She managed to turn the edges of her lips up a little as she saw her friends, but it could hardly be called a smile. Hope put her arms around her friend and held her tightly but Honoria's response was lukewarm.
Martha had never seen such a picture of abject misery before. She realised how awful it was to lose a child, because after Bart, she had another son who, sadly, was stillborn but whilst upset, she hadn't become this shadow that she now saw before her. She supposed that her tough upbringing had prepared her for life's hard knocks, but Honoria had no such experience to fall back on. Like most women of the upper classes, she had been cosseted, protected and taught to be meek and mild.
As the maid came in with the tea, Hope pulled away from Honoria and took a seat. Martha sat next to Hope and poured the tea.
“How are you?” Hope asked.
Honoria simply looked away from them and out to the gardens again.
“Honoria?” Hope asked.
The maid closed the door after her and Martha waited until her footsteps had retreated, then she forgot about the tea. She went over to Honoria, pulled the other woman to her feet, then slapped her soundly around the face.
Honoria finally seemed to come to life, gasping as her hand went to her cheek.
“I'm sorry, my dear,” Martha apologised, pulling the other woman into her arms.
Honoria didn't react for a moment, then she clung tightly to Martha as she began to sob. Martha held her and cooed to her while she cried, until finally she seemed to be exhausted. Honoria pulled away and began to wipe at her eyes; she seemed to have misplaced her handkerchief so Martha handed her one.
“I'm so sorry,” Honoria said, trying her hardest to pull herself together. “What must you think of me?”
Martha sat her back down, then handed her a cup of sweet tea.
“Drink,” she ordered. She would have preferred brandy, but sweet tea would have to do since she didn't want to involve the servants in this.
Martha moved her chair closer to Honoria and took her hand and when she had finished the tea, drinking it perfunctorily rather than enjoying it, she took the cup and placed it back on the serving table.
“Now, tell us what happened?” Martha said kindly.
Immediately, Honoria's tears welled up anew but she didn't sob as she had done before. Her lower lip trembled for a moment as she prepared to answer, then she swallowed and bowed her head.
“He killed my baby,” she admitted, in a voice so soft that it was hardly more than a whisper.
Martha had suspected as much, but surely he wanted an heir? It didn't make sense for him to hurt her whilst she was pregnant, unless he was truly beyond control.
“How?” Hope asked, rather indelicately. “I mean, what happened?”
Honoria dabbed at her eyes and hesitated for another moment, then she began to tell the whole sorry tale.
“I told James that Malcolm has a forceful temper at times. I didn't want to, but he kept pressing and I had to tell him the truth, or some of it. I begged him not to say anything to Malcolm but he wouldn't listen, he assured me that everything would be all right, that he would take care of everything.” Honoria gave a mirthless laugh. “I thought he meant to take me away, perhaps arrange for me to come and help him when he had secured a parish.”
“He spoke to Malcolm, didn't he?” Martha asked.
Honoria nodded. “When he got back to London, he went to see Malcolm at his offices. I don't know what was said, but when Malcolm came home that evening... I've never seen him in such a rage before.”
Although there were no marks visible on Honoria, Martha was willing to bet that there had been three weeks ago.
Honoria swallowed and wiped her eyes again as she prepared to carry on with her story.
“That night I began to bleed. I begged him to call a doctor but he wouldn't. I suppose he didn't want them to see me; see the state I was in. Mrs Kenner did what she could for me, she's my housekeeper and she's helped other women through childbirth. But of course, there was no saving the baby. She thought that it was touch and go with me for a while but she managed to pull me back...”
“And then what happened?” asked Martha gently.
“The next morning, Malcolm gave her the key to my room and ordered that I not be let out until I was presentable again. She brought me food and sat with me herself, but she couldn't risk defying Malcolm, he told her he'd have her arrested for stealing the silver. He returned to London that afternoon and I haven't seen him since.”
“I'm so sorry, my dear.” Martha squeezed her hand. “Has a doctor seen you at all?”
“Mrs Kenner called Dr McCoy out to me yesterday. He said that I had a touch of melancholia and that I need time to grieve, but that I should be encouraged to see family and friends.”
Martha was glad that at least someone was looking out for Honoria.
“I don't know what to do,” Honoria confessed, her voice low, as though she was afraid of being overheard. “I know that we are married, but God surely doesn't mean for me to stay with a child killer? Murder is a sin, and the murder of a child even worse. How can he ask that of me?” Her eyes went from Martha to Hope, seeking an answer but neither could offer one. Then she sighed. “But I can't leave, of course, he would find me wherever I went.”
Martha composed her next words carefully.
“I cannot dictate your faith to you, Honoria, I know how devout you are but in my own humble opinion, I too do not believe that God would require anyone to stay with a man such as Malcolm and if it is your wish, I will take you away, somewhere that you will be safe and he will never find you. Somewhere that you might start again.”
