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Jo inclined her head, but made no comment as he led her back to where her aunt was standing with Mrs Marsham and two other ladies. She thanked him, watching thoughtfully as he walked from the room.
Chloe came back to join them. ‘Has Mr Beverley gone already?’ she said looking disappointed. ‘We danced the first two dances, but I had hoped we might dance again later.’
‘I believe he had another appointment,’ Jo said. ‘But he must have come simply to dance with you, Chloe.’
‘Oh…’ Chloe blushed and looked pleased. ‘Yes, perhaps he did.’
Jo understood that she had hopes of Mr Beverley asking her to marry him. She knew nothing about him other than that he seemed to have an irreverent sense of humour, which she liked, and was extremely attractive. She supposed he must come from a good family, though she did not like to ask.
It had crossed her mind that he might be in some way related to Ellen’s late husband, but naturally she had not asked him. He might consider it impertinent, and, besides, she knew that Ellen did not wish it to be known that she was at present residing in Bath. However, she would ask Ellen when she next saw her if Mr Hal Beverley was in anyway related, for it seemed to her that if it were so he might do something to help her.
Lady Wainwright had decided that bathing had done her a great deal of good and she graciously told Jo that she might leave her after they had reached the Baths and go to the library or visit friends.
‘But on no account are you to be late for tea, Jo. I shall be most displeased if you let me down again. I cannot help you to make friends if you behave in such a shockingly careless manner.’
‘I know that it was very bad of me,’ Jo admitted. ‘I promise I shall not be late again.’
After leaving her aunt, she went first to the little teashop and bought some peppermint creams, which were packed in a pretty little box and tied with ribbon. Jo visited the library next and took out two books, one a novel and one on embroidery that she thought Ellen might like to see. She had also bought a smaller box of violet creams as a little gift for her friend, and was feeling pleased with herself as she made her way to Mrs Beverley’s lodgings.
As she reached the top of the slope leading to the house, a gentleman came out of Ellen’s house and turned away in the opposite direction. Jo stood watching him for a moment. She could not be sure, but thought it might have been Mr Hal Beverley. Perhaps he had discovered that Ellen was in Bath for himself.
Ellen answered the doorbell almost at once. Jo could tell from the look on her face that something momentous had happened, and she was pleased for her friend.
‘Oh, I am so glad you have called,’ Ellen told her. ‘I have some news to tell you.’
‘Exciting news?’
‘Yes, I think so. I have just received a visit from my husband’s brother Hal. He served in Spain at the same time as Matt, at least for a few months, and we knew each other. He says that he has been looking for me and wants to help me.’
‘Oh, Ellen, that is good news,’ Jo said. ‘Did you not think of asking him for help before this?’
‘No, for why should he take on the burden of my expenses?’ Ellen said. ‘I dare say I might have approached Lord Beverley if he had not been so set against the marriage, but Hal has his own expenses. I told him that I should be grateful for his help in practical ways, but for the moment I have sufficient funds to pay my way.’
‘And what did he say to that?’ Jo frowned, for in her opinion Mr Beverley should have ignored Ellen’s scruples and given her a handsome present so that she had no need to work so hard.
‘He said that I was to think of him as a friend and as my husband’s brother. He was angry that his father had done nothing for me, and indeed, he says that he regrets it, but we must keep our meetings a secret for the moment, because Lord Beverley might be angry or upset by them. I believe his father might disown him as he did Matt, and it is very brave of Hal to risk so much for my sake.’
‘Lord Beverley sounds disagreeable,’ Jo said and pulled a face. ‘I think it was very unfair of him to disown his son—and to treat you so harshly.’
‘Hal was angry about it, but says that his father has been unwell for some months and because of that he does not wish to quarrel with him. He has independent means and does not care so much for the estate—but he does care for his father.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said and looked thoughtful. ‘I do not like Aunt Wainwright very much, but I must admit that I should not want to see her ill—and I should be distressed if I were the cause of that illness.’
‘I understand his feelings completely,’ Ellen said. ‘Matt always hoped that he might settle his differences with his father one day. Hal is very good to search for me, and I should turn to him if I needed help, but I prefer not to accept charity unless I need it. I shall continue to use my married name to which I am entitled, but I shall not mention the connection to Lord Beverley—and the name is otherwise common enough.’ She smiled at Jo. ‘Have you come to take your nuncheon with me?’
‘I must not be late for tea this afternoon. My aunt scolded me yesterday. I do not mind that—but she is paying for my visit here and she bought me some very nice clothes, so I must not disoblige her.’
‘Well, we shall eat a light nuncheon and then you may leave,’ Ellen said. ‘I want you to look at some embroidery I am doing for a client. She saw some of my work at a fashionable shop in town and asked for me to work on her ballgown. She will be eighteen next month and is to have a special dance, I am told.’
