Before she managed to find a suitable reply, he went on, “We have discussed before how difficult I find it to speak of my sentiments and I fear you have the impression that I am a cold fish whose heart was frozen long ago. I believe I was such a glacial creature until I met you – indeed I am aware that my manner is still oppressively frigid – but I can assure you that such an impression is far from the truth. Inside – beneath the snowline – I am as warm, nay warmer, than the next man and have become, since I met you, as soft and wobbly as a blancmanger.”
Cassie could find nothing to say to this for she had seen little evidence that there was any softening taking place beneath the rigidity of the Count’s manners; the only occasion on which she had glimpsed his humanity had been when she herself had melted beneath his kisses. Since then he had resumed his unwaveringly correct demeanour so that, whatever change was taking place beneath, there was no indication of it on the surface.
“Do you think that we are too different from each other to form an alliance?” he prompted when she did not reply. “Although we have both suffered loss and retreated to what we had once hoped would prove to be impregnable positions, you seem comfortable there whilst I find myself wobbling and fairly longing to jump off. Will you not give me a little encouragement?”
“Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed, forgetting to be careful of upsetting him but maintaining her own stand. “We have moved in a matter of minutes from geography to pudding and back again – where will it end?”
“Oh, I know where I want it to end,” he said, also throwing caution to the winds and abandoning both pudding and geography in an instant. “It is only how I am to get there without throwing myself upon you like a schoolboy. Will you not help me?”
“I do not know how to,” she admitted. “You admit to having a strong desire to jump, I am almost paralysed by my fear of falling. You must help me.”
“I suppose I must or you will think me perfectly useless. When Gustav hesitates I tell him to ‘be brave’ but do not seem able to take my own advice. It is difficult to know how to approach a woman when I care so much about the outcome. While I want to jump, I own to being terrified of missing my objective and dashing myself upon the rocks below.”
She waited for him to complete his declaration for, although she thought he had made his sentiments clear, she remained uncertain whether he was offering her marriage or carte blanche – and did she in fact care one way or the other? Yes, she realised, with a sudden wild beating of the heart, she did care very much but she would settle for either.
But he had stopped, too paralysed with anxiety to continue. At last, beginning to despair of either of them being able to discard metaphors in favour of plain speaking, she said in a voice she barely recognised, “You say you care about the outcome but I own that I am unsure quite what conclusion you seek. In a word, sir, pray be plain.”
“Have my absurd circumlocutions entirely obscured my meaning?” he exclaimed. “Good God, I assumed with shameful arrogance that you would have read my mind and discerned what I so passionately desire. I apologise. Will you become my wife?”
“Is that what you would like?” she asked in a voice that she herself could barely hear, suffocated as it was by the beating of her own heart. “Or do you feel obliged to suggest it on account of what took place between us a few days ago? I would not like you to feel that our – our mutual lack of restraint – has forced you into such a position.”
He, on this occasion exercising considerable restraint, replied gravely, “Certainly not, although your response that evening did, I own, give me grounds for optimism. Without that, I daresay I would have waited several more months before coming to the point. The truth is that I have been hoping, planning, intending to make you an offer for some time – almost indeed since I met you - but lacked the courage - and perhaps the words. It is my faintheartedness which has caused me to mishandle the matter so disastrously for I should, of course, have asked you before we began this journey. If you do not wish to marry me, pray do not feel under an obligation to accept merely because we are on our way to visit my mother.”
“It would be awkward though, would it not?” she asked, growing so rapidly in confidence that she felt able to tease him.
“No, yes; of course it would be painful for me but I am certain it will not be difficult to parry any questions my mother may have; after all, you are still in black for your first husband so that, no matter how warm my sentiments, I should, properly, be holding my tongue until you are out of mourning – and she will understand that. I had intended to do so but, when you admitted that you had not in fact buried a beloved husband, I began to hope that I need not wait so long before putting the question to you.”
“I see.” She stopped again.
“Would you like more time to decide?”
“No!” she cried with sudden vehemence. “I am teasing you cruelly - I cannot imagine anything in the world that I would like better than to marry you.”
He had been staring fixedly ahead as though fascinated by what little he could see of the coachman but now turned towards her with a blush upon his cheeks and a fire in his eyes which made her catch her breath.
He took her hand and held it as though it were the most precious thing in the world.
“I hope I will not disappoint as a husband,” he said in a humble voice.
“I cannot see why you should. I have never had a husband and hope I will not disappoint as a wife. You have had one before and may find me a poor replacement; I am not a young girl and unlikely to be as obedient as I daresay she may have been.”
“It was her obedience which I found so irksome,” he admitted. “Every time I requested something she complied and it made me feel like a monster. Would you like me to make a list of your duties?” he asked after a pause, abandoning self-criticism and, in his turn, beginning to tease.
“Perhaps you should.”
“The first one, even before we exchange vows, is that you are expected to kiss your affianced husband.”
