She wanted to argue, she wanted to protest that it would be a foolish expenditure. But Emily had known her aunt all her life and while Miss Jarrod was generally accounted to be the mildest and sweetest of creatures, easily bullied, there was a look that sometimes appeared and when it did, her mind was made up. When it was, nothing and no one had ever been known to sway her.
That look was in her eyes right now. Besides, Emily had to acknowledge that if one were going into battle, one ought to marshal the best resources and weapons possible. And if Mr. Langford were right, that meant new clothes.
So, with a another sigh, Emily said, “Yes, Aunt Agatha. The very first thing tomorrow morning, I shall go and order some new gowns.”
“Including three new ball gowns,” her aunt reminded her sternly.
“Including three ball gowns,” Emily agreed.
“Good girl! I knew you could be sensible,” Miss Jarrod said, beaming her approval. “And I shall make some morning calls.”
She paused, cast a shrewd eye at her niece and said, “I know you are silently cursing me, Emily, but really it will answer very well, you know. When your father arrives from the country, he will see that you are immersed in the Season and really cannot be expected to simply draw away. You will have all the time you need for your plans here in London. And he will not have the least excuse to blame me since I will be able to prove to him that I have reclaimed your reputation after all!”
Suddenly Agatha realized what she was saying and stopped. She and Emily looked at one another aghast. Slowly, carefully, Emily said, “I hadn’t thought of that. It will mean that, won’t it? Then what will I do? Mr. Canfield will insist on marrying me, after all!”
Miss Jarrod settled her eyeglasses more firmly on her nose and said, a grim expression on her face, “We shall think of something. I shall not allow that man to marry you, Emily. I disliked him before but now that I have seen Mr. Langford why, I know it to be impossible! Just give me some time, Emily, and we shall think of something.”
Privately Emily strongly suspected she would have to think of something all on her own. But she would not, for the world, hurt her aunt by saying so aloud. Instead she went over, bent and kissed Miss Jarrod’s cheek, and said soothingly, “Well, we can worry about it later. Perhaps I shall manage to ruin myself all over again and then we shall have the very best of both worlds.”
Emily would have drawn away but Miss Jarrod caught her hand. There was a troubled look in her eyes as she said, “Yes, but Emily, your father was ready to throw you out in the street. And no doubt me as well, for not compelling you to do as he wished, if you refused to marry Mr. Canfield. Why are you so certain that he will not throw you out if you ruin yourself some other way?”
Emily did not try to hide the bleak expression in her eyes as she answered, “I am certain of nothing, Aunt Agatha, except that I cannot marry Mr. Canfield. Papa’s threat compelled me then, it would not compel me today. Still, it is the thought of what he would do to you that stops me from simply crying off. Surely there must be something I can do which will satisfy Papa and yet leave me free to do as I wish. All we need to do is think of it.”
“Is that all we need to do?” Miss Jarrod retorted tartly. “Why then you have relieved my fears completely.”
Emily grinned. “No, I haven’t. But I will, you’ll see.”
The trouble was, Miss Jarrod thought, later, as she undressed for bed, Emily meant it. And that worried Miss Jarrod. For when Emily meant well, the whole world had best watch out.
Chapter 11
Matters did not progress quite as swiftly as either Emily or Miss Jarrod or James would have liked. It is no easy thing to achieve an entrée into Society after one has all but ruined oneself. Particularly when one would have been on the fringes in any event.
But Emily and James and Miss Jarrod were determined. As for Philip, he felt a certain sense of relief. So long as Miss Ashbourne turned her energies to trying to receive invitations to social events, he need not worry that she would accost any other gentlemen in the streets again, as she had his older brother.
The longer that took, the better. For once Miss Ashbourne began to receive such invitations, she would expect him to keep his side of the bargain and Philip all but shuddered at the thought of it. He could imagine too well Miss Ashbourne dancing with some peer and then backing him against the wall to insist he support her causes. And expect Philip to stand by her side as she did so!
