Degrees of Hope (14 page)

“But-”

“Mary and I will turn our backs,” Hope assured her. “There is no other way. If you go into town dressed as you are, people will remember you.”

Honoria nodded and took the bag around the other side of the gig, to afford herself a little additional privacy.

“What about the pony and gig?” She asked as she changed.

“The gig is an antique, something my grandmother used to use. Her house and stables have been closed since her death five years ago; no one will miss it. The pony is from our stable. When you get close to the station, unharness the pony and release him. I left the gate to his field open, so it will look as if he escaped. Hide the gig as best you can, push it into a river, or over a cliff, or just leave it in woodland if you can't find anything better; the denser the better.”

“What if the pony doesn't come back?” Honoria asked.

“A horse is nothing compared to your safety,” Hope explained. “How are the clothes?”

“They fit,” Honoria said, that was just about the only nice thing that she could say about them. They were black and grey, thick and the fabrics were nowhere near as delicate as she was used to. They were wool and cotton if she wasn't mistaken, rather than linen or silk, which she usually wore. Still, they were comfortable and warm, and she doubted that she would have much use for her fine gowns where she was going. “What happens now?”

“We will travel to Manchester in the gig,” Mary explained. “Hope has taught me how to drive it, then we will catch a train to Liverpool. The station is much busier there, so we should blend in more easily. We'll stay overnight at an inn in Liverpool, then tomorrow we sail for America on the RMS Scotia.”

“America!”

“We can start new lives there,” Mary explained. “We have new names and birth certificates, so we will be hard to trace and once in America, we can go wherever we want to.”

“How are we to keep ourselves?”

“Mary has enough money to last you for a while but once you have an address, Father will send you a remittance each month,” Hope explained. “You must write to Earl Marchwood at the Penchester glove workshop though. Do not send anything to the Hall, the workshop in Marchwood or addressed to me.”

“Will that be safe?”

“We have many American buyers, so a few more letters will not look out of place. Of course, if you have anything private to say, you can enclose another letter for me, inside the one you send to father.”

“I'm done.”

They turned to see a very different looking Honoria standing before them. All Hope could think, was how odd she looked but Mary smiled, pleased with the transformation.

“Perfect,” she exclaimed. “I've packed plenty more clothes and the necessities we will need.”

This was it then, Hope realised. She wasn't just losing a friend, but also a much loved aunt too, and her eyes began to sting with tears.

“Oh, look at me,” Hope said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

Mary knew how Hope felt and took her niece in her arms.

“I can't believe I'm never going to see you again,” Hope said, her voice trembling. “Either of you.”

“I'll miss you too.” Mary assured her. And she would, but she was more practical than Hope, not to mention, worried that their plan would be discovered. She knew she would feel the loss of her family keenly, but right now she needed to be clear headed. There would come a time for tears, but for now she must be strong. “I'll write as soon as we dock,” she promised.

“You'd better.” Hope pulled away and dried her eyes again.

Honoria came around the gig and hugged Hope. “Thank you.”

“Be happy,” Hope told her friend. “And write regularly.”

“I will,” Honoria promised.

“We must go,” Mary urged. “The longer we wait, the more chance we have of being discovered.”

Hope nodded and let go of her friend.

“Come on,” Mary untied Hope's horse and stood beside it, ready to give Hope a leg-up. Hope accepted and got back onto her horse.

“Be safe,” she told them both.

“And you,” Mary said pointedly. Malcolm would be furious, and there was no saying what such a man would do if he ever discovered that Hope had helped his wife to leave him. “Here,” she handed Hope Honoria's dress, then got into the gig with Honoria, as Hope turned and rode off.

Hope's vision was blinded by tears for a while, but her horse was well used to riding around the estate, so she didn't have to worry too much about where she was going. She could just make out the stream as they came to it, and Hope stopped Shelly and dismounted. She took Honoria's dress and began to rip and tear it, as though it had been torn from her.

She heard footsteps behind her and turned, panicked, but it was only her mother so she breathed easily once again.

Hope looked to the sack that her mother was carrying, realising what was inside, and she laid the torn dress out on the ground.

Martha nodded by way of greeting, then pulled a chicken carcass from the sack. It's neck lolled, clearly broken, but it hadn't been bled or plucked yet. Laying it on the ground, Martha took a knife and cut its neck, then held it by its feet over the dress to cover it with blood.

With that done, Hope tore a slightly bloody lace cuff from the garment, which she placed on a branch, securing it tightly as if it had been caught and torn from the dress. Martha then took the knife and stabbed the dress, three times. She cut some bloodied, fabric coated buttons from the bodice, which she left on the ground, then Hope threw the rest of the garment into the stream and watched it float away.  They didn't know if the blood stains would still show after being in the stream, which is why they had left the bloodied cuff and buttons.

Perhaps the dress would get caught up and lend credence to the theory that Honoria was attacked and abducted, or perhaps the dress, the cuff and buttons would never be discovered, and Honoria's disappearance would remain a mystery.

Mother and daughter looked at each other, nodded, then Martha silently helped Hope back up onto her horse and they went in their separate directions.

Martha rinsed her bloody hands in the stream but she had worn a dark navy blue dress today, so if there was any blood on her dress, it wasn't visible. She placed the chicken carcase back in the sack and headed back towards her gig. About halfway back, she turned the sack upside down and left the chicken for the local wildlife to dispose of. She threw the sack away a little later.

Her gig and pony had been left in an old dilapidated house which Lucien had recommended. As a boy, he had walked these lands many times and had discovered this ruin, using it to play in. Once it was a very home, probably about the 1600s, but it had fallen into wrack and ruin. The roof was missing and only two walls remained, but it provided shelter from prying eyes, which is why she had tethered the pony up here.

