No reply from Honoria except an mmm. Her normal reaction to her sister’s teasing might have been to throw the hairbrush at Serena. She changed tack. ‘Orry, why are you still so nervous? Don’t you think we can just enjoy the visit? It is so beautiful here and we can walk and ride every day. Benedict will join us soon and there are no children to annoy us.’
‘I like the children!’ protested Honoria.
‘Not all the time you don’t,’ said Serena, with wide eyes. ‘What about when Cedric upsets our walks by begging us to play cricket? Or when Angelica knotted all your work threads?’
‘Well, but I miss them being around.’
‘You cannot - not yet.’
‘It is just a little strange that’s all,’ said Honoria, pulling hair from her brush.
There was something in her sister’s voice that made Serena leap from the bed in her impetuous way and rush to give her back a hug. She looked at Orry in the mirror and said, ‘It’s all just a lark, you know. You don’t have to do anything at all. I wish you could enjoy yourself.’
Orry smiled then and hugged her back. ‘I will, I promise. I’m just a little shy - you know how I am in new company.’
Serena was not exactly satisfied, but with a last hug, she said goodnight.
It was strange to feel distant from Honoria. And she suddenly understood that if Mama’s plans for this visit prospered, Honoria and she would soon be parted permanently.
The first time Benedict had been taken to Jackson’s Boxing Saloon had been exciting. He was aware that many young bucks about town would give their eyeteeth to attend the saloon and shake the hand of Gentleman Jackson, legendary fighter, who had the good sense to offer young gentlemen a chance to train with the best. His uncle’s entree to many doors closed to less fortunate men was something to be grateful for - although his father had warned him of certain places where his uncle might take him that he was on no account to go. Usually Benedict was anxious to strip and fight - once even with the great man himself - but this afternoon his visit was brief. His uncle, in a small group of ageing dandies, overdressed for this atmosphere of sawdust and sweat, was watching a fight between Freddy Poole and Sir Neville Austen. He looked over the shoulder that Benedict tapped, held up a screw of paper and turned back to the fight. Benedict turned on his heel and had almost reached the door when the lazy but clear accents of Wilbert Fenton caught him.
‘Six months, my boy.’
Benedict’s laugh wafted back with the clang of the closing door.
Chapter 7
Honoria In Love?
After breakfast, the ladies repaired to what passed for a cosy nook (of only twenty-five-foot square) where they sat at their work. Serena was embroidering a pair of slippers for Papa and the velvet was stretched on a small frame. Mama’s nimble fingers were repairing the strings of a lace cap that little Angelica had pulled near off. Having found a tall pin cushion of turned wood topped by stuffed velvet, Honoria was distractedly pinning and pleating some stiff grosgrain ribbon into a confection suitable to wear either in her hair or on a plain straw hat.
‘You were very quiet at breakfast today,’ Mama said.
‘I know, Mama, I will try to put myself forward a little more,’ Serena cast her innocent eyes towards her parent.
‘Very amusing, Serena,’ said Mama.
Honoria shared a glance with her sister, smiling gratefully.
‘I rather thought that you had gotten over your shyness with Mr Allison,’ pursued Mama, ‘but perhaps it was the new arrival that sent you back into yourself. I cannot understand it Honoria, you are not so shy at home.’
Glancing at Honoria’s flushed face, Serena answered once more. ‘It is these London men, Mama - they are so different to our country acquaintance as to make us quake in our shoes.’
Her mother eyed her, ‘Your quaking was not evident, Serena. I will not say you push yourself forward, but you must let your sister shine as well.’
Serena flushed. She was used to gentle gibing from her mother, but this seemed to go further.
‘That is not fair, Mama,’ Honoria had flushed, too. ‘You know that Serena was only filling the spaces I could not - on account of my wretched timidity.’
Her mother’s eyes widened at this outburst. ‘Well, I’m sure that you are both good girls and perhaps I’m just a little nervous that - that - well, that we all enjoy ourselves.’
