In preparation for it's release on Wednesday the28th of November, this #SampleSunday brings you an exclusive sneak peek at the first three chapters of my new novel, Degrees of Hope.
What's the book about?
At 23 years old, Lady Hope Beaumont's wild and independent ways, make her quite unladylike in the opinion of many people. However her beauty, the fact that she is the daughter of the Earl of Marchwood, not to mention her fortune, still makes her an appealing marriage prospect for some.Newlyweds, Honoria and Malcolm Arundell, have just moved to Marchwood and quickly befriend the Beaumonts but it soon becomes clear to most that their marriage is a far from happy one and when the true extent of Malcolm's cruelty is revealed, Hope helps Honoria to escape. Her disappearance however, has unforeseen and far reaching consequences for everyone at Marchwood Hall.When Honoria's brother discovers the truth about his sister's marriage, he goads Malcolm into an illegal duel. Before events are settled there will be a murder trial, unlikely friendships will be forged and amidst this chaotic backdrop, new love will blossom.With a perfect mix of romance, suspense and sumptuous Victorian elegance, Degrees of Hope will keep you turning pages and leave you wanting more.
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Chapter One
Martha Beaumont was in her study
sketching when her butler came in. As soon as Martha looked up, she
could tell that something was wrong.
“Mr Jenners?”
“It appears that Miss Hope has had
an accident, Lady Beaumont,”
“Where is she?” Martha got to her
feet
“The horse made her way back to the
stables alone. Barry, has gone to look for Miss Hope.”
“Thank you.”
Martha quickly made her way out of
the back of the house and headed towards the stable block, but before
she was even half way there, someone called to her from her right.
She turned to see Barry, the steward, carrying Hope in his arms
across the paddock, Hope's dog, MacDuff, at his heel.
Martha resisted the urge to run
across the field and waited patiently by the gate, opening it for
them as they approached.
Martha was quite skilled at resisting
her impulses and keeping her composure, acting like a lady, if you
will, although if Hope had looked in any way distressed, Martha would
have flown across the field to her child, mud and new kid boots be
damned!
“Are you all right?” Martha asked
as they stopped before her.
Barry finally set Hope back on her
feet, and Martha was pleased to note that her initial impression
seemed correct and that Hope wasn't too badly injured. Her riding
habit was a little dirty, her face had a tiny scratch on her
cheekbone and the hand she seemed to be cradling was muddy and
abraded, but that seemed to be the worst of it.
“I'm fine, Mama, it's just a small
accident.”
Martha was well acquainted with
Hope's horse, Shelly, and in her opinion, no fall from its back could
be called small.
“She was spooked by a fox and I
fell, but it's just a sprain, I'm sure.”
“Where is the horse?” Martha
asked Barry.
“Alf's looking after her; she
galloped straight back here. I might not have found Miss Hope if it
hadn't been for MacDuff's barking.”
“Thank you,” Martha nodded to
Barry then turned to Hope. “Let's get you inside and cleaned up.”
Martha led her daughter into the
house through the servants entrance, then led her into the
housekeeper's sitting room to assess her wounds, since the medical
supplies were kept in there. She gently prodded and accessed Hope's
wrist as the housekeeper, Mrs Lassiter, looked on. Hope hissed in
pain a time or two, causing her collie dog to raise her head in case
Hope needed help, but the dog soon settled again. Although it was
swollen, Hope still had full mobility in her wrist, so Martha agreed
that it was just a sprain.
She bathed the cuts and abrasions
with warm water, then used the bandage that Mrs Lassiter handed her
to tightly bind her wrist.
“Did you hit your head?” Martha
asked as she worked.
“No,” Hope assured her.
“Do you hurt anywhere else?”
“No.”
“There,” Martha said as she
fastened the bandage with a pin. She leaned forward and kissed her
daughter's forehead. “Now stay off that damn horse until it's
healed, all right?”
“I will, Mama, but it wasn't
Shelly's fault.”
“I don't care whose fault it was,
that horse is dangerous. I don't know about Shelly, you should have
called it Frankenstein's Monster. Your father should never have
bought her for you.”
“She's not a bad horse, Mama, she's
just young and easily spooked.”
“Here,” Mrs Lassiter handed Hope
a small glass of something brown. “That will help with the shock
and your pain.”
“I'm not in shock,” Hope argued
but actually she did feel a little shaky and so after both women had
shot her a warning glare, she took the drink and downed it in one go.
The liquid burned and being unused to
spirits, it made her cough a little. As she handed the glass back to
Mrs Lassiter, the sitting room door burst open and Lord Beaumont
stormed in.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“I'm fine, Papa. Honestly, everyone
is making a big deal over nothing.”
“It's just a sprain, Lucien,”
Martha confirmed, getting up and going to her husband.
She knew how much he worried about
all his family and she looked into his eyes, willing him to believe
her. Finally he took a deep breath and seemed to relax. She reached
up and kissed him quickly on the lips then stepped aside, knowing
that he would want to embrace their daughter, who was also on her
feet and waiting for her turn.
