by Anne Ashley
‘By heaven!’ Tristram Boothroyd exclaimed in a jocular fashion. ‘Best lock the bedchamber door tonight. What say you, Colonel?’
Unperturbed, and even smiling faintly, Hugo reached for his wine again. ‘No need to take such precautions, lad. I’m a light sleeper.’
Ruth, for one, didn’t doubt it for a moment. For all his appearance of relaxed affability, not much, she suspected, ever escaped his notice. In fact, Colonel Prentiss was not an easy man to judge at all. As Lady Beatrice had intimated earlier, he gave little of himself away. For instance, it was impossible to assess just what was passing through his mind at the present time: whether he had taken Lady Beatrice’s remarks seriously or not. As for herself she didn’t know what to think. For all that her ladyship didn’t entertain frequently, she lacked none of the social graces. None the less, murder hardly seemed an appropriate topic for dinnertime conversation!
‘You quite unnerve me, ma’am,’ Ruth said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘If what you say is true, it must be nigh impossible to judge who is capable of committing such a crime. I, for one, could not point an accusing finger at any person here present. So, unless one happens to see or hear someone plotting, or committing the act itself, how on earth could one recognise a person capable of committing murder?’
With the contours of her mouth set in a thin smile, Lady Beatrice appeared supremely satisfied. ‘There you have it, my dear! Disregarding the obvious exceptions— those who are observed actively engaged in acts of violence—it is extremely difficult to judge who might be capable of committing such a heinous crime... It is not always so straightforward, either, to assimilate what one has witnessed.’
‘Oh, come now, ma’am!’ Mr Blunt, the stooping-shouldered little lawyer, countered staunchly, thereby proving at a stroke that his appearance of timidity might not have been an altogether accurate assessment of his character. ‘Surely one must know whether one has witnessed murder or not?’
‘Do I infer correctly from what you’ve said,’ Hugo put in calmly, ‘that you believe you did witness such an event yourself, ma’am?’
‘Not the act itself, Colonel, no,’ Lady Beatrice responded, after once again staring at each and every person present. ‘I witnessed the prelude and the aftermath.’
‘I trust you reported what you did see to the appropriate authorities?’ the lawyer enquired, thereby breaking the silence which followed the startling disclosure.
Raising her chin, Lady Beatrice regarded him down the length of her aristocratic nose, much as she might have done a menial. ‘But what did I witness, after all, my good man? Two persons, standing close to a cliff edge, who happened to be exchanging high words. I was not raised to indulge in vulgar curiosity, so did not linger to discover what the altercation between the two might possibly have been about. Besides which, I had concerns of my own to occupy me at the time.
‘But when I had walked some distance,’ she continued, after a moment’s reflection, ‘and chanced to turn, I noticed just one of those I had glimpsed earlier walking back in the direction of the coastal town. At the time it never occurred to me to wonder what had become of the other. It was only a month or so later, after reading a report in the newspaper of a body being discovered amongst some rocks on a certain stretch of coastline, that I began to wonder, and realised, too, that I had been acquainted with the dead man.’
Tristram Boothroyd’s suggestion that it might have been an accident was instantly challenged by Hugo. ‘Were that the case, lad, I would have expected the incident to have been reported by the dead person’s companion. You heard Lady Beatrice say this other person was seen walking back in the direction of the town. Had it been an accident, surely there would have been some urgency in getting help?’
‘That is precisely the conclusion I eventually drew, Colonel,’ Lady Beatrice revealed. ‘As I mentioned before, at the time, I did not recognise the victim. It was a blustery day and he had the collar of his cloak turned right up, besides wearing a hat and having his back towards me. The other person’s face I did see quite clearly. Although this other was a complete stranger...justice might still be served... The passage of time is kinder to some and they change very little. What is more, I never forget a face, you see...not ever,’ and so saying she rose to her feet, inviting the ladies to join her in the drawing room.
Ruth, for one, was more than happy to oblige. Although capturing the gentlemen’s interest, the conversation over dinner hadn’t been quite the norm, and she was pleased to be granted the opportunity to discuss less controversial topics with the ladies in the drawing room.