“I am glad you mentioned it,” she replied with an assumption of meekness, “for I would not have had the effrontery to initiate such a thing but, if my affianced husband wishes to kiss me, I think I can engage to comply.”
They told Gustav the happy news when they stopped briefly around noon.
“You are to be my new mother?” he asked Cassie with a gratifying degree of excitement.
“Yes,” she admitted rather shyly and held out her hand to him.
He took it at once and pressed a kiss upon it before casting himself into her arms.
“I’ve always longed for a mama,” he said.
“And I for a son just like you,” she told him not untruthfully for, although she had taken considerable pains to avoid having children, she had given her heart to Gustav and been surprised by how much joy he had already brought her.
“Why have you no children of your own?” he asked, resuming his seat and fixing her with his serious blue eyes.
“Some people do not,” she replied, meeting his gaze with matching gravity.
“Were you sad?”
“I did not know what I was missing.”
He nodded and asked, “Do you think you will have some – some brothers and sisters for me – when you are married to Papa?”
“I wish that I could, but I think it unlikely. I am too old.”
“You do not look old!”
“Oh, Gustav, you will break hearts when you are a man! That is so exactly the sort of thing every woman wants to hear,” Cassie said as his father intervened.
“That is enough, Gustav. You ask too many questions.”
“But I want to know the answer!”
Cassie said gently, “We all do but there are some questions that can only be answered with time. I would like very much to give you a brother or sister but I cannot predict what will happen in the future.
“Now,” she went on with a covert glance at the Count, “I have been trying to pay attentio
n to the country we have driven through so that I will be able to answer any questions you may wish to ask on that subject. I am sure that I missed a great deal which you will have noticed.”
“I hoped you were paying attention to me,” von Krems murmured. “I was deceived into thinking that you were.”
“Well, when Gustav has finished his examination, you will know to what exactly I was paying most attention,” she replied archly.
“You weren’t looking at the country at all, were you?” Gustav asked, intercepting the glance.
“I was to begin with,” she countered, “but then I own my attention was taken by your father asking me a question which, at first, I did not altogether understand so that it took some time for all to become clear.”
They resumed their journey after eating a light nuncheon and stopped for the night as darkness began to fall, pulling up outside a grand hotel where they were conducted with much bowing to a set of large rooms upon the first floor. Cassie retired to hers to wash and change her travel-stained raiment and it was some half-hour later that she emerged into a long corridor at the same moment as a man with a young woman on his arm stepped out from a door opposite.
She said “Guten Tag”, presuming them to be Austrian, and received an answering greeting from the man. The young woman, a pretty creature with a bruised face, was wrapped closely in a grey shawl, one hand hidden within its folds; the other was tucked into the man’s arm and held there by one of his hands with what, to Cassie, looked like some force.
The young woman, whose face was pale but for the livid marks, raised a pair of blue eyes and fixed them beseechingly upon Cassie’s countenance.
“Help me!” she said in English, clearly not expecting the words to be understood but no doubt hoping that the anguished tone, along with the imploring eyes, would convey her meaning.
“Of course,” Cassie replied at once in English. “How may I assist you?”
“He is trying to force me ..,” Honoria began, for it was she who was being led reluctantly from her chamber to her wedding below.
“Thank you for your kindness,” the man interrupted, also speaking in English, “but there is really no need for assistance. My companion is deluded. Come along, my love, let us not keep Mr Prentice waiting any longer.”
As he spoke he put his arm around his companion and clasped what Cassie supposed to be her wrist, which was buried in the depths of the shawl.
Honoria cried out and tried to break free but the grip upon the hidden wrist tightened; Cassie could see that the man’s knuckles had whitened with the pressure he was exerting. The girl lost what little colour she had possessed, cast up her eyes and fainted, falling into the man’s embrace.
“Now see what you have done!” he almost hissed at Cassie. “It is fatal to encourage her in her delusions.”
He picked up the girl and made to return to the room from which they had issued but Cassie, whose suspicions had been roused, was too quick for him. She stepped between the door and the man who, no doubt trying not to give the impression of running away, had not been quick enough.
“She is clearly unwell,” Cassie said firmly. “See, she has fainted – and why has she so many bruises? Whatever is amiss with her mind, she needs the help of a female at this moment. Kindly permit me to come in with you.”
“When the fits come on her, she throws herself around and has damaged her face that way. Please allow me to look after my wife without interference.”
“No, I will not,” Cassie replied with unusual force. “I must insist on remaining with her.”
By this time she and Lord Ninfield had begun a sort of tussle for possession of the doorway. He, having both arms engaged in carrying his burden, could only use his shoulders to push Cassie out of the way. She, by now convinced that he was indeed abducting the poor, pretty creature – and had clearly already hurt her – was by no means prepared to give way. She knew too well how cruel men could be and was determined to save this one at least. She managed to enter the room in spite of Lord Ninfield’s best efforts to push her out of the way.
“Put her down,” she ordered as, together, they reached the bed, “And allow me to examine her.”
