Mr Rushford's Honour

by Meg Alexander

  "Tis all very well for you,' Cook moaned. 'I ain't been to these outlandish places with the mistress...'

  'If you had you would have no fears for her.' Hanson was unsympathetic. 'Now pull yourself together, woman. Will you add to Madam's worries?'

  His rebuke was unnecessary. Having made her wishes known to her staff, Gina didn't give Mrs Long another thought. She regarded hysterics as an unwarranted indulgence on the part of any woman.

  She changed out of her riding habit and into a high-necked gown of French muslin in her favourite blue. Over it, for warmth, she wore a waist-length jacket with a high collar and long sleeves in a deeper shade of blue. Not for the first time she blessed the introduction of this useful garment, known as a spencer. Then she selected a high-crowned hat in satin straw, trimmed with matching ribbons. It would crush her hair-style out of recognition, but that was not of the slightest moment. She hurried down the staircase, followed by her maid, who was still cramming various small items into a reticule.

  'Don't fuss, Betsy!' Gina almost snatched the small bag from her. 'A handkerchief is all I need.'

  Without more ado she jumped into her carriage and pulled the check-string.

  The journey to the Grange passed without incident, but on arrival Gina was at once aware of the tension in the household.

  Letty drew her to one side. 'Mama has upset India,' she whispered. 'She has her in widow's weeds already.'

  'Send for the doctor,' Gina advised. 'Perhaps he'd give your mother a sedative.'

  'He's on his way,' Letty told her. 'I was worried about India...'

  'There is not the slightest need.' India had entered the room. 'I am not so easily overset...except... except that, of course I am worried about Anthony...' Her voice was quite under control.

  Gina sat beside her and took her hand. 'Your husband is one of the most sensible men I know. He always looks ahead, my dear India, and on this occasion he is forewarned of possible trouble.'

  India's eyes were bright with tears. 'He is my life,' she whispered. 'I could not live without him.'

  'And you will not do so. Giles tells me that Anthony believes this crime to be a single act of murder, for what reason we may never know. I suspect the same myself.'

  'Then you do not think it the start of an insurrection? Luddites, for example?'

  'I doubt it. The frame-breakers have a genuine grievance, as Anthony will have told you, but they are merely trying to protect their livelihood, although it may not be in ways that we commend.'

  'But he said...he said that others have infiltrated their movement for purposes of sedition.'

  'That may be so, but I have the utmost faith in my fellow-countrymen. They have a strong objection to being used.'

  'Oh, how sensible you are!' India smiled through her tears. 'You must think me a veritable watering-pot.'

  'I don't think that at all!' Gina pressed her friend's hand. 'All I ask is that you don't meet trouble ahead of time. I've done it so often in the past. Then I've discovered that my worries have been unfounded. In the meantime, I've wasted many unhappy hours in allowing my imagination to dwell upon disaster. Time enough for that if it should happen, and for most of the time it doesn't. Anthony will be back with you before you know it.'

  'He said at least a week...' India ventured.

  'Quite possibly. I won't make light of this tragedy. The Government must be in disarray, but they will value Anthony's advice.'

  India recovered some of her self-possession. 'I expect so. He has been concerned. Oh, I know that he discounts the idea of revolution in this country, but he's aware of the disaffection in the north.'

  Gina nodded. She too had heard of the increase in the rioting.

  'And then, you know, there is all the unemployment due to Napoleon's blockade. Cotton cannot get through to the towns in Lancashire, and the price of bread is rising constantly.'

  'The war will not last for ever,' Gina comforted. 'Wellington is pushing back the French in Spain. When peace comes we shall enjoy prosperity.'

  'That may be years away,' India told her sadly. 'Meantime this country is a tinder-box. It needs only a spark to set it aflame.'

  'With respect, I think you are mistaken,' Gina replied. 'Take the Prince Regent, for example. He is despised for his extravagance, his bigamy, his mistresses and his treatment of his father and his wife. When he appears in public, he is jeered at and pelted with mud, yet no one attempts to do him serious harm.'

  'He is regarded as a buffoon.' Giles had entered the room.

