Ruined (4 page)

‘I can and do, for three excellent reasons,’ she replied. ‘One, I pay him a huge sum of money to do it; two, he can now have a warm by the fire; and three, he is sweet on one of the maids.’ She looked down at her letters. ‘Here’s one from abroad, but it’s not in Philip’s writing. I wonder, would you excuse me if I opened it now?’

Raff waved his assent. Her ladyship opened her letter, looked down at the writing and murmured, ‘No, it can’t be.’ Then the letter fluttered out of her grasp, she staggered and would have fallen, had Ashbourne not caught hold of her. The butler who had been hovering in the background, hurried forward in concern.

‘Your mistress has fainted,’ said the earl as he lifted her up in his arms. ‘Open the drawing-room door so that I may lay her down on the sofa, and send for her maid to attend her.’

‘At once, my lord.’

‘And bring me that letter.’ If it contained something shocking, it would never do for it to fall into the wrong hands. Having arranged Lady Gilchrist on the sofa, he took the letter which the butler was holding out to him. It only took him a moment or two to overcome his scruples about reading it.

‘God in Heaven!’ muttered Ashbourne. No wonder her ladyship had fainted. He read on. It appeared that Sir Philip had been engaged upon an errand connected with his abiding passion, namely, seeking out pottery, the more ancient the better. He had gone to meet 
someone who had promised him some Roman pieces from the time of Tiberius. Either the message had been a hoax or someone had not wanted him to make his purchase, or perhaps he had simply been unlucky, for he had been set upon, robbed and murdered.

A faint moaning sound alerted Ashbourne to the fact that Lady Gilchrist was coming round. He laid the letter down on a table and knelt on one knee by the sofa, taking her hand. A moment later, a maid came in with smelling salts. The earl relinquished his place to her and went in search of brandy. At the same time, he ordered Pointer to have his bags taken back upstairs. This was not the moment to leave her ladyship unsupported.

‘Is there anyone I can have sent for?’ he asked her, when she was fully conscious. ‘A relative, or a neighbour, perhaps?’

She shook her head. ‘There is no one. I have no close relatives and neither does Philip. My closest neighbours are away from home. Oh Raff, it seems so unfair! Why did it have to be Philip who was attacked?’ Her voice broke, and she began to cry.

Without any hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. ‘You won’t be alone,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay for as long as you need me.’

‘Thank you. You’re a real friend.’ Shortly after this, she went up to her room, supported by her maid. Ashbourne did not see her again that day.

The following morning Lady Gilchrist came downstairs, looking stunning in black. ‘I have been thinking about my best course of action, and I have decided to go to Austria. I will not be there in time for the funeral, but I must see for myself where he is laid to rest. I must also deal with … with his affairs. I was wondering, Raff … could you…? Do you think…?’

‘Of course I will,’ he replied without hesitation. ‘When do you want to leave?’

‘It’s as I thought,’ said Lady Agatha, as she sat opening her post at breakfast one morning. ‘He’s gone to the Continent.’

‘Gone? Do you mean Raff?’ Jessie asked, her heart sinking.

‘Yes,’ answered her ladyship. ‘I never did think he’d call upon us. He’s gone off with Lady Gilchrist, apparently.’

Jessie remembered the conversation that she had heard them having at the wedding breakfast. To think that she had been deciding 
which gown to wear in the event that he should arrive at the vicarage! What a fool she had been!

This was her sign. When Henry Lusty asked her for her answer, she would accept.

Chapter Three

I
n the event, Mr Lusty did not renew his suit until after Christmas. He wrote Jessie several letters, informing her that a variety of matters had kept him from visiting as he intended. He mentioned specifically the very severe weather, the illness of the bishop, who had taken to his bed leaving many things in his
chaplain’s
hands, and the busyness of the festive season. However, he hoped to call upon her in the early spring.

This was not very encouraging, particularly when Jessie had determined to accept his proposal as soon as it came. She managed to keep herself busy, and was given an effective distraction in the return of Lord and Lady Ilam from their wedding tour. No sooner had the happy couple settled in, than an invitation arrived for Jessie to come and take tea, since Eustacia was anxious to tell her friend as much about their honeymoon as was seemly.

The new viscountess greeted Jessie with a fond embrace, and conducted her to the drawing-room where there was a roaring fire. ‘Gabriel has gone to visit his foster mother and father at Crossley Farm,’ Eustacia said, ‘so we may be quite cosy and free from interruption.’

Lord and Lady Ilam had not gone abroad for their wedding tour, but had travelled in England instead, spending a large part of their time in Norfolk. ‘Gabriel wanted to inspect new farming methods pioneered by Coke of Holkham,’ said Eustacia with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I can never distract him from thinking about his acres for long.’

‘You must acknowledge that he is very good at tending them,’ Jessie put in. 

