Mr. Alexander glanced at Charlotte. “It makes no difference to me,” he said.
“Or me,” Charlotte agreed. “But only until the village, George. After that, we go in different directions, I believe.”
For the first five minutes of the journey, they had delightful views of the sea, a crisp, bright blue in the sunshine. But they were heading inland and the water was soon blocked by wooded landscape. And then the coaches rumbled into the bustling village of Finsborough and halted in the market square.
In fact, it was clearly market day, with stalls set up around the square, and the odd cow and sheep being led around for sale. Charlotte climbed down, taking Spring with her on the leash.
“Are you sure about taking him?” Richard said doubtfully as he and George followed her.
“Oh yes. He makes a good conversation opener.”
Mr. Alexander strolled toward her. “What is your plan?” he inquired.
“I don’t really have time for subtlety,” she said with regret. “I shall simply ask people outright what happened to the innkeeper of the Hart.”
“Then I shall do the same across at the tavern.”
She couldn’t help watching him as he sauntered across the square, his great coat swinging casually against his gleaming black boots. Several other people spared him a glance, too, for he was undoubtedly an eye-catching figure, and not just for his obvious wealth and handsome countenance. He seemed to draw an air of haughty superiority about himself, almost like a cloak. Children scuttled out of his way. Adults avoided him. One man tugged his forelock as he passed. For the first time since she had brought him his dinner last night, she was reminded of her first glimpse of him. It was as if he were two people.
But she was not there to investigate him, but the innkeeper. Hastily, she pulled herself together and made her way toward the market stalls which sold everything from live chickens to buttons. Drawn by a length of blue ribbon the precise shade of Thomasina’s eyes, Charlotte guiltily used a portion of what would have been the innkeeper’s lodging money to buy it.
“What an excellent find,” she said to the stall keeper, aware of the other women close by. “It makes the delay to our journey quite worthwhile. We had to stop at the Hart last night because of the mist, and do you know there was not a soul about? You don’t know where we might find the innkeeper, do you? I owe him for the night’s lodging, if not for his service.”
“Don’t know him, Miss, so I couldn’t say,” the stall-keeper replied at once.
Charlotte turned, smiling at the two women beside her, who might have been farmer’s wives by their dress. “Perhaps you know him? Or his wife?”
“Oh, no, ma’am, never been to the Hart.”
She got more or less the same disappointing answers from everyone she spoke to. As did Richard and George who met her and Horatio in the middle of the square with expressive shrugs. As they moved toward the coaches, Mr. Alexander fell into step beside her.
“What did you learn?” she asked eagerly.
“Nothing, except that no one here has ever been to the Hart, or met the innkeeper or his wife or anyone who has ever worked there.”
Charlotte frowned. “Is that not a trifle unlikely?”
“More than a trifle. The townspeople have closed ranks and are telling nothing, which is most intriguing of itself.”
“But maddening!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I was so sure we would solve our mystery this morning.”
“We could stay a little longer and keep looking,” George said eagerly.
“I am prepared to try,” Mr. Alexander said. The cold, haughty air she had observed earlier seemed to have vanished again. “But I doubt we’ll be any more successful. I suspect the best we can do is simply wait for the innkeeper to respond to our notes. He cannot be so unnatural as to turn down the price of our lodging, dinner, and breakfast.”
Charlotte sighed, halting by the carriage. “You are right, of course, though it goes against the grain. Why do you imagine they are so silent? Do you suppose the innkeeper is involved in smuggling, or even more nefarious doings?”
“Something of the sort, I expect,” Mr. Alexander said vaguely.
“Perhaps the townsfolk are afraid of him!”
“And yet, John took you there.”
“True,” Charlotte said, frustrated. “It does not make sense! Well, if we must wait, we must. In the meantime, we need to hurry home. Boys, say goodbye to Mr. Alexander!”
