THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER NINE

                                  CHAPTER NINE

Eleanor had not expected the dinner conversation to be at all diverting, having already learned that the Archbishop was no conversationalist, being addicted to biblical and Latin quotes of considerable length. Lord Birkett had no other topic than the lamentable reluctance of his tenants to pay their rents.

    She was therefore pleased when Major Warburton showed the he meant to include her in the animated conversation at the other end of the table.

    ‘My sister tells me that you are to be chaperone to my nieces, Miss Wellesley, but I swear you are too handsome for that chore.’

    Eleanor glanced across at him, her blue eyes flashing, convinced that he was laughing at her. His sister had probably also enlightened him on the disastrous and distressing weeks with Lady Constance.

    ‘And I swear it would be immodest of me to reply to your observation, sir,’ Eleanor said with a touch of asperity.

    His smile faded at her tone. ‘I assure you, Miss Wellesley, I meant no offence. In my experience chaperones are elderly ladies with little to recommend them.’

    ‘How are matters at Falsworth Grange, Warburton?’ Lord Birkett enquired, cutting across the exchange in his usual booming tones. ‘Upon my word, I believe I have the most whining scoundrels for tenants that any man could have.’

    The Major’s astute green gaze lingered on Eleanor before he made an answer. She lowered her glance, suddenly ashamed of her sharp tone.

    ‘Reports from Cornwall are excellent, he replied at last. ‘My estates are under the excellent management with my present bailiff, Mr Dutton. If there are problems with tenants he does not chafe me with them.’

    Eleanor fancied he spoke with careless assuredness, which stung her, and again, despite herself, she could not resist the challenge he presented.

    ‘And you have no inclination to enquire of your tenants’ welfare, Major Warburton,’ she exclaimed. Her heart still ached at what had befallen her father’s tenants. ‘Great harm may be done in the absence of the landowner, who has an obligation.’

    She hesitated, flushing as she realised all eyes were upon her. Major Warburton would probably consider that she was behaving in a very unladylike manner, especially in view of her position in the household.

    ‘My dear Eleanor,’ Lord Birkett boomed with a superior air. ‘How could you possibly understand anything in the way of tenants?’

    ‘I support Miss Wellesley,’ the Major announced surprisingly. ‘I was a guest of the Earl of Leicester at the Holkam Sheep Sheerings this year. He is making great strides forward in the breeding of fat cattle for Smithfield, and he believes in stimulating enterprise amongst his tenants by offering long leases on moderate terms.’

    ‘Coke’s Clippings!’ Lord Birkett sneered deprecatingly. ‘Coke is making nothing more than a business of it. Disgraceful!’

    ‘I was much impressed,’ Major Warburton persisted strongly. ‘So much so that I am resolved to follow his schemes at Falsworth.’

    Lady Susan gave a light laugh. ‘If you can tear yourself away from your London cronies, not to mention your light’o’love, Mrs V,’ she remarked teasingly. ‘I can’t see you burying yourself in Cornwall. You’ll die of loneliness.’

    Eleanor flicked a surprised glance at Major Warburton to gauge his reaction to his sister’s somewhat outrageous taunt. She felt a sudden and unaccountable falling of her spirits. So, there was a lady in the picture after all; a mysterious Mrs V.