Anne Ashley - Lady Knightley's Secret

It must have been a year or, maybe, two later, when he had been out in the Peninsula fighting for his country, that he had received that one and only letter from her. She had considered that they were no longer obliged to comply with the wishes of their deceased fathers, and had released him completely from any obligation he might still have been harbouring to marry her.

Honesty prompted him to admit that he had experienced immense relief after reading that missive. After all, what man in his right mind was wishful to tie himself for life to a rather drab and plump female who had seemed incapable of stringing more than half a dozen words together at any one time? Of course he had felt duty-bound to write back suggesting that they wait a year or two before finally coming to a decision. He had received no further communication from her and, truth to tell, he hadn’t given Elizabeth Beresford a single thought during the intervening years…No, not one, until he had unexpectedly come face to face with her again the previous evening.

The bedchamber door opened and his valet entered, breaking into his far from satisfying reflections, and Richard managed with a modicum of success to put thoughts of Elizabeth aside. This relative peace of mind was destined not to last very long, however, for the first person he set eyes on when entering the breakfast parlour a short while later was none other than the sweet torment who had deprived him of so much sleep throughout the night.

As he seated himself at the table he experienced a rather irrational stab of irritation. He wasn’t quite certain whether this stemmed from the fact that Elizabeth, bright-eyed and cheerful, betrayed all too clearly that she hadn’t suffered from lack of sleep, or that she appeared on remarkably friendly terms with their host, who was still looking highly amused at something she had just said.

‘I trust you slept well?’ Brin enquired after a servant had supplied Richard’s needs.

‘Very,’ he lied. ‘You have a remarkably comfortable home here. It was a pleasure to sleep in a bedchamber where the fire didn’t billow out smoke every five minutes. I really must attend to the chimneys at Knightley Hall. Several of the fireplaces there are quite shocking.’

‘I recall a similar problem at my parents’ home,’ Elizabeth remarked, ‘especially when there was an east wind. Thankfully, I’m not plagued by such a nuisance at my home near Bristol.’

Richard frowned slightly at this. He had assumed, quite wrongly it seemed, that she still resided in her childhood home in Wiltshire, although he vaguely recalled learning of her mother’s demise a few years ago.

‘I wasn’t aware that you no longer resided in Wiltshire, Miss Beresford. Do you live with a relative?’

‘I did reside with my maternal grandmother. Sadly, she died last autumn.’ A veil of unhappiness clouded her eyes as she looked directly across the table at him. ‘And may I offer you my belated condolences. Some time ago I learned of your brother’s death. Such a terrible tragedy!’

Offering him no time in which to respond, Elizabeth rose to her feet and transferred her attention to their host, that spontaneous, sweet smile which had won his regard so quickly touching her lips. ‘I shall pay a visit to Verity’s room first. So, shall we meet in the stable yard—say, in half an hour’s time?’

Watching her leave the room, Brin experienced, yet again, amazement at her continued unmarried state, and shook his head in complete bewilderment. ‘I still find it difficult to understand why that lovely creature isn’t married.’

The hand raising the fork to Richard’s mouth checked for a moment. Yes, he ruminated, she most certainly ought to be. And if it wasn’t for the fact that the contrary little madam had suddenly taken it into her head to go against her deceased father’s expressed wishes, she would now be married to me!

Suddenly finding his appetite had deserted him, he pushed his plate aside and turned to his host as a thought suddenly occurred to him. ‘Am I right in thinking that Miss Beresford’s sister resides not too far from here?’

‘Yes, about three miles away.’

In that case, why hadn’t Elizabeth chosen to stay with her? Richard wondered. She could quite easily have visited her friend the Viscountess whenever she wished. Evadne must surely feel affronted knowing that her sister had preferred to stay here. Why, it was tantamount to a direct snub!

‘I hope Verity has remembered to warn Elizabeth that Lady Chiltham is not an infrequent visitor,’ Brin continued, and failed to notice his friend’s rather puzzled expression. ‘Apparently the sisters don’t get along too well. But, then, you’d know all about that, I dare say, your being a friend of the family.’

‘No, I didn’t know,’ Richard freely admitted, and was rather intrigued by this snippet of information. ‘Up until yesterday evening I hadn’t set eyes on either of them since the day of their father’s funeral.’

‘Well, no doubt you’ll be given ample opportunity to renew your acquaintanceship with Lady Chiltham during your stay with us. As I’ve already mentioned, she’s not an infrequent caller,’ Brin responded, his tone betraying clearly enough that he could wish it were quite otherwise.

Not offering his friend the opportunity to enquire further into the reason behind the sisters’ antipathy, Brin rose to his feet. ‘I’m an appalling host, deserting you like this on your first morning here, but if I don’t hurry and change, Elizabeth will be kept waiting.’ He made to leave, then checked as a most obvious solution occurred to him. ‘Why not join us? I’m taking Elizabeth on a tour round the estate.’

Richard needed no second prompting. Grand though it undoubtedly was, the estate was of precious little interest to him; Elizabeth Beresford, on the other hand, most definitely was. So he wasted no time in returning to his room to change into his riding gear, and accompanied Brin outside to the stables a short while later to discover Elizabeth, becomingly attired in a bottle-green habit, which seemed to emphasise those gorgeous red tones in her hair, already mounted on her ladyship’s chestnut filly.

‘You are a rare female, indeed,’ her host remarked approvingly, ‘One of the few I’ve ever known who can be on time!’ He glanced briefly in Richard’s direction, watched him mount the handsome bay, and then turned back to Elizabeth with a conspiratorial wink. ‘You do realise that we’re going to be made to look a pair of veritable whipsters in the company of the man who was reputed to be the finest horseman in Wellington’s army.’

Elizabeth couldn’t prevent a chuckle at Richard’s pained expression. ‘I am well aware of his prowess, sir. My father was not infrequently heard to remark that his godson could ride before he could walk.’

‘A gross exaggeration!’ Richard put in before either of them could utter any further absurdities at his expense. ‘This is a fine animal you have here, Brin,’ he went on, quickly changing the subject and giving the bay’s neck a fond pat.

‘I acquired him a couple of months ago. Yes, I’m rather pleased with him myself,’ he admitted as they all trotted out of the stable yard. ‘Do you still possess that brute you had with you in Spain?’

‘Sultan…? Sadly, no. The poor old fellow was shot from beneath me at Waterloo.’ Richard saw Elizabeth pale visibly, and cursed himself for an insensitive clod. ‘I’m so sorry, Miss Beresford. We seasoned campaigners tend to reminisce at the drop of a hat and frequently forget we’re in mixed company.’

‘My fault entirely,’ Brin interposed, feeling extremely guilty for raising the subject in the first place. ‘Dashed thoughtless thing for me to have said, considering your own experiences in Brussels last year.’