The last five miles or so were, admittedly, difficult, for Moonstone was tired and Joanna felt it would be a long time before she could sit down again with any degree of comfort. But her flagging spirits lifted at the sight of Lord Brandon’s charming house set in its landscaped park and the gatekeeper, respectfully touching his hat, was able to inform her that her ladyship had only returned from a drive a little while before.
She slid stiffly from the saddle at the front door and surrendered the reins to a groom, who was understandably surprised at the absence of an escort. At the front door she was received by a superior butler who regarded her dusty skirts and solitary state with hauteur. ‘I could not say whether my lady is at home, Miss.’
‘I know she is,’ Joanna said wearily. ‘Please just tell her that Joanna Fulgrave is here.’
‘If you would care to wait in here, Miss, and I—’
‘Jo!’ With a shriek of delight the lady of the house ran down the stairs and enfolded Joanna in a comprehensive embrace. ‘Darling Jo! Where have you sprung from? Did you write and the letter hasn’t got here? Rooke, do not stand there like that—refreshments in the Chinese Salon at once! Bring in Miss Fulgrave’s luggage.’
Joanna was swept in a swirl of chatter, silks and scent into a pretty room hung with Oriental paper. Her friend pushed the door to with a bang and, seizing Joanna by the hands, stood back to regard her from head to toe.
‘Darling, you are covered in dust, your nose is pink and I have to tell you that that habit is quite three Seasons’ old, but I am enchanted to see you. Where have you sprung from? How long can you stay?’
Joanna smiled at Georgy, knowing that until she ran out of breath it was hopeless to try and answer her. Lady Brandon was a handsome brunette with a voluptuous figure, wide mouth, endless enthusiasm and rather more kindness than common sense. Her doting husband, a good fifteen years older than she, maintained her in considerable style and indulged her in all her whims except that of living in London or whatever fashionable resort the season of the year demanded. Visits to London certainly, his lordship agreed. Prolonged stays, no.
Georgy, ever optimistic, was convinced that by next Season she would have worn him down; meanwhile she seized upon any diversion from their rural idyll with enthusiasm and the surprise arrival of her dearest friend from their Bath schooldays was a treat indeed.
She finally fell silent and Joanna said simply, ‘I’ve run away.’
‘Aah!’ Georgy plumped down on the sofa, eyes wide. ‘How wonderful! Who is he?’
‘Who?’ Joanna asked, making rather a business of settling her skirts as she sat opposite.
‘The man involved, of course. Is he handsome and dashing and hopelessly ineligible so your cruel papa has forbidden him to offer for you? Or is he taking you for granted, so you have vanished in order to pique his interest? Or…’
‘Well, if you must know, he is in love with someone else and is going to marry her.’ It was hopeless trying to hide anything from Georgy. She had the instincts of a terrier and the staying power of a running footman.
‘That is too bad! You mean the wretch has been flirting with you and then went and offered for someone with a bigger fortune?’ her friend demanded indignantly.
‘He has not the slightest idea I have any feelings for him at all,’ Joanna said drearily, all the exhilaration of escaping falling away and leaving her feeling bereft and anxious. What would Mrs Gedding be thinking now? What was Giles doing? ‘Georgy, might I ask you to send a groom with a message? It is all of twenty miles or so, I am afraid, and he must not, on any account, reveal where I am, but my kind hostess will be so worried if I do not write.’
‘Yes, of course. Henry is not at home, so half the grooms are sitting around with nothing to do, I dare say. There, use my writing desk.’ She managed to contain her questions while Joanna scribbled a note and addressed it, sitting silently until the butler came in with a tea tray.
‘Rooke, please see this is taken by one of the grooms immediately. It is very important it goes at once and he must take a good horse. And, Rooke…’
‘Yes, my lady?’
‘On no account is he to say where he comes from. He is to leave the note and return at once.’
‘As you say, my lady.’
‘Oh dear, he will think it very odd,’ Joanna said, closing the tambour front of the writing desk and returning to her seat. ‘I am afraid he regards me in a very suspicious light altogether.’
