Ruined

by Ann Barker

  ‘Kind?’ echoed Jessie, frankly puzzled.

  ‘I know he can be very annoying at times, but he is my brother after all. I should hate to see him hurt.’

  ‘I have no intention of hurting him,’ Jessie replied, her colour rising. ‘I do not know why you should suppose it.’

  ‘I know you would never do so intentionally,’ Henrietta assured her soothingly. ‘Your long acquaintance with Lord Ashbourne might make him feel vulnerable, though.’

  ‘Henrietta, I have no desire to cast stones but really, you were the one who insisted upon inviting Raff into this house in the first place. I have to tell you that although I have known him for more than half my life, I have only ever—’ she stopped abruptly. She had been about to say ‘worshipped him from afar’, but that would never do. Eventually she contented herself by simply adding ‘met him occasionally.’ That part of her life was now over. Her only feeling for Raff must be one of friendship.

  Dilly brought in the tea at this point, and Mrs Machin did not speak of the subject again that evening.

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was something about wearing a mask, Jessie concluded, that made one feel rather strange and daring. It seemed to impart a certain glamour to the wearer. She had been conscious of that even when she had first tried hers on with her ordinary clothes. Now, as she stood in front of the glass in her room and surveyed her reflection, her mask in place, her gown – the golden one again – covered by a russet-coloured domino with a cream lining, she looked like an alluring stranger. The domino had been made for her by Miss Simms, who had recently been commissioned to do some work for a merchant’s wife. The customer had purchased too much material and had carelessly told the dressmaker that she might keep what was left over. Miss Simms had therefore been able to make dominos for both Jessie and Henrietta far more inexpensively than they could have expected, had they gone to a Bond Street dressmaker.

  For all she tried to tell herself that she was thirty years old, and only going out for the evening, for goodness’ sake, she could not help feeling a flutter of excitement. Because of the circumstances of her upbringing, she had never had the opportunity to enjoy the kinds of treats that other girls of her station took for granted. Tonight, for instance, was the very first time that she had ever gone masked. There would have been no point in wearing masks at the kind of entertainment that she was used to attending in Illingham where she lived with Lady Agatha. Everybody there knew everybody else. This evening, they would be shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers. If there was dancing, then masquerade etiquette permitted those attending to dance without the benefit of an introduction. Needless to say, in such circumstances, mature, sensible ladies careful of their reputation would only dance with gentlemen of their own party. This strategy would only work, however, if the gentlemen of the party were of good character, and whilst one of the two matched that description, the other most decidedly did not. In that case, would the mature, sensible lady only dance with the respectable man of her party? Unfortunately, Jessie was conscious of no particular desire to dance with Mr Hinder, and she certainly ought not to want to dance with Raff.

  Decidedly, Henry would not approve of this outing, Jessie thought guiltily, as she began to descend the stairs. She consoled herself with the thought that her presence was needed so that Mrs Machin could be properly chaperoned, but she knew that this was only a sop to her conscience. After all, a single woman of thirty needed a chaperon far more than did a widow of forty. I am only half single because I am engaged, she told herself. Then she felt guilty all over again because, not for the first time, she realized that she had forgotten to put on her engagement ring. She was about to go back upstairs when the door-bell rang. At first she thought that it must be Mr Hinder, then she saw that he and Mrs Machin were both waiting in the hall, looking rather unlike themselves in their masks and dominos.

  As Jessie paused on the stairs, Dilly went to answer the door and Lord Ashbourne was admitted. Then, indeed, Jessie forgot all about her engagement ring and even about the engagement itself and her heart started beating rather fast. He was in a black domino, the sides of it thrown back over his shoulders to reveal a rose-pink lining. His breeches and coat were black, and his waistcoat was of white silk with pink satin stripes, to match the lining of his domino. His black hair was caught behind his head in a bow, and the silver wings at his temples gleamed in the candlelight. Unlike the two already present in the hall, he had not donned his mask, but carried it carelessly dangling from his fingers. No man has the right to be as handsome as that, she thought to herself, as she reached the hall.

