The Society Catch (Harlequin Historical) Page 12

  ‘Ah. She expects that Alex will keep a strict eye on you, I imagine?’

  ‘Yes,’ Joanna agreed drearily. ‘She also says that she is taking Papa and William to Bath to take the waters. Papa, I mean; William will not be taking the waters. Mama points out that William will be very much bored in Bath and it is all my fault that they are not going to Brighton.’

  ‘How can that be your fault?’ Giles enquired. ‘Surely you cannot be blamed for your father’s gout—she tells me in her letter that that is what continues to trouble him.’

  ‘The doctor informs her that anxiety and strain all aggravate a naturally gouty tendency,’ Joanna said, scanning the letter again for the lengthy description of poor Papa’s sufferings, all of which were made infinitely worse by thoughts of his undutiful daughter. ‘She quotes Shakespeare, something about a thankless child.’

  ‘King Lear,’ Mrs Gedding supplied helpfully. “‘How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child”.’ She regarded Joanna’s white face. ‘She is very upset, I fear, my dear. But never fret, once she has you home safe all will be forgiven, you will see.’

  ‘I do not know when that might be. If I am to go to Tasborough for the summer it could be weeks before I see her.’

  ‘Good thing,’ Giles said briskly. ‘By the time she does see you again this will all be ancient history. And you will enjoy being with Hebe.’

  ‘And Alex, and little Hugh, and the new baby,’ Joanna said bitterly. The last thing she wanted just now was to be in the heart of a happy young family, especially with a new baby about to arrive. She wanted her own babies—Giles’s children—not to be a doting nurse for little relatives.

  ‘You really are going to have to get over this antipathy towards Alex, you know,’ Giles said casually, spreading preserves on his toast. ‘You’ll enjoy yourself once you are there.’

  For the first time since she had known him Joanna found herself staring at Giles with real anger in her heart. She had confided in him! She had believed he understood how she felt; surely he would know, instinctively, why she was so upset at this banishment? No, apparently he did not. This man she loved was proving to be very much a human being, she realised. He kissed young women he was not in love with, he quarrelled with his father, he did not understand how she felt after all she had told him…

  ‘Don’t glare at me,’ he said with a grin, which only added fuel to her anger. ‘I have to escort you all the way back to Hertfordshire, always assuming we can find you a chaperon.’

  ‘Now there I think I have the perfect solution,’ Mrs Gedding announced, flourishing the note she had received. ‘Mrs Thwaite, our vicar’s wife, has dispensed with the services of her governess now that her youngest daughter has left the schoolroom. Miss Shaw is returning to London to stay with her sister whilst seeking a new post. She would be quite happy to assume charge of Joanna and is ready to leave at your convenience. Mrs Thwaite says…’ Mrs Gedding peered closely at the foot of the note where the vicar’s wife had almost run out of paper ‘…she says Miss Shaw will call today at eleven to discuss the arrangements.’

  ‘What have you told Mrs Thwaite about me, ma’am?’ Joanna asked apprehensively.

  ‘Only that owing to family circumstances you find yourself stranded here without the female company you were expecting. I referred to your papa’s poor health and the fact that you had a sister in Lincoln, and I flatter myself that without uttering one untrue word I have managed to give the impression that various plans have simply come adrift.’

  Mrs Gedding might have thought she had pulled the wool over her neighbour’s eyes, but as soon as Joanna was introduced to Miss Shaw she was convinced that the governess was not deceived for a moment.

  Miss Shaw was an acidulated woman in her mid-thirties, and if Joanna had wished to find a spinster unhappy with her lot and soured by her experiences, she could not have hoped for a more depressing example. The governess appeared to find some satisfaction in appearing as downtrodden as possible in her severe grey wool gown, her hair dragged back from her thin face and not so much as a piece of mourning jewellery to ornament her bodice.

  She kept her hands clasped together throughout the interview, casting sidelong glances at Giles and answering Mrs Gedding in a respectful undertone. But the looks she sent in Joanna’s direction were sharp and judgemental and it was quite apparent that she guessed her temporary new charge was in disgrace.

