Degrees of Hope Read online

  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.

  The outerwear business on the other hand, was started as a partnership between Martha and Lucien, although upon their marriage, it legally became Lucien's in its entirety.

  Lucien still discussed most matters with his wife though, not because he had to but because he valued her opinion. Any major decisions on the gloves he discussed with both Hope and Martha, since they were majority owners.

  Mostly they were content to design the gloves and outerwear and happy to leave the day to day running of the business to him, as they trusted his business sense. Still, it wasn't unusual for business to become a topic of discussion over dinner, so both women were reasonably well informed, although Martha took a greater interest than Hope.

  “Not wholly,” Martha agreed with Honoria. “I leave the running of the company to my husband, but he does like to talk matters through with me. I t
hink it helps him to organise his own thoughts.”

  Honoria looked astounded.

  “Malcolm doesn't discuss business with you?” Hope asked.

  “No, although I confess,” her voice lowered conspiratorially. “I do often read his daily paper once he has left for work. I know that it is frightfully unladylike, but I am interested in the world. Please do not tell him; he disapproves of such behaviour in women.”

  “Your secret is safe with us,” Martha assured her with a warm smile.

  They chatted amiably for a while longer until the men joined them and soon afterwards, Martha and Lucien excused themselves to prepare for bed. Many of the aristocracy didn't retire until the early hours of the morning but Lucien had businesses to run, which required an early start. Malcolm seemed happy to retire then also and as they all headed upstairs, Hope noticed that Malcolm and Honoria each went into their own bedrooms, without even a kiss goodnight.

  She frowned as she entered her own room, and wondered what it must be like to be a part of such a loveless marriage. Separate bedrooms were normal among the upper classes and even Hope's parents had their own rooms, however Hope couldn't remember her father sleeping in his bedroom since Charity was born. In fact, he only seemed to use it for housing his clothes and for dressing.

  Even when her parents disagreed, which wasn't that unusual, they still shared a bed at night.

  Hope's lady's maid came in to help her disrobe and take her hair down, and she chattered away about this and that. Hope usually enjoyed listening to the gossip from the servant's hall but this evening she was distracted. As she settled under her covers, she suspected that she would have a restless night ahead of her, and she was right.

  Over the next two nights, after they had retired to bed, Martha and Lucien repeatedly returned to the topic of whether to allow Malcolm to buy the land he wanted.

  Lucien was opposed to the idea as the longer he spent in Malcolm's company, the less he was inclined to like him but Martha pushed him to accept, as she felt rather protective of Honoria.

  “I'm not sure I can stand to live next to such a man,” Lucien said on the second evening of discussions. “And don't forget, we will be required to socialise with them.”

  “Only occasionally,” Martha argued. “He works away during the week, and we won't be socialising every weekend. Besides, there are already a number of people in our group that you find distasteful, what is one more?”

  “You make me sound like a curmudgeon,” he said. “There are a few people of our acquaintance that I dislike, I admit it, but that is hardly 'a number'.”

  “You are right, I'm sorry.” Martha smiled. She had been lying with her head on his shoulder, but she pulled away and propped her head up on her hand so that she could see his face.

  “What?” he asked, noting her troubled expression.

  “I just feel bad for Honoria,” she admitted. “Her father arranged this marriage and I think that she is desperately unhappy.”

  “And you think that living here will make her happy?” he asked, confused by her argument.

  “No,” she admitted. “I do however, think that Malcolm's plan in bringing her here to live, is to isolate her from her friends and family. I cannot help but think that if they are on the estate, Honoria will at least have someone sympathetic nearby, and possibly even a friend in Hope.”

  Lucien still wasn't inclined to agree to the sale, but he could see her point.

  “Do we really want to get involved in their marriage?” he asked.

  “We aren't getting involved,” she assured him. “I just want Honoria to know that she has friends around her.”

  “And what if she comes to us, asking us to help her?”

  “Then we help.”

  “We don't have that right,” he said. “A marriage is between a man and a woman. Even if we wanted to, we have no right to intervene.”

  “Perhaps not legally, but morally we do.”

  Lucien just glared at her, upset at the idea of being embroiled in a fight that wasn't his.

  “Darling,” Martha said, leaning down to kiss him gently. “The chances are that we will never be asked to become involved, Honoria is far too dutiful to ever consider leaving her husband, but we can still be a friend to her. And you never know, there is a chance that her quiet ways may rub off on Hope and help to calm her.”