“You would do that for me?” Honoria sounded awed.
“Of course, my dear, but I must caution you first. It won't be easy; you must leave behind all the trappings of society, including the wealth and your friends, if you are to hide successfully.”
“I understand,” Honoria looked grave but she nodded. “I'm sure it will be difficult but money and standing have not brought me happiness yet. Perhaps I might lose a fortune but gain a little happiness?”
“Perhaps,” Martha agreed with a smile. At least, she hoped that was the case. “Now, for the foreseeable future you must continue to appear broken hearted, which shouldn't be too difficult.”
Hope squeezed her hand and Honoria nodded her understanding.
“Good. Now Hope and I are going to take you for a walk in the gardens, for the fresh air. Each afternoon, you must do the same and if any servants offer to accompany you, refuse them. Get angry if you have to. After a few days, start to go into the woodland as well, before returning home. When we are ready, we will meet you in the woods, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, do not tell anyone what we are planning and do not take anything with you when you go for your walks.”
“Why not?”
“Because we are going to try and make it appear that something has happened to you whilst out walking. Malcolm will probably not believe that but at least we can muddy the waters slightly.”
“I understand,” she said. “Oh Lord, James will be heartbroken.”
“You cannot worry about that,” Martha said. “He made your plight worse, remember?”
“But he didn't mean to!”
“I know, but he did nevertheless. If you tell him anything about our plans, chances are that he will confide in Malcolm once you are gone.”
Honoria nodded but she looked very nervous.
“You are free to say 'no',” Martha assured her. “I won't force you into this and if you change your mind, send a note asking if you can come for afternoon tea, and I will take that to mean that you have had a change of heart.”
“But what if I want to come over?” Honoria asked.
“You are heartbroken, you shouldn't be going anywhere. You didn't even reply to the note we sent this morning, did you?”
“You sent a note?” she frowned. “Mrs Kenner must have
answered it. I haven't even read any correspondence for weeks.”
“I'm sure she only did so because she was worried about you,” Hope assured her friend.
“Indeed,” Martha agreed. “But you still cannot confide in her. If for no other reason, you will place her job in jeopardy if you do.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”
“Good. Now, let's have a little stroll in the gardens. Try not to appear too animated and hold both our elbows.”
“How are we going to get her away?” Hope asked when they were in the carriage and on their way home.
“That's the easy part,” Martha answered. “We'll meet her in the woods. The real problem is how to then hide her and keep her safe.”
“Couldn't we send her to Scotland? Maybe I could go with her?”
“You can't go with her,” Martha said kindly. “Not only will that confirm Malcolm's suspicions, you will be much easier to find if you travel together.”
“But she can't go alone!” Hope sounded shocked. “She'd be like a lamb to the slaughter.”
“I know,” Martha agreed. “Finding someone who is strong enough to look after her, but who still won't be associated with her will be our difficulty. Well, one of our difficulties.”
“What about Scotland?”
“I'm thinking that we need to send her abroad,” Martha admitted. “Britain is a small country and it's hard to get lost here. I was wondering about sending her to France, or perhaps even to America.”
“America is a little wild, isn't it?” Hope asked.
“We won't send her to the frontier,” Martha said with a smile.
“But the civil war?”
“Is over now. The cities don't seem to have been too badly affected, especially in the north, and they are the best places to hide, among thousands.”
“But how can we get her there without her name appearing on a passenger manifest?”
“That I don't yet know,” Martha admitted. “I will speak to your father; perhaps he knows how we might achieve it.”
Chapter Twelve
That evening after they had made love and lay in each other's arms, Martha told Lucien everything that she had learned from Honoria today and what her plans were.
“I don't like it,” Lucien said.
“But we cannot let her stay with him,” Martha argued. “He is a monster.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Which is why I am more worried about you and Hope incurring his wrath. Someone with such an unpredictable temper is dangerous.”
“Which is why we need your help, darling. This has to be done properly, with no trail left for Malcolm to follow. Helping me accomplish that is how you can keep us safe.”
Lucien shook his head in consternation. “Your logic is strange and yet oddly compelling.”
Martha raised her head off his chest and stretched up to kiss him quickly. She knew he would help, not because he agreed with her necessarily, but because he knew that when she had set her mind to something, she would do it, with or without his help.
“It would also be useful to leave a false trail,” Lucien added. If he couldn't stop this madness, he would make sure that it was done properly. “Perhaps book passage in Honoria's name to France.”
“That's a good idea,” Martha smiled. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”
The next day, Martha took the gig and headed to her mother's cottage in the afternoon. As usual, she came laden with various treats for her mother, from a sponge cake to preserves. They shared a pot of tea and chatted for a while, but they didn't have an awful lot in common these days.
Mary arrived home from the school at half past five and after she had a cup of tea, Martha invited her to take a walk. Puzzled by the invitation, Mary agreed.
“So, what couldn't you say in front of Mother?” Mary asked as they walked through the village.
