The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  Then, in an effort to direct his cousin’s thoughts in a more cheerful direction, he asked him what he had done with the sketch with which Stephanie had presented him.

  ‘Thinking of getting it framed, as a matter of fact,’ proclaimed the Honourable Jeremy, with a self-satisfied nod. ‘’Taint every day a fellow gets his likeness done by a lass who is not only an out-and-out beauty, but turns out to be rolling in lard, to boot!’

  A disapproving frown appeared on his cousin’s face. ‘Where did you get that idea from?’ he asked. ‘I was given to understand that Miss Highsmith was under the guardianship of her grandmother, who ploughs all her funds into her charitable institution.’

  ‘Not quite all, if I’m any judge,’ replied Fenton, with a sideways grin. ‘That gown her granddaughter was wearing must have cost a pretty penny, not to mention that string of pearls!’

  ‘Clearly, then, your interest in the lady is not exactly what one might call altruistic,’ retorted Maitland grimly. ‘May I enquire whether you are thinking of setting your cap at her?’

  ‘What a sweet old-fashioned expression!’ replied Fenton, wrinkling his nose. ‘Unlike yourself, dear coz, I am obliged to keep my options open. Who knows how long it may take to ferret out this blessed brat of Melandra’s—given that he still exists, of course? Every day brings the threat of prison closer—not to mention the fact that no less than three of my creditors have threatened me with violence for having failed to meet their deadlines. I’m only too glad that none of them have managed to track me down thus far!’

  ‘Good God, man!’ exclaimed Maitland, quite taken aback. ‘Why on earth did you not tell me that things had got to this point? My offer of help still stands— surely your creditors would be prepared to take something on account?’

  Fenton gave a wry smile. ‘I do appreciate your offer, Will, but I fear that, from what I have gathered on the grapevine, it would seem that several of them have lost all patience with me and intend to exact satisfaction one way or another if I don’t pay them off in full.’

  ‘But surely your father must be aware of your situation?’ asked Maitland, as he turned the chaise back into the Dun Cow’s stable yard.

  ‘He is,’ sighed his cousin. ‘But he sent me to the devil some time ago. It was old Billingham’s legacy I was depending upon to get me out of this scrape.’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘But since that is no longer in the immediate offing, it is just faintly possible that getting myself shackled to an heiress might bring about a temporary cessation in hostilities!’

  Having recalled Catford’s remarks in regard to Stephanie Highsmith’s somewhat capricious nature, Maitland found himself hard pressed to believe that his rather pretentious cousin was likely to find favour with her for very much longer, let alone join herself to him in marriage! Since the little baggage had already turned down a viscount, it seemed clear to him that she was after a much bigger fish than a mere baronet’s son. Nevertheless, imparting information of this sort to Fenton was a task that Maitland was not entirely sure that he was willing to undertake, not just at this precise moment, at any rate. Comforting himself with the thought that the matter would, more than likely, resolve itself in the not-too-distant future, he tossed the reins to the waiting stable-hand and jumped down from the chaise’s perch and, together with his cousin, made his way towards the inn’s rear entrance.

  Upon reaching the taproom, he was accosted by the landlord, who handed him a missive from Gresham Hall. This proved to be an apology from the countess for having failed to speak with him this morning, coupled with her effusive thanks for bringing her niece safely home, along with an invitation for both Fenton and himself to join the family at dinner the following evening.

  Chapter Ten

  No sooner had the two cousins set foot inside the Hall’s drawing-room than Maitland found himself obliged, once again, to suffer the embarrassment of being hailed as a hero. This time, however, the fêting turned out to be for his precipitate action in coming to Georgianne’s rescue. Unfortunately, since he knew himself to be almost entirely responsible for the distressing events of the previous morning, he felt deeply uncomfortable at being the object of so much unwarranted praise and backslapping and it was as much as he could do to stop himself blurting out the truth of the matter. Added to which, the problem of not knowing exactly what details Georgianne had chosen to impart to her relatives made it increasingly difficult for him to conjure up satisfactory answers to the awkward questions that were being fired at him in regard to the accident. Doing his utmost to make light of his part in the affair—having decided that discretion was definitely the better part of valour—he endeavoured to concentrate his remarks on how fortunate it was that Miss Venables’s injuries had not been more severe and how happy he was to have been of service to her.

