Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

‘Then we must make the lessons seem like play,’ Miles said. ‘In any case, they will not last long, half an hour or an hour at the most. His lordship is going to be a pupil too. And Miss Cartwright.’

She laughed. ‘Miss Cartwright and Roland, sitting side by side on those little schoolroom chairs, trying to talk without speaking. Oh, the wonder of it! I must come up and see this strange phenomenon. Have you met Miss Cartwright, Captain Hartley?’

‘Yes, when I was here before and again today. We were out riding and came upon her at the mine.’

‘What did you think of her?’

Miles looked from the Countess to Roland and back again. ‘She is a very unusual lady,’ he said carefully. ‘Very forthright, though I imagine that is something she has learned; underneath she is vulnerable.’

‘Vulnerable!’ Roland exclaimed.

‘Yes. Most women are, are they not?’

‘Miss Cartwright is an exception.’

‘Oh, I agree she is exceptional.’

‘Talking of Miss Cartwright,’ her ladyship put in, ‘I heard she was going to give a ball at Mandeville.’

‘Who told you that?’ Roland asked.

‘Why, Lady Brandon. She is in the young lady’s confidence.’

‘Who would go to a ball at Mandeville? You know Miss Cartwright is not accepted in society. Why, Gilford even tried to warn me off.’

‘Goodness, why should he do that?’

‘I have no idea—possibly because he has a daughter of marriageable age?’

‘I would go and gladly, if she were to invite me,’ Miles said.

‘No doubt she will,’ Roland said.

‘And you,’ the Countess told Roland with a twinkle in her eye. ‘With you to grace it, it is bound to succeed and all those people who have always longed to see the inside of Mandeville will be glad to have a reason not to decline. If the Earl of Amerleigh goes, then it perfectly proper for everyone else.’

‘If she thinks she can use me in that fashion, then I am afraid she will be disappointed.’ Even as he spoke Roland realised that such a thought would never enter Charlotte’s head.

‘Then I shall go alone,’ Miles said, looking meaningfully at Roland.

The thought of Miles flirting with Charlotte, trying to tame her with his charm, was abhorrent to Roland. Was she vulnerable? He felt a sudden need to protect her, which was laughable. Miss Charlotte Cartwright, mine owner, mill owner, slave owner, needing protection was unthinkable. And yet the thought had passed through his mind. If it were not for those slaves and that disputed land, if he had inherited a healthy estate, if she had not been so obviously averse to him, things might have been different. Why could he not get her out of his head? Why, whenever he planned something, did he imagine her at his side advising him, encouraging him, and why did he refrain from doing other things because he thought she might disapprove? And why did the prospect of holding her hand and dancing with her again fill him with joyful anticipation? He was behaving like a besotted schoolboy. ‘Oh, well, we shall see when the invitations come,’ he said. ‘ If they come.’

* * *

Charlotte had no idea that Lady Brandon was already spreading the word abroad that there was to be a grand ball at Mandeville. She was not even sure of it herself. Her doubts were centred on whether she could pull it off, whether she would remember everything that needed to be done—food, wine, music, flowers, invitations—and whether anyone would come. It would be dreadful to send out a hundred invitations and have only a handful turn up. Already she had written out a dozen lists and discarded them all. She had not yet had a reply to the letter she had written to her mother’s aunt, asking for advice.

Great-Aunt Emily, the dowager Lady Ratcliffe, had never dealt well with her father and had never, to Charlotte’s knowledge, visited Mandeville. According to her father, it was nothing but snobbery. ‘She considered your mama married beneath her,’ he had said one day when, as a child, she had asked him about their relations. ‘I remember when we were first betrothed, she called me a fortune hunter.’

‘Why?’

‘Your grandfather on your mother’s side was already wealthy and had been knighted for his services to the cotton industry. Emily was his sister. She married Sir Bertram Ratcliffe and that made her think herself too grand for us.’

‘She was wrong about you, wasn’t she?’ she had asked. It was important to be reassured on that point.

‘Of course. I soon proved I could make more money than ever her brother did. All I needed was a start. Hard work did the rest.’

‘No, I meant you really loved Mama and it was not her money that attracted you. You did, didn’t you?’

‘Of course. She was beautiful and kind. No one ever said a bad word about her.’

‘I wish I had known her.’

‘You do not wish it any more than I do,’ he had said. ‘The joy went out of my life when she died.’

She had found herself in sympathy with her father, but he did not invite sympathy and so she had said nothing and went back to her lessons. But it was strange how Papa had become so isolated. The gentry, who had hitherto tolerated him, would have nothing to do with him after he quarrelled with the old Earl, and even her mother’s family looked down on him. His associates were all businessmen like himself. That isolation had been passed down to her, but she could not be easy with it as he had been. There was too much of her mother in her.

Mrs Biggs, in her Sunday best dress, brought a pink-scrubbed Tommy to the Hall as arranged. She was thoroughly overawed to be entering the big house and, once in the schoolroom, sat on a chair against the wall, while Tommy was beckoned forward to sit at the desk Roland had used as a child.

Miles began by talking to the child in signs, trying to find out how much he already understood. Having been told that he had to behave himself and pay attention, the poor child appeared more simple than he really was and the lessons did not go well. It was the arrival of the Earl and Miss Cartwright that changed that. He beamed at them and began making signs so fast that Charlotte had to stop him.

‘Slow down,’ she mouthed, laughing. ‘I am not as quick as you.’

‘We have come to join in the lessons,’ Roland said, offering Charlotte a half-size chair and finding another for himself. They sat side by side and looked up at Miles expectantly.

Tommy giggled and his mother reproved him, putting her finger to her closed lips and he subsided at once.

‘Ah, he knows the meaning of that,’ Miles said.

After that the lesson went more smoothly. Tommy was asked what time he went to bed, what time he rose, what he liked to eat, all in signs. When his mother was tempted to answer for him she was gently told not to help him. An hour flew by.

‘I think that is enough for one day,’ Miles said. ‘Bring the boy again tomorrow, Mrs Biggs. And help him to practise if you have the time.’

‘I will find the time, Captain. And I’ll teach the others what I’ve learned.’

‘I think that went very well,’ Charlotte said after Mrs Biggs and the child had left. ‘Do you not think so, my lord?’

Roland had been amusing himself imagining Charlotte as a mother with a nursery full of children, beautiful, happy children, and her voice startled him. ‘I am sorry, I did not hear the question,’ he said.

She repeated it.

‘Oh, yes, very well. So, what do you think, Miles, will you carry on with the lessons?’

‘I think so. The trouble is, I have no notion how fast a child of that age should learn. I do not want to force him. He must want to learn. And later, perhaps, he could be taught to speak, though that is outside the scope of my expertise. We should have to consult others in the field. I have heard of a Dr Masterson who specialises in teaching deaf mutes to speak. I could write to him.’