The Earl and the Hoyden

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘Lady Brandon, who had it from her husband.’

  ‘Charlotte cannot possibly be in financial trouble, can she?’

  His mother shrugged. ‘I would hardly think so. This ball of hers must be costing a fortune and she is too level-headed to waste money on frivolities when it is needed elsewhere.’

  ‘You do not think it can be Browhill that is draining her resources?’

  ‘Who is to tell? If it is, you could put a stop to it in an instant. That is, if you want to. Or perhaps you would like to see her ruined.’

  ‘Of course not. Mama, how could you think it?’

  ‘Then give up this vendetta. I wish your papa had never started it.’

  His mother did not wish it any more heartily than he did. He and Charlotte seemed to have established a rapport, but if her business failed, those who decried women trying to do the work of men would make a laughing stock of her. He realised quite suddenly that he would hate that to happen to her. But he could not believe the rumours were true—she was too well established. ‘I told Mountford an age ago not to proceed.’

  ‘Did you?’ she asked in surprise. ‘Have you told Miss Cartwright that?’

  ‘No, I left it to him to do so.’

  ‘He might have an interest in forgetting his instructions. He was your father’s man, you know, and he blames himself for advising your father to hand over the land. Perhaps he is hanging on, hoping to redeem himself.’

  ‘I had not thought of that. I might as well go and see Miss Cartwright now, though if I know her, she will pretend complete indifference and tell me she never doubted the land was hers and she intended to open that new level notwithstanding.’

  He left Miles teaching Tommy and set off for Mandeville, where he was received by a worried Lady Ratcliffe. ‘I am so glad you came,’ she told him, rushing forward to meet him. ‘My great-niece has gone to Liverpool with no escort but the coachman. I cannot think that it is safe for her to go off alone like that, but she was determined and would not listen to reason. And by all accounts it is not the sort of place a lady should be wandering alone in, what with common sailors and all manner of foreign people who land there. You will go after her, won’t you, dear Lord Temple? I cannot think of anyone else I can trust.’ This was said in a breathless rush and she had put her hand on his sleeve to emphasise her words, but let it go to fish for her handkerchief in the pocket of her skirt and dab at her eyes.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, his head whirring with how it could be done. ‘When did she leave?’

  ‘First thing this morning.’

  ‘Then she has a good start. Do you know whereabouts in Liverpool she was going?’

  ‘To the docks. That is the worst of it. Her ship is overdue…’

  ‘Do not worry, my lady. I will find her and see she comes to no harm.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you. That is such a relief to me.’

  He took his leave and did not see her tears turn to smiles as soon as the door had closed on him.

  He rode back to the Hall at a gallop, where he went over the route with Travers and sent him ahead to arrange the post horses, then he ordered Bennett to harness the coach and went in search of his mother. She was in the schoolroom, watching Miles teaching Tommy. He put his finger to his lips and beckoned to her. She tiptoed out. ‘What is the matter, Roland?’

  ‘I hope nothing, but Miss Cartwright has gone off to Liverpool on her own and Lady Ratcliffe is in a stew over it.’

  ‘So you are off to Liverpool after her,’ she said, following him to his room and watching as he stuffed nightwear and a change of clothes into a carpet bag. She took them from him and started to pack it properly.

  ‘Yes. I was planning to go in any case. We need new wainscot for the dining room. It is badly worm-eaten and there is no one locally who can provide the quality we need. If Miss Cartwright wants to know why I have followed her, I can say my being there is pure coincidence. If need be, I will rack up with Geoffrey.’

  ‘Rack up—Roland, what a common way of putting it,’ she said, laughing. ‘You can hardly call one of Geoffrey’s bedrooms a rack.’

  His cousin, Geoffrey Temple, had made a fortune through the war providing uniforms for the army. He was also Roland’s heir. But that was the last thing on his mind as he kissed his mother goodbye and hurried out to where Bennett waited with the carriage.

