The Lords & Ladies Box Set

by Fenella J Miller

  Charlotte's eyes flashed. First she was not able to visit a property without his assistance, and now he disputed the fact that she had been working as a governess. 'Doctor Hunter, I am certain I worked in a school room. My memories are unlikely to lie.'

  Before he could reply the carriage lurched and she was obliged to grab the strap to prevent herself from catapulting into his lap. The coachman backed the horses. 'Stay here, I fear we have met with some mishap.' He flung open the door and jumped out. She ignored his instructions and followed him.

  Already a large crowd was gathering. The well-dressed pedestrians were hovering around what could only be an injured person lying on the cobbles underneath their carriage. How dreadful! She prayed this was not a corpse James was shouldering his way towards.

  'Excuse me, I am a doctor. Give me room to examine the child.' James glanced over his shoulder and seeing her called back. 'Fetch my medical bag, you will find it under the seat.' She scrambled back into the carriage and dragged out his portmanteau. Then she ran to his side, the crowd parted to let her through, and she dropped the bag beside him. Spread-eagled on the ground was a boy but he was no street child. Despite the crime on his person, his clothes were well made and his boots also. His eyes were closed, his right leg bent at an unnatural angle, blood oozing from a wound on his scalp.

  'The poor child, do you require something to use as a splint, Doctor Hunter?'

  'I shall, my coachman will have something. Ask him to bring it to me.'

  She ignored the interested spectators, the women in their outrageous bonnets clucking and fussing like hens, whilst the gentlemen shook their heads and attempted to draw their wives away.

  Such a sight was not suitable for a delicately bred lady. Her efforts were concentrated on helping the boy who by some misfortune had fallen under the wheels of their horses.

  The coachman had handed the reins to a groom and was on the ground, a neat bundle of lathes in his hand. 'I reckon the master will be needing these, miss. It's not the first time we've encountered such an accident.'

  'Thank you, Frank, take them to Doctor Hunter. I must find a blanket of some sort to cover the child.' They would have to take him to Brook Street where he would need nursing until he recovered his senses and was able tell them to whom he belonged.

  The visit to the property in Bishopsgate was forgotten. In less than a quarter of an hour the boy was ready to be carried to their coach. He was now wrapped in a blanket, his broken limb expertly splinted.

  Charlotte was waiting to receive him when James handed him in. The boy's head rested on her lap, she smoothed his shock of dark brown hair. She was unsurprised to find it vermin free. This was no orphan, unless she was mistaken, he was a runaway.

  James spoke to the coachman. 'Frank, you cannot turn here, but do so as soon as you can and get us home. My patient is unconscious, I pray he stays that way whilst he is being bounced about on the cobbles'

  'His colour is good and his cheek is warm to the touch. Did he strike his head when he fell? Does he have the concussion?'

  'I do hope not, my love. No, I think he merely fainted. You see how pinched his features are, I believe him to be malnourished.'

  'He's not a street child, look at his clothes, they are of expensive material, I think he could have absconded from school.'

  He nodded. 'I think you might be right, the clothes have the look of a uniform, well made, but

  plain. It's a disgrace what transpires at some educational establishments; small wonder occasionally pupils take matters into their own hands.'

  Charlotte remained with the boy whilst James ran in to alert the household. He was back in moments and carried the child upstairs. The housekeeper, Jones, was preparing a small guest room and a chambermaid was lighting the fire and running a warming pan through the sheets.

  Jones sponged the boy clean and then dressed him in a nightshirt borrowed from James. The child was given a dose of laudanum to ensure he slept through the worst of his pain. The housekeeper remained at the bedside.

  'I would be happy to sit up with him, James. I'm sure I have done this before and Jones has the

  house to run.'

  'No, there is no need. She has performed this task on several occasions. He will sleep through the night, you can take care of him in the morning if you wish.'

  That evening they sat together in the drawing-room discussing the unfortunate accident. 'How did he come to fall under the carriage, James? Surely the coachman was not driving recklessly?'

