Lady in Red

by Karen Hawkins

  The Baker-Sneeds owned one horse, a broken-down old gelding. It was the one horse that didn’t make Honoria jump every time it moved quickly, mainly because it had two speeds—slow and very slow. But to Juliet, Hercules was a priceless part of their family. She’d been mad for horses since she was old enough to walk to the stables by herself, and Father, horse mad himself, had never discouraged her. At one time they’d had no less than twenty-two horses in the stables. But that had been before the Crisis. Now they were down to just one—poor Hercules.

  Honoria rubbed her temple where a faint ache was beginning to form. “What did Hercules need that cost so much?”

  “He strained his right foreleg and Mr. Beckett said he needed a poultice, so I purchased one from the apothecary.”

  Mr. Beckett was their coachman, or had been when they’d had a coach. Now he was a combination of footman, errand boy, and handyman. “And the poultice cost nine entire shillings?”

  “Well, no. I also bought Hercules a new blanket.” Seeing Honoria’s expression, Juliet added, “I can repay it when Mrs. Bothton returns from Yorkshire. I promised to teach her niece how to ride sidesaddle. The poor girl is dreadfully frightened of horses, just as you are.”

  All eyes turned on Honoria. Her cheeks heated. “I am not frightened of horses. I just do not like them.” At all. Even from a distance, but especially up close where they could bite. “Juliet, I know you will pay us back, but—”

  “Next week,” Juliet said serenely, tying off a thread. “You will see. I am an excellent teacher and it will take no time at all to get Miss Lydia riding as if she was born to it.”

  Honoria shook her head. “I don’t doubt that. It’s just that things are rather precarious with us now and—”

  “Which is all Father’s fault,” Portia announced rather bitterly, looking at the papers in Olivia’s hands. “None of us would be in this mess if Father hadn’t—”

  “Nonsense,” Honoria said firmly. “Father cannot control the winds of fortune that made the ship get lost at sea any more than you can keep from loving pastries, especially cream-filled ones.”

  Portia had to smile at that, some of the bitterness fading. “I suppose you are right. I just wish Father hadn’t invested all of our money in one ship.”

  Olivia nodded. “They say one should never put all of their eggs in one basket. I’d think that a good rule for investing in treasure ships as well.”

  Honoria agreed, but all she said was, “I’ll be sure to add that little homily to the next letter we send him. He is working very hard to make up for the loss, you know. Staying with friends and acquaintances when he can, and eating far less than he should—”

  “I know,” Portia said, her cheeks flushed. “And I know he’s working hard to repair our fortune and will do so, in time. It’s just that…” She hesitated a moment, then blurted out, “I miss having things.”

  Cassandra reached over and placed her hand over Portia’s. “We all do.”

  It was a sad thing to admit, but Honoria suspected that she missed their former luxuries worse than anyone else. She, more than any of her younger brothers and sisters, could remember the servants and gowns and fine food, the laughter and music and jeweled slippers—all of which disappeared after Mother’s sudden death two days after George’s birth. Father had never recovered from that blow, becoming lachrymose and lacking in energy. Naturally, his investments had suffered greatly and it had only been in the last two years that he’d attempted to recoup his losses.

  Honoria glanced down at the toes of her morning slippers, which were faded and much darned. Ye gods, what she would give for a new hat like the ones she saw in the much admired copies of La Belle Assemblée that Cassandra received from Aunt Caroline every few months. It had been high brimmed and made of straw and decorated with the most delectable pink and green rosettes and matching ribbons. The entire effect had been fresh and springlike, something Honoria yearned for.

  But now was not the time to be wishing for something as frivolous as a bonnet, not while her brother and sisters were looking at her as if expecting her to produce a sock filled with funds to solve their current difficulties. Gathering herself, Honoria smiled brightly at Olivia. “What else?”

  Olivia consulted the much marked bits of foolscap. “Oh yes! There was one other expense.” A martial light entered her eyes. “Portia bought some white silk for a new gown.”

