‘So be it,’ said James quietly, and his words rode like a death knell into Susanna’s heart. Once more her fiery tongue had betrayed her, and this time she had sealed her own coffin. She had lost him, and who else would marry her now if Sir James Caraddon cast her off for a mere actress?
Susanna stormed to the door, skirts hissing angrily over the polished boards. Not for a moment would she allow James to see how much she cared. Let him think it was but injured pride. But before she left she gave her parting shot, with all the venom of a witch from Macbeth she offered up her curse. ‘But if you think you can find happiness with that whore and power in politics, you are mistaken, James Caraddon. For I shall see that you do not.’
* * * *
James found Charlotte in the garden. She was sitting in the summer house, a small forlorn figure of abject misery. As soon as she saw him striding towards her she was on her feet, hands clasped in supplication before her.
‘I am so sorry, James. It is all my fault that your relationship with Lady Susanna is ruined. She was so angry. Has she gone? Will she forgive you, do you think? I shall go at once and assure her that she will soon be rid of me.’
James stopped her words with one finger upon her lips. Such soft lips. ‘You will do no such thing. So many questions, so many worries. I am not in the least concerned about Lady Susanna.’
Charlotte’s green eyes were wide with shock at the scene she had witnessed for which she held herself entirely to blame. No wonder Lady Susanna was alarmed, for having an actress in his house who had roamed the countryside with a group of strolling players could do little for James’s reputation as an up-and-coming politician. ‘Oh, but I do understand how she must feel. I am the intruder and have compromised you. But I never meant to do so. I didn’t think. It was only that…’
James stopped her apology with the touch of one finger tip to her lips. Then he was smoothing one thumb over her cheek and she was gazing wonderingly into his eyes. Grey, and filled with unmistakable desire. His kiss, when it came, robbed her of the last atom of strength. Charlotte leaned into him as if she would meld her body to his. Was it wicked to want him so? His hands on her shoulders, sliding up into her hair were making her giddy with need. But all too soon the kiss ended, and those eyes were now laughing down into her own, which brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks. Was he just funning her, after all?
‘I repeat,’ he said, ‘I am not in the least concerned about Lady Susanna. She always took our relationship far more seriously than it deserved.’ He quite startled Charlotte by bursting into a gale of laughter, his arms still comfortably linked about her waist so that she had no alternative but to rest her own upon them. She found she didn’t mind that in the least, but his laughter was unnerving.
‘Have I amused you in some way?’ she asked in a tight little voice, but he only laughed all the more. Then seeing her expression, he stopped. Pulling her closer into the warmth of his embrace, he kissed her lightly on the nose.
‘Indeed no, but you have done me a great favour. Because of you Lady Susanna has been driven to release me from this half hearted relationship. If I hadn’t been such a coward I would have rid myself of the woman long ago.’
‘I see.’ In truth Charlotte did not see. So the kiss had been out of gratitude? The disappointment she felt by this revelation was keen. She had rid James of a shrew of a woman and so he kissed and hugged her out of thankfulness, and laughed with relief that he no longer felt obliged to marry her. Charlotte had never known a misery so deep. But still James did not release her. Instead he took her hands in each of his own and stepped back so that he could better view her.
‘Susanna was, however, right in one respect. You do not have a fit wardrobe for life in the capital, not in the circles I move in, I’m afraid. We shall have to do something about that.’
‘We?’
‘Since you are staying.’
‘Am I?’
The smile faded from James’s lips. ‘You will stay, won’t you, Charlotte? At least for a little while. Have we not become friends? You must know…’ James stopped, biting back the words which had sprung so thoughtlessly, almost automatically, to his lips. He had wanted to reveal how he felt about her, but how did he feel? In the infinitesimal moment of time which stretched out between them, he gazed at her dear, sweet face, saw how her eyes moved over his, knew that life without her would be a dull, drab affair. Yet there was a reticence still about her, a shyness that he had no wish to startle. He feared she might flee his presence as swiftly and easily as she had done the farm. And, even more important, in view of the way she had been rejected so callously in the past by her own parents, her trust in love so cruelly shattered, he must be certain that what he felt for her was genuine and would last.
He offered her a warm smile, and, seeing how she relaxed, knew his judgement to be correct. Gaining Charlotte’s trust and confidence would take time. ‘I have no wish to rush you into any decisions about your future, Charlotte. But, if nothing else, know that I am your friend, that I would never knowingly hurt you and that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish. We may find your mother yet. And even if we do not, I shall not regret having you in my house for one moment.’
‘But the gossipmongers…’
‘Will wag their tongues and shake their heads,’ he moaned, and now it was her turn to laugh. ‘And I’ll tell you this, Charlotte Forbes. I don’t care. I do not care a jot what they say or do. I want you here, with me.’ Then he was holding her hands to his lips and kissing the back of each one and Charlotte thought she would die with the pleasure of it.
‘Are we agreed?’ His eyes were serious now, probing, questioning, sparking with his demands and, dared she imagine, almost pleading. Charlotte dropped her gaze and gave a tiny nod of her head which he could interpret as he might, for she could find no words to speak.
