Anne Ashley (2 page)

‘Oh, it’s beautiful, miss!’ Mary declared, after unwrapping the
package and running expert fingers over the pearl-grey material. ‘And just the
thing for when you’re in half-mourning!’

‘Yes, it will serve very well,’ Briony agreed, a moment before
she caught sight of a bolt of dark-blue silk, of equally fine quality, appearing
almost discarded on a chair in the corner of the room. ‘Oh, and that is quite
eye-catching, too! Where on earth did you come by it? Such an unusual shade!’
she added, after going over to take a closer look.

‘Well, I…I…don’t—er—quite remember just where it came
from.’

‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ Briony enthused, having paid little heed
to the vague response. ‘Yes, I rather fancy I shall be extravagant and have
another gown made up in this colour. Heaven alone knows how many dresses I shall
be able to afford in the future! But Lady Ashworth was always most generous with
the allowance she made me. I have funds enough at present to afford two, so—’
She broke off as she noted at last the look of concern on the face of, perhaps,
her godmother’s most successful protégée.

The daughter of hardworking but impoverished farm-labouring
stock, Mary Norman had been little more than a child when both her parents had
died. The young girl’s plight had soon come to the attention of Lady Ashworth,
who had instantly taken both Mary and her young brother into the household. Mary
had been placed under Janet’s care, while her brother Will had been set to work
in the stables.

Not many weeks had passed before Lady Ashworth had first begun
to appreciate Mary’s innate skill with a needle. She had then nurtured the gift,
even going so far as to allow her protégée, young though she had been at the
time, to make day dresses for her mistress to wear. When Briony had become a
member of the household, and a governess had been engaged, Lady Ashworth had
been generous enough to allow Mary to attend certain lessons. Consequently, not
only had Mary acquired a well-rounded education, she had had the great good
fortune, on attaining her majority, of being set up in business by her generous
employer. Furthermore, she and Briony had been close friends for years, close
enough for Briony to realise at once that all was not well with her childhood
companion. Sensing that more than just the death of her beloved Lady Ashworth
lay behind the sombre look, she asked outright what was wrong.

‘Why, nothing!’ The denial was not at all convincing, as
Briony’s sceptical expression betrayed, and Mary released her breath in a sigh
of resignation. ‘Well, it’s that material, you see. I had every intention of
returning it. I don’t think it will sell very well.’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Briony countered, still not wholly
convinced she was being told the absolute truth. ‘And you’re never likely to
find out if you keep it hidden, here, in your back room. Put it on show in the
shop, for heaven’s sake!’ When no response was forthcoming, she added, ‘Are you
sure there’s nothing else troubling you?’

Another sigh quickly followed. ‘It’s my brother Will,’ Mary at
last revealed. ‘He’s gone and got himself in with…with some very bad company,
that’s all I can say. Why he ever left Lady Ashworth and went to work for Lord
Petersham I’ll never know!’

‘Of course you know why,’ Briony countered, unable to suppress
a smile over her friend’s motherly attitude towards a brother who, although a
year or so younger, was now inches taller, besides being as strong as an ox.
‘Lord Petersham offered him more money and a chance to better himself. It’s
common knowledge the head groom at Petersham House is due for retirement within
a few years. Will’s sure to be offered the position.’

‘Yes, if he can keep himself out of trouble in the
meantime.’

Briony sensed that there might be some justification for Mary’s
concern and that she wasn’t simply behaving like an overly protective mother hen
towards her younger sibling. Unfortunately, before she could even attempt to get
to the truth of the matter, they were interrupted by the young shop assistant
who informed Mary that a customer required to see her personally.

Briony rose at once to her feet. ‘I mustn’t keep you from your
work any longer. Besides, I must be on my way too, Mary. I don’t want to keep Mr
Pettigrew waiting,’ she announced, leading the way back into the shop. ‘I’ll
remind him to get in touch with you just to put your mind at rest, although I
expect he’s every intention of doing so. You know my measurements well enough by
now to make a start on the dresses. So, I’ll call again in a week or two to see
how they’re coming along. Perhaps if you’re not too busy we can talk together
again then?’

Even though Mary said she would be delighted, Briony yet again
wasn’t altogether convinced of the truthfulness of the response. Clearly Mary
was desperately worried about her brother, but just why this should be was
destined to remain a mystery, at least for the present.

