To Win the Lady

by Mary Nichols

  ‘It’s not the Major with the Colonel, Miss Georgie, it’s Lord Barbour.’

  ‘Lord Barbour!’ Georgie only just managed to save the hot chocolate from spilling. She set the cup and saucer down on to the bedside table and looked at her maid like a bewildered child. ‘Fanny, why didn’t you say? Has he come to...?’

  ‘I believe so. I heard him mention your name just as they were going into the library together.’

  ‘What am I to do?’

  ‘Why, get dressed, miss.’ She went to the large wardrobe. ‘What shall you wear? The blue or the pea-green?’

  ‘Neither. I do not feel well; I think I shall remain in bed all day. You may tell that to anyone who comes for me. Last night’s exertion...’

  Fanny, who had known her since she was a tiny girl and fetched her out of many a scrape, turned from selecting clothes to smile at her. ‘Who’ll believe that, when they know you think nothing of staying up all night with a mare who’s foaling? You are inexhaustible.’

  ‘Then perhaps Lord Barbour will take the hint and realise I do not want to speak to him.’

  ‘He is very persistent, that one. He won’t give up that easily.’

  ‘And I will not give in that easily. Now I am going back to sleep. You may go, Fanny.’ And she lay back on the pillows and shut her eyes. She knew she would not sleep and she hated lying in bed, but anything was better than facing his lordship. And so early in the day, too.

  At two o’clock Fanny brought her a light meal and the news that his lordship had been disappointed not to see her and wished her well. ‘I heard he is coming back tomorrow afternoon,’ her maid told her. ‘So what excuse will you give then for not seeing him?’

  Georgie had been nurturing the fond hope that her uncle would refuse to allow the match, but now that that was dashed she did not see how she could refuse to see his lordship. She could not marry him, she just could not. Somehow or other she must make a success of the stables. She must make people respect her as a horse-breeder and trainer and forget that she was a woman. She must put aside all womanly traits and concentrate on business affairs. Felicity must have her dowry and she must live alone at Rowan Park and to hell with her reputation. She smiled wryly; if thoughts and language like that entered her head so easily, then she was already halfway to being the man. Then why did she feel like crying: men did not cry, did they?

  Although she went down to dinner, she did not see the Colonel, who had gone to a meeting with some government officials and was dining with them; it was not until breakfast next morning that she was able to talk to him about it. They were alone at the table; her aunt and sister were still in their rooms.

  ‘Of course you must not marry the man if you hold him in aversion,’ her uncle said. ‘I did not know you were so against the match or I would not have agreed to let him speak to you. Mrs Bertram led me to believe you would look on his suit with favour.’

  ‘I am afraid Aunt Harriet is too much of an optimist, uncle, though I did agree to think about it. I have thought and we just would not suit.’

  ‘Do you mind telling me why?’

  ‘I can’t. I...’

  ‘Is there someone else?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Georgie’s answer was a little too quick; colour flooded her face and she could not meet his eyes. He knew he had hit the nail on the head. ‘I am, and will remain, an old maid.’

  He reached out and put his hand over hers. ‘You are too young for that, my dear.’

  ‘Then a hoyden. I live for my horses.’

  ‘His lordship gave me to understand that he did not object to that-within reason. Wives of peers can get away with a little eccentric behaviour now and again which would not be tolerated in a young unmarried woman. And his name would give your stables some credence.’

  ‘I am conscious of that, Uncle, but it doesn’t make any difference. One must surely like the man one marries, even if it is a business arrangement, and I do not like him. I shall tell him so, when he calls.’

  ‘I hope you may not be so blunt.’

  Georgie laughed; it was a hollow sound, devoid of humour. ‘No, I shall try and let him down lightly.’

  ‘Do not be too hasty, Georgiana. Tell him you need more time to think about it. That would not hurt, would it?’

  ‘It would be dishonest, Uncle. I do not need more time.’

  He stood up to leave. ‘It is your decision, my dear. I have already told his lordship that I will not influence it. Now, I have work to do.’ And with that he took his leave.

