Ruined Read online

  Jessie, whose only experience of taking breakfast in her room had been at the home of Sir Wilfred and Lady Hope, decided that this would be an agreeable novelty. She was astonished the next morning when she woke up at a little before nine o’clock. The tiredness from the journey must still be catching me up, she decided. She rang for breakfast, and when Dilly came upstairs with her morning chocolate, she apologized rather shamefacedly for waking so late. ‘I hope it has not made things difficult for you,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, ma’am,’ answered Dilly earnestly. She was a tall, rather thin young woman with a long nose with a red end, and rather straggly mousy brown hair. Jessie had also noted that she did not appear to be at all deaf, as Mrs Machin had declared her to be at their first meeting. ‘Missus is often not down before eleven. She likes to read and study in her room before she comes downstairs. What can I get you, miss?’

  Reflecting that she would have to find things with which to occupy herself during the mornings, Jessie made her wants known, and settled back to enjoy the very agreeable luxury of reading in bed in the daytime.

  Dilly came up a little later with hot water for washing and, after offering to help Jessie dress – which offer she refused – went downstairs again, leaving the visitor to her toilet.

  Even after having taken her time over dressing, Jessie was still downstairs a full half-hour before Mrs Machin, so she occupied herself with writing a letter to Lady Agatha, giving an account of her journey, their visit to St Paul’s Cathedral and to St George’s, and their walk in Hyde Park. After some thought, she decided to mention that they had seen Lord Ashbourne, but only because Mr Lusty might visit her ladyship, mention the encounter and think it odd if she had not referred to it in her letter.

  Why had Lord Ashbourne been kissing Lady Gilchrist? She had heard the sad news that Sir Philip had been killed, and had sent a civil note to Crown Hall. She had not received a reply, presumably because the widow had been travelling with Lord Ashbourne. Was (shocking thought) Lady Gilchrist now Raff’s mistress? Their conversation at the wedding breakfast had certainly been flirtatious enough. Or did his assiduous attentions mean that they would marry now that she was free?

  Scolding herself because it was none of her business, she quickly signed the letter and was on the point of sealing it up when she remembered a glaring omission. Not only had she failed to mention that Mr Lusty had bought her an engagement ring, but she had also forgotten to put it on that morning! Shocked at herself, she determined to start again, this time getting her priorities right. She took up a fresh piece of paper and set about copying down what she had written, this time adding the news about her ring near the beginning. Mr Lusty would certainly have been far more displeased that she had failed to disclose that piece of information than that she had forgotten to mention a brief sighting of Rake Ashbourne!

  Unfortunately, her carelessness now meant that she did not have enough paper to finish her letter. She looked around the drawing-room for more, but could not see any. The maid, when asked, disclosed that Mrs Machin always kept some in the book-room, so Jessie decided to go in there and find it. She would not look in any drawers or cupboards, she decided; but if there was any within easy reach, she would make use of it.

  Mrs Machin’s book-room was not as neat and tidy as Jessie might have supposed. Indeed, there were books lying open on the desk, and on a chair next to it, and others, higgledy-piggledy on a pile, looking as if they were in imminent danger of falling to the floor. Jessie tried to make the pile more secure, and in doing so, she caught sight of one or two titles. A Treatise Upon the Useful Science of Defence; A Dissertation on the Duty of Mercy and Sin of Cruelty to Brute Animals; List of Covent Garden Ladies; Jockey Club, or a Sketch of the Manners of the Age. ‘What an odd selection,’ remarked Jessie out loud, picking up the first volume in order to peruse it. She had not closed the door, so Mrs Machin’s voice came entirely without warning.

  ‘How dare you poke and pry amongst my private papers!’ said that lady, her voice trembling with indignation, but her expression looking faintly hunted.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Jessie answered, her colour somewhat heightened, but her voice steady, for her conscience was clear. ‘I had no intention of prying.’ She put the book back on top of the pile.

  ‘Your actions betray you,’ replied Mrs Machin, her prominent brown eyes flashing fire.

