Charles

by Leenie Brown

  “I heard Father and some of the other workers talking about the ladybirds and doxies which accompanied one or another well-dressed chap above stairs. Never heard of one of them having a valet needing lodging or food.”

  “How old are you?” Charles asked.

  “Nine, sir.”

  “And how long have you been here?”

  “A year and a half next Friday,” he replied. “Father died three weeks before that, and Mama did not survive my sister’s birth.”

  Seven! Charles did the calculations quickly in his head. The child had been seven when he had been orphaned. And he had known of ladybirds before he was seven. The education of the working class was far different from that of he himself.

  “And where is your sister?” he asked.

  “She died two years ago.”

  “I am sorry to hear it,” Charles said.

  “I was sorry to lose her. Janie was so sweet. She gave me little trouble when Father was at work.”

  “How old was she at that time?”

  “Three.”

  So young. It was not as if such things never happened. Many children did not survive to adulthood. Still, it was sad.

  “And you cared for her?”

  “I helped Mrs. Harvey. She’s the one which cooked and cleaned for us when Mama was no more.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you have any sisters?” Stephen asked as he stepped back to study his work with a satisfied air.

  “I do. My sister is older than I am. She married last year.”

  “I do not have any. Never did. Never will unless Mother remarries,” Stephen said matter-of-factly. “She could not afford to keep me,” he answered when Charles’s eyebrows rose. “And if she does remarry, I may not be welcomed by whoever takes her on.”

  Charles stood and took up his jacket. “I dare say you will be hired out and making your own living before that happens.”

  The youngster beamed. “And then, I might be able to help her if she needs it, just as she helped me by giving me to Mrs. Verity.”

  “A man always repays his debts,” Arthur added solemnly, “even to family.”

  When he returned to his family’s townhouse later today, Charles was determined to add one full column of figures in his neglected account books before writing a letter to his mother to let her know how he was getting on. He followed behind the two boys who had branched off in their discussion to what it would be like to have a real master. Charles hoped that each of them would meet with a considerate gentleman or lady and not some of the demanding sorts he knew. Perhaps he could keep his ears open for some position that would serve these two well.

  “Thank you, Mr. Edwards,” each boy said with a bow when they had led him back to Mrs. Verity’s study.

  “It was my pleasure, men,” he replied with a small bow of his own. He held up one finger. “Wait a moment.” He rapped lightly on Mrs. Verity’s door and waited until he was given permission to enter.

  “Mrs. Verity, I wished for you to see Arthur and Stephen’s handiwork before I destroyed it,” he said stepping into the study. “Ah, Miss Linton and Miss Barrett, it is a joy to see you.” He waved the boys into the room.

  “This particular knot was tied by Stephen,” he said, “but Arthur made one just before it which was equally as good.”

  “I must say it looks very nice,” Mrs. Verity replied with a smile that was quickly followed by, “What are you doing?”

  “I did not know what to bring with me today when I arrived, and Miss Barrett assured me I did not need to bring more than myself. However, I find I simply cannot return home without leaving this cravat with Stephen and Arthur so that they may practice and not forget the skill they learned today.”

  “I am certain we have cravats with which they may practice,” Mrs. Verity protested, but Charles shook his head.

  “No, this one has served us well today, and I would like to give it to the boys if I may.”

  The lady’s lips tipped up slightly as she shook her head. “You do not do things by halves, do you, Mr. Edwards?”

  “No, I do many things by halves, which I have assured these fine young lads is a character flaw. However, when it comes to a worthy scheme, I do tend to enter into it wholeheartedly.”

  Mrs. Verity laughed. “And we are a good scheme?”

  “One of the best,” he replied. “I am happy to have found this place,” he smiled and nodded at Miss Barrett, “and these boys.” Had he a place for them, he would be hard pressed not to take them home with him.

  “Well, then, Mr. Edwards, I shall allow it, and we ladies will avert our eyes from your bare neck.” She winked, causing him to chuckle.

