A Particular Circumstance

by Shirley Smith

  Charlotte walked slowly along the very path where she’d first met Hugo Westbury and her thoughts drifted towards him in spite of herself. It was incontrovertible that he was to be one of their neighbours. They were certain to meet socially when they had invitations from other families. She wondered whether his behaviour would be different in other circumstances and whether she would get over her instinctive antipathy towards him. She doubted it.

  Where the path divided, she met one of the little girls from her Sunday school class, sitting forlornly on a fallen tree trunk and crying, the tears running down her pretty cheeks and clinging to her lashes.

  ‘Why, Lucy, dear. What is it? Whatever can be the matter, child? Come here and let me have a look at you.’

  Regardless of the newness of her smart russet outfit, Charlotte sank down on the tree trunk at the side of the diminutive Lucy and put an arm round her, whereupon Lucy began to weep more piteously than ever. Her golden curls were tousled and her old-fashioned sun bonnet was hanging down her back by its ribbons. Charlotte gently smoothed the curls away from the unhappy little forehead and spoke soothingly to her. ‘What is it, my little pretty? Has someone hurt you, child? Tell me what is wrong.’

  The little girl gulped in an effort to control her sobs and said, ‘Please, miss, ’tis my dress. I reached for … for some blackberries yonder and tore it on the brambles. Oh, miss … I dursen’t’go . . home like this … it’d be awful trouble … Miss Grayson….’ And she gave another hiccuping sob.

  ‘Let me see,’ Charlotte said. She gently stood the little girl up and turned her round. ‘It is but a small tear, Lucy dear. In my reticule I have my little mending kit that ladies sometimes take to dances. Stand still and I will make it as good as new.’

  Lucy had stopped crying and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Oh, can you, miss? Can you truly mend it? Ma will be so mad wi’ me if she sees it like this.’

  She stood patiently while Charlotte opened her reticule and took out the handy little needle case with a needle already threaded up. Very carefully, she mended the small tear in the faded print frock and said briskly, ‘There now, Lucy dear. It is done. No one can tell you have had it mended. Look at me now, my dear, and let us dry those pretty eyes.’

  Lucy obediently turned towards her, smiling tremulously now, and that was exactly how Hugo Westbury saw them as he walked alone along the footpath, leading his horse and halting in the little clearing. The child was tearful, he noticed, and he scowled. He hoped the unpleasant Miss Grayson had not been unkind to her. If she had, he would have something to say about that. The little girl was the daughter of one of his estate workers. Then he noticed that the hateful Miss Grayson was actually wiping the child’s eyes very gently with a most insubstantial wisp of lace and he took out his own immaculate handkerchief and stepped forward.

  ‘Miss Grayson,’ he said suavely. ‘Good morning. Allow me to offer my handkerchief. I trust you have not been mistreating this little child and making her cry.’

  Charlotte glared at him and said coldly, ‘Your handkerchief and your presence here are equally unwelcome, sir. Kindly leave us.’

  She then proceeded to ignore him utterly. She was now tidying the guinea-gold curls on the pretty little head and replacing the faded old bonnet with a tenderness that was as warm as it was moving. Hugo Westbury caught his breath at the gentle loveliness of her expression as she drew the little girl to her and gave her a hug, saying, ‘There, my little darling. Now you are all done and I can see you home to your mama.’

  Still Miss Grayson ignored him as she rose to her feet and smoothed out her skirts, ready to take the little girl’s hand.

  Hugo Westbury was unused to being ignored, especially by women. He cleared his throat and said, ‘What is your name, little girl?’

  ‘Please sir, I be Lucy Baker,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Well, Lucy Baker, how would you like to ride home on this horse?’ he said. Charlotte frowned at him. What game was he playing, offering the child a ride like that?

  ‘Where do you live, Lucy?’

  ‘Over yon, sir, in the village, I do. And I would like a ride, so I would.’

  ‘You trust me to give you a ride home, then?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I does,’ she whispered shyly and to Charlotte’s utter amazement, she showed not the slightest nervousness as he lifted her on to the big black horse.

  ‘Are you sure you trust this strange man?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, miss, cos he’s big like my pa and he has smiley eyes, so he has.’

