A Country Gentleman (5 page)

Chapter Five

‘T
his letter is worse than useless,’ the Earl of Thurlby complained, waving a sheet of paper at his mother. They were sitting at the breakfast table, each having enjoyed that meal in the way that pleased them best. His lordship had downed a plateful of bacon and eggs and two slices of toast, a hearty enough breakfast for a man who has walked three or four miles before nine o’clock. Her ladyship, a later riser, had sampled just a roll and some coffee. Now they were engaged upon examining their correspondence.

‘I take it the letter is from Stancross,’ his mother remarked. ‘Coffee, dear?’

‘No, I’ll stick to ale, thank you. Yes, it’s from Stancross, confirming that your goddaughter is coming, but giving us no idea of how, or whether we are to meet her, and if so, when.’

‘Give it to me,’ said his mother. He handed the letter across the table and she examined it carefully. ‘Yes, you are right,’ she said. ‘I suppose one cannot blame the man for being flustered, when one considers what he has endured. All the same, this is most awkward. Do you think that perhaps you ought to ride into Stamford and pay a visit to the George?’

He pursed his lips. ‘Yes, it might be wise,’ he agreed. ‘Any conveyance bringing her from London will be most unlikely to avoid Stamford. I can leave instructions with the landlord to keep
her there until he sends word to me.’ He got up from his place. ‘Just to be safe, I’ll send a servant to Peterborough as well.’

‘Pray heaven the poor girl won’t have got herself into any kind of difficulty,’ said her ladyship.

‘Would you care to wager a small sum on the chance?’ the earl asked ironically.

‘You are very unlikely to arrive at the George at exactly the same time as Lavinia,’ his mother pointed out, ignoring his last remark. ‘After you have left a message there, you can go and have a glass of wine with Sir Richard Wallis.’

The earl laughed. ‘You sound exactly like my tutor, who used to promise me all manner of treats if I finished my Latin exercise. But it would be good to visit Richard. It must be several weeks since we last saw one another.’

‘He has been to London for the season,’ her ladyship replied. ‘It would do
you
good to go.’

‘It would be more likely to drive me mad,’ he answered frankly.

The journey from Thurlby to Stamford was a very familiar one to the earl. When escorting his mother in the barouche, they took the road which led them through Market Deeping. Today, on horseback, he was able to take some short cuts across the fields, mostly on his own land. Mercifully, the day was a sunny one, unlike that on which he and his mother had discussed Lavinia’s arrival in his library.

The dinner club of which he was a member met at the George on the third Sunday of the month, so his lordship was well known there and, as a consequence, was greeted with the utmost cordiality by the landlord. He took the man on one side and confided his errand.

‘I’ll certainly look out for the young lady,’ the landlord said, eager to oblige one who, although not so influential with regard to his fate as Lord Burghley, was nevertheless a valuable customer. ‘Do you know in what kind of conveyance she’ll be coming, my lord?’

The earl grinned ruefully. ‘That’s the worst of it,’ he replied. ‘I don’t know when, or in what she’ll be making the journey. The whole matter has been very foolishly arranged.’

‘You can count on me to do the best I can, my lord.’

‘I’m obliged. Now, will you add to your kindness by bringing me a pint of home-brewed?’

‘At once, my lord.’

Thurlby wandered into the inn yard, and stood holding his tankard, his broad shoulders propping up the door frame. It was true that he was not fond of London, but he liked the bustle and liveliness of this place. It would not be too much of a hardship to stand in the inn yard of the George with a pint in his hand, and watch the arrivals.

He had almost drained his glass when he heard the sound of rattling wheels, jingling harness and the clopping of hoofs, and shortly afterwards, the London stage swept round the corner and into the yard. There were two male passengers on the roof, looking as if they were very well satisfied with their lot. Had it been the middle of winter, the earl reflected, it would have been a different story.

The stage pulled to a halt and two lads ran forward from the stables to take charge of the cattle. Thurlby eyed the horses with casual interest. They seemed to be a reasonably well-matched team. Such was not always the case with the stage, as opposed to the mail coach, which invariably took the cream of what was available.

