Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

News that the allies had entered Paris and Napoleon had abdicated reached the village in the middle week of April. It was the mail that brought it, the driver and passengers passing it on at every post at which they stopped. It arrived at the King’s Head in Amerleigh in the early afternoon and by evening there wasn’t a soul in the village who had not heard it.

Roland, busy with his accounts in the estate office at the Hall, learned it from Travers with mixed feelings. While deploring the loss of life that was inevitable in wartime, he had enjoyed the comradeship, the well-ordered routine, the regulation of army life, when his main preoccupation had been about a coming battle and how to win it, and finding food for his men. His opponents had been men with the same troubles and aims as himself, not a slip of a girl. How could one fight a woman? How could one rejoice in overcoming the frailty of the weaker sex? He laughed at himself. Miss Charlotte Cartwright could hardly be called weak; she did not even stoop to using her womanhood as a weapon, swooning and weeping, as other ladies might have done to get their way. She stood tall and defied him. And disturbed him.

He went with his mother to a thanksgiving service at the church, which everyone attended, including Miss Cartwright, sitting alone in her pew, and afterwards decided to wander over to the common where the villagers had built a huge bonfire. They had put an effigy of Napoleon on top of it, rejoicing in his defeat, though there were some, Roland among them, who did not believe he was beaten. He was not even to be punished, except by banishment to the island of Elba and that, in Roland’s opinion, was not far enough, not by a long way. But he kept his opinions to himself and joined in the general celebration.

Charlotte, who had changed from her church-going clothes into a light wool skirt and high-necked blouse, topped by a neat-fitting pelisse, was there with Mrs Biggs and Tommy. She was carrying Mrs Biggs’s baby.

He strolled over to them. Tommy turned to him, eyes alight with excitement. ‘Hallo, young fellow,’ he said, speaking clearly so that the boy could read his lips. ‘How do you do?’ The boy grinned and nodded energetically, but did not speak.

‘He is well, my lord,’ Mrs Biggs said.

‘I have been making enquiries about a teacher for him,’ Roland said. ‘I am hopeful that someone will be found soon.’

‘Your army friend?’ Charlotte queried.

He turned to look at her. She was always surprising him and tonight was no exception. The baby was fast asleep in her arms. Her whole demeanour was gentler, her eyes softer, the reflection of the bonfire giving them a dancing light as if she were truly happy. It did not take much effort to imagine her as a mother. Would motherhood cure her of her hoydenish ways? he wondered. Was his mother right in saying she was only mannish because of the way she had been raised? ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have discovered he has come home from the Peninsula and is working for the War Department in Horse Guards. I have written to him and await his reply.’

He stood beside them, watching the revelry until Mrs Biggs decided it was time Tommy and the baby were home in bed. Charlotte handed the baby back to her and then walked over to a crowd of young people, laughing and drinking and forgetting the hardship of their lives. Roland watched as she spoke to them and heard them raise a cheer for her. He joined her again as she turned and made her way back to the lane. ‘Allow me to escort you.’

‘I am only going to pick up my curricle from the King’s Head, my lord. I am in no danger.’

‘No, I did not think you were, judging by the hearty cheers I heard just now.’

‘Oh, I told them they could take a day off tomorrow.’ Then, lest he thought she was becoming soft, added, ‘They will be in no state to work properly in any case.’

He was beginning to understand her a little. Her hardness was a shell, worn like a coat to protect her, and it was not a very thick one either. If he probed, might he pierce it? ‘Under the circumstances, do you not think you could call me Roland?’ he said. ‘At least when we are alone…’

‘We are not alone, we are surrounded by people.’

‘Then I cannot address you as Charlotte.’

‘No, my lord, you may not.’ She was very firm about that.

They walked on in silence to the King’s Head. There seemed nothing they could say that would not stir up dissent. He did not want to fight her and was toying with the idea of telling her he would not proceed with the lawsuit. It was only the memory of her defiance that held him back. If she would only meet him halfway, they could surely deal well together. He began to regret his sharp retort to Jacob Edwards.

Even in the dark, Charlotte was only too conscious of the man beside her. Tonight he was in uniform again as befitted the occasion. His physical presence was almost overpowering; he was taller than most men—broader too, and yet she knew he could be compassionate and gentle and little people like Tommy Biggs were not afraid of him. She did not fear him either, except that he could make her feel weak and helpless, and that she had to resist. She had to stay in control.

When they arrived at the inn, he waited with her while her pony was harnessed to the curricle, then handed her up. ‘I will drive you, if you wish.’

She laughed. ‘And then have to walk all the way back! No, my lord, I am used to driving myself and will come to no harm.’ She flicked the reins. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’

He doffed his shako. ‘Goodnight, Miss Cartwright.’

He watched her drive away, competent as any man. It was four miles to Mandeville on lonely roads with nothing to light her way but moonlight. Did nothing frighten her? He went to find his own horse and, instead of going home, followed her at a discreet distance. As soon as she turned safely in at the gates of Mandeville, he turned back, laughing at himself for his foolishness.

Among the letters that arrived at the Hall the next morning was an invitation to a ball two Saturdays hence, to be given by Lord and Lady Gilford to celebrate the great victory and welcome their son, Lieutenant Thomas Gilford, home. How the young man was able to return so soon after the end of hostilities, Roland did not know. He put the invitation on one side and opened the rest of the post.

There were several quotations for work to be done on the house, which he proposed to go over with his mother, and an answer to his letter to Captain Miles Hartley. The Captain had not thought about extending his work with the deaf beyond his service, he said, but his lordship’s letter had intrigued him and he would certainly consider it. He would come down and see him in a few weeks when his duties at Horse Guards was less hectic and they could discuss it. Roland was tempted to ride over to Mandeville to tell Miss Cartwright the good news, but his mother arrived and he decided it could wait.

They went over the quotations and spent some time deciding what was important and what could reasonably be left until he was a little more affluent, then he mentioned the Gilfords’ ball. ‘I suppose I shall have to go,’ he said. ‘But I have no one to escort. I wonder, would it seem very traitorous of me to ask Miss Cartwright?’

She laughed. ‘I do believe you are coming round to like her.’

‘In some ways I admire her, but that does not alter the fact that we are litigants and whenever we meet somehow or other the subject of Browhill crops up and we begin arguing. I would drop the whole thing if it wasn’t for that fact that Papa was so badly cheated.’

She sighed. ‘Roland, she could not help what her father did, any more than you could influence your father, and she does a great deal of good. I will not think any the less of you if you drop it.’