The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  She looked across at her cousin who, with his usual good humour, was giving every appearance of being completely engrossed in Stephanie’s animated retelling of Fenton’s vastly exaggerated social life in London. Frowning slightly, she went on. ‘I shall have to ask Cat to pick out a suitable mare for me—I dare say that I will have no trouble persuading him to accompany me, although…’ pausing, she bit back the smile that was forming ‘…for the time being, at any rate, all thoughts of a gallop are quite out of the question for the poor lamb.’

  Quickly seizing the opportunity, Maitland assured her that he would be more than happy to volunteer his own services in that respect should she so wish it, adding, ‘The sooner you get back in the saddle, you know, the quicker your confidence will return—it’s a well-known fact.’

  Georgianne gave a decisive nod. ‘You are quite right, Mr Maitland and, as to your generous offer, I swear that I would be hard put to turn down such a tempting inducement.’

  Offering him another of her dimpling smiles, she found herself thinking that the ‘tempting inducement’ was rather less the idea of the ‘wild gallop’ than the thought of spending some time alone with this fascinating man! Although she had, long ago, resigned herself to the fact that it was her lot to remain an old maid all her life, Maitland’s unexpected appearance on the scene had jolted her out of her usual equanimity. His very presence caused an inner turmoil such as she had never before experienced and, while she was very well aware that nothing could come of such a limited friendship with him, she could see no reason to deprive herself of the pleasure of his company for the short time that he would be around. In a week or so— possibly even less!—his search for his young relative would be complete and, no matter whether his endeavours brought about success or failure, he would have no further need to remain in the district. Surely, no one could begrudge her this one brief interlude in her, otherwise, rather regimented existence? After all, she persuaded herself, it was not as though she could be accused of throwing herself at him, since it had been he who had suggested that they might ride out together.

  ‘If you are quite sure that you are up to it,’ replied Maitland, his heart leaping with anticipation as he returned her smile, ‘shall we say tomorrow morning, then? I shall look forward to it.’

  Shooting a quick glance across the table, he was not surprised to find Catford’s intent gaze upon him. Then, all of a sudden, his friend’s face broke into a wide grin and, to Maitland’s utter bewilderment, the viscount raised his glass in a salute to him!

  He had little time to ponder over this rather puzzling turn of events, however, in view of the fact that a little flurry of movement to his right indicated that Lady Lavinia was about to rise from her seat, giving the cue for the rest of the ladies in the party to depart to the drawing-room, so as to leave the gentlemen to their port and cigars. Fortunately, despite his thoughts being otherwise occupied, he still retained sufficient presence of mind to scramble to his feet in time to hand Georgianne out of her chair and offer her a bow of respect as she made to follow her aunt out of the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘I really can’t see why we ladies have to sit in here sewing and drinking tea night after night while the men carry on having high jinks elsewhere,’ complained Stephanie, as the sound of hearty laughter filtered through the drawing-room doors from across the hallway. ‘I’m sure they would much prefer that we remained with them.’

  ‘I take leave to doubt that,’ murmured Georgianne, putting aside her own needlework and fixing her friend with a sympathetic smile. ‘Like us, they need a little private time to—er, refresh themselves, as it were. It’s just one of those things that you will have to get used to, if you mean to be the mistress of a big house.’

  Stephanie made a discontented moue. ‘But even when they have finished with their drinking and merriment, half of them disappear into the billiard room, or sit around playing their silly card games!’

  ‘We can play some hands of vingt-et-un, if you like,’ suggested Catford’s sister, Lady Elizabeth, having overheard the girl’s petulant remark. ‘There are more than enough of us and it would help to pass the time until the gentlemen join us.’

  ‘But that’s precisely my point,’ glowered Stephanie. ‘We are just obliged to pass the time until they deign to stop what they are doing to join us! When I run my own house I shall order things quite differently. I shall make sure that whatever is going on where I am is a more attractive prospect than mere cards or billiards!’

