ANNE ASHLEY – An Ideal Companion (страница 2)

Ruth was unequal to suppressing a smile. Without doubt there was a streak of quaint snobbery running through her employer’s character, which had a tendency to surface from time to time. ‘He’s the blacksmith’s son, ma’am.’

Lady Beatrice shuddered. ‘I do wish, my dear girl, you might lose this propensity of yours for fraternising with tradespersons. It simply isn’t the done thing for a young lady of your standing to be seen hobnobbing with those from the lower orders. I shall take leave to inform you that it creates a decidedly odd impression.’

‘Ma’am, with respect, I do not think myself above anyone who works hard for a living. In truth, I feel distinctly inferior,’ Ruth responded candidly. ‘I do little enough for what I receive from you, not to mention enjoying a great many of those privileges reserved for those females much better placed in society,’ she added, raising her glass of Madeira as a prime example of precisely what she had meant.

‘There is absolutely nothing of which you need feel ashamed about your lineage,’ the widow countered. ‘Might I remind you that your paternal grandfather was none other than General Sir Mortimer Harrington, and your mother was a Worthing. No hereditary titles, of course, on either side,’ she added, the snobbery rearing its head once again. ‘Both old and worthy families, none the less. It’s a great pity your maternal grandfather had no head for business. He brought his branch of the Worthing family to the brink of ruin with his ill-judged investments. Still, you’d know all about that, I’m sure.’

Shaking her head, Lady Beatrice released her breath in a long sigh. ‘During my childhood your mother was one of my dearest friends, simply a lovely girl in both looks and nature. Had she ever been privileged to enjoy a London Season she could have had her pick of all the eligible bachelors and might have achieved a truly splendid alliance.’

Ruth acknowledged the truth of what had been said with a nod of her head. Her mother had, indeed, been quite breathtakingly lovely in her youth; the likeness painted by her own father, which took pride of place in her bedchamber, was testament enough to that.

‘I don’t recall ever hearing Mama bemoaning the fact that she was denied a Season in town, ma’am. She told me she fell in love with my father on first setting eyes upon him, as he did with her. It was so tragic he died within a year of their marriage. She never so much as looked at another man.’

‘She showed sense in that, at least!’ Lady Beatrice returned tartly, thereby strengthening Ruth’s belief that her employer had scant regard for the male sex as a whole. ‘Oh, I don’t mean to denigrate your father, my dear,’ she continued, appearing slightly shamefaced. ‘I hardly knew the man, after all. I met him only twice and must own he was the most handsome fellow I ever clapped eyes on. That said, like most members of his sex, he was utterly selfish and thoroughly feckless. Why, the instant he discovered your mother was with child, he upped and left to go off and enjoy the sights and pleasures of Italy.’

Again she gave vent to a deep sigh. ‘I do not deny he was a gifted artist—very gifted, in my humble opinion. Had he lived he might well have been recognised as such, and possibly would have made a real name for himself. And, I suppose, it was a blessing that he did leave your dear mama behind whilst he went abroad to paint, otherwise she might have succumbed to the same contagion that sadly cut short his life. But that doesn’t alter the fact that he left your mother virtually destitute. Why, even his own father disowned him—cut him off without so much as the proverbial penny, when he refused to engage in what the General considered some useful occupation.’

‘True,’ Ruth acknowledged. ‘But Grandpapa did attempt to make amends after learning of his son’s death, even though he had been very much against the marriage in the first place. It wasn’t that he disliked Mama. It was simply that he didn’t think his son was in a position to support a wife.’

‘Well, he wasn’t wrong in that! And, to be fair to the General, it was your mother who refused his help. Why, she even flatly refused to come here and live with me when I was eventually in a position to assist you both.’

‘Too proud, I suppose,’ Ruth suggested, whilst at the same time understanding her mother’s reasons for not accepting charity and being determined to support herself and her daughter. ‘Besides, as the years passed Mama became very content living at the rectory, caring for Mr Stephens. And he was very good to us in return, as indeed was Grandpapa Harrington. Remember, he did leave me something in his will.’

