An Ideal Companion

She delayed for a moment only before inviting him to step into the hall, then turned to the young maid who had come scampering through from the kitchen, instructing her to direct the gentleman’s servant round to the stables.

‘Our groom will see to his needs, sir,’ she assured him, while relieving him of hat and cloak, and placing them down on a chair to be taken through to the kitchen to dry.

‘It’s uncommon kind of you to take pity on a stranger.’ He held out his hand. ‘Hugo Prentiss, ma’am.’

Although his large hand completely enveloped her slender fingers, there was nothing clumsy or remotely aggressive in his touch. If anything, his clasp was reassuringly protective. ‘Ruth Harrington, sir. And it is not I who you must thank. If you would care to follow me?’

She then led the way into the drawing room, experiencing a moment’s disquiet before Lady Beatrice’s initial frown of annoyance at the intrusion was replaced by one betraying deep thought the instant her uninvited guest, bowing with surprising grace for a tall gentleman, made his identity known to her.

‘Would you be one of the Hampshire Prentisses, by any chance, sir?’

All at once there was a disarming glint in masculine eyes. ‘Cannot deny it, ma’am. Devilish rogues to a man! My brothers and I scandalised the county with our exploits in our youth.’

No one could ever have credited Lady Beatrice with having a sense of humour, but this sally managed to elicit a surprising chuckle. ‘As to that, I couldn’t say,’ she responded while bestowing a rare smile of approval on her unexpected visitor. ‘But I do recall your sister causing something of a stir during her come out.’ The softer expression then vanished completely. ‘It was the year my husband passed away, so I remember it...particularly well.’

Although Lady Beatrice’s tone had lacked any suggestion of emotion, the gentleman might have been forgiven for supposing she looked upon that year with deep regret. Ruth knew rather better, of course. If her employer had any regrets at all it was that her husband had not obliged her by meeting his maker a good many years earlier! Not wishing the amiable Mr Prentiss to waste his breath in words of condolence that would not be appreciated, Ruth quickly intervened by inviting him to take a seat.

‘Would I be correct in thinking you were a colonel in the army, sir?’ Lady Beatrice remarked, after Ruth had furnished both her and her unexpected guest with a glass of wine.

‘You would indeed, ma’am,’ he answered, while nodding approval after sampling the burgundy. ‘Unfortunately, I found serving in peace time not at all to my taste, and am now retired.’

‘So what brings you to this part of the world?’ Lady Beatrice enquired, surprising Ruth somewhat by this show of apparent interest.

‘I’m having some major alterations made to a country house I’ve recently acquired in Dorsetshire and considered it the ideal time to catch up with some old friends of mine residing near Lynmouth. I left at first light to commence my return journey, carrying with me a detailed map of how to cross the moor, thereby saving myself several hours’ travelling time by not following the coastal route. Needless to say we began the journey in fine conditions, otherwise we wouldn’t have attempted such a course, I assure you.’

‘I’m afraid the weather can close in remarkably quickly on the moor. But you’re welcome to stay here, Colonel, for as long as you need.’ She then turned to Ruth, who had remained standing in the hope of receiving further instructions. ‘Would you be kind enough to see that a room is made ready for our guest. The blue bedchamber should serve very well. Don’t you agree?’

Honoured, indeed! Ruth mused, successfully suppressing a smile until she had stepped into the hall, where she discovered her confidante and trusted ally emerging from the kitchen area.

‘You look well pleased about something. Happy to have company for a change, I suppose,’ Agatha suggested.

‘Partly, yes,’ Ruth acknowledged. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a very personable gentleman from what I have seen thus far. Not only that, he seems to have succeeded in charming Lady Bea, would you believe? She certainly knows something of his family background and has proposed we make our unexpected visitor comfortable in the blue bedchamber.’

Agatha’s eyes widened. ‘Well, well, well! He must be a rare specimen to have won himself the best guest bedchamber!’

‘Or the mistress is just being immensely practical,’ Ruth countered, striving to bring a little common sense into the conversation. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a tall gentleman—over six feet, I should say. Lady Bea possibly thought the four-poster in the blue chamber would best accommodate him. See to it, would you, Aggie, whilst I attempt to negotiate the yard.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You see, there is something about this Colonel Prentiss that suggests to me he wouldn’t enjoy the comfort of the house if he supposed for a moment his manservant was suffering privation. So, I’d best go and check how things fare in the stable block.’

