Ruined

by Ann Barker

  ‘I have known her for many years,’ he answered in an even tone. ‘I don’t like to see her being taken in.’

  ‘Keep telling yourself that, and you might convince yourself that that is the whole truth of the matter,’ she answered conversationally.

  ‘My dear, if you are going to become so cryptic in your pronouncements, I shall have to hire an interpreter,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Then let me elucidate,’ she answered. ‘That young woman has been in love with you for as long as I can remember. It would be a tragedy if you should fail to snap her up because you are not prepared to acknowledge that you are falling in love with her.’ At that, Ashbourne dropped his hands in surprise, and had to give all his attention to his horses in order to get them back under control. Her ladyship kindly asked his pardon for startling him. ‘Since Philip’s death I have begun saying things when the opportunity occurs, for fear I may not get another chance,’ she explained.

  ‘How many heart attacks have you caused so far?’ he asked her. She laughed, and soon they were talking of other things, but it must be acknowledged that Ashbourne gave their conversation only half his attention.

  Could he be falling in love with Jez? The question occupied his mind as he drove away from Lady Gilchrist’s house. On one level, the question seemed utterly absurd. Of any man in London, surely he could not be the one upon whom love could creep up unsuspected! Doubtless many who knew him would suppose that he had been in love many times. He could have enlightened them: in fact, he had only ever been in love once, and that had been with Dora Whitton, the mother of Michael, his illegitimate son.

  Since first meeting Jez, he had kept a benevolent if distant eye upon her, ever since he had found her crying over her broken figurine, but he had never pursued her. If pressed to describe his feeling for her, he would probably have called it affection.

  Everything had changed with her arrival in London. This had brought about a closer relationship with her than he had experienced before, whilst he sought to guard her from scandal in a world which he knew well and she did not. Despite the fact that she was thirty years old, she was still such an innocent!

  He was not accustomed to worrying about another person in this kind of way. His upbringing had taught him that the best way to survive was to think of his own needs, and to use his undoubted charm and good looks to get what he wanted. There were very few people of whom he was really fond. If you didn’t become attached to people, then they couldn’t hurt you.

  The trouble was that because of their argument, he and Jez had become estranged, she had obviously transferred her interest from himself to Wallace Weary and something deep inside him was hurting most damnably.

  *

  ‘Have you decided whether to go with me to observe a brothel?’ asked Mrs Machin the following morning. ‘My novel is at a crisis point, and a visit to a brothel might just fit the bill.’

  ‘Can you not simply use your imagination?’ Jessie asked.

  ‘My imagination is for conjuring up the characters and the situations in which they find themselves,’ was the reply. ‘For the actual settings, I need real experience.’

  After a few minutes thought, Jessie shook her head regretfully. ‘I cannot agree to it,’ she said. ‘The very idea offends. Besides, what if Henry were to hear about it? A visit to the theatre and even an outing to Vauxhall could be explained away. An outing to a brothel would be quite another thing.’

  ‘I will just have to think of another way round it,’ said Henrietta thoughtfully. ‘In the meantime, I still have plenty of other material to keep me going. I have just thought of some splendid lines to add to my Vauxhall scene. How do you think it might work if my heroine, the lady rake, meets a rakish gentleman there?’

  ‘I would think that sparks might fly,’ said Jessie honestly, remembering her own experience. ‘If you are going to write, then I think that I will pay a visit to Miss Simms. I have neglected her recently.’

  Miss Simms was very pleased to see Jessie, but apologetic as well. ‘I have two gowns to finish, and must not delay,’ she said. ‘They are for the twin daughters of a wealthy merchant, and they celebrate their birthday at the weekend.’

  ‘Then let me help you,’ said Jessie at once. ‘What can I do?’

  In no time, the two ladies were busily at work, Jessie securing some of the hems that had already been pinned with tiny stitches. For a time, they worked in silence, then eventually Miss Simms said, ‘How did your visit to Vauxhall go? Did you enjoy it?’

  Jessie put some of the more disturbing memories of the night to the back of her mind. ‘Yes, it was very different from anything else that I have ever experienced.’

  ‘Who was of your party?’

