Degrees of Hope

by Catherine Winchester

  Like her daughter, Martha was having a hard time waiting but there was nothing for it except to endure it. Thankfully it wasn't too much longer until Mr Jenners came in and announced that the Arundell's house keeper was here and insisting on seeing Miss Hope. It was clear from his demeanour, that he didn't believe it was a housekeepers place to request an audience with a daughter of the house.

  “Whatever for?” Martha asked, seeming amused by the idea.

  “It appears that Mrs Arundell is missing and she believes that her mistress might be here.”

  “Missing?” Hope asked, although clearly the butler knew nothing more.

  “Show her in,” Martha told him and moments later, the housekeeper bustled into the room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, Ma'am,” Mrs Kenner curtseyed.

  “Not at all. Mr Jenners tells me that Honoria is missing, is that right?”

  “Yes, ma'am. I was hoping that she might have come here, or that you might know where she was.”

  Mrs Kenner looked so worried that Martha stepped forward, took the housekeeper's hands and guided her to the chair that she had just vacated.

  “Now, tell me everything,” Martha said, kneeling at her feet.

  The housekeeper explained how Honoria had been going for a walk each day and how she thought that it was good for her mistress, but how she had never been gone for more than an hour until today.

  “When did she leave?”

  “Over two hours ago.”

  Martha frowned and Hope had to admire her mother's acting skills. She decided to remain silent, lest she give the game away.

  “Is it possible that she has gone to see someone else?” Martha asked. “Or perhaps taken her pony out without telling anyone?”

  “I don't think so.”

  Martha nodded, then looked to the clock on the mantelpiece.

  “Should I call the police or send word to the master?” Mrs Kenner asked.

  “I don't know,” Martha admitted. “She may simply have lost track of time, she has been awfully sad since she lost the baby. I was hoping that she would come over for tea after our visit, but I didn't want to pester her. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps she was in more pain than any of us realised.”

  “What are you saying, ma'am, that she-”

  “Oh no, no! She wouldn't! I'm certain that her faith is too strong for that but... well she is grieving and that can make a person do strange things. Perhaps she just went further than she thought and got lost? Yes, I'm sure that's it. We'll organise a search party to look through the woods.”

  Worried that it was too soon to start looking, Hope found the courage to speak up.

  “But most of the estate is farm land, Mama, surely she will happen across one soon and they will guide her home?”

  “Yes,” Martha mused on her daughter's words. They had to been seen to act but like Hope, she didn't want to start looking too soon.

  “She will be upset to think that she's put so many people out,” the housekeeper helpfully added.

  “All right, here's what we'll do,” Martha said. “You return to your house and if Honoria does return within the next half hour, send word to us with the stable lad. In the meantime, I will see how many men I can round up and if we have not heard from you, we will proceed to Arundell Hall and begin looking.”

  “Right you are.” Mrs Kenner sounded much happier now that they had a plan. “I'm so sorry for interrupting you, Ma'am.”

  “Think nothing of it; you know how dear Honoria is to us.”

  When they were alone again, Hope finally let her anxiety show through. It was genuine but of course, for a completely different reason.

  “I do hope she's okay,” Hope said.

  “Me too,” Martha reached out and took her daughters hand. “Me too.”

  The initial search party consisted only of Marchwood Hall's male household and estate staff, who proceeded over to Arundell Hall to begin searching. Arundell Hall didn't have anywhere near the number of staff that Marchwood had, but those men who could be spared also joined the search.

  Hope and Martha stayed at Arundell Hall in case Honoria should return although in reality, it was so that they had some control over the situation. As the wealthiest in the household, opinion naturally deferred to their judgement.

  When Lucien arrived home, his staff informed him of what had happened and directed him to the Arundell house. When he heard the full story from Martha, he declared that it was time that the police were informed and a messenger sent to London to fetch Mr Arundell.

  Lucien then corralled as many farmers as he could to help with the search. Word spread in Marchwood town and more turned up to help, along with the most of the town's police officers. Martha and Hope began to try and coordinate the different parties, so that they didn't cover old ground.

  Shortly after Lucien went out searching, someone discovered a handkerchief. The worker rushed back to the house, certain that it must be Mrs Arundell's, although M and D weren't her initials. Martha took the handkerchief and paled.

  “This is Mary's,” she said softly. “The school teacher,” she clarified.

  “Mama?” Hope asked, playing her part. Martha showed her the handkerchief.

  “Would someone be so kind as to visit Mary's cottage and check that she got home from school safely? It's in the Woods Hole hamlet, the last cottage on the left.”

  The worker who had discovered the handkerchief offered to go and quickly departed.

  They waited some more then after another hour or so, the worker returned to say that Miss Dawley hadn't arrived back at the cottage.

  “We must go and see Mother,” Martha announced. Without a second thought for the searchers, she and Hope ran to the stables, where their horse and gig was still waiting for them.

  Although they dropped the pretence of fear on the ride over to Mary's house, both were upset about the pain this was going to cause Lizzy.

  “We should take her back to the Hall with us,” Martha said. “She shouldn't be left alone to worry.”

