“A great many people are, particularly when afflicted by grief. Have you any children?”
“No.”
“Well, there you are: that is another reason for you to be so exceedingly overset. As a consequence of not having provided this paragon of a husband with an heir, the bulk of his fortune has gone elsewhere and you find yourself superfluous: a middle-aged woman whom nobody loves.”
“That,” she said, “is true enough.”
“You have fled England in order to escape the endless censure of his nearest relatives, disappointed that the fortune has gone to some undeserving and only very distantly related person.”
“I am not without means,” Cassie murmured.
“No,” he agreed, glancing around the well-furnished room in which they sat.
“Oh, this does not belong to me,” she explained. “I have rented the entire house - lock, stock and barrel. But my most recent protector settled a generous sum upon me to ensure that, if I did not wish to pursue my career – which I promise you I am absolutely set against - I would be able to retire. After all, it grows more difficult with every passing year for a woman in my position to find a replacement provider.”
“How thoughtful of him! Did he know how much you disliked your job?”
“I suppose so,” she admitted. “But I am not certain that he altogether believed me; after all, I went to a great deal of trouble to hold on to him, even when he wished to escape.”
“Were you in love with him?”
“I am not sure; he always said I was not in spite of my quite desperate attempts to prevent him from leaving; I am inclined to think my behaviour was prompted more by fear of abandonment than deep affection. Also, he was – is – a kind man who has never beaten me. I knew I could not do better and feared the future without him.”
“Good God! Is that the best you can say of him: that he never beat you?”
“It is quite a lot.”
The Earl fell silent; what Cassie had not said clearly shocked him and she found herself wondering at it. It was true that he looked very young but he nevertheless displayed all the signs of a man of the world. He was well dressed, clearly had the entrée to every fashionable house in Vienna, and must, surely, have come across such arrangements – they could not be restricted to London, Paris and Rome. Indeed, it seemed odd that he did not appear to support a mistress himself.
“Are you married, my lord?”
“No; and I do not keep a peculiar either if that is what you are wondering. But pray do not draw the conclusion that I am a paragon of virtue; I am not; I am as interested in your sex as any man I know but I have no wish to employ a person with expensive tastes to satisfy either my vanity or my most base desires. I own I find the idea displeasing for a number of reasons, not least that there is a degree of condescension in a man using a woman for his own purposes only to cast her off when he grows tired of her.”
“Your opinions do you honour, my lord.”
“Do you think so? I own that, as I was speaking, I was conscious that I was displaying an unpleasant degree of arrogance which I made certain you would find displeasing. I did not mean to insult you.”
“I do not think anyone could say anything to make me more ashamed than I already am,” she admitted, adding, “He never insulted me either. He was a very nonpareil of a lover.”
“No doubt you miss him.”
“A little, but I own to a good deal of relief that I need no longer worry about the future now that it is upon me. I certainly do not miss the scorn to which I was subjected if I dared set foot in the Park during the fashionable hour. Being hit in the face in the Prater is almost preferable to the looks of disgust I was used to receive from respectable ladies in London. The pain is more easily borne.”
“It must have been very hard. Mrs Morley, I have trespassed on your time for long enough. Have I your permission to tell someone who is bound to pass on the news to everyone else that I have received a letter from a much-loved distant cousin?”
“Yes, I suppose so if you truly do not mind taking such a step.”
“Most certainly I do not mind; I am looking forward to it. May I return tomorrow to see how your injury is progressing and to share with you any further thoughts either of us may have on the matter?”
“Yes; I am very grateful but, if you change your mind and decide that constructing – and maintaining – such a cock and bull story is not, after all, to your taste, pray do not hesitate to abandon the idea.”
“Very well.” He raised her hand to his lips. “Auf Wiedersehen, Gnädige Frau – bis Morgen.”
Cassie rang the bell for the butler to show his lordship out and was surprised to be informed that Graf von Krems had that moment arrived to enquire after her health.
Waldron grinned. “You see, you have already acquired two admirers. Would you like me to stay to translate or would you prefer me to take my leave?”
“I am persuaded he is not an admirer,” Cassie said. “He has a small son and no doubt a wife.”
“You cannot be so naïve as to suppose that the possession of a wife will prevent him from becoming an admirer,” Waldron pointed out.
“No, possibly not.”
“Shall I remain?” Lord Waldron mouthed at her as the Count entered the room.
She nodded, turning to greet the Austrian with a warm look.
“Thank you for the beautiful flowers. You see, I have been able to fill several vases.”
Lord Waldron, bowing courteously to the other man, translated.
“I am glad you like them,” von Krems said, through the medium of his lordship. “I am afraid they are scant compensation for your injury.”
“It was an accident,” she replied. “You must not hold yourself responsible for it.”
“All the same I do for I should not have been playing ball games so close to other people.”
“How is your son this morning?”
“He has written you a letter,” the Count replied, taking a folded missive from his pocket and handing it to Cassie.
She opened it and saw the childish writing and the long German words, most of which she could not understand.
