Dorothy Elbury

by The Viscount's Secret

  Latimer smiled. ‘You do have the most awful habit of wrecking your bonnets, don’t you, Miss Cunningham?’ he said softly, leaning forward to tweak out a crease in her headgear. ‘You won’t have a decent hat left at this rate.’

  Their eyes met and for an interminable moment it seemed to Georgina that the world around had suddenly ceased to exist, leaving just the two of them surrounded by an empty void. The expression on Latimer’s face changed abruptly and he took a step closer, his eyes filled with a strange urgency.

  ‘Gina?’ His voice was husky and his hands, almost of their own volition, reached out to hold her. Hardly daring to breathe, he began to draw her towards him, completely lost as to the propriety of his actions.

  Her heart thudding wildly, Georgina was unable to wrench her eyes from his compelling gaze and she felt herself about to melt, unresisting, into his arms but, as the swelling sound of the church organ at last succeeded in penetrating her brain, she let out a small gasp of dismay and, pulling herself quickly from his grasp, she made for the door that separated them from the body of the church.

  All at once Latimer, too, came to his senses and a dark flush covered his face. ‘I-I beg your pardon,’ he stammered, desperately endeavouring to gather his wits together. ‘I seem to have forgotten myself—what can I say? There can be no excuse. What must you think of such lunatic behaviour?’

  Georgina stopped, her hand clutching the latch. ‘Please say no more, Mr Latimer,’ she said shakily. ‘It is best forgotten. W-we must hurry and join the rest of the congregation before the service begins—Mama will be wondering what has become of me.’

  With a sinking heart Latimer followed her into the church to the family pew at the front of the church and, after acknowledging Mrs Cunningham’s smile of welcome with a brief bow, he took the vacant seat next to Georgina. Mansell, of course, followed the normal service of prayer. Latimer had not really supposed otherwise. His earlier remark had merely been a feeble ploy to secure himself a seat at Georgina’s side but, not content with having achieved that goal, he thought miserably, he had then recklessly thrown away any advantage he might have had. And yet—surely he could not have imagined that look in her eyes? He would almost swear that she returned his feelings. He barely registered the order of service as it progressed, rising to his feet for the hymns, kneeling and giving his responses automatically while, all the time, his head tried to make sense of what had actually happened between them.

  Eventually, John Mansell stepped up into the pulpit to give his sermon. However, instead of beginning by quoting whichever verse from the Bible on which his sermon was to dwell, as was the norm, he smilingly announced that only the previous day he had received a summons from the diocesan bishop to attend their mother church in Dunchurch, as a result of which he had the very pleasant task of informing the congregation that he had been awarded the living at Compton Lacey and that, as of today, he was deeply honoured to call himself their new vicar. He then went on to utter some well-chosen words of praise and gratitude in respect of his former mentor, the Reverend Cunningham, and hoped that the villagers would find it in their hearts to extend to him a little of the loyalty and devotion they had shown to his predecessor.

  A little ripple of approval ran through the church and, although he was still smiling, the new Reverend Mansell held up his hand to silence the unseemly outburst as he motioned to the organist to begin the closing hymn.

  An uncomfortable sensation assailed Latimer as he was suddenly confronted with the thought that it was highly unlikely that Mansell would have spent the previous afternoon cavorting with Georgina if he were about to attend a crucial meeting with his superiors to discuss his future advancement. He shot a quick glance at Georgina only to observe, with something of a shock, that she was smiling broadly at Katharine, whose eyes were shining with excitement as she returned her sister’s smile with a vigorous nod.

  The service ended and the congregation made its way towards the exit but progress, however, was very slow as each villager in turn stopped to offer support and congratulations to their new vicar as he waited at the church door.

  The Cunningham group was at the back of the waiting file, with Latimer bringing up the rear. His attention was focused on Georgina who, only a foot or so ahead of him, was engaged in a deep and animated conversation with her sister. He strained his ears in a desperate attempt to catch any of the words that passed between them but all he managed to hear was the occasional ‘Mansell’ and possibly—although he could not be sure of this—the word ‘marriage’!