Lucien opened his arms to his eldest
daughter and she stepped into his embrace. She was a grown woman now
but there was nothing like a cuddle from your father when you needed
one.
At 23, Hope was the oldest child in
her family by eight years. Augustus, better known as Gus, was the
next oldest at 15. After him came Bartholomew, also known as Bart,
who was 13 and Charity was the youngest child, just 10 years old.
Lucien kissed the top of Hope's head
and held her until she pulled away. Hope smiled at him.
“At least it wasn't the right
wrist,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “I can still claim
my pound of flesh from you!” He gave her a comically stern look and
both Hope and Martha laughed, whilst Mrs Lassiter smiled indulgently.
“Just go easy for a while, please?”
Lucien gently guided Hope and Martha
from the room, pausing to thank Mrs Lassiter for the use of her
sitting room, then the family headed up to the parlour. MacDuff
followed them, as usual.
“MacDuff alerted Barry to her
position,” Martha told her husband. It had been his idea that they
should get the dog, so that Hope would have some protection as she
rode about the countryside.
Lucien smiled, pleased that the dog
had helped.
“I didn't take you away from work,
did I?” Hope asked her father.
“No, I was already on my way home,”
Lucien assured her. “Our guests are arriving this afternoon,
remember?”
“The couple looking to build their
own estate?” Hope asked.
“That's them,” Lucien nodded.
“Honoria and Malcolm Arundell.”
“Someone should tell them that you
inherit an estate, you don't build one.”
“Hope! Don't be so judgemental,”
Martha said sharply.
Hope blushed. Whilst she had been
raised to be a lady, her mother was from very humble beginnings, and
had once been a servant in the very same house that she was now
mistress of. Martha had taught all of her children that it was one's
character that mattered most, not their title or wealth, but all the
children forgot that lesson sometimes.
“Sorry, Mama.”
“Make them feel welcome when they
arrive,” Martha said. “And please, try not to appear too wilful.”
Whilst Martha loved Hope's free
spirit, indeed she had encouraged her to think for herself and stand
up for what she believed in, she tried hard to make the girl realise
that there was a time and a place for such displays and in public,
where one's reputation could be called into question, was neither.
“I will, Mama.”
“What are they like?” Martha
asked her husband.
“He imports tea from the Far East
and seems to have an excellent business sense. On the whole though,
he seems rather cool and detached. His wife is about fifteen years
younger than he and very handsome indeed, although she appears quite
meek. She hardly said a word on the occasion I met her.”
“Do they have any children?”
“No, not yet. I don't think they've
been married long.”
“Do you think they will be good
neighbours?” Martha asked.
“That's why I invited them to
stay,” Lucien admitted. He wasn't about to sell part of his estate
to someone he didn't like very much, and so far he hadn't spent
enough time with Malcolm Arundell to know if he liked the man or not.
As
well as large areas of woodland, the Marchwood estate consisted of
eleven farms of differing sizes which were let to local farmers. The
Hall's own farmland had long since been turned into grazing land for
the Merino sheep, who provided most of the wool for one of the family
businesses.
Lucien had no desire to break up the
estate, but selling one farm wasn't going to do much damage and
besides, Mr Williams had died leaving no heirs (or none who wanted
the farm) and Lucien's steward was taking care of the property at the
moment.
He disliked finding new tenants,
since those who were not raised to farming had little idea of what
they were doing, and often did more harm than good in the beginning.
Those who were raised to farming, perhaps younger sons who wouldn't
inherit, usually had their own ways of doing things and it tended to
cause friction with the other farmers and the the steward, who
managed the estate.
Lucien intended to offer the
Arundells Mr William's farm land to build their home on.
As well as the estate, which provided
a steady income, the family also had two businesses.
Gus Aldercott had been Martha's
guardian when she was young. He had given Martha his surname as well
as leaving his glove business, Aldercott & Daughter, to her and
Hope upon his death. Beaumont & Aldercott was started by Martha
and Lucien and it made outerwear, such as cloaks, coats and shawls.
The combined income from all three
meant that whilst some of the aristocracy were floundering, the
Beaumonts were now one of the wealthiest families in the north of
England.
Malcolm and Honoria Arundell arrived
in the afternoon, and Martha showed them and their servants to their
rooms. Whilst the servants unpacked, Martha and Lucien gave them a
tour of the house.
Both Malcolm and Honoria were polite
but reserved, as Lucien had described. After the tour, Lucien and
Malcolm went to view the farm, whilst Honoria had tea with Martha and
Hope. Honoria opened up a little once her husband was gone and the
conversation flowed quite freely between the women.
“Is your husband here?” Honoria
asked Hope once the introductions were out of the way.
“Oh, I'm not married,” Hope
answered with grin. At nearly 24, she knew that she would soon be
considered too old for marriage but she was determined that someone
who loved her wouldn't mind her age.
