Tavern Wench

by Anne Ashley

  Emma might have supposed that he was faintly resentful over the time she had been obliged to spend nursing Richard during these past days, and possibly a little jealous too of the sisterly affection in which she held the younger man, had she not easily discerned a teasing glint in those striking blue orbs.

  ‘I shall take leave to inform you sir,’ she returned, with all the starchiness of a prim schoolmistress, ‘that I have never flirted in my life. Furthermore, I wouldn’t know how.’

  ‘No?’ His sceptical expression was most marked. ‘Well, you’ve certainly been granted ample opportunity to put in some practice, my girl. According to my information, you’ve been enjoying several informal and jolly dinners together. Yet not once,’ he did not hesitate to remind her, ‘have you ever attempted to join me for meals in the parlour.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ she responded, little realising the effect her fingers were having on his libido, as she began to tease them through his thick crop of waving black hair. ‘I knew instinctively that Richard posed no threat; whereas you, sir, were clearly a danger from the first.’

  ‘Just as you are proving a severe trial to my good intentions now,’ he rejoined.’

  Unable to withstand the arousing touch of those tantalising fingers a moment longer, Benedict eased her off his lap, grasping her hands and holding them securely before they could wreak more havoc on his senses. ‘I vowed from the first that I would treat you with no less respect than I would the daughter of a duke,’ he freely admitted, as he too rose. ‘But I must confess that you are placing me under considerable strain. So, I would suggest, for your sake as well as mine, that we are married as swiftly as possible. Otherwise, my girl, you will be enjoying the delights of the wedding night before the ceremony has taken place.’

  The clearly inviting look she cast him through her long, curling lashes was proof enough that the prospect of doing just that did not disturb her to any great extent.

  ‘Baggage!’ He shook his head at her in mock reproach. ‘It’s as well for you that I know you’re a complete innocent. I shall leave for the capital tomorrow, obtain a special licence, and then you will pay for your tantalising, you provoking little temptress.’

  He felt obliged to silence her gurgle of mirth, but released her at once when he detected the click of the door, and turned to see his nephew standing on the threshold, the expression of mingled embarrassment and amusement on his young face clearly betraying the fact that he had witnessed the embrace.

  ‘Sorry, bad timing. Only popped in to say Richard’s asleep, so I’m off up the road to inflict myself on the Meechams for an hour or two.’

  ‘No, don’t rush off just yet,’ Benedict enjoined, swiftly capturing his future wife’s hand and retaining it in a gentle clasp. ‘You may be the first to congratulate me, Nephew. Emma has done me the very great honour of agreeing to be my wife.’

  With a whoop of joy, Harry came forward to shake his uncle’s free hand warmly, and to place a smacking kiss upon Emma’s cheek. ‘What an aunt you’re giving me, Ben! I could not be more delighted!’

  Although secretly pleased by this reaction to his news, Benedict bent a sardonic glance upon his nephew. ‘You do not appear unduly surprised by the news.’

  ‘Good gad! You must take me for a complete simpleton. You can’t go about behaving quite out of character, and expect me not to suspect that something’s in the wind.’ Harry turned to Emma, beaming at her with approval. ‘You’re a wonderful influence on him, m’dear. He was in the gravest danger of becoming set in his ways, and turning into a devilish dull dog. But there’s no danger of that happening now, thank the Lord! When do you intend to tie the knot?’

  ‘As soon as it can be arranged,’ Benedict answered, more amused than annoyed by these slurs on his character. ‘I’m off to London in the morning to arrange matters. Do you wish to accompany me?’

  ‘No, I think I’ll take a jaunt into Devon. Received a letter from a friend of mine, Freddy Farnham, whilst you were away. He’s invited me to spend the rest of the summer with him at his parents’ place. It’ll be a dashed more agreeable than squiring Mama round Brighton. I discovered in a letter I had from Papa that she’s in Bath at the moment, taking care of great-aunt Agatha who, apparently, hasn’t been too well. I’ll ride over to Salisbury in the morning and arrange the hire of a post-chaise, and will leave the following day.’

