The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  A tumble of golden curls, half-hidden beneath the frivolous confection of a wide-brimmed, beribboned bonnet, framed Stephanie’s utterly bewitching features. As he gazed, wholly entranced, at the girl’s adorable face, complete with cornflower-blue eyes, a pert little nose and the most kissable lips he had ever come across, Maitland found himself instantly captivated.

  ‘Since Georgianne is also my mother’s ward, Gresham Hall has always been her home,’ replied Catford, on the girls’ behalf. ‘And Lady Highsmith has done us the honour of allowing her granddaughter to stay with us whilst she herself takes the waters at Harrogate.’ He turned to the still slightly bemused Maitland, explaining, ‘My parents are about to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary and we are quite a houseful at the moment. You, of course, will be more than welcome to a bed. Had I known that you intended to be in Warwickshire at this time, I would have invited you earlier. Why are you here, may I ask?’

  Hurriedly redirecting his mind to the viscount’s question, Maitland replied, ‘Thanks for the offer, Cat, but I’m racking up in Dunchurch—with my own cousin, as it happens, if he arrives as planned. We’re set on the trail of a long-lost relative of ours who was, apparently, born in these parts—fulfilling a sort of a deathbed promise, you might say.’

  ‘How intriguing!’ Georgianne leaned forwards, her eyes alight with interest. ‘May we be privy to this search? Or, is it a deep secret?’

  ‘Well, there are family secrets involved, I must confess, but it is highly probable that in the end I shall be thankful for whatever assistance I can get, Miss Venables,’ replied Maitland with a laugh. ‘The mystery goes back before you were born, I hazard, and I suspect that it will be more of a chore than I had realised. I fear that I shall be poring over old parish records for some weeks to come.’

  Stephanie’s pert little nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘Oh, that does, indeed, sound boring in the extreme, Mr Maitland—I do hope that you will be able to set aside a little time to come and visit us all at the Hall, as Lord Catford has suggested?’

  Although Maitland merely promised that he would do his best, he was inwardly determined that wild horses would not prevent him from furthering his acquaintance with the lovely Miss Highsmith. Now twenty-eight years old, he had, of course, indulged in many light-hearted adventures of the romantic kind but, having spent the previous five years of his life in a somewhat ramshackle military life on the Continent, he had always been careful never to allow himself to become too emotionally involved. For, truth to tell, he thoroughly enjoyed his bachelor existence.

  A man of independent means, with a solid family background to his name, he was almost totally lacking in personal conceit, although he could hardly have been unaware that the eyes of many a hopeful mother lit up when he chose to single out their daughters, for he was what was known as a ‘good catch’. In point of fact, though, he had no idea of marrying for some time to come, being perfectly content to spend his days assisting his father in the management of the Maitland family’s large estate in Buckinghamshire and involving himself in the many sporting activities available to gentlemen of his wealth and status. His previous amatory excursions had left his heart more or less unscathed, with the possible exception of that which had involved a certain somewhat exotic demoiselle, to whom he had been obliged to bid a rather reluctant farewell upon his unit’s embarkation from Belgium. A few weeks back in the swing of the victory celebrations in London had soon cured him of that particular malady, however, and, although he had subsequently danced and dined with many a fair damsel, he had not, until this moment, discovered any good reason for altering his single state.

  Sitting back, he allowed his eyes to play over the creamy perfection of Stephanie’s complexion and, as he marvelled again at the curling length of the sooty black lashes that framed the deep azure blue of her eyes, the neat little nose and the sweet rosebud lips, a deep sigh seemed to tug at his heart. But then, suddenly conscious that he had, perhaps, been staring at the lady rather longer than was circumspect, he forced himself to drag his gaze away from Stephanie’s all-encompassing loveliness and allowed it to drift across to her companion, only to discover that, if the curve of her lips was anything to go by, Catford’s cousin appeared to be regarding him with a certain amount of amusement.

  Feeling somewhat like a naughty schoolboy who had been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar, a slight flush appeared on his face and he hurriedly dropped his gaze and endeavoured to concentrate his attention on the ongoing conversation.

