ANNE ASHLEY – Lady Gwendolen Investigates (страница 6)

‘Yes, I know I could have done,’ Gwen agreed. ‘But until I know for certain that Jane’s willing to share my home, I don’t want to make things awkward for her. I know her too well. At the very least she’ll insist on working her notice, or remaining until Mr Northbridge has managed to engage another governess. Furthermore, letters have a habit of going astray or falling into the wrong hands. I had no intention of advertising my close association with Jane, at least not until I’ve discussed things with her first.’ Gwen lowered her eyes, thereby concealing the look of bitter regret. ‘I was once guilty of assuming too much where she is concerned. I have no intention of repeating that gross error of judgement.’

The summons was answered promptly by an elderly male servant who, on discovering her identity, betrayed no reluctance whatsoever in admitting Gwen, or revealing that his master was in residence.

‘If you’d care to wait in here, madam,’ he said, leading the way into a most charmingly decorated and comfortable front parlour, ‘I shall enquire if the master is able to see you.’

Given that her late husband had always maintained he had remained upon the best of terms with this particular neighbour, Gwen didn’t suppose for a moment that Mr Northbridge would refuse to see her, unless of course other matters required his urgent attention. What she didn’t expect, a moment after she had detected the click of the door, was the clearly astonished voice declaring,

‘Good gad! I’d heard Warrender, the old rogue, had married someone years his junior, but I never supposed for a moment she’d turn out to be a chit not long out of the schoolroom!’

Chapter Two

It was more the oddly familiar rich tone than the blunt exclamation of surprise that induced Gwen to abandon her contemplation of the neat flower-bed just beyond the window and to swing round to face the new arrival squarely. Then it was as much as she could do not to reciprocate with an expression of shocked dismay of her own.

If nothing else, a quarter of a century of life had taught her never to be complacent, or take things for granted. Although considering herself more favourably circumstanced than most, she had not hitherto lived a completely cocooned existence, protected from every cruel knock. She knew well enough that life was littered with pitfalls, ready to entrap the unwary. But never until that moment had she supposed that fickle Fate could be quite so mischievously vindictive.

Briefly she raised her eyes heavenwards, as though hoping to prompt some divine intervention, or at the very least discover the answer to that one burning question torturing her mind—why, oh, why must Jocelyn Northbridge, a gentleman whom she couldn’t possibly hope to avoid in the future, if she wished to resume her former very close friendship with Jane Robbins without delay, turn out to be none other than the thoroughly obnoxious individual she had encountered, albeit briefly, in that Bristol posting-house a mere ten days or so ago?

Gwen suppressed the shout of hysterical laughter rising in her throat as effectively as she controlled the sudden desire to flee from his presence like an overwhelmed child. She then quickly took heart from the fact his expression betrayed no sign of recognition whatsoever, and in those moments that followed, while he continued to study her with a look that could best be described as amused disbelief, a germ of steely determination that never again would she allow him to dismiss her as yet another light-minded female, not worthy of at least token civility, seeded itself deep within.

A close association over a period of very many months with certain members of a noble Italian family proved invaluable. Gwen raised her pointed little chin in faint hauteur, in much the same way as she had witnessed her good friend the Contessa di Canolini doing on numerous occasions when dealing with any bumptious fellow.

‘You appear somewhat stunned, sir,’ she said, aping, too, the darling Contessa’s bored tone to a nicety. ‘If your failure to observe the social niceties in asking me to sit down stems from the fact that I’ve called at an inconvenient time, I can only apologise and assure you that you’ll not be importuned for longer than necessary. If, however, you doubt my authenticity, I’m in a position to prove I am indeed the widow of Sir Percival Warrender.’

Had it ever been Gwen’s overriding ambition to set him at a disadvantage, her satisfaction would have been short-lived indeed. Only for the briefest of moments did he betray a flicker of something that could well have been attributed to mild discomfiture at being reminded of basic civilities. Then he merely strolled forward in that infuriatingly relaxed way of his that she well remembered, and stared down at her, unblinking, from his superior height, while gesturing towards one of the chairs placed before the welcoming hearth.