He turned from his observation of the horses to see that the door of the stage had been opened and a young man had jumped down and was turning to help some other passengers. ‘Benjamin Twizzle,’ Thurlby said to himself with a wry grin. ‘I’ll wager there’s a woman in the case.’

He was acquainted with Twizzle’s father, a clergyman in a parish not far distant from Thurlby, and knew that the young man was the bane of his father’s life. They had met at various
functions where Benjamin’s conversation tended to be a little too racy for provincial tastes, and his manner with ladies rather more familiar than was pleasing to most of them.

On one occasion, the earl had been attending a dinner with a few friends at Peterborough, when their quiet, sociable evening had been disturbed by a noisy group of young men in the public rooms. ‘We’ll not come here again,’ an older member of the party had said. ‘This sort of thing wouldn’t happen at the George.’

Whilst agreeing with the view expressed, the earl, twenty-five years younger and, moreover, remembering his own youth, had been inclined to be more tolerant. Eventually, however, after the noise had continued unabated, he had gone out to make an
objection
, and had found the young men, Benjamin Twizzle included, behaving disrespectfully to the landlord. He had given them all a good dressing down.

A little later, the dinner over, the earl had seen an acquaintance of his in the public rooms and had stopped to have a
conversation
. On leaving the hotel after the rest of his party, he had heard screams from one of the upstairs windows. It transpired that two elderly ladies had been looking out of the window at the night sky, when Benjamin Twizzle, out of sheer devilment, had taken down his breeches and bared his backside at them. The earl had given chase, but Twizzle, laughing, had managed to slip away in the dark.

Now, Thurlby’s grin broadened, as the glimpse of a dark-blue skirt and a bonnet in profile confirmed his opinion that Twizzle must be in pursuit of a woman.

‘Allow me to assist you,’ the young man said solicitously. Then, as a smaller, black-clad figure emerged, he said, ‘And you too, Mrs Hedges.’

Thurlby was conscious of a sudden stab of attraction. This young woman, fair-haired, petite, but with an excellent figure, was exactly the kind of female that he most admired. Struck by sudden guilt by his disrespect towards a lady who was clearly in
deep mourning, he was on the point of turning away when, quite unexpectedly, something about her struck a chord of recognition. As if aware of his scrutiny, ‘Mrs Hedges’ turned her head, and his lordship found his eyes locking with those of a young lady whom he knew to be Miss Lavinia Muir. At once, the smile disappeared from his face.

‘Take that,’ he said, handing his tankard to a passing servant before striding forward. It was then that he had his second shock of the morning, for the lady in blue turned at his advent, and he found himself face to face with Isobel Macclesfield.

The earl was not gifted in dissembling and, with no
opportunity
for giving any thought to how he should react, he simply stood still and exclaimed, ‘Oh my God!’

Benjamin Twizzle, after a brief ‘Good day, my lord’, and a touch of his hat, prudently slipped out of sight.

‘Good day, Twizzle,’ replied Thurlby automatically, before turning to Lavinia and Isobel. ‘And now,
ladies
,’ he went on, with gritted teeth, ‘if you will be so good as to accompany me into the inn, I shall make arrangements for your next journey.’ He extended his arm courteously to Lavinia, but she saw a dire warning in his gaze. ‘Mrs Hedges?’ he said, his brow darkening. He turned to Isobel. ‘If you will follow us, ma’am?’

‘Too kind,’ Lavinia murmured in failing tones, wishing that she did not feel as faint as she sounded. She laid her hand on his extended arm. Beneath the fabric of his coat, his muscles felt as hard and unyielding as the expression on his face.

Thurlby ushered his charges into the inn, where the landlord was waiting to attend them. ‘A private parlour at once, if you please,’ said his lordship, speaking rather more haughtily than was his wont. ‘And have the goodness to arrange for a conveyance to be prepared to take these ladies back to Thurlby Hall.’

