Authors: Catherine Winchester
“Ma?” she said as she came up and sat next to her.
Lizzy smiled slightly at her daughter and reached out to take her hand.
Most would think Lizzy a weak woman, someone who bent to every breeze, but there was a certain kind of strength even in that behaviour. Lizzy was used to pain and loss, not only living under a tyrant like her husband for so many years, but she had also lost more than her fair share of children to disease and malnutrition.
It wasn't the kind of strength that shouted and demanded to be heard, that demanded respect but somehow she was still standing, and that in itself was quite an achievement.
“How are you?”
“Bearing up,” Lizzy said. “Our Maggie came by earlier. She asked if I wanted to go and stay with them for a few days.”
“Do you?” Martha asked, although in her heart she already knew the answer. Not only was she intimidated here, she had nothing to occupy her. Maggie's home, with her husband and four children, would provide distractions that would keep Lizzy's mind off the awful events of late.
Martha hated that she and her mother had grown so far apart but there was nothing that she could do to change things. Martha couldn't go back to the poor, working class scullery maid that she had once been, any more than Lizzy could grow the confidence to be happy in her daughter's lavish home.
Maggie and her husband rented one of the farms from Lucien. The farmhouse had four bedrooms, more than enough room to comfortably keep three adults and four children. The house that Martha had grown up in had only two rooms, a kitchen and a bedroom, and at times as many as ten had all shared that one bedroom. Maggie's house was a castle by comparison.
“It's all right, I understand.” She pulled her mother into an embrace and felt tears sting her eyes. She truly believed that keeping Mary's fate from Lizzy was the right thing to do but at the same time, seeing the pain that she was causing was almost unbearable.
Both women were crying when they pulled apart and dabbed at their eyes.
“If you do want to go back to your home, I thought that I would try and find a companion for you,” Martha explained. “Someone who can do the heavier tasks, like getting the wood in, and who could be company for you. Just until Mary returns.”
“We'll see,” her mother said. “What's happenin' with the school?”
“Hope and I have volunteered to teach two days between us, and the others governors will be taking the remaining three days a week.”
“And what if...” her mother’s eyes were downcast and she was unable to finish that sentence.
“I don't want to think about a replacement yet.”
Lizzy nodded, although she had little hope that Mary was still alive. Her life had taught her some harsh lessons and one of those, was that hopes were dashed far more often than they were fulfilled.
Chapter Sixteen
Martha and Hope did their best to keep busy, so that they didn't have too much time to worry about what had happened to Honoria and Mary. Hopefully they had sailed without incident but they wouldn't dock in New York for another two weeks, and it would take a further three weeks for a letter to be sent back. The wait was interminable, but keeping busy helped.
Five days after the disappearance, news spread to the Beaumont household that James Ashdown was back, having been summoned by Malcolm Arundell. Lucien broke the news to his family over dinner.
“Oh, he must be so worried,” Martha said.
“Worried about his family's reputation,” Hope scoffed.
Martha ignored the remark, instead asking her husband, “Have you seen him?”
“No. He was seen leaving the railway station this afternoon, and you know how word spreads in this town, especially given the recent dramas.”
“Gossip is the staple of the British Empire,” Martha observed dryly, although so far the gossip and rumours had only served to muddy the waters, which actually helped obscure the true fate of Mary and Honoria.
“Speaking of,” Hope interjected, hoping to swing the topic away from James. “Did you hear that Mrs Cooper is getting remarried?”
“Really?” asked Lucien. The news was surprising, because Mrs Cooper had been a widow for twenty years and no one expected her to take a new husband at her age.
“Yes, we received her letter this morning, asking us to design the gloves for her wedding gown. Apparently she is marrying a gentleman called Klein. He's a diplomat from Australia.”
“Austria,” Martha corrected. “And he is a British diplomat who was stationed in Austria.”
Hope shrugged. She really had no interest in gossip, nor who was marrying whom, but anything was better than discussing James Ashdown.
Lucien was interested in the news, but only insofar as how the wedding of a high society lady could help the business.
“Is much known about this Klein?” he asked his wife.
“I have not heard much about him but in her letter, Mrs Cooper said that he is from a good family and has been in the diplomatic service for twenty years. He has tired of living abroad though and wants to settle in London. She said that is a widower; his wife died two years ago.”
The conversation continued in such a fashion, talking mostly of inconsequential things as Hope did her best to stop the conversation returning to James. Hope thought that as Honoria's older, although obviously not wiser, brother he should have protected her, stopped the marriage from going ahead, and when it was clear that she was in trouble, ridden in to rescue her. It galled her that James professed such love for Honoria, yet had left her to her fate, to wither, rot and die under Malcolm's oppressive presence.
The reason that she really didn't want to see him though, was because he inspired such anger within her, that she was in danger of revealing more than was prudent in her desire to wipe the smug smile off his face.
In the event, James was not at all smug when he turned up the following afternoon, seeking an audience with Martha and Hope. In fact Hope might even have gone so far as to say that he looked rough.
“I'm sorry for intruding,” he said as the butler showed him in. “Please, forgive me.”
“Nonsense.” Martha was ever the composed hostess. “Please, sit. Can I offer you some tea?”
“Thank you but no. I am here to ask you about my sister.”
