Ruined (2 page)

‘How did you break it?’ he asked. The breaks appeared to have been clean, with no little fragments missing.

‘I didn’t break it,’ Jessie answered. ‘It was my fa—’ She broke off. ‘I mean, the squire. He isn’t my father, and I don’t like him. I’m not going to say I’m sorry, either.’ She stared defiantly at the young man, as if expecting to be reprimanded.

‘I see no reason why you should do so if you don’t mean it,’ was the surprising reply. ‘I don’t like my father either, and he really
is
my father. Did you dislike him before, or was this’ – he held up one of the pieces of the figure – ‘what made you feel like that?’

‘He makes my mama unhappy and he sells things,’ said Jessie. ‘And he gave me a horrible name.’ She had never spoken in this way to anyone before. Perhaps the uncritical way in which he had accepted her dislike of her father somehow made her feel that she could trust him.

‘I’ve always thought that Jessica was quite an attractive name,’ he responded. ‘Or won’t people use it? Is it Jessie that you dislike?’

‘I wouldn’t mind if it was Jessica,’ she answered in a small voice.

‘What is it then?’ he asked her, watching how the brown head drooped. She had a long neck which might become elegant in
half-a
-dozen years or so.

‘It’s Jezebel,’ she answered, her voice lower, so that even bending close to her, he only just caught it. ‘Mama was ill for my baptism.
He
told the vicar that that was my name. He was angry with mama. I don’t really understand why, but it was something to do with money.’

‘Most of the nastiness in the world has something to do with money,’ Raphael replied. ‘Anyway, what’s the matter with Jezebel?’

‘She’s from the Bible and she was really wicked,’ replied Jessie, annoyed with him for not understanding. ‘In the end she was killed and the dogs ate her. Would you want to be named after someone wicked who had been eaten by dogs?’ 

‘Some might think it would be preferable to being named after an angel,’ he retorted.

‘Is that where your name comes from?’ Jessie asked him, wide-eyed.

‘That’s where all the men in my family get their names,’ he responded. ‘Anyway, why let one poisonous woman spoil a name for ever?
I
think Jezebel is a pretty name, and to prove it, I will call you Jez from now on. Would you like me to see what I can do with this?’

Jessie stared at him. In all the discussion about names, she had temporarily forgotten about her figure. ‘Can you mend it?’ She asked him.

‘I can try,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘I like porcelain. At any rate, it can’t be any worse than it is now, can it?’

She looked at him for a long moment, causing him to notice for the first time that now the evidence of tears had faded, she had lovely eyes, with clear whites and irises of a particularly warm brown. After a moment, she shook her head.

He took his cravat from round his neck, carefully wrapped the pieces in it and put the improvised parcel in the pocket in the skirts of his coat. ‘I’m not making any promises,’ he said, ‘but I’ll do my best. Whatever happens, I’ll let you have it back.’

He was on the point of mounting his horse, had indeed set one foot in the stirrup, when he felt a light touch on his arm. He turned, whereupon Jessie reached up, swiftly kissed him on the cheek, then ran back in the direction of her home. For a few moments, he watched her flying figure, his hand going involuntarily to touch the place where she had kissed him. It was the first spontaneous gesture of affection that he had received in more than seven years. Then he mounted his horse and set off once more in the direction of Ashbourne Abbey.

A week later, a small box was delivered for Miss Warburton. Luckily, neither the squire nor Jessie’s mother was around when the box came. Half guessing what it must be, she ran upstairs with it and took it into her room, closing the door behind her. Inside, on top of a neatly wrapped bundle was a note which read:

Jessie carefully unwrapped the linen bundle, gasped with surprise and took out her figurine with hesitant fingers. For a moment, she thought that he must either have wrought a miracle, or else bought another, for it looked perfect. Then, as she examined it minutely, she detected a very tiny crack. He had mended it, just as he had
promised
, and it was almost as good as new. How clever he must be!

