Ruined Page 5

  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.

  ‘He has been helping me with Percival’s memoirs,’ said Mrs Machin.

  ‘I thought that it was his sermons that you were collecting,’ put in Mr Lusty.

  A brief glance passed between Hinder and Mrs Machin before the young man answered, ‘Each piece of writing throws light upon the other.’

  ‘Just so,’ agreed Mrs Machin eagerly.

  The outing to church was a revelation to Jessie. For the past few years she had worshipped almost exclusively at the little parish church in Illingham, which was attended by the villagers as well as by some of the better families, and sometimes Lord Ilam himself, who, since his wedding, was naturally accompanied by his lady. Here, the church seemed filled with fashionable people, some of whom seemed far more concerned to see and be seen than to pay their respects to the Almighty. Mr Lusty, who looked exceedingly sober compared to some of the gentlemen who were attending, was inclined to be disapproving of those present, and critical of his sister for choosing such a place. Mrs Machin, however, whose demeanour throughout had been exceedingly devout, insisted that those who had built the new streets amongst which she was living had not yet been given permission to build churches. ‘We are within the parish of St George’s so it would not be proper to attend any other church,’ she explained. ‘Rest assured, dear Brother, when there is a place of worship nearer to my home, I will attend it.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, my dear,’ said Lusty with a smile.

  On Mr Lusty’s last full day in the capital, he took both his sister and his betrothed to visit St Paul’s Cathedral. Jessie had been impressed by the size and grandeur of St George’s in Hanover Square, but the mighty cathedral, the fourth to be built on that site, almost took her breath away. She spent such a long time gazing upwards at the dome, the columns and the magnificent painting on the ceiling that she feared she would have a stiff neck later.

  Mr Lusty was obliged to spend the next morning with some other clergymen whom he had arranged to meet, so Jessie and Mrs Machin occupied their time by getting to know one another a little better. Mrs Machin showed Jessie around her house which, in all honesty, did not take very long because the house was not large, only requiring two live-in servants – Dilly, the maid, and a cook – and some daily help. ‘It suits me very well,’ said Mrs Machin. ‘In fact, a larger place would be a worry to me. My companion, Mrs Smales, is visiting her brother in the City for a while; but if she were here too, we would almost be crowded.’

  ‘It is charming,’ said Jessie sincerely. As a single woman, she knew that she would never be able to set up house in London, even if the small allowance from her mother made that possible. One of the attractions of Mr Lusty’s proposal had been that she would have a home of her own, and no longer have to depend upon what amounted to Lady Agatha’s charity. ‘Has Mrs Smales been living with you since your husband’s death?’

  ‘Only since I inherited this property,’ replied Mrs Machin. ‘Her brother is inclined to be sickly, and she is obliged to visit him quite frequently. I should not be surprised if you did not even meet her while you were staying in London.’

  Mr Lusty’s meeting was over by about eleven, so he came back to escort his betrothed to a jeweller’s shop in order to buy her a ring. The shopkeep
er brought out a number of trays for their examination, but Jessie stood by her first decision which was to have a ring with a small diamond, a single stone in a very simple setting.

  ‘It pleases me very much that you have chosen the plain and ordinary,’ said the clergyman approvingly. ‘There is nothing in that ring that would give offence as being too ostentatious for a vicar’s wife.’ His words made Jessie feel guilty. As she looked at the tiny stone, it was almost as if its modest size made her feel less engaged.

  The afternoon being fine, Mr Lusty took his sister and his betrothed for a walk in nearby Hyde Park for, as Mr Lusty said, he would be obliged to sit still in the mail coach from late that evening for a good many hours, so would be thankful to stretch his limbs. He also expressed a desire to look at St George’s again, as he had not looked properly on Sunday, deeming sight-seeing inappropriate after attending divine worship.

  Their walk took them the length of Brook Street, along which many fashionably dressed people were coming and going. There was an immaculate travelling chaise standing outside one of the houses on the opposite side of the road, and a gentleman was escorting a lady to the door. As the lady turned to make her farewells, Jessie realized that the two people were Lady Gilchrist and Lord Ashbourne. Her ladyship stood on tiptoe and bestowed an affectionate kiss upon her escort.

  Henry Lusty stiffened and muttered ‘Ashbourne’ under his breath, before hurrying his sister and his betrothed along the street at a greatly increased pace.

  ‘Goodness!’ exclaimed Mrs Machin, looking back over her shoulder as well as she was able. ‘Was that Rake Ashbourne?’

  ‘Yes, it was he,’ answered Jessie, whose heart had lurched at sight of him, much to her annoyance. ‘He is the brother of Lady Agatha Rayner, with whom I have been residing.’

  ‘And do you know him?’ asked the clergyman’s widow.

  ‘I see no reason why we should even be speaking about Lord Ashbourne,’ said Mr Lusty repressively. ‘His activities are not a fit subject for ladies’ ears.’

  ‘Nor are the activities of the lady who accompanied him, I suppose,’ observed Mrs Machin, rather spoiling the severe effect of her words by adding ‘Such a handsome bonnet, though.’

  ‘The bonnet is immaterial,’ Lusty declared disapprovingly. ‘Let us instead turn our minds and our conversation to higher things.’

  None of them spoke again until they reached St George’s.

  Chapter Five

  Ashbourne had only been in London for a week longer than Jessie. He had accompanied Lady Gilchrist to Austria as he had promised, and once there had found that there was quite a lot of business to be sorted out. Sir Philip had been engaged in some complex negotiations concerning some valuable pieces. The other persons involved were inclined to be obstructive, encouraging Ashbourne to suspect that they might not have been entirely guiltless over the baronet’s murder.

