Ruined (5 page)

‘She is putting together her husband’s sermons in a number of volumes,’ replied Lusty. ‘She also writes moral tales for children and other books of moral guidance.’ He reached into the pocket of his coat and brought out a slim volume. ‘This is one of her books. I thought that you might like to see it.’

Jessie took the book from his hands. ‘
Flirtation and its Undesirable Consequences: A Guide for Young Ladies
,’ she read. ‘That sounds … informative.’

‘I have a number of others in my possession which are equally so,’ he answered eagerly. ‘
Concerning the Folly of Trivial Activity on the Lord’s Day
is one.
The Deplorable Consequences of Novel Reading upon the Impressionable Mind
, is another. Perhaps you might like to peruse them on the journey. They would help to make many a weary mile pass by, I am sure.’

‘Yes indeed,’ agreed Jessie, wondering whether Henry would be observing what she was reading during the whole of the journey.

‘I was wondering whether her example might encourage you to write some little tracts of your own,’ said the clergyman shyly.

‘Only time will tell,’ Jessie temporized. ‘It seems to me that your sister’s work is very wide ranging. There may not be any new subjects left for me to consider.’

Chapter Four

T
hey set out for London a week later. ‘Sadly, I will not be able to stay with you for more than a few days,’ Lusty explained to Jessie. ‘Duty dictates that I must not be absent from my tasks for too long. I will come to see you in London as often as I can. I have every confidence in my sister’s abilities to raise your spirits and the tone of your mind.’

There was a long pause. Jessie straightened her back. ‘I was not aware that the tone of my mind was particularly low,’ she said, with a touch of hauteur.

‘No no, you mistake my meaning,’ replied Lusty, colouring a little. ‘It is simply that the … the connections that you are obliged to acknowledge here are … that is …’

‘You do not need to say any more,’ replied Jessie, her own colour heightened. ‘I am sure that Lord Ashbourne and your sister move in very different circles.’ As soon as she had spoken, it occurred to her that he might think that she was trying to sound superior.

Thankfully such a thing did not seem to enter his mind. ‘Yes, you are right,’ he answered, relieved.

Ironically, the mail coach in which they were to travel departed from Ashbourne, and to Jessie, it seemed a fitting beginning to her new life. Leaving in the early afternoon from one of the posting houses, it was due to arrive in London at the Swan with Two Necks in Lad Lane at around seven o’clock the following morning.

There were two other occupants of the coach, a merchant who, like themselves, got on at Ashbourne and a thin, depressed-looking 
lady who had travelled from Manchester. This lady was sitting facing the horses, and although Mr Lusty would have preferred to sit next to his betrothed, he invited Jessie to take the other forward facing seat, and took his place opposite her, and next to the merchant.

‘Sixteen hours is a long time to be shut up with strangers,’ said the merchant in bluff, northern tones. ‘What say we introduce ourselves? My name’s Nathaniel Peacock and I’m off to London on a matter of business to do with the cloth trade.’

After a moment’s pause, Henry said rather stiffly, ‘I am Henry Lusty, an Anglican priest, and this is my betrothed, Miss Warburton.’

‘Off to London to be married, are you?’ Peacock asked, beaming at the engaged couple as if he had had some hand in arranging the match. ‘I don’t blame you! Snap her up before some other fellow does so.’ He was a well-built man, even a little on the stout side, with a square, weather-beaten face, topped by a brown tie wig.

‘We are visiting a relative in the capital,’ said the clergyman in cold tones.

‘Making sure the family take to her, no doubt,’ grinned the merchant, seemingly unaffected by the other man’s disapproval. ‘They’d have to be mad, or blind, if they didn’t.’ He smiled at Jessie in a manner that was simply good-humoured, without a trace of
flirtatiousness
and she could not help smiling back. No one had ever suggested that she ought to be snapped up before. She could feel Henry’s disapproval, but determined to ignore it.

‘What of you, then, ma’am?’ Peacock asked the fourth member of their party.

After a brief hesitation, the depressed-looking lady said, ‘My name is Griselda Watson. I am a governess travelling to find a new situation.’

‘A governess, eh,’ exclaimed the merchant. ‘Rather you than me, ma’am. Chase a lot of brats around a schoolroom for a pittance? I’d rather starve.’