“Would you mind if his lordship read it so that he can translate it for me?” she asked. Receiving approval, she passed the paper to Waldron, who read, “Dear Lady, I am sorry that I hurt your nose yesterday. It was an accident. I hope you will be better soon.” It was signed, after a complicated German farewell, Gustav von Krems.
Cassie smiled and expressed her pleasure at receiving such a kind letter. “Will you convey my appreciation to Gustav?”
After this, the Count was furnished with refreshments and the conversation settled into a somewhat stilted exchange of comments about the weather.
“I am afraid the gentleman feels constrained by my presence,” Waldron said eventually in English.
“I do not see why he should,” Cassie replied. “It is more likely that, since he has made the call out of a sense of duty, he wishes to leave as soon as possible but is aware that it would be uncivil to take his leave before you, since you arrived first.”
“If that is the case, he will be able to take the opportunity afforded by my going to escape soon after, but I do not think it. My departure will force both of you to make an effort to communicate in some way or another.” He stood up, explained to the Austrian that he was obliged to be somewhere else, bowed over Cassie’s hand, wished her a speedy recovery and took his leave.
The conversation then took an altogether different turn since neither could understand the other much beyond the level of a two-year-old child.
“Is Gustav with his mother?” Cassie asked.
“She is dead,” was the bald reply.
At this point, wholly unable to find the words to express her sympathy for this sad state of affairs, Cassie abandoned German altogether, exclaiming, “Oh, I am so sorry. Poor Gustav! But he is fortunate to have a father who takes him to the Prater.”
This simple tho
ught had to be repeated several times and accompanied by increasingly frantic gestures before von Krems grasped enough of the meaning to be able to reply, which he did in heavily accented English, “I am not a good father. I should not have allowed my son to throw a ball at a beautiful lady.”
“Not beautiful any longer,” she replied, raising her hand and holding it in front of her face.
“You will be beautiful again, Gnädige Frau.”
“Perhaps. Do you know, I am almost enjoying being ugly – it is such a very great change – much greater than merely moving from London to Vienna.”
But he did not understand that so she said instead, “It is not important. I am alive.”
“Yes,” he agreed, brightening. “My English is not good,” he added.
“It is considerably better than my German - and this is your country. I must try harder to learn your language.”
“This is your house,” he pointed out, “so here we will speak English.”
She nodded and smiled to show that she accepted this plan.
“When you drive with me in the Prater we will speak German,” he went on.
“Yes, of course.”
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Tomorrow? You want me to go there tomorrow? I cannot go out looking like this!” She pointed once more to her nose.
“No. I am sorry. Come to my house for coffee. Only Gustav will see you.”
“And your servants,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “They also,” he agreed gently so that she thought perhaps she was refining unnecessarily upon the horror of her appearance.
“Very well,” she agreed, suddenly happy. His invitation made her feel that perhaps he was not merely being polite, perhaps he actually liked her – or wanted to practise his English.
He drew a card from his pocket; engraved upon it in flowing Germanic script were the words ‘Ludwig Graf von Krems’ and beneath, in smaller letters, was an address.
“I will send a carriage for you,” he said.
“No, I can walk; it is not far.”
“But your nose?”
“Oh, yes, I had forgot for a moment. I will wear a veil.”
He rose and she did too, holding out her hand in a gracious manner. He bowed over it and said, as Lord Waldron had – but without his lordship’s humorous inflection, “Bis Morgen.”
When he had gone Cassie, bolstered by the kindness of both gentlemen and resolved not to recoil at the sight of her own face, approached the mirror above the mantelpiece with some trepidation.
While convinced that both the gentlemen who had promised - threatened - to see her again the following day had done so out of pity, yet she could not help wondering how either had been able to look upon her countenance without flinching for the best part of half an hour. She had been unable to prevent her own eyes sliding away from the hideous image when she had first beheld it but supposed that, staring at it for a protracted length of time and forced to restrain disgust by the requirements of civility, they had called upon internal reserves of self-control to endure the horrid sight.
What she saw did indeed look quite repulsive but then neither of the gentlemen had ever seen her without the disfigurement. To them, no doubt, this was the person she was - an ugly creature. She remembered her own beauty and mourned it as she looked upon the hideous countenance revealed in the mirror.
It was difficult to force her eyes to remain fixed upon the swollen and discoloured nose which appeared to take up a great deal more space upon her face than in the past. To either side, vicious storm clouds seemed to have been painted beneath eyes which were still bloodshot, their usual clear white stained by a horrid wash of scarlet.
Chapter 10
Frank was waiting impatiently when the shopping party arrived home accompanied by a number of boxes.
“I see you have had a successful morning,” he said, grinning at them.
“I am going at once to lie upon my bed,” his mother announced in a wavering voice. “I do not recall ever having been so fatigued in my entire life.”
“You’d be much better to eat something, Mama. A nuncheon has been awaiting you in the small dining room for an age. I do not know why females always wish to lie upon their beds without taking any sustenance; if you do that now, I should not be surprised if you felt unable to go back to Tunbridge Wells later.”
