Latimer gave a little nod. He was feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the ease with which the dratted woman seemed to be able to extract information from him and fervently hoped that she was not about to relay his secrets to her cronies with the same casual abandonment as she broadcast theirs.
‘Well, you’ll find the Cornwells’ back gate in the wall just a little way past the boathouse,’ she informed him, as she drained her cup and placed it back on the table. ‘And I’m sure I can’t think how goin’ there is going to help your case with Miss Georgina one little bit, but I dare say you knows best, sir.’
Standing up, she gesticulated towards his untouched drink. ‘Don’t you be lettin’ that get cold, will you, sir? Happen I’d best be on my way now.’
He rose to follow her to the front gate. ‘There’s a good full moon to see you safe home, Annie. I shall never forget what you and Lucy have done for me and you have my promise that neither of you will regret your actions.’
‘Well, “amen” to that, sir,’ she replied with a grin, as she turned and walked off up the lane.
Latimer stood and watched her scrawny little figure disappear into the distance and hoped that he had not made a grievous error in putting his trust in her. Then, with a deep sigh, he returned to the kitchen where he sat for some time mulling over Mrs Jacklin’s words.
Radley had told him something of the long drawn-out feud between the two Cunningham brothers and now, if Annie’s information was correct, it would seem that the matter had been finally resolved. He was chagrined to realise that, if the family’s finances were no longer in their previous precarious state, his impulsive and rather costly gesture was about to prove to have been totally unnecessary.
Not that he wasn’t glad to hear of their good fortune, he acknowledged, for it might, in fact, turn out to be to his own advantage. Never having forgotten Georgina’s very decided views about girls who set out to marry purely for money, it had been with growing reluctance that he had viewed the prospect of confessing to her his true status. Had the situation of her former reduced circumstances still existed, he knew that she might well have turned him down purely on principle but, with this latest development, he now had good reason to hope that he might have a better chance of persuading her to accept him. Although, as he reminded himself with a grimace, she had very little reason to trust anything he said, after his sudden volte-face at their last meeting.
And how well things had been progressing until that ghastly conversation with Mansell, he remembered, suddenly reliving the wild thrill of exultation that had pulsed through his veins the moment it had dawned upon him that Georgina actually returned his affections, for there had been no mistaking that look in her eyes, he was certain, as a consequence of which he would happily have confessed his masquerade there and then had not her family been waiting in the next room. And, all through the tediously long meal, as the glorious prospect of the joy that was yet to come flooded his heart and mind, it had felt, almost, as though he were floating on air until, with a single casual remark, the unwitting Mansell had brought him down to earth with an almighty crash, since which time his brain seemed to find it difficult to function clearly.
He shook his head, rebuking himself for such counterproductive reasoning. A fine strategist he had turned out to be, he thought grimly. He had talked himself into this mess and it was up to him to find the way out. With that thought uppermost in his mind, he was quite determined to persuade Nell Cornwell to give him the couple of days’ grace that he needed to achieve his objective. And, even if that ultimately resulted in him having to waylay Georgina in order to force her to hear him out, he was determined not to fail, for there was far too much at stake to allow stubborn pride from either one of them to destroy their chances of future happiness together.
It was, perhaps, fortunate for Latimer’s already disturbed peace of mind that he remained unaware of the fact that Eleanor Cornwell had, that very morning, already paid a visit to the Cunninghams.
Having been greeted with delight by both Katharine and Georgina, who expressed their pleasure that her cherished hope had at last been realised, she apologised for not having called sooner.
‘As you can imagine,’ she confided as they drew her into the sitting room, both of them eager to hear all about her trip to London, ‘everything has happened so quickly since I arrived home that I’ve hardly had a moment to myself. I’ve been absolutely dying to come and tell you about everything!’
Both girls eagerly set about plying their friend with a barrage of questions and Nell was happy to furnish them with the full details of the series of events that had led to her parents’ turnaround, although Katharine would have been slightly more interested to hear more about their friend’s entry into Society.