  “We should tell her the truth,” Hope argued. She didn't like the idea of her grandmother suffering.

  “We cannot,” Martha said, stopping the gig so that she could turn her gaze on Hope. “She is a good woman, no doubt, but she is also weak. She spent a lifetime in servitude to my father and she is conditioned to be submissive. I know that she will not want to break our confidence but if anyone can get the truth from her, it is a man with a temper, such as Malcolm Arundell and what's more, he could probably smell weakness in her.”

  Hope nodded her agreement, although it wasn't exactly enthusiastic.

  Lizzy was worried sick; had been for a while now and even more so since the worker visited her to enquire after Mary, but she didn't know who to turn to. She was afraid of interrupting her daughter at the grand house, even although she had always been welcomed there.

  Martha insisted that she pack a bag and return and stay at the Hall, at least while the search was being conducted. Once back at Marchwood Hall, Martha sent one of the kitchen maids to inform Lucien and the other searchers that they were actually looking for two missing women.

  Now that there were two people missing, giving even more cause to be anxious, Martha, Hope and Lizzy shared a bottle of wine to calm their nerves.

  At nine o'clock that evening, someone found Honoria's bloody cuff and news was duly sent to Martha.

  Finally, at midnight, they called off the search, promising to start again at first light.

  The Beaumont household was jointly awoken at a little after four in the morning, as Malcolm Arundell proceeded to shout, pound on the door and generally make enough noise to wake the dead.

  No one in the family was particularly surprised, save perhaps for Charity, the youngest. The staff was another matter though, and by the time Lucien and Martha had thrown on their night clothes and made their way downstairs, there was already an assembly of them, all huddled together by the front door, wondering what to do for the best.
As a mark of respect, Mr Jenners and Mrs Lassiter both had their own accommodation, separate from the house and without their leadership, the rest of the staff was all of a dither.

  “Stand aside, ladies,” Lucien said, pushing his way through them to get to the door.

  Martha followed him, until she saw Hope making her way downstairs and went to meet her. Clearly sensing danger, MacDuff was crouched low at her side.

  “Go back to bed, darling, and lock the door.”

  “But, Mama!”

  “Go. Malcolm already resents you and he will likely blame you for her disappearance, no matter how unwarranted the blame.”

  Hope didn't move until Martha directed Hopkins, her lady's maid, to go with her. She went under the older woman's guidance, but clearly didn't want to. Martha then made her way back to her husband.

  “Where is she?” Malcolm cried as he tried for force his way past Lucien, into the house.

  “Calm yourself!” Lucien bellowed. “If you are referring to your wife, my staff and I have been out most of the afternoon and all evening looking for her.”

  “Don't pull that with me!” Malcolm spat. “I know you're hiding her. I know that wife and daughter of yours have been putting ideas into her head!”

  Martha was really quite shocked by Malcolm's appearance, for although she was used to her own father's outbursts when she was young, she had never seen such vitriol pour from a man who looked so refined. Indeed, his veneer of civility was proving to be just that, and the man beneath was quite ugly, not to mention, more than a little frightening.

  She was shocked further still when Lucien's fist connected with Malcolm's jaw, sending him sprawling back down the steps to land on his back in the driveway. Martha was used to her husband's temper, indeed she had been on the receiving end of it a time or two herself, but she had never seen him strike anyone before.

  “How dare you talk about my family like that!” Lucien said as he stepped outside and looked down at Malcolm. His voice was no longer booming but quite controlled, which made him sound even more menacing than Malcolm's uncontrolled anger, if possible. “For her own sake, I pray that your wife doesn't return to a snivelling, vile little man like you. You, sir, are no longer welcome in my house. Go home, and thank your lucky stars that I do not call the constable on you.”

  Malcolm got to his feet and touched a hand to his jaw. He looked fierce but while didn't make a move against Lucien, he also didn't leave.

  Martha stepped outside and put her hand on her husband's arm.

  “We have to let him look around,” she said softly. She wasn't afraid of Lucien, for she had a frightful temper at times too, but she also didn't want to anger him any further in case he seriously hurt Malcolm. “If we don't, or if we wait until morning, he will only become more convinced that we are hiding her.”

  “I am not letting him wander around our home!” Lucien's wary eyes never left Malcolm.

  “Then go with him,” she suggested. Finally he glanced at her and she pressed her point home. “It's the only way to prove our innocence.”

  Lucien looked at her for a long moment, then finally nodded and looked back to Malcolm.

  “You don't deserve to have your fears laid to rest but my wife is right, we have nothing to hide. You may look where you like but after tonight, you will not set foot on my land again.”

  He didn't bother to ask if Malcolm understood; he was the Earl of Marchwood and a magistrate of the district, so his word in these parts was quite literally law.

  He returned to the front hall and spoke to the staff.

  “For the sake of your dignity, I will ask you to wait in your dining room until your rooms have been searched. I will inform you as soon as you are free to return,” he explained. “And I apologise for the inconvenience.”

  The staff shuffled off and Lucien turned to look for Malcolm, who still hadn't put a foot inside.

  “This offer is not open ended.”