‘Oh yes. That is largely down to his upbringing, I think. But we did have a lovely time, and I got the chance to do a little sketching.’ She took out her sketch-book and for a time, they were fully absorbed in looking at the drawings of the Ilams’ wedding tour, a large number of which seemed to feature the viscount, his hair blowing in the breeze, his shirt moulded seductively to the contours of his body.

‘So marriage agrees with you,’ Jessie observed.

‘Oh Jessie, you cannot believe how much,’ sighed Eustacia. ‘If only you yourself could—’ she broke off, then spoke again. ‘How is Henry Lusty? Have you heard from him recently?’

‘I do hear from him,’ Jessie admitted. ‘He is quite a good
correspondent
, actually.’ She paused. ‘I have decided that when he comes for his answer, I will accept.’

‘Then I will wish you every happiness,’ said Eustacia warmly. Neither of them mentioned Lord Ashbourne.

Lady Agatha and Jessie spent a large part of the Christmas
celebrations
at Illingham Hall. Jessie found these celebrations at one and the same time enjoyable, yet poignant. She had known Lord Ilam for as long as she had lived in Illingham. Never had she seen him so happy. His eyes glowed as they rested upon his new wife, and Eustacia was clearly similarly smitten. There was no doubt that theirs was a love match, although they were both too well bred to embarrass the company by flaunting their affection in public. Certainly no one would have guessed it from the decorous way in which they had kissed beneath the kissing bough, to the loud applause of all present. Had Jessie not been aware of their feelings, however, she would undoubtedly have guessed after wandering unexpectedly into the library, and finding the newly married couple locked in each other’s arms, exchanging a far more passionate embrace.

Whatever marriage to Henry Lusty might hold, it would not be a love match. He esteemed and respected her. Plenty of marriages – that of her parents, for instance – did not have as much. She could not help hoping, however, that the clergyman would never seek to bestow such an embrace upon her. She was sure that she would dislike it extremely. As to what she would feel should Lord 
Ashbourne kiss her in such a way, she put it firmly from her mind. No doubt he would save such passionate embraces for Lady Gilchrist and her like.

After Christmas, the weather closed in, and there was little chance of travel until the beginning of February. The first thaw brought Henry Lusty, who had no hesitation in renewing his proposal to Jessie, who in her turn, had no hesitation in accepting him.

A few weeks after her acceptance, Mr Lusty appeared in his best black, with his clerical wig well powdered, and was shown in to where the ladies were busy with their needlework. He had clearly taken a good deal of trouble with his appearance. Jessie wondered whether as he entered the room, he thought of times when he had been far less welcome, having called at the bishop’s behest in order to ask Lady Agatha to vacate the vicarage for the next incumbent. On one of those occasions, she had even chased him out with a rolled umbrella. This time, however, her ladyship welcomed him with all the graciousness of a monarch receiving an inferior but
well-meaning
subject, then announced that she needed to speak to the housekeeper and left the engaged couple alone together.

For a moment, they stood looking at each other without the least idea what to say. It was the first time that they had spoken privately since Jessie had accepted his offer.

‘It is … a fine day, again,’ Jessie remarked eventually, her colour a little heightened.

‘Er … yes. Yes indeed,’ Lusty agreed.

‘We are fortunate to have such pleasant days in February.’

‘Yes indeed. Sometimes February can be very … harrumph … unpleasant.’

There was a brief silence. Both parties stood with their hands behind their backs as if to ensure that there would be no kind of undesirable contact. Then, as is often the way after an awkward silence, they both began to speak at once. ‘Have you…?’ Jessie began.

At the same time, Lusty said, ‘I have written …’ They both stopped, and laughed self-consciously; but this little hiatus seemed to dispel some of the tension. ‘Pray, speak first,’ said Mr Lusty.

‘No no,’ Jessie answered. ‘Your sentence, unless I am very much 
mistaken, was a statement, whereas mine was a question. A
statement
should always take precedence over a question.’

‘Why so?’ he asked, honestly puzzled.

‘Because your statement might be the answer to my question and I should then be saved the trouble of asking it. Pray, speak first, Mr Lusty.’

‘You must call me Henry, my dear. I did say that you might.’

‘So you did … Henry. Pray, tell me what it was that you were going to say.’

He took a step or two forward, unclasping his hands and putting out one rather awkwardly to take one of hers. She allowed him to do so. His clasp was light, and not unpleasant. ‘I have written to my sister, telling her of my good news,’ he told her. ‘I am almost certain that she will want me to bring you to London for a visit. Why are you smiling?’

‘Why, because I was correct in my supposition,’ she answered. ‘I was about to ask you whether you had written to her. When do we set off?’

He frowned slightly. ‘You are happy to go? I had thought that I might need to persuade you.’

