Anne Ashley, page 8
Had it been pure imagination, or had she detected a slight inflection in his voice—a note of disapproval, perhaps? ‘I believe the general consensus is one of approval. He is amiable, conscientious and quite knowledgeable about many things.’
‘But not knowledgeable enough to diagnose my aunt’s fatal condition, seemingly,’ he countered.
There was no mistaking the condemnation this time. And maybe there was some justification for it, she decided. ‘I can only repeat what I’ve told you already. He moved here from London a little under a year ago. He is well-liked in the community and has earned himself a favourable reputation. I assume he must have been successful in his former practice, as he was able to purchase that large property on the outskirts of town.’
‘Perhaps. All the same, one cannot help but wonder why someone would wish to abandon the metropolis, where there are very rich pickings to be had, and set up a practice in the wilds of the country, most especially as he retains strong ties with the capital, by all accounts. I have it on the best authority that he has travelled back and forth on several occasions since removing here, leaving his friend, the young apothecary, to deal with the more urgent cases.’
Briony saw nothing amiss in this whatsoever. ‘Well, what of it? He no doubt has friends and family living there still.’
‘Mmm, perhaps,’ he said again, though not sounding at all convinced that this was a good enough reason, then shrugged. ‘And I suppose there’s less competition here, so he could expect his services to be called upon fairly frequently, providing of course he doesn’t kill off too many of his patients.’ All at once he smiled. ‘It’s a mistake to prejudge; maybe I do him a disservice to be suspicious.’ He appeared to consider for a moment. ‘He resides with a sister, so I understand. Perhaps we should include them in our list of guests.’
Briony wasn’t so sure. Given that Luke plainly didn’t hold the young practitioner in particularly high regard, and for some reason seemed to mistrust him, too, why on earth should he wish to invite him at all? She could only hope that the other guests were looked upon more favourably, otherwise the evening was destined to be a disaster.
‘If you give me a list of those you wish to invite, I shall begin making arrangements.’
Her continued lack of enthusiasm was clear to hear. ‘Don’t make it sound like such an ordeal,’ he reproved lightly. ‘I’m sure my aunt passed on all her social skills and I’ve no intention of burdening you with a large affair, at least not yet. Just a few neighbours, that’s all.’
When she offered no comment, he studied her as she sat quietly in her chair, plying her needle, for all the world the epitome of a very restful young woman, without a concern in the world. It was a mien that might deceive many a gentleman, but it didn’t persuade him into foolishly supposing she was contented with her lot. She was perhaps being acquiescent, falling in with his wishes in order to maintain her part of the marriage bargain. But he would be foolish to suppose she would always be so submissive, he mused, staring fixedly across the hearth at her beneath half-shuttered lids.
* * *
Luke’s reading of her character had been uncannily accurate—she had done her utmost to hide the conflicting emotions warring within her. Yet, that night, alone in her bed, she tossed and turned, plagued by a guilty conscience and a strong foreboding that she could never maintain the pretence.
Oh, it wasn’t that she minded so much falling in with Luke’s wishes and holding a dinner party. Finally abandoning any attempt to find solace in sleep, Briony turned on her back and stared up at the lacy canopy above her head. Given the choice, she would have much preferred to delay any socialising, if only out of respect for her late godmother. No, that wasn’t wholly true, honesty obliged her to acknowledge a moment later. What really pricked her conscience was the fact that she would be obliged to put on an act, attempt to appear a deliriously happy, newly married woman whenever in the company of friends and people whom she had known and respected for years.
It was all so…so very base, she told herself. And all because she had allowed the prospect of a future without financial concerns overrule any ethical consideration. Really, she had only herself to blame if she was riddled now with guilt! And the irony of it all was, the only person with whom she could be totally at ease, totally herself, was the very one she had married, that man who continued to remain a complete enigma.
