Degrees of Hope (18 page)

Next he went up to Honoria's bedroom and began to search in there. He remembered that his sister had always kept a journal when they were younger and that was what he was searching for. As a child, she had hidden her journals so that they might remain private, but of course he had found them as a boy and used them to torment her with.

He checked what he knew to be her usual hiding places, under the mattress or bed, in the bottom of her drawers, behind the ornamental cushions on her sofa, but he found nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed as he pondered where else to look.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” came Malcolm's voice from the doorway.

“I was hoping that I might find some clue as to where she is,” he lied. “I know it's a silly idea.”

Malcolm calmed at once. “Did you find anything?”

“She was abducted, what is there to find?”

He could find no rational reason for not telling Malcolm about searching for her journal but nonetheless, he didn't mention it. Perhaps Malcolm had already found them and disposed of them, or perhaps he was keeping them for the investigator that he had hired.

James stood and made his way out of the room, Malcolm following behind him.

“What happened with the Beaumonts?” Malcolm asked as they headed back downstairs.

“I don't believe they know anything about what happened to Honoria. Hope especially seems very upset by the whole thing. Don't forget that their relative is missing, as well as their friend.”

“Which is exactly why I think that they were behind this. It's too much of a coincidence.”

“I hardly think that likely.”

They made their way into the drawing room and Malcolm poured two large brandies.

“When the teacher's handkerchief was found in the woods, as well as Honoria's cuff?” Malcolm asked. “How very convenient.”

“Perhaps the teacher dropped the handkerchief herself, as a clue.”

“My word, you are naïve.”

James took offence at that but knew that Malcolm was in turmoil, so he didn't press the matter and accepted the glass that Malcolm handed him.

“Anyway, the detective will be here tomorrow. He will soon get to the truth of the matter, one way or the other.”

“I hope so,” James agreed. A little later he excused himself, saying that he had to write to his mother and father, then went into Honoria's sitting room to use her writing desk.

The detective, Smyth, arrived the next day and after he had spoken with the police, he set about questioning the staff.

Taking his cue from Smyth, James decided to launch his own investigation, only this time into Honoria and her marriage. He was much more delicate about it than Smyth, simply seeking to ask questions about his sister to any servant whose path he crossed. None were very helpful. When he asked about his sister's mood, they all told him what a lovely woman his sister had been, which wasn't what he had asked. When he pressed the matter, they looked furtive and assured him that she had been of a generally happy disposition.

By the second day he was beginning to think that he should be more organised. By simply waiting to come upon the staff, and then only asking questions if they were alone, he had only been able to speak with four servants. Perhaps he should arrange to interview them, one after the other, as the detective had done.

Of course he couldn't do that without arousing Malcolm's suspicions and although he still couldn't say why, he wasn't keen for Malcolm to discover what sorts of questions he was asking.

The detective had finished with the household staff now and both he and Malcolm had set about interviewing townsfolk who had claimed to see her. In all, the police had over 100 tips and sightings of Honoria, and they went through each person one by one.

It would take days, James knew, so he decided that he would arrange to interview the staff individually, whilst Malcolm was out with Smyth.

He rang the bell and the housekeeper answered his call.

“Mrs Kenner, isn't it?” he asked as she came in.

“Yes, Sir. What can I get you?”

“I would like to interview the servants. I wonder if you could arrange for them all to see me in turn, whilst Mr Arundell is out?”

“I'm sorry, Sir, but I don't believe that would help your cause.”

“My cause? What do you know of my cause?”

“The maids and the footmen have spoken of your questions; that you want to know of your sister's mood, but each and every member of this household has been sworn to secrecy and even although they want to help you, I don't believe that they are brave enough to defy their master.”

James slumped down in his seat, thwarted once again.

“In any case, I believe your dear sister could explain her plight far better than we could.”

“But my sister is not here,” he said with a long sigh.

“Perhaps not but we grew close, her and I, so I would suggest that you take a closer look at her writing desk. You may find that she has left exactly what you are looking for.”

James sat up straight and looked as the housekeeper, trying to gauge the truth of her statement. Then he looked over to the writing desk, which he had already searched.

“Will that be all, Sir?”

“What? Yes, yes. Thank you.”

The housekeeper left and James made his way over to the desk, kneeling in front of it. He was already certain that the drawers held nothing of import but the desk was solid, meaning that there could well be space behind the drawers that he had not searched.

He pulled the lower right hand drawer out and under the drawer, in perhaps an inch of space, he found four journals, and another pressed against the back of the desk. He pulled them out and looked through them.

They were definitely written by her hand, but they were old, the newest starting four years ago.

He moved to the other side of the desk and withdrew the bottom drawer to find four more leather bound journals, each spanning about a year.

Although Malcolm was out of the house, he nevertheless felt as though he might be caught and quickly put the drawers back into the desk. Then he collected up the journals and proceeded up to his room to read them.

Chapter Seventeen

James skimmed the journals until he came to the first entry mentioning Malcolm, then he paused to read the entry properly.

'I met my husband to be today, Malcolm Arundell and I must say, I found him to be a most cold and disagreeable fellow. He has none of the ready kindness, wit and charm that I had hoped to find in a suitor. I fear that marriage to him will be difficult but James has assured me that I am up to the task, although I do confess, I still feel resentment that I am being forced to marry. I understand that my family is in trouble but the fault for that lies with my father and his gambling debts. I do not see how it can be right to auction me off, like any common cow, to the highest bidder.