‘I’ll bet you were the belle of every ball!’ she breathed enviously. ‘The gentlemen must have been falling over themselves to dance with you!’
‘Well, I did seem to be quite popular,’ admitted Nell reluctantly, her lovely face covered in a becoming blush. ‘But you know better than anyone how much I detest that sort of thing. Anyway, to the point—I had already turned down two offers from what Mama called “éligible partis”. And, even though I had tried to make it quite clear that, whatever she said, I had no intention of accepting any of them, however exalted they happened to be, she would give me no peace!’
She sat silently, twisting the strings of her reticule for a moment or two, while her audience, although fully sympathetic as to her reasons for defying her mother, were also increasingly anxious to hear the finale of their friend’s story and waited impatiently for her to continue.
‘It all finally came to a head on the night of Lady Abercrombie’s ball,’ she eventually managed. ‘I was standing beside a screen of potted palms and Mama was instructing me to use my wiles to make absolutely certain that a certain lord—it would be shockingly remiss of me to divulge his name—put his name down for three dances—and you know as well as I do that that is considered to be as good as a declaration! I’m afraid that I refused to cajole the gentleman into doing any such thing and told Mama that, no matter what she made me do, I would still refuse to marry anyone but John!’
She faltered, and then went on hesitantly. ‘The awful thing is, though, that I knew that the gentleman could hear what I was saying—I had seen him standing with his friends on the other side of the screen!’
Wide-eyed, Katharine stared at her. ‘Did he give you any indication that he had heard you?’
Nell shook her head. ‘Nothing I could put my finger on, but he filled in his initials for just the one dance and then, when he was returning me to my seat, he said the oddest thing.’
‘What did he say?’ asked Georgina, now as much on tenterhooks as her sister to learn the outcome of that fateful evening.
‘He wished me well in my endeavours!’
Her listeners looked puzzled.
‘Is that all?’ said Katharine, who had been hoping for a far more dramatic conclusion to Nell’s story.
‘Yes, but the thing is that he left the Abercrombies’ almost immediately and I never saw him again!’
Considering this for a moment, Georgina nodded. ‘That must have been due to him overhearing your conversation. It clearly had the effect of making him reluctant to pursue his suit.’
‘For which I will always be indebted to him!’ declared Nell fervently. ‘For it was all because his lordship failed to call on us again that Papa insisted upon bringing me home—it was meant to be a punishment, you see!’
As she saw the expressions of amusement that crossed her friends’ faces, her mouth widened in a smile but, instantly stricken with remorse, she clapped her hand to her lips and said, ‘You must think I’m frightfully ungrateful for what my parents have done for me. I know that both they and Grandfather expended an enormous amount of money to give me the Season.’
‘Very probably,’ retorted Georgina, who had always been totally out of sympathy with the Cornwells’ overambitious m
anipulation of their daughter. ‘But you did try to tell them that you hadn’t the least interest in going to London, didn’t you? For the life of me I can’t see that you have anything to be grateful for! They have caused both you and Mr Mansell a great deal of unhappiness!’
Although Georgina was as pleased as she could be about her friend’s good fortune, she was sunk deep in the throes of her own wretchedness. She was now only too painfully aware of the misery that Nell must have suffered at her enforced separation from her loved one. Since Latimer’s hasty departure three days previously her own feverish thoughts had alternated between castigating him for failing to swallow his pride and declare himself, and wondering whether she dared to flout the rules of convention and confront him herself. She vowed that she would forgive him anything if only he could summon up the courage to approach her.
Coming out of her reverie, she realised that their visitor was rising to her feet, almost ready to take her leave.
‘Oh, must you go so soon?’ begged Katharine, jumping up. ‘You haven’t told us a single detail about all the wonderful clothes you had made in London and I’m just longing to hear all about the latest fashions!’
