Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan

by Catherine Bowness

  The Count, when they joined him in the small saloon where they were to eat dinner, observed, looking from one fair-haired Englishwoman to the other, “You know, there is quite a likeness between you two – or is it merely your nationality? Are all English girls so exceptionally pretty?”

  “Certainly not!” Cassie cried, looking quite insulted. “There are as many pretty English girls as there are Austrian ones, I suppose, but Honoria is quite out of the common way.”

  “I was teasing,” he replied. “No one, so far as I know, has ever been more beautiful than you, my love, no matter which country they call home and Miss Ford is also exceptionally beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” Honoria said with a demure look.

  The trio ate their dinner and afterwards played cards until Cassie suggested that their guest looked ready to fall asleep at the table.

  “I will come up with you,” she said, taking Honoria’s hand.

  “There is no need for that,” the girl replied. “I own I am exceedingly fatigued and should like to go to my bed, but pray do not feel that you have to accompany me. I shall be quite safe so long as Lord Ninfield is not wandering about.”

  Assured that he was not, she bid her new friends good-night and climbed the stairs by herself although Cassie promised to send Lisl to help her undress. The truth was that Honoria did not feel in the least sleepy but she was tired and wanted, more than anything, to be by herself for the effort required to keep smiling was almost more than she could bear.

  Once undressed and in her new nightgown, she lay down in the narrow bed which had been brought into Cassie’s room, but sleep was far from attainable. She could not detach her mind from the anxiety which wracked her concerning Frank: she knew now why he had not pursued and found her again: he could not because he was dead; she would never again see his gleaming hair and glinting eyes, never be teased - nor kissed - by him again.

  And it was all her fault for if she had not allowed herself to be carried away by what she was now convinced was an absurd fantasy of being forced to marry him and had not, as a consequence, idiotically run away in the middle of the night, he would not have had to chase after her and would not now be dead.

  When she did at last drop off for a few minutes she was subject to a harrowing nightmare and woke with a startled cry.

  Cassie, woken by the scream, came to her at once and endeavoured to comfort her.

  “How can there be any comfort?” Honoria cried, struggling against the kindly-meant embrace.

  “It is quite dreadful for you,” Cassie admitted, “but we cannot be certain that there is no hope so there is little point in despairing just yet. I know, I know,” she added as Honoria jerked away from her impatiently, “it is impossible to prevent oneself from thinking the worst. Would you like me to sing you a lullaby? You may find it soothing but if, on the contrary, you find it infuriating, pray do not hesitate to stop me.”

  Honoria nodded but she did not lie down; she sat in her bed with her arms around her knees and Cassie began to sing, very softly, the sort of song she might have sung if she had had children. As she sang, she reflected that she had never wanted any and had never felt the lack of them until she met Gustav and given him her heart. Honoria was the very age her daughter might have been if she had had one and she found, to her astonishment, that her heart had also opened to the unfortunate young woman without the least difficulty.

  She sang several songs and Honoria did not stop her. She still did not lie down but Cassie perceived after a while that the girl was asleep, her golden head resting upon her knees and her back hunched. With infinite gentleness, Cassie contrived to lay her down in her bed and tucked the blankets around her.

  In the morning it was difficult to tell which woman was the more fatigued. The Count, observing the dark circles beneath his beloved’s eyes and the deepening bruises beneath the girl’s, reflected that his love was showing a side of her character he had not known existed. From all that she had told him, he had thought her lacking in kindness and as hostile towards her own sex as towards his.

  There was no sign of either the Earl of Waldron or the men who had been sent to scour the country for news of a burned inn so von Krems wrote to his mother to explain that they had encountered some small difficulties along the way and would not be able to arrive at the time they had promised.

  The morning dragged on until Cassie suggested that she and Honoria take a walk for, sitting cooped up in a hotel all the time with nothing to do but worry, was inadvisable. To her relief, Honoria did not mention her bruised face and the two women, being unacquainted with the town, made their way to the outfitters which Cassie had visited the day before. They returned some two hours later, followed by a boy carrying several boxes.

