the public park and the small Arboretum which lies at the end of the main street. My father was a keen gardener; so, too, was your great-aunt when she was a young woman and they frequently made presents of flowers and plants to both the park and the garden.’
Jess privately noted that Georgie had been careful to refer to Miss Jesmond as his great-aunt rather than his aunt and had also informed him—or rather, reminded him—of her love of the outdoor world. He had already decided to restore the gardens around Jesmond House in celebration of her memory.
He told Georgie so.
Her face lit up. ‘Oh, how pleased she would have been if she had known that! I think she rather feared that once she was gone the gardens might never recover their old glory.’
Caro was privately yawning at this discussion of matters in which she had no interest. So far as she was concerned, flowers and plants were things which the servants collected from the gardeners and placed in bowls and vases around the house for her to admire if she chose to—which wasn’t often.
She was pleased that the butler arrived to announce that supper was ready immediately after she had seconded Georgie’s remark by exclaiming, ‘What a sweet thought. It does you credit, does it not, Garth?’
Sir Garth, whose lack of interest in things botanic was even greater than his sister’s, drawled, ‘Yes, indeed, great credit, I’m sure. I like a tidy garden.’ A remark which would have killed that line of conversation even if the butler had not summoned them to the supper table.
‘I thought,’ Caro said, after they were all seated, ‘that you would prefer a small private supper party with only a few present rather than a formal dinner where you might be overwhelmed by all those wishing to meet you. You must be aware that the whole of Netherton is excited by your arrival—we meet so few strangers.’
Georgie thought drily that she had rarely met anyone less likely to be overwhelmed than Mr Jesmond Fitzroy, whose reply to Caro was a model of tact and charm.
‘Very good of you, madam. Most thoughtful of you. A slow introduction to all the curious would certainly be easier than encountering them en masse.’
Now Mr Jesmond Fitzroy was not being quite truthful in coming out with a remark made primarily to please his hostess. He had long been aware that in war, business and life, early reconnoitring of one’s surroundings and their inhabitants was highly desirable—particularly when those surroundings were new. He would have been perfectly happy had Mrs Caroline Pomfret invited most of Netherton society to meet him, but no one would have guessed it from his manner.
Except for Georgie.
Her instincts were beginning to inform her that their guest was a far more devious person than his bland exterior might suggest. Consequently the eye she turned on him after that little speech was a trifle satiric—and, being devious and alert, Jess immediately read her expression correctly.
So, Mrs Charles Herron was not only a hoyden, she was also a minx! And a cunning one—unlike her artless sister-in-law. Unfortunately for him, his first encounter with Georgie not only had him continually misreading her, it was helping him to misread Caro too. Because she was so obviously Georgie’s opposite, so delightfully conventional in her manner, he was crediting her with virtues which she did not possess.
His instincts were on surer ground with the ineffable Sir Garth, who entertained them over supper with tales of high life. He was, it seemed, a personal friend of all of those in the first stare of London society, throwing nicknames around with abandon. Lord Palmerston was ‘Cupid’, Lord Granville was ‘Beamer’, Lady Jersey was ‘Silence’, and so on…and so on…
Yes, the man was a fraud of some kind, Jess was sure.
If that were so, then what was he doing here in this quiet backwater where some small Assembly Rooms and a miniature park were among the few excitements of the little town?
Jess made a mental note that Sir Garth Manning would bear watching.
And all the time that he was exchanging small talk with Manning and his sister, about the gossip surrounding King George IV’s determination to rid himself of his wife, Queen Caroline, who, when she was Princess of Wales, had been the bane of his life, the Herron minx remained unwontedly quiet. And who, pray, had the late Mr Charles Herron been, who had chosen to marry a redheaded termagant?
Which was being unfair, he knew, for Georgie’s hair was not truly red, and for a termagant she was being uncommonly backward in the assertion department!
Halfway through the meal the butler came in and spoke a quiet word to Caro Pomfret, who looked sweetly up and waved an airy hand at Georgie. The butler promptly went over to her and further whispering ensued, at the end of which Georgie rose from the table and addressed the company apologetically.
‘Pray excuse me. It seems that Annie has had a bad dream and is asking for me.’
Jess rose and bowed. Belatedly, a second later, Sir Garth followed suit. ‘No excuse is necessary,’ Jess offered with a smile. ‘Bad dreams take precedence over supper.’
‘Unless they are caused by supper,’ guffawed Sir Garth when Georgie had left the room.
‘You see,’ said Caro, all sweetness and light, ‘Georgie is so very good with them. A pity she never had any children of her own. My health, you understand, does not allow me to run around after them too much. Georgie, now, is as strong as a horse.’
For the first time where Caro was concerned Jess’s critical faculties began to work. Mrs Pomfret appeared to be the picture of health—but perhaps the picture was not entirely truthful.
Sir Garth, aware that his sister had sounded a false note, and had said something which might put off a prospective suitor, particularly one who had inherited Jesmond House, drawled languidly, ‘But you are recovering a little from the shock of your poor husband’s death, are you not, Caro dear? Your health was feared for then, but I gather that you are doing much more than you were.’
He turned to Jess, smiling his crocodile smile. ‘Dear Georgie has been a real tower of strength—so strong and commanding—everyone takes heed of her. Such a boon while Caro has not been up to snuff.’
Well, the strong and commanding bit was true enough, thought Jess, remembering Georgie’s reaction to his well-meant advice. It was plain that she lacked poor Caro’s sensibilities.
Georgie did not return until supper was over and the rest of the party was seated again in the drawing room, waiting for the tea board to appear. She had had enough of watching Caro charm Jess and had decided that seated on poor Annie’s bed, reading her a fairy story, and occasionally comforting her, was a better way to spend the evening than in mouthing sweet nothings to persons she did not like.
Unfortunately, in the middle of the second story Annie fell into a happy sleep, leaving Georgie with no choice than to return to the drawing room where she sat, mumchance, watching Caro and Jess try to charm one another.
She soon realised, though, that Jess was not engaged in mouthing sweet nothings. His apparently idle remarks were intended to winkle information out of both Caro and Sir Garth without appearing to do so.
Caro was discoursing animatedly about Banker Bowlby and his pretensions. ‘Had it not been for the untimely deaths of both my father-in-law and then my husband,’ she was declaiming pathetically, ‘Mr Bowlby would not be such a prominent person in Netherton. He quite