  “I do not intended to stay much longer.”

  “You do not wish to have tea with my guests and me?”

  “Are you not here to read or some such thing?” he asked Miss Barrett in surprise.

  “Not today,” Evelyn replied. “Today, we will have tea and do some sewing. There is always clothing in need of repair.”

  “I am afraid I will be of no help with that, but I will stay for tea.”

  “You do not know how to sew, Mr. Edwards?”

  The way in which her lips pursed and her eyes sparkled made him want to snatch her out of this room and abscond with her in his carriage. To where he did not know. Indeed, it would not matter as long as he could gaze into those lively eyes and press kisses to her lips. Each time he saw her, she became more and more of a temptation, pulling him away from all he knew and into something he did not understand but desired deeply.

  “Not enough to be of any help,” he finally replied.

  “But he knows how to shine boots,” Arthur said from behind him. “And he had said he will teach us.”

  “If I may,” Charles added.

  “Whenever you wish,” Mrs. Verity replied with a smile. “It seems we have two eager valets in the making.”

  “One valet and a butler,” Charles replied as he handed the cravat to Arthur. “Stephen could rise to such a position, I believe. He seems to be the kind-hearted leader sort. While Arthur here has the making of being a conscientious man for someone. Unless, of course, they both find other things which interest them more.” He paused. “I will return in two days time if not sooner.”

  The youngsters bowed and offered their thanks to him once again.

  “You seem a natural with children, Mr. Edwards.” Mrs. Verity rose from her desk. “And a good judge of character. I have thought the same things about those two young men. Come. We will take our tea in the sitting room. The light is better in there for stitching.”

  Chapter 10

  Evelyn returned the pair of gloves to the man behind the case. “I will take the other pair.” She turned to Constance. “You were right. The first pair was much more comfortable and flattering. I think they will look very nice with my gown tonight.”

  “And what of the hair comb?” Constance asked. “It has the same floral pattern. You really must go back and get it.” Her lips pursed with amusement as she leaned close and whispered. “It would look lovely in your hair and would likely capture Mr. Edwards’s attention.”

  “Then, I shall not be purchasing it.”

  “I am only teasing,” Constance said with a laugh. “I was listening to your protests in the carriage. I promise I was,” she added in reply to Evelyn’s raised brow.

  “He was impressive,” Evelyn admitted softly. “I cannot deny that he seems to be moving in the proper direction, but I have no designs for anything more than a passing friendship.” Not even if she did find him to be a most temptingly handsome gentleman.

  She had thought Charles a fine-looking fellow from her first meeting, but his looks had been tainted by his behavior. However, today, with his collar unadorned by a piece of cloth as he draped himself casually in a chair, sipping tea while the ladies stitched, and having heard and seen his interactions with the boys in Mrs. Verity’s office, she could no longer deny that there was something excessively at
tractive about the gentleman. In fact, if he were to continue down his current path of throwing himself into bettering the lives of others, she would have a difficult time not considering him as a possible husband.

  If only she could be certain that he was moving in the right direction, free of any scheme to impress some young lady and coerce a kiss or whatever from the poor girl.

  “He seems to have potential,” Constance added as the clerk placed a wrapped parcel before Evelyn.

  Evelyn picked up the parcel and moved toward the door of the shop. “He is not part of the plan.”

  Constance shrugged. “He could be. One never knows. I was not part of Henry’s plan beyond helping him learn how to treat a lady with proper respect. One never knows,” she repeated.

  “Your Henry and his friend, Mr. Edwards, are only alike in that Mr. Crawford used to be a scoundrel. Mr. Edwards has no wish to change. He has no reason to seek a change. I only wished to help him see that life could have some sort of meaning outside of chasing skirts.” She lifted her chin. “You know that is what he does,” she said in reply to Constance’s small gasp.

