by Anne Ashley
Once the inn servant had been dispatched to collect a further cup and her unexpected visitor had himself comfortably seated at the table, Ruth didn’t hesitate to assure him that he was most welcome to share her carriage. Which resulted in not the expected words of gratitude, only the severest look of masculine disapproval she’d ever received in her life.
‘I suspected almost from the first that your experience of the world was severely limited, Miss Harrington, but I never realised until now just how green a girl you are!’
More amused than chastened by the rebuke, it took every ounce of control Ruth possessed not to laugh. ‘Hardly a girl, sir,’ she pointed out, after regaining sufficient control. ‘I shall take leave to inform you that I’ve now turned six-and-tw—’
‘It matters not a whit how many years you have in your dish, Miss Harrington,’ Hugo interrupted, having easily detected the slight twitching of that sweetly shaped feminine mouth. ‘You’re still an unmarried woman and, as such, are considered by the polite world to be totally ill equipped to go jaunting about the country on your own.
‘And it’s no earthly good you pointing out the fact that you’re travelling with your maid,’ he continued, when she was about to do just that. ‘Admirable creature though she undoubtedly is, your abigail would be insufficient to protect you from the vicious spite of our censorious world should it become known that you travelled in a closed carriage all the way to London with a gentleman who was not a near relative. You would need a respectable duenna for such a purpose. And as there’s no time to engage the services of such a creature, it is better by far that we travel separately.’
Ruth wasn’t at all sure whose reputation he was attempting to protect—hers, or his own. Although she would certainly appreciate his escort for the duration of the journey, the last thing in the world she would ever wish to do was place him in a position whereby he felt honour-bound to offer her the protection of his name. No—unthinkable!
‘Sir, please do not imagine I’m ungrateful, but—but unless you have personal business of your own to conduct, I do not perfectly understand the need for you to travel to London. It isn’t my intention to place myself in any danger, I assure you. Moreover, I’ve the protection of the post-boys, and shall put up at the very best inns for the duration of the journey.’
Hugo favoured her with a half-mocking, half-sceptical look. ‘Life can hold many pitfalls for the seasoned traveller, let alone the innocently unwary, Miss Harrington. That apart, I’m not merely making the journey for your benefit, but for mine also. We are now of one mind and believe that something untoward occurred at Dunsterford Hall during the early hours of that fateful October day. And I, let me remind you, was among those temporarily residing there. I’m convinced, now, that you’re not the guilty party. And I’ve every intention of proving, beyond doubt, my own innocence.’
Ruth was about to assure him that she had never supposed it could be otherwise, when Agatha’s surprising squeal of indignation not only checked the assertion before it had reached her lips, but also succeeded in capturing Hugo’s wholehearted attention.
‘I’ll take leave to tell you, sir, that Miss Ruth isn’t capable of doing such a wicked thing!’ The maid resembled nothing so much as a ruffled hen determined to protect her young. ‘A sweeter, more kinder-hearted young woman you could never meet, nor work for, neither!’
‘Aggie...please!’ Ruth begged, touched by the display of staunch loyalty, while feeling highly embarrassed about it as well.
‘Your devotion to your mistress does you great credit,’ Hugo assured her, the sincerity in his voice belied somewhat by his expression of comical dismay.
Although he was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a fashion, at least not by a servant, he could not find it within him to be offended, or even remotely angry. If anything, he was reassured by the outburst, because it only went to substantiate what his instincts had already begun to tell him—that, in this unsophisticated country wench, he just might have found himself a surprising ally.
Consequently, he decided then and there to attempt to build a mutually beneficial relationship with the maid. ‘However, at the risk of causing further offence,’ he went on, after deciding she would appreciate honesty more than tact, ‘it must be pointed out that your mistress had most to gain by Lady Beatrice’s demise.’
