Her eyes twinkled as she took in Mrs Buxted’s shocked look.
The door opened to admit the butler, who brought tea, cakes and pastries. As soon as he had left, Mrs Buxted—intent on her mission—monopolised Lady Annesley’s attention with talk of mutual acquaintances until it was time to leave.
As they departed, Lady Annesley thanked the Buxted ladies for calling and wished them an enjoyable stay at Chadcombe. She then turned to Charlotte.
‘Miss Wyncroft, it has been an unexpected pleasure to meet you today. You must pass my regards to your father and tell him he is to visit me when he returns. Indeed, I shall expect to see both of you.’
Seated in the carriage a few minutes later, Henrietta spoke up. ‘Mama, now we have done our duty and visited Lady Annesley, may we now go for ices at Gunther’s? You promised.’
Mrs Buxted, deep in thought, said, ‘It was adequate. She focused rather too much on Charlotte, but she is quite eccentric, I think, and Charlotte’s strange ideas seemed to find favour with her.’
‘Charlotte should not have spoken so much. She was trying to take the attention away from me.’
Charlotte could not let this pass. ‘Indeed I was not, Henrietta. She knows my father, so it was perfectly natural for her to wish to talk about him.’
‘Well, she probably knows my father too, but she did not talk about him. At least Mama was able to reclaim her attention while we had tea. Anyway, she is old, and quite fat and boring, and I am glad we do not have to visit her again.’
‘I thought her charming,’ said Charlotte. ‘I should be most happy to see her again.’
‘Yes, yes, girls... It is done, and I think all in all we achieved success. I am sure she will recommend us to Lord Shalford, which will help your cause, my dear Henrietta,’ said Mrs Buxted. ‘Tell the coachman to take us to Gunther’s.’
* * *
Mrs Buxted might not have been quite so triumphant had she seen Lady Annesley’s letter to Miss Langley, written a few days later. That elderly lady, already anxious about hosting a party of guests at Chadcombe—though of course she had agreed immediately to dear Adam’s request—read Lady Sophia’s crossed lines with increasing unease. It seemed, from what she wrote, that she was rather encroaching, and had designs on marrying one of her daughters off to the Earl...
The elder has a beautiful face, with nothing behind it but vanity and self-interest, while the younger is timid and vacuous.
The one jewel in their midst is their guest, Miss Wyncroft. A pretty, sensible and amiable girl, she is the daughter of my old friend, Sir Edward.
You will remember my dear friend Maria, who died abroad? This charming young lady is her daughter. She is staying with the Buxteds while awaiting Sir Edward’s return.
Beware the Buxted mother, though. She is devilishly ambitious and unintelligent—a dangerous combination. And, unfortunately, one might describe all the young ladies as having fine eyes—a most unlucky circumstance!
Miss Clara Langley set down the letter in some agitation. While she did not understand Sophia’s fixation with the eyes of the young ladies, she nevertheless had the impression of complications and intrigues, and a family that was much too interesting for her liking.
She had also had a letter from Adam that morning, informing her that the party was to be larger than he had first thought. She was to make all the necessary arrangements, and he hoped it would not be too much trouble for her.
Nine people—all of them strangers—were shortly to descend on Chadcombe, and she had not hosted such a large party by herself before. She would have to invite a couple of the local gentry to make up the numbers for some of the dinners, as there were an inordinate number of ladies among the invited guests.
Miss Langley feverishly referred to her list. As well as the five people—four ladies!—in the Buxted party, there was a Mrs Etherington and her two children—one young man, one young lady. There was also a Mr Foxley, who at least was male, thank goodness! Three men and six ladies. She would invite the Squire, his son and the Reverend Sneddon to some dinners, to balance things out.
While Lady Shalford had been alive, Miss Langley had given her assistance on many occasions, and with much larger parties, but now, lost in anxieties over pillows and candles and how many extra maids to hire, she realised just how competent her niece had been.
She did not think Adam understood how much had to be done, or how complicated it all was. But then, men never did, did they?
Chapter Seven
As promised, Lord Shalford and the Captain called on the following Tuesday to take the young ladies riding. They all walked their horses sedately through the park and back again, while Henrietta flirted outrageously with Captain Fanton in an apparent attempt to arouse jealousy in the Earl.