  Georgie did not feel like eating. She rose and hurried out to the stables and sent Tom to hire a hack. She wanted to ride; riding had always helped her to overcome any fit of the blue devils and today it would be even more significant because being on the back of a horse would show her just what her life would be like when that was all she had to give her fulfilment. While he was gone she went upstairs and changed into her new red habit and set her tall feathered hat on her short curls. By the time she returned to the stables, Tom was back with the horse.

  He helped her mount and as she rode out of the yard and down the drive he saddled one of the carriage horses, hoping fervently that neither the Colonel nor Mrs Bertram would want to drive out before he returned. He could not let his mistress ride alone; his father would skin him alive if he heard of it.

  Georgie, only half aware that she had an escort, rode confidently through the traffic of Oxford Street and turned into Hyde Park. Here she left the usual rides to canter across the grass to an area not so frequented, making it very difficult for Tom to keep up with her. It became even more difficult when she broke into a gallop. He reined in and watched as she pushed the hack to go faster. It was not one of her high-breds but even so it didn’t seem to be doing too badly. And then he gasped and dug his heels into his mount as the horse ahead stumbled and Georgie went flying over its head and into a patch of bushes.

  She was unconscious when he reached her. He bent over her to make sure she was still breathing and then straightened up to look about him. He was only a stripling and did not think he could lift her and, even if he managed it, he could not put her across her horse like a sack of grain, nor ride supporting her. He needed to fetch help. There were a few early riders and carriages in the Row; he remounted and rode hell for leather for the nearest.

  Georgie came to her senses to find herself lying in the arms of Major Baverstock. For a moment she thought she was having a dream, and a very enjoyable, though scandalous, one it was. Not even in her waking moments had she dared to imagine what it would be like to be held in his arms; how could her subconscious betray her so? She stirred and a sharp pain at the back of her head forced her into reality. It was reality. Richard was kneeling on the ground with her head in his lap and looking down at her with such a look of concern in his eyes, it made her heart leap.

  ‘Lie still. Your groom has gone for a carriage to take you home.’

  ‘Home,’ she murmured.

  ‘I meant your aunt’s home. Did you suppose you were at Rowan Park?’

  ‘Yes. No. Oh, dear... Where am I? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Looking after you until Tom gets back. It was fortunate that I, like you, enjoy riding out early.’ He looked up as the sound of a carriage could be heard. ‘Here it is. Now I am going to lift you as carefully as I can on to the seat. I am afraid it might hurt a little. But we’ll soon have you home.’

  It was painful, so much so that she almost lost her senses again and did not fully recover them until she was safely in her bed and a doctor was bending over her.

  ‘No broken bones,’ he said, leaning over her. ‘But you’ve had a nasty bump on your head. Can you see me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He smiled. ‘Only one of me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Good. You have been lucky, Miss Paget. Now, all I prescribe is rest and, if the pain becomes too unbearable, perhaps a l
ittle laudanum.’ As she tried to struggle into a sitting position he pressed her back on the pillows and added, ‘No quick movements; gently does it or you will make yourself swoon.’

  He turned to her aunt who was hovering anxiously. ‘Please see that the patient is not disturbed or troubled by anything for the next two or three days. Time is all that’s needed.’

  Georgie’s effort to try and sit had left her breathless and exhausted and she was glad enough to be left alone to sleep. She drifted off, smiling to herself in spite of her throbbing head. Now she would not have to receive Lord Barbour, not today anyway! And she had been in Richard’s arms. And he had kissed her after he had lifted her into the carriage and sat on the floor so that he could hold her on the seat. He had, hadn’t he? She had not dreamed it. The memory of that butterfly touch on her cheek would have to sustain her in the future because it was all she would ever know of love.

  When she woke, she found Felicity sitting by her bedside and Fanny busy arranging a huge basket of flowers on the table by the window. There were more flowers on the mantelshelf and on other tables round the room. ‘Where did they all come from?’ she asked, astonished that anyone could have heard of the accident so quickly and taken the trouble to send flowers.

