Euphemia turned towards her. ‘Where Jeremy Davenport lived?’
‘That’s right.’
‘What happened to him? Oh, don’t tell me he’s dead.’ Her hand fluttered to her mouth and her eyes were wide.
Charlotte regarded her aunt. She must have known him, she thought. ‘I’m afraid so,’ she said gently. ‘His heir was a second cousin once removed who lived abroad and didn’t wish to take up occupancy. The manor and the whole estate were sold to Mr Thornton and – and – ’ her voice faded to a whisper, ‘his three sons.’
Euphemia stared at her for a long moment, absorbing the news and beginning to realize what the arrival of the new family had meant for Charlotte.
Osbert leaned towards his sister. ‘It was Davenport whom Father had lined up for you. So you see, if you’d been obedient and married him, you would now be a very wealthy woman.’
Pulled back to the present, Euphemia started and then, in a very unladylike manner, snorted with laughter. Despite the shocking confirmation that what Philip had told her was true, Charlotte smiled. She was beginning to like her new-found relative very much.
‘Me! Marry Jeremy Davenport?’ Euphemia almost squeaked. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Osbert. He was a philanderer. A womanizer. No girl in her right mind would have married him.’
Osbert put his head on one side as he said slyly, ‘Maybe it was Davenport who had the lucky escape. He did marry late in life – someone much younger than him – and had two sons. Sadly, they were both killed in the war and his wife – still young enough to have borne more children, mark you – died in ’eighteen of the influenza.’ He paused and then smiled maliciously at Euphemia. ‘You haven’t been able to give your husband any children at all, let alone sons.’
All through the exchange of heated words, Euphemia had remained in control, but now her brother had touched a raw nerve. Her hand fluttered to her mouth and tears filled her eyes. At once, Percy was at her side. ‘There, there, old girl. Don’t take on.’ He turned towards Osbert. ‘And you, sir, mind your tongue. Even if she is your sister, it doesn’t give you the right to be so cruel.’
‘Huh, we’re in the same boat. I’ve no son, only a useless, good-for-nothing daughter, who can’t even catch a husband. I tried to arrange a marriage with Miles Thornton, but even he won’t have her. Not even to secure his son’s inheritance.’
‘Father!’ Charlotte gasped. ‘What are you saying? What d’you mean?’ This she did not know.
He turned to her now. ‘I intend to leave all my lands and possessions to Philip Thornton, but I tried to make provision for you. As a condition, I proposed that his father – Miles – should agree to marry you. But he refused.’ His lip curled disdainfully. ‘But who can blame him? Look at you. Just look at you! Drab, colourless and spineless. Who on earth would ever want you for a wife?’
Hurt and humiliated more than ever before, Charlotte pulled herself up and ran from the room. As she dragged herself up the stairs, the racking sobs built in her chest, but not until she reached the sanctuary of her own room, did she throw herself on her bed and give way to a storm of weeping.
Twenty-Five
She must have fallen asleep for it was dusk when she woke. Her face was blotchy, her eyes swollen. She splashed cold water from the ewer into the bowl and washed her face. Then she unwound her plait, brushed her long, shining black hair and replaited it. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her violet eyes stared back at her. She picked up the spectacles she had worn since the age of seven. She remembered her father taking her to Lincoln. It had been such a rare occasion that he took her anywhere that the day was still clear in her memory.
They’d gone to an optician where her father had insisted the man test her eyesight. When she’d done reading all the letters and he’d looked into her eyes, the man declared that she had perfect eyesight.
‘She needs glasses,’ her father had said abruptly. ‘You will make her a pair of spectacles with round, plain steel frames.’
The man had spread his hands helplessly. ‘But she doesn’t need spectacles. She—’
Slowly and clearly, Osbert had repeated the words, ‘You will make her a pair of spectacles to my specification with plain glass.’
The man had gaped in surprise. He’d tried to argue once more, but to no avail. Osbert had been adamant and the man, only an employee who dared not turn away a customer for fear of his superior’s wrath, duly obliged. On completion, the spectacles were posted to Buckthorn Farm and from that day Charlotte had worn them. They had been replaced twice more, but still they were the same style of round, steel-framed glasses that she had worn as a child.
