She pursed her lips and glanced down at her lap as she twisted her fingers together nervously. She shook her head and said huskily, ‘No one. He – he’s never let anyone get close. And if there’s ever been the slightest sign – well, he gets rid of them.’
Miles knew that was true because of Cuthbert Iveson.
‘It’s strange,’ she mused, thinking aloud. ‘You’d think he’d be just the opposite, wouldn’t you? That if he doesn’t want me to inherit, he’d want to encourage suitors to get me off his hands.’
Miles laughed wryly. ‘Huh! You’re too useful to him. You run the farm, don’t you?’ He raised his hand as she began to refute the suggestion. ‘Don’t deny it. I have it from a good source. A very good source – but one which I’m not about to reveal.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘Joe, I suppose.’
‘Now, now.’ He wagged his finger at her playfully.
She sighed. ‘Yes, it’s true. Father does very little nowadays. Even when I try to talk over any problems with him, he just waves me away and says, “Ask Joe.”’
‘This aunt and uncle of yours who have suddenly appeared – are they staying with you?’
Charlotte laughed. ‘No. They got short shrift when they came to Buckthorn Farm. Father more or less ordered them out. They’re staying at the White Swan in Ravensfleet, so I intend to go and see them.’
There was mischief in Miles’s eyes as he said slowly, ‘We-ell, invite them to dinner on Friday night.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t – I mean – ’ She blinked. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’
‘Because sometimes I find life a little – shall we say, quiet – in the countryside.’ He chuckled, a deep, rumbling, infectious sound. ‘It might liven things up a bit.’
Charlotte gaped at him and then started to laugh too. ‘D’you know, I think you have a wicked streak in you. Now I know where Georgie gets his mischievous ways from.’
‘Most certainly it’s from me.’ But there was pride in his tone when speaking of his youngest son.
‘Well then, I will. I will invite them,’ she said, surprising herself with her sudden daring. She got up and held out her hand. ‘Thank you for listening to me. And for being so understanding.’
He rose, too, and took her outstretched hand. Looking down into her eyes, he said, ‘I hope you know you can always count on me as a friend, Charlotte.’
As she looked up into his kindly face and read the concern in his dark eyes, Charlotte felt a tremor run through her. She caught her breath and her heart began to race. Her hand trembled a little in his warm grasp, but she managed to say levelly, ‘Thank you. You’re very kind.’
Then she turned and walked out of the room in search of Lily, marvelling at the strange trembling in her legs that his touch had caused.
Twenty-Six
‘She’s in there, miss,’ Mrs Beddows said, nodding towards the back scullery situated off the main kitchen. ‘Though what you’ll mek of her, I don’t know. She’s upset about summat, but I can’t get a word of sense out of her.’
‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte said. ‘Perhaps she already knows that her mother’s ill.’
But Mrs Beddows shook her head. ‘She might, but I dun’t reckon it’s that.’ The woman cast an anxious glance at Charlotte. ‘I’d be grateful if you could find out what’s ailing her, miss. And that’s the truth, ’cos she’s neither use nor ornament to me like she is.’
Charlotte hid her smile. The words, spoken lightly by the cook, bore none of the malice they held when issuing from her father’s mouth.
She went into the scullery to find Lily with her arms in the deep sink washing clothes. The girl was scrubbing vigorously at a shirt collar, sobbing as she worked, her tears falling on to the garment.
She jumped as Charlotte put her arm round the girl’s shoulders. ‘Lily dear, don’t take on so. Your mam’ll be all right and Mr Thornton’s given permission for you to go home and take care of the family until she’s better. And Jackson’s on the mend now and—’
Lily turned red-rimmed eyes to face her. ‘What – what are you talkin’ about, miss?’
Charlotte stared at her. ‘I – I thought that’s why you were crying. Because your mam and Jackson have the flu.’
Lily shook her head and mumbled, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘Oh.’ For a moment, Charlotte was dumbfounded. ‘I’m sorry – I thought that’s what was upsetting you.’
Lily sniffed and dried her hands on a towel. She was still hiccuping miserably.
‘What is the matter, then?’
