Ruined (13 page)

Soon after this Mr Hinder, who seemed to enter into all of Henrietta’s plans with great enthusiasm, took his leave, promising to find out about the cost of entering the gardens and the best method of travelling to them.

‘Oh, this is such fun,’ said Mrs Machin, her eyes gleaming. ‘I had never thought that I would enjoy myself so much.’

Jessie eyed her curiously. ‘Surely though, ma’am, you must have had many opportunities for visiting Vauxhall Gardens. After all, you have lived in London for some years, now.’

Mrs Machin nodded solemnly. ‘Yes, that is very true,’ she agreed. ‘But you do not really understand my situation. My husband was a clergyman, as you know. His parish was in the country, to the south of London. He had no private means, and I had only a small
inheritance
from my father, not enough to live on, given that there was no property to go with it. After Percival died, the new vicar who came to take my husband’s place had several children and needed someone to look after them, so I stayed on as a sort of governess.’

‘In what had been your old home?’ asked Jessie incredulously. ‘How awful for you.’

‘They were very kind, but it was not the life that I would have chosen,’ Henrietta admitted. ‘That was when I began to write, as an escape.’

‘For how long did you live there?’ Jessie asked her.

‘For two tedious years. Then the miracle happened. Our old nurse 
left me this house. There was no income to go with it, but I felt sure that with what my father had left me, I would just be able to manage. I was also hoping that eventually I would be able to make some money by writing. The one difficulty was that I did not have enough money to employ a companion. Dear Henry, who has never, ever said a grudging word about my inheritance, found one for me, the widow of a clergyman who had been helpful to him when he was a raw curate.’

‘Would that be Mrs Smales?’ asked Jessie.

‘Exactly. Mrs Smales, though a very good person in her way, keeps up a regular correspondence with Henry, telling him of all my doings – after all, it is he who employs her – so I have had to be very careful to keep her ignorant of any of my activities of which she might disapprove. I had to be cautious when you arrived as well, which is why I was so unwelcoming to you to start with; for which I must ask your forgiveness, my dear Jessie.’ She leaned over and caught hold of one of Jessie’s hands.

‘Not at all,’ smiled Jessie, returning her grip. ‘I am only glad that you decided I was to be trusted after all.’

‘I knew it at once, when I found that you were friendly with Lord Ashbourne,’ Henrietta explained. ‘Henry would never approve of such a friendship. It therefore followed that you would either have to omit all mention of him in your letters, or say so little that Henry would barely notice it. If you can keep that secret, then you can certainly keep mine.’

‘In any case, you gave yourself away,’ Jessie pointed out. ‘You couldn’t decide whether to make Ashbourne welcome or reprimand me for knowing him.’

‘Yes I did, didn’t I?’ her hostess agreed ruefully. ‘I have to say, I think it a great pity that—’

‘Forgive me, Henrietta, but you don’t know what you are talking about,’ said Jessie bluntly. ‘The less we see of Lord Ashbourne, the better for all of our reputations.’

While she was speaking, the door bell rang, and moments later, a very flustered-looking Dilly appeared. ‘Please, ma’am, it’s Lord Ashbourne,’ she said. Her tone could not have been more reverent had she been announcing the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Raphael strolled into the room and greeted them with his 
customary elegant bow. ‘Ladies,’ he said. ‘I trust I find you well.’ He was dressed in a lilac wool coat with an embroidered waistcoat and charcoal grey pantaloons with exquisitely shiny black boots. His tall-crowned hat and cane he carried in his left hand, as he took hold of his hostess’s hand in his right. ‘You must forgive me for not calling upon you earlier.’

‘It’s quite all right, Raff,’ said Jessie calmly. ‘We know that you are a man of many affairs.’

He turned his head and looked at her for a long moment. ‘Just so, my dear Jez,’ he replied. ‘You have always understood me so well.’ Before she could guess what he was about, he moved closer to her, took her hand, then leaning across, kissed her on the cheek. While Jessie was still recovering from the shock – for he had never done such a thing before – he turned to Mrs Machin. ‘No doubt Jez has told you that we are old friends,’ he said easily. ‘We have known one another for nearly twenty years.’

