The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  Maitland stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet, doing his best to ensure that his bulk obscured her view of the distressing scene. ‘Nothing broken, as far as I can tell,’ he said, striving to sound light-hearted, in a vain attempt to draw her attention away from the injured animal. ‘But we need to get you to a doctor, just to be sure.’ Jerking his thumb over his shoulder, he added, ‘Do you think you could manage to make it back up to the tree stump, if I give you my arm?’

  Numb with misery at what she had done, Georgianne made no attempt to deter him as he put his arm around her waist and guided her the few steps up the hill, in order to lower her on to the stump, with the tree behind providing a convenient back rest.

  ‘Now, don’t you move,’ he commanded, stepping away from her as soon as he had satisfied himself that she was safely ensconced. ‘It will take but a minute for me to fetch Pegs—then I can get you home.’

  ‘Never mind about that!’ she gasped in protest, as she reached forwards to clutch at his sleeve. ‘Go and see to Olympus! She needs your help far more than I do!’

  Undecided for a moment, Maitland stared down at her anguished expression then, gently extracting himself from her grip, he turned towards the injured animal, which had, by this time, managed to scramble upright, but was clearly unwilling or unable to place any weight on its right foreleg. A brief inspection of the leg was enough to convince Maitland that nothing was broken and that the main damage appeared to be restricted to the fetlock joint.

  ‘Looks to me like a bad sprain,’ he reassured the anxiously waiting Georgianne, on returning to her side. ‘They’ll soon sort her out, I’m sure, although I would guess that she’s likely to be out of action for several weeks.’

  Although her mind was still somewhat befuddled, it did not take long for Georgianne to register the fact that her beloved mare’s injury had come about as a result of her own foolishly impetuous behaviour. Staring up at Maitland in mute appeal, she stumbled to her feet. ‘It’s all my fault,’ she whimpered brokenly.

  Maitland shook his head in protest. ‘The blame is entirely mine!’ he returned vehemently. ‘Had I not pursued you and crept up on you as I did, it would never have happened!’

  At his words, Georgianne’s eyes filled with tears and her entire body began to convulse with huge shuddering sobs. Reaching out, she collapsed into his hurriedly outstretched arms.

  In the face of such overwhelming anguish, Maitland was almost unmanned but, steeling himself, he wrapped his arms about her and held her tightly against him, murmuring nonsensical disjointed phrases of comfort into her ear, in an effort to still the heaving spasms that racked her body. Slowly and very gradually, the heartrending sobs at last subsided into little more than a breathless whimper.

  As relief flooded through his body, Maitland raised a hand and gently stroked her head, pressing his lips against her brow, in the way one might comfort a small child. But then, when Georgianne raised her tear- drenched eyes and gazed into his, an unexpected frisson of desire shot through him and he became only too aware that this was no child he was holding in his arms, but a fully grown and decidedly well-formed young woman!

  Hurriedly loosening his hold, he moved slightly away from her, but kept his hands on her elbows, conscious that she might still fall. Deprived of the warm comfort of his arms, Georgianne began to shiver. With a muttered oath, Maitland pulled her towards him once more, desperately striving to control his wayward body and dismiss the prurient thoughts that insisted upon crowding into his brain. He tried to concentrate his mind on how he might best tackle the problem of the injured filly, prior to getting the traumatised girl back to Gresham Hall but, with Georgianne in her present state of confusion, it was difficult to see how he was going to accomplish either of these tasks. Added to which, he could not help but feel that, if he was obliged to stand here for much longer with the soft curvaceous ness of her trembling body pressed so tantalisingly against his own, he was not entirely sure that he could be answerable for the outcome!

  Luckily for both his willpower and his stamina, help was soon at hand in the form of Viscount Catford who, having arrived at the previously arranged meeting place some fifteen minutes earlier had, with scant regard for the well-being of his injured leg, ultimately elected to ride up the steep slope to ascertain the pair’s whereabouts. The discovery of Maitland’s tethered horse had merely served to intensify his growing anxiety and, flinging caution to the wind, he had completed the final few yards through the woods in a frantic dash, only to bring his mount to a skidding halt when he broke through the trees.

