Conversation was at a minimum since Georgina, still racked with her own apparently insoluble problems, was disinclined to talk and the other members of her family could not think of anything to say that was not, in some way, connected with yesterday’s misfortunes. Rupert, still basking in the glory of Latimer’s approbation, continued to behave in a most circumspect manner, once again leading Katharine to the nervous conclusion that one or other of them was about to have some ghastly trick played upon them at any minute.
Almost as soon as he had ushered Georgina into the sitting room on the previous evening, Sir Arthur had informed Mrs Cunningham of Latimer’s true identity. She, of course, had at once realised that Viscount Templeton and Mr Templeton, the so-called book collector, were one and the same person, which had left her in somewhat of a quandary with regard to the very large sum of money that had been handed over to Mr Pickens for the purchase of the books. She wanted to ask Georgina what she should do about it, for she valued her eldest daughter’s usually level-headed suggestions, but at the moment she had the distinct feeling that any mention of that gentleman’s name (be it Latimer or Templeton) would have Georgina in a flood of tears, which she was determined to avoid at all costs. Her initial relief that her daughter had survived her attack unsullied and relatively unscathed had given way to a nagging suspicion that Georgina had been deeply affected by something other than Carstairs’s abduction of her. In fact, upon her arrival home, the girl had dismissed the whole episode rather too lightly, thought Mrs Cunningham, and she, too, was puzzled at Latimer’s continued absence.
Musing upon the viscount’s odd behaviour in the light of his highly active part in yesterday’s drama, she could only suppose that, now that his status was pretty much common parlance throughout the entire village, he must have decided to terminate his acquaintance with the family. It had not escaped her notice that there had seemed more to her daughter’s relationship with Latimer than the casual observer might have suspected. Nothing blatantly overt, of course, but a certain under-the-surface simmering in their apparently matter-of-fact and light-hearted manner towards one another. Whatever it was, it had been sufficient to cause Mrs Cunningham quiet misgivings, especially when she recalled Georgina’s remarks about marriage to a man of limited means. Even though that particular aspect would appear to have been removed insofar as Latimer was concerned, she was still beset by the uncomfortable feeling that there was something very much amiss with her eldest daughter. In spite of Mrs Cunningham’s many years of experience as a vicar’s wife, dealing with a variety of parishioners’ problems, she found that she could not bring herself to broach such a delicate subject with her.
The evening dragged on interminably until eventually, unable to bear the strained and unnatural atmosphere that hung over her family, Georgina, pleading a headache, took herself off to her bed for an early night. She had spent the whole day hoping against hope that Latimer would make a surprise appearance, offering some perfectly legitimate excuse for his prolonged absence but, with every hour that passed, the likelihood of that happening diminished and her feelings of rejection increased.
Sitting dolefully on Sophie’s narrow bed, she reviewed the events of the previous day for the umpteenth time and began to experience niggling doubts about the highly charged moment that had taken place before Latimer had gone into the mill to confront Carstairs. Having been almost hysterical and deeply confused at the time, she could not quite remember exactly how it had come about, but his kiss she could recall with perfect clarity, along with all the unexpected sensations it had aroused. Could her state of shock have caused her to read more into his caress than he had intended? Had he simply kissed her to calm her nerves? She was sure that she remembered him saying that he had been yearning to kiss her for some time, but had she misunderstood? Everything was so mixed up and so complicated, she thought miserably, and now it seemed as if none of it had really meant anything to him at all. Certainly her unsympathetic response to his revelations could not have endeared her to him and may well be the reason for his continued absence. Then, as that notion began to take root and she was suddenly confronted by the terrifying thought that he might choose never to return, her heart seemed to shrivel. For the first time since her ordeal she burst into tears and spent the remainder of the night sobbing softly into her pillow.
Sunday morning arrived and, although her mother suggested that she might prefer to forgo the morning service, Georgina felt obliged to accompany her family to church. As she had feared, her presence caused something of a stir, with frequent glances being cast in her direction for, although few people in the village were acquainted with the true version of Friday’s events, there were enough rumours flying around to keep the most devout gossipmonger busily occupied.
