Dorothy Elbury
Page 3
I shall have to persuade Katharine to accompany me, she decided, as she quickly brushed her unruly curls and tied them into the nape of her neck with a black ribbon. She must realise that it is for the best. I shall tackle her at bedtime.
When the appointed hour came, however, Katharine was so full of her day at the farm that Georgina had to hold herself in check and listen patiently while her sister described the complications of butter patting and cream skimming.
‘Andrew was so pleased with what I had done!’ she giggled, her blue eyes shining. ‘And he brought me back the prettiest neckerchief—do look!’ She unwrapped a sheet of tissue and displayed her gift. ‘Isn’t it the most gorgeous thing you have ever seen?’ Dressed only in her stays and undergarments, she draped the wisp of lace around her plump little shoulders and pranced around the room.
Georgina, who was already in the double bed they shared, laughingly agreed that it was quite out of the common and that it became Katharine most admirably. However, her patience was beginning to wear thin and she seized the pause in her sister’s monologue to ask about the stranger in Andrew’s gig.
Katharine stopped her twirling and, screwing up her face in concentration, murmured vaguely, ‘Mmm—yes, I do believe he mentioned something about giving someone a lift—an artist, I think he said. Taken the Blanchard’s Cottage for the summer—he dropped him off there.’
Divesting herself of her underclothes, she pulled her nightgown over her tousled blonde ringlets and bounced on to the bed beside Georgina.
‘Do you realise,’ she said, with a heavy sigh, ‘that next Saturday was to have been my wedding day?’
‘I know, dearest,’ replied her sister, full of sympathy. ‘And that is something I need to talk to you about.’
‘About my wedding?’ Katharine turned an eager face towards her.
‘Not exactly—although it does have some bearing.’
Georgina then proceeded to furnish her sister with the bones of Mr Pickens’s latest visit and intimated the consequent difficulties that the family now faced.
The younger girl’s eyes grew round in horror. ‘Whatever will Mama do?’ she asked.
‘She has written to Uncle James for assistance,’ replied Georgina shortly. ‘But we must not hold out much hope of anything substantial from him. I asked her again about Uncle Cunningham, but she still refuses to approach him.’
‘You know that Mama would never go against Papa’s wishes,’ returned her sister. ‘He vowed never to speak to Aunt Edwina again. I was surprised to see them at the funeral—I would not have recognised them.’
‘It was over fourteen years ago,’ Georgina reminded her. ‘You were only five.’
Katharine pondered on this. ‘Then you would only have been about seven yourself. I must say that I can’t really remember exactly what happened. It was cousin Clarissa’s birthday party, wasn’t it? There was a lot of screaming and shouting, I recall.’
‘I remember her huge nursery,’ nodded Georgina. ‘And lots of presents. She was a spiteful show-off, though, and not in the least inclined to share her things. She threw that porcelain doll at you—don’t you remember? It smashed into fragments on the washstand and you were set on trying to salvage the poor creature just as Aunt Edwina came in to the nursery. Clarissa went into a fit of hysterics and accused you of deliberately destroying her birthday present. Aunt refused to listen to either of us and practically dragged us downstairs to Mama and Papa. We were both sobbing and trying to tell Mama what had really happened, Aunt Edwina was screeching at the top of her voice and Papa and Uncle Arthur were going at it hammer-and-tongs until, all of a sudden, Papa simply picked you up and marched us all to the front door, swearing that none of us would ever set foot in the place again.’
‘I do remember some of it,’ said Katharine slowly. ‘And they have never spoken since?’
‘I believe Uncle Arthur did try for some sort of reconciliation at first, but Papa flatly refused to have anything to do with Aunt Edwina, which would have made it difficult, I suppose. He was furious when they came to Harry’s funeral and he told John Mansell to ask them to leave.’
Katharine’s brows puckered. ‘Then what makes you think they would help us now?’ she asked. ‘In all probability they still dislike us intensely.’