  By the time the Cunninghams reached the young vicar, his face was wreathed in smiles and he was almost overcome with emotion at the reception he had been given by the villagers. At Mrs Cunningham’s approach, however, his face became grave as he stepped forward and held out his hands to her.

  ‘Dear lady,’ he said, almost solemnly. ‘I shall never forget that it is your husband I have to thank—he was so good to me—and you have all been such good friends.’

  ‘We are all very happy for you, John,’ a smiling Mrs Cunningham assured him. ‘Henry would have been delighted—he always held you in very high regard.’

  Mansell bowed his head. ‘It was an honour to have served under him.’

  Mrs Cunningham thanked him and extended an invitation to him to join the family at their Sunday dinner. ‘Since some sort of celebration is clearly in order and I suspect that you would otherwise be eating alone?’

  Mansell, nodding, accepted the invitation with alacrity. ‘I look forward to it. I have very fond memories of Mrs Harper’s cooking,’ he added with a smile, then turned to welcome Katharine, who was accompanied by the younger members of the Cunningham family. She seized his hand and shook it heartily. ‘We’re so pleased for you, Mr—oh! I beg your pardon! I mean Reverend Mansell, of course!’ Blushing prettily, she clapped her fingers to her lips while behind her Rupert stifled a snigger and dug his sister Sophie in the ribs.

  The young cleric laughed. ‘It will take some getting used to—I have to admit that it sounds odd, even to me.’

  Looking over Katharine’s shoulder, he then spotted Georgina who, with Nell’s message on her mind, had stayed back from the family group and was awaiting her turn with barely disguised impatience. ‘Ah! Good morning, Miss Cunningham,’ he called eagerly. ‘I trust you are well?’

  Georgina smiled and held out her hand. ‘Indeed I am, sir,’ she replied cheerfully. Then, leaning towards him she lowered her voice and said quickly, ‘I have news.’ All at once the man’s face lit up and he reached out and grasped both of Georgina’s hands in his own.

  ‘What news?’ he asked urgently, his eyes full of anxiety.

  Her cheeks dimpling at the vicar’s reaction, Georgina stepped closer. ‘I have received a letter. Miss Cornwell is on her way home,’ she murmured softly.

  Latimer, who had been edging as near to the pair as he could decently manage without being overly conspicuous, started back in dismay as he witnessed Mansell’s impulsive action. Even so, he was still close enough to register the dramatic change that had came over the man, whose eyes had widened with a bright intensity and who was now leaning even closer to Georgina and appeared to be hanging on her every word.

  His lips tightening in anger, Latimer at once moved away from the pair, but Georgina, who had been highly conscious of his close presence behind her, immediately withdrew her hands from Mansell’s and exhorted him not to go.

  ‘Please stay, Mr Latimer,’ she begged. ‘Mama has asked me to invite you to join us for dinner—if you have no other plans?’

  ‘It is most kind of your mother, but I feel I may have outgrown my welcome,’ he replied stiffly. ‘Your family will not want to have me living in its pocket day after day.’ He was not at all sure that he wanted to subject himself to any further pain at her hands.

  ‘That’s nonsense—the children enjoy your visits tremendously,’ she protested, dismayed that he might be thinking of distancing himself from her. ‘And you must kn
ow that Mama would not have invited you if she did not care for your company. Besides which…’ she gestured to Mansell, ‘…I believe Reverend Mansell will be joining us, too. It will be an excellent opportunity for you both to get to know one another.’

  Behind her back her fingers were crossed tightly in the hope that Latimer would not refuse the invitation. She had tried to persuade herself that the only reason that she wanted him to join them was because she was keen to dispel any odd ideas that he might still be harbouring about Mansell but, in reality, she knew that she simply wanted to spend as much time in his company as possible and would be grateful for any opportunity that might help her fathom out what his true feelings were—especially after his extraordinary behaviour earlier, the memory of which set up a violent trembling within her.

