Anne Ashley, page 7
Mention of Lord Petersham had struck a chord of memory and Briony asked after Mary’s brother. ‘You were concerned about Will, if I remember correctly. Getting into bad company, or some such. I trust everything is all right now?’
Only for a second or two did a shadow of doubt flicker over Mary’s features. ‘I sincerely hope so. At least he’s promised me that…that he’ll behave himself from now on.’
As she had clearly detected the sound of the door bell tinkling on several occasions since her arrival, confirming that Mary was indeed busy, Briony decided not to tarry longer and carried her purchases through to the shop, only to discover the tall figure of her husband unexpectedly studying the wares on sale, his eyes lingering on one section of shelf in particular, where more expensive bolts of material took pride of place.
‘I trust I haven’t kept you waiting?’ Briony enquired, thereby gaining his immediate attention.
His smile in response was both spontaneous and rather disarming, as she was fast discovering it all too often was. ‘Not at all,’ he assured her. ‘I achieved my errand swiftly and, instead of awaiting your return, I decided to escort you back to the White Hart myself.’
She noticed his eyes flicker in Mary’s direction. ‘You might remember, Luke, that Mary Norman was employed as parlour-maid up at the Manor for several years.’
‘Honesty obliges me to admit that I do not remember you, Miss Norman. I fear I must put my appalling memory down to my declining years.’
‘Not at all, sir,’ she responded, not sounding one whit offended. If anything, she appeared to have already fallen victim to that winning masculine smile. ‘In truth, I do not believe I would have recognised you, Mr Kingsley, had we passed in the street. It has been many years since you were in these parts, but your return is most welcome. May I offer my sincerest congratulations upon your marriage.’
Luke received the felicitations with all the aplomb of a well-mannered gentleman of breeding. After remaining long enough to exchange several other polite utterances with the proprietress, he ushered Briony from the shop.
‘Clearly Miss Norman is making a success of that venture,’ he remarked as they set off in the direction of the town’s most popular inn. ‘I cannot help wondering, though, whether all her business dealings are strictly above board.’
‘What on earth can you mean?’ Briony didn’t attempt to hide her dismay. Nor did she hesitate to come to the defence of her friend. ‘Mary’s one of the most honest people I know. Why, I trust her implicitly!’
‘Your loyalty does you great credit, m’dear, but do not allow it to blind you to what’s in front of your very eyes. There is a whole shelf in that establishment that carries materials you wouldn’t ordinarily expect to find in a shop catering for what is basically a rural community. Silks, satins and the finest muslins you would expect to find a-plenty in London. But here one would need to cater for those less affluent souls, those who buy materials for their hard-wearing qualities alone.’
Briony felt obliged to agree with this, but added, ‘Mary is attempting to cater for everyone in the community. You must remember the town has expanded in the past ten years, Luke, attracting many from the professional classes, who are willing to pay more for their clothes.’
‘Well, perhaps you’re right,’ he at last conceded. ‘All the same, if I were a Customs’ Riding officer in these parts, and just happened to step inside that shop, I would certainly wonder.’
The inference was clear. ‘Smuggling, you mean? Oh, surely not! Mary would never accept…’
Briony’s words died on her lips as she recalled again that visit to the shop just a few short weeks before, and her friend’s strange unwillingness to display a bolt of dark-blue silk.
‘Well, I sincerely hope you’re wrong, Luke. All the same, I remember Sam Dent telling me that his own father was engaged in smuggling many years ago and the Manor itself was used to store goods at one time.’
He glanced at her keenly, then smiled. ‘Told you that old tale, too, did he?’
‘Do you think it could be true?’
He shrugged, seeming indifferent. ‘Who can say? I wouldn’t be at all surprised if smuggling still went on along the coast. But I know for sure Aunt Lavinia was never involved in the illicit trade or accepted smuggled goods.’
‘Well, of course not!’ Briony wholeheartedly agreed. ‘And I cannot believe Mary would do so either,’ she added.
