‘You saved me,’ she pointed out.
‘Only because you helped me. If I had not come today, you would have been scheming, plotting, resisting.’ He smiled at her. ‘Where did you find the courage, Joanna?’
‘Thinking of the other girls,’ she said simply. ‘And thinking of what…of what someone who is very important to me would have expected of me.’
For some reason Giles felt that he had been punched in the solar plexus. Of course—this mysterious man who had so upset her at the Duchess’s ball that this entire train of events had been set in motion. He could hardly cavil at anything that had given Joanna the strength to resist, but why was she wasting her emotions on this damned man? She was worth more, this pattern-book débutante who had kicked over the traces.
‘Remember that you had the courage to fight,’ he said, when he had trampled on his anger. ‘And talk about it, don’t bottle it up.’
‘Who can I talk about it with?’ she asked.
‘Me. Hebe. Alex.’
‘Alex? Goodness, no!’ Joanna sounded almost normal again. ‘I am scared of Alex.’
‘Why on earth? He usually has to fight the ladies off—or at least he had to until he had Hebe to do it for him.’
‘He looks so…sardonic,’ Joanna said. ‘Hebe told me that her maid on Malta said he looked like “a beautiful fierce saint”. He was furious, apparently.’
Giles grinned, saving that one up to torment Alex with on some future occasion. It was enough that talking of their friends had restored Joanna a little. ‘Will you be all right if I go and talk to Mrs Penny? I want to find out where the nearest magistrate is.’ She nodded, so he placed her carefully back on the sofa, found a clean handkerchief in the depths of his pocket for her and went in search of the charwoman who was scrubbing the kitchen floor.
‘Magistrate, sir? The nearest one is the Squire.’
Patiently Giles extracted the information that Squire Gedding was a good man, firm but fair, and his lady was as nice as you could find anywhere.
‘When my Jimmy had a bit of trouble with a pheasant—out of work he was, on account of him having hurt his arm—Squire had him in front of his desk and was right fierce. Told him he was a bloody fool and ought to have come to see him, not go trampling about in his coverts scaring the birds. And he gave him a job in his stables, and Mrs Gedding, she went right ’round with food for the little ones, and medicine for Susan, that’s my daughter-in-law…’
Giles let her ramble on, feeling a considerable relief washing over him. A country squire with a firm hand but some imagination and a kindly wife were exactly what he had need of just now. ‘How far away does Squire Gedding live?’ he asked, cutting into further reminiscences of the Geddings’ goodness.
‘Less than two miles, sir. In the middle of the village.’
‘That close?’ Giles said with considerable relief. The sooner he got Joanna into the hands of a respectable lady, and the Thoroughgoods into the grip of the forces of law and order, the happier he would be. There were muffled shouts from upstairs and Mrs Penny started nervously. ‘Do not worry, Mrs Penny, they cannot get out. Will you come with us in my carriage and direct us to the village? I will drop you off at your home.’ She nodded, obviously anxious. ‘If you go and make sure the fire in the kitchen is banked down,’ Giles continued firmly, ‘then I will lock up and we will be on our way.’
The three of them were soon outside. The greys stood patiently, too tired to show any inclination to wander. Giles helped both women up and then squashed into the seat beside them, thankful that Joanna was slim and Mrs Penny positively skinny.
The journey to the village did not take long despite the tired horses and the fact that dusk was falling rapidly. The charwoman indicated a cottage by the side of the road and was helped down, much to the amazement of the younger woman who came to the door, one child in her arms, another clinging to her skirts. ‘There now, Mrs Penny. Thank you for your help. Squire will probably want to talk to you about this, but, in the meantime, be sure not to gossip about it.’
Giles glanced anxiously at Joanna, who was beginning to sway now that Mrs Penny’s skinny form was no longer supporting her. Fortunately the Squire’s house was as easy to find as Mrs Penny had said, and as he drove on to the gravelled apron at the front a groom came round from the side of the house. ‘Good evening, sir, may I take your horses?’
‘Thank you. Is the Squire at home?’ Giles put a steadying arm around Joanna, whose eyes were fluttering closed.
