‘Of course,’ said Honoria automatically, the pair descending the steps. ‘Serena is with Benedict, I have to take her with us; Papa’s orders.’
Genevieve raised her brows. ‘I suppose we have all become a little too informal since we have been here. No doubt your father is worried now that your mama is not here. If I stay I will fill her place as chaperone. I should have been thinking of you girls, but I’m afraid I have been preoccupied by my own concerns.’
‘It seems ridiculous that you be our chaperone. You are hardly older than me by three years.’
‘I am a married lady,’ she said with an edge to her voice. ‘Besides, I am older. So very, very, much older than you, my dear.’
By this time, they had entered Benedict’s room. They found him fully dressed, standing on his feet. His face was grey with pain. Serena was beside him, adjusting his handsome muslin cravat.
‘There! That’s the best I can do.’
‘Where is Papa?’ demanded Honoria.
‘Oh, he had to go out, I believe. He told me not to get up.’
Serena sighed.
Genevieve joined her. ‘So why-?’
‘I don’t forget you will have a visitor today, my lady. I don’t intend that you will meet him alone.’
The girls looked at her. ‘My husband is arriving,’ she announced. ‘And I do not need your help, Benedict.’ Benedict’s eyes flashed at her and she sighed once more. ‘You are the most stubborn young idiot, Dickie… Let us just to breakfast.’
Chapter 23
Lady Cynthia Returns
Even when he’d had a house party for sixty at Bassington, his house had never seemed so full of people, Rowley Allison reflected, as he headed towards the dining room. Maybe it was because every person he encountered at this house party was full of emotional charge. In his normal life he was fond of a number of people, of course. But his great wealth had made him a little lacking in trust of friends - sooner or later they wanted something more from him than friendship. His sister he loved, but she lived her happy life far from the city or from Bassington with her impoverished baronet and her brood of children. Maybe the similarities to the Fentons (though Sir Ranalph was not quite impoverished, just neat in the funds) was part of what drew him to them. A happy family, as he had seen, even in this most strained of situations. One in which he would be privileged to be included. He also loved his tiresome and expensive mother, but he did not miss her when she travelled and he was quite sure that part of the drive to marry was to legitimately banish her to the Dower House whilst she was in England. Her demands infuriated him, even if he could afford them.
He was also fond, or indeed more than that, of Gus Scribster, who had saved his life more than once in battle - and the fact that he had returned the favour did not negate the fact. Gus and he rubbed along very well. Although he joked about having him for a pensioner, and that was probably the common notion of their relationship, they both knew that it was their bond that kept them together. That and Scribster’s lack of love for the draughty Scottish castle that he had inherited. He knew, too, his friend’s complete disinterest in his money. Though the new hat and the haircut worried him. Was Scribster embarking on a life of fashion? The very notion made him laugh.
But the Fentons had become important to him in a great many ways. The sisters confused and made his head spin in a manner that he strove not to examine too closely, but that he knew to have a ridiculous aspect. The parents were such as he would have wished for himself. Lady Cynthia beautiful and astute, as kind as Honoria with a great deal of Serena’s spirit, obviously adored by her good natured husband. Benedict’s merry spirit, full of courage and brio, had affected him as some of his junior officers had in the Hussars. He liked the boy for himself and was worried and wondering about the trouble that he was still in. Even Lady Sumner claimed a part in his concern. He had guessed at her predicament and unusually for him felt a call to action, one contrary to his knowledge that it was improper to meddle in ‘what God has joined together’.
He walked into the breakfast room to find his friend and his cousin silent and intent on their coffee, the mood flat. It improved when the ladies arrived, bringing with them a drained looking Benedict. There was a lot of quite bright conversation but none of it seemed real - there were undercurrents even from his usually sanguine friend and cousin - and it mercifully stopped when Blake entered.
‘Lord Sumner has arrived, your ladyship, and desires to see you.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ ejaculated Lady Sumner, much in the old tones of their relationship, ‘why must he pick today of all days to rise before ten of the clock?’
‘I have shown his lordship into the library, Mr Allison,’ uttered Blake as though he had not heard her.
Allison nodded, and the butler left.