  All eyes turned on Portia. She was twirling a lock of rich chestnut hair, much like Honoria’s though without the horrid white lock that graced her right temple. Honoria touched her hair. Mother had called it her lucky stripe, which even now made Honoria smile. “Portia, did you take money from our accounts?”

  “A little,” Portia said proudly, not in the least remorseful. “It was more in the way of an investment though.”

  Olivia snorted. “Investment? In what? Your vanity?”

  Portia’s eyes flashed. “No! I plan on using that silk to earn money. We need money for our expenses while Father and Ned are working, don’t we?” She glanced questioningly at Honoria. “Don’t we?”

  “Yes, but…I don’t see how the silk will help.”

  “Neither do I,” Olivia said.

  “I,” Portia said grandly, “am going to begin my own business. Within a year, I shall be extremely wealthy.”

  Honoria opened her mouth, then closed it.

  Olivia snorted. “Portia, you would have to do something useful in order to make money. Or you could get funds the old-fashioned way.”

  Honoria frowned. “The old-fashioned way?”

  Olivia nodded. “By inheriting it. Which is not likely to happen since none of our relations are even sick.” She eyed Portia up and down, her nose curled with disbelief. “Not that any of our relatives would wish to leave their hard earned fortunes to you, lazybones that you are.”

  Portia stiffened, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Aunt Caroline has promised me her pianoforte when she dies! That will be worth a lot.”

  Olivia snorted. “She’s not a day over forty and healthier than you are, I daresay. You’ll be blue before she sticks her spoon in the wall and leaves you so much as one piece of ivory.”

  “Oh! You—You—blockhead!”

  “Barmybrain,” Olivia replied without pause.

  “Clodpolish!”

  “Saphead!”

  “Stop it,” Honoria said sternly, though she was hard pressed not to grin herself.

  Portia flounced in her chair. “Olivia started it.”

  “Yes she did. Olivia, Portia was asked a question and though we appreciate your insight on the matter, we find that the truth would be more useful.” Honoria looked back at Portia. “Well?”

  “I only borrowed a bit because the silk was reduced in price and was so lovely. Have you seen it yet?” She leaned forward eagerly. “White silk with a lace motif and such sheen! I do believe it will be the prettiest gown yet.”

  “But we didn’t have the money for silk.”

  “You wanted us to save, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Well, I saved you almost one whole pound! The silk was on sale, you know.”

  “How could you save us money by spending it?”

  “Because I am going to make a gown with the silk, and then sell it,” Portia said proudly. “Mrs. Vemeer said she’d buy it for fifteen pounds, if it was pretty enough. What’s even better is that I should have enough silk left to turn Cassandra’s gray gown and trim it. It should look almost new.”

  Cassandra beamed. “Oh Portia! How lovely of you! I have been wishing for a new gown.” She caught Honoria’s gaze and colored, then added hastily, “I don’t really need it, of course, though it would be nice.”

  Honoria thought of a thousand things to say, but she hated to disappoint Cassandra. Still, she eyed Portia for a long moment. “I don’t know what Father would say about you setting yourself up as a dressmaker. That is a very difficult profession. Many go blind sewing over candles at night.”
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  “Oh, I shall only use the best candles,” Portia said with the confidence of the very young, waving aside her sister’s very real objections.

  Honoria stifled a sigh. It wouldn’t do to start an argument with Portia. Not right this moment anyway. “Olivia, is that all?”

  Olivia gave a smart nod and consulted her papers one more time. “Aye. The jibs are out of tune and we’re sure to sink else we find a strong wind to carry us to shore.”

  Cassandra sighed. “I don’t understand how things could be so wretched. Who put the jibs so out of tune?”

  “We did,” Honoria said promptly. “All of us together. With Portia’s silk and Juliet getting Hercules a new horse blanket and the increasing cost of coal and my silly purchases for the shop…Olivia, exactly how much do we have left?”

  “Less than sixty pounds.”

  A faint silence met this pronouncement. Honoria found she couldn’t swallow. Surely Olivia was wrong. They should have had two hundred pounds left, enough to make it through the coming winter until Father could send them something from his new investment. It would not be much, but it would get them through a few more months after that and perhaps give Cassandra a little for her wardrobe. She was seventeen now and Honoria had hoped to see her sister presented this year.

