A Country Mouse

by Fenella Miller

  'Nonsense! You will deal admirably together. If you do not accept it will not just be your good name that will be lost. His will be gone also. Do you wish to ruin him as well as yourself?'

  'Of course not.' She hung her head. Whatever she decided, her moment of foolishness was going to cause a lifetime's misery. She had no choice, but at least this way her sisters, her mother and her grandfather would be happy. After all, only yesterday she had been contemplating marriage to Sebastian as the solution to her family's problems. Her position now was no different, really.

  She raised her head and pulled back her shoulders. Nobody would ever know how she felt about the situation.

  'I shall accept Viscount Yardley's offer, when he makes one. I shall be honoured to become his betrothed, whatever the circumstances that promoted it.' Her smile was pitiful but he beamed back, delighted he had achieved his objective so soon.

  'Good girl. You will not regret it. Sebastian can be a little stiff necked but never doubt his intelligence and his good heart.' He wiped his mouth on his starched white napkin. 'Now, run along, my dear. I am sure you wish to see your mother and deliver your good news. I expect

  you to be the library at eleven o'clock sharp.' Still smiling brightly Emily rose gracefully to her feet, curtsied, and went, not to see her mother as suggested, but back to her room to find the privacy she craved.

  Jenny was in the dressing-room mending her torn dress. 'I'm going to ride. Please find my habit right away.'

  Less than fifteen minutes later Emily had escaped outside and was hurrying, head down, towards the stables. Sebastian was going the same way but from the rear of the house. He had been striding round the garden perfecting his plan.

  Emily walked straight into him. Instinctively he closed his arms around her, protecting her from harm. The impact of their collision caused him to stagger backwards into the thick yew hedge that bordered the path. Its bulk prevented a second fall.

  'Good grief, Emily! You almost had us over.' Sebastian said, as he carefully straightened and replaced her feet on the path.

  'I beg your pardon; I was not looking where I was going. I hope I did not harm you?' Her voice was high and strained. She tried to smile and relax her rigid pose. 'I am hoping to find a mount; do you think there is one suitable for me?'

  He stepped back, brushing the leaves and debris from his person. 'As long you do not wish to ride Sultan, as I am about to go out myself. Will you accompany me? I can show you the estate, if you wish to see it?'

  Emily took the olive branch. 'I would love to, thank you, Cousin Sebastian. And I can assure you I might be impulsive but I'm not stupid. I have no intention of setting tongues wagging a second time.'

  'I am glad to hear it.' He offered her his arm and she felt it would be uncivil to refuse. The moment her hand rested on the rough fabric of his riding jacket she knew it to have been a mistake. She felt his muscles bunch beneath her light hold and believed that his reaction demonstrated his antipathy to her touch. She could not have been more wrong.

  The progress had been noted by an observant stable boy and Sultan, and a spirited grey mare, were saddled and waiting when they arrived in the yard. Emily looked around with approval. The well-swept cobbles, freshly painted boxes and the glossy, enquiring heads hanging over half doors, told her that this was a well-kept stable yard.

  Then she saw the horses, standing ready and her smile, for the first time that morning, became genuine. Without pausing she stepped up to the huge chestnut stallion and rubbed his nose. He lowered his head to allow her to pull his ears.

  'Good morning, you handsome fellow. How are you today?' The animal whickered and lipped her face with his whiskered mouth. 'Silly thing; you're too big for kisses.' As she stepped away she became aware that she was, once more, the centre of a circle of interested spectators. Her eyes met Sebastian's, they were not censorious, but amused. 'I'm sorry; but I could not resist greeting him.'

  Grinning he leant down and with a pocket handkerchief wiped away the trail of slobber his horse had left on her forehead. 'There is no need to apologise; Sultan is sorely in need of friends. He is cordially disliked by all the grooms and lads who attend to him. For some strange reason he has fallen under your spell, Cousin.'

  'You are bamming me? Sultan is not wild, he's a gentle giant.'

