land from his cousin, the Earl of Yardley. With Yardley and Lord Rupert dead, he inherited the title.’

  ‘If Sywell is in debt, he may change his mind.’

  ‘I doubt it. Sywell would cut off his nose to spite his face for the opportunity of doing an injury to one of his erstwhile friends.’

  ‘He sounds delightful!’ Gina said drily. ‘Let us not lose hope! Someone may decide to remove him from the face of the earth…’

  Her remark was made half in jest, but within a week her wish was granted.

  Gina was in the garden, leafing through a book of poems by Robert Southey, when her visitors were announced.

  Her heart was in a turmoil as Giles strode across the lawn towards her. His visit was unexpected, and she could think of no reason for it, but it was more than welcome. Her good resolutions vanished like snow in summer as she rose to her feet and held out both her hands.

  He took them swiftly. ‘There’s been another murder,’ he said without preamble. ‘Sywell was found dead this morning.’

  ‘The Marquis? Is this the work of the Luddites, Giles?’

  ‘I doubt it. Sywell was no threat to them. He owned no factories, and had no interest in the introduction of new machinery.’

  ‘How was he killed?’

  ‘Stabbed through the heart, but his valet found no sign of an intruder.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. The Abbey is a warren of passages and hiding places.’ Gina thought for a moment. ‘It must have been someone who knew the place, and how to reach Sywell’s rooms. A casual thief would find that difficult.’

  ‘There’s sure to be a serious investigation,’ Giles continued. ‘The Runners have been summoned, but if I’m not mistaken the Regent will wish his own men to take charge. The murder of a peer of the realm cannot be ignored.’

  Thomas Newby intervened. ‘I don’t see why not,’ he objected. ‘The fellow was a monster.’

  ‘Even so, the Regent will consider it an unfortunate precedent. Allow the murder of a member of the aristocracy to go unpunished, and our unfortunate Prince may be the next victim. He’s one of the most unpopular men in England.’

  Neither of his companions was prepared to argue with this statement.

  ‘So many people hated Sywell.’ Gina mused. ‘One might as well look for a particular straw in a haystack.’

  ‘His widow is a favourite candidate,’ Giles told her grimly. ‘She will inherit the Abbey…’

  ‘And a mountain of debt,’ Gina objected. ‘Besides, she hasn’t been seen for months…’

  ‘She may not have gone far. If she planned the murder she would lie low, awaiting a suitable opportunity. She would know the Abbey well, you must agree.’

  ‘But women don’t often resort to stabbing, Giles. In the first place it requires great physi
cal strength to overpower a man, unless she attacked him whilst he was sleeping. I’m told that the Marchioness was a slender, gentle creature. I doubt if she would be capable of violence.’

  ‘We can’t know what her life was like before she left the Marquis. She may have been driven to desperation.’

  ‘That’s more than likely,’ Thomas agreed. ‘We all knew Sywell’s reputation, but I agree with Lady Whitelaw. Poison is more of a woman’s weapon.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Newby!’ Gina’s tone was dry. ‘I see that you think highly of us as a sex.’

  ‘I do, ma’am, as you know!’ He gave her a look of such blatant adoration that Gina was nonplussed. Irony, she decided, was quite lost on Thomas.

  ‘There must be other suspects,’ she suggested. ‘The fathers and brothers of the girls the Marquis ruined must be high on the list, and some of his bastards too will be old enough to take revenge…’

  She heard a gasp from Thomas, and guessed correctly that he was unused to such plain speaking from a woman.

  ‘It could be one of Sywell’s gambling cronies,’ he said hastily. ‘He’s thought to have ruined many a man and not always by fair means…’

  Giles had been silent for some time. ‘There is always Burneck himself, of course,’ he said at last. ‘What better way to hide his guilt than to raise the alarm and set the countryside by the ears…?’

  ‘I can’t believe that,’ Gina objected. ‘Burneck has stayed by his master’s side all these years. Why should he resort to murder now?’

  ‘There could be a number of reasons…perhaps a promised legacy withdrawn, or something of that sort.’

  ‘Possibly!’ Gina was unconvinced. ‘You still think that the Luddites are not to blame?’ She had kept up a brave face, but the strain of this latest news was beginning to tell, and she had grown pale. She sat down in the nearest chair and hid her shaking hands within her skirts.

  Giles was beside her in an instant. ‘My dear, I have been thoughtless,’ he said tenderly. ‘I should not have troubled you with this dreadful story.’

  Gina shook her head. The solicitude in his voice brought her close to tears, but she blinked them away.