Authors: Catherine Winchester
Hope felt a little better for having seen Honoria, but she also felt much worse now that she knew for certain that her friend was being hurt.
She did the only thing she could to keep from going crazy, and that was to work. She still had no creative ideas but before Martha had let her start designing, she had insisted that Hope understand the process of sewing first, so that she knew exactly what she was talking about when she designed something. Hope had been taught from an early age how to embroider and was fairly good at it, so Martha rounded out her knowledge, teaching her things such as how to use a sewing machine, how to hand sew beading, how to reinforce seams on practical garments and a hundred and one things that a true 'Lady' would never dream of using in embroidery.
As such, Hope knew that there was always a job for her at the factory, which is how she found herself hand sewing jet beads onto the collar of a cape. It was intricate work and required her full concentration, so that the beads were evenly spaced. It was just the distraction that she needed at the moment. She worked on the shop floor with the other girls, so that she had the hum of activity around her.
The off-the-peg garments were made on sewing machines now, but the bespoke items were still sewn by hand. The room was roughly divided into two, with one third being used by the hand sewers and the remaining two thirds taken up with machines. The girls kept up a line of chatter, even with Hope there, for they were used to her presence and besides, they didn't discuss anything scandalous or salacious.
On the occasions when Hope had worked with them before, such as when there was a very special garment requiring her or her mother's hand, Hope would often join in with the conversation. Now though, she wasn't interested. She wasn't unfriendly, she just didn't want to think too much. About anything.
However, she couldn't stop herself from thinking of possible escape routes. She and Honoria could escape to Egypt and spend their lives exploring the Pyramids or the Valley of the Kings. Or they could travel China, and see just how much tea 'all the tea in China' actually was. Or they could go to New York and get lost among the immigrants, or journey west and make their fortune panhandling for gold.
It was these very thoughts that occupied her as she left the factory at the end of the day, and caused her to quite literally run into James Ashdown.
“I'm so sorry,” she said before she looked up, but as her eyes met his, her expression turned cold. “Excuse me.” She made to walk around him but he blocked her path.
“No, no, it was my fault, I'm sure.”
“I believe my feeble brain can determine if I was in the wrong or not,” she snapped. “You do neither of us any favours by shouldering the blame for an act you were not responsible for. Good day, Mister Ashdown.” She intentionally called him Mr and not Lord because as far as she was concerned, he didn't deserve a title.
“Please. I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day, Lady Beaumont, and I'd like to apologise.”
“If you still hold the same views, then I want no apology, and your offering one is rather hypocritical.”
“Please, Miss Beaumont. My sister speaks very highly of you and I would very much like to get to know you.”
“You've seen her?” Hope asked.
“No, she is still unwell but she will be fine again tomorrow, or so the doctor says. She has been sending me notes through the staff, so we are keeping in touch.”
Actually, after reading the note he had written about meeting Hope, both in the town square and at the picnic, Honoria had written back and insisted that he give Hope a second chance. His sister was rarely so forceful in her manner, so he decided to obey her request and now seemed like the perfect opportunity.
“Then send her my best wishes for a speedy recovery. Good day.” Hope tried to walk around him a third time and he didn't stop her.
“What a vile, wretched little man,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked away.
James simply watched her walk away, wondering how his dear sister could be so wrong about Hope's character. Proof indeed, as if any more were needed, that the mind of a woman lacked the insight of a man's brain.
Still, despite all his misgivings, there was something about Hope Beaumont that captivated him.
Chapter Seven
James' and Honoria's father was a reckless man, some might even say feckless. He enjoyed gambling, womanising and drinking, and had set a terrible example for his children.
Such a parent often affect their children in one of two ways; they pick up their parent's bad habits, repeating their behaviour, or they rebel against such actions, leading very ordered and disciplined lives, in an attempt to counteract the chaos.
James and Honoria had fallen firmly into the latter category, which is why, although James was six years older than his sister, they had always been close. When James went away to school, they wrote to each other almost every day, even though his classmates teased him for it. They were a team and they drew strength from the other, even when they hadn't seen each other for months.
James had been much more of a parent to Honoria than anyone else in her life, and it was his moral code which Honoria had adopted as her own, believing that her duty to God came first and her duty to her family a close second.
When Honoria had been told to marry Malcolm, she had immediately sought James' advice. He answered her letter, saying that although their father was reckless and had wasted the family's money, as his daughter she had a duty to help him and marry Malcolm, so that the family might be saved from disgrace.
In the first few months of marriage, she had written to James often, telling him that she was finding married life a struggle and that Malcolm was an impossible man to reason with. James had responded that she had promised before God to love, honour and obey Malcolm and as such, must do everything within her power to be a good wife to him. He advised that she pray for guidance.
Honoria grew more and more unhappy, for although she believed James to be right, it made her feel like a failure and she eventually stopped seeking his counsel, writing only of other events in her life.
In recent months she had spoken a lot of Hope and the Beaumont family, since they were almost the only social company that she kept. As such, James had come to think a great deal of Hope. His sister described her as courageous, brave, loyal, warm hearted and kind; all ideal qualities for a woman, he thought, so he was predisposed to like her. Once he had seen her for himself, he liked her even more, for her light blue, almost grey eyes combined with her dark, almost black hair, was a striking combination, and he now found himself quite taken with her.
