Regency High Society Vol 3. Elizabeth Rolls

Caroline continued, smiling faintly at this blatant sarcasm, ‘Richard did furnish me with one tale about the Major that he’d heard from a fellow officer. Seemingly, appalling atrocities took place after our troops were successful in storming Badajoz. Major Ross, by all accounts, offered his protection to the wife of some French officer. I do not know all the details, you understand, because Richard didn’t consider it a suitable topic to discuss in my company. Nevertheless, what he did disclose was sufficient to convince me that any gentleman who would put his life at risk to protect a lady’s virtue must be a very honourable man. Which makes me wonder whether what you were told about him years ago was completely true.’

      ‘We do not know for certain that the story of his heroism at Badajoz is true either,’ Katherine pointed out. ‘You know how these tales are much embellished in the retelling.’

      ‘Mama was talking with him a good deal at the party. We could always ask her if she knows anything about his exploits,’ Caroline suggested, just as the door opened, and Mrs Wentworth herself entered the parlour.

      Although Katherine had no wish to engage in a discussion about someone whom for years she had been happy to stigmatise as a heartless lecher, her cousin, evidently, was not of a similar mind, for Caroline hardly waited for her mother to settle herself comfortably in a chair, before she asked outright whether she was well acquainted with the gallant Major.

      ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, dear,’ Mrs Wentworth responded, reaching for her embroidery. ‘When I left Dorsetshire to marry your father, Daniel was merely a boy, no more than six or seven, though I do remember his father very well. Edwin Ross was such a charming gentleman, and extremely astute. And Daniel, I feel, has grown into his image in both looks and character.’

      Somehow managing to suppress a snort, Katherine made a supreme effort to concentrate on the book lying open on her lap, and ignore the ensuing conversation between mother and daughter. Unfortunately she was only moderately successful, and one interesting disclosure had her and her equally astonished cousin exchanging startled glances.

      ‘I didn’t realise that Major Ross was Grandpapa’s godson,’ she freely admitted.

      ‘Oh, yes, dear,’ her aunt confirmed. ‘Your grandfather and Edwin Ross had been friends since boyhood, and Daniel was very fond of dear Papa. Papa frequently mentioned in the letters he wrote how much he missed his godson’s visits when Daniel went out to India.’

      This appeared to capture Caroline’s attention in a big way, for she immediately set aside her sewing. ‘Major Ross has been to India? Oh, what exciting lives gentlemen lead!’

      ‘I do not know whether Daniel himself found the experience so very rewarding,’ her mother countered, ‘in view of what took place during his absence.’

      Although Katherine doggedly refused to betray further interest, she was not unduly sorry when her cousin demanded to know what precisely had happened during Daniel’s travels abroad.

      ‘His father passed away just a year after Daniel had set sail for India. Although his uncle, Sir Joshua Ross, did write promptly, informing him of the tragic news, it quite naturally took some time before the letter reached him. And if that was not bad enough, when the poor boy did eventually return, it was to discover that his childhood sweetheart, Julia Melrose, had married Sir Joshua’s son Simon just a few months before.’

      ‘Oh, poor Major Ross!’ Caroline exclaimed, and Katherine, much to her surprise, found herself experiencing a twinge of sympathy too, and could not resist asking whether there had ever been anything official between them.

      Lavinia Wentworth shook her head. ‘I do not believe Julia’s parents were averse to a match. Daniel, after all, was the son of a wealthy landowner, and therefore quite eligible. I believe the Melroses considered that it wouldn’t hurt to wait a year or two before giving their consent to a marriage. Daniel himself had only just turned twenty when he set sail for India. I suppose he considered it would occupy his time until he could officially ask for Julia’s hand.’

      Caroline cast a puzzled glance across at her mother. ‘But if Julia Melrose was truly in love with Daniel, why on earth did she agree to marry Simon Ross?’

      ‘That I couldn’t say, my dear. I do know that Julia, Simon and Daniel had known one another all their lives and had frequently played together as children, but from what I have gleaned over the years from the many friends I still have living in the area, Julia always showed a preference for Daniel’s company. Most people, including your grandfather, expected them to tie the knot one day.’ She shrugged. ‘One can only imagine pressure was brought to bear on Miss Melrose to marry Simon. After all, he was the one who had been destined to hold the title, not Daniel.’

      Mrs Wentworth sighed and shook her head. ‘Whether the marriage was happy or not, I couldn’t say, but it certainly proved fruitful. Julia gave birth to a son some five or six years ago, if I remember correctly. One cannot help but feel saddened that the union was brought to an abrupt end. Simon Ross, sadly, was killed whilst hunting in the Shires.’

      ‘Which leaves the field now open for the Major, as it were,’ Katherine remarked, with just a touch of cynicism that made her aunt smile.

      ‘It is certainly a possibility that their love will rekindle,’ her aunt acknowledged. ‘He has, so I understand, never betrayed the least interest in marrying anyone else, even though his name has been linked with several—er—females over the years.’

      Out of the corner of her eye Katherine saw her cousin glance in her direction, as though expecting her, now that the opportunity had arisen, to pass some remark, and she swiftly decided not to disappoint her. ‘I clearly remember that, when I resided in Dorsetshire for those few short months, Captain Ross, as he was then, betrayed an interest in a close neighbour of Grandpapa’s—Helen Rushton.’

      ‘Helen Rushton?’ her aunt echoed, frowning slightly. Then her brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I remember—Hermi-one Rushton’s girl!’ The frown returned. ‘Are you positive he was interested in her, Katherine? She must have been a mere child at the time.’

      ‘She was seventeen.’

      Mrs Wentworth’s expressive brows rose this time. ‘Yes, I suppose she must have been. So very sad, her dying so young. I remember Mrs Rushton very well—a sweet woman, but something of a dreamer and not very bright. I recall your grandfather mentioning once that Helen had become very like her mother.’

      Until that moment Katherine had never considered that Helen had been very immature for her years. Looking back now, however, she was silently forced to own that her friend had been something of a dreamer and might well have imagined that Daniel Ross had been betraying an interest in her.

      Swiftly thrusting this traitorous thought aside, she said, ‘I also recall, Aunt, that he was displaying marked attention towards a young widow in the locale.’

      ‘Very likely, my dear. He could only have been twenty-three or-four at the time. I doubt his intentions were serious. Gentlemen rarely are at that age. And you must remember he had suffered a grievous blow over Julia Melrose. When I spoke to him at the party I gained the distinct impression that he is more than ready to settle down now, however. He is quite wealthy, so should have no difficulty in finding himself a wife.’

      Caroline’s soft brown eyes glowed with a distinctly hopeful look. ‘Although it is unlikely that Major Ross will ever inherit the title, it is not impossible that he and his childhood sweetheart might one day find happiness together.’

      Whether or not it was because she had never fallen in love herself, or that she simply didn’t possess her cousin’s romantic streak, Katherine was not sure, but her interest had already swiftly begun to wane. The ex-Major’s present romantic inclinations were of absolutely no interest to her. Consequently she experienced no compunction whatsoever in changing the subject by voicing something which was of far more concern to her, if a trifle mundane.

      ‘I sincerely hope the weather improves by tomorrow. I do not relish the prospect of returning all the way to Bath in the pouring rain.’