‘Oh, Becky, don’t be so silly,’ said Rupert reproachfully. ‘I’ve made up my mind to be good, that’s all. I am the master of the house, after all, and I have certain responsibilities, you know!’
He straightened his shoulders and marched purposefully out of the room leaving Becky to stare after him in openmouthed astonishment. ‘What on earth’s come over the young varmint now?’ she muttered, thrusting her pie into the oven and closing the door with an indignant clang. ‘I’ll wager he’s planning some new sort of mischief.’
But Rupert was looking at his world in a new light. He had taken cognisance of Latimer’s words and, being an intelligent boy, had grasped the full implications of the friendly advice that he had been offered. He realised that it was going to be an uphill struggle, but he made up his mind that he really would try to do better, in his school work as well as in his behaviour, both of which he knew had deteriorated sadly since his brother’s death. After his father had virtually withdrawn from exercising his parental role, Rupert had taken advantage of the fact that he lived in a house full of females, most of whom he could twist round his little finger but, as he reminded himself, he was twelve years old now, almost thirteen, in fact and, if he meant to make something of himself, he would have to knuckle down to some serious study. He sighed. The prospect was hardly inviting, but he was fairly certain that Harry would have been in complete agreement with everything that Mr Latimer had said and, for the sake of his brother’s memory, added to his own keenness to emulate Harry’s illustrious career, he was determined to make the effort.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he did not cast it on to the floor in his usual careless manner but hung it in the wardrobe where it belonged. He was just about to close the door when he remembered the note that Latimer had handed him and placed it carefully into the pocket of his clean trousers.
Washed and brushed almost to perfection, he made his way to his sisters’ room across the gallery and knocked on the door. He found Georgina sitting at her dressing-table, chin cupped in her hands, staring at her face in brooding silence.
‘What’s up, Gina?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you’ve lost the proverbial sixpence!’
She did not move. ‘Becky has been looking everywhere for you,’ she retorted wearily. ‘We are all worn out with packing away the books and all you had to do was fetch a packet of baking-powder from the store. Why can’t you ever be trusted to do even the simplest little thing?’
He felt a spurt of anger bubbling up, but controlled it. ‘You’re right,’ he said apologetically. ‘I’ve been stupid and thoughtless and I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you all.’
Georgina spun round in amazement, her eyes narrowing in disbelief at his words. ‘Rupert! I warn you! If you are up to one of your tricks again, I promise you—’
She stopped as he held out Latimer’s note. ‘What’s that?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Mr Latimer asked me to give it to you,’ said the boy carelessly. ‘Some drawing or other he said he’d done for you.’
Her eyes lit up. ‘You’ve seen Mr Latimer?’ she asked eagerly.
Rupert moved towards the door. ‘Mmm, yes—we walked back from the village together—had quite an interesting chat, as a matter of fact.’
‘You had a chat with Mr Latimer?’ Georgina stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Wh-what sort of a chat?’
‘Oh, this and that—man’s talk, you know,’ he answered obliquely. ‘You’d better hurry up—that sounds like Katharine calling us for dinner. Wouldn’t do to keep Becky waiting any longer, now would it!’
With a cheerful grin he was gone, leaving Georgina staring at the empty doorway in astonishment. With a resigned shake of the head, she rose to her feet, patted her curls into place and was just about to leave the room when her eyes lit on the folded scrap of paper that Rupert had placed on the dressing-table. In eager anticipation, she snatched up the note, unfolded it and found herself looking at a not very accurate sketch of what she could only assume was intended to be the village stocks! Turning the paper over to its reverse side revealed a complete blank. Georgina’s eyebrows contracted in a puzzled frown. The sketch was clearly meant to convey a message of some sort, but what it could possibly be eluded her. Smoothing out the creases in the crisp paper, she studied every line and aspect of the drawing more closely. It was then that she noticed a tiny triangle turned over on one corner of the sketch. Her fingers shook as she peeled back the fold and, at the sight of the hidden message, her heart leapt in breathless excitement.