  'No, he was not. According to Frank the boy stepped off the pathway without looking. He was lucky not to be killed; the team managed to step over him, it was the carriage wheel that broke his leg.'

  'Will it heal without leaving him with a limp?'

  'I believe so. He has a clean break; I have dealt with many such fractures. If no putrid infection sets in then he will make a full recovery.'

  'I've sent a note round to the landlord of that property, James. I have postponed our visit until next week. We have the party tomorrow night, and now this poor child to consider.'

  'Your kindness does you credit, my dear, it's obvious you are indeed well used to dealing with

  children. Whatever my son says to the contrary, I am convinced you were a governess and a very good one.'

  'I've been thinking about that, James, I would like to place an advertisement in The Times. Something along the lines that 'Miss Charlotte Edwards seeks information about her'…. I don't know quite what I should put, but surely if I was a governess my previous employers might well recognize the name and come forward.'

  He nodded. 'Excellent idea, my love. Together we shall think of a suitable advertisement and I shall have it placed in a newspaper next week.'

  'It occurred to me, Charlotte, you might have been on your way to your first appointment. Perhaps you had worked unpaid with family members, that is why you had someone with you. If that was the case, could we not discover where you were going by placing an advertisement in the country?'

  'We've no idea, Mama, where Charlotte intended to leave the mail coach. Remember, it calls in several towns before reaching its final destination in Norwich. I have enquiries in hand, but it might be several weeks before we get an answer.'

  No more was said on the subject. She retired early, and was finding it hard to be excited about the forthcoming party when there was an injured child on the premises. The unknown boy's room was three doors down from hers, she could not retire without checking on his condition. It was now a little after ten o'clock, Jones had been on duty for many hours. Had anyone sought to relieve her during this time? She pushed open the door and immediately the housekeeper jumped to her feet. 'Miss Edwards, I do beg your pardon, but would you mind sitting with the patient for a short while? A call of nature, most urgent I do assure you.'

  Without further ado the woman vanished, the clatter of her feet clearly audible as she raced down the servants stairs. Poor woman, to be left in such discomfort! She would speak sternly to Cook about not sending up a tray for the housekeeper. Then she saw this had been done, the remains of a tasty supper was evident on the small side table. It was no one's fault; as Jones had said, it was a call of nature.

  She straightened the bed covers, and put her hand against the boy's cheek. This was cool, no sign of fever. He stirred and his eyes flickered open.

  'Aunt Charlotte, I have found you, where have you been all this time?'

  Chapter Four

  James had paperwork to complete before retiring. Having seen his mother and his beloved to the stairs he retreated to his study. The servants were dismissed, the house locked against intruders, the fires banked down and guarded against flying sparks; all he had to do was douse the candles when he went to his apartment.

  He sat at his desk flicking idly through the various correspondence that needed answering. This was a task he avoided if possible, he would rather be doing than writing. Of course! Why had he not thought of this solution before? Charlotte was eager
to be part of his world, in future she could be his secretary, could manage his correspondence and organise his diary. He would much prefer she did this than gallivant about the place looking at slum houses for street children. Didn't she realise she was much more vulnerable than an older woman? A beautiful girl attracted attention from all the wrong sort of men.

  He dropped the papers, swinging back in his chair and propping his feet on the desk in a way that aggravated his mother when she saw it. He closed his eyes, his head was filled with the image of the woman he had come to love so desperately. What was it about her that had made him fall so foolishly in love?

  His feet thumped to the floor, his chair also. 'Foolishly?' He spoke aloud in his shock. Where had that thought come from? Why did his subconscious believe he had made a mistake in loving Charlotte? He shook his head. She was everything he'd ever wanted; was tall enough to not make him feel like a clumsy giant, was lovely of face and form, but even more important she was brave, intelligent and honest to a fault.

  If he had had his way he would somehow have circumnavigated the requirements for a marriage licence and they would have already been man and wife. Now she was prevaricating. Had he made a mistake in offering for her?