  ‘His lordship is being most kind,’ Stephanie was enthusing, as she cast a warm smile at the viscount. ‘He has chosen to accompany us on our afternoon excursions almost every day since my arrival—he insists that it is good exercise for him—although I am sure he would rather be off shooting with the other gentlemen.’

  ‘Not at all, my dear,’ demurred Catford graciously. ‘I’m not yet up to tramping the heath—more than happy to be of service, I assure you.’

  ‘Cat keeps us entertained with his endless fund of droll anecdotes about his travels,’ said Georgianne, shooting her cousin a fond glance. She had been somewhat taken aback at Maitland’s response to her smile, which had been merely been offered as a gesture of friendliness on her part. His reaction to Stephanie’s loveliness had come as no surprise to her, since it was very little different from that of the majority of others of his sex when they first set eyes upon her friend. Having known Stephanie all her life, Georgianne had learned to regard such behaviour with patient equanimity, experience having shown her that this sort of awestruck admiration was inclined, for the most part, to be fairly short-lived. She was well aware that her friend took such adulation as her due, deriving much enjoyment from playing off one hopeful contender against another. It was not that Georgianne particularly approved of Stephanie’s somewhat cavalier attitude towards her fluctuating band of admirers, but rather that she felt that any man who allowed himself to be treated in such a way was no man at all and must, therefore, deserve all he got. Furthermore, although she had no personal interest in him, she did feel a slight sense of disappointment that the man who had risked his own life to go to her cousin’s aid should turn out to be as shallow as the majority of Stephanie’s previous devotees.

  ‘You must know the area pretty well, Eddie,’ ventured Maitland, reluctantly hauling his thoughts back to the real reason he had set out on this journey. ‘Do you have you any idea where might I procure a list of the local churchyards? I suppose that ought to be my first objective.’

  Catford pursed his lips in thought, then, ‘Reginald Barkworth is your man,’ he nodded. ‘Used to be the curate at the parish church in Dunchurch. Veritable encyclopaedia when it comes to local history—oh, botheration! Here we are at the Willowby turn, old man. Time to bid you farewell, I fear!’

  Not at all sorry to extract himself from Georgianne Venables’s somewhat pointed scrutiny, Maitland opened the door, leapt nimbly from the landaulet and untied Pegasus from his tether. Catford leaning out, waited for his friend to mount before adjuring him not to fail to present himself at the Hall with all speed as soon as he was settled in.

  ‘Reginald Barkworth,’ he called, in reminder, as Maitland turned his horse’s head towards his destination. ‘Tell him I sent you and be sure to let us know how you get on with your quest, dear fellow.’

  Maitland had no difficulty in giving his promise, since he had every intention of finding his way to Gresham Hall and the fair Miss Highsmith at the earliest opportunity but then, as he suddenly remembered that he had prevailed upon Chadwick, his man, not to bother to pack his decent dress-clothes, he cursed himself for a fool. Determined to reach the inn in time to send off for reinforcements to his meagre wardrobe, he reluctantly waved farewell to his travelling companions and set off up the turnpike.

  Chapter Three

  Georgianne viewed Maitland’s departing figure with an odd mixture of curiosity and disappointment.

  ‘It will be very pleasant for you to have Mr M
aitland’s company again after so many months, Eddie,’ she then observed.

  ‘Capital fellow,’ replied the viscount enthusiastically. ‘Served with him for almost five years. A superb horseman and very handy in a bare-knuckle spar, he can shoot out a pip at twenty-five feet and hold his liquor with the best of them!’

  Georgianne’s lips twitched. ‘High recommendations, to be sure!’

  Catford laughed. ‘Perhaps not to the ladies, dear coz—but I, for one, will never forget that I owe Will Maitland my life.’

  His eyes grew bleak momentarily and there was a heavy silence. Stephanie sighed and a small frown creased her brow as Georgianne leant once more towards the viscount.

  ‘You never speak about those times, Eddie,’ she said in a tentative voice. ‘I know that they must have been very bad, for Uncle Charles allowed me to read some of the dispatches.’

