Anne Ashley (3 page)

‘But first,’ he continued, rising to his feet, ‘shall we have
some refreshment? If my memory serves me correctly, Aunt Lavinia always kept a
tolerable Madeira in her cellar.’

Strangely enough, Briony didn’t take the least exception to his
helping himself and even went so far as to accept graciously the glass he poured
for her. After all, she reasoned, he had as much right to Lady Ashworth’s
possessions as she had, perhaps more so as he was a blood relation. Besides
which, with every passing minute, curiosity was getting the better of her and
she wished to discover precisely why he had called.

‘Perhaps I should begin by revealing the salient points
contained in my aunt’s will—those you failed to discover for yourself in your
haste to flee Mr Pettigrew’s office,’ he began, after resuming his seat, and
noting the colour that had risen in her cheeks at his blunt reminder of an
interlude that really didn’t redound to her credit.

‘Firstly, if we are to comply with the terms of the will we
must be married not later than two months hence.’

‘But surely you’re not proposing that we should comply?’ she
demanded to know, wanting this issue at least quite clear between them, if
nothing else.

‘Please, Briony, allow me to finish, then we can discuss
matters,’ he returned with a calmness that she was beginning to find faintly
irksome. ‘My aunt also specified that the marriage should last no less than a
period of six months. After which, if we should find we do not suit, we may go
our separate ways, seemingly with her blessing. The house and the majority of
her private fortune would then be divided evenly between the two of us. In the
meantime Mr Pettigrew, being one of the executors, would arrange for a monthly
allowance to be made to us from my aunt’s legacy in order to cover household
expenses and other reasonable necessities. However, if one, or the other, should
choose to remove from the Manor before the six-month period is over, then the
one who had done his, or her, utmost to abide by the terms of the will would
receive the whole fortune.’

Briony took a sip from her glass in an attempt to calm her.
Against all the odds, was he seriously proposing they should abide by the terms
of the will? It certainly sounded like it. And, true enough, for a six-month
period she would undoubtedly be able to command most any luxury. But at what
cost to herself? No, it really was too base even to contemplate. Why, it would
be like selling herself, body and soul, merely for financial gain!

‘Before I put my proposition before you,’ he continued, once
again obliging her to listen, ‘I should tell you that my aunt has made other
provisions for you, should you choose not to contemplate wedlock.’

He rose to his feet and, as he did so, she thought she could
detect a suspicion of that crooked smile returning briefly, as though at some
private thought, before he positioned himself once more by the window.

‘In the local town there is, so I understand, a certain
haberdashery, the property of my late aunt. This she bequeaths in full to you. A
young woman rents the property, so I believe, and is also in the process of
repaying a loan. Mr Pettigrew assured me there would be room enough for you to
remove there and help run the business, should you choose to avail yourself of
this alternative, for if we do not marry, this fine old house, together with all
its contents, is to be sold and the money raised, together with my aunt’s
private fortune, is to be divided between a number of worthy causes.’ At last he
turned to look directly at her once again to add, ‘Which, although extremely
altruistic, hardly benefits either of us.’

‘Perhaps not, sir,’ Briony agreed, ‘but I think it is the only
honourable course for us both.’

‘Therefore, I’m proposing an alternative solution,’ he
continued, just as though she had not spoken, ‘that I believe shall suit us both
and will also comply with all the terms set down in the will. We shall marry and
live here for the six-month period. But the marriage will be one of convenience
only, no more, no less.’

He noted the flicker of doubt and mistrust in her expression,
as though she had yet to appreciate fully what he was suggesting, and moved
towards her, drawing her to her feet by the simple expedient of grasping her
wrists.

‘Let me make things perfectly clear, Briony,’ he murmured,
staring down into clear blue eyes that were suddenly aglow with dawning wonder.
‘The world will believe ours to be a conventional marriage, a joyous union
between two people who after many years have been reunited. But I shall make no
attempt to claim my full rights as a husband. In other words, the marriage shall
not be consummated and therefore can be annulled once the six-month period is
over, or a little before. After which, I give you my word that I shall not
attempt to claim either my share of the property, or my aunt’s personal wealth.
All I should wish to take with me when I go is a few personal effects, books
mainly, as mementoes of my aunt.’