However, there were plenty of sympathetic smiles and nods from all sides and, at the end of the service, Nell Cornwell left her family pew and hurried across to Georgina who, along with the other members of her family, had joined the slow-moving file of parishioners leaving the church.
‘Thank goodness you’re safe!’ she gasped. ‘I’ve been hearing the most dreadful stories—I’ve been wanting to come and see you ever since we heard, but John felt we should wait…’
Georgina smiled briefly. ‘No harm was done, Nell,’ she said, with a calmness she was far from feeling. ‘You’ll have heard that Lord Templeton came to my rescue—I gather you are acquainted with him?’
‘Oh, yes!’ breathed Nell in relief, happy that she was no longer obliged to keep her secret. ‘I’m so glad he has told you the truth about himself—he is the most charming man, isn’t he?’
‘Indeed he is,’ murmured Georgina drily. She was somewhat shaken to hear that her friend had known Latimer’s true identity all along. ‘Was Mr Mansell also aware of his lordship’s charade?’
‘Not until Templeton begged us to help him,’ confided Nell, perfectly certain that the viscount must, by now, have dealt with all the obstacles that had been standing between himself and her friend. ‘I wasn’t terribly happy about having to pretend I didn’t know who he was, but John thought we ought to give him the chance to redeem himself.’ She looked anxiously at Georgina. ‘Did I do right, Gina? I really wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t bear to see him looking so unhappy!’
Georgina squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Don’t worry about it, Nell,’ she said, trying to hold back the tears. ‘I’m sure it was all for the best.’
Nell beamed. ‘It’s so marvellous that you and he have fallen in love, Gina—there couldn’t be a better end to a story, now could there?’
‘Well, nothing is actually settled between us,’ began Georgina self-consciously. ‘Templeton left the village late on Friday evening and I have no idea when he intends to return.’
‘He is sure to have a lot of things to arrange,’ said Nell, in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Being a nobleman must require that he has to inform no end of people about his intentions—he may well have to apply to his father for permission to marry!’
Georgina frowned. ‘Goodness! Do you really think so?’
‘Well,’ answered Nell reasonably, ‘they live in a different world, Gina—who knows what sort of obligations they have? Of course,’ she added, with a gleeful chuckle, ‘it won’t be long before you find out about all that sort of thing for yourself!’
By now their group had reached the church door and John Mansell was moving forward to meet them. After bestowing an affectionate smile upon his blushing fiancée, he reached out and took both of Georgina’s hands in his.
‘My dear Miss Cunningham,’ he exclaimed. ‘I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you here today! I called at your house yesterday, but your mother, quite rightly, did not wish to disturb your rest. I trust that you are fully recovered from your unfortunate experience?’
‘I’m perfectly fine, Reverend,’ replied Georgina. ‘Although I believe that I find being the object of everyone’s scrutiny rather more daunting than the event itself!’
He laugh
ed. ‘I am sure they will all find something new to engage their attentions soon enough!’ He turned to his fiancée. ‘I take it that you have informed Miss Cunningham about our little agreement with his lordship, my dear?’
Nell nodded and placed her hand in his. ‘Gina understands perfectly, John,’ she replied. ‘His lordship has explained himself and I’m sure that everything between them is just as it should be.’
Maintaining her composure took all of Georgina’s willpower as she thanked the pair for their help and, with a fixed smile on her face, bade them farewell, then walked swiftly down the pathway to join her waiting family. As she passed through the lych-gate she was unable to prevent the violent shudder that coursed through her whole body.
Rupert, who had also conjured up unpleasant memories of that scene, came at once to her side.
‘Walk home with me, Gina,’ he pleaded. ‘I still can’t get it out of my head—I really shouldn’t have left you.’
She tucked her hand into his arm. ‘We have to forget about it, Rupert,’ she advised him briskly. ‘It’s over now—we need to move on.’