It was all that was said on the subject, but it was enough to let Honoria feel the heavy hand of fate crush her once more. It was not long before they chatted as they normally did, and Honoria was not again made anxious until Lieutenant Prescott’s name was raised once more. It thrilled her just to hear it, but she was unable to join in the conversation. Mama speculated on his situation in life and in his exact relation to Mr Allison, drawing on her slight knowledge of the family and its various branches. ‘He must be a sister’s child as his name is not Allison, of course. But it may be a cousin’s - one frequently introduces one’s second or even third cousin as cousin… oh, it that Mr. Scribster’s voice I hear in the hall? Ask him to come in, Honoria, and he shall tell us, I’m sure.’
Honoria ran to the door and performed her office. ‘Mr Scribster, won’t you come in to the morning room? Mama would like to talk to you.’
He shrugged with an appalling lack of manners. ‘Very well,’ and divested himself of his coat.
Honoria felt a rush of anger, but controlled it. It seemed Mr Scribster caught it, for he raised one eyebrow, as she could just see beneath the lank curtain of his hair. ‘How have I offended you, Miss Fenton?’
Well, thought Honoria, you don’t even bother to answer politely or to pretend an interest in anybody or anything, you rude, obnoxious man. But she merely said in a honeyed voice, ‘Not at all, sir. I’m sure you never offend anyone.’ Both his eyebrows went up, but he followed her obediently into the morning room.
‘Mr Scribster! Have you left the gentlemen early?’
‘As you see, madam.’
Honoria saw that her mama was thrown for a minute by this abrupt retort, but she soldiered on. ‘You must come and admire our work, you know.’
Mr Scribster looked at all three ladies’ work and was silent.
‘Serena is a fine workman, do not you think?’ asked Mama.
Mr Scribster sat on an adjacent seat and answered, ‘I’m no judge of stichery.’
A little ‘huh’ sound escaped Honoria’s throat and he met her eyes for a second, but it was Serena who said, ‘Very few men are, sir. But we have not brought you here for that. We wish to pick your brains on the subject of Mr Allison’s cousin. Have you known him long, sir?’
‘I have known him for many years.’
‘And what is his exact relation to Mr Allison?’
‘I believe he was introduced as his cousin,’ said Mr Allison blandly.
Serena got up abruptly and moved to the window.
Mama, though, was undaunted, ‘An aunt’s son then?’
‘Mr Allison has no aunt.’
Honoria spun around from the window and shot him a look that curled his hair. He held her hot gaze whilst her mother continued, ‘A cousin’s son then?’
‘Indeed.’ His hooded eyes still regarded Honoria’s hot gaze.
‘Talking to you is like pulling-’
‘Serena!’ interrupted Mama. She continued sweetly, ‘so Mr Allison’s female cousin had a son and Lieutenant Prescott is he?’
‘You are correct,’ Mr Scribster was continuing to observe Honoria, who turned her shoulder on him and looked out of the window. ‘Miss Annabelle Allison, cousin to my friend, wed a Mr Prescott and sired our newly arrived companion.’ Honoria turned and raised her brows, but it was Serena who voiced her thoughts.
‘You offered some information all on your own, sir. We are honoured.’
‘You should be, Miss Serena. I fear it is a rare occurrence.’
Honoria shot him a disgusted look and turned back to the window. There was the noise in the hall of
the gentlemen arriving, and soon they had entered in a rambunctious lot, Mr Allison at their head.
‘Ladies, we must apologise to you for invading you in our dirt-’
Honoria curtsied stiffly as Mr Allison smiled at her and retook her seat at her work, sitting on the edge of her chair.
‘Not at all, gentlemen. I trust you’ve had good sport,’ said Lady Fenton.
‘We did, ma’am,’ said Sir Ranalph, ‘only the rain came on rather suddenly so we dispatched Scribster here to order us some wine before we attempt to clean up before luncheon.’ Papa was his usual self, jolly and obviously enjoying the company.
‘I’m afraid,’ said Mr Scribster at his most bland, ‘that I was, ah, entertaining the ladies.’
Honoria gave a little gasp as she stabbed herself with a pin. Lieutenant Prescott, noting it, gave her his handkerchief. ‘Let me, Miss Fenton.’ Suddenly his smiling face was looming over hers, his large strong hand had taken possession of her little pale one and he knelt at her feet wrapping the handkerchief around her digit, and Honoria was behaving in a way she thought only the heroines in novels did - her bosom was heaving. His touch set her trembling and Serena, noticing, came forward.