  It was as they were sitting down to luncheon that there was the sound of an arrival and a familiar voice was heard outside.

  Honoria jumped up and ran towards the man who opened the door.

  “Horatio!” she cried, throwing herself into his arms and dissolving in tears.

  “Dearest Honoria!” he responded, enfolding her in a warm embrace and holding her close. “What have you been doing?”

  “I have been behaving like a madwoman!” she cried. “It is all my fault! Why, oh why, did I run away? I must have taken leave of my senses and now Frank is dead and I shall never be happy again!”

  “Is he dead?” he asked. “Do you know that? And why in the world is it your fault if he is?”

  “Do you not know?” she cried, stepping away from him and examining his face.

  “I know nothing except what Count von Krems wrote to me: that you had arrived in this corner of Europe and were in need of my protection. Only let me greet von Krems and Mrs Morley, an Englishwoman with whom I have, I flatter myself, become friends, and then you shall tell me all.”

  His lordship, having shaken the Count’s hand, kissed Cassie’s and been provided with a plate and a glass of wine, turned his attention to the girl with whom he had been brought up.

  “I have not seen you for years, dearest Honoria, and find you much grown but also, I am sad to observe, much bruised. What has befallen you?”

  So Honoria retailed the story of her sense of betrayal at the hands of her adoptive family and her fear that they would succeed in compelling her to marry Frank. She told him how she had run away and some of the details of her journey across Europe, the arrival of Frank and the dramatic and horrifying events which had followed almost immediately upon that.

  “You seem to have had quite an adventure,” he observed mildly when she had finished. “Where is the villain now?”

  “Locked in a cellar, I understand.”

  “Not that villain – you told me that, remember – but Frank. Is he not another – indeed the original villain of the piece? Why are you convinced that he has burned to death?”

  “Because Lord Ninfield admitted he set fire to the inn,” she answered, frowning, wondering if Horatio had listened with proper attention.

  “That is what he said,” he pointed out, “but he does not strike me as a man who has a strict regard for the truth.”

  “But, if he did not, where is Frank?”

  Chapter 38

  “I cannot understand why you are so exercised as to his whereabouts when, not so long ago, you ran away from him. Are you not relieved to have eluded him?” Horatio asked, frowning in his turn.

  “No! I love Frank! I could not bear any harm to come to him.”

  “Have you perhaps discovered, during your travels and travails, that you care more for him than you thought you did when you left home?” he asked gently.

  “Yes, of course I have; I have also discovered that he never had any intention of forcing me to marry him – although he did – loyally, I think – assure me that he would be happy to do so if I changed my mind. Oh, Horatio, I have changed my mind but now I am afraid he is dead! And it is all my fault!”

  “Not entirely. If he is dead, particularly if it was at Ninfield’s h
ands, I hardly think a court of law would assign blame to you, but I understand what you mean. I must say, I always thought you would marry Frank – you seemed to be remarkably well-matched even when you were infants.”

  “But he is my cousin and I have always thought of him as a brother – as I have you.”

  He nodded but said nothing further on that head, turning instead to Count von Krems and asking how the search was progressing.

  On receiving a rather negative report, Waldron asked Cassie if she knew aught of Lady Angmering.

  “No; should I?”

  “She is, I should say, of a like age to you and was used to move in similar circles some quarter of a century ago. I wondered if you had come across her?”

  “Good God!” Cassie exclaimed. “Are you saying she was a demi-mondaine? I was not used to be respectable,” she explained to Honoria. “Indeed, I promised to tell you why I was pretending to be a widow – that is the reason! I hoped to put my past behind me.”

  “As did she,” Waldron said coolly. “But she chose to give herself a title along with a dead – and equally imaginary - husband. You probably knew her as Catherine Milburn.”

  “Lud! Yes, I did. What is she like now?” Cassie was addressing Honoria.

