The Transformation Of Miss Ashworth

‘No, I don’t think so. I did glance through your list, remember?’ He checked for a moment before raising his glass once again to his lips. ‘You haven’t forgotten to send Beth and her companion a formal invitation, I trust?’

‘No, and I feel quite annoyed with myself. As it happens, I could have taken it over with me the other day when I paid a visit. But it quite slipped my mind. I must remember to send it tomorrow.’

‘You didn’t mention you’d paid a visit to the Grange, Connie,’ he remarked casually, and saw at a glance that for some reason she didn’t seem able to meet his gaze.

‘Didn’t I?’ she returned, plucking at the folds of her skirt. ‘Must have slipped my mind. You know what a scatterbrain I can be on occasions.’

He knew nothing of the sort. Although his sister could never have been described as a bluestocking, she was neither downright hen-witted nor forgetful. All the same he decided not to pursue the topic as it was evidently causing her some embarrassment, and asked, instead, if she considered Beth had altered very much over the years.

‘Why, yes! I do, as it happens,’ she answered. ‘In looks she’s much improved, a most attractive young woman, I should say, if a trifle on the slender side.’ All at once she looked primly disapproving. ‘I do think she’s grown quite hard, though, Philip. Quite unbecomingly so, in my opinion! I asked her to do me the tiniest little favour, and she virtually snapped my nose off.’

Intrigued though he was, he had to delve deep into his reserves of self-control to stop himself laughing at his sister’s rare show of pique. ‘Don’t worry, Connie, I shall take her roundly to task the very next time I see her for daring to ruffle your feathers so.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Philip, please don’t do that!’ she implored, having clearly taken her brother’s mock-threat quite seriously. ‘I could see on the night of the dinner party, when you returned after your stroll in the garden, how well you two still get on. You appeared so blissfully content in each other’s company after your walk round the garden. I should hate to be the one to cause a rift between you. Besides, which,’ she added, little realising that an arresting look had flickered briefly in her brother’s eyes at mention of that particular interlude with Bethany, ‘she had every right to refuse to invite her aunt and cousin to stay with her.’

After forcing his mind back to the present in order to digest everything his sister was revealing, Philip suddenly experienced the gravest misgivings. ‘Pray enlighten me, Sister, as to why you should have wished Beth to invite her aunt and cousin to stay?’

No explanation was forthcoming. Furthermore, Constance seemed unwilling to meet his gaze once again, which only succeeded in arousing his suspicions even further. ‘You would not, by any chance, be so foolish as to attempt to indulge in a spot of matchmaking where the youngest Miss Barfield is concerned?’

‘Oh, but, Philip, you cannot pretend you don’t like her. You paid her such attention during the Season,’ she reminded him, meeting his gaze, if only briefly. ‘She’s such a sweet child, and so like Eugenie.’

Only by exerting a deal of control did Philip stop himself from indulging in a rare show of ill humour. But even so his sister was left in no doubt that he would brook any interference in his personal concerns.

‘Even if Phoebe Barfield was the very image of her dead sister, which she most certainly is not, I would still never consider making an offer for her hand. And I sincerely trust, Constance, that you have never given the child, or her mother, for that matter, any reason to suppose that I might.’

The softness of his tone was a threat in itself, and resulted in only emphasising his evident displeasure. ‘Of course I wouldn’t dream of offering any encouragement to Lady Henrietta,’ his sister responded, at last raising her eyes to meet his. ‘It was just that I hoped… Oh, dear,’ she continued, her voice betraying a slight tremor now. ‘Bethany said you wouldn’t appreciate any interference in your personal concerns.’

This succeeded in diverting his thoughts. ‘Said that, did she…?’ He was impressed. ‘Evidently she’s grown into a perceptive little minx.’

‘Maybe,’ Lady Chalford grudgingly acknowledged. ‘But that wasn’t why she refused. Said she wouldn’t be made a convenience of again. Though what in the world she meant by such a thing is anybody’s guess.’

‘How very interesting,’ Philip murmured, studying the remaining contents of his glass with narrowed, assessing eyes. ‘Yes, most interesting.’

Chapter Four

Irritability, borne of a guilty conscience, had continued to plague Beth long after her return from the market town. A good night’s sleep, followed by a morning ride across landscape bathed in pleasant late September sunshine, did little to lift her spirits. Not even her decision to take her manservant roundly to task for his impertinence towards their illustrious neighbour resulted in a lessening of her ill humour. In fact, the opposite turned out to be the case.

She eyed him with misgiving, as they turned their mounts into the driveway at the Grange. ‘What do you mean…it was a kind of test?’ she demanded to know.

‘Just that, Miss Beth. Were judging ’is mettle, as yer might say.’

‘Judging his…?’ Beth raised her eyes heavenwards. The divine guidance for which she might have hoped, however, sadly did not manifest itself, and she was left having to accept that her trusted servant’s somewhat unorthodox behaviour was a problem she must attempt to deal with alone.

‘Rudge, you simply cannot go about being deliberately discourteous to people with whom I am well acquainted,’ she began, determined not to allow her affection for the man riding alongside lessen her resolve to reprimand him. ‘Especially not to such well-respected peers of the realm as Sir Philip Staveley.’

‘Well, he’s still a man, ain’t he?’ he responded, appearing anything but chastened by the reproof.

‘And what has that to say to anything, pray?’ Beth demanded, surprised by the response.

‘Why, everything, as you’re a woman, Miss Beth. And a damnably ’andsome little filly, to boot! Which only makes things worse, if yer follow my meaning.’

Once again Beth found herself momentarily lost for words when she realised precisely what the devoted servant was insinuating. ‘Rudge, you are labouring under a misapprehension. Sir Philip isn’t interested in me…at least, not in the way you seem to suppose.’

Judging by his expression, the assurance had left him totally unconvinced. ‘Didn’t look that way t’me,’ he countered, sniffing loudly. ‘Mighty smitten, I should say. Noticed a certain twinkle in ’is eye, so I did, when he were looking at you. But as long as ’is intentions be ’onourable, all well and good.’

‘Believe me, you could not be more wrong. Sir Philip and I have been close friends for years. Were close friends,’ she amended, her voice annoyingly impaired by a sudden obstruction in her throat. She swallowed hard, determined to conquer the unexpected moment of weakness. ‘He—he evidently still holds me in some little affection. But that is all, I assure you.’

‘If you say so, miss,’ he responded, evidently still highly sceptical. ‘I’ll say this for yer nob friend, though—reckon he’d ’ave made a reet fine officer. We could ’ave done with a deal more of ’is stamp out there in Spain, I’m thinking.’

As Rudge had held so very few officers in high esteem, this was praise indeed. All the same, Beth refrained from attempting to discover just why Sir Philip had surprisingly risen in her servant’s estimation. The conversation with him had unexpectedly unlocked bittersweet memories that had been successfully confined for so many years, and she craved solitude, to be alone with her thoughts.

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