“I do not think I would mind; Gustav is a delightful boy.”
“Could you think of him as your son though?” Waldron asked the question gravely and fixed her with a penetrating stare as he did so.
“You speak as though from experience,” Cassie said slowly. “Did you have a stepmother?”
“No; my father died before I was breeched and my mother when I was not much older than Gustav is now. I went to live with my uncle and aunt – who did not expect me either to think of her or call her ‘mama’ but I do not believe she found it easy to accept me. The trouble of course was that on my father’s death I became Earl while my uncle remained Lord Charles.”
“Yes, that must have been difficult.”
“I removed myself as soon as I reached my majority and joined the diplomatic service. I did not feel quite ready to take up the reins of my inheritance and have left it in the care of a manager. I did not think it fair to expect my uncle to do all the work and take only a wage in return, particularly since he is extraordinarily lazy.”
“You are a very thoughtful young man,” Cassie said, “and will make some fortunate woman a first-class husband one day.”
And so one cold morning in December, her trunk packed with black clothes, her sable-trimmed pelisse buttoned up, her hat – trimmed with black feathers - upon her head and her hands inside a sable muff, Cassie climbed into Count von Krems’s carriage. He followed her in, the door was shut and the vehicle set off at a brisk trot as the Count tucked his guest into a multitude of fur rugs and adjusted the hot brick which had been provided for her feet.
“Where is Gustav?” she asked.
“He is in one of the carriages behind with his nursemaid. Charming and stimulating as his conversation can be, I thought you might grow weary of it during such a long journey.”
She smiled. “No doubt he will have plenty to tell us when we stop. I must try to pay attention as we travel so that he will not find me laughably ignorant of what we have passed.”
“He will be delighted if he can point out things you have missed and set you right on any observations he considers mistaken; it will make him feel wonderfully grown-up. But I shall have something much less positive to say if you are minded to stare so fixedly out of the window in order to impress Gustav, for how can we converse when you are looking in the opposite direction?” the Count asked plaintively.
“I am sorry if you think I was being uncivil and no doubt you are perfectly right that Gustav will enjoy correcting my ignorance. Of what did you wish to speak?” she asked, removing her gaze from the window and directing it towards her companion.
“Of you and me,” he replied, “but perhaps you would prefer to gaze upon the Austrian scenery; I daresay it seems strange and new to you whereas whatever I have to say you have almost certainly heard a million times before.”
Chapter 34
Honoria, whose injured wrist was making it difficult to hold the bundle of clothes which Frau Weiss had given her at the same time as retaining her hold upon the blanket, went into the bedchamber without another word. It was clear that Lord Ninfield had no intention of allowing her to escape from his clutches in spite of otherwise having resumed his kindly manner. Still convinced that an opportunity would eventually present itself, she determined to be respectably clothed so that she would be able to grasp it without hesitation whenever it did arise. Attempting to run away whilst clad in a nightgown and a blanket - and with her hair hanging in disordered curls down her back - would undoubtedly lead anyone who saw her to conclude that she was indeed a madwoman.
She put the bundle of clothes down upon the bed and unfolded them, discovering in the process the full extent of the damage to her wrist.
There was not much in the bundle: a cotton chemise, a grey woollen dress and a shawl. Unable to do much more with the injured hand than use it as a sort of limp hook on which to drape the chemise as she drew its folds apart, she inserted her head with a sort of burrowing motion and pulled the garment down over her body with the other hand. Fortunately, it had neither tapes nor buttons and was made for a larger woman.
Having successfully got into the chemise, she felt more confident as she approached the dress. She saw at once that this presented two obvious problems: it was a narrower garment and sported a row of buttons down the back, which she would have had difficulty in doing up even with two hands, but which she guessed would prove well-nigh impossible with only one. She managed, by dint of energetic wriggling, to put on the dress and even do up the top button but was obliged to leave the remainder undone. It gaped sadly but she hoped that judicious employment of the shawl would more or less cover the deficiency. Like the chemise, the dress was too big – both too capacious in the body and several inches too long - but it did not fall off her and was a harmless if unexciting colour. She thought it was probably a maid’s dress but none the worse for that and, in any event, a great improvement on a nightgown.
It seemed to her, before she sat down at the dressing table and saw the bruises developing upon her face, that all that remained to be done was her hair, which hung halfway down her back in a wild tangle. What, she wondered, had Frau Weiss made of a young woman who was not only clad solely in a nightgown and blanket with her hair au naturel, but had clearly been hit, probably more than once? Certainly, in the nightgown, she must have presented a picture of a person with a mind as disordered as her locks but surely even such an unfortunate should not, in a civilised society, be sporting a swollen wrist and a bruised face without someone expressing curiosity as to the reason? Why had the housekeeper ignored the evidence of her eyes? Presumably she wanted to be paid and no doubt assumed that it was the man who would open his wallet for the purpose. Indeed, Honoria realised with a sudden stab of fury, Lord Ninfield was now almost certainly in possession of the money she had taken from Uncle Charles’s study for she did not believe the story about the fire for a moment. Very likely he had searched for and found her money and stuffed it into his pockets while she was unconscious upon the floor.