Instinctively she turned to stare at the communicating door and was surprised to detect the flicker of light beneath. She felt sure Luke had not been long in seeking his bed after she herself had retired. In fact, she recalled hearing him prowling about his bedchamber…just as he was doing now.
Easing herself up on one elbow, she continued to watch the light fade and then become brighter as Luke continued to move about, as though seeking certain objects. Then she clearly heard the click of a door and footsteps moving along the passageway outside her own room. Vaguely she remembered hearing the long-case clock in the hall chiming the hour of two a short while before. The dead of night seemed an odd time to be prowling about the house, unless…
A disturbing possibility then occurred to her. Surely he wasn’t feeling unwell? He had seemed hale and hearty after dinner, praising Janet’s cooking up to the hilt, declaring it was every bit as good as anything he’d ever tasted in the capital. So if he wasn’t feeling ill, what else might have induced him to leave his bed at such a late hour? A strange noise…? The sound of an intruder, perhaps?
Without taking a moment to consider, Briony tossed aside the bedcovers and slipped her feet into slippers. It took a minute or two before she had successfully lit her bedside candle, donned a dressing gown and had reached the head of the stairs. Even so, she would have expected to glimpse Luke somewhere below, either crossing the hall or entering a room, but there was no sign of him whatsoever.
Holding her candle aloft, she slowly descended into the hall, her heartbeat quickening with every step. Striving to ignore the eerie shadows cast by familiar objects, she forced herself to venture into each and every downstairs room, checking for anything out of the ordinary as she did so, but everything was just as it should have been, with no signs of forced entry. She ventured at last into the kitchen. The door leading to the stable yard was, like the others, securely locked and bolted, and everything was in its place. So where was Luke? He hadn’t left the house by way of any one of the exits; bolts securely thrown were proof of that. So, he must surely be somewhere beneath the Manor’s roof, she reasoned. But where?
Puzzled, but not unduly alarmed, Briony was on the point of returning to the comfort of her bed when she noticed the door leading to the cellar wasn’t properly fastened. She pushed it fully open, once again expecting to find her husband lurking below, only to discover cold, dark and eerie silence.
Carefully descending into the chill, musty atmosphere, she peered about her once her eyes had grown accustomed to the intense gloom. She had rarely ventured here during the dozen years she had lived in the house. Neither cellars nor attics had ever held any great appeal for her. Added to which, there had never been any reason for her to venture into the subterranean room. Janet had always ensured that the place was swept out from time to time and had made regular checks to ensure there were always adequate supplies of wines, spirits and ale. The wine racks were reasonably well stocked, with just the odd space here and there. There were several barrels littering the floor, but certainly nothing untoward, she decided, except maybe for a curved scratch on the flagstone floor, close to one of the wine racks, which suggested something had been dragged across the floor quite recently… But there was no sign of Luke.
The man simply couldn’t have vanished into thin air, for heaven’s sake! Yet, if he’d left the house, he certainly hadn’t done so by means of one of the usual exits. All remained securely bolted, she reminded herself, as she closed the cellar door and made her way back up the staircase to her room.
Quietly fastening the bedchamber door, she glanced across at the communicating one, considering briefly whether to enter Luke’s bedchamber, just to see if he had indeed returned, but then decided against it. In all probability he had ventured downstairs for a drink of water, or some such thing, and she simply hadn’t heard him going back to his room whilst she had been engaged in her search. Yes, that must surely be it. Furthermore, if she should enter his room and find him awake, he would undoubtedly think the intrusion most odd, besides being highly embarrassing for her! No, best forget the whole thing, she decided, slipping back into bed.
All the same, for the second time in the space of twenty-four hours the niggling suspicion that something was not quite as it should be had seeded itself in her mind.
* * *
The small room at the back of the house, which Lady Ashworth had turned into her private study, was where Briony discovered Luke early the following afternoon. He had not joined her at the breakfast table and she had subsequently learned from his valet, Smethers, that his master had passed an indifferent night and had requested a tray brought up to his room late in the morning. Although this had come as no great surprise, she did think it odd that he could look so hale and hearty after so little sleep.
