Married By Christmas

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?’

‘No, it is not,’ Jo replied. She had planned to slip away to find herself a cooling drink, but could not give up the opportunity to dance with him. ‘Oh, listen, I believe this is a waltz.’

‘Yes, so I believe,’ Harry said and gave her his hand. ‘I trust you are a lady of your word, Miss Horne? You will not refuse?’ His eyes quizzed her. ‘Perhaps you are but an illusion and will disappear in a puff of smoke rather than waltz with me.’

‘I…No, of course not,’ Jo said. She was a little unsure, because the waltz was not yet thoroughly approved of everywhere, though she had heard that it was no longer frowned on at most venues and was certainly allowed at private parties. ‘Yes, Mr Beverley, I should love to dance the waltz with you.’

Her heart fluttered as he placed his hand at the small of her waist, and she looked up at him, her eyes widening as she saw the challenge in his eyes.

‘Why do you look at me that way, sir?’

‘Because I am waiting,’ Hal said. ‘Most young ladies would have come out with it at once, but then, as I have observed before, you are different from most young ladies of my acquaintance.’

‘Are you speaking of Ellen?’ Jo asked.

Oh, he danced divinely! She had not realised that a waltz could be this much pleasure. She felt as if she were floating on air, the music filling her soul as she followed his lead effortlessly, their steps perfectly in tune.

‘Ellen informs me that you have become her friend.’

‘I believe we are friends,’ Jo replied. ‘She tells me that you have been kind enough to offer her help should she need it.’

‘I would do more if she would permit it.’

‘Yes, I know…’ Jo smiled. At this moment she felt as if she were filled to the brim with content and happiness. ‘Ellen is proud and does not wish for assistance. But she works very hard, and I am not sure it is good for her in her condition.’

‘No, I am very sure you are right. I shall do what I can for her.’

‘She would not accept anything she saw as charity.’

‘It would not be charity. She and my brother’s child are entitled to a decent life, and I wish that she would allow me to help her with her expenses.’

‘I think you must be clever in how you offer help.’

‘Yes, I am sure you are right. I must think of something, for at the moment she will not let me help her.’

The music was coming to an end. Jo found herself wishing that it might go on for much longer, but she knew that she must be satisfied with the one dance, for it was unlikely that he would ask her again.

‘Perhaps she will when she needs you,’ Jo said, as the other dancers began to leave the floor. ‘I believe it may be time for supper, sir. Yes, I see that everyone is making a move in that direction.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Hal asked, and Jo shook her head. ‘Come out into the conservatory for a moment or two. I should like to speak to you further on this matter.’

‘I…’ Jo was about to say that she was not sure if she ought to do that when she saw Chloe coming towards them. ‘Perhaps another time. I may call on Ellen at something after noon tomorrow.’

‘Oh, there you are, Jo,’ Chloe said, but her eyes were on Hal. ‘Are you coming into supper with me?’

‘Yes, I was just about to,’ Jo said, and looked at Hal. ‘Shall you join us, sir?’

‘Yes, of course, why not?’ he replied. ‘It shall be my pleasure to look after both of you. The two prettiest girls here this evening—what a damned lucky fellow I am!’

Jo smiled and shook her head, but Chloe had slipped her arm through his. She knew that his compliment was for Chloe, but he was being gallant, of which she approved. It was due to Chloe’s efforts on Jo’s behalf that she had not sat out one dance that evening. All the young gentlemen were happy to oblige Chloe. If a small voice told her that she had only chosen Jo as her special friend because she did not wish for competition, she ignored it.

‘You are a determined flirt, Mr Beverley,’ Chloe told him, eyes sparkling. ‘I do not think you deserve us, but you may fetch our supper to prove that you were not merely mocking us.’

‘How could you think such a thing of me?’ Hal replied and turned to look at Jo with an expression of innocent appeal. ‘Miss Horne knows that I mean everything I say—do you not? Please support me against this tyrant, Miss Horne.’

Jo merely smiled and shook her head, for it was obvious that they were comfortable together, and she would not be surprised if they were to make a match of it. She was almost certain it was in Chloe’s mind to accept him if he made an offer—but would he? Jo had no way of guessing what was in his mind. He was a charming companion, and she liked him, but she did not know him well enough to have formed an opinion of his character.

If Jo’s thoughts were in some confusion, it was as well that she could not know or even guess at what Hal was thinking. She would doubtless have been shocked to know that his thoughts were in turmoil, and his plans for the future had been turned upside down.