“Forgive me”, the tiny characters read. “Meet me Church 3 tomorrow. Please!” There was no signature.
Her lips curved in a tremulous smile as she sat down once more to re-read and savour the precious words. For days she had been fretting about Latimer’s absence, having been unable to conjure up any excuse to call upon him. Now that he had requested a meeting, all she had to do was persuade him that he must no longer regard his own lack of fortune as a stumbling-block to their burgeoning romance although, when she recalled some of the remarks he had made during the spirited conversation that had taken place between them shortly after their first meeting, her heart began to sink as she contemplated the enormity of the task that lay before her. There was no doubt that Edward Latimer was a proud man, she had discerned at least that much about him. His whole bearing and manner were such that it was easy to see that he had been born and raised a gentleman and that his present reduced circumstances were of recent occurrence. Added to which, Georgina then reminded herself, the very fact that he had abandoned his suit whilst, apparently, on the very brink of declaring himself was a clear indication that it had been those unfortunate remarks of Mansell’s which had overset his resolve! It would be no easy task to break through the barrier of the man’s self-respect.
She was still sitting mulling over possible ways to phrase her proposition when Katharine burst into the room, adjuring her to come down to the dinner table immediately.
‘We have been waiting for you for such an age!’ she ex-postulated. ‘Becky’s precious pie is congealing on its dish and the vegetables are getting cold! She is not at all pleased with you! Whatever has kept you? Rupert said you were on your way down half an hour since!’
Mrs Cunningham looked up from her plate with a frown as her eldest daughter entered the dining room and took her seat at the table.
‘We were obliged to begin without you,’ she admonished her. ‘It is most unlike you to be so tardy, Georgina. What can you have been thinking of?’
‘Forgive me, Mama. It won’t happen again, I promise.’
Georgina, helping herself to a small portion from each of the now-tepid dishes in front of her, was suddenly aware that her brother was seated in his late father’s place at the head of the table.
‘Why is Rupert sitting in Papa’s chair?’ she asked, quite taken aback at the boy’s apparent effrontery.
‘It is your brother’s place now, dear,’ her mother reminded her gently. ‘And it seems that he has chosen to take on that responsibility.’
‘Until his mind runs off on some new prank!’ giggled Katharine, tucking into her lukewarm dinner. ‘And then we’ll all be back to looking inside our boots for spiders and suchlike, I’ll be bound.’
Mrs Cunningham, hiding a smile, shook her finger at her. ‘No, Katharine, we must be fair and give him a chance. He has promised me that he means to mend his ways and, until he chooses to dishonour his own word, I intend to give him the benefit of the doubt. It would please me greatly if you girls were willing to do the same.’
This latest development in her brother’s behaviour clearly had something to do with Latimer, thought Georgina, as she toyed with her food. It would be quite out of the question for her to ask Rupert about the conversation he had mentioned, but it was obvious that whatever had passed between him and Latimer had had a far greater effect on the boy than all the constant animadversions he had previously received from his entire family!
The following a
fternoon, Katharine announced her intention of going to the Radley farm and asked Georgina to accompany her. Georgina, who had been racking her brains to think of a reason to go to the village, agreed to keep her sister company as far as the stile into Radley’s field but, not having forgotten the unwelcome encounter with Carstairs on her previous trip, she suggested that Rupert might like to help her exercise the dogs, pointing out that the animals had been sadly neglected during the past few days.
Rupert of old would have demurred at the offer of a sedate walk with his older sisters but, still in the first flush of taking on his new role as young master of the household, the youngster gravely complied and went to collect the dog’s leads.
Katharine shook her head. ‘That boy is up to something, I’ll swear. You’d best keep a close eye on him, if you’re determined to have his company.’
‘I shall promise him a barley twist from Mrs Hubbard’s shop,’ laughed Georgina, as she opened the front door.
