An Ideal Companion. ANNE ASHLEY
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have inherited your mother’s stubborn spirit and would not have agreed to reside here without being gainfully employed. And it must be said,’ she added, taking a moment to study her well-kept surroundings, ‘the house runs wonderfully smoothly nowadays and has for some few years. I’m well aware the servants all look to you for their orders, for which I’m exceedingly grateful. I’ve always found trifling domestic concerns quite wearisome. Why, I do not even need to concern myself over menus when we entertain! You see to everything so beautifully.’
Hardly taxing as they entertained so infrequently! Ruth mused, hiding a rueful smile behind the rim of her glass, before the seldom-heard sound of the door knocker being rigorously applied succeeded in capturing her attention. She rose at once to her feet. ‘Now, who can that be, I wonder? Do you wish to receive visitors, ma’am?’
‘I have little doubt it is the doctor. I shall receive him in here.’
Ruth betrayed her concern in a frown. ‘You’re not feeling unwell again, I trust?’
The bejewelled hand raising the glass to thin lips checked just for an instant. ‘I do not enjoy robust health, Ruth, and haven’t for some little time. I made that clear to you from the first,’ she at last responded, replacing her glass on the table by her chair. ‘If my heart permits, of course, I shall be here to bear you company for a good many years to come. But, who can say? If you would kindly show the doctor in, my dear.’
Ruth obeyed the command, escorting Dr Maddox into the drawing room personally, before taking herself upstairs to her bedchamber, where she discovered her most staunch supporter and ally busily returning newly laundered garments to the wardrobe.
Agatha Whitton turned as she detected the click of the door, her expression revealing anything but the friendly approval she’d always shown to the orphaned girl who had taken up residence in the house nine long years before. ‘It’s high time, Miss Ruth, you had some new clothes. Why, you’ve never so much as purchased new ribbon to trim a bonnet since I don’t know when!’
As this was no less than the truth, Ruth didn’t attempt to argue the point. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford material for new dresses, either. Yet, she had always felt that, although not strictly speaking a servant, she ought to dress in accordance with her position in the household. After what she had learned earlier, though...
‘Yes, you’re right, Aggie. We’ll go into town this afternoon and visit the haberdashery, if Lady Bea doesn’t object.’
‘Ha! You’ll be lucky, miss! Take a look out of the window!’
Although she had received prior warning, the sight of white flakes fluttering down did take her somewhat by surprise. ‘Great heavens! I’ve never known it come this early, not in all the years I’ve resided here at the Hall.’
‘It’s unusual, true enough, but not unknown,’ Agatha revealed. ‘I remember snow in September when I was a girl.’
Ruth turned away from the window, which offered a commanding view of the moor. She loved to walk out there, admiring the changing seasonal colours across the glorious landscape. There was no denying, though, that it could turn into a bleak, inhospitable place with frightening speed, quite merciless to any unwary traveller.
‘I must confess it’s a beautiful spot, Aggie. But don’t you ever yearn to get away to visit other places in the country?’
‘Ah, bless you, miss!’ The maid’s expression once again betrayed the affection in which she held the younger woman. ‘That shows the difference between the likes of you and me. It’s in your blood, I suppose. But with me it’s different. I never expected to travel anywhere. My family has lived and died here on the edge of the moor for generations past, and most of ’em never journeyed above five miles from the place. If it hadn’t been for Mistress’s London-born abigail being unable to settle, I’d never have been offered the position of personal maid. You know as well as me, Mistress never travels far herself nowadays. It doesn’t worry me none being stuck here all year round. It’s all I’ve ever known, after all. But it’s different for you, miss,’ she went on, her voice hardening. ‘Selfish, I calls it, the way Mistress keeps you tied here, never seeing a soul, hardly. A pretty young woman like yourself ought to have been wedded long afore now.’
‘Had Mama been alive I possibly would have been,’ Ruth felt obliged to acknowledge, knowing her mother would have somehow ensured that her daughter enjoyed some form of social life—attending the odd party and local assembly once in a while. Although obliged to earn a living, her mother had always been well respected in the local community. ‘Lady Bea, of course, holds rather different views on the subject.’
Ruth wasn’t aware she had spoken her last thoughts aloud, until she raised her eyes to discover the uncompromising mask the loyal maid all too often wore when her capacity to understand and sympathise had deserted her entirely.
‘Oh, come now, Aggie, be fair!’ Ruth urged. ‘We might not have been there to witness, firsthand, what occurred, but we both have learned enough to be certain Lady Bea’s marriage was anything but blissful. It’s hardly surprising she was soured by her experiences, and avoids the company of men whenever possible. The wonder of it all is that she allows even kindly Dr Maddox anywhere near her.’
‘She does so because she likes to quack herself,’ Aggie returned, her compassion evidently very much in abeyance still. ‘Between you and me, miss, I think there’s a lot less wrong with Mistress than she’d have us all believe!’
Even though she clearly felt more sympathy towards her employer, Ruth was obliged silently to own that Lady Beatrice did call on the services of the good doctor very frequently. Seldom a week went by without seeing his battered gig turning into the driveway. All the same, she refrained from further comment and turned her attention to what was happening beyond the window, hoping that the unseasonable light flurries might remain so and be of short duration.
* * *
By mid-afternoon those hopes had been well and truly dashed, as had any chance of visiting the market town again that day. In stark contrast to the light dusting she’d observed from her bedchamber window earlier, the covering of snow was now inches thick, with drifts in places very much deeper.
As she continued to stare beyond the circle of trees in the general direction of the driveway, she was surprised to detect signs of movement just beyond the gateway. A moment later two figures on horseback, their faces well muffled against the driving snow, were slowly approaching the house, their intention clear.
Harbouring strong misgivings, Ruth turned to stare across at the hearth, where her mistress once again sat comfortably ensconced in her favourite chair, contentedly sewing before the substantial fire. The unexpected visitors were clearly male, so what reception might they receive from someone who abhorred their sex? Then, of course, there was always the distinct possibility they wouldn’t be received at all!
‘My lady, I very much suspect two unfortunate travellers are about to seek refuge under your roof.’
‘Really?’ Lady Beatrice betrayed mild surprise, but thankfully no sign of annoyance. ‘Do you happen to recognise who they are?’
‘No, ma’am. Their faces are well covered. Both are leading a separate mount, possibly carrying their belongings. Which suggests they might have travelled some distance, does it not?’
Lady Beatrice seemed to debate within herself for a second or two. ‘I suppose it is our Christian duty at least to offer sanctuary until the worst is over,’ she reluctantly acknowledged. ‘I know I may rely on you to deal with the matter. Do go and see what assistance we can render, my dear. As they are travelling on horseback, and not in a private carriage, I suspect they are persons engaged in trade. I dare say our groom could accommodate them both in his room above the stables if they are obliged to put up for the night.’
Ruth didn’t delay in going out into the hall and opened the front door in time to see the far taller traveller dismount from a sturdy bay. As he entered the relative shelter of the stone porch he almost filled the aperture, his voluminous cloak brushing