Thrusting her friend’s concerns to the back of her mind, she
set off once again down the thriving little market town’s main street and was
soon entering the premises of Mr G. W. Pettigrew, Notary and Commissioner for
Oaths. The neat little man of business rose from behind his huge desk the
instant she was shown into his private office by a young clerk and requested her
to be seated in his faultlessly correct and professional manner.

‘I was so sorry I was unable to speak to you after your
godmother’s funeral, Miss Winters, but I’m afraid urgent and unavoidable
business obliged me to leave earlier than I would have wished. Lady Ashworth and
I had known each other a very long time; I believe she came to look upon me as a
trusted friend.’

‘Indeed, she did, sir,’ Briony concurred, seating herself,
while at the same time vaguely wondering why a second chair had been placed on
her side of the desk. ‘I distinctly recall her mentioning once that it was none
other than your good self who found the house she occupied for much of her adult
life.’

He nodded. ‘When she became a widow, tragically so soon after
her marriage to Lord Ashworth, the family homes, of course, went to Lord
Ashworth’s younger brother and heir. Thankfully her late husband left her
financially secure, but even so she was never frivolous with money. She could
quite easily have afforded to reside all year round in a fashionable house in
the capital had she wished to do so. She chose, instead, a charming house close
to the Dorsetshire coast. I believe she was always contented at the Manor.’

‘Indeed she was, sir,’ Briony once again concurred,
experiencing a pang of regret to think that she would no doubt quite soon be
forced to leave the house where she, too, had been so very happy.

But there was little point in trying to pretend that she stood
the remotest chance of remaining at the Manor. She was on the point of asking,
without preamble, how she was placed financially, when the door behind her
unexpectedly opened. Mr Pettigrew rose at once to his feet when a smooth and
deeply attractive masculine voice announced, ‘I trust I have kept no one
waiting,’ and, naturally curious, Briony slewed round to discover herself the
recipient of a faintly ironic grey-eyed gaze.

‘Not at all, sir,’ Mr Pettigrew assured, gesturing to the
vacant chair beside Briony’s as he did so. ‘Do make yourself comfortable, Mr
Kingsley. You remember Miss Winters, I trust?’

By the new arrival’s wholly impassive countenance Briony
wouldn’t have known for sure whether this was true or not. She certainly hadn’t
recognised him, however, and it took every ounce of self-control she possessed
to stop herself gaping in astonishment as her late godmother’s sole nephew
strolled leisurely over to the desk, removing his stylish beaver hat as he did
so to reveal a healthy crop of slightly waving brown hair.

It had been a full ten years since the last time she had set
eyes on Luke Kingsley; she was grudgingly obliged to own that the years had been
favourably disposed towards him. Even the faint lines about his mouth and eyes
didn’t detract from his good looks. If anything, they added more character to a
face that had lost none of its attractive masculinity during the past
decade.

Without conscious thought she stretched out her hand for him to
take briefly in his own. ‘Of course I remember you, Miss Winters. But I hope you
will not consider it ungallant of me to reveal that I do not believe I would
have recognised you.’

‘Not at all, sir, for in truth I did not at first recognise
you,’ she returned, sensible enough to accept that it would do her cause no good
whatsoever to appear antagonistic towards the very person who would undoubtedly
be in the position to throw her out on her ear, should he choose to take
possession of the Manor immediately.

Grudgingly she was obliged silently to acknowledge, too, that
he hadn’t attempted to retain possession of her fingers for longer than was
politely acceptable for persons who were, to all intents and purposes, virtual
strangers. Nor had he stared at her in any over-familiar fashion, come to that,
attempting to ogle her feminine charms. Given his reputation where the fair sex
was concerned, she was forced to own that this came as something of a surprise.
Maybe, though, it was simply a matter of her not being to his taste, she
reasoned, recalling all at once that he had considered her something of a
tiresome nuisance years ago, before he had left the Manor to begin his studies
at Oxford.

Perversely, this recollection rather pleased her, for although
she sensibly recognised that open hostility would be most unwise, with the best
will in the world she could not like him, nor easily forgive him for not
attending the funeral of the woman who had done so much for him in his formative
years.

