Free Sister of the Bride by Henrietta Reid Page A

disappeared into the cottage.
    I turned my head to find myself being surveyed attentively by an elegant l y dressed woman with lavender-tinted hair: her features were britt l e and she had the perfect grooming of a woman who devotes time and money to her appearance. ‘You must be Averil’s sister,’ she said in a high clear voice, ‘and I’m not surprised you refused my invitation. No doubt Vance was his usual boorish self. But now that I ’ m asking you in person, perhaps you’ll do your best to come? I’ve been looking forward so much to meeting you. Averil talked of you so often.’
    She smiled whimsically, with a little appealing motion of her hand.
    I doubted very much if Averil had more than mentioned me in passing, for, since her marriage, we had gone in very different directions, Averil mixing almost exclusively with her husband’s friends. Yet, wary as I was of Mrs. Ashmore, she had a charm that I found hard to resist, even though a part of me realized that she was no doubt fully conscious of it and gave it full play when she was determined to get her own way.
    I hesitated. It seemed churlish to leave a friend of Averil’s at the gate. ‘I’ve just come back from meeting Rodney, but perhaps you’d care to come in and join us for coffee,’ I suggested.
    ‘My dear, I’d be simply delighted,’ she said affably. ‘How charming the cottage looks at this time of the year,’ she enthused as we walked together up the path. ‘A perfect bower of blossom! I often wish I was cosily ensconced here instead of in that big old barracks we live in. ’
    I was taken by surprise. Her clothes and grooming hardly fitted into a rustic background and from what I had heard of her snobbery and pride of position the remark seemed obviously insincere.
    She gazed at me with a blandly ingenuous air. ‘Oh, I know what you’re thinking,’ she laughed ruefully. ‘That I’m only saying polite nothings, but I assure you it’s true. You’ve no idea what dreadful responsibilities possessions impose on one—and then there’s always the servant problem. I’ve no sooner got a girl trained into my lit tl e ways than off she goes, though goodness knows I try to make things as pleasant and agreeable for them as possible! But then I suppose one must accept the fact that the world is full of ingratitude.’ She sighed and shrugged resignedly.
    Her expression, however, changed as we entered the cottage and she saw Rodney seated by the fire, ostensibly absorbed in a story-book. She regarded him sourly. ‘I’m afraid Rodney’s inclined to make rather a nuisance of himself,’ she said, her lips tightening, ‘and I do hope you’ll be firm with the child, for darling Averil, in my opinion, is much too easy-going. But then, she’s not the domestic type, is she? ’
    Rodney, under Mrs. Ashmore’s acid gaze, laid down his book and sidled into the garden.
    Mrs. Ashmore seated herself on the worn sofa and gazed about her with interest. ‘I’m so glad the child has gone out: we can have a cosy chat over our coffee cups,’ she remarked brigh tl y.
    Later, as she sipped from one of Averil’s dainty bone-china cups, she eyed me speculatively and said sweetly, ‘Let’s be perfec tl y frank with each other, shall we? I’m going to admit that I want Averil to marry Vance: she’s the type of daughter-in-law I’ve always wanted for my son, so gentle and sweet-mannered! I know we’ll get on wonderfully well together: she’s so completely unlike some of those brazen hussies who have set their caps at Vance ever since they knew he was to inherit.’
    So Mrs. Ashmore found Averil gent l e and sweet! I laid down my cup and glanced away, trying to disguise the surprise I felt at her description of my sister. So Averil had played her cards well enough to deceive even the astute and worldly Mrs. Ashmore!
    For the rest of the visit she chatted animatedly of lo cal affairs with a britt l e and sophisticated gaiety that made me feel more and