Degrees of Hope (5 page)

“Are you ready to go?” Gus asked, clearly wanting to stay a little longer.

“You stay,” Hope said. “I was going to stop in on Grandma if I had time anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Gus looked worried.

“I don't stay indoors all day when you're away at school,” Hope smiled. “Besides, I've got MacDuff with me if I get into any trouble. Help me up?”

Gus gave her a leg-up and once she was seated comfortably, she said goodbye and headed back towards Marchwood Hall, MacDuff trotting beside her.

Her grandma lived in a cottage on the estate. When she had moved there, it had been a small hamlet of houses, collectively known as Woods Hole. Now there were almost fifty houses in the village and it was almost indistinguishable from the town, since it too had grown over the past twenty years.

She got down from the horse and tethered her loosely by the side of the cottage, got some things out of the saddlebag, then knocked on the kitchen door and went in.

Lizzy was sitting at the long kitchen table peeling potatoes for dinner and MacDuff settled himself on the rug by the range.

“Hope, love, 'ow are you?”

“I'm good, Gran.” Hope bent to kiss her cheek. “I can't stay long today; we're having a picnic so I have to get back and help Mama.

“Sit yersen down, love, I'll put some tea on.”

“I'll get it,” Hope assured her.

Lizzy Dawley looked exactly as a grandmother should, with a kindly face and her grey hair swept back into a loose bun. There had been a time when she had almost starved herself to keep her family fed, and although that was hard to believe by looking at her now, she looked older than her years and was still quite frail and feeble at times.

“Where's Mary?” Hope asked as she prepared the tea. Mary was the only unmarried daughter and remained at home to care for her mother.

“She's out back, feedin' t'chickens.”

Hope got a third mug out for her, assuming that she'd be back soon.

“Mam sent some things for you,” Hope said as she worked. Martha was always sending little bits and bobs over to her mother, usually bringing them herself when she had the time. “Just some fruit preserves and a plate of biscuits that Cook made.”

“You needn't fuss over me,” Lizzy said, but she had long ago given up on trying to stop them.

“You've had seventeen children, Gran, you deserve a little pampering.”

Hope brought the pot of tea to the table and Lizzy pushed her bowl of potatoes aside for now, so that she could enjoy tea with her eldest granddaughter.

“So, what's 'appening at the big Hall?” Lizzy asked.

“Oh, not much. We're having a picnic this afternoon in honour of Honoria's brother. He's staying over Easter. Speaking of, did the boys come and see you?”

“Aye, they came yesterday, and wot grand young men they're growin' in t'.”

Just then the back door opened and Mary came in. She smiled at Hope.

“I thought I heard Shelly attacking my lawn.”

“She's only grazing at the side,” Hope argued, although it was good natured banter that they had shared many times before.

Of all the Dawleys, Hope got on best with Mary as she was also unmarried and, unlike most of her siblings, had wanted an education. She had worked as governess to Martha's children for a while but being both Martha's sister and her servant had proven difficult, so she had asked to leave. Now she worked as a teacher at the estate school, which was originally intended for the children of Lucien's tenants, although now it was open to anyone who rented a home on the estate.

Mary sat down at the table and Hope poured her a mug of tea.

“Enjoying the Easter holiday?” Hope asked.

“Oh yes,” Mary smiled. “I love teaching but it's nice to have some time for myself, to catch up on my reading, that sort of thing.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Our Mutual Friend by Dickens. I avoided reading the instalments because I'm often so busy, I find that by the time the next is published, I've forgotten what I last read!” Mary smiled. “But I'm on volume twelve now.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Very much, although the plot is very intricate, so I'm glad that I waited.”

“Well next you must try Jules Verne. I've just finished his latest book, From the Earth to the Moon. Very fanciful but also entertaining. I'll bring my copy next time I come, if you'd like?”

“I would, thank you.”

They chatted amiably for a while, until Hope had finished her tea and regrettably had to leave. Due to her frequent visits to the cottage, it had a mounting block that she could use to mount her horse, rather than asking for a leg-up.

She was now running a little late, so she cantered back to the Hall, leaving Shelly with the stable hand as she headed inside with the chutney that her mother had wanted. Although this had turned into a much larger event than they had originally discussed, Hope thought that this was rather a lot of fuss to go to for an informal picnic, but her mother was something of a perfectionist when it came to entertaining. Hope sometimes thought that she was overcompensating for her modest beginnings, although she didn't dare say anything like that to her mother, for fear of hurting her.

The house was a whirlwind of activity as the servants all helped prepare for the picnic. All the carriages were pressed into service, to transport the staff who would be waiting on the picnickers, those guests who did not have their own carriage so had taken a hansom cab here, or to carry the copious amounts of food and drink.

In the run up to a picnic, Hope always thought them to be a terrible waste of time, needing almost military precision to run correctly. Once she was out in the fields though, she remembered why they went to this much trouble. There was something about being outside, surrounded by the beauty of nature, that always made Hope feel content. It was a trait she had inherited from her father.

Her mother seemed to enjoy the planning of the event, but she never really seemed to take much pleasure in the outdoors.

As soon as she had changed out of her riding habit, Hope was quickly pressed into service, running to and from the carriages with various baskets and foodstuffs. She and Martha then made their way to the picnic site, to oversee the arrangement of the temporary gazebos, the tables, the food, drink and cutlery. The carriages then returned to the Hall for the other guests whilst Martha and Hope put the finishing touches to things.

