Four Regency Rogues

Chapter Three

Charlotte, riding home, berated herself for a traitor. She had sworn the man was her enemy and yet there she was, conversing with him as if he had never said those hateful words six years before. Six years was a long time to hold a grudge, but what had he done since returning to make her think he had regretted his outburst? Nothing. He had accused Papa of cheating the Earl out of his land, had intimated he meant to continue with that ridiculous lawsuit, and had even gone up to the mine and poked about as if he owned it. It was enough to make Papa turn in his grave.

Papa. Had he realised the storm he would unleash the day he had said to her, ‘It is time we found you a husband, Charlie’?

She knew him well enough to know that he had not said that on a whim, but had been thinking about it for some time. ‘I hope, Papa, you are not thinking of sending me to London for a Season,’ she had said. ‘I tell you now, I should hate it.’

‘Why so?’

‘Mincing about in lace and ribbons, fluttering a fan and making foolish remarks about the weather to coxcombs with no more than a hen’s brain between them. Besides, it would only be the prospect of my dowry that would persuade them to address me at all.’

He had laughed at that. ‘I can see it would not serve, but we do not need to go from home to find just the fellow. Young Viscount Temple is a well set-up young man and, according to his father, on the lookout for a bride.’

‘The Viscount! He would never consider me.’

‘On the contrary, I am assured he has already expressed an interest. According to the Earl, he has been admiring you ever since he came back from university. In any event, the Earl is of a mind to hold a ball and we are invited. Play your cards right, my dear, and one day you will be a countess.’

In those days a ball at Amerleigh Hall was not to be missed if one was lucky enough to have one of its gilt-edged invitations. The grand ballroom, the music and dancing, the food and wine were always of the highest order. Her father had sent her off with his sister, her Aunt Harriet, to buy a ballgown and all the fripperies needed and no expense spared. The trouble was, and she had realised it as soon as she entered the ballroom and seen all the other ladies, was that her aunt’s idea of fashion was sadly out of date. She had tried to make a mincing, blushing doll out of her, covering her in pink lace and silk rosebuds and having her wayward hair forced into tight corkscrew curls, which did not suit her at all. She had stuck her head in the air and pretended not to mind, but, at seventeen, it was a pose difficult to maintain. After stumbling over a gavotte with a pimply youth whose name she could not remember, she had, as soon as the music ended, excused herself and left the room. It was then, standing in a dim corridor, she had heard those dreadful, never-to-be-forgotten words.

They had clouded her life. From simply being a little tomboyish, a young girl who enjoyed the countryside, but who was ready to be courted, to fall in love in the prescribed manner, looking forward to being a wife and mother, she had become the woman she was: a hardheaded, determined businesswoman who had no time for the niceties of social intercourse, especially with the likes of the new Earl of Amerleigh.

Damn him!

She left Bonny Boy with Dobson and went into the house through a side door, intent on regaining her room without meeting any of her servants. She knew she looked a pickle. Her hair had escaped its pins and there was dirt and blood all down the bodice of her habit and she did not feel like being questioned. Once in her room, she crossed the floor and stood looking out of the window towards Amerleigh, hidden from view by the ridge of Browhill. Meeting the Earl again was making her question her whole life.

Roland’s new clothes arrived the following afternoon. He had Travers trim his hair before changing into a double-breasted coat of dark blue superfine, a pale blue waistcoat and a plain white shirt with a neat muslin neckcloth. His biscuit-coloured pantaloons were tucked into his new Hessians. Thus transformed, he set off for the dower house.

He had almost reached the drawing room door when he heard ladies’ voices. His mama was receiving visitors. Remembering she had told him no one called on her nowadays, he paused, smiling.

‘I am sure you must be relieved to have his lordship home again,’ he heard one say. ‘It is so difficult to know how to go on when there is no man about the place.’

‘Yes, to be sure,’ another said. ‘But the new Earl is not living here, is he? I heard he has taken up residence at the Hall.’

‘Yes,’ his mother replied. ‘That is as it should be.’

‘Of course, I did not mean to imply otherwise. No doubt he is settling in well.’

‘I believe he is. I do not interfere, naturally.’

‘No, I agree, no mother should, but he must confide in you and take note of your remarks, dear Lady Temple.’