Jo looked at a panel of exquisite embroidery that Ellen was working on, feeling amazed at both the beauty and intricacy of the design and the skilled workmanship.
‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ she said. ‘You are so clever, Ellen. Who taught you to do something like this?’
‘I am self-taught,’ Ellen said looking pleased. ‘My governess taught me the rudiments of the art, of course, and I begged my father to buy me books about it. He was pleased to do it, for he thought embroidery a ladylike occupation. He would not be so pleased if he knew that I was using my skill to earn my living.’
‘It is such a shame that you are estranged from your family,’ Jo said. ‘Did you make up your mind to write to your mama?’
‘Yes, I have written her a few lines,’ Ellen confirmed. ‘Just to tell her that my husband is dead and that I am with child and quite well. I gave her no forwarding address—and I intend to send my letter today.’
‘I am sure she will be relieved to have it,’ Jo said and smiled at her. ‘I took out a book for you from the library, but I think you are too advanced for it. I shall take it home and study it myself. I am ashamed to say that I could not produce anything even half as fine as this panel.’
Ellen laughed softly. ‘I studied for years, Jo. I was not particularly happy at home, for my father is a cold man, and Mama is afraid to displease him. When Matt came into my life it changed so much…I can never regret what I did, even though I lost him too soon.’
‘I am glad that you were so happy,’ Jo said. ‘I have never been sure that real love existed—not the very romantic kind that you read about in books—but Marianne fell in love with her marquis, and you obviously loved your husband very much.’
‘Yes, I did,’ Ellen said. ‘You may think my story tragic, but I would rather have had a year with Matt than a score of years with a man I did not love.’
Jo nodded and looked thoughtful. She was beginning to think that perhaps true love really did happen to the fortunate few.
‘Ah, there you are, my dear,’ Aunt Wainwright said and gave Jo a nod of approval as she walked into the parlour at half-past two that afternoon. ‘I am glad you are back. You must go up and change, put on one of your prettiest gowns and tidy that hair.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Jo said and placed the small box of peppermint creams on the table beside her. ‘I have been assured that they are very fresh.’
‘But to buy them in a box like that,’ her aunt said and frowned. ‘So extravagant! A paper twist would have been adequate.’
‘I bought them as a gift for you, to thank you for your generosity towards me,’ Jo said, giving her a straight look. ‘I shall go up and change now.’
‘Do not be long. We have a visitor I particularly want you to meet, Jo.’
Jo nodded, but made no reply. She noticed her aunt staring rather oddly at the box of sweets as she left the room.
As she changed out of her walking dress into a silk afternoon gown in a pale green colour, the skirt flounced but otherwise quite plain apart from a sash of darker green, Jo was thinking about what Ellen had told her concerning Hal Beverley. It seemed that he was an exceedingly generous man—as indeed she had known before, for she believed that his offer to buy her sister the singing bird had been made genuinely and with no thought of reward.
She thought that of late her wicked earl had stepped out of character, and was becoming a true gentleman, for she could no longer write of him as she had in the past, and must think of a way to redeem him in her novel.
The idea of changing her story so radically entertained her thoughts until she went downstairs. She heard voices coming from her aunt’s drawing room and her heart beat rapidly for a moment, wondering if the caller might be Mr Beverley, but as she entered she discovered that their visitor was unknown to her.
‘Ah, Jo, my dear, how delightful you look,’ Aunt Wainwright said. ‘You must come and meet the Reverend Mr Thomas Browne. Sir, this is my niece, Miss Josephine Horne, of whom I have already told you.’
‘Mr Browne,’ Jo said, coming forward. She held out her hand to him and smiled, for she was prepared to be welcoming to anyone who followed her papa’s calling. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, sir.’
‘And I you, Miss Horne. I am a little acquainted with Lady Wainwright, and when I spoke to her of my difficulty, she was kind enough to say that she thought you might be willing to help.’
‘If it is possible,’ Jo replied. ‘But I am not acquainted with your difficulty, sir—in what way would you like me to help you?’
‘Oh, I thought…but no matter. I am holding various fundraising events this coming week, and I need a helper. The lady who was to have performed certain little tasks—helping to make banners, write notices, and assisting with a bring-and-buy stall at the church hall—is unwell and finds herself unable to help as she usually does.’
‘Oh, yes, of course I shall be pleased to help you, Mr Browne—if my aunt permits. I must not neglect her, but otherwise I should enjoy being of assistance to you.’
‘I have said that you may go in the mornings,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘You know that I have taken up bathing for the sake of my health. I shall not need you until teatime, Jo. You may wish to visit other friends, of course, but I am sure you can spare two or three mornings this coming week.’
‘Yes, certainly,’ Jo said. She was very accustomed to such tasks and willing to be of service. ‘I shall enjoy it, though on Tuesday mornings I have the debating society, and on Thursdays I visit a friend, as I have today.’