He glanced up at her set face. ‘When do you think Mr—that is—Lord Templeton will be back?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I doubt if his lordship has any plans to return to the village.’
The boy stood stock-still in the middle of the lane. ‘But how can you say such a thing?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Of course he will come back! He gave me his promise!’
Georgina stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked shakily. ‘When did he promise you?’
‘The day we walked back from the village,’ he replied. ‘He promised that he would do something for me!’
‘But that would have been before everyone found out who he really was,’ she told him. ‘Now that we know his true identity—’
‘All the more reason!’ flashed Rupert impatiently. ‘If you can’t trust the word of a viscount, I’d jolly well like to know who you can believe in!’
‘He is sure to have things to attend to, Rupert,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I imagine there would be a lot of loose ends to tie up—he would have to deal with magistrates and so on.’
The boy’s face cleared. ‘Yes, of course,’ he said as they moved on. ‘He told me that one’s duty must always take precedence—I’m sure he will come when he can.’
Georgina did not answer. She did not share her brother’s confidence in Templeton’s imminent reappearance and, suddenly feeling desperately tired, knew that she must try to pull herself together and get on with her life, although she was certain that she would never forget him no matter how hard she tried. Instead, she must persuade herself to regard the whole unfortunate episode as a salutary reminder to avoid any further romantic entanglements in the future.
Later that afternoon Sir Arthur arrived, accompanied by Sir Walter Turner, the local magistrate and, having learned the purpose of their visit, Mrs Cunningham ushered the two men into her late husband’s study and sent at once for Georgina, who had been attempting to rest on the sofa in the sitting room.
‘I trust that it will not take long for you to recover from your ordeal, Miss Cunningham,’ ventured Sir Walter tentatively, having noted her drawn look and the dark shadows under her eyes. ‘I was reluctant to bother you so soon after the event, but Sir Arthur was of the opinion that you would wish to be apprised of the outcome of our investigations.’
Georgina nodded and managed a brief smile. ‘It was a most unpleasant experience,’ she said. ‘And I should certainly like to put it all behind me.’
Her uncle patted her hand. ‘His lordship was full of praise for your bravery, my dear. He told me that he could not imagine any other lady in the entire universe having the courage to do what you did on that dreadful day.’
‘H-his lordship has also been involved in the investigations, then?’ asked Georgina cautiously, hoping to give the impression that she did not really care one way or the other.
‘He supplied us with all the relevant details, of course,’ interposed Sir Walter, steepling his fingers together. ‘As well as furnishing us with a brief resumé of Mr Carstairs’s—how shall I put it?—rather colourful past, Lord Templeton has arranged for the whole episode to be dealt with in the most discreet manner—he was very insistent that you should not be troubled in any way.’
Georgina did not reply and, surprised at her daughter’s apparent lack of interest, Mrs Cunningham frowned. ‘We have been expecting his lordship to pay us a visit,’ she said. ‘I would have liked to thank him for his efforts on Georgina’s behalf. Has he left the village, do you know?’
Sir Arthur nodded. ‘I myself picked him up from the mill after I left you on Friday evening and, after we had dealt with the matter of Carstairs’s hired driver, I gave him a lift to Dunchurch. I believe his lordship hired a chaise from the inn and was set on driving through the night to his destination.’ He hesitated. ‘He did not mention where he was headed, nor indeed did he indicate when he would return, but I should have thought—’
‘His presence would normally be required at the inquest,’ put in Sir William quickly, ‘in view of the fact that he is a primary witness—although, considering his position, it is likely that his signed affidavit would suffice, I suppose.’
Mrs Cunningham turned to her brother-in-law. ‘Have you managed to discover why Edwina’s cousin abducted Georgina?’ she asked.