  She agreed that she could be ready to set out the next day and that she had not the slightest objection to going into Hertfordshire, provided that she returned to her sister in Holborn eventually. ‘It must be an object with me,’ she announced primly, ‘to assist Mrs Gedding in any way within my power.’

  I am sure it is, Joanna thought rebelliously, especially if that involves a comfortable journey in a private chaise with a handsome gentleman to look after all the arrangements, and not a bumpy journey on the public stage!

  The arrangements were finalised and Mrs Gedding took Miss Shaw to the kitchens to collect a recipe she had promised to Mrs Thwaite. Joanna, her vision a blur, got abruptly to her feet and walked out of the room. Giles caught up with her in the garden.

  ‘Are you sulking, Joanna?’

  ‘Sulking! No, I am not sulking! I am trying not to cry, if you must know,’ she stormed at him, suddenly finding it incomprehensible that she had even liked Giles Gregory, let alone loved him. ‘My mother has all but cast me off, my father is unwell and angry with me, my little brother is upset, I am being sent off in disgrace and that horrible woman with a face like a weasel is going to be smug and superior all the way to Hertfordshire.’ She took a gulping breath. ‘And I will soon be learning all about being the poor spinster relation who is the very person to call in to look after things when one or other of my female relations is confined, or the children have measles or…or…’

  ‘Joanna!’ He was laughing at her! The wretched man was actually laughing! ‘Calm down, for goodness’ sake. I agree Miss Shaw closely resembles a weasel. I agree that your family is distressingly angry with you, but all you need—you and your parents—is a few weeks to get over this. No one, yet, has died of a broken heart and this man who has so cruelly disappointed you is not going to achieve that, or even ruin your life as you are so convinced he has.

  ‘I would be prepared to wager that in six months you will have recovered sufficiently to take an interest in the new Season—and without the impossible task of living up to this paragon you will have much better time of it—’ He broke off, looking down into her stormy, upturned face. ‘Believe me, Joanna, he is not worth this anguish, whoever he is.’

  ‘I have already come to that conclusion, I thank you,’ she snapped, turning on her heel and stalking off into the shrubbery. Giles made no attempt to follow her.

  Joanna emerged wan-faced at luncheon and took the opportunity, while Mrs Gedding was out of the room greeting her returning husband, to apologise to Giles. ‘I am sorry I snapped at you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I have everything to thank you for, I should not be so ungrateful.’

  He looked up with a smile. ‘There is nothing to thank me for—it was only what anyone would do for a lady in such distress as your mama.’ He regarded her downcast, heavy eyes and added, ‘And you had a terrifying experience; it is no wonder you are feeling somewhat vapourish just now.’

  Well, that has put me firmly in my place, Joanna thought, compressing her lips firmly on a tart retort. I need not think he had any particular concern for me, only for Mama! And I am suffering from the vapours, am I?

  Her lacerated feelings suffered a further blow after the meal when, returning to the dining room to retrieve her shawl that she had left on her chair, she overheard Mrs Gedding in conversation with Giles. It was apparent at once what they were discussing and Joanna listened with growing indignation from behind the door.

  ‘Miss Shaw is very sensitive, it seems,’ her hostess was saying. ‘Although I had said nothing to her or Mrs Thwaite of Joanna’s true pre
dicament, she appears to have guessed that we are returning a runaway to her home. I suspect that several years as a mistress in a girls’ seminary in Bath has given her experience of young ladies overreacting to emotional situations. But she assures me that she will keep a very strict eye upon Joanna, and promises that she will not leave her side, by day or night.’

  ‘I am sure that will not be necessary,’ Giles answered. ‘Joanna appears resigned to returning home—or at least, to her friends in Hertfordshire.’

  ‘I am sure she has realised the errors of her ways,’ Mrs Gedding agreed comfortably. ‘But Miss Shaw tells me that she has a number of improving tracts suitable for young ladies and will do her utmost to engage Joanna’s interest in them during the journey.’

  Joanna did not wait to hear Giles’s opinion of improving tracts, but ran out into the sunshine and took refuge in the stables.

