Ruined

by Ann Barker

  She looked straight at him. She knew that she could never marry Henry, but it was not necessary to tell Ashbourne that. If he believed that she still desired the marriage, then he would be able to seek freedom for himself, which was what she was convinced he wanted. Then he would be free to marry Penelope Gilchrist. ‘I am still engaged to him after all,’ she said.

  ‘And he is the better man. You said so yourself, I seem to recall.’

  She did not answer this. ‘We have both been placed in a very embarrassing situation, but at least it can be remedied, and the sooner the better. I will go upstairs now and pack. To stay here would only be awkward.’

  ‘Jez,’ he said. If Jessie had not been so distracted herself, she would have been able to hear the note of uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘No, Raff, please; I do not think I can bear to discuss this any more.’

  He said nothing. She just managed to get out of the door and up the stairs before her tears started to fall.

  After a brief excursion around the gardens of Ashbourne Abbey, Lady Ilam invited Mr Goode to stay for lunch, but he excused himself. ‘I have promised myself a walk in Dovedale today and as the weather is fine, I ought to be on my way. Should I return to the house and say farewell to Lord and Lady Ashbourne, perhaps?’

  ‘I think that might not be wise,’ replied Lady Ilam. ‘They have a lot to talk about at the moment.’

  ‘Every time I think he’s gone his length, he finds another way to shock everyone,’ said Ilam, staring after the retreating clergyman.

  Eustacia did not make the mistake of thinking that her husband was referring to the inoffensive Mr Goode. ‘Not this time,’ she answered. ‘He never appreciated her before, but now I think he is truly in love with her.’

  ‘And what makes you say that?’ he asked.

  ‘The way he looks at her,’ Eustacia replied.

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘It reminds me of the way that you look at me,’ she replied demurely.

  Gabriel caught hold of his wife by her waist and pulled her against him. ‘Then he must be in love with her,’ he replied, kissing her thoroughly, to the satisfaction of both parties. ‘What now?’

  ‘We go to the saloon and see what’s happening,’ she told him. ‘Either they have kissed and made up, or …’

  ‘Or?’

  ‘Or you and I have some work to do.’

  Gabriel sighed, and ran a gentle hand over his wife’s still flat stomach. ‘Do you suppose he will be this much trouble?’

  She pressed his hand with hers. ‘She’s sure to be,’ she said serenely.

  ‘She? Are you certain?’

  Eustacia smiled knowingly. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

  Gabriel grinned, and took his wife’s hand in a gentle clasp. ‘Will I mind having a daughter as beautiful as her mother? What do you think?’

  It was while Jessie was trying to pack her things through a haze of tears that there was a gentle tap on the door and Eustacia came in. ‘Are you all right, Mama-in-law?’ she asked. Then, seeing Jessie’s face, and noting the activity upon which she was engaged, she murmured, ‘Oh, my dear,’ and took her in her arms. Although Jessie was taller than Eustacia, and her senior by eight years, it was still very comforting to cry on her friend’s shoulder.

  After Jessie’s tears had subsided, Eustacia encouraged her to sit down on the bed. ‘Now tell me what happened. Was he very angry?’

  Jessie shook her head. ‘No. He was kind, actually. He’s always been kind. Look.’ She took a linen-wrapped bundle out of her half-packed bag, and opened it to show Eustacia her figurine. ‘When I was a girl, he found me crying over this and mended it, because he was sorry for me. That’s how it’s always been; I’ve been in love with him, and he’s felt sorry for me. I used to hope it might change one day, but now I know it never will, and oh, Stacia, it hurts so much! When he was ill – dying as we thought – he married me out of pity, to save my reputation. But I don’t want to be married to him because he pities me.’

  ‘Did he say that that was his reason?’

  ‘No; but he didn’t say he loved me. And I love him so much!’ Her voice caught on a sob, but she soon mastered herself. ‘One night, when I thought that perhaps he might die before the morning I lay down beside him on the bed, with my head next to his on the same pillow. I would rather have that one memory than a whole lifetime with Henry.’ She paused. ‘I have told Raff that he may have an annulment. Then he can marry Lady Gilchrist.’