  Of Georgianne herself there was no sign and when he did, at last, get a few moments to himself, he made a point of seeking out Catford to enquire as to her progress.

  ‘Oh, she’s doing pretty well, all things considered,’ the viscount was happy to assure him. ‘Thank heavens you were so near at hand—it hardly bears thinking about what could have happened had the blessed creature rolled on top of her!’

  Maitland’s face was expressive. ‘You’re pretty fond of her, I imagine,’ he then ventured, in as non-committal a tone as he could drum up.

  ‘Fond!’ expostulated the viscount, staring at his friend in astonishment. ‘Why, I’ll have you know that I love Georgie most dearly—I could not bear that anything bad should happen to her…’ The sudden cessation of conversation in the room caused him to turn his head towards the room’s entrance and his eyes lit up. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. It would appear that the lady has decided to join us after all! What a trooper!’

  Maitland’s eyes flew to the doorway where, surrounded by a bevy of welcoming admirers, each vying for the privilege of escorting her into dinner, stood Georgianne. Wearing a gown of eau-de-nil crepe, the deceptively simple lines of which merely served to emphasise the soft womanly curves of her figure, she looked more heartrendingly lovely than he could possibly ever have imagined. Her cheeks were pale, it was true, and he was certain that he could detect just the faintest of shadows beneath her eyes. And her hair! He drew in a sharp breath. Gone was the former tightly controlled chignon and in its stead, held in place by a delicate circlet of pearls, was a glorious cascade of waves and curls!

  His heart pounding, he watched in silence as Catford limped hurriedly across the room, forced his way through the crowd and, throwing his arm possessively across Georgianne’s shoulders, claimed for himself the honour of escorting her and earning, for his efforts, the sweetest of smiles from his much-relieved cousin.

  With a wry twist of his lips, the scene at the doorway merely having reinforced his belief that Catford’s love for his cousin was rather more than platonic, Maitland turned away, thereby missing the look of eager delight that had appeared on Georgianne’s face the moment she spotted his presence.

  ‘I am so glad that Mr Maitland agreed to join us for dinner,’ she said, as she tucked her hand into the crook of her cousin’s elbow. ‘I was afraid that I wouldn’t get the chance to thank him properly for all his efforts yesterday.’

  ‘Shouldn’t worry about it,’ averred Catford stoutly. ‘Will has always been the sort of fellow you can count on in an emergency and, if I know him, he’ll have been more than happy to oblige.’

  Having had more than enough time to play and replay the embarrassing events of the previous morning and despite Maitland’s protestations to the contrary, Georgianne had been unable to dismiss the belief that her beloved mare’s unfortunate accident had been brought about by her own headstrong conduct. Despite the fact that her breathless reaction to Maitland’s innocent attentions had caused her not a little confusion, she was painfully aware that to harbour feelings of that sort towards her cousin’s friend was quite out of the question. In fact, no sooner had she realised the effect that Maitland seemed to be having on he
r normally tightly controlled demeanour, that she had determined to steer well clear of him. It had been for this reason that she had urged the viscount to make haste out of the stableyard, her intuition telling her that, since Maitland had failed to show up on the previous day, it was increasingly likely that he might well choose that morning to carry out his promise to join them in their early morning ride. An intuition that had soon proved to be quite correct.

  Nevertheless, she could not escape the fact that, had she not reacted so childishly to his accusation, it was unlikely that he would have felt the need to chase after her to demand some sort of explanation. Unfortunately, the real truth of the matter was not something she cared to share with anyone, least of all Maitland himself!