‘Ooh!’ squealed Katharine. ‘Do get one for me, too! I can’t remember when I last had one of Mrs Hubbard’s sugar sticks!’
‘It’s about time you grew out of such confections,’ said Georgina with a grin. ‘For I’m sure that you don’t want to burst out of your wedding gown on the way to the altar, now do you?’
‘What a thought!’ chuckled her sister. ‘Still, perhaps you have a point—although Andrew always says he loves me just as I am!’
‘In that case, you had better make a push to stay that way,’ Georgina laughingly advised her and turned to watch their brother approaching them, leading the two dogs.
‘Half past two in the afternoon and he’s still amazingly clean!’ murmured Katharine. ‘I hope we’re not witnessing the calm before the storm!’
Conscious of the time, Georgina set a brisk pace up the lane, but could not resist casting the occasional backward glance over her shoulder for a possible sighting of Latimer who, she imagined, must also be on his way to the village by now.
Katharine climbed the stile and gaily waved farewell to them before she set off across the field to meet her fiancé, while Georgina and Rupert continued on their way towards the village.
‘I have to say that I’m very impressed with this new leaf that you’ve turned over,’ remarked Georgina, smiling down at her brother, who was keeping the two dogs under control most admirably. ‘You shall have a barley sugar twist when we get to Mrs Hubbard’s.’
‘There’s no need for you to bribe me, Gina,’ said Rupert, affronted. ‘It’s a brother’s duty to take care of his sisters.’
Goodness me, thought Georgina in wonder, whatever Latimer had said to the boy had clearly hit the mark and the joyful prospect of her brother being subject to his continued steadying influence was enough to cause her to take another longing look back down the narrow lane in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Latimer’s striding figure.
‘Look out, Gina!’
Rupert’s yell of warning brought her to her senses as, at the same instance, she found herself being thrust rudely into the hedgerow.
‘Rupert!’ she cried in protest, clutching at her bonnet. ‘What in heaven’s name…?’
But she had no need to ask, for a two-horse carriage was bearing down the lane at great speed and only Rupert’s prompt action had prevented them both from falling under its wheels!
The shabby carriage had screeched to a halt some distance up the lane and Georgina started towards it in a towering rage, intending to give the driver a piece of her mind for his reckless attitude towards other road users but, just as a gloved hand reached out, apparently intent upon opening the carriage door, a heavily laden cart appeared on the lane behind her. At once, the driver of the carriage whipped up his horses and the vehicle moved quickly off in the direction of Blanchard’s Cottage, continuing to gain speed until it careered round the bend and eventually disappeared from their sight.
Georgina frowned. A niggling suspicion had entered her mind, but she refused to allow it to take hold. She looked around for the two dogs, which had shot off in terror as soon as she and Rupert had let go their leads.
‘Pesky animals!’ he groaned. ‘And they were doing so well, too!’
‘At least they weren’t hurt,’ his sister comforted him. ‘They’ve probably run back home in fright.’ At the same moment, she realised, to her dismay, that she no longer had any excuse for continuing the walk to the village! Then, to her utmost relief, both dogs leapt out through a gap in the hedge further up the lane and ran towards them, jumping up at them and wagging their tails excitedly.
‘No, here they are, the silly chumps,’ laughed Rupert, making a grab for the trailing leads. ‘Look, perhaps you had better take Lucky and I’ll try to get Floss to quieten down. Do you think we’d better turn back? They’re awfully frisky now.’
‘Oh, I’m sure we can manage them between us,’ said his sister quickly. ‘Besides which, the walk will tire them out and then they’re sure to behave for the rest of the day.’
This proposition seemed perfectly reasonable to her young brother so, after dusting themselves down and removing the twigs and grasses that had collected on their persons, the pair set off once more to the village.
‘I wonder who that maniac was?’ asked Rupert crossly. ‘He obviously had no control over his horses! One might almost have thought that he intended to run us down!’
