ANNE ASHLEY - Lady Gwendolen Investigates

Gwen found these disclosures both interesting and puzzling at one and the same time. ‘Was Jane in the habit of wandering about the countryside when the mood took her?’ she asked, thinking him a very generous master in allowing his employees so much free time.

He wasn’t slow to set her straight on the matter. ‘Of course not! Not unless she undertook to take her charges out for some fresh air,’ he answered snappishly. ‘If her intention was to walk any distance, she was, at my insistence, always accompanied by a male servant, footman or groom.’ His expression relaxed markedly and his voice became noticeably less caustic, too, as he added, ‘Miss Robbins was extremely conscientious. She more than met my expectations. My wards improved in every respect under her charge.’

Although he continued to stare directly across the room in her general direction, Gwen gained the distinct impression he was seeing quite a different aspect. ‘It just so happened that my wards were among the first to succumb to the recent, widespread influenza outbreak. I took what precautions I could to ensure my entire household wasn’t afflicted by giving instructions that my old nursemaid was the only one to attend the sickroom until the girls were over the worst of it. Miss Robbins undertook to help me catalogue the books in my library during that period. But even so she was left with plenty of free time on her hands. Unfortunately, the weather naturally being so inclement at that season of the year, she rarely left the house.’

The cleft between his dark brows deepened once again. ‘If my memory serves me correctly the girls were well on the way to a complete recovery, and Miss Robbins had decided to recommence lessons, at least in part, the very next day. Maybe she decided to take full advantage of the last of her free time by taking a walk, and went further than intended.’

As she had done little travelling about since her arrival in Somerset, Gwen was unfamiliar with the area, and frowned as she attempted to recall the countryside she had passed through on that one and only visit made to Bridge House. ‘Is this Marsden Wood situated close to your home, sir?’

‘It’s about a mile and a half or so away, and lies to the south-east of my property.’

Gwen took a moment to consider what he had disclosed thus far. Jane, she clearly recalled, had been an avid walker years ago, and the mile-and-a-half hike would have meant nothing to her, a mere stretch of the legs, as it were. Even so, choosing to explore a wood in the middle of January did seem rather odd behaviour for someone of Jane’s sensible inclinations. Surely she would have been more likely to have explored the shelves in her master’s library for a suitable read than have run the risk of returning to Bridge House with skirts and boots caked in mud, after an exploratory stroll in a wood? And what was so interesting to view there at that season of the year? Furthermore, would she deliberately have gone against her employer’s express wishes and gone there alone? The answer came hard on the heels of the question—no, she would not, unless she had a very good reason for doing so. Odd…yes, it all seemed decidedly odd!

Suddenly aware that she was being, yet again, avidly studied by her forthright visitor, and that she was in the gravest danger of being accused of the sin of neglect, she apologised. ‘My only excuse, sir, is that I’m finding it immensely difficult to come to terms with my dearest friend’s demise, and my thoughts remain in turmoil. All the same, I must detain you no further, and must thank you again most sincerely for your help in the matter and for ensuring I received those personal effects.’

‘Wrong on all counts, ma’am,’ he returned, once more catching her completely offguard and surprising her by his response. ‘I’ve been of no help to you whatsoever. Yet, I expect that’ll change. And quite swiftly now you’ve set up home here.’ He took a moment to stare about at what for him had once been very familiar surroundings. ‘Warrender would have expected no less from a close neighbour and friend, even though we saw nothing of each other in recent years. And rid your mind of the nonsensical notion you’re importuning me. I’ve never permitted anyone to do that since leaving Oxford. But what you have singularly failed to do, ma’am, is refill my glass. It’s stood empty for the past five minutes, and I’m far too much of a gentleman to help myself.’

‘Now that I simply can’t believe!’ Gwen retorted before she could stop herself. The resulting bark of masculine laughter instantly vanquished her slight feeling of pique at what she had deemed unnecessary strictures on her skills as a hostess, and she found herself willingly complying with his request.

‘Without wishing to appear rude, why do you suppose you could be of service to me, sir?’ she asked, having decided to maintain this mode of plain speaking, at least when solely in his company, which she didn’t envisage would be so often that her powers of restraint would suffer as a result.

‘Well, for a start, ma’am, I can assist you in acquiring a half-decent carriage,’ he answered, after taking a moment to sample the contents of the refilled glass. ‘If you’re to continue residing here, and I assume that’s your intention, you can’t carry on making use of that antiquated bone-shaker of a vehicle. Old Percival used to ride most everywhere. Much preferred the open air. So that vehicle served his needs on the few occasions he was obliged to use it. But it won’t serve yours, most especially if you’re to put off your blacks in the near future. Which I assume you intend to do, as you’ve been widowed nine months now, by my reckoning. No one would expect you to mourn for ever, no matter how fond of old Percival you were. It’s high time you thought of resuming a normal life, enjoying yourself a little and making and receiving visits.’