“I'm sorry, I just assumed, given
your age that- I mean-” She was becoming flustered and Hope decided
to put her out of her misery.
“It's fine,” Hope assured her. “I
know that I'm unusual in choosing to marry later, but I won't marry
for anything less than true love.”
“But what if you never fall in
love?” Honoria asked, rather bluntly.
“Then, I shall remain single and
breed horses or something,” Hope said breezily.
Honoria looked to Martha, wondering
how she felt about her daughters declaration, but she was smiling
indulgently at Hope.
“And your father doesn't mind?”
“Not at all. All he wants is for me
to be happy. Although I realise that I am luckier than most, as I was
left a sizeable fortune in trust when I was young, so I shan't become
a burden to anyone.”
“That must surely make you an
appealing prospect for some men,” Honoria noted.
“Indeed, but it doesn't necessarily
make them an appealing prospect for me,” Hope said with a smile.
“Although in truth, my assets are kept in trust so that my husband
won't be able to access them.”
“Although she has no inheritance,”
Martha interrupted, “our youngest daughter will also be afforded
the same luxury. I want all my children to be free to marry whomever
they want.”
“That is very unusual,” Honoria
said.
“What about you, how did you meet
your husband?” Martha asked.
“My father thought that he would be
a very suitable match for me,” Honoria answered, although her
expression became slightly forlorn.
“And what did you think?” Hope
asked, causing Martha to give her a warning glare.
“Tell us about your father?”
Martha suggested.
“He is Lord Ashdown, the Baron of
Norfolk.”
Martha knew of him; unfortunately he
was rumoured to be a degenerate gambler.
“It's unusual for a member of the
gentry to recommend a marriage to someone in trade, isn't it?” Hope
asked.
“Not that unusual.” Martha could
have kicked Hope for her insensitivity. Yes, on the whole marriages
to the lower classes weren't ideal, however since some of the gentry
were feeling the financial pinch these days, as the middle classes
became more and more affluent, marriages to it's wealthier members
were becoming far more commonplace. Poor Honoria had probably been
auctioned off to the highest bidder. Martha tried to move the
conversation on to another topic.
“Do you know much of Marchwood?”
she asked.
“No, I'm afraid I don't yet.”
Honoria blushed and kept her eyes downcast.
“It's rather odd to build a house
somewhere that you don't know isn't it?” Hope asked.
Martha finally had enough of Hope's
continued insensitivity and questioning of their guest.
“Hope!” Her sharp tone caused
Honoria to jump, something that Martha noted but Hope was oblivious
to. “I believe your earlier accident has worn you out, my dear; why
don't you go and have a rest before dinner.”
“Mama, I'm fine.”
Martha raised her eyebrows. She would
repeat herself if necessary, but her expression said that there would
be consequences if Hope disobeyed.
“Yes, Mama.” Hope did feel a
little out of sorts today. She knew that she could be brash at times
but it felt as if today she couldn't help herself. Duly chastened,
she got up and bid her mother and Honoria goodbye.
“Take MacDuff with you,” Martha
added, knowing that the dog would comfort her whilst Martha was
unable to. “I'm so sorry,” Martha said once Hope had left. “She
does not mean to be rude, but she fell from her horse earlier today
and was given some brandy for medicinal purposes. I believe it has
gone to her head.”
“That's quite all right,” Honoria
looked relieved.
“So,” Martha picked up the teapot
and topped up their cups. “Whilst you are here, why don't I take
you into Marchwood and show you around. If this is to become your
home, a little knowledge of the closest town will be very useful.”
“Thank you, Lady Beaumont.”
“Please, call me Martha. If we are
to be neighbours, it would be good if we could also be friends.”
“Thank you, Martha.”
They chatted amiably for another half
an hour, until Martha suggested that they retire to their rooms to
rest a little before dinner.
Martha entered her bedroom to see
Hope asleep on her parent's bed and MacDuff sleeping by the fire. She
smiled as she approached, gently brushing a strand of Hope's dark
hair behind her ear and placing a soft kiss on her cheek.
Martha then looked out of the window
but neither Lucien or Malcolm were visible, so she picked up a book
and sat by the unlit fire to read for a few hours. MacDuff came and
sat beside her, and Martha absently reached down and scratched behind
his ears whilst she read.
Hope awoke after another hour and
wiped her eyes, looking every inch like the little girl that Martha
remembered so fondly.
“Did you sleep well?” Martha
asked with a smile.
“I'm sorry, Mama. I was waiting for
you to apologise, I didn't mean to be rude to Honoria. I must have
fallen asleep-”
Martha held her hand up to stop her.
“I know, sweetheart. You have had a long day and I know you didn't
mean to make our guest uncomfortable.”
Hope could be insensitive and
thoughtless at times, but at heart she really was a kind and loving
young woman.
“I didn't.”
“Then let's put this behind us and
move on.”
Hope came to join her mother by the
fireplace.
“What do you make of her?” Hope
asked.
Martha frowned and considered her
words for a few moments before answering.