Hal’s mind had been more or less made up before he came down to Bath. He would find Ellen, set her up in a decent house with enough money to allow her to live in comfort, if not luxury, and then ask Chloe Marsham to marry him. He had hoped that when his brother’s child was born, Lord Beverley would accept his grandchild and then perhaps Ellen would be given the attention and consequence she deserved. His plan had gone sadly wrong, for Ellen had stubbornly refused his help with her finances, and he was no longer sure that he wished to marry Chloe.

He was not precisely sure why he had changed his mind—or, indeed, if he had changed his mind. Chloe was very lovely and she was a nice girl, just the sort of wife his father would approve. Harry had previously decided that she was the one he would feel most comfortable with of all the suitable young ladies he had met since his return from the army, but now he was wavering, and he was not certain why.

It could not possibly be anything to do with Chloe’s friend…could it? Hal wrinkled his brow as he discarded his cravat. The hour was late, but he was not in the least tired. In London he would probably have gone on to his club from the Marshams’ card party, but although he was acquainted with most of the gentlemen staying in Bath at present, none of them was his particular friend.

He thought about his old friend, Drew Marlbeck, feeling regretful that he had not answered his recent call to help capture the traitor who had betrayed so many of their friends in Spain. At that time he had been following a lead that had taken him to Amsterdam and which had turned out to be completely wrong. He had visited Drew in Truro before leaving, and on his return from abroad sent him and his new wife a wedding gift, though he had not gone down to the wedding, because his father had had one of his turns just as he was about to leave. By the time he had recovered, the Marquis and Marchioness had departed on their honeymoon.

He wondered if Drew ever thought about the old times. There had been a special companionship between the men out there…a bond that only shared grief and the knowledge that death hovered at one’s shoulder could forge. Hal sighed. There was little point in repining, for he had made his decision when he sold out. Lord Beverley’s health was uncertain, which was why Hal was doing his best to keep his quest for Ellen a secret. He knew that his father felt that Matt had let him down, and he had wanted to make things right by marrying well and giving his father an heir. It was his duty to do just that, but somehow it wasn’t proving as easy as he had imagined.

Why? Hal was damned if he knew. It could not be because of Miss Horne, could it? She had remarkable eyes and he liked her straight way of talking, but she wasn’t beautiful…at least in the conventional sense, though there was something about her. Hal sat in a high-backed chair by the window and looked out at the night sky, which was sprinkled with stars. Josephine Horne was a respectable girl with good connections, but he sensed instinctively that she would not be his father’s choice of a bride. Lord Beverley expected him to marry an heiress of good family and would take some persuading if he were to suggest a match with the daughter of a parson.

Did he wish it himself? Damn it, what on earth was he thinking? Hal smiled ruefully. He hardly knew the girl whereas he had known Chloe slightly for some years, because her parents were cousins to their nearest neighbours at Beverley, and, although not close friends, at least on nodding terms with his father. He had not taken much notice of her as a child, but they had met a few times at small gatherings since his return from the army, and he did like her. He believed Chloe would be a comfortable wife, and she was certainly beautiful—so why had he dragged his feet? He believed that she would accept an offer from him, and if he were able to tell his father the good news, he might also be able to break it to him that Ellen was having Matt’s child.

It was the sensible thing to do. He knew that he owed his father the surety of a grandchild, and he must not delay his decision for too long, because Chloe was an heiress and would probably receive an offer very soon. She might decide to wait until after her Season next spring, of course—but her mother would possibly agree to an engagement and a wedding next summer.

‘Damnation!’ Hal knew that he would never sleep a wink with this on his mind. He needed a drink…

Jo spent a very happy morning helping out at the church hall the next day. She had found several companions of like minds, young women who found pleasure in helping others, and in the friendship that could be found at such affairs. They painted banners to hang at the sale and wrote out neat price tickets, sorted through piles of unwanted items that people had given and helped to set up stalls ready for the bazaar the following weekend.

‘Would you be kind enough to help at the sale itself, Miss Horne?’ Mrs Henderson asked. She was a young matron of perhaps five and twenty, with two small children, who were at home with their nursemaid. ‘We need someone to serve at the stall selling cakes and homemade sweetmeats.’

‘Yes, of course, providing my aunt can spare me that day,’ Jo said. ‘What hours would you need me?’

‘Oh, from just before noon until perhaps five,’ the woman said. ‘I shall be working on it myself, but we are usually very busy.’

‘Then I shall ask my aunt and let you know next time I come—which will be on Monday, I think?’

‘Yes, we are to meet here again on Monday,’ Mrs Henderson replied with a smile. ‘I dare say your aunt may spare you for once, my dear.’

Jo said that she hoped so and took her leave. She walked swiftly in the direction of Ellen’s lodgings, not bothering to linger over shop windows. However, as she neared the end of the street, she saw Hal Beverley coming towards her. He smiled as he saw her, lifting his smart beaver hat and smiling as they met.