  Lord Ashbourne executed an elegant bow, then said, as he straightened, ‘Good evening, fellow masqueraders. My carriage awaits us. Shall we go?’ The carriage into which they climbed was the same one that Ashbourne had been using on the day when Jessie had been caught in the rain, and she coloured as she remembered how he had snatched away her fichu. What had he done with it, she wondered? Involuntarily, she pulled the edges of her domino closer across the neckline of her gown.

  They were to go in the carriage as far as Ranelagh, and from there travel by boat to Vauxhall. ‘It’s possible to go all the way by carriage these days, but I thought that you would enjoy the trip on the river instead,’ Ashbourne remarked.

  They all made approving noises concerning the arrangements that he had made. ‘I’ve never travelled by water before,’ Jessie added, intending to sound merely informative, but finding that the effect was to make her appear rather pathetic.

  ‘Not at all?’ asked Mrs Machin incredulously. ‘Not even out on a lake, or down a stream?’

  ‘No, never,’ Jessie answered. ‘I have lived a very dull life, I fear.’

  ‘Well, not this evening,’ declared Henrietta.

  ‘No, definitely not this evening,’ Jessie agreed.

  Lord Ashbourne had evidently taken some trouble to make sure that events ran smoothly, for when they arrived at Ranelagh, the carriage was taken away and a boat procured without his speaking a word.

  Jessie was enchanted with the whole experience, and had to restrain herself from constantly moving from one side of the boat to the other, in order to see more. Ashbourne watched her with growing interest. His usual choice of female company came from the ranks of the mature and worldly wise. The inexperienced debutantes, who tried to look bored with everything, did not interest him, and were usually kept well out of his orbit by watchful mamas. Jessie was certainly of the same kind of age as those ladies with whom he usually associated. Yet her unaffected enjoyment of what, for him, was not an unusual treat, he found strangely touching. It seemed to him that it made her look younger. Life had made her age too quickly, he decided. She might be fated to live a sensible, respectable life as a parson’s wife. For now, he would make sure that occasions such as this one were as enjoyable as possible.

  For her own part, Jessie had made much the same kind of decision. She had the rest of her life to be sensible. Henry might not approve, but there was no need for him to learn about what was, after all, only an evening out with friends. Doubtless when they married, these kinds of entertainments would be a thing of the past, but at least she would have her memories. Before this reflection could make her melancholy, they drew near to the landing stage at Vauxhall.

  The scene appeared to be chaotic in the extreme. Many sorts of craft were jostling to take their places at the side, people were shouting all kinds of remarks to one another, some good-humoured, and others less so. At one point it seemed quite likely that a nearby boatful of rather drunken bucks might end up overturned in the water. Jessie held on to her seat rather tightly, and looked to see how her companions might be affected. Mrs Machin was drinking it all in, and Jessie wondered whether this incident would figure in a future chapter. Mr Hinder was looking rather longingly at the young men in the next boat, as if he would like to be engaged with such a party. Ashbourne lounged at his ease and, as Jessie watched him, he raised one hand briefly in the direction
of the landing. At once, a group of strong-looking men came striding into the water, and hauled them ashore.

  Lord Ashbourne stepped out first, and turned back to help Mrs Machin, who laid a hand on his arm. ‘By your leave, ma’am,’ he said, and instead picked her up and carried her well on to dry land. Jessie could have burst out laughing when she saw the expression of astonishment on Mr Hinder’s face. She did laugh in good and earnest when he turned back towards her, this time his expression one of utter consternation, for he was a slim, willowy young man.

  ‘It’s quite all right,’ she told him. ‘I would far rather get damp feet than be deposited on the ground.’

  Before she could do more than take Mr Hinder’s hand, however, Ashbourne came striding back. ‘I’ll take her,’ he said to Hinder. ‘You look to Mrs Machin.’ After the young man had done as he was bid, the earl turned to Jessie and grinned. ‘Do you trust me, Jez?’ he asked her.

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied calmly, as he picked her up, causing her heart to give a little lurch. Clearly, his exquisitely cut coats must conceal some formidable muscles. She knew that at times, he had teased Ilam for having coal-heaver’s shoulders. Obviously the viscount was not the only strong member of the family.