Georgina shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. When they came to Papa’s funeral I could see that Uncle Arthur, at least, was dreadfully upset. He did try to speak to Mama, but she was careful to avoid him and they left straight after the service.’
Her sister still looked doubtful but Georgina, ignoring her expression, said earnestly, ‘I truly believe that he could be persuaded to help us and—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I think that you and I should go to see him ourselves!’
‘We!’ Katharine was horrified at the thought. ‘Oh, Gina! I couldn’t possibly! Without telling Mama! How could we do so?’
‘I have it all worked out,’ Georgina replied patiently. ‘You must accompany me to Dunchurch next Saturday. The Cunningham house is, apparently, not far from the marketplace. I shall simply knock on the door and ask to see Sir Arthur.’
And just hope that I haven’t got the whole thing completely wrong, she thought to herself.
‘I really ought to ask Andrew,’ said Katharine reluctantly, for she was not at all happy to be part of her sister’s plan. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t approve of me getting involved in such a madcap scheme.’
Georgina gave an impatient sigh. ‘Don’t be such a milksop, Katharine—it’s for your benefit, too, you know. You can hardly expect Mama to provide you with a bridal trousseau in our present circumstances.’
‘I shall still have my dowry,’ said Katharine, in an obstinate voice. ‘And Andrew is always happy to give me whatever I ask for.’
‘Anyway,’ she then added, brightening, ‘as soon as we are married, it will be quite in order for him to take over all of our debts.’
‘I don’t think Mama would be awfully comfortable about that,’ said Georgina stiffly.
‘I don’t see why not,’ Katharine retorted. ‘We will all become part of his family.’
With a patience she was far from feeling, the older girl attempted to explain, realising that her cause would come to naught without her sister’s help. ‘There are certain things that families prefer to keep to themselves. Financial matters, particularly. It’s to do with pride—and being able to hold up one’s head.’
Katharine shrugged. ‘Well, I tell Andrew everything,’ she avowed. ‘I don’t think sweethearts should have secrets from each other.’
‘That may be the case insofar as your own affairs are concerned, dear sister,’ said Georgina briskly, turning to blow out the candle and pulling the coverlet up under her chin. ‘But this is my plan and my secret and I’d be grateful if you refrained from mentioning it to Andrew, if you could possibly avoid it.’
Three days later, however, since she was not entirely sure that Katharine could be trusted not to divulge her confidences, Georgina elected to accompany her sister on her next visit to the Radley farmhouse, where they were greeted with affection by Andrew’s mother.
‘Andrew will be with us shortly,’ Mrs Radley informed them, smiling broadly as she noted Katharine’s look of disappointment at her fiancé’s absence. ‘He has one of the stockmen in the office. Let me give you some tea.’
She proceeded to ply the two girls with a large selection of cakes and pastries for she ran a very bountiful household, believing that the partaking of a ‘little something to cheer one up’ could assuage the most vexing of problems. Her own ample figure was, perhaps, testimony to this principle as she herself was cheerfulness personified. Katharine loved her dearly and was impatient to continue her apprenticeship as a farmer’s wife under her new mother-in-law’s tutelage.
‘Your mama is well, I trust?’ asked Mrs Radley, dispensing yet more tea. ‘I must send her some more fruit from the hothouse and perhaps a dish of a very cheering syllabub that Cook has recently prod
uced. I could not help but notice that your mama was looking very frail in church on Sunday and it is vital that she keep up her strength at this time. And, Georgina, you too are looking a little pale, do take another of these delicious cupcakes.’
Smiling, Georgina declined, declaring herself positively brimful while Katharine, as usual, required no second bidding and was restocking her plate with gusto when her fiancé joined them.
He, like his mother, was a well-built individual but, being moderately tall, he carried his weight comfortably and was considered quite good looking in a healthy, ruddy sort of way. Striding into the room, he planted a kiss upon Katharine’s cheek and, bidding her sister ‘good day’, he plonked himself down beside his fiancée and proceeded to help himself to a large selection of pastries.