  She stole a glance at Cassandra, who was calmly setting small, perfect stitches on the hem of a delicate lace kerchief. Honoria’s heart swelled. Tall, slender, with golden hair and a sparkling smile and rich violet eyes, her sister was as opposite Honoria as could be. But then Cassandra had inherited Mother’s looks, while Honoria favored Father and the Baker-Sneeds.

  But it wasn’t just Cassandra’s looks, blindingly beautiful as they were, that made her so special. It was a peculiar sweetness of expression, a gentleness of spirit. Cassandra was as pure in heart as she was in form. And Honoria was resolved to see to it that her sister had every opportunity to shine. If they could but find Cassandra a sponsor who would gain her entry into the right places, Honoria knew her sister could take the ton by storm. After all, she’d quite enraptured every man within a fifty mile radius of their home in Hampstead, where they’d lived before removing to London.

  The thought made Honoria grimace, for of the many suit ors who had come to call, none had possessed the gentle and refined spirit that would ultimately attract Cassandra. The experience had caused both Honoria and Ned a good bit of concern. They simply could not see gentle, loving Cassandra married to a coarse farmer. Thus they’d moved to London.

  Of course, coming to London and becoming a part of society were two separate issues. They’d arrived without problem, but thanks to their aunt’s refusal to honor her offer to sponsor Cassandra, they were now at a standstill. If only Honoria could find a way to get Cassandra into society…It would only be a matter of time before she attracted the attention she was due, a man of mature breeding and the sort of refined spirit that Cassandra herself possessed. And if he happened to be enormously wealthy as well, their problems would be solved. Surely Cassandra’s new husband would agree to sponsor Portia and then Juliet and Olivia and perhaps even—

  Honoria mentally shook herself. There was no sense in living in the future. What she had to do was take care of the now. They would have to economize. Part of the blame for their current condition could be laid at her feet, as well. Just last month she’d had to pay a little extra for Portia’s music lessons. And Honoria knew she had forgotten to include in their budget the pittance they gave the vicar every Tuesday for George’s Latin and Greek lessons. But, worst of all, were her little purchases she sold at the antiquities shop. Though it turned a profit, this was the slow time of the year, and often she’d not been able to recoup her original investment for months.

  She sighed and glanced down at the ring that rested on her finger. At least that had not cost anything. Small and silver, decorated with a dance of silver-etched runes, it had appealed to her from the first second she’d beheld it, resting on an iced cake at a ball, a party favor that had nonetheless appealed to her sense of beauty. She traced the ring with the tips of her fingers, wondering what it was worth.

  When she first won the ring, she’d had the full intention of selling it, only…She closed her fingers over it, letting the warmed metal melt the icy uncertainty that encased her heart. For some reason she’d taken a fancy to the thing. “Olivia, are you certain about the amount?”

  Olivia nodded, a grim line to her mouth. For an instant their eyes met and Honoria could see the concern in her younger sister’s eyes. Honoria collected herself and managed a reassuring smile, though smiling was the last thing she felt like doing. “Well, now we know where we stand. Thank you for your efforts. You have done a smash-up job.” As Olivia returned to her seat, Honoria faced her small audience. “We must economize.”

  There was a moment of silence and then everyone began to nod.

  Cassandra clasped her hands together, her lovely violet eyes wide. “Lady Melrose wishes me to come and read to her each morning. She is only willing to pay a shilling a month, but it will help.”

  “But you hate Lady Melrose!” Portia exclaimed. At Cassandra’s gentle look of reproof, Portia amended, “Well, I hate her. She’s a nasty old woman, forever complaining.”

  “I rather think she has suffered some disappointments which have made her so difficult,” Cassandra said softly. “Either way, I am certain it will be no hardship to merely read to her.”

  “That’s an excellent idea,” Honoria said. “I will see about selling some of my snuffboxes.”

  “Oh no!” Cassandra said. “You have been collecting those since you were young!”