Staring at herself in the mirror, Charlotte felt an overwhelming rebellion. The spectacles slipped from her fingers to the floor and before she had scarcely stopped to think what she was doing, she had ground them into the worn linoleum with the heel of her sturdy shoe.
Then she left her room and went down to the hall. She paused a moment. There was no sound now from the sitting room, so she turned towards the door to the kitchen.
Mary and Edward were seated either side of the range. The remains of their meal still lay on the kitchen table and a plate of food, which had obviously been taken on a tray to her father, had been returned untouched.
At the sound of her entry, they both stood up and Mary came hurrying towards her, arms outstretched. ‘Miss Charlotte – there you are. I came up, but you were sleeping, so I left you.’
Charlotte smiled weakly. ‘Is there any tea? I could drink a horse trough.’
‘Of course, of course. There’s still some in the pot, but I’ll make you a fresh one.’
‘No need. That’ll be fine.’
‘Are you hungry?’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘Not really.’ She sat down at the table and, when Mary poured a cup of tea out, she drank it gratefully.
‘So,’ she began, ‘have our visitors gone?’
A glance passed between husband and wife. ‘They’ve gone, but they left you a message, miss,’ Edward said. ‘They’re staying at the White Swan in Ravensfleet and they’d like you to contact them there.’
Charlotte placed her cup back in its saucer with deliberate care. ‘D’you know them, Mary?’
Again Mary and Edward exchanged a swift look. When they didn’t answer, Charlotte said, ‘It was my aunt and uncle. It seems – ’ she paused with a wry smile – ‘that my father has a sister I’ve never known about.’
Mary was twisting her apron between nervous fingers. Charlotte eyed her suspiciously. Softly, she said, ‘You do know her, don’t you?’
Mary’s eyes filled with tears and she put her apron up to them, half covering her face.
Edward touched his wife’s arm comfortingly and then turned to face Charlotte. ‘Miss Charlotte, we saw her once or twice, years ago, before – before – ’ he gulped nervously, ‘before your mother went. But since then – nothing. I swear, miss.’
‘It’s all right, Edward. Mary, please don’t distress yourself,’ Charlotte tried to reassure them both, though secretly she was puzzled over their reaction to what seemed to her a simple question.
‘Euphemia!’ She smiled, trying to lighten the tension. ‘It seems my paternal grandparents had a penchant for ridiculous names for their children.’ She chuckled and repeated, ‘Euphemia.’ Then she went on, ‘From what I can gather, my father and his sister fell out some years ago and the feud has lasted all this time. So like my father, don’t you think?’ she added dryly. ‘And they’ve been abroad for many years. Uncle was with the Foreign Office. Did you know that? But now he’s retired and they’ve come back to England.’ She shrugged. ‘And I suppose my aunt wanted to see her only living relative – well, relatives, if you count me too.’
Mary nodded and whispered, ‘Yes, miss.’ Then she seemed to pull herself together. ‘I must get on, Miss Charlotte. I’ve a lot of work to do. Peggy’s not coming today. Joe came in to tell me. I think she’s going down with the flu that Jackson’s got.
’
‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte said, at once concerned for the Warren family. ‘Look, pack some food into a basket, Mary, and I’ll take it over later. I want to see Jackson anyway.’
‘Now don’t you go running into infection, miss,’ Edward warned. ‘We don’t want you going down with the flu. It’s the very devil. Let’s hope it doesn’t get as bad as at the end of the war.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Charlotte said airily. She’d always been blessed with robust health and never feared catching anything. She’d had all the usual childish ailments, but wasn’t a martyr to winter coughs and colds or even the dreaded influenza that everyone feared so. She rose. ‘And I suppose I’d better get on as well. Now all the excitement’s over.’
It wasn’t until she was halfway along the passage leading to the farm office at the back of the house that she realized she hadn’t asked Mary and Edward if they knew about the will her father intended to make.