Lily looked frightened and shook her head violently. ‘Nothing, miss. Honest. Does Mrs Beddows know about me mam and about Mr Thornton saying I can go home?’
‘I don’t think so, but I’ll tell her.’
‘How long can I go for?’
‘You’d better talk to Mrs Beddows, but I’ll wait for you and walk back with you, if you like.’
‘No, no, miss. Don’t wait.’ Again the girl seemed fearful. ‘I’ll be a bit finishing up here and then getting me things together. I’ll be home later tonight, though.’
‘All right. Would you like me to call as I go home and tell them you’ll be coming?’
‘If – if you like, miss.’
Charlotte frowned. The girl seemed distracted and as she walked home, it was now thoughts of Lily that troubled Charlotte. There was something very wrong with the girl. Was she not happy working at the manor any more? Was Mrs Beddows too strict? Had someone been unkind to her? Perhaps she had a young man and they’d had a tiff. Yes, Charlotte thought, that would be it. Oh well, no doubt it would all come out in the wash, as Mary was fond of saying. Charlotte felt a pang of envy for Lily. Not because she was upset – of course not. But she doubted she would ever know the pangs of love and all its vicarious emotions. What was the phrase? ‘Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ Well, right at this moment, Charlotte would give anything to love and be loved. Even if it all ended in heartache, she’d just like the opportunity to experience it.
But whilst her father still held sway over her life there was no chance of that.
‘My dear child, how wonderful to see you again.’ Euphemia held out her arms in welcome. ‘Do come up to our room. Percy has gone out for a stroll. He loves quaint old places like Ravensfleet. They say it was a Roman settlement. Is that true?’ Without waiting for an answer, she linked her arm through Charlotte’s. ‘I’ll get them to bring some coffee up.’
The bedroom was quite small, but there were two easy chairs set near the window.
‘Now,’ Euphemia said, sitting down, ‘we can have a nice little chat.’
‘Before I forget,’ Charlotte said, ‘you are both invited to a dinner party at the manor on Friday evening.’
Euphemia’s eyes gleamed. ‘How kind of Mr Thornton. I must send a note at once, thanking and telling him we’ll be delighted.’ She leaned forward as if sharing a confidence. ‘Might one of his three sons be paying court to you, dear child?’
Charlotte almost laughed aloud at the innocent irony of her aunt’s words.
‘No. The eldest boy is only sixteen.’ Then, in spite of the bitter pill she was being forced to swallow where Philip was concerned, her innate sense of humour reasserted itself when she thought of Georgie. ‘Though the six-year-old is a little charmer.’
‘What about the father, then? Do you like him? He’s a widower, isn’t he?’
Embarrassed now, Charlotte said, ‘That’s the man my father was trying to marry me off to.’
‘Yes, I know, but do you like him?’
‘He’s a very nice, kind man, but – ’ Charlotte smiled wistfully – ‘I don’t think he’d even look at someone like me. Not in that way.’ She sighed inwardly, but smiled brightly at her aunt. ‘If you accept his invitation, you’ll see the portrait of his beautiful wife hanging over the fireplace in the dining room. He has another in his study. I – I think he’s still in love with her. After all, it’s only been
six years since she died.’
‘Six years! My dear girl, in my day a widower would be married again within six months. Especially if he had young children.’ Euphemia put her head on one side and regarded her niece. ‘You’re not wearing your glasses today, my dear. You look so much better without them. You’ve got lovely eyes. Just like your mother’s.’
Charlotte’s heart leapt. ‘You – you knew my mother?’ Perhaps here was someone who’d be willing to talk to her about the shadowy figure from the past. Mary always seemed reluctant to talk about Alice Crawford. Charlotte believed it was because the woman was afraid that Osbert would find out that she’d been speaking about the forbidden subject.