“I think that she could use a
friend, and if they do decide to move here, you would be a good
choice for her.”
“But she is so... stiff and formal.
She would never want to be friends with someone as uncouth as I was
today.”
“I don't think she will judge you
too harshly, my dear. Just try to be a friend to her; I have a
feeling she will need it.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Honestly? It's just intuition. I
know that many marriages are founded on things other than love, but I
have the feeling that Honoria is struggling in her marriage.”
“She does give off an air of quiet
despair,” Hope agreed.
Martha smiled, pleasantly surprised
by her insight.
“What did you make of the husband?”
Hope asked since she hadn't met him yet.
“I honestly don't know,” Martha
answered. “He seems pleasant enough on the surface, but there is a
coldness about his manner which I didn't like. Honoria also didn't
speak much when we were with him and she always looked to him before
replying, as though seeking his approval.”
“Well, seventeen is awfully young
to be married,” Hope said. “And he's in his thirties; she must
still feel like a child around him.”
“Maybe,” Martha wasn't so sure it
was that innocuous. Hope had been relatively sheltered in her young
life but Martha had grown up in abject poverty with an abusive
father. Going into service at 'the big house' when she was ten, had
been a merciful escape from her life, despite the long hours and hard
work. Honoria's expression when around her husband reminded Martha of
the looks her mother used to give their father, after he'd had a few
pints and she was worried about his temper.
She could be wrong, of course and she
hoped that she was, but part of her now wanted Honoria and her
husband to buy the land and come to Marchwood to live. There was
little that she could do for another man's wife, but at least Honoria
would know that she had people nearby who cared.
Chapter Two
Although they did not usually bother
with such formalities, the family dressed for dinner that evening
since they had company.
Martha eschewed the crinoline cages
that were so popular these days, wearing a very small one, only for
the most formal of occasions. Day to day, she preferred simple lines
with perhaps a few petticoats so that she didn't look too out of
place. Although she usually still wore a corset, many mistook her
look for that of the artistic dress movement, which was preferred
among artists, intellectuals and their wives, a look which was rather
more in keeping with Georgian fashions at the turn of the century,
than modern fashions.
Martha's reasoning had nothing to do
with artistic temperament although, she was far was more interested
in practicality than fashion, although she kept her wardrobe current
with the use of rich colours and silks, which were also popular.
Hope on the other hand, was rather
taken with crinoline, although it was so impractical that she too
only wore it for special occasions.
This evening, Hope had opted for a
deep purple gown with a wide, crinoline skirt, whilst Martha had
opted for a simpler outfit in midnight blue, with a full skirt,
supported by petticoats.
Charity, their youngest daughter,
joined them as she did every evening, but she too had dressed for
dinner. It was unusual for children of her age to dine with their
parents but she was on her best behaviour and acted every inch the
young lady. Their sons were away at boarding school in Rugby, so
sadly unable to join them.
The dog was banned and spent the
evening downstairs in the servants hall.
Dinner that evening was a rather
stilted affair, not even helped by the social lubricant of wine.
Malcolm seemed very taken with the views from the farm that he had
been shown. He intended to ask an architect to come and look over the
land, to see if it was suitable for the house he had planned. Other
than the house and business although, he had very little
conversation. They steered clear of politics, since it was an
impolite topic to discuss among women (not that it would usually
worry the Beaumonts when they dined alone) and Martha tried to steer
the conversation to the Arts, hoping to entice Honoria to join in.
Unfortunately Malcolm dismissed the Arts as the folly of the rich and
idle, which put an abrupt end to that avenue of conversation.
Hope attempted to discuss a few
novels, both recent and classics and whilst Malcolm didn't raise any
specific objection to that subject, neither did he join in, which
seemed to make Honoria hesitant to venture her own opinions.
Finally Lucien struck on a topic that
they could all discuss, save for Martha; horses. Lucien and Malcolm
began discussing bloodlines whilst Hope took the opportunity to talk
to Honoria.
“Do you ride?” Hope asked.
“I did when I was a child but I
haven't ridden for... oh, I suppose it must be four or five years
now. Mother said it was unladylike.”
“Unladylike?” Lucien piped up
from the other end of the table. “Why, only the truly noble know
how to properly handle a horse. Indeed I would call it one of the
signs of good breeding, wouldn't you, Malcolm?”
Lucien had quickly figured out that
whilst Malcolm wanted to be a part of the aristocracy, at the same
time he disliked many of their ways, feeling them foolish. He seemed
to respect Lucien since whilst an Earl, he also earned his own living
and as such, he thought that his proclamation might help secure
Hope's friendship with Honoria.
“I haven't really given it much
thought,” Malcolm confessed. “But I suppose if the pony has a
gentle nature, there's no harm in it.”
Hope discreetly pulled her sleeve
lower to cover more of her bandage. So far neither guest had asked
how she had injured her wrist.
