The Transformation Of Miss Ashworth. Anne Ashley

to hide her delight at seeing him.

      ‘Why, Sir Philip! It’s been a mort of years since you stepped into the parlour here at the Grange. Come in, do, sir,’ she invited. ‘Miss Beth will be that pleased to see you, I’m sure. She shouldn’t be long. Be out with that man of hers at present. But she promised to be back in good time for luncheon.’

      ‘Man…?’ Philip echoed, once again experiencing the strangest gnawing sensation in his abdomen.

      ‘That’s right, sir, Mr Rudge. Takes proper good care of her so he do. Hardly ever lets her out of his sight, so I understand. They be out now looking at horses over Markham way, it being market day. But Mrs Stride be here. Nice lady she be. I’m sure she’ll be happy to bear you company until the mistress returns. If you step inside, sir, I’ll make you known to the lady.’

      Still trying to assimilate what he had discovered, and not put his own wild interpretations on the scant information, Philip entered the, now, slightly faded front parlour to discover a woman seated by the hearth, and looking so completely at home in her surroundings that one might have been forgiven for supposing she were mistress of the house.

      As she set aside her sewing, and rose to her feet, he judged her to be of a similar age to his sister, though wearing rather better. The instant she spoke, inviting him to sit down and offering refreshment, it was evident, too, that she was an educated woman of no little refinement; and one who, moreover, betrayed no diffidence whatsoever at finding herself in the company of a peer of the realm. All of which only added to the puzzling questions swirling round his head.

      ‘You must forgive me, ma’am, for calling so soon after your arrival here. Only I allowed avid curiosity for once to override basic good manners. Miss Ashworth and I knew each other so well at one time that I wished to renew the acquaintance without delay.’

      ‘I know she will be delighted to see you, Sir Philip. She mentioned yesterday, when we took a short-cut across your land, that you would forgive such a liberty in one whom you had known since she was an infant.’

      Heartened by the fact that Mrs Stride had not attempted to correct him after he had referred to Beth as Miss Ashworth, Philip took a moment to sample his wine and study the handsome woman seated opposite. ‘Forgive me, ma’am, for asking, but would I be correct in assuming you’re not even distantly related to Beth?’

      ‘You would indeed, sir,’ she instantly confirmed. ‘I am, to all intents and purposes, a hired companion. But you will never get Beth to admit as much. My late husband was a major in the army, and lost his life at Talavera. It was while I was attempting to attain passage back to England that Colonel Ashworth engaged my services, after his daughter’s unexpected arrival in the Peninsula.’

      Sir Philip’s ears instantly pricked up at this. ‘Unexpected…?’ he echoed.

      The widow appeared nonplussed for a moment, then she shrugged. ‘I believe I’m right in thinking the Colonel wasn’t expecting her. But it was some years ago, and my memory is a trifle hazy. Many letters from home were never received, so perhaps it was merely that he wasn’t sure when to expect her.

      ‘He certainly never seemed displeased by her presence,’ she continued after a moment’s consideration. ‘That I can tell you with complete conviction. Quite the opposite, in fact! I believe he derived great comfort from having his daughter with him. And, of course, he always made sure she was well protected.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘Not that Beth needs much protection. As you are possibly aware, she can ride and shoot as well as most men. Which, she assures me, was the result of a somewhat unorthodox upbringing.’

      ‘Unorthodox in the extreme, ma’am,’ he concurred, smiling as he was assailed by further memories. ‘Encouraged by a doting father, she scandalised half the county by her tomboyish behaviour.’

      ‘But not you, sir, I think,’ the widow remarked, after staring across at him intently.

      ‘How very perspicacious of you, ma’am,’ he responded, not attempting a denial. ‘No—in fact, in many ways I thought it a great pity that the Colonel permitted his sister to interfere to such an extent in his daughter’s upbringing. Under Lady Henrietta Barfield’s guiding hand much of Beth’s natural charm simply disappeared.’

      Clearly Ann Stride was amazed to hear him say this. Before she could voice her surprise, however, the door was thrown wide, and the young mistress of the house stood framed in the aperture.

      For several long moments no one spoke. It was evident to Ann, at least, that her dearest friend had been apprised of the precise identity of the caller awaiting her in the parlour, for no vestige of astonishment whatsoever was apparent in her face. In fact, her expression remained so impassive that it was impossible to judge just what was passing through her mind, as her visitor rose at once to his feet and her vivid blue eyes scrutinised him unashamedly from head to toe.

      Sir Philip, on the other hand, appeared, if not precisely stunned, certainly taken aback. And favourably so, Ann suspected. At first glance his shapely brows had risen sharply, then, with the self-assured air of a gentleman of breeding and aplomb, he moved languidly towards the door, hands outstretched to capture both of Beth’s.

      ‘How good it is to see you again, and looking so well,’ he said softly, whilst all the time peering down intently at each delicate feature in turn, as though to assure himself that the boy–girl who had trailed about after him over the estate like some adoring puppy all those many years ago, and this self-assured young woman now standing before him, were indeed one and the same person.

      Their years apart had undoubtedly been good to her. There was no sign now of the pretty plumpness of youth. Almost half a decade spent out in the Peninsula, suffering privations he dared not even imagine, had helped to hone her face into something quite out of the common way. Bright blue eyes considered him levelly above high cheekbones. The small, straight nose and the contours of her perfectly moulded mouth had not changed, as far as he could tell. Only the firmness of the jaw-line seemed more marked, and there was a suspicion, too, now of determination in the set of the slightly pointed little chin.

      ‘You look very well, Beth, my dear. Very well indeed,’ he assured her, releasing her hands the instant he felt her attempting to withdraw them.

      ‘And so do you, Philip,’ she returned, bestowing a smile upon him that emphasised wonderfully well those beneficial changes in her appearance, before brushing past and turning her attention to the other occupant of the room.

      ‘How often have I remarked, Ann, that the passage of time is grossly unfair to favour for the most part the male of the species, though overindulgence can be disastrous for members of both sexes. And talking of which…can I tempt you to remain a little longer, Philip, by refilling your glass?’

      He readily agreed. Ann, on the other hand, refused, and begged to be excused a moment later in order to search the workbox in her bedchamber for a certain shade of thread better suited to the fabric she was sewing.

      Once again smiling, only wryly this time, Beth watched her leave, before returning her attention to her guest, and tutting loudly. ‘Really, I think I must have a word with dear Mrs Stride. If she wishes to be considered my companion, then she will need to take her duties a deal more seriously from now on. To leave me ensconced with an eligible bachelor…what can she be thinking of!’

      He had no difficulty recognising that age-old glint of mischief dancing in her eyes, so wasn’t unduly taken aback when she added outrageously, ‘Of course, she might have wisely perceived that I was in no danger. But she might at least have considered you, Philip. An eligible baronet is fair game, and it isn’t totally unknown for me to act on impulse. Just think what a scandal we’d cause if I were to take it into my head to importune you.’

      For answer he threw back his head and laughed heartily, something he had done so very infrequently in recent years. ‘I was wrong. You haven’t changed much at all.’

      ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. People do, you know,’ she countered, after collecting his glass. ‘Can I tempt you to join me in a measure of port?’