Ginnie Come Lately

by Carola Dunn

  They continued a little way in silence, then she burst out, “You are so kind, I don’t understand why you made Mama cry.”

  His cheeks burned. “That was a mistake,” he told her, looking straight ahead.

  “I knew it must be. She is so gentle and amiable, no one could dislike her.”

  They entered the stable yard and Justin dismounted. Judith rubbed Prince Rurik’s nose and fed him a sugar lump from the pocket of her grubby gown. She really had a way with animals, large and small.

  She was an endearing child, Justin thought as he entered the house. The younger Websters shouldn’t have to suffer because of his quarrel with their sister. Perhaps he should try to persuade his father that not to hire a nurse and a governess was a false economy. If the children were not properly brought up and educated, they’d only cause trouble later.

  The elder Websters were another matter altogether. They were old enough to be held accountable for their misdeeds. He must ensure that the earl did not offer to provide for the boys’ schooling, nor for London Seasons for the young ladies, let alone dowries.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  When Justin went down after changing out of his riding clothes, the earl was in the morning-room, reading to his countess as she sewed. Justin recognized Pope’s translation of the Iliad. She probably understood not one word in three, but both appeared contented.

  Here on the east side of the house, they must have missed all the excitement of the search for Nathaniel. He had no intention of telling them. The wasp sting had been punishment enough for the little boy’s escapade.

  They both smiled as he joined them, his father with affection, Lady Wooburn with the sweet amiability he had thought a pose. Now he was prepared to believe that Virginia Webster had led her mother by the nose as well as his father. She was an abominably managing female.

  At least he could make sure that her influence over her younger siblings was obstructed.

  “Sir, I have just discovered that the children have neither nurse nor governess.”

  The earl looked startled. “Have they not, my boy? How very remiss.”

  “I do feel some care should be taken for their education and discipline.”

  “But of course!” He turned to his wife. “My dear, did I not overhear Mrs. Mason regretting the necessity of turning off their governess because the youngest chit is too old for the schoolroom?”

  “Yes, Bertie. She told me Miss Tullycombe has been a veri... a veri-something treasure. And Lady Rill mentioned that their old nurse—although she is not really so very old, only they pensioned her off because the boys are grown, but they all visit her constantly because she is a prodigious comfortable woman—and Lady Rill says she finds life shockingly dull without children about her, so perhaps she will like to come and look after my darlings?”

  Her husband patted her plump little hand, his fond gaze fixed on her face. “I dare say she will,” he said vaguely. “Justin, may I leave it to you to arrange everything?”

  “Certainly, sir.” Excellent! Miss Webster would have no say in the business. “There is another matter,” he went on, though far from sure he had his father’s attention. “I cannot help thinking it would be most unwise to spoil the older youngsters by overindulgence. It would be a mistake to let Miss Webster and Miss Lydia believe they are entitled to make their come-outs in Society and to be furnished with marriage portions.”

  A movement at the doorway caught his eye. Virginia stood there, her outraged expression indicating she had heard his words.

  “Nor,” he continued smoothly, “is it at all necessary to provide Colin and Gilbert with tutors.”

  The earl turned to him, suddenly alert. “My dear boy, you are quite right. Gilbert must most certainly have a tutor. I cannot imagine how I have been so neglectful of my duties. To be sure I have been teaching him a little myself, but he needs someone better versed in explaining the intricacies of grammar. He ought to be preparing for the university.”

  “But, sir—”

  “What else was it you were saying? Colin—now there I believe you are wrong. Young Colin has no desire for a classical education. But the girls, yes, yes, they must be presented at Court, of course, and go to balls and suchlike gadding about. Husband-hunting is the business of young women. As for their portions, I shall send for my lawyer at once.”

  Ginnie gave Justin a triumphant smile and left.

  “Sir, I...” he started to protest, but his father was addressing Lady Wooburn.

  “My dear Emma,” he said reproachfully, “why have you never drawn my attention to my negligence? That your children should lack for anything is most distressing.”

