Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan

by Catherine Bowness

  “We have only been here five minutes,” Lady Charles pointed out with brittle optimism. “You must not despair. Why, you are quite the prettiest girls here!”

  “Do you think so?” Honoria asked. “I appreciate the kindness which prompted you to make such a remark but have you seen the young woman Frank is presently leading out?”

  Lady Charles had; she had not taken her eyes off her son from the moment Mrs Hargreave had taken possession of him and had not missed the sight of him leading a young woman on to the dance floor.

  “Vulgar!” she said disparagingly. “But then Mrs Hargreave is not by any means a member of the ton so I daresay that is the kind of female she admires. She is not a patch on you, Honoria!”

  “No? I am not altogether sure I agree with you, Aunt – and I should imagine Frank would not agree at all.”

  “It looks as though she has left off her petticoat,” Helen observed unkindly.

  “Do you suppose she has damped her dress?” Honoria asked, peering at the young woman, whose gown clung so closely that her legs might as well have been unclothed.

  “Perhaps she only remembered to wash it at the last moment and it has not had time to dry,” Helen suggested, giving way to a sudden uncontrollable fit of the giggles.

  “I see you are enjoying yourselves,” Mrs Hargreave said unctuously, appearing before them again almost as suddenly as though she had been fired from a gun, this time accompanied by two simpering men. “Here are two gentlemen who have expressed a strong desire to be introduced to the prettiest girls in the room. This,” she drew one forward with a flourish and fixed Honoria with an emphatic stare, “is Lord Ninfield; and this …”

  Having disposed of Lord Ninfield to both her and his satisfaction, she turned her attention to the other man. “And this is Mr Hallett.”

  Chapter 12

  Honoria, in spite of her initial relief at ceasing to sit unsought at the side of the room, found Lord Ninfield intimidating. He was probably no more than ten years older than Frank but clearly possessed considerably more town bronze. He was a pleasant-looking man of slightly more than medium height with dark hair and blue eyes; his bearing, while noble and authoritative, was nevertheless so condescending that she wondered whether he had indeed requested an introduction or whether he had been persuaded by Mrs Hargreave to take pity on the poor partnerless girl sitting beside her aunt.

  He began by observing the pleasure he was certain everyone must feel at Honoria’s having emerged from what he termed ‘the schoolroom’, assuming, she supposed, that the only progression a female would be likely to make was from that well-known incarceration to the giddy heights of the local assembly rooms.

  “Oh,” she replied defensively, “it is many years since I was in a schoolroom; I am quite old, you know.”

  “You are many years younger than I,” he pointed out with a supercilious smile. “Where have you been in that case? Have you perhaps been residing abroad?”

  “Oh no, only in Matfield.”

  “Why then have we not seen you before? You have not yet been presented, I take it?”

  “No – and do not expect to be. We lead a very quiet life in Matfield, you know.”

  “I am sorry to hear it. Have you many brothers and sisters to amuse you?”

  “I have neither brothers nor sisters. I live with my aunt and uncle and my two cousins. Perhaps you are acquainted with my uncle – Lord Charles Lenham?” She was so incensed by his haughtiness that she found herself trying to impress him with the elevated rank of her uncle.

  “I am not – he is not of my generation – but I am acquainted with Lord Waldron who is, I understand, his nephew.”

  “Are you?” she asked with an eagerness which she did not trouble to conceal.

  “Not well acquainted – I would not claim him as a friend precisely, but our paths have crossed from time to time. Am I right in thinking that he is attached to the embassy in Vienna? I am aware that he was orphaned as a small child; was he, perhaps, brought up with you?”

  “Yes; he and I are both cousins of Mr and Miss Lenham – she is now dancing with Mr Hallett. I am related through my mother, who was my Aunt Julia’s sister, and Horatio through being, as you say, the nephew of Lord Charles. My parents died when I was a very small baby.”

  “You have my commiserations. I hope you have not been subject to the indignities that are so often the lot of poor relations.”

  “Oh no, not in the least; my aunt and uncle have always treated me exactly as they do their own children.”

  “I am relieved to hear it,” he said with what she judged to be assumed kindness. “But I am not convinced they have been altogether without fault: why, for instance, have they not introduced you to Society – even that narrow country version which is to be found in Tunbridge Wells?”

  “I own I have not considered the reason but must suppose that my aunt prefers to remain at home.”

  “I do not consider that to be a good enough reason to deprive you of what all young ladies must desire. Does your aunt, do you think, wish to keep you at her side for ever?”

  “I cannot conceive it likely that my presence is indispensable,” she replied tartly but his words were disturbing because they made her wonder if her aunt had kept her close in order to prevent her from meeting any potential rivals to her cousin.

  “I am certain you do yourself less than justice,” he said. “But it is an odd way to behave and there must – somewhere – be a reason for your aunt to act so very oddly.”

  Honoria was glad that the movements of the dance prevented her from replying to this startlingly overt criticism of her aunt. It was one thing for her to have become suspicious of Lady Charles’s motives, it was quite another for a man she had known for little more than five minutes to say such a thing.