‘Easier said than done,’ murmured Miss Watson under her breath, before opening her reticule to take out a thin notebook with a folded letter inside it. Clearly, she did not wish to continue the
conversation
.

Mr Lusty had taken advantage of Peacock’s attention being turned away from himself in order to extract a volume of sermons 
from his pocket and, when the merchant turned back, the clergyman was, to all intents and purposes, deeply involved in his reading. Jessie, who had been afraid that her fiancé would press one of his sister’s tracts upon her, took out her copy of
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
, confident that he would be too anxious to avoid conversing with the merchant to examine her reading material.

‘Reading, eh?’ remarked Mr Peacock. He leaned towards Mr Lusty, in order to examine his reading matter. Rather
self-consciously
, Lusty leaned away from him, affording Jessie, who was only giving a small portion of her mind to her book, with a rather entertaining tableau. Resuming his place after a moment, Peacock turned his head to look out of the window, and said ‘ho hum,’ a few times at irregular intervals, to no one in particular. He then began to drum his fingers on the window frame of the carriage in a rhythmic pattern. Looking surreptitiously at Miss Watson, Jessie saw her give way to a tiny smile. She was wondering whether the governess was thinking that had Mr Peacock been a small child, she could have offered to entertain him by suggesting that they should count all the different animals that they saw on the journey.

After another interval, Mr Peacock leaned across once more, whereupon Lusty said, in the tone of a very irritated man who is trying to sound patient, ‘It is a book of sermons.’ No doubt he hoped that this would be the end of the matter, but it was not to be so.

‘Waste of time!’ declared Mr Peacock forthrightly.

Even Mr Lusty could not ignore this. ‘I beg your pardon, sir?’ he exclaimed, outraged.

‘Waste of time, reading sermons,’ Peacock responded, expanding his point. ‘They’re meant to be heard, not read.’

‘Perhaps originally, but—’ Lusty began.

‘Heard a fine sermon preached in Sheffield fifteen years ago,’ Mr Peacock interrupted. ‘I’ve never forgotten it. 1779, it was. In the open air, too, where everyone could hear it.’

‘Indeed,’ replied Mr Lusty, his face rigid with disapproval.

‘Certainly. It was Mr John Wesley who was preaching that day, and as fine a sermon as any I’ve heard.’

‘I do not dispute that you were impressed at his words, sir,’ replied the clergyman. ‘But to preach in the open air is very shocking.’

Perceiving that this argument would absorb both men for some 
time, Jessie turned to Miss Watson, who was looking out of the window. ‘Do you have a situation to go to, or are you intending to look for one in London?’

The governess turned to face her. ‘I am intending to visit an employment agency,’ she replied. ‘I found myself obliged to leave my situation earlier than I had expected, so I will have to take whatever I can get.’

‘Such a pity that women are so limited in the work that they are permitted to do,’ Jessie observed. ‘Look what Miss Wollstonecraft has to say here.’ She pointed out a paragraph.

Miss Watson looked at the paragraph that Jessie had indicated and smiled cynically. ‘Wouldn’t that be agreeable?’ she murmured. ‘It will never happen in our lifetime, though. Men are much too anxious to have their own way.’

Listening to Mr Lusty and Mr Peacock each arguing his own
position
with single-minded intensity, Jessie felt very much inclined to agree.

The Manchester mail lived up to its reputation by delivering its quartet of travellers to the Swan with Two Necks at 7.30 the following morning. The debate between Mr Lusty and Mr Peacock had proved to be quite protracted, leaving Jessie free to enjoy her book in peace, and Miss Watson to give her attention to the scenery outside, until the gathering dusk had put an end to both of these activities.

A short break at a busy posting house at around seven o’clock in the evening had provided them with a meal, very welcome but rather too hastily swallowed because the mail could not wait. After that, they had all attempted to get some sleep. Mr Peacock, obviously a comfortable traveller, had dropped off almost immediately, and then snored in the kind of loud, vigorous manner that might have been expected from one of his general demeanour. Miss Watson had 
closed her eyes and settled back quietly in her corner. After a few minutes’ desultory conversation, Mr Lusty had suggested that he and Jessie should try to get some sleep. She was thankful for the suggestion. She was finding it a little difficult to converse with Mr Lusty, and was hoping that the whole of their married life would not be spent in struggling to think what to say to him. She consoled herself with the thought that shared experiences would surely give them things to talk about.