Lady Beatrice, as was her wont, positioned herself by the hearth and, once tea had been dispensed, appeared quite content with her own company and private thoughts, leaving it to Ruth to entertain the ladies as best she could. She began by remarking on the lucky chance that so many were putting up at that particular inn at Lynmouth and were able to share the cost of the innkeeper’s services. ‘Not so lucky with the weather, though, sadly.’
‘No, indeed,’ the attractive widow agreed. ‘Although Dr Dent, his sister and I were all born in the area, we never met until recently. My father was the vicar of a small parish near the town. My sister and I lived quite a solitary existence—my sister still does, come to that. It wasn’t until I was obliged to seek employment and attained a post as a governess that I began to experience life.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I suppose I must have seemed very naïve in those days... In fact, I know I was—a little country mouse. Most unworldly!’
‘Oh, I do not think anyone would call you that, Mrs Adams,’ the doctor’s sister countered. ‘If I may say so, you seem a very capable woman, quite able to take care of yourself.’
The widow smiled wryly. ‘I suppose marriage and widowhood have added greatly to my experiences,’ she responded in a quiet, reflective way, ‘not to mention raising a child on my own and owning and running a profitable little enterprise.’
Ruth was impressed. Very few women went into business. There just weren’t the opportunities. Marriage was the only option for most of her sex, or engaging in one of the so-called genteel professions, such as a governess or paid companion.
‘How do you support yourself, if you do not mind my asking, Mrs Adams?’ she enquired, after glancing in the direction of the hearth to discover Lady Beatrice, eyes closed, looking very comfortable in her chair. Ruth might have supposed her to have fallen asleep had not the lady of the house been smiling faintly, seemingly at some private thought.
‘Oh, nothing in any way spectacular. After my husband died I eventually returned to London to live in the house that had been my late husband’s home since boyhood. I was obliged to live quite frugally for a time, as my late husband had invested most of his money—wisely, as things turned out. After a few years I was able to buy a much larger property and turned it into a boarding house. I have two permanent lodgers with me now and others who stay on a regular basis during the Season. I’m hoping to persuade my sister to come and reside with me. I’ve plenty of room and I could do with the extra help. And, of course, she’ll not be able to remain at the vicarage now that Papa has been taken from us.’
‘My dear,’ Lady Beatrice unexpectedly interjected into the proceedings, thereby corroborating Ruth’s suspicions that she had possibly been attending to everything that had been said, ‘would you be good enough to arrange for a couple of tables to be set up before the gentlemen rejoin us. I’m sure they would enjoy a game or two of cards before finally retiring.’
* * *
Surprisingly enough Lady Beatrice’s prediction turned out to be accurate. Despite the fact that all the guests, with the possible exception of young Tristram Boothroyd, had been up and about since first light, they all seemed more than happy to make up pairs for whist—even both female travellers were content to join in proceedings.
It surprised Ruth not at all when Lady Beatrice comma
ndeered Colonel Prentiss as her partner. After all, she had more in common with him than with any of the others. What did give her pause for thought was the invitation directly afterwards issued to the good doctor and his sister to sit at the hostess’s table and make up the four, thereby obliging Ruth to take a seat at the other.
She wasn’t offended by the deliberate exclusion. She didn’t even object to having Mr Boothroyd as her partner. Although he was not a particularly skilful player, he provided her and their opponents with some lively conversation. Even the strait-laced little lawyer uttered a wheezy chuckle a time or two. What had initially escaped her entirely, however, was the reason behind her deliberate exclusion. It wasn’t until Colonel Prentiss suddenly suggested a change of partners and turned directly to Ruth, issuing the invitation to join him, that the truth suddenly dawned on her. Seemingly Lady Beatrice had no intention of allowing her companion to become better acquainted with at least one of the guests.
Lady Beatrice wasted no time rising to her feet. ‘I’m afraid, Colonel, I must deny you that pleasure. Miss Harrington’s presence is required elsewhere.’ She then turned to the others, encompassing them all in a brief glance and the faintest of smiles. ‘I shall bid you all goodnight...and better fortune for the morrow.’
