Mr Rushford's Honour

by Meg Alexander

  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 Felice?' 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 well, 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.

  There he sank down upon a sofa, closed his eyes and pretended to be dozing. It didn't escape his notice that George had gone at once to Gina's side and was deep in conversation.

  Samuel was satisfied. In time the lad would come to see where his best interests lay. As for this wench...this Ellie? Perhaps now was not the time to remove her from the scene. Let George believe his promises. He could afford to wait.

  Chapter Seven

  'Gina, I do like gentlemen, don't you?' On the journey home, Elspeth was radiant. She had enjoyed her evening.

  Gina laughed. 'Why do you say that?'

  'Well, they are all so kind. Mr Newby makes us laugh and Mr George Westcott tells such interesting stories...'

  'And can you decide between them? I thought that Mr Newby was your latest flirt.'

  'I doubt if I'll ever marry,' Elspeth said artlessly. 'I'll never be able to choose.'

  'And does Mair feel the same?' Gina glanced at the elder of her charges.

  'I'd need to know them better,' Mair said wisely. 'I feel more comfortable with Giles. He seems to me to have a stronger character.'

  'Giles is the handsomest of all, but he doesn't laugh so much...' Elspeth continued to chatter on. 'Still, we love him best, don't you?'

  'I hadn't thought of comparing him with anyone,'

  Gina replied. It was no more than the truth. Giles alone had touched her heart. Beside him George and Thomas Newby seemed to her to be no more than boys. 'But you have known Giles longer. That is probably the reason.'

  Her voice was perfectly steady, but Mair gave her a long look. There was something slightly fey about Sir Alastair's eldest daughter. Mair seemed to pick vibrations from the air.

  'Mr Newby has been more than kind,' Gina went on quickly. 'Without him you would not have learned to waltz.'

  'And he has promised us more lessons,' Elspeth said with satisfaction. 'Will he come tomorrow, do you suppose?'

  'I imagine that he will wait for an invitation, Elspeth.'

  'Oh, do ask him again. Promise?'

  'We must not monopolise the gentlemen. They will have many other calls upon their time.' Gina was torn between a longing to see Giles again, and the fear that if he took her in his arms once more she would be sure to give herself away.

  'But they enjoyed it, Gina. They both said so...'

  Gina hesitated. 'Very well,' she said at last. 'You may have your dancing lessons if the gentlemen agree, but I must ask something in return...'

  'Anything!' they chorused.

  'Anything? Well, I shall take you at your word. If Mrs Guarding has a place for you at the Academy, will you go there willingly?' She studied the stricken expression on both faces with a flicker of amusement. 'It's scarce a sentence of execution, my dears.'

  'Oh, Gina, must we? You've always taught us up to now...' Mair was never at ease in a new environment.

  'I won't say you must, but it would please me. You would learn much which is far beyond my own capabilities. Besides, you would make new friends. We cannot live in isolation here, and some of the other pupils will be of your own age.'

  'It might be fun, after all.' Elspeth considered the suggestion. 'We'd hear all the village gossip too...'

  'That's hardly a reason for attending a place of learning.' Gina's tone was solemn, but her eyes were twinkling. 'Is it a bargain then?'

  'It is,' they both agreed, though Mair looked dubious.

  Gina patted her shoulder. 'In your case it won't be long, my love. You'll be out of the schoolroom before you know it and it will be a comfort to have friends about you when you make your come-out.'

  Mair smiled, and Gina was satisfied. She tried always to reason with the girls, rather than insisting upon unquestioning obedience. To date, the use of that policy had resulted in the happiest of relationships with her stepdaughters.

  'And you won't forget to send a message to the Grange?' said the irrepressible Elspeth.

  'I shall pay a morning call on Lord and Lady Isham. We must not continue to deceive them as to the true reason for Mr Newby's visits here.'

  'But suppose they disapprove?' Mair said quietly.

  'I doubt if they will, my dear, and Anthony is master in his home...'

  Gina did not pursue the subject. It was not her intention to criticise Mrs Rushford to her charges. On the following morning she ordered her carriage and set off for the Grange.

  She was happy to find that India was receiving, and pleased to realise that she was the only visitor on that particular day.

  India greeted her warmly. 'Oh,' she cried. 'How good of you to come! Anthony is out riding with Giles and Mr Newby, and Mama and Letty are gone again to Hammonds in the village. I'd like to have gone with them, but Anthony is concerned about my being jolted in the coach.'

  Gina sympathised. 'Perhaps It's better to take no chances in these early days, Lady Isham.'

  'Please call me India. We are old friends, are we not? I was feeling sadly neglected, but now I'm glad that I didn't insist on going out, otherwise I should have missed you.' India tossed aside her embroidery with a look of relief. 'Don't look at it!' she pleaded. 'I am no hand with a needle.'

  'Nor I.' Gina gave her companion a cheerful smile. 'I
think it a total waste of time, though it is considered to be a suitable accomplishment for women.'

  'You prefer others, so I hear...' India gave her visitor a curious look.

  'Rumour abounds, I know, but I have quite given up the practice of marksmanship and the art of murder.' Even as she spoke Gina recollected the recent tragedy at the Grange. 'Oh, I beg your pardon,' she said quickly. 'That was tactless of me.'

  When she looked up she found that India was smiling.

  'Don't be embarrassed, Gina. I enjoyed your joke. May I offer you a glass of wine? I must not join you, but I am allowed lemonade.'

  'Then lemonade for me, India. I find it so refreshing.'

  Later, glass in hand, she explained the reason for her visit.

  'I have a confession to make to you. I fear it was a base deceit, but Giles and Mr Newby have been teaching the girls to waltz.'

  'How dreadful!' India said demurely. 'And here we were, in all innocence, believing that your objective was to ride. I shall take Giles to task!'

  'Oh, please don't!' Gina was betrayed into a quick objection. 'It wasn't in the least his fault. I allowed myself to be persuaded by the girls and Mr Newby. Your brother was against it.'

  'Was he? That surprises me. He taught both Letty and myself, though my mother does not know it.' India was laughing openly. 'Great heaven, Gina, why should you think we'd mind?'

  'I felt I was deceiving you, but we had no wish to offend Mrs Rushford's feelings...'

  'Mama will learn to move with the times,' India replied. 'Gina, will you tell me something? You knew Giles in Italy long ago, didn't you?'

  Gina's mouth was dry. She could only nod. Was her secret to be discovered after all this time?

  'Forgive me! Perhaps I should not ask, but Letty and I have often wondered why he was so changed when he came home. We hardly knew him.'

  'In what way had he changed?' Gina found it difficult to speak.

  India frowned. 'He was different in that as a boy he was such a cheerful person. Oh, I don't know how to explain it to you. Letty and he and I were close and he was always the leader in our expeditions, full of energy and ideas. And yet...yet when he returned to Abbot Quincey he was not the same. There was a barrier between us...invisible perhaps, but always there. We did not like to question him, but we have always wondered.'