Having brushed her hair with almost excessive vigour, she twisted it up on to her head and held it there with the damaged hand while she inserted enough pins to hold it. She did not think, when she had finished, that she had done a very good job but at least her hair was up, her dress was decent and she looked not only respectable but in her right mind.
When she went into the saloon and sat down opposite his lordship, he looked up at her with an amiable smile and said, “Much better.”
“Thank you. Frau Weiss has done well.”
“Indeed; you look charmingly although the gown is a little plain. Would you like me to send for some hot coffee? This has grown cold while you were dressing.”
“Yes please.”
She took a roll out of the basket, broke it one-handed and began to spread butter on it, once again employing the injured hand to hold it in place.
“I am sorry about your wrist,” he went on pleasantly. “I will enquire about a doctor when I go downstairs. I daresay it has been sprained and will need binding. Does it pain you very much?”
“I own that it does.”
“I will ask for some laudanum,” he said, ringing the bell.
When it and the coffee had been delivered, he filled her cup himself and, picking up the bottle of opiate, prepared to add some drops to her coffee.
“Thank you,” she said. “You are looking after me so well that I shall hardly know how to go on by myself, but I believe I would rather take the medicine when I have finished my breakfast as I am excessively hungry and have no wish to fall asleep too soon.”
“It will not send you to sleep if you do not take too much,” he pointed out. “The purpose is only to alleviate the pain.”
“Indeed, but I know from past experience that I have an unusually strong response to such things,” she said untruthfully for she had never, to her knowledge, taken the stuff in her life. She was, however, convinced that Lord Ninfield would give her a heavy dose as it would
no doubt suit him very well if she were to be knocked out altogether for a period.
“Very well,” he conceded with one of his more condescending looks. “You had better be careful to take only a very few drops in that case. I will measure it out for you when you have finished your breakfast.”
Honoria kept a close watch on his hands as well as the small glass bottle while she ate. When she had finished, he poured her a glass of water and added several drops to it.
“Here you are,” he said kindly. “Drink this and try to rest a little while I go in search of Waldron, a special licence and a padre to marry us. Pray do not look so shocked, my dear Miss Ford, I have already explained the necessity for us to tie the knot as soon as possible. I daresay there is an English cleric who will be willing to join us – Waldron will no doubt know where one can be found.”
“It is very good of you to take such care of my reputation,” she said carefully, “but there is really no rush so far as I can see. You and I know that nothing untoward has passed between us and I do not see why we need to trouble ourselves about what the hotel staff think. For myself, I am sure I could not care less and I own I would prefer to wait a little longer. Indeed, I have not yet given you my answer to your kind offer,” she finished, trying for a skittish note.
“Are you so reluctant to marry me?” he asked, endeavouring to match her tone.
“No, of course I am not; I am very sensible of the honour you do me in making such an offer – and also of the trouble you are taking to regularise our situation as soon as possible but I believe you need not look for either a special licence or a cleric at this moment; if you will simply find Lord Waldron and bring him to me, we can discuss the future between the three of us.”
“We can certainly discuss all other matters pertaining to our union with him,” his lordship agreed, meaning, Honoria supposed, how soon he could lay his hands upon her money. “But I think it would be foolish to delay tying the knot unless, of course, you have a strong objection to becoming Lady Ninfield at all.”
Honoria thought that she had but judged it unwise to say so. It seemed to her that his lordship held all the cards at the moment and she must, with as much patience and fortitude as she could muster, wait for the next deal and hope that her hand would be rather better supplied with winning tricks.
“I promise I will be an exemplary husband,” he said, approaching with the drugged glass of water. “Drink this, my love, and I will be back before you know it.”
She thought that if she drank the laudanum-laced water it was only too likely that he would be back before she knew it. She took the glass and, as he stood over her, essayed a small sip.
“Drink it all,” he encouraged. “You need not be afraid that I have put too much in after your warning about its likely effect upon you. It will simply take off some of the acuteness of the pain.”
“Yes, I am persuaded it will,” she agreed, thinking that he surely did not want to kill her just yet; if he wanted her money, he must marry her first.
She rose, the glass in her hand, and began to walk back towards the bedchamber. He followed her and said again, “Drink it up, there’s a good girl.”
“I will,” she temporised, “but I would prefer to do so slowly.”
“I am afraid you will not do so at all if I do not make sure of it,” he replied, his voice hardening.
“Why,” she asked, trying to control her anger and fear, “do you care whether my wrist hurts or not?”
“My dear girl, why should I not care? I can see how much pain you are in and, since I have already told you how warmly I feel towards you, I cannot see why it should surprise you that I do not wish to see you suffer.”
“Oh, it does not,” she lied, “but, all the same, my lord, I believe I would prefer to drink the water by myself. Pray leave me alone.” She took another small sip and, putting the glass from her lips, smiled up at him.