‘I require no proof of your identity, Lady Warrender. I shall unmask you soon enough, should you prove to be an impostor,’ he told her, sounding infuriatingly confident. ‘And as for my reaction—I’m sure you must be well used to it by now. If the truth be known, I expect you were taken, more often than not, for old Warrender’s daughter, not his wife.’

Gwen didn’t attempt to deny it. ‘There was a vast disparity in our ages, it is true,’ she agreed, before a certain twinkle, which Martha Gillingham would have recognised in a trice, began to flicker in her eyes a moment before she added, ‘And I suppose I must be generous and make allowances. Anyone having attained middle age might consider someone in her mid-twenties a mere child.’

The unkind and altogether inaccurate barb undoubtedly hit its mark. Consequently she experienced a degree of satisfaction to see those dark eyes narrowing perceptively a second before he swung round, and headed across the room in the direction of the decanters. All the same, she had no intention of engaging in open hostilities or attempting to attain the upper hand on the few occasions she was likely to find herself in his company. She was neither vindictive by nature, nor was she one to harbour a grudge. She was quite prepared, henceforward, to award him the same civility as she would any other casual acquaintance, providing he, in turn, reciprocated, and didn’t attempt to treat her as though she were a mere featherbrain.

‘No, I thank you, sir,’ she said, belatedly taking a seat by the hearth, while declining the offer of refreshment. ‘I never imbibe in the forenoon as a rule, but do not demur if others choose to do so.’

She didn’t suppose for a moment he’d care a whit if she objected or not, for already she had gained the distinct impression he was a gentleman of strong character who, more often than not, would follow his own inclinations, no matter the opposition. Yet she knew it would be grossly unfair of her to assume on so short an acquaintance that he went out of his way to be hostile or even contentious. She was inclined to believe that what she had gleaned from her housemaid was not far removed from the truth. She gained the distinct impression too that, being a blunt, no-nonsense kind of fellow, he would possibly appreciate plain speaking in others, and so decided to adopt just such a policy in any dealings they might have in the future.

Only before she could commence to explain the reason for her visit, Mr Northbridge, who had been staring at her rather intently since settling himself in the chair opposite, confirmed the conclusions she had thus far drawn by declaring, ‘Ma’am, I cannot help thinking we’ve met somewhere before. Yet for the life of me I cannot imagine why I should suspect as much, since I’m positive we’ve never been formally introduced, owing to the fact that your husband never returned to his home after your marriage.’

For a moment or two Gwen remained in two minds, not knowing whether to admit to the brief and unfortunate first encounter, or allow him to remain in ignorance. Then a sudden well of pride decided the matter. She had no intention of alluding to an insignificant incident that would set her at a distinct disadvantage. After all, hadn’t he little enough respect for her sex, without her fuelling his biased inclinations?

‘It is absolutely true, sir, I never visited this county before I recently took up residence in my late husband’s house.’ Evasiveness on a grand scale it might have been, but at least she had refrained from telling an outright lie. ‘I was born and bred in the north of Hampshire, and never once stirred from the county until after my marriage. Perhaps you were a frequent visitor to that part of the country and our paths crossed there.’

For a second or two his regard remained uncomfortably penetrating, then he shrugged, evidently having decided to dismiss it from his mind, and merely offered a token apology for not having called upon her. ‘The truth of the matter is, ma’am, I’ve been away from home, and only arrived back here late yesterday evening.’

‘I never made the least attempt to discover whether or not you were in residence,’ Gwen wasn’t slow to confess, having experienced no second thoughts about maintaining a policy of plain speaking where the gentleman seated opposite was concerned. ‘The truth of the matter is, sir, it is the female you employ as governess that I particularly wish to see.’