‘It’s true, Aggie,’ Ruth hurriedly concurred, before she could be embarrassed further by her maid’s unguarded tongue. ‘Colonel Prentiss is only giving voice to what most everyone would believe if—er—certain details about Lady Beatrice’s death ever came to light.’
‘But I now firmly believe,’ Hugo continued, just as though Ruth hadn’t spoken, ‘that your present mistress is completely innocent of any wrongdoing and that someone in the house that night had a far greater motive for putting a period to Lady Beatrice’s life—and that motive lies somewhere hidden in your late mistress’s past. Just how far back we’ll be obliged to search, of course, remains to be seen. But I think we can safely assume that the incident she witnessed involving two persons on a cliff walk didn’t occur during those years she spent in Somerset.
‘Ha! Fresh coffee!’ Hugo added as the inn servant re-entered, thereby putting an end to further discussion for the present.
* * *
Surprisingly enough, during the following days, as they made the journey in separate carriages towards the capital, the subject was seldom touched upon again, not even when they ate alone together in private parlours. The journey took longer than expected, with instances of horses losing shoes, and even a broken trace, delaying their arrival.
Ruth didn’t care a jot that they were obliged to enjoy each other’s company for longer than expected. Quite the opposite! Travelling about the country was a novel experience for her—exciting and educational. Moreover, that wonderful, easy camaraderie they had enjoyed from the first had so rapidly intensified that when Hugo had suggested they cease unnecessary formality, at least when in private, she found it the most natural thing in the world to call him by his given name, just as though they had known each other for years.
For his part Hugo, too, had found himself enjoying the trip. He supposed he’d grown so accustomed to travelling long distances during his adult life that the exercise of journeying to one’s own capital had long since lost the charm of novelty. Surprisingly enough, though, seasoned campaigner that he’d become during his army career, even he had found himself easily imbued by his sweet companion’s natural enthusiasm for life.
Seeing his country through new eyes had somehow rejuvenated him, had succeeded in sweeping aside the cynical, world-weary mantle that had increasingly threatened to shroud him at certain times in recent years. Not since the heady, irresponsible days of his youth had he felt so carefree, had he derived so much enjoyment from the simple pleasures in life. And it hadn’t been too difficult to pinpoint the precise source of this reinvigoration.
No, there wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his mind now—the arrival of Miss Ruth Harrington in his life had been nothing short of a godsend. Not for a very long time had he felt so at ease in the company of a young woman who was not a member of his immediate family. Not only was she very pleasing on the eye, she was also quick-witted, charming and thoroughly unspoilt; all in all, an absolute joy to be with. Rational gentleman that he was, though, he appreciated they hadn’t known each other for very long and the sensible course would be to rectify this before attempting to further his suit.
Not only that, it was imperative at this stage not to lose sight of the reason for making this trip to the metropolis, he told himself, as he attempted to tie his neckcloth with the aid of the inadequate and badly mottled mirror in his bedchamber. Perhaps when the mystery surrounding Lady Beatrice’s demise had been solved, or a certain captivating young lady was satisfied that nothing further could be done to uncover the truth, then that was the time to embark on a mor
e meaningful relationship.
Hugo released his breath in a heavy sigh. Ever the realist, he was forced to own that he wasn’t every woman’s idea of the ardent lover, or husband, come to that. Momentarily he allowed his mind to wander back to the distant past. He and Alicia Thorndyke had grown up together, had been childhood friends. She had always accepted him for precisely who he was, faults and all. This wasn’t the case with Ruth, of course.
Alarming though it was, her ideals might well run to handsome knights in shining armour; gentlemen who would sweep her off her feet with heroic deeds, and shower her with romantic compliments, deserved or otherwise. Sadly, he was not of their number, and he doubted he could ever bring himself to indulge in insincere flattery to win a lady’s affection, least of all Ruth’s.