  ‘I was only looking at the books,’ said Jessie in placatory tones.

  ‘I dare say you will be telling Henry that I am reading improper literature,’ said Mrs Machin in a haughty tone that was nevertheless a little breathless. ‘Well, allow me to inform you that I am preparing some more tracts about the evils of pugilism and savage sports.’

  ‘That is exactly what I had supposed,’ answered Jessie, dismayed that a simple quest for paper should have turned into an argument that threatened future good relations with her sister-in-law-to-be.

  ‘So you now say,’ that lady retorted. ‘Be very sure that if you say anything to Henry, I shall tell him that you were poking and prying.’

  ‘I have no intention of saying any such thing to Henry,’ said Jessie, starting to feel angry at the injustice of the accusation. ‘I only came in search of some writing paper so that I could finish my letter to Lady Agatha. My own is all used up.’

  With a grudging gesture, Mrs Machin handed her two pieces of paper, then held the door open for her to leave.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jessie. Then she turned to add, ‘I am very sorry for—’ It was too late: Mrs Machin had closed the door in her face.

  That lunch-time, when they met at the table, Jessie apologized wholeheartedly for unwittingly offending her hostess. Given the cold reception of her earlier apology, she did not expect very much, and was somewhat relieved when her hostess said grudgingly, ‘I daresay you did not mean any harm. Let us forget the whole matter.’

  ‘You are very good,’ Jessie responded. Her words were received with a gracious inclination of the head. A little later, she found the courage to say, ‘I understand from Henry that you are working on putting together a collection of your husband’s sermons. That must be very satisfying work.’

  ‘Yes … yes indeed it is,’ replied Mrs Machin, sounding a little self-conscious. ‘Although his handwriting is rather difficult to decipher, so I find that I cannot do too much at any one time.’

  ‘And you have your own writing to absorb you,’ Jessie pointed out.

  ‘What?’ cried the other lady in an alarmed tone.

  ‘Your tracts on various moral issues.’

  ‘Oh! Oh, yes, of course,’ replied Mrs Machin with a sigh. ‘Yes, I do need to work on those, and when I do, I must be alone – quite alone. I hope you do not mind?’

  ‘Not at all,’ answered Jessie cheerfully, reluctant to damage this new, if fragile accord. ‘You will find that I am very well capable of occupying myself.’

  Chapter Six

  Jessie had spoken the truth when she had told Mrs Machin that she did not mind being left to her own devices. Although she was Lady Agatha Rayner’s companion, her ladyship needed her presence for propriety, and not because she expected to be entertained. In fact, Lady Agatha was often busy with her own correspondence and Jessie was quite accustomed to taking herself off to do a little parish visiting, or simply to take a walk around the village, sometimes carrying her sketch-pad with her. She had not inherited her father’s artistic gifts, but several people had found her drawings pleasing and the activity gave her pleasure. In addition, she often went into the village school to read with some of the children, and give drawing lessons to those pupils who showed aptitude. She was also accustomed to lending a hand with the housekeeping, usually dealing with the linen cupboard, which duty interested Lady Agatha not at all.

  Here in London, however, she found herself in some difficulty. There were no duties for her to perform as she was a guest in Mrs Machin’s little house. Her assistance in organizing the linen cupboard might have been welcomed, but she did
not feel that she knew her hostess well enough to offer such help. From that lady’s reaction to her presence in the book-room, she feared that such a suggestion might be looked upon as interference.

  As a resident of the vicarage in Illingham, she could visit people there in the name of the church. Here, she had no such standing in the community. Furthermore, her tentative offers to help her hostess with her husband’s memoirs had been firmly refused. Mr Hinder’s frequent presence in the house and in the book-room in particular made it very plain that the clergyman’s widow had all the help that she needed. Consequently, when Mrs Machin continued to remain in her room for most of the morning, and disappear at other times in order to write, Jessie found herself with rather a lot of time on her hands.

