Degrees of Hope (6 page)

“So does your father, but you aren't afraid of him,” Martha noted. “And Honoria must be the clumsiest woman I know; she is always knocking into something, or falling over something.”

“I don't understand,” Hope said, thinking that Martha must know of an illness that made one clumsy.

Martha sighed. Hope had been well educated and she was well read but in terms of life experience, she was still very sheltered. Martha had grown up with an abusive father and she was very familiar with the haunted look that Honoria often had, for she had seen it in the face of her mother and her siblings.

She was also familiar with the excuses, for her mother was always making them. When Martha had entered service, she had left home to live in the big house, but she returned home every Sunday to hand over most of her wage to her mother. Sometimes Martha would be sporting a black eye when she returned to the Hall in the evening but, almost as though she was ashamed, she had always made excuses. Very similar excuses to those that Honoria made.

“Sweetheart, I don't think that Honoria is unwell, I think she is injured,” Martha explained, breaking the news as kindly as she could.

“Then why won't Malcolm let anyone see her?”

“Probably because he is the cause of her injury.”

Martha had spoken to Lucien about her fears. Other than the usual scrapes that boys get into, he also wasn't accustomed to violence, but he had watched Honoria closely since Martha had confided in him, and he had to concede that she was probably right.

“You mean he hits her?” Hope asked.

Martha nodded.

“But that's ridiculous! She would tell me if he was hurting her.”

“Would she?” Martha asked kindly. “Or would she feel ashamed? He will tell her that it's her fault that his lost his temper, and she might believe him and worry that you will agree. Or, she knows how strong willed you are, she may fear that you will look down on her if you knew she was allowing him to hit her. Or perhaps she worries that if she tells you, you will say something to Malcolm and he will become even angrier, and he will take that anger out on her.”

The boys were looking at each other and to their father, whilst Hope sat silently and absorbed her mother's words.

Lucien poured himself a drink and sat heavily in his chair. He hated the idea that anyone was being hurt on his land. Were it one of his tenants, he would throw them out, but Malcolm had bought his plot of land. Besides, he knew that confronting him would only make matters worse. Legally one was allowed to hit their wife and children so although it was morally wrong (and to Lucien, a sign of a weak mind) there was nothing that he could do to stop Malcolm. It distressed him even more, because it upset Martha and now that Hope knew, it would surely upset her too.

“Why does he hit her?” Charity asked.

Martha wasn't sure how to answer that so Lucien took the question.

“Some people don't know any better, whilst other people feel powerful if they pick on someone weaker than themselves.”

“They hit us at school,” Bart said.

“Because they don't know any better,” Lucien answered. “That's how things have always been done. I was beaten in school, everyone was, but that doesn't mean that it's right.”

“We made certain before we sent you there, that corporal punishment was their last resort,” Martha added. “Violence should always be the last resort.”

Hope wiped at her eyes and Martha realised that she was crying. She moved to sit next to her and put her arms around her.

“I'm sorry, darling.”

“It's not your fault.”

“No, but perhaps I shouldn't have told you.”

“No, I'd rather know.” Hope sat up and wiped her eyes. “Is there nothing we can do for her?”

“I wish there was,” Martha answered honestly.

“Could she not come and live with us?”

“Legally she belongs to him,” Martha explained. “He can petition the courts to bring her back, or he can have her locked up. She has no money of her own, no rights of her own, legally she is his possession and he can do what he will to her, just as he could with a vase that he owned.”

“It's not right,” Hope said, trying not to cry again.

“No, it isn't,” Lucien said.

“I have tried to tactfully tell Honoria that she can always come to us if she needs to,” Martha explained, “but I think even she knows that it is not a permanent solution.”

“What would you do?” Hope asked her mother.

“There's nothing I can do, except be her friend.”

“No, I mean if it was you, what would you do?”

“Run,” Martha said without hesitation. “But you have to remember that I came from a bad home, and I have a stubborn streak a mile wide that fuels me. Honoria is too sweet and too scared of the consequences to ever try running.”

They sat quietly for a while after that. The servants brought sandwiches and cake up for supper, but appetites were small and the conversation was stilted. Soon after the food was removed, Hope went up to bed and the others soon followed.

Hope got her diary out and immediately began writing. She couldn't believe that her friend was having to endure something like that, and that she had been blind to it.

Tomorrow she was going to find out the truth, although she was smart enough to realise that she had to wait until Malcolm had left for London.

She finally climbed into bed, but she tossed and turned all night and awoke feeling tired and unrefreshed.

Chapter Six

Each morning Hope and her mother usually did their work, which was designing gloves and outerwear for the businesses. Normally they were able to inspire ideas in each other, but today neither of them seemed to have any creativity.

At eleven o'clock, Hope decided that she was going to ride over to the Arundell's house and see Honoria.

“Be careful,” Martha advised and Hope nodded solemnly.

Hope changed into her riding habit, saddled Shelly and rode over to the Arundell's house. She paused in the trees on the edge of the grounds and watched the house for a few minutes, trying to see if Malcolm was there or not. Unfortunately there was no way to tell, so she made her way around to the front of the house and rode up the driveway. The butler, John Patterson, greeted her outside the front of the house, having heard her horse make its way up the gravel driveway.

“I'm afraid that Mrs Arundell isn't seeing visitors today,” he told her.

“Is Mr Arundell in?”