‘He is a dutiful son.’

Roland, who was about to enter, stayed his hand. He was smiling so broadly they could not fail to notice if he joined them.

‘No doubt,’ a third piped in. ‘But he has been away so long, he has perhaps forgotten all his old friends. We have been thinking that we ought to welcome him home more formally, introduce him to other young people. I know my Faith would be delighted to renew acquaintance with him.’

While Roland was racking his brains to remember someone called Faith, he heard Lady Brandon chime in, ‘And I am sure Martha would be honoured to stand up with him.’

‘Stand up,’ the Countess echoed.

‘Yes, a little soirée in his honour. A little conversation, a dance or two, perhaps, nothing elaborate. What do you think, Countess?’

‘I am sure I do not know,’ she said. ‘I must ask Roland what he thinks. We are in mourning, you know.’

Roland, straight-faced once more, opened the door and made his entrance. Four pairs of eyes turned towards him. They belonged to his mother, Lady Gilford, Lady Brandon and Mrs Trent. He was glad he had changed out of his uniform into something more befitting the aristocratic owner of Amerleigh Hall. He bowed. ‘Ladies, your obedient.’

‘Roland, there you are.’ His mother valiantly overcame her astonishment at his changed appearance. ‘We are about to have tea. You will stop and take some?’

He lowered his long frame into a chair. ‘Thank you. I hope I do not interrupt the latest on dit.’

‘Not at all, my lord,’ Lady Brandon said. ‘We decided it was time we came to welcome you back among us and to suggest a small reception in your honour.’

‘Ladies, I am flattered, but we are in mourning.’

‘We know that,’ Lady Gilford put in. ‘But it is not to be a grand affair and I am sure your late father would wish you to venture into society. In his day, he was a great one for entertaining and being entertained. I remember one ball he gave that had the whole county by the ears.’

Roland, guessing she was referring to that disastrous evening six years before and was fishing for information that would set her high among her bosom bows when recounted, decided to cut her short. ‘My lady,’ he said, ‘when circumstances permit, there will be balls again at Amerleigh Hall, then I shall be pleased to number you among my guests, but I cannot contemplate such a thing while we are in mourning.’

‘No, naturally not,’ Lady Brandon rescued her. ‘We only came to enquire if you would attend a modest function at Scofield Place. I am sure there can be nothing unseemly about that.’

He caught sight of his mother, who nodded imperceptibly. ‘I shall be delighted.’

Highly satisfied with their afternoon’s work, the visitors took their leave. As soon as the door closed on them, he burst out laughing. ‘Mama, what am I to make of that?’

Lady Amerleigh smiled. ‘You are going to be feted whether you like it or not, and every mama of every single young lady will be trying to outdo the others in entertaining you.’

‘Heaven help me! I am not in the marriage mart.’

She laughed. It was the first time he had heard her laugh since he came home and the sound lifted his spirits. ‘One of these days, a young lady will come along who will capture your heart and you will sing a different tune.’

‘I hope she may, but not before I have set the estate to rights. Today I have made a beginning.’

‘That is good news.’

‘Papa was not as profligate as we thought and I have some money of my own. But there is no need for anyone to know that. Let them think my father left me in good standing and the only reason he let the estate run down was because he was mortally ill.’ He paused. ‘It is not a massive fortune, so I cannot go mad, but there is enough to refurnish the main part of the house. Would you take charge of that for me, Mama? I have not the least idea what is necessary.’

She clapped her hands in delight. ‘Oh, I should love that above everything. When shall I begin?’

‘As soon as may be. Now I am going to visit the little deaf boy and see how he goes on. If you can spare me time tomorrow, I will come and we will make plans.’

Charlotte, faithful to her promise, returned home that afternoon in good time to visit Mrs Biggs and see how well Tommy was recovering, taking more milk and eggs and a jar of Mrs Cater’s plum preserve. She was taken aback when Mrs Biggs admitted her to find the Earl of Amerleigh, dressed in the pink of fashion, sprawling on the floor beside Tommy, playing spillikins with him. Both were laughing at the Earl’s ineptitude. His lordship looked up as she entered. ‘Miss Cartwright, how do you do,’ he said, scrambling to his feet and towering over her.

