Ginnie Come Lately

by Carola Dunn

  Jimmy darted in to join him and hurriedly rearranged the dishes already set out. “Put it there. Quick.”

  Once again a sound behind Justin made him turn. The door from drawing room to hall was opening.

  Quickly and quietly he closed the connecting door as Ginnie came in. She was wearing a gown of a smoky blue grey lavishly trimmed with white lace, but she could have been in rags for all he cared.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, moving towards her.

  “It is a pretty dress, is it not?” she said distractedly. At any other time the compliment would have delighted her, but Lady Amabel was about to come down and enjoy finding fault with her arrangements. How could Justin have fallen in love with such a spiteful, supercilious female?

  She gazed about the room. To her it seemed both elegant and comfortable. It was smarter than the Rills’ drawing room, or the Frobishers’, or the Masons’. She saw nothing wrong, nothing missing, yet she viewed it with the eyes of one who had been brought up in a shabby manor and dingy lodgings, aswarm with children. Lady Amabel had different standards.

  “I must see that all is well in the dining-room.”

  “It is. I have just now checked. You have an admirable way of encouraging the servants to give of their best.”

  “I ought to look—”

  “Come and sit down, Ginnie. You have no need to be in a tweak. Their opinions don’t matter.”

  “But they do.” She allowed him to lead her to a chair and sat down, stiffly upright. “If everything is not perfect, they will tell the entire Beau Monde that Lord Wooburn has married beneath him. They will hold us up to scorn. Mama and the rest of us.”

  “I cannot imagine either George or Aunt Matilda doing anything of the sort. They are the only ones whose esteem is worth having.’’

  “If they went from door to door denying the scandalmongers’ tales, few would heed them. Thrown mud clings.” She sighed. “No, you are right. It is gooseish to anticipate trouble. Perhaps nothing will go wrong.”

  Justin seemed dismayed, but before she could ask him why, the Parringales came in. She had no further chance to speak to him before Reynolds announced dinner and George Medford offered Lady Wooburn his arm to go through to the dining-room.

  As it was a house party, not a formal dinner, Ginnie had not arranged the placement at table. She found herself going in with Alfred Bascom. She looked anxiously at the table. Everything was in order; the dishes, hot and cold, looked attractive and appetizing. The footmen were neat and properly impassive. She nodded her approval to Reynolds.

  Seated, she let Mr. Bascom’s babble of tailors and boot-makers wash over her. Though caper-witted, he was at least not malicious. Colin, called in to make up the numbers until Lord Trenton arrived, was valiantly entertaining Aunt Matilda. Lydia appeared to be dazed by Lord Pierce’s witticisms, and Gilbert had a faraway look on his face.

  Justin was next to Lady Amabel, of course. However, he was not talking to her. He appeared to be trying to watch every move of Reynolds and the footmen, as if his very gaze could ensure that all went well. Ginnie wished she could reassure him that the conduct of the butler and his underlings was the least of her worries.

  The fragrantly steaming soup was served and a footman removed the tureen from its place before the earl. Another brought a pair of dishes from the sideboard to replace it. As he lifted the covers, an expression of horrified nausea spread across his face and he staggered backwards.

  Instantly the earl and Lady Trenton clapped their napkins to their faces. A moment later the entire room was filled with a foul smell, an indescribably revolting stink of rotting meat. Gagging, choking, retching, diners and servants alike fled the room.

  Only Ginnie, Colin, and Reynolds paused in their flight. Masked with napkins, trying not to breathe, they stopped at the end of the table and stared down for a moment at the reeking dish. On it lay several toadstools, pale-stemmed, with narrow, dark brown, slimy caps.

  Reynolds dropped a cover over them. The stench subsided a trifle.

  “Stinkhorns,” Colin announced.

  Moving towards the door, Ginnie took a shallow breath, just enough to speak. “The twins,” she snarled. “I’ll slaughter them.”

  “I’ll do it for you,” her brother offered.

  “No, I want to kill them with my own hands.”

  “I’m that sorry, miss,” said Reynolds. “I ought to’ve caught it.”