Jessie blushed at his effrontery, but to her relief Mrs Machin did not appear to think his behaviour at all out of the ordinary, for after she had begged him to be seated, she simply remarked how
agreeable
it must be for Jessie to have a friend in town. ‘May I offer you some refreshment, my lord?’ she asked him. ‘Wine? Coffee? Tea?’

‘A glass of wine would be very welcome,’ Ashbourne replied, with one of his most charming smiles.

‘It is very good of you to call upon us in this way,’ said Mrs Machin.

‘Not at all,’ he responded. ‘I have it on very good authority that you would like to observe me, ma’am.’

‘Observe you?’ Mrs Machin asked.

‘While I am a-raking – for your book,’ he explained kindly.

Jessie turned fiery red for she had not told Henrietta about her encounter with Ashbourne in the rain, or about what she had said to him. She now feared that Henrietta would resent the fact that she had mentioned her hostess’s writing without her permission. Mrs Machin did not seem to take it amiss, however; quite the reverse, for she clapped her hands delightedly. ‘I
knew
you would help me,’ she exclaimed. ‘I wonder, would you like to go with us to Vauxhall?’

At that moment, Dilly came in with the wine and set it down on a table next to the earl, smiling shyly at him as she did so. Whilst he 
was setting the glasses out and pouring, Jessie pulled Henrietta to one side. ‘You can’t ask him to go with us just like that,’ she hissed.

‘Why not?’ Henrietta whispered back. ‘I thought from the first that it would be better to have a second gentleman.’

‘Precisely,’ whispered Jessie. ‘A gentleman! Ashbourne is a rake. You heard what he said; and if you want to take him along to Vauxhall then watch him whilst he misbehaves, I, for one, do not.’

‘Would you like me to leave the room?’ Ashbourne asked amiably, as he carried two glasses over to them. ‘You clearly have matters that you wish to discuss.’

‘Yes,’ Jessie said, whilst at the same time, Mrs Machin said, ‘No.’

‘Shall I stand in the doorway, then?’ he asked innocently. His lips twitched, and Jessie could not help laughing. ‘Now what were you saying about Vauxhall?’

‘We had decided that we would go,’ replied Henrietta. ‘I am indeed writing a book, which is to be set in London, and I would like my characters to visit Vauxhall. Yet how am I to make the scenes there realistic if I have never been myself?’

‘You are very right,’ Ashbourne agreed, his tone as serious as if they had been discussing some point of law. ‘Who will believe your tale if you make simple mistakes that even a child could spot? I do trust that you were not intending to go alone. I feel that I should warn you for Jez, I fear, is inclined to be somewhat intrepid.’

Jessie, who had been on the point of sipping her wine, choked, and while Ashbourne took her glass from her, Henrietta kindly provided her with a handkerchief. ‘Oh dear, you have splashed wine on your fichu. Perhaps you had better change it.’

‘If you can find another one,’ murmured Ashbourne.

Jessie turned a fulminating glance upon him before leaving to go to her room. Once there, she removed the fichu, put it into the basin on the cupboard in the window, and added water from the ewer. She would ask Dilly to wash it later after the visitor had gone. She was about to open her drawer in order to get another square of linen to tuck into her neckline, when she caught sight of her own reflection and paused to look more carefully into the mirror. Today, she was wearing a dull gold gown with thin brown stripes. The neckline was low, but not immodest. After a moment’s thought, she put on a golden chain and locket which had been 
given to her one birthday by Lady Agatha. Then she went back downstairs.

The two occupants of the room were chatting as she came in. On seeing her, Ashbourne took up his quizzing glass, which hung on a ribbon around his neck. ‘Charming,’ he murmured, as he examined her.

Feeling oddly breathless at his scrutiny, Jessie reclaimed her wine, and said, ‘Have you made any decisions about Vauxhall?’

‘Why, certainly,’ Henrietta replied. ‘Lord Ashbourne has had such a good idea.’

‘Please, call me Raff,’ said the earl.

‘So kind,’ said Henrietta, her eyes glowing.

‘Just don’t let Henry hear you doing so,’ put in Jessie in rather a waspish tone.