  ‘Such as what?’ laughed Georgianne, as several of the other ladies in the group leaned forwards, interested to hear how Stephanie intended to entice the prospective men in her life from their preferred pursuits.

  Stephanie shrugged. ‘Well, for one thing, we could have dancing!’

  ‘In the drawing-room, my dear!’ put in the countess’s elder daughter Lady Charlotte, a shocked expression on her face. ‘I hardly think so! Besides which, if you really suppose that the thought of dancing would draw our spouses from their chosen amusements, you clearly have a great deal to learn about the opposite sex!’

  As a laughing murmur of agreement rippled around the room, Georgianne hoped that she was the only one who heard Stephanie’s muttered observation that it would, surely, depend upon with whom the gentlemen hoped to dance!

  ‘Perhaps we might take a turn out on the terrace?’ she suggested, in an endeavour to rally her restless friend who, as she was gradually beginning to discover—to her abounding sorrow—seemed never to be truly happy unless she was basking in the admiration of one or another group of males. ‘The evening is still quite warm—we could walk down to the lakeside, if you would like?’

  ‘Better than staying in here listening to that awful female’s attempts to murder yet another Beethoven sonata!’ returned the other girl disconsolately, as she carelessly tossed aside the tiny bodice with which she had been fidgeting and reached for her Paisley silk shawl. Having had the best and most expensive music tutor that her grandmother could find, her own expertise at the instrument was somewhat more exemplary than the performer who was presently fumbling at the keyboard. Miss Highsmith, however, always made a point of never being pressed into displaying her not inconsiderable talent unless there was a suitable number of members of the opposite sex around to admire her performance.

  Outside on the terrace, the air was, as Georgianne had predicted, still pleasantly warm and, since an almost full moon shone high in the sky, the two girls had little difficulty making their way across the lawn down to the lakeside.

  ‘It isn’t at all as I had expected, you know,’ observed Stephanie, as she stood staring gloomily at the moon’s rippling reflection in the dark waters.

  Georgianne was puzzled. ‘What isn’t as you had expected?’ she asked.

  Stephanie gave a disaffected shrug. ‘Oh, my visit— the house party—the guests—I don’t know! When Grandmama agreed that I should be allowed to attend, I could hardly wait to get here, but it has all been rather disappointing. I am just as tied down to a lot of ridiculous rules and regulations as I was back at Highsmith House. Even Saturday’s ball doesn’t stir up as much excitement as it did when I first heard about it, especially now that I know that it will be made up of the same prosy collection of tedious old bores and tiresome juveniles.’

  ‘I presume that you are referring to the dearth of suitable males,’ retorted Georgianne, somewhat stung by her friend’s disparaging remarks. ‘Well, I’ll have you know that I don’t consider Cat, for one, to be in the least bit tedious or tiresome! Why, he has kept his carriage at your disposal since the very first day you arrived here! And, to my certain knowledge, every one of my male cousins has been at your complete beck and call daily! Honestly, Steff, you really are the limit, sometimes! I simply cannot imagine what more you could expect of us!’

  ‘Oh, don’t get into a huff, Georgianne,’ returned Stephanie, in a placatory tone. ‘I wasn’t including Cat—he has been a real sweetie, I know, but I can’t
count him. I just mean that I was expecting to meet a whole host of other available viscounts and earls, but all of those who are here have turned out to be either married to one or other of your cousins or still in the schoolroom. And while I grant you that Mr Maitland is quite presentable, I doubt that he is sufficiently wealthy to be recognised by those in the upper set. All of which leaves me with Jeremy Fenton—an heir to a mere baronetcy—with a perfectly healthy father to boot, by all accounts!’ she concluded, with a petulant sniff.

  Georgianne was not sure whether to laugh or cry at her friend’s disconcerting outburst. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have said that you were at your last prayers, exactly,’ she said. ‘You are young and beautiful and—who knows—your Mr Right could suddenly turn up out of the blue and sweep you off your feet.’ A fantasy not nearly as impossible as one might have imagined less than a week ago, she could not help thinking.

