Miss Evershed flattered herself that she was not usually the sort of woman to avoid greeting a guest, especially not one who had travelled so far in such bad weather as they had had over the past few days, and whom had, for a lengthy period of her life, offered her sanctuary in his house.
And yet here she was, lingering over her dressing table for perhaps the first time in her life, delaying, for as long as she possibly could, the moment when she would have to descend to the morning room and greet Edward Bailey. Lady Radford, she had been informed by the maid, had not yet risen and Ruth was loth to spend any time alone with her brother-in-law, considering the way in which they had parted after Elizabeth's wedding.
He had been offered an invitation to spend Christmas at Kieley by Lady Radford; Elizabeth was, of course, still in the Peninsular with Captain Levendis, and both of Mr Bailey's sons would be enjoying all the delights of the season which London could offer. Lady Radford had never particularly liked Mr Bailey, as Ruth had quietly pointed out to her, upon discovering that the invitation had been sent and accepted, but her ladyship had replied, with her typical sharp wit, that when one had been obliged to invite such county bores as the Readings and old Sir Jeremy Hartley, then one was allowed to invite people such as Edward Bailey to provide some light comic relief to the proceedings.
Ruth had hidden a smile and attempted to remind her godmother of Mr Bailey's virtues, whatever his behaviour might be like in situations of high-strung emotion, but to no avail. All she could hope for was that, with such a large party gathered at Kieley for Christmastide, the two would have little time to associate with each other.
With a final adjustment of her gown - plain cream linen - and a last examination of her hair in the mirror, Ruth left her room and walked downstairs as one who was, if not going to the gallows, certainly on her way to a lengthy spell in Newgate Gaol. When she opened the drawing room door, Edward rose to his feet immediately and Miss Evershed took a sort of vindictive delight in the fact that he looked far more awkward than she felt.
"Miss Evershed," he murmured with a bow.
She stepped further into the room and shut the door behind her with a definite snap. If she was not mistress of Kieley, she was still more comfortable here than Edward Bailey would ever be. "Mr Bailey, how do you do? Welcome to Kieley." They shook hands, the image of propriety. She took her favourite seat by the fire and gestured for him to return to his former place on the sofa.
He did so, discomforted by her apparent unconcern. "Lady Radford shall be here presently, I imagine, sir. You may have heard that her ladyship has not been in the best of health."
Edward looked up and Ruth was surprised to see that his face bore traces of real concern. "Indeed, I had not. I am sorry for it. And… have you been in health, Miss Evershed?" His hesitancy also surprised her - she had never seen Edward unsettled or lost for words during the whole of their long acquaintance. He, too, was feeling embarrassed and Ruth was charitable enough to wish to set him a little more at his ease.
"I am very well, thank you, Edward."
He nodded and seemed to relax a little, but there was still something troubling him. Ruth picked up some embroidery she had left nearby and applied herself to it, waiting for him to speak again, as he surely would. At last it came. His voice burst out into the calm silence of the room rather like a gunshot into a wood.
"Ma'am, you must allow me to beg your forgiveness for the exceedingly ungentlemanly way in which I behaved towards you at our last meeting. My actions were thoughtless, immoral and placed you in an impossible position. I can offer no excuses, and can only hope that you will not think so badly of me in future as you must at present."
Ruth's hands stilled on her embroidery and she looked up at him. There was silence for a long minute, a minute that seemed to crystallize into an hour before their eyes, and then Ruth half-smiled. "Be easy," she told him. "I will never look upon your behaviour that day with happiness, but I can forgive it and try to forget."
The gentleman closed his eyes and heaved a sigh deeply resonant of relief. "Thank you," he uttered fervently. "What you say, it relieves me indeed." His eyes flickered open and observed her. "My expression was uncouth, but please believe me when I say that my feelings were sincere." He leaned forwards, bracing his arms against his legs, urging her to understand him.