“No, Lady Beaumont, he went to London this morning.”

“And her brother?”

“He's gone into town.”

Honoria took her leg from the saddle horn and jumped to the ground.

“Mr Patterson, seeing as no one is around who might object, don't you think that Mrs Arundell might like to see a friendly face?” she said softly.

He looked indecisive.

“Please, Mr Patterson. I know she is not ill, I just want to offer her a little comfort.”

“All right, but you'd best be quick. Five minutes, no more.”

“And you won't tell Mr Arundell?” she checked.

He hesitated for a moment then nodded. “As long as you're quick.”

Hope gave him a grateful smile.

“Go knock on the front door,” he continued. “Tell Mrs Kenner that I said it's all right. I'll take the horse around back in case anyone comes.”

“Thank you.”

“Remember, it's our jobs on the line too, you know, Lady Beaumont. The Missus is a fine woman, but none of us can afford to lose our jobs.”

“I understand,” Hope assured him. “It will be our secret, I promise.”

He nodded, then took the reins from her and led the horse away.

Despite being assured that the butler had given permission, the housekeeper hesitated, only relenting when it seemed clear that letting Hope in would be easier and quicker than not letting her in. Finally, Hope was ushered up to the first floor and into a darkened room. The door was swiftly closed behind her and she could hardly see a thing.

“Honoria?” she asked.

“Hope?”

Hope moved towards the voice and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could just make out Honoria's bed. She came closer and slowly Honoria's features became clear.

Hope had been imagining all sorts of evils but thankfully Honoria didn't look so bad. She had the remains of a bruise on her cheek and a cut on her lip, but that seemed to be the only signs. Still, there could be many more bruises that weren't visible and what she could see was still too much.

Hope sat on the edge of the bed and held her arms out to Honoria, who sat up and fell into her embrace. She began to cry. They sat like that for a while until Honoria's tears subsided and she pulled away. Hope handed her a handkerchief.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Hope asked kindly.

“I'm sorry,” Honoria said. “I thought you would think me weak.”

“No one could endure what you do and be weak,” Hope assured her.

Honoria smiled. “It's my fault really. I shouldn't have told James that he could come without asking Malcolm first.”

“Is that why he hit you?”

“He seemed all right about it for a while but as the date grew closer, he became more and more irritable.”

“Does James know?”

“Oh, Lord no! He can never find out.”

“Why ever not?”

“I couldn't live with seeing the disappointment in his eyes.”

“Why would he be disappointed in you?” Hope asked, for she didn't really understand that logic.

“He is quite devout and his opinions of marriage and a woman's role are no secret. He will think that I have failed to be a good wife to Malcolm, and I suppose I have.”

“You have not failed at anything!” Hope snapped. She realised immediately that seeing Hope's temper was no better than seeing her husband's, especially as Honoria wasn't the person that Hope was actually angry at. “I'm sorry. I just... Of all the people I know, you are the sweetest and kindest, you deserve this the least of anyone, and yet you think his temper is your fault? I want to take a horse whip to him and give him a dose of what he dishes out.”

“Please don't!”

Hope took another deep breath and grabbed Honoria's hand. “I'm sorry. I wouldn't actually do that, you know, I'm just so frustrated.”

“I'm fine most of the time,” Honoria said, putting on a brave smile. “Please, this is a rare occurrence. Even when he does lose his temper, he rarely makes any marks where they can be seen. This is an aberration and as soon as I am healed, you and I will be best friends again, going about the fields and enjoying ourselves.”

Hope didn't think that it was an aberration, rather an escalation, but she could see no way out for Honoria.

“If you ever need me, just say and I will come running. You can stay with us if you want, we will hide you. Or we can run away together, somewhere that he will never find us.”

“You are sweet to offer, but to leave him would bring shame upon my family. Even if I had been tempted, I cannot leave him now.”

“Why not now?”

“I am... I am with child,” she admitted in a small voice, her eyes downcast.

Hope had thought that to be a happy event, but clearly not for Honoria. She watched her friend as tears slowly sprang from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It is nothing,” Honoria said, brushing her tears away. “Married life is not what I expected it to be, that's all, but that is probably the fault of my own expectations.”

Hope was very aware that she didn't have long and she had probably stayed too long already. As if on cue there came a tap at the door.

“I have to go,” she said. “The staff could get into trouble if I am discovered in your room.”

“I understand. Thank you for coming, it means the world to me.”

Hope kissed her forehead and turned to leave before she could change her mind.

“Hope?”

She turned back.

“Please don't say anything to James. Promise me?”

As much as Hope wanted to say 'no', she couldn't do that to her friend.

“I promise.”

She turned and left. The housekeeper was waiting in the hall and ushered her quickly down the servant's stairs, then out to the yard at the side of the house, where her horse was waiting.

“Thank you,” Hope said when she finally stopped manhandling her.

“Don't thank me yet. Lord Ashdown is back from town and if he should discover that you have seen his sister when he can't, there'll be hell to pay!”

Hope nodded her understanding and they waited a few moments.

“That's the front door,” the housekeeper said, pushing Hope towards her mount. “Now go, and be quiet about it!”

Hope approached the stable lad, who was holding Shelly. He gave her a leg-up and told her to ride home through the forest, so that Honoria's brother didn't hear the hooves on the gravel.

“Thank you,” Hope smiled, then turned and cantered towards the trees.