  Latimer hesitated. He had been on the point of refusing the invitation but, as soon as he heard that Mansell was to attend, an irrational fury surged through him and, as his old fighting instincts returned, he was determined not to retreat without one final rally.

  He took a deep breath and gave Georgina a brief smile. ‘Thank you for those kind words, Miss Cunningham,’ he said briskly. ‘I shall be delighted to join you. Am I correct in assuming that you will be dining before the evening service?’

  Georgina nodded slowly, finding herself puzzled and not a little hurt by his brittle manner. ‘Five o’clock as usual, sir.’

  Latimer executed a stiff little bow. ‘Your servant, ma’am,’ he replied, and after curtly inclining his head in Mansell’s direction he turned on his heel and walked swiftly down the path to the lych-gate.

  Mansell, a slight frown on his face, watched him go.

  ‘An odd fellow,’ he observed. ‘Do you know anything of his history, Miss Cunningham?’

  ‘Hardly anything,’ admitted Georgina, whose eyes were still on Latimer’s retreating back. ‘He is an artist—an ex-soldier, I believe.’

  ‘Well, he certainly seems to have taken an instant dislike to me, for some reason. I wonder if it is wise for us both to accept your mother’s invitation?’

  ‘Oh, but you must come,’ Georgina cajoled him. ‘You will want to read Nell’s letter for yourself, I’m sure.’

  His eyes lit up. ‘May I? How very good of you.’ He took her hand and bowed. ‘Until this afternoon then. Your mother is waiting, I see—I must not keep you.’

  The sky was still leaden, and although the heavy downpour had ceased it had merely been succeeded by a depressing drizzle. Georgina’s cardinal, which Becky had collected along with the rest of the family’s wet-weather wear, was still very damp and only at the housekeeper’s insistence did she finally don it, protesting that it would make her wetter than simply walking home in her pelisse.

  ‘You’ll get just as wet if you decide to carry the blessed thing in your arms,’ observed Becky darkly. ‘And the quicker you get on home the better. I’m sure I caught you shivering during the service. We don’t want you laid up now, do we?’

  Privately, Georgina was more inclined to attribute any shivering to the near proximity of a certain Mr Latimer, added to the fact that she had been unable to close her mind to the extraordinary event that had occurred in the vestry. At any rate, she was disinclined to enter into an argument with Becky so, wrapping the offending garment around herself, she joined the waiting Harpers and hurried home.

  Mrs Cunningham was in the kitchen, already busying herself with the preparations for the evening meal. She told Georgina that her sister would not be joining them for dinner, after all, as the Radleys had collected Katharine immediately after the service and had taken her back with them to the farm.

  ‘I did suggest that they might all like to join us here,’ she said, helping her daughter off with her wet outerwear and draping it over the waiting clothes-horse. ‘But Andrew was keen to show Katharine some literature about new improvements in crop management.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘Do you suppose Katharine is really interested in such things?’

  Georgina, shaking her head, moved over to the large range at the back of the kitchen and stood for a moment, enjoying the warmth that radiated from it. ‘Probably not, but she’s clever enough to give the impression that she is. She enjoys Radley doting on her and it does no harm, I suppose.’

  Her mother eyed her, a small frown furrowing her brow. ‘You are looking very serious, my dear. I was glad to see that you managed to spend some time with John Mansell. It was clear that he was very pleased to receive your news about the Cornwells, but I have to confess that I am rather concerned about what will happen when they return. Nell sounded very low and I cannot imagine that Sir Richard will have undergone any real change of heart regarding John’s suit.’

  ‘But now that he has the living…?’ interposed Georgina hopefully. ‘His stipend will be much increased and the vicarage has always been part of the living. Surely they will not turn him away again? It must be clear to them by now that Nell will have no one else.’

  Mrs Cunningham shook her head. ‘We must wait and see,’ she said sadly. ‘They had such high hopes for her and, no doubt, they will have invested a great deal of money in the venture.’

  ‘But they didn’t ask Nell!’ exclaimed Georgina hotly. ‘She wasn’t consulted at all! How can they have been so insensitive of her feelings as to drag her off to London and parade her like some sort of prize cattle? It was they who wanted the wealth and the title, not Nell!’