‘I am very much afraid that Edwina herself may have had something to do with the matter,’ he said heavily. ‘I have learned that she was in the habit of rummaging through my private papers in my absence, in which case it is more than likely that she came across my recent instructions to Pickens. My manservant tells me that she spent some time with Carstairs the day before she left for London. I confess that, at the time, I was somewhat surprised at her sudden eagerness to leave the area, especially when she chose to depart without quite a lot of her belongings—she was in a great hurry to get away, I recall.’
There was a heavy silence in the room as the implication of Sir Arthur’s words sank in. He cleared his throat. ‘I feel that I am, in many ways, responsible for all that has befallen you, Georgina,’ he said dejectedly. ‘Had you not sought to rectify the estrangement—for which I bear the entire responsibility—you would not have been the object of your aunt’s animosity…’
‘You cannot know that Aunt Edwina was in league with Carstairs!’ Georgina burst out indignantly, horrified that her uncle should even consider shouldering the burden of blame.
‘We will never be certain,’ he acknowledged, with a sigh. ‘But, apparently, several pieces of her jewellery were found in Carstairs’s possession, which has led me to believe the worst. There is very little I can do about it, of course, although I intend to make sure she is aware that she is under suspicion. That, in itself, should be sufficient to prevent her from any further attempts to revenge herself upon either of us.’
Georgina gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘And, now that Carstairs is dead,’ she pointed out, ‘I doubt if there is anyone she would trust to carry out such a scheme in the future. Nevertheless, I intend to put it all behind me and I would be glad if you were to do the same.’
‘And I will still be welcome here?’ asked the old man wistfully.
As her mother stared at him in astonishment, Georgina leapt up from her chair and ran to wrap her arms around him. ‘How could you think otherwise!’ she said, kissing his cheek. ‘We have all grown to love you dearly—you must never, never think such a thing!’
Sir Arthur’s eyes misted and he patted her head. ‘What a very lucky man my brother was to have such a wonderful family,’ he said brokenly. ‘I promise that I shall do my utmost to make it up to all of you.’
As soon as the two gentlemen had departed, Georgina informed her mother that she would be returning to her own bedroom that night and then went upstairs to look for Katharine, whom she found sitting on the bed surrounded by items from her bottom drawer.
L
ooking up eagerly as Georgina entered the room, her sister at once sprang off the bed and ran to greet her with a hug. ‘Oh, do say that you are coming back to sleep with me, Gina!’ she begged. ‘I swear that I can’t stand another night with Sophie! She sprawls all over the place and kicks like a little donkey into the bargain!’
Laughing, Georgina assured her that she had every intention of reclaiming her own half of the bed that night, then, gesturing to Katharine’s piles of household linen, she said teasingly, ‘You’re never counting them again, Kate? The number won’t change no matter how many times you do it!’
‘I know,’ answered Katharine, slightly shamefaced to have been discovered once again at her favourite activity. ‘It’s just that it does cheer me up a little and you have been rather distracted these last few days—not that I would expect you to have been otherwise in the circumstances,’ she added hastily, remembering her mother’s warning. She glanced quickly at her sister’s drawn face. ‘You know that if you do want to talk about it, Gina,’ she said hesitantly, ‘we used not to have any secrets between us.’
‘And we shan’t now, goose,’ averred Georgina, sitting down on the bed. ‘As a matter of fact, I came up fully resolved to tell you all. Also, it’s possible that you might be able to help me with something that’s been bothering me.’
Although she was almost bubbling over in her eagerness to interpose questions during her sister’s lengthy revelation, Katharine managed to hold her tongue in check until Georgina had finished.
‘Imagine having to climb down that chain,’ she said in awe. ‘I remember when Simon Quentin fell off it and broke his arm—you must have been terrified!’
‘I can assure you that I was,’ agreed Georgina drily. ‘And, now that I have finally managed to satisfy your curiosity, I should very much like to put it all behind me, if you’ve no objection.’ She stood up and walked over to the window. ‘But I do need something to take my mind off it—some energetic activity.’ She looked down into the garden below. ‘The lavender is ready for cutting, I see. Perhaps we could do it together in the morning?’
Dorothy Elbury Page 25