‘What’s to do, sweetheart?’ he asked her, between mouthfuls. ‘Do I sense a touch of melancholy in the air?’
‘Oh, Andrew’, came her reply. ‘It’s too dreadful—we are to be paupers!’
‘Oh, come now, Katharine!’ protested Georgina, dismayed at her sister’s unseemly outburst. ‘Hardly that.’ She turned to Mrs Radley. ‘It seems that Papa has left his affairs in a bit of a tangle, but I am sure we will sort it all out.’
‘You must not worry yourself so, dearest’, said Radley, taking Katharine’s hands in his. ‘I can easily take care of all that sort of thing. I shall come over and speak to your mama directly, so you must put it all out of your head.’
‘But you cannot, my dear’, interposed Mrs Radley, greatly agitated. ‘It would not be at all proper for you to offer money to Mrs Cunningham—quite out of the question until you and Katharine are wed and they all become part of your family.’
Georgina, feeling increasingly awkward at this turn of events and desperately wishing that Katharine had kept her counsel, nodded vigorously in agreement with his mother’s words.
‘But we cannot marry before September,’ countered Radley in alarm, having observed the tears starting up in his beloved’s eyes. ‘Surely there must be some acceptable way we can help?’
His mother pondered for a moment, then clapped her hands gleefully. ‘I have it!’ she said eagerly. ‘We shall send provisions—that will be perfectly proper—a joint of lamb here, a bushel of flour—whatever is needed, my dear.’ She beamed at Georgina. Pulling at the bell-rope, she continued, ‘You must take a basket of eggs back with you and I shall have Masters bring over a large hamper directly.’
‘You are very kind, ma’am,’ stammered Georgina, her dismay deepening.
Katharine, however, was more fulsome in her praise of Mrs Radley’s generous offer, saying, in great excitement, ‘How clever of you! The very thing! Then we can put whatever money we do have to other good uses. Mama will be so relieved!’
Georgina, however, was not at all sure that their mother would be remotely pleased to have their financial situation bandied about, even to such close neighbours as the Radleys. She decided that it was time to leave and indicated as much to Katharine, fully intending to remonstrate with her sister for her lack of decorum, but Radley forestalled her by insisting that he accompany them home. She was, in part, relieved that he intended to convey his mother’s suggestion to Mrs Cunningham himself so, after accepting the basket of eggs and butter that the maidservant had brought in, she thanked Mrs Radley very prettily both for these and for the delicious refreshments their hostess had served.
Brushing aside the girl’s thanks with her usual cheerful bonhomie, Mrs Radley stood at the back door, waving as the group set off on the homeward journey along the pathway that bordered the field of ripening barley.
Georgina, anxious to get back home and have the delicate matter dealt with as quickly as possible, was soon well ahead of her sister and Radley, who were deeply engrossed in each other’s company and conversation. Occupied with her own thoughts, which dwelt mainly upon the possibility of finding some way to renew her acquaintance with her father’s estranged family, she was suddenly shaken out of her reverie by the sounds of a violent altercation in the lane ahead.
The frantic barking of dogs, a male voice raised in anger and a child’s yelp of pain. She stiffened, certain that it was her brother she had heard. Racing to the stile, she scrambled over, oblivious to the eggs that were bouncing out of the basket, and was confronted with the sight of a tangled heap of papers and pens and whirling dogs, in the midst of which was sprawled the handsome stranger from Saturday’s encounter in the coaching-yard, his legs entwined in dog-leads and his face a mask of fury.
‘Down, sir!’ came his angry order in a voice of steel. ‘Sit!’
To Georgina’s amazement both dogs, which she now recognised as the two normally recalcitrant Cunningham retrievers, obeyed immediately and lay down, cowering. Rupert was nowhere to be seen. She hurried forward as Latimer attempted to extricate himself from the leads, which appeared to have been fastened together.