Henrietta was wearing her new and exceedingly fashionable riding habit, which had military epaulettes and a matching shako, like Charlotte’s. It had been delivered just this morning, and Henrietta’s glee at her dashing appearance had made her light-headed with confidence.
Adam was unmoved by her tactics. It reinforced his opinion about the empty-headed, self-seeking behaviour that he was used to seeing from young ladies. Henrietta was no better and no worse than the other young ladies he’d encountered. He decided, instead, to get to know Miss Wyncroft, for he had a vague suspicion that she might be different.
* * *
Charlotte watched, bemused, as her cousin tried out various tricks with the Captain—looking into his eyes intently, leaning across to tell him something no one else could hear, and laughing loudly at his comments. To any observer it would seem as though she was enamoured of the Captain. She ignored Lord Shalford completely.
The Earl rode alongside Charlotte, all politeness, and it seemed to Charlotte that he did not notice Henrietta’s behaviour. He probed Charlotte about her reading habits, and they discovered similar tastes in books. Intrigued by her recent appreciation of him, Charlotte was quite enjoying the conversation—until a chance remark about his admiration of people who enjoyed reading recalled her to the present. It was Henrietta he should be complimenting. Henrietta he truly admired.
Charlotte lapsed into silence. She felt deeply uncomfortable, knowing that he was only making conversation with her because Henrietta was unavailable. She wondered if he was feeling hurt or angry with Henrietta. Either way, the last thing he probably wanted was to be conversing with her.
Remember his arrogance! she told herself. Just because he was nice to you at dinner, it doesn’t mean he’s changed. He and Henrietta will make a perfect match. I just wish I wasn’t stuck between them while Henrietta plays her games.
‘You are quiet, Miss Wyncroft,’ he said, smiling slightly. ‘Does my conversation bore you?’
‘I am quiet,’ she said pertly. ‘What of it? Can a person not be silent at times?’ She bit her lip. Perhaps she could have phrased that more courteously. ‘Indeed—I am often criticised for being the quiet one.’
In front of them Henrietta laughed shrilly at some witticism from the Captain. Charlotte closed her eyes briefly.
‘Quite.’
She looked at the Earl, unsure what he had meant. He looked only amused.
They all agreed to meet again the following Tuesday, though the Earl promised to call on them during the week, to see how they did.
Charlotte was happy to hear this, but confused as to why. She really must stop thinking about him! They had shared a companionable hour together on horseback, and his arrogance had given way to kindness, but she had met dozens of attractive men in her life. There was nothing special about him, she told herself. Nothing at all.
* * *
As they left Half-Moon Street, Adam reflected on the outing. Although the Beauty had been focused on Harry, he acknowledged that he himself had been quite content conversing with Miss Wyncroft. Her
character was much more appealing to him than Miss Buxted’s. He had enjoyed her humour and been impressed by her intelligence. Nor had he failed to notice how attractive she looked in that dashing riding habit. She had style!
He chuckled at the memory of her accompanying a witty barb with a mischievous sidelong glance, then pushed the thought away. Determined not to confuse the issue with too much emotional analysis, he refused to dwell on the unexpected feelings swirling around in his chest. He would proceed with logic, for he needed to keep a clear head.
* * *
Two days later, Mrs Buxted brought some news to the young ladies. She had been on a shopping expedition, and on her return hurried into the yellow salon, where they were seated.
Charlotte was writing a letter, Faith was embroidering a pillowcase, and Henrietta was perusing La Belle Assemblée and expressing her opinions on the fashion plates displayed in its pages. When her mother entered the room, Henrietta immediately jumped up.
‘Oh, Mama, just see this beautiful gown. I should so like to have one like it. I will need more new gowns for Chadcombe, for Lord Shalford has seen all my gowns except for the blue silk, and that is old-fashioned and I do not like it any more.’
‘Hush, now, child, for something terrible has happened.’
Mrs Buxted did indeed look distressed. Her cheeks were bright, her breathing laboured, and she seemed to be suffering under the burden of some terrible shock. The young ladies immediately rushed to her aid, imploring her to sit—no, to lie down on the couch. Charlotte placed an embroidered cushion under her aunt’s head, while Faith searched for smelling salts in the drawer of the side table. Henrietta held her mother’s hand and made soothing noises.