Briony could hardly believe her great good fortune, or that he
was prepared to give up so much. It just didn’t make any sense at all. If he
wasn’t interested in either the house, or the fortune, why bother to go through
with the farce of a marriage in the first place?

‘I have my reasons,’ was the prompt response, the instant she
had voiced her doubts. ‘Mr Pettigrew intends to call here tomorrow. He will only
confirm what I have already told you. He knows nothing of my proposal and I wish
it to remain that way. I give you my word that, after the marriage is annulled,
you will be able to remain here at the Manor in comfort for the rest of your
life, should you choose to do so. The one precondition is that you do everything
possible to convince the world that the union between us is genuine…in every
sense.

‘Now, I shall leave you to consider my proposal, and shall
return the day after tomorrow to receive your answer.’ With that he left her,
without so much as a backward glance, or even a final word of farewell.

* * *

Once back at the most comfortable inn the local town had
to offer, Luke sent for his most trusted servant-cum-confidant and awaited his
arrival in the private parlour, which he had hired for the duration of his stay.
After pouring himself a glass of wine, he took up a stance by the window, idly
watching the moderate amount of traffic travelling down the main street at this
time of day.

‘Nothing like London, eh?’ he remarked on detecting the click
of the door opening. He didn’t need to turn round, for the slight scraping of
one foot along the ground told him clearly enough that it was his former batman
who had entered the room.

After securely closing the door, Benjamin Carey limped slowly
towards the man whom he had served loyally throughout their years in the army.
‘Born and bred in the country, sir, so I don’t mind the peace and quiet. Can
always find plenty to fill my time.’

Study him though he might, Ben could read nothing in that
sharp, hawk-like profile to reveal whether his employer was pleased or quite
otherwise. But, it had ever been so! he reminded himself. A genius at disguising
his feelings was Major Kingsley. Which was perhaps just as well considering his
master’s present activities, Ben mused.

‘May I ask how it goes with you, sir?’

‘I’m not altogether sure, Ben.’ Abandoning his position by the
window, Luke settled himself at the table and gestured for his servant to do
likewise before pouring a second glass of wine and refilling his own. ‘Fillies
in London I can have a-plenty… But there’s a distinctly chilly wind circling
Miss Briony Winters. Do you know, Ben, I’ve gained the distinct impression the
gel don’t quite like me for some reason. And she certainly has no desire to
marry me. She does a fellow’s ego a power of no good, I can tell you!’

At this display of mock-hurt, Ben threw back his head and
roared with laughter. He was among the very few who knew when Luke Kingsley was
putting on an act for the benefit of others and when he was in earnest. ‘Well,
sir, fine-looking man that you are, you can’t be expected to charm all the
fillies.’

‘I don’t want to charm them all,’ Luke returned sharply. ‘But
I’m obliged to charm that pert and headstrong miss!’ He shook his head,
betraying his genuine annoyance by a severe frown. ‘Curse Aunt Lavinia! What on
earth possessed her to make such a will?’ His sense of humour then began to
reassert itself and he couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘But, of course, I know well
enough why. It would seem I’ve played my part rather too well in recent months,
Ben. Even dear Lady Ashworth was beginning to suppose her nephew was turning
into a rakehelly wastrel and needed bringing back into the fold, as it were. And
she evidently considered Miss Briony Winters equal to the task. The chit must
have qualities I have yet to unearth!’

A look of sympathy flickered over the older man’s face. ‘She
ain’t ill favoured, is she, sir?’

‘Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact!’ Luke had little
difficulty in conjuring up a face boasting, surprisingly enough, both character
and loveliness in equal measure. ‘And in the normal course of events Miss
Winters would have been most acceptable as a future bride. She’s pleasing in
both face and form. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her birth. Her mother
came from old and respected wealthy-yeoman stock. Sadly, the family disowned the
woman, I seem to recall, soon after she’d married an impoverished baron’s
younger son, a ne’er-do-well whose excesses killed him at a young age. When
Briony’s mother passed away a few years later, my aunt took the child into her
household. She quickly grew to love her goddaughter and I believe the affection
was reciprocated. They were certainly very happy together. But whether Miss
Winters can be trusted is a different matter entirely.’

