Margaret took the mug, at the same time scrutinising Jane’s outfit. ‘You’re dressed up this morning. Something on?’ she asked, smiling.
‘I’ve got an important appointment,’ replied Jane, and left it at that.
To Jane’s relief Margaret accepted her explanation without any further questions. She did not want to elaborate or to explain why she had taken special care with her appearance today. Instead of her normal work outfit of a jacket and matching trousers, she had opted to wear a skirt suit. She had even put on a pair of tights, albeit the sheer ones. The black shoes she had chosen sported rather higher heels than usual, so she had opted to travel to work in flats for comfort.
The morning went quite smoothly. There were few interruptions. Annette was not in the office that day so there was no urgent summons to her office. Jane was surprised how much work she managed to get through. By lunchtime she was well pleased with her efforts.
It was early afternoon when she left the office and set off for the address Miles Ashington’s secretary had emailed to her. She had looked up the address in her A–Z and found the road without difficulty. It was one of those tree-lined roads with large Victorian four-storey terraced houses on each side. It was an upmarket area and even had an inner road separated from the main one, which provided parking for the residents. Many of the houses appeared to be expensive rental apartments, but when she came to the house she was looking for, it had all the appearance of being owner-occupied. It was just coming up to half past two when she mounted the short flight of steps to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and waited.
The door was opened by a young woman in a maid’s uniform of black dress and white apron. She stared at Jane for an instant. ‘Can I help you?’ Her voice had a slight foreign accent.
‘Yes. I have an appointment with Mr Ashington at half past two.’
‘What name, please?’
‘Jane Carroll.’
‘Come in, please, and wait here.’
Jane stepped inside and the door was closed quietly behind them. The maid walked silently up the majestic staircase and disappeared from view. This gave Jane the opportunity to quickly glance at her surroundings. The house had an air of elegance about it. The tiled hallway, the thickly carpeted stairs, the paintings on the walls, the chandelier… All reflected the affluence of the owner.
The maid reappeared at the head of the stairs.
‘Will you come up please?’
Jane made her way up the stairs. The maid led her a short distance down a corridor, pushed a door that was already ajar, and held it wide open for Jane to enter the room.
Jane found herself in a small office-cum-sitting room. A leather three-piece suite occupied one end, and there was also a large desk with an ornate table lamp burning. But it was the figure standing ready to greet her that most interested Jane. Miles Ashington.
He held out his hand. ‘Miss Carroll, I am pleased to meet you.’
Jane held out her hand, and it was grasped firmly. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Ashington.’
‘A pleasure. Do come and sit down.’ He waved his hand towards the seating area.
‘Thank you.’
Jane’s first impression was that Miles Ashington was quite friendly. He was a tall, white-haired man dressed in a beautifully cut suit and an expensive shirt and tie. There was a faint smell of aftershave about him.
Jane took a seat as indicated. Miles Ashington smiled at her briefly.
‘Can I offer you some refreshment? Tea or coffee, perhaps?’
‘Tea would be lovely,’ answered Jane with a courteous smile.
There was a minute’s silence between them as he went over to the desk and picked up a telephone to arrange for some tea to be brought. He returned to Jane and sat down opposite her. He smiled at her again.
‘So I’m talking to a long-lost member of the illustrious Ashington family.’ Miles Ashington chuckled as he finished speaking.
‘That’s what I’m not really sure about. You see…’ Jane had rehearsed the next bit many times. As briefly as she could, she outlined her search for her true identity. Her host listened intently.
When she had finished he asked quite kindly, ‘So how do you think I can help you?’
Jane was anxious to make the most of the occasion. She thought carefully for a few seconds before answering. ‘What I would really like to know is whether I am Jane Carroll, or Ruth Ashington. I don’t seem to be able to get any proof of either.’
Miles Ashington appeared to be deep in thought. He smiled at her. ‘Well, I can’t help you with the Jane Carroll bit, but I think I can be of assistance with Ruth Ashington.’