  'Oh, no, he isn't that!' India shook her head. 'What the British can't forgive is that he is a patron of the arts. Had he confined his interests to horse-racing and boxing he would have been much more popular.'

  'You are very hard on us, Lady Isham.' Thomas smiled down at her. 'Are we then a race of Philistines?'

  'I fear you are, Mr Newby. The Prince is suspect because of his passion for orientalism, for design, for luxury, and for exotic foods... These things are not dear to the hearts of people in this country.'

  'Especially the latter,' Giles broke in. 'I'm told that the Regent is now so fat that a hoist of some kind is needed to seat him upon his horse.'

  Everyone smiled, but Gina felt moved to defend the Prince. 'I cannot but admire his taste in literature,' she protested. 'Is he not an admirer of Miss Austen's novels?'

  'Oh, Gina, have you read it?' India's face lit up. 'Anthony has brought me a copy. It's called Sense and Sensibility. I'll be glad to lend it to you when I've finished it.'

  'I'd like that. Miss Austen is a favourite with many people. They love the humour in her book. It is so subtle.'

  'The Prince likes the Waverley novels too,' Thomas objected in gloomy tones. 'I tried one once. Couldn't get past the first page. All ancient history and prosing on as if we were still in the schoolroom...'

  This brought cries of protest from the ladies and resulted in a heated discussion.

  Gina glanced at her friend and was satisfied to see that her attempt at diversion had been successful. Some of the colour had returned to India's cheeks and she had lost the haunted look which was so troubling.

  As she took her leave, Giles accompanied her to her carriage.

  'Have you engagements for tomorrow?' he asked quietly.

  Gina gave him a searching look before she answered. 'None that can't be broken,' she replied. 'Why do you ask?'

  'I hoped.. .that is, I wondered if you would be good enough to visit India again. She is a different person in your company. I had not thought she would be so distressed by Isham's absence...'

  'It is natural,' Gina comforted. 'And it is partly her condition. Fears can grow out of all proportion unless one gives another direction to one's thoughts.'

  'That's true! Unfortunately, my mother adds to India's worries... I could wish that she would pay another visit to her friends...'

  'Preferably far from here?' Gina twinkled at him.

  'The farther the better!' He gave her an answering smile. 'Anthony can handle her, but my sisters are very much at her mercy.'

  'And you?'

  'I can't be here all day, Gina. Do say you'll come tomorrow...' He laid his hand upon her arm and Gina jumped as if she had been stung. Even through the fine cloth of her garments his touch had the power to set her senses aflame. Her eyes searched his face for some indication that his resolve was weakening, but Giles appeared to be thinking only of India.

  'I'll come,' she promised as she stepped into her carriage.

  On the journey back to Abbot Quincey she had much to occupy her mind; She could only rejoice that Giles had dropped his distant manner towards her. Now they were slipping back into the old comradeship which had first attracted them to each other. What had started as friendship had deepened into an overwhelming love. Could it do so again? In time of danger Giles must surely set aside his pride in the basic need to protect her and have her by his side. She prayed that it would be so.

  Was she growing selfish? For these past few weeks she
had been preoccupied with her own concerns, but now there were others to consider, apart from her own girls. It was a salutary thought.

  With a lighter heart she hurried indoors, handing her spencer, her bonnet and her gloves to the waiting maid. If India needed diversion she should have it. Gina looked at her latest acquisition, the poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

  She and the girls had read 'The Ancient Mariner' and 'Kubla Khan' until they knew each word by heart. She chuckled to herself. How Mair and Elspeth had shuddered in mock horror as she had declaimed aloud!

  Thomas Newby should be made to eat his words when he dismissed the whole of English literature. On the morrow she would make his blood run cold, and India would appreciate the joke.

  There was Mrs Rushford to consider, of course. Gina rested her chin upon her hand. She could think of no immediate way of persuading India's mother to curb her foolish tongue. Perhaps the answer was to make some utterly outrageous statement in the hope of drawing her fire.

  In the event, she had no need to do so. On the following day she found the family gathered in the salon at the Grange. Having shaken off the effects of her sedative, Mrs Rushford was in full flow. She broke off to give Gina a sour look.

