Mr Rushford's Honour

by Meg Alexander

  At this moment his stepmother came into the room. Lucia, the dowager Lady Isham, was looking pale and fragile. The loss of her own son had hit her hard, but now she devoted herself to India's welfare.

  'Shall you feel able to eat your nuncheon, India?' she asked in her prettily accented English. 'It is so important, my dear one.' She grasped the younger woman's hand and led the way into the dining-room.

  Yet it was not India who ignored the food. Giles was too preoccupied to notice what was set before him.

  So Gina was a widow? Now, at least, he had no need to picture her in the arms of the elderly Lord Whitelaw. The sense of relief had shaken him to the core, though common-sense persuaded him that it was not much of a comfort. Gina was still beyond his reach. He had nothing to offer her. Had it not been for India's generosity in giving him the management of her estate, he would have been forced to return to a way of life which disgusted him. Since his father's death last summer and the ruin of his family he had been forced to live upon the charity of his friends, accepting invitations to their country houses in the hope that someone would offer him employment.

  Napoleon's blockade, the ruin of trade, and a failed harvest had dashed that hope. No one needed an estate manager, however dedicated. Had it not been for India's offer he would have been forced to leave the country and seek his fortune overseas.

  Then he took himself to task. He must not be bitter. The Rushford family had survived. India's splendid marriage had seen to that. Soon Letty would be wed to her beloved Oliver. He must be happy for them, ignoring the ache in his own heart.

  It would be years before he could think of marriage for himself, though his mother still hoped that he would find a wealthy bride. He would not sell himself. Every instinct revolted at the thought. Perhaps he would never marry, but in time he might recover some of his self-esteem.

  His preoccupation didn't go unnoticed. India, surprised by her brother's inattention, looked across at her husband and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Isham smiled, but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head, warning her not to pursue the subject. It was not until later, when she was resting in her room, that he came to her. Sitting beside her on the bed he took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her fingers each in turn.

  'Well, my love?' he teased. 'Had you not better ask me before you burst with curiosity?'

  'You mean about Lady Whitelaw?' she asked artlessly. 'Oh, Anthony, you know that I shall be happy to receive her, or any of your friends...'

  'I didn't doubt it, but I wasn't referring to Gina Whitelaw, and well you know it.'

  'You still find my face an open book then?' India blushed and then she laughed.

  'I do, and It's a lovely face. Now, out with it! You are concerned about your brother, are you not?'

  'I can't help it. He is behaving oddly. Have you not noticed? I thought he might have spoken to you.'

  Isham was silent as India studied his face.

  'He has said something, hasn't he?' she insisted. 'I know that you would not betray a confidence, but Giles is so dear to me. I can't help wondering if something dreadful happened whilst he and Letty were away with Mama.'

  Isham laughed aloud. 'Nothing of the sort. Giles is more than capable of dealing with Lady Wells, in the politest possible way, of course. She may be a termagant, but she is no match for him. Besides, are we not much in favour with her ladyship at present, now that Letty is to marry Oliver?'

  India shook her head at him. 'Don't try to change the subject, Anthony. You shall not divert me with talk of Letty's wedding.'

  His lordship stretched out his long legs and regarded her with a fond smile. 'I didn't expect to do so, my darling.'

  'Well then, what else can it be? Mother and Letty have not mentioned anything untoward, but Giles is not himself and it worries me.'

  'Now that does concern me.' Isham's smile was gone. 'I won't have it, India!' Swiftly he put his arms about her. 'This should be the happiest of times for us. You are not to worry about Giles, or anything else for that matter, I forbid it! Giles is a man grown, and must be allowed to handle his own affairs. He will not welcome interference in what, I suspect, may be a matter of the heart...'

  'Oh, did he say so?' India's frown vanished.

  'He did not! And, my clever little witch, you shall not tease me into repeating our conversation. As you say, you and Giles are close. He will tell you if he wishes you to know.'

  'Perhaps it was just a lovers' quarrel.' India brightened. 'We had many of those ourselves, if you recall?'

  'Shall I ever forget?' His lordship threw his eyes to heaven. 'You left me scarred for life!'

