by Anne Ashley
‘Why, no,’ Sarah confirmed. ‘Said something about her friend being adequately chaperoned, so she wouldn’t require the services of a maid.
‘And it’s no earthly good you glowering at me in that odious fashion, Hugo,’ she continued, when he began to regard her sternly, much as he had been wont to do when she had done something to annoy him during their childhood. ‘Might I remind you I’m not Ruth’s keeper. I’m sure she wouldn’t take kindly to me ordering her about, attempting to dictate what she may and may not do. She’s a woman grown and is more than capable of making her own decisions.’
Whipping out a piece of lace, Sarah proceeded to dab at her eyes, an action that had always proved worthwhile when confronted by her husband’s displeasure, but which had little effect on her brother. ‘I must say, Hugo, you will make an odious husband if you set up such a fuss just because she wishes to spend time with friends. I shall feel quite sorry for Ruth should she ever be foolish enough to marry you!’
For answer he strode over to the bell pull, and gave it an impatient tug. ‘Is Aggie in the house?’
‘As far as I’m aware she is,’ Sarah returned petulantly. ‘You forget, though, she isn’t my servant.’
‘Merry, be good enough to allow me the privacy of your library in order to question the woman. I’ll get more out of her, I’m sure, if I speak with her alone.’
‘Of course, be my guest,’ he cordially invited. ‘You suspect something’s very much amiss, don’t you, old fellow?’
Tossing the burgundy down his throat, Hugo placed the empty vessel on the mantelshelf behind him, before nodding his head. ‘All I can say at present is that I’ve the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that something’s not quite right.’
The footman arrived in answer to the summons and was dispatched forthwith to locate Agatha’s whereabouts, leaving Hugo having only to cross the hall to await her arrival in the book-lined room.
Perching on the edge of the desk, he browsed through the previous day’s edition of the Morning Post, which had obviously been saved for the master of the house to peruse. A quick scan of the printed pages revealed that nothing particularly momentous had occurred during his absence, at least nothing that would have sent Ruth hotfoot from the capital. But something most definitely had!
One glance at Agatha’s decidedly sheepish expression, as she crept into the room a few moments later, only substantiated his belief that something had definitely occurred during his twenty-four-hour absence.
‘Yes, come in and close the door, Aggie. You and I are going to have a little talk.’ He waited for his command to be obeyed. ‘I see by your expression that my early return has overset you somewhat.’
‘Yes, Colonel, you m-might say that,’ Agatha, ever truthful, admitted.
‘Mmm, yes, I can imagine,’ Hugo purred silkily. ‘So let us not waste time on needless pleasantries or prevarication... Where is she?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’ At his combined look of annoyance and disbelief, Agatha held out a pleading hand. ‘Truly I don’t, sir. Mistress said she wouldn’t tell me, then I wouldn’t need to lie.’
‘Said that, did she? I see.’ Hugo no longer disbelieved her. ‘But there was no chance meeting with an old friend, was there, Aggie?’
‘Not that I witnessed, sir, no.’
‘No, I thought not,’ he returned before requesting the maid to sit down. ‘Now, Aggie, I want you to relate, in detail, all your mistress’s movements during my absence.’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing very much to tell, sir, not really. About an hour after you’d left, she decides to visit the lady that stayed with us during the snowstorm, that Mrs Adams. Mistress just said she liked her above all the others and wished to pay a social visit. Oh,’ she added, twin flags of colour now flying in her cheeks, ‘of course I don’t mean to include you in that, sir. She thinks the world of you.’
Deeply concerned though he was, Hugo couldn’t help smiling to himself at this ingenuous revelation. ‘I’m relieved to hear it! Now, to return to yesterday. What happened during the visit to Julia Adams?’
Again Agatha shrugged. ‘Why, nothing, sir, as far as I’m aware. I awaited my mistress in the hall. She stayed about twenty minutes or so and then returned here, without seeing the lady.’
‘Seems odd,’ Hugo said, more to himself. ‘As she’d taken the trouble to pay her a visit, why didn’t she await Mrs Adams’s return? She had no other pressing engagements, by any chance?’
‘Not that I was aware. And, as I said, we came straight back here.’
Hugo considered for a moment before asking, ‘And how did she seem on the return—troubled in any way?’
‘I’d say more thoughtful than anything. In a world of her own, you might say.’
‘Then what did she do?’
‘Lady Lansdown hadn’t returned, so she went straight upstairs to her room. Then, about half an hour later, she sent for me again. She gave a letter to the footman to deliver by hand and then we went out once more to some big coaching inn. I don’t know London very well, sir. But I did overhear a little of the conversation Mistress had with the jarvey. Heard him mentioning Holborn, so I expect that inn is there, sir.’
‘Go on,’ Hugo prompted when the maid again fell silent.
‘Well, Mistress goes into the inn, leaving me in the hackney carriage, and returns about ten minutes later and tells me she’s leaving London in the morning, and won’t be back until the next day.’