She would keep it in a drawer so that nothing could happen to it again, she decided. But before she put it away, she took out a snowy, freshly laundered handkerchief. It was the one which Raff had given her, and which she had washed and ironed herself. Carefully, she wrapped her precious figurine inside the handkerchief. From now on, she would keep her two greatest treasures together.

Chapter One

‘G
oodbye! Goodbye! Good luck!’ The good wishes of the wedding guests still hovered in the air as Gabriel, Lord Ilam and Eustacia, his new viscountess bowled away down the drive in his lordship’s gleaming curricle, which had been polished to a shine and decorated with ribbons and flowers for that very occasion.

Almost inevitably, the ladies were the last to go inside. Most of the gentlemen, having done their duty, soon wandered back in to find the glasses that they had set down and to pick up the conversation which had had to be left off with the departure of the bride and groom. Sir Wilfred, who had been one of the few men who had remained outside – understandably, since it was his only daughter who had just got married – offered his arm to his wife, who was looking a little tearful. After a few dabs at her eyes with a dainty handkerchief, however, Lady Hope soon had herself well in hand. An actress before she had married, she seldom lost control in any situation.

One of the two other men who had remained on the steps was Lord Ashbourne, the father of the groom. Alone amongst the company, he had not raised his hand in farewell, but had simply stood watching the vehicle disappear, an unreadable expression on his handsome face.

The third man turned to the lady who was standing beside him and said, ‘May I escort you inside now, Miss Warburton? The sun is pleasant but the breeze is cold.’

Jessie Warburton looked blankly for a moment at the
thin-featured
 
young clergyman before saying ‘Oh. Oh yes, thank you. It is a little cool out here.’ She pulled her shawl more closely around her shoulders, her actions a little clumsy, for she had a book in one of her hands.

‘What do you have there?’ asked the Rev’d Henry Lusty, taking the book from her so that she might adjust her shawl more easily.

‘It is a gift from Eustacia,’ she told him. The new Lady Ilam had handed it to her just before her husband had lifted her effortlessly into his curricle, amid cheers from the wedding guests. ‘Don’t forget to read it,’ Eustacia had told her firmly. ‘It might give you some
valuable
guidance.’

The clergyman examined it more carefully. ‘
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
. Are you sure that this is suitable reading, ma’am?’ he asked concernedly.

‘Be sure that I will abandon it if I find that it is not,’ replied Jessie serenely, as she took it back. They were about to go inside when an elderly lady addressed the clergyman, and he took a few steps towards her in order to answer her. Jessie was going to join him, when she felt a light touch on her arm and, turning, she saw Lord Ashbourne standing just behind her. He was as tall as Henry Lusty, but broader and dressed in the first style of elegance, in a coat of dark-blue cloth with snowy white linen, edged with rich lace. His waistcoat was also white, but embroidered with silver thread, and his knee breeches, which were biscuit coloured, fitted him to
perfection
, like everything else that he was wearing.

Jessie looked up into his face, and felt her heart lurch, as it had done almost since the first time she had met him nearly twenty years before. Of course, age had left its mark upon him. His hair, which had then been jet black, was now greying slightly at the temples, and there were lines on his face which had not been there when he was in his twenties. Nevertheless, he was still a remarkably handsome man, and there was no sign that his physique had lost any of its vigour.

‘What is it, Raff?’ she asked him.

He smiled down at her. ‘I just wanted to tell you how charming you look,’ he said, his voice suave and cultured. ‘It’s the first
opportunity
I’ve had.’

‘Thank you,’ she replied, trying not to feel flustered. She was not 
accustomed to receiving compliments about her appearance.

‘I believe I detect the unerring taste of Lady Hope,’ he went on. Jessie had recently enjoyed a long stay with Sir Wilfred and Lady Hope. Her ladyship had encouraged her visitor to discard the drab colours and styles to which she was accustomed, and to wear clothes that flattered her more. Today, in a green gown trimmed with gold, she looked much younger than her thirty years. ‘In all matters of fashion, you cannot do better than place yourself in her hands, in my opinion.’ He took out his quizzing glass in order to survey her costume in more detail.

