Outrageous Fortune

by Freda Lightfoot

  James mouthed to Charlotte that he would not be long and she smiled and flapped a hand at him as if to say, get on with it, I shall be fine. James had his work to do. She was only too keenly aware how she had stood in his way long enough. What possible harm could come to her, sitting here sipping white wine?

  James still had not returned by the time supper was over, and the servants began to clear away the tables for cards. Charlotte had no alternative but to move back into the music room along with everyone else. The chairs were now arranged around the walls so that dancing could take place but they were already all filled, and some of them by gentlemen. Not one stood to offer his place though she could be clearly seen hovering uncertainly by the double doors.

  Where was James?

  Her glass was empty and, uncertain how to dispose of it, she glanced about for a footman or a handy table. She found herself instead face to face with Lady Susanna.

  ‘Not deserted you already, has he? How very uncivilised.’ Her eyes were mocking, sharp with amusement.

  Charlotte stiffened. ‘Not at all,’ she remarked with commendable dignity. `James is merely speaking with Lord Bletherington, as you wished him to, if I recall. I am quite content to wait until he has concluded his business.’

  If there was one thing Lady Susanna disliked intensely it was to be met with a calm confidence in response to her taunts, particularly from this chit. How dared the girl stand there and smilingly preach the edict of patient femininity, so certain James would return to her? And look so delightfully young and appetising with it. Susanna cut the thought off at birth. It would not do at all to show her jealousy. Yet it was there. If she had to lose him, Susanna would much rather it were to anyone other than this untutored child from the country, with her big dark innocent eyes and slender curves. How Susanna hated her.

  ‘It is very hot in here,’ she said, fluttering her fan. ‘Would you care for a turn about the garden?’

  Charlotte politely declined. ‘I had better wait here or James will not know where to find me.’

  ‘Lord above, he’ll not look for you in an age. He will be at the card tables for hours. He and George Bletherington and their other cronies love nothing better than to gamble the night away.’ It was a gross exaggeration of the truth but Charlotte was not to know that.

  ‘O-oh. I didn’t realise. I thought when he said he wouldn’t be long…’

  ‘That he meant minutes, and not half the night?’ Lady Susanna gave a pretty, tinkling laugh. ‘What an innocent you are.’

  And, miserably, Charlotte knew this to be true. She had trusted people all her life and they had lied to her, for whatever noble reason. And if she hadn’t been so trusting of Fosdyke perhaps James would never have been injured, for she was almost certain that it had not been entirely an accident. Even now she wasn’t sure of the reason. She had perhaps been wrong to trust Fanny. Knowing that Fanny wanted her to return to Cornwall, she’d taken her advice and the loan of her money and received a beating from a couple of thugs as a result. Was that truly a coincidence? Could Fanny be totally innocent? And now she was trusting James. Perhaps that was a mistake too. Charlotte told herself she was not an entire nincompoop and would likewise not make the mistake of trusting Lady Susanna either, for all her smiling charm. If that she-dragon wished to lure Charlotte into the garden there must be a purpose behind it.

  ‘I think I had better wait here. I am sure James will not be long,’ Charlotte stubbornly insisted.

  The smile slipped just a little, but she soon recovered. ‘Of course, for who else does he have, now that his friends have deserted him?’

  Charlotte’s heart gave a tiny lurch. ‘Deserted him? What are you talking about?’

  Susanna waved a prettily manicured hand airily about her. ‘Do you see anyone eager to make the acquaintance of James’s new conquest, that is yourself, my dear? Odd, don’t you think? Did they rush to greet you when you arrived? Have the young gallants been queuing up to dance with you, pretty though you undoubtedly are? Is your card quite full? Have you not noticed a decided chill in the air?’

  Charlotte had gone quite cold. ‘I-I hadn’t really thought. I didn’t notice any. . .’ Oh, but she had.

  Now that Susanna had the advantage she stroked her white powdered curls like a cat quietly grooming itself before swallowing the mouse. ‘The truth is, my dear, though it saddens me deeply to have to say it, that you are the very worst thing that has happened to James in his entire career. He was about to be offered high office in Government, and, being a man of scruples, his honour is of paramount importance to him.’

