Ruined (18 page)

‘Oh certainly,’ answered Sir Wallace. ‘In view of their intimate relationship, I would not be at all surprised if in due course of time, the Angel and Penelope made a match of it. He does not need to worry about fathering an heir after all.’

Henrietta made some response, and Sir Wallace gave her words half his attention, whilst he kept an eye on Jessie, a faint smile on his face. For her part, Jessie tried to look around the park as if she did not have a care in the world. Lady Agatha had often referred to her brother in derogatory terms and Jessie, in order to protect herself, had perfected the art of hiding her feelings. In fact, she had suffered something of a shock, for it was the first time that she had ever considered that others might be expecting Ashbourne to marry Lady Gilchrist.

This was only the first of several outings that they enjoyed with Sir Wallace Weary. Very much on her guard at first, Jessie soon found that the baronet was capable of impeccable behaviour. In his company they drove in Hyde Park more than once, visited the Tower of London, and viewed an exhibition of paintings. He never attempted to separate her from Mrs Machin, and confined his conversation to subjects that would be pleasing to ladies. Despite her suspicions, Jessie eventually came to believe his original explanation; that he had been affected by drink and had not been fully in control of himself. Taking everything into account, however, she did not really care for the man. 

They had heard nothing from Raff, and Jessie found that she missed him. Now that her anger had waned, she could only think of their angry parting with regret. She would have liked to mend matters, but could not think how. Sending for him was out of the question. After all, she had her pride, and besides, not to see him really was far better for her peace of mind.

Raff had been acutely aware of Sir Wallace bowling along in Hyde Park with Mrs Machin and Jessie sitting beside him in his phaeton. They had appeared to be a little squashed, but none of them seemed to mind. Sir Wallace, who had been sitting next to Jessie, had looked very pleased with the whole state of affairs.

‘Should we not pay our respects?’ Lady Gilchrist had asked him. He had made a habit of taking her about regularly since their return to London, and had had the satisfaction of seeing her spirits slowly improve.

‘I think not,’ he answered with a sneer. ‘They look to be very well entertained. I should hate to spoil sport.’ In reality, he could not endure the idea of Jessie staring at him coldly after giving all her smiles to Weary. Soon after this, he escorted Penelope home, returned his horse to his stables, and went for a walk to clear his head.

He walked for some time before finally wandering into a coffee shop where he was not well known. He found a secluded seat at the back of the premises where he could order refreshment and think for a time undisturbed.

He frowned in puzzlement. Why was he so bothered? What did it matter if Jez had a little fling with Sir Wallace Weary? Her
reputation
was not really any of his concern. Yet if he did not concern himself, who would? Henry was away dancing attention on the bishop, when he should have been by her side. Mrs Machin’s
overactive
imagination drove her to leave caution to the winds when she was in pursuit of a story. Hinder was too young and immature to be aware of the dangers of city life. It had been left to him, one of London’s notorious rakes, to make sure that Jessie did not ruin herself. What a mull he had made of that!

He thought about the evening when they had attended Vauxhall. Jez’s eyes had glittered through the slits of her mask, the movement of her head and her posture speaking of her delight and wonderment 
in the whole spectacle. The understated elegance of her gold gown with the russet domino, her only jewellery a golden locket containing a picture of her mother, had thrown the over-trimmed appearance of some of the other females present into sharp relief. He recalled how he had impressed upon his party the need for
discretion
; then, in order to maintain this, he had behaved towards Jez as though she was his latest flirt. She hadn’t liked it; he could see it in her eyes. That had surprised him a little. After he had stroked her cheek, for instance, she had looked at him as if she were really disgusted with him, and that had taken him aback. They had exchanged angry words and rather than argue with her, he had left their box. When he had turned round from a conversation with the former mistress of an acquaintance and two of her friends, he had seen her getting up to dance with Sir Wallace Weary.