For a moment their eyes met, hers defiant above the artificial smile, his cold, but it was he who backed down, deciding perhaps that another physical tussle would do him no good in the long run.
“Very well,” he said, stepping back but his benevolent manner had evaporated. She thought that, if he did succeed in making her his wife, her future would be neither pleasant nor long.
She sat down upon the bed, the glass still in her hand, held out between them almost as though it were the lost pistol.
“I will be as quick as I can,” he said, “and will return with Waldron within a couple of hours, I hope.”
She nodded and he went to the door. She did not watch him but heard the key turn in the lock and waited until she thought him definitely gone before she moved. She put the glass down beside the bed and walked to the window. The streets were covered in snow but it had momentarily stopped falling although the sky was still leaden. She could see people moving about below and wondered if she would be able to draw anybody’s attention to her plight if she leaned out of the window and shouted.
But, when she tried to open the window, she found that she could not raise the heavy sash one-handed. This setback so enraged her that she stamped her foot and wished his lordship at the devil but, having spent many years reading gothic romances, she was by no means prepared to give up at this first reverse of fortune. She returned to the breakfast table and rang the bell. When there was no response, she found herself wondering what his lordship had said to the staff and supposed that he must have fallen back on his earlier explanation that his wife was touched in the upper storey and should be ignored. She had drawn another blank.
Not believing it likely that he would send for a doctor, she tore her discarded nightgown into strips with her teeth and bound up her injured wrist, hoping that, once securely strapped, she would be able to use it to a limited extent – perhaps even to open the window. But she was once again frustrated when she tried and, moreover, felt such a degree of pain that she almost cried out.
She tried banging on the window with one of the hairbrushes but, even when someone did look up, probably fortuitously, her wild gestures, although they elicited an astonished stare, did not result in anyone coming to release her. No doubt they thought her a madwoman and best ignored.
Sadly, she resigned herself to waiting for his return and, sitting down by the window so that she would be forewarned when he was about to reappear, employed the time in planning her escape.
But, as her mind went round in ever-smaller circles without hitting on any foolproof idea, she found it would keep veering off and fixing uselessly upon Frank. Surely he could not be far behind – in fact she might see him run up the steps of the hotel at any minute.
She wondered what he had thought when the morning after he had promised to speak to Lord Ninfield, he discovered her and his lordship already flown. He would have set off at once, although he might have delayed long enough to eat breakfast first. She found herself smiling as she thought of Frank and his appetite; remembering him eating his late supper the night before and the way his eyes had smiled as he had fed her morsels off his plate.
But he did not appear. The day wore on and it was not until the afternoon was far advanced that she saw, through the descending gloom of night, Lord Ninfield jump out of a cab. He was accompanied not by Waldron but by a small man in a clerical outfit. Her heart sank; of course he had not gone for Horatio at all, indeed she began to wonder if she was even in Vienna for, if Frank was right about the diversion, they might be almost anywhere.
It was some half an hour later that she heard the key turn in the lock and Lord Ninfield entered the room.
“I am afraid I have been much longer than I intended. I could not find Waldron; it seems he is away from Vienna at the moment but I have obtained a special licence and, after a prolonged search, you will be pleased to hear that I have found a cleric prepared to conduct the ceremony here in the hotel. I have installed him downstairs with a plate of refreshments and a bottle of wine and we will go down in a moment and complete the formalities.”
<
br /> “Do we not need witnesses?” she asked faintly. She was beginning to realise that, unless she could somehow make a run for it on the way downstairs, she would find herself Lady Ninfield in less than half an hour.
“Oh, yes, but the proprietor and his wife have expressed themselves happy to perform this service for us. I daresay you are hungry and I have ordered dinner to be served immediately after the knot is tied. We will have champagne and celebrate in style. Come along, my dear, there is no time to be lost and we must not keep the Reverend waiting.”
Chapter 35
Cassie did not trust herself to answer for, uncertain of the nature of what the Count presumed her to have ‘heard a million times before’, she was afraid that, even though he had couched his complaint in a humorous manner, he might take umbrage if she said the wrong thing.
After the misunderstanding in the restaurant – which she now thought was entirely her fault – she had grown apprehensive that she might find herself taking offence again, or might cause him to do so. It seemed that she had grown absurdly over-sensitive to any remark which might hint, no matter how insignificantly, at the disreputable nature of her past. She saw slights and insults where there were none.
In addition, her nervousness was increased by the fact that, the further they travelled from Vienna, the more reluctant she was to run the risk of being forced to sit beside him in a state of simmering but unexpressed pique for several hours only to be obliged to behave as though she and he were the best of friends in the presence of his mother. The alternative of flying into a pet and either engaging in an argument, which was bound to become unpleasant, or flouncing off into the snow in an absurd show of pride was, with every yard, becoming increasingly impractical. If she could not behave in a rational and self-disciplined manner, she really should not have accepted his invitation; and yet she had been unable to refuse, so passionately did she wish to be with him.
Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan Page 28