But Charity didn’t want to hear that: it hurt too much—and it was too close to the truth.
“Why do you keep defending the Earl?” she demanded. She was flushed and breathing rather quickly. “Is he your friend? Yes, of course, he must be. How else could you claim to know so much about him?”
“Charity…” Jack began. He was appalled at the hostility in her eyes.
“I dare say you knew all along what was happening,” Charity swept on, ignoring his attempt to speak to her indignation and fury. It was difficult to know whether she really believed what she was saying, but in her own pain and distress she lashed out as hard as she could at Jack.
“No wonder you found everything so amusing, such country bumpkins as we are. I dare say his lordship will be very grateful to you for rescuing his pendant—and all the time I thought you were keeping it safe for me. Well, you haven’t won yet, my lord. I want it back. You haven’t had time to go home; you must still have it.”
She held out her hand imperatively.
Jack was very pale, but he didn’t say anything. He simply put his hand in his pocket and drew out the box which contained the pendant.
Charity took it and opened it. Jack smiled, rather bitterly, at that.
“It’s still there,” he said, not angrily, because he wasn’t angry. It was too easy for him to understand why she thought as she did—but it still hurt him.
“I had no intention of stealing it—or of delivering it into any hands but yours,” he said.
Charity looked up, and for a moment her eyes met his—then she looked away again. Her anger had passed now, but she felt drained and confused. The ground seemed to be shifting beneath her feet, and she turned with relief to Sir Humphrey, who was always the same, and who hated change.
“Will you look after this for me?” she asked. “I don’t want to take it to London—something might happen to it.”
“Of course, my dear,” he said instantly. “But I think you’re doing Riversleigh an injustice.”
The magistrate hadn’t entirely followed everything that had happened, and he wasn’t sure if he approved of everything Jack had said—but he also thought Charity had been less than fair.
“Am I?” she looked at Sir Humphrey bleakly. “I don’t feel certain of anything any more. Perhaps things will seem clearer when I’ve seen Lord Ashbourne.”
“You can’t go to London on your own,” said Sir Humphrey gruffly, knowing he’d never be able to persuade her not to go at all. “If you’re determined to go I’ll come with you.”
“Oh, Sir Humphrey!” Charity exclaimed. She could feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes at this evidence of friendship. The magistrate disliked travelling and hated going outside his own county. “Thank you so much, but please don’t come,” she said. “You know how much you dislike London—and you won’t want to leave Owen now. I shall be quite all right.”
“My dear, I can’t—” Sir Humphrey began.
“I’ll escort you to town,” said Jack quietly. “You and your mother can come as guests of my mother.”
“No,” said Charity flatly. “Mama isn’t to know anything about this business. You must promise, both of you, not to tell her.”
She looked from one man to the other.
Sir Humphrey sighed.
“Very well, my dear,” he said.
She looked at Jack.
“And you,” she said.
“You have my word,” he replied steadily.
“I don’t see how it’s going to be managed, though,” Sir Humphrey protested. “You can’t go rushing off to London on your own, or even in Riversleigh’s company, without starting a lot of gossip. What’s your mother going to say? I really think you ought to let someone go in your stead.”
“No,” said Charity. “I want to hear the truth for myself, then perhaps things will begin to make sense again.”
She was dangerously close to tears; only a supreme effort of will made it possible for her to speak so calmly.
“I don’t think there’ll be any great difficulty, Leydon,” said Jack quickly.
He was still very pale, but his concern now was for Charity. He could feel her distress as if it was his own and he wanted to bring the discussion to an end as soon as possible in the hope that, if something was decided, Charity would begin to feel better.
“We can say that my mother has invited Charity and Mrs Mayfield to visit her, but, since Mrs Mayfield doesn’t feel up to travelling at the moment, Charity is to go on ahead—to arrange things. Most people know the Mayfields are planning to move to London; I don’t think the news will be too surprising.”
“But what about Mrs Mayfield?” Sir Humphrey asked. “Won’t she think it odd?”
“Not necessarily.” Jack’s lips twisted in a wry smile. He was well aware of Mrs Mayfield’s matrimonial designs for her daughter, and fairly sure that she wouldn’t have any objection to Charity visiting Mrs Riversleigh. “I believe it was her idea that Charity should ask my advice on where they ought to live in London,” he said to Sir Humphrey. “The only problem may be to convince her that she doesn’t feel up to the journey at the moment—and I’m sure Charity can manage that.”
“Oh, yes,” said Charity distantly; she seemed to have dissociated herself from the conversation now. “She hates travelling more than Sir Humphrey. I’ll just have to tell her that there’s been a lot of rain between here and London. When can we leave?”
“Now, if you like,” said Jack calmly. “But it would cause less comment if we set off tomorrow morning. There are several things that need to be arranged.”
Charity looked at him and he wondered if she suspected him of deliberately trying to hinder her efforts to see Lord Ashbourne, but if she did, she didn’t say anything.
“I must go and speak to Mrs Wendle,” she said. “Then I’m going back to Leydon House.”
She went out, closing the door behind her, and Jack drew in a deep, slightly ragged breath.