‘Come sister, I fear we must bathe that finger and get ready for luncheon.’ The lieutenant had already risen and was ringing for wine.
Mr Allison bowed as the sisters passed him and Honoria rewarded him with a wan smile. Since Lady Fenton was talking to her husband and his cousin, Allison was able to murmur his friend, ‘That girl may be beautiful but she has all the animation of the stuffed deer in the hall. How can I go through with it?’
‘As to the latter, I still cannot see why you must. Your form of honour is a mystery to me.’
‘Do you have any of your own to judge it by?’ asked Allison.
‘Enough to tell you that you are quite mistaken in Miss Fenton. I assure you she can be amazingly animated. I myself seem to arouse her to blazing fury.’
‘You have that effect on many, but I can hardly believe it in this case. She is her parents’ beautiful glove puppet. What have you done to her?’
‘No more than be myself.’
‘Well, that’s irritating enough. But she displays her anger? You almost persuade me to poke at her till she bites.’
‘And what do you want to do to her sister?’
‘Nothing. That’s over. She’s a pleasant young woman-’ Scribster laughed. ‘-but was just- do you know, Gus, I quite see why half the world despises you. I think I might take it up myself.’
Serena was whispering to Honoria as they climbed the stairs to the bed chambers, ‘Why on earth would you fall for Lieutenant Prescott?’
‘I have not!’ her sister hissed.
‘Yes you have-’
They had reached Honoria’s lofty chamber and they both threw themselves down on the bed.
‘I have not - it is just that I get anxious around handsome men. And the lieutenant is very handsome.’
‘He’s nearly Mr Allison’s double, but you don’t get breathless around him.’ Honoria looked up for a second and Serena leaned forward and grasped her hands, ‘What is it, Honoria - what are you not telling me?’
Honoria struggled with a half-truth. ‘If only Mama had not told me why we are here, I suspect that I could relax and enjoy the visit. But knowing that Mr Allison might offer for me at any moment - well, it makes me so nervous. And that means I cannot relax enough to converse sensibly or-’
‘I understand. Only Mr Allison is really very nice Orry, and you call his cousin handsome, so you must like his looks.’
‘Yes,’ said Honoria, glad to be confessing at least some part of her woes to Serena at last, ‘and I saw our host be very kind and attentive to an injured carter’s boy - whilst he thought no-one was regarding him - so I know he is a compassionate man.’ She sighed.
‘Well, don’t sound so cheerful about it.’
Honoria laughed. ‘I suppose I am making a mull of it. I will try to get to know Mr Allison. He seems very - pleasant underneath his reserve.’
The highwayman thief of the blue slipper “pleasant and reserved”? ‘He’s a bit more than that. And it wouldn’t be the worst thing to be mistress of Bassington Hall. And perhaps Lieutenant Prescott is rich too and I can capture him for a husband and spare Papa the cost of another London season.’
The joke about the season smote Honoria’s heart once more. But something she’d said gave her a glint of hope. ‘Perhaps he is - we should set Mama on to discover his situation.’
‘Oh, never fear, I’m sure she has it in hand. Even Mr Scribster’s fabled reticence is no match for Mama when she wants to ferret something out.’
Perhaps the cousin was wealthy enough - perhaps if he cared for her - oh, Honoria, she thought, how ridiculous you are. As soon think that Mr Scribster admires you. The lieutenant was nothing more than a dashing, handsome hero with a kind and gentle nature (evident by the handkerchief that she was already wearing at her breast) whom there was no reason to fall for at all.
Rowley Allison couldn’t look at his friend Gus Scribster whenever he was in the vicinity of Serena Fenton. He avoided her as often as he could but there were moments… like when his beloved-but-dim cousin Darnley had repeated something he had heard about Lord Sumner’s latest ride. ‘My friend sold it to him and as he said, it may initially look like it lacks spirit, but once the horse gets to know its rider, it will be sure to show its paces.’
