ANNE ASHLEY - An Ideal Companion

‘That’s all very reasonable, but what brought them all to the West Country in the first place?’

‘Business brought Mr Blunt, the lawyer, here,’ Ruth enlightened her. ‘And as for the other three—apparently they were visiting dying relatives. In the circumstances I considered it thoughtless to question them too closely, as I gained the distinct impression that both Mrs Adams and the Dents have both suffered recent bereavements.’

‘How very singular! It would seem I’m about to preside not over dinner but a wake!’

Although Lady Beatrice could never have been accused of indulging in frivolity, or of possessing a sense of humour, come to that, on occasions she did seem to derive a degree of morbid delight in other people’s misfortunes.

‘We must hope it will not turn out to be so solemn an occasion as that, ma’am,’ Ruth responded, returning the jewellery box to its rightful place at the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘We must trust to the Colonel and young Mr Boothroyd to lighten the evening with some lively conversation.’

Once again Ruth found herself the recipient of a long and considering look before Lady Beatrice said, ‘Young Tristram might, indeed, bring a degree of levity to my table, but I very much doubt we can trust Colonel Prentiss to do likewise, given his turn of mind.’

Ruth was slightly taken aback by this declaration. ‘What makes you say so, ma’am? I found the Colonel’s manner not only polished and gracious, but also friendly and sincere. A most amiable gentleman, I would have described him.’

‘I agree, my dear. On the surface he seems so.’ She returned Ruth’s puzzled gaze with a steely look. ‘But how many times must I caution you against judging by appearances alone, especially where members of the male sex are concerned? A great many vicious defects can lurk beneath the outward trappings of masculine charm.’ All at once her mouth was twisted by a decidedly sinister curl. ‘I discovered the truth of that for myself.’

Lady Beatrice then seemed to return from some dark, haunted place in the depths of her memory and even managed a semblance of a smile. ‘Oh, I’m not suggesting for a moment that Colonel Prentiss is some unfeeling monster beneath that outward show of affability. I do not know him well enough to judge. That said, I suspect he keeps a deal of himself well hidden. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, that’s for sure. To look at him no one would suppose for a moment that he suffered a tragic bereavement during his early manhood, from which, I strongly suspect, he has never fully recovered.’

In the pit of her stomach Ruth experienced an unpleasant tightening of muscles and was somewhat surprised by it given that she was barely acquainted with the gentleman. ‘Do—do you mean he lost his wife, that he’s now a widower?’

‘Oh, no. He’s never married, unless he’s done so recently, and quite secretly, for I have never read of any such occurrence in the newspapers. And he certainly doesn’t give the impression of being a married gentleman. But he was once, I believe, engaged to be married many years ago, before he embarked upon his career in the army.’

For some reason that she failed to comprehend Ruth digested what she had been told with a distinct lack of pleasure. It ought not to have mattered a whit to her if Colonel Prentiss, a virtual stranger, had once given his heart to another; it ought not, but oddly it did.

‘He must have been very young at the time,’ she commented, feeling some response was expected of her.

‘He was,’ Lady Beatrice concurred. ‘And his affianced bride, a Miss Alicia Thorndyke was a truly lovely girl. Tall and willowy, I seem to remember,’ she went on, after pausing to study Ruth’s much shorter stature through the dressing-table mirror, ‘highly suited to a gentleman of the Colonel’s size. They were childhood sweethearts by all accounts and quite constant in their affection for each other. I have always been blessed with a surprisingly acute memory, and recall Miss Thorndyke’s one and only Season clearly. She attracted several eligible suitors, but remained true to Hugo Prentiss.’

‘What happened to her, ma’am?’ Ruth felt sufficiently interested to ask.

All at once the widow frowned. ‘Do you know, I’m not altogether sure I ever learned precisely how she died. It goes without saying that Hugo Prentiss, of course, has never found anyone to replace her. Rather sad, I suppose, but I dare say after all these years he’s now resigned to his bachelor state.’

The sound of the gong announcing dinner put an end to any further possible revelations, for which Ruth was not entirely sorry. Conscious that her reactions had been studied closely, she could only hope she had not appeared overtly interested in the Colonel’s past life. After all, she ought not to have been so. The trouble was she knew the opposite was nearer the truth.

* * *

By the time all the stranded wayfarers had gathered in the hall, just prior to filing into the large dining room, Ruth, thankfully, had her oddly disturbing feelings well under control again. In a determined effort not to betray a preference for any one person’s company, she made no attempt to engage the Colonel in conversation. In fact, she went out of her way to appear more interested in the other unexpected guests, ensuring they had everything they needed to make their stay as comfortable as possible. Even when she seated herself at the dining table, she made a point of conversing mainly with the gentlemen seated on either side of her, while at the same time attempting to draw the two female guests into the conversation whenever possible.

The same could not have been said for their hostess, who betrayed a marked partiality for the Colonel’s company. It could not be denied, either, that she showed an interest in Lady Fitznorton’s great-nephew, whom she actively encouraged to regale them with examples of his less-than-commendable exploits up at Oxford. She did condescend as the meal wore on to direct the odd remark in the middle-aged practitioner’s direction. Sadly, his sister received no such minor attention and, save for staring at them both fixedly from time to time, Lady Beatrice virtually ignored completely the hard-working lawyer, who had been obliged to travel on business, and the pleasant woman who had come to the West Country in the hope of seeing her father before he died.

Lady Beatrice’s snobbery was clearly rearing its ugly head yet again. Although she had raised no objection whatsoever to all those seeking shelter under her roof being offered a seat at her table, she could not have made it more plain that she considered most of the company quite unworthy of the philanthropy she had shown towards them.

Yes, anyone might have been forgiven for supposing that Lady Beatrice was already heartily regretting her charitable actions towards so many strangers. Yet, as she cast a long, considering look at the head of the table, Ruth was amazed to detect a glint of what looked suspiciously like suppressed excitement in those world-weary eyes, which suggested nothing could have been further from the truth; that their hostess was, in fact, enjoying herself hugely for some very private reason of her own.

All the same, it came as something of a surprise, even to Ruth, when Lady Beatrice suddenly turned to the tall gentleman seated on her left to ask in a raised voice that instantly captured everyone’s attention, ‘No doubt you have seen much death during your illustrious career, Colonel...a great number of murders committed.’

The large, yet shapely, hand reaching for the glass of wine checked for an instant. ‘When engaged in battle, ma’am, a soldier doesn’t consider he’s committing murder when destroying the enemies of his country,’ he responded solemnly, after fortifying himself from the glass.