  Hugo Westbury gave Charlotte a sideways glance of undisguised triumph. ‘Hold on tightly,’ he said to Lucy and placed her little hands on the arched front of the saddle and so they set off very sedately, Hugo leading the horse and with Charlotte obliged to walk on the other side, silently fuming at his high-handedness. She would have enjoyed the walk had it not been for the nagging irritation of having Hugo Westbury’s presence imposed on her and was determined not to speak to him. She was acutely aware that he glanced at her frequently but addressed his remarks only to Lucy, who was not so much in awe of the fine horse or too tense with the delight of her ride that she couldn’t respond. By his gentle conversation and open remarks, he was able to coax the little girl into giving him a lot of information about her family and their house and their dog and even Lucy’s Sunday school teacher.

  ‘So, you go to Sunday school, Lucy?’ he enquired. ‘And who is your teacher?’

  ‘Why, it be Miss Grayson, sir,’ she said artlessly.

  ‘And is she very strict with you?’

  ‘Oh no, sir. She’m kind, she is, and I’m learning to read, I am. She’m teaching me my letters, sir.’ The little girl spoke innocently and turned to smile at Charlotte as she answered him.

  It was now Charlotte’s turn to glance triumphantly sideways and this time he made a remark directly to her, saying that the child lived in one of the cottages which he and Sir Benjamin planned to re-roof before the winter set in.

  ‘And of course, Sir Benjamin and I are desirous of improving Westbury Hall, once it is vacated. Some of the carpets and curtains desperately need replacing to make the place more comfortable.’

  Charlotte met his mocking, blue-eyed gaze unflinchingly. ‘We have been quite comfortable living at the Hall,’ she informed him with the utmost conviction. She could tell that he was not pleased with her answer but went on stubbornly, ‘However much you desire the refurbishment of Westbury Hall, sir, I still think it reprehensible of you to turn out a widow and her family at such short notice.’

  His lips tightened into a straight line and his blue eyes lost their mocking smile. ‘Sir Benjamin is now in quite frail health,’ he said curtly. ‘And then there is the added complication of the unfortunate discovery of that skeleton.’ He spoke impatiently as though he wished her to be silent, but Charlotte had no intention of considering his wishes.

  ‘It has put an added strain on my mama,’ she protested hotly. ‘She can barely manage to accomplish all the packing in time, and the servants are finding everything difficult.’

  The more heated Charlotte became with her anger, the more coldly furious Hugo Westbury became and his tone was icily civil as he said, ‘But I obtained your mother’s agreement to vacate the premises a week early. Your mama was agreeable to the change.’

  ‘Mama felt unable to oppose your proposition, sir. She felt powerless to stand up to someone so … so … insufferably overbearing as yourself. I would never have agreed to such an arrangement had I been Mama—?’

  She broke off, breathless with temper.

  ‘But you are not she, madam, for which I am profoundly thankful. And as we are speaking plainly, I would find it intolerable to conduct business with such a termagant as yourself.’

  ‘In business, sir, it pays to abide by one’s legal agreement, not seek to gain unfair advantage and then resort to verbal insult.’

  ‘That, coming from a skilled practitioner such as yourself, is rich, madam.’

  Her
colour high, she turned her head away from him and pressed her lips together, determined to say no more. They’d now reached the outskirts of Felbrook village and Lucy, who had been quiet during Charlotte’s heated exchange with Hugo Westbury, suddenly raised one of her hands from the saddle and pointed excitedly.

  ‘Oh, see there, miss, ’tis Ma come to meet me.’

  Charlotte was obliged to turn towards him as he slowed the horse to a halt. ‘Kindly lift her down, Mr Westbury. Her mama is waiting for her. Now, Lucy, say “good day” to Mr Westbury and thank him for the ride.’

  She waited, stiffly silent, while Lucy obeyed. Then she clasped her hand and the little girl skipped beside her to her waiting mama, her torn dress completely forgotten as she told her mother of the magnificent horse and the kind gentleman who’d given her a ride.

  When he’d gone a little distance from them, Hugo Westbury turned to look back and was oddly moved at the sight of the tall, dark-haired young woman walking hand in hand with the golden-haired little girl, before he rode off in the opposite direction.

