She twinkled at Faith, who—thankfully—returned an understanding smile.
‘Reverend Welford—our chaplain in Vienna—has quite given up on me, but says he likes me as I am. I do find it hard to be good sometimes. But I do try.’
Ignoring Henrietta’s gasp of shock, Mrs Buxted inclined her head. ‘Well,’ she said, her mouth a thin hard line, ‘we shall see.’
‘I am glad,’ said Henrietta to her mother, ‘that our cousin is dark-haired—not fair, like me and Faith.’
‘Why does that matter?’ asked Faith, perplexed. ‘Besides, Charlotte has blue eyes like us.’
‘She will be described as a petite girl, with a good figure, striking blue eyes with dark lashes—the Buxted eyes—and unfashionably brown hair. She is pretty rather than beautiful, Faith.’ Henrietta sounded exasperated at her sister’s dim-wittedness. ‘It means that I will still be known as the beauty of the family—although Charlotte is pretty enough not to discredit us.’
‘And she is elegant,’ agreed Mrs Buxted, her eyes sweeping over Charlotte’s stylish blue pelisse, worn over a pretty figured muslin gown.
Charlotte stood in astonishment as they openly discussed her. In Vienna this would have been considered shockingly rude.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr Buxted, ‘I am sure you will all get on famously. My love, I shall leave you to get better acquainted with our little niece. I shall return for dinner.’
With this decisive pronouncement, he left, nimbly avoiding the train of footmen carrying Miss Wyncroft’s baggage into the rapidly shrinking hallway.
‘Mrs Walker, our housekeeper, will show you to your room.’ Mrs Buxted indicated a plump, middle-aged lady, standing by the staircase. ‘I am sure you will want to rest a while after your journey.’
‘Not at all, for I have travelled only a few hours today. We broke our journey in Godalming last night, rather than arrive with you in the evening.’
Mrs Buxted blinked.
‘But of course I should like to freshen up. My abigail, Miss Priddy, will assist me.’
Miss Priddy, who was standing in the background clutching Charlotte’s small jewel case, bobbed a curtsey to the Buxted ladies and joined her mistress in following the housekeeper—and two footmen, laden with trunks—up the wide staircase. She was a thin lady of indeterminate age and wore a plain dimity gown in a sober Devonshire brown, buttoned up to the neck. She had been with the Wyncroft family since before Charlotte was born—initially as maid to Charlotte’s mother.
Charlotte’s room was bright and spotlessly clean, with a comfortable bed and a small fireplace. It was decorated with pretty green hangings and overlooked the street. Charlotte graciously thanked the housekeeper and the two footmen, who then left to fetch more baggage.
Charlotte waited for the door to close before crossing to the window. Down below, it seemed all of London was passing by. ‘Oh, Priddy. I knew it—this will be interesting.’
‘Now, Miss Charlotte.’
‘I declare, I like my Uncle Buxted. And Miss Faith seemed friendly.’ She frowned. ‘I’m not sure about my Aunt Buxted and Miss Henrietta. They are shockingly plain-speaking—but perhaps ladies are different in London. And did you hear what they said as we arrived? They don’t really want me.’
Priddy threw her a sharp look, but said nothing.
Charlotte stretched her arms above her head, glad to be out of the rumbling carriage at last. It had taken over a week to travel from Vienna, by easy stages. Joseph, who had criss-crossed Europe many times, had organised the best inns and the safest routes. Although peace had been declared, there were still pockets of trouble in France, and they had been accompanied on their journey by armed outriders.
Charlotte gazed thoughtfully at her abigail, who had opened one of the trunks and was tutting at the creases in a white silk gown.
‘I have met many ladies of the ton in Vienna, and in Brussels, while their husbands were engaged in meetings, but I do not recall any who seemed so stiff—or so blunt—as the Buxted ladies. And everyone welcomed visitors—always. Are things so different here, or is it me they do not like?’
‘You are in London now, miss. This is the heart of English society. Many things will be different. They have never met you before, so they cannot truly dislike you. Once they learn to know you, they must like you.’
