Читать книгу Four Regency Rogues - Энни Берроуз, Annie Burrows - Страница 12
ОглавлениеIn the next few weeks, the Earl of Amerleigh was seen everywhere, walking and riding round the estate, putting in hand the many repairs and improvements needed. The villagers’ cottages were being repaired, window frames replaced, new doors hung, proper cess pits dug; up at the Hall, the builders were busy—bricklayers, plasterers, carpenters and painters swarmed about and every now and again a wagon loaded with carpets and furniture would draw up at the door and disgorge its contents. The Countess was in her element.
His lordship was also to be seen at musical evenings, at tea parties and picnics all round the county and all the hostesses praised his manners and all the hosts called him a fine fellow. He conversed intelligently, danced and played cards for negligible stakes and not by one word or gesture did he betray whom he favoured for a wife. It was being said that he could not make up his mind and everyone would know who it was when the refurbishment of Amerleigh Hall had been completed and he began entertaining himself. And so they waited for the invitation.
Charlotte did her best to avoid him. On the pretext of being too busy, she made excuses not to go to functions she knew he would attend. She had always pleased herself what she did and Lady Brandon, who might have tried to persuade her, was too busy trying to put Martha forward to miss her. ‘He visits so frequently and is always punctilious in his attentions to Martha,’ her ladyship told her one day when they met by chance in Shrewsbury. ‘It must mean he is seriously considering her.’ Charlotte smiled and said nothing, but wondered if Roland Temple visited because he was too polite to refuse her constant invitations or if he was seriously considering Martha as a wife. She ought not to have minded, but somehow she did.
Lady Brandon was not the only one; every mama of every single young lady was doing the same. Standing on the sidelines, Charlotte could see it happening, and wondered what the outcome might be. Thinking about it gave her a vague feeling of discontent, which she refused to acknowledge was anything but irritation with the man. Occasionally, she found herself face to face with him. She would smile politely and pass the time of day with him before moving on, doing her best to ignore the fluttering of her heart.
And he, surprised by her sudden coolness after that night of her party when he thought they had established a rapport, would answer her in like manner and watch her proud back retreating from him. He found himself remembering his half-jocular remark—‘You have too much money and I have too much rank to find true love’—and wondered how accurate that was. She had built a wall around herself as impenetrable as the wall around Amerleigh Hall, determined to keep everyone out. And yet Tommy Biggs had found a way through her defences, along with other children in the village, which must mean she was not as hard as she would have him believe. If only he could crack that shell as they had.
‘You know, you ought to do some entertaining,’ Lady Brandon told Charlotte one Sunday afternoon, the only day of the week on which Charlotte did not go to Scofield or up to Browhill. It was the only day on which her ladyship could be sure of finding her at home. Sitting in the drawing room at Mandeville, sipping tea and nibbling cake, her friend evidently had something to say and was determined to say it. ‘You have this wonderful house and no one ever sees it, except the outside and that from a distance.’
‘I am entertaining you. And the Reverend and Mrs Elliott come and Mr Edwards…’
‘Yes, but they are not society.’
‘Neither am I.’
‘But you could be, if you made the effort.’
‘Why should I?’ She knew she was being stubborn, but ever since the return of Roland Temple she had been feeling fidgety, conscious that there was something missing in her life and yet afraid to face up to it.
‘You will become an antidote if you do not. A recluse. And for what? To acquire yet more wealth? What good is that to you? You have more than enough already.’
‘My goodness, Catherine, you do not mince your words, do you?’
‘I hope we have been friends long enough to speak plainly to each other, my dear. You used to go out and about, but I have noticed lately that you seem to prefer your own company. It cannot be good for you. You are still young. You should learn to enjoy yourself.’
Charlotte looked hard at her, making the poor woman blush. ‘What has brought on this sudden interest in my welfare?’
‘I have told you. You are working too hard and looking a little pale.’
‘So I must work even harder to entertain people with whom I have nothing in common.’
‘I will help you. You could give a concert, or a ball…’ She paused. ‘I have given a dancing soirée and Lady Gilford has held a Victory Ball—who else is there hereabouts to put on anything grand but you? Amerleigh Hall is not yet ready, though his lordship said he would hold a ball when it was. But we cannot wait for that.’
It occurred to Charlotte that her friend was running out of ideas for entertaining the Earl and throwing Martha in his path, and had suddenly thought of Mandeville. She smiled. ‘I see. Who would come?’
‘Why, everyone, especially if you invited the Earl. It would gain you an entrée into society if he were to accept.’
Charlotte laughed aloud. ‘If I know his lordship, he will not consent to be used in that manner. He is not a fool, you know.’
‘I did not say he was. But he seems to accept almost every other invitation. You are the only one who has not entertained him.’
It was obvious to Charlotte that her ladyship did not know about the party at the mill or else she discounted it. ‘I will think about it.’
