An Ideal Companion

Lady Beatrice then seemed to return from some dark, haunted place in the depths of her memory and even managed a semblance of a smile. ‘Oh, I’m not suggesting for a moment that Colonel Prentiss is some unfeeling monster beneath that outward show of affability. I do not know him well enough to judge. That said, I suspect he keeps a deal of himself well hidden. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, that’s for sure. To look at him no one would suppose for a moment that he suffered a tragic bereavement during his early manhood, from which, I strongly suspect, he has never fully recovered.’

In the pit of her stomach Ruth experienced an unpleasant tightening of muscles and was somewhat surprised by it given that she was barely acquainted with the gentleman. ‘Do—do you mean he lost his wife, that he’s now a widower?’

‘Oh, no. He’s never married, unless he’s done so recently, and quite secretly, for I have never read of any such occurrence in the newspapers. And he certainly doesn’t give the impression of being a married gentleman. But he was once, I believe, engaged to be married many years ago, before he embarked upon his career in the army.’

For some reason that she failed to comprehend Ruth digested what she had been told with a distinct lack of pleasure. It ought not to have mattered a whit to her if Colonel Prentiss, a virtual stranger, had once given his heart to another; it ought not, but oddly it did.

‘He must have been very young at the time,’ she commented, feeling some response was expected of her.

‘He was,’ Lady Beatrice concurred. ‘And his affianced bride, a Miss Alicia Thorndyke was a truly lovely girl. Tall and willowy, I seem to remember,’ she went on, after pausing to study Ruth’s much shorter stature through the dressing-table mirror, ‘highly suited to a gentleman of the Colonel’s size. They were childhood sweethearts by all accounts and quite constant in their affection for each other. I have always been blessed with a surprisingly acute memory, and recall Miss Thorndyke’s one and only Season clearly. She attracted several eligible suitors, but remained true to Hugo Prentiss.’

‘What happened to her, ma’am?’ Ruth felt sufficiently interested to ask.

All at once the widow frowned. ‘Do you know, I’m not altogether sure I ever learned precisely how she died. It goes without saying that Hugo Prentiss, of course, has never found anyone to replace her. Rather sad, I suppose, but I dare say after all these years he’s now resigned to his bachelor state.’

The sound of the gong announcing dinner put an end to any further possible revelations, for which Ruth was not entirely sorry. Conscious that her reactions had been studied closely, she could only hope she had not appeared overtly interested in the Colonel’s past life. After all, she ought not to have been so. The trouble was she knew the opposite was nearer the truth.

* * *

By the time all the stranded wayfarers had gathered in the hall, just prior to filing into the large dining room, Ruth, thankfully, had her oddly disturbing feelings well under control again. In a determined effort not to betray a preference for any one person’s company, she made no attempt to engage the Colonel in conversation. In fact, she went out of her way to appear more interested in the other unexpected guests, ensuring they had everything they needed to make their stay as comfortable as possible. Even when she seated herself at the dining table, she made a point of conversing mainly with the gentlemen seated on either side of her, while at the same time attempting to draw the two female guests into the conversation whenever possible.

The same could not have been said for their hostess, who betrayed a marked partiality for the Colonel’s company. It could not be denied, either, that she showed an interest in Lady Fitznorton’s great-nephew, whom she actively encouraged to regale them with examples of his less-than-commendable exploits up at Oxford. She did condescend as the meal wore on to direct the odd remark in the middle-aged practitioner’s direction. Sadly, his sister received no such minor attention and, save for staring at them both fixedly from time to time, Lady Beatrice virtually ignored completely the hard-working lawyer, who had been obliged to travel on business, and the pleasant woman who had come to the West Country in the hope of seeing her father before he died.

Lady Beatrice’s snobbery was clearly rearing its ugly head yet again. Although she had raised no objection whatsoever to all those seeking shelter under her roof being offered a seat at her table, she could not have made it more plain that she considered most of the company quite unworthy of the philanthropy she had shown towards them.

Yes, anyone might have been forgiven for supposing that Lady Beatrice was already heartily regretting her charitable actions towards so many strangers. Yet, as she cast a long, considering look at the head of the table, Ruth was amazed to detect a glint of what looked suspiciously like suppressed excitement in those world-weary eyes, which suggested nothing could have been further from the truth; that their hostess was, in fact, enjoying herself hugely for some very private reason of her own.

All the same, it came as something of a surprise, even to Ruth, when Lady Beatrice suddenly turned to the tall gentleman seated on her left to ask in a raised voice that instantly captured everyone’s attention, ‘No doubt you have seen much death during your illustrious career, Colonel...a great number of murders committed.’

The large, yet shapely, hand reaching for the glass of wine checked for an instant. ‘When engaged in battle, ma’am, a soldier doesn’t consider he’s committing murder when destroying the enemies of his country,’ he responded solemnly, after fortifying himself from the glass.