  ‘Lady Gilchrist?’ queried Eustacia. ‘I don’t think …’

  ‘Stacia, I heard them,’ Jessie replied. ‘They were planning a future together.’

  Eustacia had her doubts, but did not voice them. Instead she said, ‘Are you going back to Illingham?’

  Jessie nodded. ‘For the present,’ she agreed. ‘I can’t think further ahead than one day at a time.’

  ‘I’ll have the gig harnessed, then you can go straight away,’ said Eustacia. ‘I’ll tell Aunt Agatha where you have gone when she comes back from spending the day with Dr Littlejohn. I’ll send the rest of your things on later.’ If I need to, she added silently to herself.

  It took Ilam a little longer to find his father. Lord Ashbourne had been gaining in strength every day, so the viscount was not entirely surprised to discover that the earl had had a horse saddled. He was rather disturbed, however, to discover that his lordship had gone alone. ‘Do you have any idea which direction he may have taken?’ Ilam asked, when he was in the saddle himself.

  As he rode off in the direction that the groom had indicated, he was rather surprised at the anxiety that he felt. He had grown up blaming the earl for his neglect. Since Ashbourne’s illness, he had had more to do with him than at any other time, and a few things had happened that had given him pause for thought. For one thing, he had been accustomed to thinking of Ashbourne as vain. To his surprise he had found that the earl, although beautifully turned out, never glanced at himself in the mirror.

  On one occasion, Lady Agatha had said something outrageous, and Ilam had found his amused gaze meeting that of his father as the same thought ran through their minds. Then, only that morning, he had found a footman distraught over a bottle of wine that he had broken, and Ashbourne laying a hand on the man’s shoulder and assuring him that he had never liked that particular vintage anyway. Ilam was used to hating his father. It was rather odd to find that the man he had hated probably didn’t exist.

  Just as he was starting to think that perhaps he ought to return and organize a search party, he saw Ashbourne’s riderless horse cropping the grass. Concerned that his father might have taken a fall, he sprang down, to discover Lord Ashbourne leaning against part of a fallen tree and gazing into the distance. Ilam walked over to him.

  ‘Do you recognize those hills over there?’ Ashbourne asked him, pointing.

  Ilam looked, wrinkling his brow. ‘I’m not used to this view,’ he said eventually, ‘but the formation looks a little like that to one side of Crossley Farm.’

  Ashbourne nodded. ‘I used to ride over here and take a look,’ he said. Ilam stared at him. As if he had asked a question, Ashbourne said, ‘I had two sons, remember; Michael, and you. My father’s price for supporting Michael was that I kept away from you. I was only allowed to see you when he gave permission, and that was rarely.’

  ‘My God,’ exclaimed Ilam, as soon as he was able. ‘But that was infamous!’

  ‘Infamous, yes. I should have done something, but I didn’t know what to do. Until I was twenty-five, I had no money of my own to support either of you. By that time, I was a stranger who meant nothing to you, and I didn’t want to spoil what you had. You could say that it was my own stupidity that got me into that mess in the first place, and you’d be right. No one asked me to go to bed with Dora Whitton, did they? I was an adolescent and I was in love. Could there be a more explosive combination?’ All this time, he had been staring into the distance. Now, he turned his face downwards.

  Ilam
was appalled. He did not know what he would do if Ashbourne wept before him. ‘Dora was the mother of Michael?’

  ‘My first love. I thought that she would be my last, as well.’

  ‘You love Jessie?’

  Ashbourne turned to look at him, then. For the first time, Ilam saw the likeness between them that everyone commented upon. ‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Yes, I love her. I’ve been so used to having her in love with me, but now it’s too late. She’s tired of me and she wants an annulment. I’ve lost her, just as surely as I lost Dora.’

  ‘She wants an annulment?’ asked Ilam. ‘Did she say so?’

  Ashbourne wrinkled his brow. ‘She said it was the best thing,’ he said slowly. ‘I assumed it was so that she could marry Henry Lusty.’

  ‘Did she mention him by name, then?’

  ‘No,’ replied Ashbourne. ‘I did.’