“Then that's settled,” Hope
proclaimed. “We will view the estate together before you leave,
Honoria. I'm sure I have a spare saddle in the tack room and you can
ride Queenie, she is quite the sweetest horse that you could ever
hope to meet.”
After dinner the men and women
separated, Lucien and Malcolm remaining at the table to enjoy brandy
and cigars, whilst the women retired to the parlour. Charity was
taken off to bed by her nanny.
Away from her husband once again,
Honoria seemed to open up, although she refused to join in the
conversation when Martha and Hope began discussing the Overend,
Gurney & Company Bank, which had gone under two days before,
causing a run on the branches in Manchester and Liverpool, the two
closest cities to Marchwood.
Thankfully the Beaumonts didn't have
any stock or money in the bank, but everyone in the upper classes
knew of someone who did bank with them. The future looked bleak for
many of those people now.
“Do you think it will affect the
business?” Hope asked her mother.
“Trade is already slowing, thanks
to the difficulties of trading with America during their civil war. I
dare say we will weather the storm because we run a tight ship but we
shall surely feel some effects. I understand that Sharps Milliners
banked with Overend, and they were already feeling the pressure of
the financial crisis. If they have lost their reserves, they may now
go under.”
The Aldercotts had a shop on the same
street as Sharps, in Penchester and the glove workshop was still in
that town, since that had been set up by Gus Aldercott. Aldercott's
and Sharp's had each carried some of the other's wares and it wasn't
unusual in quiet times for 'old Mrs Sharp' to pop into Martha's shop
and share a cup of tea by the fire.
Martha hadn't lived in Penchester for
16 years now, but she did still try and visit the Sharps a few times
a year, when she accompanied her husband there whilst he oversaw the
gloving workshop.
Although Hope wasn't nearly so well
acquainted with the family as her mother, she had once developed a
fondness for John Sharp, the middle son. Other than being friendly to
her, he had hardly given her a second look and four years ago, had
married a girl named Clara. Hope still had a soft spot for him
though, and it pained her to think of him or his family in trouble.
“You seem to know rather a lot
about business,” Honoria observed.
“A little,” Martha lied. Women of
her adopted class weren't supposed to take an interest in such
things, and so she kept her involvement relatively quiet.
“Do you know about your husband's
business?” Honoria asked.
“I design for both businesses,”
Martha stated, for that was well known. Her beautiful designs and
more recently, Hope's too, were what both companies were built on.
However, mindful of her position in society, although she still took
an active interest in all areas of the business, she only met in
person with the wealthiest and most respected of clients these days,
to design them bespoke gloves and capes.
“Well yes, but surely you do not
understand the financial matters?”
Martha and Hope each owned 37.5
percent of the gloves business, which Gus Aldercott had put into
trust for them so that the business would always be theirs. Lucien
owned only a 25 percent of that business.
The outerwear business on the other
hand, was started as a partnership between Martha and Lucien,
although upon their marriage, it legally became Lucien's in its
entirety.
Lucien still discussed most matters
with his wife though, not because he had to but because he valued her
opinion. Any major decisions on the gloves he discussed with both
Hope and Martha, since they were majority owners.
Mostly they were content to design
the gloves and outerwear and happy to leave the day to day running of
the business to him, as they trusted his business sense. Still, it
wasn't unusual for business to become a topic of discussion over
dinner, so both women were reasonably well informed, although Martha
took a greater interest than Hope.
“Not wholly,” Martha agreed with
Honoria. “I leave the running of the company to my husband, but he
does like to talk matters through with me. I think it helps him to
organise his own thoughts.”
Honoria looked astounded.
“Malcolm doesn't discuss business
with you?” Hope asked.
“No, although I confess,” her
voice lowered conspiratorially. “I do often read his daily paper
once he has left for work. I know that it is frightfully unladylike,
but I am interested in the world. Please do not tell him; he
disapproves of such behaviour in women.”
“Your secret is safe with us,”
Martha assured her with a warm smile.
They chatted amiably for a while
longer until the men joined them and soon afterwards, Martha and
Lucien excused themselves to prepare for bed. Many of the aristocracy
didn't retire until the early hours of the morning but Lucien had
businesses to run, which required an early start. Malcolm seemed
happy to retire then also and as they all headed upstairs, Hope
noticed that Malcolm and Honoria each went into their own bedrooms,
without even a kiss goodnight.
She frowned as she entered her own
room, and wondered what it must be like to be a part of such a
loveless marriage. Separate bedrooms were normal among the upper
classes and even Hope's parents had their own rooms, however Hope
couldn't remember her father sleeping in his bedroom since Charity
was born. In fact, he only seemed to use it for housing his clothes
and for dressing.
Even when her parents disagreed,
which wasn't that unusual, they still shared a bed at night.
Hope's lady's maid came in to help
her disrobe and take her hair down, and she chattered away about this
and that. Hope usually enjoyed listening to the gossip from the
servant's hall but this evening she was distracted. As she settled
under her covers, she suspected that she would have a restless night
ahead of her, and she was right.