  “Oh, Bertie, you have been so very generous to us!” The countess had tears in her eyes. “Giving all my darlings a home! Though of course I could not have married you otherwise. But Ginnie told me you even paid those horrid debts she was always worrying about. She said we must not take advantage of your muni... muni... kindness, and she forbade me to mention balls and gowns and frivolous things.”

  “You have an admirable daughter, my love, almost as admirable as her mother.” He squeezed her hand. “But I am very well to pass, you know, and well able to provide every advantage to my new family.”

  “Oh, Bertie!” Lady Wooburn sighed.

  They had forgotten Justin’s presence so he took himself off. In the doorway he almost stumbled over Virginia’s basket. The two parcels of books were in it, a vivid reminder that all was not always what it seemed.

  He picked up the basket and returned to set it on the floor beside his father. The earl tore himself away from the sweet nothings he was murmuring in his lady’s ear for long enough to glance up and murmur absently, “Thank you, my boy.”

  Justin departed in a very thoughtful mood.

  His plan had gone awry, had had precisely the opposite effect to that he had intended. Yet he could not be sorry. If Ginnie had truly forbidden her family to take advantage of the earl’s munificence—that was surely the word her ladyship had sought in vain, he thought with an indulgent smile—then he had misinterpreted her motives ever since he came home.

  He did not doubt that she had contrived the marriage, but his disapproval was pointless since his father doted on his bride and was happier than he had been for years. Miss Webster had insinuated her penniless family into a comfortable home, and then done her best to minimize the inevitable disruption of a household faced with ten new members.

  Justin recalled how bright and cheerful the house had seemed on his arrival. Not extravagant expenditure, as he had assumed, but simply someone in charge who cared, and who knew how to keep the servants to their work. To the staff, as to her family, Miss Webster’s word was law.

  Even when it came to feeding the heir to the earldom on rabbit stew and boiled potatoes, he remembered with a rueful grin.

  * * * *

  The earl and countess were present for luncheon, which was therefore a tempting array of cold dishes set out in the breakfast room. In their presence, the usual truce prevailed. The Websters were as unwilling as Justin to let Lord and Lady Wooburn discover the animosity between them.

  Though Justin was almost ready to let bygones be bygones, Virginia’s demeanour made it quite plain she had no such intention. Indeed she had renewed reasons for resentment. Only that morning he had once more virtually accused her of being a lightskirt, and then gone on to attempt to destroy her chances of making a good match.

  He had been mistaken, but after the tricks played on him, he was by no means prepared to apologize. He ignored her, insofar as it was possible for any red-blooded young man to ignore so delectable a face and figure.

  As he ate, he became aware that Gilbert vas sending him pleading glances whenever his eldest sister was otherwise occupied. Intrigued, he lingered over a red-currant tart, which in truth was worthy of being lingered over. Gilbert, whose appetite was small, had more difficulty in making his meal last, but he stretched a cup of coffee until everyon
e else finished and departed.

  “Well?”

  “Sir, I must thank you for rescuing Nathaniel.” The lad pushed away his cup of coffee, stone-cold by now. “He told me all about it.”

  “Even how he planned to put a ‘waps’ in my chamber?” Justin asked drily.

  “Yes, sir. I told him that wasn’t on. It was excessively noble of you to overlook it and bring him home.”

  “He’s naught but a little child misled by his elders.”

  Gilbert’s thin face crimsoned. “I have tried to keep the pranks from getting out of hand, sir. Ginnie didn’t want to know the details so she told me to make sure you were not hurt.”

  “Then she doesn’t know who was responsible for which?” He held up his hand as Gilbert started to speak. “No, I’ve no wish to hear your confession.”

  “I think it’s time it all stopped, sir.”

  “I’m gratified to hear it. I trust you can persuade your siblings to agree.”

  “I’ll try. Please, you won’t tell Ginnie I let Nathaniel run off alone, will you?”

  “Is your sister such an ogre?” Justin asked with considerable curiosity.

  Gilbert looked stunned. “An ogre? Ginnie? Lord, no! Only she has enough to worry about without thinking I can’t be trusted to look after the children. I’ll never let it happen again,” he said anxiously. “You won’t tell her, will you?”

