Honoria and the Family Obligation

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘Have you called a physician?’

  ‘I had arranged for one to be aboard a yacht that is waiting for him in the Thames. I think Mr Rennie is in need of a recuperative sea cruise.’

  ‘My God man, what state is he in?’

  Wilbert Fenton’s cold eyes turned on Allison this time. ‘He is alive. Which is rather more than he planned for my nephew to be. I believe his vengeance was not yet finished.’

  ‘A sea cruise seems just the thing,’ said Scribster. ‘Providing he returns.’

  ‘Yes, though he will be given a message to delay his return until his duelling has been forgotten – perhaps a year. He may otherwise be arrested,’ smiled the stout dandy in his usual tone, ‘Perhaps you could help him on his way, gentlemen? I have a coach ready to be put to. It would take barely two hours to ensure he gets to the boat. I could have enlisted my footmen, but-’

  ‘No need to explain. Just order the carriage.’

  Mr Fenton obliged by ringing a little silver bell at his elbow. ‘Sit, gentlemen. Tell me how my nephew and my two beauties go along-’

  If the girls thought that their mother would demand confidences immediately, they were mistaken. Lady Cynthia was tired and needed to repose from her fatiguing journey. She asked that her daughters take a long carriage ride to Wimbledon to visit a second cousin and to take Genevieve too. They were to request a recipe of her grand-mama’s against the fever, in case Benedict’s should return. They protested Benedict’s good health, but Mama was adamant. And a groom should drive, because the gentlemen were out - all except the lieutenant whom they should not disturb. He was looking, Mama said, a little strained. Probably from listening to too much feminine chatter, she added.

  It was of no use arguing. Mama was plotting something and she wanted them away.

  Meanwhile, the lieutenant was in a moral quandary. Scribster had heavily hinted that his cousin was interested in the eldest Fenton girl, while he had been sure from regarding him that his interest was in Serena. He had thought himself astute in such matters. Indeed, Lord Duncan had often remarked that the only reason he kept a noddy like him around was because of his remarkable social acuity. Prescott caught romance, slights, resentments and hopes among the Duncans’ staff and its satellites nearly as keenly as a woman. Since Lady Duncan was still in London, he’d said, he’d have to make do with Noddy Prescott. The lieutenant was too good-natured to take offence. After all, most of the Duncans’ staff had nicknames.

  Had he known of Allison’s interest, he would never have looked at Honoria as he now did, that would have been quite out of the question. But now he was in love, wasn’t he? And he had her permission to speak to her papa. He examined himself on this point. Honoria had said yes, but hardly with the sparkling eyes and the heaving bosom that might be supposed to partner this moment. She had rather looked distracted. Of course, she was a very gentle, very shy creature, which was part of what he had always liked about her.

  If Honoria wished to marry him, which admittedly was a bit of a leap on the present evidence, he must act - even if it disobliged his cousin. Things had gone too far. No, she could not wish to marry Rowley, despite his wealth. Her infatuation with himself had been most marked. He had seen it a time or two before among the Lisbon ladies, but he had never before reciprocated. His dalliances were all with women, not girls - whom he feared would desire a marriage he was not yet ready for. If Honoria wanted him, though, she would be his perfect bride. He would gain a position in London and no doubt Rowley would help him find a tidy little house. But of course Rowley might not be so disposed to aid him now…

  Thus went the lieutenant’s head. Knowing there was little chance of seeing the baronet before tonight, and still not quite sure how far his affection and respect for his cousin might change his notion of correct action, Darnley Prescott went out for a ride.

  On the hour’s drive out to Wimbledon, Genevieve was able to tell her most pressing news to the girls. She had already confessed her pregnancy to Benedict and told him about her deal with Lady Harrington. With bad grace, Frederick had accepted their terms. Immediate payment of his debts, a larger allowance (though her ladyship had made it clear she would not fund his gambling) and for this he would forgo seeing his wife.

  ‘Such a lonely life Jenny.’

  ‘No such thing. I shall have my child and my horses. And visits from my true friends. What more could I want?’