‘My lord. I am well, thank you.’ Her voice sounded normal, but it belied how she felt, for inside her heart was beating at twice its normal rate. If she had known he would be here, she told herself, she would not have come. But that was foolish, they were near neighbours and she could not avoid seeing him occasionally. She had to remind herself sternly that he meant nothing to her, except as an irritant she could well do without.

‘I came to see how this young fellow did,’ he explained, smiling as if they had never had a cross word and were amiable neighbours. ‘He appears to have made a full recovery.’

‘I am very pleased to hear it.’

He looked about him; there was clearly no room in the tiny cottage for both of them, especially as the rest of the children were all crowding round to see the great lord on the floor playing with their brother. ‘I will leave you to talk to our young hero and satisfy yourself as to his recovery,’ he said to Charlotte, then turned to face Tommy so that the boy could read his lips. ‘I must go.’

Tommy’s face was a picture of disappointment. He seemed to be trying very hard to speak, but the words were unintelligible to Charlotte. Roland bent down and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘You may give me a chance to get my own back another day. Now I must go. Miss Cartwright is come to talk to you, so you will have company.’

He bade Mrs Biggs goodbye and was gone, leaving Charlotte feeling inexplicably flat. Their conversation had been mundane, as if each were repeating, parrot fashion, the niceties custom demanded, when what they really wanted to say remained unsaid. But perhaps that was best. Politeness cost nothing.

‘His lordship is a fine man,’ Mrs Biggs said, after thanking Charlotte for the provisions she had brought. ‘He has told Alf he may have his job back, so we are all cheered by his coming.’

‘I am glad of that.’

‘And you have been good to us too, Miss Cartwright. The milk and eggs have made all the difference these last weeks.’

‘Think nothing of it, Mrs Biggs. How is the baby?’

‘Thriving, I am thankful to say. And my Hannah is old enough to work now and has been taken on by his lordship to work in the kitchen at the Hall, and with Matty and Beth both working too, we are well content.’

* * *

Charlotte had stayed a little while to nurse the baby and talk to Tommy, using signs and lip reading, which he seemed to manage very well, before taking her leave to return home. She had walked past the church and was making her way along the lane by the village green when she saw the Earl standing beside his mount, which was drinking at the trough. She was about to carry on, when he picked up his reins and led the horse over to her. ‘Miss Cartwright.’

She stopped. Had he been lying in wait for her? She did not feel like another argument with him, but why else would he have addressed her? ‘My lord.’

He fell into step beside her as she walked on. ‘Not riding today?’

‘No. I have been too busy.’

‘With good works in the village?’ He knew that was the case. Everyone spoke highly of her, praising her for her compassion, her generosity and her down-to-earth character. ‘For all her money, she ain’t haughty, not a bit of it,’ they said. But did they really know her? Did they know she was as bad as her late father, that her fortune, on which she lived and which she used to bestow her largesse, was founded on slavery, not only in the Indies, but closer to home? The mills must make their profit; if it needed little children to do it, then she had no compunction about employing them. Perhaps she had had no hand in the blow her father had dealt his, but she seemed determined to keep the enmity alive.

‘Among other things.’ She paused. ‘Mrs Biggs tells me you have given her husband his job back.’

‘Yes. As you so rightly pointed out, I need him. The grounds are in a terrible state. They used to be admired for miles around. When I was a boy, my mother was always giving tours of the garden and sharing her knowledge with others of like mind. I doubt I can get it back to that condition, but with my mother’s help I will do my best.’

‘You mean to stay, then?’

‘Why would I not? Amerleigh is my home.’

‘Of course.’

‘But you would wish me otherwhere?’ Roland pressed lightly.

‘No, why should I? I only meant you might not wish to go to the trouble of restoring it.’

‘But I do wish it. It is a good solid house, the home of generations of my family and not easily abandoned.’

‘The late Earl abandoned it.’

‘He was ill, Miss Cartwright. The worry of it…’ He stopped; he did not want to pursue that argument. ‘I wanted to ask you, since you seem to know the family well, has anything been done to cure Tommy of his deafness?’

‘I do not think so. I think they are all resigned to the fact that he will never hear and he does marvellously well with a few signs and facial expressions.’

‘Yes, I saw that.’