  He had managed eventually to settle the matter to his satisfaction. Initially, the two men concerned, one Austrian and one Italian, had attempted to pull the wool over Raff’s eyes concerning the value of the items involved. On discovering that the earl was just as knowledgeable as his late friend, they had tried to intimidate him, firstly by veiled threats, then by arranging for him to be set upon in an ambush strangely similar to the one in which Sir Philip had met his end.

  Again, they had underestimated their man. Raff had taken Pointer with him who, as well as being his valet, had a number of other talents, and had stood beside his master in tight corners on more than one occasion. Two of the rogues had fled rather the worse for wear, and a third had been despatched with his own stiletto. The fourth had been ‘persuaded’ into disclosing the names of those who had sent him. The next time Raff had confronted Herr Hummel and Signor Vasselli, he had begun the conversation by impaling the desk between them with the stiletto.

  Thereafter they had been much more co-operative. They had also been surprisingly indiscreet. Raff, a wry smile on his lips, had left them, taking what was owed to Philip’s widow. As soon as he had left, the authorities had entered, ready to take action on what they had heard. Philip’s death would not go unpunished.

  Raff had wondered whether Lady Gilchrist would want to have her husband’s coffin brought back to England, but she had other ideas. ‘His passion was travel,’ she had said. ‘I think it very unlikely that he would ever have settled for a quiet life in England. Let him remain here.’

  Her ladyship had seemed to want to stay in Austria for a little while, mingling with those who had known Philip, and exchanging reminiscences. This had suited Raff as he was in no particular hurry to return to England. Their return had to be carefully managed in any case, for the more investigations that Raff made, the more that he found Sir Philip had bought and stored.

  No doubt there were many who supposed that Ashbourne and Lady Gilchrist were more than just good friends, but they were mistaken in that belief. Rake though he was, the earl would have been appalled at the idea of making an advance to a lady who was so recently bereaved. He could not forget, however, that her ladyship had as good as propositioned him at Crown Hall, and he wondered whether she might turn to him for comfort. It was not until they were in England once again, travelling back to London in Raff’s comfortable chaise, that Lady Gilchrist mentioned the matter.

  ‘No doubt you’ve been wondering why I haven’t been attempting to lure you into my bed,’ she said, with the kind of frankness that is only possible between old friends.

  He raised his brows. ‘Strangely enough, I haven’t,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s very odd, you know, but while Philip was simply away on the Continent, I had absolutely no compunction about taking lovers,’ she observed. ‘Now that he is gone, such an action would seem dreadfully disloyal. Does that sound illogical?’

  ‘Completely; but then bereavement makes one say, do and think strange things.’

  ‘You mustn’t think that I don’t grieve his loss. Of course I shall miss him; but ours was not a love match, and he never really needed me. Besides,’ she added with a wry smile, ‘I have come to value your friendship too much to risk spoiling it with a fling.’

  On their arrival in London, Raff escorted her ladyship to her house in Brook Street before continuing to Ashbourne House in Berkeley Square. ‘Do you wish me to come in with you?’ the earl asked as he accompanied her to the door.

  ‘There is no need,’ Lady Gilchrist answered. ‘My servants have been alerted and they all know me and look after me exceedingly well.’

  ‘Let me know when you are ready and I’ll come and help you unpack Philip’s acquisitions. He seems to have purchased enough to restock the British Museum.’

  ‘You’re only hoping to get your hands on the best pieces,’ she retorted.

  ‘Of course,’ he murmured.

  Impulsively she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. ‘I would not have had the slightest idea what to do without you,’ she said warmly. ‘My dear friend, how good you have been.’

  ‘Not so loud, I beg you,’ he said, his eyes twinkling. ‘My reputation as the Fallen Angel could be damaged beyond repair.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I shan’t tell anyone,’ she assured him. ‘When asked about the time I have spent in your company, I shall maintain a discreet silence!’

  Once in his house in Berkeley Square, Ashbourne greeted his butler and went up to his chamber to remove the grime of travel from his person and change his clothes. On coming downstairs, he glanced briefly at his correspondence. There were several violet-scented offerings from a lady with whom he had enjoyed an intimate connection before his visit to the Continent. He glanced through the contents of one and his face took on an expression of distaste. The scent was strong, and the lady was far too persistent. They had already made their farewells and he had been more than generous. He dropped the letters on the fire.

  He never expected to find love in his connections with his mistresses. His expectation had been that once he had returned to London, he would soon find som
eone to suit him, at least for a time. His stay in Derbyshire had made him feel restless in a way that was unusual to him. More recently, his involvement with Lady Gilchrist’s affairs had left him no time to indulge in the kind of pursuit that he found most stimulating. Increasingly, he had found himself wondering whether his final inevitable triumph in the chase was ever as enjoyable as the chase itself.

  There were a few bills which he set on one side to give to his man of business. He was unusual amongst those of his class in that he paid his bills almost as soon as they arrived. Ever since he had ceased to be dependent upon his father following a bequest which had come to him on his twenty-fifth birthday, he had a horror of being beholden to anyone.

  Another letter, lengthy and beautifully written, was from an acquaintance who lived in Bath. He read the first few sentences and chuckled to himself. Georgiana was always so amusing. He would reserve the rest until later and enjoy it over a glass of brandy. A short time later, he donned his greatcoat and set out to walk the short distance to Brooks’s in St James’s Street.

  That night, after Mr Lusty had left to catch the Manchester mail, Mrs Machin said, ‘I will be taking breakfast in my room tomorrow. You are very welcome to do the same. Just ring the bell when you are ready.’