Euphemia regarded her for a long moment before choosing her words very carefully. ‘I – knew your mother. Not at first, of course. As I told you, we were abroad, and by the time your parents married, Osbert and I had fallen out – well, we’ll talk about all that some other time.’ It was obvious she was anxious to change the subject. Charlotte sighed inwardly. She’d so hoped her aunt would be willing to answer some of the questions that had troubled her for years. ‘You know, my dear,’ Euphemia had turned her attention back to Charlotte’s appearance. ‘You could be quite pretty if you had a new hairstyle, some fashionable clothes and, with a very discreet use of cosmetics—’
Now laughter bubbled up inside Charlotte. ‘Cosmetics! Father would have a seizure at the mere thought.’
Euphemia’s mouth tightened. ‘Mm,’ was all she said.
‘So, you will accept Mr Thornton’s invitation?’
‘Just try and keep us away!’
Osbert was incensed when he heard. ‘What on earth is the man thinking of? Inviting those two. You should have put a stop to it, girl. How did he know anything about them?’
Charlotte answered him calmly. ‘I mentioned their arrival to him and he said he’d like to invite them.’
‘You’d no right to mention private matters to strangers.’
Greatly daring, Charlotte snapped back, ‘They’re hardly strangers now, since you intend to leave Buckthorn Farm to Philip.’
He glared at her. ‘Well, you’d better undo your meddling, miss. I won’t have them anywhere near me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Have you seen them again? Answer me.’ His tone was a whip crack.
Charlotte lifted her chin with a defiance she’d never realized she possessed. ‘Yes, I went to the White Swan.’
He took a step towards her. ‘You deliberately disobeyed me, girl. I won’t have it.’ He was shouting now, enough to bring Edward to the other side of the door, bending so that he could listen, and poised to enter if the row got any uglier than it already was.
‘You keep away from them, do you hear me? I don’t know what my sister’s been telling you, but you’re not to believe a word of it. It’s all lies to discredit me. She wants to get her hands on my farm. Well, she won’t. Not now. Not ever. And nor will you. And the sooner they go back abroad, the better. Out of my way.’
‘They’re not going abroad again. They’re going to settle in England now.’
‘Well, they needn’t think they’re going to stay around here. I won’t have it.’
For the first time in her life, Charlotte retorted, ‘I don’t think you’ll have any say in the matter.’
Osbert stepped close and, for a moment, Charlotte thought he was about to strike her. Instead, he shook his fist in her face. ‘Don’t you back-answer me, girl, else you, for one, won’t be going to any dinner party. Or staying in this house for much longer. I’ll throw you out, without a penny to your name or clothes on your back. You hear me?’
Charlotte turned away and headed for the sanctuary of the farm office. Her father’s threats no longer frightened her. She’d heard them all before. He wouldn’t throw her out. Not yet. He needed her to run the farm. But she did believe that he intended to leave Buckthorn Farm to Philip Thornton. Oh yes, that she did believe.
She sighed as she sat down at her desk and tried to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her. Joe would be calling in soon and she was anxious to know how the family fared.
But Joe didn’t come and by mid-morning, Charlotte was worried. Perhaps he, too, had flu now. She went down to the kitchen. ‘Edward, I’m very concerned about the Warrens. Joe hasn’t arrived and he always comes in on Monday and Thursday mornings, as you know. I don’t want to go down to the cottage again myself, however; it might look as if I’m – well, implying he shouldn’t be off work. D’you think you could go there or maybe find John and ask him? If they’ve all fallen victim to the influenza, we must do something to help.’
‘Of course, Miss Charlotte. I’ll go at once.’
Edward was gone a long time and he returned with bad news. ‘You were right, miss. Joe’s got it now, and John too. Lily’s looking after them all, but she looks very peaky. She’s sickening for it an’ all, I reckon.’
‘We must call the doctor.’
‘I’ve already done that, miss. That’s why I’ve been a long time getting back. I went into Ravensfleet and left a message for Dr Markham to call to see them all. I thought it’d be what you’d want.’
‘Shall I pack another basket of food, miss? Edward can take it down.’
‘I think you’d better make it a hamper, Mary,’ Charlotte said wryly. ‘Poor Lily won’t have much time for cooking and baking with all of them ill. And I’d better see if Matty’s managed all the milking.’
Mary nodded and bustled into her pantry. ‘Soup,’ she murmured. ‘That’s what they all need. Nourishing soup. That’ll not cause Lily too much trouble just to heat it up.’