  ‘Spring ’em,’ he told him, as he flung his bag on the seat and himself after it.

  He would need at least five changes of horses if he was to make good speed and he hoped the corporal’s persuasive tongue and the hefty purse he had given him would ensure they were ready every time he stopped. Even then he did not expect to arrive before nine or ten that evening and Charlotte had half a day’s start on him; he would have to look for her the next day, though what he would say to her when he met her, he did not know. He did not think she would welcome him with the same degree of relief that Lady Ratcliffe had displayed; she was far too independent.

  But supposing she were in trouble, supposing her stubbornness to cut that new level at Browhill had been done simply to pique him? If it was, then she was not the hard-headed businesswoman she pretended to be. Miles had said she was vulnerable and perhaps he was right. Roland felt a weight of guilt that made him realise their bickering was not a game and could have direful consequences. His one aim now was to find her and reassure her. The journey seemed endless.

  Geoffrey’s mansion on the outskirts of Liverpool was a showcase for fine furniture, ornaments and pictures, but he was a good-natured man and received Roland enthusiastically, ordering supper for him and telling him he could stay as long as he liked.

  ‘Thank you, but I think one night will see my business done.’

  ‘Tell me about Amerleigh,’ Geoffrey said, watching Roland eat. He had had nothing since breakfast and was hungry. ‘How is your mama? I was there for the late Earl’s funeral. A sad occasion and the Hall in a sorry state.’

  ‘Yes.’ He could do nothing about Charlotte until the next day and had to curb his impatience to answer his cousin. ‘Mama is well and enjoying refurbishing the Hall.’

  ‘Good. Tell me what you have done and what about the people? They must have been glad to see you again.’

  They joined Geoffrey’s wife, Elizabeth, in the drawing room and he spent the next two hours talking about Amerleigh and the villagers, and the longer he talked, the more he realised just how much it all meant to him. Everything. The Hall, the village, the people like the Biggs family, especially Tommy. And Charlotte, of course. He could not imagine life without her. Where was she? Would he be able to find her?

  He rose early the following day and, leaving his carriage and horses in Geoffrey’s stables, took a cab to the docks. Liverpool had become a very busy port, beginning to rival Bristol in the number of ships that put in there, much of it down to slave trading, though now that had been outlawed, the ships carried manufactured goods and the only human cargoes were emigrants. The dock basin was a forest of masts and several ships were loading and unloading at the quayside. The Fair Charlie was well known and he soon learned that it was more than two weeks overdue. Miss Cartwright had been there the day before, he was told at the harbour master’s office, but they had no idea where she went after leaving them.

  He stood looking about him at the throng of people—dock workers, sailors, voyagers. Where next? What would he do in similar circumstances? Keeping the workforce supplied with raw materials must be her first consideration. He set off for the dockside warehouses. After plodding from one to the other, he finally tracked her down. There was no mistaking her working dress and the chestnut hair blowing about her face. She was pushing it out of her eyes with her hand and talking fast and furiously to a man standing beside a stack of bales of cotton. Roland walked slowly towards her. She had not seen him and continued to argue with the man. ‘How much will you take for it?’

  ‘Naught. It’s bought and paid for and on
ly waits on the barges to deliver it.’

  ‘I’ll give you more, and you can take the cargo of the Fair Charlie when it arrives. Sugar from my plantation, cotton and tobacco from America.’

  ‘If it arrives,’ he said with heavy emphasis. ‘I am not a gambling man, missus. Now, you go home to your husband and leave business matters to him.’

  ‘Husband!’ She was furious. ‘Do you know who I am?’

  ‘No, nor do I care.’

  Roland stepped forward. ‘Mind your manners, sir. You are talking to a lady.’

  Charlotte swivelled round to face him, her face a picture of astonishment, quickly followed by an expression of irritation, while the cotton trader turned to him in evident relief. ‘Ladies should keep out of what don’t concern them.’