‘Oh no,’ answered her hostess. She looked regretfully at Ashbourne. ‘It seems so unfair, doesn’t it?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ve made my bed. Anyway, Jez, my suggestion is that we should go to Vauxhall on a masquerade night. That way, we may go masked and nobody will be able to recognize any of us.’

Not long afterwards, he rose to take his leave. He gave Mrs Machin his card. ‘Tell Hinder to contact me here,’ he said. ‘I’ll talk to him about the arrangements.’

Before he left, Jessie found the opportunity to speak to him without her hostess hearing. ‘I warn you, Raff, Henrietta may want to watch you playing the rake, but if you do so in front of me, I shall come home immediately, escort or no.’

Ashbourne inclined his handsome head. ‘Rest assured, my dear Jez, that with you present, I shall save my raking for another occasion.’

Chapter Eleven

I
t was very agreeable to have gentlemen to make arrangements for one, Jessie decided, as she returned from visiting the poor house two days later, accompanied by Dilly. This was a luxury that had not come her way very much. As the companion of Lady Agatha, she normally found that arrangements for holidays, visits or parties were her responsibility.

For the visit to Vauxhall, matters had been taken completely out of her hands. Raff had made it his business to discover the date of the next masquerade. He had passed on the information to Mr Hinder, who had told them that it would be the following week. Raff would make all the travel arrangements and, in addition, he would book a box and bespeak a supper. All they had to do was to organize their clothes and get themselves ready on time. He would do himself the honour of calling for them at seven o’clock. For a woman who had never been anywhere or done anything, it was heady stuff and would be something to remember when she was a sedate clergyman’s wife. She could not help giving a little skip as she arrived back at the house and opened the door. ‘Hettie, I’m home,’ she called.

‘Jessie, my dear, such a delightful occurrence,’ said Henrietta, meeting her in the hall, with an expression on her face which was one of warning rather than delight. Behind her stood Henry Lusty.

‘Henry,’ she declared after only a moment’s hesitation. ‘This is a charming surprise. Are you able to stay for long?’ She was guiltily aware that her mind had leaped immediately to the question of whether he would be gone before the Vauxhall masquerade. 

‘Jessica, my dear,’ he said, stepping forward and taking her hand. ‘Henrietta tells me that you have been out attending to the needs of the poor. That is very seemly; very seemly indeed. I am glad you took a maid with you. These London streets are not safe for a lone female.’

‘No, so I believe,’ she replied, thinking that on that one subject, if on nothing else, he and Lord Ashbourne would certainly agree.

‘Well, shall we all have a cup of tea?’ suggested Henrietta.

‘That would be a rather unnecessary luxury, I would have thought, when it cannot be long until dinner,’ answered Henry, putting an end to that particular conversation.

Jessie handed her outdoor clothes to Dilly, then went into the drawing-room. Once inside with the door closed, Henry said, ‘I will greet you properly now, if I may,’ and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Jessie was stabbed by guilt as she recalled how a similar salute from Raff had caused shivers to run up and down her spine, whereas Henry’s embrace left her completely cold. Then her feelings of guilt were increased as he looked down at her hand and said, ‘Where is your ring, Jessica?’

‘I never wear it to go to the poor house,’ replied Jessie honestly. She did not add that she frequently forgot to put it on at other times as well. Then, she added less truthfully, ‘I do not like to … to flaunt jewellery when I go there.’

Henry’s puzzled look cleared. ‘You do very right, my dear. I see, too, that you have returned to your customary modest garb, which pleases me.’ The gown that she was wearing was old, and reserved only for visits to the poor house, but naturally she kept that piece of information to herself.

‘For how long are we to have the pleasure of your company?’ asked Henrietta brightly. ‘I do hope that it will be for a good long time.’ Jessie struggled to hide a smile. She knew that Mrs Machin was also thinking about Vauxhall.

He shook his head. ‘My stay can only be brief, I fear. I have a matter of business to deal with tomorrow morning. I will be with you over the weekend, of course, as I will not be travelling on a Sunday, but I must go back on Monday.’ Both ladies tried not to sigh with relief.