Over the next two nights, after they
had retired to bed, Martha and Lucien repeatedly returned to the
topic of whether to allow Malcolm to buy the land he wanted.
Lucien was opposed to the idea as the
longer he spent in Malcolm's company, the less he was inclined to
like him but Martha pushed him to accept, as she felt rather
protective of Honoria.
“I'm not sure I can stand to live
next to such a man,” Lucien said on the second evening of
discussions. “And don't forget, we will be required to socialise
with them.”
“Only occasionally,” Martha
argued. “He works away during the week, and we won't be socialising
every weekend. Besides, there are already a number of people in our
group that you find distasteful, what is one more?”
“You make me sound like a
curmudgeon,” he said. “There are a few people of our acquaintance
that I dislike, I admit it, but that is hardly 'a number'.”
“You are right, I'm sorry.”
Martha smiled. She had been lying with her head on his shoulder, but
she pulled away and propped her head up on her hand so that she could
see his face.
“What?” he asked, noting her
troubled expression.
“I just feel bad for Honoria,”
she admitted. “Her father arranged this marriage and I think that
she is desperately unhappy.”
“And you think that living here
will make her happy?” he asked, confused by her argument.
“No,” she admitted. “I do
however, think that Malcolm's plan in bringing her here to live, is
to isolate her from her friends and family. I cannot help but think
that if they are on the estate, Honoria will at least have someone
sympathetic near by, and possibly even a friend in Hope.”
Lucien still wasn't inclined to agree
to the sale, but he could see her point.
“Do we really want to get involved
in their marriage?” he asked.
“We aren't getting involved,” she
assured him. “I just want Honoria to know that she has friends
around her.”
“And what if she comes to us,
asking us to help her?”
“Then we help.”
“We don't have that right,” he
said. “A marriage is between a man and a woman. Even if we wanted
to, we have no right to intervene.”
“Perhaps not legally, but morally
we do.”
Lucien just glared at her, upset at
the idea of being embroiled in a fight that wasn't his.
“Darling,” Martha said, leaning
down to kiss him gently. “The chances are that we will never be
asked to become involved, Honoria is far too dutiful to ever consider
leaving her husband, but we can still be a friend to her. And you
never know, there is a chance that her quiet ways may rub off on Hope
and help to calm her.”
“We couldn't be that lucky,”
Lucien smiled.
Martha knew that she was winning, and
played her trump card. “Please, for me?”
Lucien sighed, knowing that he had
lost this round. “Fine. Tomorrow I will inform Malcolm of our
decision and get started on drawing up the deeds.”
“Thank you.”
“You owe me,” he said, only half
teasing.
“And how would you like to be
repaid, sir?” she asked, coquettishly.
“I'm sure you'll think of
something,” he answered her, a smirk on his lips.
Martha leaned down and kissed him
deeply and when she pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.
“How's that?” she asked.
“It's a promising start,” he told
her.
Chapter Three
Over the course of the next two
weeks, Hope did her best to befriend Honoria; a task that was made
considerably easier when her husband left for London during the week
to oversee his business interests, returning on Friday night. Honoria
remained reserved but she was much easier to talk to without Malcolm
around.
As soon as Hope's wrist had healed,
she took Honoria all around the estate, showing her the plot of land
that her husband was interested in. Hope would have been livid if her
husband built a house somewhere, without even showing her the land
first, but Honoria simply accepted it.
Overall, Honoria was a very dutiful
girl, taking seriously her duty to both her husband and her God and
her favourite phrase seemed to be, “It is God's will” or some
variation on that theme.
At the same time however, she seemed
to find Hope's abandon quite appealing; watching and laughing as Hope
jumped gates on her horse that she had been warned not to, or made a
very unladylike joke or observation. Whilst Honoria wasn't going to
overstep the moral boundaries placed on her, she seemed perfectly
happy to live vicariously through Hope.
She smiled freely whilst with Hope,
and it made her beauty radiate out from her. So much so that Hope
thought it a pity that her husband didn't try to make her smile more
often.
As soon as her husband returned, her
levity vanished, and she would beg Hope not to speak of their antics
in his presence.
On the Thursday afternoon of the
second week, just two days before she and her husband were due to
leave, Hope and Honoria were having a picnic lunch in the unoccupied
paddock.
MacDuff accompanied Hope everywhere
she went outdoors, and was at this moment stretched out beside them
on the grass, enjoying the sun. Honoria liked the dog and often
petted him when her husband wasn't around, but today she had no
interest. In fact she seemed very subdued that day and when Hope
thought about it, she had been getting quieter all week.
“Is something wrong?” Hope asked.
Honoria looked up at her and smiled
sadly. “Not at all, I am just a little sad to be leaving, that's
all.”
“But your house will be ready
before the end of the year, and then you'll live here most of the
time.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Removed
from all my old friends and family. At least in London, I had some
friends visiting me during the season, and my brother came see me
regularly. Here I shall have no one but you.”
“Then why are you moving up here?
