Fenella Miller - A Country Mouse

Emily stretched out her aching limbs, for it had been so long since she had last ridden her body was protesting, and settled down. Her only recourse was to try and sleep the hours away. Unfortunately her dreams were not happy. She spent the entire night being pursued by irate persons of varying ages and sizes but all of them, without exception, possessed a pair of startlingly blue eyes.

*  *  *

Sebastian watched Emily walk away and, in spite of his disgust at her total disregard for the acceptable proprieties, he felt a small measure of admiration at her courage. He pushed himself away from the fence and. ignoring the speculative stares of the staff, strolled off in the direction of the house. He found himself grinning as he pictured his cousin riding his horse so superbly; he was forced to admit that he had never seen a better female rider and neither were there many men who could manage a spirited stallion like Sultan the way she had.

He had accepted her inappropriate challenge expecting her to renege, giving him the welcome opportunity to administer a sharp set-down. If he had thought for a moment that she actually intended to ride, astride, in her walking dress, he would never have agreed. Now she had disgraced herself in front of half the outside staff. A lady would never have exposed herself to such ridicule, even to prove a point.

He shuddered to think what the earl would say when he heard, as inevitably he would, about her exploits. And the wretched girl's poor mother, what of her? She was obviously unwell; would her daughter's unpardonable behaviour cause Lady Althea to suffer a relapse?

He stopped. It was as though someone had thrown an icy bucket of water over his head. How could he be castigating his cousin when the entire episode was entirely his fault? She could not have ridden if he had not only agreed, but actively given her the assistance she needed to mount.

He felt his face suffuse with unaccustomed shame. What had come over him? He was a diplomat, renowned for his level headedness and sharp intellect, but he had allowed himself to be drawn into an appalling escapade solely because his pride had been dented.

He swore, vilely, to himself, and lashed out at a nearby pedestal upon which a shiny marble cherub rested. The agonizing pain that shot up his foot was enough to bring him to his senses. It was his fault. He had somehow to make amends. He was a gentleman and he could not allow his cousin to be blamed for something that was his responsibility. For her to lose her good name would be intolerable, he could see that now. But how he was to save her from certain ruin he had not the slightest notion.

The earl explained to him his only course of action, in no uncertain terms. “Good God, boy, this is a disaster! It is of your making, what were you thinking of? Word of Emily's exploits will be all over the county by morning. Your stupid behaviour has ruined the reputation of an unspoiled country miss. She did not know that what she proposed would destroy her. You certainly did.”

Sebastian almost hung his head. He had not felt so wretched since he was a schoolboy and been reprimanded for a childish prank. How was it possible that a dowdy, beanpole of a chit, had caused him to behave so badly when enraged Prussian generals had failed to move him?

“I accept full responsibility for the incident, sir. It should never have happened. I know that. It was inexcusable of me to allow my cousin to ride astride, in public, improperly dressed.”

His great-grandfather snorted. “Are you trying to imply, sir, that if she had been wearing a habit and ridden in private that such a display would have been acceptable?”

“No, of course, I am not. I just meant...” he stopped, there was nothing to say. He was guilty as charged and ready to do whatever it took to put things right. If Sebastian had seen his grandfather's satisfied smile whilst he was staring morosely at his boots, he might have been more alert. Might have reacted more quickly, been able to extricate himself from the trap.

“And I have your word that you are prepared to do whatever it takes to remedy the situation?”

“Yes, sir, you have.”

“Very well; you have no alternative, you must offer for Emily. The only way her reputation can be salvaged is by becoming your fiancé. People will forgive what takes place between a betrothed couple, however outlandish it might be.”

Sebastian's head shot up, his eyes wide, his complexion white. He met the implacable stare and knew he had no choice. “I agree, my lord. I will offer for her tomorrow.”

“Well done, my boy; you have made the right decision.” The Earl of Westerham left, chuckling happily, leaving the prospective bridegroom sitting, head in his hands, in total misery. It was not just Emily's life that had been ruined by his stupidity, he had also ruined his own. 

