Married By Christmas

Jo thought she looked very young and vulnerable, though exceptionally pretty with softly waving fair hair and green eyes.

‘Perhaps we could be friends, at least while I am in Bath,’ she offered impulsively. ‘I know it will only be for a short time, but we may write to each other when I go home—and if you are ever in trouble I would try to help you.’

‘Oh, how kind you are,’ Ellen said. ‘I do not believe you have told me your name.’

‘How silly of me,’ Jo said and laughed. ‘I was too concerned for you to think of it. I am Jo Horne and staying here in Bath with my aunt, Lady Wainwright. I used to live in Huntingdonshire, but when I leave here I shall be living with Great-aunt Bertha in Cornwall.

‘My whole family has gone to live with her, because Papa died and we had to leave the Vicarage. We were offered a home at the Lodge, but Mama did not like it there and poor Lucy was ill, and so we shall all live with my great-aunt from now on, but I was promised to Lady Wainwright for this visit.’ Jo pulled a face. ‘And now you know all there is to know about me, and very dull it is, too, compared with your life—’ She broke off as the waitress approached and ordered tea and cakes for them both. She held up her hand as Ellen reached for her purse. ‘No, you shall not pay a penny, Ellen—I may call you that, I hope?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Ellen said, her smile lighting up her face. ‘I am so very pleased that we have met, Jo. I was feeling very alone—I do not go out much, except to deliver my work or look in shop windows. I have no friends, for my old companions were left behind, though of course we had many friends in Spain.’

‘Was your husband a soldier?’

‘Yes,’ Ellen replied her eyes soft with memories. ‘Captain Matthew Beverley. He always took a little house for us wherever we were, and all his friends would come and dine with us. It was such fun, for they were all so brave and gallant…and it broke our hearts when some of them died. Not many of them had wives with them, but one or two did, and another had his sister and mother. They used to follow him from place to place, as I did Matt, staying wherever there was a house that was safe and away from the fighting.’

‘It must have been exciting,’ Jo said. ‘Though I should think it was hard having no proper home for all that time.’

‘I would have been content to lie with him beneath the stars,’ Ellen said. ‘Indeed, once or twice I did when there was no suitable accommodation to be had. I do not know what would have happened if Matt had lived, for I should have had to stay behind somewhere because of the child. Though perhaps he might have sold out like some of his friends did…’ A tear trickled from the corner of her eye and she dashed it away with her hand.

‘Are you able to make a living with your sewing?’ Jo asked, for she did not like to see her new friend cry, but could think of no way to comfort her.

‘I am quite good at embroidery and bead work,’ Ellen told her. ‘It is the kind of work that takes a lot of patience and time, and the French lady I work for has been generous so far. Besides, I have some money I raised by selling things that belonged to my husband. I shall manage for the moment, though I am a little anxious about when the child comes.’

‘Yes, you must be,’ Jo sympathised. She wished that Mama was still living in the Vicarage, for she knew that her mother would have befriended Ellen, even if only until the child was born and she was able to work again. ‘But you must find a woman who will come in and care for you, Ellen.’

‘I shall have to make inquiries,’ Ellen agreed. ‘It is so good to talk to someone, because it helps to make up your mind. I hope we shall meet again, Jo?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Jo said. ‘If you agree, I shall walk home with you once we have had our tea, and then I shall know where to visit you.’

‘Will you really?’ Ellen’s cheeks turned a little pink. ‘I know that some ladies look at me and wonder if I was ever truly married, but I promise you that it was so.’

‘I did not doubt you for a moment,’ Jo said, and then, boldly, ‘Even if you had not, I should still have been your friend, Ellen.’

‘Then you would be a true friend,’ Ellen said. ‘These cakes are delicious. You must come to tea with me another day, to let me say thank you for your kindness today.’

‘I need no thanks,’ Jo told her. ‘But I shall be very pleased to come to tea with you, Ellen.’

She smiled as they left the teashop together, for she had made a friend, someone she could truly like and relate to, which was not true of many of her aunt’s acquaintances. At least she now had someone she could visit whenever she had the time.

Chapter Two

Jo was thoughtful as she walked home after leaving the rooms where Ellen was lodging. They were respectable, though a little cramped, and were bound to be more so once the child was born. Ellen had put her individual stamp on them, her table covered in a pretty lace cloth, and her books and sewing on the table she used for her work. She had not apologised for her home, and Jo thought she was very brave to have accepted her circumstances the way she had, for she had clearly been used to better.

They had talked for a long time, and Ellen had told her about her parents’ home, which was a substantial house in Hampshire. Her father was the son of a wealthy merchant, and had been well educated, becoming even richer than his father had been.