No, he hoped it would be some time before she and her aunt and his brother succeeded in drawing her into the Season. Which gave him time to ask questions about this Richard Canfield Harry had asked about. There seemed little doubt that he was indeed the same man as Miss Ashbourne’s fiancé. One of the contracts he held was to provide uniforms for the army in Spain.
So Philip was grateful for the extra time. Still, he did not say so aloud. Not to Miss Ashbourne, not to Miss Jarrod, and certainly not to James. He called frequently upon the two ladies and gave all the appearance of being sympathetic to the difficulties they were facing.
It was, in his opinion, going remarkably well. Until the day he arrived to discover a traveling coach in front of Miss Ashbourne’s lodgings. An older man was standing on the pavement, cursing a servant.
As Philip watched, the carriage disgorged a younger man, only a few years older than he was. This second man stalked over to the first man and said, “What the devil is the matter, Ashbourne?”
“Blasted fellow has lost my baggage!” he thundered.
“It must have been taken at one of the stops,” the servant protested.
“Or forgotten to strap it on, in the first place, more likely,” the second man said with a shrug.
“I did strap it on, right securely, I did,” the servant protested.
“Well it’s your fault it’s gone!” Mr. Ashbourne retorted. “And you’ll be the one running about London, replacing everything! You’d best get started at once. Here, take these funds and mind you bring back what you don’t spend! And you”—he turned to the coachman—”find the nearest stables and wait for me to send word as to when you will be needed again.”
Then, as the poor servants gaped at their master, Ashbourne and the other man turned their backs on the carriage and went up to the door of the house.
Philip was torn. He wished to go inside as well, but the servant, left behind, looked utterly dismayed by the task before him. To the coachman he said, “How’s I supposed to do what he said? I don’t know London! How’s I supposed to know where to go? What to buy?”
Philip sighed, turned away from the door, and walked over to the servant. Kindly he said, “If you like, I can give you directions as to where you can find what you need for your master.”
The fellow gaped at him, then said fervently, “I should be right grateful if you would, sir.”
“And I’ll drive you,” the coachman said. “He won’t be needing me for a bit. And if he does, why, it’ll be just too bad! He never told me so and how was I to know? Or I’ll say he sent around to the wrong stable. I might disremember to send word to tell him where we are until I feels like letting him know. Come, we’ll have this done, thanks to this gentleman, before you knows it. And sir, if you could recommend a good stable, I’d be much obliged.”
So Philip found himself doing just that. And by the time he rapped at the front door, waiting until the carriage was down the street a ways before he did so, a fair amount of time had passed.
Whiten showed him promptly into the parlor, but not before Philip had a chance to ask him about the two men. There were definite advantages to having a servant one knew in someone else’s household.
“A Mr. Ashbourne, sir. Miss Ashbourne’s father, I collect. And a Mr. Canfield. The ladies do not seem best pleased to see them, sir.”
The second name caused Philip to clench his fists. But he kept his voice calm as he replied, “Indeed? Then you had best show me in at once. I have been wanting to make the acquaintance of both these gentleme
n and now it seems I shall finally have my wish.”
Whiten gave him a doubtful look, but did as he was bid.
The moment he stepped into the parlor and saw Miss Ashbourne’s pale, distressed expression, Philip was glad he had delayed no longer.
Mr. Ashbourne stared at him, as though affronted by the intrusion. Miss Jarrod silently begged him for help with her eyes. Mr. Canfield, however, at once demanded, “Who the devil are you and why are you calling upon my fiancée?”
Philip considered and discarded a number of possible answers, all of which would have prudently soothed the man and his temper. He glanced at Miss Ashbourne and now she, too, seemed to be begging for his help.
“Mr. Langford is a barrister,” Miss Jarrod said timidly, when the silence drew on too long for her comfort.
That raised eyebrows even more. And again Philip was tempted to give some calming answer. But then Mr. Ashbourne spoke and it was he who decided the matter.
He rose to his feet, frowned at Philip, and said, “A barrister? Can’t abide the profession. All scoundrels, the lot of you! And not two farthings to rub together unless you become a judge.”