‘Earlier this year,’ Mr Pettigrew began, studying the papers in
his hand, and obliging Briony to favour him with her full attention once again,
‘Lady Ashworth paid me an unexpected visit, a few weeks after her last trip to
London, and made some fundamental adjustments to her will. Now,’ he continued,
after staring briefly at each of his listeners in turn, and all at once
appearing faintly embarrassed, ‘apart from the few bequests to loyal servants
and close friends, she declares that the house, together with the rest of her
private fortune, be divided evenly between the two of you…’

Briony could scarce believe her ears. She knew her godmother
had cared for her deeply, but never in her wildest imaginings had she supposed
she would be left such a generous portion, enough to ensure her continued
comfort for the rest of her life. She had wondered how she was going to maintain
herself and earn a living, and had seriously considered Janet’s suggestion of
setting up home together on the coast. Now it seemed she would have security for
life!

She began to gnaw at her bottom lip in an attempt to stop it
trembling. A great bubble of combined elation and poignancy rose within her,
only to burst a moment later, when Mr Pettigrew added after the briefest of
pauses,

‘…on condition that a wedding take place between the two main
beneficiaries as soon as might reasonably be arranged after the reading of the
will.’

Chapter Two

A
bout to take off her bonnet, Briony gaped
across the bedchamber, unable quite to believe her ears. She was still far from
mistress of herself, but even so she would have hoped that the female who had
been such a pillar of strength during the past two weeks or so would have
entirely understood her reaction to what had transpired in Mr Pettigrew’s office
earlier that day.

‘What on earth do you mean by saying it’s a godsend, Janet…?
It’s nothing of the sort!’ Tossing the bonnet aside in disgust, Briony began to
pace the room, a clear indication of her continuing highly agitated state. ‘I
just cannot understand what possessed Godmama to consider such a ludicrous
thing—marriage to that rakehell of a nephew of hers…? Why, it’s ludicrous!
Contemptible! I can only suppose she wasn’t quite right in the attic when she
had what was destined to be that final consultation with Mr Pettigrew.’

Concerned though she was, Janet couldn’t resist smiling at the
no-nonsense choice of language, which had been so much a part of the younger
woman’s character since girlhood. ‘There was nothing wrong with the mistress’s
understanding, Miss Briony, as well you know,’ she admonished gently. ‘She
possibly thought she was acting for the best. After all, miss, you can’t stay
here by yourself. It wouldn’t be proper, not as young as you are. Besides which,
I expect she was trying to be fair to both you and Master Luke.’

This was hardly destined to placate Briony, and it didn’t.
‘What, by uniting us both in a loveless marriage? I don’t consider that fair. I
call it downright cruel, not to say preposterous!’ Wandering over to the window,
she shook her head, still unable to believe her godmother had supposed such a
union was conceivable. ‘Good gracious, Janet, apart from anything else, I don’t
even like the fellow—have never cared much for him, for that matter. So what
hope is there for a successful marriage between us? It’s doomed from the
start.’

Janet, who had been occupying herself tidying the bedchamber,
paused in the act of collecting the discarded black-taffeta bonnet, and gazed
across the room at the slender figure staring broodingly out of the window.

‘Has he changed much, Miss Briony?’ she asked, curiosity having
got the better of her. ‘I haven’t set eyes on Master Luke in…oh, must be ten
years or more, but I remember him as a nice-natured, handsome lad, fearless,
always ripe for any lark.’

‘Nice-natured and handsome?’ Briony repeated, once again unable
to believe her ears. ‘He was never anything of the sort!’ she corrected
vehemently. ‘He’d never permit me to accompany him whenever he went shooting or
fishing. Nor would he ever let me anywhere near those precious horses of
his.’

Janet gurgled unexpectedly. ‘And when you dared to take one of
his hacks out that time, without permission, he tossed you in the lily pond upon
your return to the house for daring to disobey him.’

This ill-timed reminder of an incident almost forgotten was
hardly destined to improve Briony’s poor opinion of someone who had always
figured in her mind as a tormentor and bully on those rare occasions when she
had happened to think about him.

‘Good gracious! The wretch did as well! I’d almost forgotten
all about that. Ha!’ she exclaimed triumphantly. ‘More reason, then, don’t you
agree, not to attach myself to such an unconscionable bully? Like as not the
rakehell would attain the greatest pleasure in taking a stick to me at the least
provocation as soon as the knot was tied!’

‘Now, that he would never do!’ Janet parried, instantly coming
to the gentleman’s defence. ‘I might not have seen him in a mort of years, but
what I always says is, those that are good-natured as children are good-natured
when they’re older. Oh, and he were such a handsome lad, as I recall,’ she went
on, having fallen into a reminiscing mood. ‘Why, he had only to look at me with
those gorgeous grey eyes of his, and give me that special smile, and he could
wheedle anything out of me, so he could.’

