“Of course, of course, I perfectly understand. Forgive my impatience.”
She thought that renewing an initially rejected offer of marriage only a few hours after purportedly rescuing his intended from a fire - and while she was still wearing nothing but a nightgown - showed not only impatience but an absence of consideration that she was beginning to suspect was only too natural to Lord Ninfield. His condescending manner hinted at a degree of self-interest that almost shocked her. Another man – one who was in love with her – might have taken her in his arms, expatiated at length upon the wonderful fortune which had enabled him to save her from certain death, fastened his lips to hers and breathed overriding desire to make her his; such conduct might have seemed improper when the lady was in her nightgown – and had been in the same one for some hours – but reiterating a formal offer with leaden courtesy was, in the circumstances, difficult to equate with true feeling.
They lapsed once more into silence and she hoped that she had done enough to allay any suspicions he might have that she remembered his less agreeable side.
The carriage drew up outside a large hotel and the usual flurry of ostlers bustled forward to attend to the horses.
“Here we are,” his lordship announced in an overloud and over-cheerful tone. “This looks like the right sort of place.”
“It looks very imposing, much grander than we have been used to put up in,” Honoria remarked, peering through the window.
“Yes, indeed. This is Vienna, my dear Miss Ford; you must not expect the inns to be identical to those in Kent.”
“No,” she agreed doubtfully, “but I am not at all sure that I can afford it, particularly since all my money has been burned. I have neither clothes nor money.”
“Pray do not trouble your head about that,” his lordship replied expansively. “I have enough to be going on with and will be happy to foot the bill for both of us.”
The steps were let down and Lord Ninfield, apologising smoothly for the necessity, wrapped the blanket more securely about his passenger and picked her up bodily before descending on to a forecourt which was in the process of being swept clear of snow.
As they approached the entrance, a lackey ran out to greet them and conduct them into the hall where the proprietor came forward with an unctuous smile.
“My wife and I require a pair of rooms,” his lordship said smoothly in German. “Forgive me for describing you thus, dear Miss Ford,” he whispered into her ear, “but, in view of your state of undress, I think it a wise precaution. My wife is unwell and I should like to take her upstairs immediately,” he went on in a louder voice.
“Certainly, my lord, certainly. Frau Weiss,” the man shouted. A woman appeared from behind a door at the back of the hall and was told to show the guests to the best bedchamber. “Would you like me to send for a doctor, mein Herr?”
“Oh, that will not be necessary; we travel with my wife’s nurse who is in a carriage behind. Please send her up as soon as she arrives.”
Honoria said nothing as she was carried up the wide stairs, along a corridor and into a finely appointed chamber where she was laid tenderly upon a brocade day bed by Lord Ninfield. Since she had not understood a single word which had been spoken by either party, she would not have known that he had claimed her as his wife if he had not told her, but that fact had been quite enough to fill her mind with terror. She thought now that, by claiming her as his wife, he would be able to spend the night in the same room and later insist that they must marry to save her name. Even her uncle would very likely be swayed by this.
“Is your baggage in the other carriage also, mein Herr?” Frau Weiss enquired, nodding at one of the lackeys who had followed them up the stairs. This individual immediately set a taper to the fire laid in the grate and lit several candles for, although it was morning, the light was dim due to the continual falling of snow outside.
“Yes. Please send breakfast up immediately,” Lord Ninfield continued in his lordly manner, adjusting the blanket around his ‘wife’ before walking into the adjoining chamber.
Honoria, left alone for a moment, jumped up and ran after the woman, who was making for the door.
“Let me come with you,” she whispered in English. “He is not my husband; he is abducting me.”
Frau Weiss jumped; she had not expected to be waylaid. “Gnädige Frau ..,” she paused, uncertain. She did not understand what the young woman had said but she recognised fear in the voice and saw the pleading eyes.
But before she had made up her mind whether the new guest should be rescued or ignored, Lord Ninfield was beside them and had put his arm around Honoria.
“She is confused,” he explained. “Her malady is one of the mind. Come, my love, you will feel better when you have had something to eat.”
Honoria, unable to understand the words, guessed from the tone of his voice, the supportive arm and, most of all, Frau Weiss’s pitying expression, that he had said something about the balance of her mind rather than weakness of the body. She repeated, “He is not my husband! Do not – please – do not leave me with him!”
“We have not been married long,” Lord Ninfield explained, adopting a hurt expression. “She does not recognise me when she is in one of her moods. Pray order the breakfast, my good woman.”
He turned to Honoria, bending his head over hers with a pretty display of tenderness and concern, and continued in English in a low voice, “There is no need for you to become agitated. I sought only to minimise the danger inherent in our arriving together at such an early hour with you clad in nothing but your nightgown. I have told them that you are unwell. Rest assured, I mean you no harm.”
“Do you not?” she cried, now beside herself as Frau Weiss left the room and closed the door behind her. “What have you done with Frank?” she went on, no longer able to maintain her assumed ignorance of what had occurred the previous night.