  At the end of the dance Lord Ninfield escorted her back to her aunt’s side, saying as he handed her over, “I hope you will grant me the favour of standing up with me again later in the evening.”

  “I should be honoured, my lord,” she replied demurely. In spite of disliking his air of condescension, he had proved to be an excellent dancer: he knew the steps so well that he had, apparently without being conscious of it, guided her uncertain progress so that she had acquitted herself, if not brilliantly, at least adequately. But it was his apparently artless comments on her situation which she had found most enlightening – and most annoying.

  Helen, her face glowing, was returned by Mr Hallett at the same time.

  When Frank joined them a few moments later, he asked, “Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  “Yes,” Helen breathed.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Mr Hallett; he is heir to Viscount Cummings.”

  “Indeed? Well, that sounds quite respectable but someone will have to look into his history before we can be expected to approve of him. Do you know aught of him, Mama?”

  “Of Mr Hallett? No, nothing. He looked quite gentlemanly but I own I do not know the family. In any event, one dance commits him to nothing, my dear. You must not get your hopes up.”

  Helen flushed angrily. “I enjoyed dancing, Mama. Recollect that I have never done such a thing before.”

  “Well, there, you see, that is the very reason why it was best not to have brought you here when you would have been too young to appreciate it; why, it would only have grown stale and you would have begged to stay at home.” Lady Charles smiled benevolently upon her daughter, glad to have hit upon a justification for what she probably knew had been a dereliction of her duty as a mother.

  Frank turned his attention to Honoria. “Come along, Cousin, will you stand up with me before some other gentleman claims you?”

  “I have not been introduced to any other gentlemen and I suppose one cannot simply accost me, can he?”

  “I hope not. You seemed very thick with Lord Ninfield.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “Good God, no, but my partner did. She, by the way, is Miss Hamston
.”

  “Did she say aught about him?”

  “Not much: only that he always approaches the newest and prettiest arrivals.”

  “I take it she has been coming here for some time then.”

  “I have no idea; I did not ask her. She appeared displeased about his standing up with you; she asked if you were my sister.”

  “And did the fact that I am your cousin set her mind at rest?”

  “On the contrary, she was excessively unhappy about it. I got the impression that you have put her nose out of joint by dancing with Lord Ninfield.”

  “There seem to be a great many pitfalls awaiting one; have I, do you think, already made an enemy merely by being here? Did you find her agreeable?”

  “Ah, now you are giving way to jealous interrogation. The truthful answer is: not particularly and I am fairly certain Mama would disapprove of her on account of her manner of dressing, if nothing else.”

  “Was her gown damp?”

  “Damp? Oh, you mean because it was – is – almost transparent and clings to her limbs in what Mama would no doubt consider an improper fashion? I did not touch it so cannot answer with any degree of accuracy but I thought she had left off most of her petticoats.”

  “She is very pretty and has an excellent figure,” Honoria said primly.

  Frank gave a shout of laughter. “She is not a patch on you, my dear, and – as for her figure – many people prefer a damsel who does not display it in quite such a blatant manner.”

  “I daresay she intended to show it off to Lord Ninfield and was annoyed when he did not notice. Did you ask to be introduced to her?”

  “Oh no; she asked to be introduced to me; I heard her; she called Mrs Hargreave and said, ‘Who is that handsome young man?’”

  “You are roasting me.”

  “I am not. Do you think me more handsome than Lord Ninfield?”

  “I do not find him handsome at all.”

  “You have not answered my question.”

  “Yes, I have. In any event, I have said quite enough on that head and am loath to feed your vanity any further. I will say, though, that his manners are faultless and he is an excellent dancer.”

  “He has many more years of experience on the dance floor than I. We – all of us – are novices in that area and I lay the blame for that squarely at Mama’s door: she has not seen fit to engage a dancing master.”

  “I do not believe she had any intention of bringing us – Helen and me – out at all and, if that was the case, we had no need to learn to dance. I did not expect to be taken to London and presented to the Queen but you must own that she has kept us unusually close. Helen and I know almost nobody.”

  “Well, now you have made the acquaintance of Lord Ninfield and Helen has, if I am not mistaken, fallen under the spell of Mr Hallett. She looked unusually happy when he handed her back to Mama.”

  “She cannot surely have formed an attachment – no matter how temporary – on the basis of one dance?”

  “Love,” Frank opined, assuming what he no doubt hoped was a sophisticated air, “frequently arrives as a coup de foudre.”

  Honoria ignored this. “Do you think, if it should prove to be a lasting attachment, and always supposing that he feels the same, that your Mama would approve?”

  “I have not the least idea except that it is my belief that she wishes you to be married first – since you are the elder.”

  “Not by very much.”

  “Well, you could be,” he pointed out. “Married, that is. If you wish to do Helen a favour you can marry me next week.”

  “Why not this week?”

  “I did not dare to hope that you would be as impatient as I.”

  The steps of the dance separated them at this moment and, as she went down the line, she cast him a sideways glance from the corners of her eyes.

