Mr Rushford's Honour

by Meg Alexander

  In the salon she rang for tea and called Mair and Elspeth to her. They were favourites with Anthony, and having met them she could understand it.

  Elspeth was short and plump, but Mair, with her gazelle-like frame, was unlikely ever to reach the buxom proportions so much admired by society. In her case it would not matter, India thought to herself. There was character in that youthful face. Perhaps the jaw was a little too square, the brow too wide and the mouth too generous for true beauty, but her Celtic origins were apparent in the high cheekbones, the mass of dark hair, and the vivid blue eyes, set off by a perfect skin.

  Elspeth was undeniably her sister, but she had not yet lost her puppy fat, and in her, at present, one saw only the energetic schoolgirl.

  India began to question them, speaking as she would to an adult. This she'd found was a subtle form of flattery, which never failed to please young people.

  'Shall you attend the fete at Perceval Hall?' she asked. 'My aunt would be happy to see you there. She runs these affairs for charity.'

  'We haven't heard of it,' Mair told her shyly.

  'Oh, of course not. How foolish of me! I had forgot that you had but recently arrived in Abbot Quincey. If you'd like to go I'll ask her to send you an invitation.'

  'Oh, would you, Lady Isham?' Elspeth gave her an earnest look. 'Gina will take us, I feel sure of it. What happens at the fete? We didn't have them in Scotland.'

  'It's an excuse for a party,' India replied. 'There are all kinds of competitions, such as bobbing for apples, and pinning a tail upon a donkey when one is blindfold. There are races too, with prizes.'

  'Horse races?' Elspeth glanced at her sister.

  'Horse races, sack races, three-legged races, and ordinary running races. You may take your pick. There are trials of strength, and a tug-of-war, and even an archery competition.'

  'It sounds such fun,' Elspeth said warmly. 'Gina will love it.' She glanced across at her stepmother, who was deep in conversation with Letty and Mrs Rushford. 'We'll tell her about it later.'

  'Well, don't forget to mention the refreshments and the country-dancing...' India looked up as the gentlemen came to join them. A glance sent Isham to rescue Gina from the cross-questioning she was suffering at the hands of Mrs Rushford.

  'Thank heavens for that!' Letty sank on to the couch beside her sister. 'Poor Gina! I don't know how she kept her temper. Mama has almost asked her for details of her fortune...'

  'We'll have to put a stop to that. What do you say to a game of cards with Mother? It will keep her out of mischief...' A glance of complicity passed between the sisters. Then India made her suggestion.

  It was greeted with enthusiasm by Mrs Rushford, who was quick to choose Anthony as her partner. She'd learned from bitter experience that it was almost impossible to beat him and she preferred to have him on her side. Besides, a plan was forming in her mind.

  'Lady Whitelaw will like to see the Orangery,' she told Giles in a tone which brooked no argument. 'India and Letty will make up our table.'

  'Lady Whitelaw may prefer to join you,' Giles retorted stiffly.

  'My dear boy, five people cannot play, and India must undertake a restful occupation. Letty, as you know, is mad for cards...'

  This came as news to Letty, who was too startled to reply. She could not look either at India or at Anthony.

  'Mrs Rushford is quite right,' Gina was trying not to laugh. 'I believe I mentioned to her that I have no head for cards. I should be most interested to see the Orangery and the gardens. I shall need advice on how to improve my grounds, so perhaps the gentlemen will give me the names of certain plants, and the girls and I will try to remember them.'

  Anthony glanced at his wife, who managed to preserve her countenance only with the greatest difficulty. Her mother's plan had been foiled in the most charming way possible. Mrs Rushford had not envisaged the entire party setting forth into the garden.

  Giles was furious with her. Her scheming was all too obvious and it filled him with embarrassment. For two pins he would have walked away, but good manners forced him to lead the party through the Orangery and on to the terrace.

  He'd planned to take the girls up to the Folly on the hill, but Thomas was ahead of him. Already a favourite with Mair and Elspeth, that gentleman had been challenged to a race and all three were already disappearing into the distance.

  In silence he paced beside Gina, but he couldn't look at her.

