Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

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.’