Later that afternoon as the dusk of a winter’s afternoon settled over the marsh, Charlotte took the basket of food and walked down the lane to the Warrens’ cottage. She hadn’t been able to concentrate properly on her paperwork today. Plans for spring planting had been pushed aside not only because of the sudden appearance of relatives she’d known nothing about, but also because, obliterating everything else, of the revelation about her father’s intentions towards her.
She’d always known that she was a bitter disappointment to him, but it was only recently that she’d realized she was not treated as a daughter should be treated. She’d been naïve, ignorant, but she’d never known any different. How could she? The realization had come only very slowly. Subconsciously, she realized now, she’d seen the contrast between her own life and that of the Warrens. But she’d thought that their happy family life was because there was a mother in the household; a mother around whom the home and family life revolved.
She’d had no such good fortune.
But now that she’d seen Miles Thornton’s affection for his sons and how he managed to make a happy home life for them even without his wife at his side, it had dawned on her that her father had not a scrap of paternal affection for her. Indeed, it could be said that he hated her and her very existence. This last callous act proved it.
The thought saddened her. She’d tried to be a good and dutiful daughter. She’d done everything he’d demanded of her. She’d dressed in the drab garments, worn the clear-glass spectacles. Tied her long, glossy hair into an unbecoming plait. All as he’d dictated. She’d taken over the day-to-day running of the farm – with Joe’s help and advice, of course. She’d even hidden her one pleasure – her hobby of drawing and painting – because he ridiculed it.
She sighed as she reached the cottage and raised her hand to knock. John opened the door.
‘Please don’t come in, Miss Charlotte. Me ma’s gone down with it now. Jackson’s on the mend, but she’s real bad.’
‘Have you had the doctor?’
He shook his head and smiled wryly. ‘No, miss. She fetched him for Jackson, but she won’t have him for hersen. She sticks to all the old-fashioned remedies. Swears by ’em.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘She is very knowledgeable about such things, I know. But just promise me, John, that if you’re worried about her, you’ll call the doctor. You needn’t worry about the bill. I’ll see to that.’
‘You’re very kind, miss.’
‘Mary’s sent this. Just to help out.’
John took the basket and smiled his thanks.
‘I really wanted to see Jackson, but—’
‘He’s on the mend and he’ll be out and about in a day or so, I shouldn’t wonder. Will it wait till then?’
Charlotte bit her lip. ‘Of course,’ she said, but was bitterly disappointed.
As she left the cottage, she took the path across the fields to the manor. She was shown at once into Miles’s study. At once Duke lumbered towards her, wagging his tail and pushing his head into her skirt to be patted. ‘Now then, boy,’ she said softly.
‘Miss Charlotte – what a lovely surprise. Please, sit down,’ Miles invited, gesturing towards one of the leather winged chairs near the fire. ‘Wilkins, would you bring us tea, please?’
The manservant gave a little bow and left the room.
Miles didn’t return to his seat behind the desk, but sat down in the chair opposite. ‘What brings you here?’
Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘Several reasons. First, the Warren family has influenza. At least, Jackson and Peggy have and I wondered if you’d allow Lily to go home to help them. I know it’s an imposition of me to ask, especially as you have a guest coming and the dinner party on Friday evening—’
‘Of course, she must go at once.’ He made as if to stand up that instant to send for her, but Charlotte put up her hand to stop him.
‘Would you mind if I told her myself? I want to impress upon her that they must call Dr Markham in.’ She smiled. ‘Peggy is just like most of the country folk – they try their own remedies first when they get sick, but sometimes . . .’ She shrugged and spread her hands in a helpless gesture.
Miles nodded. ‘I understand. Of course, you must see Lily yourself.’ There was silence before he prompted, ‘And what else?’
Putting off the real reason for her visit for as long as possible, she said, ‘How is Philip getting along with Midnight?’