  Her niece’s unexpected arrival having thrown the countess’s carefully balanced seating plans into slight disarray, some little time elapsed before Moffat’s stately tones announced that dinner was now served. Hence, it was with a confused mixture of anticipation and uneasiness that Maitland discovered that Lady Lavinia, having elected to place him, as guest of honour, at the top of the table to her left, had seated Georgianne on his other side. Catford, of course, having escorted his cousin to her place, took up his usual place at his mother’s right hand, with Stephanie and Fenton seated next to him.

  Having only just undergone a considerable cross-examination in regard to the disturbing events of the previous morning, Maitland, only too relieved to learn that her ladyship’s attention had now switched to the subject of his missing relative, was more than happy to supply her with the rather paltry summary of his lack of success thus far. The details of which, as he was soon to realise, were quickly picked up by several of the other guests within earshot of his remarks, resulting in a barrage of, generally speaking, not very helpful suggestions as to what his next move might be. Consequentially, it was some little time before he found himself in a position to turn his attention to Georgianne.

  ‘I trust that you are quite recovered from your ordeal, Miss Venables,’ was the best he could manage, however, when a suitable opportunity eventually did arise.

  ‘Oh, yes, indeed, Mr Maitland,’ replied Georgianne, in as cheery a tone as she could muster. Although the ongoing discussions regarding his abortive attempts to discover any information about his missing cousin had not failed to capture her interest, she had, at the same time, been racking her brains as to how the subject of her appalling behaviour of the previous morning might best be broached without arousing any undue interest from their near neighbours. ‘Apart from a few bruises here and there, I swear that I am almost as good as new, all thanks to your kind offices!’

  Maitland flinched. ‘No thanks, please, I beg of you,’ he protested, in an anguished undertone. ‘I hold myself totally responsible for the entire business. It was wrong of me to impose myself on your ride with Catford and, as for pursuing you in the way that I did…’ He shook his head and his voice trailed off.

  Georgianne took a deep breath. ‘That is utter nonsense and you know it, Mr Maitland,’ she answered quietly. ‘Now, however, is not the time to cross swords about the matter—perhaps another topic would be more suitable at this moment?’

  Hesitating only momentarily, it being something of a relief to him to find that Georgianne had not offered him the cold shoulder which, in the circumstances, he could not help thinking, was no more than he deserved, his lips curved and his eyes brightened. ‘Would a mention of your rather becoming new hairstyle be considered a suitable topic for the dinner table, may I ask?’ he whispered, in a conspiratorial tone.

  Although a slight flush stained her cheeks, Georgianne could not prevent a smile from forming. ‘As a matter of fact, the bruises on my head must take some credit for that. I found that pulling my hair back into my usual style caused me a certain amount of discomfort.’ This was not, of course, the entire truth, since she had practically driven her maid Emily into a frenzy over the number of times she had changed her mind prior to settling on this new style before finally venturing downstairs. But at least he had noticed and that, for the moment at any rate, made the effort well worthwhile. ‘I am happy that it meets with your approval.’

  ‘Oh, it does indeed,’ Maitland hastened to assure her. ‘Although I am very sorry about the bruises, of course, I cannot help but feel that we have all gained from their presence!’

  Almost without being aware of his action, he lifted his hand and was just on the point of reaching out to finger one of the soft curls that caressed the back of her neck when he was suddenly conscious of Catford’s eyes upon him. The viscount was smiling, it was true, but his left eyebrow was raised in that self-same quizzical fashion that the ex-major knew of old. Cursing inwardly, Maitland’s hand fell to his lap and he made a great play of rearranging his table-napkin before turning to the countess to compliment her on the floral arrangements around the room.

  Having been unaware of this brief moment of interplay between the two men, Georgianne was puzzled as to Maitland’s abrupt change of direction. She could only assume that, since the topic of her new hairstyle had clearly run its course, added to the fact that she had made absolutely no effort to further the conversation, he must have reached the conclusion that she was boring in the extreme! Her other neighbour, cousin Elizabeth’s husband Daniel was, as usual, more concerned with what was on his plate than with troubling himself to engage in polite chit-chat with her. She was at a loss to understand why it had become so important to her but, all at once, she felt a wild compulsion to divert Maitland’s attention back to herself once more. She cleared her throat, straight away causing him to turn his head in her direction, his eyes full of concern.