  ‘I- I know that.’

  Susanna’s wide, smiling mouth formed a soft pout. ‘What a pity, then, that he should take up with an actress, a strolling player, a vagabond of the streets as a mistress. And, as if that were not enough, take her to live with him in his own house.’

  Charlotte attempted to interrupt but Susanna rolled inexorably onward. ‘It is not so unusual for a minister of His Majesty’s Government to place his mistress in a house of her own, of course, somewhere convenient for him to visit after a late night sitting. But in his own home…’ Susanna let the sentence hang in the air unfinished.

  Charlotte felt herself shaking from head to foot. ‘It is not at all like that. You are quite wrong.’

  ‘Of course James is ever gallant, and his failing is his soft heart, that is very true. And I’m sure he was concerned about your homeless state. However, you must appreciate, my dear, the effect your presence has upon his prospects. Certainly marriage is not even to be considered. You had not expected that, had you? A man in his position does not marry with his mistress, particularly one with a dubious past. The scandal would quite ruin him, do you not agree?’ Susanna raised perfect brows in query and Charlotte felt sick.

  ‘I had never hoped for any such thing.’ But she had, she had.

  Susanna patted her hand. ‘Very sensible of you. A politician’s wife has to be a very special kind of person. She must come from the right social sphere for a start, with an impeccable lineage, and be able to entertain her husband’s colleagues properly. She must know the right people, and how to aid his advancement. And, though he and I may have our spats from time to time, nothing in the end will keep us apart, for I am exactly what he needs in a wife, don’t you see? And he is not indifferent towards me, I do assure you. Our relationship goes back a long way.’ Again the tinkling laugh which crashed against Charlotte’s nerves rather like the waves on her Cornish rocks. She longed to shut out the taunting voice but could not. She could not even run away.

  Lady Susanna rested a slim white hand upon Charlotte’s. ‘I know you and I have not been the best of friends. I understand how you feel about him, none better. But I feel bound to say that if you truly love James this is not the way to help him. Be his mistress if you will, it is not uncommon. I’d as soon it was you than some more scheming hussy. But have him buy you an apartment of your own. Be discreet, my dear. That way, you and I can become tolerably good friends and James’s career will be safe. Now, I cannot say fairer than that, can I?’

  The lilting music swirled merrily about Charlotte, a kaleidoscope of dancing colours spun before her eyes, but inside her head was a dark, numbing silence.

  Susanna lightly tapped Charlotte’s wrist with her closed fan. ‘Think about what I have said. But do not take too long about it or you could lose James altogether. It is you he will blame if he is castigated completely by his colleagues and his brilliant future torn to shreds.’ Susanna lifted her skirts with a flourish, already smiling a greeting to a breathless young gallant who was bowing before her. ‘Which would be most unpleasant, would it not?’ she said over one shoulder as, placing a hand upon the young man’s arm, she swept away.

  * * * *

  James found Charlotte sitting on a seat tucked away behind the fountain in the very depths of the garden. She had been crying, just a little, but fortunately it was so dark that he did not notice.

  ‘What are you do
ing out here? I’ve been searching high and low. Were you hot?’

  ‘It was rather stuffy in there, yes,’ agreed Charlotte in a small voice. ‘But I’m perfectly all right. Were you playing cards? There was no need to leave your friends on my account.’

  ‘Cards? Good Lord, no. Whatever makes you think so? I wish to be with you, not those old sots.’ His wide lips were curving into that bewitching smile which quite turned her heart. She tried desperately not to look at him, not to respond. But he was leaning closer, slipping his arm around the back of the seat above her shoulders and she could smell the fresh male aroma of clean soap, and the brandy he had drunk at supper. ‘Are you not happy, Charlotte? You look so sad.’ In truth he was very worried about her. Was she still hankering after that long lost mother, or was it Fosdyke and his crew she missed? The latter was a grim thought.