He took a moment to consider other difficulties ahead. ‘I
expect, too, she’s headstrong. I remember, now, she was somewhat wayward as a
child. Unfortunately I’m not in the position to attempt to bridle her ways, at
least not until after the knot is tied. And then I suspect I’ll need to tread
very warily until I’ve got the chit’s full measure.’

‘But will she wed, do you suppose, sir?’

‘I’m far from certain, Ben,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve dangled the
proverbial carrot before the donkey…or should I say jenny. All I can hope is
that the treat offered is tempting enough. If not, I’m damned if I know what
course of action to take that will not arouse suspicion!’

* * *

Later that same afternoon Briony ventured into the
Manor’s finest bedchamber. Even though her own room was next door, she had not
once attempted to gain entry, not once since the morning she had come in by way
of the communicating door, only to discover her beloved godmother cold and
lifeless in the bed.

Clearly Janet had been in the room. The bed had been freshly
made with clean lacy pillows and frilly-edged bedcovers, all neatly in place.
There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen anywhere, testament to the housekeeper’s
high standards and devotion to her late mistress. In fact, it looked exactly how
it had always looked—the neat and elegantly furnished bedchamber of a
middle-aged lady of means.

Absently Briony sat herself at the dressing table and pulled
open the drawer containing some of her late godmother’s jewellery. Taking out
the wooden box, she flicked open its lid to discover several sparkling trinkets,
each of which she clearly recalled her godmother wearing on some occasion or
other. How much they were worth, she had no notion. The pearls were fine and
possibly very expensive. But it wasn’t their worth. Money wasn’t important. It
was the sentimental value that really mattered.

For a moment temptation almost overcame her. Hand poised over
the open box, she knew it would be a simple matter to extract a few pieces and
hide them in her room—keepsakes, reminders of someone whom she had loved so
dearly. After all, no one would know, she reasoned. As far as she was aware Mr
Pettigrew had never come to the house to take an inventory of the valuables.
Surely he wouldn’t know if a few items of jewellery were missing? And neither
would Luke Kingsley, come to that. Only Janet would know for sure and she would
never betray her.

The instant the last thought had passed through her mind Briony
closed the box with a snap and put it back in the drawer, thereby placing
temptation out of sight. No, she couldn’t involve Janet in such a deception,
motivated though it was by love and not financial gain. No, it wasn’t right. Nor
was it fair to help herself to valuables that Luke Kingsley had as much right to
have. But if she were to accede to his proposal…?

For perhaps the hundredth time since his visit that morning,
the idea of doing precisely that filtered through her mind, only to be dismissed
a moment later as unthinkable. Yet, she couldn’t deny, as she had wandered about
the house that afternoon, visiting each and every room, the temptation to become
the mistress of such a fine house, where she had been so happy, had been strong.
She would have every right to the jewellery then, all of it, she reminded
herself. Moreover, for the first time in her life she would be able to come and
go as she pleased. Married women enjoyed far more freedoms, and so would she,
even though the marriage would be one of convenience only.

Well, there was no denying it might prove to be highly
convenient for her. If Luke Kingsley was a man of his word the marriage would be
annulled after the specified period, then she could continue living at the
Manor, its mistress and its sole owner.

But could Luke Kingsley be trusted to keep his word? That was
the burning question. After all, she had never known the man, and the boy hardly
at all. Moreover, although her childhood memories didn’t precisely redound to
his credit, she was obliged to acknowledge that for a youth of eighteen, which
he had been when first she had arrived at the house, a twelve-year-old girl was
hardly an ideal companion. Troubled though she was, she couldn’t resist smiling
as this thought crossed her mind. Why, he must have found her a confounded
nuisance, forever trailing after him whenever he spent his holidays at the
Manor!