‘He has an old ear trumpet someone gave him, but he does not use it. It is almost as big as he is and is too much trouble carrying around when he wants to play.’

‘But one day he will have to work.’

‘If he finds nothing else, I will employ him. Being deaf might be a positive advantage in a room full of clattering looms.’

‘Yes, and a more dangerous occupation for a child I cannot imagine.’

She had spoken without thinking, almost as if there was a little devil sitting on her shoulder goading her into making outrageous remarks, just to see what he would say, and she had been hoist on her own petard. ‘I do not like employing children, my lord, but if I did not, my business would sink without trace and that would mean the adults would be without work too, not only in the mill, but those who work the barges, the crew of the Fair Charlie, even the servants and outdoor workers at Mandeville. It is the lesser of two evils.’

‘So it may be, but children should be allowed to enjoy their childhood for as long as they can.’

‘I do not disagree with that, but needs must when the devil drives.’ Why, when she was in his company, did she make herself sound harder than she really was? Why compound the bad impression he already had of her? It was a question of pride, she supposed, pride and stubbornness.

‘Nevertheless, I should like to see what can be done for the boy. I have come across deafness among soldiers due to the noise of the battlefield and it is a considerable disadvantage to them. There was a medical officer with our regiment who interested himself in deafness, and he was teaching them to communicate with signs.’

‘Tommy already does that.’

‘Yes, but this is more formal. By using the same standard, deaf people can communicate with others…’

‘Who must also learn the same signs.’

‘Yes. But if Tommy’s mother and siblings were to learn it, they could translate what he is saying.’

‘A laudable, if ambitious, idea, my lord, but who is to provide the teaching?’

‘That I need to discover. Do you think Mr and Mrs Biggs would agree, if I should find someone prepared to do it?’ His expression was serious, but by no means malevolent; there was nothing of the objectionable man who had insisted Browhill was his. Beware! the imp on her shoulder warned her.

‘I am sure they would like to see him overcome his affliction, my lord, but Mr Biggs is a proud man and hates to be beholden to charity. I have to take my little contribution for their comfort when he is not at home or he would throw it in my face.’

‘I thought that as the family’s welfare interests you, you might use your influence to persuade them.’

On the surface his suggestion was a simple one, but underneath she detected undercurrents she did not know how to deal with. But how could she say no? How could she refuse anything to improve the lot of the villagers? It was the squire’s prerogative to do that, of course, but the old Earl had done nothing and after they had moved to the dower house, the Countess had hardly been out and about at all. Charlotte had taken it upon herself to distribute largesse and give employment, and she had taken the Biggs family to her heart. ‘You are asking for my help?’

‘Yes.’

‘But we are…’

‘Sworn enemies?’ It was said with a crooked smile.

‘No, but we are in litigation.’

‘Then let the lawyers get on with it. They will take an age and in the meantime there is work to be done.’

‘That is very philosophical of you, my lord.’

‘So?’

‘Naturally, I will do all I can to help. But it is not just Tommy Biggs—you are needed by everyone in the village who has been waiting on your coming, hoping their lives will improve.’

He knew that and did not like it being pointed out to him, but he had made up his mind not to quarrel with her. To have two influential people warring in a small village would not make for harmony. ‘I hope they will, Miss Cartwright. I am making a beginning.’

‘And if the task proves too much, will you disappear again, back to the war and your comrades?’

‘Ah,’ he said, laughing. ‘I knew you wished me other-where.’

She refused to be drawn by that. ‘I read in the latest despatches that Lord Wellington is outside Bordeaux and the allies in the north are marching on Paris. Does that mean the war will soon be over?’

He might have known she would keep abreast of the news by reading the papers. ‘Let us hope so.’

‘And then the army will come home. The soldiers will need to find work.’

‘Those that are not sent to America or other conflicts will be discharged and will certainly need gainful employment. I am thankful that I have something to come home to.’

‘And different battles to fight,’ she said with a smile.

He laughed. ‘Battles I shall win, Miss Cartwright.’

She did not answer because they had arrived at the gates of the Hall. He halted and turned towards her, doffing his hat. ‘Here we must part. Good day to you, Miss Cartwright. I will let you know what I can discover about the deaf teacher.’ He sprang into the saddle before she could reply and cantered up the weed-infested drive.