Having succeeded in her aim, her ladyship took her leave, and Charlotte sat on, thinking dreamily of making her name as a hostess, of being accepted in society, of being beautiful and sought after. And then she pulled herself up short. It was only a dream and dreams had no substance; she would do better to go over the report the mine engineer had sent her about the new level. She would never have begun it if the Earl of Amerleigh had not come back, poking his nose into her business. His long, handsome nose. Why could she not get him out of her head? Why did everyone have to keep talking about him, reminding her that he had kissed her hand and gazed into her eyes and something had passed between them that she could not define, something that kept her awake at night and would not go away?
She stood up and began pacing the room. It was a very large room, tastefully decorated and furnished. A collection of valuable paintings graced its walls and a display cabinet in the chimney alcove was full of the porcelain her father had collected. At the end of the marble-floored hall was a huge ballroom and opposite that an oak-panelled dining room. The dining room was only used when she gave dinner parties for her managers and other business people, otherwise she ate alone in a smaller room nearer the kitchens. As for the ballroom, that had never been used for its intended purpose that she could remember, though Mrs Cater had once said her mama used to give balls in the days before she was born. ‘And very grand affairs they were too,’ the cook had said. ‘Your mother was so beautiful, so gentle and kind, everyone loved her, God rest her soul.’
‘I wish I had known her,’ Charlotte had said wistfully.
‘’Tis a pity you never did, but there, it was God’s will to take her from us. You are very like her, you know.’
‘Am I? How?’
‘In looks and on account of caring for those less well off. She could not bear to see a child with bare feet and would buy up a whole shop full of shoes and boots and take them to the village for everyone to help themselves. Your papa used to laugh about it, but he always let her have her way.’
Papa laughing! That was something Charlotte had rarely witnessed. For the first time in her life she felt utterly alone. Catherine Brandon had unsettled her, as if she had not been unsettled enough as it was! She left the room, walked along the hall and entered the ballroom, all of eighty feet long and thirty wide, and stood looking round her. Empty. Huge and empty. Nothing but emptiness. Was that symptomatic of her life? Hurriedly she turned on her heel and went back to that mine report.
Roland was inspecting the new carriage horses, which had just arrived. Travers, who was knowledgeable about horses, had helped him choose them, a couple of well-matched sturdy greys with white tails and manes. The family carriage had been cleaned and repainted black with the Temple crest on the door, and now the horses were here, he could go out and about in a manner befitting an Earl. He did not mind so much for himself, but his mother had missed being able to order out the coach and pay calls and he wanted to please her. He had just watched the horses being led to their stalls when the sound of a rider trotting into the yard made him look up. A man in the uniform of a Captain of Hussars was entering the yard.
‘Miles Hartley,’ Roland said, coming forward to shake his hand as he dismounted. ‘Why did you not tell me to expect you?’
‘I was unsure of being able to leave until two weeks ago and then I decided to take my time and see a little of the countryside on the way.’ The Captain was tall, though not as tall as Roland. His face was tanned and his hair black. He had curly side whiskers and dark, humorous eyes.
‘You are very welcome. Come indoors and I will order refreshment for you. Corporal, see to the Captain’s horse, will you? And then ask Mrs Fields to come to me.’ He led the way, taking his visitor in through the front door, across the wide hall and into the drawing room. They had barely seated themselves on the new sofas when his housekeeper appeared.
‘Your man said you wanted me, my lord.’
‘Yes, we have a guest. Please bring him some refreshment, then make up a bed in one of the spare rooms.’ He turned to Miles. ‘You will stay?’
‘It will be a pleasure.’ He gave Mrs Fields a smile that crinkled up his eyes and revealed perfect white teeth. She flushed with pleasure and bobbed a curtsy before leaving to obey her instructions.
‘Tell me, what news?’ Roland asked, as she disappeared. ‘What have you been doing?’
‘Administration work in the War Department, transporting troops home for discharge, bringing back unused supplies and armaments, making arrangements for Lord Wellington’s return to the capital. He is in Paris at the moment, but there’ll be a great to-do when he comes home, you can be sure. But until he does, there is a lull in the business and I decided to take advantage of it to come to see you.’ He looked about him, taking in the newly refurbished room. ‘Didn’t know you had a place like this, Temple,’ he said.
‘I have only recently come into it. It has been run-down, but is coming round now. Still a lot to do, though.’
‘What’s this about deaf children?’
Roland told him about Tommy Biggs and his idea for teaching him signs. ‘He was born deaf so I do not think he can be cured, but if only he could learn to communicate, his life would be so much better,’ he finished. ‘That is why I thought of you. I know you dealt with soldiers, but surely the principle is the same?’
‘Yes, but a great deal depends on the receptiveness of the child. I should need to see him before I decide.’
‘Of course. When you have eaten I will take you to meet him.’ He paused, wondering how to go on. ‘I have no idea what remuneration you would require. The family is very poor, but I could undertake a small salary.’
‘Let us talk about that later,’ Miles said as Mrs Fields returned.
‘I’ve put everything in the dining room, my lord,’ she said, bobbing.
Roland conducted his guest to the dining room. This was furnished with a table, six chairs and a sideboard and little else. They looked lost in that huge room. ‘As you see, there is still much to be done,’ Roland told him.
