terminal simply because she had a trunk and she did not have time to sally forth in search of a hackney carriage. But that was all.
Jessica left her room and ran down the stairs to the hallway. She did not look back.
The Dowager Duchess of Middleburgh allowed her maid to arrange her pillows behind her back and sank back comfortably against them. She laid her hands neatly on the silk cover of the bed and signaled the girl that Lord Rutherford might be admitted. She schooled her features into a polite smile.
'Ah, good morning, Charles m'boy,' she said as he strode in. She turned her cheek for his kiss.
'Good morning, Grandmama,' he said. 'I hope I have not woken you too early. I have waited as long as I could since you left word that you wished to see me before I set out on my way. But I am eager to be gone.'
'Is it some gel who has you so anxious to be back in town?' she asked. 'Back to your wild oats, Charles?'
He grimaced. 'By no means,' he said. 'Those days are over, you will be delighted to know, Grandmama. No, it is just that life grows dull here now that Christmas is over. It will be good to be busy again. I intend going down into the country by the end of the week, you know. It is time I looked over the estate again.'
'Yes,' she said, 'young people must ever be busy, as I remember. And of course it would be dull for you here now that dear Jessica has gone away.'
'Jessica?' he said. 'Gone away? What are you talking about, Grandmama? I danced with her last evening.'
'She left at five o'clock this morning,' the dowager said, 'in my carriage alone.'
Lord Rutherford stared down at her in silence for a few moments. His face had turned paler. 'She need not have gone,' he said. 'I told her last night that I myself would be leaving today. But perhaps she will feel more relaxed back at Berkeley Square. What the devil does she mean, though, by going back alone? And so early? Is the marquess not going too?'
'He does not know yet, m'boy,' the dowager said with a sigh. 'She is not staying at Berkeley Square, you know. She is going into Yorkshire. She carries a letter to
Georgina Hearst. Very old friend of mine, you know. She will find a situation for Jessica.'
'A situation?' he said faintly. 'As a governess, you mean?'
'She seemed to think it was the only thing for her,' the dowager said. 'I spent all of yesterday afternoon pleading with her, Charles, but the gel was adamant. It seems that you had convinced her that her reputation was in shreds and that a Season in London was out of the question.'
'But that is ridiculous!' he said. 'Of course her reputation is not ruined. Does she not realize that she would not be received here if such were the case? No one knows about those past indiscretions except a few people who love her. None of those people is going to make the knowledge public.'
'That is exactly what I told her,' the dowager said. She was toying with a lace handkerchief in one hand. She seemed to be deliberating whether or not she should raise it to her eyes, but she evidently decided that a show of tears would be out of character. 'It seems she believed you and her grandpapa rather than me, Charles, m'boy. You must have been very convincing.'
Lord Rutherford was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed. 'Do you mean that Jess has gone to Yorkshire to be governess to some stranger all because she feels she cannot remain in the life to which she was born?' he asked.
'Foolish, is it not?' she said. 'She could have a brilliant future ahead of her, Charles. She is already popular with any number of eligible gentlemen. With her grandfather newly arrived and the Season approaching, she could choose almost any unmarried gentleman she wished. Dear Jessica! I cannot help feeling that she will be very unhappy in service, especially now that she has tasted the pleasures of society.'
'She must have that future,' Lord Rutherford said. 'She must be happy, Grandmama. Only so will I be able to find all this bearable. She cannot go back. You did not see her as she was before. I shudder to remember what a docile, gray little governess she was when I first set eyes on her. Not again. I cannot let that happen to Jess again.'
'Do stop pacing, Charles,' the dowager said. 'You are giving me the headache. I really do not see what you can do about the situation, m'boy. I could not do anything yesterday. Of course, if you succeeded so well in persuading her that her reputation was in ruins, perhaps you will also find it possible to persuade her that it is just not true. It is a shame she has left already.'
'She left at five o'clock?' he said. 'That is more than four hours ago. Did she leave straight for Yorkshire, Grandmama?'
'She was to call at Berkeley Square first of all,' she said, 'to collect some of her belongings and to take my best traveling carriage. But she will be on her way by now, Charles. It is too late. Poor Jessica must be left to her fate. Perhaps she will meet a gentleman in Yorkshire who will appreciate her real worth. She is still young, after all, and very pretty even when wearing those very plain clothes. And knowing Jessica, I would be willing to wager that she is already dressed in gray again.'
'It is not too late!' the Earl of Rutherford said decisively. 'I can overtake your carriage very soon, Grandmama. I shall persuade Jess that she is being foolish, never fear. And I shall bring her back with me. By tonight. It is I who will be going away, not her. She will remain in London and settle to the life she should be leading. She is going to have a happy life. I swear it.'
'I think it quite likely if you can but persuade her,' the dowager agreed. 'But if you intend to ride in this raw weather, Charles, do be sure to dress warmly, m'boy.'
She was not at all sure that her grandson had heard her maternal advice. He had already stridden from the room. But the Dowager Duchess of Middleburgh did not seem unduly perturbed. She smiled smugly at one ornate bedpost and snuggled lower into her pillows.
The day's journey had not been nearly the nightmare of the previous one, Jessica thought with some relief later that evening. It had been every bit as uncomfortable, however, if not more so. The day had been bitterly cold and the coach drafty. Indeed, snow had begun to fall before they stopped for the night at an inn on the Great North Road. The coach seemed particularly ill-sprung, the passengers all very large and all carrying particularly bulky bundles. And there seemed to be an unreasonable number of unwashed bodies riding as inside passengers.
These discomforts aside, however, Jessica had found that she was not abused as she had been on that previous journey. Indeed, her right-hand neighbor, a woman whose abnormally large and stiff bonnet brim threatened to take Jessica's eye out every time she turned her head, was a plump, motherly person, whose hand regularly reached into her food basket and who constantly insisted on sharing its contents with other passengers, especially Jessica. The latter could well have done without the offerings, proffered as they were from a somewhat grubby hand. But she found herself reluctant to reject such obvious good nature. She accepted and even managed to eat a meat pasty and a jam tart.
The day wore on and Jessica's spirits drooped proportionately. What sort of a life was ahead of her? she wondered. Would the dowager duchess's friend be able to find her a suitable situation? Would it be a difficult job? Challenging? Lonely? Unfortunately, she was in no position to choose. She must accept whatever was offered to her.
And it would surely be a deal worse than it had been the last time. The last time everything had been new to her. She had had nothing with which to compare her life with the Barries except life at home with Papa. And although she had always been happy at home, she had to admit that it had been a rather dull life of plodding routine. Life at the Barries' had not been so very different except that she had felt the absence of love.
Now she was aware of what her life could have offered. Not just the fine homes and clothes, the parties, the outings, and the suitors. But she knew what her particular life might have been. She might have been the Countess of Rutherford, the wife, the companion of the man she had grown to love. She might have made something of such a relationship even if his love did not nearly match her own. At least she would have had a chance to win his friendship, his esteem. The challenge would have been exhilarating. Now she would never see him again.
But she must not look back, Jessica told herself on that first evening, must not regret rashly made decisions. And she must not complain. Her first night on the road was to be reasonably pleasant, at least. She had actually been given a room of her own. Granted, it was a tiny box of a room under the sloping roof of the attic, in which it was necessary to edge one's way around the rather lumpy bed. The only other furniture was a cracked washstand