  ‘This lady is the owner of Cartwright’s mill.’

  ‘I care not what she owns. I do not break a binding contract for anyone—I’d never get another. Take her away, back to her embroidery, and explain to her it cannot be done, not for all the money in Christendom.’

  Roland took her elbow and drew her away. ‘Come, my dear, you will do no business with this fellow.’

  ‘What the devil are you doing here?’ she demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

  ‘I came to buy timber.’

  ‘In a cotton warehouse! You are roasting me.’

  ‘No, I am not. I was on my way to the timber yards when I spotted you. You seemed to be having some difficulty…’

  ‘Not at all. I was simply bargaining for the cotton.’

  ‘So I perceived, but if the man has already been paid for it, you can hardly expect him to sell it again to you.’

  ‘No, I suppose not, but I have tried everywhere else, all my father’s old contacts, the ships unloading at the quay, and none have cotton to spare. I suppose it is that damned war.’

  ‘Shall we find somewhere to have some refreshment and talk?’ he said, smiling a little at her unladylike language, but making no comment on it. ‘You can tell me all about it.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘Oh, do not be so independent, Charlotte. I only want to help.’ He was conducting her along the busy street, making a way for them through the crowds towards the centre of the town. ‘Where are you staying?’

  She was too unsettled to notice his use of her given name. Unsure whether to hate him for his interference or to be thankful that he was there, his hand under her elbow, protecting her, she did nothing to pull herself from his grasp. ‘I stayed last night with the family of my ship’s captain. His poor wife is worried to death and I thought to comfort her. I hoped to have my business done and to start for home today.’

  ‘It is too late to make a start now, you would be travelling through the night.’

  ‘I do not mind that. I cannot impose on Mrs Scott a second night. Talbot is very capable.’

  ‘So he may be, but anything could happen. There has been prodigious rainfall lately and the potholes are ruinous.’ What he did not say was that if she insisted on going home in the dark, then he would have to follow. Bennett was considerably older than Talbot and could not be expected to do it. He could, of course, drive himself, but it would be safer if neither of them attempted it. ‘Where have you left your coach?’

  ‘At the livery stables next to the posting inn.’

  ‘Then we will go and fetch it and then go to my cousin’s. He lives but five miles out of Liverpool. He is a family man and I am sure his wife will make you comfortable. We will go home tomorrow.’

  ‘I cannot do that!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I cannot.’ It was said with little conviction.

  ‘Do you have a better idea?’

  She did not, except to insist on Talbot driving her home in the dark. She might be able to doze in the coach, but he could not. He would have to keep all his wits alert to avoid the potholes and stay on the road, and supposing tiredness overcame him and he fell asleep? She hated admitting the Earl was right. ‘You are not bamming me?’ she asked. ‘Your cousin is a respectable married man and his wife is at home?’

  ‘I swear it,’ he said, crossing himself, though he could not help laughing.

  ‘It is not a laughing matter, my lord. I have two hundred workers who will be without employment in the next two days if I cannot produce some yarn from somewhere.’

  ‘Have you tried asking nearer to home?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why, Sir Gordon Brandon. Surely as a friend he would help you out?’

  ‘He may be a friend, my lord, but he is also a competitor.’

  ‘Would you help him if he were in trouble?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘There you are, then.’ They had arrived at the coaching inn where Talbot was enjoying a tankard or two of ale in the parlour, waiting for his mistress to return. He was relieved to see her and even happier to find her in the company of the Earl. He was told to order the horses to be harnessed and ready to leave while the Earl and his mistress had something to eat and drink.

  They did not dawdle over it and were soon sitting side by side in her luxurious coach on their way to Geoffrey’s. She was silent, her head full of problems that seemed insoluble, and all her senses alert to the man beside her. Why did he want to help her, when he held her in such contempt? What motive did he have except her utter humiliation? He had achieved that once before and though she was ready to concede that his father had perhaps driven him to it, since coming home he had given no indication that he was sorry for it. He was such a mixture of arrogance, obstinacy and old-fashioned chivalry, there was no understanding him. They worked together in complete harmony when it came to helping the villagers and teaching Tommy, and yet there was about him a hidden reserve, as if he were afraid to let her see anything of the inner man.