The food, though, was good and Miles did it justice before the two men set out on horseback for the village.
They had dismounted and were approaching the Biggs’s cottage when they met Charlotte. She was wearing her strange riding habit, but as she was on foot, the wrapover skirt covered her breeches. She had a basket on her arm, evidently making for the same destination. They stopped and eyed each other warily, each wondering what the mood of the other might be. Avoiding the Earl of Amerleigh when she ventured into the village was almost impossible, she had discovered, but then why should she need to? Stiffening her shoulders, she smiled. ‘Good afternoon, my lord.’
‘Miss Cartwright, your obedient. May I present Captain Miles Hartley. Captain, Miss Charlotte Cartwright, a neighbour.’
‘Captain Hartley. Are you the gentleman who might be able to help Tommy?’ Charlotte smiled and offered her hand, more the gesture of a man than a lady, who would have bent her knee and lowered her gaze.
Roland was used to her ways, but for a moment Miles was taken aback, then he grasped the hand. ‘We shall see. I have come to meet the little fellow.’
‘I do hope you can do something for him. I have promised the Earl my support in this, and as I know the family well, I shall be interested in what you think.’
‘Then why not come in with us?’
‘No, their house is very tiny, there will certainly not be room for three of us. I shall leave you to it. But come to Mandeville when you have finished examining the boy and let me know what you decide. I shall be pleased to offer you tea.’ She was speaking to the Captain, but was very aware of the man standing silently beside him. The Earl might have caused him to come, but she felt every bit as involved, more so because the Biggs family had been a pet project of hers long before his lordship appeared on the scene.
The Captain bowed. ‘I shall be delighted, ma’am.’
She handed the basket to Roland. ‘Please give this to Mrs Biggs.’ And then she left them to make their way up the garden path and knock on the door of the tiny cottage.
Charlotte had left Bonny Boy at the King’s Head on the other side of the green, but she was soon in the saddle and riding swiftly back to Mandeville. Her exchange with the Earl had been minimal, but it was nonetheless disturbing. She really must learn not to let him upset her. She was not a simpering schoolgirl, not even a girl at all, but a woman of three and twenty and she ought to be able to control her feelings.
Once home, she changed into a plain silk gown and paced about her first-floor sitting room, wondering if Roland would come with his friend. She had not specifically excluded him, but neither had she included him in the invitation. She was answered two hours later when both men rode up the drive and dismounted at the door. She saw them from the window, though she was careful not to let them see her. Heaven forbid they should think she was watching for them! She went down to the drawing room and sat down with a London newspaper in her hand until a footman came to announce them. She put it down and rose to meet them, ordered tea to be brought in and invited them to be seated.
‘Mrs Biggs asked me to return this,’ Roland said, offering her the basket he had been carrying. ‘She was effusive in her gratitude.’ He had never been inside Mandeville before and was struck by the opulence, the sense that no expense had been spared in its creation. The furniture was of the very highest quality, the sofas well upholstered, the carpets thick and the curtains well hung, the pictures and ornaments priceless. But it was too perfect; there was no warmth, no feeling that the house was lived in. It was simply a showcase for wealth. But he could understand why she would look down on Amerleigh Hall, the sprawling mish-mash of styles, with its rattling windows and draughty corridors. He could not imagine children tearing about Mandeville, sliding down the banisters, playing ball in the vast hall, as he had done at Amerleigh as a child.
She put the basket on a table and sat down again and they seated themselves opposite her. ‘How did you get on with Tommy, Captain?’ she asked.
‘He is very small,’ he said.
‘Of course he is.’ She laughed. ‘He is only six years old.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘I am used to soldiers, ma’am, little children are strangers to me.’
‘Oh, dear, then you do not think you can help?’
‘I did not say that, Miss Cartwright. I am willing to try, but I shall be learning as well as the boy.’
‘But you will need to teach his parents and siblings too, so they can understand him and he them.’
‘Of course. I notice they comprehend much of what he is trying to convey already. I think the way forward is to incorporate the signs he has already developed—no sense in asking him to learn new ones for familiar things. He is not able to spell, so it is no good trying to teach him letters. That will come later, at a more advanced stage. I need to think about it carefully.’
‘Surely many of the soldiers you taught could not read and write?’
‘That is perfectly true, but the words they needed to use are very different from those of a child. It is a challenge, a very big challenge.’
‘I am sure you are equal to it, Captain,’ she said, as the tea things were brought in and she busied herself with the teapot.
Roland watched the two of them dealing together so amicably and a strange sensation of unrest came over him, as if something he had within his grasp was slipping from him. ‘You will need a schoolroom,’ he said to Miles. ‘You cannot teach in the cottage with Mrs Biggs busy about her cooking and housework. You are welcome to use the schoolroom at Amerleigh. Kit it up with whatever you need.’
‘That might do for the time being,’ Charlotte said. ‘But in the long term, my lord, you will want it yourself.’
‘I am not about to go back to school,’ he said, laughing.