‘What friend is that?’ Lady Wainwright asked. ‘I know it was not Chloe—she was at the Pump Room with her mama and inquired after you.’
‘Mrs Ellen Beverley, Aunt. I told you. She is a widow and I went to her aid her when she was unwell. We have become friends.’ Jo knew that if she told her aunt that Ellen was related by marriage to Lord Beverley her attitude would change completely, but her friend was determined not to trade on her husband’s family and Jo must keep that part of her identity a secret until she was given permission to reveal it.
‘Well, as long as you do not spend all your time with her. We are promised to Mrs Marsham and Chloe this evening. You have not forgotten?’
‘They are holding a card party,’ Jo said. ‘I had not forgotten, Aunt.’
‘Tomorrow is Friday,’ the Reverend Browne said. ‘Perhaps you would come to the church hall at ten—if that is not too early for you?’
‘No, that will do very well,’ Jo said and smiled. She could leave after two or three hours and perhaps call to see Ellen on her way home. ‘I shall enjoy helping you, sir. Please tell me something of your good causes—are they here in Bath or elsewhere?’
‘I have several causes I feel worthy of my attention,’ he replied, giving her a look of approval, for not all young ladies would wish to spend their time helping the poor when they might be enjoying the delights of Bath. ‘I support a home for orphaned children in Bath itself, and similar ones in London—but I also send money to overseas missions, Miss Horne. We must do what we can to educate the heathen and alleviate their ignorance.’
‘And their poverty, I hope, sir? Papa told me that the people live in terrible circumstances in some countries, perhaps even worse than in the slums here.’
‘Ah, yes, I believe your father was also a man of the church, Miss Horne?’
‘Papa was a wonderful man,’ Jo said, her eyes lighting up. ‘He taught all of us that it is our duty to be charitable and caring towards others—and he said that we must see it as a privilege to help them. I am proud to be his daughter.’
‘Ah, yes, a worthy sentiment,’ the Reverend Browne said and beamed with pleasure. ‘I have seldom met a young woman who thinks as deeply as you have on these matters, Miss Horne. It is a delight to have made your acquaintance.’
‘Oh, do not praise me too highly, sir,’ Jo said. ‘I enjoy helping with these things, and therefore it cannot be held a duty.’
If anything, the Reverend looked more approving. However, he abandoned the subject in favour of others, speaking with some intelligence about the political situation, which was quite troublesome for it seemed certain that there must be yet another war with the French. After thirty minutes he took his leave, touching Jo’s hand for a moment as she escorted him to the door and thanking her once again for her promise of help.
‘I am only too glad to be of help,’ Jo said and meant it sincerely, for she liked doing the kind of task that he had asked of her and had often assisted her papa in much the same way. ‘Thank you for calling, sir.’
Jo returned to the drawing room, where her aunt gave her what could only be a look of respect.
‘That was very well done,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You showed yourself to be just the sort of gel that a man in his position would wish to know. I am sure that he liked you. If you continue in this way I believe he may make you an offer, for I have it on good authority that he is looking for a wife. It would be just the thing for you, Josephine—and you could hardly expect to look higher. I believe he has a small allowance from his family as well as his stipend, which means he can afford to marry.’
Jo stared at her in disbelief, for her aunt seemed to think that it was a perfect match. ‘I hardly know Mr Browne, Aunt. He seems pleasant enough and speaks well of many things, but I am not certain we should suit one another. Indeed, I do not yet know if I wish to marry anyone.’
‘That is ridiculous! Every gel must marry. It is expected and the only possible future—unless you wish to remain at home for ever?’
‘I should like to be sure that I could be happy in my life, and I do not think that the kind of marriage you envisage would bring me happiness, Aunt. I think that I might find his company tedious if I were obliged to live with him.’
‘How can you possibly know that?’ her aunt demanded, the familiar look of annoyance returning to her face. ‘You said yourself that you do not know him.’
Jo realised her mistake. She could not possibly tell her aunt that she would never marry the Reverend Browne, even if it meant that she remained single all her life. Lady Wainwright would simply become angry, and it made life so uncomfortable. For once it might be better to brush over it as easily as she could. After all, she did not dislike Mr Browne, and he was just the kind of man she had once thought her sister Marianne might have married.
‘Yes, as you say, Aunt. I cannot know. We have hardly met and one should be certain about these things, for to marry in a rush would be both unseemly and perhaps foolish—do you not think so?’
Her aunt looked at her suspiciously, for the answer was too measured to be Jo’s true sentiments, unless she had changed her ways overnight.
‘Do not imagine you can fool me, Josephine. I am merely pointing out a possible chance to you, and one that you would be well advised to consider. You will not get a second chance for a visit like this, and you may grow bored with being at home. Most women prefer their own home—and children. I know that you like children, Jo. How can you content yourself to think that you might never hold your own child in your arms?’
