‘He will not mind me telling you, I know.’ Here she smiled across at Mansell, who, his face wreathed in smiles, gave an emphatic nod of agreement. ‘The fact of the matter is that he is hoping—we are all hoping—that he will at last be permitted to marry the lady of his choice!’
Latimer blanched. ‘Then congratulations are in order,’ he forced out, his voice a strangled croak. ‘May I enquire the name of the fortunate young lady?’
Georgina clasped her hands together and said earnestly. ‘Well, of course you will not know her, but she is my dearest friend Nell—she has been recently in London and returned early this morning.’
‘Your friend Nell?’ stammered Latimer, momentarily unable to digest what she was telling him.
‘Yes.’ Georgina nodded eagerly. ‘Her parents have always been set against her marrying Mr Mansell because of his lack of fortune, but now that she has had her Season and, apparently, failed to “take”, as they say, they have brought her home. But this next is the best part…’ At this point she paused a moment to take a deep breath, then, leaning towards him, she delivered her final words with great solemnity. ‘Nell has actually managed to persuade her father to see Mr Mansell and he is to present himself at her house tomorrow morning! Isn’t that splendid?’
‘Splendid?’ gasped Latimer, suddenly aware that his heart was bouncing up and down in a frenzied exultation. ‘That’s fantastic news!’
To everyone’s astonishment, he then leapt up from his seat and in one bound he had cleared the space between the two sofas. ‘My dear chap!’ he exclaimed, grasping the startled vicar’s hand, shaking it with great vigour and enthusiasm. ‘My heartiest congratulations! What wonderful news! I am more than delighted for you!’
‘You are very kind,’ faltered Mansell who, having previously weighed Latimer up as a somewhat curt and surly individual, was rather taken aback at this complete reversal of the man’s manner. ‘Of course, nothing is settled, but at least I now have hope.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that you will succeed, sir,’ laughed Latimer. ‘Faint heart and all that, you know.’ Returning to his seat, he nonchalantly folded his arms and leaned back in satisfaction against the cushions, hardly able to suppress the silly grin that threatened to cover his face.
Speechless with surprise, Mrs Cunningham was still frowning at what she considered to have been a somewhat overeffusive performance on his part. Georgina, however, was slowly beginning to realise what lay behind Latimer’s extreme behaviour and her heart swelled at the thought. As soon as he had arrived, she had made the conscious decision to share Mansell’s exciting news with him, even though Latimer knew nothing of the pair’s history. She had regarded it as the perfect opportunity to rid him of any mistaken belief he might still be harbouring that she and the vicar were involved in some sort of seedy intrigue but, having witnessed his extraordinary reaction, she now found herself confronted with the almost impossible notion that Latimer actually felt something more than just natural friendly concern for her! As this concept began to sink in, her mind started to whirl and, although she could sense that his eyes were fixed upon her face, she could not bring herself to turn her head.
There was a tap at the door and Becky Harper entered. The housekeeper informed Mrs Cunningham that the meal was now ready and that the younger members of the family were on their way downstairs. Mansell rose, offered his arm to his hostess, and led her through to the dining room.
‘Miss Cunningham?’
Georgina became aware that Latimer had risen and was standing in front of her, holding out his hand. She tried to rise, but seemed to be glued to her seat. Raising her head, she looked up at him, not daring to voice the question that was in her eyes. His lips curved in a little smile as he leaned forward and, taking both her hands in his, he pulled her gently to her feet.
‘Later, Miss Cunningham,’ he said softly, tucking one of her arms in his crooked elbow and motioning her towards the door. ‘I give you my promise—but first, dinner!’
Still in a daze, she allowed him to lead her out of the room and sit her at the table. Her eyes followed him as he walked around the table and took his seat between her mother and Sophie. With a start, she became aware that Mrs Cunningham was addressing her and, making a supreme effort, she tried to concentrate on her mother’s words.