  Malcolm stepped into the hallway.

  “Close the door,” Lucien told him, as if he were any common servant. Although it clearly galled him to do so, Malcolm obeyed. “Where do you want to start?”

  It was taking all of Lucien's self-control to be civil to this man.

  “Hope's room.”

  “That's Lady Beaumont to you. This way.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Although she was still in her dressing gown, Martha followed them both up to Hope's room. Hope was sitting by her fire, to which Hopkins had added a little fresh coal to rekindle it. It seemed however, that after a cursory glance around, Malcolm was more interested in questioning Hope than searching her room.

  “What did my wife tell you?” Malcolm demanded.

  MacDuff's ears laid flat against his head and he rose to his haunches, ready for the order to pounce.

  “She told me that you beat her until she miscarried your child, is that what you mean?”

  Malcolm's clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “Where is she?”

  “Even if I knew, there is no way I would tell you. I hope she did run away. I hope she stole all your money and ran away with a gentleman who loves and respects her, rather than a tradesman like you, who only understands possession!”

  “Hope,” Martha cautioned, not because she disagreed with her daughter's words, but because she could see that Malcolm was dangerously close to snapping.

  “Try it,” Lucien warned Malcolm, evidently having the same fears as his wife.

  Malcolm glared at Hope, who defiantly glared back. She realised that calling him a tradesman was hitting a raw nerve but she hadn't quite grasped the danger in angering a man like Malcolm. Much like Martha, who had been unable to stop herself from standing up to her own father, Hope felt unable to back down in this situation.

  “We're done here,” Lucien said, manhandling Malcolm from the room.

  It took every ounce of self-control that Malcolm possessed not to swing at Lucien, but he knew that he would likely not win a fight with him. Unlike Lucien, who enjoyed outdoor pursuits and looking after his own estate, Malcolm's life was mainly desk-bound and sedentary. He knew from the earlier blow that he was outmatched. Secondly, he knew that this was his only hope of searching the house. If he was thrown out now, he would never get to finish his search. Well, not until they had a chance to move Honoria.

  Martha followed them as they looked in each room and dressing room on the first floor. Thankfully she had given her mother a sleeping draught and she didn't wake with the earlier commotion, nor when they looked into her room. They then headed up to the servants' quarters. They were easier to check, given that the servants did not have large closets and dressing rooms. When he was done, Martha left them, after assuring Lucien that she would be waiting for him in their room, she then went to tell the servants that they could return to bed.

  Malcolm took his time looking around the ground floor and then insisted on checking the stables and barn, and of course he wanted to check the housekeeper's and butler's accommodations. Mrs Lassiter's rooms were above the stable and Mr Jenner had the gatekeeper's cottage, where he lived with his wife.

  Finally he had nowhere else to search and Malcolm realised that although he didn't think that he was wrong, he couldn't prove it tonight. Still, perhaps by him already having searched the home, they would now bring Honoria back there. He would tell a police constable of his fears in a day or two, and insist that they also search the house. Yes, that was probably a very good plan, he decided.

  He didn't honestly believe that Honoria would run away on her own, she wasn't brave enough for that, but neither did he believe that the cuff that was found in the woods meant that she had been attacked. She was somewhere close by, he was sure of it, and he was equally certain that Hope was involved somehow. That headstrong little trollop needed to learn her place, and Malcolm would be more than happy to teach her, if the occasion ever arose.

  Martha thanked the staff for their understanding, then she prepared a tray and
two pots of tea, which she carried up to her room. The staff offered to do it for her but she felt that they had already been too upset. Besides, the kettle had boiled for their own tea, so it wasn't exactly difficult or time consuming.

  She put the tray in her room, then went to see Hope and dismissed Hopkins, with her thanks. She took Hope back her bedroom and poured them both a nice cup of tea.

  “Are you all right?” Martha asked.

  “I'm still angry,” Hope admitted. “I hate him.”

  “I know... me too.”

  Hope looked shocked. She had heard her mother express distaste for someone before but she had never heard her use such strong language.

  “He reminded me of my father tonight,” Martha said.

  “But you beat him,” Hope tried to reassure her.

  “Did I?” Martha asked. “He was just as vile as Malcolm but I rewarded him for his sins, I paid him to leave the family alone.”

  “But what else could you have done?” Hope asked. “You know that fathers have the right to rule their families. And you said he drank himself to death, so it worked.”

  “I know, but that doesn't mean that he shouldn't have paid for his crimes.” She sighed sadly. “And now, yet another man will get off scot free. What if he marries again, what do we do then? And what about all the women that we don't personally know? All this suffering, all this misery, it shouldn't be allowed to continue.”

  “Then we will do something to stop it,” Hope assured her mother, slightly unnerved by her defeatist tone.

  “How, darling?”

  “The same way you and Papa started the school.”

  “No abusive husband is going to allow his wife to become educated.”

  “Then we'll get to them before that. The girls in our school now have a better understanding of life and with an education, they have more options available. They don't just have to marry or go into factory work.”

  “Perhaps, but there also has to be the jobs for them, and one school isn't much in the scheme of things.”