The Transformation Of Miss Ashworth

The shapely hand moving back and forth across the page did not falter even for an instant, as the recipient of this disclosure confirmed his only caller that day had been his steward in the forenoon.

Lady Chalford’s brows came together in rare show of disapproval. ‘In that case, dear brother, someone is once again taking advantage of your good nature. I’ve told you before, Philip, you are far too tolerant in many respects, too complaisant by half! It’s common knowledge that, since the war, pockets of unrest have sprung up all over the country. Why, look what happened to you earlier this summer. Someone tried to take a pot-shot at you. And it’s of no use your pretending otherwise! You simply cannot afford to let strangers trespass on your property, even if they are travelling in a post-chaise-and-four.’

Completely unruffled, Sir Philip Staveley signed his name with a flourish, before rising to his feet and joining his sister at the window. ‘I would be extremely surprised, Connie, if that shooting accident was anything other than just that. Remember, it took place on my land. In all probability the culprit was one of my neighbours’ over-enthusiastic sons discharging his gun without due care. And as for that carriage… I very much doubt all the occupants can be total strangers, otherwise entry would have been barred, most especially by Dodd on the east gate. Furthermore, that conveyance, unless I much mistake the matter, has travelled some distance, possibly from London.’

Lady Chalford turned her head to stare up at her much taller brother, thereby instantly revealing a similarity or two in their profiles. Both had inherited certain Staveley facial characteristics—the long, thin aristocratic nose, not to mention clear, grey eyes.

Unlike his sister’s, however, Sir Philip’s orbs had once betrayed a disarming twinkle that a great many members of the fair sex had found most winning. His hair, a shade or two darker than his more mature sibling’s, swept back in soft waves from a high, intelligent forehead. A firm jaw-line, a shapely yet not overgenerous mouth, and a pair of gracefully arching brows above those thickly lashed eyes were all features worthy of note; and although he might not have been considered strictly handsome by the more fastidious among his class, a great many discerning female members considered him most attractive.

Which was more than could be said for his sister, whose youthful bloom had long since faded, and whose thickening figure betrayed the fact that she had presented her spouse with several pledges of her affection during fourteen years of marriage. Notwithstanding, even her fiercest critics would never have stigmatised Lady Chalford as an ill-favoured woman. In fact, when animated, as now, she still held an appeal to a certain number of the more mature members of the opposite sex.

‘You’re bamming me, Philip!’ she chided gently. ‘How can you possibly deduce that?’

‘By using my eyes and brain, Constance,’ he returned, slanting a mocking glance down at her. ‘Firstly, not many can afford the luxury of travelling in a post-chaise-and-four. Those in these parts with funds enough to do so, like myself, own their own carriages. Secondly, the majority of the larger houses in the locale lie to the north and east of my property. Furthermore, there is only one house situated on the western boundary whose owner has been absent for any length of time, and whose return might well be undertaken in a hired carriage.’

Lady Chalford’s jaw dropped perceptively, a clear indication that her mind had woken up to a startling possibility. ‘You don’t suppose, do you, that young Bethany Ashworth has returned home after all these years?’

Unlike his sister, Sir Philip betrayed no emotion whatsoever as he said, ‘Naturally, I shan’t know for sure, until I’ve consulted with Dodd. All the same, it’s a distinct possibility. Augustus Ashworth, together with his associates and members of his family, was among the favoured few who attained permission from our sire to take a short cut across the park in order to reach the village more quickly.’

As the post-chaise at last disappeared from view behind a screen of stately elms, Sir Philip moved across the room in the direction of a small table upon which several decanters stood. ‘Common report would have me believe the shutters have been removed from the Grange’s windows these past three weeks or more, and that a couple of village girls have been hired to work in the house. Seemingly someone, I know not who, has been buying in supplies of food, and making use of several local tradesmen in order to make the house ready for habitation.’

‘It stands to reason, then, that Bethany must be returning home,’ Lady Chalford concluded, after having accepted the glass of ratafia her brother held out to her. ‘What other explanation could there possibly be?’ she asked, rearranging her skirts as she made herself comfortable in one of the chairs.

Seating himself opposite, Sir Philip gazed across at his sister with lazy affection. Fond of her though he had always been, he had never rated her capacity for understanding very highly. At the same time he did appreciate her finer qualities. For instance, she was, basically, a very kind person, never one to bear a grudge or utter a deliberately unkind remark. Moreover, as she had never attempted to make unreasonable demands on his time, he was able to ignore for the most part her less favourable traits when she did choose to inflict her company upon him for a prolonged stay.

‘Several, my dear,’ he responded, after fortifying himself from his glass. ‘Dodd, as I mentioned before, must have recognised at least one occupant of that vehicle, otherwise he would not have allowed entry. It might have been Beth, of course. Or it might easily have been the late Colonel Ashworth’s man of business, who could well have received instructions to ensure the house is in good order for a new occupant.’