Ruth had the forethought to don a serviceable pair of outdoor boots and a thick woollen cloak before braving the elements. On opening the door she was pleasantly surprised to discover the weather had noticeably improved since the arrival of their unexpected guests. The men Lady Beatrice employed to tend the garden, take care of the livestock and generally keep the place well maintained had already begun to clear away some of the snow. There was now a negotiable path across to the stables, where she found the Colonel’s manservant hard at work attending to his master’s horses. After introducing herself, she asked if he had everything he required.

‘Benjamin Finn,’ he responded, touching his forelock politely. ‘Thank you for the kindness of asking, miss. I’ll do very nicely out ’ere. The Colonel and I ’ave sought shelter in far worse places than stables, I can tell ’ee.’

‘I’m sure you have,’ Ruth responded, instantly judging that the man standing before her enjoyed a somewhat closer association with his master than that of a mere servant. He was possibly held in the same regard as she held Agatha Whitton—a confidante and friend. ‘But I’m equally certain your master wouldn’t be content to enjoy the comforts of the house, if you hadn’t everything you require.’

Ben Finn’s weatherbeaten countenance all at once betrayed dawning wonder and a strong suggestion of respect. ‘Well, I’ll be dam—! Starting to get ’is measure already, are you, miss? Well, I can’t say as you’re wrong. Salt of the earth is Colonel Prentiss... One of the best. Could trust ’im with your life. There’s many that ’as, I can tell ’ee.’

Ruth began to feel distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. It had never been her intention to discover personal details about the Colonel, most especially not by quizzing his servant. Worse still, she didn’t wish to appear to be showing undue interest in the unexpected guest. He was nothing to her, after all. And was never likely to be, come to that. Besides which, he wasn’t even handsome!

Feeling quite unequal to returning the servant’s gaze, she dropped her eyes to two serviceable cloak bags. ‘Would those contain your master’s personal belongings?’

‘Aye, miss. I’ll take ’em over to the ’ouse when I’ve finished tending to the ’orses.’

‘I’ll save you the trouble, Ben, I can easily carry them back with me,’ she countered, taking a firm grasp of both handles, thereby putting an end to the matter. ‘The kitchen maid will be along presently with a steaming bowl of nourishing broth to warm you up, which ought to keep you going until supper time, when I dare say, should you wish, you’ll be invited to eat with the servants in the house.’

The bags turned out to be much heavier than she might have supposed and she felt quite out of breath, not to mention unbecomingly flushed through the exertion. Consequently, she wasn’t best pleased to see none other than the Colonel himself emerging from the drawing room the instant she had deposited her burdens down on a chair in the hall.

His slight frown betrayed his disapproval even before he said, ‘Miss Harrington, I very much appreciate you offering sanctuary beneath this roof, but I certainly don’t expect you to dance attendance upon me. I’m not too proud to carry my own belongings. I’ve been doing so for years.’

She felt like a schoolgirl being scolded for some slight misdeed. With the possible exception of Agatha Whitton, and very occasionally Lady Beatrice herself, no one had ever attempted to criticise her actions for a good many years, not since her mother died. Perversely, she felt more amused than chastened by the mild rebuke, but even so, she had no intention of tamely accepting the reprimand like some cowed child, most especially not from a virtual stranger.

Although he towered above her, her head barely reaching his shoulder, she faced him squarely, resolute, but singularly lacking the least feeling of hostility towards him.

‘And I’m not too proud to offer assistance where I can, sir,’ she countered, her voice pleasantly level, with perhaps just the faintest trace of resolve. ‘I do not think you perfectly understand my position in this household.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded. ‘But from what I’ve gleaned thus far, I’m fairly certain you’re not employed as a servant.’

Which instantly begged the question of just what he’d discovered about her during her short absence from the drawing room. Lady Beatrice wasn’t given to gossiping as a rule. After all, she was rarely in company often enough to enjoy the pastime, Ruth mused. Yet, something must have encouraged her to talk reasonably freely in front of her unexpected guest. Evidently, the Colonel possessed a manner that inspired confidence and induced even the most reticent of souls to reveal information they might ordinarily keep to themselves.