‘At once, my lord,’ replied the landlord. ‘Shall I bring tea?’

‘Tea?’ exclaimed the earl, for all the world as if the man had suggested bringing them a pint of gin each.

‘That would be delightful,’ said Isobel, smiling sweetly at the landlord. ‘I am parched and I am sure that Lavinia must be too.’ Lavinia glanced warily at the nobleman, his face rigid with
disapproval
as he held the parlour door open, but said nothing.

‘And now,’ said the earl, speaking into the ominous silence which had fallen after the door had closed. ‘Perhaps one of you will have the goodness to explain to me what the
devil
is going on. Why are the two of you travelling on the common stage? How have you managed to become acquainted with someone like Benjamin Twizzle? And why the …’ He bit back the expletive that had been on his lips. ‘Why upon earth are you masquerading as someone else, Miss Muir?’

The two young ladies glanced at one another. Lavinia knew that as Lady Thurlby’s goddaughter, she ought to be the one to speak, but the story was so complicated that she could not think where to begin. Before she could say anything, the door opened and the tea tray was brought in and set down. The earl shook his head dismissively when offered a cup. Isobel sat down to pour for herself and Lavinia, carefully keeping her eyes on the tray.

‘Well?’ said the earl, after the servant had closed the door behind her.

‘Well, I … I …’ Lavinia began.

She was saved by a knock at the door. The earl approached it with hasty strides, threw it open and demanded, ‘
Now
what?’

An enormous bouquet of flowers appeared to enter on its own. It was not until it had come right into the room that the servant carrying it could be seen. ‘Pardon me, my lord,’ she said, ‘but these came for the young lady.’

‘For which young lady?’ Thurlby asked ominously.

‘Mr Twizzle, the young gentleman what was in the yard, said that they would be for Mrs Hedges, my lord,’ the girl replied. Lavinia’s heart sank right down into her boots.

‘He did, did he?’ said Thurlby, looking ominously at his mother’s goddaughter. ‘And what would he know of the matter?’

‘He just said that they would be for her, like all the others,’ answered the maid, blithely unaware of the violent thoughts that Lavinia was directing towards her and Mr Twizzle. The girl laid them down on a side table, curtsied, and hurried out.

‘From an admirer?’ said the earl, his tone deceptively mild as he wandered over to the table that held the flowers. ‘“Like all the others”, presumably.’

Lavinia glanced at Isobel, who looked up at her from her place behind the teapot, an unmistakable appeal for help in her eyes. Lavinia understood all too well. Thurlby could not possibly refuse to take in his mother’s goddaughter. Another young lady, uninvited and engaged in misbehaviour, however, could be sent back from whence she came without delay or compunction.

Lavinia squared her shoulders, a not unbecoming flush staining her cheeks. ‘A lady cannot determine who admires her and who does not,’ she said. Isobel handed her her tea, which she took with hands that trembled so much that she was afraid that she would slop it all over the floor.

‘Possibly,’ his lordship agreed. He looked down at the card, and his expression darkened. ‘Especially when a man is so
experienced
at expressing his admiration as Lord Riseholm. Fortunately, my gardens at Thurlby are quite adequate to furnish flowers for any rooms that may need them. You will kindly inform Lord Riseholm that his additional ah … decorations are not required at Thurlby Hall, and any further tributes will be returned to him. Is that quite clear?’

‘My lord—’ Lavinia murmured.

‘I said, is that quite clear?’ he barked.

‘Lord Thurlby, Lord Riseholm is a single gentleman,’ Isobel ventured, ‘and perhaps—’

‘Lord Riseholm may be as single as you please, but he is a rake and a libertine and he will not be practising his wiles upon any young woman under my protection,’ the earl replied. ‘By the way,
Miss Macclesfield, am I to assume that I am to have the honour of entertaining you at my house?’

‘I beg pardon, my lord,’ said Lavinia, ‘but—’

‘You will be silent,’ said his lordship. ‘I would prefer not to converse with you again until I am in command of my temper.’