The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  Maitland closed his eyes, willing himself to keep his temper. ‘Is it Pete Andrews?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Pete Andrews?’ Confused, Fenton stared at his cousin. ‘No, of course it ain’t Pete Andrews! The fellow’s name is Skinner—Matthew Skinner—if I have it correctly.’

  Relief swept through Maitland like a breath of fresh air. ‘Thank God for that!’ he murmured, almost to himself, then, ‘What’s happened to all the other stable hands?’ he enquired.

  ‘Been taken over to the magistrate’s house for questioning,’ answered his cousin, jerking his head in the direction of the church, next to which the house of the town’s guardian of the law was situated. ‘Dare say they figure that there might have been others involved!’

  Head bent and hands clasped tightly between his knees, Pete Andrews stared down in moody silence at the black-and-white marble tiles beneath his feet. Along with the rest of the stable staff, some twelve men in all, he was waiting his turn for the expected grilling. Since those who had gone before had been taken out of the house by a different exit, it had been impossible for him to quiz any of them as to the exact nature of the questioning, which made it rather difficult to prepare acceptable answers in advance. Added to which, having been taken completely by surprise at the sudden turn of events following Matty’s fateful decision to make Squire Stamford his next objective, Andrews had been unable to get hold of Josh Todd to make sure that their stories tallied. And Josh, as he well knew, had never been the sharpest knife in the box! God only knew what tale he might be spinning in there at this very moment!

  He took his mind back through the course of events that had led up to the precarious situation in which he now found himself. Despite the fact that both he and Todd had voiced strenuous objections to the scheme, on the perfectly reasonable grounds that the whole area was now crawling with dragoons, Skinner, pointing out that they were never likely to get such a golden opportunity as this looked set to be, had dismissed their cautions with a contemptuous sneer. Swiftly pointing out the many advantages to be gained from such a choice, the gang’s ringleader had then selected the mild-mannered Squire Stamford as his intended target, saddled up a horse and, after issuing the uneasy pair with the usual instructions, had ridden off several minutes before the squire’s carriage was ready to leave the yard.

  Having been regarded as something of a whip in his salad days, the easygoing squire still liked to take the reins himself, which meant that, in the event of being told to ‘Stand and deliver!’, there would be no time for him to prime his weapon, if indeed he carried one! In addition, the man’s concern for the safety of his buxom young wife and two lovely daughters would surely preclude him from putting up any sort of a fight. As to the presence of Stamford’s sixteen-year-old son, Jack, Skinner had already dismissed him as being of little consequence, having observed that the rather scrawny youth had spent the better part of the previous evening vainly trying to persuade one of the barmaids to give him a kiss.

  What he had not realised, however, as he later found out to his cost, was that the squire, in an effort to instil a sense of heritage into his son and heir, had lately arranged for the boy to accompany his estate manager on his daily rounds. Since the estate manager was, by necessity, something of a crack marksman, it was hardly surprising that he should have elected to pass on some of his expertise to his highly enthusiastic pupil. In fact, after less than three weeks of this skilled tuition, Jack Stamford had developed into quite a fair shot and, although his father had instructed him to leave his newly acquired pistol at home, he had, nevertheless, tucked it into the side pocket of the family carriage. Unobserved by his mother and his two sisters, who had been deeply engrossed in their discussion of the various merits of the girls’ partners at the previous evening’s assembly, he had been covertly tinkering with his latest acquisition, loading and unloading it, in an effort to see just how quickly he could prime it up for action—a proficiency that his mentor had assured him might well save his life one day!

  For Matty Skinner, unfortunately, that day turned out to be rather sooner than the youngster had expected. As a result of which, having previously been dismissed as a spotty, somewhat weedy individual of little account, Jack Stamford now found himself regarded as one of the greatest heroes in local history—with pretty barmaids a-plenty simply begging for his attention!