‘Well, he regards me as being completely unsatisfactory,’ Georgy said with a twinkle, ‘so he probably expects all my friends to be as well. Now, never mind Rooke, tell me all about this horrid man.’
By the time the ladies went upstairs to dress for dinner Joanna had poured the entire tale into Georgy’s receptive ears. At first she kept the identity of the man she loved secret, presenting Colonel Gregory simply as an old family friend who had gallantly come to the rescue, but Lady Brandon knew her far too well.
‘It is no good, Jo,’ she declared, ‘You blush every time you mention him: this Giles Gregory is him, is he not?’
‘Yes,’ Joanna admitted. ‘But, please, Georgy, do not breathe a word of it to a soul. He loves someone else and I would die of mortification if he so much as suspected how I feel.’
‘I can see that,’ Georgy agreed, snuggling back into the sofa cushions. ‘It would be the most humiliating thing. But tell me all about him—what does he look like?’
‘Tall, very soldier-like, broad shoulders, grey eyes with the most fascinating black flecks, thick hair like dark honey which he should have cut more often…’
‘Oh! He sounds wonderful!’ Georgy’s own, much-beloved husband was only a head taller than her, already slightly corpulent and the possessor of a hairline that could only be described as receding. Fond as she was, Georgy could not help but thrill at the description of the gallant Colonel. ‘Go on, then…’
She listened with many exclamations and demands for detail to the account of how Joanna had discovered that her love was lost to her, her subsequent misbehaviour, the odious attentions of Lord Clifton and her decision to run away. But when Joanna began to haltingly recount what had befallen her at the Thoroughgoods’ hands, the sparkling excitement left her eyes and she stared aghast at her friend.
Only the triumphant rescue restored her spirits. ‘Oh, what a hero he is,’ she murmured, dabbing her eyes with a fragile scrap of lace. The chiming of the clock recalled her to the time. ‘We must dress for dinner in a moment; hurry and tell me how it all fell out.’
Joanna came to the end of her tale as they climbed the stairs. ‘Well,’ Georgy exclaimed, ‘what an adventure! I am sure you have left out lots of important details, but we will have a comfortable coze after dinner. Now, what can we find you to wear? I declare you are more than a head taller than I am. Butterwick! Here is Miss Fulgrave come to stay and hardly a stitch to her back. I rely on you entirely…’
They returned downstairs again half an hour later, Joanna prettily clad in a gown that was somewhat too short but, as Georgy said, ‘Who is to see it, my dear? Butterwick can let some things down tomorrow; meanwhile, Rooke and the footmen will have to take a care not to stare at your ankles.’
Joanna was just suppressing a giggle at the thought of the awe-inspiring butler so far forgetting himself as to ogle her ankles when there was a thunderous knocking at the front door. She gave a squeak of alarm. ‘Giles!’ and retreated rapidly upstairs to the landing.
Georgy, agog, her heart beating with excitement, continued to descend slowly while Rooke opened the door. Her eyes fell on a tall, travel-stained figure whom she had no difficulty in identifying as Joanna’s colonel. Behind him she could see a big hunter, mysteriously saddleless, its head drooping and sweat staining its neck and flanks.
‘Sir?’
‘I wish to see Lady Brandon.’
Georgy shivered. The voice was deep, perfectly polite and with a bite of utter authority. It was also the voice of a very angry man who was rei
ning in his temper hard.
‘I will ascertain whether her ladyship is At Home,’ Rooke responded with sublime disregard for the fact that his mistress was in plain view behind him. ‘Who should I say is calling, sir?’
‘Colonel Gregory. I regret to say I do not have my card case with me.’
Georgy felt it was time to take a hand. The Colonel’s patience appeared to be wearing thin, which was understandable if he had just ridden almost thirty miles bare-backed. Although why he should be reduced to such straits…
‘Thank you, Rooke. I am Georgiana Brandon.’ She held out her hand, tipping her head back to look up at Giles as his large, capable grasp closed around her pampered plump fingers.
‘I sincerely trust you know why I am here, ma’am.’
