Ruined (6 page)

‘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 shopkeeper 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

A
shbourne 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 someone 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.’

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.’