  'I think his stable lad would dispute that, my dear.' He smiled; his eyes alight with laughter, making him suddenly look approachable and less severe. 'Do you like Polly, your mount? She is a fast ride but I am certain that you will have no difficulty handling her, even riding side-saddle.'

  Emily turned her attention to the mare, who was more interested in flirting with the stallion. 'I love her. If I can not have Sultan for my own, I shall happily settle for Polly.'

  The head groom threw her up into the saddle and she hooked one leg round the raised pommel. The other groom fitted her neatly booted foot into the single stirrup.

  Sebastian vaulted into his saddle unaided and gathered up his reins. 'I thought we would take the route through Home Woods, there are hedges, logs and ditches to jump, and then come back across the park.'

  'That sounds perfect. It's so long since I've been able to ride and I have missed it dreadfully.'

  They clattered out of the yard in easy conversation. He had quite forgotten his vow to alienate his future wife by his obnoxious behaviour. She had quite forgotten that she disliked him. The dreaded appointment in the library was temporarily pushed aside by the exhilaration of the ride.

  They arrived back two hours later, hot and mud-spattered, having spent the entire time without speaking a cross word. They parted, amicably, and when they returned to their apartments to change their garments neither of them gave a thought to what faced them in the library.

  * * * *

  Sebastian dressed in a coat from Westons, cut square at the front as the newest fashion dictated. It took his man, Morrison, twenty minutes to ease him into this and his skin tight inexpressibles and highly polished Hessians. He tied his own neck cloth in an intricate arrangement he had devised for himself. Satisfied, he strode from his chamber, his jaw clenched and his expression grim.

  He was faced with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in the company of someone he scarcely knew. It was a recipe for disaster. Then his expression relaxed a little as he recalled the pleasant two hours he had just spent in her company. He now considered that his plan to trick Emily into breaking the engagement was reprehensible and hardly appropriate to man of his elevated position and he decided he had no option but to abandon it.

  * * * *

  'I have repaired your lilac gown, miss; it's all ready for you, and I took the liberty of calling up a bath.'

  'Thank you, Jenny. I will not wear that dress, an older one will suffice.' For a moment she was puzzled by her maid's look of horror at the suggestion. Then she felt as though she had swallowed

  a stone. For in less than an hour she was supposed to be in the library ready to agree to marry her cousin.

  It was so unfair! She had been given her life back by her grandfather and had thrown it all away by a moment of foolhardiness. She knew she had no choice. She couldn't understand why the prospect of marrying her cousin filled her with such dread. After all he was handsome, intelligent, wealthy and titled. Most debutantes would love to be in her position. Why was she so set against the match?

  Chapter Seven

  The harsh sound of a clock striking the hour made Emily jump. She was late. How could that have happened? She quickened her steps, lifted her skirt, and ran lightly downstairs. Where was the library? The vast hall was deserted, and none of the usual footmen in sight. There were five routes for her to select from but she had no idea which one to take.

  Frantically she searched for a bell-cord in order to summon assistance but found none. Then she had an inspired notion; she would open the front door and knock loudly on it; that would surely bring Penfold out of hiding.

  Pleased with her scheme she turned the h
eavy knob and stepped out into the morning sunshine. The trees were so lovely in their autumn colours that she became distracted and released her hold on the door. Its swung shut with an ominous clunk. She spun round too late, the door was firmly closed. She lifted the heavy brass knocker and banged it. She waited expectantly. There was no sound of footsteps hurrying to her summons. She banged again, with such force that she hurt her hand. Yesterday the wretched place had been overrun with staff, where were they all today?

  She decided to abandon the front door and search for another entrance. Penfold, who had been closeted with Mrs Todd, the housekeeper, opened the door to see a flash of lilac vanish round the corner. It was not his place to question the strange ways of his betters, so quietly shut the door and went about his business.

  Emily was breathless, and the hem of her dress limp and dusty by the time she finally found a side door that opened. She burst in, startling two parlour maids about their duties.

  'Thank Heavens! I have found someone. Please could you direct me to the library?'

