Ruined

by Ann Barker

  As soon as Dilly had left them alone, Henrietta said, ‘Jessie, my dear I have been thinking about what you said yesterday and I have come to the conclusion that perhaps we ought not to go out with Sir Wallace.’ Much relieved, Jessie was about to agree when the other lady held her hand up. ‘You may say that I am imagining things, but I am convinced that Raff did not approve of him. I do not think we ought to associate with a man of whom Raff does not approve.’

  ‘Really?’ said Jessie, remembering the conversation that she had had with Raff in the street the day before. ‘And when did Raff become the arbiter of our decisions?’

  ‘Well, I …’ murmured Mrs Machin.

  ‘Sir Wallace is no more a rake than Raff; probably less so,’ said Jessie forthrightly. ‘In fact, if Raff does not approve of something, then that probably means that it is perfectly all right.’

  Mrs Machin opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, Dilly came in with the post. Among other items, there was a letter for Jessie from Henry.

  Since returning home, I have been thinking about the conversation that we had before I left. I am not sure that I made it clear to you exactly where I stand upon various issues.

  Naturally, I would not dream of expecting you to renounce old friends and acquaintances completely. That would be discourteous, and I cannot imagine you being anything other than the model of courtesy. As your promised husband, however, I must advise you to put some distance between yourself and Lord Ashbourne. He is a man of bad reputation and contact with him and his associates cannot help but damage your own good name as the fiancée of a clergyman and, by association, must damage my own reputation too.

  For this reason, I think I must advise against further outings to the theatre, or, indeed, to any other place of public entertainment until I should be available to accompany you. The company is too mixed at such places for me to be easy about your attendance.

  She stared at the letter, completely non-plussed. She was thirty years of age, and Lusty really could not expect to dictate to her where she should go or with whom she could and could not associate.

  ‘Is Henry well, dear?’ asked Henrietta, looking up from her own correspondence.

  ‘He doesn’t say. He seems far more concerned with what I may be doing,’ answered Jessie, throwing her letter down. ‘Really, if people stopped trying to treat me like a silly chit of seventeen, I should be a good deal happier.’

  Mrs Machin laid down her own letter with a small sigh. ‘Oh dear, I suppose we had better not go out with Sir Wallace Weary, then.’

  Jessie stared at her for a few moments. ‘I see no reason why we should not do so,’ she replied assertively. ‘We talked about it yesterday. There is no danger in driving with a man in public in the middle of the day.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Henrietta replied in a more confident tone. ‘We will go, then, as arranged.’

  After all their heart searching, the outing itself was something of an anti-climax. Sir Wallace arrived punctually, and was dressed in buckskin breeches and a green cloth coat with an embroidered waistcoat. His clothes might not fit as well as did Raff’s, but he looked like a gentleman, and his behaviour matched his appearance. He greeted them politely, and helped them up into his phaeton without making any attempt to employ such stratagems as holding hands for longer than necessary or surreptitiously attempting to fondle any other part of their anatomy.

  Jessie found herself in the middle, which meant that she was pressed up against Henrietta on one side and the baronet on the other. It was not the place that she would have chosen, but Sir Wallace, although he must have been just as aware of their proximity as was she, showed no tendency to take advantage of the situation.

  They encountered a number of different people in the park, some of whom, remembering meeting Jessie and Henrietta at church, were good enough to acknowledge them. The only person of whom Jessie was conscious, however, was Raff. He was mounted on the back of a magnificent bay stallion, and the moment that she saw him, it was as if there was no one else in the park. Then seconds later, she realized that he was accompanying Lady Gilchrist, who was riding a dainty grey mare. Deciding that the earl should be left in no doubt that she was enjoying herself, Jessie started to pay closer attention to her own escort. She was not jealous, she told herself. She just did not want Raff to think that the presence of Lady Gilchrist bothered her.

  ‘Your cavalier from the other night has deserted you,’ commented Sir Wallace.

  ‘He has been acquainted with Lady Gilchrist for some time,’ Jessie answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Yes, their relationship goes back for many years,’ Weary agreed. ‘Of course he and Sir Philip enjoyed a friendship in which they shared many interests.’

  ‘Indeed,’ replied Henrietta interestedly. Jessie could not think what to say. The implications of the baronet’s words were shocking indeed, but taken on the surface, they could have been taken to refer simply to Sir Philip and Lord Ashbourne’s enthusiasm for items of antiquity.

  ‘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 wa
s 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

  After 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 exper
ienced 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.’