  “How could you guess?”

  They moved on into the hall, closing the door behind them. Someone had opened the wide front door and the diners stood on the steps, breathing deeply. Fragments of indignant comments reached Ginnie’s ears:

  “Disgusting...”

  “Never been so affronted...”

  “Utterly disgraceful...”

  “Go and explain to them, Colin. Tell them it was a childish jape.” She had tried so hard! Tears of despair rose as she turned to the stout butler. “Reynolds, pray serve a collation in the breakfast room as soon as you possibly can.”

  “Of course, miss.” His kindly, worried eyes studied her. “Don’t take it to heart, miss.”

  “I’ll kill the brats!” Bent on vengeance and on hiding her humiliation, she sped to the stairs and hurried upwards.

  She had reached the landing leading to the day nursery when Justin’s voice halted her.

  “Ginnie, wait a minute.”

  She kept her back to him, not wanting him to see the tears streaking her face. If he raked her over the coals, she’d have nothing left to do but throw herself in the lake.

  “Ginnie, look on the bright side.” Addressing her stiff back, he sounded positively cheerful.

  “Bright side!” she snapped. “What bright side?”

  “With any luck, they will all leave first thing in the morning.”

  “To spread tales about us. Oh, how could Jack and Jimmy do this to me? I cannot imagine why no one saw—or smelled—and stopped them.”

  “To tell the truth, I did see them.”

  Incredulous, she swung round. “You saw them put those toadstools in the dining-room and did nothing?”

  “I didn’t know exactly what they were up to, though naturally I guessed it was mischief. I didn’t prevent it because I hoped—”

  “You hoped to see me humiliated before your guests!” Trembling with outrage, wrath and hurt, she glared at him, blinking away tears she could not control.

  “Don’t be a peagoose. I—”

  “Peagoose!”

  “The incident hardly redounded to my credit, either,” he pointed out in a tone of utmost reason.

  “You should have thought of that sooner! I see it all. You wanted your beloved Lady Amabel to be sure she has no rival in me, to know I am beneath her notice.”

  “Ginnie, no.”

  “You are despicable.”

  “You don’t understand...”

  “I understand perfectly well. I should have trusted my first impression of you. I should never have relaxed my guard.”

  He stepped forward and the light from a wall sconce behind him fell on her face. “Ginnie, don’t cry. I can’t bear it.”

  “I’m not crying!” she said furiously.

  Next moment she was swept into his arms. “You don’t understand, my darling. It isn’t Amabel I love, it’s you.”

  For an instant her heart stood still. She stared up at him through a mist of tears.

  He loved her?

  And yet Lady Amabel had made it quite plain that she expected to marry him, and he had not denied it. He loved her, Ginnie, but he was going to wed Lady Amabel anyway. Did he suppose that she would consent to be his mistress? If only she had never allowed him to kiss her!

  His lips touched hers. She wrenched herself from his embrace and slapped his face with all her might.

  * * *

  Chapter 18

  Ruefully fingering his stinging cheek, Justin watched Ginnie march down the stairs, her back straight and head high. What the devil was going thro
ugh the little spitfire’s mind now?

  He had not chosen a propitious moment to declare his love, he acknowledged. He should have realized that with her emotions overwrought, she was bound to continue to misinterpret everything he said. The need to chase the misery from her eyes had overcome his discretion. All he had accomplished was to convince her of his duplicity.

  At one stroke he had doubled his own difficulties. Now he had not only to persuade Amabel she did not wish to marry him, but also to induce Ginnie to believe in his love.

  He had fancied that she might already love him. Her violent reaction to his attempted kiss had shaken that conceit, he reflected gloomily, following her slowly down the stairs. He had won her trust and thrown it away again. Damn the twins!

  The thought of the twins reminded him of his affronted guests. Little as he wished to face them, he had a duty to act as a solicitous host.

  He made his way to his chamber. By the time he reached a looking-glass, the mark of Ginnie’s hand on his cheek had faded to a blurred pink patch. The application of cold water and a vigorous rubbing of his whole face with a towel concealed the evidence. Reluctantly he went downstairs.