‘Yes, sir, and Mrs Gedding, sir. Will you be staying, sir? I can stable the team and give them a good rub down and a feed.’
Giles was too concerned to get Joanna inside to pay much attention to the niceties such as introducing himself to the Squire first. ‘Thank you. Just hold their heads while I help the lady.’
Between them they lifted Joanna down safely. Giles was not sure whether she had fainted or was simply asleep, but her head fell against his shoulder as he carried her and her face was buried in his coat front. A wave of fierce protectiveness swept over him, startling in its intensity: somehow he was going to make this all right for her.
A sensible-looking maid opened the door to him, took one look at his burden and said simply, ‘You’ll be wanting Mrs Gedding, sir.’
He followed her across the hall and through the door she held open and saw a big, grizzled man sitting on one side of the hearth, a plump, cheerful lady opposite him, obviously in full flow of speech. She broke off at the sight of the apparition on her threshold, then jumped to her feet and hurried over.
‘Ma’am, I apologise for the intrusion,’ Giles began. ‘My name is Colonel Gregory and—’
‘You need help,’ she finished for him. ‘Bring the poor lamb in, everything will be all right.’
And Giles, who could not remember feeling so relieved since he had seen a relief column of cavalry cutting their way through to his bridgehead at Vittoria, decided it probably would be.
Chapter Seven
Joanna stirred, yawned without opening her eyes and snuggled down into the bed again. She felt completely drained, she realised, sleepily beginning to wake up, but that was no wonder after such a dreadful night made hideous with nightmares. How had she imagined such appalling creatures? That clergyman, his sinister sister, their unspeakable plans for her…but her imagination had at least conjured up Giles to rescue her.
Then a cold, queasy hand gripped her stomach and she woke fully, remembering the day before, realising that it was all true, that it was no nightmare. ‘Giles!’ Joanna scrambled up against the pillows, searching the room with wide, frightened eyes, but it was not the shabby, dark room with its barred window. This was an airy, pretty chamber with delicate furniture, white muslin curtains stirring gently at an open window and a bowl of tumbling roses on the sill.
The door opened and a smiling lady looked in. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I am Mrs Gedding and this is my home. You are quite safe here.’ She came further into the room and Joanna saw she was a motherly-looking person with an air of commonsense kindness about her. She relaxed back against the pillows, her panic ebbing. ‘My husband is the squire and a magistrate, and he and your young man are off dealing with those dreadful people,’ she added reassuringly.
‘My young man? Oh, you mean Giles? Oh, no, he is not…I mean…’ Joanna was afraid she was blushing and when she saw the twinkle in Mrs Gedding’s eyes she was sure of it. ‘He is a friend of the family,’ she added hastily, then realised with a shock that she had no idea how it was that Giles had saved her. How on earth had he come to be there? It had seemed so right, so perfect that it was the man she loved who had rescued her from that nightmare that it had never occurred to her to question it.
She recalled, as though from a long time ago, her fierce anger with her captors and Giles’s calm handling of her fears. ‘Are they, the Thoroughgoods, I mean…?’
‘Off to Peterborough gaol last night,’ her hostess said firmly. ‘Two armed constables with them i
n a locked carriage. They’ll be out of harm’s way now, and there they’ll stay until Quarter Sessions. The Colonel and my husband have gone back to the house today to search it for more evidence and to see if they can set an ambush for that Milo Thomas you told the Colonel about.’
She smoothed the bedcovers and watched Joanna for a moment, her head on one side like an inquisitive robin. ‘You’ll do better knowing all there is to know, I can tell. Some people don’t want to know, other people need to. You’ve got too much imagination to be sheltered with half-truths. The Colonel told us how brave you were. Now, would you like a bath and some breakfast? Or would you like to talk to me about anything?’
Joanna smiled back. In the absence of Giles’s arms around her, she could not have felt more secure than she did with this frank, friendly lady. She hugged the comment about Giles’s opinion to herself and considered the question. ‘Not at the moment, thank you,’ she said. ‘I asked Giles about why, and that sort of thing. That was what I could not understand. Why? And what made men like that? He explained it all.’