  The younger girl recovered first. 'Yes, miss, if you would care to follow me.'

  Emily was late, very late. Her hair was escaping from its pins and the hem of her dress was mired but in her urgency she failed to notice.

  * * * *

  Sebastian was glaring out across the park; he did not like to be kept waiting. The sound of her hurrying footsteps alerted him. He turned, and stood, legs slightly apart, arms rigidly beside him, and waited.

  'Miss Gibson, my lord.' The maid, duty done, disappeared but not before she had noted the Viscount's expression and Emily's appearance. Both would be described in detail to the rest of the staff when they sat down for supper that night.

  Emily curtsied and as her eyes dropped she saw the appalling state of her dress. Her spirits sunk even lower. This was not an auspicious start. She raised her head and shrivelled under the icy stare of her future husband. Where was the friendly man she had just been out riding with?

  There was an interminable silence; Emily did not speak, she felt too ill. Sebastian knew if he opened his mouth too soon he would say something they would both regret.

  Emily recovered her composure. 'I must apologize for keeping you waiting, sir.' She was about to explain why she was late but he forestalled her. She noticed that there appeared to be something wrong with his breathing.

  'For God's sake, sit down, Emily and let us get this farce completed.'

  Every instinct told her to flee from this formidable man but her feet refused to move. He took a step towards her and fearing that he was going to strike her, she retreated until her shaking back was hard against the door, her eyes wide.

  'Please, I'm sorry. I got locked out.' To her shame she felt unwanted tears spill out and trickle down her cheeks.

  'It is I who must apologize, Emily.' Sebastian took her hand and gently drew her towards a sofa. 'Sit down, my dear, you are shaking. I should not have frightened you like that; it was inexcusable. I am behaving like a nincompoop. Here, use this.' Emily felt the soft touch of a linen handkerchief placed into her fingers and obediently wiped eyes.

  'I am not usually a watering-pot. I don't understand what's happening to me. I promise you, I am usually a woman of good sense.'

  'It is this wretched business. It has got to us both, has it not?'

  She nodded. 'You have no more wish for this than I do, do you, Cousin Sebastian?'

  'No, I do not. But I am afraid we have no choice, my dear. Our behaviour yesterday has put us beyond the pale and only the announcement of our engagement will save us both from ruin.'

  'Grandfather told me you could lose your position in the government as well as in society. Is that truly the case?'

  'It is; we have no choice.' Then he smiled and inexplicably her heart turned over. He reached over and took her hand. 'Miss Gibson, will you do me the inestimable honour of becoming my wife?'

  She swallowed twice, before answering. There appeared to be a lump stuck in her throat. 'Yes, my lord, I will.' The pull on her hand continued and she found herself being embraced by two exceptionally well-muscled arms.

  'Look at me, Emily,' he commanded. She did as she was bid and received her first adult kiss. The feel of another mouth on hers was at first alarming but slowly she relaxed and began to enjoy the strange sensation.

  'There, it is done.' Viscount Yardley released her and stood up. 'I assume you will tell Lady Althea our good news?'

  'Yes, of course I will. What happens next? Are we obliged to do anything else?'

  'No; I am returning to Town after I have spoken to the Earl.' He bowed formally and, without further conversation, strode out of the room.

  Emily stared at the closed-door scarcely able to comprehend what had just taken place. In the space of thirty minutes she had been shouted out, scared half to death, comforted, proposed to, kissed and abandoned. It was too much to take in. Shakily she got to her feet and began to walk around the room, trying to bring order to her tumbled thoughts.

  She was still in the library when her sister discovered her. Millie greeted her with a scream of delight.

  'Em, here you are! I have been searching for you for hours. Everything is like a game of hide and go seek in this huge house.'

  Emily put down her book and returned her sister's happy smile. 'I know, Millie, I got lost this morning and have not dared venture out of here again. Is there a particular reason you are seeking me?'

  'Yes, Madame Ducray from London has arrived and has boxes of samples and things to show you. Mama has got dressed and taken some breakfast. I love Westerham; we're going to be so happy here.'