He couldn’t forbear a smile at his sister’s look of utter bewilderment. ‘Evidently you hadn’t considered the possibility that Beth might have chosen to sell the house in order to live elsewhere, possibly abroad,’ he went on. ‘After all, she’s lived away from these shores long enough. And now I come to think about it, when last I saw Lady Henrietta Barfield during the Season she mentioned something about her niece’s intention to remain in Paris for a while.’

All at once Lady Chalford was silent, clearly in a world of her own, before surprisingly announcing, ‘Do you know, Philip, I always considered her actions most strange.’

Philip paused in the act of raising his glass to his lips again to gaze across indulgently at his sibling. Clearly her thoughts had spun off at a tangent. In which direction, however, was anybody’s guess.

He wisely took the precaution of taking a further fortifying mouthful from the contents of his glass before asking, ‘Are we referring to Beth, now, or Lady Henrietta?’

‘Why, Bethany, of course!’ his sister exclaimed, clearly amazed at having been asked the question in the first place. ‘I never quite understood why she went to live with her mother’s relative in Plymouth. Surely Lady Henrietta Barfield was her favourite aunt?’

‘That I couldn’t say with any conviction,’ Philip responded. ‘After her mother’s demise, she certainly spent time with her father’s sister. And it’s also true to say that Lady Hetta, taking an active role in Beth’s upbringing, was a more frequent visitor to the Grange than any other relation. But you must remember that Colonel Ashworth was summoned urgently to London in the spring of ’08, and soon afterwards set sail with Wellesley for the Peninsula. Poor Beth was hardly granted much time in which to consider where she wished to reside. And who knows, maybe she felt that Lady Henrietta had interfered in her life quite enough. Or maybe she just didn’t wish to be an extra burden on the Barfield family at a time when they were fully occupied with matters relating to Eugenie’s future.’

At mention of his deceased fiancée, Lady Chalford shot her brother an anxious glance from beneath her lashes. It was rare, indeed, for him ever to allude to that period in his life, let alone his engagement to Lord Barfield’s beloved eldest daughter. During the past years, whenever the topic had been raised within her hearing, he had never been slow to change the subject.

Notwithstanding, this knowledge did not deter her from saying, ‘But that is precisely what I find so puzzling. She and Eugenie were so close—more like sisters than cousins, I seem to recall someone remarking once. One would have quite naturally supposed that Beth would have wanted to be with the Barfields at a time of such celebration.’

All at once it seemed as if her brother’s face had been cast into shadow, his lids lowering like shutters, concealing any emotion mirrored in his eyes.

‘As I said before, Constance, I’m sure Beth had her reasons for choosing to live with her late mother’s aunt. You may be lucky enough to satisfy your curiosity if she has, indeed, returned,’ her brother replied, with the all-too-familiar hint of finality in his tone that revealed clearly enough that he considered the topic at an end.

When residing at the Court Sir Philip generally kept country hours, and the following morning proved no exception. As his sister preferred to break her fast in her bedchamber, he enjoyed the leisure of a solitary breakfast, before setting off on horseback for the prearranged meeting with his steward.

It was a common sight to see the master of Staveley Court out and about at an early hour, astride one of his prime horses. From a very young age he had betrayed a keen interest in husbandry, and, since coming into the title, some seven years previously, his love of the land had not diminished in the least.

He concerned himself with every aspect of the day-to-day running of the estate, and the welfare of his tenants, who farmed his many acres of West Country land. His steward knew well enough that he could consult with his master on any problem, no matter how trivial, and made a practice of doing so quite frequently. All the same, as their meeting the day before had been fairly lengthy and involved, their business that morning was soon concluded, leaving Sir Philip with ample time to do as he wished before he need return to the Court for luncheon.

Finding himself close to the eastern boundary of the deer-park jogged his memory. Consequently, he turned his fine gelding in the direction of the gatehouse to discover one of his oldest employees busily working in a small vegetable patch.

‘Morning to ’ee, sir. Be ’ee wanting me to give the lads a ’and wi’ the logging again this autumn?’

‘Only if you feel up to it, Dodd,’ Philip answered, thereby betraying the affection in which he held this particularly loyal estate worker. ‘The reason I’m here is to ask you about a certain post-chaise-and-four I spied crossing the park late yesterday afternoon. The occupant made no attempt to come up to the house. Was it from this gate entry was gained?’

‘God bless you, sir, ’twere indeed! And ’twere none other than Miss Bethany ’erself come ’ome after all these years, would you believe!’ The old man removed his hat to run a hand over his balding pate. ‘What a sight for sore eyes she be, too, sir. Didn’t suppose you’d mind ’er taking liberties, not Miss Bethany,’ he added, casting a questioning glance up at the tall figure on horseback.

The assurance was not long in coming. ‘Of course I don’t object. But remain vigilant, Dodd. Miss Ashworth is by no means the only one to have returned from across the Channel in recent times,’ he said, recalling his sister’s fears. Which were not without foundation, as it happened. ‘There’s much unrest about the county at present, many who harbour bitter feelings now the war with France is at an end, and they have come home to find no work.’