‘Oh, Priddy, I do hope you are right. I am so happy to be in London,’ said Charlotte with a contented sigh. ‘I have waited for this for so long. I’ve had years of parties and dinners with English people visiting Vienna, talking of things I knew nothing about—the English weather, the royal family, the countryside. Now I am finally in my home country. It is a new adventure, and I aim to make the most of it. All will be well, I am sure.’
Chapter Two
Charlotte spurred Andalusia to a canter. The breeze stung her cheeks and the afternoon sun sparkled on the Queen’s Basin as she cantered through the meadow, savouring the exhilaration in her veins. At the end of the open field she slowed the mare to a gentle trot, allowing Joseph to catch up.
‘I’ll say this, Miss Charlotte,’ said the groom who had taught her to ride amid Wellesley’s Portuguese campaign, ‘you know exactly how to handle her.’
‘Yes, you enjoyed that, didn’t you, Lusy? Just a pity we aren’t allowed a full gallop,’ said Charlotte, leaning forward to pat the mare’s neck. ‘I suppose we should be getting back, Joseph. We are to have visitors this afternoon and I am a little late.’
As they moved through the park towards Half-Moon Street Charlotte reflected on her first week in London. The Season was now in full swing, but Mrs Buxted disapproved of the ‘carousing’ involved. House parties, assemblies and balls were only to be tolerated, she had pronounced, in order to find suitable marriage partners for her daughters.
In her first two seasons Henrietta had been restricted to small gatherings and an occasional visit to Almack’s. Not this year. Faith had shyly confided to Charlotte that ‘Dear Mama’ disapproved of some large social occasions, but with Henrietta still unmarried—and yet so beautiful—Mrs Buxted had conceded she might have to relax her normal strict avoidance of parties, balls and routs.
Privately, Charlotte had wondered why Henrietta was still unwed, despite being so beautiful. Had she spurned offers of marriage? Surely she had had offers?
‘Mama wants only what is best for us,’ Faith had said, ‘which is why she wants us to beware of heedless pleasure. But I confess I am enjoying the silly vanities of ball-gowns and assemblies.’
‘And so you should,’ Charlotte had replied. ‘For it is wonderful to dress up and go to parties. I declare there is a certain excitement about knowing one is going out, in planning what to wear and getting ready. I think many men feel the same, for they spend a lot of time on their hair, and their neckcloths, and their boots. At least, Papa does.’
Charlotte had been excluded from all the evening outings so far. As Mrs Buxted—a stickler for propriety—had explained, dear Charlotte had not yet been presented at Court. She was therefore to be excluded from large balls and routs, though she might attend small, informal events. Charlotte had heard this with great disappointment. She had been looking forward to many things in London—including ton parties—and had certainly not expected her life to be quite so restricted.
On her first evening in Buxted House, it had been made clear that Charlotte was to adapt to the needs of the family.
‘Miss Charlotte,’ Mrs Buxted had said. ‘I am a straightforward person, and I pride myself on my honesty. We are well thought of in London. You are a Buxted by blood, although somewhat diluted by your father’s family, the Wyncrofts, who were of lesser birth. I cannot imagine what your childhood was like, being raised by a widower in the train of the Army!’
Charlotte had opened her mouth to defend her darling papa, but Mrs Buxted had been insistent.
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‘No, I do not wish to hear what you have to say. You are in my charge now, and you will submit to me. I expect the highest standards of behaviour from you. I have spent many years preparing my girls for London society, and no one—least of all a nobody from Paris, or Vienna, or wherever you have been—will risk their future. Do you understand me?’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ Charlotte, chastened, had had no choice but to submit.
Her heart had sunk. Her time in London was to be a more rule-governed existence than the life she had lived abroad. This visit to London—that she had looked forward to with such excitement—would be more of a trial than an adventure, it seemed.
Her hopes of building friendships with her cousins also looked likely to be dashed—Faith was sweet, but slow-witted, and Henrietta seemed proud and vain. Their mother was probably well-meaning, but ruled the household with a will of iron.
Charlotte, unused to being disciplined quite so forcefully or bluntly, reminded herself that as a young person, and a guest in her aunt’s house, she must be ruled by her aunt, no matter how much she hated it. She’d had no idea this would be her life here when she had persuaded her father to let her come. Now all she wanted was for Papa to rescue her from Buxted House.