  Stephanie shot a fulminating glance towards her friend.

  ‘I’m sure Edwin would rather not be reminded of his dreadful experiences, Georgianne,’ she said pointedly. ‘I have never understood why he felt it necessary to join the military in the first place—but, now that he is home again, it is surely finished with and best forgotten, I believe.’

  ‘It certainly doesn’t do to dwell on the matter,’ agreed Catford, quickly recovering his composure and smiling across at his young companions. ‘As to forgetting, of course, I shall be hard pressed to do that while I still have this gammy leg—but Stephanie is quite right, Georgie. War is not a suitable topic for social discourse and, most certainly, never for young ladies’ ears.’

  Ignoring Georgianne’s affronted expression at this last remark, he turned the conversation to the coming celebrations and listened with cheerful interest as Stephanie, her face glowing with delight, described in detail the utter perfection of her newest gown.

  ‘And you, Georgie?’ he enquired, in a teasing voice. ‘What stunning creation has Madame produced for you?’

  Georgianne laughed, her good humour immediately restored. ‘You know perfectly well that I do not have Steffi’s enthusiasm for such matters, Eddie. Madame Henri and I have reached an understanding and I am usually very happy with her work.’

  ‘I find it quite extraordinary that Georgianne never takes even the tiniest bit of interest in the latest fashions,’ said Stephanie, complacently smoothing the pleats of her smart blue velvet carriage-dress. ‘I swear that she’d wear the same outfit on every occasion if someone did not take her in hand!’

  But her eyes twinkled at her friend as she spoke and Georgianne smilingly nodded in agreement.

  ‘Very probably,’ she said, looking down at her own well-worn, but still perfectly serviceable russet-coloured pelisse. ‘I like to be comfortable; provided that I don’t look an absolute fright, then I’m perfectly happy!’

  Catford grinned. ‘I’d like to be at that unlikely event, dear cousin, but I cannot see it ever happening. Both of you always look quite delightful and you will no doubt be surrounded by the usual bevy of admirers fighting to be included on your cards. I dare say I might be amongst them if my leg holds out—I could probably manage the odd stately minuet.’

  Stephanie giggled deliciously. ‘I doubt if anyone can remember the steps,’ she said. ‘The waltz is all the rage nowadays. How odd to think that only two years ago it was considered shocking and young ladies were forbidden to dance it in public!’

  ‘You will allow, then, that the war was of some benefit to society?’ said Catford, his lips twitching in amusement. ‘At least our success in importing the German dance seems to have won your approval. Sadly, I fear that it will be too strenuous for me at present, but I look forward in great anticipation to seeing the pair of you twirling about the room.’

  ‘A full-dress ball, at long last!’ breathed Stephanie rapturously. ‘I had almost given up hope of ever attending a real one! I am so grateful that you managed to persuade Grandmama to allow me to stay at the Hall for the month, Georgie—the thought of yet another season in Harrogate was beginning to drive me quite insane!’

  ‘It is Aunt Letty who really deserves your thanks,’ demurred Georgianne. ‘She was the one who eventually convinced Lady Highsmith that she would benefit much more from her visit to her sister in Yorkshire if she did not have to concern herself with having to see that you were sufficiently entertained.’

  ‘I have been forced to endure Harrogate’s so-called “entertainments” ever since I was sixteen years of age,’ grimaced Stephanie. ‘They consist of morning promenades to the pump-room, afternoon visits to Grandmama’s dreary old acquaintances and long, tedious evenings at the card tables.’

  ‘But you did get to attend the assemblies last year,’ her friend reminded her, with a smile. ‘I seem to recall you mentioning that a rather dashing young lieutenant paid you a great deal of attention!’

  ‘Richard Loxley,’ Stephanie nodded glumly, ‘He was quite sweet but, as usual, Grandmama did her utmost to discourage him—it sometimes seems as if she cannot bear to see me enjoying myself!’

