A Matter of Honor

A MATTER OF HONOR

Nina Coombs Pykare

Chapter One

The mid-April day was lovely. The English countryside basked under a warm sun. The hedgerows along the London road were all abloom, the meadows were waving with wild daffodils, and the smell of spring suffused the warm air. But the two occupants of the closed carriage had no eyes for the beauty around them. The younger, with blond hair wildly tossed in the current style a la Titus, a small pert face, and a stubborn jut to her strong chin, was crooning to a creature in her arms. At first glance it appeared to be a wizened little baby clad in a red suit, but closer inspection revealed that the baby was, in sober fact, a monkey.

“Now, Dillydums
,”
crooned the girl, who was obviously his mistress, “you must not be afraid in London. It’s a big, big city, as Papa used to say, but I’m sure we shall deal famously there. Shan’t we, Aggie? Aggie!”

The sharpness of the second calling of her name caused the other woman to raise her head. There was nothing fashionable about her, but a discerning observer would have found the rich dark brown of her hair and the deep intense blue of her eyes quite a fascinating combination. “Yes, Cecilie, we shall manage
,
” she said patiently, and then, seeing that her charge had returned her attention to the monkey, she resumed her own musing.

If Cecilie had been a more perceptive and less selfish young woman, she might have noted that her companion was not her usual calm and placid self. But young Cecilie had never given much consideration to others, intent as she was on satisfying her own whims. It was partly this circumstance that disturbed her companion. Cecilie’s papa had always given in to her and the f
i
ve years that Aggie had served as her companion had been uncomfortable ones.

Agatha Trimble turned to look out the window
,
but she saw nothing that passed before her eyes. She was remembering. Her own papa had died when she was just eighteen, the year after her coming out, and his death had exposed to the world what had previously been a well-kept secret: his substance was completely gone. There was no dowry for her, nor any money upon which she might subsist. She had counted herself fortunate to f
i
nd the position with Lord Winthrop
.
Cecilie, though willful and selfish, was not really bad. With the right attitude and patience, one could usually bring her around. But now - Aggie suppressed a sigh. Cecilie’s papa had died last fall and a new guardian had been appointed, the Earl of Denby
.
She did not recognize his name; she had not been to the city since her own coming out. At that time, too, many of the young men had been away, fighting Napoleon. Thankfully, that was now over. Had
he
survived? she wondered, and then scolded herself sharply. There was little point in thinking of the Viscount Acton or of the days when he had loved her.

She stifled another sigh and found that she was twisting her hands together in her lap. He had not
really
loved her. She knew that now. But it had seemed so then, in those golden days of youth and happiness. If she closed her eyes, she could see him still. Tall and dark, with a shock of unruly black hair, a high aristocratic nose, bushy black brows, and those smoky gray eyes that seemed to burn with hidden fires. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. She had been young and foolish, believing his whispered words of love, surrendering herself to kisses stolen in dark corners at balls, and waiting with longing for the day he would ask for her hand in marriage. But that day never came.

One night he was waltzing her around Almack’s
,
every f
i
ber of her being alive with his touch, and the next he had vanished, without so much as a word. It had taken her a week to realize that he was really gone; and even then she did not give up the hope that he would return with some explanation for his abrupt departure. She had refused the young men who had clustered around her, refused them all because her partiality for him had been so great. Now, of course, she knew that he had been amusing himself with a naive young girl. But then, then, she had thought the fire smoldering in those smoky gray eyes was love. She sighed. Such men knew nothing of love. They only took what they pleased and went their merry way.

Finally she had forced herself to realize her mistake in giving her heart to such a man, but by then it had been too late. The next year Papa had died and then no one had wanted her.

She pushed absently at a wisp of hair that had escaped its bonds. Probably all had worked out for the best. Had she married one of those other men with the image of Acton still in her heart, life would have been intolerable. Better to have no kisses than those of a man she could not love. Slowly her eyelids sank against her cheeks and in her memory she felt again the pressure of Acton’s strong arms around her, the feel of his lips on hers. Her whole body had responded to his kisses, kisses that ran like liquid fire through her veins and dissolved her bones into so much melted butter.

The tears welled up behind Aggie’s closed lids. She was three and twenty now and would never know a man’s kisses again. But she had a secure position and, thanks to Lord Winthrop
,
once Cecilie was safely married
,
she was to have a small inheritance. Not enough to live royally, of course; but she thought she might open a small day school for young ladies. She had learned a lot about guiding recalcitrant misses in the last years and she could prof
i
t from it.

There was much to be done before she could even think of that. Cecilie must be outfitted for her coming out. The come out itself must be planned and given. A suitable husband must be settled upon, the marriage planned and held. Only then, with Cecilie safely taken care of, could she pursue her own plans. If Cecilie’s papa were still alive, or if she had it to do on her own
,
Aggie was confident of the outcome. But there was this new guardian to be considered. She knew nothing of him except his name, the Earl of Denby
.
The solicitor had said no more and she had not thought it proper to ask questions. Certainly his f
i
rst orders had been sensible enough: to stay in the country during the cold months while Cecilie
finished her mourning and then he would advise them when to come to London.

And so he had, and here they were on their way. Aggie could only hope for a man with the sense to trust her judgment. However, as she well knew
,
many men thought
they
knew best. Indeed, it was only because Lord Winthrop had given up in despair that she had had such a free rein with Cecilie. But if this new guardian decided to interfere and began high-handedly ordering Cecilie around
...