‘A sum that can only be attained upon marriage, or reaching the age of thirty, by which time he possibly considered you would be unlikely ever to find yourself a husband.’ Lady Beatrice showed her contempt by waving one hand in a disparaging gesture, before looking thoughtfully across the distance that separated them. ‘Well, my dear, I have seen to it that you need never marry. I didn’t intend telling you this, at least not for a while, but now the subject has arisen, I think you should know that during my most recent meeting with Pearce, my lawyer, I made fundamental adjustments to my will. Apart from bequests to servants, I named your good self my main beneficiary.’

Ruth was genuinely taken aback to learn this. ‘Ma’am, please do not think me ungrateful,’ she said, finding her voice at last, ‘but you have family. What about your sisters and their children?’

Again Lady Beatrice raised her hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘They are comfortably circumstanced. Both my sisters contracted suitable marriages, so their children’s futures are assured. Which yours is not. Besides, I have come to think of you as an adopted daughter. The money you receive from me is not a salary, but an allowance. I have never really looked upon you as merely a paid companion.’

‘No, I know you haven’t.’ Ruth could not find it within herself to be angry, or even remotely annoyed. How could she, given the lady’s most unexpected generosity? None the less, she couldn’t resist adding, ‘I shall take leave to tell you, ma’am, that you resorted to very devious means to persuade me to take up residence with you in the first place.’

‘Cleverly cunning, I should say,’ Lady Beatrice countered, appearing very well pleased with herself. ‘I feared you might have inherited your mother’s stubborn spirit and would not have agreed to reside here without being gainfully employed. And it must be said,’ she added, taking a moment to study her well-kept surroundings, ‘the house runs wonderfully smoothly nowadays and has for some few years. I’m well aware the servants all look to you for their orders, for which I’m exceedingly grateful. I’ve always found trifling domestic concerns quite wearisome. Why, I do not even need to concern myself over menus when we entertain! You see to everything so beautifully.’

Hardly taxing as they entertained so infrequently! Ruth mused, hiding a rueful smile behind the rim of her glass, before the seldom-heard sound of the door knocker being rigorously applied succeeded in capturing her attention. She rose at once to her feet. ‘Now, who can that be, I wonder? Do you wish to receive visitors, ma’am?’

‘I have little doubt it is the doctor. I shall receive him in here.’

Ruth betrayed her concern in a frown. ‘You’re not feeling unwell again, I trust?’

The bejewelled hand raising the glass to thin lips checked just for an instant. ‘I do not enjoy robust health, Ruth, and haven’t for some little time. I made that clear to you from the first,’ she at last responded, replacing her glass on the table by her chair. ‘If my heart permits, of course, I shall be here to bear you company for a good many years to come. But, who can say? If you would kindly show the doctor in, my dear.’

Ruth obeyed the command, escorting Dr Maddox into the drawing room personally, before taking herself upstairs to her bedchamber, where she discovered her most staunch supporter and ally busily returning newly laundered garments to the wardrobe.

Agatha Whitton turned as she detected the click of the door, her expression revealing anything but the friendly approval she’d always shown to the orphaned girl who had taken up residence in the house nine long years before. ‘It’s high time, Miss Ruth, you had some new clothes. Why, you’ve never so much as purchased new ribbon to trim a bonnet since I don’t know when!’

As this was no less than the truth, Ruth didn’t attempt to argue the point. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford material for new dresses, either. Yet, she had always felt that, although not strictly speaking a servant, she ought to dress in accordance with her position in the household. After what she had learned earlier, though...

‘Yes, you’re right, Aggie. We’ll go into town this afternoon and visit the haberdashery, if Lady Bea doesn’t object.’

‘Ha! You’ll be lucky, miss! Take a look out of the window!’

Although she had received prior warning, the sight of white flakes fluttering down did take her somewhat by surprise. ‘Great heavens! I’ve never known it come this early, not in all the years I’ve resided here at the Hall.’