“I have a favour to ask of you.”
“So ask,” Mary smiled.
“It's not that simple.” Martha had been wondering all day how to best phrase her request. “Hope and I have a friend, Honoria, who is married to a beast of a man. He beat her severely recently and she was unable to see anyone for three weeks. The attack also caused her to lose her baby and I fear that if she stays with him much longer, he may even kill her. I said that I would help her to escape.”
“What can I do?” Mary asked.
“I am sending her to America but she cannot go alone. She is a good woman but she is not like us, she is naive and not at all resourceful.”
“And you want me to go with her?” Mary guessed.
“I realise that it is a big favour to ask,” Martha said. “You would have to leave everyone behind and start again in a strange country.”
“What about Mother, who will care for her?”
“I will organise something. Her needs are not so great these days, I'm sure than I can find a good woman to live with her and take care of her.”
“What about the school?”
“I will make sure it continues.”
Mary was silent as she considered Martha's request.
“I have read a lot about the country, especially in recent years, after their civil war. Some call it the land of opportunity.”
“We will send you an allowance every month,” Martha assured her. “You will not want for money.”
“And what should I do for a purpose?”
“That I cannot help with, but there must be schools in America. If we can work out such details, do you think that you might be willing?”
“The idea interests me,” Mary admitted. “Although it also frightens me in equal measure.”
“I realise you will need some time to think about it, but I must ask you not to tell anybody. We cannot leave any trail and I should warn you, that if Malcolm should ever discover your whereabouts, it will not be pretty.”
“I understand. How long do I have?”
“We need to get her away from him as soon as possible. I'm hoping, within a week, but if you need more time-”
“You will have my answer tomorrow,” Mary assured her. “I can't promise that you will like it, but I give you my word that I will consider it fully.”
“Thank you.” Martha hugged her sister.
Mary spent the rest of the evening wondering what to do about Martha's offer.
A part of her, a large part, wanted to leave this life (and its many unpleasant associations) behind. This was the house that her father violated her in and sometimes, completely unexpectedly, a memory would overcome her, rendering her a terrified child for a time, until she recovered her equanimity.
The other part of her, which had worked hard to carve out the life she did have, was afraid of giving that up, especially with no guarantee of anything better in return. Martha's allowance would mean that she wouldn't have to work anymore but then, she didn't have to work here; Martha would have paid her to take care of their mother. She wanted to work though, to feel useful, and had always felt that way. As a result of her father's brutal actions that night, she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would most likely never get married. With the life of a wife and mother off the cards, she valued her independence, and earning her own wage was a vital part of that.
Still, it sounded as if Honoria was trapped with a husband much like Mary's father, and she didn't like the feeling that she might be condemning the girl to a future with such a man.
But could she really leave her own mother to fend for herself? Although they had little in common these days, Mary had been taking care of her mother for as long as she could remember. The rest of the family were married or had moved away, so that had only left Mary. She hadn't begrudged caring for her, but sometimes she did feel that she had done more than her share. Didn't she deserve a chance to forge her own life? And she trusted Martha to take good care of their mother.
Also on the plus side, until now Mary had resigned herself to growing old and grey alone (for her mother would not live forever) but a
married woman, even one taking on a new identity, was unlikely to marry again and commit bigamy. They could be companions to each other.
They paid no rent on the cottage, and so Mary had been able to save quite a bit of her wage from the school over the years. She had a nice nest egg for someone her age. Perhaps it was time to stop waiting and saving for the future and take this risk, in the hopes that she might forge her own future.
Lucien visited Liverpool a few times every year. Their stock regularly sailed from the port, heading mainly to America, so it wasn't unusual for Lucien to have business to conduct there. Sometimes their foreign buyers would come into the port to accompany the goods back, or to meet with Lucien and other local manufacturers who they purchased their wares from.
One might think that in such a large country as America, the people would be self-sufficient, and largely they were. However over the years, Lucien had gathered from meetings with various buyers, that there was also a certain snobbery that had developed. There were a lot of people who had made their fortune in America, but such people were often looked down upon by those who came from landed or titled families in England. These upper class English families often believed that true quality could only come from England and that made English goods, especially high end ones like Aldercott & Beaumont, desirable to all those who had wealth.
Today he had arranged a meeting with Maynard shipping, who handled most of their goods. Lucien didn't really have anything to discuss since he was happy with their current shipping rates, so instead he simply had a long lunch with the chairman.
After lunch he returned to his hotel and waited until night time before he ventured out again, calling a hansom cab to take him to the docks. The docks were a hive of activity during the day but after nightfall, the activities turned more nefarious. Anything you wanted could be bought at the docks, for the right price.
The driver warned Lucien to be careful as he alighted and Lucien assured him that he would. He knew that his clothes would mark him out as a target to some, but he had brought a cane for protection. Lucien walked around the docks, searching for someone who looked as though he might be able to help.
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