Her eyes misted as she thought of Papa. There had been many times when they had been apart, but never for three whole months, and never with the sea in between them. He felt much further away than he had ever been. She cried sometimes, when feeling low, but always tried to cheer herself up again.
I’m trying to enjoy this, Papa. And I am trying to behave. But I miss you.
So far, she had done quite well. She had submitted to having a maid accompany her each time she left the house—apart from her morning ride, when she was accompanied by Joseph. General manners and conversation seemed little different, so she had avoided her aunt’s criticism there. The toughest challenge so far had been a surprising one—she was expected to avoid seeming knowledgeable, and not to hold an opinion on anything of note.
‘For a lady,’ Aunt Buxted had advised, ‘must not set herself to be higher in knowledge or understanding than a gentleman. Our weak feminine brains cannot cope with the complexities of knowledge, and to pretend to be well-informed is an unfortunate and unnecessary affectation. There is nothing worse than to be thought a bluestocking!’
This Charlotte found difficult. She was accustomed to the company of political and military men and women and had a great interest in politics. She also enjoyed reading.
Still, to please my aunt, she thought, I can try to be dumb and stupid—at least while she is present. Papa would laugh if he saw me.
Entering the house, she mounted the stairs, intending to go straight to her room to change. On the way, she heard Mrs Buxted’s voice coming from the drawing room.
‘Oh, where is the wretched girl?’
Charlotte hurried inside, her heart suddenly pounding. Mrs Buxted and her daughters were seated in full splendour—the mother on a throne-like winged chair, the girls on matching French chaises. The room had been redecorated recently in the French style, with delicate-looking gilded furniture and in colours of yellow, straw and gold. Faith had an embroidery tambour in her hand, while Henrietta was reading a book of sermons. They looked extremely proper.
Three pairs of eyes turned to her.
‘Ah, there you are—and still in your riding habit. Go and change into something more appropriate. Quickly, girl! They will be here soon!’
‘Of course, Aunt. I am sorry for being late.’
As Priddy helped her don a pretty half-dress of pale blue muslin, with a fashionable hem-frill and satin ribbon, Charlotte wondered aloud why her aunt was so anxious today. ‘For we never had this much fuss for any of the other visitors I’ve met this week.’
‘I’m sure I couldn’t say.’ Priddy sniffed. ‘But some of the servants seem mightily interested in the young gentlemen visiting today.’
‘Two brothers, Faith said—Adam and Harry Fanton. I know little about them.’
Priddy began tidying Charlotte’s hair. ‘One should never listen to gossip, but they say Mrs Buxted has her sights set on these gentlemen for her daughters. The elder—called Adam—is for Miss Henrietta—him being the Earl of Shalford, with an estate bordering the Buxteds’. They say he is on the lookout for a rich wife.’
‘Oh! I am sure my aunt will be glad to see Miss Henrietta well settled.’
‘Hrmphh! Well, your hair will just have to do.’ Priddy stood back to admire her handiwork. ‘Why did you go riding just before meeting visitors? Your face is quite red, girl.’
‘Oh, do stop fussing, Priddy.’ She flashed her abigail a quick smile before hurrying downstairs.
Too late!
As she approached the room she heard male voices. Pausing in the doorway to take in the scene, she was completely unaware of how fetching she looked, with her cheeks flushed and eyes bright from exercise. The ladies were still sitting stiffly, and had been joined by two handsome men—one in a coat of black superfine that looked moulded to his body, the other in regimentals. They rose immediately, and Mrs Buxted made the introductions.
‘Miss Wyncroft, may I present the Earl of Shalford and his brother Captain Henry Fanton? This is Miss Charlotte Wyncroft. Her mother was Maria Buxted—my husband’s cousin. Miss Wyncroft has been living abroad with her father, Colonel Sir Edward Wyncroft.’
Both gentlemen were tall and broad-shouldered, and it was clear to see they were brothers. Both had thick dark hair and handsome, striking faces. The Earl looked slightly older—maybe approaching thirty. His eyes were a piercing grey, and he observed Charlotte coolly. The Captain, in contrast, was all smiles. He showed a marked resemblance to his brother, though his eyes were blue, not grey, and he was perhaps a little shorter.