His temper had been aroused at that. He had waited for them by the dance floor and, as he had watched them, he had worked out exactly what kind of conversation must be taking place. Jez was uncomfortable and embarrassed, and Weary was leering over her like some lecherous satyr from an old tale of the gods. Then before he had been able to rescue her from that situation, she had escaped on her own, and spotted him giving money to Katie. Of course, she had misinterpreted the situation, and he had been too proud to explain. What he should have done then, was to take her straight back to their box. That was what any decent gentleman would have done. Instead, he had marched her in the opposite direction, picked a quarrel, and forced his attentions on her.

In a flash of self-knowledge it occurred to him that he was no better than the other man. How would he have felt if it had been Jez who had been struggling in Sir Wallace’s embrace? His hand curved into a fist. Now, thanks to his loss of temper, he had thrown her into Sir Wallace’s way, and he only had himself to blame.

Chapter Sixteen

A
fter Henrietta and Jessie had been on several outings with Sir Wallace, he suggested taking them to the Cumberland tea gardens. ‘It’s a pretty enough place, and we can stroll about in the fresh air before enjoying a cup of tea,’ he told them. When the baronet arrived that afternoon to collect them in his barouche, they were both looking their best. Henrietta was in a new walking gown of a warm brown shade which Miss Simms had made for her. Jessie was in a gown of leaf green with a bonnet with matching ribbons, and Sir Wallace widened his eyes appreciatively.

The gardens were only about an acre and a half in extent, and were situated on the south bank of the Thames, not very far from Vauxhall. ‘People sometimes combine a visit to the two,’ said Sir Wallace, ‘often adjourning here for refreshments when they have tired of the larger garden.’

‘This is delightful,’ said Mrs Machin as she allowed Sir Wallace to help her down. ‘Thank you so much for bringing us.’ She stood looking around whilst their escort helped Jessie to alight.

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ replied the baronet, his eyes on Jessie’s face. She looked up at him, startled, for it seemed to her that for a moment, she had glimpsed that same lascivious expression that had been in his eyes when he had danced with her at Vauxhall. In an instant, it was replaced by one of polite deference as he released her hand, then offered an arm to each lady. ‘Shall we walk about a little before we go for tea?’ he asked them. Both ladies concurred, and Jessie began to wonder whether she had imagined what she had seen. 

‘How very kind you have been to me,’ said Lady Gilchrist, as Ashbourne helped her down from his curricle.

As Sir Wallace had done, the earl said, ‘The pleasure is all mine.’

‘I feel so foolish,’ said her ladyship, who was still dressed correctly and very becomingly in black. ‘I felt sure that I would have started to feel better now, but silly little things upset me. I was able to
supervise
all the clearing of Philip’s things without a qualm, but when cook served his favourite pudding at dinner two nights ago, I found myself in tears.’

‘That’s quite usual, I believe,’ answered Ashbourne, patting the hand that was tucked into his arm. ‘By the way, that bowl which you gave me from Philip’s collection looks outstanding in the library in Berkeley Square. You must come and see it.’

‘I would be glad to,’ she replied, smiling up at him. Her
expression
and the answering smile he bestowed upon her were purely signs of the deep friendship that loss and a shared task had
nourished
between them.

Jessie saw the couple before either of them saw her. She witnessed the moment that the earl patted her ladyship’s hand, and noticed the exchange of smiles. She remembered how Sir Wallace had said that they might soon marry. Suddenly, she began to pay more attention to the baronet, listening to a mildly amusing story that he was telling about a recent London function that had been spoiled by rain. When he came to a conclusion, she laughed a little more enthusiastically than the story warranted, and he smiled down at her. It was at this moment that Ashbourne and Lady Gilchrist drew close to the other group.

The only two people who did not know each other were Lady Gilchrist and Mrs Machin, and once this introduction had been performed, everyone professed themselves delighted at this
unexpected
meeting. Probably Mrs Machin was the only one who was sincere in this profession.

‘We have a fine day for our outing,’ said Ashbourne. ‘Why do we not all take tea together?’

‘By all means,’ replied Sir Wallace, ‘So long as you do not attempt to lure either of these charming ladies away from me, Ashbourne. I warn you, I don’t intend to give either up without a fight.’ 

‘I wouldn’t dream of depriving you,’ answered the earl politely. ‘Nor do I mean to relinquish Penelope.’