  ‘So, you are abandoning me again, and so soon,’ Emma remarked the instant Harry departed.

  Benedict could not fail to hear the note of disappointment in her voice. ‘Yes, but for the very last time, I promise you. There are matters I must attend to, not least of which is closing my town residence, and arranging for the servants to return to Fairview in order to have the house in perfect order for the arrival of its mistress.’

  Mistress of Fairview…how perfect that sounded! Emma mused, happy to rest her head on the broad expanse of chest and feel those strong arms automatically wrap themselves about her. They would be parted for a few days only. Surely she could manage without him for the short time it might take for him to arrange everything for their wedding? Then they could enjoy the rest of their lives together, she told herself, sublimely ignoring the strange little shiver which unexpectedly rippled through her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  At about the same time as Benedict was on the point of paying a visit to a close friend in the capital, whose esteemed uncle was no less a personage than a Bishop, Harry was entering a fashionable dwelling in Bath.

  Having decided to spend the summer with his friend, he had considered it only polite to pay his respects to his mother, since he had not been in contact with her since leaving London, and inform her in person that he had changed his plans and would not now be joining the family in Brighton. He knew his esteemed parent well enough to be sure that she would not kick up a fuss over so trivial a matter, and she justified this faith in her by receiving his decision calmly, merely saying that he would surely attain far more pleasure in the company of his friend than he would parading round the fashionable seaside resort.

  ‘So, how did you enjoy your stay at Fairview?’ she asked, after seating herself with her back to the window in the sunny front parlour. Bright morning sunlight was no longer flattering to a woman of her years, and she possessed sense enough to realise this. ‘Not that I need to enquire,’ she added. ‘You always enjoy your uncle’s company.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ he freely admitted. ‘We remained at Fairview a few days only, then we travelled into Wiltshire. Didn’t Father let you know? I wrote to him.’

  ‘No, he did not. Which is no great surprise, of course. You should know by now that your father allows the world to pass him by once he’s safely back at his country estate. It would come as no great surprise to me either to discover that he still thinks I’m in London.’

  Harry frankly laughed, for this was possibly all too true. Both he and his father much preferred life in the country, and were inclined to absorb themselves so fully in rural pursuits that the world tended to pass them by. ‘I’m astonished that you’ve managed to persuade him to accompany you to Brighton.’

  ‘Well, dear, I’m afraid for the next few years he must accustom himself to leaving his Berkshire acres. We’ve husbands to find for your four sisters. Caroline will be eighteen early next year,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m seriously considering the idea of bringing her to Bath in the autumn to prepare her for her come-out next spring. Aunt Agatha is more than willing to put us up here for the duration of our stay, so that will save me the trouble of renting a house.’

  Suddenly recalling the reason behind his mother’s visit to Bath, Harry belatedly enquired after the health of his great aunt. ‘Not still keeping to her bed, I trust?’

  ‘No. She’s much improved. It was nothing more serious than a summer chill. She’s resumed her daily visits to the Pump Room. She’s there now, as it happens, taking the waters. I do not think there is the least necessity for me to remain here very much longer. I shall probabl
y return to Berkshire at the end of the week in good time to prepare for the trip to Brighton.’

  For a few moments Lady Fencham allowed her mind to dwell pleasurably on the planned sojourn by the sea. Then she suddenly bethought herself of something that now occurred to her as most odd. ‘You’ve been in Wiltshire, you say? What on earth possessed you to go there?’

  Harry was instantly on his guard. He had pledged his word not to divulge the reason behind the visit. None the less, it was fairly safe to assume that sooner or later his mother would discover precisely where they had stayed, so he saw little point in striving to conceal the fact now.

  ‘Ben took it into his head to do a spot of sightseeing. We stayed at Ashworth Magna, as it happens. Put up at the inn there. Saw quite a bit of Mrs Hammond and Deborah.’