  ‘Mrs Machin and myself, of course. We were escorted by Mr Hinder and Lord Ashbourne.’

  Miss Simms dropped her scissors. ‘Ashbourne?’ she echoed.

  ‘He is the brother of Lady Agatha Rayner, with whom I normally reside.’ After a short pause Jessie added, ‘I can see that you are shocked. I expect you know that he is a rake; but truly, he has always been very kind to me.’ She added this last comment a little wistfully. It seemed a long time since she and Raff had had the chance just to talk and laugh together.

  ‘I have nothing against Lord Ashbourne,’ Miss Simms answered. ‘Indeed, I do not think that I have ever met him. It is the set that he runs with that concerns me.’

  After a short silence, seeking to change the subject, Jessie added, ‘The music was delightful.’

  ‘I am very fond of music but seldom have the chance to hear it,’ Miss Simms admitted. ‘Did you dance?’

  ‘Yes I did; with Sir Wallace Weary.’

  This time Miss Simms dropped a whole tinful of pins, and the next few minutes were spent in picking them up. As they both bent to gather up the pins, she wondered whether she dared ask the dressmaker for the reasons for her agitation. Before she needed to do such a thing, the other woman spoke. ‘Do not involve yourself with Sir Wallace Weary, I implore you,’ she said, her voice not quite steady.

  Whether she would have gone on to say anything more was uncertain, but before the matter could be decided, the door opened, and Bryony came toddling in, followed by her nurse. Miss Simms picked up her child, and looked at Jessie, an involuntary look filled with apprehension. In that moment, Jessie guessed everything concerning the other woman’s relationship with Sir Wallace Weary.

  ‘Bess is bringing you some tea, ma’am,’ said the nurse, ‘so I thought you might like to see young Bryony for a bit.’

  ‘Is it that time already?’ exclaimed Miss Simms in a relieved tone. ‘Yes, by all means leave her with me for a little.’ After the tea had arrived and they both had a cup, whilst Bryony was playing on the rug with some bright pieces of material from her mother’s bit box, Miss Simms spoke again. ‘I can see in your eyes what you are suspecting,’ she said, ‘and you are quite right. But it changes nothing.’

  ‘Surely he ought to help—’ Jessie began, looking at Bryony’s down-bent copper-coloured head.

  ‘I don’t want his help,’ said Miss Simms sharply. The child looked up, alarmed by her mother’s change of tone. The dressmaker bent over and, smiling, showed the child a scrap of trim that she had not seen before. ‘He does not know,’ she went on in a more tranquil tone. ‘I see no reason for him to do so. I have no desire for her to learn anything about him and his way of life.’

  A short time after this, the nurse took Bryony away, and the ladies got back to their sewing. Later, Jessie went home in a very thoughtful frame of mind. She did not share what she had learned with Henrietta. She was too afraid that that lady might want to question Miss Simms in order to get more ideas for her book.

  That evening, Mrs Machin received a note which puzzled her a little. ‘It is from Mrs Smales,’ she said. ‘Apparently she has a confidential matter which she wishes to share with me, and there is nothing for it but for her to speak with me this evening. I suppose I had better go and see her.’
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  ‘Do you wish me to come with you?’ Jessie asked.

  Henrietta looked a little uncomfortable. ‘She particularly asks that you should not come, because of your forthcoming relationship to Henry,’ she answered.

  ‘It sounds very odd to me,’ said Jessie frankly.

  ‘Well it does to me too,’ Henrietta agreed. ‘But I think I had better go. If she comes here, I might find it hard to get rid of her, and she might find out something to report to Henry that I don’t want him to know about. I will take Dilly with me, so I shall be quite safe. Besides, if you are here alone, I shall have the perfect excuse to get away early.’

  It felt very odd to be in the house without Henrietta. Jessie knew that she was not completely alone, for the cook lived in, but the man who did any rough work and the woman who did the laundry both came in once or twice a week as needed, and lived in their own homes. It was a quiet street, and Jessie was not a nervous person, but she felt that she would be very glad when Henrietta came back.