  It was not the most delicate, lady-like way to speak, but for some reason, even just thinking about that man made Evelyn forget to be circumspect in her speech. It seemed she was incapable of not speaking plainly either to him or about him. She would need to work harder on remembering to filter her words if she was not going to anger her mother. The best choice would be to not think or speak about the gentleman at all. Then there would be little danger of finding herself sitting at home, not accepting callers, and likely not attending soirees until her mother had decided she might once again be trusted to behave appropriately in society.

  “He is a horrid influence,” she said aloud.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know how to behave appropriately. I know how to speak demurely and delicately. Or I did until he began to perturb me.” She made a small clucking noise. “And see?” She nodded ahead of them. “There he is. Strolling along on the arm of some lady. Likely charming her into something she would not otherwise do.”

  “You cannot know why he is walking with her or what he is saying. You do not even know who she is.”

  Perhaps she could not, but it would not stop Evelyn from feeling jealous. She stopped walking. “We should go home. I can do without that comb.”

  She needed a rest. A nice long rest. One that would remove such foolish feelings as jealousy from her mind. She did not like Mr. Edwards. He was a friend and a curiosity – a project – naught else.

  “No, we cannot,” Constance replied, “because I plan to get a comb just like it to surprise Henry, and I am not going home without it.”

  Evelyn sighed. Once Constance Linton was determined to do something, there was little hope of dissuading her. Constance was like her aunt in that regard.

  “But I do not wish to see him, and they are turning into that shop,” Evelyn pleaded, hoping that for once her friend might be swayed.

  “Why do you not wish to see him?” Constance asked.

  Evelyn swallowed. “No particular reason.” Other than she did not wish to see him charming some other lady. “But have we not already seen him enough today?” she continued. “We had tea with him.”

  She smiled softly as if there were not a million confusing, panicky thoughts racing through her mind as her friend studied her face.

  “You are making little sense,” Constance finally said.

  Oh, Evelyn knew that full well.

  “I suppose you can return to the carriage, and I can continue on my own,” Constance suggested.

  “You know I cannot do that,” Evelyn grumbled. “And you do not need to look so pleased to have gotten your way. You should know that I will not be lectured by you if I happen to say something I should not if we should meet with him and he provokes me.”

  Constance laughed and pulled her friend closer. “I shall do my best to keep you from ruining yourself.”

  As it happened, they reached the shop just as Charles and the lady on his arm were exiting the establishment.

  “Miss Linton, Miss Barrett,” he said with a tip of his head.

  “Mr. Edwards, Miss Crawford.” Evelyn dipped a curtsey, her eyes looking first at him and then her friend, who was extending her greeting. Henry was not on speaking terms with his sister, and she had no idea how Constance, the source of that breach, would be received by Miss Crawford. She wondered too why Henry’s dearest friend would be shopping with her. It was Miss Crawford and her friend’s story which had led to Charles’s black eye and his near betrothal to Constance.

  “I was on my way to get some blacking for my boots when Miss Crawford found me,” he replied as if he understood her question. “She insisted she was in need of a gentleman’s opinion about a particular purchase.”

  Miss Crawford pressed herself against his arm and smiled. “I needed a new ornament for my hair. Lady St. James is having a dinner, you see, and I would like to do her table justice. She is an exquisite hostess, and Charles is so good at knowing beauty when he sees it.”

  “I am sure he is,” Evelyn replied, not at all pleased to have Miss Crawford make mention of such a thing.

  “He was telling me that he has recently joined himself to some charities. I was all agog to hear about it, but he will not say more than he needed some supplies for polishing boots. It is the most vexing thing to be teased in such a fashion and not have one’s curiosity satisfied, is it not?”

  “I imagine it is.” Evelyn looked at Charles. It was likely wise that he had not revealed too much of his involvement to Miss Crawford, for who knew what that lady would do with the information.

  “One does not always wish for his comings and goings to be known by one and all,” he replied.

  Mary Crawford laughed. “He is such a tease, is he not? We all know that it is part of some scheme. I am just bursting to know what scheme it is.”