All the same, a seed of doubt had been sown.
Chapter Five
Later that same day Luke took yet another stroll round to the stables. It had been a favourite haunt of his as a boy, a place to which he could escape whenever he fancied a break from his tutor.
He had two reasons for making this, his second visit of the day. Naturally he wished to satisfy himself as to the condition of all his prime livestock, some of which had been obliged to travel very many miles in order to reach their new home. Equally important, though, he wished to consult with his late aunt’s excellent groom.
Little more than a youth himself at the time, Samuel Dent had been instrumental in nurturing Luke’s love of horses. It was true enough that the young Sam had placed him on his first pony. All the same, Luke recalled quite clearly that it had been the young groom’s extensive knowledge of local customs, as much as his expertise with horses, that had fuelled his liking for the servant’s companionship in those bygone years.
He ran his quarry to earth in the smaller stable, where Sam was busily grooming a fine chestnut mare. He took a moment to run his hand along the horse’s withers and nodded in approval.
‘A fine animal, Sam… Your young mistress’s, no doubt?’
‘That she be, sir. A present from Lady Ashworth. Right fond of Miss Briony, so she was. Paid a tidy sum for the mare. But worth every penny. Nice-natured creature, she be, but don’t lack spirit. Much like Miss Briony ’ersef, yer might say!’ Sam chuckled impishly, then seemed to recall to whom he was speaking and cast a sheepish glance up at his new master. ‘Beg pardon, sir. Keeps forgetting you and Miss Briony be wed. Takes time to get used to changes, ’specially those that ’appen so fast.’
‘Indeed it does, Sam,’ Luke agreed, somehow managing to maintain his own countenance. ‘And, strangely enough, it’s for that reason I wish to consult with you now. Perhaps if you could break off from what you’re doing for a few minutes, we could discuss certain matters.’
Luke led the way outside to the wooden bench where he had sat countless times with Sam all those years before, and waited only for the groom to make himself comfortable beside him and begin pulling on his pipe, before coming straight to the point of his visit.
‘I wished to make it clear to you, Sam, that you and you alone remain responsible here. You’ll find my young groom Joe hardworking and keen to learn, but he has nowhere enough experience yet to be placed in charge.’
Surprisingly Sam betrayed little gratification in learning this. ‘But what about that man Carey o’ yourn, sir…? Won’t ’e be a mite put out to discover ’e be working under me?’
‘Well, strictly speaking, he won’t be, Sam. Ben Carey is more of a personal servant.’ Luke raised his eyes and stared at some distant spot. ‘His coat covers many duties and he’s directly responsible to me. For the most part he’ll remain over at the lodge, taking care of the stallion. But I don’t doubt from time to time he’ll wander over this way to enjoy some company and offer you a helping hand.’
Luke saw at a glance that the man beside him appeared much more contented. He then bethought himself of something else. ‘Now, I recall you also helped about the place, doing odd jobs, most especially in the garden. Obviously you won’t have much time for that any more. You’ll be occupied here for the most part, caring for the extra livestock, so I think it behoves me to employ more labour. You don’t happen to know of someone suitable, by any chance—a reliable lad who isn’t afraid of hard work?’
‘’Appen I do, Master Luke. There be a local farm-labourer’s lad ready to leave the nest, as t’were. ’Is pa’s a good, ’ardworking soul, so there’s no reason to suppose the lad won’t turn out much the same.’
‘Get the father to bring the boy here and we’ll take things further. There’s room enough above the stables if he’s a mind to live at the Manor. I expect it’s overcrowded at his parents’ cottage, if it’s anything like most labourers’ dwellings.’
Sam merely nodded in response. He wasn’t loquacious by nature, not unless one happened to touch on a subject that interested him. Then he could be a mine of very useful information. ‘I knew I could rely on you,’ Luke remarked, when the older man continued to sit quietly, seeming to meditate on life. ‘Not much goes on in these parts that escapes you. I remember you spinning me all those yarns about smuggling years ago. Seems you’ve been telling my wife much the same.’
