Joanna Maitland - The Earl’s Mistletoe Bride

In that instant, Jon decided their behaviour was an insult to him, as well as to the lady herself. Miss Aubrey was his foundling, after all. The rector’s word should be good enough for such upstarts as the Fitzherberts. This harpy needed to be taken down a peg or two.

‘Sir Bertram will be so pleased to learn that you are back in residence at the Manor,’ Lady Fitzherbert gushed. ‘There is so little truly genteel society hereabouts.’

‘Country society can be a little restricted, to be sure,’ Jon said, as soon as she paused to draw breath. ‘But you have several families within easy driving distance. And during my absence from Fratcombe, you have had the rector and Mrs Aubrey. And Miss Aubrey, also.’ He stepped aside so that Lady Fitzherbert would see Beth lying on the sofa behind him. ‘You are already acquainted, I collect?’

‘I…er…’ Lady Fitzherbert’s nostrils flared and her lips clamped together. For several seconds, she stared down her long nose at Beth Aubrey. Then she half-turned back to Mrs Aubrey and drew herself up very straight. ‘Excuse me, I may not stay longer. Pray tell the rector, when he returns, that Sir Bertram is evicting that band of dirty gypsies who are trespassing on our land. Sir Bertram wished it to be understood that they should not be given shelter in the district. Not by anyone .’

Mrs Aubrey’s eyes narrowed dangerously, but her voice was soft. ‘I am surprised that your husband did not come himself to deliver so important an instruction.’

Lady Fitzherbert tittered. ‘Oh, Sir Bertram would never think to instruct the rector. Certainly not. Just…just a word to the wise.’

Jon had heard quite enough. ‘I am sure the rector will be properly grateful, ma’am. But as it happens, Sir Bertram’s warning is a little late. The gypsy band has leave to camp on my land at Fratcombe Manor.’

Lady Fitzherbert gasped and turned bright red. Then she swallowed hard. ‘Since the rector is not here, I shall not trouble you further, ma’am. Lord Portbury.’ She dipped another elegant curtsy to Jon, inclined her head a fraction to Mrs Aubrey and hurried out, without waiting for a servant to be summoned.

‘Well, I declare!’ Mrs Aubrey let out a long breath. Then she frowned up at Jon. ‘Since when has Fratcombe Manor offered hospitality to gypsies?’

‘It has never yet done so. I-’

‘My lord, I pray you will not allow Sir Bertram Fitzherbert to run them out of Fratcombe. He will not care what damage is done to their caravans and their horses. And there are so many helpless children-’

Jon stopped Miss Aubrey with a raised hand. His foundling was bringing him yet another problem. Now, she was prepared to plead for people who were truly outcasts from society. ‘I have said they may use my land. For a week or two, at least. I will not go back on that.’

Nor would he, unless they broke his trust. He would instruct his workers to keep a sharp eye out for thieving or damage. At the first sign of either, the gypsies would be turned off. He was cynical enough to expect it within days.

‘Thank you, my lord. I will impress on them that there must be no mischief.’

‘ You? You have dealings with the gypsies?’

She coloured a little but raised her chin defiantly. ‘I am the Fratcombe schoolmistress. I teach all the children in the district. Whoever they are.’

‘Master Jonathan, Beth goes to the gypsy camp when she can and gives lessons to the children. Just simple lettering and stories from the Bible. Even gypsies are God’s creatures.’

‘Yes,’ Jon admitted grudgingly. The rector had often preached about the Good Samaritan. Now was Jon’s chance to show that he had listened. ‘Yes, you are right, ma’am. As long as they respect the law, they will not suffer at my hands. I do not persecute waifs and strays.’

Mrs Aubrey smiled at Jon and then very warmly across at Beth. ‘No, you do not. Indeed, you rescue them. You brought us the daughter we never had.’

It was worse than he had imagined. If Beth Aubrey was a fraud, he could not expose her without hurting Mrs Aubrey. He knew he could never do that. The old lady had been like a mother to Jon when he and his brother had been at Fratcombe as boys. She had comforted Jon when his brother died. Her support had helped him to face the grief-stricken father who thought Jon a worthless replacement for his dead heir. How much had she understood of a young boy’s desperate striving to win his father’s esteem? It had never been spoken of. But she and the rector understood human failings. They would have seen how hard Jon tried, and how little he succeeded.

According to Jon’s father, an earl’s heir had to be brought up to understand his duty from the cradle, or he would never be more than a poor second best. Not that it stopped the old man from trying to thrash Jon into the mould he sought-duty, and distance, and distrust of everyone. He had almost succeeded, but he could never undermine Jon’s trust in the Aubreys. They were truly good people, probably the only ones Jon knew. And if they loved Beth…

He turned back to the sofa. ‘Has Lady Fitzherbert ever acknowledged you, ma’am?’ he asked sharply.

She coloured and looked down at her clasped hands, shaking her head.

So that insufferable woman really was trying to usurp Jon’s place in society. A set-down over the gypsies was not enough. There must be public retribution. It would be fitting to make Beth Aubrey his instrument.

‘I have a mind to hold a splendid party at the Manor, to which I shall invite all the gentry families. If you, Mrs Aubrey, would do me the honour of acting as my hostess, with your adopted daughter by your side, we shall teach all our stiff-rumped neighbours to treat Miss Aubrey with proper respect.’

‘Oh, but you cannot,’ Beth breathed.

‘I can. And I will, if Mrs Aubrey agrees. Do you approve, ma’am?’

Mrs Aubrey twinkled at him. ‘I do, Master Jonathan. It will succeed, I am sure, for there is not one great house that would turn down an invitation from the Earl of Portbury. Even if the price is to acknowledge Miss Elizabeth Aubrey.’

He took the old lady’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘We have a bargain, then.’

The conspiracy was sealed between her benefactress and her rescuer. Beth had had no say at all. It seemed she was still to be treated like a parcel. ‘I may develop a most inconvenient headache on the day of this party, my lord,’ she said tightly.

‘I pray you will do no such thing, ma’am.’ He rose to fetch a hard chair from the wall by the door, and set it down by the head of the sofa where Beth lay. Sitting down, he took her left hand in both of his. His clasp was gentle and reassuring. She felt calluses on his palm from riding and fencing. This was no sprig of fashion but a man of action. ‘Perhaps you could think of it, not as revenge on petty coxcombs, but as a favour for Mr and Mrs Aubrey? They have sheltered you, and accepted you as if you were a member of their own family. It is an insult to them that some of the local gentry have cut you. By agreeing to this, by attending my party and showing your strength of character, you will be repaying something of what you owe the Aubreys. Can you not see that?’

Beth could now see precious little. Her vision was blurry, as if she were trying to see through a howling gale. The touch of his skin on hers was flooding her whole body with heat, making her heart swell and race. She was terrified by his proposal, yet at the same time she felt light-headed, as if she might float away. When she tried to speak, no words came out.

‘Miss Beth? Will you not agree? For Mrs Aubrey’s sake?’

She had no choice. ‘I will do what you ask,’ she said, in a rather strangled whisper.