“I am sorry. I should not have spoken. Pray try to pretend that it never happened. I cannot unsay or deny the truth of what I have just told you – and I certainly do not wish to rescind my offer – but I perfectly understand that this was the wrong moment to make it. Let us put this episode behind us and continue as we have been until we reach Vienna and find Waldron.”
“Thank you,” she managed to stammer and fled to her chamber - or she would have done if she had not cannoned into a young man in a snow-covered greatcoat, who had just come into the hall.
This gentleman caught her by the arms, a quantity of snow falling off his sleeves as he did so, and exclaimed in accents throbbing with joy, “Honoria! Thank God! I was beginning to fear that I would never find you!”
“Frank!” she cried, looking up into the familiar face with astonishment. “How in the world did you find me?”
“With the greatest difficulty! I have been chasing all over Europe for some time. I made sure you were on your way to Vienna but it seems I was wrong. Where are you making for – or are you taking a circuitous route to confuse me? You must have known I would come after you.”
“What are you talking about? I am on the way to Vienna and understand that it is only a day or so from here. I – I did think to cast myself on Horatio’s mercy,” she replied, frowning in confusion.
“Well, you must have taken a wrong turning somewhere for you are now well into Prussia and will arrive at the gates of Berlin in no time. You never were much good at Geography,” he added with a tender smile.
“Oh! Are you roasting me?”
“No; this is no moment for roasting. Did you not know that you have been travelling due north for some days now? I caught up with your trail about a week ago and believed that my hunch about your going to Horatio must have been correct but then, suddenly, you took a left turn and I would have lost you but for the fact that you are quite a distinctive-looking person. You’re not alone, are you? Who are you with?”
“Lord Ninfield now; I started out with Lady Angmering, or at least I started by myself but I met her before I left England.”
“Good God! For Heaven’s sake, let us find somewhere we can talk without all these servants passing to and fro. Do you have a private parlour somewhere?”
“Yes, but Lord Ninfield is in there. Do you want to meet him?”
“No – most definitely not because I suspect he’s been abducting you without your knowledge. Here,” Frank laid hold of a passing lackey, “Have you got a private parlour we can use? My cousin and I wish to be alone for a few minutes.”
“Yes, sir, certainly, sir. Come this way, sir.” The lackey led them to a room on the other side of the wide hall. “I’ll fetch the key,” he said, leaving them standing outside a door.
Honoria, suddenly afraid that Lord Ninfield would emerge from the parlour opposite and ask to be introduced, slid behind Frank so that she was protected from view by his greatcoated bulk.
When the lackey returned with the key and let them in, he set a match to the fire and asked if they required any refreshment.
“Yes, I’ve been driving for hours in this damned snow,” Frank said. “I’d like something to eat. Have you dined, Cousin?”
“Yes, hours ago; I was on my way to bed.”
“Well, I am afraid you will have to delay that until we have put each other into the picture. Bring the lady some cakes or something and let us have a bottle of wine and some Madeira – you like that, do you not, Honoria?”
“Yes, although I think I drank too much that last evening at home.” Her voice trembled as she spoke.
“I expect you were disguised – which probably explains your extraordinarily foolish actions. No, no, pray do not fire up at me! I’ve not come to hurt you or even to force you to come home with me. I just wanted to see that you were safe – and I am not at all sure that you are!”
Honoria took this comment as an aspersion upon her ability to manage her own affairs and backed away from him. Frank, who was engaged in removing his snow-covered hat and greatcoat, did not at first notice but, when the lackey returned with a tray bearing the drinks he had ordered, he almost fell into Honoria, who had retreated towards the door and stood, undecided, just in front of it.
“Come and sit by the fire,” Frank said, drawing a chair closer to the logs, which had begun to blaze but had, as yet, had little effect upon the temperature in the room.
“Why did you come after me?” she asked, approaching reluctantly.
“For goodness’ sake, sit down, Honoria, and stop behaving like my sister and going into a pet at the slightest thing. If you’re going to jump up and run out of the door every time I fail to speak as tactfully as you wish, I cannot see that we are going to get very far. For Heaven’s sake, why do you suppose I came after you? I blamed myself for driving you away and I was worried about you. You may not like the idea that people who love you want to look after you, but such is the case – and, really, it is not particularly unusual. Why did you run away?”
“I should have thought that was obvious. I felt constrained by your whole family and did not see how I could avoid being forced to marry you.”
“Nobody can force you to marry anybody,” he pointed out. “Did you really think that?”
“Yes; at least, I didn’t think you’d lock me up unless I agreed to marry you, but I did think that you, as well as my aunt, would put intolerable pressure upon me and I was afraid that I would be forced to yield.”
“Well, I won’t, I promise. If you really don’t want to marry me, of course you don’t have to. Would you rather marry Horatio?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? No, I would not. I do not wish to marry anyone!”
“What, not even Lord Ninfield with whom you’ve been travelling for several days? Do you not think you may be obliged to marry him after spending so long in his company?”