  As they approached the entrance to the gardens, Jessie could see that the earl had indeed arranged everything very thoroughly, for a servant, who had been sent on ahead, gave them their tickets, and exchanged a few words with Ashbourne in a low voice.

  On entering the gardens, Jessie could barely repress a gasp of delight, for at one moment they were walking down a dark passage, and at the next, they were in a magical world, illuminated with the blaze of what seemed to be hundreds of lights. A delightful vista opened up before them, with trees planted to form walks, temples, colonnades, and a grove with a pavilion in the centre, from which drifted the sounds of the orchestra. This area was populated by a good many people, chattering and laughing, all dressed in their best and masked.

  ‘Oh Raff, it’s wonderful,’ Jessie breathed, squeezing his arm a little in her excitement. He looked down at her and smiled. He had been to Vauxhall more times than he could remember, and it had long ago ceased to be a place of wonder for him. As he heard the delight in her voice, he could almost see it with new eyes.

  ‘Jessie, my dear, this is wonderful,’ said Mrs Machin, echoing Jessie’s own words. ‘My mind is positively buzzing with ideas already.’

  Mr Hinder, who had never been to Vauxhall either, found much to take in. ‘Mrs Machin, Miss Warburton, look at this!’ he exclaimed.

  Ashbourne, a man known throughout London as one careless of his own reputation, found himself fighting a desire to say ‘sh!’ like some prim governess. Instead, he contented himself with drawling, ‘There is very little point in going masked if you intend to announce your identities to all and sundry. May I suggest that we use Christian names only, for the sake of discretion?’

  Mr Hinder blushed at his gaffe. ‘Beg pardon, my lord,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Raff,’ Ashbourne reminded him. ‘Now, shall we walk about a little and see the sights? We can have supper later.’

  There was, indeed, plenty to see, beginning with the variety of persons present. Vauxhall was a very egalitarian place, for anyone who had two shillings to spare could enter. Fashions on display, therefore, ranged from the flamboyant to the discreet, from the wickedly expensive to the threadbare, from the up-to-the-minute to the twenty years old.

  They strolled down the Grand Walk, looking their fill at all the many people who, like those at Drury Lane, seemed to be there as much to be seen as to take part in any amusement. For a time, Jessie was so entranced with the whole spectacle that she could not take anything else in. Then, gradually, she became aware of something rather curious. She had always known that he was the kind of man who attracted admiring glances from women wherever he went. Now it occurred to her that although Raff had insisted that they should go masked, plenty of people, women in particular, seemed to be aware of who he was. Whilst they were standing for a moment to look at the obelisk at the far end of the walk, for instance, two women paused briefly quite close to them.

  ‘That’s the Fallen Angel, I do believe,’ one murmured. ‘I suppose that must be his latest ladybird.’

  ‘Lucky for her,’ answered the other one enviously.

  Their remarks were a shock to Jessie. She had known that the masks were necessary to conceal their identities. It had, of course, been almost inevitable that some would recognize Raff because he was well known. It had simply not occurred to her that anyone would mistake her for a woman of the streets because she was with him. The idea made her feel slightly grubby. She did not think that anyone else had heard, but when they began to walk again, this time turning into the Grand Cross Walk so that they might admire the statue of Handel, Ashbourne murmured, ‘Come on – ladybird.’

  ‘How dare you; I’m nothing of the sort,’ she retorted under her breath, as she removed her hand abruptly from his arm.

  ‘Better that people should think that you are, rather than enquire about the identity of the lady I’m accompanying here,’ he reminded her, taking hold of her hand once more, raising it to his lips, and kissing it lingeringly, never taking his eyes from her face whilst doing so. How good he is at playing this part, she thought to herself. No doubt it was a role he had taken on many other occasions. Briefly, this reflection took the edge off her enjoyment, until once again she was diverted by the many different sights and sounds.

  After they had had their fill of strolling, and viewed the cascade, a wonderful optical illusion which created the effect of a waterfall, they made their way to the box which Lord Ashbourne had reserved and prepared to enjoy their supper.

