Mr Rushford's Honour

by Meg Alexander

  'I can see that that would be important, especially in time of war...'

  'It's true. Of course we have the weather to contend with in this country, but there are now new strains of seed which are resistant to both wet ground, and a lack of sunshine, and disease.'

  'Is that why you designed your latest seed drill?'

  Giles looked his surprise. 'You've heard of that?'

  'Of course. Anthony intends to make good use of it. How did you come to invent it?'

  'Out of necessity,' he told her briefly. 'The Rushford estate had been run down for years. I couldn't afford to employ much labour. Hand-sowing was out of the question. The drill does the work of several men, but it won't be popular, I fear.'

  'You think you may have the same problems as the factory-owners? I mean, won't the local people feel that you are taking the bread out of their mouths, by adding to the unemployment?'

  'I couldn't afford to employ them anyway,' he told her. 'With better crops prosperity may return and bread will be cheaper.'

  'Prosperity will return in time,' she said warmly. 'Oh, Giles, if only this war were to end... Will Wellington take Badajoz, do you suppose? He is thought to be pushing back the French in Spain.'

  'He has done well to date.' Her companion's face grew sombre. 'What a task he had, with his allies fighting among themselves, breaking their promises of men and supplies, and letting him down upon all sides.'

  Thomas had ridden on ahead with the girls, but now he came back to them.

  'You look as if you are putting the world to rights,' he commented cheerfully. 'Giles, I wonder if we should go into the village before the ladies.' He gestured ahead. 'There seems to be some bustle in the High Street, with people milling about and a lot of shouting.'

  'A riot?' Giles asked quickly. 'That's strange...the Luddites operate at night for the most part.'

  'I don't know. It don't sound ill-humoured. There's a lot of hallooing and hazzas, and some are waving flags. Still, it might be best to take no chances...'

  'Could it be that there is news of a victory?' Without waiting for the others, Gina spurred her horse ahead.

  She was right. English tongues had difficulty with pronunciation of the Spanish town of Badajoz, but cheers for Wellington soon convinced her of his victory. She turned to the others with a glowing face.

  'Come!' she cried. 'This is a cause for celebration!' She hurried indoors, instructing Hanson to bring up a couple of bottles of her finest burgundy.

  As they toasted the Duke's success they shared in the general feeling of elation. Even the girls were allowed a half-glass each, diluted, though it grieved her, with a little water.

  Mair twirled about the room, her usual shyness forgotten. 'Oh, I have never felt more like dancing!' she cried. 'Gina, will you play for us?'

  Gina laughed. 'A waltz? I don't believe I know a single tune. I've played only for country dancing.'

  'It ain't difficult, ma'am. They call it three-four time.' Without the least trace of affectation Thomas began to sing in a pleasant baritone and Gina was quick to follow his lead.

  In spite of his claims of clumsiness Thomas was light on his feet and a born teacher. Gina complimented him upon his skill in explaining the steps.

  'No trick to it, Lady Whitelaw. I just remember my own difficulties... Now, Giles, if you will take Mair, I shall partner Elspeth.'

  Within a half-hour he had them performing very creditably.

  'There now,' he assured the girls. 'You'll be more skilled than half the dancers in the room.'

  'But what of Gina?' Elspeth protested. 'She has been playing for us and she hasn't had her lesson.'

  'Let me play,' said Mair as she moved over to the spinet.

  Gina gave up her place with a laughing protest and turned to Thomas Newby. 'I've been watching carefully,' she said. 'I promise not to tread upon your toes.'

  Thomas took her in his arms, his hand upon her waist and holding her at a careful distance. In their innocence the girls thought nothing of this close and unusual proximity of their partners, but Gina found it strange.

  Thomas smiled at her. 'Relax!' he said. 'You must not hold yourself so stiffly, ma'am. Give yourself to the music.'

  Gina tried to obey him, but it was several minutes before she felt at ease. Then suddenly the rhythm became familiar and she almost forgot her partner in the sensation of spinning about the room in a dizzying whirl.

  'It feels like flying,' she admitted as the music stopped. 'Mr Newby, you have introduced us to a delightful pastime.'

  'Glad you enjoyed it, ma'am, but you must dance with Giles to enjoy it to the full.' He took her hand and led her over to his friend.

  This was something that Gina had intended to avoid at all costs, but she could think of no way to refuse. Looking at Giles, she could see that he was equally unwilling, but when Mair began to play he took her in his arms.

  Gina felt that her feet were made of lead, and she stumbled over the first few steps, quite unable to follow his lead. She caught her breath. She must not make a fool of herself, but it had been so long, so very long, since he had held her close to his heart.

  Everything about him was familiar—the touch of his hand, the faint scent of soap and the outdoors, the power of the arm which encircled her and the knowledge that his lips were a mere few inches from her own.

  At length she stole a glance at him, but the handsome face was a mask. It didn't fool her for a moment. To outward appearances Giles was in full control of his emotions, but she was close enough to sense the rapid beating of his heart.