“I am not alone with him,” she protested. Lady Angmering insisted upon my taking one of her maids to act as chaperone.”
“Where is she?” he asked, moving away from the fire to sit at the table as the servant returned, bearing a tray laden with covered dishes.
“I expect she has gone to bed,” Honoria muttered when the man had left.
“Did she eat dinner with you?” Frank persisted, picking up his knife and fork.
“No, of course she did not.”
“No – and does she sit in the carriage with you all day or is she placed in an inferior vehicle with his valet? I presume he has a valet?”
“She sat with me until he turned up.”
“Just so – at which point he pushed her out. Are you sure you want nothing more substantial than a cake to eat? Where, I wonder, are they?” He rang the bell.
Honoria sat and watched her cousin as he ate; she was reminded of the day he had returned from Oxford, an occasion which, although not long past, seemed almost to have taken place in another life. Not many people look attractive when they eat; the movement of the jaw distorts the face and the act of inserting food into the mouth is reminiscent either of a baby being spoonfed or an act almost of savagery. Frank tended more to the savage and there was something peculiarly fascinating about the efficiency with which he cut up his food, conveyed it to his mouth and chewed.
Neither spoke until the cakes had been brought in when Frank said, “If you can bear to leave the fireside, pray come and sit with me and eat something.”
Honoria rose and Frank did too, in order to set a chair for her.
“Would you like some of this beef?” he enquired, proffering a loaded fork. “You will find it a vast deal more sustaining than cake.”
She looked at the food and from thence to his face and her heart skipped a beat. She had run away from this man, like a rabbit from a fox, and now he faced her with a forkful of beef held temptingly between them. Mesmerised, she found herself opening her mouth. She began to chew as he, seemingly unmoved, turned his attention to cutting off another morsel.
&nbs
p; Chapter 29
When Cassie awoke the following morning it took her a few moments before she recalled what had taken place the previous evening.
She was conscious of being glad to be alive in a way that she had not experienced since childhood and for a moment almost believed that she was in her bed at home but, as she stretched her limbs and became conscious of the curious embrace of the bedclothes the Viennese favoured, she recalled not only where she was but also the state of mind in which she had gone to bed.
The evening, which had begun with the joy of attending a concert, followed by what she had secretly hoped would prove to be a romantic supper with the Count, had deteriorated rapidly into a hideous argument. Fortunately, he had not permitted her to bolt but had pursued her into a cab and continued to argue until a fortuitous sliding of the wheels on the icy road had pitched her into his arms.
Somehow – she had no idea how – she had for once made the right decision; she had not only submitted to his kisses but returned them with fervour; in short, she and he, two bitter relicts of blighted hopes, had momentarily put aside their pride and flung themselves with enthusiasm into an encounter of such astounding romance that, recalling it in the solitude of her chamber, Cassie found her heart beating fast and a wave of such pure delight suffusing her entire person as she had never experienced before.
She rang the bell, rose, dressed, ate her breakfast – all in a daze – and then wondered what on earth she could do with herself while she waited to hear from the Count. As the morning wore on and she heard nothing, she began to fear that he regretted his conduct, remembered hers only too well, and decided not to pursue the acquaintance - although surely it was more than an acquaintance now.
Fraülein Brunner came as usual towards mid-morning and Cassie submitted to her teacher’s corrections with such a distracted air that the young woman was moved to say, “I suspect you are becoming bored with constant grammar exercises. I think the time has come for you to commence reading a work of German fiction – with the help of a dictionary. You should make notes of any particular difficulties you encounter – or constructions which interest you – and we will discuss them at our next lesson.”
“Gracious!” Cassie exclaimed, her face, which had become increasingly clouded as the morning wore on and the doorbell did not ring, becoming animated.
“Yes. From now on, I think I should come only once or twice a week. In the meantime, I have brought you a book to read,” she went on, delving into her bag and producing a slim volume entitled ‘Kinder und Hausmärchen’ by a pair of brothers called Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. “It is a collection of folk or fairy tales which they have compiled. Pray do not think it only suitable for children, however; it is not and, to my mind, seems a good book to begin on because you will not find it too difficult to read.”
“I am sure I shall enjoy it,” Cassie said, not in the least insulted.
As she and her teacher were discussing the date of the next lesson, which both agreed should be in a week’s time to give Cassie an opportunity to read the book, the door knocker did sound and a moment later the butler appeared to announce that Count von Krems had called and wondered if he might be permitted to wait until the gnädige Frau was free.
Cassie, feeling as though she had been offered a reprieve of some sort, gave permission and concluded her business with Fraülein Brunner.
Von Krems was alone when she joined him.
“Oh, pray do not stand,” she said rapidly, overcome at the sight of him, so handsome and proper, as she remembered their kisses of the night before. “I was with Fraülein Brunner. She has just left; she told me that my German is now so good that she does not intend to visit again for a full week; she has given me a book to read so I shall not be idle.”
“Your German is excellent,” he agreed.
He had started towards her as soon as she opened the door but now paused, beaten back perhaps by her torrent of words. “I hope the book will not take up all your time as I have come to invite you to leave Vienna for a few days and come with me to visit my home in the country.”
