Chapter Three

      The hand gently shaking her shoulder eventually succeeded in rousing Ruth from slumber; she opened her eyes to discover Agatha surprisingly standing by the bed. Only on those rare occasions when she had been unwell had she received the attentions of Lady Beatrice’s personal maid, so quite naturally Ruth’s first instinct was to suppose something must surely be wrong.

      ‘The mistress’s door to the passageway be locked,’ Agatha reminded her. ‘And as I was obliged to come this way I thought you might like to know some of the visitors be already enjoying breakfast.’ All at once a glint of mischief was clearly discernible in the maid’s dark eyes. ‘And—er—Colonel Prentiss be among them.’

      ‘And why, pray, should you suppose I might be interested to discover that?’ Ruth responded, striving for that air of sheer indifference she was definitely not experiencing.

      ‘Because, when I was about to go up to tend the mistress last night, he came out of the drawing room and asked particular-like if you were still about,’ Agatha revealed, much to Ruth’s surprise, though she was determined not to read too much into the startling disclosure. After all, hadn’t he made a point of saying his original intention had been to have a last word with his servant?

      Aware that she was being regarded closely, she again strived for that air of detachment. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a well-mannered gentleman, Aggie. He sought me out to express his thanks, in person, for all the extra work he and his fellow travellers had obliged the servants to do. And so, too, did Mrs Adams, as it happens,’ she added in the hope of vanquishing any foolish notions the maid might be harbouring with regard to her and the Colonel. Because after today, she silently reminded herself, echoing her thoughts of the night before, she would be unlikely ever to see him again.

      ‘You’d best take that hot chocolate in to your mistress before it gets cold,’ she advised in a valiant attempt to gain a respite from those all-too-perceptive dark eyes.

      Mercifully, it worked. Ruth was then able to swing her feet to the floor in order to get herself ready for the day ahead. She had just reached the washstand when the sound of breaking china, accompanied by a half-stifled scream, reached her ears. Naturally curious, she slewed round to discover Agatha already standing in the communicating doorway, her face ashen.

      ‘Oh, do come quick! It’s the mistress...I can’t wake her...I think she’s...’

      Ruth didn’t wait for the explanation Agatha seemed unable to give. Sweeping up her dressing gown, she brushed past the maid to discover Lady Beatrice lying in bed, eyes closed, head lolling on one side. For all the world she appeared sound asleep, yet Ruth sensed something was very wrong. The curtains at the windows had already been thrown back and she could see quite clearly, even before she had reached the bedside, that the occupant looked deathly pale.

      A shiver of revulsion trickled through her as she forced herself to reach for one of the hands lying limply on the bedcover. The flesh felt cold, lifeless, as she raised the wrist, then let it fall.

      ‘Yes, I think she is...dead,’ she managed to utter, before a kind of creeping numbness threatened to overcome her, and it was a moment or two before she was able to combat the shock sufficiently to concentrate her thoughts again. ‘If Dr Dent is not among those at present in the breakfast parlour, then go to his room, and inform him his presence is required here urgently.’

      Ruth watched Agatha unlock the bedchamber door and disappear into the passageway before returning to her own room in order to change out of her nightwear. Surprisingly, her nimble fingers, though shaking slightly, worked speedily, but even so, she wasn’t granted the time to sweep her long tresses into the simple chignon she normally sported, before she surprisingly detected the sound of voices in the adjoining room.

      Disregarding her irregular appearance, she returned to Dunsterford Hall’s most impressive bedchamber to discover not only Dr Dent, but also Colonel Prentiss, standing by the bedside. The sight of that tall figure had a surprisingly beneficial effect, instantly soothing Ruth’s troubled spirits. Yet, when he turned to look at her, there wasn’t so much as a trace of that warmth she’d so often glimpsed in his eyes. He appeared unusually grave, his gaze for once frighteningly piercing, as though he were attempting to discover her innermost thought.

      It took a stupendous effort, but somehow she succeeded in breaking the hold of that intense gaze and transferred her attention to the much-less-impressive figure who had already begun his examination. She waited a moment or two, then somehow managed to demand the answer to the question she very much feared she already knew only too well.

      ‘Yes, of course she’s dead,’ the doctor responded almost testily, as though he felt his time had been wasted by being asked such an obvious thing. ‘Been dead for several hours, I should say.’ He turned at last to look at her. ‘I recall she left the drawing room quite abruptly last night. Did she make mention of feeling unwell before finally retiring?’

      ‘Quite the contrary,’ Ruth assured him. ‘I brought her the hot toddy she’d requested. She was sat up in bed, looking remarkably bright and cheerful in the circumstances.’ Ruth frowned, as she recalled something else. ‘In fact, she gave me the distinct impression there was something she wished to discuss with me. But I was feeling weary myself, so sought my own bed quickly. The only thing I can tell you, Dr Dent, is that Lady Beatrice did suffer indifferent health and had done so for some few years. Her own doctor visited frequently. In fact, almost weekly. She admitted to me herself, quite recently as it happens, that her heart was not strong.’

      He nodded, as though he had expected something of the sort. ‘It has been my experience that it is much the same with many of these highly strung middle-aged ladies, prone to nervous conditions and weaknesses. Died in her sleep, as most of us would choose to do, given the choice,’ he continued, matter of factly, as he wandered back over to the door. ‘There’s nothing more I can do here, Miss Harrington, so I’ll continue preparing for my departure. We all wish to be away as soon as may be. Apparently your groomsman is taking the cart into the local town this morning to pick up supplies, and my sister and I, together with our fellow travellers, have begged a ride. I trust you don’t object?’

      It was only then that Ruth appreciated fully for the very first time the significance of the sad and totally unforeseen event. It was only natural the good doctor would seek her approval. He must have supposed that she would automatically take command of the household until such time as Lady Beatrice’s heir took overall control. He wasn’t to know, of course, that she was Lady Beatrice’s chief beneficiary and that Dunsterford Hall, together with the majority of Lady Beatrice’s private wealth, would come to her.

      For a moment or two she toyed with the idea of offering him the use of the comfortable, if somewhat antiquated, carriage that seldom left the shelter of the coach house, then thought better of it. For the time being she felt it might be wise to keep her good fortune to herself, at least from the vast majority.

      ‘Of course I don’t object,’ she assured him. ‘Sadly, the groom will have several extra errands to run in town this morning. I shall pen some necessary