‘No, but you will marry soon and have children, then you will need it for them.’ She did not know why she said that. It was impertinent and she deserved a put-down. Why did she always invite his ire? It was as if she needed to scratch an irritating itch and, having scratched, was left with a sore place.
‘That is not imminent, Miss Cartwright.’ He was being carefully polite and that goaded her to scratch again.
‘No? I have heard you were about to make an offer.’
‘Then will you please tell your informant she is mistaken,’ he said firmly.
Bemused, Captain Hartley looked from one to the other and wondered how a simple conversation about a little deaf boy had suddenly become a cat-and-mouse game. ‘I am sure the schoolroom at the Hall will do very nicely for a start,’ he said.
They both turned towards him as if suddenly remembering he was there. ‘That’s settled, then,’ Roland said. ‘If all goes well, I should like to spread the word to other deaf children and their parents, make a little school of it.’
‘Let us see how it goes with one pupil first,’ Miles said.
The moment of dissension passed and they drank their tea and ate the bread and butter and the little cakes Mrs Cater had provided and Charlotte asked the Captain about his war experiences and showed herself to be far more knowledgeable than most ladies about the political situation. She agreed with Roland that a man like Napoleon Bonaparte would not be content with a life spent quietly on a little island. When he had capitulated, he had promised his followers he would return with the violets. ‘Have the allied powers made sure he cannot?’ she asked.
‘I doubt it,’ Miles said. ‘He has been allowed to keep a regiment and a ship and that is madness.’
‘Would you go back to the army, my lord, if he did show his face again?’ she asked Roland.
He smiled, remembering their previous conversation on the subject of his leaving. ‘It depends,’ he said carefully. ‘There is a great deal keeping me in Amerleigh at the moment.’
For once she did not rise to the bait, but sipped her tea and thought of Amerleigh without him. She would miss him if he ever left, but the reason she gave to herself, that she enjoyed their battles, was not the true one. Her thoughts went to that evening when he had kissed her hand and made her feel like a woman for the first time in her life. That was what she would really miss.
After the men had taken their leave and ridden away, Charlotte wandered into the ballroom and stood there a moment, then began humming a tune and dancing all by herself. But in her imagination she was not alone; the room was crowded and Roland was there and they were dancing together, hands linked, bodies moving in unison as they had at Lady Brandon’s soirée. ‘I will do it,’ she said, coming to a standstill and speaking aloud. ‘He will learn to rue the day he called me a hoyden.’
Organising her workforce, instructing men and women in their day-to-day tasks, was child’s play to her. But organising an entertainment beyond a simple dinner party was something she had never done and the prospect daunted her. Nor had she any idea how to act the lady, to charm as a hostess. For that she needed help. There was Lady Brandon, of course, but she did not think her ladyship would serve; she had her own motives and they did not accord with Charlotte’s. She went back to the drawing room and sat at her davenport to write a letter to her great-aunt, Lady Emily Ratcliffe.
‘What an extraordinary woman,’ Miles commented, as they turned out of the gate and, disdaining the road, made their way over the hill back to Amerleigh.
‘Yes.’
‘Wealthy, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Very.’
‘I suppose you grew up together?’
‘We were neighbours, of course, but I was at school and Oxford, then the army, and though I saw her about the village when I was at home, I cannot say I really knew her.’
‘She’s not a member of the gentry.’
‘No, though I believe her grandmother on her mother’s side came from a good family. Her mother died when she was born and her father brought her up. He died two years ago and left her everything.’
‘Quite a catch for someone, then,’ Miles said.
Roland looked sharply at him, wondering what was behind the remark. ‘I suppose so, but too self-willed for my taste. She would want to wear the breeches in any marriage.’
‘Depends how you go about taming her, I should think,’ Miles said thoughtfully.
‘You think you could do it?’
‘If I wanted to, I could.’
Roland laughed and spurred his horse into a gallop to end a conversation that was making him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Miles smiled to himself and followed suit.
Miles left two days later to go back to Horse Guards where he intended to obtain his release and then return. He would be on half-pay and that, together with the small stipend Roland was able to provide, was enough for his needs, he said, especially as he was to live at Amerleigh Hall for nothing. He came back a week later to prepare the schoolroom for its new pupil. It was on the second floor of the oldest part of the house and every day he took himself up there and set about learning all he could about sign language.
One day Roland found him there, sitting on an old sofa, hands in front of him, moving arms and fingers this way and that, studying a book and drawing the signs on a slate. ‘I think I should learn a little of that,’ he said. ‘I want to talk to young Thomas too.’
‘I will teach you when I know enough myself.’
‘I thought you invented it.’
‘No. It was not invented, it grew. It was developed many, many years ago by monks who had taken a vow of silence and wanted to communicate with each other. I have no doubt it is still used for that purpose. Who decided it could be used by the deaf in the general population I do not know. I was sent to a Catholic school and learned some of it from the abbot who ran it and that fired my interest.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I do not think Tommy would be interested in religious words and practices, so I must adapt it for a small boy.’
‘You must not spend all your time up here, you know. What about coming out for a ride? I will show you round my domain.’
Miles put the book away. ‘I shall enjoy that.’
