6. Chapter Six
six
Chapter Six
And so it started.
Honor was, if nothing else, a professional when it came to compartmentalization. Even if somebody knew what she and Jane had done in the parlor, they’d be hard pressed to find proof of it in the ladies’ demeanor. Jane and Honor had returned to their duties with the same vigor they had while kissing. By the time Anne was awake, all thoughts of sin and Sappho had crept out of both of their heads. Honor returned to her work with such an unimpeachable attitude that God himself wouldn't have known what she'd done had he not witnessed it.
For it had happened all the same. And it would continue to happen. Again, and again, and hopefully again.
From there on they only spoke to each other at night - and there was very little speaking. Once the children were in bed, Honor would go to her. Or Jane would come to her. It was shockingly egalitarian for a lady. In the past, Honor had always had to go to her lover. But here Jane would come to her, just as hungry as Honor was.
As it turns out, Jane was a shockingly egalitarian lover. Lady Anna had always been a selfish lover. She had demanded to be pleasured while giving very little pleasure of her own. Lady Anna had disliked being kissed, for it messed up her carefully created toilette. Jane had no such worries. She was a simple woman, with simple hair and simple dresses. That made it all the more easy to untangle.
They only kissed. Perhaps they went a little further than that, but not much further. Honor would move first, or Jane. It didn't really matter. Somehow it always ended with them in the bed, one on top of the other as their mouths pressed together, greedy for more. Honor wouldn't have minded going further, but Jane didn't seem ready. Honor only tried once to initiate something more, but Jane had firmly pushed her away. It was fine either way. Kissing Jane was just as pleasurable as making love with anyone else.
It was all for pleasure. There was no sentiment involved. They were merely two women who were much the same trapped in an isolated area. It was a moment of release, nothing more. It was perfectly practical, as all the things Honor did.
Things could have continued in that way – sincere, awkward, sentimental, unsentimental – had Christmas not happened.
Like most disasters did, it all started with an ill-made marriage.
***
There was something brewing in the house that December 23rd. Honor could feel it in her bones. There was something strange in the air that morning. Something still, like ice growing thinner from an unseasonable thaw. Something was growing out from under them, and only growing by the moment. Honor had felt it underfoot as she'd dressed, and as she'd tended to the children, and as she'd carried out her duties. Something was growing ever warmer, spelling doom for anything made in winter – relationships included.
Honor put the children down for their afternoon nap and set out in search of lunch. She had no appetite, but thought she should eat anyway. As she approached the kitchen, she could hear somebody moving round inside. Mrs. Purser was standing by the hearth. She'd been all a'flutter in preparing for Christmas, but here she'd grown quite still. Her head was bent over a letter, and she looked up as Honor entered. Honor was not cheered to see how glum and unhappy she looked.
“What is it?” She asked. It was a trifle familiar, but there wasa feeling in the air. Something strange. There was no time for proprieties.
Mrs. Purser hesitated for a moment, her fingers tightening around the letter she held. There was an almost imperceptible quiver to her lips, a rare sign of emotion for the usually unflappable woman.
"What has happened?" Honor was suddenly struck with dread. "Is it about Lord Linton?"
Mrs. Purser nodded. Honor's hands trembled as she forced them together. "He is dead." Honor stated. It had to be that. He had to have been killed in the war. Oh, Lord above. What was Honor to tell the children? The babe would not know any better, but Anne loved her father. Despite his flaws, he was her 'papa'. To lose her father at such an age, at such a time of year, would be a crushing blow.
Mrs. Purser laughed. It was a not a nice laugh. It was quite nearly hysteric. It sounded strange coming from so stoic a woman.
"Worse than that. He is married."
For a long moment Honor was at a loss for words. It was hard for her to understand why being married was so much worse than being dead, but perhaps this was something only the upper classes knew. Yet as she thought about it, she thought she began to see the issue.
"Who has he married?" She asked. That would determine how dire this was. Judging from Mrs. Purser's face, it was quite dire indeed.
"A Russian countess," She said. "The girl's barely 17, and he's married her. No warning, no discussions. Evidently he met her along the war route. According to his letter, her pedigree is impeccable – in Russia! We know nothing of her lineage, nothing of her people. She has a title, but half the Russians do. That's no proof of anything. But he's married her – this unknown countess, this-." Mrs. Purser paused to check the letter. "This Vera Alekseyevna Dergachyova is the new Lady Linton."
Mrs. Purser shook her head violently. "Poor Vipsania is barely cold in her grave, and he's married some foreign thing. They'll even have the same initials – we won't have to change any of the embroidery or anything. How disgraceful."
"Of Lord Linton?" Honor asked, shocked to hear such words from Mrs. Purser. She was normally as stodgy as an overdone sponge cake – questioning the Lintons simply didn't do.
"Of her!" Mrs. Purser said. "I shall never like it, but now we shall have to do things her way. He's said as much in the letter. Apparently Lady Vera has very specific tastes. He's sending her over on the next boat out of Stockholm. I suppose her family has been in exile there. In any case, she wants things done her way." Mrs. Purser shook her head again. "We've done things the way we have for eons, and here she comes wanting a full change of staff."
Honor felt like she'd been plunged into ice water. "A full change of staff?"
Mrs. Purser's indignant, trembling rage subsisted slightly in the face of Honor's question. "Yes, Miss Holt," She said. "Her ladyship desires it. She, apparently, has always had things done her own way, and wishes to continue the trend here. Imagine that – she was rescued from exile by a Linton of Herecross Manor, and she makes demands -."
"But what does that mean?" Honor felt very dumb indeed. She knew what it meant, but she couldn't process it. For some reason, she couldn't make her mind understand the truth. "What does that mean for everyone?"
