by Anne Ashley
‘In that case, ma’am, how may I be of service to you?’ Benedict prompted, when she began to twist the strings of her reticule somewhat nervously round her fingers.
‘You are probably not aware of it, sir, but I reside in a village in the heart of rural Wiltshire, not too far distant from Salisbury,’ she began after a moment’s quiet deliberation. ‘Possibly the most influential family in the area is one by the name of Ashworth. Lord Ashworth, as you may or may not recall, died just a few months before my husband. There was nothing mysterious in that. Lord Ashworth had suffered poor health for some time, and as he had produced no legal heir, everyone quite naturally assumed the title would pass on to his cousin Cedric.’
Benedict frowned. ‘I seem to remember that there was some dispute over that.’
‘Yes, sir, there is indeed,’ his visitor confirmed. ‘Lord Ashworth had a younger brother. I’m afraid I know little about him, as he had left England many years before I went to live in Ashworth Magna.’ She shrugged. ‘One can only suppose that his family, never having heard from him again, must have assumed that he had died during his travels abroad.’
‘Evidently he did not.’
‘No, sir, he did not, at least not for several years,’ Mrs Hammond divulged. ‘Seemingly he decided to visit America and, soon afterwards, met and married a young woman from an influential Boston family. I am reliably informed that he did, in fact, return to this country with his wife who, I understand, gave birth to a son whilst here. Sadly both George Ashworth and his wife died, and the boy was sent back to America to be raised by his maternal grandfather. Apparently a search has been undertaken to locate his whereabouts. If, indeed, he is still alive, he is the rightful heir.’
‘And if he is found to be hale and hearty, it will be a bitter blow to Cedric.’ Benedict remarked, not without experiencing a feeling of wicked satisfaction. He did not hold Mr Cedric Ashworth in particularly high esteem, and liked his pompous son, Percy, even less.
‘You are perhaps acquainted with him, sir?’
‘Slightly, yes.’ He regarded her in silence for a moment. ‘I do not immediately perceive how I can possibly help in this matter. Locating the whereabouts of the rightful heir is the responsibility of the Ashworth family’s legal advisors.’
‘Of course it is, sir. And I would never dream of asking you to interfere in such a matter,’ Mrs Hammond hurriedly assured him, before her eyes once again were shadowed by sadness. ‘No, what I was hoping to persuade you to do on my behalf is to discover whether there is more to my husband’s death than—than at first there appeared to be. He—he was believed to have been set upon by footpads, whilst he was out one evening paying a visit to a friend, and was bludgeoned to death.’
‘I know, and I’m very sorry. My sister did tell me,’ he responded gently. Although he had never met the late Dr Hammond personally, Benedict had heard his sister Agnes say much to the good doctor’s credit over the years, and was very well aware that Agnes’s regard was not easily won. ‘What makes you suppose that he wasn’t merely the unfortunate victim of some violent attack?’
‘Because of a conversation I had just three weeks ago with a certain Miss Evadne Spears, a woman who used to be employed in the Ashworth household—first as a governess, then more recently as a sort of companion to the late Baron’s daughter, and his sister who also resides at the Hall.’
‘Were you well acquainted with this woman?’ he asked when his visitor fell silent.
‘Not really, no. Naturally, I would see her in church on Sundays, and from time to time when I was invited to dine at Ashworth Hall, but that was all. So, as you can imagine, I was rather surprised when quite by chance our paths crossed in Salisbury one morning, whilst she was awaiting the arrival of the stage to London. Apparently she intended paying a short visit to her sister who had been unwell. She seemed in a most troubled state, and was a little incoherent for much of the time, mumbling something about paying a visit to Bow Street whilst she was in the capital, and informing them of her suspicions.’
‘And what precisely was preying on her mind?’ Benedict prompted when his visitor once again fell silent.