  When Benedict hung his head, she’d said gently, ‘You know, I was never one for the idea of marriage. It was just the thought of living with my sister that I could not imagine. So I married Frederick. And after him,’ she said with a shudder, ‘I would wish for no other.’

  He raised his head again and said, ‘So it was all for nothing. You don’t need the money.’

  ‘I shall never forget what you have done, Benedict, and I will take some money for stock. It will be like an investment. And if I were to have a girl-’ her eyes filled. ‘Then the stud farm will not be far enough away from him, for her ladyship will not protect me then. She wants an heir too much.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I shall then use the money you have offered and go to Europe. Somewhere in Spain where they train the most beautiful beasts. I have a widowed cousin who can accompany me. She is a trifle tedious, but a kind soul.’ She held his cheek in her hand since he continued to look a little haunted. ‘You have been the best brother to me Dickie. Your courage helped me find my own. But then you always did throw your heart over the jumps.’

  ‘Go away, Jenny,’ laughed Benedict, a little embarrassed. ‘I need to sleep a little. These damned ribs.’

  She did, and on the way to Wimbledon she poured her heart out to her two friends. They were delighted with her genuine joy in her increasing. Still they did not quite know the reasons for the estrangement, but they knew Jenny was too sensible to make a drama out of a mere argument. No, if she were to live apart from Sumner, she had her reasons, which Serena was able to guess after Benedict’s fevered ramblings. Neither did she tell them of Benedict’s exact role in the affair, but they entered into her plans for the stud farm (Serena) and house (Honoria and Serena both) with glee, so that by the time they came home, all friendly and sisterly relations had been resumed. This, thought Honoria, was Mama’s gift. It was she who had sent them off together with no option but to talk - and see what peace now reigned.

  The sisters, after the footman told them the whereabouts of their mama, ran to her chamber. But after they had blurted out Jenny’s tale, they were once more halted in their readiness to confide. Mama instructed them to wear the dresses she had caused to be laid out for them, to take special care with their hair, and to wear the ornaments that Mama had bought when they were out. Tonight was a special occasion, she said. It was to be hoped that their papa returned in time for everything, for he had not been found at his club.

  ‘A special occasion, Mama?’

  ‘Of course, to celebrate Benedict’s restoration to health. And I have a little announcement of my own.’ She looked sternly at the girls. ‘Go on! You have scarce an hour to get ready.’

  ‘Yes Mama,’ they chanted. Even Serena did not quarrel with that voice.

  At that moment, Mr Allison and Mr Scribster were riding back through London. ‘I’ve meant to ask you, Gus. The hat and the hair and your mood. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gus Scribster with his usual honesty. ‘But I find I cannot, quite yet.’

  Allison let it go. It was unusual for his friend not to be blunt. But his head was given to his own problems, problems that got greater the more they neared home. He thought that her ladyship was going to forward his proposal in some way. And that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be at last free of this ridiculous situation. For it all to be concluded.

  As her ladyship had instructed, everyone had gathered in the green salon before dinner, excepting her husband. Her ladyship was sanguine. She had dealt with many a family emergency on her own while h
er husband was otherwise engaged. The ladies arrived all at once, with Lady Cynthia at the helm, and she gestured away the attendant footmen with a smile.

  The gentlemen had been there for some minutes, the cousins looking like schoolboys about to discover their fates, Mr Scribster in the shadows as usual and only Benedict looking relaxed.

  He smiled at Genevieve, wearing a yellow evening gown that did not become her, and she came to sit beside him. ‘Dreadful colour, isn’t it?’ she whispered to him.

  ‘On you, hideous,’ he agreed sotto voice. ‘One of the kittens might wear it.’

  Everyone was looking at the picture the girls were making this evening, and even Lady Cynthia regarded it fondly as well she might, for she had painted it.

  Honoria’s gown was white, and with her hair piled high on her head and silver ribbons trailing to one side, which matched the broader silver ribbon under her bosom, the simple drapery made her look like a Greek goddess.

  ‘Aphrodite!’ breathed Prescott involuntarily.

  Serena was dressed in the heavenly blue dress that became her so well, the same as she had worn last year at Harrogate. Its overdress sparkled in the candlelight and blue ribbons through her topknot, with its tumbling curls so much like her sister.