Half an hour later they were riding through Amerleigh towards the hills, carpeted in red, pink and white heather, prickly yellow gorse and bright green bracken, with here and there the delicate blue of a harebell, so that the land was vibrant with colour. Familiar as he was with the sight, it always brought a lump to Roland’s throat. Together with the house, it was what he had thought of most when away from home, especially poignant when he had not been sure if he would ever see either again.
They rode round in a large circle, taking in the boundary of the estate and finishing on Browhill. Here there was noise and clatter and dust. The new adit, which Roland had seen started, disappeared into the hillside. The big wheel was turning, which suggested men were working underground and a stream had been diverted and was running through the washing shed where two youths were working, separating the lead ore from the dirt and rubble that came with it.
‘Is this part of your domain?’ Miles asked.
Roland chuckled. ‘I believe so, but Miss Cartwright has other ideas. We are in dispute over it.’
As he spoke, Charlotte herself came out of the building that served as an office. ‘Good day, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘What can I do for you?’
Roland noted that she was in a benign mood; Miles noted that she was wearing a strange outfit, he might have called mannish if it were not for the skirt. ‘Good day, Miss Cartwright,’ Roland said, giving her a slight bow from the saddle. ‘We were out for a ride…’
‘And chanced to end up here.’ She laughed. ‘What is it about this place that draws you so, my lord?’
He was not going to rise to that bait. ‘How is the new level going?’
‘Very well, my lord.’ She turned to Miles. ‘Are you back to stay, Captain?’
‘For a while, yes. I have been perfecting my signs ready to begin teaching the lad and his mother. His lordship has said he is going to learn them too.’
‘Then may I join the party? I should think a skill like that might be very useful. You know, the mill hands have their own way of making signs when the clatter of the looms makes it impossible to hear anything said. I wonder if it is the same.’
Roland looked sharply at her, but she refused to meet his eye and concentrated on Miles, who was smiling at her in a way that made Roland remember that his friend had said he could tame her. Roland did not want her tamed, certainly not by anyone but himself. The thought came as a revelation. Charlotte Cartwright, tamed. That would be as cruel as trying to tame a wild tiger and just as impossible. ‘I doubt your mill hands would appreciate your being able to understand their conversation,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘They probably have a language of their own,’ Miles put in. ‘As different from a soldier’s or a small boy’s as English is to French, but by all means join us. I plan to begin the lessons the day after tomorrow in the forenoon.’
‘Yes, do come,’ Roland said. ‘That is, if you can be spared from all your other work.’
She smiled, but it was the smile of the untamed tiger and he almost recoiled from it. ‘I shall manage it.’
As they rode away, Miles was chuckling. ‘I think I am going to enjoy my time in Amerleigh,’ he said. ‘Something worthwhile to do and some fine entertainment.’
‘Entertainment?’
‘Yes, watching you and Miss Cartwright crossing swords.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘Oh, so you are the best of friends, are you? Whoever would have thought it?’
‘Captain Hartley,’ Roland said, trying not to smile, ‘you are here for a specific purpose. Do not presume upon my friendship too far.’
Miles stopped laughing. He had hit upon something that mattered to his host, and, in Roland’s eyes, it was not a cause for amusement. He hastily begged pardon and they rode on in silence. At the Biggs’s cottage they stopped to tell Mrs Biggs that Tommy could be brought to the Hall two days hence to begin his lessons, and then they called at the dower house where Miles was presented to the Countess and he explained what he hoped to do for Tommy.
‘I am sure that is a commendable thing to do,’ she said, dispensing tea in the drawing room. ‘But I wonder how long you will be able to hold his attention. He is very small and has been thoroughly spoiled by his mother and sisters. He will want to play.’
‘Then we must make the lessons seem like play,’ Miles said. ‘In any case, they will not last long, half an hour or an hour at the most. His lordship is going to be a pupil too. And Miss Cartwright.’
She laughed. ‘Miss Cartwright and Roland, sitting side by side on those little schoolroom chairs, trying to talk without speaking. Oh, the wonder of it! I must come up and see this strange phenomenon. Have you met Miss Cartwright, Captain Hartley?’
‘Yes, when I was here before and again today. We were out riding and came upon her at the mine.’
‘What did you think of her?’
Miles looked from the Countess to Roland and back again. ‘She is a very unusual lady,’ he said carefully. ‘Very forthright, though I imagine that is something she has learned; underneath she is vulnerable.’
‘Vulnerable!’ Roland exclaimed.
‘Yes. Most women are, are they not?’
‘Miss Cartwright is an exception.’
‘Oh, I agree she is exceptional.’
‘Talking of Miss Cartwright,’ her ladyship put in, ‘I heard she was going to give a ball at Mandeville.’
‘Who told you that?’ Roland asked.
‘Why, Lady Brandon. She is in the young lady’s confidence.’
‘Who would go to a ball at Mandeville? You know Miss Cartwright is not accepted in society. Why, Gilford even tried to warn me off.’
‘Goodness, why should he do that?’
‘I have no idea—possibly because he has a daughter of marriageable age?’