  Insofar as the magistrate, Sir Joseph Kerridge, and his two colleagues were concerned, Squire Stamford’s sworn statement was really all that they needed to declare the matter an open-and-shut-case—especially since a large cache of money and several previously purloined valuables had been found hidden away under a floorboard in Skinner’s bedchamber. Nevertheless, since the affair had attracted a great deal of attention in the town and neighbouring districts, these three worthies, ever conscious of their public image, were also inclined to the belief that it would do them no harm at all to puff up their consequence by appearing to deliberate more solemnly on an issue of such magnitude.

  In the event, all they actually did was to ask each of the respondents whether they had ever seen Matty Skinner borrow a horse from the Dun Cow’s stables or advertise an unusually plentiful amount of cash. Since the answer in every case was, as they had supposed from the start, always in the negative, by the time the tribunal got to Josh Todd and Pete Andrews, Sir Joseph and his fellow councillors were beginning to get rather bored with the whole proceedings. Added to which, since the hour was now approaching five o’clock, it was well past their dinner time.

  As a result of this somewhat dilatory approach to what should have been a much more thorough investigation, when Pete Andrews finally stepped out of the front door of Sir Joseph’s town house, it was with a far lighter step than he had entered it some hours earlier. On returning to the stableyard, he was immediately accosted by the rest of the stable hands, demanding to know what questions he had been asked and whether he had given the same answers as they had. However, they were given no time to speculate upon the matter, due to the arrival of Cunliffe, the inn’s somewhat harassed landlord who, along with several of his bar staff, had been obliged to deal with the comings and goings of four stagecoaches, in addition to their normal workload.

  ‘Now, come along!’ he chivvied them. ‘We’re all glad the whole nasty business is over and done with, but your absence has put us well behind-hand! A good many of our customers have been waiting for their carriages for several hours—so step to it, lads!’

  Maitland, too, had hurried out to enquire as to Andrews’s welfare.

  ‘Skinner getting shot like that must have come as a bit of a shock to you, old chap,’ he said, fixing his ex- sergeant with a sympathetic smile. ‘The sooner the two of us are out of here the better, as far as I can see. If you could make yourself available to travel on Monday morning, I’ll see about organising you a horse from the livery stables.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ came Andrews’s heartfelt reply. ‘It’ll take me no time at all to put my few bits and pieces together. I’ll be ready to leave as soon as you are, I promise you!’

  Could it be that Lady Luck was about to smile at him at long last? he then wondered, as Maitland, with a satisfied nod, left him and strode back into the hotel. It just remained to have a quiet word with Josh Todd and then he would be free to go and put all this foolhardiness behind him.

  Unfortunately, it was not until the last of the delayed carriages had been sent on their way, the stables mucked out and all the horses fed and watered, that Andrews was finally able to confront his fellow partner- in-crime.

  ‘You’re certain that they didn’t suspect you?’ he asked, as the paired trudged back to their shared lodgings.

  Todd shook his head. ‘Shouldn’t think so,’ he replied. ‘After all that ’anging about, I were only in there for about five minutes and then all I got to say was “No”! Just the same as the other fellows, it seems. They all think that Sir Joseph was just tryin’ to make a meal of it.’ Pausing, he shot a quick sideways look at his co
mpanion, before muttering, ‘Rotten shame about poor old Matty, though!’

  ‘Well, he wouldn’t be warned,’ replied Andrews quietly. ‘And, don’t you forget that it could well have been either one of us on the receiving end of that lad’s pistol! I’m only too relieved that the whole business is over and done with at last—I was never that keen on it, in the first place!’

  ‘You and me both!’ exclaimed Todd. ‘Didn’t make much out of the caper, at any rate—although from what I’ve ’eard, Matt’s pickin’s seem to ’ave been a sight better than ours ever was!’

  ‘So I heard.’ The ex-sergeant nodded. ‘I just hope that they found everything.’