The path back to the estate track was rough but it wasn't far, and Martha was soon driving the familiar tracks back to the mansion.

Chapter Fourteen

Although she regretted the pain and worry that it would cause her grandmother, Lizzy, Hope had also seen to it that Mary looked to have been abducted. Unusually, Mary left school at lunch time, claiming to feel unwell. Hope had met her in the woods between the school and her house and together they had made their way to her grandmother's gig, which Hope had left in the woods earlier, dropping Mary's embroidered handkerchief on the way.

Lizzy wasn't expecting Mary home until the evening, so she would not be missed until possibly as late as 6pm. Honoria on the other hand, had perhaps an hour until she was missed. Hopefully the fear of their master would keep the staff from acting decisively, but it would surely not be very much longer until a search party was formed. As such, Hope cantered around to the other side of the estate as quickly as she dared, so quickly that MacDuff even had trouble keeping up with her.

Once on the south of the estate (the same direction she had been seen riding out in) she slowed to a leisurely walk and she and MacDuff made their way back to the road and home. She passed three farms on her way back and said 'hello' to those she saw, pausing to have a quick chat with Mrs Green, who was hanging washing outside her farmhouse. It was an inane conversation about the possibility of rain, but Hope thought it long enough to be memorable, should she need an alibi.

When she turned away, she trotted home and handed Shelly over to the stable boy as she went inside.

Although she did her best to appear calm, she was a bag of nerves inside. Not only was she worried about discovery, she was terrified that something would go wrong and Mary and Honoria would somehow come to harm. They would be taking back roads and lanes to Manchester until they were closer, when they would be able to blend in with other travellers.

She headed to her mother, who was waiting for her in the back parlour. Afternoon tea was being laid out; her mother must have called for it when she heard Shelly's hoof beats. 

“How was your ride, darling?” Martha asked.

“Very good, thank you.” Hope sat down beside her mother. “Did you check on Lady Elders cape?”

“I did, it's coming along beautifully. I think she'll be very pleased with it.”

“Good.”

“Thank you, Jane, I'll pour,” Martha told the housemaid, who curtseyed and left.

Hope visibly deflated and finally let her distress show through. Martha reached out and squeezed her hand.

“You must stay strong,” she advised softly.

Hope nodded and sat upright. Martha pulled her husband's hip-flask from her sewing basket and poured a healthy measure in Hope's tea cup. She silently nodded that she should drink it, then after a brief debate, she poured herself a measure, although it was slightly smaller than Hope's, before she hid the flask once again.

Each quickly drank their spirit, then Martha refilled the mugs with tea, to disguise the spirits that they had ingested and added four sugars to Hope's tea, knowing that nerves drained a lot of energy.

“Are you hungry?” Martha asked.

Hope shook her head, feeling far too queasy to eat, so although Martha put a small slice of cake on Hope's plate, she ate part of it as well as her own, so it would appear that both women had eaten.

Martha kept up most of the conversation whilst the tea was removed, then she got her embroidery out and suggested that Hope did the same.

Like her daughter, Martha was having a hard time waiting but there was nothing for it except to endure it. Thankfully it wasn't too much longer until Mr Jenners came in and announced that the Arundell's house keeper was here and insisting on seeing Miss Hope. It was clear from his demeanour, that he didn't believe it was a housekeepers place to request an audience with a daughter of the house.

“Whatever for?” Martha asked, seeming amused by the idea.

“It appears that Mrs Arundell is missing and she believes that her mistress might be here.”

“Missing?” Hope asked, although clearly the butler knew nothing more.

“Show her in,” Martha told him and moments later, the housekeeper bustled into the room.

“Sorry to disturb you, Ma'am,” Mrs Kenner curtseyed.

“Not at all. Mr Jenners tells me that Honoria is missing, is that right?”

“Yes, ma'am. I was hoping that she might have come here, or that you might know where she was.”

Mrs Kenner looked so worried that Martha stepped forward, took the housekeeper's hands and guided her to the chair that she had just vacated.

“Now, tell me everything,” Martha said, kneeling at her feet.

The housekeeper explained how Honoria had been going for a walk each day and how she thought that it was good for her mistress, but how she had never been gone for more than an hour until today.

“When did she leave?”

“Over two hours ago.”

Martha frowned and Hope had to admire her mother's acting skills. She decided to remain silent, lest she give the game away.

“Is it possible that she has gone to see someone else?” Martha asked. “Or perhaps taken her pony out without telling anyone?”

“I don't think so.”

Martha nodded, then looked to the clock on the mantelpiece.

“Should I call the police or send word to the master?” Mrs Kenner asked.

“I don't know,” Martha admitted. “She may simply have lost track of time, she has been awfully sad since she lost the baby. I was hoping that she would come over for tea after our visit, but I didn't want to pester her. Perhaps I should have. Perhaps she was in more pain than any of us realised.”

“What are you saying, ma'am, that she-”

“Oh no, no! She wouldn't! I'm certain that her faith is too strong for that but... well she is grieving and that can make a person do strange things. Perhaps she just went further than she thought and got lost? Yes, I'm sure that's it. We'll organise a search party to look through the woods.”

Worried that it was too soon to start looking, Hope found the courage to speak up.

“But most of the estate is farm land, Mama, surely she will happen across one soon and they will guide her home?”

“Yes,” Martha mused on her daughter's words. They had to been seen to act but like Hope, she didn't want to start looking too soon.