She had seen Ashbourne look other women up and down, but she had never had such attention directed towards herself before, and she found it a little unsettling.

‘Yes, she has been very kind,’ Jessie agreed. ‘Raff, don’t do that.’

‘Don’t do what?’ he asked her quizzically.

‘Don’t look at me in that way.’

‘You don’t like the fact that I find you pretty?’

‘I would if you meant it,’ she responded honestly.

‘And you don’t think that I do?’

‘Everyone knows what manner of man you are. You never mean any of your attentions towards any woman.’

‘Well that’s certainly tipped me a leveller,’ he said bluntly. ‘How do you know that?’ For a long moment, hard grey eyes met defiant brown ones. Then, abruptly, he said, ‘Are you staying here for long?’

‘I think that Lady Agatha and I will be returning to Illingham almost immediately.’

Ashbourne glanced over to where Lusty was continuing his conversation. ‘Rumour has it that a certain clergyman will soon be following in your wake,’ he observed, lowering his voice.

‘Then rumour has got ahead of itself,’ she replied, turning away from him so that he would not see her startled expression. Mr Lusty had indeed proposed to her the day before, but she had told him that she needed time to think.

‘Should I ask him his intentions, I wonder?’ he said playfully. ‘After all, I am Agatha’s brother, and you are her companion. I’m probably the nearest thing to a male relation that you have.’

‘Don’t you dare do anything of the kind,’ she whispered angrily. ‘His intentions are none of your business.’ 

As if on cue, Henry turned. He was dressed in black as befitted his calling. The dark colour emphasized the slenderness of his figure. ‘My lord,’ he acknowledged, bowing a little stiffly.

‘Lusty.’ The earl inclined his head. ‘This nuptial atmosphere seems very beguiling to me. What do you say? Does it tempt you to take the plunge?’

‘The church teaches that marriage is an honourable estate,’ answered the clergyman, his disapproval of the nobleman coming through in his voice.

‘Why, so it does. No doubt it would rejoice your heart, then, if we were all lining up at your door to be joined in matrimony.’

Since Lusty had no idea how to respond to his teasing manner, Jez said quickly, ‘Don’t be so absurd, Raff. In those circumstances, Mr Lusty would have no time to do anything else.’

‘How sensible,’ murmured the earl.

‘I am sure that Miss Warburton can always be depended upon to take the sensible course,’ said Mr Lusty.

‘That’s just what I’m afraid of,’ Ashbourne responded in the same low tone as before.

‘Which is why I shall go inside now, away from this rather chilly wind.’ She curtsied to the earl, and Lusty bowed stiffly, as before. In return, Ashbourne swept them a bow that in another man less polished would have seemed an exaggerated courtesy.

Barely had he straightened from his reverence than he was approached by another lady, dark, handsome, and close to his own age of forty-two. ‘Penelope,’ he murmured. ‘What a pleasure to see … so much of you, over the last few days.’ He flashed a glance down at her daring
décolletage
.

‘How kind of you to notice,’ Penelope Gilchrist replied, drawing her shoulders back slightly in order to give him a better view.

‘And where is Sir Philip? On the Continent?’

‘Oh, indeed,’ she answered. ‘No doubt in pursuit of the beautiful, the fragile and the expensive.’

‘A man after my own heart. May I take you to find a glass of champagne?’

‘If you please. Don’t expect to find me as fragile as your usual objects of desire,’ she went on, her eyes twinkling. ‘In fact, I am quite robust.’ 

‘I am delighted to hear it,’ he responded, grinning.

Jessie Warburton and Henry Lusty had been delayed in their return to the house by some ladies who were talking animatedly on the threshold. Hearing the other couple’s conversation, Jessie
stiffened
her spine. Deliberately, she addressed Lusty with some idle remark, but did not pay any attention to his answer.