‘No such thing, sir!’ Sam refuted. ‘True as I sit ’ere, the tales I tells you both. They do say the Manor were built on the smuggling trade. The man who ’ad the place built were a right bad lot, by all accounts. Cut yer throat as soon as look at yer, so ’e would. They be all a rough lot still. Them say that once yer in with the gentlemen there’s no getting away from ’em, leastways not alive.’
Luke kept his gaze averted, thereby concealing the keen glint in his eyes from his companion. ‘You don’t for a moment think it still goes on?’
Sam sniffed loudly. ‘No reason to s’ppose it don’t, sir. We’re within spitting distance of the coast, after all. And there be some rough sorts ’ereabouts. But I don’t get mixed up wi’ it.’
‘No, and neither did my aunt. I never discovered any hoards of contraband stored about the place. And I searched the Manor from attic to cellar, let me tell you, every inch of the place.’
Sam chuckled again at this. ‘Well, you were always a downy one, sir.’
‘That’s as may be. And maybe I haven’t changed all that much. I just hope my bride doesn’t indulge in such tomfoolery.’
‘Shouldn’t think so, sir. She didn’t seem much interested.’
Luke suppressed a satisfied smile at learning this as he rose to his feet. ‘I think I just might take a walk into the village to reacquaint myself with the place, and maybe call in at the vicarage, now that I’m settled in at the Manor again, so to speak.’
* * *
Glancing out of her bedchamber window, Briony chanced to catch sight of Luke making his way through the extensive rose garden. Starting to look its best, it was an exquisite area of visual delights and heady perfumes, an ideal setting for lovers. But that was something she and Luke were not. Yet, they might so easily have become so, she reflected, experiencing anew vastly contrasting feelings on the previous night’s events.
From what he’d said earlier that day, she had gained the distinct impression he would not have been averse to a marriage in the full sense between them. His unexpected appearance in her bedchamber the previous night was testament enough to that, of course. Yet, she didn’t suppose for a moment he had suddenly fallen in love with her. No, it was much more likely that he possibly felt that one day he would be obliged to marry, if only to produce an heir, and that she would be suitable for the role of life’s helpmeet. After all, she was of good birth. Also, to be fair, perhaps she, mistakenly, had given the impression that she would be willing to fulfil all her duties as a wife.
From the moment she had agreed to a marriage between them, she had gone out of her way to be as obliging as possible, falling in with his wishes for the most part in the hope of making their brief union as pleasant as possible. Therefore she could hardly hold him entirely to blame for the previous night’s misunderstanding and felt it was very much to his credit that he had received his congé with such a good grace. She didn’t doubt for a moment she had been right to deny him. After all, a marriage without love was doomed to failure, surely? Try as she might, though, she couldn’t quite silence the tiny voice that had continued to berate her for dismissing him in such a childishly thoughtless fashion.
Sighing, she watched Luke disappear through the gateway in the garden wall and fleetingly wondered where he was bound. All the same, she had no intention of attempting to discover the answer. She couldn’t deny she had enjoyed his company very much during their journey to and back from the town. Surprisingly so! He had proved himself to be both a charming and entertaining companion. Even so, she felt she must guard against giving the impression that she craved his company, which might so easily result in more misunderstanding between them.
Not only that, their jaunt into the town had given her much to think about. Consequently, after donning a lightweight shawl, she left the Manor by way of the front entrance in the hope their paths would not cross.
Without conscious thought she turned left out of the gate and made her way down the winding village street towards the church, absently acknowledging the greeting from an occasional passing villager as she did so, whilst her mind remained focused on that one unnerving question—could Luke’s suspicions about Mary be right?
Not for a moment did Briony suppose that Mary herself was actively involved in the illegal trade. She was far too law-abiding for that. On the other hand, though, she was also extremely loyal, not to mention touchingly devoted, to that great ox of a brother of hers, Briony reminded herself. And Will, by Mary’s own admission, had been keeping some decidedly unsavoury company of late. Could that company indeed be smugglers?