  ‘Most came from Lord Barbour.’ Felicity told her. ‘He has been almost camping on the doorstep and anxious to know when he can see you. Aunt Harriet has been keeping him at bay.’

  ‘And the rest? He surely did not send them all?’

  ‘That basket by the window came from Lady Hereward and Juliette with their good wishes, and the vaseful on that table from Mrs Sopwithy, and those from Major Baverstock.’ She pointed to a small posy of marguerites almost hidden by the foliage of an ostentatious basket of hothouse lilies. ‘He brought you home, did you know that?’

  ‘Yes, though I was out of my senses most of the time.’

  ‘He said you had been galloping. I am afraid Aunt Harriet will ring a peal over you the minute Roscow says you are fit enough. It is just not done in town, you know. And you were alone.’

  ‘Tom...’

  ‘He could not keep up with you. He saw you thrown and went for help. Fortunately the first person he approached was the Major, so there will not be a scandal about it.’

  ‘I am sorry to have been so much trouble to everyone.’

  ‘No matter. We are all prodigious relieved no lasting harm has been done.’

  ‘How long must I stay in bed?’

  ‘Until you feel well enough to get up without becoming dizzy.’

  ‘Then I shall remain dizzy just as long as I possibly can.’

  ‘Goodness, Georgie, whatever for?’

  ‘Until Lord Barbour tires of coming. I simply cannot face him.’

  ‘Well, of course, if you do not want to, you do not have to, but he is not going to give in, you know. He has been here every day.’

  ‘Every day?’ Georgie repeated. ‘How long have I been lying here?’

  ‘Three days and three nights. The first was the worst, you were in some sort of delirium and we were very worried. Oh, you do not know how glad I am to see you restored to your senses.’

  ‘Did I talk much?’

  ‘Not that anyone could understand, just odd words. And you cried. Do you know, Georgie, I do not think I have ever known you cry before? You were always so strong. Is there anything amiss?’

  ‘No, I expect my head hurt.’ She struggled into a sitting position and put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘You have not stayed at home to be with me, have you? You haven’t given up all your social engagements?’

  ‘Of course I have. Did you think I would go out and enjoy myself when you were lying here at death’s door?’ She smiled. ‘Well, not quite at death’s door, but you have been very ill. I could not leave you.’

  ‘But the Major...’

  ‘He quite understood. He said it was very commendable of me and he would not have it any other way.’

  ‘Has he spoken to you? Are felicitations in order?’

  ‘No, he has too much sensibility to broach such a subject when he could see I was so worried about you.’

  ‘But he has spoken to Uncle?’

  ‘Many times, but, I am persuaded, not about marriage.’

  Georgie could not understand her sister’s light-hearted manner. ‘Are you not disappointed?’

  ‘No, why should I be? There is plenty of time.’ Then, changing the subject abruptly she asked, ‘Now, what would you like for luncheon? Cook has some chicken broth, or beef tea, or perhaps something a little more substantial?’

  Georgie laughed. ‘I am as hungry as a hunter, but whatever you do don’t let Lord Barbour know that. As far as he is concerned I am still very weak and unable to receive visitors.’

  ‘Very well,’ Felicity said, getting up to give orders for a light meal to be prepared. ‘But anyone would think you fell off your horse on purpose.’

  ‘I did not fall, I was thrown,’ Georgie called after her. Her pride would not let her admit that she could not stay on a simple hack, side-saddle or astride, but she smiled as the door closed on her sister; the accident had certainly been opportune. She would have to see Lord Barbour sooner or later, but if she could manage to hold him off until just before her aunt was ready to leave for France she could get the unpleasant interview over with and then she and Felicity could return to Rowan Park. Once there, she would prepare herself for her sister’s wedding in surroundings which would make it easier to bear, among her beloved horses.

