OK, I have added a couple of extra sentences to the introduction in chapter 6, so hopefully that reduces any confusion. 'Ruth' is a standalone story that started as an extra thread in Via Luton, which was culled during the writing process based on feedback. However during the writing of Time's Up, some readers expressed an interest in the fate of the minor characters. If you wish me to continue with Ruth's story please read and review.

Following lunch, a footman from the manor arrived with a basket of vegetables to compliment the rabbit and a note from Colonel Brandon, offering to take the ladies to the village tomorrow morning if it was convenient.

After a hurried discussion, the ladies agreed that if they departed early enough, they could take tea with Mrs Jessup on the way home, and Ruth quickly wrote an acceptance for the footman to carry back up to the manor. Seeking the servant out, she discovered him in the kitchen, flirting with Belinda, who was roasting the rabbit on a spit. Harry, for that was the footman's name, had at least made himself useful by turning the spit for their maid while she chopped the vegetables.

Ruth spent the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden with Belinda and their own footman, John. Becky had not been particularly happy about Ruth's participation, but had reluctantly ceased protesting when Ruth agreed to wear a pair of Becky's old kid gloves. The three of them cleared enough of the weeds to judge the former contents of the garden and left John setting to with the hoe in one corner. For her part, Becky tried to make herself useful by occasionally turning the spit in the kitchen for Belinda.

The colonel arrived in his gig around nine the next morning. With a small athletic jump, Belinda cheerfully seated herself on the backboard and arranged her basket beside her. The vehicle had a wide seat, but after helping Becky climb in on the colonel's left, Ruth couldn't help think they were very crowded as she squeezed in on the right. The colonel sat with his knees apart to fit his long legs behind the footboard such that his thigh was touching and protruding above Ruth's, and she could not help but be conscious of how firm and warm it was all the way to the village.

When they had set off along the rutted road, Ruth had immediately been all admiration for the colonel's driving technique: he handled the ribbons well and negotiated the rutted road with science. Although the Reverend Rattray had considered himself an excellent whip, Colonel Brandon put him quite in the shade.

Despite his apparent preoccupation with the poor state of the road, the colonel could not help but be aware of his proximity to Miss Grantham. His heart beat fast and his mouth became dry.

By the time they reached the crest of a hill affording a beautiful view to the horizon, he was already in need of a tankard of ale.

"Those are the ruins of Upminster Abbey," he managed to croak, pointing with his whip to a distant outcrop.

From the crest, the road to the village wound down into a picturesque valley, and after coming around a spur, it was possible to view the village and its environs as they approached.

"Indeed," said Miss Becky, "I have often wondered why Yorkshire seems to be full of ruined Abbeys. As a former governess, I suppose I should know, but I can only list all the kings back to Alfred the Great."

"I believe the Abbeys were originally established to support Norman rule in the area," replied Ruth, earning her an admiring look from her former governess and a thoughtful glance from the colonel.

"Clearly, you have not rested on your laurels since you left the schoolroom, my dear," replied Miss Becky.

"Mr Darcy loaned me a book on the early history of Norman rule," supplied Ruth, before thinking better of discussing her former lover.

"Indeed," added the colonel, "I visited Pemberley once early in my tenancy. The library is an impressive one, is it not?"

"I have not seen it," returned Ruth, slightly embarrassed she had been so gauche as to allude to the topic of Mr Darcy. "Mr Darcy and I met in London, and he merely loaned me a book after a conversation."

Ruth was relieved when Becky turned the discourse to sheep and the shoal was passed. She resolved thereafter to sit silently and enjoy the passing countryside.

The village of Alwick was no great thing, but the ladies were able to purchase all they wanted: more flour, spices and several huckaback towels. Colonel Brandon hoisted the bag of flour onto the backboard, where Belinda jumped up to sit beside it and steady it with one hand. Miss Becky took Belinda's overflowing basket on her knees, while Ruth managed to squeeze herself into an even smaller space than she had occupied on the forward trip.

Fortunately, Mrs Jessup's residence, Ambleside, was only a mile from the cross-roads, from whence it was possible to take a shortcut back to Clavering along a lane.

The colonel took the shopping basket as Ruth helped Becky climb down, placing it carefully between his boots near the footboard. After offering to return for the ladies in two hours, he was about to depart with Belinda, when Mrs Jessup appeared and forestalled his escape.

"Colonel, you must come in for tea. We are such a merry party! And you promised me faithfully the last time you absconded that you would come in the next time!"

As this was unfortunately true, the colonel was forced to relent, and with an apologetic glance at Belinda, he surrendered his vehicle to Mrs Jessup's groom.

"Excellent!" crowed Mrs Jessup, having gained her way.

As they neared the front door, the colonel heard the shrill voices of Mrs Jessup's nieces through the open window of the parlour. Belatedly, he realised the vehicle protruding from the carriage house was not Mrs Jessup's own, but the Bletchleys', and that he was about to pay dearly for his failure to take tea with Mrs Jessup on the previous occasion.