James was jubilant, delight plainly writ on his face, like a young boy at Christmastide. ‘I shall show you everything,’ he said. Then his arms were round her again and he was sweeping her off her feet, swirling her round and round and they were both laughing with the joy of this as yet unspoken realisation that something very special had sprung up between them over these last weeks, and neither had the wish to end it.
* * * *
The next few days passed by in a whirl of activity and heady emotion. And Charlotte found herself agreeing to many things that once would have horrified her. Now she had no time to think, no time to judge anything rationally. Charlotte was in love, and as each day passed began to hope that her feelings might be reciprocated.
James took her on a tour of the city, showing her all the sights, including the Palace of Westminster where he spent a good deal of his time. ‘Though I’ve neglected it somewhat lately,’ he said with a wry smile.
‘Because of me?’
‘A charming reason. I’m not complaining. But I must return soon for there is much work to be done, and although I am not in the Cabinet I sit on several committees.’
They were strolling along the Embankment, a soft breeze coming in off the water, bringing with it the promise of an early spring. There was a hint of birdsong and Charlotte was poignantly reminded of her country home which she had so abruptly left. Watching James’s face, she saw how deeply satisfied he was with his life in the great city of London and for an instant she felt a stab of pain which was almost physical in her middle chest. How much harm had she done to his career by taking him from the House these long weeks, and why had he never complained? ‘Would you like to be in the Cabinet?’ she asked.
For answer he took her small gloved hand and rested it in the crook of his arm. It sat remarkably comfortably there. ‘There have been times when that has been the last thing I’ve wanted and I’ve dreamed of nothing more than to retire to Brampton and play the country gentleman. But then again I do not deny the prospect of high office is enticing. Pitt goes from strength to strength. He is strong, energetic, masterful, a man of vision. And not a man wh
o gives up easily once he has set his mind on something.’
Charlotte gave a little giggle. ‘He sounds rather like yourself.’
James squeezed her hand. ‘You flatter me. Pitt will bring stability, without doubt, for he is an able man bent on improving the efficiency of government without resorting to the corruption which has so often taken place in the past. It is a stony path to tread but I believe he can succeed. He’s not content to accept what has always gone before and is already making moves to dispose of sinecures by not handing them on automatically when the holder dies. I applaud that.’
Charlotte had been watching his expression, for he had come alive as he talked, and she saw that his job was important to him. ‘Yet he must make many enemies.’
James acknowledged this with a wry smile. ‘It is the way of politics. I too have enemies who would much rather not see me get into Cabinet. They would be pleased to see my newssheet fail, or to buy it from me, as some have already tried to do, in order to silence the uncomfortable comments it insists upon making.’ James smiled as if he was pleased, but Charlotte was startled. She could imagine no one setting himself against James Caraddon. He seemed so strong, so impregnable.
‘But, why?’ she asked.
James looked down at her and the smile deepened. ‘No other reason but personal ambition. In politics it is very much a case of every man for himself. If in furthering one’s own career it is at the expense of the next man, so be it. That is his bad luck.’
‘Even if you are on the same side?’ Charlotte was appalled at this new insight into the leaders of her land. ‘Why, I think that quite dreadful. There are surely more important matters than personal ambition?’
James laughed. ‘I’m sure you are right, but I’m afraid that working as a team is a hard lesson for many to learn in politics. The driving force of ambition is too strong in most men. That is probably the reason why I am still on the back benches.’
‘Why? Are you not ambitious?’ She was puzzled, for he seemed so to her. His lips tightened for a moment and then he laughed.
‘We are getting very serious here, are we not?’ he countered.
‘I want to know. I’m interested,’ she said, waiting for his answer. ‘For if you love politics and are indeed ambitious you will surely reach your goal in the end.’
‘Ah, but there is the crux of it,’ said James quietly. ‘Perhaps I am not prepared to stand upon enough heads to reach it.’
She looked into his eyes and understood. For all his strength and confident assurance that he could choose his own path, there was no streak of ruthlessness in his character. Not for Sir James Caraddon that all-enveloping ambition which could destroy its holder as easily as those it attempted to usurp. He was a man of principle. She found she was glad of that. Yet he was a skilled and caring politician, and any prime minister worth his salt would surely recognise his worth eventually. Perhaps the breeze from the river had changed, for she shivered. And, as James thoughtfully turned them homeward, the thought that echoed in her head was that if he was to succeed without that streak of ruthlessness and without corruption then he must remain steadfast to his honour. And she could not help but wonder if she had tarnished that image.
* * * *
The next day James informed Charlotte that she was to attend her first function.
‘It is not a political function, so you need have no fears of succumbing to boredom,’ he told her with a smile. They seemed to laugh a good deal these days and they grew easy together. ‘Do you like music?’
‘Of course.’
‘Splendid. Then, put on one of these fine gowns we have procured and be ready by six. We are to attend a piano recital at Lady Alsager’s. But first I must go to the House today, so I shall leave you to entertain yourself.’ At the door he turned and smiled at her. ‘Do you know, Charlotte, I enjoy coming home to this drab house so much more knowing you are in it?’