‘I’ll go to meet him,’ said Benedict, his eyes ablaze. ‘You won’t see him alone.’
Lieutenant Prescott, all at sea, said, ‘I beg your pardon?’ in a disapproving tone.
‘I’ll go and greet him,’ drawled Allison with a restraining hand on Benedict’s shoulder. He caught Serena’s eyes - she gave him a grateful look and he smiled down at her.
But as he stood, there was a commotion in the hall.
Honoria jumped up. ‘Mama! I’m sure it is!’
‘How can it be?’ said Serena.
But in another second, she was found to be correct. Lady Fenton arrived, still in her violet redingote, only having stopped to remove her bonnet, taking her gloves off and smiling.
Mr Allison was suave, ‘Your ladyship,’ he said, bowing over her hand. ‘Welcome. Your son is fast recovering as you can see.’
Her ladyship threw a glance in her son’s direction, a slight frown breaking her sunny looks. ‘Up too early, you mean. No one need apologise. He always was a most stubborn boy.’ Her son grinned.
‘Mama!’ said Honoria, finding herself desirous of throwing herself into her mother’s arms.
‘Yes, my dear. The children are well, do not fear - so I thought I should return. Where is Papa?’
‘He went out earlier.’
‘Probably to his club,’ she said comfortably. ‘Samuel, could you send a message to him to say I have returned?’ she smiled at the footman who bowed and disappeared to ask Blake which of the London clubs Sir Ranalph frequented.
‘Sit down, Jenny,’ said her ladyship.
‘My husband has just arrived,’ explained Genevieve, ‘You must forgive me, Lady Fenton.’
‘At this hour? How disobliging of him. Well, he must wait. You clearly have not finished breakfast.’ She removed her redingote which was silently whisked away by another footman. As she sat, Honoria brought her some chocolate and some sweet rolls. ‘This is so welcome,’ she said brightly, ‘I have been travelling since daybreak, I must look a fright.’
But she did not, thought Honoria. Her mother’s violet muslin was hardly crushed and her dark hair was not yet covered with one of the lace caps that normally covered her dark curls. But it was her comforting presence and the little tweak of mischief in her eyes today that somehow infused Honoria with confidence. Now that Mama was back, all would be well. She looked at Serena and saw a similar confidence in her eyes.
Genevieve was still tense. ‘Inform Lord Sumner that his wife is at breakfast and she will be with him in due course.’
‘Perhaps I-’ began Mr Allison, but he was interrupted in his turn by Blake entering once more with a missive for his master. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been called away,’ he said, after giving this short note a glance. ‘And Mr Scribster too.’ His friend looked up and seemed anxious to leave.
‘Might I be of service, cousin?’ asked the lieutenant.
‘Not at the moment, Darnley. Enjoy your breakfast.’
Lady Fenton sipped her chocolate contentedly. ‘I hope that you will both be present a little before dinner this evening? In the green salon at seven?’
Allison, halted on his swift departure, merely bowed.
; Lord Frederick Sumner was known as an easy man among his cohorts – except, of course, when in his cups. He was a known devil then, apt to take a man up on any perceived insult, unable to take a quiet word inducing him to calm himself a little, and generally someone better avoided at that time. Unless of course you were disposed to sell him a flashy mare for two hundred pounds more than it was worth, or beat him at cards. But he had not yet partaken of alcohol today, and he had been disposed to show himself a jolly good fellow in Allison’s house. It wouldn’t do to set the great Mr Allison against him. Town was becoming rather warm for him at the moment at any rate, on account of dunning tradesmen willing to insult a peer of the realm with dratted demands for money. So to make trouble in his own set was something he wished to avoid. He would call Genevieve to heel by apologising and letting her know what he really thought of her behaviour when they were alone. He had no particular desire to see her beyond the strictures of his aunt, always ready to give him some financial relief in return for obedience in the matter of conceiving a child.
So Lord Frederick’s demeanour was relaxed and he even took up an edition of Ovid that was sitting on a small table near a chair and began to read, ready to show his best face to his host and his wife. After twenty minutes of this dull work, reading Latin about a man who was named after a dashed carriage, Lord Frederick’s mood darkened. It was insulting to keep a man kicking his heels in your house this long. He was not used to such treatment. Just as he was about to throw the book at a wall, the butler came in to offer to escort him to his wife.