“I take it that that blackguard isn’t your friend?” said Sir Humphrey quietly.
“No.” Jack sat down on the edge of the table. “No, he’s no friend of mine.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Sir Humphrey demanded. “Why did you make it sound as if you were protecting him? It was bad enough for her to hear what she did about her father, without it sounding as if her…friends are on the side of her enemy.”
The magistrate hadn’t been blind to the growing intimacy between Charity and the new Lord Riversleigh; that was partly why he found Jack’s attitude so difficult to understand.
“You think I shouldn’t have rammed it down her throat that her father shared responsibility for what happened?” Jack said. “You’re right, of course. But you don’t know the Earl. You have to see things clearly when you deal with him—otherwise he manipulates everything to his own advantage. If Charity marches in and accuses the Earl of forcing Mayfield to play cards with him—or of cheating—the first thing Ashbourne will hit her with is the fact that Mayfield didn’t have to play. That he was a fool to be flattered by a great man’s praise!”
Jack caught himself up. There was no point in justifying what he’d said. He’d been motivated by fear for Charity more than anything else, but he knew he’d handled the situation badly. Ironically, he suspected that if he had cared less he would have done better.
“It’s a complicated situation,” he said more quietly. “The Mayfields still owe the Earl twenty thousand pounds, and I think the law will favour Ashbourne.”
“But good God, man!” Sir Humphrey burst out. “Even if he didn’t cheat, he will have obtained Hazelhurst under false pretences—and now we know—”
“As far as we’re aware, there were no witnesses to what happened at that card game,” Jack interrupted. “And by the time they came to sign the agreement everything seemed to be in order—Mayfield’s lawyer certainly thinks so. So do I. I saw the agreement the night this place was burgled and I tidied up for Charity. Ashbourne was ve
ry clever; there’s no mention of a gambling debt in the agreement—the courts are notoriously reluctant to enforce gambling debts. The agreement merely mentions a loan for a non-specified purpose secured against Hazelhurst. We might be able to overturn it—but it would be a long and costly legal battle.”
“Then they’re still going to lose Hazelhurst!” the magistrate exclaimed, quite horrified by the idea.
“Unless we do something to avert the inevitable,” said Jack grimly. “That’s what I was trying to explain to Charity, though I’m afraid I didn’t do it very well. Righteous anger is a very poor weapon when you’re dealing with a man like the Earl.”
“Good God,” said Sir Humphrey blankly. “Do you have a better one?”
Jack looked thoughtfully into the fire, and drummed his fingers against the edge of the table.
“I think I may be able to lay my hands on one,” he said at last. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had dealings with the Earl. Besides,” he glanced up, with the first glint of real humour in his eyes that morning since they’d spoken to Gideon, “I don’t imagine any of us care for the idea of having the Earl for our neighbour.”
“I should say not!” the magistrate exclaimed. “I hadn’t thought of that. He may not be a cheat—to be honest, Mayfield was such a poor card-player that he probably didn’t need to be—but he certainly doesn’t sound like the kind of man I’d care to welcome into the area!”
“I didn’t think he would be,” Jack murmured, and looked up as Charity came back into the room.
She was still very pale, but quite composed.
“Shall we go?” she asked, looking at Sir Humphrey.
He hesitated for a moment. He wanted to help her in any way he could, but it was in his mind that it would be better if he left her alone with Jack in the hope that they settle their differences.
“I’d be glad to escort you, my dear,” he said at last. “But I’m afraid my duty obliges me to go to the inn to see the other scoundrel involved in the housebreaking. I’m sure Riversleigh will be pleased to accompany you.”
He took her hand.
“I’m sure everything will turn out all right in the end,” he said gruffly. “If there’s any way I can help, don’t hesitate to ask. And don’t fear that I won’t keep your mother, and the pendant, safe.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him, her eyes glistening.
He squeezed her hand warmly and hurried out of the room, leaving Charity alone with Jack.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked quietly.
“In a minute.” She turned away from him and went to stand looking out of the window.
“I’m sorry,” she said, without looking at him. “I had no right to accuse you of complicity with Lord Ashbourne.”
“Charity!” He came towards her.
“No! Don’t touch me.” She turned to face him. “I believe that you’re not working with the Earl—if you had been there would have been no need for you to show me the pendant at all.”
She saw the sudden leap in his eyes and smiled without much humour.
“But there are still too many things I don’t understand,” she said. “You’re a stranger from a world that’s foreign to me, a world where all kinds of despicable tricks seem to be acceptable as long as you don’t actually break some peculiar code of honour—and I’m not sure I want any part of it. Take me to London, my lord. I accept your help so far because I have to—but after that…”
She didn’t finish what she was saying. Instead she walked over to the door, turning to look back at Jack with her hand resting on the door-handle.
“I’m ready to go now,” she said.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The carriage jolted uncomfortably towards London, and Charity closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She was tired—she had had so little undisturbed sleep over the past few days—but she couldn’t close her mind to the terrible thoughts that tormented her.