  'Pray go ahead if you wish to join the others,' Gina told him cheerfully. 'I'm afraid that these flimsy evening slippers are not meant for walking.'

  'No! I do not wish to join the others.' Suddenly Giles longed to tear aside that polished social veneer. 'Must we pretend that we are strangers?'

  Gina gave him a sideways look. 'Of course not! Why should you think that? We knew each other as children, and Anthony knows that we met in Italy. Oh, I see! You feel that you should have mentioned to your family that we'd met since my return to Abbot Quincey? That is not so very dreadful. They did not seem to take it amiss...'

  'No, I was not referring to that and well you know it.' Giles stopped suddenly and swung round to face her. 'Look at me!' he demanded. 'I can't pretend that we are casual acquaintances...can you?'

  'Most certainly I can,' she replied in level tones. 'I'd advise you to do the same.'

  Her companion groaned. 'I don't believe that you have forgotten what we once were to each other.'

  'I've not forgotten.' With an effort Gina kept her voice steady. 'But it was long ago. I was younger than Mair is now. At that age one has little experience of the world, and a childish folly is soon forgotten.'

  Giles looked as if she had struck him. Until today he'd been resolved that he would never remind her of their love, but his good resolutions had deserted him.

  Quickly, he pulled himself together. 'Even so,' he said. 'I feel I owe you an explanation...'

  Gina lifted a dismissive hand. 'You owe me nothing...'

  'No, please hear me out. I didn't know where to find you. Why didn't you answer my letter?'

  'What letter?' she demanded. 'I received no letter.'

  Giles stared at her in stupefaction. 'I wrote to you before I sailed...before you came back to the villa. It was to tell you why I'd had to leave so quickly.'

  'There was nothing,' she told him.

  'Damn the fellow! I paid him well to carry the message.' Giles turned his face away. 'What you must of thought of me?'

  'It was difficult to understand,' she admitted. 'I hadn't supposed you to be a man who would flee at the first sign of danger, but conditions in Naples were chaotic. Before I knew it we were en route to the West Indies.'

  'You could have written to me at the Grange,' he said miserably.

  'I suppose so, but we were always on the move. It wasn't easy to find a ship prepared to carry mail.' She wouldn't tell him that she'd been too hurt and also too proud to beg him to come back to her.

  'I tried to find you, you know. I made enquiries at the bakery until your mother became suspicious. I said that Sir Alastair was a friend of mine and I wondered what had happened to him, but I don't think she believed me.'

  'She wouldn't have been able to help you. I wrote to my parents when I could, but if they replied their letters never reached me.'

  'Oh, Gina, you must have been so lonely.'

  'Sometimes, perhaps, but I had the girls, and Sir Alastair and his wife were always good to me.' Gina managed an engaging smile. 'It is difficult to be sad, you know, when one is embroiled in so much action. Distant countries are always full of interest, but they aren't the safest places in the world.'

  'I heard something of your exploits from Anthony.'

  'Exaggerated, I fear, though I can fire a pistol with some degree of accuracy. Giles, have we not said enough about my affairs? What of you? How do you go on?'

  He had been dreading the question, unwilling to admit even to Gina that the fortunes of his family had been saved only by Anthony's marriage to India. The thought
still galled him. True, India was happy, but it might so easily have been different. She'd accepted Lord Isham hating him for the part she believed he'd played in the death of her father and the loss of all their property. Only in these last few months had that hatred turned to love.

  She'd been prepared to sacrifice herself for his sake, and that of his mother and sister. He could not forget it. Feelings of frustration threatened to overwhelm him. It should have been he who saved the family, and he'd been unable to do so.

  It hadn't been for want of trying. Ever since he'd been summoned back from Italy all those years ago he'd been forced to shoulder burdens apparently beyond the capabilities of a young man.

  And he'd almost succeeded in turning the Rushford Estate into a paying proposition. He'd worked day and night to bring it round. Their lands were rich and fertile and he'd immersed himself in study of all the latest farming methods, new thinking on the rotation of crops, new strains of various seeds, and all the latest breeds of cattle.