Lord Ninfield dropped his arm the moment the woman left the room but not the gentle manner appropriate to dealing with an invalid. He took her hand and led her to a chair beside the fire, saying, with a puzzled frown, “What is this? Why have you suddenly taken it into your head that I mean you harm? Nothing could be further from the truth. I wish only to protect you, as you should know by now. What is this about Frank? Is that your cousin from whom you were running away?”
“Yes, deluded idiot that I was. Where is he?”
“How the devil should I know? Back home in Kent, I should imagine.”
“He was not! He followed me – he came to the inn last night. You saw him, you quarrelled with him. Where is he?”
“I have not the least notion. All this is a figment of your imagination – very likely the result of a distressingly vivid dream last night – or perhaps a bang upon the head. Indeed, now I look more closely, I can see that your face is bruised. You must have hit it as I carried you down the stairs – for which I apologise.
“Now, sit down quietly and try not to let your judgment become distorted. We will have some breakfast and then I will leave you to rest while I fetch Waldron. I know I was, earlier, prepared to wait for you to agree to our marriage at some later date, but I now think – particularly in view of this fantasy about Frank having been in the inn last night, that we should be married at once. If word were to get out of your arriving with me at dawn, clad only in your nightgown and showing clear signs of a disturbance of the mind, I don’t think your reputation – even if it managed to survive the length of time we have been travelling together - would be worth much.”
“Very likely not but I don’t care a fig for my reputation. I want to know where Frank is!”
“I am afraid I am unable to help you there. Ah, here is our breakfast at last; I am persuaded you will feel more the thing when you’ve eaten something.”
This unfortunate echo of Frank’s soothing suggestion to his mother after the shopping trip to Tunbridge Wells not unnaturally caused Honoria considerable irritation. Was she now to be treated as tho
ugh she was of unsound mind – and was her aunt not so much subject to volatile mood changes as to the constantly aggravating effects of being treated as mildly deranged? Honoria resolved never again to attempt to soft-soap her but to listen with proper attention to everything she said.
“I cannot eat breakfast in my nightgown,” she complained, standing up, the blanket still wrapped closely around her shoulders.
“I assure you I have no objection,” Lord Ninfield replied with a gentle smile. “After all, we are soon to be married when I hope you will not object to my seeing you in your nightgown.”
“I did not say that I objected to your seeing such a thing,” Honoria replied with dignity, clutching the tattered remains of her sangfroid around her more tightly. “I said that I could not – would not – eat my breakfast thus clad.”
“How touchingly you adhere to the conventions!” his lordship exclaimed with one of his most condescending smiles and said something to the hovering lackey in German.
“I have asked him to find you something to wear,” he explained to Honoria when the man had left, “but I daresay it will take him some time so I suggest you sit down and drink a cup of coffee.”
“I prefer to wait, my lord,” she replied and went to stand beside the window.
“Very well. I admire your strength of mind.”
It was some fifteen minutes later that a knock upon the door was followed by the ingress of Frau Weiss, bearing a bundle of clothes.
“I hope I have guessed your size accurately,” the woman said, advancing towards Honoria and handing her the bundle. “I am afraid I could not find much at such short notice but will go out to the shops later. Would you like me to help you to dress, Gnädige Frau?”
“Yes, thank you; that is very kind,” Honoria replied, understanding the gestures which accompanied this proposal and rising at once. She hoped that, alone with the housekeeper, she might be able to persuade the woman to come to her aid.
But Lord Ninfield intervened and spoke to the woman in rapid German. Frau Weiss nodded, vouchsafed Honoria a fleeting smile and left the room.
“I told her that her services would not be required as you are accustomed to managing on your own,” he said, walking into the bedchamber where he locked the door which led into the corridor and removed the key. “We do not want anyone bursting in while you are getting dressed,” he explained. “If you find you cannot manage without any assistance with buttons or suchlike, I daresay I will be able to provide all the help you need.”
“I should not dream of asking you,” she replied politely.
His lordship shrugged, said, “As you will,” in a pleasant tone and went back into the saloon to resume his breakfast, closing the door behind him.
Chapter 33
Cassie and Count von Krems set off for his castle in the north before the week was out. As winter tightened its grip on Vienna, snow fell almost continuously although the pavements were swiftly cleared by men issuing from every household, broom in hand.
Deciding against attempting to explain to Gustav that Mrs Morley was Miss Minton, an admission which both the grown-ups acknowledged would result in the boy asking a barrage of questions to which they were reluctant to be obliged to find answers, Cassie found herself forced to continue the deception. She must continue to dress in black for the next few months, must foreswear all social events, except for the occasional serious concert, and would no doubt be put through her paces, as one widow to another, by the aged Countess when they met.
Cassie wrote to Fraülein Brunner, explaining that she would be away for a period, and to Lord Waldron, outlining her plans. He called as soon as he received her letter.
“You are going into the country?” he asked, clearly surprised.
“Yes; I have so far seen nothing of Austria except Vienna.”
“It is a strange time of year to set off on a tour of the country,” he pointed out. “You must watch out for heavy snowfalls on your journey.”
“I daresay I shall be quite safe,” she said, adding, “I am going with Count von Krems and his son.”