  Lady Fencham did not attempt to hide her surprise. ‘Good heavens! I didn’t realise that Benedict was planning to stay there. It’s a pretty enough place, I grant you, but you must have been dreadfully bored.’

  ‘On the contrary. Spent quite a bit of time over at Sir Lionel Brent’s place. I expect you know him quite well.’ He then went on to disclose the fact that he had met and become friendly with the new Lord Ashworth, and also informed her of the destruction of Ashworth Hall, an account of which would almost certainly appear in the newspapers in the very near future.

  ‘How dreadful! I sincerely hope nobody was hurt.’

  ‘Miss Isabel Ashworth perished in the blaze. Did you know her?’

  ‘Yes…well, vaguely. I met her on several occasions when I visited Lavinia. She seemed quite content to spend all her time at Ashworth Hall. What a strange creature she was! No one else was hurt, I trust? I seem to recall a niece living there.’

  ‘Yes, Clarissa Ashworth. She’s in Brighton, staying with relatives. Sir Lionel has gone there to break the news. Isabel was buried a few days after the—er—accident.’ He refrained from disclosing that there had not been much left of the villainous woman to bury. ‘In the circumstances, Sir Lionel thought it best to keep the funeral a very quiet affair.’

  After nodding her head in approval, Lady Fencham changed the subject by enquiring the present whereabouts of her younger brother.

  ‘Oh, he’s taken himself off to the capital for a few days. Then he intends to return to Ashworth Magna.’

  Once again his mother betrayed surprise. ‘What on earth can possibly induce him to return there?’

  ‘Believe me, Mama, there is a great inducement,’ Harry informed her, certain that Benedict would not object to his sister knowing about his plans to marry, even if he had every intention of keeping the ceremony very private. ‘You’ll never believe it… Uncle Benedict’s only gone and found himself a charmer at last!’

  Lady Fencham visibly bristled with indignation. ‘I shall take leave to inform you, my son, that I do not consider that a suitable topic to raise in polite company.’

  Harry did not misunderstand, and frankly laughed. ‘Not that sort of charmer, Mama,’ he assured her. ‘Against all the odds, Ben’s finally fallen in love. When you meet Emma you’ll understand why.’

  Realising that her son was not trying to hoodwink her, Lady Fencham was momentarily lost for words, ‘But—but who is this female, Harry? Who are her people?’

  ‘Dash it all, Mama! I didn’t go asking questions like that. I seem to recall someone telling me that both her parents are dead. Her name is Emma Lynn. She’s a great gun. And she’ll make Ben the perfect wife.’

  These few snippets were insufficient to satisfy Lady Fencham’s curiosity. ‘But where did Benedict meet this young woman?’

  ‘Oh, she resides at the inn at Ashworth Magna. She’s the cook there. And a dashed good one too. Best food I’ve tasted in years!’

  Never before had Lady Fencham been so thankful for her innate powers of self-control. Her son might suppose his tidings joyous; she most assuredly did not. Yet, no one observing her sitting calmly in the chair, hands clasped in her lap, would have supposed for a moment that she was striving to control both astonishment and outrage at this totally unexpected and appalling turn of events.

  She was at a complete loss to understand what could possibly have come over the brother whose keen intelligence and impeccable manners she had always so admired. How could he even think of polluting the proud Grantley blood by marrying such a creature? Every fibre of her being recoiled at the mere thought of calling such a one ‘sister’. No, it was not to be borne! Benedict might have lost all sense of pride and honour, but she most assuredly had not. She would put a stop to this nonsense before it went any further!

  ‘Well, aren’t you delighted by the news, Mama?’ Harry prompted, after having had his attention momentarily diverted by a rather smart racing curricle bowling along the street.

  ‘Believe me, my son, I am utterly overwhelmed,’ she responded, focusing her attention on an imaginary crease in her skirt. ‘Evidently much has happened during my short sojourn in Bath. I think it behoves me to hasten my departure, and return to the bosom of my family.’