The boys duly made their bows and shook hands. Mr. Alexander even bent to tickle Spring’s ears. Spring looked gratified, and Charlotte hastily picked him up as he was about to leap up and muddy Mr. Alexander’s immaculate pantaloons.
“Come and see us,” Richard invited, “before you leave the area. Charlie will tell you where.”
“There’s no need,” Mr. Alexander said, amused. “I’m sure you are easily found.”
Charlotte laughed, handing Spring inside the carriage before he could wriggle out of her arms. “Then we leave you with the challenge.” She offered her hand. “Goodbye, sir.”
His eyes smiled as he took her gloved hand. “You mean au revoir,” he corrected. “It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He must have meant everyone, including Spring, but his gaze remained on her face, making her suddenly breathless.
“Au revoir,” she managed.
He handed her into the carriage and closed the door. Her hand felt curiously cold. She knew a moment of panic as he tipped his hat and turned away, afraid suddenly that she would never see him again.
At least she could laugh at herself when the carriage pulled away. Of course she would never see him again.
Chapter Four
No one could say that Lord Overton’s house dazzled. The furnishings were too old, the carpets and curtains too worn and faded. But by the time Charlotte and her brothers returned, everything that could sparkle, did: windows, picture frames, chandeliers. Wood had been polished to within an inch of its life and gleamed.
“Goodness,” Richard said, awed. “I didn’t know the house could look like this.”
“It won’t for very long, for we don’t have the servants to keep it quite so shiny,” Charlotte said.
Thomasina, descending the stairs to the front hall, regarded her brothers without favor. “So, boys, it would be a kindness if you didn’t turn the place upside down for the next few days.”
“Just until his grace pops the question?” George said irrepressibly.
Thomasina regarded him with dislike and swept past them into the blue salon.
“He’s not here yet, is he?” Charlotte asked, following her.
“No, but unless the boys make everything untidy, we are finally ready for him.”
“I must say, it’s very clever of you to snare a duke,” Richard said generously. “You never mentioned him at Christmas.”
“I did not know he was quite so taken,” Thomasina said with a shade of smugness. “We met a few times at musical events, but he does not as a rule go to parties, so it’s not as if he ever singled me out to dance or anything like that.”
In fact, by Christmas, their parents had been just a little disappointed in Thomasina. Despite her social success, the admiration she had universally inspired had not led to any eligible offers of marriage. A penniless poet, a third son, and a struggling baronet had all been turned down, but none of her wealthier admirers had, in vulgar parlance, come up to scratch.
“So, he’s coming to look you over again and see if you’re up to being a duchess?” Horatio said.
“Don’t be so vulgar, Horry,” Thomasina snapped. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, for it isn’t remotely like that.”
Actually, Charlotte thought that is was almost exactly like that. As if the man had decided it was time to marry and cast around in his mind for a well born, decorative woman who could play the part. Mama had said he was a distant man, a little cold but well-mannered.
Eliza, Horatio’s twin, wandered into the room, to the cheerful gre
etings of her older brothers. She smiled at them in her unworldly way and sat down by Horatio on the sofa. The twins didn’t speak, or even look at each other, but Charlotte did not doubt the intensity of their feeling at this reunion. Eliza especially was lost without her twin, drifting about the house like a ghost and clinging more closely to Charlotte. The last couple of days must have been hard for her indeed.
Thomasina frowned suddenly. “Where is the dog, Charlie?” she demanded.
“Nell took him up to my chamber,” Charlotte replied. “But you know we cannot keep him cooped up forever. So, let us hope his grace does not make a long visit.”
“Charlotte, the world does not revolve around that wretched dog,” Thomasina snapped, stalking toward the door. “What use is he to any of us? It is his grace on whom the entire family now depends.”
“I was only joking,” Charlotte called after her.
“Cheek,” George muttered. “Do we all have to be judged now by our usefulness to the family?”