  ‘How d’yer mean?’ demanded Todd as, standing stock-still in the lane, he turned and faced his companion. ‘You think ’e might ’ave stashed some more somewhere?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t put it past the greedy beggar,’ returned Andrews, with an indifferent shrug. ‘But I was really wondering about the old bothy—I’ve a mind to go out there just to make sure that none of us left anything incriminating lying around.’

  ‘Well, there’ll be no more ’elpin’ ourselves to ’orses from now on,’ Todd was swift to point out. ‘Old Cunliffe will be watchin’ us all like an ’awk! So, it’ll ’ave to be a five-mile ’ike each way. Don’t fancy it meself!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see to it,’ averred Andrews, with a resigned sigh. ‘We used to walk far greater distances than that when we were tramping over France and Spain. This should be a doddle, compared with that sort of terrain!’ He paused, ruminating over the matter for a moment or two, before adding, ‘Sunday morning will be the best time—most folks are at church then and, if you’re prepared to cover for me, I should be able to slip away for a couple of hours without anyone noticing.’

  ‘Sooner you than me,’ retorted Todd, as the two men walked up the pathway to their lodging-house. ‘Mind you, I’m not so sure that I wouldn’t rather be doin’ that than what we ’ave to do right now!’

  Andrews frowned. ‘How do you mean?’ he asked, as he pushed open the door.

  ‘Facin’ up to Matty’s old uncle, that’s what,’ muttered Todd. ‘After you, mate!’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Georgianne was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate her mind on the various tasks she had set herself. Contrary to her aunt’s wishes, she had insisted upon seeing to the arrangement of the flowers in the ballroom herself, which was no minor undertaking.

  ‘But I really would prefer it if you were to take yourself off and read a book or sit down and do your sewing, my dear,’ Lady Letitia had protested. ‘In my opinion, you are not looking at all the thing. I am quite sure that you have been overdoing things. First that nasty fall and then going off yesterday and getting yourself soaked—you really should be taking things easy! Mrs Barnet and I can manage perfectly well without you.’

  ‘But I really do want to help, Aunt,’ her niece had assured her. ‘You have so many other things to attend to. And, when all’s said and done, it’s hardly a labour of Herculean proportions to stick a few flowers into a set of pots!’

  ‘There is good deal more to it than that, Georgianne, and well you know it!’ returned her aunt, with some asperity. ‘However, if you really insist, it is true to say that I would appreciate your assistance. The flowers have all been delivered to the still-room—but be sure and get one of the footmen to help you with the heavier arrangements.’

  To which request Georgianne had been more than happy to give her promise. Some two hours later, however, having dismissed yet another arrangement as totally unsatisfactory, she had been obliged to pull out all of the blooms and start anew. Why does everything always have to go wrong at one and the same time? she wondered dismally. It was hard to believe that only yesterday morning she had felt as though she was walking on air. Even the rain had failed to quench her exuberant spirits. It had been enough just to be with him, to enjoy again the friendly sparring and that inexplicable feeling of harmony that seemed to exist between the two of them—culminating in that last frantic dash for shelter, and then the heady rapture of that kiss! But then, as Maitland’s hurtful words had hit home, to have found herself, in the space of a few short minutes, cast down from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows!

  And now, having spent the remainder of the previous day as well as half the night going over and over what had occurred in the old bothy, that feeling of gloom still persisted, even though she had finally formed the conclusion that she had no one but herself to blame for Maitland’s unworthy conduct. Why, having flirted outrageously with him for most of the past week, she had all but begged him to kiss her, she chided herself, as she impatiently jabbed another white lily into the burnished copper urn in front of her, uttering a barely concealed oath when the fragile stem snapped between her fingers.

  Oh, this will never do! she told herself crossly. Not content with having allowed myself to become overly melodramatic about the whole affair, I am now beginning to behave like some star-crossed schoolgirl!

  Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and set about trying to apply her mind to the task in hand. After all, she told herself, she had no reason to doubt her ability to put all those foolish thoughts of romance out of her mind—hadn’t she had over three years to perfect that very technique? To that end, it was a blessed relief to know that Maitland would shortly be on his way and, she promised herself firmly—just as soon as she had had time to adjust to the idea that he was never coming back—she would be able to get back to the even tenor of her former existence. A little more withdrawn, perhaps, but far, far wiser!