  'I wonder that you dare to venture out, Lady Whitelaw. Had your husband been alive he would have forbidden it, I'm sure...'

  'Fortunately, I am my own mistress, ma'am,' Gina said sweetly. 'As you see, I am unharmed.'

  'Well, I suppose that you are accustomed to a certain lifestyle. My daughters have been brought up in a different way. They do not go racing about the countryside...'

  Gina smiled, but she was aware that Giles had gone pale with anger. He was about to speak, but she shook her head at him. She had no wish to be the cause of a family quarrel.

  'You have a letter, my lady.' India's butler held out a silver tray. 'There is also one for Mrs Rushford.'

  'From Anthony?' India fell upon her letter with delight. 'Oh, please excuse me, but I must know what he has to say.' She scanned the missive quickly. Then she gave a sigh of relief. 'All is well,' she reported. 'There have been no more attacks. Bellingham is to be tried, but he has said nothing more.'

  She looked round, smiling at her friends, but even as she did so the air was rent by a piercing scream.

  'Mother, what is it?' Giles was across the room in a couple of strides. 'Are you ill?'

  Speechless for once, Mrs Rushford shook her head.

  'Then you can't have been listening to India. There seems to be no further danger to your safety...'

  Feebly, she waved the piece of paper in her hand. 'Read that!' she gasped.

  Five pairs of eyes were upon Giles as he scanned the single sheet. His reaction shocked them all. To everyone's surprise he gave a shout of laughter.

  'Do share the joke!' India begged. 'We are all in need of entertainment.'

  'And you shall have it!' Giles grinned at them, and then his face grew solemn. 'I am to be adopted,' he announced.

  'Oh, Giles, don't gammon us! Won't you tell us what is in the letter?' Letty could not hide her curiosity.

  'I've just told you. Mrs Clewes wishes me to take her name. She will then make me her heir.' His eyes were sparkling with amusement and the others refused to take him seriously.

  'Wishful thinking, old fellow. Who could be so lucky?''

  'It's true!' Mrs Rushford spoke in a hollow tone. 'Oh, my boy, who would have thought it?'

  'Certainly not I. I hardly know the woman.'

  'And I have never heard of her,' India announced. 'Where did you meet her, Giles?'

  'At Bristol. We played cards with Lady Wells and her other cronies...'

  'The demon gamblers?' Thomas raised an eyebrow. 'You must have made a great impression, Giles.'

  'Giles was very kind to the old ladies,' his mother said with dignity. 'Mrs Clewes is not, perhaps, the type of person one would meet in the best society. She is extremely wealthy, so I understand, but her fortune comes from trade.'

  'I liked her,' Giles said simply. 'There is no flummery about her.'

  'I'm glad to hear it.' Mrs Rushford beamed upon him. 'My dear, your worries must now be at an end.'

  The full import of this remark did not strike Giles at first. Then he became aware of the hush which followed it. He turned to face his mother.

  'I hope I misunderstand you, ma'am.' His tone was incredulous. 'You can't possibly be suggesting that I give this offer serious consideration.'

  'Consideration?' she snapped. 'Consideration? You should seize this opportunity with both hands. Where else will you come into possession of a fine competence? You will not wed to make your way in life...'

  Thomas foresaw the coming storm. Excusing himself, he slipped quietly out of the room. His friend's face had grown dark with anger and he had no desire to witness a serious family quarrel.

  Gina made as if to follow him, but Giles stopped her.

  'Sit down, Gina!' he ordered. "This concerns you too. Tell me, shall I accept this offer?'

  It was against her own best interests, but Gina did not hesitate. 'You can't!' she said at once. 'You are the last of the Rushfords. You must not give up your name. It would be like selling it.'

  'Indeed!' Mrs Rushford was beside herself with rage. 'And who are you, madam, to advise my son? Will you take him yourself and give him heirs?'

  Giles took a step towards her, but India intervened. 'Mother, you have gone beyond the bounds of what is permissible,' she said in icy tones. 'Letty and I will take you to your room...'

  It was enough to send Isabel Rushford into full hysterics. She screamed, sank to the floor, and began to drum her heels upon the carpet.