  Only half an hour after her hostess had gone, there was a knock on the door. Jessie toyed with the idea of waiting, and just allowing the visitor to go away. The knocking became more insistent, however, and it occurred to Jessie that perhaps Henrietta had sent for her after all. With some hesitation, she answered the door and, to her great astonishment, found Sir Wallace Weary standing on the threshold.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jessie could not hold back a gasp of surprise as she looked at the baronet. ‘Sir Wallace!’ she exclaimed. ‘This is most unexpected. I fear I must be inhospitable, however, for I cannot admit you at this hour.’ She did not say that she was alone, but he appeared to be already in possession of this information.

  ‘I would not dream of asking it, especially when I know that you are alone,’ he said. ‘Believe me, I would not be here if this were not an emergency. I wonder …’ He appeared to be struggling for words. ‘Miss Warburton, forgive my indelicacy, but are you aware that Mrs Machin is writing a … a novel?’

  ‘Yes, I know of it,’ Jessie replied carefully.

  ‘I was afraid you might be shocked,’ he replied. ‘She was good enough to confide in me a short time ago about some of her plans for the next chapter.’

  Jessie stared at him, puzzled. ‘Sir, I am at a loss as to the reason for your visit,’ she said. ‘As you have guessed, Mrs Machin is from home, but if you wish to talk to her about her writing, I am sure that she will be glad to receive you tomorrow.’

  ‘You misjudge me, ma’am,’ he said seriously. ‘I would never have called upon you at this late hour had I not judged the matter to be urgent. I wonder …’ He paused and looked as if he was weighing his words carefully. ‘Has Mrs Machin spoken to you about her wish to visit a … a house of ill repute?’

  ‘Oh, good God,’ breathed Jessie, her hand going to her cheek.

  ‘I see you have already guessed it,’ he said heavily.

  ‘You have encountered her this evening, then?’ asked Jessie, puzzled.

  He shook his head. ‘No, not I,’ he assured her. ‘Had I done so, I would have brought her home, you may be quite certain. No, an acquaintance who met you both in my company in Hyde Park one day chanced to see her this evening in a part of London where no lady should be. He told me about the encounter, and I recalled the conversation that I had had with her and put two and two together.’

  ‘How could she be so foolish,’ Jessie exclaimed, half talking to herself. ‘I thought that her visit this evening sounded rather odd. Oh dear, this is all my fault. I told her that I would not go with her, and this is the result.’

  ‘You must not blame yourself,’ he told her reassuringly.

  ‘I should have realized that when she is in the midst of writing a novel, every bit of common sense goes out of the window,’ Jessie went on. ‘But tell me, are you sure, absolutely certain, that she has gone to … to one of those dreadful places?’

  He shook his head. ‘Not absolutely certain, no, but I was so uneasy that I could not reconcile it with my conscience not to come and find you, and ask you what you would have me do. I am prepared to go anywhere if you command it.’

  Despite her dislike for the man, which not all his courtesy had overcome, she could not help but be touched. ‘Do you have any idea where she might have gone?’ she asked. ‘There must be hundreds of those places in London.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘She was asking me about brothels a couple of days ago when we were walking in the park and you were in front with Mr Hinder,’ he said. ‘To my shame, I knew the names of one or two, but I refused to tell her much about them. It did not seem proper. She went very quiet, then started to talk about Mrs Smales, and how she ought to visit her quite soon. I got the impression that she was planning something.’

  ‘When I told her that I would not go with her, she said that she would think of something,’ said Jessie anxiously. ‘She must have been planning this scheme even then.’

  ‘What do you want me to do, Miss Warburton?’ he asked after a short pause. ‘I fear that whatever it is, we should act quickly.’

  ‘Yes; oh yes indeed. But wait for five minutes, and I will go with you to find her, Sir Wallace.’

  She ran upstairs and after a brief search, unearthed the cloak and mask that she had worn to Vauxhall. She put the mask on, and looked at herself in the mirror. With what different feelings had she donned these garments on that previous occasion! She hurried down the stairs to where Sir Wallace was still waiting by the door. ‘Very well, let us go,’ she said.