‘We must organise some sort of welcome home for Nell,’ she was saying. ‘It will have to be a small family gathering, of course, because we are still in mourning—and, if Mr Mansell succeeds in his suit tomorrow, as I have no doubt he will, her parents will surely wish to celebrate Nell’s engagement with a huge ball, or some other very grand event—so we must hold our own little affair quite soon.’
A small frown furrowed Mansell’s brow. ‘I would not want Nell’s parents to be involved in any more expense,’ he said anxiously. ‘I understand that they have already overstretched their resources. Nell and I would be perfectly content with a small private wedding—to which my own parents will be happy to contribute, of that I am certain.’
‘You may be right,’ nodded Mrs Cunningham. ‘Although I am sure that Nell’s parents will not readily agree to that idea.’ Then, turning to her daughter, she asked, ‘What do you think, Georgina? You probably know Nell better than most of us.’
Reluctantly tearing her mind away from her own vexing quandary, Georgina pondered upon her mother’s question. Then, ‘I agree with Mr Mansell,’ she replied stoutly. ‘Nell and I have always been of the same mind as far as huge gatherings are concerned. It was no surprise to me to learn that she hated her time in London.’
‘That could well have been because your friend was simply missing her sweetheart,’ interjected Latimer, catching her eye. ‘If he had been with her, I’m certain that she would have enjoyed herself tremendously.’ Here he exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Mansell, who found himself suddenly quite taken with the newcomer.
Georgina did not respond for, at Latimer’s warm glance, she found that her heart had started to pound most dreadfully. She longed for the meal to be over quickly, hoping that there might still be time to have some sort of conversation with Latimer before they all left for the evening service, but it soon became clear to her that Becky, having stocked her cupboards with the contents of Mrs Radley’s generous hamper, had then set about creating a proliferation of extra side dishes and sweetmeats, the consumption of which seemed to drag on interminably.
At last, Mrs Cunningham rose and motioned to Rupert and Sophie to leave the room. ‘We will leave the gentlemen to their wine,’ she said, casting a smile in Mansell’s direction. ‘You will not need to be reminded that you have less than an hour to the service. Please join us in the sitting room when you are ready.’
Latimer’s eyes were fixed hopefully on Georgina’s face as she rose to follow her mother out of the room, but she resolutely refused to meet his gaze, suddenly fearful that she was in danger of allowing her feelings to become too transparent. With a little sigh of frustration he drained the contents of his glass and placed it carefully on the table in front of him, absently running his finger around its edge until it emitted a high-pitched bell-like sound.
‘Love is the very devil, isn’t it?’ Mansell said quietly, having been observing his companion with increasing interest for some time.
Startled out of his reverie, Latimer raised his head and looked down the table at his companion.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, a small frown appearing on his face.
Mansell smiled sympathetically and, leaning forward, he went on, ‘Believe me, my dear chap, I do understand your difficulty. No one knows better than I what it is to fall for someone out of reach…’
‘How do you mean, “out of reach”?’ Rudely interrupting the vicar’s words, Latimer rose to his feet in anger, but then, having remembered his position, he hesitated a moment before adding, ‘Not that there is any question of—that is—I must assure you that you are mistaken!’
‘I would be most happy for you if that were tru
ly the case,’ Mansell assured him. ‘However, I saw your face and recognised the signs—I am in the business of dealing with people’s problems, you know, as well as having experienced quite a few of my own.’
‘You have made up your mind that my cause is hopeless, then?’ Latimer asked tersely. ‘I won’t deny that I do have—feelings—for Miss Cunningham, but the matter has not yet reached the point of any discussion between us.’ He sat down again and poured himself another glass of wine. ‘You think I have no chance?’
Mansell shook his head. ‘That’s hardly for me to say,’ he replied. ‘I was thinking of Miss Cunningham. Would it be fair to her to ask her to share your life, when it seems clear that you have so little to offer her?’
Latimer grimaced. ‘I must admit that I hadn’t really considered that aspect,’ he said heavily.
‘Then I urge you to do so before you go any further,’ Mansell earnestly exhorted him. ‘Nell and I suffered a great deal of heartache for much the same reason when the Cornwells turned me down last year. My fortunes have now changed, however, and—’ He stopped in surprise as Latimer shot to his feet again, his face etched in dismay.