‘Really, I cannot—’
‘Lady Brandon, I implore you not to play games with me.’ The firm grip did not release her. ‘If Miss Fulgrave is here safe with you, that is one thing. If she has not arrived, it is most serious and a search must be undertaken immediately.’
Georgy could feel Rooke at her side bridling with indignation that she should be so abruptly addressed, but the look in those dark grey eyes was one of such concern that she could not prevaricate. ‘Yes, Colonel. Joanna is here, and quite safe.’
He freed her fingers and for a fleeting moment his eyes closed. His hand reached out for the doorpost and Georgy wondered if he was dizzy with exhaustion, then the grey eyes snapped back to her face and all she could read there was anger.
‘Then would you be so good as to allow me to speak to her?’
At the head of the stairs Joanna gripped the banister and strained her ears. Giles’s voice came clearly to her and under the controlled cadences of his voice his rage was all too plain for her to hear. She had never heard him speak so levelly. No, Georgy, she pleaded inwardly, do not let him in!
‘I am sorry, Colonel. Joanna is far too tired to receive visitors tonight.’
‘Then perhaps you would be so good as to give her a message, Lady Brandon. I will return here the day after tomorrow with a chaise and a chaperon and I expect her to be ready to travel back to Hertfordshire without further prevarication.’
‘That is not necessary, Colonel. I have invited Joanna to stay.’
‘I am sorry to contradict you, ma’am, but Joanna’s parents have charged me with returning her to her home.’
‘She does not wish to go.’
‘Oh, brave Georgy!’ Joanna whispered under her breath.
‘What Miss Fulgrave wants is, I regret to say, neither here nor there. She is under age and unmarried and therefore under the authority of her father, who has entrusted me with her safe return. I am sure I do not have to tell you what an outrageous risk she took, riding all this way alone?’
‘Well, yes, of course, it was most imprudent…’
‘And I may rely upon you to ensure she remains here safely until I return for her?’
‘I…well…yes, very well, Colonel.’
‘Oh, Georgy, how could you?’
‘Thank you, Lady Brandon. I wish you good evening, ma’am.’
The door had hardly shut behind him when Joanna came running down the stairs. ‘Georgy! I cannot have heard aright! You have never promised to let him take me away?’
‘Shh, Jo dear.’ Georgy cast a speaking glance at the butler and swept her indignant guest into the dining room. ‘Thank you, Rooke, we can serve ourselves, I will ring when I wish the courses removed.’
The butler bowed himself out, followed by both footmen, and Georgy plumped herself down in her chair. ‘Don’t glare at me so, Jo! What could I do? If I had said no, he would have marched in here and dragged you off, I feel sure of it.’ She shivered delicately. ‘He was magnificently angry—I am half in love with him myself.’
‘Well, you may have him,’ Joanna retorted furiously, splashing water into a cut-glass flute with scant regard for its fine rim or the polish on the table. ‘He is angry because I defied him and he is used to people obeying his every order.’
‘Now, Jo, do calm down and be reasonable. He was angry because he was worried about you, and exhausted. Do you realise he had ridden here bareback? Goodness knows why.’
‘I hid all the girths and the bits from the bridles, too.’
‘That was clever—although it has done nothing for his temper, I fear. But, Joanna, truly, he was so anxious about you—he only became angry when he was sure you were safe.’ She regarded Joanna’s stormy face. ‘Have some smoked trout, or a little of this chicken; no wonder you are so fractious, you must be starving.’
Joanna reluctantly accepted the food, then began to eat ravenously. ‘Oh, I had no idea I was so hungry! But, Georgy, you cannot truly mean to let him take me away when he comes back?’
‘I really have no choice, dearest. But Jo, why is that so dreadful? You will have to spend the summer in Hertfordshire with the Tasboroughs—’
‘Baby sitting and being disapproved of by Alex. And that horrible man Clifton will call and try and make me marry him.’
‘Then tell him “no”. This is not the Middle Ages and your father cannot lock you up in some tower until you relent. And quite frankly—’ Georgy helped herself lavishly to spiced prawns ‘—you could hardly be in any more disgrace than you are already.’