  He'd yearned to have the means to buy those implements which would have saved on time and labour, but they were beyond him. Undaunted, he'd been forced to improvise for himself, ignoring the traditional resistance to change so prevalent among all agricultural labourers.

  But the drain on his resources had been impossible to halt. Money set aside for improvements had gone to pay the debts of his lovable but feckless father. The end had come last year when, in a night of madness, Gareth Rushford had gambled away the last of his inheritance, losing it to Anthony Isham, and leaving his family destitute.

  The shock had been severe. Forced to leave her home, his mother had moved into a small cottage owned by her brother-in-law, Sir James Perceval, taking her daughters with her.

  Giles himself had travelled the country looking for employment. It had been in vain. Only now, as India's estate manager, could he see some glimmer of hope for the future. He was realistic enough to know that he had years of struggle ahead of him. Far better to forget his one and only love.

  He turned away as they caught up with the others and offered to take them to see a badger sett. Gina declined on the grounds that her slippers were quite soaked through in the long grass. She turned back towards the house, with Thomas Newby as her escort.

  'Ma'am, we have been thoughtless.' Gallantly, he offered her his arm. 'I must hope that you will not take a chill.'

  'Highly unlikely, Mr Newby. It pains me to admit it, but I enjoy the best of health. Such a trial when it is so much more interesting to be always swooning, or in a state of delicate health.'

  'Ma'am, you are making game of me.' Thomas grinned at her. 'You would not care to be in such case, I believe.'

  'No, I should not.' Companionably Gina tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. 'There is so much enjoyment in this world. One cannot see it from a sofa.'

  'Shall you settle in Abbot Quincey, ma'am?' Thomas felt as though he'd known her all his life.

  'I don't know yet, Mr Newby. I must consider the girls. Fortunately we are not so far from London here in Abbot Quincey. I may open" the London house this year, or possibly in the spring.'

  'You speak of the girls. What of yourself?' As he spoke he wondered if she would regard the question as too personal, but she gave him a friendly smile.

  'I never make arrangements too far ahead. That way I am not disturbed if I have to change my plans...'

  'Very wise. Oh, Lord!' Thomas had caught sight of a horseman in the distance. 'I hope I won't have to change mine. Here comes Stubbins, if I'm not mistaken...'

  'Stubbins?'

  'My valet, ma'am, or groom, or whatever you like to name him. In reality, he is a watchdog. My father sets him on me...'

  'Leave him to me!' Gina's eyes were dancing. She was prepared to enjoy the coming confrontation.

  As the man drew rein beside them she moved even closer to her companion.

  'Now how did you find me, Stubbins?' Thomas sounded exasperated.

  "T'wern't difficult, Mr Thomas. You left a trail a mile wide.'

  'Good gracious, Mr Newby,' Gina simpered. 'Are you fleeing from the law?'

  'No, ma'am, this is my valet, Stubbins.'

  Gina turned a soulful gaze upon the servant. 'Why, Mr Newby will be so glad to see you. He has been sadly at a loss, have you not, my dear?'

  Thomas choked and turned his laughter into a cough. 'I have indeed. Where have you been, you dog?'

  Stubbins gave his charge an uncertain look. He'd expected fury, defiance and anything but to find his master escorting a lady who would clearly have gained the approval of Mr Newby, senior.

  Now Stubbins sought to rally his forces.

  'Beg pardon, Mr Thomas, but you left London without giving me your direction...'

  'An oversight,' Thomas asserted stoutly.

  'Were you thinking of me, my dear?' Gina draped herself artistically about her companion's person. 'How sweet of you.'

  Thomas patted her on the shoulder. 'There, there!' he said. 'I must get you back to the Grange before you catch a chill. Stubbins will ride ahead for us. Lady Whitelaw's feet are wet. She must have hot broth as soon as she arrives.' With a wave of his hand he dismissed the dreaded Stubbins. Then he shouted with laughter.

  'Mr Newby, please! You must not let him hear you. I'm sure he has your best interests at heart.'

  'Now, ma'am, you shall not preach to me. What a card you are! Stubbins will be convinced that I am trying to fix my interest with you. My father will have the news before the week is out.'