  When they came together again, he said, “You were flirting with me. It gave me quite a turn.”

  “I am sorry if I frightened you.”

  “Frightened? Oh no – I was merely surprised in view of your strongly stated objection to me as a suitor.”

  “Do you think,” she asked, flushing angrily, “that I am – have been – encouraging your absurd play for me?”

  “No; but I do think that you do not find me as distasteful as you wish me to believe.”

  The dance came to an end and he took her hand to lead her back to her aunt’s side.

  “I find the whole idea repulsive,” she declared, unnerved and yet curiously stimulated at the same time.

  “Why? There is nothing improper about cousins marrying each other; they do it all the time.”

  “For the same reasons, I suppose, as you have put forward: to keep a fortune within the family.”

  “That is not the reason I put forward.”

  “You did not state it but it is quite clear all the same. I suppose your mama put you up to it – or was it Uncle Charles?”

  “I am surprised that you were unaware of their intentions; ever since you arrived within our family – when I was a very small boy and you were a baby – they have planned our marriage.”

  “How did you know that and not I?"

  “I have not the least notion: I can only suppose that you have kept your eyes closed about the matter. Did you dream of a handsome prince riding up to rescue you from your dull family? I daresay you have been so preoccupied with gothic romances that you have not noticed what has been in front of you all along.” He spoke with what, in her over-stimulated mood, she took to be sarcasm and accompanied his remarks with a smile upon his handsome mouth which she found impossible to interpret.

  “I did not know that I needed to be rescued until this moment. Has it all been brought forward with increased urgency on account of my asking Uncle Charles about what would happen on my birthday?”

  “I was not aware that it had – or that you had questioned him about the future. I think your sense of urgency is induced by suddenly becoming conscious of how soon you will find yourself in possession of your fortune and reacting somewhat excessively to what was really only a vague hope on the part of my parents when we were very young. I am certain they expected you to remain with us indefinitely so that, eventually, it was entirely possible that we might marry.”

  But this pacific – and quite rational – response did not mollify her. “Possible? I don’t think anything so uncertain cuts the mustard though, does it, particularly when I have begun to plan my future away from the family? You have already left it a little late, have you not, to try to impress me with your suit? Suddenly, it is a pressing matter and you – who were no doubt dragging your heels and hoped to put it off for some years yet – have been ordered to make a dead set at me. It will not answer.”

  “Clearly not just at present but I daresay you will come around when you have thought about it a little more.” Frank’s reply, uttered in a breezy manner seemingly designed to exacerbate her growing fury, achieved its effect immediately as she stiffened and withdrew her hand from his arm.

  “Shall we see what they offer in the way of refreshment?” he suggested in a more conciliatory tone, veering away from his mother. Honoria guessed that he had no wish to deposit his cousin upon her chair when she was in such an angry mood.

  “I will never ‘come around’,” she snapped, unwilling to be diverted. “The scales have fallen from my eyes and I view you not so much as a beloved cousin as a snake in the grass.”

  “We should have made it clearer all along,” he agreed appeasingly, handing her a glass of lemonade and taking one himself.

  “Did Helen know what your family’s plans were?”

  “I imagine so. Everyone knew – including you - although now you deny it.”

  “So that her strongly expressed desire to come here and seek a suitor must have come as an exceedingly unwelcome demand to your mama, who had, unless I am much mistaken, intended me to languish unsought until either I grew so old that you had no competition or you decided tha
t you had amused yourself enough to knuckle down to marriage.”

  “She may, I suppose, have thought that you would be more amenable the older you grew but, as for my amusing myself until marriage, that is nonsense; there is, after all, no reason why I cannot amuse myself perfectly well when I am married.” He spoke lightly and, if Honoria had trusted herself to look at him, she would have seen that his blue eyes were not only challenging but also brimful of amusement.

  But she was not in the mood to be amused. “What?” she exclaimed so loudly that several people turned to look at her.

  Frank laughed and said teasingly, “Do not come the innocent to me, Cousin; you must know that few husbands are faithful to their wives.”

  “That is outrageous! Do you mean to suggest that you will leave me in some dull out-of-the-way house in the country to bring up your children while you disport yourself around the world, financed by my fortune?”

  “Why not?”

  “I would sooner cut my throat than marry you!” she hissed, her face contorted with rage.

  Frank said, more soberly, “There really is no need for such an extreme measure; no one can force you to marry anyone.”

  Chapter 13

  The rest of the evening passed in a haze for Honoria, who felt as though the ground had been cut from under her feet. It seemed that Frank, whom she had loved all her life, was wholly untrustworthy and interested only in feathering his own nest.

  “You seem distraite,” Lord Ninfield observed as he led her on to the floor for the second time.

  “I am sorry; I hardly know whether I am upon my head or my heels.”

  “Did you quarrel with your cousin?” he asked curiously. He seemed, to her surprise, to have laid aside his air of consequence – or perhaps she no longer noticed it.

  “Yes; no. He told me something which came as an unwelcome surprise.”

  “You looked horrified; he, on the other hand, showed every sign of being delighted at your reaction.”