Again she held out one hand in a faintly imploring gesture and there was no mistaking the genuine anguish in her voice as she said, ‘I begged her not to go, sir, and to await your return, but Miss Ruth would have none of it. She’d made up her mind. Said something about having to go alone, having to decide what to do by herself, and that she had to consider carefully, as more than one life might be ruined, or some such. She admitted it could be dangerous, but at the same time she didn’t seem at all concerned.’
All at once Hugo felt himself in the grip of an icy-cold fear far stronger than anything he’d ever experienced in all the years he’d been in the army, as he suddenly recollected with terrifying clarity the most popular destination of those coaches setting out from a certain part of Holborn.
‘Very well, Aggie, if there’s nothing else you can tell me, you may go.’
‘There’s just one other thing, sir,’ she revealed, turning again as she reached the door. ‘If Miss Ruth fails to return tomorrow, I’m to give you the letter she wrote you before she left. Said I wasn’t to give it to you unless she didn’t return and I can’t go against her wishes, sir.’ All at once there was a distinctly artful gleam in her eyes. ‘But there’s nothing to stop you from taking it, now is there, sir? The letter isn’t hidden in my room. It’s there on the top of the chest of drawers for anyone to see.’
Hugo cast her a look of gratitude. ‘Thank you, Aggie. Be good enough now to send James to me.’
* * *
The footman only confirmed what Hugo had already begun to suspect—that Ruth had written to Julia Adams directly on her return to the house the previous day.
‘Was there any reply, James?’
‘No, sir. And I was instructed not to wait for one. Miss Harrington was most particular about that. Gave me the money for a hackney carriage, sir. Told me to hand over the letter and to leave at once, without revealing where I’d come from or where I was bound. So I handed the letter over to a girl and just left.’
‘I see,’ Hugo murmured grimly, before dismissing the footman, and making his way up the two flights of stairs to the servants’ quarters. His conscience smote him, but he didn’t allow this to stop him discovering all the facts. Ruth’s life might depend upon intelligent and decisive action. The one thing he shouldn’t do now was allow his deep-seated fear for her safety prompt him into ill-considered behaviour.
He reache
d for what he supposed might be that all-important confirmation of his worst fears and broke the seal. My darling Hugo, he read—an endearment that at any other time would have sent his heart soaring with untold delight, but which now was like sweet torment, increasing his anxiety fourfold.
He was no stranger to the pain of loss, but the raw anguish that gripped him in those following moments was like nothing he’d ever experienced before as he forced himself to read.
The fact that you are perusing this missive suggests that I have failed to return by the appointed time. None the less, I would still beg you not to act hastily, for there might be some perfectly reasonable explanation for my delay. My experiences of travelling about the land during these past weeks have taught me that a broken trace or wheel, or the loss of a horse’s shoe, can delay one by several hours. There is, however, a further possible reason for my non-appearance.
She then went on to explain precisely what she had learned during his absence. The explanation was not embellished with any suppositions on her part, or flights of fancy, just the plain facts, which did little to ease the piercing anxiety. By the time he had finished reading her short, but detailed, account of the interview with both the sister and daughter of Julia Adams, he felt certain she had foolishly put herself in the gravest danger by arranging a private meeting with a possible murderess.
But Ruth herself clearly did not agree with him, as her last paragraph proved beyond doubt.
You once remarked upon the possibility that I might come to regret attempting to discover the truth and honesty obliges me to admit you might well be proved correct. That is why I felt compelled to see Julia Adams alone. I wanted to hear her version of events. I do not doubt that she was Sir George Hilliard’s mistress, but even so I cannot bring myself to believe she is a cold-blooded killer. The rearing of her child strongly suggests a totally different character, one full of love and compassion.
I might be wrong, of course, and that is why I’ve arranged the meeting away from London, where it is much less likely that my association with you and your family will be discovered.
My only concern is for your safety, not my own, and would ask only one thing of you, Hugo—please do not act until you have discovered precisely what has become of me. More than one future might be irreparably damaged by foolish actions.
I rely on your sound judgement in this matter.
My love always
Ruth
‘You may rely on my sound judgement, my darling girl. But you cannot expect me to sit back and do nothing when the girl who has become my whole reason for living might be in danger,’ Hugo muttered, striding from the room, before proceeding to bound down the two flights of stairs, with an agility and speed quite remarkable in a man of his size.
He strode into the parlour, announcing that he would be leaving the house again within the hour, and quite uncaring that he had rudely interrupted an intimate tête-à-tête between a doting husband and his wife. Not that either of them appeared unduly put out by the intrusion. If anything, both exchanged concerned glances after noting Hugo’s grim expression.
Sarah was the first to find her voice. ‘What’s amiss, Hugo? Do you know where she’s gone?’
‘She isn’t with a friend,’ he assured her. ‘But she might well be with a murderer. She’s on her way to the south coast. And I must attempt to catch up with her, even though I’m well aware she has a several-hour start on me and is likely to be there now, or very close. I can only pray this meeting she’s arranged doesn’t take place until tomorrow.’
He turned to his brother-in-law, who continued to sit thoughtfully in his chair. ‘Merry, I would beg the use of your carriage, but I won’t risk your horses. They’ve travelled far enough this day. So, it behoves me to hire a post-chaise without delay. I’m sure you’ll both excuse me if my farewells are not protracted.’