‘But what of liking and respect, Aunt? You notice that I do not speak of love, for I am not sure it exists, though Marianne was certainly in love. But one should at least like the man one marries—do you not agree?’
‘Yes, of course, and I should never dream of suggesting that you marry a man who was not worthy of your consideration—but I believe Mr Browne is a man that many girls would be glad to marry. Especially those who have no fortune.’
‘I expect you are right, Aunt. Would you excuse me now, please? I think that perhaps I should change for the evening.’
Jo went upstairs to her own room. After she had finished dressing, she sat down at her dressing table and looked at her hair. If only it was a pretty honey blonde like Marianne’s and straighter!
Picking up her brush, she tugged at the tangled curls, pulling them back and securing the knot at the back of her head with pins, into which she pinned a spray of silk flowers. Tendrils of flame-coloured hair had escaped to curl attractively about her face. She sighed, because she knew that nothing she could do would tame it completely.
What did it matter? Jo fastened her mother’s pearls about her throat and applied a dab of cologne to her wrists and behind her ears; the perfume smelled faintly of violets, a very soft delicate scent. Satisfied that she could do no better with her appearance, she went downstairs to wait for her aunt in the parlour. It was a chance to read for a few minutes, which was a treat, because Lady Wainwright did not like to see her with her nose in a book too often. She was just becoming engrossed in the story when she heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see that her aunt had arrived.
‘Reading again?’ Lady Wainwright looked annoyed. ‘I hope you haven’t spoiled your gown sitting there. I do hate to see girls in creased gowns when they arrive for the evening. You should have walked about the room until I came down.’
‘I do not think that sitting here has harmed my dress, Aunt.’
‘Well, you are fortunate if it has not. Are you ready? It is already past six and we are engaged for half-past.’ She looked about her and made a sound of annoyance. ‘I have left my fan. Please go upstairs and fetch it for me. It lies on my bed.’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ She ran upstairs, and found the fan on the dressing chest after some few seconds of searching. Her aunt gave her a hard look when she came back down, but said nothing, taking the fan without a word of thanks.
They went out to the carriage, neither of them speaking to the other during the short ride, Jo because she did not have anything in particular to say, and Lady Wainwright because she was annoyed about something. Jo wasn’t sure whether she had caused her aunt’s mood or whether it was to do with something quite different, but it was clear to her that the best course of action was to remain silent.
Mrs Marsham had taken one of the larger houses in Bath, but her rooms were already overflowing with guests when they arrived. Jo was surprised for she had expected a small card party, but she soon discovered that cards were to be only a part of the evening’s entertainment. A quartet was playing music as they entered, and Chloe told her that one of the drawing rooms had been cleared so that the younger people could dance.
‘There is room for no more than ten couples,’ Chloe said, her eyes glowing. ‘But the older ladies do not dance and will content themselves playing cards or simply listening to the music.’
‘I am not sure that I am dressed for dancing,’ Jo said, because she was wearing a very simple evening gown. ‘I did not expect it.’
‘Oh, but you look very nice,’ Chloe said. ‘You always do—though I think it is a shame that you scrape your hair back so tightly. Do you never think of wearing it in a softer style?’
‘Never! I should look like a gypsy,’ Jo said and Chloe went into a fit of the giggles.
‘Oh, you do say such droll things, Jo!’ she cried. ‘A gypsy, indeed. Mama would have a fit if I were to say such a thing.’
‘But you always look so elegant,’ Jo said and Chloe gave a pleased nod of her head.
Chloe had only waited for Jo to arrive. Her mother had released her almost at once, and the two girls went into the long room together. Jo saw that several young men she had met at the Assembly rooms were present, including Mr Tanner, and it was not long before both girls were dancing. Surprisingly, Jo found that she was sought after almost as eagerly as Chloe, and she did not sit out one dance, which might have been because Mrs Marsham had cleverly invited more gentlemen than young ladies.
It was not until an hour later that Jo felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find herself looking at Mr Hal Beverley. She had not noticed him come in, because she had been enjoying herself, and her eyes were bright with laughter.
‘Good evening, Mr Beverley,’ she said. ‘Chloe did not tell me that she expected you this evening.’
‘Did she not, Miss Horne?’ Hal’s brows rose. ‘Now why should that be, I wonder? For it must be an object of great public interest if I am to attend a card party, must it not? Indeed, had I thought, I should have had a blast of horns announce me.’
‘You are a wicked tease, sir,’ Jo said. ‘You knew very well what I meant.’
‘Did I?’ His eyes gleamed with unholy amusement. ‘Pray give me the pleasure of this next dance, Miss Horne—unless it is promised to another?’