  'What nonsense!' India's indignant tone was belied by the sparkle in her eyes. 'You seem to have come about, my lord.'

  'Only with difficulty, and much self-mortification.'

  As he had hoped, his wife's brow cleared and she began to laugh. 'I haven't seen much sign of that.'

  'Then it must have been your kisses which restored me.' He turned her face to his and sought her lips. India submitted willingly, but at last she pushed him away.

  'You are a disgrace!' she teased. 'Making love to your own wife in the middle of the afternoon! I never heard of such a thing!'

  'You prefer that I made love to someone's else's wife in the middle of the afternoon?'

  'Only if you seek further scarring, my dear sir. Now let us be serious. What are we to do about Giles?'

  'Nothing at all, I fear.'

  'We might at least find him some diversion. He can't have enjoyed his stay with Lady Wells, although it may be there that he met this mysterious paramour.'

  'Quite possibly.' Isham would not be drawn.

  'Well, now, at least, he will have some company of his own age. Thomas Newby is visiting Abbot Quincey. He puts up at the Angel. Shall we ask him to stay here?'

  'Anything you wish, my dearest.'

  A loving smile was his reward. 'He is one of my brother's oldest friends...' India paused 'And then, you know, there is Lady Whitelaw...'

  Isham kept his countenance with difficulty. 'You also have plans for her, my love?'

  India looked a little conscious. 'It is just that... Oh, don't give me that quizzing look, you odious creature... I thought that she might care to dine with us this week.'

  'Together with Giles and Thomas Newby? Matchmaking, India?'

  'Not at all,' she said severely. 'I thought merely that she might like to bring the girls, so that we may get to know them.'

  'Too kind!' His eyes were twinkling and his tone was so dry that she aimed a playful blow at him. 'I'll leave you to rest, my dear, and to do your plotting in peace.'

  Having satisfied himself that India was no longer so deeply troubled, Isham returned to the salon. There he found Letty and Mrs Rushford absorbed in the details of Letty's trousseau, whilst Giles was anxious to slip away.

  'I must return to Abbot Quincey,' Isham announced mendaciously. 'Giles, will you ride in with me?'

  His brother-in-law gave him a look of relief. 'I'd be glad to, but I feel that I ought to see the bailiff. There must be matters to attend...'

  'Time enough for that,' Isham told him firmly. 'We can discuss them as we go.' He rang the bell to order the horses saddled and brought round.

  As they set off Giles turned to him and smiled. 'Thanks for coming to my rescue. For these past few days I have heard of nothing but the latest fashions and the merits of Brussels lace against that of Nottingham. I know nothing of such matters, so it was useless to appeal to me.'

  Isham laughed. 'Best make up your mind to it, my dear fellow. For the ladies this will be the main topic of conversation until Letty is wed. Just grin and bear it. A man can do nothing else.'

  Giles nodded. 'Is all well with the estate? I'd hoped to try some of the newest farming methods this year. Pray heaven we get a better harvest. These last few years have been a disaster on the land.'

  'You've done your best in impossible circumstances.' Isham did not elaborate. Both he and hi
s companion were aware that Gareth Rushford had been a drain upon the family's resources for more years than his son could remember. 'I like your ideas.

  Perhaps you'll give me the benefit of your expertise on some of my other properties?'

  Such praise warmed the heart of his companion. Giles was a countryman to the core. He kept abreast of all the latest developments in agriculture, taking note of any innovations which might be of use to him.

  Now he flushed with pleasure, but feeling slightly embarrassed he was quick to change the subject.

  'You must have much upon your mind,' he said. 'Have you news from London? We were rather out of touch at Bristol.'

  Isham frowned. 'The riots in the north have spread, and the Government won't hear of moderation. I voted against the Framebreakers' Bill, but it was passed. Even Byron spoke out against it in his maiden speech, but to no effect.'

  'Byron?' Giles looked surprised. 'I always thought him a frippery sort of fellow.'

  'So did I, but he was clear that repression was not the answer. "Can you commit a whole country to their own prisons? Will you erect a gibbet in every field and hang men up like scarecrows?" he asked. I could only agree with him.'