  Charlotte drew a deep, quivering breath. It was now or never. However much she might dislike Lady Susanna Brimley, the woman had a point. And the situation was even worse than Lady Susanna imagined. Heaven knew what would happen once the full story of Charlotte’s background were known. She must be out of James’s life long before that scandal broke. Hadn’t it done enough damage already by ruining her mother’s life? Even that of her uncle to a degree, by exiling him to the country when, Charlotte was quite sure, he would have been much happier living in the city in close proximity to a large lending library and dozens of intriguing bookshops. She made herself look up at James. ‘I have decided to go home.’

  ‘But the night is young and I have not yet danced with you,’ James protested teasingly, not understanding. Charlotte tried to swallow the hard knot of emotion in her throat and failed. ‘No, I meant home to Cornwall.’

  She thought the silence would go on forever. Why did he not speak? His hand at last fell away from her shoulder and he sat back from her, his eyes searching her face, the set of his lips tight and grim. Never had she felt so miserable in all her life.

  ‘Why?’

  A single word but powerfully presented, and not for a moment dared she ignore it. ‘Because it is what I wish,’ she prevaricated, then, seeing his expression, bumbled on, ‘I never meant to stay forever. You know I did not. I have failed in my quest; so be it. I must return to where I belong.’

  ‘You could just as easily belong here.’ He had spoken so softly, the faintest movement of sound on the night breeze, that she wondered it she had heard correctly. ‘You must know that I want you.’

  It was what she had so longed to hear. But it was too late. She knew it. Lady Susanna’s words still rattled in her head. An hour ago, even a moment ago, she might have interpreted James’s statement with hope for their future, now she was filled with despair. She stood up, hands clasped tightly so he would not see them tremble, desperate not to break down before him. ‘I must go.’

  ‘You surely do not want to go back to Cornwall, to Dickon?’

  A small sob caught in her throat as she shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’d make a very good mistress.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ For an instant his eyes sparkled with a new hope and he was on his feet beside her, taking her in his arms and she was trying, not very successfully, to fend him off. ‘You little goose. If that is all that troubles you, you need worry no more.’

  James was unused to these feelings of inadequacy which seemed currently to beset him so badly. What had he said to give her such an impression? This was a whole new scenario for him. But how could he right the wrong without risking the humiliation of rejection? He tried to lighten the tension with a touch of humour. ‘Here am I, the confirmed bachelor, attempting to make up my mind to marry at last, to take a wife into my all male stronghold, and you decide to abandon me without even giving me the chance to come to terms with it. How can you be so cruel?’

  Charlotte was gazing at him, transfixed. What was he saying? Could he truly wish to marry her? For an instant her heart leapt in response, her eyes met his and her lips almost smiled and accepted his glorious, wonderful offer. But then she considered his exact words - attempting to make up my mind to marry at last. How could that be called an offer from the heart? It was nothing more than pity, coupled perhaps with a need that was more physical than emotional. Had Lord Bletherington made it clear to James what everyone thought of her? Had she compromised him? Charlotte recalled Lady Susanna’s words that James’s wife ,must come from the right social sphere, with an impeccable lineage. Hardly so in her own case. She had to put an end to this agony at once.

  ‘I cannot be your wife either, James. It is kind of you to ask but you must know that I cannot.’

  ‘Why not, for God’s sake? And I wasn’t intending to be kind.’ He was reaching for her again but she slapped his hands away. The tears burned the backs of her eyes and she longed to be anywhere but right here in this beautiful moonlit garden with the man she loved. She had to escape.

  ‘I’m wrong for you, you know that I am. You need a wife who meets very particular requirements, which I do not. Lady Susanna is the one for you.’

  ‘Lady Susanna?’ He almost shouted the name and Charlotte, much flustered, hushed him and put her fingers to his lips as she glanced back anxiously over one shoulder. ‘Has she been talking to you?’ James demanded, snatching the hand away and, keeping a firm hold upon it, grasped her other one as well for good measure.