‘Some sort of novice whipster, no doubt,’ replied Georgina lightly, disguising her growing unease over the incident. ‘I’ve heard that they try to emulate the mail-coach drivers. He’ll likely end up in a ditch himself before he has gone much further.’
She realised that they had finally reached their destination and, after casting an anxious glance towards the village church, she suggested that her brother might like to run over to the village shop and purchase a few sweets.
‘I’ll just sit and wait for you outside the church,’ she said brightly, rummaging in her reticule. ‘Look, I have two pennies here. Do go and buy yourself something!’
‘I told you, Gina,’ he replied stiffly. ‘It really isn’t necessary to spend your money on me.’
She bit her lip. How was she going to get rid of him for a few minutes? ‘Oh, do take it, Rupert,’ she cajoled him. ‘I’m sure that you want to, really and…’ she had a sudden brainwave ‘…we can reward the dogs with pieces of sugar on the way home, to prevent them misbehaving!’
‘Oh, good idea!’ Rupert was all for this. ‘Are you sure you can manage them while I go over?’
‘Perfectly sure,’ she promised him. ‘I’ll tie them to the arm of the bench. You just take your time and choose something that you really like. You’ve been such a help today!’
With a satisfied grin on his face, the boy strutted off across the village green, ruminating to himself that this best behaviour lark certainly had its advantages!
Georgina lost no time in tying the two retrievers to the wooden bench. The church clock was about to strike the hour and, as yet, she had seen no sign of Edward Latimer. Perhaps he had arrived early and was waiting for her in the churchyard somewhere. She pushed open the lych-gate and hurried up the path and made her way to the rear of the building where the proliferation of headstones and large monuments was sufficient to provide perfectly adequate cover for anyone set on carrying out a secret assignation! But Latimer was nowhere to be found.
With a worried frown she retraced her steps and waited uncertainly beneath the lych-gate’s arched roof, wondering what to do next, and worried that Rupert would make his selection before Latimer had even arrived.
The village green was deserted. There were a couple of horses tethered to the hitching pole outside the Running Fox, but, apart from her own two dogs, there was absolutely no other sign of life until, pricking up her ears, she discerned the sound of an approaching vehicle and peering over the gate, she realised that it was the shabby black carriage that had almost run Rupert and herself down!
The carriage slowed to a stop and, to her utter constern
ation, she had no difficulty in recognising the identity of the man who was climbing out of the vehicle. Just as she had feared, it was none other than her despised attacker, the Honourable Gerald Carstairs who, after pausing momentarily to give his driver some instructions, then proceeded to walk across the green in her direction!
She ducked back under the archway out of sight, but it was too late, for he had spotted her and was now hurrying towards the church. She looked around for somewhere to hide, having apprehensively recalled her previous encounter with the loathsome creature, then ran quickly towards the door of the church, praying that John Mansell was still about. Thrusting open the door, she dashed inside, desperately calling out the vicar’s name, but there was no reply. She sped up the aisle towards the vestry, where she knew that the key to the door had always hung. If she could just get into the vestry and lock the door, she would be safe from the lecherous devil who, having been forestalled in his earlier attack, must surely intend her serious harm. Was it possible that he had been searching for her and, if so, how could he have known where she might be found? Her heart seemed to turn over as the thought then struck her that Edward Latimer’s non-appearance and Carstairs’s arrival might not necessarily be unconnected. Perhaps Carstairs had drawn the sketch and written the note—but no! Her common sense told her that to draw such a conclusion was out of the question since it had been Rupert himself who had given her the note and informed her that it was from Latimer. But where, oh, where could Edward be?
As the heavy church door closed once again with a resounding thud, she realised that Carstairs was close behind her. Dry sobs racked her throat as she leapt forward to open the vestry door but, try as she might, the door handle refused to respond to her insistent pressure. The vestry door was locked! Her outstretched arm fell limply to her side and, closing her eyes in fearful anticipation of what she suspected was to be her likely fate, she uttered a little whimper of dismay.
Dorothy Elbury Page 19