  Ilam shook his head. ‘I never thought I’d know better than you did in this area of expertise,’ he said, grinning. ‘Yes, you lost Dora Whitton, but you were a boy then. You’re not a boy now, and Henry may want to marry her but she’s your wife.’

  ‘But … what if she won’t have me?’ Ashbourne asked uncertainly. ‘I’m more than half convinced that she only feels sorry for me.’

  Ilam gave a crack of laughter. ‘Sorry for you? My God, I wish the ton, and especially the female half that is so besotted with you, could hear you say those words,’ he exclaimed. ‘If you don’t try, you’ll never know, will you?’

  An arrested expression spread across Ashbourne’s features. ‘God damn it, but you’re right, boy,’ he said, untethering his horse, and mounting. ‘I’m going to claim what’s mine.’

  ‘Go to it, Raff,’ called Ilam, as he watched him go. Then, rather surprised at what he had just said, he rode back to the Abbey to tell his wife what had transpired.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Jessie entered the house by the garden door and wandered dispiritedly up to her room. She sat and wept for a little while, then eventually dried her tears and looked about her. This was the room that she had occupied since her arrival in Illingham. It looked exactly the same as it had done when she had left. She was the one who had changed. Now, she wondered how she could ever take up the threads of her old life again. Oh, but it was too bad to be so near to her heart’s desire and yet so far away!

  She did not have very much time to spend in this kind of dispiriting introspection before there was a knock at her bedroom door. Surprised, because she had not thought herself observed, she opened the door to find Lady Agatha’s butler Grimes on the threshold.

  ‘Beg pardon, miss, but the gardener said he’d seen you come in. Mr Lusty is asking for you downstairs.’

  She stared at Grimes for a moment in consternation. His announcement filled her with dread. She knew that she would have to meet Henry, but she had hoped that she would not have to do so until she was feeling a little stronger. The meeting was not to be avoided, however, and part of her thought the sooner the better. She could only wish that she had not left his ring in town. It would have been good to return it today and be done with the whole business.

  ‘Thank you, Grimes, I will come down at once.’

  Mr Lusty was waiting in the drawing-room, looking much as he always did, apart from the fact that he was perhaps a little more drawn. They greeted one another formally and Jessie offered him refreshment, which he refused, after which an embarrassed silence fell.

  Lusty was the first one to break it, saying, ‘I imagine you understand my purpose for visiting you today.’

  ‘I do not believe I do,’ Jessie answered steadily. ‘I think I made myself plain in my letter to you.’

  ‘The nature of your decision I understood,’ he said, a little tight-lipped. ‘Your reasons I fail to grasp.’

  ‘My reasons?’

  ‘Your circumstances are the same as they were. Your fortune has not changed. Pardon my bluntness, but you have not got any younger. I fail to see why you have changed your mind.’

  ‘You may fail to see it, but that does not mean that it has not happened,’ Jessie answered.

  He rose to his feet. ‘I blame your sojourn in London,’ he said, with more than a hint of bitterness in his voice. ‘It has turned your head.’

  ‘It has done no such thing,’ she responded indignantly.

  ‘You cannot see it yourself, but believe me I can,’ he replied, a little more aggression in his voice. ‘Before you went to London, you conducted yourself becomingly. You dressed with modesty, attended only seemly entertainments, and treated me with respect. Now look at you!’

  Jessie looked at her reflection in the pier glass next to the window. Her blue gown was of a fashionable but decorous cut, and had a modest neckline. Her hair had become a little disarranged during her flight from Ashbourne Abbey, but she had tidied it before she had come downstairs, and now it was gathered neatly on her head, with a few tendrils escaping at either side of her head. ‘I see naught amiss,’ she said, honestly puzzled.

  ‘No, I dare say,’ he answered in a jeering tone. ‘I declare I do not have far to look for the source of the bad influence upon you. It is that profligate with whom you choose to associate.’

  ‘Indeed?’ uttered Jessie, stiffening her back. ‘To which profligate are you referring, Mr Lusty?’