  “Mum’s the word,” he promised.

  “Oh, thank you, sir. If you want another game of chess sometime, just let me know.”

  “Thank you, I shall,” said Justin, hiding a smile.

  Jubilant, Gilbert went off, to the library no doubt. So scholarly a youth ought not to be wasting his time taking care of small children, Justin decided. He’d drive over to the Masons’ that very afternoon, to make enquiries about their cast-off governess.

  The trouble was, Miss Webster would never believe hiring a governess and a nurse was his own idea. She’d be convinced his father had forced him to do it, and he couldn’t blame her.

  * * * *

  The euphoria of witnessing Lord Amis hoist with his own petard had faded. Climbing the stairs to the schoolroom, Ginnie pondered the depth of detestation that had led him to his failed attempt to deprive her and her family of the fruits of Mama’s marriage.

  How he must hate them all to let his father see his malice! Fortunately, dear Steppapa was too vague and too charitable to understand his purpose. Lord Amis had brought about precisely the opposite of what he had intended.

  Though Ginnie would never have lowered herself to request such favours, the prospect of a tutor for Gilbert and a Season for herself and Lydia had delighted her. A few moments of reflection had diminished her delight. She was glad for Gil and Lydia, of course, but she herself could not possibly be spared from Wooburn, especially without their help in caring for the younger children. For her, the dream of a Season was as far off as ever.

  And she had dreamed, of balls and modish clothes and meeting a gentleman she could love and respect, who loved her with all his heart. To no one in the world would she have confessed the fact that that gentleman had recently taken on the lineaments of the abominable Lord Amis.

  In her dreams he did not scowl and scold. In her dreams he was tender and passionate, and his eyes told her she was the most desirable woman in the world.

  She reached the schoolroom and returned to reality with a thud.

  The twins had gone off about whatever it was they found to do in the Wooburn park. Thank heaven the summer continued fine. Keeping them amused indoors in bad weather was always a nightmare. Come winter, at their age, they really ought to spend more time at their lessons, but it wouldn’t be fair to Gilbert to expect him to neglect his own studies.

  Judith, Priscilla, and Nathaniel awaited her. Nathaniel was bursting with news.

  “A waps stung me,” he said proudly. He offered his hand for Ginnie’s inspection.

  There was a reddish bump with a darker pinpoint in the centre. “Is it all better now?” she asked.

  “Nearly. Mrs. Peasock's put stuff on it. Lord Amis brung me home on Prince Rook.”

  “Brought. Lord Amis what?”

  “He gave me a ride on his big horse. He was nice.”

  “He may’ve been nice to you,” said Priscilla hotly, “but he was horrid to Ginnie again when we met him in Beaconsfield this morning.”

  “He has been kind to me, too,” Judith said, her voice tentative. “Kind and helpful, to me and the animals.”

  “What has he done to help?” Ginnie demanded, in her astonishment forgetting to ask where Lord Amis had brought Nathaniel home from.

  Judith looked down at the table. “I wasn’t going to tell you, because I know you’ll be cross as a bear at a stake.”

  “Judith Webster, what have you been up to?”

  “Nothing! Honestly, I never asked for anything. I just happened to mention that it would be easier to take care of the animals if they had proper cages... and he told the estate carpenter to make some.”

  “I see.” She had no right to criticize her sister, when she was ready to accept London Seasons and dowries and tutors, though from the earl, not his supercilious son. “You are quite sure you did not request them? Then how on earth did the subject ever come up?”

  “That beast Colin took my hedgehog to put in Lord Amis’s drawer. I told him not to. I told him poor Prickles was bound to get hurt, and he already has a broken leg. But Lord Amis didn’t hurt him at all. He brought him back to me, so you see he really is kind. At least sometimes.”

  Ginnie’s mind was awhirl. The viscount had certainly been kind to her brother and sister. She found it hard to believe his kindness was entirely altruistic. More likely he had some devious plan to rob her of her allies.

