AN: Hello, all! Thanks for all your great reviews for the last chapter and apologies for the long wait for this one. To make it up to you, I'm doing a double post, and the next chapter is also now up. Hope you enjoy...
As Sir Henry had predicted, he and Ruth did meet again, and soon, too. He seemed to appear everywhere - balls, dinners, picnics, rides - and never lost the opportunity of exchanging a few words with Miss Evershed, usually to recommend a book of some sort which he felt she would find interesting, or to discuss the finer points of a concert or exhibition they had both attended. Sir Henry had travelled widely, and Ruth's penetrating questions never seemed to irritate or tire him. Indeed, he seemed to delight in furthering her knowledge of the world. For the first time in many years, Ruth felt she had a friend. It was innocent and not at all noteworthy: the exchange of intelligent opinions between two learned people.
Their meetings, wherever they took place, all followed a similar vein - a few minutes discussing commonplaces (Miss Evershed discovered that Sir Henry could speak very knowledgeably on the weather when necessary), before the business of discussing more important topics could be introduced. Politics, literature, art, the latest news from Europe and America, and, of course, the latest scandalous doings of the Prince Regent, of whom, Ruth was delighted to discover, Sir Henry disapproved entirely. The less enlightened amongst the pair's mutual acquaintance gossiped amongst themselves over Sir Henry's kind attentions to Miss Evershed, no doubt born out of pity for her unenviable situation, whilst others, most notably Mrs North and Lady Radford, looked on with approval. To them, it was not at all strange that Ruth should have the unwitting power of attracting a man of sense and intelligence, and they both looked forward to the happy event that would doubtless succeed this most odd of courtships.
Sir Henry listened to the gossips with amusement. Pity had no place in his friendship with Miss Evershed. He admired her fearsome intellect, was captivated by her endearing shyness, and was in serious danger of falling entirely in love with her. A less than happy marriage, followed by almost two decades of a nigh-on-complete lack of deep familial relationships, had made him believe that a second love, at his age, was impossible. And now he found himself thrown regularly into the company of a bright, mature woman - principled, but not naive, who knew the times when conversation or silence would be more acceptable, with a gentle sense of humour that could not fail to coincide with his own dry wit. Sir Henry was under no illusions; he had fallen in love with Miss Evershed, even if he dared not reveal it, either to the lady herself or to her friends.
Strangely, such an idea had not occurred to Miss Evershed. She continued to enjoy her new acquaintance, particularly since the preparations for Elizabeth's marriage were enveloping much of her time, to the extent that her studies had been somewhat neglected of late. She felt that she could excuse her lack of diligence if she engaged in conversation with Sir Henry a few times a week - he would always have something to say that would stimulate her brain, in the absence of any more concrete studying. With him, she could laugh and talk easily, without any anxiety that she could offend him by not concurring with his opinions or beliefs. The gift of his acquaintance meant her freedom.
May arrived, and with it an invitation to attend the Royal Academy's exhibition at Somerset House with Lady Radford. Edward, always quick to avoid any plan involving Lady Radford who had disapproved of him almost from the moment of his acquaintance with her goddaughters, declined hastily, and since Elizabeth had no taste for art, Miss Evershed found herself travelling alone to Lady Radford's home on the afternoon appointed for their visit to the exhibition. Upon arriving, however, she discovered that Lady Radford was unfortunately rather unwell; so unwell, in fact, that she had been unable to send word to her goddaughter, or, indeed, to Sir Henry, who unbeknownst to Ruth had also been invited. She entered to find her godmother lying on the sofa, with the aforementioned gentleman standing beside her, seemingly engaged in some sort of private conversation. At Ruth's entrance, however, Lady Radford looked up apologetically. "I am afraid, my dear, that we shall have to postpone our visit," the old lady murmured weakly. Then, a thought seemed to strike her and she brightened momentarily.. "Unless you and Sir Henry would be willing to attend without me. A chaperone is hardly needed, after all…"
Ruth's eyes narrowed. As far as she could remember, Lady Radford had never been ill in her life. She felt sure that a plot was being… well, plotted, but she had not time to attempt to grasp at its finer details. She opened her mouth to reassure her godmother that she was perfectly content to delay their outing until she had recovered her health, but before she could, Sir Henry intervened smoothly. "Of course, I would be delighted to escort Miss Evershed to the exhibition, ma'am." Her godmother, it appeared, had a co-conspirator. Lady Radford beamed, patted Ruth's hand comfortingly, and before long, Ruth found herself seated beside Sir Henry in his barouche. "I hope your godmother recovers quickly, Miss Evershed," he murmured soberly.