  Stephanie stared at her in disgust. ‘A Mister Right would be no earthly good to me!’ she riposted crossly. ‘And, I’ve already explained to you why I need to find someone very soon. I’ve already wasted two whole weeks of Grandmama’s proposed month in Harrogate and, knowing her fractious nature, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she suddenly changed her mind and turned up tomorrow!’ She shook her head. ‘No,’ she declared. ‘There’s nothing for it but to settle for the Honourable Jeremy, at the moment!’

  ‘But, surely Mr Fenton hasn’t yet asked you to marry him?’ returned Georgianne, now reeling in shock at her friend’s quite outrageous suggestion.

  ‘Oh, pooh to that!’ said Stephanie dismissively. ‘The poor man is totally besotted with me. I have only to suggest that we might run away together and he would have his carriage at the door before I could turn round!’

  ‘Steffi!’ cried Georgianne in horror. ‘Surely you can’t possibly mean to elope! That would put you both well beyond the pale, as far as society is concerned— and what about your grandmama—have you thought how she will feel?’

  Stephanie gave an indifferent shrug. ‘It will teach her a lesson,’ she said coldly. ‘Besides, I don’t need her permission. I am gone twenty-one and can marry whomsoever I choose. I just have to get Fenton alone for a few moments and the deed will be done!’

  For several moments, Georgianne could only stare at her friend in disbelief but then, on hearing the sound of male voices in the distance, she turned and, to her dismay, observed Maitland and his cousin coming across the lawn towards them. A sudden feeling of panic threatened to overcome her. Reaching out, she clasped Stephanie’s hands in her own. ‘Please tell me that you’re joking, Steffi!’ she said urgently. ‘You can’t possibly mean to ask him to do such a thing!’

  ‘Well, the matter probably does need a little more thought,’ returned Stephanie warily. Having taken note of Georgianne’s clear distress, she had quickly arrived at the conclusion that sharing her plans with her friend might, possibly, not turn out to be the wisest course of action. ‘I dare say it would be wise to shelve it for the moment.’

  Having drunk more than his fill of port, it not being a particular favourite of his, Maitland could scarcely wait for the other men at the table to decide they had had enough and make a move to join the ladies. But, as tradition had it, it was necessary to sit through the usual round of coarse jokes and ribald humour before a general consensus could be expected. Hence, a good half-hour elapsed before the earl rose to his feet and declared that, tedious though it may seem, the time had come to present themselves to their womenfolk.

  Catching up with Catford as the group of men strolled across the hallway, Maitland sought the viscount’s opinion as to the advisability of carrying out his offer to ride with Georgianne on the following morning.

  ‘She seems pretty keen to get back into the saddle,’ he ventured, trying, at the same time, to gauge his friend’s reaction to the idea of his intended going off alone with another man. But, to his surprise, Catford gave a huge grin and nodded in agreement.

  ‘Great idea, man!’ he replied, clapping his friend on the back. ‘Best thing for her, after that dismal business yesterday. She needs to put it right out of her mind and a good gallop should see to that! Would do it myself, as you know, but I’m not quite up to it yet. Just you leave it to me, Will, old boy. I’ll have Everton sort out a suitable mount for her.’

  Not quite sure what to make of his friend’s somewhat cavalier attitude, Maitland followed the viscount into the drawing-room where, on sweeping his eyes around the collection of ladies seated there, he realised that Georgianne was nowhere to be seen. Disconsolately throwing himself down on a vacant sofa near the window, he allowed his eyes to wander over the moonlit lawns outside. Then, in one swift movement, he was back on his feet.

  ‘Fancy a stroll outside, Cat?’ he asked nonchalantly. ‘Need a bit of fresh air after all that smoke.’

  ‘Not me, old chap,’ replied the viscount, who had plonked himself down next to one of his many female cousins and was admiring her tapestry. ‘Had enough exercise for one day. You go, though. I believe Georgie’s out there somewhere, along with Miss Highsmith.’

  On hearing Stephanie’s name mentioned, Fenton, who had been mooching about the room half-heartedly examining the various pictures on the walls, came at once to his cousin’s side. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he offered with what was, for him, decidedly uncharacteristic enthusiasm.