  ‘Well, I am sure that they wanted those things for her and not for themselves,’ pointed out her mother reasonably. ‘All parents want what they think is best for their children.’

  ‘But not all parents put their children under that sort of pressure,’ returned Georgina. ‘I can’t recall either you or Papa ever dictating to any of us that we would have to marry anyone who wasn’t our own choice. Wealth and station were never mentioned.’ She paused, as a sudden thought struck her. ‘Although Radley is rather wealthy,’ she pointed out uneasily. ‘But that isn’t why you both agreed to Katharine marrying him, was it, Mama?’

  Mrs Cunningham was shocked. ‘Of course not, Georgina,’ she said briskly. ‘Although, to be honest, your father and I were quite pleased that Andrew was Katharine’s choice for he has more than enough to take good care of her, which is all that matters to us. No sensible person would want to see their daughter starving in some leaky garret, now would they?’

  ‘But neither of you would have lain down the law if one of us had happened to fall in love with someone—how shall I put it?—less affluent?’

  Her mother considered this for a moment. ‘Probably not.’ She sighed. ‘As Papa often said, “Better a dinner of herbs where love is…” It would probably have caused us some concern but, no, if your heart had been set on such a match, we would not have interfered.’ She turned back to sorting the tableware. ‘Fortunately, it never came up. Radley is Katharine’s choice and, as you said yourself only the other day, you have never felt the slightest tendre for any man, rich or poor, so, until such a situation arises, it is really of very little consequence at present.’

  Smiling, Georgina wrapped her arms around her mother. ‘I’m so glad that you are my mama,’ she said softly, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘What poor Nell Cornwell has been deprived of all these years, not having parents like mine.’

  Mrs Cunningham’s lips curved in an appreciative smile and, wiping away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, she gently pushed her daughter away. ‘Enough of this nonsense!’ she said huskily. ‘At this rate our guests will be upon us before we have even prepared the meal! Away with you and lay the dinner table.’

  Chapter Eight

  By mid-afternoon a light breeze had finally blown away the few remaining rain clouds and, as Latimer walked up the drive to Westcotes, the late afternoon sky was already clearing, indicating a fine evening ahead. He was well aware that Mansell had already been admitted to the house because, in point of fact, he himself had been standing at the end of the lane for quite some time, waiting for the vicar to pr
esent himself at the Cunninghams’. He was not altogether sure why he had felt it necessary to take this action. He had asked himself whether it was because he was reluctant to be obliged to witness any over-enthusiastic welcome for Mansell on Georgina’s part or whether, perhaps, he simply needed more time to try to gauge his own feelings with regard to her involvement with the man. He knew that he ought to bow out gracefully, as was (or had been) his usual custom when confronted with a similar situation in the past but, on this occasion, he found that, no matter how hard he tried to reason with himself, she had become so much of an obsession with him that he was unable to persuade himself to leave.

  He squared his shoulders and fixed a cheerful expression on his face as Harper opened the door to him. The manservant welcomed him with a smile and showed him into the little sitting room off the hallway, where Latimer observed that both Georgina and her mother appeared to be absorbed in a deep and serious conversation with John Mansell.

  At his entry Georgina spun round, breaking off from whatever it was that she had been saying and, hands outstretched, came forward to greet him.

  ‘Mr Latimer!’ she said, her face alight. ‘You decided to come, after all! I was so afraid that you would change your mind!’

  Taking his hand, she drew him to a sofa opposite the one that her mother shared with the vicar and, to his surprise, sat down beside him.

  ‘Something really marvellous has happened since we met this morning,’ she informed him joyfully. ‘Mr Mansell has just received some really splendid news.’

  ‘Really?’ His heart plummeting, Latimer only just managed to keep his face impassive as he struggled to maintain his composure.

  Georgina appeared not to notice any change in his demeanour as, her violet eyes shining with thinly suppressed excitement, she continued unabated with her tale.