  ‘You have not done anything about your timber,’ she said.

  ‘It will do another time.’

  ‘There never was an errand for timber, was there?’

  ‘Indeed there was. I need new wainscot for the dining room at the Hall.’

  ‘I would have expected the builders to deal with it.’

  ‘That is the second time you have questioned my truthfulness, Miss Cartwright.’

  ‘No, only your common sense. You do not seem able to delegate, but must do everything yourself.’

  ‘It is as well I did on this occasion or you would have been in a scrape, thrown into a ditch somewhere and your coachman injured, if not killed.’

  She began to shake with laughter.

  ‘I do not see how you can find such a prospect humorous,’ he said stiffly.

  ‘I was reminded of Mr Halliwell and his fat wife with the bright orange hair. She took you for a labourer and Tommy for your son.’

  He found his own lips twitching. ‘But it could have been much worse, you know.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then concede I am right and we would do well to delay our departure until daylight.’

  ‘I concede nothing. It would only puff you up.’ She turned towards him. ‘How did you know I was in Liverpool?’

  ‘I never said I did.’

  ‘No, but you were not surprised to see me. It was as if you had been on the lookout for me, and you gave up your own errand without a moment’s hesitation. I have learned the hard way how to detect a dissembler, my lord.’

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘I should hate to be thought a dissembler, which is only one step above a liar. I went to Mandeville to call on you and found a distraught Lady Ratcliffe. She is not used to your ways, you know, and was quite convinced you would fall into a bumble-bath of one kind or another.’

  ‘So the knight errant set out to rescue a damsel who did not need rescuing.’ She paused. ‘Why did you go to Mandeville? There is nothing wrong with Tommy, is there?’

  ‘No, I left him having his lesson. I went because I had something to say to you.’

  ‘Then say it. You will never have a better opportuni
ty.’

  ‘Browhill…’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘If it is causing you problems…’

  ‘Now, where did you get that idea, my lord? I have no problems with Browhill. The seam is being worked and producing barytes at an acceptable rate.’ Barytes was a heavy white mineral used mainly in the manufacture of paint and fetched a good price on the open market.

  ‘Nothing has changed, then,’ he said, leaning back in his seat. She was still as prickly as ever about that mine. He did not feel disposed to appear to capitulate. A man had his pride after all.

  ‘No,’ she said, unwilling to let him see how disappointed she was. That damned mine stood between them, like the rock in which it was worked. The past could not be wiped out, any more than she could wipe out the memory of his callous words six years before. And what did it matter anyway? They might work together for the good of the village, but they would never be more than neighbours.

  They fell into silence and a few minutes later turned into the drive of Geoffrey’s house and drew up outside the door. Talbot dismounted and beat a tattoo on the door, while Roland handed Charlotte down and, putting his hand beneath her elbow, guided her towards the entrance. In next to no time she was being introduced to Mr Geoffrey Temple and his charming wife, Elizabeth, in the elegant drawing room.

  ‘We are at your mercy,’ Roland told them. ‘Miss Cartwright’s business took longer than she thought it would and it is too late to start back to Amerleigh tonight…’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Elizabeth said, a little taken aback by Charlotte’s grey skirt and military style jacket. ‘Do please stay here. Roland is always welcome and any friend of his is welcome too. We are about to have supper. If you excuse me, I will go and alert Cook that we have guests and have a room made ready for Miss Cartwright. Roland was here last night and we thought he might return so his bed is still made up.’ She bustled away.

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Charlotte said to Geoffrey. ‘I fear I am imposing. After all, I am a stranger you never heard of before now.’

  ‘Oh, but we have heard of you. Roland spoke of you last night.’