by Mary Nichols
He stood a moment longer, but he knew there was nothing he could usefully say, except a murmured, ‘Goodbye, Charlotte.’ Then he stepped past her and went on his way. He did not look back or he might have seen her, standing looking after him, her eyes swimming with tears. She brushed them away angrily. He had kissed her because he could, because it gave him a sense of superiority and put her in her place, no more than that. Thank goodness she had not been so foolish as to offer him Browhill. She scrubbed at her eyes and returned to the house.
How she endured the remainder of the evening, she never knew. The ball appeared to be a great success, there was dancing and laughter and gaiety and the supper was pronounced the most lavish anyone could remember, though she was aware of a certain tension in the air, as if everyone was waiting for something to happen. The matrons muttered behind their fans, while the men in little groups laughed a little too loudly, and Lady Ratcliffe was as busy as ever acting the hostess and urging Charlotte to look a little more pleased with the way things were going, which she made every effort to do. It was thanks to her father’s teaching that she was able to achieve it. And when the time came to unmask, she stood beside her great-aunt as everyone revealed themselves, though most already knew each other. After that there were fireworks that rivalled even those she had put on for her workers. She smiled and received the congratulations of her guests as they departed and no one knew the misery in her heart.
When the last of them had gone, she did not stay to go over the events of the evening with her great-aunt, but pleaded a headache and went straight up to her room, where she dismissed Meg and stripped off that dreadful costume. It had not been a good idea; the Earl had made fun of it, as her great-aunt had predicted. And even in her grief she had been aware of the whispers about him and Martha. A gentleman did not take a lady off unchaperoned unless it was to propose to her. That he had done so at her ball added insult to injury as far as Charlotte was concerned. Martha had undoubtedly accepted him and in due course they would be married and live at Amerleigh Hall. How could she go on seeing him day by day, pretending civility and never tell him, or anyone, what was in her heart and mind? But there was no alternative and she must bear it. She had said she did not care, so now she must prove it.
Roland slept badly, his mind going over and over the encounter with Charlotte in the garden, the hurtful things they had said to each other, words, like those uttered six years before, which could not be unsaid. But words were not everything. He had not imagined it the first time he kissed her; she felt as passionately as he did, it had been evident in every move she made, the way her lips sought his even when he was ready to break apart, the way her arms wound round him, setting him on fire with desire. And her violent reaction—what was that but a very feminine fury at her own weakness? But apart from satisfying his curiosity on that score, what had he achieved by behaving so badly? Nothing.
He rose and was halfway through his breakfast when Geoffrey joined him. ‘You are up betimes, cousin, considering the time you arrived back from the ball,’ he greeted him.
Geoffrey sat down and helped himself to eggs and ham. ‘Did we wake you?’
‘No, I was not asleep.’
‘Plenty to think about, eh?’
‘You heard?’
‘Heard there was something going on. Whispers all round and Lady Brandon flitting about like a bee, taking the news from flower to flower.’
‘Did you hear what was said?’
‘Only from Lady Gilford, and you know how things become exaggerated with repetition. I should pay no heed to it.’
‘Come on, tell me the worst.’
‘That Miss Brandon turned you down on account of your doubtful character.’
‘My doubtful character!’ he exclaimed. ‘What did she mean by that?’
‘Two nights away with Miss Cartwright, and her coming back in your coach for all the world as if she had been rolling around in the hay. Her hat lost and her dress torn…’
‘You knew the truth of that and so did Lady Ratcliffe. Surely one of you said something? It is a vicious slur on my good name, let alone the reputation of Miss Cartwright.’
‘I tried, but no one would take any notice of me and I never heard Lady Ratcliffe say a word on the subject, though I swear she heard it. It’s my belief she would like to see you leg-shackled to the hoyden.’
‘She is not a hoyden!’ Roland almost shouted the words.
‘Well, whatever her reputation was like before, it is certainly ruined now, unless you marry her and you can hardly do that, can you?’