  As the days went by, if she was honest with herself, she would be bound to say that she did not think very much of her future sister-in-law’s notions of being a hostess. She herself had never had a home of her own in adulthood, but Lady Agatha occasionally had people to stay. Although her ladyship often had many concerns, she would never have dreamed of neglecting a visitor in the way that Mrs Machin was doing.

  There was one thing to be said for the current state of affairs, she decided, after leaving the dining-room after breakfast in order to sit in an empty parlour. She was very up-to-date with her correspondence. She had written to Lady Agatha, Henry, Lady Ilam, Lady Ilam’s mother Lady Hope, and a married friend who lived in Scotland. To whom else could she write? She had lived a retired life in Illingham for the past eight years. Her parents had both been only children and were now dead. She really knew very few people. There was always Lord Ashbourne, of course.

  After a few moments, she came to with a start, realizing that she had been remembering how handsome he had looked on the occasion of Lord and Lady Ilam’s wedding. She must think of something else. She had no address for him, and anyway, he was dancing attendance on Lady Gilchrist. She, Jessie, was to be married to Henry Lusty and had no business thinking about other men. A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush. That was a proverb that she had learned as a child. Indeed, she could remember copying it out on a slate in her best writing.

  Of course! She could write to Miss August, the village schoolmistress in Illingham. Then with a cry of vexation, she realized that if she wanted more paper she would have to interrupt Mrs Machin. After a moment’s thought, she straightened her shoulders and came to a decision. If there was no writing paper within easy reach, she would go and buy some.

  She went back up to her room, and when she met Dilly in the hall a few minutes later, she was drawing on her gloves. ‘I am going to buy writing paper,’ she told her. ‘I shall not be too long. Pray tell your mistress where I have gone, and that I shall be back soon.’

  ‘Oh, miss, I don’t think you should go,’ said Dilly. Her face looked worried.

  ‘Nonsense,’ answered Jessie bracingly. ‘The day looks perfectly fine. I am not a young slip of a girl, you know. I shall be perfectly safe.’

  ‘I’m not sure that missus would like it,’ the girl protested doubtfully.

  Repressing the urge to say that if the ‘missus’ wanted to prevent her guest from doing things that she did not like, then she would do well to make a bit more of an effort to entertain her, Jessie simply replied, ‘I will be back before I am missed. You will probably not even need to tell her that I am gone.’

  Once out in the fresh air, she felt better immediately. Sloane Street was only built up on one side, and looking across the road from Mrs Machin’s house, she felt as though she was in the middle of the countryside, with green fields, market gardens and even some animals grazing. It was quite difficult to believe that she was so close to such a big city. Then, as she walked on to Knightsbridge, the amount of traffic suddenly increased. She recalled Mr Lusty remarking that much of the south and westbound traffic would use this route, and indeed a fair number of people seemed set upon either leaving London or entering it, be it on foot, on horseback, or by carriage. She glanced across towards Hyde Park, remembering how the three of them had taken a walk there a short time before. Spring had commenced and trees were already looking green. She paused in admiration of a fine horse chestnut, resolving to come and look at it again and perhaps sketch it when its candles were fully out.

  Suddenly conscious of being observed, she looked round and saw a very rakish-looking man watching her with a decidedly predatory expression upon his face. Turning hurriedly, she set off towards the city at a brisk pace and was soon entering Piccadilly.

  At first, all her attention was taken up with observing the noise and activity of the city, from the urchins hanging about, hoping to earn a few pence holding someone’s horse, to the carts delivering goods, and fine carriages carrying the wealthy from one place to another. The hour was still early for the ton to be about, but there was a smattering of well-dressed people visiting shops, looking in windows, or simply getting an airing.

  She had set out with the definite purpose of buying writing paper. The notion of looking for one specific shop, however, quite disappeared out of her head, when she saw the wide variety of shops to be found in Piccadilly. After taking what seemed to be a very few paces, she discovered a jeweller, a wine merchant, a hosier, an ironmonger, and a draper. To a woman whose daily diet was just one village shop, enlivened occasionally by a visit to a market town, this was a feast indeed. She did see a bookseller’s, but hesitated before going inside. She was rather reluctant to exchange the richness of her present vista for the dark and possibly musty interior of a shop.