  The sound of voices drew him towards the breakfast room. Through the open door he saw people helping themselves to food from the sideboard, seated at the table eating, or carrying their plates through to the morning room.

  Reynolds was the first to notice Justin’s arrival. He came over, looking anxious. “Miss Webster’s orders, my lord,” he said.

  “Excellent.” Even in her distress, she had remembered to arrange for their guests’ comfort. He was proud of her.

  “Has miss recovered her spirits?” the butler asked hopefully, and Justin realized the man’s anxiety was not for his approval of the dinner arrangements but for Ginnie’s welfare.

  “I doubt Miss Webster will come down this evening.”

  Reynolds nodded with a mournful expression and went about his duties. Justin entered the room.

  Aunt Matilda, at the table, summoned him to her side with an imperious gesture. “Well, Justin, I gather a pair of rapscallions from the schoolroom were responsible for our discomfiture. A most ingenious trick. Hardwick is constantly complaining that his officers lack inventiveness and initiative. You had best buy your twins a pair of colours apiece.”

  Justin grinned. “They are a little young as yet, Aunt, but I shall bear your recommendation in mind.”

  “Little horrors,” said George, sitting opposite. “Justin, do you recall when you and I—”

  “Spare me! Your reminiscences will ruin my credit.” Justin saw that Colin and Gilbert were eyeing him with interest. Whatever discreditable prank George had been about to reveal, the lads were not going to let him escape recounting it at a later date.

  Lady Trenton, Lord Pierce, and Ferdie Parringale were sitting with stiff disapproval painted on their countenances. Justin apologized to them for the contretemps. Unfortunately, none of them announced that they would be departing on the morrow. He went through to the morning room.

  Lydia jumped to her feet from her place on a sofa beside Lady Elizabeth. She hurried to him. “Is Ginnie dreadfully upset? Should I go to her, Justin?”

  He hesitated. He could not guess whether Ginnie might wish for her sister’s comforting presence or prefer to be alone. For his own sake, the longer she had to calm down before she disclosed his supposed iniquity, the better. “I believe she will like you to stay and support Lady Elizabeth,” he suggested.

  “Oh yes, I shall. Lizzie is a dear. I told her she would not be so sadly timid if she had naughty little brothers like mine.”

  “Very likely,” he said drily. For Lydia, the insight was amazingly acute. An overprotective elder brother might well account in part for Elizabeth’s shyness.

  He went over to his father, though he was far from sure what to say. It was not his place to apologize to the earl for the misbehaviour of his countess’s children. To his relief. Lord Wooburn’s eyes were twinkling.

  “Hey, my boy, those young ’uns liven the place up a bit, don’t they? I’ve been telling Emma some of the things your uncle and I used to get up to in our salad days.”

  “Boys will be boys,” said Lady Wooburn placidly.

  Seated nearby, Lady Amabel stared at the earl and countess with incredulous disdain. Justin could avoid her no longer. He crossed to her side.

  “I trust you have recovered your appetite?” he enquired, regarding the almost-empty plate she held.

  “If I have, it is no thanks to those guttersnipes your father has seen fit to take into his house.”

  “I shall quite understand if you wish to leave in the morning. Lady Amabel.”

  “My father does not arrive until the day after tomorrow,” she reminded him in arctic tones.

  “A household containing two such enterprising youngsters cannot be congenial to you.’’

  “I assume the boys will be whipped until they regret their wickedness, and by the time we are married they will have been dispatched to school.”

  So she still wanted and expected an offer! Justin was tempted to inform her then and there that she was the last female he’d ever consider making his wife. However, if it was cowardice to shrink from acting the inevitable scene before guests and family, then he was a coward.

  “I must make my excuses to Lady Pierce and Mrs. Parringale,” he said noncommittally, and moved on.

  By the time he had smoothed their ruffled feathers, he was hungry. He returned to the breakfast room. Ginnie was there.

  How could be have doubted her mettle? Self-possessed, though pale and subdued, she was offering sincere apologies to George and Aunt Matilda for her brothers’ mischief, and gratefully receiving their reassurances.