Roland groaned inwardly. In trying to do his best for everyone, he seemed to have done just the opposite. He could not tell Charlotte he had not offered for Miss Brandon and the fact that the young lady had turned him down would carry no weight with her; for all she knew, Miss Brandon had been his first choice. As for the vicious rumour, what could he say to Charlotte about that, except to ask her to marry him? But Geoffrey was right, he could not do that so soon after having apparently offered for Miss Brandon. It would only add fuel to the rumours. He was in a cleft stick and his position in the village rapidly becoming untenable. He left his cousin munching toast, and set off for the dower house.
His mother had not yet put in an appearance downstairs, but on being told he was waiting for her, she slipped into a grey silk dressing gown and came down to join him. ‘Come and have breakfast with me,’ she said, leading the way into the dining room.
‘I have had my breakfast.’
‘Then come and sit with me while I have mine and tell me what happened last night. You told me Miss Brandon had her heart set on Mr Elliott.’
‘So she has. Things were taken out of my hands somewhat.’
‘So I noticed, and so did everyone else.’ She seated herself at the table and indicated the chair next to her. ‘Sit down, do, and at least have a cup of coffee.’ She filled two cups from the jug at her elbow and pushed one towards him. ‘I assume you offered for her?’
‘Of course not. The silly girl dragged me off to beg me not to, but hadn’t realized the consequences of her actions.’
‘And Lady Brandon knows this?’
‘She believes I offered and her daughter refused me. Miss Brandon and I agreed on this to save her reputation.’
‘And you think that is an end of it, Roland? You must know it is not. She will not take that as her daughter’s final decision, you may be sure. Young ladies often refuse a first time they are asked, only to give in later.’
‘That is why I said I would go away to recover from my disappointment and give her time to bring her mother round to accepting her real choice.’
‘Go away, Roland?’ she asked in consternation.
‘Yes. When she has accomplished that, I can return.’
‘But that could take an age! Lady Brandon is the most stubborn and self-opinionated woman in the world. She will nag Martha to death.’
‘But there is nothing she can do about it if I am not here, is there?’
‘And what about all the work you have been doing here? You cannot abandon it.’
‘No, but I am sure Geoffrey will keep an eye on the place for me and make sure everything runs smoothly while I am away.’
‘Roland, these are drastic steps to take.’
‘Drastic cures for drastic ills, Mama. It is for the best. I cannot bear another young lady to be hurt by me…’
‘Another young lady? Roland, what do you mean? What other young lady has been hurt by you?’
‘I have discovered Miss Cartwright heard me telling my father I would not marry her and the reason I gave, for which I am heartily ashamed.’
‘But that was six years ago and you were only a stripling.’
‘Nevertheless they were not the words of anyone calling himself a gentleman, as she has taken pains to remind me.’
‘Have you not apologised?’
‘Yes, Mama, but the lady is not disposed to accept my apology.’
‘I see,’ s
he said slowly, as understanding dawned. ‘Then perhaps a week or two away might be beneficial. When are you going?’
‘As soon as I am ready. There are one or two things I must clear up before I go.’
‘I wish it had not come to this, Roland. I have been so happy to have you home these last weeks and the work you have done on the estate is beginning to pay off, everyone is more cheerful because of it. But if you have made up your mind, I will not attempt to dissuade you. I will try to see if I can influence Lady Brandon to accept Martha’s choice of suitor, then you can come back the sooner.’
‘I have been thinking about that myself. I believe the living at Scofield is in my gift and is due to become vacant shortly. Do you think it will help if I offer it to Mr Martin Elliott?’
‘Oh, I am sure it will.’ She rose and walked over to where he sat and bent to kiss each cheek in turn. ‘Bless you, my son.’