“Indeed? He has a castle somewhere in the north – is he taking you there?”
“Yes – to meet his mother.” Cassie stared defiantly at the young diplomat.
“Has he made you an offer of marriage?”
“No. I own I can make neither head nor tail of his invitation. How, do you suppose, will he describe me?”
“As his friend, I must assume, if you are not his betrothed.”
“He cannot be intending to introduce me as his mistress, can he?” she asked, her brow creasing with anxiety.
“I should not imagine so – to his mother - unless she is an excessively eccentric person, which I have never heard that she is. Are you his mistress – or should I not ask?”
“No, but I have told him of my past and have been half expecting him to suggest such a role ever since I did. I do not suppose it would occur to him to make me his wife – and yet, I do believe he has grown attached to me.”
“I don’t doubt it but perhaps he wishes the friendship to remain platonic. Mrs Morley, you are not by any means obliged to explain your precise relations with von Krems but I am afraid that you may be hoping for the impossible if you think his wish to introduce you to his mother means that he intends to make you his wife. It would be more usual – given your ages – for him to make you an offer before suggesting you meet her. I should not like you to be disappointed,” he added, now looking exceedingly anxious himself.
“Introduce me as an Englishwoman whom he has befriended and with whom he – and his son – have been practising their English? Yes, I suppose it is possible – indeed it is more than likely. I am glad I told you because I was beginning to be eaten up with anxiety about the matter.”
“But there is more to it than that, is there not?” Lord Waldron asked, frowning. “You are not seventeen, Mrs Morley, and yet I sense a great deal of uncertainty in your manner. Has there been aught to make you believe that he has what I suppose I should call ‘improper designs’, or has he, on the contrary, given an indication that his heart is engaged?”
“I have so little idea,” she exclaimed, laughing in embarrassment. “One moment I think perhaps his heart is engaged and the next I am convinced he is either indifferent or entertaining what you call ‘improper designs’ upon me. We had a dreadful misunderstanding only last week which, fortunately, has been at least partially resolved.” She stopped, a deep blush spreading up from her neck to suffuse her entire face.
Lord Waldron laughed. “You need not supply the details. I take it that it was subsequent to this ‘resolution’ that he invited you to visit his mother? Has he not followed up this promising beginning in any other way since?”
“No; that is what I find so confusing. He cannot, I suppose, have taken against me or he would not be inviting me to the country, but, equally, he has not repeated the – the expression of closeness which was so very – so astounding – and neither has he made me an offer. But then, why should I expect any such thing? I seem to be as naïve and idiotic as I was when I was seventeen and expected a man who kissed me had, to all intents and purposes, proposed marriage. It did not happen then; I misunderstood horribly – I seem inclined to make a practice of such imbecility - and was as a consequence ruined.”
“Well, I suppose you cannot be ruined again,” Lord Waldron pointed out pragmatically.
“No, but it seems I cannot become respectable either,” Cassie said with a sad little smile.
“Would you marry him if he asked you? Have you formed an attachment to him?”
“Yes, oh dear, yes, but he is very difficult to read. Is that just because he is Viennese or is it because his manners are so impeccable that it is well-nigh impossible to penetrate them?”
“The latter, I think. He has been living in the country with his mother for the past six years so I daresay he has forgotten how to approach younger females. Is there anything I can do to help?”
> She laughed. “Do you mean that you could speak to him in the guise of an English diplomat concerned about his countrywoman and demand to know his intentions?”
“Yes; I will if you like.”
“But what if he should take umbrage and knock you down or call you out?”
“That would be a very odd way to behave towards a diplomat – it might even lead to war between our countries. I will speak to him if you like.”
“Oh no! You could not! Why, he might think that I had put you up to it!”
“Are you certain you wish to be riveted to a stiff-rumped Viennese? Or is it, forgive me, merely that you cannot conceive of anything more respectable than becoming the Gräfin von Krems?”
She laughed. “Do you think I would find it constricting? The shameful truth is that I would abandon my quest for respectability in a moment if he offered me carte blanche.”
“Would you? You must indeed have formed a genuine attachment. But I do not think he has that in mind; such an exceedingly proper gentleman would hardly suggest introducing you to his mother if that were his plan. No, I will stick my neck out here and guess that he means to offer you marriage so you had best conduct your own research of his household and decide whether you will be able to endure, not only the restrictions, but also the presence of his parent, because I presume, if she lives in his home now, he will not be eager to turn her out. You must also consider whether you are prepared to live in this part of the world more or less for ever although I daresay sojourns in England can be arranged. He is a substantial landowner and is unlikely to want to abandon his patrimony – and then there is his son!”
“Well, yes, thank goodness for Gustav because, although I suppose it would be possible, I am a little old to be giving him children; at least he already has an heir so that I need not worry about that.”
“No, indeed; but, you know, there is always a certain amount of tension between a new wife and the children of any previous spouse. If you do have a son, you may come to resent Gustav’s position as the eldest and wish yours would inherit. It is easier if the inherited child is only a baby when a new mother steps into the shoes of a dead one – easier to come to believe that the baby is hers.”
Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan Page 27