Ruth Ashbury

by

Tea with the daughters

While Parliament was sitting, Eleanor, the Duchess of Winshire brought all her female brood together for tea once a week, or at least those who were in London. Her daughters of the heart, though she’d birthed none of them.

She looked around the room at them all chattering, sharing family news and discussing the issues facing their world and the charities to which each devoted time and attention.

Cherry, Duchess of Haverford, had her head close together with Matilda, Sophia, and Prue. Cherry was the beloved wife of Eleanor’s eldest son, and the lady responsible for the happiness that lit Haverford’s eyes and curved his lips into a smile whenever she was near, or even when they were briefly parted and he thought of her. She was also Eleanor’s niece by marriage, being the daughter of Eleanor’s husband’s deceased brother.

Matilda, Countess of Hamner, her eldest foster daughter, was once known to all the ton as the Ice Maiden, though no one would think it to see her now. Matilda had entered Eleanor’s nursery as a baby, and captivated the Duchess of Haverford, as she was then, with one fathomless gaze from those blue eyes.

Sophia, Countess of Sutton, wife to her husband’s eldest son, was a lady who coupled great dignity with enormous warmth. Sophia was another Eleanor had loved all her life, since her friend the Countess of Hythe had asked Eleanor to be godmother to the newborn babe. After Sophia’s marriage to Jamie and Eleanor’s marriage to his father Winshire, Sophia was now her daughter in law, as well as religion and affection.

Prudence Wakefield was the mother of a number of Eleanor’s grandchildren. It was true that the younger ones who were acknowledged as grandchildren were so only by courtesy, since Prue’s husband David was a by-blow of Eleanor’s first husband and no blood relation. The eldest could not be acknowledged as a blood relation, for she was the daughter of Prue and Eleanor’s eldest son, conceived in a long ago youthful folly that the family had no intention of sharing with the world. Those who noticed her resemblance to the Haverfords assumed David was her father, as he was in every way except biological. To make the relationship even more complicated, she and David had taken Tony into their family. He was a slum brat, rescued by Cherry, and discovered to be the offspring of Eleanor’s younger son, Jonathan.

Ruth, Sarah and Becky were also deep in conversation. Ruth was the Countess of Ashbury and the Duke of Winshire’s daughter, and Sarah was Countess of Lechton and twin sister to Cherry. From the serious looks on the two faces, Eleanor would guess that they were talking about the medical clinic that Ruth had founded and where Sarah’s husband Nate worked.

Like Prue’s, Becky’s relationship with the Haverfords had elements that most of the world did not know. She was Baroness Overton, wife to the current Duke of Haverford’s closest friend. But under another name, she had once been Haverford’s mistress. Bella, the youngest Overton daughter, was another unacknowledged grandchild.

Rosemary was laughing with Jessica and Frances. They were probably talking about Frances’s debut ball, which had been a grand success.  Lady Rosemary Winderfield was Winshire’s youngest daughter, and the only one yet unmarried. Perhaps she would choose a husband this year. Certainly, she would need one to chase away the wistful look Eleanor had caught from time to time when Ruth watched the other ladies with their children.

Jessica’s laugh was good to hear. Eleanor’s middle foster daughter, the Countess of Colyford, still wore black for her husband, though Eleanor wondered how she could mourn him after what he’d done to her, and tried to do. She was laughing again, though, and would perhaps put off her blacks soon.

Frances’s laugher was unforced. The sweetest of Eleanor’s three foster daughters was also the smartest. She had quickly summed up the majority of her suitors as fribbles without serious intention and had picked out the fortune-tellers with unerring accuracy. Eleanor, Winshire, and even her brother Haverford told her to marry for love, and Eleanor hoped that she would.

by

Tea with Ruth, Countess of Ashbury

The new Countess of Ashbury was the Duchess of Haverford’s only guest today. She was shown out to the terrace where her grace sat taking the sunshine while looking over the gardens that sloped to the river. Her curtsey was gracefulness incarnate, and her looks not at all in the common way, but stunning.

“Your Grace, thank you for your invitation,” she said.

Eleanor waved to the chair that had been placed next to her own, and at an angle to it so that she could keep her eyes on her visitor’s face. “My goddaughter Sophia encouraged me to do so, Lady Ashbury. She tells me you have a charitable project that I might be interested in supporting. But first, let us have tea and talk about our families and the weather.”

Lady Ashbury’s amused smile flashed. “I shall feel very English,” she said.

She stated her preferences—black, with a slice of lemon and one lump of sugar–and accepted the cup Eleanor poured. “I have not thanked you in person for your influence in the matter of my sister-in-law, and the scandal she tried to raise,” she said.

Eleanor never did anything so crass as shrugging her shoulders, but she allowed her eyebrows to do so. “You blunted the worst of the rumours when you married Lord Ashbury,” she pointed out. “You are happy, I hope? Sophia tells me it is a love match.”

The glow in Lady Ashbury’s eyes, the softening of her voice, all confirmed the diagnosis. “Yes, Your Grace. I love Val, and I love his–our daughters. We would have come to it in the end, I believe. Elspeth Ashbury did us a favour by forcing us to decide sooner, rather than later.”

“Tell me about your daughters,” Eleanor encouraged. “Lady Mirabelle and Lady Genevieve, are they not?”

Ruth needed no further encouragement, extolling the talents and characters of her girls while they drank their tea. However, when Eleanor put her cup aside, she brought her current anecdote to a close, and commented, “But I have been rattling on about my family, which is hardly good manners, Your Grace. Will you further extend your kindness to me by allowing me to rattle on about my cottage hospital instead?”

“A cottage hospital! How interesting. Please tell me more.”

***

Ruth is the heroine of To Mend the Broken Hearted. She meets the Earl of Ashbury when she delivers his two daughters to him after they are sent home from school during a smallpox epidemic. By To Claim the Long-Lost Lover, she is running the cottage hospital mentioned above.