‘Cornwell!’ he choked. ‘Did you say Cornwell?’
‘Certainly I did,’ said Mansell, in some irritation. ‘What ails you, man?’
Latimer sank slowly back into his chair gripping the edge of the table for support, his knuckles white under the pressure. ‘But, of course,’ he gasped, as the full impact of Mansell’s words hit him. ‘It all makes sense now. Compton Lacey— Eleanora Cornwell! Dear God! How can I have been such a fool?’ Utter despair filled him as the inevitable implications of this latest setback finally overcame him. With a deep groan he closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands.
Mansell rose at once from his seat and, hurrying round the table to his companion’s side, he gripped Latimer by the shoulder and shook him urgently.
‘My dear sir! What is it?’ he asked, his voice full of concern. ‘Are you ill—shall I call Mrs Cunningham?’
At the sound of Mansell’s voice Latimer gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet, impatiently waving the vicar away. His face was rigid.
‘Do not concern yourself, sir,’ he said tersely. ‘I must apologise for my behaviour—a drop too much wine, I fear.’
Mansell eyed him uncertainly for a moment or two, then, pulling out his pocket-watch, he worriedly observed the time. ‘Then, sir, I am sure that you will excuse me,’ he advised him. ‘I must, regretfully, leave you now. The hour grows late and I have to make my farewells to our hostess.’ And he executed a tight little bow in the other man’s direction.
‘Your servant, sir,’ replied Latimer, automatically inclining his head in a return gesture, then, having made a final effort to pull himself together, he added briskly, ‘You are quite right, Mansell. I will join you, if I may.’
Dispiritedly following the young vicar out of the room and across the hallway, he determined to absent himself from the house with as much speed as decency would allow, having reached the conclusion that the only choice now open to him was to quit the area immediately.
Georgina looked up eagerly as the two men entered the sitting room and, after Mansell had thanked Mrs Cunningham for a most splendid dinner and said his various goodbyes to the rest of the family, she rose dutifully from her seat at the pianoforte, intent upon escorting him to the front door. However, to her surprise and absolute chagrin, Latimer, too, executed a courteous bow to her mother, and announced his intention of leaving. Smiling briefly at the two youngsters, who were sitting at their mother’s feet engaged in a rousing game of Pounce, he politely wished them all ‘good evening’ and briskly left the room, having managed, throughout the entire interchange, to avoid any direct eye contact with Georgina.
In dismay and confusion at his sudden change of manner, she was close to tears as she returned to her piano playing and tried desperately to concentrate on the music score in front of her. Throughout the meal she had been keenly aware of the warm looks he had repeatedly cast across the table at her and, on the few occasions that she had nervously ventured to return his gaze, she was quite certain that she had not misunderstood the message that his glowing eyes seemed intent upon transmitting to her.
Or had she? Could it be that her own highly vulnerable state of emotion had led her to read far more into something that might have been, in reality, perfectly normal and correct behaviour on Latimer’s part? Her face flamed as this awful possibility presented itself but, with an obstinate shake of her head, she refused to accept such an explanation. It seemed abundantly clear to her that it was Latimer who had undergone a rapid change of heart. For some unfathomable reason he had reverted once more to the chilly manner he had adopted earlier, when he had interrupted her conversation with the Reverend Mansell. She stopped playing, momentarily transfixed, as it suddenly came to her that Latimer’s swift exit must have been due to something that Mansell had said to him!
Frowning, she removed the sheet of music from its rest and closed the lid of the pianoforte, having observed that her mother was chivvying the younger Cunninghams to tidy away their playing cards and collect their prayer books for the evening service.
Walking up the lane to the church, Georgina could not prevent herself from casting frequent backward glances in the direction of Latimer’s cottage, fervently hoping that she would catch a glimpse of his tall, loose-limbed figure striding purposefully towards them. But he was nowhere to be seen and, having swiftly scanned the waiting congregation before taking her own place in the family pew, Georgina realised with a sinking heart that Latimer was not in attendance.