He was aware, also, that he was far too large for some women’s tastes, and although his features were regular, there was nothing outstanding about any one of them. More disheartening, still, was the fact that his charming travelling companion had not once given him any reason to hope that she looked upon him in any other light than that of some surrogate elder brother— trustworthy and dependable. He had designated himself the role of protector, and in so doing had succeeded in winning her complete trust. And sadly, for the present, he was going to be obliged to be content with that state of affairs alone!
Just as he was going to be forced to settle with the arrangement of his cravat, he decided, feeling distinctly dissatisfied with both outcomes, as he shrugged himself into his coat and left the bedchamber.
Like most inns at which they had put up throughout the journey, this hostelry was noisy, with arrivals taking place sometimes very late in the evenings, and recommencing again early in the mornings. The clattering sounds in the coffee room reached his ears long before he had descended the narrow staircase to discover not only his own manservant, but also the personal maid who had steadily grown in his estimation as their journey to the capital had progressed.
‘Ah, Aggie, well met!’ Hugo declared, having quickly adopted the pet name used by the maid’s own mistress. ‘No, you needn’t scurry away, Finn,’ he continued, thereby thwarting his own servant’s attempt at a tactful withdrawal. ‘This concerns you, too.’
Having quickly gained their full attention, Hugo didn’t waste time in issuing orders. ‘You both know the reason for making this trip. And it’s imperative we keep this to ourselves as much as possible. Notwithstanding, this doesn’t mean you won’t be in a position to discover a great deal. Below-stairs gossip, not to mention that which takes place in and around stables, can sometimes prove invaluable.’
Agatha looked doubtful. ‘Well, I’ll do my best, sir. But I doubt I’ll discover much. I don’t know London ways.’
‘You’ll soon grow accustomed,’ Hugo assured her. ‘And so must your mistress. You’ll find yourself accompanying her about a good deal.’
If possible Agatha betrayed more doubt. ‘Ooh, Mistress won’t like that,’ she warned. ‘Used to going about on her own is Miss Ruth. Values her freedom, so she does.’
Totally unmoved, Hugo flicked a speck of fluff from his jacket sleeve. ‘Then I’m afraid she’s going to have to accustom herself to your company very quickly. She cannot continue her country ways in London, as I shall take great delight in making perfectly clear to her.’ He glanced briefly in the direction of a certain door leading off the coffee room. ‘Already ensconced in the private parlour, is she?’
Without waiting for an answer, Hugo sauntered across the room in the direction of the private parlour. For a tall man he walked with a lithe elegance, something which had struck Ruth at their very first meeting, as had the natural charm of his personality, a characteristic she valued more highly than a handsome face.
As he entered the parlour she received the full warmth of his pleasant smile, and returned it, unashamedly, with one of her own, before setting aside the journal she’d been reading. Her smile then faded as a distinctly unpleasant thought crossed her mind.
‘This will be our last supper together,’ she reminded him, while valiantly attempting to prevent her voice from betraying the sadness she was increasingly feeling at the prospect.
From the very start of their journey she had experienced the most wonderful secure feeling that comes from knowing one is wholly protected by another human being. It was a totally new experience and one which she was silently obliged to acknowledge she very much resented having to forgo once their journey’s end was reached.
Somehow, though, she managed to keep the despondency she was experiencing from revealing itself in her voice as she said, ‘Long before this time tomorrow, barring further mishap, we should have arrived in the capital. Which reminds me, Hugo,’ she added as he took the seat opposite at the table, ‘you couldn’t, by any chance, put me in the way of a decent hotel that isn’t too shockingly expensive?’
Apart from that first day, when she had insisted on paying her full share of all costs incurred at the various inns, she had never once alluded to money. Now Hugo came to consider the matter, it stood to reason that she would have set out with limited funds, as her intention had been to travel only as far as Dorsetshire.
‘Do not concern yourself. I shall stand your banker until such time as you’re able to draw funds from a London bank.
‘Now, don’t waste your breath in futile argument, Ruth,’ he continued, when she opened her mouth to do just that. ‘What are...friends for, if not to help in times of trouble?