  ‘Angels!’ said Genevieve admiringly, without the least hint of envy.

  ‘Sit, girls.’

  The sisters did, together, feeling both conscious and excited, for their mother had imbued this meeting with mystery and anticipation.

  Lady Cynthia took her place at the head of the rough circle of persons, standing in the glow of a candelabra - looking quite beautiful herself, in a red gown cut low at the bosom and with a wisp of lace on her dark curls that passed for a cap.

  ‘I have gathered you all here this evening,’ she began, the young people hanging on her every word, ‘to-’

  The door opened a little too forcefully and Sir Ranalph, whose day’s occupation could be hazarded by anyone standing within ten feet of him, came in. ‘My dearest!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re here! I am still in my dirt. Let me kiss you and I shall change quickly, have no fear.’

  Her ladyship allowed the first, with only a slight tightening of her nostrils as her beloved approached, but she said, ‘No, no, Ranalph. Stay as you are. We shall go to dinner soon, but first I wish to say something.’

  Her husband, taking the hint, backed away and knocked into a chair at her side. Finding it behind him, he fell into it heavily and smiled sheepishly.

  ‘Oh dear,’ sighed his wife, regarding him. She straightened. ‘I intend to be quite frank. We are all friends enough for that now, don’t you think?’ She smiled and her audience smiled back - well most of them. She could not quite see Mr Scribster’s face, but then he mattered in this scenario no more than Benedict or Genevieve.

  ‘When I travelled to see my younger children, I found that my head was full of thoughts of this house instead. I allowed myself to ponder, because it distracted me from fearful thoughts of my little ones’ malady. I had known that while we were all very amiable with each other, indeed remarkably so for such a short acquaintance, there was still a strange undercurrent, indeed a number of strange undercurrents, which were hard to put a finger on. At least,’ she added proudly, ‘they were hard because my attention was elsewhere. If I had not had Benedict to worry about, I should perhaps have fathomed it sooner. Because my mother’s brain saw and lodged every inconsistency of behaviour and held it for later perusal,’ she touched her temple as she spoke, ‘and in the many hours of my journey I had the time for just that. On my way home, I received a missive that the children were nearly well and I resolved to come back here. Where all was not well, I feared.’

  Hardly anyone breathed, she had their full attention. ‘What were these behaviours? Too many to enumerate, but I finally I awoke with the key: blue slippers and torn French muslin.’ She stopped and relished the gasps from her daughters.‘First, Mr Allison, there is the matter of the blue slippers. Do you wish to speak, or shall I explain for you?’

  ‘He shaid that,’ murmured Sir Ranalph in his chair, ‘Why’d you shay that Allison? Always thought it was odd despite the faradiddle Serena told us.’

  Serena made a noise of objection, her eyes a little panicked.

  ‘I think Serena’s faradiddle, as you call it sir, was not far from the truth, though perhaps not all of it. She did meet Mr Allison at that Assembly, in the dark of a garden, but what she did not know was that it meant rather more to Mr Allison than to her.’ Serena turned full in her chair to Mr Allison, but he could not look away from her mother. ‘He saw Honoria at the Carlisles’ Ball and thought it was Serena. That is always occurring, but of course we didn’t think of it in this case because the girls were separated. And then he approached you, sir,’ she added to her husband.

  ‘Of course! Blue slippers! That explains it-’ he appeared to rest with this titbit and applied himself to a decanter handily nearby. ‘Genius, my wife,’ he confided to the brandy.

  ‘I always wondered why he chose me after I stumbled through that stupid dance,’ murmured Honoria, ‘but Mama, should we be talking of this - I’m sure Mr Allison-’

  ‘I would not embarrass him for the world. Serena had no idea that Mr Allison favoured her. How could she? He offered for you. And even though they laughed and rode together, she thought of him like a friend, I think. Until quite recently-’

  ‘Of course!’ said Genevieve, remembering much that she herself had seen.

  Allison, who had been a statue, now turned to Serena - ‘Is it true, Miss Serena are you - have you-?’