At the sound of her approaching footsteps Latimer lifted his head and his heart somersaulted the moment he laid eyes upon her. What infernal luck, he cursed inwardly, mortified that this meeting, to which he had so looked forward, should find him in such an incongruous and inelegant position.
‘Damnation! I think I may have twisted an ankle,’ he groaned, as he struggled unsuccessfully to rise to his feet.
Horrified, Georgina realised that he appeared to be unable to stand without assistance. Quickly parking her basket on the grass, she bent to untangle the leads from his feet and offered him her arm.
‘Please allow me to help you up, sir,’ she adjured him. ‘I believe I owe you that at least.’
‘Lord, no!’ he returned tersely. ‘I’d have you down, too.’
‘You’re in no case to be obstinate,’ she flashed back. ‘I am much stronger than I look. Take my hands.’
Stubbornly his cool grey eyes confronted hers of deep blue and a veritable battle of wits was engaged until, all of a sudden, a look of immense relief appeared on Latimer’s face.
‘It would appear that I have no need to take up your kind offer, ma’am,’ he said with a triumphant smile. ‘I see reinforcements approaching.’
Georgina spun round and saw Radley and her sister hurrying to the scene. ‘Quickly, Radley, help him up,’ she cried. ‘He is injured and I fear that Rupert has been up to his tricks again.’
Reluctantly leaving Radley to right the stranger, she set about releasing the dogs then, hearing a noise in the field beyond, she looked up to see her brother’s ashen face peering at her through the hedge.
‘Better come out,’ she advised him, none too kindly. ‘You have a great deal of explaining to do.’
The boy scrambled through the hedge and, as he stood before her, shaking with fright, she saw that he bore a bright red weal across his cheek.
A ripple of anger surged through her. ‘Did he strike you?’ she demanded in fury, but Rupert shook his head vehemently.
‘His pencil-case flew across the lane and caught me on the cheek,’ he stammered. ‘The dogs tripped him up—they were after the ball—I’d tied their leads together just to see what would happen, but Lucky saw a rabbit and they went in opposite directions just as he came round the bend and—and he fell over the leads and the dogs went berserk!’
At the boy’s words Georgina shook her head in dumb-founded amazement.
‘You are a very naughty boy,’ she admonished him crossly. ‘The gentleman is hurt and Mama will be so cross when she hears what you have done. You must pick up his belongings at once and bring them to the house.’
For she saw that Radley was in the process of helping the limping stranger through the gate to Westcotes and she experienced a sudden unaccountable frisson of excitement.
Chapter Three
Leaning heavily on Radley’s arm, Latimer limped into the hallway of the Cunninghams’ house where, casting an anxious glance over his shoulder, he observed with relief that his ‘perfect angel’ was following in their wake, hauling a very unwilling Rupert along with her.
‘There is some swelling, already,’ she informed him with a frown. ‘Would you like me to send for Doctor Pettigrew?’
Although in a good deal of pain, Latimer shook his head, for past experience had taught him to avoid any unnecessary dealings with the incompetent bonesetter fraternity.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the binding will suffice. Your concern is much appreciated.’
Seeing Georgina enter, he forced himself into an upright position on the sofa and attempted a smile.
‘We meet again! May I take leave to introduce myself this time?’ He sketched a brief salute to Mrs Cunningham. ‘Edward Latimer, ma’am. Please accept my apologies for this intrusion.’
At the first of these remarks Mrs Cunningham looked baffled until Georgina, carefully avoiding Latimer’s eyes, hastily explained that their guest was none other than Rupert’s benefactor from his escapade in the coaching-yard.
Her face clearing, Mrs Cunningham protested that his apologies were unnecessary and, having introduced herself and her two elder daughters, she brought forward the white-faced Rupert.
‘Here is the culprit, Mr Latimer,’ she said sternly. ‘It is he who must apologise.’
‘I-I am truly s-sorry, sir,’ the boy blurted out, eyes cast down, but Latimer had not failed to mark the anxious look on Georgina’s face and, having overheard part of the interchange in the lane, he impulsively offered his hand to the quaking youngster.