  “Very handsome,” Honoria said, smiling. “She is as dark as you are fair, Madam, and very mysterious. She would tell me nothing except that she originated from Northumberland. Her nephew would tell me nothing either. I thought … but she gave me away to him.”

  “I daresay she knew how much he is in need of your money,” Waldron pointed out. “Indeed, she may be a trifle stretched herself. She is supported by a former – perhaps not entirely former – lover in Würtzburg whom she visits several times a year; I understand that he will not permit her to live there all the time. I believe his wife objects to her presence. As for informing Ninfield of your whereabouts, she may have thought that you would not object to marrying him and I daresay she intended to negotiate a cut as payment for the information. All the same, she clearly did grow attached to you and harboured suspicions about him or she would not have equipped you with a pistol.”

  “How do you know her?” Cassie asked.

  “Ah! I see you are wondering what dark secrets I am concealing. Nothing so exciting, I promise you. I met her a few years ago when I was travelling across Europe. Like you, Honoria, I came across her by chance and we fell into conversation. She seemed quite taken with me,” he added, with a self-deprecating little twist to his lips.

  “It does not surprise me,” Honoria said warmly, looking at his handsome countenance. “Do you mean she tried to seduce you?”

  “Oh, most definitely, but I think she was after a ring on her finger and a genuine title. I am afraid, much as I admired her, that she was not quite my style – at least not for a wife – but we parted on the best of terms.”

  “So, when I mentioned you, she knew perfectly well of whom I was speaking?” Honoria asked.

  “I would imagine so although she may, of course, have quite forgotten me by this time.”

  “She kept asking if I wanted to marry you.”

  “I daresay she wanted to make sure you were free for her nephew. But you were not, were you, because your heart already belongs to Frank?”

  “Yes, but I did not know that then.”

  No one spoke for a minute, perhaps allowing a suitable pause for everyone to remember the absent Frank, until Honoria said, “But she seemed to be so very rich! She was travelling with several carriages and servants and stayed in the very best hotels – indeed, she insisted upon paying for me too most of the time!”

  “An investment, I daresay,” Waldron said. “But she very likely lives on credit in any event – and expects her lover to bail her out from time to time.”

  “I have some sympathy for her,” Cassie said quietly. “Life for such women – and particularly when no longer young – is uncertain. And she did give you the gun, Honoria, which argues that she had grown attached to you.”

  “Yes, and that she did not have a very good opinion of her nephew’s character. But I will always be grateful for the pistol even though I lacked the courage to use it; that, after all, was not her fault but rather a deficiency in my character.”

  “I own I have not heard reluctance to kill another person described as a character defect before,” Lord Waldron said.

  “But it was not that which stayed my hand – it was simply indecision,” she argued, unwilling to accept praise for something which she was certain she did not deserve.

  It was not until the light was beginning to fade that they received the news for which they had been waiting.

  There was a knock upon the door followed by the proprietor entering and requesting ‘a word outside’ with the Count.

  Everyone looked at each other and Honoria turned pale but no one said anything because Gustav was in the room.

  When the Count returned, he cast a speaking glance at Cassie, who, reading it correctly, immediately led Gustav to the window where she embarked upon a competition to see how many snowflakes each could count in the space of one minute.

  The Count, meanwhile, drew Honoria and Waldron to one side.

  “They have found a man who they think must be Mr Lenham,” he said quietly.

  “Is he dead?” Honoria asked, beginning to tremble.

  “No, but I understand he is injured,” von Krems said. “They have brought him here and are carrying him up to a bedchamber. I have told Herr Gelben to send for the doctor at once.”

  “Oh – what has happened to him? Can I see him?” Honoria cried.

  “I think it would be better if Lord Waldron saw him first,” von Krems said gently. “And then you shall go but first we must allow the men to get him settled in bed.”

  But Honoria was not prepared to wait and ran immediately to the door, shaking off both the Count and Waldron impatiently.

  “Oh, pray do not try to protect me!” she cried. “It does not matter what has happened to him – well, of course it does, it matters terribly - but I must see him!”