“Are you a doctor?” his lordship asked sarcastically.
“I do not need to be a doctor to see how badly she is hurt,” Cassie returned for, as the man laid the young woman upon the bed, the shawl fell off, exposing the inexpertly bandaged wrist. The hand was horridly swollen and discoloured and Cassie had no difficulty in understanding why the girl had cried out when the man had pressed it.
“Fetch some water!” she commanded. “We cannot have her lying senseless.”
Rather to her surprise, he moved away and Cassie, uncertain what he was intending, leaned across the bed and tugged the bell pull.
“Wake up, my dear! Open your eyes, for pity’s sake!” she implored.
As she chafed the girl’s undamaged hand and stroked her face with gentle fingers, a full jug of water was dashed over both her and the patient.
“What?” she turned, water dripping from her hair and face, to see the man putting down a large china jug and cocking a pistol at her.
“Get out of here!” he commanded, clicking the safety catch off the gun.
“Certainly not!” Cassie responded, opened her mouth and screamed for help in German and English, adding, “Ludwig!”
“If you do not leave this instant I will shoot you!” the man said.
“If you shoot me, my fiancé will assuredly kill you,” Cassie responded and shouted again, “Ludwig!”
Chapter 36
Honoria, no doubt aided by the contents of the water jug, and perhaps also roused by the angry voices, opened her eyes. The last time she had woken it had been to find Lord Ninfield standing over her, ordering her to accompany him out of the inn. She was rapidly becoming accustomed to waking to find herself in the middle of a sort of gothic drama and came to herself with surprising speed.
“No,” she whispered, finding the older woman’s hand with her uninjured one and pressing it, “no, you must go. Leave me – I shall be quite well directly.”
“I should think that most unlikely,” Cassie said. “I will not leave you and I hope someone will come soon to release us both from this horrid situation.”
She was astonished at her own calmness in the face of the barrel of a gun, but her spirit was well and truly roused on behalf of the young woman who was now, unless she was much mistaken, trying to send her away for her own safety at whatever cost to herself.
“Go! Go!” Honoria hissed, struggling to sit up. “It is all a game! Pray leave at once before he shoots you!”
“If it is all a game,” Cassie responded, “I do not suppose that he will shoot me. Ludwig – help me! I am in the room opposite! Why does no one answer the bell in this establishment?”
“I think he has told them not to,” Honoria murmured. “Pray go! We are not married but about to be – there is a padre downstairs waiting for us. This man wishes to get hold of my fortune but it’s my belief that he cannot marry me legally as I am a minor and there is no one to give consent. In the circumstances I will be able to get an annulment, will I not?”
“I have no idea,” Cassie admitted. “I suppose so but what will he have done to you in the meantime? If he only wants your money I should think he might kill you tomorrow. I cannot – cannot – leave you to be hurt any more!”
“Let me go downstairs to be married – I suppose he has hired a private room – and then, if you really want to help me, perhaps you could burst in with some strong men and save me that way.”
“No,” Cassie said. “He will take you away now; he won’t run that risk. I cannot - will not - leave you. Mein Herr! Pray come quickly!” she finished on a louder note. “Why are there no servants here? Why does no one come?”
“I am persuaded he has ordered them not to,” Honoria repeated. As she spoke, something in her face changed so that Cassie, who had her back to the door, suspecte
d that someone had come into view.
Lord Ninfield, still holding the gun cocked but clearly reluctant to use it, was not looking at the door either. He took a step towards the bed and grasped Cassie by the hair, conveniently arranged on top of her head in a style closely resembling a door knob – with additional dependent curls – and pulled her away with some force.
“Get out of here, you interfering hussy!” he swore, dropping the gun and raising his other hand no doubt with the intention of hitting her.
He did not do so, however, because he, in his turn, was pulled away and a punch applied beneath his chin. He staggered, slipped and, dealt another well-aimed blow by his assailant, fell to the floor.
“What the devil is going on?” asked a familiar voice in German.
“Oh, Ludwig, thank God you are here!” Cassie cried, getting up off the floor where she had fallen when Lord Ninfield, losing his senses, had lost his hold upon her hair. “He – I am certain he meant harm to this poor girl – only see what he has done to her face – and he was threatening me with a gun – this gun,” she added, picking it up as she rose.
“You had better give me that,” the Count said, taking it from her and pushing it into his pocket. “Has he hurt you?”
“Nothing to signify,” Cassie replied, falling into his arms and rubbing her head. “He pulled my hair – nothing that I have not suffered at my sisters’ hands a long time ago.” She did not mention the man – also some years ago – who had also pulled her hair.
“Thank you – oh, thank you so much!” Honoria, almost forgotten, had sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Will you help me to find my – my brother, I suppose you could call him, Lord Waldron? He will look after me.”
“Lord Waldron?” Cassie exclaimed, moving away from the Count and once more entirely focused upon the woman on the bed. “You are his sister?”
Honoria Or The Safety 0f The Frying Pan Page 29