  ‘Good God!’ he called out in horror and, hurriedly dismounting, he limped awkwardly across the grass, rapidly taking in his cousin’s dishevelled appearance and the mare’s still obvious distress. ‘What the devil happened?’

  ‘Caught her foot in a rabbithole and came a cropper,’ returned Maitland tersely as, with an inward sigh of relief, he uncoupled himself from Georgianne and stepped to the side, keeping one arm around her waist to hold her steady. ‘Cursed bad luck, really.’

  Georgianne’s eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath, clearly ready to refute the veracity of this assertion. Digging his fingers into her back in a patent warning, he gave her a barely perceptible shake of the head and went on, ‘Nothing we could do, I’m afraid.’

  ‘And you, Georgie?’ queried her anxious cousin, coming to her side and gathering her into his arms. ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Just a little bruised, that’s all, Cat,’ she replied. ‘And, hopefully, Olympus seems to have suffered no more than a bad sprain.’

  Looking down at her still-white face, Catford frowned and drew Maitland to one side. ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d take Georgie back to the house, if you wouldn’t mind,’ he murmured into his friend’s ear. ‘Seems to me that she ain’t looking at all the thing! If you could get Everton to send up some of the lads— he’ll know what’s needed. I’ll just hang on here until they arrive.’

  After a hurried consultation between the two men, it was decided that, since it was, of course, quite out of the question to ask Georgianne to travel astride, she would have to sit up in front of Maitland. Within minutes, she found herself balanced precariously on a folded blanket, which had been placed across the saddle’s pommel, in an attempt to make her ride a little less uncomfortable. No amount of padding, however, would have been enough to alleviate the discomfort she suffered when, after Maitland had climbed on to the horse, she realised that she was virtually sitting in his lap! Not only that, but in order to keep her balance, she was obliged to put one arm around his waist, whilst clutching at his jacket lapel with her free hand! Her feelings of embarrassment were not aided by the discovery that Maitland’s waistcoat and shirtfront were both considerably damp, thanks to her earlier torrent of tears!

  Needless to say, this somewhat awkward state of affairs was enough to curb any conversation and, other than occasionally enquiring as to his passenger’s welfare, while endeavouring to ignore the fact that her lower half was draped across his left leg, it was as much as Maitland could do to concentrate his attention on guiding his horse.

  After they had travelled some distance in this rather disconcerting manner, Georgianne, in an almost feverish attempt to distance her thoughts from their constant awareness of Maitland’s warm muscles rippling beneath her, had taken to replaying the morning’s horrendous events. It was still difficult for her to comprehend how she, who had never struck an animal in her life, could have acted in such a way.

  And then, as a sudden thought occurred to her, she jerked up her head, saying, ‘Why did you let Cat believe that it was an accident, when you know perfectly well that it was not?’

  He shrugged. ‘I had no desire to see you suffer further,’ he replied. ‘Besides which, there was nothing to be gained by going into details.’

  When she did not reply, he added, ‘In any event, I still maintain that the real blame is mine for having sparked off your irritation—for which I can only a
pologise, most humbly.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ she returned, the words barely distinguishable, as she leaned her cheek upon his chest in an attempt to stem the fresh bout of tears that threatened. ‘My foolhardiness was beyond understanding—I cannot begin to imagine what led me to do such a thing. Cat would never forgive me if he knew the truth!’

  For some minutes, as they continued to ride on in silence, Maitland was given ample opportunity to contemplate the nature of this outburst and it was not long before he reached the conclusion that Georgianne’s out-of-character ill temper had been brought about by his having turned up so unexpectedly to interrupt her customary ride with her cousin. That the two were very close was plain to see—they had grown up together, after all. Could it be possible that she was carrying a torch for him? Catford had told him that she had spent the past three years ‘keeping all the fellows at bay’, as he had termed it. What if the viscount had been mistaken in his supposition that Georgianne was still fretting for her lost love? As Maitland considered this possibility, another thought occurred to him, one that caused him to clench the reins tightly in his fists, an action that had the effect of discomposing the already unsettled Pegasus who, in skittering sideways, almost unseated Georgianne from her none-too-secure perch.