  “It is not a scheme.”

  Charles did not sound pleased. Was it truly not part of a scheme or was he angry that Miss Crawford had sussed out the truth? Either way, the fact that he was not pleased was very pleasing to Evelyn.

  “Now,” he added, attempting to extricate himself from Miss Crawford’s grasp, “I really must be on my way. You have your pretty bauble and can be assured that it meets my approval. Therefore, you no longer have need of my assistance. Your footman can see to your safety.”

  “You are not still mad at me about that little misunderstanding in the paper, are you?” She batted her eyelashes at him and dipped her head.

  “My eye is still black, so the memory has not faded,” he retorted. “Ladies.” He tipped his hat and gave a shallow bow. “It has been lovely to see you, but unless you need my opinion on some purchase, I shall be on my way.”

  “I think we can manage a selection without you,” Evelyn assured him.

  “You are certain?” he teased.

  “Quite.”

  “Then do not let me detain you.” He moved himself slightly ahead of Miss Crawford, so that he was between them and her, and waved them toward the store.

  “Do tell Henry that I said hello,” Miss Crawford called after them.

  “I believe it is Mr. Crawford to you.” Evelyn heard Charles reply, which caused her to smile. Apparently, Mr. Edwards was not on friendly terms with Miss Crawford. For some reason very unrelated to loyalty to Henry, Evelyn was pleased. Miss Crawford was pretty – very pretty with her fine dark eyes and hair as well as a figure that most ladies only wished to have, and most men wanted to claim – and Mr. Edwards was a man given to admiration of beautiful women.

  “He is being ridiculous,” Miss Crawford retorted. “I am his sister.”

  “You were, and I, for one, cannot blame him for taking the actions he did.”

  Evelyn heard no more of the conversation as she had entered the store, but she did peek out the window just in time to see Charles give Miss Crawford a cunning grin, then with a look back at the shop,
he took his leave.

  ~*~*~

  “Why are you watching him?” Constance asked from directly behind Evelyn, causing her to jump.

  “I am not watching him. I am watching Miss Crawford.” Her cheeks warmed at the half-truth.

  “Indeed?” Constance did not sound convinced.

  “We have a comb to procure,” Evelyn said, stepping around her friend and the topic of Mr. Edwards. It was a tactic which did not go unnoticed by Constance, who chuckled but made her way to the counter with Evelyn.

  With the item purchased, the two ladies were once again on the street, but this time making their way to their carriage.

  “I am certain Aunt Gwladys will wish to have a full report about our day,” Constance said as they walked.

  “And what will you tell her?” Evelyn knew without a shadow of a doubt that Aunt Gwladys would not be interested so much in their purchases or even if Mrs. Verity was in good health. There might be a question or two about which children they had seen and in what activity they had taken part, but it would all be small talk and only necessary in getting to the point of Mrs. Kendrick’s curiosity – Mr. Edwards.

  “I will tell her that we purchased a lovely pair of gloves and a set of matching combs and that we saw Miss Crawford in the process.”

  Evelyn stepped to the side and pulled Constance with her as they passed a lady and gentleman discussing whether or not they would enter a shop.

  “She must also know about our tea and how well Mr. Edwards performed,” Constance added.

  And that was exactly what Constance told her aunt when replying to the lady’s question about how they had spent their day.

  “Edwards was at an orphan house?” Trefor Linton had entered during his sister’s recital of all that had transpired while she and Evelyn had been out.

  “Yes, and he was very good with the children,” Constance answered.

  “Edwards?” her brother asked in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “I would not have thought it,” he muttered.

  “Nor would have I,” Evelyn admitted. “But he was, and genuinely so. It did not appear to be an act. He was even on his way to purchase blacking when we met him on the street because he had promised the boys that he would teach them how to polish boots.” She shook her head. “If he knew what size foot they had, he would likely purchase them a pair of boots to polish and wear.”