  ‘Oh, come now, Stephanie!’ protested Catford, who had been following the girl’s conversation with polite interest. ‘You are being a little hard on Lady Highsmith, surely! Whilst it is certainly true that your grandmother takes her role as your guardian rather more seriously than would some, you cannot fault her for her generosity. Only five minutes ago you were describing to me the “simply gorgeous” ballgown that Madame Henri—whose creations, I might add, are hardly cheap—has produced for you. If her ladyship discouraged one of your suitors, you may be sure that she had very good reason for doing so.’

  ‘Yes, but she always discourages all of them,’ pouted Stephanie. ‘That is why I was so astonished when she actually agreed to let me stay with you this year. She normally never lets me out of her sight for more than five minutes at a time!’

  ‘Her ladyship is merely concerned for your welfare,’ put in Catford gently, as he reached across to press her hand. ‘Having devoted the best part of her life to caring for young ladies whose lives have been less fortunate that your own, she is probably more aware than most of the dangers that might easily befall one who is as lovely as you are, my dear.’

  Although she was not remiss in offering the viscount a tremulous smile in recognition of his compliment, Stephanie could not forbear from thinking that it was all very well for those whose lives were as free as a bird’s to chastise her for grumbling about her own rather more restricted one. After all, she reasoned to herself, none of the viscount’s family had been obliged to suffer her grandmother’s long-term dedication to her Refuge for Genteel Ladies in Distress—or Home for Unmarried Mothers, as some of the less enlightened members of the local populace tended to refer to Highsmith House. Highly commendable though Lady Highsmith’s commitment to her project might be, it did seem to carry with it the unfortunate side effect of causing the home’s founder to be uncommonly strict as regarded her granddaughter’s upbringing. And, even though she had taken extreme measures to ensure that the girl was shielded from the more unsavoury aspects involved in overseeing the welfare of the continual stream of those young ladies who were housed in the west wing of the building—referring to them only as “our guests”—it would have been difficult, if not downright impossible, for an inquisitive child, such as Stephanie had always been, not to have learned the real truth of the situation.

  Owing to the fact that Georgianne’s aunt, Lady Letitia Gresham, served on Lady Highsmith’s board of trustees, the two girls had been acquainted since early childhood. Having both been orphaned at birth, it was hardly surprising that they should have forged the bonds of friendship, even though their temperaments could hardly have been more different.

  Not long after the two girls were out of leading-strings, it had been arranged between their guardians that Stephanie would take her lessons with Georgianne, in the schoolroom at Gresham Hall, and this she had done until both girls had turned eighteen. Georgianne’s subsequent departure to London to make her formal
début into the high society to which her family belonged, had filled her lifelong friend with both envy and rage, since Lady Highsmith had flatly refused to countenance the countess’s very generous offer to bring the two girls out together.

  Her grandmother’s inexplicable refusal to allow her to accompany the Greshams to London had come as a bitter blow to Stephanie for, as with a certain amount of resentment, she had quickly pointed out to her friend, it was not as though the old lady was short of funds. ‘It is all part and parcel of her refusal to admit that I have a good deal more common sense than any of those pathetic creatures to whom she devotes so much of her time!’ she had complained at the time.

  ‘I hardly think that sense has had a lot to do with any of your grandmama’s ladies’ falls from grace,’ Georgianne had mused. ‘I am rather inclined to the belief that they simply allowed their hearts to overrule their heads.’

  ‘Allowed themselves to be totally taken in by some mendacious philanderer, you mean!’ Stephanie had retorted scornfully, ignoring her friend’s pained expression. ‘Well, I for one, find it extremely galling to discover that my own grandmother appears to labour under the misconception that I am going to throw myself into the arms of the first man who crosses my path!’

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ Georgianne had pointed out, with a smile and a shake of the head. ‘Especially if you were to fall in love.’

  ‘Fall in love!’ her friend had scoffed. ‘You do talk such nonsense at times, Georgianne! I have no intention of ever indulging in such a feeble-minded activity! Why limit one’s favours to just the one gentleman when there is so much more satisfaction to be gained from having several of them at a time vying for one’s attention?’

  ‘Well, if the various routs and assemblies we have attended this past year have been anything to go by,’ the laughing Georgianne had then replied, ‘there have certainly been more than enough of them queuing up to vie for yours!’