‘Did he, indeed!’ Mrs Gedding’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, he is an extraordinary young man if he could do that without turning a hair.’
‘I think I could talk to Giles about anything,’ Joanna said thoughtfully, then remembered exactly what they had been discussing and smiled faintly. ‘He is very kind—and brave,’ she added. ‘I expect he had rather have faced a cavalry charge!’
Mrs Gedding smiled back. ‘Bath and breakfast? I have no idea what has happened to your luggage; probably it is still at the Thoroughgoods’ house. Even the most thoughtful and courageous man may be relied upon to forget such essentials as clean undergarments and tooth powder in a crisis. Never mind, my younger daughter’s things are here—she is staying with her married sister, and she will not mind at all if you borrow whatever you need.’
A bath and clean, pretty clothes restored Joanna’s spirits and she sat down to breakfast ravenously hungry. ‘I do beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she apologised when she realised she had finished the entire plate of toast, ‘but I have eaten hardly anything since I left home but a meat pie at Biggleswade, and that made me ill.’
‘Ah, yes, your home.’ Mrs Gedding refilled her tea cup. ‘The Colonel has written to your parents, and I have added a note. I have left the package open, so if you would like to add something of your own we will get it sealed up and off to Peterborough to catch the post as soon as may be.’
‘Oh. Yes. Thank you.’ Joanna bit her lip. She had meant to be with Georgy at least two days ago, with a reassuring message on its way to London as soon as she arrived—without any direction for finding her, of course. ‘I should never have done it,’ she blurted out, suddenly acutely conscious of the anxiety she must have caused. ‘I was so miserable and confused. I cannot imagine what you must think of me.’
‘That you were very unhappy, Joanna dear, and not thinking very clearly,’ Mrs Gedding said prosaically. ‘We all do stupid and thoughtless things at least once in our lives. Now, in his letter the Colonel has explained a little of what has happened—not the worst of it, naturally—and has told your parents that he must stay a day or so until the evidence is all collected together and you have rested. I have promised your mama that I will look after you and that we will find you a suitable chaperon before you travel back to London. All that remains for you to do is to rest and get stronger. But write your note first.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Joanna said meekly. The letter was hard to compose. In the end she managed a few lines to say how sorry she was, and that she was quite safe and that Mrs Gedding was very kind. But it was more than she was capable of to apologise for running away before Lord Clifton called to make his offer. The ink was blotted here and there with large teardrops, but she did not want to ask for more good notepaper and she hoped Mama would recognise tears of real regret.
Her hostess was bustling about with lists when she brought her the note. When it was sealed with the others and the groom dispatched with it, she asked politely if there was anything she could do to help.
‘It won’t do you any good to sit and brood, will it, my dear? No, I did not think it would. But you must not exert yourself too much yet.’ Mrs Gedding thought for a while then said, ‘I know, pot-pourri. Come along.’
Joanna found herself shown out into the back garden, a basket over her arm and a pair of scissors in her hand. ‘Oh, how beautiful!’
The garden was a mass of roses, of old-fashioned flowers, of weeping trees and winding paths scythed through the grass. The scent was magical and almost took her breath away.
‘I love it,’ said Mrs Gedding simply. ‘It has taken me twenty years to make it look as though it just happened by accident. Not many people appreciate it.’
‘It is Sleeping Beauty’s garden,’ Joanna declared. ‘Is there a turret hidden in the midst of it?’
‘No, but that is an excellent idea. I must ask Mr Gedding to have one built as a summer house. Now, my dear, the sun has dried the dew off the roses, so if you will be so good as to start picking heads from the ones that are just open, they will be perfect for drying.’
Joanna spent an idyllic morning exploring the garden. The maid brought out a chair and a rug and some larger baskets and she wandered up and down the paths, snipping rose heads into her basket, smelling the other scented bushes, thinking about the perfect place to position Sleeping Beauty’s turret. Occasionally she would tip her basket into the bigger one by the chair and sit and rest for a little.