‘I would go and gladly, if she were to invite me,’ Miles said.
‘No doubt she will,’ Roland said.
‘And you,’ the Countess told Roland with a twinkle in her eye. ‘With you to grace it, it is bound to succeed and all those people who have always longed to see the inside of Mandeville will be glad to have a reason not to decline. If the Earl of Amerleigh goes, then it perfectly proper for everyone else.’
‘If she thinks she can use me in that fashion, then I am afraid she will be disappointed.’ Even as he spoke Roland realised that such a thought would never enter Charlotte’s head.
‘Then I shall go alone,’ Miles said, looking meaningfully at Roland.
The thought of Miles flirting with Charlotte, trying to tame her with his charm, was abhorrent to Roland. Was she vulnerable? He felt a sudden need to protect her, which was laughable. Miss Charlotte Cartwright, mine owner, mill owner, slave owner, needing protection was unthinkable. And yet the thought had passed through his mind. If it were not for those slaves and that disputed land, if he had inherited a healthy estate, if she had not been so obviously averse to him, things might have been different. Why could he not get her out of his head? Why, whenever he planned something, did he imagine her at his side advising him, encouraging him, and why did he refrain from doing other things because he thought she might disapprove? And why did the prospect of holding her hand and dancing with her again fill him with joyful anticipation? He was behaving like a besotted schoolboy. ‘Oh, well, we shall see when the invitations come,’ he said. ‘If they come.’
* * *
Charlotte had no idea that Lady Brandon was already spreading the word abroad that there was to be a grand ball at Mandeville. She was not even sure of it herself. Her doubts were centred on whether she could pull it off, whether she would remember everything that needed to be done—food, wine, music, flowers, invitations—and whether anyone would come. It would be dreadful to send out a hundred invitations and have only a handful turn up. Already she had written out a dozen lists and discarded them all. She had not yet had a reply to the letter she had written to her mother’s aunt, asking for advice.
Great-Aunt Emily, the dowager Lady Ratcliffe, had never dealt well with her father and had never, to Charlotte’s knowledge, visited Mandeville. According to her father, it was nothing but snobbery. ‘She considered your mama married beneath her,’ he had said one day when, as a child, she had asked him about their relations. ‘I remember when we were first betrothed, she called me a fortune hunter.’
‘Why?’
‘Your grandfather on your mother’s side was already wealthy and had been knighted for his services to the cotton industry. Emily was his sister. She married Sir Bertram Ratcliffe and that made her think herself too grand for us.’
‘She was wrong about you, wasn’t she?’ she had asked. It was important to be reassured on that point.
‘Of course. I soon proved I could make more money than ever her brother did. All I needed was a start. Hard work did the rest.’
‘No, I meant you really loved Mama and it was not her money that attracted you. You did, didn’t you?’
‘Of course. She was beautiful and kind. No one ever said a bad word about her.’
‘I wish I had known her.’
‘You do not wish it any more than I do,’ he had said. ‘The joy went out of my life when she died.’
She had found herself in sympathy with her father, but he did not invite sympathy and so she had said nothing and went back to her lessons. But it was strange how Papa had become so isolated. The gentry, who had hitherto tolerated him, would have nothing to do with him after he quarrelled with the old Earl, and even her mother’s family looked down on him. His associates were all businessmen like himself. That isolation had been passed down to her, but she could not be easy with it as he had been. There was too much of her mother in her.
Mrs Biggs, in her Sunday best dress, brought a pink-scrubbed Tommy to the Hall as arranged. She was thoroughly overawed to be entering the big house and, once in the schoolroom, sat on a chair against the wall, while Tommy was beckoned forward to sit at the desk Roland had used as a child.
Miles began by talking to the child in signs, trying to find out how much he already understood. Having been told that he had to behave himself and pay attention, the poor child appeared more simple than he really was and the lessons did not go well. It was the arrival of the Earl and Miss Cartwright that changed that. He beamed at them and began making signs so fast that Charlotte had to stop him.
‘Slow down,’ she mouthed, laughing. ‘I am not as quick as you.’
‘We have come to join in the lessons,’ Roland said, offering Charlotte a half-size chair and finding another for himself. They sat side by side and looked up at Miles expectantly.
Tommy giggled and his mother reproved him, putting her finger to her closed lips and he subsided at once.
‘Ah, he knows the meaning of that,’ Miles said.
After that the lesson went more smoothly. Tommy was asked what time he went to bed, what time he rose, what he liked to eat, all in signs. When his mother was tempted to answer for him she was gently told not to help him. An hour flew by.
‘I think that is enough for one day,’ Miles said. ‘Bring the boy again tomorrow, Mrs Biggs. And help him to practise if you have the time.’
‘I will find the time, Captain. And I’ll teach the others what I’ve learned.’
‘I think that went very well,’ Charlotte said after Mrs Biggs and the child had left. ‘Do you not think so, my lord?’
Roland had been amusing himself imagining Charlotte as a mother with a nursery full of children, beautiful, happy children, and her voice startled him. ‘I am sorry, I did not hear the question,’ he said.