  'Even though Henry was killed by the rioters?'

  'Even so. Starving men should not be executed and transported when they try to save their livelihood. The means they chose were violent, but they were in a desperate plight, and the Government ignored them.'

  'Byron continues with the struggle?'

  'Alas, no! He is lionised everywhere since the publication of his epic poem. The women leave him no time for ought but dalliance.'

  'Have you read it?' Giles began to smile.

  'I tried,' Isham replied with feeling. 'I must be lacking in sensibility, but these gothic flights of fancy are not to my taste.'

  'And India?'

  'India cannot understand the fuss about Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. For that I must be grateful. Poor William Lamb has lost his wife to the fellow. The scandal has London by the ears.'

  'Shall you go up again quite soon?'

  'I must appear for the reading of the Catholic Bill. Wellesley resigned on the matter a couple of months ago. He doesn't believe in emancipation.'

  Giles looked blank. 'Oh, I thought it was because of the Government's support of the Peninsular war.'

  'That too. The last we heard was that Wellington was planning to take Badajoz. Let us hope that he is successful. We need a victory.'

  Still discussing the conduct of the war in Spain, the two men rode along until they reached the outskirts of the village. Then Isham changed the subject.

  'Your friend Tom Newby puts up at the Angel,' he remarked. 'He sent yesterday to ask for you. We'd be happy to have him stay at the Grange if you care to ask him.'

  'Oh, would you? How good you are! He is the best of fellows, and I stayed with him last summer. But...er...will it not be too much for India to have a visitor in the house?'

  'It will not!' Isham replied firmly. 'The staff know better than to trouble her with domestic details. They do so at their peril.'

  Giles grinned. 'I don't doubt it. Well, then, if you are sure, I'll stop by at the Angel and speak to Tom. He's something of a rattle-pate, but I won't let him tire her.'

  'She'll enjoy a change of company.' With this assurance Isham raised a hand in salute and rode off to keep his fictitious appointment. In the event, he turned into his favourite bookshop in search of the latest novels for his wife.

  Giles had no difficulty in finding Thomas Newby. That gentleman was seated comfortably in the snug, toasting himself by a roaring fire and addressing a tankard of ale with every appearance of enjoyment.

  'There you are, old chap!' Thomas hailed his friend with a beaming smile. 'I made sure you'd look me up as soon as you got back from...Bristol...was it not?'

  'It was.' Giles raised a finger to summon the landlord. 'Ever been there, Newby?'

  'Not that I recall. A seaport, ain't it, full of slaves and tobacco?' Having given Giles the benefit of his scant knowledge of geography Thomas sought further information. 'Lively, is it and full of pretty wenches?'

  'I have no idea,' Giles said drily. 'Young Wells and my sister Letty were the only young company and they had eyes only for each other. An engagement, you see. I spent my time playing cards with the dowagers...'

  Thomas whistled in surprise. 'Dangerous! Some of those old biddies spend their lives at cards. They could teach the faro-dealers a thing or two. Did they clean you out?'

  Giles gave him a wry grin. 'Unlikely...at a penny a point...!'

  Thomas shook his head. 'Dear old chap! How did you stand the excitement?'

  'It wasn't easy!' The humour of the situation struck Giles suddenly and both men roared with laughter.

  'That's better! You looked a bit down, old fellow.' Thomas was too much of a gentleman to pry into his friend's private affairs. 'How goes the world with you these days? Heard you were managing an estate.'

  'It belongs to my sister. By the way, she asks if you would care to stay with us. You'll like her. India is a great gun, and Letty too. India married Isham last December. I expect you heard of it. Do you know him?'

  'I know of him.' Thomas said carefully. 'Always thought him a bit above my touch.'

  'So did I. At first I was against the match, but I was wrong. He's made my sister as happy as a grig. I think him the best of men.'

  'That's good enough for me. I'll be happy to accept your invitation.' Thomas rang for the landlord and ordered his bags brought down.

  'Fine country this,' he observed as they rode towards the Grange. 'Is it good farming land?'

