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.
‘Good morning, Miss Horne. I trust you are well?’
‘Yes, sir, thank you.’ Jo’s heartbeat quickened, because his quizzing smile was so appealing. She thought that, of all the gentlemen she had met in Bath, he was the one she liked best. He was undoubtedly a tease and a flirt, and it would be foolish to take him seriously, but she liked him very well.
‘It is a beautiful day, is it not, Miss Horne?’
‘Yes, though the wind may be a little chilly.’
‘What does a chill wind matter in the company of an enchanting young lady?’
‘Sir, I think you like to tease for devilment.’
‘Indeed, I do, Miss Horne—but only when the company is this charming.’
‘You are wicked, sir!’
‘You are right to chastise me. It is a fault.’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘Are you not shopping today?’
‘I am on my way to visit a friend. Perhaps the same one as you have been visiting?’
‘Indeed? Yes, it may be if you speak of Ellen. I called to see her for a few minutes and she said she hoped to see you later. I must not delay you, for I know she looks forward to your visit. Perhaps we shall meet again this evening?’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Jo smiled, her heart beating rapidly as she walked on. She hoped that she would see him again soon, for he was a very pleasant young man. Arriving at Ellen’s lodgings, she rang the bell firmly, waiting until her friend answered the door and invited her in.
‘I was wondering whether you might come,’ Ellen said, looking pleased. ‘I hoped you might, because I wanted to tell you that I have sent the letter to my mother. Just to let her know that I am well.’
‘I am sure that is all she needs to know,’ Jo said. She considered Ellen, who was not as pale as she had been the first time they met. ‘Are you feeling better now?’
‘Oh, yes, I keep quite well most of the time,’ Ellen said and placed a hand on her bump, smiling contentedly. ‘It is a comfort to know that I have at least two friends now. Hal was here a few minutes ago.’
‘Yes, I met him on my way here. It must be better, knowing that your husband’s brother is there if you need him.’ Jo followed her into the small but comfortable parlour. Ellen had been working at her embroidery and a panel of blue silk lay on the sofa. She moved it to one side and sat down.
‘Hal was always a little wild when we were in Spain,’ Ellen said and laughed softly. ‘Matt used to say he was the maddest prankster of them all—but they were good friends, and I am grateful that he took the trouble to look for me. He has even been as far as Amsterdam in his search, though I was never there, of course. It is odd how these tales get about, is it not?’
‘Mr Beverley seems very pleasant,’ Jo said thoughtfully. ‘We met last evening at a friend’s house, and he asked me to dance a waltz with him. He dances very well.’
‘Oh, yes, all Old Hooky’s favourite officers did,’ Ellen said with a wistful expression in her eyes. ‘They were an elite corps, Jo—young and dashing, brave and clever. The very best of the English aristocrats, a breed apart, I think. We had some good times as well as the bad ones.’
‘You must miss all your friends?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Ellen agreed. ‘I was lonely until I met you—and then, on the same day, Hal came, and I am not lonely any more.’
‘But it is so unfair that you have had to fend for yourself,’ Jo said, a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Lord Beverley should be ashamed of himself. If your child is a boy, he will be the heir to the estate.’
‘Yes, in law, perhaps,’ Ellen said, ‘for I believe the estate was entailed—but I should never demand my rights. Besides, Hal told me that his father’s health is uncertain. He has not told him that he was looking for me, nor will he tell him that he has found me—at least until the baby is born. He thinks that a grandchild may mellow Lord Beverley, and if Hal makes the kind of marriage his father asks of him…’
‘Yes, I see,’ Jo said. ‘I suppose Lord Beverly will expect him to marry an heiress or the daughter of landed gentry?’
‘Oh, yes, I imagine so. My grandfather was in trade, though Father had bought land and was what they call a warm man—but that was not enough for him.’ Ellen looked sad. ‘I know it hurt Matt to be estranged from his father, but it was Lord Beverley’s own fault.’
‘Yes, indeed it was,’ Jo agreed. ‘Well, we must hope that he will relent in time, because it would be so much nicer for you to have your own home and enough money to live on.’
‘Hal has offered that,’ Ellen told her. ‘But I have refused him, at least for the moment. If I cannot manage, I shall ask for help. It may be more difficult to work when I have a child.’
‘Yes, I expect so,’ Jo said. She sipped her tea. ‘I have been working with the ladies of the church community. There is to be a bazaar next weekend and I have been asked to help with the preparations, and on the cake stall…though I must ask Aunt Wainwright about that, for she may not allow it.’
Ellen nodded her understanding. ‘She may not think it quite proper for her niece, because of course there will be persons of all sorts there on that day, I imagine.’
‘If you mean there will be poor folk, ordinary women, working men and their children, I am sure you are right. I always used to help Papa at home—he considered it was good for his daughters to see how other people lived. We were fortunate, because we always had food on the table, and we often gave some of it to beggars who came to our door. He would say that it was my duty to help, but Aunt Wainwright may wish me to accompany her somewhere.’
‘Well, you must ask her,’ Ellen said and frowned. ‘Does she know you visit me here?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Jo said airily,