At length, she had slept fitfully, but their arrival in London had soon roused her. It was her first visit to the capital city, and she was astounded by the noise, the dirt and by the general feeling of being closed in as they passed through streets already busy, although it was still very early in the morning. Miss Watson, she noticed, stared out at the scenery with the jaundiced eye of one who had seen it all before.

On their arrival at the Swan with Two Necks in Lad Lane, they stepped down into the inn yard which, like the rest of London, seemed to be all a-bustle. Mr Peacock bade them farewell in a hearty manner, thanking Mr Lusty for his interesting conversation the previous day. ‘There’s nothing like a good argument for making a journey go by,’ he declared.

While the men were speaking, Jessie turned quietly to Miss Watson. ‘We are staying in Sloane Street with Mrs Machin,’ she told her. ‘Please come and call when you are settled.’

Miss Watson thanked her. ‘I will let you know when I have found a position,’ she said. Standing in the inn yard, Jessie could see that the governess was younger than she had thought; probably about her own age. Drab clothes did indeed make a difference, she reflected wryly.

She turned to look at Mr Lusty, suddenly thankful for his presence in this large city. What would it be like to be in Griselda Watson’s position and have to fend for herself, she wondered? Mr Lusty, she then discovered, was on the point of arranging a sedan chair to take her to his sister’s house. As for himself, he told her, he would walk alongside.

‘My dear sir,’ Jessie exclaimed, after one anxious look at the leaden sky. ‘Why do we not take a hackney then we might both ride in comfort?’ 

The clergyman’s face set in lines of rigid disapproval. ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘It would be most improper for us to travel together unchaperoned in a closed carriage.’

‘Not when we are engaged to be married, surely,’ replied Jessie. ‘In any case, what if it comes on to rain?’

‘A little rain will not do me any harm,’ he answered. ‘You forget, Jessica, that we are in London now. Gossip is liable to spread like wildfire. There will be time enough for these questionable diversions when we are married.’

As she climbed into the sedan chair that he summoned for her, Jessie reflected that London must indeed be a strange place if its inhabitants had time to remark upon the travelling habits of a country clergyman and his betrothed.

Fortunately, the rain held off until their journey to Sloane Street was over. The journey itself was accomplished quite speedily for the chairmen, two strong fellows, went as fast as the traffic would allow. Mr Lusty kept up with them with some difficulty, and he was still trying to get his breath back as they waited on Mrs Machin’s front step for her servant to open the door.

There was some little confusion as they were shown into a tiny parlour, for the maid who had let them in declared that ‘missus is still in bed,’ giving rise to some very disapproving looks from Mr Lusty, for by then it was past nine o’clock. The confusion was explained, however, when Mrs Machin entered, declaring that she had been up for hours, but that the maid was a little deaf.

‘I dare say she did not properly hear what you said,’ suggested Mrs Machin as she came forward to greet her brother. She was a small, plump woman of about forty, with dark blonde hair, rather
prominent
brown eyes and a dimpled chin. She was dressed in sober grey silk, with a crisp white apron and cap. She turned to Jessie. ‘This must be Miss Warburton,’ she said, smiling politely. ‘You are very welcome.’ She glanced down at Jessie’s gown and seemed to be about to make a comment upon it. Then either she changed her mind at the last minute, or Jessie was mistaken in her supposition, for when Mrs Machin spoke again, it was to comment upon the weather.

In the event, Mr Lusty only stayed for three nights. The day after their arrival was a Sunday, so naturally a journey on that day was 
unthinkable, particularly for a clergyman. The only travelling that they did was to walk to St George’s in Hanover Square for divine worship. Jessie was surprised that they did not attend a church that was nearer, but she didn’t mind. She had a true countrywoman’s enjoyment of a long walk. On this occasion they were accompanied by Mr Hinder, a young man who lived in lodgings just two doors down. He made his living by doing some teaching and, in response to Mr Lusty’s urgent questioning, disclosed that he was thinking of taking orders. Jessie decided that she must be getting older, for this prospective clergyman, with his fresh face and slender figure, hardly looked more than about twelve years of age, although she guessed from his responses that he must be in his mid twenties. He seemed to be an agreeable enough person, however, listening to anything Lusty said to him with rapt attention, prompting the older gentleman to say that he appeared to be a sensible fellow.