ANNE ASHLEY – His Makeshift Wife (страница 3)
‘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.’
About 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.