She repeated it.
‘Oh, yes, very well. So, what do you think, Miles, will you carry on with the lessons?’
‘I think so. The trouble is, I have no notion how fast a child of that age should learn. I do not want to force him. He must want to learn. And later, perhaps, he could be taught to speak, though that is outside the scope of my expertise. We should have to consult others in the field. I have heard of a Dr Masterson who specialises in teaching deaf mutes to speak. I could write to him.’
‘Then do so, my friend. Now, shall we go down and have some refreshment. You will stay, Miss Cartwright?’
Charlotte had, for the first time in her life, except when she was in Jamaica, absented herself from the mill, and she ought really to make up for lost time, but for some reason she did not want to, and that again was a first. ‘I should be happy to,’ she said, rising from the tiny chair and finding she had pins and needles in her legs and had to hop about to get the feeling back into them.
Roland watched her with amusement. The more he saw of her, the more he discovered of the woman she was beneath the severe exterior. He had been entirely wrong to call her a hoyden and plain, to boot. It was uncharitable and arrogant. How glad he was she had not heard him. But that did not alleviate his guilt. She was most definitely a woman with a woman’s compassion and gentleness and the more he saw of her, the more he realised she was beautiful, not only her outward appearance, but her inner self. This was in spite of her upbringing, not because of it.
They went down to the drawing room where Mrs Fields served them with a light luncheon. ‘How is your husband, Mrs Fields?’ Charlotte asked her.
‘Oh, he is much the same, but he keeps a cheerful countenance, ma’am, and since I have been working here he is much happier. He never did like me working at the inn.’
‘I am so glad.’
The woman bobbed and disappeared.
‘What is the matter with her husband?’ Roland asked, wondering if there was anything Charlotte did not know about the villagers. Mrs Fields had been working for him over a month and he had learned nothing of her family.
‘He had a stroke and is confined to the house. He feels helpless and was furious when Mrs Fields was roughly treated by one of the inn’s clients and when she complained to the landlord, the landlord sided with his customer and dismissed her. Her poor husband could do nothing but rant.’
‘How do you know so much about the villagers’ lives, Miss Cartwright?’
‘I hear things as I go about.’
‘Then you are certainly not deaf,’ Miles said with a laugh.
‘No, Captain, my hearing is particularly acute,’ she said, looking hard at Roland as she spoke, but he was concentrating on the chicken leg on his plate and did not pick up on the implication of her words.
‘I have heard you are going to hold a ball at Mandeville,’ the Captain went on.
‘Where did you hear that?’ she asked in surprise.
‘My mother had it from Lady Brandon,’ Roland put in. ‘Is it true?’
‘I have been thinking about it, but have not yet made up my mind.’
‘I hope you do,’ Miles said, smiling at her in a way that irritated Roland, who assumed his friend was trying to make good his boast that he could tame her. ‘And I hope I may be one of your guests.’
‘If I go ahead, you will certainly be sent an invitation, Captain.’
‘Will it be a society ball, with the men in breeches like they are obliged to wear at Almack’s, or perhaps a bal masque?’
‘I know nothing of what they do at Almack’s. I am not, as you cannot have failed to realise, Captain, a society hostess. To me a ball is a ball. And my guests will not be confined to the upper echelons of society.’
‘Then may I recommend the masked ball with everyone in fancy dress. It is a great leveller, is fancy dress. Do you not agree, Roly, my friend?’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘I will certainly bear it in mind.’ She stood up. ‘I must be going. Would you send for my curricle, my lord?’
‘I will go,’ Miles said and disappeared, leaving Roland and Charlotte alone, facing each other awkwardly.
‘Will you come again tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘I am not sure I can spare the time,’ she said. ‘I have much to do.’
‘Of course. A woman who works.’
‘We all work in our different ways, my lord. I am not ashamed of it.’
‘Heaven forbid that you should be! I, too, have a great deal to occupy me, but I shall try to attend the lessons as often as I can. You are welcome to come whenever you can find the time. You do not have to send word in advance.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Would you be more comfortable if I provided some proper chairs?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘Don’t do that. Tommy likes us to be on his level and that is as it should be.’
‘Brought down to size, eh?’ He laughed too. ‘Very well, I will leave things as they are and look forward to our next lesson together, whenever that may be.’
Miles returned to say the curricle was at the door and she took her leave of both of them. Instead of going home, she drove straight to Scofield. She could not afford to neglect the mill, especially as she had heard there was dissent in neighbouring manufactories and she did not want it spreading to her workforce.
As she drove expertly along the lanes, she found herself thinking about her ball. Catherine Brandon had jumped the gun, telling the Countess, and no doubt every other of her bosom bows, about it, so if she wanted to save face, she must go through with it. If Aunt Emily accepted her invitation to come and stay, it would be a great help and give her a little standing in the community. Suddenly she wanted it to be a success. She had never minded her isolation before, but now it irked her. And for the first time, too, she realised that it was the Earl of Amerleigh she wanted to impress, not in a spirit of competition, but because, in spite of everything, she had come to like and respect him. And what an admission that was!