Aggie stifled another sigh and determined to concentrate on the scenery. It was quite foolish of her to be acting like this. It was pointless to borrow trouble, as Papa had always said - although his actions in those last years had sometimes been so strange as to cause her to wonder. And surely a little more forethought might have kept him from going so often to White’s. But that, of course, was all water under the bridge. At least
,
Acton’s desertion had not been based upon Papa’s poor f
i
nancial prospects. Unconsciously, she sighed again. Perhaps that would have been easier on her pride. At least she would have known his reason for leaving so abruptly. But she must put all that behind her. No doubt by now he had a wife and little ones. The thought was not a comforting one and Aggie blinked rapidly to stop the gathering tears. It was addlepated to weep over such a man. Far better to forget him and concentrate on her plans for Cecilie’s future.

Dusk was falling when the carriage reached the city. Cecilie, who had been dozing, now sat erect, the monkey chattering excitedly on her shoulder, and looked around with great interest. She had never led a particularly sheltered existence, her papa being a man well-known to the
ton
and so accustomed to having houseguests
,
though always those near his own age; but he had never allowed her to come to the city. So now her eyes fairly sparkled, and the monkey, sensing her excitement, hopped about on her shoulder.

“Oh, Aggie, look! Isn’t the city wonderful?”

Aggie nodded. “Yes, dear.”

“Oh, look!” Cecilie leaned perilously out the small window. “They’re lighting all kinds of lamps.”

Aggie looked and smiled. “Those are the illuminations, Cecilie. To celebrate the peace.”

“Look! That one says
‘
Thanks Be to God
’
in variegated colors.”

“I see,” answered Aggie. “We should indeed be grateful that Napoleon is no longer free. That monstrous man has been responsible for the deaths of many brave Englishmen.”
Pray God, not Acton,
she added silently.

“Now all the young men will be coming back,” said Cecilie happily. “And I shall have my pick of them.”

To this Aggie raised a silent eyebrow. Cecilie was a bewitching creature, to be sure, with blond ringlets, hazel eyes, and a delicate feminine form. But that delicate form housed a will of iron and a temper known throughout the Dover countryside. It was Aggie’s devout wish to keep that same temper from ruining Cecilie’s matrimonial chances. And it was not going to be an easy task.

“Oh my! Just look at that! Hampton
,
stop the carriage. Oh do!”

The coachman, used to the young mistress’s strange demands, pulled the horses to a halt and sighed deeply.

Cecilie grabbed at Aggie’s arm. “Oh, Aggie, do look at that one!”

Aggie, leaning out the window, recognized Ackermann’s in the Strand. She drew in her breath. It was not surprising that Cecilie should be amazed. This transparency was beyond doubt a work of great ingenuity. Bonaparte was represented as lying with the foot of grisly Death upon his breast. In one hand Death held an hourglass, its sand almost run out, and in the other a massive iron spear. Under and around the fallen tyrant could be seen the broken eagles and torn flags of his command, while in his hand he grasped the shattered and bloody remains of a sword. On the walls of Paris the allies of England - Russians, Prussians, Austrians
,
and others, were raising the Bourbon standard. The whole was surmounted by a brilliant circle of gaslights, showing the union of the world in this Holy Cause. Over this flew the fleur-de-lis in triumphant display above the tattered tricolor of the Revolution.

“Oh, Aggie,” cried Cecilie
.
“Look at the smaller transparencies to the sides. See, there is the tyrant blowing bubbles which keep bursting, and there he is building houses of cards which keep tumbling down.”

“Yes,” said Aggie. “The whole is very well done. But we really should be getting on.”

Cecilie nodded. “Yes, I know. Hampton
,
drive on.” With a last look she pulled in her head and turned to her companion. “He was such a little man, that Napoleon. He didn’t look at all like an emperor.”

Aggie smiled, wondering what Cecilie
would think when she saw the prince regent, whose corpulency had been the talk even during her own come out. “Don’t trouble yourself over Bonaparte, dear. The world is safe from his depredations now.”

Cecilie nodded. “Yes.” She smiled in satisfaction. “I’m so glad it was all managed in such timely fashion. I shall never forget my first sight of the city, all lit up like this.”

“I’m sure you shan’t. But listen, my dear. We’ll soon be approaching Grosvenor
Square.” She cast a look at the monkey
,
busily searching among the artif
i
cial flowers in Cecilie’s bonnet. “And there are a few things we should talk about.”

Cecilie turned quickly, dislodging the monkey, who came tumbling down into her lap and cast her an accusing look. “Really, Dillydums
,”
she told him. “Don’t be silly. I told you before that there’s nothing to eat on my bonnet. But never mind.” She pulled the monkey into her arms. “We’ll be there soon and then you shan’t have to be cooped up in the carriage. You’ll have a nice large house.”

Aggie sighed. “Please, Cecilie, the Earl is not likely to be overjoyed by the addition of a monkey to his establishment. If you want to keep him, the monkey must behave.”

“Keep him!” cried Cecilie, clasping him to her violently. “Of course I shall keep him. The nasty old Earl wouldn’t dare to order me about.” Cecilie’s pink lips formed a stubborn pout and she pulled herself dramatically erect.

“The Earl may not be old,” said Aggie patiently. “And even if he is, it is unwise to form an opinion before you have met a person.”

“If he can’t appreciate Dillydums
,
he must be nasty,” exclaimed Cecilie with the illogic
of youth.

“Never mind,” said Aggie. “Just quiet the monkey. We must go in.”

The door was opened and the coachman appeared to help them descend. Cecilie was the first out and Aggie heard her exclamation of surprise. “My goodness! What a great tall house.”