‘Naturally not. Even so, I’m sure numerous instances of murder have been committed among the ranks.’ Lady Beatrice, it seemed, was determined to develop the theme. ‘After all, where better to conceal a murder than on a battlefield already strewn with corpses?’

She then again favoured Dr Dent with her undivided attention. ‘And gentlemen engaged in your profession are equally well placed to rid themselves of those they do not wish to exist, without causing undue suspicion, don’t you agree?’

The doctor visibly bridled at this accusation. ‘I shall take leave to inform you, ma’am, that those engaged in my profession do their utmost to preserve life, not terminate it!’

Lady Beatrice’s mouth twisted unpleasantly. ‘That may also be so,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I am equally certain that some have hastened the deaths of patients, whether by accident...or design. Like the Colonel, here, practitioners are equally well placed to commit the undetectable murder.

‘And the most unlikely people do commit murder, you know,’ she continued, after pausing to stare almost accusingly at each of her listeners in turn. ‘Why, anyone sitting here this evening might be quite capable of committing such an act... And might well have done so.’

‘By heaven!’ Tristram Boothroyd exclaimed in a jocular fashion. ‘Best lock the bedchamber door tonight. What say you, Colonel?’

Unperturbed, and even smiling faintly, Hugo reached for his wine again. ‘No need to take such precautions, lad. I’m a light sleeper.’

Ruth, for one, didn’t doubt it for a moment. For all his appearance of relaxed affability, not much, she suspected, ever escaped his notice. In fact, Colonel Prentiss was not an easy man to judge at all. As Lady Beatrice had intimated earlier, he gave little of himself away. For instance, it was impossible to assess just what was passing through his mind at the present time: whether he had taken Lady Beatrice’s remarks seriously or not. As for herself she didn’t know what to think. For all that her ladyship didn’t entertain frequently, she lacked none of the social graces. None the less, murder hardly seemed an appropriate topic for dinnertime conversation!

‘You quite unnerve me, ma’am,’ Ruth said, in an attempt to lighten the mood. ‘If what you say is true, it must be nigh impossible to judge who is capable of committing such a crime. I, for one, could not point an accusing finger at any person here present. So, unless one happens to see or hear someone plotting, or committing the act itself, how on earth could one recognise a person capable of committing murder?’

With the contours of her mouth set in a thin smile, Lady Beatrice appeared supremely satisfied. ‘There you have it, my dear! Disregarding the obvious exceptions— those who are observed actively engaged in acts of violence—it is extremely difficult to judge who might be capable of committing such a heinous crime... It is not always so straightforward, either, to assimilate what one has witnessed.’

‘Oh, come now, ma’am!’ Mr Blunt, the stooping-shouldered little lawyer, countered staunchly, thereby proving at a stroke that his appearance of timidity might not have been an altogether accurate assessment of his character. ‘Surely one must know whether one has witnessed murder or not?’

‘Do I infer correctly from what you’ve said,’ Hugo put in calmly, ‘that you believe you did witness such an event yourself, ma’am?’

‘Not the act itself, Colonel, no,’ Lady Beatrice responded, after once again staring at each and every person present. ‘I witnessed the prelude and the aftermath.’

‘I trust you reported what you did see to the appropriate authorities?’ the lawyer enquired, thereby breaking the silence which followed the startling disclosure.

Raising her chin, Lady Beatrice regarded him down the length of her aristocratic nose, much as she might have done a menial. ‘But what did I witness, after all, my good man? Two persons, standing close to a cliff edge, who happened to be exchanging high words. I was not raised to indulge in vulgar curiosity, so did not linger to discover what the altercation between the two might possibly have been about. Besides which, I had concerns of my own to occupy me at the time.

‘But when I had walked some distance,’ she continued, after a moment’s reflection, ‘and chanced to turn, I noticed just one of those I had glimpsed earlier walking back in the direction of the coastal town. At the time it never occurred to me to wonder what had become of the other. It was only a month or so later, after reading a report in the newspaper of a body being discovered amongst some rocks on a certain stretch of coastline, that I began to wonder, and realised, too, that I had been acquainted with the dead man.’

Tristram Boothroyd’s suggestion that it might have been an accident was instantly challenged by Hugo. ‘Were that the case, lad, I would have expected the incident to have been reported by the dead person’s companion. You heard Lady Beatrice say this other person was seen walking back in the direction of the town. Had it been an accident, surely there would have been some urgency in getting help?’

‘That is precisely the conclusion I eventually drew, Colonel,’ Lady Beatrice revealed. ‘As I mentioned before, at the time, I did not recognise the victim. It was a blustery day and he had the collar of his cloak turned right up, besides wearing a hat and having his back towards me. The other person’s face I did see quite clearly. Although this other was a complete stranger...justice might still be served... The passage of time is kinder to some and they change very little. What is more, I never forget a face, you see...not ever,’ and so saying she rose to her feet, inviting the ladies to join her in the drawing room.