Ruth regarded him with dawning respect, realising all at once that much, much more lurked behind the air of affability and that polished easy manner of his; that behind the amused glint she’d already observed in those masculine eyes dwelt a character that was possibly both strong-willed and unerringly astute. Yet another salutary lesson, she mused, never to make snap judgements about people. And never to go by appearances alone!

Doing her level best to suppress a wry smile, though not altogether successfully if the Colonel’s faintly suspicious frown was anything to go by, Ruth sensibly turned away, while she attempted to school her features, and her eyes fell on the travelling bags once again.

‘Rest assured, Colonel, I have no intention of taking your belongings any further than this. And I shouldn’t attempt to do so either, if I were you,’ she advised. ‘I doubt very much your bedchamber is ready for you quite yet.’

‘In that case, Miss Harrington, would you be good enough to direct me to the stable block so that I might consult with my manservant?’

She did so with alacrity and Hugo was very soon making his way steadily across the cobbled yard to find his henchman engaging in a sportive exchange with a kitchen wench.

By clearing his throat noisily he made his approach known, which resulted in the, now, furiously blushing maidservant scurrying away and his own servant wearing the most wickedly self-satisfied grin. ‘You’re an incorrigible flirt, Finn! Kindly remember we’re not in Spain now.’

‘Wenches are the same the world over, sir. Thems that are willing, and thems that ain’t.’

‘Well, so long as you keep it to flirting, I’ll not object,’ Hugo told him bluntly, while staring out with some dissatisfaction at the amount of snow still surrounding the unappealing grey-stone house. ‘After all, we don’t know how long we’ll be obliged to kick our heels here. I shouldn’t wish to outstay our welcome by causing trouble among the staff.’

‘I shan’t do that, Colonel, ’ave no fear,’ Ben assured him, staring up at his master thoughtfully. ‘You don’t seem too ’appy to be putting up ’ere, sir. That scatty wench let fall that they don’t get too many callers to the ’ouse as a rule.’

‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself,’ Hugo admitted. ‘Seemingly, Lady Beatrice Lindley has turned into something of a recluse since her husband’s death. Through choice, I strongly suspect.’

‘Do you know ’er then, sir?’

‘I knew of her, yes. The seventh Duke of Chard was her brother-in-law. Married the duke’s young brother. Seem to recall he was something of a rum cove. I never did much socialising when I was in the capital. Not my scene at all, so it’s unlikely our paths ever did cross. But she knows my sister.’

Ben cast an eye over the rear aspect of the house. ‘Grim sort of a place. Not like your new ’ouse in Dorset, Colonel. I’d not take kindly to being stuck out ’ere all year round.’

‘No, and neither should I,’ Hugo wholeheartedly agreed. ‘From what I’ve seen of the place thus far, it distinctly lacks the Manor’s comfortably friendly atmosphere.’

‘Maybe so. But that Miss ’Arrington be a friendly sort,’ Ben ventured.

There was no response.

‘Very pretty...nice smile,’ he suggested, but again received no response. ‘Lovely big blue eyes.’

‘They’re brown,’ Hugo corrected, staring fixedly at the gateway entrance to the property.

‘Ah, so you did notice ’er then!’ Ben announced triumphantly. ‘I were beginning to wonder.’

‘Of course I noticed her. A very personable young woman. Unlike you, though, I’ve no intention of setting up a flirtation with her.

‘Besides which, I doubt very much she’d appreciate such overtures, as it very much appears she’s going to be kept busy,’ he added, gesturing towards the gateway, where a group of decidedly bedraggled and weary travellers were making their way towards the house.

Chapter Two

Ruth took one final look at her overall appearance in the full-length mirror. Vanity had never been one of her besetting sins; at least she sincerely hoped it had not. Notwithstanding, she had always taken pride in her appearance, and, yes, attempted to make the best of what nature had seen fit to bestow upon her.

Unlike her mother who had been breathtakingly lovely in her youth, Ruth had never considered herself in any way out of the ordinary. Oh, she was well enough, but certainly no ravishing beauty, she decided, taking a moment to glance at the portrait that had always taken pride of place in the bedchamber, before returning her critical gaze to her own reflection.