‘But I cannot stay forever,’ she said, going towards him. ‘I must go home soon. Uncle Nathan will expect me to. I’ve been thinking that I shall soon have to make up my mind about accepting this inheritance of mine, or how shall I live?’
‘There is no hurry,’ he said. ‘You must do only what you feel is right.’
‘But I cannot live on your generosity indefinitely,’ she protested, and their eyes met and held. After a long moment James gave something like a shrug.
‘If you say so. I shall see you at six, then.’ And he was gone, leaving Charlotte with a distinct feeling of unease. So often these days she seemed to say the wrong thing. She found it hard to judge his mood for he was increasingly unpredictable. Surely he did not mean them to go on in this fashion. For what purpose? He had not even asked her to become his mistress. Nor could she be certain what her own reaction would be if he did. She’d been most careful to observe the proprieties as far as was possible in their situation. She spent very little time alone with him and then only outside of the house, never in it.
There was the housekeeper, and Clara, who had now left Lady Susanna’s service, and Bayley of course, besides several other servants. Even so, she must leave soon or tongues really would start to wag, and she had no more desire for her own reputation to be besmirched than James’s. If only she could make up her mind to it. Sighing, she went slowly back upstairs. The truth was that she had no wish to leave at all. A happiness had grown between them and these last two weeks in James’s house had only intensified it. To part from him now would be like amputating a limb. Yet, despite his occasional kind words, as now, James had not for a moment attempted to take advantage of the situation. In fact the last time he had kissed her had been on the day Susanna had left in her storm of rage, vowing a vengeance that could be heard all over the house. Since then they had lived in complete decorum, as brother and sister, as perfect friends.
Charlotte stopped, and, sitting down upon the top step of the long staircase, rested her chin upon her hand. Her eyes grew misty as she wondered if that state of affairs might ever change.
The dress she chose to wear was of ivory silk taffeta, the hemline garlanded with pink roses and the neck cut low and square with no kerchief since the occasion was a formal one. Yet, pretty though the dress undoubtedly was, Charlotte was unprepared for the effect of her entry upon James’s arm into the music room of Lady Alsager’s house. A silence so complete and awesome in its implications seemed to crystallise in Charlotte’s head like the pricking of sharp needles and, had it not been for the light pressure of James’s hand upon hers, she was sure she would have turned tail and run.
As it was, she smiled and nodded and walked with him to their seats, set near to the back of a dozen rows. She felt strange and unsure of herself, and something of this must have communicated itself to him for he gave her hand a little squeeze and whispered in her ear.
‘Don’t worry. You are quite the most beautiful person present, and I promise you will enjoy this evening. He is a brilliant pianist. Afterwards we will taste one of Lady Alsager’s famous suppers and mingle with her noted guests, who will adore you, as I do.’
Faced with such assured confidence, Charlotte could do no other than ignore her misgivings, which she could not have named in any case, and, folding her hands neatly upon the stiff silk of her lap, prepared to be entertained.
It was only as everyone settled into their places and the pianist started his recital that Charlotte dared move her head to look about her. The first face she saw, directly across the aisle from her, was that of Lady Susanna.
Charlotte’s heart froze. There was something in the glint of triumph in the other woman’s eyes that made her want to look as quickly away, but something held her, like a hypnosis, and it was Lady Susanna who smilingly broke the hold. It seemed to be a victory of sorts, and Charlotte feared it would not be the only one that evening.
Chapter Fourteen
As soon as the recital was over and everyone filed into the supper room, it became very apparent to Charlotte that she was the subject of much spec
ulation. She saw heads bob, lips snap together when she approached, skirts draw away, and eyes rake her over from head to toe. If James noticed anything amiss he made no comment. He found them a pair of chairs and brought her a plate full of tempting morsels to savour. But, though she obediently nibbled at the food to please him, she neither knew nor cared what it was she ate. Never had she heard him talk so much in all of their acquaintance. Can he be as nervous as I? she wondered. Or embarrassed by the fact that not a single person approached them throughout the meal. Finally, someone did approach - Lord Bletherington himself, and he seemed far from pleased to see them.
‘So there you are, James, m’boy. Heard you were out of sorts, but you look well enough to me so why have you been hiding yourself away?’ He did not even glance in Charlotte’s direction and she felt thoroughly snubbed.
James rose from his seat, nodded an acknowledgement and assured Lord Bletherington that the tale was true. ‘Suffered a minor injury but I’m better now, thank you,’ he said.
‘Not swords, what? Dangerous toys, swords. Been neglecting that newssheet of yours too, I hear. Why don’t you sell it to me and have done with it? I’d make more money out of it than you, m’boy.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder,’ said James dryly. ‘Allow me to introduce to you Miss Charlotte Forbes,’ he said, reaching out a hand to include Charlotte. But before she had got to her feet Lord Bletherington gave a brief nod vaguely in her direction, then turning abruptly back to James proceeded to speak at length about the latest Parliamentary business. Charlotte was obliged to remain trapped in her seat and although James cast her a sympathetic, long suffering look, there was nothing he could do when moments later Bletherington took his arm and started to lead him off.
‘Come and meet him yourself, Caraddon. You’ll see what I mean exactly. The man has some excellent theories.’
Outrageous Fortune Page 19