  It was enough to launch Giles into his favourite subject, and Thomas was content. He'd seen from the first that Giles had something on his mind. He had little knowledge of agriculture, but beneath his clowning he was a kindly man.

  Over the years he'd been aware of his friend's struggles. He's just had one blow too many, he thought to himself. It's time he had some fun.

  With this end in mind he felt it time to make some enquiries.

  'Much to do round here?' he asked casually.

  'I promise you won't be bored.' Giles smiled. 'We can offer you good fishing. Have you read The Compleat Angler?'

  'Books ain't much in my line, but I did just glance at it. The old chap, Walton, seemed to know his stuff.'

  'He did indeed. His river, the Dove, is further to the north, but there is some good sport here.'

  'And Abbot Quincey? I must say, I liked the look of it.'

  'Or was it the wenches who took your fancy?'

  Thomas took the teasing in good part. 'Give me time! I didn't arrive until yesterday, but bless me if I didn't see three beauties driving through the town this morning.'

  'I'm surprised that you didn't stop the coach to introduce yourself.'

  'It was going too fast, old son. Gave me no time to pull on my boots.'

  'Your man isn't with you then?'

  'Gave him the slip in London. If there is one thing guaranteed to take the shine off any expedition it's that old curmudgeon, Stubbins. I'm sure my father makes him dog my heels to keep me on the straight and narrow.'

  'Has he had much success?' Giles was laughing openly.

  'Not that you'd notice.' Thomas gave him a cheerful grin. 'Still, it don't stop him from trying. That's the trouble with people who've known you since before you were breeched. They won't believe you've left the schoolroom.'

  'Won't he worry about your disappearance?'

  'Stubbins? Not a chance! That fellow is a human bloodhound. He'll track me down before the week is out.'

  'Then you'd best make the most of your freedom whilst you may.'

  'I intend to,' Thomas said with feeling. 'Now tell me about Abbot Quincey. Is it a big place?'

  'It's the largest of our local villages—more like a small market town.' Giles cast a sly look at his friend. 'For your entertainment we have a corn and cattle market on a Tuesday...'

  'Won
derful!'

  'We also have an abbey and a vicarage...'

  'Too much...!'

  'Aha, but we also have a scandal. The Abbey is owned by the Marquis of Sywell...'

  'What, that old roué...?'

  'The same! Now his young wife has disappeared. She hasn't been seen for months. Rumours have been rife. A favourite is that he murdered her.'

  'Wouldn't put it past him.'

  'It's more likely that she simply ran away.'

  'Sounds a reasonable thing to do. Tell me more...'

  'No more is known. We have had a murder though.'

  Thomas looked startled. 'What lives you lead in the quiet of the countryside! I thought that nothing happened here...'

  'This came very close to home. Isham's half-brother was killed some weeks ago in one of the Luddite riots. The mob attacked the Grange.'

  Thomas reined in at once. 'My dear chap! Have your wits gone a-wandering? The family won't wish for a guest at such a time. I'll go back to the Angel.'

  'No, hear me out!' Giles reined in beside his friend. 'There was something strange about the business. Isham and India have said very little, although they saw the shooting.'

  'Not a pleasant thing to remember.'

  'No, I agree, but I get the feeling that there was more to it than they'll admit. It's an odd affair, and even Henry's mother, who lives with us, seems not to wish to speak of him. It turns out now that he was no blood kin to Isham, though he thought he was.' Giles paused. 'I wish I could explain. It is the strangest thing, but you'll find no sense of mourning at the Grange.'

  'Even after such a tragedy?' Thomas was unconvinced.

  'You shall see for yourself. Of course, Isham doesn't plan to entertain in his usual style. He isn't much for convention, nor is India stuffy, but you understand?'

  'Perfectly. Got to show respect for the dead, old son.'

  'Exactly, but even so, you won't be short of company.' Giles allowed the ghost of a smile to touch his lips. 'I have seven cousins in the neighbourhood, and five of them are girls...'

  Thomas brightened at the thought of some feminine company. 'Unattached, I hope?'