‘Ah.’ Miles smiled ruefully. ‘Well, now – I hope you won’t mind, but I’ve taken Midnight as my mount for the moment. Philip is still wary of him and the animal gets restless every time he goes near him. And as Philip is away at school for several weeks at a time, and Midnight is a big animal who needs his exercise, I’m riding him. He’s too big and still a little difficult for Ben, and certainly for Georgie.’ He laughed and suddenly his face seemed much younger. ‘Though that little rascal would have a go, if I let him.’
Charlotte smiled at the thought of her daring ‘golden boy’.
‘But he’s fine with me,’ Miles went on. ‘So, I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course I don’t. He’s your horse.’
‘But you trained him for Philip.’
‘I know.’ Her eyes twinkled merrily as she added, ‘But, to tell you the truth, I’m relieved.’
‘Because it’s not Philip riding him?’
‘Well – ’ She hesitated to criticize his son yet again, but Miles only laughed.
‘Perhaps you’re right. I think my eldest son has some growing up to do, and learning the right way to treat animals – and people, if it comes to that – is part of it. Anyway, you need have no worries for the present whilst I’m riding him. We’re getting along fine. He’s a beautiful animal. Still a little wilful, but we respect each other, I think.’
‘I’m glad.’
He waited a moment before saying softly, ‘But there’s something else, isn’t there?’
Charlotte took a deep breath, but at that moment Wilkins returned with a tray of tea, freshly baked scones, jam and cream.
‘Thank you, Wilkins. We’ll see to it.’
As the butler left the room, Miles said, ‘Will you pour?’
‘Of course,’ Charlotte said, but as she reached for the teapot she was trembling so noticeably that Miles touched her hand and said gently, ‘Allow me . . .’
As he handed her a cup her hands were still shaking so that the cup rattled in its saucer.
‘My dear girl, whatever’s the matter?’
Charlotte set her teacup down. ‘I scarcely know where to begin.’
He sat back in his chair, waiting patiently until she regained her composure sufficiently to explain. ‘You can tell me whatever you like, you know. It will be in the strictest confidence, I promise.’
‘I’ve had two shocks recently. One was that – out of the blue – an aunt and uncle I never knew existed arrived at Buckthorn Farm. She’s my father’s sister and they’ve – they’ve not seen each other for years. Some sort of family feud, it seems. She’s trying t
o make it up, but my father . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
‘And the second surprise?’
Charlotte bit her lip, not wanting to tell tales on his son. Although it had been Philip who’d first told her, now she’d learned the same fact from another source. The horse’s mouth.
‘You probably know about it.’ She took another deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, I find this very embarrassing. It seems that my father wishes to make Philip his heir.’
Miles rubbed his hand across his eyes and groaned. ‘Oh, that ridiculous nonsense. I’d hoped you’d never hear of that. We’ve refused, of course.’
Charlotte smiled a little sadly as she added quietly, ‘Because of the condition he made? That you should marry me?’
‘No – no – ’ Miles started forward, spilling his tea into the saucer. ‘What he’s suggesting is not right. You should inherit everything. The farm shouldn’t go to a comparative stranger.’
‘But what does Philip say? Doesn’t he want it?’
‘To my eternal shame – yes, he does. But as I say, he has some growing up to do.’
‘Don’t be too hard on him. It’s not his fault. He’s only young. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to be left a thriving farm?’
‘Well, we won’t accept it. He won’t accept it. I’ll make sure of that.’
‘I don’t think he – or you – will have any choice. I think my father can will his estate and his possessions to whomsoever he pleases. Can’t he?’
‘No doubt,’ Miles said curtly, ‘but I’m taking legal advice from my solicitor. He’s looking into the matter. There may be some way round it.’
‘And if there isn’t?’ she asked softly.
‘You will always have a home – I promise you. I would see that you were provided for.’
‘I don’t want charity,’ she snapped and then added swiftly, ‘I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I know you meant it kindly, but—’
‘Don’t apologize. I’d feel exactly the same in your place.’
There was silence between them before he asked tentatively, ‘Charlotte, is there anyone in your life – a young man? What I mean is, is there any possibility that you could get married?’
Sons and Daughters Page 17