‘Don’t give us another thought, dear fellow!’ Merry urged him. ‘Quite understand. But bear with me a moment. I believe I’m correct in thinking this place she’s heading for is not so far distant from Brighton?’
‘Well...what of it?’ Hugo demanded impatiently, desperate to be on his way.
‘In my reprehensible youth, my friends and I used to ride to Brighton on horseback for a wager. Much faster than post-chaise. I have a number of friends living still along the old run. My old lad in the stables here is up to your weight and will see you easily on your first leg, and from there...well, you can call on my friends for fresh mounts. You go and do what needs to be done to make ready for your departure and I’ll write a few brief letters. You’ll easily reach the gel before nightfall!’
* * *
The following morning Ruth was obliged to break her fast in her bedchamber, as the inn at which she was staying had no private parlour. This had come as no very real surprise. The little seaside town had yet to achieve the popularity of such coastal resorts as Brighton. Added to which, the inn was not located on one of the main post roads and, as a result, did not attract too much custom other than local patronage. All the same, mine host, and his good lady wife, kept a clean house and had done their utmost to be obliging and to make her feel welcome.
As she placed the breakfast tray to one side and set about getting herself ready for the day ahead, she couldn’t help reflecting on how different her recent journey had been compared to the one she had embarked upon several weeks before.
She had missed not having Hugo with her more than she could ever have supposed possible. In a few short weeks he had come to mean everything to her. Finally, she realised just how empty her life would be without him. Surely swallowing her pride was a small price to pay to be with someone who cared deeply for her, wanted her for his wife, even though she wasn’t his ideal mate, the great love of his life?
Not only had she missed Hugo’s tender attentions, she had missed not having Agatha with her, too! That, she reflected, as she seated herself before the mirror at the dressing table, had been a gross error of judgement on her part. Had she to make the choice again, she would still forgo Hugo’s company, but she wasn’t so very certain she’d willingly forgo Agatha’s. Travelling for miles with absolutely no one to talk with to pass the time had definitely added to the tedium of the journey. Not only that, she had no one to help her dress, or arrange her hair!
She shook her head, while silently taking herself to task. Really, she had become quite spoilt since coming into all that money! Why, she was almost incapable of doing anything for herself nowadays, she decided, after taking three attempts to arrange her hair in a simple chignon.
Although not wholly satisfied with her final effort, she decided not to waste more time in trying to improve on it. In her letter she had proposed to meet Mrs Adams on the hour; and although it could not be taken for granted that Julia would concern herself to make the journey to the coast, Ruth had no intention of not being on the start of that cliff walk at the appointed time.
Thankfully, the donning of her bonnet instantly concealed her woefully inadequate attempt at dressing her own hair. Reasonably satisfied with her appearance, she picked up her parasol and repaired to the floor below, which was now empty of those noisy revellers who had kept her awake the night before. Not even mine host was anywhere to be seen, a circumstance which pleased her. The fewer people to witness her movements, the better she would like it. Of course, much still depended on what Julia had to say. None the less, if her instincts were proved correct, she had already decided what action she intended to take and a clandestine meeting would suit her purpose far better.
Feeling smugly satisfied, she slipped silently out of the inn, little realising that a pair of distinctly troubled blue eyes had been watching her every move since the moment she had left her bedchamber. In blissful ignorance she crossed the road that separated the row of buildings from the seashore. On she walked to where the shingle beach gave way to an area of sand dunes and th
e shoreline then began to rise. Beyond the dunes lay a rocky outcrop that, in turn, gave way to a steeply sloping grassy walk up to the summit of the cliffs.
Ruth paused to catch her breath and to look out across the sea, enjoying the freshness of the sea air. It was little wonder that those who could well afford to do so travelled to the coast for relaxation and a change of air. It was so clean and calming here, away from the bustle and unpleasant odours of the capital.
No sooner had the thought entered her head than a shot rang out, forcing her back to the present with a start. She swung round in an attempt to locate from where the pistol had been discharged, only to discover none other than Julia Adams standing directly behind her, hand outstretched, blue eyes cold, completely lacking any obvious emotion. All concerns about the pistol shot then faded from Ruth’s thoughts when, a moment later, fingers grasped her arm and she found herself being hauled back from the edge of the upward-sloping path.
That one simple action told Ruth most everything she needed to know. She had been blissfully unaware of Julia’s close proximity. The woman could so easily have pushed her over on to the rocky shoreline a few feet below and there didn’t seem to be a soul about who might have witnessed such an encounter.
‘It’s dangerous to stand so close to the edge, Miss Harrington. One could so easily lose one’s footing. More than one has met his maker along this stretch of coastline.’
‘Is that how Sir George Hilliard met his?’ she asked bluntly and received a twisted smile in response.
Surprisingly she wasn’t alarmed by it. The moment she’d discovered her companion’s guilty secret she had felt that arranging the meeting here might prove worthwhile; that here Julia would be more likely to relive more keenly those events that were to drastically change the course of her life; that here, above anywhere, Julia would find it difficult to conceal the truth.