Serena Fenton had met his gaze, her eyes brim-full of laughter. His eyebrow shot up and she gurgled, then said, ‘And how long does the vendor suppose this familiarity will take?’
The lieutenant scratched his head. ‘Well, he didn’t say. But I suppose it must take some time because he had the beast for two months before, and I saw little spirit in him. But he looks very well, you know.’
Serena had laughed aloud and looked straight to Mr Allison to share the joke. He grinned and said to his cousin, ‘I trust you will never yourself purchase a horse from your friend.’
Prescott looked confused. ‘But you know Papa insists I buy all my nags from Tattersall’s. Won’t stand the nonsense otherwise.’ His father was a sensible man, wouldn’t pay for his son getting cheated by one of his showy friends.
As they left the breakfast room, Serena had grabbed at his elbow, drew him aside, and said, ‘Well, my highwayman, has your cousin always been such a lobcock or is it only in respect of horses?’
He looked down at her, the confiding expression in her eyes, and could not push her away again. He relaxed, ‘My cousin, Miss Serena Fenton, is never a lobcock. A ninny, perhaps, but a lobcock, no. That suggests a person who stumbles around, looking idiotic. My cousin, on the other hand, always looks handsome and confident and moves throughout the world in the most innocent way, unaware of the chaos he leaves in his wake.’
She laughed, but her mother called her and she swept away. Scribster was in the hall with the others, but his height allowed him to look over the heads of the ladies and give his friend an ironic grin. He had to keep away from her, that was all, away from her twinkling eyes, her teasing smile, so as to stop this reflux of desire from coming at him in waves. He’d watched her then, and he clearly saw that she had no idea of his feelings and certainly didn’t share them. Some innate knowledge of him made her offer him looks when something was funny and she thought that he would share her view, and her confiding sought to make him her friend. Eventually, married to her sister, he could perhaps fill that role. But not now. As he walked away, with Gus’s sardonic grin following him, he saw the horror of the sisterly visits. But surely by then - surely, he would have come to love her beautiful, dutiful, deadly dull sister.
Her parents were not of the ‘pushing’ variety, but the mama did suggest several entertainments for the ‘young people’ designed, he was sure, to allow him an opportunity to offer for Honoria. He looked at the elder Miss Fenton over breakfast that day and he feared that his lack of action was causing her pain. Was that sad
ness he saw in her face? She did not look at him, but looked at her plate, blushing, or into the ether rather distractedly. When he thought she was distressed, he made up his mind to speak to her after the meal - he had kept her in suspense too long - he could not ignore her distress. But suddenly she gave such a smile of radiance as she looked in another direction, that he thought she was quite alright. It would be fine to postpone his addresses to another day.
They were to ride after breakfast, and five of them were to set off to see if they could achieve the windmill and back before lunch. Nowadays, though the sisters’ figures and hair colours were so close, Allison had no difficulty telling which one of them was Serena, even though he only had a view from the back. She wore green velvet today, with a shako hat, whilst her sister wore blue wool with a great deal of military frogging. Scribster was mounting up at his side, but just as he was wondering if his identification was correct, Serena turned her horse towards his cousin, who was leading his nag out ready to mount.
‘Who saddled that horse?’ she demanded, her face flushed. Serena pointed. ‘Take that horse back to the stables immediately.’ As the group looked at her in amazement, she added, ‘He has a strained fetlock. Can you not see by his gait?’
The second groom, Taft, after a nod from his master, bent and felt the leg that Serena pointed to.
‘There is a little inflammation, Mr Allison, sir. But not a lot.’
‘Well there will be if you mount a fourteen stone man to ride it for two hours. Take him back and I’ll…’ she moved to dismount.
‘Taft knows what to do, Miss Serena, I assure you.’ Allison said to her.
She frowned, her transparent look showing that a groom who had saddled an injured horse was not someone to place trust in. ‘Very well, sir.’
He stifled a grin, and took point. ‘Sorry, Darnley, there is no other horse in the stable bar Mr Fenton’s Rufus that is up to your weight.’ He threw this over his shoulder as he rode away, leaving the rest to follow.
Honoria and the Family Obligation Page 7