‘Well, sir, she seemed to imagine that the young heir’s life was in danger. She also kept muttering something about evil in the Ashworth household, and the death of a young maidservant a few months before being no accident. Then, just before she left, she gave me the distinct impression that she thought there was more to my husband’s death than one might have supposed.’
‘And did you believe her?’
‘Not immediately, no. As I’ve already mentioned, she seemed in a highly nervous state, as though she feared for her own life.’ She raised her eyes to his. ‘And with good reason, sir, as things have turned out. I’ve recently discovered that during her stay here, she was run down by a carriage, and killed outright. I did consider calling at Bow Street myself to discover if, in fact, she had paid a visit there, but then I began to think that I might not be taken seriously.’
Being very much the gentleman, Benedict refrained from suggesting that, in all probability, this would have turned out to be the case. Instead, he asked why Miss Spears simply didn’t inform the local authorities of any suspicions she might have been harbouring.
‘I’m not certain, but I would imagine it was because the local magistrate, Sir Lionel Brent, is a close friend of the Ashworth family.’ Mrs Hammond watched those shapely black brows draw together. ‘Are you perhaps acquainted with Sir Lionel, sir?’
‘Yes, I am. He’s a member of my club. A worthy gentleman, I would have said.’
‘Indeed he is, sir. He was a friend of my late husband’s and has been immensely kind to me in recent months. None the less, Evadne Spears was right about one thing—there was certainly something suspicious surrounding the death of that young maid up at the Hall. After our chance meeting in Salisbury, I returned home and went into my late husband’s study, where I spent some time reading through his personal diaries. In the most recent one I discovered an entry which states clearly enough that he was not happy about certain aspects of that young servant girl’s demise.’
When Benedict failed to comment, Mrs Hammond rose to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t be wasting your time with this… It was just that I remembered Agnes mentioning once that you had had some success in solving one or two cases in recent years which had confounded the authorities.’
Benedict’s attractive mouth curled into a crooked half-smile, as he too rose. ‘Well, my dear sister was certainly correct about that. And you haven’t been wasting my time, Mrs Hammond. I have found what you’ve told me most interesting, and will be delighted to look into the matter on your behalf.’
He noticed the faintly sceptical glint in her dark eyes, as though she suspected him of mere gallantry. ‘Believe me, your visit has come at a most opportune time,’ he assured her. ‘I was beginning to feel decidedly bored with town life, and a spell in the country is precisely what is required to restore my flagging spirits. Unfortunately, I cannot leave London until the end of next week,’ he continued, after moving across to his desk to consult his own diary. ‘My sister is holding a ball on Friday, and my life would not be worth living if I should dare to miss that.’
His visitor frankly laughed. ‘Indeed it would not, sir. And neither would mine, if ever Agnes discovered that I was responsible for you missing the event. My time is limited, and I shall be unable to pay her a visit on this occasion, so perhaps you would pass on my warmest regards.’
‘Yes, of course. I know time is pressing,’ he announced, arresting her progress across to the door, ‘but there is just one small service you could perform on my behalf before next week. I am not at all familiar with your part of the world, even though my country home is situated in a bordering county. However, it is just a little too far distant for me to stay there. I assume there are plenty of hostelries in Salisbury?’
‘Several very good ones, sir,’ she confirmed, before a thoughtful frown creas
ed her brow. ‘But you could do no better than put up at our local village inn. It has gained something of a reputation in recent years. It is situated quite close to the main route to Exeter, and many travellers now prefer to stay there rather than put up at the busy posting-houses. The rooms are clean and the food is excellent. Emma will certainly take very good care of you, except…’ The frown returned. ‘You could always stay with me. I do have spare rooms.’
‘I would never dream of putting you to the trouble,’ he answered, escorting her to the front door himself. ‘I am likely to be bringing my nephew along. Furthermore, it might be wise if we kept my reason for visiting the locale to ourselves for the time being. No, accommodation at the village inn will suit my purposes very much better, I assure you.’