  It was early the following afternoon when Emma received an express from Benedict, informing her that his business in the capital had taken less time than expected, that he would be returning to Hampshire on the morrow, and would be with her again the day after. She read and reread the words written in that bold, flowing hand, cherishing each and every sweet endearment he had managed to insert in the brief missive.

  ‘If you read that many more times the ink will fade,’ Martha warned, entering the kitchen before Emma had a chance to return the note to the pocket of her apron.

  Samuel, glancing up from the weekly list he always made of provisions needing to be purchased, chuckled at this. ‘No need to ask who it’s from, Martha.’

  ‘No, indeed. Though why Mr Grantley didn’t take his belongings with him when he left, I cannot imagine. It would have saved him the bother of returning here for them.’

  Samuel’s great shoulders shook again. ‘He’s coming back for more than just his baggage if I know anything, m’dear.’

  Emma gazed from one to the other. She would have much preferred to wait until Benedict’s return before informing them officially, but as it was patently obvious by the twinkles in their eyes that they had already guessed, she saw little reason not to confirm their suspicions.

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right, Samuel. Mr Grantley has asked me to be his wife. I’ve been longing to share my news with you both,’ she went on to tell them, after receiving hugs and heartfelt congratulations, ‘only for some reason Ben wished to keep our betrothal secret for the time being, though he did inform Harry before he left.’

  ‘Well, I dare say dear Mr Grantley had his reasons for wanting to keep his intentions secret. Not that we needed to be told,’ Martha openly admitted. ‘We both knew there was something in the wind. Sam, here, was far quicker to realise it than I was.’

  ‘Can’t mistake the look in a man’s eye, Martha, when his intentions are serious, like.’ Samuel raised his head, when he detected a voice raised in the coffee room. ‘Now, who be that, I wonder?’ He rose to his feet. ‘Someone else trying to ferret out what’s happened to young Lord Ashworth, I expect. Well, they’ll learn nowt from me.’

  Emma didn’t suppose for a moment that whoever it was would learn anything from Samuel, or from Martha either, come to that. Both were completely trustworthy, and not given to indulging in idle, malicious gossip. She just wished she could have been perfectly honest with them both and told them the complete truth.

  When she had returned to the inn with Richard on that dreadful evening, there had been no time for detailed explanations. Obviously, the fact that Richard had been shot could not be concealed, and she had not hesitated to inform them of the perpetrator of the crime. After having had a brief consultation with Benedict the following morning, however, it had been decided that, if possible, the full facts should be concealed. So Emma had made it known that the fire which had resulted in Isabel’s death had been started by ac
cident, and that Flint, fearing that he would lose his own privileged position at the Hall, once the new master had taken up residence, had planned to murder Richard.

  Now, of course, she had pledged her word never to reveal the whole truth to another living soul. Even Lavinia, who had called at the inn the previous day, had agreed wholeheartedly to Sir Lionel’s proposal that the full facts should never become generally known.

  ‘Nothing can bring my husband back, Emma,’ she had said, when they had managed to attain a few minutes alone together. ‘It grieves me to think that that evil woman has gone to her grave with her reputation intact, and I do consider it grossly unfair that the blame for the recent tragedy is being placed squarely at Flint’s door, even though he deserves no pity, I know. None the less it would cause needless hardship to others if the truth ever came out. Why should Richard be made to pay for his aunt’s crimes? You know what people are, Emma,’ she had gone on to say. ‘Malicious tongues would start to wag, suggesting that the Ashworth blood was tainted. Why should the poor boy be made to suffer more than he has already?’

  Samuel’s return brought an end to these melancholy reflections, and turned Emma’s thoughts in a completely new direction when she learned the identity of the visitor now waiting to see her in the private parlour.

  Delaying only for the time it took to remove her apron, check on the state of her hair, and shake out the folds of her serviceable, plain grey gown, she went into the parlour to discover the lady, fashionably attired in a dark blue carriage dress, staring out of the window. ‘Good-day to you, ma’am. This is an unexpected pleasure,’ she said, after closing the door and moving across to the table where she and Benedict had enjoyed a last breakfast together before he had left for London.