.

me to ride. Astride, I might add. When I was seven years old and he wished to purchase a side-saddle for me, I quite naturally recoiled in horror at the mere thought. So he bought me a suit of boy’s clothes instead.

      ‘Don’t be fooled by anything you might have heard him say out there in Spain,’ Beth advised, smiling fondly. ‘Believe me when I tell you he felt so proud that his little girl was a bruising rider, and had learned to shoot as well as he could. He rarely objected when I escaped from my long-suffering governess to accompany him out. And so it followed that whenever he was invited to join a shooting party in the locale, or went fishing with neighbours, I, too, went along. Philip frequently accompanied his father, and so, naturally, we became very well acquainted. I always looked forward with much pleasure to those times when he came home from school and, later, university. I regarded him as…possibly…a surrogate brother then, and followed him about everywhere.’ Smiling still, she shook her head. ‘He, poor boy, must have found me such a confounded nuisance, but he was always so very patient with me.’

      Pausing to reduce the contents of her glass, Beth took a moment to collect her thoughts. ‘Of course such a state of affairs couldn’t possibly continue. Dear, dear, the granddaughter of an earl, no less, going about in breeches…?’ She raised her brows in mock horror. ‘It was not to be borne! Eventually my father’s only sister, the only member of his family, incidentally, with whom Papa ever had any dealings during the vast majority of his adult life, succeeded in forcing him to acknowledge the error of his ways, and in persuading him to pack me off to an exclusive seminary in Bath, where her own eldest daughter was a pupil.

      ‘I must confess I did somewhat resent Aunt Hetta’s interference at first,’ Beth went on to reveal. ‘And woe betide the woman if she ever attempts to meddle in my affairs again!’ A reluctant smile then tugged at her mouth. ‘To be fair, though, I’m forced to own she was in the right of it on that occasion. Eventually even I was brought to acknowledge the fact that I simply couldn’t go on behaving in such an outrageous fashion, especially if I ever hoped to make a suitable marriage. And besides—’ she shrugged ‘—the few years I spent at the seminary weren’t so bad. My eldest cousin and I were much of an age, and of course we’d seen each other on several occasions before then. But at the seminary we shared a room and became the very best of friends, more like sisters than cousins. At least, that’s how I eventually came to look upon Eugenie.’

      The widow thought she could detect just the faintest trace of bitterness in Beth’s voice, and was frankly puzzled by it. Although Beth could never have been accused of boasting about her more illustrious family connections, she had on several occasions during the past five years mentioned her cousin Eugenie, always with affection, and always with much regret at her passing.

      ‘I seem to recall your saying you kept in regular contact with that cousin in particular,’ she remarked, in an attempt to discover a little more about this period in her dearest friend’s life.’

      ‘Yes, we exchanged letters on a regular basis and, as Papa had become increasingly less remote as the years had passed, at least where his only sister was concerned, we visited Lord Barfield’s mansion in Surrey at least once a year. Then, quite out of the blue, shortly after Eugenie had enjoyed a very successful first Season in town, Aunt Hetta professed a desire to accompany her eldest daughter here. The visits quickly became more frequent, every three months or so. Foolishly I imagined my cousin instigated those frequent journeys into the West Country for the sole purpose of seeing me.’ The shout of laughter that echoed round the parlour held a distinctly hollow and bitter ring. ‘How wrong can one be! The main reason for the regular visits was to remain in close proximity to a certain eligible young bachelor who had paid her no little attention during her weeks in London the previous year.’

      Ann sympathised. ‘Little wonder you felt so aggrieved, my dear.’

      ‘Yes, and much more than you realise. I also foolishly imagined that Philip’s visits to this house were prompted by a desire to keep in regular contact with his childhood companion, not to moon over the beautiful girl with whom he had fallen head over heels in love.’

      Rising to her feet, Beth went to stand before the window once more, and after a significant silence, when the only sound to be heard was the crackling of the logs on the fire, she at last conceded, ‘But perhaps I’m doing Philip an injustice to speak so disparagingly of him. Little wonder he fell so hopelessly in love with Eugenie. Believe me, Ann, she was the most beautiful girl imaginable—golden blonde hair, big, bright blue eyes, and the sweetest of dispositions.’

      The sigh she uttered seemed to hang in the air for a long time before she added, ‘Although I was blissfully ignorant of it at the time, Waldo Staveley persuaded his nephew to wait until the following year before making anything official. Philip, seemingly, must have been content enough to follow his uncle’s advice. Which was understandable in the circumstances. He was very young, not four-and-twenty, and he was having to accustom himself to a vast number of responsibilities, as he had only months before come into the title. None the less, one cannot expect to keep things secret indefinitely and eventually word leaked out that an engagement announcement would be forthcoming in the spring of the following year.

      ‘During this period, Papa sailed for Portugal with Wellesley in the summer of ’08, as you know, and there was no possibility that I could remain here at the Grange. Foolishly I felt hurt, and harboured far too much resentment towards Eugenie and her mother to stay with them for the duration of Papa’s absence, and so I inflicted myself on my mother’s maiden aunt, who still resides in Plymouth. I was brutally aware, of course, that I would be expected to travel to Surrey for the engagement party the following year. As the months passed, and the date for the celebration loomed ever nearer, in sheer desperation I sought a way out of my predicament, and managed to attain passage on board a ship bound for Portugal, just a matter of a week or so before the engagement was made official. Great-Aunt Matilda suspected nothing until she discovered the note I had left her, poor darling. She must have been desperately concerned, even though I assured her I was sharing a cabin with the wife of an army surgeon, eager to join her husband out in the Peninsula, and would therefore be adequately chaperoned for the duration of the voyage.’

      ‘Even so, you took a desperate risk, my dear—a young girl, just turned twenty, travelling without a male protector,’ Ann pointed out.

      ‘True,’ Beth was obliged to agree. ‘But at the time to have remained seemed a far worse fate.’ She shrugged. ‘Her numerous letters since would suggest Great-Aunt Matilda has long since forgiven me for the distress I caused her. Lady Henrietta Barfield is a different matter entirely. Although she did eventually bring herself to write to me, the few letters received during the intervening years have contained precious little warmth.’

      Ann stared intently at the figure still standing at the window. ‘And do you still feel resentment now?’

      Beth turned to stare out at the slightly neglected garden once more. ‘Not towards my Aunt Hetta, no,’ she at last revealed. ‘Perhaps a little towards Philip, still. But I hope I didn’t allow it to show.’

      ‘I could detect nothing of the kind,’ Ann assured her.

      ‘Good—because we have been invited to dine at the Court on Friday, and it would be the height of bad manners to reveal the least animosity towards one’s host, don’t you agree? Besides which, I am determined to put such youthful grievances behind me!’

      Ann offered no response. She merely turned her attention to her sewing once more, her brow furrowed by a thoughtful frown.

      Philip arrived back at the Court to discover his sister seated close to the parlour fire, also plying a needle. Unlike the lean yet shapely women with whom he had conversed a short time earlier, Lady Chalford was not given to indulging in any form of strenuous exercise, if she could possibly avoid it. And it showed!

      ‘Ahh, busily occupied again, I see!’ he quipped, making a beeline for the table on which recently refilled decanters stood. ‘Can I tempt you to join me in a glass of madeira before luncheon, m’dear?’

      ‘Yes, I rather think you can, Brother. I’m quite fatigued after all the embroidering