  ‘Miss Venables?’

  Rather gratified, albeit slightly ashamed, that her little charade had effected such an immediate reaction, she shot him a quick smile before lifting her glass to her lips. ‘Merely a crumb, Mr Maitland—I am not about to swoon at your feet again, I promise you!’

  ‘Rest assured that it would be my pleasure to catch you should you do so,’ he said, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. ‘Although I rather get the feeling that I should have to take my place in the queue if that crowd of admirers who rushed to escort you earlier is anything to go by!’

  ‘It is true that I do have a good many cousins who express a certain fondness for me,’ she admitted, casting him another heart-stopping smile. ‘But, since most of them are somewhat younger than myself and rather fancy themselves as veritable Corinthians in the making, I would hazard a guess that such fondness might well vanish utterly should one of them find himself in the embarrassing position of being required to scoop me up off the floor!’

  He let out a deep chuckle, the sound of which caused Georgianne to experience the oddest sensation in her mid-region.

  ‘I refuse to believe that all of your admirers come into that category, Miss Venables. I know that Catford, for one, would dash to your aid if you needed assistance of that sort.’ He was aware that he was putting out feelers, but he could not help himself. He was merely looking for more substantial confirmation of that which he felt he already had good reason to suppose.

  Georgianne’s eyes softened as she looked across the table and returned her cousin’s smile.

  ‘Dearest Cat!’ she said. ‘I love him dearly. He was always there for me when I was younger—getting me out of scrapes and patching me up when I’d hurt myself. You are perfectly correct in your assumption there, of course, although I wouldn’t be prepared to swear on the poor darling’s ability to “dash” exactly!’

  Twin dimples formed on her cheeks as she turned back to face the, by now, totally confused but wholly captivated Maitland. ‘And so, my friend, should I choose to slide gracefully out of my chair, I fear that there is nothing for it but to place my trust in your strong hands!’

  ‘My dear Miss Venables!’ he expostulated, as a look of horror gradually dawned. ‘Allow me to beg that you do no such thing!’

  ‘Put my trust in you or slide out of my chair, do
you mean?’ she enquired, her face the picture of innocence, although she was well aware that she was behaving in a highly outrageous manner.

  The moment her words sank in, a wry grin began to form on Maitland’s lips. ‘Fell straight into that one, hook, line and sinker, didn’t I? Clearly, my wits have gone begging!’

  She beamed at him. ‘That is always a possibility, I suppose, but I’m glad to see that your sense of humour is still intact!’

  As he looked into her eyes, now sparkling with mischievous laughter, he felt his throat tighten. It was no wonder that Catford was so enamoured of his delightful cousin, he reflected despondently. How could anyone not be? The creature was entrancing! None the less, if what he believed proved to be the case—as was looking more and more likely—the occasional friendly interchange with Georgianne Venables would be as much as he could hope for in the circumstances, since trespassing on another fellow’s preserve had always been wholly foreign to his nature. Still, he reasoned, surely the odd ride about the countryside would not be considered out of order—if Georgianne could be persuaded, perhaps?

  ‘I trust that you don’t intend to allow what happened yesterday to put you off riding for good,’ he said.

  A slight shadow crossed Georgianne’s face and she gave a vehement shake of the head, although there was a small pause before she eventually replied, ‘I do hope not. Riding is such a huge part of my life and I would hate to think that I might never again experience that unbelievably exhilarating sense of freedom that one gets on a wild gallop across the fields. The trouble is that I’m finding the idea of going off on another mount quite difficult while my poor darling Puss is confined to her stall—I still feel so terribly guilty, you see. But I know that I must make the effort soon, before I completely lose my nerve.’