  To her relief, Charlotte didn’t run into Hugo Westbury again as she made her way back to Westbury Hall, but he dominated her thoughts all the same and she pondered on the recent events as she walked on slowly. What a puzzle the man was; so arrogant and domineering and yet so careful and sensitive with Lucy that he’d won the little girl’s confidence in next to no time. Finally, she sighed and had to acknowledge that he was extremely handsome and would no doubt become the heartbreaker of the neighbourhood.

  Back at the Hall everything was still in a spin about the removal to Felbrook Manor. Papa’s books were now all safely packed in crates and Kitty and her mother were having a light luncheon in the breakfast parlour. Charlotte’s high colour and restless hands did not escape her mama’s notice, but she said nothing except, ‘Should you like a little luncheon, my dear? There are no hot meats as we are going out to dinner, but Mrs Palmer has prepared a splendid selection of cold cuts and a trifle, if you should wish for anything.’

  Charlotte realized then that she was hungry and did justice to several slices of ham and beef with some of Mrs Palmer’s homemade bread to accompany it. She said nothing of her meeting with the obnoxious Mr Westbury, but spoke instead of little Lucy Baker and how pretty she was growing.

  They were all pleased at the prospect of visiting Lavinia King and Jane declared cheerfully that apart from their clothes and personal effects, everything was now ready for Jimmy the carter lad, who could take the various boxes and trunks in stages to Felbrook Manor.

  It was late afternoon when they all met at Primrose Cottage, to a warm welcome from Lavinia and Matthew.

  ‘Adam is expected any time now,’ Lavinia said with a blush, which added to her youthful appearance. ‘He is riding over from King’s Lynn so it is hard to say precisely how long it will take. But come, my dear Jane, and tell me all the news of Felbrook Manor and of Westbury Hall, of course. How goes the remove?’

  Jane laughed and said in a very carefree tone, ‘Nothing to tell, Lavinia. We are packed and ready to go. It only remains to oversee the carter and to take ourselves to our lovely Felbrook. After all the frenzied activity, we shall not know how to sustain the next five days. There is nothing more to be done now, except to dust down the walls and windows and return the keys to Mr Hugo Westbury. Even the stables have been cleaned out. The horses have been taken to Felbrook by the stable lad and seem already to be quite at home there. Mr Westbury has even seen to the repair of the library wall and everything is neat and tidy.’

  ‘Why, that is famous progress indeed,’ Lavinia said. ‘What an admirable organizer you are, Jane, to have accomplished so much packing in such a short time.’

  Charlotte bit her lip and said nothing as she listened to this conversation. She thought instead of the fuss she’d made to Hugo Westbury about the lease. What must he think of me, she wondered? Then she raised her chin and told herself defiantly that she didn’t care what he thought, but it was obvious to Charlotte that her mama was far from being the downtrodden widow as she’d portrayed her to Hugo Westbury and was, in fact, full of optimism and energy, completely ready for the move to Felbrook Manor.

  It was towards six o’clock when Adam arrived at Primrose Cottage and as this was the first time that Jane and her daughters had become aware of the deepening relationship between Matthew’s aunt and their lawyer, they observed them closely. Although they didn’t discuss it with each other, Jane and her daughters all had their own opinions and perspectives on the romance between Adam and Lavinia.

  Jane had been extremely happy with her unworldly husband and had no wish to venture into matrimony for a second time, but she knew that Adam had been married briefly, long ago and that his young wife had died of influenza after less than a year of marriage. She thoroughly understood his wish to share his rather solitary life with someone as attractive as Lavinia King and wished them well, particularly as it seemed that Miss King’s nephew, Matthew, would not be left high and dry, but was almost affianced to her elder daughter, Charlotte. After all, what was to stop Lavinia and Adam from living happily ever after, once Matthew and Charlotte were wed? She sighed and glanced across at Kitty. Her younger daughter was so different in personality from the forceful Charlotte, so much more shy and lacking in confidence. Perhaps the diffident curate, Andrew Preston, would prove to be the perfect match for her, if he were able to engage her interest, that is.

  Charlotte viewed the romantic friendship between Lavinia and Adam without much interest. She liked Matthew’s aunt and Adam seemed a suitable suitor for her.