  She reached out and picked up the tiny vase containing the posy of marguerites and stood it on the little table beside her bed where she could see them even when she was lying down. She lay very still for a long time, gazing at them, studying each petal. Tears welled in her eyes and slowly chased each other down her cheeks, soaking her pillow, but she did not brush them away; they were washing away her weakness.

  Once she had been assured that Georgie was getting well, Felicity lifted her self-imposed ban on going out, but as her sister was not there to chaperon her and their aunt was busy with preparations for shutting up the house the following week she was left very much to her own devices. Most of the time she spent with Juliette Hereward and Captain Melford, acting chaperon to her friend. When Georgie asked her if she had been on any outings with Major Baverstock, she said she had seen little of him.

  ‘He is too busy over that silly wager, you know. John...’ She stopped and corrected herself hurriedly. ‘Captain Melford says there is a great deal to do: the route has to be gone over very carefully, extra horses have to be hired and places decided for changing them.’

  ‘You have not quarrelled with him, then?’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Felicity cried. ‘But to be honest I am becoming a little bored by all this talk of horses.’

  Georgie was pleased to see her so much more relaxed and happy; she seemed to have suddenly come out of her shell and Georgie supposed the few weeks her sister had had in Society had done wonders for her self-confidence. It made it easier to leave her and return to Rowan Park, which was what she had decided to do.

  Lord Barbour called every day to enquire about her health and ask when he might see her. Aunt Harriet, bless her, had kept him out of her niece’s room, if not out of the house, by saying she was still not up to receiving visitors and did not want him to see her looking anything less than her best. He would have been furious if he had seen Richard Baverstock being shown, one afternoon, into Mrs Bertram’s small upstairs sitting-room where Georgie, up and dressed, was receiving him.

  ‘You really must allow him to visit you, my dear,’ her aunt had said when she had demurred. ‘He brought you home, you know, unconscious as you were and stretched out across the carriage seat so that he was obliged to kneel on the dirty floor. It made a dreadful mark on his riding breeches. He has called almost every day to enquire about you. You really should thank him properly.’ She had paused. ‘Besides, I do believe he has another reason...’

  ‘What other rea
son?’ Georgie had asked, starting up in surprise, hope flaring for a moment, only to subside as soon as her aunt had spoken again.

  ‘Why, to be sure, had you forgot he was going to offer for Felicity? He has come to ask for your blessing. There was no opportunity before and he is too nice in his manners to push himself forward when you were not well, but one can hardly blame him for being impatient. Does that not show how well-bred he is?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt.’

  ‘Then may I have him shown up?’

  She could not say no, but she was trembling when he stood before her, taking her hand and enquiring how she did.

  ‘I believe I am almost recovered,’ she said, withdrawing her hand because he seemed reluctant to let go of it. ‘I must thank you for finding me and bringing me home; I do not know what I would have done without your help.’

  ‘It was my privilege, Miss Paget.’

  ‘And thank you also for the flowers. Marguerites are my favourite.’

  There was an awkward silence, when they simply looked into each other’s eyes, unable to speak of what was in their hearts and yet unable to utter banalities.

  ‘Major, may I offer some refreshment?’ Mrs Bertram said into the silence. ‘I do believe it is nearly time for the tea to be brought in.’

  ‘That would be very acceptable, Mrs Bertram,’ he said, dragging his eyes away from Georgie to answer her.

  Unaccountably, instead of ringing for the maid, Mrs Betram went in search of her, leaving Richard and Georgie alone. ‘I am truly grateful to you,’ she told him. ‘It was such a foolish thing to happen.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘It was such a poor beast that I could do little more than canter. I was certainly not trying to put it to the test or anything like that...’

  ‘I should hope not!’ He grinned at her, making her feel so weak that she was glad she was seated. ‘But why did you do it? Hyde Park is not Rowan Park, you know.’

  ‘Riding clears my head. It always has done.’ Then she completely threw him by asking abruptly, ‘I collect the last time we spoke together you were going to approach my uncle. Have you done so?’