“It has been a tiring morning,” Honoria explained. “We have not one, but two, dresses each that Aunt considers will be just the thing to wear tonight. We bought two so that we will not be obliged to go shopping again for some time.”
“All of you? You too, Mama?”
“Oh, no; I do not require anything new although it seems that we must all change our way of doing our hair if we are not to look figures of fun.”
Frank said, “Do you suppose that maid of yours will have the least idea of what is presently all the crack?”
“No, but we hope she will be able to achieve something like this when she has studied the pictures.” Honoria thrust the magazine at him.
“Lord! They’re all over curls! If we are to go tonight she must put in the curl papers now to have any effect upon Helen’s locks.”
“Oh, of course it will be impossible to make me look anything like that,” Helen agreed. “Let her concentrate upon Honoria.”
At the sound of the plaintive voice, Lady Charles lost her temper. “For Heaven’s sake, Helen, try to conduct yourself in a grown-up manner! I am heartily sick of listening to your complaints. I have bought you two dresses and a shawl and am so fatigued that I should think the whole horrid enterprise will be the death of me.”
“Come along, Mama; what you need is a glass of wine,” Frank said, taking his mother’s arm in a firm grip. “I am certain you will feel much more the thing when you have eaten and drunk something. Helen, if you cannot put a hold upon your tongue, I suggest you go to your bed until you feel better.”
“Oh, it is always my fault, is it not?” Helen exclaimed.
“Generally, yes,” Frank agreed.
“You will also feel better when you have eaten something,” Honoria said gently, going to Helen’s side as Frank led his mother out of the room.
“I do not think that at all likely,” Helen snapped.
“Perhaps not but it is worth trying, is it not?”
“If you say so,” Helen responded sarcastically but she allowed herself to be led out of the room.
On arrival in the small dining room, Frank pushed his mother into a chair while Honoria pushed Helen into one. Frank looked up and met her eyes as they both straightened.
“Sit down, cousin,” he said. “I will serve you.”
“Oh, there is no need for that,” she replied. “I can perfectly well help myself to a few viands; do you see to the wine and I will serve your mother and sister.”
He nodded and did as he was bid. Honoria, meanwhile, having pressed a slice of bread and butter on each of the drooping women, picked up the carving knife and fork and began to slice the cold capon which sat upon the table.
“Oh, pray, Honoria, do not you do that!” Lady Charles exclaimed, horrified.
“Why in the world should I not?” Honoria asked, amused, pinning the capon to its plate with a decisive thrust of the fork and wielding the knife with a business-like air.
“’Tis not ladylike,” Frank explained, pushing the filled glasses of wine towards his mother and sister and taking the knife and fork from her hands.
“I already instructed you to sit down; pray do so if you are not to make matters worse for my poor mama.”
Honoria ceded the knife and fork and bit into a slice of bread and butter.
“I own I am excessively hungry,” she admitted. “Shopping is not only quite dreadfully fatiguing but seems to make one feel positively starved as well.”
“So, I can assure you, does being obliged to wait until halfway through the afternoon before one is able to eat anything other than breakfast – which now seems almost
a hundred years ago,” Frank said, piling slices of meat upon his mother’s and sister’s plates. “Would you like some, Honoria?”
“Indeed I would. Where is Uncle Charles?”
“Oh, he went out shortly after you did and pray do not ask me where because he was singularly uncommunicative. I have been kicking my heels here all morning with nothing but my books to keep me occupied.”
“Well, if you have been applying yourself to your studies, I daresay you have some reason to be so excessively smug,” Honoria said.
“Unfortunately I grew so hungry that I was quite unable to concentrate. Here, have a glass of wine,” he added, filling her glass.
“Oh, thank you, Frank! I believe I do feel a little recovered now!” Lady Charles murmured, her voice becoming stronger although it was still inclined to waver.
“There! Did I not say that you would feel better when you had partaken of some refreshment? How about you, sis? Are you mellowing a trifle too?”
“Mellowing?” she shrieked. “How dare you patronise me, Frank?”
“For Heaven’s sake, keep your tongue between your teeth,” Honoria said under her breath to him, “Or do you wish to upset everyone?”
“I own I cannot resist; it is so easy.”
“If it presents no challenge I cannot understand why you should want to do it,” she responded tartly.
“No, but the thing is that I have a burning desire to provoke you, Honoria; that is much more difficult but I believe I am beginning to see my way.”
“Well, you are an idiot, Frank. If you think to annoy me by driving your mother into a fit of the vapours and your sister into a miff, you will very likely be successful but you will not be able to argue with me on account of my having to attend to them.”
“I daresay you are right. We will have to wait until they have both flounced out of the room before we can concentrate upon annoying each other – or will you ride with me this afternoon?”
“Very well.”
“Am I to be left to my embroidery while you two gallop about the countryside?” Helen asked.
“You can help me with sorting the linen,” Lady Charles said at once.
Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan Page 8