  As for Kitty, she was totally indifferent to the idea of a mature couple such as Adam and Lavinia finding love. In her eyes, they were old and long past the magic of romantic passion. They’d had their day, whereas she was still young and desperately, hopelessly, in love with someone who was totally unattainable.

  Adam approached the ladies very pleasantly and both Kitty and her mother were persuaded that they would enjoy a look round Lavinia’s garden, while Lavinia herself went to the kitchen to see how the dinner was progressing.

  Matthew and Charlotte were left alone and for the first time since she’d known him, Charlotte felt somewhat ill at ease with him. Their friendship had been thus far so relaxed and easy-going. They’d seemed always to enjoy each other’s company and felt carefree when they were together. Now, for some reason, Charlotte was uncomfortable and almost critical of Matthew’s open expression and somewhat ingenuous remarks. There kept popping up into her mind’s eye the incredibly handsome face of Hugo Westbury, now smiling, now angry, but always arresting and interesting. She wondered what he was doing now. Probably gloating over his victory at getting Mama to move out early from the Hall, she thought bitterly.

  She was roused from her thoughts when Matthew took her hand and tucked it into his arm.

  ‘Come, Charlotte, what do you say to a walk round Aunt Lavinia’s garden, while the evening is still so fine?’ he said.

  She acquiesced willingly to this and they joined the others in the cottage garden, created painstakingly and lovingly over the years by Matthew’s beloved aunt. Here were traditional cottage flowers, interspersed with decorative runner beans, and divided by arches covered in sweet-melling climbing roses, and having here and there little secluded arbours with quaint seats and arches overrun with fragrant honeysuckle. There was much to see and admire and gradually Charlotte’s mood calmed and she sat for a few minutes on a stone bench with Adam Brown, chatting about the journey from King’s Lynn, while Matthew took Kitty to see Lavinia’s giant sunflowers, all turning their faces to the mild, late summer sky.

  As Matthew stood beside her, he ran his eyes over Kitty as she smilingly lifted her own face to the sun. She never changed at all, he decided; still the bonny, good-natured girl he’d known ever since she’d come back to live at the Hall. She was such a gentle young thing. He would like having her as a sister, he decided.

  As they walked among the roses, th
ey chatted about the riding party which was to take place later in the month. Her two best friends Aurelia Casterton and Ann West had planned the whole thing, she informed him.

  ‘But of course, their mamas are behind all the organization,’ she said seriously.

  These two young ladies were close friends with each other and almost inseparable. They were known collectively as ‘the girls’.

  ‘And how are the girls?’ Matthew asked, smiling mischievously.

  ‘Ann has just become engaged. Did you not know? To Squire Thorpe’s son, over near Walsingham way. He is very good-looking and is an only son. Ann’s mama is delighted.’

  He imagined he saw a wistful expression in Kitty’s honest grey eyes. ‘No, I had not heard,’ was all he said. He was surprised. The girls were both the same age as Kitty and he hadn’t imagined they would be thinking of marriage yet.

  ‘Good Lord! I thought she was still a schoolroom miss. Not old enough to be married.’

  ‘She is eighteen,’ Kitty said rather stiffly and once more he thought he saw both envy and disappointment in her expression.

  He smiled. He’d known ‘the girls’ for a long time and knew that even when Aurelia was a little girl, she’d been deliciously chubby, probably because she was always able to persuade her nurse to give her unlimited sweetmeats and delicacies. She’d somehow always been the one who secured the best of everything for herself and was seemingly sublimely indifferent to the needs of others. Ann West was quieter and more modest.

  ‘So, Matthew, if you are coming to the riding party, you will be able to see her for yourself and Robert Thorpe too, I expect,’ Kitty said, her face expressionless.

  Mention of the riding party brought back a memory for Matthew of a similar event when Charlotte and Kitty were very new to the neighbourhood. Kitty really had been hardly out of the schoolroom then and, greatly daring, had given him a very girlish and inexperienced kiss. It had come as a surprise to Matthew, himself not skilled in the art of kissing, and he had been somewhat embarrassed. He wondered if Kitty remembered the schoolgirl kiss as well and, glancing up at her now, he saw that she was looking directly at him and smiling. Good Lord, she was remembering it too, he thought with a shock, but at the same time he smiled back at her, thinking what a very likeable girl she was.