  ‘Why—wh-what’s wrong?’ she cried in alarm, as she tightened her grip around his waist and clutched at his jacket.

  ‘Nothing—sorry—lost concentration for a moment. Didn’t mean to alarm you!’

  Mentally kicking himself for having allowed his mind to wander, Maitland steadied the horse and swiftly brought him back in line.

  ‘Won’t happen again, I promise you,’ he assured his passenger. ‘Not far to go now. I can see the drive gates from here—barely a couple of hundred yards ahead of us—dare say you won’t be sorry to get your feet on terra firma again!’

  Five minutes later, he wheeled his horse into the stableyard where several stable hands hurried over to help Georgianne down, firing anxious questions at him as to the whereabouts of their young master. After directing a curious dairymaid to fetch the housekeeper to attend to Miss Venables without delay, he sought out Everton, Gresham Hall’s head groom, and explained the situation as briefly and as calmly as he could.

  No sooner had the groom gone into action, issuing orders left, right and center than Maitland took the opportunity to rearrange his blanket-roll back into its accustomed position, behind his saddle. He was trying to make up his mind whether it would be more circumspect for him to go into the house, in order to clarify Georgianne’s explanations, which he suspected might be somewhat muddled, or to return to Toler’s Wood, along with the rest of Everton’s minions, to assist in bringing the unfortunate Olympus down from the hill.

  In the end, he did neither, having persuaded himself that now that she was in Lady Letitia’s competent hands there was no further need for him to concern himself about Georgianne’s welfare, particularly since he had the distinct feeling that she would be unlikely to welcome any further interference on his part. As for the injured mare, he concluded that, since the groom seemed to have matters well in hand, any additional assistance from himself would be entirely superfluous. And so, after leaving an explanatory message with one of the remaining stable hands, he remounted and made his way back to the Dun Cow.

  Chapter Eight

  No sooner had the highly shocked housekeeper, Mrs Barnet, delivered her into her aunt’s care than the still somewhat dazed Georgianne was stunned to learn that, despite all that had happened since she and Catford had ridden out of the stableyard, only little over an hour had elapsed since that time. Lady Letitia, she discovered, was still dressed in her peignoir, sitting at her dressing- table, partaking of her usual morning cup of hot chocolate. Most of the other guests, it appeared, were only just beginning to make their way down to the breakfast room.

  Even as she related the distressing events that had brought her to her aunt’s boudoir at such an early hour, she could not help feeling that it was strange that something that had had such an impact on her own life seemed not to impinge upon the lives of those around her. Aunt Letty was as solicitous as it was possible for anyone to be, of course, but her concern was all for Georgianne’s comfort and the fact that Olympus had been injured seemed not to bother her ladyship in the slightest—in fact, she advised her deeply subdued niece to put the matter out of her mind, hastening to assure her that her Uncle Charles would be sure to provide her with a new mount as soon as she was pronounced fit to ride again.

  Much too dispirited to take her aunt to task for exhibiting such a matter-of-fact attitude to what she herself considered to be a good deal more serious, Georgianne meekly submitted herself to her ladyship’s sympathetic ministrations. In next to no time, she found herself bathed, annointed all over with a soothing emollient and tucked up in her bed, with a flannel-wrapped, stone hot-water bottle at her feet, despite the warmth of the day. Ignoring her protests, her aunt had summoned Dr Travers, having informed her that, since the physician was due to attend the injured kitchen-maid that afternoon, it would do no harm to have him give Georgianne a quick examination, just to satisfy them all that she had suffered no lasting damage.

  ‘In the meantime,’ she added, with a gentle smile, as she turned to leave the room, ‘it would be as well for you to try to forget all about it and just snuggle down and enjoy a little cosseting, for a change!’