Shortly after that, they all went upstairs to change. Jessie looked carefully amongst her clothes and, with some reluctance, took out an 
evening gown that she had not worn for some time. It was cut rather high in the neck, and the waistline was lower than had become
fashionable
. It was also in a very sober shade of brown. Thinking ruefully how very different she looked from when she had gone to the theatre, she went downstairs for dinner confident that she could be commended for her sobriety. She almost left her room without her ring on, but remembered to don it at the last moment. It felt very strange on her finger. Guiltily, she was aware of how seldom she wore it.

Henrietta was already downstairs when she arrived, and Jessie suspected that her hostess had been busily hiding away any evidence of her novel writing. She found herself marvelling at the fact that both the clergy widows with whom she was acquainted appeared to be mistresses of deceit. Lady Agatha, with whom she had resided for several years, thought nothing of manipulating all kinds of people to get her way. Mrs Machin had constructed a whole other occupation for herself so that she could write scandalous novels in secret. Now she, Jessie, engaged to be married to a clergyman, was already deceiving him in an underhand fashion. Would she be doing the same as those two other ladies in twenty years’ time?

In the event, the evening passed pleasantly enough. Henry had one or two mildly amusing tales to tell concerning church business, and some messages from Lady Agatha, whom he had made it his
business
to visit before he had set off for London. He also had rather a momentous piece of news. ‘The bishop favours me to be the next incumbent at Illingham,’ he said, beaming at Jessie. ‘It looks as though you will be able to stay in your own home after all, my dear.’

Jessie stared at him, not knowing what to say. Fortunately, her lack of response was more than adequately covered by Mrs Machin’s exclamations of delight. ‘My dear brother, your own parish! The very thing you have always wanted! How thankful you must be!’

‘Yes indeed,’ Jessie added, her temporary silence overcome. ‘Congratulations.’

‘My position as vicar of Illingham is not yet confirmed,’ he said, a little tight-lipped. ‘There is some question about a signature from Lord Ashbourne which he has not yet been inclined to give. As soon as he and the bishop have signed the document, then it will all be settled.’ 

Jessie was a little anxious that Mrs Machin, who had seemed to have had quite a preference for Raff, might react in an indignant manner. To her relief, the lady’s obvious powers of invention did not desert her now, and she merely smiled and turned her attention to her floating island pudding. ‘That must be very vexing for you, dear. I’m sure that Lord Ashbourne is not doing it on purpose, however.’

After a moment’s pause, Mr Lusty agreed, ‘Of course not,’ and then went on to talk about other things.

That night, Jessie thought about the news that Mr Lusty had brought. She had always known that he had his eye upon the parish of Illingham, but foolishly enough had never imagined herself living there as his wife. If she had ever pictured married life with him, it had been in some fictitious place, far from those she knew. Now, the idea of returning there after her marriage seemed unsettling, and although she could not put her finger on why, the notion kept her awake long after others in the house had gone to sleep.

The following morning, coincidentally, both ladies were up betimes, but not so early as Henry, who had spent an hour in the book-room before they arrived downstairs for breakfast. On learning this, Mrs Machin darted an anxious glance at Jessie, and Jessie could guess that she was thinking how glad she was that she had put all her novel writing things away out of sight.

As soon as breakfast was over, Mr Lusty declared his intention of walking into the City in order to transact his business. ‘I will be back later and perhaps this afternoon we might visit the poor house,’ he suggested. Jessie was thankful that she had been truthful in her descriptions of her work there. At least in introducing Henry to the matron she would have nothing to blush for. Indeed, he seemed so pleased and proud at her efforts that, as she took his arm to walk home, she felt as contented about her forthcoming marriage as she had ever done, and quite guilty about deceiving him. Her behaviour seemed doubly wrong when she reflected that he was only snatching a day or two’s leisure, whilst she was enjoying herself in the capital. For two pins she could have told him about the Vauxhall scheme. She remembered in time that it was not just her secret to disclose.

On Sunday, Mr Lusty, Mrs Machin, and Jessie all set out to attend St George’s for the morning service. The day was fine, and the walk promised to be agreeable. Mr Hinder appeared and asked for permission to join them.

‘There are one or two questions of philosophy that have been on my mind, and I would be glad to have your thoughts upon them, sir,’ he said to the clergyman.

‘Certainly,’ replied Mr Lusty, smiling benevolently. ‘In what way may I assist you?’