  He stood up, his chair crashing to the floor. He loved her, he'd never felt this way about another woman, but his heart was telling him one thing his head another. He paced the room trying to understand his doubts. He stopped short – he knew the answer. He was already married – wed to his work. If he allowed a wife into his life he would not have the time and energy to devote to his calling. These past weeks he'd often found his mind wandering; almost made a mistake on one occasion in his diagnosis. This had occurred because Charlotte was constantly in his mind.

  However, he was a gentleman and would not retract or break the engagement. He nodded, if she asked again to be released he would agree. Not because he didn't love her, he knew he would never love another, but it would be unfair to her, to any woman, to marry knowing he would always put his calling first.

  *

  The boy stared at Charlotte. Her head was spinning. 'You know me? Who are you? I'm sorry, I have no recollection of my past, there was a terrible accident and my memory's all but gone.'

  Her legs were trembling, her stomach roiling, if she did not find somewhere to sit she would collapse in a heap on the carpet. There was a foot stool by the bed and she sank on to it, using the bedpost to guide her.

  The boy, instead of answering her questions, smiled, his eyes tear filled. He clutched her hand. 'I knew you had not deserted us, that there was something keeping you away. We could not bear it at home without you, so I came looking.'

  His eyes flickered shut and he was asleep again. How did he know her? There was something so familiar about his face and yet she did not know his name. She pushed his hair from his forehead. With a gasp she scrambled to her feet, rushing to the small mirror above the washstand. Of course, they shared the same hair colour, indeed she was almost certain he had her nut brown eyes as well. He was not a child she had taught as a governess but a relative.

  This time her legs gave way, she sunk silently to the carpet to lean against the wall, trying to assimilate this knowledge. She was part of a family, and not a happy one from what he'd said. Presumably he had siblings as well that she'd taught. She must be a poor relation, this would explain the family resemblance, perhaps a half-sister. No, that was incorrect. The boy had called her Aunt Charlotte. Why could she not remember?

  Jones arrived to find her still recumbent. 'Miss Edwards, whatever next! Here, let me help you up; your face is pale as a ghost, did you swoon?'

  'I think I must have, I can remember nothing, I have no idea how I came to be sitting on the floor like this.' Charlotte hated to lie, to deceive even in so small a way. Her mind was churning, she could not leave the housekeeper alone with the boy. It wouldn't be right for a stranger to know her identity before she did so herself.

  She regained her feet with the aid of the housekeeper's arm. If she could somehow contrive to fall in a second faint on the empty side of the large bed, it would be impossible for the poor woman to shift her without calling for assistance. Charlotte could remain where she was and be at his side when he woke the next morning.

  Fortunately she must walk past the bed in order to reach the exit. She clutched the bedpost as if her very life depended on it. 'I must lie down, I shall be better after I have rested for a moment.' If Jones was surprised by how swiftly she moved when she was supposedly about to suffer second fit of the vapours, she did not comment. Charlotte collapsed with a dramatic sigh.

  'I shall remain here, I fear I do not have the energy to return to my room. There is no need to fetch Daisy nor to wake the doctor. You go to your bed, Jones, I shall ring the bell if the patient requires anything.'

  'But, Miss Edwards, if you are feeling unwell, I should fetch the master. You should be in your own bed, it's not right for you to be here in my stead. He will be most displeased when he discovers I deserted my post.'

  Charlotte smiled. 'Doctor Hunter's anger shall not be directed at you. I've given you a direct instruction, you can do nothing else but obey.' The woman hesitated. 'You have been here long enough. The boy's deeply asleep, I shall be resting at his side. Please go to your bed. Good gracious, the party's tomorrow night, you must be on form for that.'

  'If you insist, Miss Edwards, then indeed I should be grateful to go to my room. There's a deal to do before things are ready for tomorrow night.'

  The door closed softly. As soon as she was sure she was alone Charlotte scrambled off the bed ; she could hardly sleep in her evening gown. She'd slip along to her bedchamber and get herself into her night attire. When she returned she would rest under a comforter.