She couldn’t stop thinking about her father and what he must have felt when he’d realised he had lost everything—and that led her to think about Lord Ashbourne. She had never hated anyone in her life before, but she had no doubt that she hated the Earl. She knew she could never rest until she had confronted him, and all through the long carriage ride she rehearsed again and again what she would say to him. Only now and then did her thoughts wander away to other, less compelling matters.
Sometimes, as she braced her feet against the jolting of the carriage, she found herself thinking about Jack. It was a painful exercise, in some ways more painful than her thoughts about her father. She had trusted Jack, and relied on him—now she realised she hardly knew him.
She couldn’t understand why he hadn’t condemned Lord Ashbourne more strongly for what he had done. He had taken the news so calmly, almost dispassionately. Did he not find Lord Ashbourne’s actions shocking? Did he even admire the Earl for his cunning?
She shied away from the thought, resolutely putting Jack out of her mind. He was riding beside the carriage, escorting her to London, but she had hardly acknowledged his presence since their departure that morning. At the back of her mind she was dimly aware that he was trying to help her, but she was too confused and too bewildered to make any attempt to understand his point of view. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do, but she was afraid that if she listened to him she might be diverted from her purpose—and that would have been a betrayal of her father.
They’d been travelling some time and she wanted to open her eyes and see where they were. She wanted to look at the passing countryside in the hope that the changing scenery would take her mind off her problems; but Tabitha was sitting opposite her and Charity knew that if she opened her eyes the maid would begin talking to her. She couldn’t bear the idea of conversation, so she kept her eyes resolutely shut and remembered instead her meeting with Owen the previous afternoon.
* * *
“Charity!” Owen exclaimed delightedly.
He looked up at her as she stood beside the bed. A band of pale afternoon sunlight illuminated her face, and he thought she had never looked more beautiful. He didn’t notice the shadows in her eyes or her pallor—he was too pleased to see her.
“How are you?” she asked, and smiled at him with something of an effort.
“I’ll be on my feet in no time,” he declared. “Sit down, sit down.”
She obeyed, folding her hands demurely in her lap, though inwardly she felt anything but calm.
“I was hoping you’d come before,” said Owen. “I asked for you. I know you saved my life. I wanted to thank you.”
“I did what I could,” Charity replied. “I’m thankful that it was enough.”
“And you shot one of the ruffians,” said Owen with satisfaction. Sir Humphrey had told him that, though he still didn’t know everything else that had happened at Hazelhurst since he had been confined to his sick-bed.
“Mind, I’m not sure that I like the notion of you having anything to do with guns, but in the circumstances you did well. Not like me. I don’t seem to be able to do anything right at the moment,” he added bitterly. “I hear Riversleigh came to the rescue again.”
“He heard the shots,” said Charity.
“He’s always in the right place at the right time,” said Owen, “but he won’t always have the advantage on his side.”
“I don’t think he does now,” said Charity, surprising herself because she wasn’t feeling particularly in sympathy with Jack and she hadn’t expected she’d have any urge to defend him.
“What do you mean?” Owen looked at her suspiciously, but she didn’t reply.
She didn’t know how to explain that, whatever else Owen might lack, he had always possessed the one advantage denied to Jack. Owen wasn’t rich and he wasn’t particularly clever, but he was the squire’s son and, from birth, his place in his small world had always been accepted unquestioningly by himself, and by everyone around him.
By contrast, as Charity thought about Jack, she reali
sed his world must always have been a more complicated place, and she was aware of a fugitive notion that perhaps, to survive in a complicated world, it might be necessary to be a complicated person. But then she dismissed the idea. She had other, more important things to think about than Lord Riversleigh.
“Charity!”
At the sound of Owen’s voice she recollected herself and smiled at him.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better. But you always did have a very strong constitution. It would be very hard to kill you, I think.”
Owen looked pleased.
“We’re a tough lot, the Leydons,” he declared. “We always breed true. When we’re married—”
“Owen!”
He looked at her in surprise. “I know I haven’t spoken to your mother yet, but as soon as I’m able to stand on my feet I will. I’m sure she won’t object. There’s no need for you to be anxious.”
“I’m not,” said Charity with a hint of her old tartness, but it wasn’t fair to be annoyed with Owen. This whole dreadful misunderstanding was entirely her fault.
“Owen, I’m sorry…” she began. But then, because she wanted there to be no doubt of what she was telling him, she said simply, “I can’t marry you.”
“What?”
“When you proposed to me at the party I was…flattered, but I was also confused,” she said steadily, trying to make her rejection of him as painless as she could. “I was surprised, and I didn’t know what to say—so I said yes. But I shouldn’t have done. It was very wrong of me. I’m sorry.”
“You mean, you don’t want to marry me?”
“No. I don’t think we’d suit. I’m sorry,” she said again.
For a moment he didn’t say anything, he just lay staring up at the ceiling. There was an unreadable expression on his face and Charity didn’t know what to do.
She didn’t know whether he’d accepted what she’d said, whether she’d hurt him, or whether he was angry with her. She didn’t know if she should say anything else, or if she should allow the silence to lengthen until he broke it himself.
Ten Guineas on Love Page 22