She moved slowly across to the door, bidding Ruth accompany her as she did so. ‘It is my custom to break my fast in bed,’ she added, her back firmly turned towards the assembled company, ‘so I doubt we shall meet again. Do feel free to ask my servants should you require anything further in the morning’, and with that she left the room, without so much as a backward glance, and leaving Ruth to close the door behind them.
Candles a-plenty had been placed on the table in the hall, enough for everyone to see themselves safely to the upper floor. Lady Beatrice lit her own before speaking again. ‘I feel unusually fatigued this evening, but suspect with all the disturbances of the day I shall find it difficult to sleep. Be kind enough to indulge me by making that beneficial nightcap I reserve for just such occasions as this. You do it so much better than anyone else. And send Whitton to me.’
There was sufficient light in the hall to guide Ruth safely through to the kitchen, where she discovered Agatha sitting alone by the range. ‘Lady Bea’s ready for you now, Aggie. Have all the other servants retired...? I cannot say I’m surprised,’ she went on, after receiving a nod in response. ‘Cook must be absolutely exhausted. And she’ll need to be up bright and early tomorrow.’
‘That she will,’ Agatha agreed, rising wearily to her feet. ‘The snow will mostly be gone by then. At least the roads will be passable, so I expect they’ll all be wanting to be on their way.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Ruth agreed hollowly, contemplating with a distinct lack of enthusiasm taking leave of at least one of the unexpected company. ‘I’ve enjoyed today. It has made such a pleasant change. You’d best go up, Aggie,’ she added, while going about the kitchen collecting the various ingredients she required to make the requested nightcap. ‘Don’t worry about extinguishing the candles, I’ll see to that.’
Soon after the maid had departed the door leading to the passageway swung open again, catching Ruth completely unawares. ‘Why, Colonel, you did give me a fright!’
The warmth of his natural smile as he strolled into the room had an even more alarming effect on her pulse-rate than his unexpected appearance had done. ‘I’m sorry if I startled you. I sometimes forget that certain ladies can find my size a trifle alarming.’
‘I don’t,’ she assured him promptly, then could only be grateful for the dim light in the kitchen, which she hoped concealed the sudden heat in her cheeks from that all-too-perceptive blue-eyed gaze. What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing? Why, her response had been tantamount to flirting, for heaven’s sake!
Thankful that the necessity of plunging a poker into red-hot embers enabled her to turn her back on him for a few moments, she attempted to regain at least a modicum of her natural poise. ‘Have you everything you need, sir, or is there something I can get for you?’
‘I thought to have a last word with my servant about our departure tomorrow, but I rather fancy I’ve left it too late. He’ll have sought his bed long since.’
Receiving no response, Hugo watched her going about the task of making a hot toddy, her tread so light, as she moved about the kitchen, that she hardly made a sound on the stone floor. ‘I also came to tell you that everyone has decided to retire and that I’ve extinguished the candles in the drawing room.’
Her expression revealed her gratitude, even before she voiced it. ‘Why, that was considerate of you, sir. Thank you.’
‘Not at all!’ Hugo countered, dismissing the thanks with a wave of his hand. ‘Very least I could do, Miss Harrington, most especially after...after unwittingly upsetting you earlier in the day.’
‘Upsetting me...?’ Ruth’s puzzlement could not have been clearer. ‘But you haven’t upset me, sir. Whatever made you suppose you had?’
His gaze betrayed a suggestion of amusement. ‘Because I could only suppose it was the mild scold I administered for carrying my bags that induced you to virtually ignore me for most of the evening.’
The bluntness of the response left Ruth almost reeling for a moment. That he’d been fully cognisant of her deliberate avoidance came as no very real surprise. After all, hadn’t she already decided there was absolutely nothing wrong with the tall man’s understanding? But now he was proving himself to be so confoundedly astute, too astute to be fobbed off with a deliberate lie! Yet, how on earth could she admit to having avoided him without offering some explanation for her actions. And the truth of the matter was she didn’t know the reason for it herself!