  Honoria didn’t allow herself the luxury of glancing at the glass cabinet that held her collection, some forty-two snuffboxes in all. In truth, the thought of selling them reduced her spirits to below the level of the rug beneath her feet.

  Father had given her the first one when she’d been no older than George. As she’d grown older, it had been a passion she and Father had shared. She’d become an expert in the delicate French enamels that were so popular. And Father had delighted in her ability to spot a quality piece and to haggle the price even lower.

  George piped up. “Honoria shouldn’t have to sell her boxes. If you need more funds, I’d be willing to breed frogs.”

  Olivia made a rude noise. “Breed frogs? Lord love you, George, but you’re a sail short this evening, aren’t you?”

  George pointedly ignored Olivia. “Father always said that if there wasn’t a market for your goods, then you’d have to make one.” He frowned at the fat frog that was even now hanging half out of the soup tureen. “Perhaps I can teach Achilles some tricks, for he is the smartest frog I’ve ever had. Then people would be anxious to buy his offspring.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Portia said with a smug smile, eyeing the frog with a knowing gleam. “Just breed them as fat as Achilles there and all sorts of people will line up to toss them into their soup pots. The French love a good, fat frog, and there are few as plump as that one.”

  George turned wide eyes toward his sister. “The French eat frogs?”

  “They don’t call the Frenchies ‘frogs’ for nothing. They eat them all of the time.”

  George’s bottom lip thrust forward. “I’m not selling Achilles to any Frenchmen! Just to Englishmen who will treat him well. Besides, Achilles is not your ordinary frog. He’s smart and I daresay he tastes horrid.”

  “I daresay you are right,” Honoria said, sending a quelling glance at the grinning Portia. “And George, while it is very nice of you to offer to help, I think you’d do better to keep Achilles in a safe place and let the rest of us work on our financial problems.”

  “But I want to help.”

  “You can. But we must think of something that doesn’t involve Achilles.”

  “Well, I can help right now,” Portia said. “By making that white silk into a gown. Honoria, it’s close to Christmas and there are bound to be a few ladies wishful to
have a new gown for the assembly balls. And you know I could do it in a trice.”

  That was true. Portia had nimble fingers when it came to needlework. Honoria just had the feeling that things were changing far too fast. “I suppose making up one gown wouldn’t hurt,” she said, feeling a bit more hopeful. “But only one.”

  Cassandra, who had been staring rather fixedly at the embroidery hoop that rested on her lap, looked up at this and said in a quiet, resolute voice, “I will give up my season.”

  Portia gasped. “Cassandra! How can you suggest such a thing? Whatever else happens, you cannot give up that.”

  Olivia snorted. “You are only saying that because you want Cassandra to find a wealthy husband who will pay your season when your time comes, as you are next.”

  “That has nothing to do with it,” Portia said, though she glanced at Cassandra with a faintly guilty expression.

  Honoria sighed. “Even if Cassandra had a season, there is no guarantee that she’d find a wealthy husband. Besides, the purpose of Cassandra having a season is just so she can meet men with her own level of gentleness and breeding. Nothing more.”

  “Oh, Honoria. The whole idea is a wasted effort.” Cassandra gave a wistful smile. “Aunt Caroline will not sponsor me. I had thought she would, for she certainly indicated in her letters that she might be willing to do so. But since her visit last spring, she has been very unreceptive to the idea.”

  “That is because she saw what a beauty you had become,” Portia said bluntly. “While her own daughter is whey-faced and cursed with spots.”

  “Portia!” Honoria said, her brows lowered. “Cousin Jane cannot help having spots.”

  “No, but you’d think she could do something about her laugh. She sounds like a horse.”

  George grinned and made a loud whinnying sound that so closely approximated Cousin Jane’s ungenteel laugh that the entire Baker-Sneed clan went into gales of laughter. Everyone but Honoria. She rapped the tabletop with her knuckles once again. “Enough, you ill-bred ruffians! Enough!” Slowly their laughter settled into snuffled giggles and chuckles. “We still have business to attend to. Portia, will you give the report on the improvements to the sitting room?”