She had always known that Lord Ashbourne was a rake. She had been companion to his older sister, Lady Agatha Rayner, for eight years, since the death of her mother. Brother and sister did not get on, but her ladyship kept herself well informed about her brother’s doings, and she was always criticizing his profligate way of life. What was more, Jessie had seen for herself how women tended to throw themselves at him. The suggestive conversation between the earl and Lady Gilchrist had not been the first such exchange that she had overheard. She thought of the compliment that he had recently paid her, and told herself that she was just one in a very long line.

Yet to Jessie, he had always been kind in his way. She still kept the figurine that he had mended carefully wrapped in his handkerchief, and she was reminded of him every time she looked at it. After that first encounter, she had not seen him again until two years later, when he had attended the squire’s funeral. She and her mother had not gone to the service, but they had welcomed people back to the house afterwards, and Raff had been amongst the company. She would not easily forget his warm hand clasp, and the way that he had remembered her name, and asked her how she was feeling.

After the funeral, it had been revealed that the squire’s debts were so great that the house had to be sold to cover them. It was then that Mrs Warburton and her daughter were offered the use of a cottage on the Ashbourne estate. Jessie had wondered many times since whether Raff had been instrumental in that offer.

Three years after that, she had summoned up the courage to ask her mother about her real father. It had been Raff who had taken the trouble to find out that he had died on the Continent just three years after Jessie was born. Then, a short time later, he had given her a book of artistic prints, containing two by her father. She kept the book with her figurine.

At that moment, Mr Lusty drew her into a conversation with two 
other people, and her ruminations concerning Rake Ashbourne ceased for the present.

Understandably enough, the party acquired a certain languor after the bride and groom had gone, and it was not long before the guests had made their farewells. The only people who were staying overnight at Woodfield Park were Jessie and Lady Agatha, who as well as being the groom’s aunt, was also the bride’s godmother and one of Lady Hope’s oldest friends. Henry Lusty was riding back to Sheffield, where he served as the bishop’s chaplain.

‘Such a relief to have Eustacia married so well,’ murmured Lady Hope, as she and her husband sat at dinner with their two lady guests that night. ‘Although I did not say so at the time, I quite thought that when Morrison jilted her last spring, it would prove to be the end of her prospects.’

Sir Wilfred smiled. ‘I think that your son-in-law’s character is too strong for him to be swayed by such considerations,’ he remarked.

‘He shouldn’t be too concerned about a bit of scandal,’ Lady Agatha observed dispassionately. ‘He ought to be used to it with Ashbourne as his father.’

Jessie paused briefly in her eating, then determinedly carried on.

‘I will say this for Ashbourne, and you know that I am the last woman to defend him,’ said Lady Hope, ‘but he conducted himself impeccably while he was here.’ Her ladyship had known Lord Ashbourne when, as Viscount Ilam, he had laid siege to her in her acting days.

‘He certainly did,’ agreed Sir Wilfred. ‘I was glad to have him on hand at the ball and at the wedding breakfast. It was like having another host about.’

Lord Ashbourne had called that day to bid them all farewell, announcing that he was returning to London. ‘You are very kind,’ he had said in response to Sir Wilfred’s invitation to dine, ‘but I am expected by Lady Gilchrist today, and I may spend a few days there.’

Enjoying Lady Gilchrist’s beautiful fragility, Jessie had thought to herself. Quite involuntarily, she had imagined his lordship’s shapely fingers that had so meticulously mended the figurine, caressing Lady Gilchrist’s white skin.

Now, Lady Agatha gave a disapproving sniff. ‘No doubt he’ll be
off to the Continent and back to his boozing and wenching,’ she said scornfully. ‘By the way, have you heard what Ilam has done for me?’

‘I think Eustacia told me that he had put a house at your disposal,’ said Lady Hope. ‘I thought that you were going to live in the dower house.’

‘Yes, I was, but when Ilam went to have a look at it, he found that it needed a lot more work than he had thought at first. Besides, I wasn’t much looking forward to living in the dower house. It’s too isolated, and will be even more so if Jessie takes it into her head to marry. It will suit me much better to be in the house in Illingham which Ilam has offered to me. Remember I’ve lived there for half my life.’