‘Georgy.’ Joanna put down her knife and fork with some emphasis. ‘I am in love with Giles Gregory. You are telling me that I have to spend days in his company and that of a disapproving old puritan with a face like a weasel being sent home in disgrace with nothing to look forward to but the attentions of a loathsome man and the news that Giles’s wedding has been announced.
‘And when Lord Clifton has finally given up and Giles is safely married to his rich, eligible, lovely wife I will have nothing to do with my life than to dwindle into an old maid.’
‘But how would staying here help?’ Georgy said imploringly. ‘It would save you the journey in the Colonel’s company and the stay with the Tasboroughs’ but you would still be no better off.’
‘You told me that you were going to persuade Lord Brandon to take you abroad. You will need a lady companion. I could perform that role, and when we returned I could find employment with other ladies who wish to travel, for you could recommend me and my languages are excellent. I learned them for Giles,’ she added bitterly.
‘Oh, Jo, I am so sorry.’ Georgy put down the serving spoon, which she had just loaded with yet more spiced prawns. ‘I was going to tell you, only your news was so exciting. I am increasing and it will be at least a year, if not more, before I will be travelling on the Continent.’
Chapter Twelve
Giles walked stiffly across the gravel to where the Squire’s hunter stood, its head low. ‘Come on, boy.’ He picked up the reins and started to lead the tired animal down the drive. ‘We’ll find a good inn in Wisbech with a warm stable for you, a bucket of oats and a good rub down.’ The thought of the human equivalent—a hot bath, a thick beefsteak and the depths of a feather bed—were powerfully attractive.
He had been right the other evening to think he was getting middle-aged, he mocked himself grimly. A thirty-mile ride across country, even bareback, was no excuse for the weariness that gripped him. But he had not felt like this until he knew Joanna was safe: then the exhaustion had gripped him.
‘Damn it,’ he remarked to the horse, which cocked one ear in response, ‘she’s turned me into a worrier. Do you think I am overreacting?’ The horse snorted and butted him gently with its nose. ‘Hmm? You are right; I have absolutely no confidence that Lady Brandon could stop Joanna doing precisely what she wants, when she wants to, however good her ladyship’s intentions are. Joanna has run away twice now because she thought she was about to be coerced; I am afraid she is quite capable of doing it again.’
With a resigned sigh he veered off the main carriage drive and made for the stables, the low roofs of which were just visible behind a high brick wall. The yard Giles found himself in had a faint
air of neglect, then he realised that a larger and more impressive block in bright new brick and stone was visible through an arch. A groom emerged from a doorway, stopped at the sight of a stranger and then came forward knuckling his forehead.
‘Can I help you, sir?’
‘Yes, you can.’ Giles continued forward, ending up leaning on the half-door from which the man had emerged and able to see through it to a line of large loose boxes. All were apparently empty except one where a dappled grey rump could be seen over the door.
‘I have called to see my…ward, Miss Fulgrave, who is staying with Lady Brandon. You have her mare safely stabled there, I see.’
‘Yes, sir. Were you wanting to look at the animal, sir?’
‘No, no. I had not realised Lord Brandon was from home, and obviously it is quite ineligible for me to stay at the house with only the ladies there. Can you recommend an inn in Wisbeach with a good livery stables?’
The man waxed lyrical on the numerous excellent establishments, ending with some skill at the one owned by his uncle. ‘Used to be a head groom, sir, your horse couldn’t be in better hands. And my aunt cooks a powerful good beefsteak if your fancy was that way, sir.’
Giles noted the name and direction of the inn, gazing round the yard with apparent indifference as he did so. ‘Thank you.’ A coin changed hands, to the obvious pleasure of the groom. ‘Your master has had new yards built?’ He nodded towards the archway.
‘Yes, sir. And a fine new lodging over the tack room for the grooms, sir,’ the man enthused, usefully providing Giles with the information he had been willing to spend another ten minutes in conversation to extract. ‘Why, thank you, sir,’ he added as another coin exchanged hands and Giles turned to lead the hunter back out of the yard. Wonder why he don’t ride it? he mused, watching man and horse disappear.
The Society Catch (Harlequin Historical) Page 13