A flurry of excitement flushed through Jane. Here at last was somebody who seemed to know about her past. She was determined to exploit the opportunity that lay in front of her. She formed her next question carefully.
‘I’d really like to know something about my early life – if indeed I am Ruth Ashington. For example, I don’t know who my father was.’
Miles Ashington paused; he sat looking at her, his hands in front of him, almost as if he was in prayer, but with the fingers separated. He spoke slowly, choosing every word carefully.
‘My wife Ann was a very beautiful woman. We met and fell in love very quickly. At the time she was embarrassed that she had a baby, born apparently out of wedlock. But it didn’t matter to me. I was in love with her.’
He looked at Jane, studying her reaction.
Any possible reply from Jane was interrupted by the arrival of the maid with the tea. She placed a tray on the low table between them. After she had departed, Miles Ashington took up the teapot.
‘Shall I pour for us?’ he asked cheerfully.
Jane smiled her agreement, adding ‘Please do,’ and waited while her host poured the tea into a fine bone china cup. He handed her the cup and saucer with the offer of milk and sugar. The tea service had every appearance of being extremely expensive china. Miles Ashington offered a plate of fancy biscuits, but Jane refused. She carefully stirred the milk into her tea as she formed her next question.
‘So I’m not the daughter of John Henderson?’ she asked.
Miles Ashington took a careful sip of his tea. He shook his head as he looked up at Jane again. ‘No, I’m afraid not. My understanding is that you were the result of a slight indiscretion on Ann’s part.’
Jane reacted quickly. ‘You mean it was a sort of brief affair?’ she asked.
Miles Ashington gave a quick smile. ‘I suppose it would be called today a one-night stand,’ he explained with a sigh.
‘Did Ann never say who my father was?’
Again Miles Ashington shook his head. ‘No. Only that you were the result of going to a party and having too much to drink.’
Jane was doing her best to absorb what she was being told. There was one question that was uppermost in her mind. She took a sip of tea before asking it.
‘I was speaking recently to the woman who looked after me when I was small – Elizabeth Barton – and—’
‘Elizabeth Barton?’
‘Yes. I think you would probably know her as Elizabeth Carroll.’
‘Ah, yes. The nanny Ann and I employed to look after you.’
Jane continued. ‘She told me that my mother didn’t show very much interest in me.’
Miles Ashington placed his cup and saucer on the table. He spoke softly. ‘I’m afraid that’s quite true. It was a situation that worried me, but Ann could be quite stubborn at times. The cold fact is that she did not want to know you in any way. You were a reminder of a past that she preferred to forget, and she didn’t even want to acknowledge that you existed.’
His statement shocked and saddened Jane. It prompted a sudden reaction from her. ‘But why?’ she asked. ‘I was her daughter. She gave birth to me.’
She looked at Miles Ashington in puzzlement, looking for an answer.
‘My dear, I am extremely sorry if what I have said is upsetting.’ Miles Ashington regarded
her almost as if he were talking to a fond daughter.
Jane choked down her emotion. ‘Can you tell me a bit more about my mother? What was she like?’ she asked.
Miles Ashington pondered the question carefully. ‘As I have said, she was a very beautiful woman. She lost her mother and father quite early in life, and that left her incredibly wealthy. Sadly, it never brought her happiness. She became withdrawn, sometimes depressive. There was a brief and disastrous marriage to John Henderson. She always remarked that I was the first person she had met whom she could trust.’
Jane was silent for a few seconds, taking in what she had just heard. ‘I’m glad she felt that way about you,’ she said softly.
Miles Ashington offered more tea, but Jane refused. One question still needed an answer.
‘Can you tell me why I was placed in the orphanage?’ she asked, doing her best to control the emotion that kept threatening to overwhelm her.