“So he sent you to do his dirty work, did he?” Hope asked. “Did he tell you that he thinks we're hiding her? That not only did he wake the whole household up at four in the morning and insisted on searching every room, he then sent a police constable to do the same. I suppose you'd like a look around too? Well feel free. As we keep telling people, we have nothing to hide.”
James looked taken aback at her diatribe and took a moment to compose himself before replying.
“I confess, Malcolm did share his theory with me about your involvement, but I never believed that you, either of you, would be involved in such a scheme. I came here only because you, Hope, were my sister's closest friend and only confidant. Even if you don't know where she is, just hearing about her will be some comfort.”
He looked so forlorn that Hope actually felt bad for a moment.
“Please, tell me what she was like before she disappeared?”
That brought back memories of Honoria's near catatonic state, which was surely not something that he would enjoy hearing about.
“I'm afraid my last memory of your sister will bring you no comfort, Mr Ashdown. Please excuse me.” She got up and left the room, MacDuff following after her.
James looked confused. “I seem to have caused offence. Please believe me, that was not my intent.”
“I'm sorry,” Martha said. “But the last time we saw your sister, she was deeply unhappy and those are difficult memories for Hope.”
“Unhappy? But she was so serene while I was visiting, so pleased about the baby. What could cause such a quick change?”
“Malcolm didn't say anything?”
“No. Although I'm sure it just slipped his mind, he is most out of sorts at the moment.”
“She lost the baby, James, and she felt that loss most keenly.”
“But... I don't understand, why wouldn't she have written to me? I would have returned at once!”
“Please, do not blame her. She was deeply distressed and probably not thinking clearly.”
“Yes, of course. I can only imagine how distressing it must have been for her. And no doubt for you, her friends, to witness. I must apologise to Hope, if I may?”
“I don't think that would be wise, James. My daughter is a very loving girl and that also makes her very protective of those she loves.”
“And she loves my sister, and thinks me some clumsy oaf who is making her remember unpleasant things.”
Well, he was almost right.
“You have just touched a sore spot, that is all. She will calm down with time.”
James nodded. “Yes, perhaps.”
“How is Malcolm fairing?” she asked, like a good neighbour should.
“He is upset, obviously. I was perplexed when it took him so long to inform me of the disappearance, but it seems he was too upset to contact any of my family.”
“I'm sure this must be very distressing for him.”
“Yes. He seems to have calmed down a little now.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he's taking steps to find her. I always find that action is more calming than inaction, don't you agree?”
“Of course. May I ask what steps he is taking?”
“He has retained a private detective, a gentleman from London who has had some success with missing persons and runaways. I believe his name is Smyth.”
“Then I expect we shall receive a visit from him.”
“Probably. Malcolm expects him to arrive sometime tomorrow.”
“And what about you?” Martha asked. “How are you fairing?”
“Unfortunately I don't have the luxury of action, since I cannot find a single practical thing to do.”
“I'm so sorry.”
“Thank you. And thank you for the friendship you gave to my sister, I know how much she cared for you.”
“That was our pleasure.”
“I'm so very sorry for your loss also. I believe the other girl was your sister?”
“Yes, Mary. She was a teacher at the estate school, I believe you met her?”
“Indeed, she was a lovely woman.” he looked uncomfortable. “Well, I have taken up enough of your time, so shall take my leave of you now.”
“Thank you for coming and if you ever need a friendly ear, you know where we are.”
James made his way out to the front of the house, mounted his horse and walked off down the driveway. He was half way back to Arundell Hall when he spotted movement in the forest and although he knew it wasn't Honoria, he felt compelled to find out who was there. It was Hope, who turned as she heard him approach.
“What are you doing out here alone!” he chastised, dismounting. “If this situation has taught you anything, surely it is to not be so lax in your personal safety.”
“Who are you to tell me anything?”
“I am only thinking of your safety.”
“I am perfectly safe.”
“What if I had dishonourable intentions, how could you possibly hope to fight me off?” he argued.
“Do you really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Invado!”
For half a second he was confused by her use of a Latin word for attack but before he could think it through, MacDuff was upon him, his jaws clamped firmly around James' forearm. He staggered back but with the weight of the dog upon him, he overbalanced and fell.
“Siste!”
MacDuff stopped immediately and let go of James' arm, backing away from him, although his ears were still flat against his head.
“Good dog,” Hope said, bending to scratch behind his ears.
James got to his feet, his pride a little wounded and his arm throbbing.
“He bit through my suit!” James said, examining his arm, although he couldn't see the wound below yet. He began brushing the forest debris off his clothes. “That animal is dangerous!”
“I know, that's the point.”
“He should be locked up.”
“I did make certain that you wanted to know.”
“You should have just explained.”
“But a demonstration is so much more effective. Besides, as a woman, I knew that you wouldn't just take my word for it.”
“That is not the point!”
“No, it isn't. The point is that not everything is what it seems, rather like your sisters
idyllic
marriage.”
She turned and walked back towards her house.
“What is that supposed to mean?” He called after her, but Hope didn't look back.
James made his way back to Arundell Hall and told people that a wild dog had attacked him. He couldn't say why he was protecting Hope exactly, but something about her words had struck a chord within him and he felt uneasy.
He went into his sister's sitting room and began going through the writing desk there, reading her correspondence. Most of it was from him but there were a few letters from other family members and friends, although none of it was enlightening.