She followed the service mechanically, wondering what her next step should be. Given a suitable opportunity, she had fully intended to take Latimer aside and demand to know the reason for his extraordinary change of attitude. She felt herself growing more and more angry at the cavalier way he had treated her and was determined to confront him, even if it meant visiting his cottage and hammering on his door to get at the truth of the matter! After all, she could hardly ask Mansell what had occurred between himself and Latimer, although it was quite obvious to her that Latimer’s curt departure had stemmed from his after-dinner conversation with the vicar, in spite of all the effort she had made to dissuade him of his unfounded suspicions.
It was ironical, of course, that Mansell should choose to base his sermon upon the text ‘love one another’ and, as Georgina sat glumly listening to him pontificating, she could not help the bitter smile that appeared on her face as she concluded that she would not be in her present state of anguish if she only had refrained from doing that very thing!
Chapter Nine
Annie Jacklin pushed open the back door of Blanchard’s with her scrawny rear and thankfully deposited her heavy laundry basket on to the kitchen table.
The paltry sum that Mr Blanchard paid her to clean and oversee his property barely covered the butcher’s bill, but since she would otherwise be faced with the choice between providing her six children with at least one good meal a day or existing on a miserable subsistence from the poor-rate, she was only too glad of the work. Added to which was always the likelihood that she might make a little extra should the tenants require her to deal with their personal linen. And, now that her two boys, Tom and Jed, were back in work at Radley’s, things were starting to look a lot more hopeful.
Letting down the big wooden airing rack that hung above the kitchen range, she carefully draped the young gentleman’s shirt and undergarments over its poles and swung it back into place. It had been difficult to get her washing dry during yesterday’s dreadful downpour and the clothes were still slightly damp so she was not at all sorry that he had given her such a small bundle although, considering the meagre contents of his wardrobe, this had come as no surprise. A nice enough gentleman he was, to be sure, always smiling and polite and not at all careless with his landlord’s possessions, like some were, and she had been pleased to learn that he had booked t
he cottage for the whole season for he was far less trouble than last year’s tenants.
She stowed the rest of the neatly pressed linen into the warming cupboard next to the range and, after piling a fresh set of bed linen into her basket, she made her way up the back stairs to begin her chores for the day.
Alerted by the sound of her heavy tread along the passage, Latimer hastily thrust the last of his belongings into his valise and turned to greet her. ‘Ah! Mrs Jacklin, good morning!’
‘Mornin’, sir.’ Annie’s eyes travelled to the valise on the bed. ‘Am I in your way? It’s my day for changin’ the bed linen—I can come back later, if you like.’
Latimer shook his head. ‘No, you carry on—I’ll get out of your way.’ He picked up the valise and walked towards the door. ‘You have brought back my clean linen?’
‘Yes, sir, it’s in the warmin’-press.’ She dumped her basket on the floor and gestured to his valise. ‘Looks as if you’re off on a trip, sir.’
Latimer stopped, hesitated, and then turned back to face her. ‘As a matter of fact, I am sorry to have to tell you that I shall be leaving altogether, Mrs Jacklin,’ he said hurriedly. ‘Something has come up—I need to get back to London.’
She frowned. ‘But you’ll be back, sir? I thought you’d booked ’til the end of August.’
He shrugged impatiently. ‘True, but I’ve paid my shot, so it will make no difference to Blanchard whether I go or stay.’
‘It might make a bit of a difference to some other people, though,’ she offered brusquely, as she stripped the bedclothes off the bed. ‘A certain young lady for one, mebbe.’
Latimer stiffened. ‘May I ask to whom you are referring?’ he said icily. ‘I trust that my movements have not become the subject of village gossip!’
‘Not so far as I know,’ replied Annie, continuing unabashed with her bedmaking. ‘It’s just that Becky Harper—her that works for the Cunninghams, you know—she told me that you and Miss Georgina seemed to be getting a bit sweet on each other and—well, you do leave them there drawin’s all over the place, don’t you?’
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