Degrees of Hope (2 page)

“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 its 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.