He was smiling charmingly as he entered the room, lest his host was present, but when he saw his wife standing upright by the fire, wearing one of the plain gowns he had forbidden her (as not befitting the status of his wife) and quite alone, his demeanour changed. ‘Madame wife-’ he began in a dark voice, but he was interrupted by the door to an adjoining room opening.
‘Sit down Frederick!’ said the familiar tones of his aunt.
Walking to the stables, Scribster asked disinterestedly. ‘Care to tell me where we’re going?’
‘To save Benedict Fenton’s hide, I believe.’
‘Oh, well then,’ said his companion, satisfied.
Mama had been jolly over breakfast and had sent her daughters to keep Benedict in his room until Lord Sumner left the house. It proved impossible to tell his parent, especially before the lieutenant, why he might be needed. He agreed to go with his sisters, but was determined to escape when away from his mother’s eye. Honoria restrained him.
‘I do not know what you are about, Dickie, but I assure you that from what I saw of Jenny today, she has her affairs in order. What right do you have to interrupt her? You must have faith.’
The usually silent footman, Samuel, who was aiding in the removal of Benedict’s coat, said passionlessly. ‘I believe Lady Harrington is also with Lady Sumner, miss.’
‘There!’ said Serena. ‘I do not know why you should-’ she saw a look pass between her brother and sister. ‘Another of these horrid secrets in this house. You will tell me immediately, Orry, or I swear I shall never speak to you again.’
Honoria looked uncomfortable. ‘I hardly know - I am not sure-’
Serena turned to Benedict. ‘Dickie, I shall sit on your ribs if you do not-’
Honoria sighed, flopping onto the chair nearest the bed. ‘Do not ask him. Do you not know that some manly code of honour keeps him silent?’ Her tone did not suggest that this was a compliment. ‘I have just had a feeling. I would probably have told you before, Serena, but we have not spoken so often of late.’
‘I know,’ said Serena in a small voice.
‘You two haven’t spoken?’ said Benedict with unnecessary emphasis. ‘Never known you two to be quiet. To think I slept through it!’
‘Well, looking after you did not help - but it is more than that-’ Honoria added honestly.
‘What is it then?’ said Benedict. But Honoria’s eyes dropped.
‘I’m not really sure. Anyway, this is not the time.’
‘No,’ agreed Serena hastily. ‘Not the time. Tell me what you know of Genevieve.’
‘I think, from some things she has said to me, that there is something wrong with her marriage.’
‘Well, we could all guess that they are not particularly close. But that is hardly unusual in the polite world, surely?’ said Serena airily. ‘Of course, it is not what one would want, but I for one have resolved to make a sensible marriage if I can. One shouldn’t marry to disoblige the family.’ Honoria became pale at this, but Serena continued, unaware. ‘If only my suitor has an interest in horses and Papa considers him sound, I shall say yes. I expect we shall rub along very well.’
‘Serena - when did you become so unromantic?’
‘Oh, I think love and all that is less important than people think. Why, many young girls fall in love with men who are quite unsuitable, I have heard. Rakes, or some such thing. Or men who are already in love with … with … other young ladies. You won’t catch me falling into a decline over some dream of romance. Better to wed some sensible choice.’
‘Maybe so, but sounds dashed dull to me. Too dull for you, at any event, Serena,’ said Benedict, who had gratefully taken to lying on the bed once more.
‘Orry, you were explaining about Genevieve.’
‘I think that whatever it is with Genevieve and Lord Sumner, it is something very hard to live with. I have been most concerned about her. I think she is maybe even a little afraid-’
Serena looked at Benedict, whose face had become grave. ‘And that is why you got involved. But surely there is nothing you could do - but you DID do something, and you got attacked by someone because of it - and that is why Jenny felt so guilty.’ She ended with satisfaction. Then she sat on the bed, ignoring his wince as she brushed past a bruise. ‘Surely it wasn’t Sumner who did this to you?’