  As she looked about her, however, it dawned upon her that there were no respectable females walking alone. Gentlemen seemed to be able to enjoy that freedom, but any ladies were all accompanied, and the only women without companions were obviously servants going about errands. Furthermore, she noticed to her alarm that the rakish man whom she had seen earlier was standing on the other side of the road and observing her with interest. She recalled Dilly’s concern that she should not go into the city unaccompanied. She was beginning to see why. The man seemed about to cross the road, but most fortuitously, a cart rolled between them, and whilst his view of her was obscured, she darted into the shop, resolving to remain there until the man had gone, if necessary begging the shopkeeper’s assistance in hiding her.

  As she had suspected, the shop was rather dark, and it took her eyes a moment or two to recover from the effects of coming in from the spring sun. She could hear voices, and she deduced that the shopkeeper must have a customer. Hurriedly she snatched up a book and pretended to read, not wanting to look as if she were eavesdropping. ‘Very good, my lord, I’ll see what I can do. If the item you’re looking for comes in, I’ll send you word.’

  ‘I’m obliged,’ was the courteous response. ‘Good day to you.’ Jessie recognized his voice immediately, and her heart gave that familiar painful lurch which was her customary response to Lord Ashbourne. Telling herself crossly that as a betrothed woman she had no business to feel so excited at the sound of a voice that did not belong to her affianced husband, she looked for a bookcase to hide behind. Unfortunately, there was not one tall enough to conceal her, so she was obliged to turn her back to the other occupants of the shop and attempt to give the impression of being thoroughly absorbed. She hoped that this would be sufficient to ensure that she would not be noticed.

  ‘Good day, my lord.’ The shopkeeper hastened forward to open the door, and Jessie breathed a sigh of relief. Then the man spoiled her calculations by looking in her direction and adding, ‘One moment, madam, and I will be with you.’

  Becoming aware of the presence of a lady, Lord Ashbourne turned his head in her direction. ‘Well well,’ he murmured, sketching a bow. ‘And what brings you to London, Jez?’

  ‘Good morning,’ replied Jessie, curtsying. ‘I am visiting my sister-in-law-to-be.’

  He raised his brows. ‘Then you are to be married. Is Henry Lusty the lucky man?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jessie replied, feeling guilty beca
use she had not told him before, then remembering that she could not have done so because he had been travelling with Lady Gilchrist.

  ‘You should have waited for me, Jez,’ he complained lazily. ‘Still, no doubt Lusty would make you a much better husband.’

  ‘He couldn’t possibly make a worse one,’ she retorted.

  ‘As you say.’ He moved gracefully towards her and, with one elegant movement removed the book from her hands. ‘Ah, Lucas’s Memoirs of the Loves, Intrigues, and Comical Adventures of the most Famous Gamesters and Celebrated Sharpers in the Reigns of Charles II, James II, William III and Queen Anne,’ he remarked. ‘And you read upside down. A remarkable accomplishment.’ The famous steeply arched Ashbourne eyebrows soared.

  She snatched the book away from him. ‘I didn’t want to look as if I was listening to your conversation,’ she replied.

  ‘I would never have dreamed of supposing it,’ he responded. ‘For how long are you fixed in London?’ He was looking exceedingly elegant in a cutaway coat of emerald green, with leather breeches and knee-high boots. His tall-crowned, wide-brimmed hat he had removed on acknowledging her, and now held in his gloved right hand, along with his cane. His black hair, still only touched lightly with grey at the temples, was caught back with a bow at the nape of his neck. His grey eyes gleamed. With his fine sculptured features, he was, and always had been, the most handsome man that she had ever seen.

  ‘It has not exactly been settled,’ Jessie replied. ‘I expect I will return home before Easter.’ He did not say anything in reply, and in order to fill up the silence, she went on quickly, ‘Mr Lusty – that is, Henry – wanted to buy my engagement ring.’

  ‘Indeed? May I see?’ He put out his hand to take hers.