  'I'm sure you're right. Come along then, shall we try and find Mama's apartments or ring for assistance?'

  'We had better ring; she will be getting anxious.'

  Lady Althea greeted her daughters as though they had been lost for weeks. 'My dears, at last, I have been so worried. Where ever have you been for so long?'

  'Em was hiding in the library; it took me for ever to find her.'

  'Well you are both here now. Madame Ducray has set up in your sitting-room, Emily. She is waiting to see us there.'

  Serena bounced off the chaise-longue. 'Shall there be dresses for me as well, Mama?'

  'Of course, my love. Your grandfather said we are to have whatever we wish. He has placed no restrictions on expenditure.'

  It was only then that Emily realized her mother and sisters were ignorant of either her scandalous behaviour or her precipitate engagement.

  'Mama, I have to speak with you first. Millie, take Serena into Madame and tell her that we shall be along in a few minutes.'

  'Can we start choosing material for our dresses and pinafores?'

  Lady Althea answered. 'Yes you can, my dears. Madame will direct your attention to those most suitable for girls of your age.'

  Mary led her charges away leaving Emily and her mother alone. 'You have not heard what happened yesterday, have you Mama?'

  'I heard that you and Papa fell out but were reconciled immediately. I also heard that Viscount Yardley and you were at daggers drawn. Surely there can not be anything else?'

  'I'm afraid there is. You had better sit down whilst I tell you.'

  When Emily finished her story her mother was shocked speechless, but only for a moment.

  'Am I to understand that you are now engaged to be married to Viscount Yardley and he has departed for Town without bothering to speak to me?'

  Emily nodded. 'He asked grandfather's permission to address me. I suppose he felt that was sufficient.'

  Lady Althea was incensed. She knew she had been slighted and did not take it kindly. 'I think it is the outside of enough. I have known of his existence scarcely a day and already I cordially dislike him. You shall not marry him, Emily, I will not have it.'

  'But if I do not, both of us will lose our reputations. The scandal will also reflect on both you and the girls. I cannot allow that to happen.'

  Her mother pursed her lips th
en her eyes lit up. 'I have it, Emily. When we have replenished our wardrobes, we shall go to Town. Although it is not high Season there will still be plenty going on. We can be ready in a month or less. I shall write at once to all my old acquaintances and get invitations for us to the most prestigious dances and soirees. As Viscount Yardley's fiancé, and my daughter, you will be accepted everywhere.'

  Emily interrupted her mother's excited plans. 'But why? How will that help?'

  'It is as plain as the nose on your face, my love. You will be considered a success, your reputation will be restored and then you can break the engagement and no one will think twice about it.'

  'What reason shall I give for doing so? I don't wish to be called a jilt on top of everything else.'

  'We shall just say you do not suit after all. I will think of something. Papa has promised to make all of you a generous settlement. You are now an heiress. There will be no shortage of eligible suitors, I can assure you.'

  Emily did not point out that she really had no desire to be married to anyone. It seemed a shame to dampen her mother's enthusiasm. It was so long since she had seen her taking an interest in anything.

  'Is there no way that Viscount Yardley could cry off without damaging his name?'

  'No, my love. The man is honour bound to keep his promise, but society understands that it is a woman's privilege to change her mind.' Lady Althea rose. 'Come, Madame will think us discourteous if we do not appear.'

  * * * *

  Emily's sitting-room had been transformed into an Indian bazaar. Silks, satins, sarcenet and muslins exploded over chair backs and sofas, cascading into pools of liquid colour on the polished boards. Upon the occasional tables were spread pages from, La Belle Assemblée, with the latest fashion plates for adults and children alike.

  The petite Frenchwoman, her brindled hair scraped back into an unflattering bun, fluttered forward, her tiny hands waving theatrically. 'Oh, Lady Althea, Miss Gibson, we are so 'appy to see you 'ere. I 'ave some lovely gowns made up for you to wear whilst I am constructing your new choices.'