The Rakehell Regency(275)

As for the trip to Bath, he had some time off coming to him. Since he was going to stay with his friends, he had been kind enough to include she and her aunt, that was all. She could name a hundred other kindnesses Jonathan had done for her fellow parishioners, she thought as she finished off a row of knitting and paused to take a sip of tea.



"That is cold, Miss Ashton. Pray allow me to pour you more."



"Since I take it with no milk, it's not a great hardship, and waste not, want not. It is rather expensive, after all."



"Indeed. One of the other Rakehells is a tea trader in India. Lawrence Howard. He's made quite a fortune for himself."



"Tea? In India?"



He nodded. "Yes, indeed. It surprised me too. But he says the growing season there is far longer than in China, and that there are more of them."



She gave a winsome smile. "You know so many interesting people, who all lead such exciting lives. I really should, um, look outside myself a bit more. Follow the papers, see that there's a wider world beyond Brimley, and Somerset."



"And yet sometimes it's best to content yourself to remaining in your own quiet sphere and mastering it. I hope the war will be over soon. Then you might knit for the poor, or put your considerable skills at sewing to making clothes for them. The orphanages can always use little pinafores for the children and so on. Sarah has a couple of places she likes to work with."



He looked at her carefully for a moment. "There is also a clinic for unfortunate women which can always use clothes, especially of the more decent, respectable sort, for women who want to get out of the life, and have a fresh start."



"Do you mean fallen women?" Pamela asked, her eyes rounding.



"Yes," Jonathan replied easily, without a trace of embarrassment. "We have doctors who volunteer their time, nurses too, midwives. It needs a head who can supervise everything. Blake says he'd like to take on the post when he comes home from the war. In the meantime Sarah and I muddle through, along with Thomas and his wife."



"That is most commendable of you."



"But you still sound shocked," he said mildly, leaning forward in his chair.



She gave a small shrug. "You have so many duties. I'm surprised you have time. I also wonder at it, since many vicars would not wish to be involved in such schemes."



Jonathan shrugged, and hoped he could keep his tone even. "Christ redeemed all sinners. And Mary Magdalene was his special friend, even more so than Martha, the good woman without blame. And surely the sin is more the man's for paying or taking what should be given freely, than for the woman who is compelled by force or economic necessity."



Pamela stared at him for a moment, and then bundled up her wool and began to rise from the small sofa. "Pray excuse me, Mr. Deveril. I'm just going to wash my hands before supper."



He jumped to his feet and bowed. "I've offended you." It was a statement, not a question. "I'm sorry. Such things are not deemed appropriate topics of conversation in front of ladies."



"Not offended," she said with a blush. "I will own to being tired, however. I feel, well, rather fatigued. Your friend's letter, and now these new topics, India and the women's clinic, have given me so much to think about."



"I'm glad, then."



"Yes," she said, offering him a timid smile. "I am too. I never imagined I would be. I can see now that my father protected me, but there is such a thing as being too sheltered."



He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I just wish all women were educated, but protected. So you would be aware of the pitfalls, not have your naïveté preyed upon by plausible rogues. Be able to make educated decisions, not be slaves to your passions, any more than men should be."



Pamela saw his face had taken on the grim, mask-like quality she had come to dread.



She risked putting her hand on his shoulder. "If that incident with Mr. Prine several weeks ago is what has got you so disturbed, pray do not think about it. I would most certainly have been fine--"



"Yes, um, Mr. Prine, of course. But there are other men far more subtle, who don't even have to rely on force. Just remember, Miss Ashton, the Devil appears to us in many guises," he warned.



"Sometimes even that of a friend we know and trust. He flatters and cajoles. He would not be able to succeed in tempting us if he showed his true visage, as black and ugly as sin."



She nodded. "I understand that now, I think."



He took her arm and began to lead her to the door. "Do you? I wonder." He contemplated her silently for a moment. "You say you wish to know the world better, Pamela. I say you have perhaps lived too much in it. And Bath and London will offer you all sorts of opportunities to be exposed to both good, sound people of principle, and the devils in disguise I have just been speaking of."