There were blankets laid out for those brave enough to sit on the grass but there were also chairs set up for those who either wouldn't or couldn't sit on the ground. Mr and Mrs Jenkins were both too old now to sit on a blanket, whilst Mrs Mills, though still young and agile, refused to sit on the ground 'like any common ruffian'.

Older children were also welcome and a number of games, such as croquet and tennis, had been brought for them (and some of the adults) to enjoy.

With everything done, Hope took the opportunity to look out over the view. This hill was known as March Point, and was the hill that the wood, the estate and the town had taken their name from. It was far from the highest point in the county but it had a very pleasant view down to the town of Marchwood to the east, and over to Marchwood Hall to the north.

Martha came up behind her daughter and put her arm around her shoulders.

“Isn't it beautiful?” Hope sighed.

“Very,” Martha agreed. She could see the beauty of the scene, even if she didn't appreciate it to the same extent as her daughter and husband did.

A few minutes later they heard the clatter of horse hooves and asked the servants to begin preparing drinks.

The guests were all welcomed by the ladies and the servants made certain that they all had a drink to be going on with. Thirty three people had been invited in all and they naturally split into groups. The dividing lines weren't as clear as they might once have been, since the gentry needed the rich merchants to survive these days. Some, like Lucien, had even gone into business themselves but on the whole, the businessmen tended to be drawn to one another, just as the gentry were.

The women formed another two groups, those who were willing to wrinkle their gowns sitting on the blankets, and those whose gowns were far too impractical to enable them to sit comfortably on the ground. Martha was constantly amazed that some women saw fit to wear large crinoline cages to a picnic, but she had long ago stopped questioning it.

Hope had quickly been asked to help find a reasonably flat area where they might set up for croquet, and so she wasn't present when Malcolm Arundell alighted from his carriage, along with Honoria's brother, James. Once she had placed the hoop in the ground, she returned to the main group to see who wanted to play, as well as to collect the mallets and balls. 

As she approached the blankets, she glimpsed the orator from the town square, the one who had said that women didn't have the temperament for politics. She veered away to the refreshment table before he could see her and asked for a glass of wine.

Gus came up to her, his arms full of mallets. “Are you playing?” he asked.

“What's he doing here?” she asked, looking to the orator.

“I don't know.”

“Who did he come with?”

“I don't know.”

Hope rolled her eyes. Still, she wasn't one to run from confrontation.

“I'll sit this game out,” she said, turning and heading to her parents, who were talking with the stranger and Malcolm Arundell.

“Hope,” Martha smiled as she saw her daughter approach. “Let me introduce you to Honoria's brother, this is James Ashdown. James, this is Hope, our daughter.

Hope's blood ran cold as she realised who he was. Considering the glowing terms in which Honoria spoke of her brother, she could hardly believe that this was he.

Chapter Five

Hope smiled and curtseyed to James. “A pleasure, I'm sure.” Her tone suggested it was anything but.

James had the good grace to blush. “Miss Beaumont; very pleased to meet you.”

“Where is your sister?” Hope asked, having been unable to spot her yet.

“She isn't feeling well. I'm afraid I picked a very bad time to visit; she hasn't left her room for the past two days.”

Hope's blood turned glacial at his words. Honoria had been so looking forward to her brother's visit, that she was certain that only the gravest of illnesses would have kept her from him.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“I'm not certain,” James said, turning to his brother-in-law for an answer.

“She is suffering from a fever,” Malcolm explained.

“What kind?” Hope asked.

“The doctor is uncertain of the cause but he advised complete bed rest.”

“Which doctor did she see?” Hope asked, for Dr McCoy, their family doctor, was first rate. He would not have given such an uncertain diagnosis. Furthermore, he believed that persons who were unwell benefited from seeing those they loved, unless they were infectious.

“Dr McCoy came to see her,” Malcolm said, sounding irritated. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I need another drink.”

Hope noticed her parents share a look, which only added to her disquiet.

Still, tomorrow was Monday and Malcolm would be returning to London for the week, so Hope could visit Honoria and she would insist on seeing her. Her dislike for James was overshadowed by her worry for her friend, but it had the effect of making her distracted, which James took as a sign of her upset with him.

He tried to make polite conversation for a few minutes but finally gave up and spoke only with her parents.

After a second glass of wine, Hope began to relax a little, although she was still more subdued than usual. She was worried for her friend and determined to see her tomorrow, but she was a little more able to engage with the other guests.

After they had eaten, she played a round of croquet, then sat on the blankets and chatted with the other ladies.

From Honoria's description, Hope had been expecting James to be a larger than life hero and the reality had been very disappointing. As such, she hardly noticed where he was, or that he seemed to be watching her when he thought that he wouldn't be noticed.

The event broke up in the early evening and Hope wanted to be one of the first to leave. She had just been going through the motions since she found out about Honoria, so she was glad to get home and stop having to pretend to be nice and pleasant.

Her parents had to oversee the other guests leaving and make sure they all had transport home, so they didn't join her in the parlour until an hour later. They too had changed into less formal clothes.

“Are you all right?” Martha asked Hope as she sat down.

“I'm worried about Honoria. What if she's really ill? Why wouldn't Dr McCoy know what was wrong with her?”

“I doubt that Dr McCoy has seen her,” Martha admitted sadly.

“What do you mean?” Hope asked, and her brothers and sister also had their interested piqued.

“Hope, have you never noticed how subdued Honoria looks around Malcolm?”

“He shouts at her a lot,” Hope answered.