Deciding the best form of defence was attack, she said, ‘I shall take leave to inform you, sir, that it would take a deal more than a mild verbal chastisement from a virtual stranger to overset me. I’m not such a poor creature.’
Behind the amused glint lurked a growing respect. ‘I’m pleased to hear it. Here, let me take that,’ he added, reaching for the tray, after she had completed her task. He sniffed appreciatively. ‘Smells delicious. I’m almost tempted to have one myself.’
‘Have that one. I can easily make another,’ she obligingly offered, but Hugo shook his head.
‘No, it’s time you were abed.’ He slanted a look that was gently teasing and yet at the same time touchingly earnest. ‘I should feel aggrieved if I’m obliged to set out on the morrow without being granted the opportunity to say a final farewell.’
Had he but realised it, Ruth herself was continuing to experience scant pleasure at the prospect and yet sensibly accepted there was precious little she could do to delay his departure. Moreover, although he lived in an adjoining county, he might just as well have resided on the other side of the world, so slim were their chances of ever meeting again, at least by accident.
Sensible though she might have been to have accepted this already, as she accompanied him up the staircase, she racked her brain for something, anything that might delay him seeking his bed immediately. Sadly, any hope of doing so was thwarted by surprisingly discovering Julia Adams lurking in the passageway at the top of the stairs.
She appeared momentarily startled by their appearance, then seemed to collect herself. ‘Oh, I was hoping you hadn’t retired, Miss Harrington. I was just attempting to locate your room. There must be a split in my valise. I’m afraid everything has become so very damp. Could you possibly oblige me by lending me a nightgown?’
‘Of course,’ Ruth responded before masterfully suppressing a resigned sigh as she turned to the Colonel. ‘Just put the tray down on that table outside Lady Beatrice’s room, sir, and I shall bid you goodnight.’
After taking a minute or so to locate the required garment, Ruth emerged from her bedchamber in the hope of seeing the Colonel still lingering there, only to discover Mrs Ada
ms awaiting her.
After handing over the freshly laundered nightgown, Ruth didn’t delay in whisking herself into Lady Beatrice’s room to find the lady sitting up in bed, supported by a mound of pillows, and not, as expected, appearing in the least fatigued.
‘Was that Colonel Prentiss I heard you conversing with a few moments ago?’
‘Yes, and Mrs Adams. She wished to borrow a nightgown,’ Ruth enlightened her before placing the small tray containing the nightcap within easy reach on the bedside table. ‘If there’s nothing else I can get for you, ma’am, I shall retire myself.’
She was subjected to a piercing stare. ‘Yes, you do look tired. A pity, I was hoping to have a private talk with you. There was something I wished to explain,’ Lady Beatrice revealed, then shrugged. ‘No matter, it can wait until morning. Just lock my door before you leave. I don’t feel safe with so many...strangers in the house. And you would do well to do likewise.’
Although she happily did as bidden, Ruth flatly refused to be influenced by such foolish flights of fancy. Who was likely to visit her at the dead of night, for heaven’s sake? Certainly neither Dr Dent or Mr Blunt, she mused, changing into her nightwear. They were far too strait-laced for such capers; not to mention too sensible to risk their respective livelihoods if rumours of such scandalous goings-on were ever spread abroad. As for Tristram Boothroyd...? Well, he possibly viewed her in the light of some dull maiden aunt, she decided, somewhat dispirited at the thought. And as for the Colonel...?
For a few deliciously frivolous moments she allowed herself to ponder on just such an occurrence, and what her possible reaction might be, before common sense prevailed and she took herself roundly to task for even contemplating such a scandalous situation. The Colonel was a gentleman, kind and considerate, but certainly not interested in conducting a dalliance with her. He’d be the very last person to pay her a midnight visit!
* * *
Yet, later, something did succeed in rousing her briefly from slumber. The fire in the grate had long since ceased to send flickering darts of light about the bedchamber and the room was in total darkness, save for the suggestion of candlelight beneath the communicating door. There was not so much as a sound except that of her own breathing and there was no shadowy movement from any corner. Even so, Ruth couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone, until sleep finally reclaimed her.