Having conferred with William Brock about their latest orders and made sure everything was running smoothly, she returned to Mandeville to find her great-aunt had arrived and made herself at home. Lady Ratcliffe was sitting on one of the sofas in the drawing room, with a tray on a low table at her side containing the remains of tea and cakes. She was in her late sixties, very upright in her carriage. She had on a full-skirted gown of mousseline, a short pelisse and a wide-brimmed bonnet with a huge curling feather. Her gloves lay on the arm of the chair.
‘Why did you not let me know when you were arriving?’ Charlotte asked, hurrying forward to kiss her ladyship’s powdered cheek. ‘I would have been here to greet you.’
‘Your letter gave me to understand the matter was urgent,’ her ladyship said, looking Charlotte up and down through her quizzing glass. ‘I can see I was right. Wherever did you get that strange habit?’
‘It is not a habit, Aunt, it is what I wear when I am doing business. I shall go up and change at once and then we will have supper. How did you come? Where is your luggage? I hope it has been taken to your room.’
‘I came in my own chaise and I believe my trunk has been put somewhere. I have been waiting for an age for someone to conduct me to my room.’
‘I am so dreadfully sorry, Aunt, but I did not expect you today.’ She went to the hearth and gave a good tug on the bell rope beside it. ‘I will take you up myself.’
A servant arrived promptly in answer to her summons and was instructed to take hot water up to the blue room and to tell Mrs Cater to delay supper for half an hour, then Charlotte conducted her ladyship up to the main guest room, apologising again as she did so.
The luxury of the room and its adjoining dressing room mollified her ladyship to some extent, especially as her maid was already there and had unpacked her trunk. Charlotte left her and went to her own room to change.
They had not made a good beginning, she decided, as she flung off the frogged jacket and grey skirt. She would have to work hard to change her aunt’s poor opinion of her as a hostess, though why she should keep apologising, she did not know—her aunt should have sent advance notice. Perhaps she had been waiting for an excuse to come to Mandeville and do something about her motherless great-niece, and the arrival of the letter had brought her post-haste.
An hour later, they were sitting together in the small dining room enjoying a repast of roast lamb, pork cutlets and every kind of vegetable imaginable, followed by exotic fruits from Mandeville’s own hot houses. Charlotte had changed into a green taffeta evening gown trimmed with bands of velvet and Meg had forced her hair into some sort of order, so that her aunt had looked at her with more approval.
‘That is much better,’ she said. ‘I cannot think why you must wear that strange garb you had on when I first saw you. It was not even clean.’
‘I only wear it for business and it was clean when I went out this morning. A mill is a dusty place, Aunt, and anything better would be ruined in no time. My workers would not respect me if I arrived in silks and furbelows.’
‘Do you mean you actually go into the mill?’
‘Of course. I must keep track of what is happening to the orders and oversee the work.’
‘Nonsense, of course you don’t. I never met a lady yet who would stoop so low.’
‘I am not thought of as a lady.’
‘Then it is about time we changed that. Why, you will never make a good marriage going on the way you do.’
‘I am not thinking of marriage, Aunt.’
‘Of course you are. Every young lady does,’ her aunt contradicted firmly.
‘No, Aunt. I simply want to give a ball, here at Mandeville, which is why I asked for your advice.’
‘And I shall be pleased to give it, my dear, but surely you have had balls here before now?’
‘I have been told Mama used to give grand balls, but it has never happened in my lifetime. I do not think Papa wanted to entertain after she died.’
‘Have you not been brought out?’
‘Not in the usual sense, no.’
Her aunt sighed heavily. ‘I knew your father was an eccentric, but I did not realise he had so thoroughly neglected his duty as a father.’
‘He did not neglect me,’ Charlotte said, fiercely defensive. ‘He simply had different ideas about how I should be brought up. I think he was disappointed I was not a son.’
‘He should have married again and begot himself an heir.’
‘I do not think he could bring himself to do so. In any case, he was always too busy.’
‘Then we must set about a remedy. How old are you now, two and twenty?’
‘Twenty-three, Aunt.’
‘Almost at your last prayers! There is not a moment to lose.’
‘Aunt, I am in no haste to marry.’ Charlotte was beginning to wonder if she had been wise to ask her great-aunt for advice; she was liable to be given far more than was wanted or needed. ‘I have yet to find the right man.’ Even as she spoke, her mind’s eye presented her with an image of Roland Temple, Earl of Amerleigh, sitting on the little nursery chairs, making signs at Tommy Biggs and laughing. That was the man she liked, not the arrogant youth, nor the proud owner of a failing estate. She could marry the gentle, caring man. She shook the picture from her. Whatever was she thinking of? She was not going to marry anyone, least of all Roland Temple, who had called her a hoyden!
‘Nor will you, the way you are going on.’ Great-Aunt Emily’s voice broke in on her reverie. ‘But I am here now and we may yet save the situation. Let us repair to the drawing room. You can tell me all about yourself over the teacups and we will devise a plan.’
Charlotte sighed and led the way.