Sir Philip took a moment or two to appreciate the picturesque landscape, where no firearm had been discharged in anger, as far as he was aware, since the Civil War, when his ancestors had stood firm against the Roundheads for several days before finally being defeated. Then his mind returned to more recent events, and the arrival home of someone he’d known almost since the day of her birth.

All at once he was consumed with curiosity, a rare experience for him these days. ‘What is she like, Dodd… Miss Ashworth? As you had no trouble recognising her, I can only assume she hasn’t changed much.’

‘Changed some, sir. But not so much that I didn’t know ’er after a second glance. I mind she’s a deal leaner than of yore. Not much flesh on the bone from what I could see. But the smile ain’t changed, sir. I’d know that smile of Miss Beth’s anywhere. Light up the dullest day, so ’twould!’

‘Yes, yes, you’re right,’ Philip acknowledged, his mind’s eye conjuring up images from the past. Memories, almost forgotten in recent years, came flooding back of a girl dressed in breeches, galloping, astride her horse, across the estate at his side. She had been more boy than girl in those years before Lady Henrietta Barfield had taken a very necessary hand in her niece’s upbringing. The transformation from sad romp had eventually been achieved. He seemed to remember that before she had left the Grange she bore all the trappings of a young lady; suddenly recalled, too, that he had not altogether approved of the changes that had taken place in her. But that was then, he reminded himself. What was she like now? Might she be a wife and mother?

For some reason that escaped him completely, he found the thought faintly disturbing, and consulted once again with his gatekeeper. ‘Was she travelling alone, Dodd, or with a protector?’

The old man shook his head. ‘That I couldn’t say for sure, sir. Being a mite on the short side, as yer might say, I can’t see into carriages none too well. But, I mind there were someone else in there with ’er, lurking in the shadows.’

Quickly taking his leave, Philip headed back towards the Court. He was halfway along the sweep of the drive when a second surge of curiosity, not untouched by tangled threads of lingering disquiet at the thought of Beth being married, gripped him, and he turned his mount, and headed across the park in a westerly direction.

Nestling just beyond the boundary wall in a picturesque, shallow valley was the thriving community where a good many of his estate workers resided. Neat rows of lime-washed cottages lined the main village street, and led up to the tiny church, where the Staveley family had for generations always worshipped. Beyond the church, several much larger brick dwellings had been erected during the latter half of the previous century. The Grange, the grandest of the newer buildings, was set in a large garden and was shielded from the road by a substantial yew hedge.

It had been a number of years since Sir Philip had had reason to visit the house. He could see at a glance, as he turned his fine bay hack into the driveway, that the property was showing signs of neglect. The garden, although far from overgrown, was nowhere near as neatly contained as he remembered, and the house, too, clearly demanded attention in several areas.

After securely tethering his mount to the hitching post, he wasted no time in making his arrival known. His summons was answered promptly enough by a middle-aged woman whom he had known since boyhood, and who didn’t attempt to hide her delight at seeing him.

‘Why, Sir Philip! It’s been a mort of years since you stepped into the parlour here at the Grange. Come in, do, sir,’ she invited. ‘Miss Beth will be that pleased to see you, I’m sure. She shouldn’t be long. Be out with that man of hers at present. But she promised to be back in good time for luncheon.’

‘Man…?’ Philip echoed, once again experiencing the strangest gnawing sensation in his abdomen.

‘That’s right, sir, Mr Rudge. Takes proper good care of her so he do. Hardly ever lets her out of his sight, so I understand. They be out now looking at horses over Markham way, it being market day. But Mrs Stride be here. Nice lady she be. I’m sure she’ll be happy to bear you company until the mistress returns. If you step inside, sir, I’ll make you known to the lady.’

Still trying to assimilate what he had discovered, and not put his own wild interpretations on the scant information, Philip entered the, now, slightly faded front parlour to discover a woman seated by the hearth, and looking so completely at home in her surroundings that one might have been forgiven for supposing she were mistress of the house.

As she set aside her sewing, and rose to her feet, he judged her to be of a similar age to his sister, though wearing rather better. The instant she spoke, inviting him to sit down and offering refreshment, it was evident, too, that she was an educated woman of no little refinement; and one who, moreover, betrayed no diffidence whatsoever at finding herself in the company of a peer of the realm. All of which only added to the puzzling questions swirling round his head.

‘You must forgive me, ma’am, for calling so soon after your arrival here. Only I allowed avid curiosity for once to override basic good manners. Miss Ashworth and I knew each other so well at one time that I wished to renew the acquaintance without delay.’

‘I know she will be delighted to see you, Sir Philip. She mentioned yesterday, when we took a short-cut across your land, that you would forgive such a liberty in one whom you had known since she was an infant.’

Heartened by the fact that Mrs Stride had not attempted to correct him after he had referred to Beth as Miss Ashworth, Philip took a moment to sample his wine and study the handsome woman seated opposite. ‘Forgive me, ma’am, for asking, but would I be correct in assuming you’re not even distantly related to Beth?’