‘He was determined that I should be properly brought up and I had a French governess,’ Ellen told her. ‘Father wanted me to be a lady—but when I wanted to marry Matt he was angry, because Lord Beverley would not accept me. He said that he was the equal of any aristocrat and that he would not allow me to marry the son of a bigot—and so we were forced to run away.’

‘Do you not think that your father would welcome you home?’

‘No, for we married at Gretna Green, and my father said that it was no true marriage. He said that I would be living in sin and that he wanted no more to do with me—and if he knew about the child he might demand that I give it up. He is a very religious man, Jo—and I think he would punish me for going against his wishes.’

‘I see…’ Jo felt sympathy for her. She realised how fortunate she had been in her parents, for Papa would never have behaved in such a fashion. He would have offered love and understanding, and forgiveness if it were necessary. ‘But what of your mama?’

‘Mama might forgive me,’ Ellen said, ‘but my father would not allow her to see me. I have wanted to write to her and tell her that I am well, but I am afraid that she might show him the letter.’

‘Surely she would not,’ Jo said. ‘Besides, you need not tell her that you are in Bath, Ellen. I am sure she worries about you, even if she dare not show it.’

‘Do you think so?’ Ellen looked wistful. ‘Perhaps I should write her a brief letter—as long as I do not tell her where I am, Father cannot come after me.’

‘It might be of comfort to her, and you,’ Jo said and on impulse kissed her cheek before leaving her to walk back to the house in Queen Square.

It was as she was nearing their lodgings that Jo saw a gentleman walking towards her. She could not mistake him, for he had immense presence and such an air of command.

‘We meet again,’ he said, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘This must be my fortunate day…’

Jo laughed—there was a distinct challenge in his eyes, and it made her feel ridiculously pleased with life. ‘I do not see why, sir, for I almost trod on your toes the last time.’

‘I would gladly suffer such torments a thousand times to have the pleasure of your company, sweet lady. I must call you that, for you have not yet given me your name.’

‘I think you are flirting with me, sir.’

‘Perhaps, a little.’ Hal grinned suddenly. ‘No, I should not tease you, but there is something about you that is most delightful to tease. However, I shall not delay you—I dare say you are supposed to be somewhere else.’

‘My aunt is waiting for me,’ Jo told him. She felt the desire to laugh as he looked at her so expectantly, and yet she did not give him her name. He was a wicked flirt and she would not be drawn by his teasing. ‘Excuse me, sir. Perhaps we shall meet again in company…’

He doffed his hat to her with a flourish, but made no attempt to prevent her going on. Jo smiled because he had lifted her spirits once more, lifting the slight cloud that had hung over her since she had learned of Ellen’s sad story.

As she entered the house, Jo saw that her aunt’s hat was on the sideboard in the hall and suddenly realised that it was past four. She had completely forgotten both the time, and, she realised guiltily, her aunt’s peppermint creams. All thought of them had flown as she talked to Ellen. She had not even visited the library, which she had particularly wanted to do.

‘Josephine!’ Lady Wainwright said coming out into the hall. ‘Where have you been all this time? I particularly asked you to be here for tea. Mrs Marsham brought her daughter, Chloe, to meet you, and she was most offended that you had not bothered to be here.’

‘I am sorry, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘I met someone and stayed talking to her. She was a little unwell and I walked home with her. Forgive me.’

‘Who was this person? Respectable, I hope?’

‘Oh, yes, Aunt, very respectable,’ Jo said. ‘Mrs Ellen Beverley.’

‘I have not heard the name. One of the Hampshire family, I dare say. Well, you may introduce her to me and I shall decide if she is a fit person for my niece to know.’

‘Yes, Aunt, certainly,’ Jo said, though she had no intention of it. ‘We are bound to meet one day, I dare say.’

Lady Wainwright’s brow clouded, for she suspected something, though she did not know what. Her niece looked too innocent to be true! ‘Did you buy my peppermint creams?’

‘They did not have any fresh ones,’ Jo lied, crossing her fingers behind her back. She did not like lying to her aunt, but had decided it was best in the circumstances. ‘I may get them tomorrow—they should have some in by then.’

‘Very well,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You had better go up and change, Josephine. We are going to the Assembly this evening, as you know. We shall meet Mrs Marsham and Chloe there. Now she is a very well-behaved young girl and exceptionally pretty. If she decides to take you up, you will move in her circles and may meet a gentleman of property. The Marshams are quite well to do, though they do not have a title—which is a pity because there is a son, I believe, of somewhere around your age. Though I dare say he is looking to marry a title to improve his chances.’

‘If he is my age, I imagine he will not look to marry for some years,’ Jo said. ‘Drew is several years older than Marianne—and Papa was five years older than Mama.’