Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

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.’