‘I am sorry to say this, but your mother did not want to recognise you in any way as her daughter or as part of the Ashington family. I tried many times to talk her round, but she was adamant. It was almost her dying request that you be placed in an orphanage. Eventually, I complied with her wish and sent you to Goodmanton. The Ashington family had supported that institution for many years.’
Jane looked at him in astonishment. ‘But I was shut away there. Nobody ever came near me,’ she protested. She was close to tears now.
‘It was your mother’s wish.’
Jane was silent for a few seconds. She had the answer now that she had sought, but she wished it could have been a happier one.
Miles Ashington looked at her. He could see that she was upset by what she had just learnt. He spoke again. ‘After a period of time the Goodmanton orphanage was taken over by the County Council and the Ashington family ceased to have any involvement. I did try to make contact with you at one stage, but you had already left the establishment and apparently disappeared.’
Jane looked at him enquiringly. ‘But I was sent to live with somebody when I was a teenager. The orphanage must have had a record of that.’
Miles Ashington shook his head. ‘When I enquired, they had no record of you whatsoever.’
‘That would be because you were looking for Ruth Ashington and by that time I was known as Jane Carroll.’
He pondered her suggestion for a moment. ‘Given the circumstances, one has to assume that some sort of administrative error was made during your time at the orphanage.’
‘But why the name Carroll?’ asked Jane.
‘I’m afraid the only person who could answer that question is the one who made the error – or Mrs Marshall, who was in charge of the orphanage then.’ He studied her for a second. ‘But as you have learnt, she passed away.’ He added quickly, ‘I think it is most unfortunate for you.’
Jane did her best to respond positively. ‘It’s a bit of a startling situation to have to deal with,’ she remarked, with a little smile.
She suddenly thought of something else. ‘Can you tell me how my mother died?’
For a moment Miles Ashington looked quite sad, and Jane wished she had not asked the question. However, he recovered quite quickly and seemed pleased to answer.
‘Ann had always been subject to mood swings and fits of depression. She was treated by various doctors for this problem. I discovered this soon after we were married, and sadly I did not seem to be able to help her recover from this distressing condition.’ He paused, apparently recalling events, and then he continued. ‘She was taking a lot of drugs, and one morning her maid found her dead in bed. It was assumed at the time that she had taken an overdose.’
Jane waited until he had finished, and then offered her sympathy. ‘But that must have been awful for you. I was obviously too young to know anything was happening.’
He nodded. ‘It was. I was devastated.’
Jane felt sad about what she had just learnt. She did her best to throw off her gloom and ask a less distressing question. ‘Can you tell me anything more about Elizabeth Carroll?’ she asked quickly.
Her strategy appeared to work. Miles Ashington responded with a smile. ‘Ah, yes. Elizabeth was a charming person. She looked after you like her own daughter. She was quite upset when you went to the orphanage.’
‘That’s nice to hear,’ Jane replied softly.
It was Miles Ashington who wound the meeting down. ‘Do you have any other questions you would like me to answer?’ he asked.
Jane took the hint. It was clear that though her host was being very polite it was possible that he had other commitments and wanted to draw the interview to a close. She took one last opportunity to add to her information. She smiled at him. ‘Just one. I’m intrigued how you have the name Ashington. Can you explain that?’
Miles Ashington chuckled. ‘I have a connection with the family going back a long time. I think Ann and I were cousins, perhaps twenty-nine times removed.’ He laughed.
Jane joined his mirth. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said with a little laugh.
She stood up, her hand out to shake his. ‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Ashington, and thank you for answering all my questions.’
Miles Ashington gripped her hand firmly. ‘It’s been my pleasure, Jane… I can call you Jane, can’t I?’
Jane smiled. ‘Yes, of course you can.’
She prepared to take her leave. Her host hesitated for a second. He looked at her. ‘May I ask if you are married, Jane?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I was married, but sadly my husband was killed in a plane crash just over three years ago. I have a fiancé again – Bob.’