Surely there is land closer to London or your family's estate
available.”
“There is,” Honoria admitted. She
looked down, as though ashamed of what she was about to say. “Malcolm
can be very jealous,” she said softly. “Not just of men but of
anyone who claims my time. Malcolm says that he wants to live here to
get away from the hustle and bustle of city life but the reality
is... well, I think he wants me away from the London life. He wants
me isolated so that he can have me all to himself.”
“Then he has failed,” Hope said,
reaching over and taking Honoria's hand. “No matter what happens,
you and I will always be great friends, and I am but a ten minute
ride from your new home.”
“I...”
“Yes?”
Honoria glanced up into Hope's eyes
then quickly looked away again.
“I am worried that he will forbid
me to see you.”
“So? He is in London most of the
week, he cannot know what you do.”
“But he can. The servants do as he
asks them and they report my movements to him.”
“Well then, I shall just have to be
exceedingly nice to him, so that he has no reason to forbid me from
seeing you.”
Honoria was silent for a long while
before speaking and when she did her voice was barely above a
whisper.
“He already disapproves of you. He
believes that it is unseemly for a woman, such as yourself, to be
independent and still unmarried at almost twenty four.”
“Honoria, look at me,” Hope said,
gently squeezing the other woman's hand, silently giving her
strength.
Honoria looked into her friend's
eyes.
“You will never lose me,” Hope
assured her. “Even if he moves you to the outer Hebrides, all you
have to do is write and I will come running.”
“Thank you.”
To Hope's surprise, Honoria began to
cry. Hope put her arms around her and held her tightly until her
tears subsided.
The Arundell's house was finished by
Christmas, and although nothing when compared to Marchwood Hall, it
was a fine home. With six bedrooms, a small stable block, a
landscaped garden at the rear and with no expense spared, there was
no doubting the status of its residents.
Malcolm and Honoria moved in over the
Christmas period, and in the New Year their pattern of behaviour
began to formulate. Honoria lived full time at the house, whilst
Malcolm left for London during the week to manage his businesses,
leaving on the Monday morning and returning on the Friday evening.
Honoria quickly made a few friends
among Marchwood society, but Malcolm seemed to have little interest.
Indeed, they hardly socialised at all on the weekends and it seemed
that the only activity that could tempt Malcolm away from his wife,
was the shooting parties that Lucien or another local gentleman
organised on the weekends.
Sadly he had moved to Marchwood too
late to partake in the game shooting for very long, as the law
prohibited hunting game birds after the first of February. However
hare had no season, so although the hunting parties were less
frequent in the spring and summer, there was on average a shooting
party at least every other month.
Malcolm expressed an interest in
hunting deer but whilst there were a few on his estate, Lucien didn't
cultivate them or hunt them, although he did allow the steward and
gamekeeper to cull them when their numbers grew too large.
Lucien thought deer to be a proud
animal and disliked killing them, though his excuse to other
gentlemen was that there was less skill required to chase a deer to
exhaustion and then shoot it whilst it was cornered. Hitting a
pheasant, grouse or hare on the other hand, was difficult and much
more sportsmanlike.
Since the Marchwood estate was the
largest for easily thirty miles and offered the best sport, local
gentlemen abided by his likes and dislikes, even when one of them
hosted a shooting party. Some of the gentlemen ventured further
afield, to other estates in the county where they might hunt big
game, but Lucien always declined such invitations if deer were being
hunted.
Besides which, deer stalking took
place at dawn, whilst game shooting was an all day activity and
therefore, much more sociable. The ladies would congregate by the
picnic tables in the garden whilst the men hunted, and then both
parties would come together for lunch. Usually that was the end of
shooting for the day and the afternoon would be spent eating and
drinking, either outside in the sunshine if weather permitted, or in
the Beaumont's new orangery if the weather wasn't so kind.
Today was one such day in mid-March,
and after the spring showers turned into actual rain, the ladies had
decided that the gazebo tents they were sheltering under weren't
going to be enough, and they rushed inside.
Hope was giggling as they entered the
orangery, having enjoyed the dash through the rain. Some ladies were
upset that their gowns or hair had become wet, but most seemed to
have enjoyed the excitement.
Martha oversaw the rearrangement of
the tables and furnishings as the servants brought them inside,
whilst the ladies checked their appearance and wiped their damp faces
with handkerchiefs. Honoria and Hope were over to one side, looking
out at the garden through the windows as the rain fell harder still.
They were looking in the wrong
direction to see the men return, but Martha spotted them and greeted
Lucien with a smile and a kiss. Each man had a servant with him to
reload his guns and at this time of year, they also carried
umbrellas. The rain was so heavy though, that in the dash to get
indoors, most had made a hard target for their servants to shield,
even with the umbrellas.
Lucien didn't look too perturbed by
his drenching. He had spent a large part of his childhood outdoors,
roaming the estate on foot or horseback, so a little rain was nothing
to him, nor to many of the other gentlemen. However, Martha noticed
that Malcolm looked decidedly less happy, almost angry.