Ruth looked away. "Edward… if your feelings are sincere, then I can only be sorry that I do not return them. You are a good man, and I shall always think kindly of you in many respects, but I cannot love you as anything more than a brother. If this is a renewal of your offer, then I must tell you that I can never marry you."
At last she met his eyes again. The words had been difficult to speak - she wished to be plain, but not cruel, and she hoped that her intention had carried through. It seemed that it had. Edward rose and paced the room for a moment, his face furrowed in deep thought, his hands clasped behind his back. Miss Evershed observed him a little warily, but she need not have troubled herself. Momentarily, the gentleman shook himself out of his reverie and smiled reassuringly at her.
He offered a small bow and then, slowly, resumed his seat. "I see. Then, that being the case, I must present myself to you as perfectly willing to be your brother." They shared a smile, this time, the first one in many, many years, and then Edward, chin balanced on his hand, confided, "You know, I did not truly expect a favourable answer in that quarter. I had heard that…"
But he stopped, clearly unsure of whether or not to continue with this thought. Ruth raised a curious eyebrow. "Edward?" she prompted.
"Ruth, if I am to be your brother, then will you allow me to advise you as one?" he asked, and it seemed that he was now more serious than he had been during the whole of their present meeting. Taken aback, she nodded before she knew what she was about. "Of course. I should be very happy."
He steepled his fingers together and looked closely at her over them, framing his next words carefully. "Well, then. I had heard, and seen, that Sir Henry Pearce has been paying you a good deal of attention. Have you…" And here he paused once more, before carrying on. "Have you given thought to what your reply will be when he makes you an offer?"
Ruth's mouth was suddenly dry. The embroidery slipped unnoticed from her lap, with no hand to restrain it. Her eyes had gone wide and the room felt so very big as the question fell between them. Edward watched her calmly, awaiting an answer, but Ruth could not give him one. She rose from her seat and turned distractedly towards the window, trying to gain composure from the landscape outside.
"His offer?" she laughed quaveringly. "And what has made you so sure that he will make one? It would be a surprising choice, indeed."
Edward snorted impatiently and she heard his boots tramping across the floor as he moved to place himself next to her, with her face in view once more. "How 'surprising'?" he asked, coolly. "Allow me to show a little partiality, Ruth - you are intelligent, sensible, kind and rather charmingly pretty." The cynical clarity of his voice was spoiled somewhat by the warmth in his eyes, and his next words were to ruin it utterly. "There is no woman I should think a better choice."
Ruth blushed, highly confused. Edward, feigning disinterest, looked out of the window too. "How shall you answer him?" he repeated quietly.
And now an answer was truly required. Oh, but she did not know how!
"I - I hardly know," she admitted, eyes fixed on the waving trees in the distance.
Edward touched her shoulder, claiming her attention, and she looked obediently up at him. "Are you in love with Sir Henry?" he asked, gently, and there was no cynicism at all in his voice now. Had Lady Radford, or Elizabeth, asked her, Ruth would have blustered and tried to avoid the question - these people were too well-known to her for her to confess such thoughts. There would have been embarrassment on both sides, and, in Elizabeth's case, an unhappy tendency to ignore the disadvantages and promote the advantages in any given situation. She was stunned to realise that it was far easier to speak with Edward about these matters; they had known each other for a very long time, but despite sharing the same roof for almost two decades, they had rarely spoken of personal matters. Edward was so entirely removed from her relationship with Sir Henry - he had neither promoted nor discouraged it - and his simple questions were drawing out answers of sparkling clarity.
Was that it, then? Was the startling, spontaneous, buoyant happiness that she felt when in Sir Henry's company - love? She had known of her attraction to him for some time, of course, but she had always shied away from giving it the name of love. Love was what happened to other people - upsetting their lives and ruining their composure and making them act in the strangest of ways. And she had not been upset! And her composure had remained… entirely composed. And…
Miss Evershed sighed. Perhaps it was time to admit the truth. "I - I… yes," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Edward took her hand and placed a perfunctory kiss upon her fingertips. "Then, my dear, I wish you very happy."