  Chapter Six

  Gina resumed her seat at the spinet. She would play for the others, but no amount of entreaty could persuade her to dance again.

  Thomas remarked on it as he rode back to the Grange with Giles.

  'You know Lady Whitelaw better than I,' he said. 'Do you suppose I have offended her?'

  'Great heavens, why should you think that?'

  'Oh, I don't know. I thought she seemed a little distrait when we arrived today...not quite herself, if you know what I mean.'

  'I do, but I can't tell you the reason for it. Perhaps her uncle brought bad news...'

  'Possibly. I wondered if she had had second thoughts about my offering to show her the waltz. She did not seem to wish...I mean, she may have found it unpleasant to find herself in the arms of a stranger. I wouldn't upset her for the world.'

  'I'm sure that isn't true.' Giles cast a quick look at his companion. 'Don't allow it to worry you... She holds you in high regard. She told me so herself.'

  Thomas brightened. 'Do you say so? I am glad of it.' He rode on in silence for several minutes. Then he returned to the subject.

  'There's something I want to ask you,' he said in a low voice. 'Don't take it amiss, old friend, or think that I am prying, but have you a tendre for the lady?'

  Giles stared at him, and Thomas flushed to the roots of his hair.

  'I have a reason for asking,' he explained uncomfortably. 'I mean, I would not wish to offer for her if it should clash with your own intentions towards her.'

  'I have no plans to marry,' Giles said in a harsh tone. 'I thought you felt the same.'

  'I did...that is, until I met her. She's everything a man could wish for. I hadn't thought to meet any woman with her qualities. She's so full of courage and intelligence. Surely everyone must love her. That smile turns a man's knees to water.'

  Privately Giles agreed with him, but he was filled with feelings of despair. Gina might be wealthy, but Newby's family could match that wealth. Thomas could not be considered a fortune-hunter. His father had always made it clear that he wished for nothing more than to see his son safely settled with a suitable bride. Handsome settlements would follow.

  'This is a quick decision on your part,' Giles said carefully. 'Are you sure of your feelings for Gina? You've been in love before, of so you tell me.'

  'Mere infatuations!' Thomas dismissed his previous liaisons with a wave of his hand. 'Up to now I
had not thought of marriage. Of course, I may not stand a chance with her. She may already have plans in that direction. Do you know if that is so?'

  'She hasn't mentioned anyone,' Giles said stiffly. 'Though I doubt if she would discuss such matters with me.'

  'But you are her close friend, are you not? You always seem to have so much to say to each other.'

  'Our conversation has been mostly about farming practice.' Even as Giles spoke he saw the look of surprise on his companion's face. Truly, it must seem odd to be discussing agriculture with such a warm and loving woman.

  'Gina is something of a diplomat,' he continued. 'It's part of the secret of her charm. She is accustomed to speak of others' interests rather than her own.'

  'I see. It doesn't surprise me. I think her the most agreeable person in the world. How her face lit up when we heard the news of the victory of Badajoz.'

  'Isham will be able to tell us more. He'll have the news by now, I make no doubt.'

  Giles was right. When they reached the Grange they found Lord Isham in his study, reading a lengthy missive which had been delivered by special messenger.

  'Good news at last!' Isham laid aside the papers. 'Have you heard already?'

  'We have... the village is en fete. What can you tell us about the engagement? Was the victory complete?'

  'It was. There is a darker side, of course. The Duke was delighted by the bravery of his troops, but then they let him down. Serious looting followed, and the men got out of hand. He wasted no time in restoring order. He was forced to resort to floggings and two men were hanged.'

  'For looting?' Thomas was incredulous. 'I thought that it was common in time of war.'

  'Not in Wellington's army. He has always insisted that goods requisitioned from the Spaniards should be paid for, which is why we are more popular than the French, who leave the populace with nothing.'

  'Even so, it does seem hard when the men have fought so well...'

  'His Lordship understands his troops. His army is not made up of gentlemen, you know. On occasion he has referred to them as the "scum of the earth". On another he mentioned that he hoped that they would terrify the French, because they certainly terrified him.'

  'Yet they follow him without question,' Thomas said in wonder. 'Why is that, my lord?'

  'He cares about them in his own way. At times he has turfed his officers out of comfortable billets when they've left their men unfed and without shelter. The troops know him as a hard man, but he is just, and he won't waste lives.' Isham looked at his brother-in-law. 'You are very quiet, Giles. Do you disapprove of Wellington's draconian measures?'

  'No! I must suppose he had no choice. It must be difficult to control a drunken rabble.'

  'It was. Once they found the stores of wine they drank themselves into oblivion, after raping half the womenfolk. That was one reason for the hangings.' He looked up with a smile as India entered the room. 'Come in, my love. We are just discussing this famous victory.'

  'It seems to be a day for news,' she told him. 'The servants have heard that there may be trouble at the Abbey. Yardley has been to see the Marquis. He's thought to believe that Sywell may have killed his wife...'

  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.