‘I trust you are feeling more the thing?’ she remarked, placing a vase of freshly cut flowers on the desk. ‘Smethers mentioned you’d passed an indifferent night. Which, I must confess, came as no very great surprise to me. I thought you must be suffering some slight malaise. I heard you leave your room in the early hours, as it happens.’
Only for a moment did he check in the letter he was composing. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I went downstairs for a glass of brandy. I thought it might help me sleep.’
She wasn’t wholly convinced. ‘Wasn’t there brandy in the decanter in the drawing room?’ She frowned in puzzlement. ‘Or was that why you went down to the cellar?’
Again the shapely hand moving back and forth across the page stilled. ‘You followed me…?’ He gazed up at her searchingly for a moment; not looking altogether pleased for some reason, it had to be said. Then he merely raised a brow in a decidedly mocking arch. ‘My, my, such wifely devotion!’
His sarcasm not only made her feel rather foolish, but annoyed her, too. Clearly her concern over his well-being had been quite misplaced. ‘If you must know, I thought you might have heard an intruder. I went down to satisfy myself that all was as it should be. That was all. Evidently you returned to your bedchamber whilst I was conducting my search of the ground-floor rooms.’
‘Evidently. I shall endeavour not to disturb you in future, madam, if I feel the need to wander about in the dead of night.’ He reached for a sheet of paper on the desk and almost thrust it into her hand. ‘Now, if you’d care to run your eyes over that short list of names and add any others you feel we should invite, we can begin to arrange this dinner party of ours. I thought perhaps the week after next, if you’re agreeable.’
By his tone she doubted whether he cared a whit whether she was agreeable or not. Something had clearly annoyed him and she doubted very much that it had been her initial reluctance to hold the dinner party.
Chapter Six
‘Oh, I don’t know what to choose,’ Briony confessed as she rummaged through the jewellery case to find something suitable to don for the evening. ‘I’ve taken such great care over the arrangements for this wretched dinner party, but I must confess I cannot be easy in my mind. Holding the event so soon after the funeral is bad enough, without decking myself out in a load of gauds.’
The housekeeper shot her mistress an understanding smile. ‘Why not choose something simple, Miss Briony? What about that fine cameo brooch your godmother was so fond of wearing? If you were to thread that through with a length of black-velvet ribbon, it would go well with that new silver-grey gown, besides showing a mark of respect.’
‘What a very good notion! Yes, that will serve very well.’ As she began searching through one of her dressing-table drawers for the required length of ribbon, Briony became aware of movements in the adjoining bedchamber. ‘Good heavens! Sounds as if your master hasn’t finished dressing yet. He came upstairs to do so long before I did.’
‘Saw Mr Smethers go in there with another pile of freshly starched neckcloths a while ago,’ the housekeeper revealed. ‘Seemingly Master Luke’s having some trouble arranging his cravat to his liking this evening.’
Briony rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘There are times I’m convinced I’ve married a twiddle-poop. There are only two things he seems ever to trouble himself over—his appearance and his horses!’
Chancing to glance in the dressing-table mirror at that moment, Briony caught a decidedly troubled expression on the housekeeper’s face. ‘I was merely jesting, Janet. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed your master and I have been rubbing along remarkably well during these past couple of weeks. Being married isn’t so very bad, after all.’
And she had meant it, too. During the past days Luke had seemed very content to spend a deal of time in her company; she had discovered they had a surprising number of interests in common. As riding was perhaps their favourite pastime, they had ridden out together whenever the weather had permitted them to do so.
She had quickly discovered the coastline road seemed a favourite ride of Luke’s. She had been more than happy to fall in with his wishes whenever he had chosen to ride in that direction, as she had discovered half-hidden caves and inlets she had never known existed. Only one occasion had caused her a modicum of disquiet—that was when they had chanced upon the Customs’ Riding officer employed to catch those engaged in the smuggling trade taking place in his area, and she was reminded of her friend’s brother Will and the bolt of dark blue silk in Mary’s shop.