Dryly, Ruth replied, "As do I." His lips quivered and soon both were smiling at Lady Radford's incorrigibility.
The exhibition was everything Ruth had hoped it would be. As well as the beauty of Somerset House, which had always attracted her admiration, the paintings themselves could not fail to engage the attention of anyone with culture and taste. As they wandered the long gallery, covered floor to ceiling with paintings, trying to discover the latest work of Sir Thomas Lawrence and commenting animatedly upon the people and art around them, Ruth's eye was caught by a head of strikingly blonde hair, belonging to a young woman who had just entered the room, on the arm of a man in what was unmistakeably a naval uniform. She looked oddly familiar and Ruth had just turned to Sir Henry to ask if he was acquainted with the lady or her companion, when he strode past her, heading straight for the blonde haired beauty, a look of utter shock on his face.
Ruth followed him hesitantly, her curiosity piqued, glad that no one else in the gallery appeared to have noticed this exceptionable piece of behaviour. She watched Sir Henry approach the woman, and heard him greet her softly with, "Catherine, my dear - I had no idea of your being in town. You are well, I trust?" The young woman's companion had remained, unaddressed, in the background, and an inkling of who the pair were tugged at Ruth's memory. Her suspicion was confirmed when Catherine curtsied slightly and said indifferently, "Tolerably well, I thank you, papa." Her father paused for a moment, but his daughter showed no inclination to make similar enquiries in return, or to prolong their meeting, and at last, he pressed her hand awkwardly and offered, "I would be glad to see you more often, my dear. We have not met for almost a year - "
His daughter turned away slightly. "We are not in town often, sir, and I fear our engagements at present will not allow for any addition to our regular acquaintance. Goodbye." She vanished once more, melting seamlessly into the crowd with her husband, and Sir Henry returned to Ruth's side, looking a decade older and sad to boot. "My daughter, Catherine, and her husband," he explained quietly and gravely. His eyes were still focused wistfully on the spot where his daughter had stood, and pity for him overwhelmed Ruth. Theirs was not a happy, or a close, relationship, it seemed. "I disapproved of her marriage, but she had attained her majority - I made the attempt, but could do nothing to prevent it. Catherine has never forgiven me. When she was a child, she was very much attached to me, but I fear that as she grew older, I… lost sight of her somewhat."
Ruth hesitated and then reached out to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Her mother's death cannot have eased the situation. I am sure you wished to act for the best, sir, but young ladies do not often think or feel in the same way as their fathers do." He smiled and shook himself slightly. "Thank you, Miss Evershed. I suppose that as we grow older, there are more causes for regret to be found, even in things we once valued highly."
Ruth did not entirely understand, and in any case, she felt that Sir Henry was speaking rather to himself than to her. She merely removed her hand and gave him an encouraging smile. "And I shall very much regret it if we cannot find Sir Thomas Lawrence's new painting, sir." He took up her jesting words, and a moment later, he was Sir Henry again - amiable, intelligent and extremely good company. But the meeting with Catherine had opened Ruth's eyes. Sir Henry had a past and a family of whom she knew almost nothing about. Why, then, did she feel as though she had known him all her life? And why did he persist in treating her in a similar manner?
Mentally shrugging, Miss Evershed abandoned any attempt to understand more deeply Sir Henry's motives. A friend, after all, was a friend - and there was no more valuable friend than one who never showed pity or compassion for her situation.