  Giles took Gina's hand. 'Come into the study,' he said. 'My sisters know how to deal with this.'

  'But can't I help?' she asked. 'I have had some experience.'

  A grim smile touched his lips. 'I'm sure you have, but this is no case for a bucket of cold water, or a slap across the face. Knowing my mother, the doctor has left a supply of sedatives. The girls will settle her down.'

  'I should not have been harsh,' she protested.

  'I know it. I was teasing you, but you have every reason to resort to violence. I must apologise for my mother's words...'

  'I believe she spoke without thinking,' Gina replied. 'It is understandable that she should consider your best interests as she sees them.'

  'At any cost?'

  Gina changed the subject. 'Tell me about this Mrs Clewes. Who is she, Giles, and how did you come to meet her?'

  'Lady Wells invited us to Bristol when her son and Letty wished to become engaged. As you can imagine, Oliver and Letty had eyes only for each other. I spent my time in playing cards with the other house guests. Mrs Clewes was one of them.'

  'What type of person is she?'

  To Gina's surprise, Giles twinkled at her. 'You'd like her. She's an original...'

  'In what way?'

  'Well, let me see... In the first place she makes no concessions to the present fashions, apart from a fondness for terrifying turbans. In the Grecian style, she informed me, she would resemble nothing so much as a sack of flour, knotted close to the neck.'

  'She has a sense of humour then?'

  'She has...and it can be withering. Sometimes I was hard put to keep my countenance. She has a way of catching one's eye when something ridiculous strikes her.'

  'I can see why you would find her entertaining, but how does she come to be a guest of Lady Wells? Your mother mentioned that the lady's fortune came from trade. Is not Lady Wells a famous snob?'

  'It is a mystery,' Giles admitted. 'Mrs Clewes may be a family connection of some sort. Lady Wells was forever trying to keep her in her room. Certainly she did not encourage private conversations with this particular guest.'

  'But you must have spoken to her yourself.'

  'Mrs Clewes and I had a number of assignations,' Giles said darkly.

  Gina bridled. 'What age of woman is she?'

  'She must be well i
nto her seventies...widowed... and without an heir. I thought she seemed quite lonely.'

  'And what was the purpose of these assignations?' Gina asked in a casual tone. At least, she hoped that she sounded casual.

  Giles grinned at her. 'Mrs Clewes is fond of a glass of "flesh and blood". It is...er...was not available in her ladyship's household. I managed to get it for her.'

  'Great heavens! What on earth is that?'

  'It is a glass of port, well laced with gin. Don't be tempted to try it, Gina. I did myself. Believe me, it separates the men from the boys...!' He caught Gina's eye and they laughed until they were helpless.

  'I see now why you are such a favourite with Mrs Clewes,' she teased.

  'It wasn't entirely that.' Giles grew more serious. 'I found her to have a fund of what I can only describe as earthy common-sense. She isn't afraid to speak her mind.'

  'I'm sorry that I won't meet her. What will you do now?'

  'I'll write to her, of course, to thank her for her offer. If she is a connection of Lady Wells she might be persuaded to make Oliver her heir.'

  Gina gave the suggestion her consideration. 'That might be best. Oliver is a younger son. He may not object to taking her name.' She paused. Then she asked the question that was uppermost in her mind.

  'What did you mean when you said that this matter was of concern to me as well as to you?'

  'Did I say that?' Giles looked at her in wonder. 'I needed your opinion, that was all.'

  'Not quite all!' Gina was bitterly disappointed, but her expression gave no hint of it. 'There is something else which I should mention to you. Has Mr Newby told you that he offered for me?'

  Giles nodded, sick with apprehension. Was she about to tell him that she'd changed her mind and would now accept his friend?

  'Then you will know that I refused him. Under the circumstances I think it best if, for the present, you do not bring him to my home again. I'd like to avoid an awkward situation.'

  She hoped he would accept the lame excuse, which was only partially true. If Giles persisted in treating her as a stranger she'd be in danger of breaking her heart for a second time, and that, she vowed, must not be allowed to happen. Better not to see him at all than to torture herself with vain hopes.