Nell smiled and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Kate, but I’m afraid that will have to wait until another time. I have promised to meet John at the vicarage and I must not be late.’
Seeing her sister’s crestfallen expression, Georgina looked over to the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘There’s still over an hour until lunchtime,’ she pointed out, having suddenly remembered that it was Latimer’s usual habit to walk up to the inn at about this time; here was the perfect opportunity to run into him. It was hardly likely that he would choose to ignore her, she reasoned, should such a fortuitous encounter take place. ‘Why don’t we walk Nell back to the village?’
This suggestion having met with everyone’s approval, the sisters collected their gloves and bonnets from the hallstand and they set off up the lane, with Georgina casting surreptitious glances back over her shoulder in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Latimer somewhere in the vicinity. To her disappointment, there was no sign of him. Only a couple of village labourers passed, doffing their caps as they did so, and a solitary horseman appeared in the lane some distance behind.
‘I hear we have an artist staying at Blanchard’s,’ said Nell as they continued on their way. ‘John tells me you have all been getting to know the young man quite well.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ Katharine replied swiftly, having registered her sister’s start of apprehension at Nell’s unexpected words. Although she was unaware of the momentous events that had taken place on Sunday evening, it had not escaped her notice that Latimer had ceased his visits to Westcotes and, with a sister’s intuition, she had sensed Georgina’s unhappiness. ‘A Mr Latimer—we felt obliged to take the poor fellow under our wing after Rupert caused him to hurt his ankle—he seems a very pleasant young man. You’ll very likely come across him wandering about the village with his sketchbook.’
‘Oddly enough, I did pass a stranger on my way down to you,’ said their friend, adding with a chuckle, ‘But, since John has assured me that your artist is rather a handsome specimen, I doubt if it was him!’
Quickly changing the subject, Katharine set about plying Nell with avid enquiries about the extravagant gowns with which the Cornwells had launched their daughter into London’s society. Ordinarily, she would have been more than fascinated to hear the detailed descriptions that Nell was happy to supply, but she could not help noticing that Georgina seemed to be growing more and more subdued as they neared the village.
Arriving at the vicarage, they delivered Nell to her newly acquired fiancé, who urged them to come inside and partake of a cold drink before they made their return journey. Sensing her sister’s reluctance to stay, it was Katharine who refused his invitation, on the grounds that Mrs Cunningham would be wondering where they had got to and, after promising to meet again shortly, the two girls started back home.
‘You’ve been awfully quiet, Gina,’ Katharine remarked tentatively, as they walked back through the village. ‘Can’t you tell me what is troubling you? Am I right in thinking that it has something to do with Mr Latimer?’
Georgina laughed self-consciously. ‘You probably think I’m behaving very foolishly, but I just can’t seem to get him out of my mind!’
Katharine, although full of sympathy for her sister’s plight, was privately of the opinion that falling in love with an impoverished artist was an extremely foolish thing for anyone to do, let alone her beloved sister, but forbore from voicing these thoughts. ‘You must try to forget him, Gina,’ she urged. ‘It can’t be right that he is making you so miserable—you always used to laugh at such things!’
Rounding a bend in the lane, they were obliged to step up on to the grass verge to allow a horseman to pass them; then, as Georgina looked up and with a start of dismay, recognised the rider, she tensed suddenly and gripped her sister’s arm.
‘Kate!’ she exclaimed in a low voice, as the rider pulled his mount to a halt a short distance ahead of them. ‘It’s that awful Carstairs fellow—Aunt Edwina’s cousin!’
Katharine’s eyes widened in horror. ‘Quickly, Gina,’ she implored. ‘Let’s go back to the vicarage at once!’
But it was too late. Carstairs had already dismounted and was walking in their direction.
‘Well, ’pon my word, if it ain’t the delightful Miss Cunningham,’ he drawled as, with an exaggerated flourish, he removed his hat and bowed first to Georgina and then to Katharine. ‘And her equally bewitching little sister, too, if I ain’t much mistaken?’
