Degrees of Hope Read online

  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.

  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 es
pecially 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 p
raise 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?”