It appealed to the worst in Philip’s nature. A side of himself he had thought tamed. It seemed he was mistaken, for now a glint of anger glittered in his eyes as he said, in a cool, disdainful voice, “Having had a hand in Miss Ashbourne’s ruin, I thought it only right to come and check, from time to time, on how she is getting along.”
Gasps of indrawn breath were, for a very long moment, the only sound in the room. Then suddenly there was an uproar as everyone spoke at once.
“Mr. Langford!”
“Good God!”
“Sir, you will explain to me what you mean. At once!”
But the only words Philip cared about were Miss Ashbourne’s. She glared at him and all but stamped her foot as she demanded, “How dare you tell such a lie?”
By now her father was mopping his brow and looking from Philip to Mr. Canfield. The latter gentleman sat very quietly, looking from Miss Ashbourne to Philip and back.
“I think you had best explain yourself,” Canfield said, echoing Mr. Ashbourne.
Philip shrugged. “I thought you would know precisely what I mean since I understand you attempted to ruin her as well.”
Another man, were he a gentleman, would have called Philip out. But Mr. Canfield was not a gentleman and even if he had been, he would not have been likely to risk his neck over a mere woman.
It was, to the surprise of everyone, Miss Jarrod, who broke the tension in the room. In her slightly quavering voice she said, “I wrote you about the incident, Jonathan. Someone had poor Emily clapped up into Bedlam and Mr. Langford brought her home from there.”
Ashbourne stared at Philip. “Is that what you meant?” he demanded. “Why the devil didn’t you say so, instead of implying something far worse?”
Philip shrugged and didn’t even try to answer. Meanwhile, Canfield was frowning. “Precisely how many people know about this debacle?” he asked. “And who are they?”
Miss Jarrod waved her hands helplessly. “I don’t remember who I wrote to, after the event. I daresay three or four of my closest friends back home.”
“And here in London, any number of people know about it,” Miss Ashbourne added helpfully. “I collect that the members of White’s who were present thought it a great story to tell. Why, we have been trying, for the past week or more to gain the entrée into society and been rebuffed at every turn. Perhaps because the tale is too well known?”
“You needn’t sound as if you were bragging about it!” her father snapped.
Canfield was calmer. He smiled at Miss Ashbourne and it was not a pleasant smile. “I told you, I won’t believe such an obvious fabrication. No gentleman would throw a lady into Bedlam and no lady would ever admit that such a thing had happened. You are trying to make me cry off and it won’t do. I do not give up what I consider to be mine.”
Ashbourne looked at his daughter. “He has a point. It does sound like nonsense, Emily. Tell us the truth, Mr. Langford. What really happened?”
Philip had no trouble understanding Miss Ashbourne’s desperation to be rid of her unwelcome suitor. And to feel that being ruined by having been in Bedlam to be a superior fate than marriage to this man.
Truth be told, he felt a strong desire to plant his fist in Canfield’s face. To draw his cork and then to do the same to Miss Ashbourne’s father.
Instead he glanced at his fingernails then up at Mr. Ashbourne. With something of a sneer, he said, “Oh, it is true, I assure you. Miss Ashbourne made such a nuisance of herself, attempting to storm the doors of White’s and accosting a member of the House of Lords, that the gentlemen present felt they had no choice but to have her carted off to Bedlam. I found her there myself.”
Canfield gaped at Philip. His mouth opened and shut several times. He looked as though he could not decide whether to believe him or not. Finally he seemed to decide it didn’t matter. He rose to his feet and glared at both father and daughter.
“Very well, Miss Ashbourne, you have won. If you can call it a victory. I shall send a notice to the papers that our betrothal is at an end. People will presume what they wish. Mr. Ashbourne, I wish you joy of your daughter. Good day to both of you!”
There was silence in the room until he was gone. Indeed until all four could hear the front door close behind him. Then they each spoke, according to their own view of the matter.
“Well, I think you are well shut of him, Miss Ashbourne.”
“Thank you, Mr. Langford!”
