Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

‘Then do so, my friend. Now, shall we go down and have some refreshment. You will stay, Miss Cartwright?’

Charlotte had, for the first time in her life, except when she was in Jamaica, absented herself from the mill, and she ought really to make up for lost time, but for some reason she did not want to, and that again was a first. ‘I should be happy to,’ she said, rising from the tiny chair and finding she had pins and needles in her legs and had to hop about to get the feeling back into them.

Roland watched her with amusement. The more he saw of her, the more he discovered of the woman she was beneath the severe exterior. He had been entirely wrong to call her a hoyden and plain, to boot. It was uncharitable and arrogant. How glad he was she had not heard him. But that did not alleviate his guilt. She was most definitely a woman with a woman’s compassion and gentleness and the more he saw of her, the more he realised she was beautiful, not only her outward appearance, but her inner self. This was in spite of her upbringing, not because of it.

They went down to the drawing room where Mrs Fields served them with a light luncheon. ‘How is your husband, Mrs Fields?’ Charlotte asked her.

‘Oh, he is much the same, but he keeps a cheerful countenance, ma’am, and since I have been working here he is much happier. He never did like me working at the inn.’

‘I am so glad.’

The woman bobbed and disappeared.

‘What is the matter with her husband?’ Roland asked, wondering if there was anything Charlotte did not know about the villagers. Mrs Fields had been working for him over a month and he had learned nothing of her family.

‘He had a stroke and is confined to the house. He feels helpless and was furious when Mrs Fields was roughly treated by one of the inn’s clients and when she complained to the landlord, the landlord sided with his customer and dismissed her. Her poor husband could do nothing but rant.’

‘How do you know so much about the villagers’ lives, Miss Cartwright?’

‘I hear things as I go about.’

‘Then you are certainly not deaf,’ Miles said with a laugh.

‘No, Captain, my hearing is particularly acute,’ she said, looking hard at Roland as she spoke, but he was concentrating on the chicken leg on his plate and did not pick up on the implication of her words.

‘I have heard you are going to hold a ball at Mandeville,’ the Captain went on.

‘Where did you hear that?’ she asked in surprise.

‘My mother had it from Lady Brandon,’ Roland put in. ‘Is it true?’

‘I have been thinking about it, but have not yet made up my mind.’

‘I hope you do,’ Miles said, smiling at her in a way that irritated Roland, who assumed his friend was trying to make good his boast that he could tame her. ‘And I hope I may be one of your guests.’

‘If I go ahead, you will certainly be sent an invitation, Captain.’

‘Will it be a society ball, with the men in breeches like they are obliged to wear at Almack’s, or perhaps a bal masque ?’

‘I know nothing of what they do at Almack’s. I am not, as you cannot have failed to realise, Captain, a society hostess. To me a ball is a ball. And my guests will not be confined to the upper echelons of society.’

‘Then may I recommend the masked ball with everyone in fancy dress. It is a great leveller, is fancy dress. Do you not agree, Roly, my friend?’

‘Yes, indeed.’

‘I will certainly bear it in mind.’ She stood up. ‘I must be going. Would you send for my curricle, my lord?’

‘I will go,’ Miles said and disappeared, leaving Roland and Charlotte alone, facing each other awkwardly.

‘Will you come again tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘I am not sure I can spare the time,’ she said. ‘I have much to do.’

‘Of course. A woman who works.’

‘We all work in our different ways, my lord. I am not ashamed of it.’

‘Heaven forbid that you should be! I, too, have a great deal to occupy me, but I shall try to attend the lessons as often as I can. You are welcome to come whenever you can find the time. You do not have to send word in advance.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘Would you be more comfortable if I provided some proper chairs?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘Don’t do that. Tommy likes us to be on his level and that is as it should be.’

‘Brought down to size, eh?’ He laughed too. ‘Very well, I will leave things as they are and look forward to our next lesson together, whenever that may be.’

Miles returned to say the curricle was at the door and she took her leave of both of them. Instead of going home, she drove straight to Scofield. She could not afford to neglect the mill, especially as she had heard there was dissent in neighbouring manufactories and she did not want it spreading to her workforce.

As she drove expertly along the lanes, she found herself thinking about her ball. Catherine Brandon had jumped the gun, telling the Countess, and no doubt every other of her bosom bows, about it, so if she wanted to save face, she must go through with it. If Aunt Emily accepted her invitation to come and stay, it would be a great help and give her a little standing in the community. Suddenly she wanted it to be a success. She had never minded her isolation before, but now it irked her. And for the first time, too, she realised that it was the Earl of Amerleigh she wanted to impress, not in a spirit of competition, but because, in spite of everything, she had come to like and respect him. And what an admission that was!

Having conferred with William Brock about their latest orders and made sure everything was running smoothly, she returned to Mandeville to find her great-aunt had arrived and made herself at home. Lady Ratcliffe was sitting on one of the sofas in the drawing room, with a tray on a low table at her side containing the remains of tea and cakes. She was in her late sixties, very upright in her carriage. She had on a full-skirted gown of mousseline, a short pelisse and a wide-brimmed bonnet with a huge curling feather. Her gloves lay on the arm of the chair.

‘Why did you not let me know when you were arriving?’ Charlotte asked, hurrying forward to kiss her ladyship’s powdered cheek. ‘I would have been here to greet you.’

‘Your letter gave me to understand the matter was urgent,’ her ladyship said, looking Charlotte up and down through her quizzing glass. ‘I can see I was right. Wherever did you get that strange habit?’

‘It is not a habit, Aunt, it is what I wear when I am doing business. I shall go up and change at once and then we will have supper. How did you come? Where is your luggage? I hope it has been taken to your room.’

‘I came in my own chaise and I believe my trunk has been put somewhere. I have been waiting for an age for someone to conduct me to my room.’

‘I am so dreadfully sorry, Aunt, but I did not expect you today.’ She went to the hearth and gave a good tug on the bell rope beside it. ‘I will take you up myself.’

A servant arrived promptly in answer to her summons and was instructed to take hot water up to the blue room and to tell Mrs Cater to delay supper for half an hour, then Charlotte conducted her ladyship up to the main guest room, apologising again as she did so.

The luxury of the room and its adjoining dressing room mollified her ladyship to some extent, especially as her maid was already there and had unpacked her trunk. Charlotte left her and went to her own room to change.

They had not made a good beginning, she decided, as she flung off the frogged jacket and grey skirt. She would have to work hard to change her aunt’s poor opinion of her as a hostess, though why she should keep apologising, she did not know—her aunt should have sent advance notice. Perhaps she had been waiting for an excuse to come to Mandeville and do something about her motherless great-niece, and the arrival of the letter had brought her post-haste.