She released him and he stood up and, with a parting embrace, left her. Returning to the Hall, he saddled his horse and set out for a ride, wondering if he might meet Charlotte doing the same thing, though he had little hope of it. The ball had not finished until nearly dawn and she was bound to rise late. Unless, like him, she could not sleep. If he did meet her, would she listen to what he had to say, any more than she had listened the night before? What was he going to say? That he was sorry his actions had led to gossip about her, that he had fallen deeply in love with her? Ask her to marry him? It might save her reputation, but it would certainly tarnish his in the eyes of Lady Brandon and the villagers who believed him smitten with Martha Brandon. Was ever a man in such a coil?
After days of rain, the air was fresh and clean and the meadows lush. Little rivulets of sparkling water found their way down between the stones on the hillside. In some places the ground was boggy and he picked his way carefully. The underground waterways would be rushing along in torrents, he mused, and that set him thinking of Browhill. The water in the lower levels would be higher than ever and unworkable. He still had not told Charlotte he was not proceeding with his claim and evidently Mountford had not. He turned his horse towards the mine, though he was sure no one would be working on a Sunday morning.
He was surprised to find the great wheel turning and several men hurrying about with ropes and buckets. Robert Bailey, the engineer, was directing some sort of operation. Roland dismounted and approached him. ‘What’s afoot?’ he asked him.
‘There’s two men trapped underground, my lord. They were working at the lowest level yesterday when a great rush of water broke through and filled the tunnel. It rises slightly towards the face and they are stuck there.’
‘You know they are alive?’
‘Yes, the spot where they are is just below a higher level and the men working there heard them banging, but if the water rises any more, they will undoubtedly drown. The pump is having little effect.’
‘So what are you doing?’
‘We are trying to break through from above, but we dare not use explosives. It is a question of hammering out the rock to reach them and the men have been going down in turns all night. The trouble is that we have no idea how much air they have. Time is not on our side.’
‘Can I help?’
‘I do not see how you can, my lord.’ As he spoke two workers came up from below. They were stripped to the waist and glistening with sweat, and obviously exhausted. They sprawled on the ground. Bailey and Roland went over to them.
‘We’ll never do it,’ one of them said. ‘We’ve been down there three hours and hardly made an impression.’
‘Are they still banging?’ Bailey asked.
‘I thought I heard them, but ’tis difficult to be sure. ’Tis not as loud as it was.’
‘Who’s next down?’
‘Joe and Paddy.’
Roland was thoughtful, remembering boyhood adventures with Jacob Edwards exploring the holes and caves in the hills. Their parents never knew or they would certainly have been forbidden to go anywhere near them. ‘There might be some way of diverting the water and draining the level, enough for the men to be able to wade out.’ He went back to where the engineer had left his maps and began studying them. ‘I remember when I was a child, we used to explore the underground caves. Some were dry, some had water in them. If we could find the source of the water and divert it…’ He pointed. ‘There. There is a sump there. I remember we used to dive through it.’ He began stripping off his clothes until he was down to breeches and shirt. ‘You keep on trying to reach them, I am going down to have a look.’
‘My lord,’ Bailey protested. ‘It is too risky.’
Roland ignored him, grabbed a helmet with a candle on it and started to run up the side of the hill towards the smelting mill. ‘Bring a rope,’ he shouted behind him. ‘A hammer, a drill and some explosive.’
A quick search about the tussocky grass and boulders that littered the hillside revealed a hole. It was smaller than he remembered it, but at the time he had been a boy, not a full-grown man. Robert Bailey followed with two men, one of whom carried a coil of rope. Roland took it from him and tied the end round him under his arms while another man lit the candle on the helmet and handed it to him. ‘Pay it out as I go,’ he said, lowering himself into the hole and taking the tools and explosive from the engineer. ‘If I give two sharp tugs, that means haul me up, and three tugs means tie it off. I’ll release myself before carrying on.’
‘My lord, I do not think you should be doing this.’
He ignored the engineer’s protests. ‘Tell your men not to give up digging.’ He was almost out of sight when he added. ‘Has anyone alerted Miss Cartwright?’