No sooner had he seen his visitor on her way in a hired carriage, and had returned to the comfort of his sanctum, than the brass knocker sounded again. A moment later the library door swung open and a middle-aged lady, dressed with impeccable taste and in the height of fashion, swept quite unannounced into the room, with all the self-confidence of a female who knew precisely her own worth.
‘Why, Agnes, my dear!’ he exclaimed, with every evidence of delighted surprise. ‘This is a most unexpected pleasure.’
‘Don’t lie, Benedict!’ she returned in her usual forthright manner. ‘If I know anything, that incorrigible son of mine has already paid you a visit to forewarn you.’
A hint of admiration flickered in Benedict’s striking violet-blue eyes. ‘No one could ever accuse you of foolishly not knowing your own offspring, Aggie.’
Anyone observing Lady Fencham, as she seated herself in the chair recently vacated by her lifelong friend, would never have supposed for a moment that she had found this mild praise inordinately gratifying, for her expression since entering the room had not changed. There was a hard, determined set to her lips, and her frown, as she watched her sibling move in that natural, graceful way of his over to the decanters, was manifestly one of staunch disapproval, for her young brother was one of the few people over whom she had never been able to exert the least influence.
She had watched him grow from an endearing, mischievous boy into a gentleman of undeniable intelligence, and undoubted strength of character. Increasingly he had become more set in his ways. Most people considered him solid and dependable, a gentleman who knew his own mind. She, on the other hand, was inclined to think that he had become tiresomely stubborn and selfish, simply because he had no one to consider but himself. Sadly, unless something was done very soon he would join the ranks of those confirmed bachelors—quite beyond the pale!
She was fair-minded enough to admit that it was not entirely his own fault that he had turned out so selfishly intractable. Their mother, after giving birth to several stillborn children, had been delighted when she had managed to produce a second healthy son, and had simply doted on her youngest offspring. Benedict’s winning ways had endeared him to the vast majority of their relations, most especially the females in the family, several of whom had been only too delighted to make him their sole beneficiary. Consequently his wealth, coupled with an undeniably attractive countenance, had placed him amongst the most coveted prizes in the Marriage Mart for the past ten years. Yet he continued to withstand all the many lures cast out to him each Season, determined, it appeared, to preserve his single state. A highly unsatisfactory situation which Lady Fencham was resolved to change at all costs!
Accepting the glass of ratafia he held out to her, she watched him lower his powerful frame into the seat opposite. The slight smile hovering about his attractive mouth was sufficient to convince her that he was under no illusions about precisely why she had made this visit, so she decided, wisely, not to prevaricate.
‘You may possibly recall that in March of this year our brother Giles celebrated his fifty-fourth birthday. I might also remind you that in less than six months you shall attain the age of five-and-thirty.’ She watched the wickedly provocative smile grow more pronounced. ‘I consider it my duty, therefore, to remind you of your obligations in delaying no longer in relinquishing your single state.’
Those shapely dark brows, which held such a fascination for the vast majority of her sex, rose, but Lady Fencham was one of the few women who could withstand her brother’s abundant charm.
‘Come, Benedict, you must appreciate yourself that our sister-in-law is unlikely to have any more children. Why, she is five years my senior!’
‘Steady, Aggie, steady!’ he advised with gentle mockery. ‘You have managed thus far not to reveal your own age.’
‘Will you be serious, Benedict!’ she retorted, determined not to be diverted by her brother’s wickedly winning ways. ‘Everybody knows that I am ten years your senior. My childbearing days are now over, and so are Serena’s, though why she could not have managed to produce one healthy boy amongst five offspring, I cannot imagine. Even I managed to do that.’
‘Yes, very remiss of her,’ he remarked agreeably. ‘Had she obliged you by doing so, it might have spared you this visit today. However,’ he went on before she could give voice to her increasing annoyance at his flippancy, ‘as Giles does not appear to be in the least worried, I do not understand why you should be so concerned. After all, Aggie, even if I go to my grave childless, the name is still secure.’
