The Louise Allen Collection. Louise AllenЧитать онлайн книгу.
mind at all if you borrow whatever you need.’
A bath and clean, pretty clothes restored Joanna’s spirits and she sat down to breakfast ravenously hungry. ‘I do beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she apologised when she realised she had finished the entire plate of toast, ‘but I have eaten hardly anything since I left home but a meat pie at Biggleswade, and that made me ill.’
‘Ah, yes, your home.’ Mrs Gedding refilled her tea cup. ‘The Colonel has written to your parents, and I have added a note. I have left the package open, so if you would like to add something of your own we will get it sealed up and off to Peterborough to catch the post as soon as may be.’
‘Oh. Yes. Thank you.’ Joanna bit her lip. She had meant to be with Georgy at least two days ago, with a reassuring message on its way to London as soon as she arrived—without any direction for finding her, of course. ‘I should never have done it,’ she blurted out, suddenly acutely conscious of the anxiety she must have caused. ‘I was so miserable and confused. I cannot imagine what you must think of me.’
‘That you were very unhappy, Joanna dear, and not thinking very clearly,’ Mrs Gedding said prosaically. ‘We all do stupid and thoughtless things at least once in our lives. Now, in his letter the Colonel has explained a little of what has happened—not the worst of it, naturally—and has told your parents that he must stay a day or so until the evidence is all collected together and you have rested. I have promised your mama that I will look after you and that we will find you a suitable chaperon before you travel back to London. All that remains for you to do is to rest and get stronger. But write your note first.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Joanna said meekly. The letter was hard to compose. In the end she managed a few lines to say how sorry she was, and that she was quite safe and that Mrs Gedding was very kind. But it was more than she was capable of to apologise for running away before Lord Clifton called to make his offer. The ink was blotted here and there with large teardrops, but she did not want to ask for more good notepaper and she hoped Mama would recognise tears of real regret.
Her hostess was bustling about with lists when she brought her the note. When it was sealed with the others and the groom dispatched with it, she asked politely if there was anything she could do to help.
‘It won’t do you any good to sit and brood, will it, my dear? No, I did not think it would. But you must not exert yourself too much yet.’ Mrs Gedding thought for a while then said, ‘I know, pot-pourri. Come along.’
Joanna found herself shown out into the back garden, a basket over her arm and a pair of scissors in her hand. ‘Oh, how beautiful!’
The garden was a mass of roses, of old-fashioned flowers, of weeping trees and winding paths scythed through the grass. The scent was magical and almost took her breath away.
‘I love it,’ said Mrs Gedding simply. ‘It has taken me twenty years to make it look as though it just happened by accident. Not many people appreciate it.’
‘It is Sleeping Beauty’s garden,’ Joanna declared. ‘Is there a turret hidden in the midst of it?’
‘No, but that is an excellent idea. I must ask Mr Gedding to have one built as a summer house. Now, my dear, the sun has dried the dew off the roses, so if you will be so good as to start picking heads from the ones that are just open, they will be perfect for drying.’
Joanna spent an idyllic morning exploring the garden. The maid brought out a chair and a rug and some larger baskets and she wandered up and down the paths, snipping rose heads into her basket, smelling the other scented bushes, thinking about the perfect place to position Sleeping Beauty’s turret. Occasionally she would tip her basket into the bigger one by the chair and sit and rest for a little.
Mrs Gedding came out with some lemonade and they talked of their families and the contrast between village and town life, then her hostess went back inside and Joanna sat, surrounded by her baskets brimming with roses, and finally let herself think about the previous day.
She probed her memory like someone exploring a sore tooth, very cautiously, wincing as she realised just how careless and gullible she had been and what dreadful danger she had escaped. Giles’s words of praise were balm to her self-esteem, but her conscience continued to prick her when she thought of her parents’ anxiety.
And how, of all the miracles, had it been Giles who had found her? On the thought he appeared from the back door, carrying a chair and a folding table, the maid with a loaded tray behind him.
‘Hello.’ Joanna’s heart gave a sudden, hard thud and she found that all she could do was to smile back at him. ‘Mrs Gedding thought we might like to picnic out here. The Squire has come back to arrange for a clerk to assist us this afternoon: there is so much paper we are unearthing that we are going to have to get it listed and ordered before we can start to make sense of it all, let alone mount a court case.’ He set down the chair and unfolded the table. ‘May I sit down?’
‘Oh, yes, of course, I am sorry, my wits are gone a-wandering.’ He looked exactly as she remembered him from London. This morning she had been half-afraid that it was all a delusion and it wasn’t the real Giles. Now, sitting beside him, watching the dappled shade from the tree cast patterns over his dark blond hair and returning the smile that crinkled the corners of his grey eyes, she knew he was real and a ridiculous, hopeless wave of love swept over her.
‘Gi…Colonel Gregory…’
‘Giles will do very well, Joanna.’ He leaned forward and poured two glasses of lemonade. ‘How are you today?’
‘Much better than I deserve,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I cannot thank you enough. I was praying for a miracle, and there you were! But I do not understand how you came to find me.’
‘Well, your father is laid up with gout and your mama hurried round to the Tasboroughs’ town house in a fine state of alarm, as you might expect, hoping that Alex would be there. But, of course, she had not stopped to think about Hebe’s condition. Fortunately I was staying and I knew Alex would not want to leave his wife, so I offered to hunt you down. You gave me a fair run for my money.’ He lifted a plate and offered it to her. ‘Ham? A slice of bread and butter? Or I think that is a slice of raised pie…’
‘Ham and bread, please.’ Joanna cut up her food, thinking over what Giles had said. ‘Hebe is well?’
‘Oh, perfectly, but she doesn’t rest as much as she should, and I put the idea into Alex’s head that she is expecting twins, so you can imagine the state he is in. I should imagine he and your mama between them are exercising Hebe’s powers to calm and reassure to the utmost.’
Joanna digested this information, decided she could not possibly ask why Giles thought Hebe was expecting twins and said, ‘How lucky you were still in London. I thought I heard someone say you had gone to see your father. Is the General well?’
Giles shrugged and Joanna saw the anxiety in his eyes, although he kept his voice light when he said, ‘Not entirely. He does too much, will not admit he is not in the best of health and drives my mother distracted.’
‘But you came back to town despite that?’ Joanna bit her lip, wondering if she had overstepped the mark and was being intrusively curious, but Giles did not appear to find her question impertinent.
‘We had a blazing row and he disinherited me,’ he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
‘Oh, Giles! How dreadful!’ Joanna’s bread and butter dropped to the plate unheeded as she stared at him. ‘But why on earth?’
‘I told him I intend to sell out. Oh, and there is the question of my marriage, of course.’
‘Giles, you should not jest about it,’ Joanna said, shaken to the core. ‘Of course you are not going to sell out. Why, you are going to be a general—’
‘Not you, too!’ He got up and took two angry strides across the grass, then turned back with a shake of the head. ‘I am sorry, Joanna, I did not mean to shout at you. My