  Serena was shaking. ‘Of course not! I - Honoria.’

  Honoria held her hand. ‘I never wanted to marry Mr Allison - you know that.’

  ‘I’ll bet you’ve never heard many women say that, have you Allison?’ said Benedict genially, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘Every girl falling over themselves to get to you when I was in town… Ouch!’ he looked at Genevieve.

  ‘But you changed your mind. You said-’ objected Serena, her heart almost in her throat.

  ‘Yes - she said,’ uttered Lady Cynthia recalling them all to attend to her once more, ‘and that is where the other part of the key comes in: the torn muslin.’ She smiled. ‘This is where I was very clever, my love,’ she said to her husband - who snored. She sighed and turned to the others. ‘Honoria came into the breakfast room one day with a slight tear in her muslin. I noticed it because it was the new French one we had just had made up. And I thought it was probably the rose bushes by the pillars, since they frequently catch on my shawl.’

  ‘Mama!’ protested Benedict against the beginning of feminine divergence into the arcane world of ladies’ fashions.

  His mama frowned him down. ‘It meant that Honoria, caught on a rosebush, had heard a conversation that Papa and I had about a very large unexpected outlay-’

  ‘I expect it was my Uncle Wilbert, he’s shockingly expensive, you know,’ her son informed Genevieve.

  ‘Be quiet!’ hissed Serena and Allison, both on their last nerves.

  ‘-and how it might mean a few luxuries might have to be cut back. Including Benedict’s corenetcy and your London season, Serena. And we may have added some savings for the children, too, I cannot quite remember-’

  ‘How could you, Orry?’ gasped Serena at the same time as Benedict said, ‘Early Christian martyr, my sister.’

  ‘And-’ Lady Cynthia said, with less bravado, ‘we discussed how the proposed marriage would change all that.’

  ‘Well, Mama, I would never have thought it of you and Papa to be so vulgar as to-,’ began Benedict piously, his rollicking mood well on its way. Genevieve did her duty, ‘Ouch!’ he said again.

  ‘You’ve sacrificed yourself for your family! If that isn’t just like you, Orry.’said Serena crossly, ‘And I thought-’

  Mr Allison was suddenly in front of her. ‘What did you think, Serena? I believe I have to know.’

  She stood up, trembling, to face him.
‘I didn’t think anything for a long time. Only that Orry was a fool to avoid you, for to me you were so much fun. By the time I realised that I -’ her eyes that had looked at him so candidly, dropped.

  He could not stop himself taking her in his arms then, and she really couldn’t breathe until he pulled away and lowered himself to her lips.

  ‘I believe, Mr Allison,’ said Lady Cynthia, in a gratified voice, ‘that you had better apply to her father before you steal his daughter from him.’ Allison turned, breathless and a little embarrassed. They both looked at the baronet, who snored again. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said. She smiled at Mr Allison once more. ‘I take it, sir, that the wedding plans in my head have not all been in vain?’

  ‘If you do not think her too young?’ he said, tucking Serena’s hand through his arm nevertheless. ‘Should she not have her first season?’

  ‘I expect Serena will enjoy her season as much as an engaged young lady as she will a single one.’

  ‘Or a married one?’ ventured Allison.

  ‘I think you go too fast, sir,’ she said reprovingly, ‘but she will enjoy herself next season, providing you let her ride your horses.’

  ‘But never drive my chestnuts!’ laughed he down at his fiancé.

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Serena, pertly. But her cheeks were flushed and she was trying to control the joy in her voice.

  ‘A little hint, Allison,’ said Benedict. ‘Serena’s a lot different from the other one. Don’t tell her what not to do or she’ll go out and do it.’

  ‘I think that is rich coming from you,’ said his sister, ‘committing who knows what stupidities and cheating at cards!’

  Honoria had moved to her mother’s side and hugged her, both smiling at Serena’s glowing face.

  ‘And now, my kindest and gentlest daughter-’ said Lady Cynthia, ‘I could see what was happening to you, too. I just put it away in my head somewhere and did not make up the puzzle. Lieutenant Prescott-’ Honoria stiffened.