Later in the day, Edward brought more news. The doctor had called and pronounced Jackson and Peggy ‘on the mend’. They’d soon be up and about again. Joe and John were still in bed.
‘And Lily?’ Charlotte asked. ‘Is she coping?’ She saw Edward and Mary exchange a glance.
‘She’ll be all right, miss,’ Mary said, but Charlotte had the strange feeling that she was not just referring to caring for the rest of the family.
Charlotte frowned but asked no more questions. ‘Let me know if there’s anything else we can do. Anything they need.’
‘We will, miss.’
Twenty-Seven
‘I’ve a good mind not to go. And I certainly shouldn’t be letting you go. You’re not used to civilized company,’ Osbert grumbled as he and Charlotte climbed into the motor car that Miles Thornton had sent to fetch them on New Year’s Eve. ‘And where are your glasses? You should be wearing your glasses. You’re as blind as a bat without them.’
Charlotte said nothing. She’d known her father would not stay away from the dinner party – not when Philip was home from school. And he couldn’t leave her at the farm; Miles had been adamant that his invitation included her. As for the remark about her spectacles, she chose to ignore that.
Euphemia and Percy were already there when Charlotte and her father arrived.
‘Dear me,’ Euphemia murmured in her ear as she kissed Charlotte’s cheek. ‘I really must take you in hand, child. That dress is like something out of the ragbag.’
Far from being insulted, Charlotte felt an overwhelming desire to giggle. It was a perfect description for her shabby, purple dress. Euphemia was dressed in a lovely silk, low-waisted pale-blue dress and dainty high-heeled satin shoes.
‘Miss Charlotte, Miss Charlotte . . .’ Georgie was at her side, taking her hand and dragging her across the room. ‘Come and meet Uncle Felix. He’s a friend of Papa’s. They were in the war together. He’s an artist. He painted the portraits of Mama.’
‘I’d love to, Georgie dear, but first I must give Ben his birthday present.’
‘Ooh, what have you got for him? Ben – Ben, come here. Charlotte’s brought you a present.’
Shyly, Ben unwrapped the leather hunting whip with a staghorn handle and silver collar. ‘It’s wonderful,’ he stammered, taken aback by her generous gift. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re most welcome.’
Charlotte smiled. ‘I know you will use it properly.’
There was the merest accent on the word ‘you’, but Ben met her steady gaze and, understanding, nodded. ‘I will, Miss Charlotte, I promise you.’
Georgie was tugging at her hand. ‘Now come and meet Uncle Felix.’
The man held out his right hand, but Charlotte noticed, with a shock, that the sleeve of his left arm was empty and tucked into the pocket of his jacket.
‘Felix Kerr.’ The man smiled at her.
‘Charlotte Crawford,’ she murmured.
He was small and thin, but his bearing was upright, his back straight. He had a small, goatee beard, once brown but now liberally flecked with grey. His hair was thinning a little, but his dark eyes looked boldly into hers as if he would read her very soul.
With a jolt, Charlotte realized. ‘Felix Kerr. Not the Felix Kerr?’
The man laughed.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She blushed, feeling foolish. ‘You must get inane remarks like that all the time.’ Perhaps her father was right; she wasn’t used to polite society. She shouldn’t have come. She’d be embarrassing Miles and she’d no wish to do that. She tried desperately to repair the damage. ‘I’ve read about your work, but I’m sorry, I’ve never been able to see any of it – except, of course, the portraits of Mrs Thornton.’
But his eyes were twinkling with amusement. ‘Don’t apologize. Of course, the last portrait I did of dear Louisa – the one with her two children that we’ll see in a moment in the dining room – was done at the beginning of the war just before I volunteered.’ He sighed. ‘My style has changed a little since.’
‘Oh? Why?’ The direct question was out before she thought to stop it, and once more she found herself apologizing.
But Felix was happy to explain. ‘Not because of my injury. Luckily, I’m right-handed. It would have been devastating if I’d lost my right arm, I don’t mind admitting. But no, it’s because of what I went through – what all of us went through.’
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