It was on the tip of Gwen’s tongue to tell him to mind his own business, that she was more than capable of organising her own life, but checked at the last moment.

If the truth were known, it had indeed been her intention to go into half-mourning. Learning of Jane’s tragic demise had persuaded her to remain in her blacks. Yet now, quite suddenly, she began to experience a change of heart once again. After all, what benefit would come of just mourning Jane? Her time and energy would be put to better use in attempting to discover who was responsible for the loss of her dearest friend, because it seemed that no one else had troubled unduly to do so.

The smile she bestowed upon her visitor induced him to blink several times before finishing off his wine in one fortifying swallow. ‘I should consider it a very great favour, sir, if you would assist me in finding a suitable equipage. It is indeed my intention to go out and about a good deal more from now on.’

Evidently having decided to bring his visit to an end now, he rose to his feet. Gwen did likewise, forestalling him as he made to cross to the door by asking the identity of the local Justice of the Peace.

‘Lord Cranborne,’ he enlightened, before favouring her with a decidedly suspicious look. ‘What makes you ask?’

Seeing no earthly reason why she should keep her intentions secret, she said, ‘Because I assume he is the very person to consult if one wishes to discover precisely what is the current situation with regard to uncovering the identity of the Marsden Wood Murderer!’

Jocelyn Northbridge numbered among the select few who were never denied admittance to Cranborne Hall, the principal seat of the Earls of Cranborne for centuries past. Nevertheless, the butler, highly trained and a stickler for adhering to accepted codes of conduct, requested the visitor wait in a small room off the main hall as a matter of course, before showing him into his master’s favourite retreat on the floor above a few minutes later.

The Earl, not attempting to hide his delight at this unexpected visit by one of his most well-respected and, in his considered opinion, sagacious of neighbours, rose immediately from behind his desk. More than happy to set aside estate matters for the time being, he drew the gentleman, whose reputation for selecting fine wines was second to none, across to the hearth and awaited judgement on what he himself considered a superior claret.

‘Well?’ he prompted when his welcome visitor, after sampling the liquid, merely held up his glass to the light, the better to study its contents’ deep rich colour. ‘Come, a little honesty, my friend. Isn’t it one of the finest you’ve ever tasted?’

Joss, never one to be pressed on matters of real importance, considered for a moment longer before nodding approval, and then immediately afterwards destroying his host’s understandable satisfaction by adding, ‘But certainly not the best tipple I’ve sampled this day.’

‘What?’ His lordship regarded the younger man as though his neighbour had taken leave of his senses. ‘You’re bamming me!’

‘Not at all, sir,’ Joss assured him, setting the glass to one side. ‘And that, in part, is why I’m here.’

‘Aha!’ His lordship was all avid attention. ‘Got yourself a new vintner, have you, and are willing to share the rogue’s fine stocks with an old friend?’

Joss wasn’t slow to set his lordship straight on the matter. ‘Not quite, no. What I have acquired is a new neighbour. And one who’s shown remarkable judgement in selecting wine. A very fine palate, I should say…for a woman, that is.’ He paused for a moment to stare blindly up at the portrait of the decidedly ill-favoured, though much missed, late Countess taking pride of place above the hearth. ‘Possibly the result of that time spent in Italy, I should imagine.’

‘And the name of the rare specimen?’ his lordship prompted, amused by the dry tone, and not just a little intrigued as well.

‘Old Warrender’s widow.’

In all probability it would have been at this juncture that his lordship’s interest in the unknown female would have swiftly begun to wane, had it not been for the odd flicker he detected, just for an instant, in his visitor’s eyes. He didn’t waste time in attempting to speculate on what the look might have denoted. If, however, it was a silent admission to a definite interest in the woman, then it would have been the first Northbridge had ever betrayed, at least in his lordship’s presence, for it was a well-known fact that his highly respected neighbour held all too few of the fair sex in high esteem.

One of the rare exceptions was, in fact, none other than his lordship’s favourite niece. A handsome young woman, with a fine figure and a quick mind, Anthea Kershaw appeared to be, on the surface at least, the ideal partner for a gentleman of Jocelyn Northbridge’s stamp. His lordship was very well aware that his youngest sister, Lady Florence Kershaw, had, for several years, nurtured the fondest hope of just such an alliance. Indeed, he himself wouldn’t have been averse to such a match, for he was as fond of this particular niece as he was his own sons, if not a deal fonder in many respects. Notwithstanding, he was not altogether sure that Anthea would make the ideal wife for his estimable neighbour. If the girl had one failing, it was a tendency to be a trifle too refined, a little too conciliating, and therefore would do almost anything to avoid confrontation. She would undoubtedly allow Northbridge his way in more things than would be good for him, with possible disastrous consequences.

His lordship regarded his companion steadily, as Joss, clearly in a world of his own that day, continued absently to contemplate the portrait of the late Countess.