‘We shall see,’ she murmured to herself, as she continued on her way. ‘We shall see.’

Lady Brandon, full of self-importance, delivered Charlotte’s invitation to her soirée herself two days later and was taken aback when Charlotte said she did not think she would go. ‘What have you against the man?’ her ladyship asked.

Charlotte was certainly not going to tell her. ‘I find him top-lofty in the extreme.’

‘Goodness, he has a right to be proud. He is an Earl, after all. I found him very civil and he has such an amiable manner. When we called on the Countess to ask her what she thought about a little soirée in his honour, his lordship arrived while we were there and he was politeness itself…’

‘Who is “we”?’

‘Lady Gilford, Mrs Trent and I. We asked him directly and, though the Countess declined on account of being in mourning, he was pleased to accept. You know, if he manages to come about, he will be the catch of the year. It will be amusing to watch all the mamas buzzing round him, trying to catch his eye.’

Charlotte smiled to herself. She had no doubt that Lady Brandon herself was one such mama. Poor Martha would be pushed and pulled and goaded to make herself agreeable to his lordship. It would be interesting to see how successful she would be.

‘You will come, won’t you?’ her ladyship went on. ‘If you do not, people will gossip and that would look ill, do you not think?’

Charlotte considered this for a moment and decided that gossip about why she was not pleased to see Roland Temple come home was something she could do without. ‘I suppose you could be right. Very well, I will come.’

Her ladyship clapped her hands. ‘Good. I want the occasion to be perfect. I want everyone to say it could never be bettered.’

‘I thought it was only to be a simple soirée.’

‘Oh, we can do better than that. Now I must leave you, I have much to do to have everything ready in time. I look forward to seeing you on Saturday.’ And with that she took her leave.

Charlotte spent some time considering what to wear and finally decided on her brand-new gown. It was amber, deeper than gold, but not quite brown, with a rounded neckline and puffed sleeves and finished with coffee-coloured lace at the hem and a matching ribbon under her bust.

On the evening of the soirée, Meg, her maid, discreetly powdered Charlotte’s face to subdue the tan, and dressed her hair in a Grecian style which even the usually modest Charlotte agreed made her look well. She had a drawer full of expensive jewellery which she never wore, but tonight she picked out a pearl necklace given to her by her papa on her twenty-first birthday. Taking up a matching silk shawl, a chicken-skin fan and a small beaded reticule, she went downstairs and out to her carriage.

The affair at Scofield Place, put about as a simple soirée, had grown out of all proportion. Anyone who was anyone in the county had been invited and had accepted. The food, produced by outside caterers, was sumptuous and would have fed a poor family for a year, if its taste were to run to the rare dishes, rich sauces and exotic fruits that weighed down the table in the wainscoted dining room. There were flowers and an orchestra and hired footmen in livery.

Lady Brandon, clad in a full-skirted gown of burgundy taffeta, which made her look rounder than ever, took both Charlotte’s hands and looked her up and down. ‘My dear, you look lovely. I would never have attempted that colour myself, but I do declare it becomes you.’ Sir Gordon, in a black superfine evening coat and matching breeches with white stockings, made her a bow and said she looked very well.

There was a huge crush in the large drawing room, stripped of its carpet and furniture, where an orchestra played for dancing, though that could hardly be heard above the noise of conversation as friend greeted friend and everyone enquired of everyone else if the Earl had arrived.

‘I was right,’ Lady Brandon told Charlotte triumphantly. ‘The Earl is like to be the catch of the season. Just look at Dorothea Manton preening herself like a peacock, as if she were not already well and truly on the shelf, and if Mrs Barnard thinks he will take any notice of her plain Jane, then she is a greater fribble than I took her for. Why, our Martha has a better chance of being noticed than any of them.’

Charlotte did not think these comments required an answer; besides, she was too busy looking round herself. If his lordship were looking for a bride with a good dowry, then he was unlikely to find her here. Dorothea Manton’s parents were well bred, it was true, but like many aristocrats, they lived outside their means. Faith Trent’s dowry would certainly not suffice if the point of the exercise was to refurbish Amerleigh Hall. The same could be said of almost everyone else in the room. Charlotte smiled to herself; she was the only one with sufficient resources and she was the only one who would not drop the handkerchief for him. She became aware that the murmur of voices had died and everyone was looking towards the door, where Roland Temple, Earl of Amerleigh, had just arrived.