  ‘Good gracious look at this ham!’ declared Mrs Machin when it arrived. ‘One might almost see one’s face through it.’

  ‘Vauxhall is noted for the thinness of its ham,’ Ashbourne told her.

  ‘And the smallness of its chickens, no doubt,’ put in Mr Hinder, who then blushed and attempted to stammer that he had not intended to criticize the generosity of his host’s provision.

  Ashbourne laughed. ‘Pray do not give it another thought,’ he said. ‘The chickens are also famous for their smallness. They’ve even been described as being no bigger than a sparrow, so much so that one can count the amount they cost in mouthfuls.’

  Mr Hinder laughed. ‘You relieve me greatly, Raff,’ he said.

  A lady coming past the box at that moment stopped, looked at their party and narrowed her eyes. ‘Good Lord, Raff, it is you,’ she exclaimed. She was a full-figured woman of about Jessie’s own age, in a very low-cut gown of crimson silk, and a black mask trimmed with crimson. ‘How the deuce is it that you’re in London and haven’t called upon me?’

  ‘Oh, you know how it is,’ Raff murmured, lounging back in his chair and at the same time putting a proprietary arm around Jessie’s shoulders. ‘One gets – caught up.’

  Mindful of Raff’s earlier warning, Jessie made no protest at his familiarity.

  ‘So that’s the way of it,’ said the woman, eyeing Jessie up and down. ‘I wouldn’t have thought she was your style. Let me know when you’re free again.’

  ‘If I ever am,’ Raff answered, using his other hand to reach up and stroke Jessie’s cheek.

  As the woman left, a small party of people walked past the box. They looked very out of place, because they were unmasked, and dressed much less elaborately than everyone else. One of the party was a clergyman and, as he looked at Jessie, his face wore an expression of contempt. She had already become aware of what onlookers must think of her. Suddenly she thought of Henry. She had managed to convince herself that a visit to Vauxhall was an innocent outing. Now, the whole affair took on the guise of an underhand activity, filled with low intrigue.

  ‘Release me at once,’ she said under her breath in tones of suppressed fury.

  ‘Of course,’ he answered, smiling blandly. ‘I thought that you wanted to know how a rake
behaved.’

  ‘That was Henrietta,’ Jessie reminded him in the same low tone. ‘I have absolutely no desire to witness your sordid activities, and even less to take part in them myself. Find some other less fastidious female to paw.’

  Raff let go of her as she asked. His smile had disappeared. ‘As you please,’ he said indifferently. Then he added, ‘Excuse me, I see someone that I must speak to.’

  As he vaulted lightly over the front of the box, Mrs Machin said, ‘This is wonderful. Jessie, my dear, you are playing your part splendidly!’

  Jessie said nothing in response. She simply stared at Raff as he strolled with his usual grace, approaching two gentlemen accompanied by three ladies. Was that how rakes behaved, kissing and caressing one moment, and then moving on to another female? She could hardly complain if he did. She had told him to do exactly that. Deliberately she looked away from him, and found herself subjected to a searching gaze by a heavily built man in mask and domino. She looked away hurriedly, but was aware of the man approaching the box.

  ‘I thought I couldn’t be mistaken when I saw you were with Raff,’ said the man in the accents of Sir Wallace Weary. ‘How delightful to find you at Vauxhall.’

  Jessie was on the point of telling him that he was in error when Mrs Machin said, ‘Sir Wallace! Yes indeed, we are having a delightful time, as you see. Are you with a party, or are you alone, perhaps?’

  Jessie was so vexed that she could have hit her. She was exceedingly vexed with Raff, but as far as their reputations were concerned, she knew that he could be trusted. She did not feel anything like the same certainty about Sir Wallace, and she could not forget how insolent he had been in the bookshop.

  ‘I am sure that Sir Wallace must be engaged,’ she said coldly. ‘We must not keep him from his friends.’

  Belatedly, Henrietta realized that she had been indiscreet. ‘Yes … yes, of course, we must not keep you, sir.’