Married By Christmas. Anne Herries

I shall, Jo,’ Lady Edgeworthy said, though in truth she knew that Mrs Horne was taking care of her. She pressed a little purse of money into the girl’s hand and closed her fingers over it as Jo protested. ‘Write to all of us as often as you can. Have a wonderful time with Lady Wainwright, and come home to us whenever you wish.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Jo said and kissed her cheek. ‘You are so generous, but I must go now. Aunt Wainwright has called for me twice.’

      She walked to where the heavy travelling coach stood ready, turning for one last look at her family lined up in front of the house. A brave smile in place, she waved and then climbed into the coach. Lady Wainwright gave her a sour look, her harsh features bearing the stamp of irritation.

      ‘So you are ready at last, Josephine! I thought you would never make up your mind to leave. I hope this isn’t a sample of what I may expect from you in Bath. I think I deserve some consideration from you!’

      ‘Yes, of course, Aunt,’ Jo said. ‘Forgive me if I kept you waiting, but Lucy did not want to let me go. She has lost both her sisters now that Marianne is married, and it has upset her. She will have no one to share her pastimes.’

      ‘No doubt you will be returning at the end of a few weeks,’ Lady Wainwright said with a sniff of disapproval. ‘It will do her good to learn to be alone for a while. She is no longer a child, and must learn to employ her time usefully rather than playing foolish games.’

      Jo was tempted to retaliate, for she did not like to hear Lady Wainwright speak so harshly of Lucy, but remembering what her elder sister had said to her before she married, about not quarrelling with their aunt, she held her tongue. It was to have been Marianne who was taken to Bath by Lady Wainwright, for she was the beauty of the family. Instead, Marianne had come down to Cornwall to be with Great-aunt Bertha, and by being there had saved her from a rogue who had tried to cheat her out of her estate and might have murdered her. Lady Edgeworthy had been so grateful that she had asked Marianne’s whole family to come and live with her. Now Marianne was married to her marquis and Jo was the one to accompany Aunt Wainwright to Bath.

      Jo was under no illusions that her aunt was satisfied with the arrangement. She would have much preferred to take Marianne, but Jo’s beautiful sister had made an excellent marriage with no help from anyone. Jo suspected that Aunt Wainwright was a little annoyed about that, because she had told them that, as Marianne had no dowry, she would be lucky to marry a baronet, but might do so if her aunt introduced her into society. It had piqued her to know that Marianne had made an even better marriage than her daughter Annette, and her uncertain temper seemed sharper than ever.

      ‘Well, has the cat got your tongue?’

      Jo looked at her aunt, considering her reply carefully. ‘I was just wondering where Marianne and Lord Marlbeck are now. I believe they were to travel to his estate for a few days before going on board the ship.’

      ‘Yes, I dare say,’ Lady Wainwright said and sniffed again disapprovingly. ‘In my day we did not bother with long honeymoons. Your uncle took me to Devon for two weeks and then we returned to his estate. I do not think that I should care to be jolted over foreign roads.’

      ‘It would be exciting to see Italy. I have seen pictures of various treasures of art and architecture, of course, but to visit them…to see Venice…would be wonderful.’

      ‘I dare say you will have to content yourself with pictures,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘Marianne may have married a marquis, but it is not likely to happen to you, Josephine. That hair of yours is much too wild to be attractive. You must hide it or pull it back into a knot so that it is at least tidy.’

      ‘Yes, I know it is awful,’ Jo replied. The one thing she could agree with her aunt about was her hair, which was a flame red and curled into tight ringlets about her head. No matter how she scraped it back or pinned it up, it always escaped and came tumbling down, and she hated it. She wished that she might have had Marianne’s honey gold hair—or Lucy’s, which was a pale shining silver, almost like moonbeams. Lucy was going to be a beauty to rival Marianne one day, but Jo knew that she was the plain member of the family. Her features were regular and she looked well enough wearing her bonnet, but her hair made her look like a gypsy. Papa had always said so, though he said it with affection, which had taken the sting from the truth of his words. ‘I do try my best, Aunt, but it is difficult to control.’

      ‘Well, I dare say it does not matter,’ Lady Wainwright said. ‘You are not likely to take Bath by storm and must settle for a respectable gentleman of small fortune if you wish to marry.’

      ‘As I do not wish to marry,’ Jo replied with as much dignity as she could muster, ‘I agree that it hardly matters what I look like. I shall stay at home, do good works and be a comfort to my mother and Great-aunt Bertha.’

      Lady Wainwright gave her an awful look. Jo knew that she had aroused her aunt’s ire once again, but it seemed that she did so all the time, even when she tried to be uncontroversial. She turned to glance out of the window. This visit to Bath was going to seem very long!

      ‘We shall stay here for the night,’ Lady Wainwright announced as she looked round the comfortable inn parlour. ‘It was my intention to go straight to Bath, as you know, but that unfortunate business with the horse going lame has made us late. I am too weary to go further this evening. Tomorrow will do well enough.’

      ‘Yes, Aunt, of course,’ Jo said for she too was a little tired from the journey. ‘Does the landlord have rooms for us?’

      ‘Millicent will have to sleep in your room,’ Lady Wainwright told her. ‘But that is a small thing. Besides, in a public place like this it is better if a young girl does not sleep alone.’

      Jo sighed inwardly, but knew that she could not refuse to have her aunt’s personal maid in her room. It would be inconvenient, because she knew that Millicent snored, but, listening to a burst of laughter from across the room, she thought it might be as well. There was a party of young gentlemen enjoying their supper, and by the sound of it they were drinking a little too much wine.

      One of them was staring at her very hard, and she drew her eyes away, annoyed that he should look at her in such a way. It was rude and made her uncomfortable, for she had not put up her hair; now that she had removed her fashionable bonnet, the hair fell about her face and tumbled down her back in a riot of untidy curls. She had seen Lady Wainwright glance at it twice, and put her hand up defensively, wishing that she had scraped it back in her usual style.

      As the evening progressed, the noise from the young gentlemen increased and Jo was glad when her aunt said that they ought to go upstairs. She was not in the least tired, but she could amuse herself with her scribbling for an hour or so before she slept.

      One of the young gentlemen had left the dining parlour, but came back in as she and her aunt were leaving. His eyes seemed to mock her and he stood deliberately in her path so that to pass she would have to squeeze by him.

      ‘Would you mind allowing me to pass, sir?’

      ‘I might,’ he said, the suggestion of a leer on his lips. ‘Then again, I might not…’

      ‘Please, I must follow my aunt.’

      Lady Wainwright became aware of her predicament and looked back. ‘Kindly allow my niece to pass, sir—or I shall call the landlord and ask for his assistance!’

      The gentleman scowled at her but stood aside, though Jo could feel his eyes following her as she began to walk up the stairs to the room her aunt had reserved for her. At that moment she was very glad that her aunt’s maid was to sleep in her room—there was something about the man’s eyes that had sent shivers down her spine. She was certain that he was not a very nice person at all. She heard a shout of laughter as he rejoined his friends, and blushed, knowing that she must be under discussion.

      Lifting her head, she hurried up the stairs. She had not liked the gentleman one little bit and hoped that she would never have to see him again, but he would make a perfect villain in the book she was planning. He was a role model for her wicked earl if ever there