Ruth, for one, was more than happy to oblige. Although capturing the gentlemen’s interest, the conversation over dinner hadn’t been quite the norm, and she was pleased to be granted the opportunity to discuss less controversial topics with the ladies in the drawing room.

Lady Beatrice, as was her wont, positioned herself by the hearth and, once tea had been dispensed, appeared quite content with her own company and private thoughts, leaving it to Ruth to entertain the ladies as best she could. She began by remarking on the lucky chance that so many were putting up at that particular inn at Lynmouth and were able to share the cost of the innkeeper’s services. ‘Not so lucky with the weather, though, sadly.’

‘No, indeed,’ the attractive widow agreed. ‘Although Dr Dent, his sister and I were all born in the area, we never met until recently. My father was the vicar of a small parish near the town. My sister and I lived quite a solitary existence—my sister still does, come to that. It wasn’t until I was obliged to seek employment and attained a post as a governess that I began to experience life.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘I suppose I must have seemed very naïve in those days... In fact, I know I was—a little country mouse. Most unworldly!’

‘Oh, I do not think anyone would call you that, Mrs Adams,’ the doctor’s sister countered. ‘If I may say so, you seem a very capable woman, quite able to take care of yourself.’

The widow smiled wryly. ‘I suppose marriage and widowhood have added greatly to my experiences,’ she responded in a quiet, reflective way, ‘not to mention raising a child on my own and owning and running a profitable little enterprise.’

Ruth was impressed. Very few women went into business. There just weren’t the opportunities. Marriage was the only option for most of her sex, or engaging in one of the so-called genteel professions, such as a governess or paid companion.

‘How do you support yourself, if you do not mind my asking, Mrs Adams?’ she enquired, after glancing in the direction of the hearth to discover Lady Beatrice, eyes closed, looking very comfortable in her chair. Ruth might have supposed her to have fallen asleep had not the lady of the house been smiling faintly, seemingly at some private thought.

‘Oh, nothing in any way spectacular. After my husband died I eventually returned to London to live in the house that had been my late husband’s home since boyhood. I was obliged to live quite frugally for a time, as my late husband had invested most of his money—wisely, as things turned out. After a few years I was able to buy a much larger property and turned it into a boarding house. I have two permanent lodgers with me now and others who stay on a regular basis during the Season. I’m hoping to persuade my sister to come and reside with me. I’ve plenty of room and I could do with the extra help. And, of course, she’ll not be able to remain at the vicarage now that Papa has been taken from us.’

‘My dear,’ Lady Beatrice unexpectedly interjected into the proceedings, thereby corroborating Ruth’s suspicions that she had possibly been attending to everything that had been said, ‘would you be good enough to arrange for a couple of tables to be set up before the gentlemen rejoin us. I’m sure they would enjoy a game or two of cards before finally retiring.’

* * *

Surprisingly enough Lady Beatrice’s prediction turned out to be accurate. Despite the fact that all the guests, with the possible exception of young Tristram Boothroyd, had been up and about since first light, they all seemed more than happy to make up pairs for whist—even both female travellers were content to join in proceedings.

It surprised Ruth not at all when Lady Beatrice commandeered Colonel Prentiss as her partner. After all, she had more in common with him than with any of the others. What did give her pause for thought was the invitation directly afterwards issued to the good doctor and his sister to sit at the hostess’s table and make up the four, thereby obliging Ruth to take a seat at the other.

She wasn’t offended by the deliberate exclusion. She didn’t even object to having Mr Boothroyd as her partner. Although he was not a particularly skilful player, he provided her and their opponents with some lively conversation. Even the strait-laced little lawyer uttered a wheezy chuckle a time or two. What had initially escaped her entirely, however, was the reason behind her deliberate exclusion. It wasn’t until Colonel Prentiss suddenly suggested a change of partners and turned directly to Ruth, issuing the invitation to join him, that the truth suddenly dawned on her. Seemingly Lady Beatrice had no intention of allowing her companion to become better acquainted with at least one of the guests.

Lady Beatrice wasted no time rising to her feet. ‘I’m afraid, Colonel, I must deny you that pleasure. Miss Harrington’s presence is required elsewhere.’ She then turned to the others, encompassing them all in a brief glance and the faintest of smiles. ‘I shall bid you all goodnight...and better fortune for the morrow.’

She moved slowly across to the door, bidding Ruth accompany her as she did so. ‘It is my custom to break my fast in bed,’ she added, her back firmly turned towards the assembled company, ‘so I doubt we shall meet again. Do feel free to ask my servants should you require anything further in the morning’, and with that she left the room, without so much as a backward glance, and leaving Ruth to close the door behind them.

Candles a-plenty had been placed on the table in the hall, enough for everyone to see themselves safely to the upper floor. Lady Beatrice lit her own before speaking again. ‘I feel unusually fatigued this evening, but suspect with all the disturbances of the day I shall find it difficult to sleep. Be kind enough to indulge me by making that beneficial nightcap I reserve for just such occasions as this. You do it so much better than anyone else. And send Whitton to me.’