‘Oh, heaven spare me!’ Briony groaned in disgust. ‘You’re as
besotted as those trollops in London must be to throw themselves at him. And I
really fail to see the attraction,’ she went on, perversely determined all at
once to knock the gentleman in question off the pedestal on which certain
persons seemed bent on placing him. ‘You’re as bad as Godmama. She always viewed
the wretch through a rosy haze. Well, I do not! He’s well enough,’ she conceded,
‘but not what I’d call handsome.’

Warming to the theme, she moved away from the window and
settled herself comfortably on the edge of the bed. ‘Now, Dr Mansfield is what I
do call a handsome gentleman. Kingsley’s well enough, as I’ve said before, but
not in the good doctor’s league by any means.’

‘Ah! So that’s the way of it, is it!’ Janet declared
triumphantly. ‘Could tell by the way he’s taken to looking at you that he’s
halfway smitten already. Well, you could do a lot worse, I suppose,’ she went
on, all at once appearing very well pleased. ‘And if you’re set on the good
doctor, then I perfectly understand you not wanting to have anything to do with
Master Luke.’

It took her, gaping in astonishment, a moment or two to
comprehend fully in which direction the housekeeper’s thoughts were heading.
‘You must be all about in your head, Janet!’ Briony at last exclaimed. ‘I’ve no
designs on Dr Mansfield whatsoever. I’ve no desire to marry any man. You should
know that. Why do you suppose I always flatly refused to accompany Godmama on
any one of her many trips away when I knew her intention was to stay over for
any length of time in the capital? I knew what she was about. She’d have had me
parading the Marriage Mart in front of all the eligible bachelors before I knew
what was happening. Eventually even she realised she’d never persuade me to
marry.’

‘Ah, but, Miss Briony,’ Janet murmured, ‘not all men turn out
like that father of yours.’

‘Maybe not,’ she conceded, ‘but young as I was I never forgot
what he did to my mother.’ Briony fixed her gaze on the wall opposite, her eyes
all at once losing every vestige of softness. ‘The Honourable Charles Winters…
Ha! There was nothing honourable in him. He married my mother for her money,
pure and simple. Then, the instant he had his hands on her dowry, he deserted
her for the fleshpots of the capital. I don’t even recall what he looked like
now, his visits were so few. I only remember the change in my mother, after his
excesses had killed him, and she was forced to sell the family home in order to
pay his debts. For five years we lived in cramped, rented accommodation, with
poor Mama taking in sewing in order to buy a few luxuries. I never knew what
life might have been like had Mama married a half-decent fellow. It was only
after Lady Ashworth brought me here to live with her that I started to
appreciate just how comfortable my mother’s life had been before her
marriage.’

Reluctantly accepting it would be futile to discuss the topic
of marriage further, Janet sighed and went across to the bed to place an arm
around those slightly drooping young shoulders, which showed more clearly than
words just how dejected her young mistress was feeling at the present time.

‘Chin up, Miss Briony! I’m sure the mistress left you
something. She was far too fond of you to have left you penniless, even if you
did flatly refuse to marry Master Luke. And I’m sure she left me a little
something as well. Who knows, it might just be enough to start us up in our
little boarding house by the sea.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Janet.’ Capturing one work-roughened hand,
Briony held it between both her own, her personal woes momentarily forgotten. ‘I
was so angry, I didn’t stop to think about anything or anyone else. I took one
look at Kingsley’s asinine expression, as though he found the whole interlude
highly diverting, and stormed out in high dudgeon.’

Releasing the hand, Briony went across to the window once more,
all at once feeling slightly ashamed of herself. ‘I shall pay another call on Mr
Pettigrew, if only to apologise for my behaviour. And I’ll ask him then about
your bequest. I meant to ask about Mary Norman, as it happens. Even that slipped
my mind. All the more reason to swallow my pride and return. But I’ll leave it
for a day or two, until I’ve calmed down and am more myself.’

* * *

Unfortunately, even this slight respite was to be denied
her, as Briony discovered the following morning, when the young maid Alice came
in search of her to reveal that Mr Kingsley had called and awaited her in the
front parlour. For a moment or two Briony toyed with the idea of denying him an
interview, but then swiftly thought better of it. Sooner or later she was going
to be forced to consult with him, if only to discuss what was to be done with
Lady Ashworth’s personal effects. Surely he would not be so mean spirited as to
object to her keeping a few personal items once belonging to the woman who had
become a second mother to her?