She regarded him in a mixture of outrage and astonishment. ‘You do not honestly mean to tell me, Benedict, that you would be content to see the title pass to that idiotic cousin of ours? Why, he’s a moonling!’
‘Now that, Aggie, is not only most unkind, but also grossly inaccurate,’ he countered. ‘Lawrence might not be precisely needle-witted, but he certainly isn’t a moonling.’
‘He’s as near one as makes no difference!’ she retorted, before she realised that she had allowed her provoking younger brother to get the better of her yet again. ‘Oh, you are an abominable person, Benedict!’
‘True,’ he agreed cordially. ‘And that is precisely why I could never bring myself to condemn one of your gentle sex to a lifetime of having to put up with my peccadilloes.’
‘That is utter nonsense, and you know it!’ she retorted. ‘Most members of my sex would be only too happy to become Mrs Benedict Grantley. And it isn’t as though you’re averse to female company. Apart from those several delicate vessels who have lived under your protection over the years, you number several females among your close friends.’
‘True. But not one of ’em has ever tempted me into marriage.’
‘But why?’ She raised one gloved hand in a despairing gesture. ‘That is what I do not understand. What on earth are you looking for in a wife?’
With praiseworthy control, he resisted the urge to torment her further, and gazed for a moment into the contents of his glass. ‘I am searching for perhaps a woman who could induce me to change my lifestyle by offering me one with her that I would infinitely prefer. I have yet to meet such a one, Aggie, and it is unlikely I ever shall. But should such a miracle occur, I promise I shall consider very seriously taking the matrimonial plunge.’
Feeling slightly moved by this display of total sincerity, and knowing that to pursue the matter further would avail her nothing, Lady Fencham rose to her feet, smiling a trifle wryly. ‘Well, I can only hope that this very special lady is among my guests on Friday, but I do not hold out much hope.’
‘You’re a sensible woman, Aggie,’ he remarked with a rare display of brotherly affection. ‘And wise, too, not to have ripped up at that young cub of yours for getting himself into a scrape.’
She shrugged. ‘What would be the point of that? He has certainly not been wasting his time whilst he’s been up at Oxford. Besides which, he’d be a rare sort of male indeed if he didn’t indulge in some harmless foolishness on occasions. Even you, Benedict,’ she reminded him with a certain degree of satisfaction, ‘were prone to less sensible behaviour at one time. It might prove most interesting if you were ever tempted to err again. But, as you are now an absolute st
ickler for the proprieties, and never act without due consideration, I do not hold out much hope.’
‘Very wise, my dear. Although it might surprise you to know that I am tempted to alter my routine in the near future, take Harry off your hands for a week or two and drag him into the country, if he still wishes to accompany me.’
‘I think you know the answer to that already. You’ve always been a firm favourite of his.’
She chose not to add that it was likewise with her.
Chapter Two
Descending the stairs to the coffee room, the landlady of the Ashworth Arms clearly detected the delicious odour of freshly baked bread. The smell grew steadily stronger as she crossed the tap and went down the passageway to her farmhouse-style kitchen, there to discover the female responsible for producing the mouth-watering aroma.
Her lined, and faintly forbidding, countenance was instantly softened by a tender expression. If any one person could take sole credit for turning the hostelry into an increasingly thriving business, then it was the young woman who was now busily working at the table, preparing the pies which would be consumed with relish that evening.
‘Now, Miss Em, don’t you go making more than one batch,’ she ordered in the same gently scolding tone as she always adopted when addressing the being whom she had brought into the world, and had lovingly nurtured for twelve very happy years. ‘I’ll not have you wearing yourself out for that rascally bunch who’ve nothing better to do than sit and swill down tankards of ale all evening. Besides, you might find yourself having to prepare dinner if Mrs Hammond’s gentlemen friends should arrive today.’