‘Besides which, we oughtn’t to waste time on unimportant financial matters when there are more pressing issues to discuss. And I shall begin by suggesting you don’t put up at a hotel. I’ve been giving the matter some thought and have come to the conclusion that it would be better by far if you stayed with my sister Sarah.’
‘Oh, sir, no!’ Ruth was appalled at the mere idea and didn’t attempt to conceal the fact. ‘It would be too much of an imposition. I wouldn’t have the brass-faced nerve even to propose such a thing!’
‘You’re not going to do so. I’ll do the asking. She’ll love to have you to stay,’ he assured her. ‘She’s a dizzy wench at times, but has a great fondness for me. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’m her favourite brother, possibly because I’m closest to her in age.’
Ruth was swiftly warming to the notion. She’d discovered a little about his family already and the idea of discovering a deal more was tempting. She was aware that his upbringing had been, compared to her own, very conventional. The second son of a wealthy landowner, Hugo had continued with tradition and had sought a career in the army. His older brother, Harry, had inherited the family home and lands, and his younger brother Percy had gone in to the church.
She found herself sighing as a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘I cannot help feeling that my life might have been vastly different had my own father adhered to his sire’s wishes and sought a career in the army.’
The wistful note in her voice was unmistakable. ‘You cannot blame him for following his own inclinations. By your own admission he was a gifted artist.’
‘Oh, several people have remarked upon that,’ she assured him, ‘and that he might one day have been recognised as such had he lived. Even Lady Beatrice acknowledged that much!’ Again she found herself involuntarily sighing. ‘He died so young—younger than I am now. He was barely four-and-twenty. Sadly, I was destined never to know him, but at least Mama adhered to his wish as far as I was concerned...well, almost. If the child Mama was carrying turned out to be a girl, he wanted her named Angelica, after Angelica Kauffmann, the artist,’ she explained. ‘Mama did as he asked, having me christened Angelica Ruth. But she always called me Ruth. It was my maternal grandmother’s given name.’
‘Angelica, eh? Pretty name.’ He smiled. ‘Must start calling you that.’
‘I shouldn’t bother, if I were you,’ she told him bluntly. ‘I shouldn’t answer to
it if you did. I never have.’
Hugo considered her in silence for a moment. He now knew something of her formative years—of how she had been raised in a rectory and how she had received a far broader education than most of her sex, thanks mainly to the attentions of the kindly rector.
‘And when you lost your mother, you were obliged to leave the home where you’d been so happy?’
‘It was for the best, really,’ she responded, betraying little emotion, except perhaps for a touch of sadness behind the eyes. ‘By that time the Reverend Mr Henry Stephens was a very elderly gentleman. He hadn’t enjoyed particularly good health for a number of years. Sadly, he has since died. It was, in fact, he who persuaded me to accept Lady Beatrice’s offer to live with her. I couldn’t possibly have remained at the rectory with him, as young as I was. And, as I had no close relatives then living, he thought, for a gently reared young woman, the position of paid companion was the ideal solution. Except,’ she added reflectively, ‘I was never really employed, precisely.’
Nor treated like a surrogate daughter either, come to that, he thought to himself, but said, ‘So, you were then obliged to adjust to a completely different lifestyle, I should imagine.’
‘Heavens, yes!’ Ruth concurred. ‘The rectory was always a hive of activity, with people coming and going at most times of day, whereas Dunsterford Hall...’
‘Was the antithesis—a mausoleum,’ he finished for her, and she chuckled at the candour, a warm infectious gurgling sound that never failed to win a response from him. ‘Oh, very well, if it wasn’t quite that bad, one would hardly describe it as a place flowing with warmth and friendship.’
‘That’s true enough,’ Ruth’s innate honesty obliged her to concede. ‘Though, I must say, it has improved immeasurably in recent months. Many more people now visit, you see.’
