Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

She picked at the ham and eggs on her plate and wished the rain would stop, but it was still raining at ten-thirty and she was obliged to go to church in the closed carriage. As everyone who owned a vehicle was doing the same, there was a jam about the church gate as they all endeavoured to get close enough to hurry into church under the shelter of an umbrella. The weather had brightened by the time they emerged and the Earl stopped with his mother to pass the time of day with other parishioners. Charlotte murmured a quiet ‘good morning’ and made her way to her carriage.

Pretending to pay attention to something the parson was saying to his mother, Roland watched her go, a proud, lonely figure, whom few people in his social circle even pretended to like. They had, almost to a man, sided with his father in his dispute with her father and it seemed the next generation were destined to follow the path of its sires, unless something was done to put an end to it. Last night, watching her at Lady Brandon’s, he saw how she was cold-shouldered by the gentry and the only partners she had, besides himself, were pretentious young fops being bullied by their mothers into dancing with her. She was wealthy and that was enough for them. He had found himself feeling sorry for her, until Jacob came and spoke to him. Why that should have annoyed him he did not know.

During the next few weeks, Charlotte noticed the smiles he gave to all the other ladies and withheld from her and wondered why she did not explain that she had no part in what her father had done, that she did not hold with many of his methods and was trying to put matters right. But to do that would be disloyal to Papa and she was too proud to demean herself by appearing to beg for his lordship’s good opinion. Jacob had relayed his conversation with the Earl and the sharp retort he had received to the offer to settle amicably. If that was how the man intended to proceed, then she could be obstinate too. She would open up that new level and it did not matter how much it cost.

When she had time she visited Mrs Biggs, but was always careful to make sure the Earl was not in the vicinity when she did so. But she heard about him, his name was on everyone’s lips. He was a caring landlord and employer and was doing his best for all the people who depended on him. ‘He has done wonders for Tommy,’ Mrs Biggs told her on one occasion. ‘He is going to see if something can be done for his deafness and, if not, to see if he can be trained to make signs and read people’s lips.’ To which Charlotte replied that she was very pleased.

Sometimes she would see him riding through the village and then she would call at one of the cottages or turn swiftly down the nearest lane, so that they would not come face to face when both were alone. Sooner or later, she knew she would find herself without a cottage or a lane to retreat into and there would be no avoiding him and it behoved her to be prepared, but when it happened she was not ready for it.

She was up at the mine, watching the carts pulled by two great Shires, bringing up the equipment, drills, gunpowder, ropes, pulleys and trucks, to start on the new level. It was quite an event and many of the villagers had walked up the hill to watch. Mining experts, who had located the seam, came to oversee the drilling into the rock of the hillside and the laying of gunpowder charges. When they were set off, the children squealed in delight and dodged the flying stones and clods of earth. Charlotte rounded them up and took them off to watch at a safe distance.

It was then Roland, being in the vicinity and hearing the explosions that seemed to shake the whole countryside, rode up to see for himself what was going on. He pulled up and raised his hat. ‘Miss Cartwright, your obedient.’

She inclined her head. ‘My lord.’

‘Are you well?’

‘Yes, my lord. I thank you.’

She was dressed in her grey working dress with the frogging on the jacket. Far from disguising her femininity it seemed to set it off, especially as she was hatless and her untamed chestnut-coloured hair blew about her face in curling tendrils. She had a habit of flicking them out of the way with a toss of her head, he noticed. He dismounted and looked round at the people milling about. ‘Quite a spectacle. How far do you intend to drill?’

‘As far as is necessary.’

‘I wish you well of it.’

‘Do you, my lord? You surprise me.’

‘Oh, yes. The more you do, the less I will have to do when I repossess the land.’

‘Surely you mean if you repossess it, my lord? I can tell you now that will not be until after I have extracted every last ounce of lead ore out of it.’

She was as intransigent as ever. Was it worth it, he asked himself, not only in terms of the cost of the litigation, but the bad feeling it aroused between them? He did not want always to be at loggerheads with her. If they could only work together, they could achieve so much more. He bowed. ‘I thought we had called a truce.’

‘So did I, but you seem intent on breaking it. Why have you come?’

‘Out of curiosity, Miss Cartwright. I have never before seen a shaft drilled.’

She laughed. ‘You think to learn from my endeavours how to go about it yourself?’

It came to him then that she was enjoying the battle, that there was no real acrimony, only a stubborn will to win. And he recognised the same thing in himself. It was like a strange courtship, a ritual dance, a showing off of one’s attributes, as a peacock might preen its feathers before the hen, or the ducking and diving in the ring before a single punch is landed. He chuckled. ‘Perhaps how not to go about it.’

She acknowledged the hit by waving a hand in the direction of the miners. Three worked together at the rock face, one holding a drill, the other two hitting it alternately with sledgehammers until they had a hole six inches deep. After making twelve such holes, they packed them with explosive. ‘Then please avail yourself of the opportunity, but if you get your head blown off, do not blame me.’

He did not go, but simply stood beside her, while his horse nibbled the sparse grass, only moving back with her when Robert Bailey came and herded everyone farther away. The explosion, so close at hand, rocked the hill and made his horse take fright. His battle charger would not have pranced and neighed like that, would have done little more than flick an ear as if driving off a buzzing fly. He spent some minutes calming it and when he looked back again, there was an even bigger hole in the hillside and men with shovels were digging out the loose earth. Miss Cartwright was walking towards them.

He watched her go, saw her speak to the men and then turn towards him again, as if to say, ‘What, are you still here?’

He swept off his hat with an exaggerated bow, mounted and rode slowly home again.

The next day he rode to Chester to buy lead for the roof of the Hall. He could simply have ordered it, but Charles Mountford had suggested it would be a good opportunity to inspect the lead works of Walkers, Maltby and Company. ‘It might help you to make up your mind about pursuing your claim against Miss Cartwright,’ Charles had told him. ‘They will tell you how much ore has been supplied to them from Browhill.’

‘Why should they tell me that? It is surely a confidential matter.’

‘I have asked them to do so. You have a vested interest and if the mine reverts to you, you must be in a position to deal with the company and know how much profit you are likely to make from it. They understand that.’

Having settled the matter of lead for the roof, Roland discovered that Charlotte’s father had done well with the mine in the beginning, but the depth and frequent flooding of the mine meant it was costing a lot to bring to the surface. Would he be able to manage it any better? It was not simply the cost of it, though that formed a large part of his reasoning when his resources were so stretched, but that he did not want to fight Miss Cartwright. He would rather have her as a friend than an enemy.