  “We couldn't be that lucky,” Lucien smiled.

  Martha knew that she was winning, and played her trump card. “Please, for me?”

  Lucien sighed, knowing that he had lost this round. “Fine. Tomorrow I will inform Malcolm of our decision and get started on drawing up the deeds.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You owe me,” he said, only half teasing.

  “And how would you like to be repaid, sir?” she asked, coquettishly.

  “I'm sure you'll think of something,” he answered her, a smirk on his lips.

  Martha leaned down and kissed him deeply and when she pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

  “How's that?” she asked.

  “It's a promising start,” he told her.

  Chapter Three

  Over the course of the next two weeks, Hope did her best to befriend Honoria; a task that was made considerably easier when her husband left for London during the week to oversee his business interests, returning on Friday night. Honoria remained reserved but she was much easier to talk to without Malcolm around.

  As soon as Hope's wrist had healed, she took Honoria all around the estate, showing her the plot of land that her husband was interested in. Hope would have been livid if her husband built a house somewhere, without even showing her the land first, but Honoria simply accepted it.

  Overall, Honoria was a very dutiful girl, taking seriously her duty to both her husband and her God and her favourite phrase seemed to be, “It is God's will” or some variation on that theme.

  At the same time however, she seemed to find Hope's abandon quite appealing; watching and laughing as Hope jumped gates on her horse that she had been warned not to, or made a very unladylike joke or observation. Whilst Honoria wasn't going to overstep the moral boundaries placed on her, she seemed perfectly happy to live vicariously through Hope.

  She smiled freely whilst with Hope, and it made her beauty radiate out from her. So much so that Hope thought it a pity that her husband didn't try to make her smile more often.

  As soon as her husband returned, her levity vanished, and she would beg Hope not to speak of their antics in his presence.

  On the Thursday afternoon of the second week, just two days before she and her husband were due to leave, Hope and Honoria were having a picnic lunch in the unoccupied paddock.

  MacDuff accompanied Hope everywhere she went outdoors, and was at this moment stretched out beside them on the grass, enjoying the sun. Honoria liked the dog and often petted him when her husband wasn't around, but today she had no interest. In fact she seemed very subdued that day and when Hope thought about it, she had been getting quieter all week.

  “Is something wrong?” Hope asked.

  Honoria looked up at her and smiled sadly. “Not at all, I am just a little sad to be leaving, that's all.”

  “But your house will be ready before the end of the year, and then you'll live here most of the time.”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Removed from all my old friends and family. At least in London, I had some friends visiting me during the season, and my brother came see me regularly. Here I shall have no one but you.”

  “Then why are you moving up here? Surely there is land closer to London or your family's estate available.”

  “There is,” Honoria admitted. She looked down, as though ashamed of what she was about to say. “Malcolm can be very jealous,” she said softly. “Not just of men but of anyone who claims my time. Malcolm says that he wants to live here to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life but the reality is... well, I think he wants me away from the London life. He wants
me isolated so that he can have me all to himself.”

  “Then he has failed,” Hope said, reaching over and taking Honoria's hand. “No matter what happens, you and I will always be great friends, and I am but a ten minute ride from your new home.”

  “I...”

  “Yes?”

  Honoria glanced up into Hope's eyes then quickly looked away again.

  “I am worried that he will forbid me to see you.”

  “So? He is in London most of the week; he cannot know what you do.”

  “But he can. The servants do as he asks them and they report my movements to him.”

  “Well then, I shall just have to be exceedingly nice to him, so that he has no reason to forbid me from seeing you.”

  Honoria was silent for a long while before speaking and when she did her voice was barely above a whisper.

  “He already disapproves of you. He believes that it is unseemly for a woman, such as yourself, to be independent and still unmarried at almost twenty four.”

  “Honoria, look at me,” Hope said, gently squeezing the other woman's hand, silently giving her strength.

  Honoria looked into her friend's eyes.

  “You will never lose me,” Hope assured her. “Even if he moves you to the Outer Hebrides, all you have to do is write and I will come running.”

  “Thank you.”

  To Hope's surprise, Honoria began to cry. Hope put her arms around her and held her tightly until her tears subsided.

  The Arundell's house was finished by Christmas, and although nothing when compared to Marchwood Hall, it was a fine home. With six bedrooms, a small stable block, a landscaped garden at the rear and with no expense spared, there was no doubting the status of its residents.