Miles Ashington hesitated. ‘Would you and Bob join Gail – my wife – and me for dinner one evening?’ he asked.
Jane was caught off balance for an instant. She had not expected such an invitation, but it might be an opportunity to learn more about her new acquaintance in a more relaxed setting. She recovered quickly from her surprise. ‘That would be very nice,’ she replied readily.
‘We will try and arrange something. May I have your telephone number?’
Jane dived into her bag and produced one of her personal cards, which had her home and business telephone numbers on it as well as her mobile.
‘Thank you.’ He glanced at the card for a second and then hurried to the desk. He put her card down and took one of his own from a silver box on the desk. He handed it to her.
‘My card, Jane. It has my personal number on it, so you will come straight through to me. If you think I can be of any further help to you in any way, please do give me a ring.’
Jane thanked him and he led her down the stairs in silence to the front door, Jane taking careful steps in her high heels.
Courteous goodbyes were expressed between them on the doorstep and then Jane was alone again. As she walked away, she felt a mixture of emotions. She had wanted so much to find out who she really was, but her meeting with Miles Ashington had saddened her at times. If she was Ruth Ashington – and there was now every indication that she was – then her own mother had rejected her. The thought of that made her feel emotional again. She had been shut away in an orphanage, believing that she was alone in the world, when in reality she belonged to a very rich family. It didn’t make sense. Then there was Miles Ashington. Where did he fit into all this? He had been very charming to her this afternoon, but apparently he had been part of the plot. He had knowingly allowed her to be placed in an orphanage. It was all so complicated. And if she was now Ruth Ashington, what did the future hold for her?
Chapter 29
It was later than she had anticipated when Jane returned to her office. As she walked through the main office to her tiny den, the hands of the office clock showed well after four. Soon after leaving Miles Ashington’s house, she had been so deep in her thoughts that she had taken a wrong turning on the way back to the tube station and temporarily lost her way. It had delayed her return to work. Back in the office everybody seemed to be preoccupied with their ow
n affairs and nobody asked her where she had been or why. She was glad of that: she was still so full of the events of the last few hours that she did not feel inclined to become involved in conversation.
She did one or two small jobs, made several notes for Monday morning, and left it at that. For once she was among the first to leave the office. Even on her way home the events of the afternoon still occupied her thoughts. She picked up an evening paper but hardly glanced at it.
Walking back home from the railway station, she encountered her neighbour Margot with her pug dog Sam out for an evening stroll. She exchanged pleasantries with Margot, but could hardly remember afterwards what she had said. She was glad to reach the seclusion of her home.
She had hardly entered her apartment and closed the front door when the telephone rang. Thinking it would be Bob, she was disappointed to discover that it was a nuisance sales call. She politely explained to the caller that she already had double glazing and was not interested, before quickly putting down the handset.
Kicking off her shoes, she removed a few important items from her bag and then went into the bedroom. Two minutes later she was in the shower. Refreshed, she changed into the comfort of her dressing gown and wandered into the kitchen to make herself something to eat. The thought of preparing a meal was irksome, but hunger was already reminding her that she had not taken a midday break and had scarcely had any lunch to speak of. In the end she made herself an omelette and ate it with some tomatoes that were in the fridge and going soft. She finished by making herself a mug of tea and taking it into the lounge. She knew she should contact Bob and Gerald to tell them what the afternoon’s meeting with Miles Ashington had revealed. But for the moment it was nice to just rest and think. Relaxing on the settee, she once again went over the events of the afternoon.
Now it seemed that she had to accept that she was Ruth Ashington instead of Jane Carroll. She preferred to be Jane Carroll, but that person did not really exist. Only Ruth Ashington existed on paper. Even being that person was hard to accept. Why had her mother rejected her? Thinking about that again easily brought emotion to the surface. And why had she been placed in an orphanage and ignored by those who should have loved and cared for her? It was all almost too complicated and stressful to think about.
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