  ‘Hateful, hateful woman!’ she said vehemently. Moonstone, who had put her head over the half-door at the sound of her approach, shied away with a snort. ‘To be dragged back, not just in disgrace, but shut up with her, having to share a bedchamber with her and being lectured morning, noon and night as though I had run away from school with the drawing master!’

  She thumped her fist on something, then realised it was the side saddle she had been using with Moonstone, the bridle hanging beside it. Slowly Joanna ran her hands over the hard leather, an idea slowly filling her mind. Dare she? Just how far away was Georgy’s house?

  The Squire’s study was empty and Joanna soon found where he kept his atlases, for one already lay open on a stand. She located Wisbech, then traced the roads back to the village. There were several options, all of them straight, with sharp turns every now and again as they crossed the dykes and canals that drained the flat fenlands. After ten minutes’ rapid scribbling on a sheet of notepaper she found on the desk, and some careful measuring with the ruler, Joanna came to the conclusion that even going by the smaller roads, it could not be more than thirty miles to Wisbech. Once she was there, surely everyone would know where to find Lord Brandon’s house.

  Tactics and strategy, she murmured to herself. Once she was with Georgy, surely Mama would be content to let her stay, for no one could doubt that Lady Brandon, however featherbrained she might be, was not eminently respectable. But with Georgy she would be able to plan and her friend would not be trying to dissuade her from whatever course she decided upon. In fact, now she thought about it, Georgy had been encouraging her husband to take her on a continental tour. Surely she would want a female companion for that adventure? And once Joanna had some experience, perhaps she could find a position with another lady wanting to travel…

  Joanna’s rosy daydream was clouded somewhat by the thought of the anxiety this new escape would provoke, but she knew she would be at the Brandons’ within the day and she could immediately send news of her safe arrival to Mrs Gedding. It would be far too soon for Mama or Hebe to be alerted. The only danger would be capture by Giles.

  Tactics, tactics, she murmured, gathering up pen, ink and paper and retiring to her bedchamber to compose the most reassuring and grateful note she could to Mrs Gedding. That took some time and when it was finished there were her route notes to arrange carefully and to con and a selection to be made of the absolute essentials to pack into a small portmanteau.

  By dinner time her stomach was full of butterflies and she had little appetite, although she made herself eat as much as possible; it could be a long and hungry day tomorrow.

  The Squire was in excellent spirits and Joanna was able to keep up the appearance of normality with an odd comment or question while he recounted how he was writing to London magistrates about the Thoroughgoods and their associates and how he had every confidence in them all receiving their just deserts.

  After dinner she sat and helped Mrs Gedding with some sewing until the tea tray was brought in, then made her excuses and went up to bed.

  ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ Mrs Gedding said placidly. ‘It will be as well to get a good night’s sleep, for the chaise has been ordered for ten and we must have you all packed and ready before that. I do hope the men will not keep you awake; I believe they are set on a game of billiards tonight, and once the Squire finds a willing opponent he is quite likely to play into the small hours.’

  Joanna was delighted with that news, for after a late night she hoped that Giles would sleep in and she would be well on her way before he was awake to miss her. She catnapped restlessly all night, too worried about oversleeping to drop into a deep slumber.

  At last she heard the longcase clock strike four and in the grey dawn light scrambled into her habit, pulled on her boots and gloves and picked up the small portmanteau. The note to Mrs Gedding she left on her pillow.

  The house was silent and the parlour window opened easily under her nervous hand. She pushed it to and ran across the grass to the stables. The old dog opened an eye as she passed, but he was used to her by now and made no attempt to bark, and then she was inside.

  Moonstone stood patiently while she heaved on the saddle and struggled to tighten the girth. The bridle was more difficult, but by dint of standing on a crate she managed it. Then she carefully unbuckled the girth from every saddle in the tack room and the bit from every bridle, dropped them into a sack and hid them under some hay in an unoccupied loose box. That should slow down any pursuit until she was well away and if the hired chaise was not ordered until ten, even that could not hope to catch her.

  Joanna walked Moonstone out of the box and across the yard to the mounting block. With a last, anxious, glance up at Giles’s chamber window, she turned the mare’s head and rode quietly off down the drive into the lifting mist.