The large brown eyes, which had been acclaimed by more than one discerning soul as very fine, and the mass of glossy chestnut locks had most definitely been inherited from her father’s family. Only the fairness of her skin and a gently curving mouth, which was neither too wide nor too small, could have been said to have come from her mother. Thankfully, she was neither overly tall nor too short and, although slender, her figure was accounted very good indeed. Yet, her reflection on this occasion brought scant satisfaction.

Although Agatha—bless her!—had arrived unexpectedly and had gone to the trouble of arranging her chestnut hair in a more elaborate style, nothing could detract from the fact that her best gown was sadly outmoded now and, worse still, made her look faintly dowdy. She resembled nothing so much as a well-mannered governess who might be asked to join the family for a special occasion, but who knew well enough how to appear insignificant and fade into the background.

But did it really matter how she looked? Who was she attempting to impress, anyway? Certainly not the middle-aged doctor who had arrived at the door with a decidedly bedraggled spinster sister in tow; nor was it the sharp-featured little lawyer or the attractive widow who had been among the group who had pooled their resources in order to hire an innkeeper and his conveyance to take them on the first leg of their journey. And as for the young sprig who had been stupid enough to attempt tooling a light sporting carriage in a snowstorm...? That beggared belief! Ruth decided. The only other male guest, of course, was the Colonel.

She had to own that she had attained a deal of pleasure in that tall gentleman’s company. Perhaps it was because he possessed many of those qualities she admired. For instance, he had gone out of his way to be as obliging as possible, suggesting that one of his fellow stranded travellers share the blue bedchamber with him, thereby revealing he was anything but a selfish person. He had also proved himself a leader—a gentleman born to command. Moreover, there was an imperturbable quality about him that seemed to permeate others. Amazingly, he had even managed to reconcile Lady Beatrice to housing all the hapless wayfarers with a good grace.

Yes, she did rather like that tall gentleman, she reiterated silently. Given the opportunity, she would have very much enjoyed becoming better acquainted with him. That pleasure, she very much suspected now, would be denied her. It had ceased snowing completely late in the afternoon. If a substantial thaw set in overnight— and there was no reason to suppose it would not now the wind had changed course and was coming from the more usual south-westerly direction—the Colonel would undoubtedly wish to be on his way at daybreak and she would be unlikely ever to see him again. Not only that, there had been nothing in his demeanour to suggest he was interested in her in the least. He had been polite and friendly, offering what assistance he could in an attempt to minimise the extra work the household staff would be obliged to undertake. But by no word, look or gesture had he conveyed his interest in her personally was anything other than lukewarm, a casual meeting of strangers, destined to be brief and so easily forgotten. And maybe it was destined to be that way, she told herself.

The sound of a tinkling bell from the adjoining room obliged her not to dwell on the unsatisfactory conclusion of her reverie, and she went into Lady Beatrice’s bedchamber to discover that lady seated before her dressing-table mirror, rummaging through her jewellery box, whilst Agatha stood behind, adding the finishing touches to her mistress’s coiffure.

Although having received no professional training, Agatha Whitton had proved herself to be a most competent lady’s maid, with an innate gift for arranging hair. She had even succeeded in teasing Lady Beatrice’s somewhat lacklustre, greying locks into an attractive style.

‘You wanted me, my lady?’ Ruth enquired, thereby drawing the widow’s attention to her presence.

‘Yes, my dear. Do come over and help me choose something to wear this evening. I cannot decide between my pearls and the amethyst set.’ She then turned to the maid. ‘You may go, Whitton, and attend me later. No doubt I shall be retiring at a more advanced hour than usual. But, in the circumstances, it cannot be helped. I can hardly seek my bed, and leave my guests to their own devices, without attempting to entertain them for at least part of the evening, forced upon me though they all were.’

Ruth acknowledged Agatha’s knowing look with one of her own, before the maid whisked herself from the room. She knew precisely what her confidante-cum-friend had been attempting to convey—that she, too, suspected that, although sounding slightly disgruntled at the unforeseen invasion of her home, Lady Beatrice Lindley was secretly enjoying the prospect of presiding over a dinner table with more company than had been under her roof at any one time for many a long year.

‘I think either would go well with the lavender-coloured gown you’ve chosen to wear, ma’am,’ Ruth responded, after staring, with a touch of envy, at the dazzling array of sparkling gems contained in the wooden casket. She herself had had no such difficulty in choosing her own adornment. The simple gold locket, once belonging to her mother, was the only necklace she possessed.