She heard Hope and Honoria begin to
laugh as MacDuff shook himself, spraying them with water. She watched
as Malcolm's eyes narrowed as he observed them. Martha looked over to
her daughter and her friend but they looked innocent enough, chatting
and laughing as young women should, in her opinion. She couldn't see
what might have upset Malcolm, but she thought it best to divert them
before Malcolm became any more disturbed.
“Girls! Go and fetch some towels
for the gentlemen, please.”
Although that was a servant's job,
neither woman looked upset by the request, and they returned a few
moments later and began handing towels out to the men who wanted one.
The men had returned early, so it
took a little while for lunch to be served. Most were content to
drink and talk in the meantime, but Malcolm remained in a bad mood
and Honoria remained at his side. Hope joined them but quickly sensed
that she wasn't helping to reduce the tension between the couple, so
she decided to leave them alone.
Malcolm's mood improved somewhat as
the afternoon went on, and Lucien did his best to engage the younger
man in conversation.
Lucien had never warmed to their
neighbour, but he wasn't sorry that he had given in to his wife's
demands. Over the course of his life, Lucien had needed to mix with
many people that he didn't much like, so remaining cordial with
Malcolm wasn't too difficult. Besides, it wasn't so much that he
disliked the man, it was more that he couldn't warm to him.
The rain didn't let up for the rest
of that day, so there were quite a few shrieks as the couples made
their way to their carriages in the late afternoon. The family headed
to their rooms to change, then met again in the sitting room before
dinner.
The gas lights had already been lit
and the fires built up, thanks to the cold and gloomy day, giving the
room a warm feel, despite the overcast evening. The Hall had been
fitted with gas lighting about five years ago, which on dark days
like this was a blessing, because not only did they produce more
light, gas was far cheaper than candles.
Since it was just family this evening
and they had been dressed up all day, both women had opted to change
into the corset-less, artistic dress.
“I think that went well,” Lucien
began the conversation, as he sipped a glass of wine before dinner.
“Very,” Martha agreed. Everyone
had seemed to have a good time, despite the inclement weather.
Gradually the talk turned to Easter,
which was at the beginning of April this year and of course, Gus and
Bart would be returning home from school.
“Honoria's brother will be visiting
too,” Hope injected into the conversation.
“Do you know anything about him?”
Lucien asked.
“Only that Malcolm doesn't like
him, which is a fine character assessment in my book.” Hope smiled.
“All I really know is that his name is James, he's training to be a
priest and Honoria adores him, which is most likely why Malcolm
doesn't.”
“That should make for an
interesting visit.” Martha said.
“That's one way of phrasing it,”
Lucien smiled at his wife's tact. “We will have to invite them over
whilst he's here.”
“Maybe we could have a family day,”
Hope said. “Take the boys, Charity and Honoria's family out for a
picnic or something. Hopefully the weather will be a bit better by
then.”
“That sounds lovely,” Lucien
smiled. He missed his boys when they were at school and always
lessened his work load during their holidays. His only complaint
about the day Hope suggested, was that the Arundells would be there.
“I'll speak to Honoria and make
arrangements,” Martha said.
Lucien shifted uncomfortably in his
seat. “I, um, I should mention that it was noted by a few gentlemen
today, that Malcolm doesn't seem to be returning invitations. He has
accepted invitations from many other gentlemen without even a dinner
in return,” he said, changing the subject slightly.
“He does work in London all week,”
Hope argued.
“I know and believe me, I don't
mind him imposing on our hospitality because his wife is your friend,
but you should have a discrete word with Honoria.”
“Why can't you have a word with
him?” Hope asked.
“Because these things are better
done behind the scenes. A gentle word in his ear from her, will save
him the embarrassment that my talking to him would cause.”
Hope couldn't argue with that but,
“What if he won't listen to her?”
“Then his invitations will begin to
dry up.” Lucien shrugged.
“Sometimes I think he'd like that,”
Hope said softly.
“What do you mean by that?” he
asked.
Hope had not shared her feelings
about the marriage with her father, because she didn't want to break
Honoria's confidence.
“I just... sometimes I think that
he wants to isolate Honoria, to keep her like a princess, locked up
in an ivory tower.”
“I'm sorry?” Lucien looked
confused.
“He does seem possessive at times,”
Martha supplied, sparing her daughter. “I think that ideally, his
wife would see no one but himself. He even seemed jealous of Hope
today, because they were laughing together.”
Lucien frowned, not because he
disbelieved his wife, for he trusted her instincts almost as much as
his own, but he had simply not observed such behaviour before. Indeed
he thought Malcolm rather too cold a man to ever be possessive or
jealous which, whilst they were negative emotions, did imply a
certain amount of passion.
“Trust me,” Hope told her father.
“The next time they're here, I'll occupy Honoria for a while and
you take a close look at him. I can almost guarantee you that he
won't like it.”
“I will,” Lucien nodded.
III
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