Joanna Maitland – A Poor Relation (страница 3)

A moment later, they were engulfed in laughter.

In the late afternoon, the carriage arrived at the Bell in Barnby Moor where they were to spend the night. Isabella alighted first to see that all was in order for her party, leaving Sophia, chaperoned by Mitchell, to make a more leisurely descent. Sophia was just remarking on the unusual degree of bustle in the inn-yard, when Isabella returned, grim-faced.

‘It is too vexing,’ she declared. ‘The rooms that were bespoke for us are not available, it seems. The inn is full of gentlemen, here for some sporting event about which I did not enquire. The landlord appears to have preferred the immediate custom of these gentlemen to the prior written instructions of a lady. You will please return to the carriage, Sophia, while I try to resolve matters.’

With firm tread, Isabella returned to the inn to do battle with the landlord for the promised rooms. By the time he eventually appeared, looking hot and flustered, she had been kept waiting for more than ten minutes and her patience had worn extremely thin. Her eyes had lost their usual grey-green calm to become very stormy indeed; her foot was tapping in a rhythm of irritation; and, with her threadbare clothes enhancing the effect, she knew she must appear a veritable harridan. She fully intended to make the most of it in this encounter.

The landlord, however, seemed to be in no mood to acknowledge the justice of her claim. He stated flatly that no rooms were to be had, either in his inn or for several miles around and, furthermore, that the locality was no place for ladies at present, with so large a gathering of sporting gentlemen in residence.

Isabella would have none of it.

Their heated discussion was beginning to attract the attention of the gentlemen assembled in the coffee-room behind her. Isabella could not help but notice that the level of their conversation had become muted as they listened avidly to hers but, driven by the justice of her cause, she would not be deterred. ‘Two chambers and a private parlour were bespoke for Miss Winstanley, besides accommodation for the servants. I insist they be provided immediately. If you have been so lax in your duty as to let them to some of these gentlemen, you must simply require them to move elsewhere. I shall wait here until you have made the arrangements.’

By this time, the coffee-room was almost silent. Isabella coloured a little but stood her ground, wondering whether the men now staring at her defenceless back would have been so reluctant to come to her aid if she had appeared in her normal elegant guise.

The landlord was in a quandary. ‘I’ll ask among the gen’lemen, if you wishes, ma’am, but I don’t see as ’ow I can do what you says. T’wouldn’t be right.’

‘Nor is it right to fail to undertake your commitment to two ladies,’ flashed Isabella.

The landlord shrank a little before her fiery look. His hesitant response was forestalled by the arrival of a young gentleman from the inn-yard who immediately said, ‘Landlord, you have wronged these ladies. I insist that you look to their needs—immediately!’

Isabella’s stormy gaze softened a little at the sight of the young man. His intentions were good, certainly, though they were of little practical help. And the landlord was looking thoroughly mutinous.

The landlord’s response was interrupted by movement from the coffee-room—one of the gentlemen there strode out to join the little group in the hallway.

Isabella swallowed a gasp at the sight of that tall dark figure. She recognised it at a glance. Somehow—impossibly—his powerful outline had become deeply etched in her mind.

It was her would-be rescuer—again!

Chapter Two

Isabella found herself confronting an imposing figure, dressed now in immaculate riding dress and top-boots. She was struck by a sternly handsome face, dark eyes of unfathomable depths, and curling black hair that seemed to invite a woman’s fingers to touch it. This time, she found she could not drag her gaze from his face. Suddenly, she forgot to breathe.

The newcomer paused for a moment alongside Isabella’s frozen figure, raking her from top to toe with a long, appraising glance that seemed to search out every shabby, demeaning aspect of her appearance. She felt as if he had stripped her naked. Then, with a tiny shake of his head, he simply turned away without a word.

Isabella remained motionless, though her heart was pounding now at the extent of the man’s disdain. He was dismissing her publicly. But what else could she expect? In the light of her behaviour earlier, it was hardly surprising that he would not even acknowledge her. She wanted to sink.

Isabella thought she saw the merest hint of a condescending smile on his lips when he turned away from her. In a trice, mounting fury had overcome her embarrassment. How dare he treat her so? First, he pretended to be a knight in shining armour, and then he treated her like a…like a common doxy. This was no gentleman. For no gentleman would look at a woman as he had looked at her. The man must be a libertine. A man of his stamp would doubtless prefer to gaze on women with more opulent, and visible, charms. Isabella told herself she was glad of her dowdy appearance if it protected her from a handsome ladykiller. Isabella Winstanley would never have truck with such a man.

She forced herself to assume her normal outward calm, but her wayward thoughts continued to whirl. Her heart was still racing. And the strangest feelings assailed her.

She was still trying to recover her inner composure when the tall gentleman began addressing his friend. ‘I had not pictured you in the role of knight errant, Lewiston, I must admit—but I am sure your offer will be appreciated.’

Isabella felt the colour rising in her cheeks at the slight but unmistakable emphasis in his words. Her would-be rescuer was clearly determined to make her feel thoroughly ashamed of her earlier behaviour. And he was succeeding.

He did not so much as glance in her direction as he continued, ‘I imagine you were about to offer the ladies one of our chambers and our private parlour. And without so much as a “by-your-leave”, either,’ he added wryly. ‘If I were introduced to this lady, I might be more amenable on that subject, you know.’

Isabella was hard put to hide her astonishment. The man now spoke as if he had never set eyes on her before.

Mr Lewiston’s relative youth was evident in his response, for he coloured and stammered a little, before admitting that he himself had not yet been introduced to this particular lady.

The tall gentleman immediately took charge of the discussion, turning a sudden and devastating smile on Isabella that did the strangest things to her knees, much as she steeled herself to resist. ‘I hope you will forgive my friend’s shocking want of manners, ma’am. I gather he very much desires to be of service to your party in your present difficulties…though I do not fully understand what they might be. Perhaps you could explain a little more, Miss…?’

A number of unflattering descriptions arose in Isabella’s mind, of which ‘dissembler’ was probably the least insulting. Unable to voice her opinion of him without lapsing into impropriety, she swallowed her wrath before explaining, in her best poor-relation manner, that she was Miss Winstanley, en route for London with her young cousin, Miss Sophia Winstanley. But she could not resist adding, with a touch of asperity, ‘You are, I fancy, already well acquainted with the details of our predicament, sir. The landlord’s views on our arrival must have been heard by every one of the gentlemen in the coffee-room.’

She knew she was yielding to her worst impulses by saying such a thing, but she felt so strange in the presence of this man. Somehow, she felt impelled to provoke a reaction from him.

It did not come, because the landlord could no longer contain himself. He burst into vehement self-justification. ‘My lord,’ he began, ‘you knows that this b’aint no place for ladies just now, with so many sporting gen’lemen staying here. I only—’

Isabella cringed inwardly. Good God—not merely a libertine, but a peer as well. It was worse and worse.

The landlord’s excuses were cut short by the unnamed lord. ‘However well-meant your concern, landlord, the fact remains that rooms were bespoke for this lady and you have let them elsewhere. Furthermore, it is already too late for any of your guests, male or female, to journey on in search of accommodation elsewhere.’ With a sidelong glance at Isabella which confirmed that he had indeed heard all of her discussions with the landlord, he concluded, ‘Since this lady’s instructions predate those of the sporting gentlemen, it is clear that the gentlemen must make way for the ladies. So, what do you propose, landlord?’

In truth, the landlord had nothing much to offer, since all his rooms were taken and it was not in his interest to offend the free-spending sporting guests. At length he ventured, ‘If some of the gen’lemen might be willing to share, summat might be done, p’rhaps. But I don’t know…’