  The regrets she tendered to Lady Trenton, Lord Pierce, and Mr. Parringale were less sincere and considerably abbreviated, Justin noted with amusement. His words about the comparative value of their esteem had borne fruit. He longed to take her in his arms and insist that she listen to his explanations. Nonetheless, as she turned to go through into the morning room, he moved to the sideboard, out of her way, without a word. It would be best to give her wounded sensibilities time to recover, he decided.

  For the rest of the endless evening, she avoided him, and he made no attempt to speak to her.

  In the night it rained. Though the morning was grey and chilly, Justin went for his usual solitary ride, rejecting even George’s company. As he circled the end of the house, he saw Jack and Jimmy sneaking out of a side door, doubtless to escape recriminations.

  Sooner or later they must be disciplined, he thought as he rode on. The longer it was put off, the more difficult it would be. He accepted that neither his father nor their mother was in the least likely to lay down the law. It was his responsibility, and Ginnie’s, and he could do nothing without her concurrence. Therefore he could with a good conscience stop worrying about the twins for the moment and contemplate the far-more-interesting problem of winning their sister.

  As for Lady Amabel, he had no wish to mortify her, but if she refused to take any of the broad hints she had been given, he’d be forced to tell her outright that he was not going to ask for her hand.

  Satisfied with this conclusion, he turned Prince Rurik’s head homeward. They approached the house through the wood at the east end of the lake, as they had that fateful day when the stallion had thrown him, almost at Ginnie’s feet, and he had called her a strumpet. After such a start, no wonder the road to love was beset with thorns!

  As he reached the edge of the wood he saw the twins perched in the ancient, leaning willow over the fishing pool. They wielded nets on long poles that he recognized from his childhood. What was next, he asked himself wryly, minnows in the claret?

  Intent on their business, they did not hear Prince Rurik’s hooves on the rain-softened ground. Justin rode on. He’d tell Miss Tullycombe where the rascals were to be found.

  He had ridden no more than ten paces when a splash and a scr
eam behind him made him draw rein.

  “Jimmy! Help! Oh, help, someone, please, he’ll drown! Help!”

  The frantic voice was followed by another splash. By that time Justin was halfway back to the pool. How deep was it? Deep enough to drown two small boys, he feared.

  He tossed his hat aside and flung himself from Prince Rurik’s back. One of the twins was swimming in the murky water. Of the other there was no sign.

  “Jimmy slipped and hit his head. I can’t find him!”

  “Get out of my way.”

  Galvanized by the boy’s terror, Justin didn’t pause to remove coat or boots, but jumped in. The water reached his chin. Stirring up mud and rotting leaves, he waded towards the overhanging tree, flailing desperately with both arms.

  His legs met an obstruction, heavy but shifting before him. He took a deep breath and dived. His hands met cloth, grasped, and tugged. Even as he pulled the child to the surface he turned back towards the bank.

  Jack’s freckles stood out starkly on his white face. “Is he dead?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Justin laid Jimmy on the mirey bank, face down, and heaved himself out of the lake. Trickles of water ran from the boy’s mouth and nose. He lay limp, unmoving.

  Justin seized him by the ankles and hoisted him aloft. Water gushed from him. He began to choke and splutter.

  Overwhelmed with gratitude to Providence, Justin said shakily, “No, he’s not dead. But I must take him home at once.”

  Jimmy was still insensible. Blood oozed from a gash on his temple. Justin draped him over Prince Rurik’s withers, blessing his mount’s patience and good manners. He set his foot in the stirrup.

  “Don’t leave me behind!”

  He turned and swung Jack up onto the horse’s rear. “Hold on to the back of the saddle.” Awkwardly he mounted between the boys. “Now hold my coat. Tightly.” Lifting Jimmy and cradling him in one arm, he set Prince Rurik to a gallop.

  When they reached the house, he swung down with Jimmy, lent a hand to Jack to slither to the ground, and abandoned the stallion to find his own way to the stables. Squelching and dripping, he strode into the hall with Jack scuttling at his heels.