Mrs. Purser looked at her. There was sympathy in her eyes, and that was the worst part. "I suspect that most of the staff will be let go. Most of the senior staff will, at least. The rank and file servants will likely be allowed to stay for lack of anyone else to scrub the floors or fix the fires. But the senior staff will be replaced. She will find her own people."
Honor stared at Mrs. Purser. She felt like she'd the ice had melted from under her, and she had been plunged into a lake.
"I will be replaced." She said finally.
Mrs. Purser looked at her with a resigned sense of sadness. "You were mentioned by name. It seems as if Lady Vera has a beloved governess who raised her. She is very eager to make a connection with her stepchildren, and plans to replace you with her own."
Honor swallowed hard. The world seemed to grow blurry, but she forced herself to blink her tears away. She was a moneylender's daughter, and they did not cry. They were as firm and unyielding as the gold and iron in a counting house.
"I see." She said. "Well. I shall…carry on as best I can until then."
The thought of golden hair and gentle smiles came to mind. “Have you told Lady Jane about this?” Honor asked. It was a slip of a tongue, and a dangerous one at that, but Honor felt too desperate to remember herself.
Mrs. Purser looked at her for a long, long moment. And then she spoke.
“I already have. She approved it.”
***
Jane was sitting in the nursery. Honor knew no where else she might be. Her presence in the room only inflamed Honor's mind. As she entered, everything seemed proof of a conspiracy. Conspiracy of what, she had no idea. She was too overwrought to think clearly.
Jane's blonde head rose as she looked up. She and Anne were engaged in reading a book together. "Honor?" Her familiarity struck at Honor's heart, but she knew she must stand firm.
"Lady Jane." She said as coolly as she could manage. "I must speak to you immediately."
Jane's face showed confusion, and something like hurt, but it was masked before Honor could feel regret. "Of course." She closed the book. "Anne, please go put this in the library. I will collect you when we're finished."
Anne nodded, and shot a wary look between Jane and Honor. They both listened to the girl's footsteps fade away as she moved down the hall. Neither wanted to speak until they were truly alone.
"You have heard about my brother's marriage." Jane said simply. "I pray you, keep your voice lowered. Even if she is in the library, I would hate Anne to find out this way."
"Naturally." Honor wanted to scream, but she would keep her voice soft for Anne's sake and nothing more.
"You understand, of course," Jane began. Her hands knotted in her lap, infuriatingly steady. Honor felt like she was about to shake apart. "That I had no knowledge of the marriage."
"Why is it that everyone seems to think that the problem is who Lord Linton has married," Honor said stiffly. "Instead of the promise being that his new wife intends to put an entire house out of work."
"That is the problem." Jane replied.
"So I've been told," Honor's hands folded together angrily. She turned away from Jane, forcing herself to look out the window. She had to control her temper. Losing her head would get them nothing. "So Mrs. Purser says, at least. I still can't see why the 'who' is more important than the 'what'?"
"A lady from England would never presume to make such choices," Jane murmured. "The problem lies in the 'who'."
"You cannot be sincere," Honor said.
Jane moved her shoulders up and down again. "There's nothing to be done. I am told he married her quite legally. There was a priest, his own company clergyman. It was witnessed by senior officers, men of good standing." She sighed. "He couldn't get out of it now, even if he wanted to. I doubt very much that he'd want to. He isn't nearly as sensible as he seems to the world. After his disastrous first marriage, I expect he's desperate for passion of any sort."
"He's replaced his wife, and she's barely dead," Honor said. "He's replaced Vipsania ."
Jane's eyes flashed. "Do not speak to me of things you do not understand."
"You are right. I do not understand. I do not understand how the matter of a marriage is more important than what it could cause. For pity's sake, Jane-."
"You are terribly informal with me, Miss Holt," Jane said sharply. "I wonder what inspires you so."
"I think you know," Honor said.
Jane's cheeks colored. "I had no knowledge of this affair, as I told you."
"But you discussed the letter with Mrs. Purser. You lent your approval to this- charade!"
"What am I meant to do!?" Jane asked, finally showing her temper. "He's already done it. He's the Earl of Morewood. He can do what he likes whenever he likes. He's a war hero, and a god in this area. He could, can, and will do whatever he wishes. I'm simply his spinster sister. I have no power. It is flattering that you think me so powerful, but I am not. I'm simply not. There's nothing I can do, not against him."
Honor trembled as she looked at Jane. Her head shook slightly back and forth as a wordless 'no' repeated in her head. Jane had always seemed so very strong. She seemed to be the stone on which the family was built. She was the heart of the household, and she'd taken her role seriously.
"You're not even going to try?" Honor asked.
"I wish you would tell me what you think I can do." Jane responded impatiently.
"You could stop her." Honor said. "You could stop her. Who is a Vera to a Jane? Who is some unknown thing to a daughter of the north, to the daughter of Herecross Manor. You could help them. You could help us all."
For it wouldn't only be Honor out of work. Mrs. Purser, and the others, all the senior staff would be out work. There would be so few people left. An entire village could hang in the balance. Would she not even raise a hand to help?
Would she not even try to raise a hand to help?
"Can't you even make a try for it?" Honor asked quietly. "Can't you make a try for it, Jane? Can't you make a try for us?"
She wasn't only speaking of 'us' as in the servants, and both of them knew it.
There was a long, terrible moment. Honor stared at Jane, and Jane stared at Honor. What had seemed so simple before now seemed too complex for words. Finally, Jane spoke. Her words fell like the first frost on a garden of flowers.
"Perhaps it is for the best you leave Herecross Manor."