Joanna to visit her.
‘If I set out on the stage for Lincoln,’ Joanna reasoned out loud, ‘there is sure to be a point where I can change and go to Wisbech, and everyone will think I am with Grace. And when they realise I am not, I will have vanished into East Anglia without a trace.’ She added, Georgy, Wisbech, to her list.
Or would her mama suspect she was with Georgy? No, for Mama never asked to see her letters from her school friends and Joanna doubted she even knew Georgy’s married name. Something she had just thought touched a chord of memory. East Anglia… Aunt Caroline, of course! Her father’s youngest sister, the sister no one was allowed to mention, the one who had made a scandalous marriage.
But Joanna had once overheard a conversation between her parents that she had not dared ask about, yet had never forgotten.
‘I am sorry, my dear,’ her mother had said firmly. ‘But she is your sister when all is said and done, and despite the scandal I will continue to write once a year at Christmas to enquire after her health and to tell her news of the family.’
‘The affair nearly killed Papa,’ her own father had replied harshly. ‘Is she the sort of woman you wish our Grace and Joanna to associate with?’
‘Nonsense,’ Mama had replied calmly. ‘Writing to offer Christmas wishes will not expose our girls to scandal or bad influences. You must do Caro justice, my dear. Has she ever attempted to return to London from East Anglia or to call here?’
Her father’s muttered response was inaudible and Joanna, guiltily aware that she had been eavesdropping, had left the study door and had walked on. But somewhere in East Anglia she had a disgraced and scandalous aunt. Would she understand? Could Joanna talk to her and find someone who could counsel her?
But how to find her? Joanna thought hard, then realised that if her mother was writing to Aunt Caroline, then she probably had her direction in her remembrancer where she noted all her addresses, birthdays and other important lists. She got up, opened the door on to the dark and silent house, and went downstairs.
Three days after Joanna’s disastrous masquerade party, Giles Gregory turned his match greys neatly into Half Moon Street, sensing his spirits lift perceptibly as he saw the smart black front door of the Tasboroughs’ town house in front of him.
He felt heartsore, anxious and hurt, and the thought of Hebe’s warm common sense and Alex’s astringent comradeship had seemed like a beacon on the journey from his family home in the Vale of Aylesbury. He had crossed with them journeying up to town from their Hertfordshire estate when he had made his painfully short visit to his parents and, instead of finding refuge at Tasborough, had had to drive back to London to seek out his friends.
He handed the reins to his groom and jumped down. ‘Take them ’round to the mews, Mellors, and tell his lordship’s man that I am expecting to stay for a day or two. If that is not convenient, come back and let me know and you can take them to the livery stables, but I do not expect the earl has brought more than his carriage horses and one hack up for a short stay.’
The man drove competently away down the street and Giles took the front steps in two long strides. The door was opened by Starling, the family butler, who permitted himself a small smile on seeing who was there.
‘Colonel Gregory. It is a pleasure to see you again, sir, if I may be so bold. His lordship is out, but her ladyship is in the Blue Room. She is not generally receiving, but I will venture to say she will be at home to you, sir, if you would care to go up. Will you be staying? Your usual room is free.’
‘Thank you, Starling.’ Giles handed him his hat and gloves. ‘I hope Lady Tasborough will not object to a house guest for a night or two.’
He made his way up to the elegant room on the first floor which was Hebe’s favourite retiring room, and opened the door. ‘May I come in?’
‘Giles!’ She was lying propped up against a pile of cushions on a chaise longue, a wide smile of delighted welcome on her face.
He strode across to her side, warmed by her delight. There were times when he wondered if he would ever find someone like his friend’s wife, someone whom he could love as Alex loved Hebe, someone who would love him back with such passionate devotion.
‘Good grief, Lady Tasborough!’ He stopped in front of her, his mouth curving into a warm, teasing, smile. ‘Just when is this child due? I give you fair warning, I have delivered one baby in my time, and it is not an experience I am willing to repeat.’
Hebe held out her arms to him, giggling as he attempted to kiss her across the bump. Sheets of notepaper scattered unregarded to the carpet. ‘It isn’t due for six weeks, Giles, so you need not be alarmed. Have you truly delivered a baby? Whose was it?’
‘The wife of one of the men. The father fainted, the doctor was away cutting some poor man’s leg off, there was not another woman in sight, so it was down to me.’ He grinned at her affectionately. This felt like coming home. ‘Six weeks? Are you sure it isn’t twins?’
‘Oh!’ Hebe stared at him wide-eyed. ‘Surely not? There are none in either family as far as I know, and it does follow, does it not?’
‘I think so. I’m only teasing you. How are you, Hebe? I am surprised to find you in town just now.’
‘I am well, only so tired of feeling like a whale. I cannot recall when I last saw my feet. But never mind me, what are you doing here? Can you stay until we go back to Tasborough? Please do, we would love that so much.’
‘Are you sure? It won’t be difficult at the moment?’
‘Not at all, and you will distract Alex and stop him fretting about me. I am in disgrace because I will not see any of the fashionable accoucheurs, which is the excuse I gave for coming up the other day. Alex says if all I want to do is shop, then I must go straight back to the country and rest. But we are here for another two days at any rate.’ She settled herself against her cushions and watched him with her wide grey eyes steady on his face. ‘The decanters are over there. Pour yourself a drink, then come and sit down beside me.’
Giles did as he was bid, dropping on to a footstool beside the chaise and settling himself comfortably. ‘Now, tell me what is wrong, Giles,’ she commanded.
‘Wrong?’ He shifted so that he was sitting with his back against the side of the chaise, his face turned from her.
‘Yes, wrong.’ Hebe rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. ‘You look as though someone has been kicking you—spiritually, I mean.’
Giles put up his own hand and covered hers. ‘Clever Hebe. That is exactly how I feel. I went home to Buckinghamshire two days ago because Mother has been writing to say that she is worried about Father. The doctor thinks he had some kind of seizure last month, now one side of his face is stiff and he is limping. Denies there is anything wrong, of course.’
‘How old is the General?’
‘Only sixty, but he’s had a tough life. Wounded at least six times, broken bones, yellow fever. He was never the kind of officer who stayed back at headquarters in comfort. Now he’s getting tired, but he will not admit it, and that’s a big estate for one man to manage. If I had a younger brother…’
‘So you came home to see him?’ Hebe curled her fingers within his and gave an encouraging squeeze.
‘Yes. I did not want to rush straight there as soon as I arrived in the country or he would suspect why I came home. My idea was to see for myself how he did, and, if he really looked bad, to sell out. I thought I’d try horse breeding and at the same time take over some of the estate management. Nothing too much at first, just the bits that really bore and tire him.’
‘And gradually he would let you do more and more and he would never have to admit he couldn’t cope?’
‘Yes.