  ‘This is very odd indeed,’ said Mrs Machin, staring up at the dark windows of the house to which she had just sought, and failed, to gain an entrance. She turned to the driver who had brought them there. ‘Are you sure that this is the address I gave you?’

  ‘Certain sure,’ replied the man. ‘Are you stopping, or not?’

  ‘I cannot understand it,’ Henrietta replied. ‘Dilly, just run down the area steps and see if you can see anything.’

  ‘Oh ma’am, I dursn’t,’ Dilly replied nervously. ‘It’s too dark.’

  ‘Then you had better go,’ said Henrietta, turning to the driver.

  ‘What about me horses? Anyway, missus, there’s no one in. It’s as plain as the nose on yer face.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ murmured Henrietta. ‘There must have been some mistake. What shall we do, Dilly?’

  ‘Best go home, ma’am,’ said Dilly fervently.

  The sound of footsteps in the street alerted them to the presence of a newcomer. ‘Mrs Machin, your servant,’ said Raff, greeting her with a bow. ‘May I have the honour of serving you in some way?’

  ‘Oh, Raff, thank goodness,’ said Henrietta, curtsying. ‘We were just about to go home. I had a message to come here this evening, but there is no one here. It must have been a mistake.’

  ‘Is Jez with you?’ he asked.

  ‘No, she is at home,’ Henrietta answered.

  ‘At home? Alone?’ A strange feeling of unease began to creep up the back of Raff’s neck. ‘Then allow me to be your escort,’ he said, getting into the carriage after handing the driver a coin with the instruction to ‘whip ’em up’.

  When they alighted from the carriage outside Mrs Machin’s house – the return journey having been accomplished much more quickly than the outward one thanks to Ashbourne’s largesse – they were surprised to find the place in darkness. Before they could enter, Mr Hinder came hurrying out of his house. He had obviously been watching out for them. His relief when he saw Lord Ashbourne was quite palpable.

  ‘Thank heaven!’ he exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know what to do for the best!’

  ‘Let us go inside,’ said Ashbourne. ‘Doubtless this is better discussed in privacy.’ He made as if to pay off the driver but Hinder laid a hand on his arm.

  ‘Tell him to wait,’ he said. ‘You may want to make use of him again.’

  Once they were inside, Mrs Machin said, ‘Dilly, bring wine for the gentlemen. And go and see if Miss Warburton is in her
room, for she is clearly not downstairs.’

  ‘She is not upstairs, either,’ Hinder blurted out, obviously impatient with these niceties and, indeed, barely preventing himself from hopping from one foot to the other.

  ‘The wine, Dilly,’ said Mrs Machin firmly, when the maid stood in indecision. ‘Come, gentlemen.’

  ‘Now, Hinder,’ said the earl as soon as they were in the drawing-room with the door closed, ‘Tell us what you know.’

  ‘Not long after you left, ma’am, I chanced to be looking out, as I was half expecting someone to call on me. Another carriage drew up outside this house and Sir Wallace Weary got out.’

  Ashbourne tensed and swore softly under his breath. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I must say, my lord, I’m sorry if he should be a friend of yours but I’ve never much cared for him.’

  ‘He isn’t a friend of mine. You may speak freely.’

  ‘Jessie – that is Miss Warburton – came to the door, and they talked for a while on the step. Then she went in and he went to speak to the coachman. A few minutes later she came out in a cloak and mask, he got in with her and they drove away.’

  Ashbourne stood in silence for a moment, then took out his snuff box and helped himself to a pinch. ‘There would not appear to be a problem,’ he said in his most languid society drawl. ‘She has clearly gone with him to a masquerade.’

  ‘But—’ began Hinder.

  ‘I do not think you said that she was coerced in any way?’ murmured the earl. Hinder shook his head. ‘Very well, then. Miss Warburton is of age. It would be presumptuous of any of us were we to prevent her from enjoying an evening’s … ah … romp, with the gentleman of her choice.’

  ‘No, my lord, I am sure you are mistaken,’ Mr Hinder urged.

  ‘For what reason?’

  ‘The message, for one thing,’ said Henrietta. ‘That was clearly sent to lure me away.’

  ‘It could have been sent by Jez herself,’ the earl pointed out.