Either he genuinely did not hear, or he chose not to
acknowledge her entry into the parlour, for he continued to stand with his back
to the door, seeming to contemplate the flower bed directly in front of the
window. Surprisingly, Briony didn’t take offence at this initial lack of
acknowledgement to her presence, mainly because it provided her with the golden
opportunity to study him closely and, more importantly, unobserved.

Grudgingly, she was obliged silently to own that he was a fine
figure of a man by any standard. Tall and straight-limbed, he carried his
clothes exceptionally well—clothes in the latest mode that clearly boasted the
workmanship of an expert tailor. His appearance alone suggested strongly that,
already, he was a man of no small means.

Memory stirred and she recalled her godmother once having
revealed that his father, although her younger brother, and therefore not the
direct heir to the viscountcy, had married well and had become a wealthy young
gentleman in his own right, boasting a fine property in Derbyshire, as well as a
town house situated in one of the most fashionable areas in the capital.

This wealth must surely have been bequeathed to Luke, his sole
offspring, Briony reasoned. Furthermore, since the tragic death of Viscount
Kingsley’s only son and heir a matter of two years before, Luke Kingsley had
become the heir to the viscountcy and, as a consequence, must surely have been
receiving an allowance from his uncle. So, unless he had been consistently
squandering vast sums at the gaming tables and elsewhere during the past couple
of years, he shouldn’t be short of money. So, why was he here? Surely he wasn’t
seriously contemplating his aunt’s ludicrous proposal?

He turned suddenly, too suddenly for her not to be caught
red-handed appraising his manly attributes, and she was obliged to witness a
crooked, self-satisfied smile curl his lips as he moved towards her, as though
he was quite accustomed to finding favour in feminine eyes.

‘Briony, forgive me, I didn’t hear you come in.’ He grasped her
hand briefly, much as he had done at the lawyer’s office the previous morning,
and as he did so scrutinised her face.

Although perhaps not conventionally beautiful, Briony knew she
was well enough, having features both regular and very pleasing. If there was a
serious flaw, it was that her countenance tended to be far too expressive on
occasions and, as a consequence, very prone to revealing precisely what was
passing through her mind to any discerning soul.

Luke Kingsley might indeed have possessed many of those
attributes she most disliked in his sex, but no one could ever have accused him
of being slow-witted, or lacking perception, as his next words proved.

‘Oh, come now! Surely we need not stand on ceremony?’ he
cajoled, clearly having accurately interpreted her slight feeling of chagrin at
his familiar use of her given name. ‘We played here together as children, as I
recall, even if it was over a decade ago.’

‘We did no such thing!’ she took great pleasure in refuting.
‘But if you wish to dispense with formality, I do not object. In fact, I believe
it will save time if we dispense with needless pleasantries altogether and come
straight to the point of your visit.’

Again she witnessed the half-crooked smile curl what she was
silently obliged to acknowledge was a rather attractive masculine mouth that was
neither too narrow nor too broad. Just perfect, in fact. ‘I’d quite forgotten
how forthright you could be on occasions. You were never one to hide your teeth.
Very well, let us have plain speaking, but at least let us make ourselves
comfortable first.’

Although she complied readily enough by seating herself in one
of the chairs, something in her mien once again betrayed the fact that she
wasn’t perfectly at ease in his company. Nor was she quite able to conceal the
annoyance she was still experiencing over the contents of her godmother’s will
from those all-too-perceptive and rather fine grey eyes of his, as he confirmed
a moment later.

‘Evidently you are still feeling immensely peeved at what the
good Mr Pettigrew revealed to us both yesterday. Very understandable. I wasn’t
altogether overjoyed myself,’ he freely admitted, clearly surprising her
somewhat. ‘I might have wished my aunt hadn’t attempted to interfere. I think we
might possibly have rubbed along very much better without outside interference.
But there it is. For reasons best known to herself, she chose to do so. And I’m
afraid we must make the best of it.

‘No, please allow me to finish, Briony,’ he went on, when she
attempted to interrupt. ‘I can guess what you are desperate to say—that a union
between us is out of the question, preposterous. And in normal circumstances I
would be inclined to agree with you wholeheartedly. But these circumstances are
not usual and I would ask only that you do not dismiss the notion out of hand.
Hear what I have to say, then take time to consider carefully.