They made their bows, the Earl formally and unsmilingly and the Captain with a decided twinkle in his eyes. He spoke first.
‘How long will you stay in London, Miss Wyncroft?’
‘I am not certain. My father, you see, is in Paris.’
At this his brother, who had retaken his seat beside Henrietta, looked up. ‘He is with Castlereagh?’
The Captain laughed. ‘My brother knows them all, Miss Wyncroft. He has taken up his seat this year and finds he has a taste for politics.’
‘I too, have an interest in politics—though I know little about what goes on in the Palace of Westminster. My education has been on the continent—we lived in Austria most recently—and I am sadly lacking in knowledge of our own internal politics, save that which we poor émigrées must pick up from our visitors.’
She turned to the Earl, who was listening with attention.
‘I was with Papa—and Lord Castlereagh—until two weeks ago, when I left for England.’
‘My cousin has not lived much in England, Lord Shalford,’ said Henrietta. ‘She is quite the foreigner.’
‘You must excuse her tardiness,’ added Mrs Buxted. ‘She was out riding and has yet to learn the importance of being ready for expected guests.’
Charlotte, unusually, was for a moment lost for words.
The Captain came to her rescue. ‘Oh, a lady after my own heart, then. I know what it is to enjoy a good outing on a dry, clear day such as this.’
Charlotte smiled gratefully. ‘Indeed, I enjoy riding immensely, and I miss it when I have not been out for a few days. My Uncle Buxted has kindly stabled my mare.’
‘You have brought your own horse, then? From Austria?’ Captain Fanton gazed at her intently.
‘Yes, though we got her in Spain. Her name is Andalusia—and she is a darling.’
‘I should like to see her. My brother and I ride most days. Perhaps I—or we—could accompany you on one of your rides?’
‘You can—if you can keep up.’ She twinkled at him.
‘Tha
t sounds uncommonly like a challenge, does it not, Adam?
‘Indeed.’ The Earl removed a tiny speck of dust from his sleeve.
‘I admit I cannot resist a challenge. I shall call upon you tomorrow, Miss Wyncroft, if you are amenable.’
‘I don’t think I am amenable at all, but I shall ride with you tomorrow, Captain Fanton.’
Captain Fanton dipped his head in appreciation, while his brother crossed one muscular leg over the other and remained silent.
‘Faith enjoys riding—do you not, Faith?’ Mrs Buxted interjected loudly, drawing all eyes to her younger daughter.
Faith, unfortunately, had just taken a small bite of cake, and almost choked at her mother’s question. After some coughing, and sips of tea, she recovered enough to confirm that, yes, she enjoyed riding.
Charlotte refrained from raising a brow. The Buxted ladies’ idea of riding was no more than a sedate walk, from what she had seen. On two occasions, when the family had had no evening engagements, Charlotte and her cousins had gone for an early-evening ride to Rotten Row in Hyde Park.
The Buxted horses were staid and placid—Papa would have dismissed them immediately as packhorses—and they had not even broken into a trot. Both Henrietta and Faith seemed decidedly nervous around horses. Their ride had not been at all energetic, and Charlotte, who had a great deal of liveliness, had found it frustrating.
Their evening promenades were simply a chance to see and to be seen. Many members of the ton were usually there, and Charlotte had been introduced to some of the Buxteds’ acquaintances. Today, however, was her first encounter with the Earl of Shalford and his brother.
As Henrietta engaged the Earl in quiet conversation, and Mrs Buxted talked briskly to the Captain and Faith about mutual acquaintances, Charlotte took the opportunity to study the two men a little more closely.
Lord Shalford—the Earl—was tall, dark and distant. His demeanour was disengaged, verging on bored. His grey eyes had displayed complete indifference to Charlotte, which amused her. He was listening politely to Henrietta, though. Charlotte suppressed a smile. The Earl clearly preferred sedate, dutiful, blonde ladies, who arrived on time and were fashionably pale.
Waltzing with the Earl Page 2