  Chapter Eleven

  Giles woke to a violent pounding on the door. He had swung his legs out of bed and was reaching blindly for where his sabre always used to be before he remembered where he was and that he was not being woken to meet a surprise French dawn attack.

  He flung the door open to reveal the Squire clad in a gaudy dressing gown, his nightcap askew on his grey hair and his boots protruding from under the hem. ‘She’s gone!’

  ‘Who…?’ Giles shook the fumes of the Squire’s excellent brandy from his head and forced himself to think. ‘Joanna? Where?’

  ‘I don’t know!’ Mrs Gedding appeared from behind the bulk of her husband. ‘Look, this was in her room.’

  Giles took the note and scanned it rapidly. ‘There is only one place she can hope to reach today if we are to take her at her word and believe that she is going to a “respectable friend” and that is Lady Brandon in Wisbech.’

  ‘Oh, I am sure she would not deceive me,’ Mrs Gedding said anxiously. ‘Poor child, she must have been far more frightened of returning home than I guessed!’

  ‘Poor child!’ Giles said grimly. ‘I’ll give her poor child when I catch her. Have you any idea when she left?’

  ‘It was before five-thirty, for the undergroom went into the stables then,’ the Squire said. ‘He saw Moonstone was gone, but the fool assumed Rogers had turned her out and it wasn’t until I ran out just now that he thought to check.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Half past seven.’

  ‘I will get dressed immediately,’ Giles said. ‘Squire, can you get your man to put the greys to? And, if you could give some thought to jotting down the fastest route to Wisbech, I would be grateful. I will be down directly.’

  He deliberately kept his anger under control as he pulled on his clothes. There was time for that, and time for the anxiety that was roiling in his stomach, later, after he had found Joanna. That mare was steady, he reassured himself. Joanna was a good rider and the roads were dry and clear. Surely there was nothing that could befall her in a day’s ride in the English Fens?

  He was met at the bottom of the stairs by the Squire with a sketch map and notes and Mrs Gedding with a bulging napkin and a flask. ‘I have no hope of you sitting down to eat your breakfast,’ she said resig
nedly. ‘But you can eat this one-handed.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am…’

  ‘Squire! Squire!’ It was Rogers the groom, bursting into the hall without ceremony, a bridle flapping in his hands. ‘Every girth’s missing from every saddle, sir!’

  ‘Damn it, I’ll drive then.’

  ‘No good, sir,’ the groom cut in. ‘All the bits have gone, too. I’ve got the lad tearing the place apart now.’

  ‘From my driving harness as well?’ Giles demanded before the squire could speak.

  ‘Yes, Colonel.’

  ‘The little witch! I could almost admire her ingenuity if I was not so angry with her. Squire, have you a horse which would tolerate a rope bit? I can ride bareback.’

  Followed by Mrs Gedding clutching the food, the men headed for the stables. Ten minutes’ careful work with a thin rope and Giles was astride the Squire’s raw-boned black hunter, who stood quietly enough, although mumbling his tongue over the unfamiliar feel of rope and not metal in his mouth.

  ‘He’ll do you all the way to Wisbech, never fear,’ the Squire said, slapping the muscled black neck affectionately. ‘Send word as soon as you have news.’ He took a satchel from the groom and stuffed the food and flask into it. ‘Here. Have you money enough?’

  Giles patted his coat pocket. ‘More than enough, unless I find she’s taken boat for the Low Countries,’ he said, with a smile for the look of sudden alarm on Mrs Gedding’s face. ‘Do not worry, ma’am, I’ll have her safe soon enough. In fact, I have no doubt I’ll find her snugly ensconced with Lady Brandon drinking tea!’

  All she has to worry about, Giles thought grimly as he sent the hunter down the drive at a controlled canter, is the tanning I’m going to give her backside the minute I lay hands on her.

  Far from suffering any of the alarms or discomforts that Mrs Gedding feared for her, or which Giles, growing increasingly angry the further he rode, might have wished on her, Joanna had an uneventful journey to Wisbech. The roads were just as she had noted, there were ample finger posts and milestones to reassure her she was on the right route, the sun shone and the only people she encountered were well disposed and friendly to a passing rider.