  There was a party of men, their coats covered in snow, carrying someone up the stairs when she reached the hall. She followed them, trying not to draw attention to herself for she suspected that she would be prevented from going into the bedroom if anyone noticed her. Waldron came behind but did not intercept her.

  The men laid their burden upon the bed and stepped back. Honoria ran forward and, when one of them tried to pull her away, said, “I am his nearest relative; I must be with him.”

  Lord Waldron translated her words into German and added his own to the effect that the young man was almost certainly her – and his - cousin.

  The man upon the bed was, to Honoria’s relief, immediately recognisable as Frank; although his face was much bruised, it did not appear to be burned. He was wrapped closely in a blanket. She later discovered that his clothes were so torn and burned that they served little useful purpose.

  “Frank!” she cried. “Oh, my dearest – it is you!”

  “What remains of me,” he acknowledged, his battered lips twisting into something resembling the old teasing smile. “Glad I’ve found you again, you silly girl!”

  “They have been looking for you for ages; where have you been?”

  “Where have you been? You’ve led me a merry dance and, as for your admirer, I don’t think you should marry him even if you do like him because he’s a bad man!” Frank was having considerable difficulty in speaking, his voice coming out as a halting croak.

  “Don’t try to speak, old chap!” Waldron exhorted, stepping up to the bed on the other side. “A doctor has been sent for and will set you to rights in a trice. In the meantime, don’t waste your breath arguing with Honoria – all she cares about is that you’re alive!”

  “You here too?” Frank asked, raising pain-filled eyes to his cousin.

  “Yes; well, I live in Vienna.”

  “Not in Vienna,” Frank argued, “going the wrong wa
y!”

  “I know, but fortunately some friends of mine were travelling north when they came upon Honoria and sent word to me.”

  “How …?” Frank began.

  “Don’t speak and I’ll tell you the story so far as I know it,” Waldron interrupted.

  “Bad man!” Frank repeated when his cousin finished speaking. “You don’t look well,” he added, squinting at Honoria.

  “Neither do you,” she returned. “So there was a fire – are you very badly burned?”

  “Do not keep asking him questions,” Waldron said. “He shouldn’t be attempting to speak; I daresay all will become clear in the end. In the meantime, I’m going downstairs to see if the doctor has arrived yet. I forbid you to interrogate him, Honoria, while I am out of the room!”

  “No. Frank, I am so pleased to see you,” she said as the door closed.

  “Should think so,” he rejoined. “Did he hit you?”

  “Lord Ninfield? Yes – knocked me out and was trying to force me to marry him. He wanted my fortune. I don’t think you do, do you?”

  “Not as much as I want you,” he murmured. “Give it all away, if you like.”

  She smiled at him and said shyly, “May I kiss you?”

  “I smell horrible,” he said, making a face.

  “Like burned meat,” she agreed, “but I don’t care!”

  When Waldron returned, leading the doctor, she was sitting quietly beside Frank, holding his hand.

  “Better leave the doctor to do his stuff on his own,” he suggested.

  When the doctor emerged both Waldron and Honoria converged upon him with questions. Since he only spoke German, Honoria was obliged to wait for a translation.

  “Frank has been burned a little,” Horatio explained when the doctor had gone. “As you no doubt noticed, his hair has been singed and his hands are also burned, one worse than the other. His main injury is a broken jaw, which the doctor says will heal on its own but he must eat slops until it does – and not talk too much. It was probably Ninfield who broke it – which makes me particularly glad that von Krems has done the same to him - but we will not know that for certain until he is able to speak more easily. Your admirer seems a trifle over-enthusiastic with his fists, does he not? You both have a number of bruises, which the doctor assured me look worse than they are. He thinks Frank was most likely knocked out before Ninfield set fire to the curtains. It’s a wonder he managed to get out of the room. I think you should let him sleep now,” he added. “The doctor has given him some laudanum so he should not be disturbed for the time being.”