  Her maid was wringing her hands. 'Oh, miss, I've been that worried, I was about to send out to look for you.'

  'I'm here now, Daisy, quickly help me disrobe then you can retire. Everyone is asleep, it's high time we both joined them.'

  Daisy retreated to her attic bedroom leaving Charlotte alone with her thoughts. Taking a candlestick she stepped out into the passageway, pausing outside the door to listen. The house was silent, James must have retired.

  In the guest room the boy was sleeping peacefully, his broken limb was protected from the blankets by a wooden cage for it would not do for her to knock his injury. Perhaps she would not lie on the bed after all, but sit in the armchair. She believed tonight she could sleep anywhere, even upright in a chair.

  She arranged herself as comfortably as was possible, then placed her feet on the stool she'd used earlier. With the blanket over her legs she was warm enough. Almost at once her eyes shut and she drifted into a restless slumber. This was populated with shadowy figures, a harsh voice was berating her, but none of it made sense. She was jolted awake by someone shaking her, none too gently, by the shoulder.

  'Charlotte, what the devil are you doing in here? Did I not expressly forbid you sit up with this child? The housekeeper should be dismissed for such dereliction.'

  Her head was fuzzy, her limbs stiff, for a moment she was unable marshal her thoughts. Then a voice from the darkness added to the confusion.

  'You must not shout at Aunt Charlotte, you're a horrid man, go away.'

  Who was the more shocked by this intervention it was hard to tell. James stepped back, his feet entangling in the comforter and with a curse he crashed to the floor. His candle went out. In the ensuing chaos Charlotte left the chair and ran across to the bed to whisper urgently to the boy.

  'I beg you, please do not say any more, pretend you're asleep. We shall talk when he's gone.' He squeezed her fingers, he had understood. 'James, I suggest you desist from floundering about in that way, you will wake the household. This poor child is confused enough without your shouting in this rude manner.'

  The banging ceased. 'Confound it, Charlotte, light a candle. I can see nothing in the darkness.'

  'There's light enough, James, stop for a moment, you w
ill see the fire makes it easy to see.'

  He emerged from the blanket and laughed. 'Good God, what a numbskull. I beg your pardon, seeing you instead of Mrs Jones was a shock.' He sprang to his feet, regained his candlestick and rammed it into the embers. From that he lit two more and the room was bathed in light. Charlotte shrank back into the shadows, the boy clutched her hand as if he were afraid of what might happen next.

  'Do not look so worried, my love, you know me well enough to understand my bark is far worse than my bite. If you'll move aside, I wish to examine the patient. I must say I did not expect him to be conscious so soon.'

  She felt the fingers in hers relax, the boy's eyes were firmly shut, his fists uncurled. He was either deeply asleep or on excellent dissembler.

  James stared at the child. 'It is as I thought, he is asleep again. We cannot talk in here, I shall leave a candle burning and return later to check on him. Shall we go to your sitting room or mine?'

  Either would be indiscreet, but her own chamber was closer. She placed a candlestick on the mantelshelf and sat waiting to be castigated.

  James pulled up a chair and straddled it. Resting his arms across the top he stared at her, not angry more puzzled. 'The boy called you Aunt Charlotte?'

  She swallowed, for some reason not wishing to reveal what she had discovered until she knew the whole. 'Mrs Jones wished to be excused for a few minutes, the boy awoke and was crying for his mother. I soothed him by telling him he could call me Aunt Charlotte. Mrs Jones went reluctantly. Good heavens, James, the poor woman had been on duty for hours and was worried she would not be able to prepare things satisfactorily for our party today. It was not her fault, I will not have her blamed in anyway.'

  'In which case, I shall say no more about it. What possessed you to give him permission to address you so familiarly? You should be referred to as Miss Edwards. Remember, the boy will be leaving here as soon as we discover his relatives and he is fit to be moved.'