Had he known who she was that day in the town square, he might have tempered his words. He still believed that he was right, for everyone knew that a woman could never be a man's equal but he would have held his tongue, or at least found a kinder way to say it.
He still thought that Hope was beautiful, but also wilful and stubborn, two qualities that he hated to see in a woman. He was certain that she would calm down with time though, especially once she had children.
Finally Honoria had left her sick bed and with his sister at his side, he was optimistic that Hope would give him a second chance, and that Honoria could show him what she saw in Hope. He did want to like her, not just because she was pretty, or his sister's friend, but because he liked to think well of all mankind. He was used to being proved wrong on occasion, but he never gave up hope that people were basically good.
Honoria was a shadow of the sister that he remembered, but he supposed that having been separated for many years, spending only the school and university holidays together, it was probably only natural that she had changed. Plus she had been seriously ill, so he shouldn't expect her to be the vision of loveliness and happiness that he remembered so well. He was certain that once she was fully recovered, she would regain her former glow.
Honoria had sent a note to the Beaumonts that morning, informing them that she would call around that afternoon, if it was convenient. At his request, she had left all mention of James accompanying her out of the note. A reply was sent back, saying that they would be very pleased to see her.
As the carriage turned into the driveway, James' nerves increased, for the estate and the Hall were quite magnificent. He had been pleased to learn that Hope was wealthy, for a pastor's income is often not great, but now he could see that she was probably a good deal more than just wealthy. He wondered what kind of dowry her father was offering for her.
He knew that it was arrogant to think in such terms, especially given Hope's dislike for him but he couldn't help it. Based on Honoria's description of Hope, she was perfect for him, with her courage, her kindness and her wealth, and he felt that he could overcome her more rude and wilful displays with time. He was determined that she would be his one day.
As they were shown to the parlour, James took a good look at their surroundings. The Hall and its furnishings were all in excellent condition. Not a threadbare rug, a draughty window or a chipped vase was in sight. Clearly the family had enough money to keep everything in tip top condition.
Mr Jenners, the butler, announced them to the family and James entered, just in time to see Hope roll her eyes in annoyance. Lady Martha Beaumont however, was the very picture of serenity as she came forward to greet them, not at all nonplussed by having an additional guest.
“Honoria, I'm so glad that you're feeling better, we were very worried for you.”
“Thank you, Martha. I'm feeling much better now.”
“Mr Ashdown, how very nice to see you again.”
“Thank you, Lady Beaumont.”
“Please, you are among friends, there is no need for such formalities. Call me Martha.”
“Very well, if you will call me James.”
“Of course. Come, sit.” She gestured for him to venture further into the room.
Hope bowed her head slightly in greeting but didn't say anything to him.
“And the young Lady Beaumont, what a pleasure it is to see you again.” He bowed very formally and Hope flashed him a tight smile. The afternoon tea had already been laid out and after taking a seat, James helped himself to a sandwich as Martha poured the tea.
“Are you enjoying your stay?” Martha asked him.
“Very much,” James smiled. “Although I expect that I shall enjoy the next few days even more, now that Honoria is up and about again. I must be careful not to tire her out though,” he said, directing a teasing smile at his sister.
Honoria smiled back but it was still a shadow of her former smile. He watched as she accepted the tea cup from Martha and took a sip, wincing as the hot liquid hit the cut on her lip.
“Are you all right?” Hope asked her.
“I'm fine,” Honoria smiled.
“Perhaps it might be a good idea to remove any rings the next time you're running a fever,” James said lightly. “Especially those with stones big enough to make such a cut.”
Hope and Martha were both staring at him with the oddest expression on their faces, although he couldn't figure out why. It wasn't that he blamed Honoria for being delirious and cutting herself, he was just teasing her.
“So when do you leave?” Hope asked, perhaps a little too eagerly to be polite.
“Um, Tuesday,” he answered.
“He's going back to seminary school,” Honoria added, clearly proud of her brother. “He graduates in the summer.”
“Do you have a parish to go to?” Martha asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“You're a little old to still be in school, aren't you?” Hope asked.
“Indeed.” He tried not to take offence at her words for she was not the first to say that. “I'm afraid that I didn't get the calling until I had left university.”
'Or you realised that you weren't fit for anything else,'
Hope thought, rather unkindly.
“Which school are you attending?” Martha asked.
“The Pastors' College, founded by Charles Spurgeon.”
“I believe I've heard of him; he is quite an inspirational preacher, is he not?”
“Very,” James smiled. “If I can be even half the preacher that he is, I shall be very happy.”
“I hear that you are quite political as well,” Martha added.
“I believe in the emancipation of all men,” he answered honestly.
“But not women,” Hope added.
James smiled awkwardly at her.
“I realise that as a member of an inferior group, having your shortcomings pointed out is uncomfortable, but the reality is that women are not as robust as men. Of course, there are areas where your natural talents surpass men, such as your ability to nurture, but I'm afraid that does not have much of a place in politics.”
Martha couldn't help the amused smile that formed on her lips as she caught Hope's eye.
When Martha was 10 years old she had gone into service in this very house, working from 5a.m. to 10p.m. The work wasn't easy either, with lifting, carrying, scrubbing and buffing par for the course. She doubted that a gentleman such as James had ever worked so hard, so the idea that he was more robust than she, was amusing.
“You are laughing at me.” James noticed their smiles.