“I don’t believe she meant it like that,” Charlotte said ruefully. “She was merely telling me off for my disrespect. Quite right, too. If she is going to marry the man, her first loyalty must be to him.”
“He’d better be worth it,” Richard said with feeling.
*
The whole family gathered together for tea in her mother’s sitting room, well away from the public rooms likely to be visited by his grace. Lady Overton was delighted, in her distracted way, to have her sons home again, greeting them with a barrage of questions in between vague statements as to the state of the house and planned entertainment.
“Heard from his grace this afternoon,” Lord Overton interrupted. “Wrote me a very civil letter from Finmarsh House to say he would like to join us tomorrow in time for dinner.”
Thomasina clapped her hands with delight.
“What’s he doing at Finmarsh House?” Henrietta asked. At seventeen years old, she was already rivalling Thomasina in beauty and it was hoped that a brilliant match for her at the end of next season would set the Overton fortunes firmly back on track. Especially if she could be presented by her sister, the new Duchess of Alvan.
“Verne must be a friend, I suppose,” their father said impatiently.
“Well, that works out perfectly,” their mother said gratified. “We can have a quiet family dinner tomorrow evening, and then our party the evening after. Which reminds me, you know, you have all been brought up with unusual license, but during the duke’s visit, I think it would be best if the younger ones kept to the nursery.”
“Nursery,” Richard repeated with loathing. “I am fifteen years old!”
“I suppose you may join us at a pinch,” Lady Overton said doubtfully. “But George and Horatio and Eliza are much too young. And the dog, Charlotte—you must be sure and tie up the dog.”
*
His grace, the seventh Duke of Alvan, accepted the bottle pushed across the dining table by his friend, and tipped the last of its content into his glass. “Oops.”
“There’s more,” Verne said. “I’ll fetch it—once you tell me why you’re really here.”
Alvan swirled the amber liquid around the glass. “I’m going to stay with Overton for a couple of days. You are on the way.”
“You said that before. I’ve nothing against Overton, mind—don’t know the man from Adam, to be honest—but I never knew you were on visiting terms.”
Alvan sighed. “You disappoint me. I was sure you would know him since you live in the same part of the county.”
Verne laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You know no one talks to me. Present company excepted,” he added, raising his glass to Alvan before he drank.
“I don’t believe no one talks to you—privately at any rate. What do you really know about Overton?”
Verne shrugged. “He’s been abroad for years, diplomatic duties. He’s well thought of. Got a large and hopeful family.”
“I don’t suppose you know them?”
“Lord, no. They’re much too young to be allowed near me.”
Alvan curled his lip and resorted to staring into his brandy. “I need to get married,” he said at last. “Duty to the name, for Julius won’t oblige me and provide heirs.”
“Do you good,” Verne said at once, then scowled. “Depending on whom you choose, of course. Ah, is that the Overton connection? You’re going to offer for one of his daughters?”
“How many does he have?”
“Lord, I don’t know. Three that I’ve heard of, though there may be more. Two are said to be diamonds of the first water but the third is ill-favored.”
“I met the eldest in London,” Alvan said abruptly. “Civilized girl with more than fluff between her ears.”
Verne regarded him cynically. “Not sure that’s enough reason to marry her, old boy. Between you and me, the father will fleece you. He’s short of the readies and means to sell the girls—the pretty ones anyway—to the highest bidder.”
“I know,” Alvan said impatiently. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then why ask about the family… oh, I suppose you don’t want a whole parcel of encroaching siblings-in-law,” Verne said sympathetically. He got to his feet and strolled to the door. Opening it, he yelled at the top of his voice for more brandy, then closed it again and sat back down. “Set your man of business onto the contract,” he advised. “I’m sure you can dictate the terms to suit you for Overton is desperate and you’re a lot more than he’ll have hoped for.”