The late September sun poured through the window bathing the room in golden light. Emily didn't notice. She was preparing herself to brave the outside world, to face the inevitable sniggers and sneers from the hundreds of Westerham staff who knew, even better than its occupants, exactly how a lady should behave.

The mantle clock struck eight. Was it too early to venture down in search of sustenance? She hoped she would feel more confident when her hunger was satisfied, but she doubted it.

“Jenny, do you think there is any food put out in the breakfast parlour?”

“Shall I go down and find out, miss? You don't want to have a wasted journey.”

Whist she waited for her maid's return Emily paced the room quite unaware what an attractive picture she presented. Her normally pale cheeks were prettily flushed, her eyes sparkled and the sun shone in her russet hair. But although the small waist and flowing skirt of her sage green dress flattered her, even to the most partial of viewers, she was over thin. The front of her bodice was little fuller than the back.

“They are putting out the chafing dishes now, miss. His lordship likes to break his fast early, I am told.”

“Thank you, Jenny. I will go down. I have to face him sometime, I suppose.”

A footman sprung to attention at her approach, barely hiding his smile. He opened the parlour door with an exaggerated flourish and showed her in.

*  *  *

The room was not empty. Viscount Yardley was at that very moment piling his plate high with a mixture of sliced ham, coddled eggs and field mushrooms. He had had little sleep and his face was drawn and grey. When he heard the door open he looked up, his expression irritated. This instantly changed to absolute horror when he saw who had interrupted him. Was there to be no respite? Surely a condemned man could be allowed to eat his last meal in peace?

*  *  *

Emily saw his expression and instantly her hackles rose. In her long, mostly sleepless, night she had come to the same conclusion as her grandfather. She would not be in this mess if it was not for the man staring so rudely at her. She was tempted to retreat and leave him to eat his meal in peace but she was famished and, however disagreeable her cousin, she was not going to leave the room without filling her empty stomach.

Sebastian nodded, his brimming plate still in his hand, and Emily nodded back. She knew the correct etiquette was for a lady to be seated and the gentleman to wait on her. Should she sit or help herself? Her stomach gurgled alarmingly and made the decision for her.

The plates were still warm and the food smelt appetizing. Ladies didn't pile their plates but Emily didn't care; she had been half starved for the last two years and now her body craved nourishment. Ignoring her cousin she put a random selection of hot food on her plate and took it to the far end of the long dining table. Then she returned for several slices of hot toast and a large pat of freshly churned butter.

She heard what sounded suspiciously like a snort of laughter, quickly repressed, and glanced up. Sebastian was having difficulty containing his mirth.

“Is there anything else I can get you Cousin Emily? You appear to have missed out on the cold cuts and muffins.”

Emily tried to swallow her retort but it burst out of its own volition. “If you had spent the past two years living on as little as I have you would also wish to fill your plate.”

This unexpected answer caused him to swear. “Dammit, Emily, are you telling me your situation has been so dire that there was not enough food on your table?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you, sir. What little there was went to my sisters and mother first, I made do with what was left.”

He shook his head; for a moment unable to think of something appropriate to say. “I am sorry to hear that, my dear. It is almost unbelievable that your family has been in such poor circumstances when your grandfather could have provided you with everything you needed.”

Emily dived into her breakfast too hungry to answer. Only when the plate was half empty did she pause and look up. She found, to her astonishment, that instead of seeing a pair of critical blue eyes staring back at her she was on her own. Viscount Yardley had vanished. She had been so engrossed in her excellent repast, she had not heard him depart. His breakfast remained, untouched, on the buffet.

She sighed, exasperated that her Cousin Sebastian was so finicky he could not bear to see a lady eat as heartily as she did. For the second time in twenty-four hours she congratulated herself on a lucky escape; being married to such a stickler would be tedious in the extreme.