Georgina gave a violent shudder as she heard the sound of his well-remembered voice. Stony-faced, she grabbed Katharine’s hand and tried to propel her along the verge. ‘We have nothing to say to you, Mr Carstairs,’ she informed him in a curt voice. ‘Kindly stand aside and allow us to pass.’
He was blocking their path and did not move. His heavy-jowled face creased in an unpleasant grin as he held out his hand. ‘Oh, come now, Miss Cunningham! Surely you are not going to let a slight misunderstanding mar our blossoming friendship! Where is your Christian charity? And you a vicar’s daughter, too!’ He shook his head mournfully.
Doing her utmost to ignore him, Georgina attempted to sidestep, pulling Katharine out into the lane with her. ‘If you do not refrain from pestering us, Mr Carstairs,’ she said flatly. ‘I shall be obliged to inform my uncle of your unwelcome behaviour.’
Although he let out a scornful laugh at her words of warning, he eventually stood back and allowed them to proceed. ‘You may be sure I shall look forward to our next meeting!’ he called after them as they hurried away down the lane.
‘What a horrid, horrid man!’ gasped Katharine, when they were well out of his sight. ‘I do hope we won’t see any more of him. He surely can’t be welcome in Uncle Arthur’s house?’
Sunk in despondency, Georgina did not reply. The impulsive walk to the village had turned into a monumental disaster. Not only had there been no sign of Latimer, but she now had to face the prospect of bumping into the hateful Carstairs every time she left the house.
Chapter Thirteen
Well before the appointed hour Latimer found himself outside the heavy wooden gate that led into the rear of the Cornwells’ riverside property. He had elected to position himself out of sight behind the dangling fronds of the willow tree in accordance with Nell Cornwell’s suggestion, having noted that the canal was quite a busy waterway, with heavily laden vessels travelling in both directions, not to mention diverse groups of local urchins leaning over the parapets of the bridge and entertaining themselves by casting handfuls of pebbles down on to the heads of unsuspecting boatmen as their barges passed beneath.
In spite of the serious nature of his own situation, Latimer could not help but smile as one enraged bargee chose to abandon both his horse and his vessel in a futile attempt to chase and punish the culprits, only to find that, by the time he was fo
rced to concede defeat, the still-plodding animal had made considerable headway up the towpath to the far side of the bridge, with the result that the boat’s owner was then obliged to make an undignified dash after his possessions, much to the amusement of his jeering young tormentors.
Eventually, the nearby church bell chimed four times and several more minutes ticked slowly by, but still the gate to the Cornwells’ garden remained obstinately shut. His heart sinking, Latimer stepped cautiously out from his hiding place. Perhaps Miss Cornwell had regretted her impulsive offer to meet him—or had been unable to find an adequate excuse to take a solitary walk in the garden? For one rash moment, he weighed up the pros and cons of climbing the wall and going in search of the girl himself. He was actually in the process of scanning the stonework for suitable footholds when, to his relief, he heard the grating sound of a bolt being drawn back, followed by a heavy creaking as the gate slowly swung open to reveal not only Miss Eleanora Cornwell, but also her new fiancé, the Reverend John Mansell.
‘Mr Latimer! What in Heaven’s name are you doing here?’
Latimer clenched his fists and inwardly cursed. He might have known that Miss Cornwell would inform her newly acquired fiancé about the odd request she had received and, as likely as not, Mansell had agreed to her keeping the secret assignation only on the grounds that she allowed him to accompany her.
Eleanora Cornwell herself was looking at Mansell in perplexed bewilderment. ‘You two know one another, John? How can that be?’
‘I had the pleasure of meeting Reverend Mansell only recently,’ interposed Latimer swiftly. ‘And, as I informed you in my note, since I came to the village, for reasons of my own I have been travelling incognito, as it were.’
‘But why? I don’t understand—and what is it to do with me?’
Dorothy Elbury Page 17