  The truth was that the Honourable Jeremy was finding himself quite smitten with the lovely Miss Highsmith and, since he had generally been in the habit of taking his pleasures from the lowly type of female that he came across in London’s many gambling dens, he had not had a vast amount of experience when it came to dealing with the more gentle members of the opposite sex. Consequently, having been rather bowled over by Stephanie’s onslaught upon his senses, he found that he could not stop thinking about her. Not only had she been blessed with more than her fair share of nature’s bountiful assets, but it also appeared that she was sole heir to a wealthy grandparent. Could any fellow ask for more? he reasoned. If she could just be persuaded to throw in her lot with his, not only would all his immediate financial problems be resolved but, with her on his arm, he would also be the envy of every red-blooded male in the capital!

  ‘A beautiful evening for a stroll, gentlemen,’ observed Georgianne, as soon as the two cousins eventually reached the lakeside. ‘I take it that you were unable to persuade Catford to join you in your perambulations?’

  ‘Too busy admiring Lady Alice’s handiwork,’ replied Maitland, conjuring up a cheerful smile, although his pulse seemed to be racing nineteen to the dozen. How is it possible, he was marvelling to himself, for a woman to look even more desirable in the moonlight than she had done in a room lit by a hundred candles? He was finding it impossible to take his eyes off her. Her hair was a halo of burnished bronze; her skin had taken on an almost translucent sheen and stray moonbeams appeared to have taken up residence in her eyes, transforming their normally placid grey into a myriad of silvery sparkles.

  Thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, for it was all he could do to keep them to himself, he walked down to the water’s edge and stared, somewhat disconsolately, into the unfathomable depths below.

  Georgianne, not a little confused at his action, stepped forwards to stand at his side and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Would you care to wander round to the boathouse?’ she asked hopefully, indicating a wooden structure further along the bank to their right. Stephanie, she knew, had virtually dragged Fenton off in the opposite direction towards the pavilion and, fearful as to her friend’s intentions, Georgianne had no desire to come upon the pair of them in any sort of compromising situation.

  At her touch, Maitland started back as though he had been stung. For God’s sake get a hold of yourself, man! he commanded himself angrily, as he tugged his hand out of his pocket to offer her his arm. ‘Not thinking of taking a boat out, I trust?’

  She laughed. ‘Hardly! It can get quite chilly out there in the middle! I once fell overboard
when I was a child and dearest Cat was obliged to jump in to fish me out. He was absolutely furious with me, for he ruined his brand new boots in the process!’

  Maitland could not prevent a smile from forming at the image that presented itself. ‘I take it that you had never learned to swim?’

  ‘Not then, but I can now,’ she assured him. ‘After his ducking, Cat made jolly sure that I would be able to save myself should I ever have the misfortune to fall in again.’ Head on one side, she smiled reminiscently. ‘An hour every day for six entire weeks,’ she confided. ‘Almost the whole of his school holidays and he refused to give up on me until I could swim unaided right across the lake and back!’

  ‘Stout fellow!’ returned Maitland, with a grin, having done much the same for his two younger sisters. ‘I had a word with him about that gallop we agreed on, by the way, and he seems quite happy for me to accompany you. Everton will have a mount ready for you at seven—if you are still of a mind, that is?’

  ‘Yes, of course I am,’ Georgianne replied almost absently, for she was wondering why Maitland had found it necessary to seek her cousin’s blessing in the matter. ‘I am looking forward to it.’

  By now, they had reached the boathouse, where Maitland was swift to take cognizance of the fact that there was a varied selection of small craft available.

  ‘Perhaps we could take a boat out on another occasion,’ he suggested. ‘Now that I am fully confident of your swimming ability, I dare say I might even wear my best boots!’

  ‘Oh, how churlish of you to remind me, sir!’ retorted Georgianne, her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. ‘After such a remark, you may find that your boots failed to survive the wetting, should you find yourself tipped over the side!’