  Charlotte stubbornly shook her head. It would not do for James to think that she and Lady Susanna had discussed him in any way. He deserved to keep his pride at least. ‘No, of course not. But I can work things out for myself.’ At last I can, she thought. Now that the stars have been drawn from my eyes. ‘You know very well that I can never marry anyone until I have established beyond question the nature of my birth. That I am not - not...’ she had to say it, now, here, to impress upon him how strongly she felt about the situation ‘…that I am not a child of incest.’ There, it was done. She turned to go but he still had hold of her hands and she could not escape.

  ‘Damn you! You know I don’t care about all that nonsense.’

  Charlotte swirled to face him, her eyes blurred with tears. ‘But I do!’ she cried. ‘I do! Can’t you see that?’

  ‘I see that you have led me to believe there was more in our relationship these past weeks than you actually feel,’ he said coldly. ‘Was it only the stage you cared for, after all? Your dreams of fame?’

  It was too much, the look in his eyes, the touch of his hands, the memory of those happy weeks together. In another moment the tears would spill over and run down her cheeks. She had to do something, anything, to break the power of his hold. And he had given her the cue. She tossed her head and met his gaze boldly. ‘You are right in that I have no wish for marriage. I do intend to go on the stage as I have so many times told you. It is what I most want above everything. It is my heritage. I need nothing but that. I will consider becoming your mistress if that is what you wish, but in my own house where you can call upon me discreetly. Are not actresses famous for their discretion in such things? But never your wife. I dare say I should find politics vastly boring.’

  Her heart was breaking.

  For answer James made some indistinguishable noise deep in his throat, then pulled her angrily into his arms. His lips came down to crush hers with a new fierceness, hard, unyielding, demanding, cruel almost. He cared not how he hurt her. He wanted to hurt her as much as she had hurt him. With one hand he held her small face in a vice-like grip, while the other he fastened about her waist and, lifting her in his arms, forced her down among the soft, sweet smelling grasses.

  She might have cried out but he did not hear her. The blood pounded in his head so strong that he doubted his own sanity. He made his desire for her painfully evident and in doing so extinguished Charlotte’s own. She lay cold and unmoving beneath him, her heart like stone in her breast. After a time he became aware of her lack of response, and of their situation. He snatched himself from her and stood, legs astride, looking down at her with
open contempt on his face.

  ‘Get up. Tidy yourself. You may indeed go home, for I want none of a woman who thinks she can buy her future with her virtue.’ Taking her elbow in an icy grip, he propelled her back to the house.

  As he led her through the crowd of dancers out to the hall, Charlotte felt the daggers of their curious stares follow her. Lady Susanna stood smilingly by as a footman handed Charlotte her wrap and James made an attempt at a polite if clipped farewell to Lady Alsager. But as they went out into the night Charlotte knew that the scandalmongers had won and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  * * * *

  They sat in silence during the drive home, and it was only when Charlotte started to mount the stairs to her room that James spoke to her again in a voice as cold as the night itself.

  ‘I shall no doubt be out by the time you wake in the morning. The carriage will be at your disposal as usual. Perhaps tomorrow night, when you have had time to think, we can discuss your future plans more rationally.’

  She stared at him for a split second, tracing his image in her mind for all time. He was disappointed in her, she could read it in the bleakness of the grey eyes, as chilling and flat as the sea after a storm. Their whole relationship had been a terrible mistake. Forced together by circumstances and duty, they’d had their judgement clouded by the undeniable physical attraction between them. He no doubt regretted ever considering marriage, for all it had been mentioned with precious little enthusiasm. Now she could see that James thought the shades had been drawn back from his eyes as she’d presented a very different picture of herself. As a woman of easy virtue. Was that the term? But then hadn’t he caught her apparently frolicking in the hay with her cousin? Now she saw all those first doubts return. Well, he had no need to fear. She would never again embarrass him, any more than she would ruin his career. Without a word she turned and walked up the stairs.

  Charlotte had her bags packed before she climbed into bed. Nor did it take long, since she put in only those items which were strictly hers and nothing which Sir James had bought for her. She did not even trouble to remove all her clothes but lay in her shift, unmoving beneath the quilt. Before the dawn had broken she was creeping down the stairs, dressed in her simple striped dress and old cloak, and scurrying out of the kitchen door, praying that none of the servants were about yet on their morning chores.