  ‘I think, perhaps, he is referring to me, my dear Jez,’ said another voice. As both the occupants of the room turned their heads, they saw Lord Ashbourne on the threshold. Those who were accustomed to seeing him pay social calls would have been astonished to see him dressed thus. His black hair hung loose about his shoulders and he wore no cravat; but he walked into the room like a king. Paradoxically, although his faultless dressing usually made every other man look a little slovenly, on this occasion his very casual attire made Lusty’s tidiness look finicky. ‘You left rather precipitately, my love; so much so that I found myself obliged to come in pursuit, en déshabillé, as you see.’

  Mr Lusty stared at him in baffled fury. Aware that he had already gone too far in criticism of one who had power over his preferment, he nevertheless could not prevent himself from saying more. ‘You address Miss Warburton in very familiar terms, my lord,’ he said, his chin jutting out aggressively.

  ‘Would you say so?’ replied his lordship in tones that were deceptively soft.

  ‘I certainly would,’ answered the clergyman. ‘Considering how greatly she has changed, and not, I may say, for the better, I suppose I should not be surprised at any familiarity that she is prepared to permit.’

  ‘But then,’ answered the earl, with the ghost of a smile, ‘a husband is allowed to take more liberties than other men.’

  ‘A husband?’ echoed Mr Lusty, completely bewildered.

  ‘Certainly,’ answered Ashbourne, taking a pinch of snuff. ‘Jez did me the very great honour of becoming my wife towards the end of her stay in London. I believe she will be prepared to receive your good wishes.’

  Jessie stared at the earl in consternation. The last time she had spoken to him, they had agreed upon an annulment. Now, his words and actions were completely at variance with one who intended to take such a course. What was she to make of it?

  ‘Jessica! How could you?’ exclaimed Mr Lusty, with justifiable consternation. ‘We were engaged.’

  ‘You will have to excuse her,’ said Ashbourne. She was thankful for the intervention, as she did not have the smallest notion as to what she might say. ‘She was called to my deathbed, as everyone thought. In sympathy for a dying man, she agreed to marry me. Most unexpectedly I was spared.’

  Lusty stared at them both. ‘I cannot believe this,’ he uttered. ‘You both seem utterly devoid of any proper feeling or sense of conduct.’

  Ashbourne’s smile faded. ‘You may say such a thing of me – indeed, people have been saying it for years – but if you speak of my wife in that manner, then you will answer to me.’

  Jessie gestured for the earl to be silent, then stepped forward, seein
g bewilderment as much as anger on the clergyman’s face. ‘Indeed, it is quite true,’ she admitted. ‘We would never have been happy together.’

  ‘We might have been had you not gone to London,’ he replied wistfully.

  Jessie shook her head. ‘We would have discovered too late that we were not suited, and that would have meant a lifetime of regret,’ she told him.

  The clergyman stepped back and bowed formally. ‘I wish you both very happy,’ he said stiffly, before leaving the room.

  For a short time after he had gone, silence reigned in the drawing-room. Jessie wandered over to the window, whilst Ashbourne remained standing in the centre of the room. Eventually she said, ‘Poor Henry. He should not have found out in that way.’

  ‘He was unconscionably rude,’ the earl replied. ‘He must learn to take the consequences.’

  A sudden thought came into Jessie’s mind. ‘In fact,’ she said turning to stare at him, ‘he should not have found out at all.’

  ‘Discovery was almost inevitable, I would have said,’ he answered calmly.

  ‘I do not see why. If we had kept the matter within the family, then the marriage could have been annulled almost without anyone knowing. Now, he will probably tell everyone that we are married.’ She began to wring her hands in distress.

  He walked over to where she was standing until he was very close to her, then took hold of her hands, holding them still. ‘They have to find out from somebody,’ he said. ‘If you simply moved into the abbey, I think everyone would be rather shocked.’

  ‘Move into the abbey? But I thought you wanted an annulment.’

  ‘Strangely enough, I thought that that was what you wanted.’ She looked up into his eyes and was transfixed by their expression; amused, warm, and tender, and lit with some other emotion too; something wilder and more passionate. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he went on, ‘I’d much rather have a consummation.’

  ‘Raff!’ Jessie exclaimed, turning bright red.