“Emily, this time you have gone too far! And you, Agatha! How could you let it happen? And you, Mr. Langford, how dare you have the impertinence to congratulate my daughter on whistling down the wind the most eligible suitor who has ever offered for her?”
“How, sir, could you allow your daughter to become betrothed to a man like that?” Philip countered, his anger rising.
Mr. Ashbourne regarded him with patent malevolence. “What right has a mere barrister to question any decisions I make? Unless, sir, you learn to respect your betters, you will have a very short career indeed!”
That did it. Any reserve of calm or rational thought deserted Philip. He took a step toward Mr. Ashbourne and was pleased to see the man back away.
“I? Respect my betters? My birth, I would hazard, is better than your own! Were I to tell you my brother’s title, I wager you would recognize it at once.”
But Philip’s words did not have the effect he intended. Instead of intimidating Mr. Ashbourne, the man had first stared wide-eyed, stunned, then begun to smile enthusiastically. By the time he finished speaking, Philip had a strong sense that somehow he had just dug himself a very deep hole and was going to have a great deal of trouble climbing out.
He was right.
“Your brother’s a lord, is he? Well, well, that puts an entirely different complexion on things. How is your dear brother?”
“Fine,” Philip answered cautiously.
Now it was he who was backing up as Ashbourne advanced. The man had something in mind and Philip did not think he was going to like it.
He was right again.
“You seem to have taken quite an interest in my daughter.”
“She asked for some legal advice and I was happy to be of service.”
“Of course. And you have called often to see her here?”
Some instinct for self-preservation made Philip reply, “Occasionally.”
“I see.” Abruptly the mild geniality vanished and Ashbourne turned on the offensive. He wagged a finger in front of Philip’s nose and demanded sternly, “What, sir, are your intentions toward my daughter?”
Philip gaped at the man. He couldn’t think of anything except that perhaps Mr. Ashbourne, perhaps the entire family, belonged in Bedlam!
“Papa!”
“Jonathan! Really, Mr. Langford has been all that is kind and helpful to Emily. And to me. It is not right, it is
not right at all, for you to repay him this way,” Miss Jarrod said with some asperity.
To Philip’s surprise, it worked. Miss Jarrod’s words seemed to reach Ashbourne and he once again abruptly changed face. He dropped his hand from in front of Philip’s face and shrugged.
“Oh, very well. But it seemed worth trying. What else am I to do about Emily? It’s all very well for you, young man, to say she is well shut of Canfield, but what are we to do now? She has ruined herself twice over and I won’t even have the funds Canfield promised to give me as consolation.”
He paused and turned toward his daughter. “I wash my hands of you! Of you and Agatha! You wanted to ruin yourself? Well you have succeeded! Agatha, you can go and find another relative to live with. I’ll have you upon my hands no longer. Emily, you’ll pack your bags and be ready to leave here within the hour. I know a family desperate for a governess and they’ll take you despite your reputation.”
The look on Miss Ashbourne’s face was sufficient to tell Philip that she knew the family her father meant. And that the prospect of going there was appalling to her. He didn’t know what he was going to do until suddenly he found himself stepping between Mr. Ashbourne and his daughter.
Miss Ashbourne reached out a hand to stop Philip and he turned and smiled reassuringly to her. He caught the hand she was reaching out and used it to draw her to his side. And then he put his arm around her waist.
To Mr. Ashbourne he said, “I have an alternative suggestion, sir. Let your daughter become betrothed to me.”
Mr. Ashbourne looked distinctly taken aback. Then he leaned forward, peering into Philip’s face. Even Miss Ashbourne was gaping up at him.
“Did you say you rescued Emily from Bedlam or that you were in there with her?” Ashbourne demanded when he finally found his voice.
Philip flushed. It did not help that Miss Jarrod sighed, smiled warmly at him, and clasped her hands together as she said, “I knew they would suit, I just knew it and I prayed every day that they would realize it themselves. And now they have.”
Only Miss Ashbourne did not speak and Philip had the oddest notion that it was because she could not. But her father spoke more than enough for the both of them.
The Reckless Barrister Page 9
