Becky walked into a large comfortable room where she found a young girl in a long black dress with a white collar and cuffs unpacking her bags. The girl turned, curtsied and announced, “I’m Nellie, your maid. Please let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”
Becky thanked her, walked over to the bay window and stared out at the green acres that stretched as far as her eye could see. There was a knock on the door and Becky turned to find Guy entering the room even before she had been given the chance to say “Come in.”
“Room all right, darling?”
“Just perfect,” said Becky as the maid curtsied once again. Becky thought she detected a slight look of apprehension in the young girl’s eyes as Guy walked across the room.
“Ready to meet Pa?” he asked.
“As ready as I’m ever likely to be,” Becky admitted as she accompanied Guy back downstairs to the morning room where a man in his early fifties stood in front of a blazing log fire waiting to greet them.
“Welcome to Ashurst Hall,” said Major Trentham.
Becky smiled at her host and said, “Thank you.”
The major was slightly shorter than his son, but had the same slim build and fair hair, though there were some strands of gray appearing at the sides. But that was where the likeness ended. Whereas Guy’s complexion was fresh and pale, Major Trentham’s skin had the ruddiness of a man who had spent most of his life outdoors, and when Becky shook his hand she felt the roughness of someone who obviously worked on the land.
“Those fine London shoes won’t be much good for what I have in mind,” declared the major. “You’ll have to borrow a pair of my wife’s riding boots, or perhaps Nigel’s Wellingtons.”
“Nigel?” Becky inquired.
“Trentham minor. Hasn’t Guy told you about him? He’s in his last year at Harrow, hoping to go on to Sandhurst—and outshine his brother, I’m told.”
“I didn’t know you had a—”
“The little brat isn’t worthy of a mention,” Guy interrupted with a half smile, as his father guided them back through the hall to a cupboard below the stairs. Becky stared at the row of leather riding boots that were even more highly polished than her shoes.
?
??Take your pick m’dear,” said Major Trentham.
After a couple of attempts Becky found a pair that fitted perfectly, then followed Guy and his father out into the garden. It took the best part of the afternoon for Major Trentham to show his young guest round the seven-hundred-acre estate, and by the time Becky returned she was more than ready for the hot punch that awaited them in a large silver tureen in the morning room.
The butler informed them that Mrs. Trentham had phoned to say that she had been held up at the vicarage and would be unable to join them for tea.
By the time Becky returned to her room in the early evening to take a bath and change for dinner, Mrs. Trentham still hadn’t made an appearance.
Daphne had loaned Becky two dresses for the occasion, and even an exquisite semicircular diamond brooch about which Becky had felt a little apprehensive. But when she looked at herself in the mirror all her fears were quickly forgotten.
When Becky heard eight o’clock chiming in chorus from the numerous clocks around the house she returned to the drawing room. The dress and the brooch had a perceptible and immediate effect on both men. There was still no sign of Guy’s mother.
“What a charming dress, Miss Salmon,” said the major.
“Thank you, Major Trentham,” said Becky, as she warmed her hands by the fire before glancing around the room.
“My wife will be joining us in a moment,” the major assured Becky, as the butler proffered a glass of sherry on a silver tray.
“I did enjoy being shown round the estate.”
“Hardly warrants that description, my dear,” the major replied with a warm smile. “But I’m glad you enjoyed the walk,” he added as his attention was diverted over her shoulder.
Becky swung round to see a tall, elegant lady, dressed in black from the nape of her neck to her ankles, enter the room. She walked slowly and sedately towards them.
“Mother,” said Guy, stepping forward to give her a kiss on the cheek, “I should like you to meet Becky Salmon.”
“How do you do?” said Becky.
“May I be permitted to inquire who removed my best riding boots from the hall cupboard?” asked Mrs. Trentham, ignoring Becky’s outstretched hand. “And then saw fit to return them covered in mud?”