World-weary grey eyes regarded her through the dressing-table mirror, staring in particular at the gold chain encircling a slender throat. ‘Perhaps you would care to choose something from my box yourself, child?’

Although moved by the offer, Ruth didn’t hesitate to decline. ‘It’s kind of you, my lady, but this old gown would do no justice to any fine gem. My mama’s simple trinket is more in keeping. Besides...’ she shrugged ‘...I’ve no desire to make an impression on anyone.’

The response appeared momentarily to please the widow, before one thin brow was raised in a distinctly questioning arch. ‘Do I infer correctly from that that there are no handsome young blades among our unlooked-for company?’

Ruth slanted a mocking glance. ‘Well, you met the Colonel yourself, ma’am. One would scarce describe him as an Adonis, though at the same time it would do him a grave injustice to call him unappealing. I believe you are acquainted with another of the wayfarers—Lady Fitznorton’s great-nephew, Mr Tristram Boothroyd. Apparently he’s been sent down from Oxford for committing some misdemeanour or other. In disgrace, he’s doing penance by suffering several weeks enforced rustication with his great-aunt.’

Lady Beatrice appeared to consider for a moment. ‘Yes, I do seem to recall meeting him once, some years ago. He was little more than a boy at the time.’

‘He isn’t so very old now, ma’am, not yet two-and-twenty, I shouldn’t have thought. He seems pleasant enough and handsome in a boyish sort of way. But one might question his intelligence. Somewhat irresponsible to take out a curricle and pair at the height of a snowstorm, wouldn’t you agree? If he had no regard for himself, he might at least have considered his horses.’

‘Sadly, not all are blessed with your sound judgement and thoughtfulness, my dear Ruth, especially not many of the male sex,’ Lady Beatrice responded in her usual disparaging way. ‘I understood from Whitton there are two other gentlemen beneath my roof?’

‘Yes, ma’am. A doctor by name of Dent, Samuel Dent, who is travelling with his sister. She, so I understand, keeps house for him in London. I placed him with the lawyer, who was travelling with them, in the green bedchamber. The other member of their party is a Mrs Julia Adams. She’s a handsome, pleasant woman...around the same age as the Colonel, I should have supposed, or perhaps a little older. She also resides in London, I believe.’

Lady Beatrice’s brows again rose in two fine arches this time. ‘My, my! So many travelling in our part of the world at this time of year. How unusual!’

‘Not so strange, ma’am.’ Ruth countered. ‘One hardly expects snow so early. Besides which, they all seemed to have legitimate reasons for visiting the area. Colonel Prentiss, as you know, had been staying with friends, and Mr Boothroyd with his great-aunt. With the exception of Mrs Adams, who happened to be staying with her sister, the others were all putting up at the same hostelry in Lynmouth. Although I believe I’m right in thinking that it was Mrs Adams who arranged for the landlord at the inn to take them all as far as our local town in his somewhat antiquated carriage. There they hoped to travel by stages to Bristol and then on to London on the Mail.’

‘That’s all very reasonable, but what brought them all to the West Country in the first place?’

‘Business brought Mr Blunt, the lawyer, here,’ Ruth enlightened her. ‘And as for the other three—apparently they were visiting dying relatives. In the circumstances I considered it thoughtless to question them too closely, as I gained the distinct impression that both Mrs Adams and the Dents have both suffered recent bereavements.’

‘How very singular! It would seem I’m about to preside not over dinner but a wake!’

Although Lady Beatrice could never have been accused of indulging in frivolity, or of possessing a sense of humour, come to that, on occasions she did seem to derive a degree of morbid delight in other people’s misfortunes.

‘We must hope it will not turn out to be so solemn an occasion as that, ma’am,’ Ruth responded, returning the jewellery box to its rightful place at the bottom of the wardrobe. ‘We must trust to the Colonel and young Mr Boothroyd to lighten the evening with some lively conversation.’

Once again Ruth found herself the recipient of a long and considering look before Lady Beatrice said, ‘Young Tristram might, indeed, bring a degree of levity to my table, but I very much doubt we can trust Colonel Prentiss to do likewise, given his turn of mind.’