‘But for my part, I would like to walk a little way with Miss Warburton,’ Lady Gilchrist put in. ‘It is no use the two of you squaring up to one another like turkey cocks. We ladies can decide for ourselves, can we not, Miss Warburton?’

‘We can indeed,’ replied Jessie. She was not sure that she wanted to walk with the lady who she was certain had at one time been Ashbourne’s mistress, and now might be on the point of getting engaged to him. On the other hand, she did not want to be regarded as Sir Wallace’s property either.

‘I have been wanting to thank you for your kind letter of
condolence
,’ said her ladyship after the company had rearranged themselves with the two ladies walking ahead, and Mrs Machin bringing up the rear between the two gentlemen and looking like the cat that had got the cream.

‘It was a trifle late, I fear,’ Jessie replied. It was only after Lady Gilchrist had left for the Continent that she had heard the news of Sir Philip’s death.

‘It was a very kind gesture,’ her ladyship told her. ‘It is at such times that one discovers one’s real friends – like Raff, for instance.’

‘Really,’ Jessie replied politely. ‘What a fine show those roses make, do they not?’

‘Very fine,’ Lady Gilchrist agreed. ‘Miss Warburton, I have known you for some years. You have known Raff for longer than I, and, I believe, also consider him to be a friend. Do not, I beg of you, assume that you can view Wallace Weary in the same light. The world may put them in the same boat, but they are cast from a very different mould, I assure you.’

‘Thank you for your views,’ said Jessie tightly. ‘I will bear them in mind.’

‘I have annoyed you,’ said Lady Gilchrist in a resigned tone. ‘I feared it would be so, but I could not reconcile it with my conscience not to warn you about Sir Wallace. I know you are not experienced in London ways—’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Jessie interrupted. ‘I may not be experienced, but I am not a complete idiot either. Tell me, are you going back to the north country soon?’ 

Judging that she had done her best and could not say any more, Lady Gilchrist allowed Jessie to change the subject, and by the time they all sat down for tea, the two ladies were rather stiltedly discussing contrasts between the countryside surrounding London and the Yorkshire scene.

Everyone around the tea table was on their best behaviour; but their party could not have been described as convivial, much less comfortable. Sir Wallace seemed determined to behave towards Jessie with a proprietary air, particularly when he sensed that Lord Ashbourne’s attention was upon them. For his part, the earl was at his most suave, lounging at his ease, smiling his practised society smile, treating everyone at the table with distant courtesy, but reserving most of his attention for Lady Gilchrist. Mrs Machin alone was in very good spirits, talking and sharing ideas with everyone present.

The party soon broke up after they had had tea, and Lord Ashbourne escorted Lady Gilchrist back to his curricle. ‘An
unexpected
encounter,’ murmured her ladyship, after the earl had taken his place next to her. ‘Why do I get the impression that it gave you no pleasure?’

‘I have no idea,’ he replied. ‘Perhaps because the company of Weary is not to my taste.’

‘Or perhaps because the way in which he was monopolizing Miss Warburton was not to your taste either.’

He smiled. ‘Now how can you imagine that that would concern me when I only have eyes for you,’ he said urbanely.

‘You may abandon that suave manner,’ said Lady Gilchrist calmly. ‘I could see that you did not like the attention that he was paying her.’

‘I have known her for many years,’ he answered in an even tone. ‘I don’t like to see her being taken in.’

‘Keep telling yourself that, and you might convince yourself that that is the whole truth of the matter,’ she answered conversationally.

‘My dear, if you are going to become so cryptic in your pronouncements, I shall have to hire an interpreter,’ he said smoothly.

‘Then let me elucidate,’ she answered. ‘That young woman has been in love with you for as long as I can remember. It would be a 
tragedy if
you
should fail to snap her up because you are not prepared to acknowledge that you are falling in love with
her
.’ At that, Ashbourne dropped his hands in surprise, and had to give all his attention to his horses in order to get them back under control. Her ladyship kindly asked his pardon for startling him. ‘Since Philip’s death I have begun saying things when the opportunity occurs, for fear I may not get another chance,’ she explained.