As the days had passed she had grown more and more at ease in Luke’s company, taking his frequent teasing in good part and more often than not retaliating by giving him some of the same, which never failed to elicit a rumble of appreciative masculine laughter. More importantly, she had never felt threatened by his presence when they had been alone. Never once had he attempted to touch her, unless he had been offering a helping hand in or out of the carriage—save for that one occasion when he had clasped her waist and had lifted her effortlessly down from the saddle, an experience that she had found particularly disquieting for a minute or two, mainly because she had enjoyed the familiarity so much.
Yes, all in all, life was quite pleasantly satisfying at the moment, so she couldn’t quite understand why Janet all too often wore a troubled expression, as now.
‘Truly, Janet, I’m very contented with married life, believe me.’
‘Well, that’s all right, then, so long as you’re happy.’
The response was decidedly flat. It was almost as if the housekeeper hadn’t believed a word of what she’d been told, Briony mused, wondering if there could be a personal reason for Janet’s evident disquiet.
‘You’re not finding the extra work too much, are you? I know with more servants about the place you’ve extra mouths to feed. You must be very busy in the kitchen these days. You don’t need to add to your workload by dancing attendance upon me as often as you do,’ she pointed out. ‘Alice is quite capable of helping me to dress.’
‘I know she is, Miss Briony. But I enjoy arranging your hair and the like. It gets me out of the kitchen, gives me a break from the pots and pans,’ Janet admitted, all at once appearing more animated than she had for days. ‘And as far as having too much work to do—’tis no such thing. That girl Daisy Master Luke employed to help about the kitchen, and the like, has been a treasure. Worth her weight in gold, young as she is! She’s keen to learn, and will start to make a fair cook in a year or so, if I know anything.’
Sam had said much the same thing about the girl’s brother, who had been set to work about the garden and in the stables the week before. They both remained at the Manor at night, which of course resulted in more room in the labourer’s cottage their father rented from one of the local landowners.
‘I hardly know the place these days,’ Briony admitted. ‘What with Luke’s valet wandering about, and the young footman who accompanied Smethers here, the Manor isn’t quite the same place any more. Not that I’m complaining, of course,’ she added, when Janet’s expression showed signs of disquiet again. ‘All the changes have been for the better, as far as I can see.’
‘If you say so, miss,’ was the non-committal response.
Given that time now was pressing, Briony decided not to attempt to uncover the root of Janet’s evident anxiety and made her way down the stairs to discover Luke, looking immaculate in a black coat and buff-coloured pantaloons, already in the drawing room. His expression as he turned to look at her showed clearly enough that he was nowhere near as impressed with her attire as she was with his.
He shook his head. ‘Grey again,’ he admonished, but Briony refused to take offence, for she knew she looked well enough in the pearly-grey silk.
‘Janet thought the gown most appropriate in the circumstances, and so, too, do I,’ she told him.
Luke fixed his gaze on the decoration tied about her slender neck and smiled. ‘Did you know that a few years ago it was fashionable for Frenchwomen to tie a length of red ribbon round the throat. It was meant to signify victims of Madame Guillotine.’
‘How ghoulish!’
‘Yes, it is rather,’ he agreed while studying the artistic arrangements of her shining brown locks, which he clearly remembered had made her appear so gorgeously alluring on their wedding night, cascading about her shoulders as they had been on that bittersweet occasion.
It took some effort, but he managed to focus on their topic of conversation. ‘All the same, I think red would become you very well with your colouring. I shall see about having a dress made up for you in that colour when next I go up to town.’
‘Don’t waste your blunt,’ she advised, though secretly touched by the offer. ‘I shouldn’t wear it if you did. It would be most improper at the present time.’