‘I was wondering whether you had any views on the writings of Rousseau?’

Mr Lusty’s face went rigid with disapproval. ‘That is very shocking material you are reading,’ he said. ‘I am persuaded that it will not do you any good.’

‘Do you really say so?’ asked Mr Hinder.

‘Come, Jessie, let us walk ahead,’ said Mrs Machin, seizing her opportunity. ‘The gentlemen have much to discuss, I can see.’ As soon as they were out of ear-shot, she said, ‘I cannot tell you how relieved I was when Henry said that he is leaving tomorrow. What on earth would we have done about Vauxhall had he stayed?’

‘I expect we would just not have gone,’ Jessie replied.

‘Yes, but think,’ Henrietta insisted. ‘We would have had to send word to Raff telling him not to come. Can you imagine the scene had he turned up at the door cloaked and masked, with Henry in residence?’

‘Oh heavens!’ Jessie exclaimed. She could picture the situation all too vividly.

‘We really ought warn him, ought we not?’ said Henrietta thoughtfully. ‘It would never do if he were to send us some message about our outing, and Henry were to receive it.’

‘Hettie, do you think we ought to confess to Henry what we are planning?’ Jessie asked, after they had walked in silence for a short time.

‘Good heavens, no,’ Henrietta exclaimed, much alarmed. ‘How can you even suggest such a thing?’

‘I have a guilty conscience,’ Jessie confessed in a small voice.

‘I cannot imagine why,’ said Henrietta candidly. ‘Jessie, we have not done anything wrong, nor are we planning to do so. Attending Vauxhall is not a crime, is it?’ 

‘Well no, but—’

‘Henry would not approve,’ Henrietta interrupted, finishing her thought. ‘I dare say he would not. That is why we are not telling him. We are indulging in a little harmless amusement, not intending to steal the crown jewels!’

They reached the doors of St George’s without realizing how far the gentlemen had fallen behind. ‘Goodness,’ chuckled Henrietta, ‘And they say that ladies like to talk! Had we better go in, do you think? We do not want to miss the beginning of the service.’

‘Do you find yourselves without an escort, ladies?’ said a familiar voice. ‘May I assist?’ They both turned in astonishment to see Lord Ashbourne clearly preparing to enter the church. Like Henry, he was dressed in black, but somehow, on him the sombre shade looked decadent rather than sober and puritanical. As always, his garments fitted him to perfection. The linen at his wrists and throat was dazzling white, as were his stockings, which were decorated with gold clocks.

‘Raff!’ exclaimed Jessie. ‘You are not intending to go into church!’

He grinned wickedly. ‘Strangely enough it is permitted. I do not dissolve into a pile of ash on crossing the hallowed threshold, either.’

Henrietta looked round. ‘My brother should be with us,’ she said, frowning a little.

Ashbourne raised his brows. ‘He would seem to be late,’ he murmured in disapproving tones. ‘Well? Shall we go in?’

As there was no sign of Mr Lusty or Mr Hinder – who had, in fact, become so involved in a heated debate in which the former propounded the doctrine of original sin, whilst the latter just as vigorously defended the essential goodness of human nature, that they had stopped to argue on the corner of Mount Street – the ladies consented to go inside with Ashbourne, where he found them all places to sit.

It was immediately obvious that his presence caused something of a stir. Jessie heard his title mentioned under several people’s breath, and a number of worshippers, notably ladies, turned to look at him. All of this attention he ignored effortlessly, and Jessie could not help thinking that he must be very used to it. She told herself firmly that it would surely be exceedingly annoying to be married to the owner of so much male charm and beauty. 

There was still no sign of Mr Lusty and Mr Hinder when the service began, but the church was so full that it would not be
difficult
to miss them. They rose to sing the first hymn, ‘All people that on earth do dwell,’ and Jessie was rather surprised to hear Raff, who was standing next to her, striking up with enthusiastic vigour. He certainly did not conduct himself as one who only attended church if he had to.

At the close of the service, the earl escorted them out of the building, where they found Mr Lusty and Mr Hinder waiting. The clergyman did not look very pleased, and his expression of displeasure was doubled when he caught sight of who was escorting his womenfolk.