He stood inches taller than any other man present, dressed in a black evening suit, relieved by a pale blue embroidered waistcoat and snowy white cravat, skilfully tied. His dark curls had been trimmed into the latest windswept style and barely touched the high collar of his coat. Unlike the other men in the room, he wore no jewellery, but he did not need it. No one could deny he had a commanding presence and there was a concerted sigh from the ladies. His physical attraction was so strong and his character so compelling, he could, if she were the susceptible kind, make Charlotte go weak at the knees and forget they were mortal enemies.

Lady Brandon hurried to greet him and proceeded to lead him round the room, introducing him to those he had not met before and reminding him of others he might have remembered from his boyhood. He bowed and smiled and passed on to the next, convinced that everyone who was anyone in Shropshire must surely be crammed into the room in all their finery for his benefit and he wished it were otherwise. If they had been giving him a true welcome, he would not have minded, but he knew most of it was curiosity to see if he would do something outrageous and confirm their worst fears. And if he did not, if he turned out to be perfectly abstemious and polite, then every mama of an unattached female would work herself silly to have her daughter noticed.

He smiled quirkily as he bowed over Dorothea Gilford’s hand, which made that poor child blush to the roots of her mousy hair. And it was not as if the smile was directed at her, but his own stupidity for allowing himself to become a party to it. He moved on quickly to the next group, noticing that the next in line was Miss Cartwright. So used to seeing and picturing the hoyden, he was completely taken aback by her changed appearance and for a moment could not pay attention to Lady Brandon. Pulling himself together, he murmured a greeting to the couple to whom he was being introduced and then moved on to Charlotte. Standing before her, he was obliged to amend his original perception of her—she was not plain at all. Here was a beautiful woman with the figure of a goddess. Even her wild hair had been tamed. He swept her a flourishing bow. ‘Good evening, Miss Cartwright.’

‘Good evening, my lord.’ She was fully aware of the effect she was having on him and it gave her a wonderful sense of gratification as she dipped a slight curtsy. She would teach him to call her plain and a hoyden!

He did not want to move on, but Lady Brandon was already approaching the next group and he had perforce to follow. It was not until he had perambulated round the entire room, smiling at the young ladies, kissing the hands of the matrons and bowing to their husbands, that he was able to relax a little. And even then it was not for long.

The orchestra struck up a country dance and he was induced to join a set with Miss Jane Trent. And after that it was another dance and another young lady and then another and he was just about to make his way over to Miss Cartwright when he became aware of Miss Brandon standing only a few feet away and looking at him, half-shy, half-expectantly. He bowed. ‘Miss Brandon, will you do me the honour of joining this country dance with me?’

She smiled and curtsied and he raised her to her feet and led her into the dance. But his thoughts were on the other side of the room where Charlotte stood beside Lady Brandon.

‘They make a comely pair, do they not?’

‘Who?’

‘Why, Martha and the Earl, of course. He is bound to look favourably on her, considering I have been at such pains to make him welcome.’

Charlotte watched the two dancers. The Earl was smiling down at Martha and had obviously paid her a compliment, for she was smiling back at him, eyes shining. It gave Charlotte an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that she could not explain. ‘You think he will offer for her?’

‘I do not see why not. We will bring him round to it. She will make a splendid Countess.’

‘Yes, but Amerleigh Hall is in a ruinous state.’

‘Martha has an inheritance from my aunt and she has never had to spend a penny of it, I am thankful to say. It has been growing with interest ever since the old lady died five years ago. Sir Gordon will ensure his lordship is aware of it.’

‘Do you think he would marry for money?’

‘It must be a consideration. If his pockets are to let, it must mean his title is up for sale.’

Her words thrust Charlotte back six years to a time when the late Earl was ready to sell the title and Roland had refused absolutely to consider her. It stiffened her resolve; she would make him pay for that humiliation in whatever way came to hand.

‘I think he will make an excellent husband,’ her ladyship continued, unaware that Charlotte was no longer giving her full attention. ‘I have been hearing fine reports of him.’

‘From his servant, no doubt.’