It was not inconceivable, she decided a moment later. But that didn’t automatically mean, surely, that Mary’s shop was now stocked to the rafters with smuggled goods? No, she simply couldn’t believe it! Mary had said she had been making dresses for a number of fashionable ladies in recent weeks and, as a consequence of this unexpected surge in custom, had invested in some bolts of fine materials, Briony clearly remembered. All the same, that little niggling doubt refused to be quashed.
Again and again that bolt of exquisite blue silk flashed before her mind’s eye. She couldn’t forget, either, Mary’s evasiveness and initial reluctance to display the goods. Yes, that material might well be contraband. Which meant, of course, that she herself would be parading round in smuggled goods whenever she donned that lovely blue gown, which she had discovered a short time earlier fitted beautifully and suited her so very well. And, in truth, she would dislike intensely being accused of encouraging the illegal trade by purchasing smuggled goods. The alternative, though, would be never to wear it, which would surely arouse Janet’s suspicions, as she had been the one to hang it in the wardrobe.
She began to gnaw at her bottom lip, wondering whether she should confide her suspicions to Luke, only to dismiss the notion as ludicrous a moment later. She didn’t suppose for a moment he would wish to concern himself in the domestic concerns of a female whose existence he had all but forgotten, especially as there was no real proof that Mary had accepted smuggled goods. Furthermore, what possible interest could Luke have in the unlawful trade, or how much of it was conducted along the Dorset coastline? He had sense enough to realise that it still went on, of course, as he had proved beyond doubt by his comments after visiting Mary’s shop. No, best thrust it from her mind and forget about the whole business, she decided, only to catch sight of the object of her thoughts a moment later as she entered the churchyard.
Her reaction was instinctive. Fearing he might suppose she had been following him, she hid behind the sturdy trunk of the giant yew tree that spread its huge branches across half the churchyard, providing shade for so many of its occupants. She remained concealed until she clearly detected the sound of a firm tread on gravel leaving the peaceful spot. Only then did she risk peering from behind her hiding place, thankfully to find the graveyard deserted of any living soul, save for herself.
Curious to discover just what had appeared to hold his interest so avidly, she wandered across to where she believed Luke had stood when she had come upon him unexpectedly. Larger, and more ornately carved than the surrounding edifices, the headstone marked the last resting place of Edward Leary, none other than the person who had had the Manor erected over a century before. No other name appeared on the stone, for Master Leary had never married. On his death the Manor had become the property of a distant relative and had subsequently been sold. Several other families had lived there down the years, making slight alterations to the original building, before Lady Ashworth had made it her home.
Instinctively Briony’s eyes turned to the spot in the churchyard where her beloved godmother now rested and walked slowly towards it. As she drew closer she saw a single pink rose, one she recognised at once as having come from the garden at the Manor, placed close to the headstone. Had Luke put it there…? Undoubtedly he had.
Not for the first time Briony shook her head, quite unable to comprehend the man she had married. For reasons only he knew he had not attempted to attend Lady Ashworth’s funeral. Yet the proof of his genuine fondness and respect for his aunt was there on the ground, clear for anyone to see.
* * *
‘I think it’s time we entertained,’ Luke remarked, joining Briony in the parlour that evening. ‘Yes, I’m sure you consider it far too soon after my aunt’s death,’ he went on, thereby proving he had accurately interpreted the reason for her slight frown. ‘I, on the other hand, refuse to be ruled by needless convention. Besides which, I think it’s time I rubbed shoulders again with some of the local gentry and became acquainted with a few neighbours.’
‘Had you anyone particular in mind?’ she asked, having quickly accepted that he was determined to have his way in this matter.
He shrugged, causing the material of his impeccably cut jacket to strain across impressive shoulders for a second or two. ‘The local vicar and his wife, naturally. By the by, I called in to see them this afternoon, just to learn about local events and discover who has recently moved into the area. They seemed to hold the new practitioner in high regard.’