Entering the parlour, Ruth was startled by a sudden burst of hilarity from the incumbent guests who consisted of two ladies, very finely dressed in colourful silks, and three gentleman in town fashions. The ladies were introduced as Mrs Jessup's nieces. These ladies were as garrulous as their aunt but favoured their father, Mr Peter Bletchley, in intelligence. Master Peter, who was Mrs Jessup's youngest brother, had passed away before his time in a freak accident, leaving his widow to bring up his two girls. Ruth was later to discover that Master Peter had been of so mean an intelligence that despite his high position as the local squire's son, his neighbours had not even deigned him to have common sense.

The three gentlemen turned out to be the threatened visitors from Shropshire. One of them was wearing a pair of the blue glasses favoured by users of Argand lamps, despite the fact it was broad daylight. Ruth took the seat furthest from this gentleman, who was introduced as Mr Algernon Ebersley. He, however, was not deterred by this circumstance and immediately shifted his seat to a vacant position beside Ruth by the suave manoeuvre of offering Miss Becky his own chair. This move somewhat annoyed Miss Letitia Bletchley, who pouted for a few minutes upon losing one of her beaux; but when she saw Ruth did nothing to encourage him, Miss Letitia relented, smiled at her, and was once more the life of the party.

The tea time talk was of the projected ball, the theatre in London, the latest fashions and Mrs Jessup's lapdog, a pug named, incongruously, Pansy. Neither Ruth nor the colonel ventured a syllable, but their reticence went entirely unnoticed, so eager was everyone else to contribute. Becky and Miss O'Brien occasionally got a word in, edgeways, for the sake of conversation, but the bulk of the exchange was carried out by the guests and Mrs Jessup.

In no time, the teapot was empty. When Mrs Jessup immediately offered to replenish the brew, Becky volunteered to take the pot to the kitchens.

Smiling, Mrs Jessup reached for a handbell on the table, only to withdraw her hand, saying: "Perhaps, I will accept your offer after all, Miss Becky, as the maid is a new one and may merely top up the pot with hot water, whereas I prefer the leaves to be added fresh each time."

Thereupon, she hauled herself up from her chair using the table, which fortunately was a very solid one made of oak.

No sooner had their aunt left the room, then Letitia and her sister Sophia became almost raucous as the Shropshire gentleman engaged in lighthearted flirtation with them. Mr Ebersley quoted several poets, much to the sisters' appreciation. Although his verses were framed in a way that bestowed them generally upon all the ladies, when the sisters turned their attention towards the other young gentlemen, he projected speaking glances upon Ruth; letting her know that politeness only preventing him from being more direct.

The colonel endured this murder of the bard's art as best he could, being much better acquainted with the entirety of the poems in question and not just the popular verses that were being bandied about.

Mrs Jessup and Becky reappeared at least fifteen minutes later with a maid bearing a tray laden with the teapot and more scones, which must have accounted for their tardiness.

An hour later, having disposed of the second pot of tea, the Clavering party extracted themselves, thanked their hostess for her hospitality, and breathed a collective sigh of relief upon emerging into the relative quiet of the outside air.

The colonel's gig was extracted from the carriage house and Belinda magically reappeared. Ruth handed Becky in beside the colonel and had walked around the back of the gig to reclaim her place on his other side, when Mr Algernon Ebersley protested that they were way too crowded, and offered Ruth a place in his phaeton as he was 'just going off in that very direction'.

Her polite attempts to decline were overridden by his insistence and Mrs Jessup's encouragements, and when his high-perch phaeton was brought round, there was nothing Ruth could do but climb gingerly onto the seat with his assistance. He jumped up athletically beside her, and with a crack of his whip they were off, careening round the drive at a hair-raising pace. Ruth dared not even lift her hand to wave goodbye to Mrs Jessup, so insecure did she feel as she clutched the edge of her seat. Her hand remained firmly gripped there for the entire journey.

Mr Algernon, for in her terror Ruth had forgotten his surname, maintained a continuous monologue for the whole trip, narrowly missed a milestone when overtaking a farmer's cart, and somehow contrived to arrive at the cottage just after the colonel, despite driving hell for leather all the way and leaving before him. Whether they had gotten lost or taken a detour Ruth was never to know. Her uppermost feeling on reaching her home was relief to have arrived in one piece. She was rather shaken, and as the dandy was still wearing his silly glasses, she decided to privately refer to him thereafter as Mr Argand and never to step into his carriage again.

Mr Algernon Argand was then so bold as to demand Ruth's hand for the opening set of the ball. She demurred, stating that she was unavailable, which was a true enough statement, in its own way. He would have pressed her further, perhaps for another set, but fortunately the colonel arrived to hand her down.

If it had seemed a long way up to the seat of the high-perch phaeton, then Ruth felt positively vertiginous when contemplating getting down. Setting her foot on the step, she felt her jelly-legs collapse beneath her, and she fell heavily against the colonel.

He caught her quite adeptly round the waist, and when her feet touched the ground she could only gasp, "Thank you!" while she focused on not embarrassing herself further by falling to the ground.

The colonel, however, seemed to have appreciated her difficulties and kept a firm hold on her elbow with his left hand while she reacquainted herself with terra firma. He touched his hat with his right hand, saying dismissively, "Good-day, Mr Ebersley."

After escorting Ruth to her door, the colonel returned to his gig and clucked to set his horse in motion.

Ruth, who had collapsed into the Windsor chair in the vestibule, distinctly heard him say "damned fool!" as he drove off.