‘How many heart attacks have you caused so far?’ he asked her. She laughed, and soon they were talking of other things, but it must be acknowledged that Ashbourne gave their conversation only half his attention.

Could
he be falling in love with Jez? The question occupied his mind as he drove away from Lady Gilchrist’s house. On one level, the question seemed utterly absurd. Of any man in London, surely he could not be the one upon whom love could creep up
unsuspected
! Doubtless many who knew him would suppose that he had been in love many times. He could have enlightened them: in fact, he had only ever been in love once, and that had been with Dora Whitton, the mother of Michael, his illegitimate son.

Since first meeting Jez, he had kept a benevolent if distant eye upon her, ever since he had found her crying over her broken figurine, but he had never pursued her. If pressed to describe his feeling for her, he would probably have called it affection.

Everything had changed with her arrival in London. This had brought about a closer relationship with her than he had
experienced
before, whilst he sought to guard her from scandal in a world which he knew well and she did not. Despite the fact that she was thirty years old, she was still such an innocent!

He was not accustomed to worrying about another person in this kind of way. His upbringing had taught him that the best way to survive was to think of his own needs, and to use his undoubted charm and good looks to get what he wanted. There were very few people of whom he was really fond. If you didn’t become attached to people, then they couldn’t hurt you.

The trouble was that because of their argument, he and Jez had become estranged, she had obviously transferred her interest from himself to Wallace Weary and something deep inside him was hurting most damnably. 

‘Have you decided whether to go with me to observe a brothel?’ asked Mrs Machin the following morning. ‘My novel is at a crisis point, and a visit to a brothel might just fit the bill.’

‘Can you not simply use your imagination?’ Jessie asked.

‘My imagination is for conjuring up the characters and the
situations
in which they find themselves,’ was the reply. ‘For the actual settings, I need real experience.’

After a few minutes thought, Jessie shook her head regretfully. ‘I cannot agree to it,’ she said. ‘The very idea offends. Besides, what if Henry were to hear about it? A visit to the theatre and even an outing to Vauxhall could be explained away. An outing to a brothel would be quite another thing.’

‘I will just have to think of another way round it,’ said Henrietta thoughtfully. ‘In the meantime, I still have plenty of other material to keep me going. I have just thought of some splendid lines to add to my Vauxhall scene. How do you think it might work if my heroine, the lady rake, meets a rakish gentleman there?’

‘I would think that sparks might fly,’ said Jessie honestly,
remembering
her own experience. ‘If you are going to write, then I think that I will pay a visit to Miss Simms. I have neglected her recently.’

Miss Simms was very pleased to see Jessie, but apologetic as well. ‘I have two gowns to finish, and must not delay,’ she said. ‘They are for the twin daughters of a wealthy merchant, and they celebrate their birthday at the weekend.’

‘Then let me help you,’ said Jessie at once. ‘What can I do?’

In no time, the two ladies were busily at work, Jessie securing some of the hems that had already been pinned with tiny stitches. For a time, they worked in silence, then eventually Miss Simms said, ‘How did your visit to Vauxhall go? Did you enjoy it?’

Jessie put some of the more disturbing memories of the night to the back of her mind. ‘Yes, it was very different from anything else that I have ever experienced.’

‘Who was of your party?’

‘Mrs Machin and myself, of course. We were escorted by Mr Hinder and Lord Ashbourne.’

Miss Simms dropped her scissors. ‘Ashbourne?’ she echoed. 

‘He is the brother of Lady Agatha Rayner, with whom I normally reside.’ After a short pause Jessie added, ‘I can see that you are shocked. I expect you know that he is a rake; but truly, he has always been very kind to me.’ She added this last comment a little wistfully. It seemed a long time since she and Raff had had the chance just to talk and laugh together.

‘I have nothing against Lord Ashbourne,’ Miss Simms answered. ‘Indeed, I do not think that I have ever met him. It is the set that he runs with that concerns me.’

After a short silence, seeking to change the subject, Jessie added, ‘The music was delightful.’