‘I am a countrywoman, but that does not mean that I am not prepared to go to Town,’ she replied.

‘I am glad. I must confess, however, that I hope you will be mostly content to be in the country. The life of a parish priest in such a setting as this is the one that I have chosen. I would not want to change.’

‘I would not have you change,’ she responded honestly, meaning simply that she, too, was happy with country life.

He must have read more into her statement than she had meant, however, for he murmured, ‘My dear,’ raised her hand to his lips, then stepping closer, pressed a kiss upon her cheek. ‘I have always thought your appearance to be perfect,’ he went on, colouring a little at his own temerity.

‘Even when I looked drab and twenty years older than my real age?’ she asked playfully. The copper coloured gown decorated with cream lace that she was wearing was new, and one of her favourites.

‘I hope that you are not expecting me to be free with
compliments
,’ he told her, with a hint of severity. ‘As long as it is modest, a 
woman’s dress is a matter of indifference to me.’ Jessie recalled that when she had first met him, she had been accustomed to dress in drab greys and fawns which did nothing to enhance her appearance. The change in her dress clearly did not please him very much. Briefly, she remembered Raff’s openly expressed admiration, but repressed the memory. Henry’s stumbling compliments were far more sincere than Raff’s practised flattery.

Before she could reflect upon this, he spoke again, this time his tone arch. ‘There is one item of apparel that I am very anxious to procure for you, and that must be purchased in London.’

‘Mr Lusty, I am sure that buying items of clothing for a lady would not meet with the bishop’s approval,’ she teased.

‘I am speaking of an engagement ring,’ he said reproachfully. ‘Jessica, my dear, you must not wilfully misunderstand me, you know.’

‘I will try not to,’ she promised, feeling rather like a person who had told a mildly amusing jest, only to be asked to explain it afterwards.

A few moments later, to Jessie’s relief, Lady Agatha returned, judging that they had been alone together for long enough. After having a glass of wine with the ladies, Mr Lusty took his leave, bowing very correctly to her ladyship, and raising Jessie’s hand to his lips. ‘I will tell you when I hear from Henrietta,’ he promised.

‘I have to admit, I never thought you’d do it,’ said Lady Agatha, when Jessie came back from seeing her betrothed off at the door. The older lady was pouring herself a second glass of wine. ‘I quite thought you’d go on sighing after my libertine brother until your dying day.’

‘I’ve been a fool,’ replied Jessie calmly. ‘Ashbourne is not for me. I must have something of my own.’

‘Sensible girl,’ replied her ladyship. ‘Lusty may not be the most exciting man in the world, but he’ll never stray. Unlike my Colin, I daresay he won’t gamble away his substance, either, or drink himself silly.’ Over twenty years before, she had ruined her chances of a good marriage by befriending Lady Hope when she had been the actress Claire Delahay. Her father, in the vindictive fashion that was
characteristic
of him, had refused to give her his support, so she had seized her only chance of freedom and accepted an offer of marriage from Colin Rayner.

Mr Rayner, a younger son of a minor family, had been a
clergyman
from necessity rather than choice, but he had never allowed 
his work to interfere with his pleasures. He had enjoyed dressing up in vestments, and mingling with his congregation, particularly in the tap room of the Olde Oak, where he permitted anyone who was willing to buy him a drink or two, or possibly three. The pastoral care of his flock he had left to Lady Agatha, who usually rewarded those who brought him home on those occasions with a coin or two. Jessie had quickly learned to leave Lady Agatha her dignity by keeping out of the way at such times. It was a mark of how well Jessie knew Lady Agatha that the latter was prepared to be so frank about her husband’s shortcomings.

‘I am a very fortunate woman,’ Jessie agreed, and told herself that she would soon believe it.

That night in bed, she took out her copy of
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
by Mary Wollstonecraft. Idly turning over the pages, she came across the following lines:

How very true! Ashbourne was a dangerous man. He
did
have the power to affect her sensibilities. His light tap on her arm to attract her attention on the steps at Woodfield Park had affected her far more deeply than Henry’s kiss on her cheek. A sensible woman could not ignore these facts. Having admitted the truth, however, it did not follow that she must therefore be silly and sentimental. The love that she felt for Ashbourne was not of the stuff of which reality was made. She would put all of that silliness behind her, cultivate an affection for Henry, and only think of Raff as a family friend.

Henrietta Machin wrote back a short time later, and Lusty hurried round to show Jessie the letter.

‘Percival was my brother-in-law,’ said Mr Lusty by way of
explanation
. ‘He was a clergyman, who sadly died five years ago. My sister is not in affluent circumstances, but she inherited a house in London three years ago and has a small income from our father’s estate. She also makes a little money by writing.’

‘Writing?’ echoed Jessie, intrigued. ‘What kinds of things does she write?’