  'Oh dear!' Gina looked repentant. 'Shall you mind very much? I'm sorry, but Stubbins looked so...so very disapproving of you. I could not resist the opportunity to tease.'

  'Lady Whitelaw, from now on you may consider me your slave. I had not thought to live to see the day when Stubbins could be routed.'

  'It was unkind of me. You see, Mr Newby, I am not at all to be trusted. I am inclined to follow impulse.'

  'And a most charming impulse, ma'am, if I may say so. I am deeply honoured.'

  'Come now, Mr Newby,' Gina spoke in a rallying tone. 'We hear on all sides that you are a confirmed bachelor.'

  'Lady Whitelaw, you could change my mind,' came the swift reply.

  Apparently Gina did not hear him as she went indoors.

  Mrs Rushford looked up eagerly as they returned to the salon. Then her face clouded.

  'Where is Giles?' Her tone was sharp. She had expected to see Gina escorted by her son and not by Thomas Newby.

  'Why, ma'am, he kindly offered to show the girls a badger sett,' Gina told her smoothly. She'd seen the look of mortification on Mrs Rushford's face, and was aware of the reason for it.

  'Such folly! Your girls will take their death of cold to be kept outdoors of an evening. I am surprised that you allowed it, Lady Whitelaw. Sometimes I wonder at Giles... so little regard for other people's health... to say nothing of the proprieties!'

  'Why, Isabel, what can you mean?' Lord Isham laid his cards aside. 'I hope you aren't suggesting that Mair and Elspeth are in danger of injuring their reputations by taking a walk with Giles.' He gave his mother-in-law a pleasant smile, but she was quick to notice that it did not reach his eyes.

  'Of course not!' she said hastily. 'But Giles is so impulsive. Believe me, Lady Whitelaw, he is all heart. It would not occur to him that he might overtire the girls, in his wish to give them pleasure.'

  'I thank you for your concern, but the girls are used to walking. As you see, they have come to no harm...' She looked up as the others returned. 'Did you see the badgers?' she enquired.

  'We were too early, Gina. They come out to feed only when it is full dark, so Giles tells us...'

  Mrs Rushford was silent. It had occurred to her for once that she must watch her tongue, if Gina was to be persuaded into accepting Giles. It could serve no useful purpose to criticise him in public.

  That worthy resolution did not apply to a private talk. She called Giles over to her under the cover of general conversation.

 
'What are you about?' she hissed. 'Must you pay so much attention to those stupid girls? You should be trying to fix your interest with their stepmother.'

  Giles paled so quickly that she was startled. His eyes flashed, and she could see that he was controlling his temper only with an effort.

  'Come,' she said more gently. 'I am thinking only of you, my dear. You must not take it amiss. Why should you object to making yourself agreeable to Gina? She has improved so much, as you may see for yourself. Why, one might almost believe that she is one of us.'

  Giles was about to turn away. He was seized with the urge to tell her to hold her tongue, but he was incapable of speech. His mother caught at his sleeve.

  'Listen to me!' she urged. 'Why must you be so foolish? You won't make the least push to improve your fortunes, even when the chance is there for you. Take care, my boy. If I'm not mistaken your friend Newby will be ahead of you.'

  Giles looked at her then, and his mother shrank away. At that moment he looked capable of murder. She knew that she had gone too far, but Giles was too much of the gentleman to vent his anger on her.

  'Newby is welcome to try his luck,' he said in a colourless tone. With that he walked back to the others.

  Chapter Five

  The party broke up almost at once, but not before the girls had whispered a request to Gina.

  'May Mr Newby call on us?' Elspeth asked. 'He's promised to show us how to waltz. That's if you have no objection...?'

  'None whatever! He can teach me too. We must be in the fashion when we go to Brighton.'

  Gina issued her invitation without delay, though she did not mention the reason for it. She'd thought it best to use the excuse of a riding expedition.

  'We three are used to riding daily,' she explained. 'But Giles has warned me that it isn't wise to go about without an escort in these difficult times. If the gentlemen would be so kind...?' she looked an appeal at Thomas Newby.