‘No, we did not want to worry her in the middle of her ball.’
‘I think she would want to be told,’ he said and continued to descend. He smiled grimly. Charlotte would be furious at being kept in the dark, especially if lives were lost and the rumour went round that she had been enjoying herself while her men were dying.
Charlotte, who had spent what was left of the night after the ball ended going over and over her predicament, tossing ideas this way and that to no good effect, emerged from her darkened room the next morning and told Emily her headache had gone. She had drunk too much wine, become too hot and gone outside in the damp air to cool down. Oh, she knew it had been a foolish thing to do and she had suffered for it, but now she was well again.
‘Good,’ Lady Ratcliffe said. ‘I expect we shall have any number of callers today, paying their respects and complimenting you on the success of the ball, though I found it disappointing in one respect.’
‘Oh, what is that?’
‘The Earl did not stay and he was closeted with Martha Brandon alone for several minutes. It can only mean one thing.’
‘So?’
‘You have lost him.’
‘I never had him.’
‘You could have done.’
‘I did not, do not, want the Earl of Amerleigh for a husband, Aunt, I wish you would believe it. Now I am going to get ready for church.’ She was determined to go, if only to prove that what had happened at the ball had not in any way affected her. Determined to prove her un-hoydenishness, she dressed in a forest-green taffeta day gown, a short green velvet cape and a straw hat with a green ribbon.
If she had expected to see the Earl at the service, she was disappointed. The Countess and Mr and Mrs Temple and Captain Hartley took their places in the family pew without him, a fact that had the congregation looking at each other with raised eyebrows. Charlotte concentrated on the service and pretended not to notice. As she and her aunt were leaving, Lady Brandon and Martha joined them. Charlotte bade them good morning with a smile that she hoped would cover the cracks in her armour.
‘I had to be the first to congratulate you on your ball,’ Lady Brandon said, falling in beside her as she made her way to her curricle. ‘And to tell you what happened between the Earl and Martha. It would be dreadful if tattlers like Lady Gilford came to you with the wrong tale. I
want you to be able to tell them the truth.’
‘The truth about what?’
‘The Earl of Amerleigh offered for Martha, but she refused him.’
‘Refused him?’
‘Yes,’ Martha put in placidly. ‘I told him we should not suit.’
‘But why?’
‘I do not like him well enough—is that not reason enough?’
‘The poor man is devastated,’ her ladyship put in when Charlotte did not answer. ‘He told Martha he would have to leave Amerleigh to make a recovery from his disappointment. Goodness knows where he has gone, but I heard he left this morning.’
‘Oh.’ He had obviously made the offer when he and Martha disappeared from the ballroom, and that was before meeting her in the garden. Had he kissed her again out of disappointment or to prove something to himself? Or her? Oh, if only she knew! But what would knowing what was going on in that complex brain of his avail her? ‘But how can he be gone? There is so much he still has to do here.’
‘No doubt someone else will do it. It is his mother I feel sorry for, that she should lose him again so soon after him coming home. And she was so happy too. I could spank Martha, I really could.’
‘Mama, I told you, it would not serve. We should make each other miserable and he agreed with me.’
‘I never heard such nonsense, you had him in the palm of your hand, and you let him get away. I hope he realises it was your shyness over the honour he did you that made you answer in the negative and will ask you again.’
‘He said he was going away.’
‘So he did, but he won’t be gone for ever, will he? When he comes back, we will arrange a quiet supper party, to welcome him back. He must know that young ladies do not always accept an offer on the first time of asking; it keeps a man on his toes to turn him down at first. He will ask again or I shall want to know the reason why.’
Charlotte did not want to talk about the Earl and was glad when they reached the carriages and went their separate ways. The sooner she forgot the Earl and what had happened, the better; the man was not worth her anguish. She would go for a ride and gallop herself into a better frame of mind.