*
The duke’s visit, even if necessary as a first stage to reviving the family fortune, was not universally welcomed at Audley Park. Charlotte swept the younger ones out with her and Spring on an early morning walk to run off excess energy among all, and fend off mutiny amongst the boys who had muttered about wishing they’d stayed at school for Easter.
After that, with the children in a better frame of mind, and Spring settled in his box in her chamber—while tied to the bed leg—Charlotte made sure everything was in readiness for the ducal visit. This included calming down the cook, who was in tears over how many times Lady Overton changed her mind about the sauce to be served with the duck.
“Make whichever is most appropriate in your own mind,” Charlotte advised. “Her ladyship will be happy, for she only wants the best.”
Called upon to settle an array of minor disputes and trivial decisions, she had little time to herself all day. She was in her mother’s boudoir carrying out a minor if urgent repair to Lady Overton’s gown when, just before tea time, the maid brought word of his grace’s arrival.
Lady Overton let out a squawk and surged to her feet. “Oh, that will do, Charlotte, will it not? Run to Thomasina and make sure everything is perfect. And Henrietta must look demure and not remotely as if she is out to eclipse her sister!”
With difficulty, Charlotte set the last stitch, cut the thread, and released her mother before hurrying away to her sister’s chamber.
Of course, Thomasina already knew of her suitor’s arrival and had donned her newest and prettiest day gown, an ivory muslin embroidered with rose buds. The lady’s maid she shared with her mother was putting the finishing touches to her artfully disordered hair.
“Doesn’t this look perfect, Charlie?” Thomasina demanded. “Windswept and casual, just as if I have not been sitting watching for his arrival for the last day and a half!”
“You look charming,” Charlotte said warmly. “But…”
Thomasina’s eyes grew anxious in the mirror. “But what?”
“I should leave the pearls until dinner. The simplicity will then be perfect.”
Obediently, the maid unclasped the pearls from Thomasina’s throat.
“You are right,” Thomasina declared. “You are so clever in your own way, Charlie.”
“Ingenious,” Charlotte agreed wryly.
“I meant it,” Thomasina assured her. “Has Mama gone down to him?”
“I expect so, by now, and Papa will c
ertainly be with him.” She watched the maid retreat and then met her sister’s gaze in the glass once more. “Tommie, you do want this, don’t you? I don’t just mean doing your duty by the family and being a duchess. I mean, do you want to be his wife?”
An impatient frown flickered across Thomasina’s brow and vanished. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“Because by your own admission you scarcely know him,” Charlotte said bluntly. “You do understand they’ll never force you to something—or someone!—you dislike.”
“But I don’t dislike him,” Thomasina said. “He is handsome and cultured and civil. And way above anything we hoped for, even before we were so poor.”
“I could not marry for such reasons,” Charlotte said earnestly.
Thomasina rose to her feet. “But you will not marry for any reason, will you?” she retorted.
Charlotte sighed. She had said her piece, though she hadn’t truly expected it to make any difference. Handsome and cultured and civil was better than a lot of women achieved. “That is true,” she allowed. “I’ll just go and make sure Henrie is… um, properly dressed.”
“And then change yourself, Charlotte, for you cannot wear that muddy old thing for tea!”
Charlotte, who had had no time to change out of her old walking dress from this morning’s tramp across the downs, made no answer, just hurried along the passage to Henrietta’s room. Well-warned that she was merely to be part of the setting for the jewel that was Thomasina, Henrietta was dressed in demure white muslin, although she had dressed her hair in a much too sophisticated style, more suited to a married lady attending a ball than a debutante at tea in her own home.
“What?” she demanded, glaring at Charlotte in the glass.
“Unpin it. They’ll only send you back up,”
With ill grace, Henrietta unpinned her hair and let Charlotte brush it into a much duller and more suitable style.
“It’s still most becoming,” Charlotte assured her.
Henrietta sniffed. “I suppose it will do.”
“Why, thank you, my lady.” Charlotte curtseyed to the floor. “It is my pleasure to please.”
The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3) Page 4