  Unfortunately, for her present peace of mind, there was still this evening’s entertainment to get through. But then, giving a brisk shake of her head, she persuaded herself that, if she could just keep her mind focussed on fulfilling the many tasks she had set herself before that time, she need give no thought to what he might say to her when the hour arrived—if, indeed, he chose to speak to her at all!

  As for the subject of Georgianne’s earnest introspection, he too was feeling less than happy about the forthcoming festivities, although he knew that it would be downright churlish of him not to attend. But the thought of having to smile and make polite conversation—not to mention being obliged to dance with a whole collection of simpering, mock-modest females—was increasingly difficult for Maitland to contemplate. Especially since the only female that he really wanted to hold in his arms was Georgianne and that, as he knew, was out of the question.

  Although the ex-major was not, in the normal way, a man who lacked spirit—indeed, he had proved himself on many occasions both on and off the field of conflict—summoning up the backbone to face Catford was proving to be a different matter entirely! It was not his friend’s wrath towards himself that he feared but the thought that, should the tale of yesterday morning’s clandestine embrace come to light, it might well damage Georgianne’s future relationship with the viscount. As much as Maitland wanted her for himself, he had no desire to ruin his friend’s happiness.

  Whilst behaving in an underhand manner was totally foreign to his nature, he could not help but hope that Georgianne had meant what she had said about keeping the matter to herself. Whether or not she had done so was not something he was likely to discover until this evening!

  Heaving himself up from the breakfast table, where he had been sitting ruminating over his misfortunes, he went upstairs in search of his cousin who, as he had expected, was still in the process of having his man dress him.

  ‘Shan’t be long, Will,’ said Fenton, waving at Maitland to take a seat. ‘Where are we off to today?’

  ‘Nowhere,’ returned his cousin shortly. ‘At least, I’m off to play cricket—you may please yourself.’

  ‘We’re not dashing about the countryside on the track of this blessed Étienne fellow, then?’ demanded Fenton, turning round in some surprise.

  Maitland shook his head. ‘Not a lot of point, now,’ he replied. �
��Pretty well scraped the barrel as far as all the parish registers go, which leaves us at point nonplus, as far as I can see!’

  ‘Surely you don’t mean to give up the search?’ exclaimed his cousin in dismay. ‘But you know how desperately I need to get my hands on that money!’

  ‘Can’t be helped, old man,’ said Maitland, with another decisive shake of his head. ‘I’m not giving up, exactly, but, since we’re doing no real good here, I figured I might just as well go back to Fetterfield and see if I can’t find some more useful clue amongst Uncle Roger’s old papers.’

  ‘How soon are you thinking of leaving?’ Fenton asked guardedly.

  ‘Monday morning,’ returned Maitland, rising to his feet. ‘You are welcome to stay on as long as you like, of course.’ He shot his cousin a wry smile. ‘How is the romance with the fair Miss Highsmith progressing, by the way?’

  ‘Better than you might suppose!’ retorted Fenton, a smug expression on his face. ‘She seems to have taken quite a fancy to me, at any rate!’

  ‘Well, you just watch yourself, my friend,’ cautioned his cousin. ‘Women can be capricious creatures at the best of times.’ As he well knew to his cost! ‘I shall be back around five in time to change for the Gresham ball—I take it that we’ll be using your carriage?’

  At Fenton’s nod of confirmation, Maitland turned on his heel and exited the room, the stableyard his next objective. Having promised the young Reverend Childs that he would do his best to turn up and assist him in his efforts to organise the village boys into some more constructive pastime than that of throwing stones at passing carriages or tying tin cans to cats’ tails—which were their normal pursuits when let off their usual labours for an hour or two on a Saturday afternoon— he now felt obliged to keep his word.