Mrs Gedding came out with some lemonade and they talked of their families and the contrast between village and town life, then her hostess went back inside and Joanna sat, surrounded by her baskets brimming with roses, and finally let herself think about the previous day.
She probed her memory like someone exploring a sore tooth, very cautiously, wincing as she realised just how careless and gullible she had been and what dreadful danger she had escaped. Giles’s words of praise were balm to her self-esteem, but her conscience continued to prick her when she thought of her parents’ anxiety.
And how, of all the miracles, had it been Giles who had found her? On the thought he appeared from the back door, carrying a chair and a folding table, the maid with a loaded tray behind him.
‘Hello.’ Joanna’s heart gave a sudden, hard thud and she found that all she could do was to smile back at him. ‘Mrs Gedding thought we might like to picnic out here. The Squire has come back to arrange for a clerk to assist us this afternoon: there is so much paper we are unearthing that we are going to have to get it listed and ordered before we can start to make sense of it all, let alone mount a court case.’ He set down the chair and unfolded the table. ‘May I sit down?’
‘Oh, yes, of course, I am sorry, my wits are gone a-wandering.’ He looked exactly as she remembered him from London. This morning she had been half-afraid that it was all a delusion and it wasn’t the real Giles. Now, sitting beside him, watching the dappled shade from the tree cast patterns over his dark blond hair and returning the smile that crinkled the corners of his grey eyes, she knew he was real and a ridiculous, hopeless wave of love swept over her.
‘Gi…Colonel Gregory…’
‘Giles will do very well, Joanna.’ He leaned forward and poured two glasses of lemonade. ‘How are you today?’
‘Much better than I deserve,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I cannot thank you enough. I was praying for a miracle, and there you were! But I do not understand how you came to find me.’
‘Well, your father is laid up with gout and your mama hurried round to the Tasboroughs’ town house in a fine state of alarm, as you might expect, hoping that Alex would be there. But, of course, she had not stopped to think about Hebe’s condition. Fortunately I was staying and I knew Alex would not want to leave his wife, so I offered to hunt you down. You gave me a fair run for my money.’ He lifted a plate and offered it to her. ‘Ham? A slice of bread and butter? Or I think that is a slice of raised pie…’
‘Ham and bread, please.’ Joanna cut up her food, thinking over what Giles had said. ‘Hebe is well?’
‘Oh, perfectly, but she doesn’t rest as much as she should, and I put the idea into Alex’s head that she is expecting twins, so you can imagine the state he is in. I should imagine he and your mama between them are exercising Hebe’s powers to calm and reassure to the utmost.’
Joanna digested this information, decided she could not possibly ask why Giles thought Hebe was expecting twins and said, ‘How lucky you were still in London. I thought I heard someone say you had gone to see your father. Is the General well?’
Giles shrugged and Joanna saw the anxiety in his eyes, although he kept his voice light when he said, ‘Not entirely. He does too much, will not admit he is not in the best of health and drives my mother distracted.’
‘But you came back to town despite that?’ Joanna bit her lip, wondering if she had overstepped the mark and was being intrusively curious, but Giles did not appear to find her question impertinent.
‘We had a blazing row and he disinherited me,’ he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
‘Oh, Giles! How dreadful!’ Joanna’s bread and butter dropped to the plate unheeded as she stared at him. ‘But why on earth?’
‘I told him I intend to sell out. Oh, and there is the question of my marriage, of course.’
‘Giles, you should not jest about it,’ Joanna said, shaken to the core. ‘Of course you are not going to sell out. Why, you are going to be a general—’
‘Not you, too!’ He got up and took two angry strides across the grass, then turned back with a shake of the head. ‘I am sorry, Joanna, I did not mean to shout at you. My father is a sick man who is not getting any younger. He needs my help and support with the estate, even if he won’t admit it. And we are at peace now: I do not want to spend the rest of my career as a peacetime soldier, always on parade, or worse, putting down industrial unrest in the north of England. I did not join the army to ride down starving mill workers or hungry farm labourers.’
The Society Catch (Harlequin Historical) Page 8