‘No, no,’ said Honoria. ‘Remember the Watchman said it was a ruffian.’
‘Or caused it to be done?’ guessed Serena insistently.
‘You’re well off there, Mistress Poke-nose,’ yawned Benedict, ‘Sumner was at Ottershaw all this time and I don’t suppose he had any notion or interest in my whereabouts. Why should he?’
‘Because you poked your nose into his business.’
‘If I had,’ Benedict said with a grin, ‘I’d have taken a precious care that he didn’t find out.’
Serena collapsed. ‘More secrets. I do not know what this family will become with all these unsaid things-’
‘Well, Mama is here now,’ Benedict yawned, ‘so I don’t suppose much will be left unsaid for any time longer. If we must all bare our souls what have you been keeping to yourself, miss?’
Serena blushed. ‘Nothing at all,’ she answered quickly. Then her voice changed to a teasing tone, ‘but Honoria, on the other hand… You won’t believe what a scrape she’s got herself into now-’
Honoria protested, but it was not long before the other two had her laughing once more at her predicament.
‘For someone so sensitive to other people’s problems, Orry,’ concluded Benedict, wiping his eyes, ‘you walk through your own life with hardly any awareness at all - God preserve us from this fix.’
‘He already has,’ said Serena. ‘He has brought Mama back to London.’
Chapter 24
Mama Untangles the Knots
‘Gentlemen, welcome!’ said Mr Wilbert Fenton as Mr Allison and Mr Scribster entered his drawing room. The revered dandy was sitting in the midst of this delicately appointed apartment on a chair whose legs were so ethereal as to make his safety from toppling a concern. He did not rise, and the gentlemen saw that his foot rested on a handsome silk footstool.
‘Mr Fenton, are you injured?’
‘I’m afraid I am, my boy,’ drawled their host. ‘Please sit. Though not for long, I fear, if you are as good as your word.’
Allison held his eyes. Mr Fenton’s moved to his friend. ‘Mr. Scribster. Not a known gossip.’
He winced a little, and took a sip of wine from a glass placed near him.
‘I am terribly afraid, gentlemen, that footpads still roam the city.’
‘Indeed, sir. And have you been a victim?’ said Mr Scribster.
‘Hardly at all, gentlemen. But I did become injured in a dreadful attack on another gentleman. A Mr George Rennie, do you know him? I er, went to his aide but unfortunately there were two of them. Someone came up behind me, but I had my duelling pistol with me-’
‘Fortunate!’ drawled Allison.
‘It was. And he ran off. A rough fellow, rather like my nephew’s attacker. He has a hole in his shoulder. I think he will not be hard to find. Once I inform the Runners, of course.’
‘Where did this occur?’
‘In the little wood behind the Owl and Feather Inn.’
‘A famous place for duels, so I hear.’
‘In the past, perhaps. It is illegal these days, of course. But I did indeed think that Mr Rennie may have been meeting an adversary. Perhaps his rather tricky style of play had upset someone.’
‘Like Benedict’s.’ It was Scribster, at his most laconic.
Wilbert Fenton turned rather cold eyes upon him. ‘Not at all like Benedict. Mr Rennie is another sort of man.’ Scribster’s half grin was all the response he got. ‘I think perhaps that someone challenged Mr Rennie to a meeting. Once there, perhaps that person thought better of it. Thought that only gentlemen should duel and that Mr Rennie fell short of being a gentleman. Perhaps that man had a cudgel with him and treated Mr Rennie as poor Benedict was treated.’
‘I have always remarked,’ mused Allison, ‘on the remarkable shine on Mr Rennie’s boots.’
‘Yes - he is quite vain about it I believe,’ smiled Fenton. ‘Well, I intervened, of course, and was rewarded by the other – hidden - gentleman’s cudgel.’
‘Where is Mr Rennie now?’
‘There, gentlemen, is the problem. Mr Rennie is still, as far as I know, in the wood behind the Inn. My valet was able to help me to the carriage as I could still walk. But Mr Rennie is in rather worse shape, and my valet - being a little fellow as you know - could not move him.’
Honoria and the Family Obligation Page 21