“Oh!” Cassie said, taken aback.
“I would like to introduce you to my mother,” he went on, speaking rapidly in his turn so that she wondered if he was afraid that she might think he was offering her carte blanche; the mention of his mother would immediately put a different complexion on the invitation. “We will take Gustav, who will be overjoyed at the prospect of seeing his grandmother again.”
“Yes, yes, I daresay he misses her,” she added rather wildly for what did he mean by wishing to introduce her to his mother? She did not know how to receive nor how to reply to such a suggestion. No man had ever invited her to accompany him anywhere for such a purpose and she knew perfectly well that such an action generally indicated the serious nature of a gentleman’s interest. He could not wish his mother to meet a light o’love.
“I am not planning the trip to satisfy Gustav’s desire to see his grandmama,” the Count explained with a lurking smile.
“No.”
“I ..,” he stopped. “Mrs Morley …”
“Morley is not my name and nor am I a ‘Mrs’,” she said curtly as though the most important thing in the circumstances was to clear up any misapprehension he might still be under concerning her status. “I am Miss Minton.”
“Indeed? Miss Minton - Cassie …”
“I would not like to meet your mother under a false name.” For some reason she found herself interrupting him every time he paused as though she were afraid of what he might say if she did not stop him in time.
“You will come then?” A fleeting shaft of pleasure touched his features at this rather elliptical assent so that Cassie had to restrain an impulse to cast herself into his arms without more ado.
“I should be honoured,” she replied decorously; in seeking to restrain what she was afraid might seem immoderate joy, she found herself expressing no more than lukewarm enthusiasm for the project.
“We could spend Christmas there,” he went on, determined now to get most – if not all - of his prepared speech off his chest. “Although, if we do that, you will have to let Fraülein Brunner know that you will be away for more than a week.”
“Is it a long way?” she asked, more as a delaying tactic while she assimilated this escalation of the invitation than because she wished to know.
“No more than two days’ journey,” he replied. “We could, if you prefer, go for a few days in the first instance and return later for Christmas. I daresay you are a little afraid of meeting my mother but I assure you she is quite harmless.”
“Is she? Will she not be a little surprised if you turn up with a strange female in tow?”
“I will not do that; at her age, she is not keen on surprises – and it would be a surprise. I will write to her so that she will be prepared – with the dinner as much as anything else,” he added humorously.
She nodded. “It would be a pleasure to meet her if you do not think that she will find me harmful; she may be harmless, I am not at all certain that I am.”
“I am persuaded she will like you; she already knows of you because Gustav has told her all about the schöne Frau whose nose he hurt. Indeed, she has asked me to bring you.”
“Oh! What in the world can Gustav have said? Have you seen his letters?”
“No, but I think he has mentioned you more than once, which is why she has begged me to bring you. I have been a little reticent on account of not wishing to disappoint her if – in short, I have not been certain – I have not dared to hope that – that our friendship might endure.”
“I see.” Cassie hardly knew what to make of this; her initial hope that the introduction to his mother indicated the seriousness of the Count’s attachment and hinted at his plans for the future, had, as soon as he mentioned Gustav’s correspondence with his grandmother, given way to the suspicion that it was her role as a subject of interest to the boy that had prompted the invitation. The Count’s manner was
not only as courteous as she had come to expect but, if anything, even more restrained; the only indication that he remembered the kisses was the way he had started towards her with his hands held out when she first came into the room. She wondered if her gabbling entrance had stifled this first move towards her, and regretted it. It seemed that he, for all his forty-odd years, was not unlike a sensitive plant which curls up when approached; clearly she must advance warily – or else contrive to fall into his arms unexpectedly again.
Realising that her first hope that they would resume where they left off was now unlikely, she sat down with an assumption of composure and picked up the coffee pot.
“Shall I call for some more hot coffee?”
“No, no, thank you. I had better be on my way,” he replied hastily, rising barely a moment after she had sat down.
“Must you go already?” She put the coffee pot down and looked up at him. “You have scarcely been here ten minutes.”
“I was waiting for you for near half an hour,” he pointed out.
“Oh, you exaggerate,” she murmured, now fully aware of the awkward way in which he stood, ready to depart but unable, seemingly, to take a step towards the door, perhaps because he would have been obliged to walk past her and the coffee tray on his way out.
“I assure you I do not,” he countered. “My eyes were constantly drawn to the clock, which ticked away unfeelingly on the mantelpiece while you, so you tell me, discussed literature with your teacher.”
“Oh, we did not speak of anything so high-flown as literature; she gave me this to read.” She held out the book by the Grimm brothers.
“Ah,” he said. “I make no doubt you will enjoy that and very likely find many an analogy to help you penetrate the carapace of a stiff-mannered Austrian. I always think stories are vastly superior to works of supposedly deeper argument for getting to the heart of things.”
“Are you then aware that your manner is sometimes a trifle off-putting?” she asked, greatly daring.
Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan Page 24