  Although she did her best to comply with her aunt’s bidding, Georgianne found it impossible to shut out the troublesome and often incomplete images that would persist in crowding her brain and, before long, the tears she had succeeded in keeping at bay since her return home began to flow in earnest. Alone in her room, she pressed her face into her pillow, in an attempt to silence her racking sobs. The hands of her bedside clock moved steadfastly onwards but still she wept, until finally, a state of sheer exhaustion, along with the sodden wreck of her pillow, brought her anguish to a shuddering close.

  Tossing the offending article to one side, she heaved a long quivering sigh and, closing her eyes, now red- rimmed and badly swollen, she eventually drifted off into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

  Shortly after noon, she was awakened by her maid, Emily, bearing messages of sympathy from various members of the house party and informing her that Dr Travers was on his way up to see her.

  ‘Would you like to sit up to receive him, Miss Georgianne?’ she asked, as she fussed around her mistress, straightening the bedcovers and plumping up the pillows, only to utter a startled, ‘Good grief, miss! Did you upset your water carafe—this here pillow is saturated— I’d best change it for a fresh one!’

  Struggling up into a sitting position, Georgianne was dismayed to find that, despite the earlier application of bruise-reducing ointments, every single part of her body ached. Clearly, she had landed more heavily than she had supposed, although it was gratifying to note that her head now seemed to be free of the confusing fog that had previously invaded her thoughts.

  ‘Now, then, my girl!’ came the doctor’s booming tones, as he strode into her room. ‘What’s this I hear? Falling off a horse, at your age, my dear! I’m surprised at you!’

  Although she had known Dr Travers since her early childhood, Georgianne found it difficult to conjure up the expected smile at his heartening sallies, which were intended, as she had learned long ago, to raise his patients’ spirits. Not that this attempt at bonhomie always had the desired effect, of course, and she was not entirely sure that her present situation called for such joviality. Nevertheless, it was beyond her to snub the elderly physician, for she knew that his intentions were thoroughly well meaning.

  ‘Yes, it was very silly of me, Doctor,’ she acquiesced. ‘But you really had no need to trouble yourself—I ache a bit, it’s true, but I dare say a day or so in bed will soon put an end to that.’

  ‘Allow me to be the judge of that, young lady!’ returned the doctor, drawing up a chair at her bedside. ‘Any sickness? Visual disturbances?’ />
  Having ascertained that she had suffered none of the usual signs of concussion, Dr Travers then set about examining the rest of Georgianne’s body for sprains and fractures and so on until, with a satisfied nod, he sat back in his chair and pronounced that, apart from a good shaking up—which was no more than one might expect, if one went about falling off horses—she appeared to be as fit as the proverbial fiddle.

  ‘You may get up as soon as you feel up to it,’ he declaimed, as he tossed his instruments back into his valise. ‘Just take it easy for a couple of days and have your maid keep applying the hamamelis lotion.’

  With that, he departed, but no sooner had he quit the room than the door was flung open again and in bounced Stephanie, her cornflower-blue eyes wide with curiosity.

  ‘Oh, Georgie!’ she exclaimed. ‘We have all been so worried! Catford has told us what happened! It must have been dreadful for you! Thank goodness you weren’t badly hurt!’

  ‘Just a few bumps and bruises, which will soon mend, I’m sure,’ Georgianne assured her friend, with a brave attempt at a smile. ‘Doctor Travers says that I am to be allowed up whenever I choose.’

  ‘Oh, thank goodness! How dreadful it would have been if you had been obliged to miss the ball!’

  ‘No fear of that, I promise!’ replied Georgianne, keeping her tone light although, at this moment, there was nothing that she felt less like doing than assisting her aunt with the hundred and one things that were going to have to be attended to, if the success of the forthcoming grand event was to be guaranteed. ‘Aunt Letty is depending upon me to help her organise the decorations.’

  Stephanie frowned. ‘I can’t think why Lady Letitia doesn’t leave all that sort of thing to the servants,’ she said, lowering herself on to the bed next to Georgianne. ‘If ever I marry and have a house of my own, I shouldn’t wish to be involved in such maudlin domestic affairs—that’s why one employs a housekeeper and a retinue of other employees, surely?’