  His conduct that morning had made it absolutely dear that towards her he had not softened in the slightest.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  The weather continuing fine, the Frobishers invited their neighbours to a picnic at Burnham Beeches. Children of all ages were included in the invitation.

  “Many of those old trees are hollow,” the Honourable Mrs. Frobisher explained to Ginnie. “My children have such fun climbing and exploring, and I know your brothers and sisters will too.”

  Ginnie refrained from pointing out to the friendly young matron that the Frobisher offspring had nurses and nursemaids galore to supervise their explorations. She politely agreed that it sounded like a wonderful place for a picnic, but she didn’t expect to have the leisure to enjoy the outing.

  That was before the new governess arrived and, a day later, the Rills’ old nurse, accompanied by a fresh-faced niece whose sole duty would be to wait upon the nursery.

  At first Ginnie was reluctant to allow anyone else to take charge of her siblings. Then she talked to Mrs. Mason and to Lady Rill. She spent the first day in the schoolroom watching over Miss Tullycombe’s shoulder.

  The governess was equally capable at teaching the alphabet to Nathaniel and French and ladylike deportment to Judith. She even seemed able to persuade Jack and Jimmy to concentrate on their studies, though the twins grumbled heartily. The nursemaid, Alice, was cheerful and willing. As for Nurse, as soon as Nathaniel confided that the plump, grey-haired woman had a “comfable” lap, Ginnie knew she would do admirably.

  So Ginnie wholeheartedly thanked Lord Wooburn for hiring the three.

  “It’s not me you need to thank, my dear,” he told her. “The whole thing was Justin’s notion. Truth to tell, I’m ashamed to say, I didn’t even realize you had no governess until he pointed it out to me.”

  With the intention of ensuring they never did have a governess, Ginnie was certain. As with the business of Seasons and dowries and a tutor for Gilbert, Lord Amis’s mischief had misfired. She did not express her gratitude to the viscount.

  Nonetheless, she was able to look forward to the picnic with unalloyed pleasure, knowing Alice would be there to superintend Nathaniel and Priscill
a. The twins, active and sturdy, were unlikely to come to grief as long as she impressed upon them not to go out of sight, or at least sound, of the other picnickers. If she worried about those two breaking the odd leg or arm, she’d never get a moment’s peace.

  The day before the picnic. Lord Amis bought a curricle, navy with daffodil trim, and a handsome team of greys. Ginnie was taken aback when he invited Gilbert to drive to Burnham Beeches with him in the dashing equipage. When Gilbert eagerly accepted, she was dismayed.

  Colin explained their brother’s capitulation. “It stands to reason only a nodcock would refuse a ride in such a bang-up rig,” he said enviously. “And those cattle are prime bits of blood and bone. Sixteen-mile-an-hour tits, I shouldn’t wonder.”

  His envy was assuaged when Lord Amis, after briefly consulting Mills, suggested that Colin drive the gig to the picnic. Old Patch was not a patch on the greys, but he’d be handling the ribbons himself, and he’d never before driven anything more exciting than a farm cart.

  Ginnie’s suspicions were not assuaged. It appeared more and more as if Lord Amis were resolved to win over her brothers and sisters, leaving her alone to defend her family against his machinations.

  On the other hand, it made sense for Colin to drive the gig, with her and Nathaniel as his passengers. Otherwise, even with Lydia taken up by young Mr. Mason in his whiskey, they’d be hard-pressed to fit everyone into the carriage.

  The day of the picnic dawned with the sort of wispy mist that often presages a glorious day. Helping Lydia dress in a gown of speedwell blue to match her eyes, Ginnie made up her mind to take a holiday from all her worries and enjoy herself. She chose a walking dress of deep rose cambric muslin, bound at the high waist with a white sash. Regarding herself and her sister in the looking-glass, she decided the simplicity of their gowns was elegant, if not in the latest mode.

  Smiling, she hugged Lydia. “You are a sight to turn Peter Mason’s head, if it were not already turned. He is a steady young man, I believe, but make sure he does not allow his whiskey to become separated from the other carriages.”