Had I been the cause of any of my family's troubles, I should suffer my fate gladly but having met Malcolm, I fear that this will be too much for me to bear. When he looks at me, I feel as though I am being evaluated, like breeding stock. It is very dehumanising and makes me most uncomfortable.

James says that many marriages are forged not of love but duty, and that it is my duty not only to help my family, but to make the marriage a successful one.

Thus I have vowed that I will do my best to be a good wife and to do everything in my power to make this a good marriage.'

He could remember their correspondence, her fear that marriage to someone she didn't know would be difficult. He had been trying to allay her fears.

'Last night was awful. Mama told me that marital relations were uncomfortable but I had no idea how painful it would be. I am ashamed to say that I struggled but I could do nothing else, it hurt too much. I know that probably makes me a bad wife, but how can God wish such pain on wives?

I am still rather sore this morning, not to mention bruised. I realise that Malcolm had little choice but to restrain me as I fought, but that does nothing to help me to foster warm and affectionate feelings towards him.

I have written to James, asking for his advice. James' council is always wise.'

He remembered her letters, many of them telling him what a hard time she was having settling into marriage but he had assumed that it was because she was new to it, not because she was being forcibly restrained and raped! Oh, how could he have been so wrong?

'I believe that I am going to like our new neighbours. Hope is a most wilful girl but also perhaps, the happiest and most genuine lady that I have ever met. She gives her opinions so freely and what's more, is listened to by her family, that I wonder if she has ever been taught what is ladylike. Even whilst I must disapprove of some of her behaviour, I can't help but find it charming, for she is so guileless.

Her mother, Martha, is slightly more reserved but also very warm and caring. I think that I shall enjoy being their friend.

Malcolm is very disproving of both women as they dare to design for the family business, but he respects Lord Beaumont and I believe is anxious to become accepted by the gentry. He hasn't told me if he plans to buy some land from the Earl, but he certainly seems to be going out of his way to ingratiate himself with them, even holding his tongue over the daughter's behaviour, so I am hopeful.'

He remembered her first letters about the Beaumonts, full of such praise and awe for the women. He remembered hoping that the daughter's wayward ways didn't rub off onto Honoria.

'I am in a great deal of pain this morning. Last night was our first dinner with the Beaumonts as their new neighbours and I am afraid I made a terrible faux pas in front of our new neighbours. I asked Hope about the gloving business, when I should have been silent and demure.

Malcolm took his belt to me when we got home, beating the evil out of me. He then claimed his right as husband, although I felt each blow anew as he had his way. This morning I have nasty red welts over my back, rear and thighs. Sitting is very painful indeed but I must endure, what else can I do?

Although I am certain that James is right and that this is all my fault for being a bad wife, I feel I must write again and ask if this is how marriage is supposed to be. I wish that I could spell out what Malcolm is doing to me but how can I tell anyone of these most foul things? James is intelligent and he is my best friend. As such, I am certain that he will understand my true meaning.

Hope and Martha were both able to guess the reality, although they have not said so in so many words. I can only presume that James too sees the truth, for he is nobody's fool, but he still blames me.

Perhaps Malcolm is right after all, perhaps I am wicked.'

How could she think such a thing, James wondered, she was sweetness itself! There wasn't a single bad bone in her whole body! And he should have seen the deeper meaning behind her letters. Honoria wasn't one to complain, so although she didn't spell out what Malcolm was doing to her, he should have realised that she wasn't just having trouble settling into married life, that it was so much more than that.

'Malcolm came home smelling of someone else's perfume today, a sickly sweet scent that hurt my nose. I have no choice but to finally admit that my suspicions were correct and that Malcolm has another woman in London. Probably more than one.

No wonder he wants me out of the way in this backward part of the country!

But that is unfair, of course. It is not the country's that is at fault that I feel so alone, and were it not for my neighbours, I would truly be alone.

To be honest, I do not mind if he takes his 'pleasure' elsewhere, for it spares me the ordeal but if he is to spend his weeks with other women, why must I spend mine alone, in this gilded prison?”

James' jaw was now clenched tight as he read indignity after indignity to which his sister had been subjected.

'I received James' reply today. Once again he stresses how difficult life is for men and how I must create a loving and peaceful home for Malcolm.

His letter brings me to tears, for it seems that I am incapable of being a good wife.

I have resolved not to speak to James of my difficulties any further, for I cannot stand the shame that I feel when he points out my weaknesses. Perhaps this is another weakness in me but I cannot help it. I am wicked.'

The butler interrupted him then, as he came to ask if he would be taking dinner downstairs. James hadn't noticed how much time had passed. Unsure of what he would do if confronted with Malcolm, he claimed to be feeling unwell and asked for a tray to be served in his room.

'Malcolm was frightfully upset last night when I told him that James was visiting for Easter. I should have waited until the weekend, when I could discuss it with Malcolm first, but I was so happy to think that I might be seeing James again, and I didn't think that he would mind as it is only for a few weeks.

Now I must stay locked in my room until all evidence of my beating is gone, meaning that I shall miss some of my precious time with James.

Although I had wanted to wait for the right time to tell Malcolm about the baby, I ended up telling him whilst he was beating me, in the hopes that he would spare me some of the blows.