After the smelling salts had revived her, Mrs Buxted insisted on sitting up.
‘I have heard terrible news—which affects you, my dear Henrietta.’
Henrietta gasped. ‘What is it, Mama?’
‘I had the misfortune to meet that loathsome Mrs Etherington at Grafton House. She took pleasure in informing me that she—and her odious son and Millicent—are also invited to Chadcombe.’
‘Millicent Etherington? To Chadcombe? Noooo!’ Henrietta shrieked. ‘For her to crow over me and try and win him! And flirt with him with her ugly red hair and her boring brown eyes and her horrid three thousand pounds!’
She burst into noisy tears.
Charlotte was dumbfounded. This was a crisis? Another family was to join the Chadcombe party? The Etheringtons were, she knew, a perfectly respectable family, and she had understood they were friends of the Buxteds, for Millicent and Henrietta visited each other’s houses regularly and often went shopping together.
‘But Henrietta,’ she offered, ‘Lord Shalford did not say we were to be the only guests.’
Henrietta, through her noisy sobs, said, ‘He did. Well, he meant it to be so. I know he did.’ Her breathing was becoming dangerously fast as she worked herself up into a full tantrum.
Mrs Buxted, having recovered from her own fainting fit, said, ‘Charlotte, do not speak to her. She is upset. Call my abigail—she will know what to do for her. Faith—the smelling salts. Quickly!’
Mrs Buxted tried to administer the smelling salts but Henrietta was now lying down on the expensive carpet, drumming her feet on the floor. She was also becoming louder in her cries.
Charlotte had never seen a display quite like it. Her own heartbeat was increased, but her agitation stemmed more from indignation than pity. Why should Henrietta behave like this, just because her wishes were thwarted?
Mrs Buxted’s abigail—a stern maid called Miss Flint—entered and immediately took charge. Faith was instructed to hold Henrietta’s feet as Flint tried to hold a burning feather under Henrietta’s nose.
Mrs Buxted cried noisily on the sofa, repeating ‘Oh, my poor Henrietta. My poor, poor girl.’
The door opened again—this time to admit a young footman. Shocked at the sight before him, he reddened and immediately turned to face the wall. Addressing a large portrait of Henrietta’s great-grandfather which was hung there, he said, ‘Lord Shalford is below, madam. I...er...should I bring him up?’
‘Of course not!’ shrieked Mrs Buxted. ‘Tell him—tell him—put him in Mr Buxted’s library.’
The footman made a hasty exit.
‘Charlotte—go down to him and tell him we are unwell—we are unavailable. I shall join you as soon as I may. Leave the library door open!’
‘Of course, Aunt.’
Glad to escape from the unnecessary drama, Charlotte retreated downstairs.
Unfortunately the sounds of Henrietta’s distress were clearly audible all over the house. Charlotte passed a flustered Mrs Walker in the hall, bustling towards the stairs with what looked like laudanum.
‘Oh, dear, miss,’ she said as she passed. ‘Miss Henrietta hasn’t had a do like this in a long time. She was a sensitive child—had tantrums regularly. Every time it happened, poor Mr Buxted was so distressed he would leave the house.’
Charlotte felt sympathy for Mr Buxted.
Squaring her shoulders, Charlotte entered the library—leaving the door open, as instructed, as she had no chaperon.
The Earl turned from his perusal of the books on the left-hand bookcase to greet her. ‘Ah! Good day, Miss Wyncroft.’
She curtseyed. ‘Good afternoon, Lord Shalford. Are you well?’
Both ignored the sounds from upstairs. ‘I am well, thank you.’
Charlotte took a deep breath. ‘And is your brother well?’
A gleam of humour lit his eyes. ‘He was indeed well when I saw him last. Around an hour ago.’
They sat—Charlotte on a settee upholstered in red satin, the Earl on a winged leather chair. Neither spoke. Charlotte looked at him helplessly.
‘We are having good weather this week, Miss Wyncroft, are we not?’
The drumming on the ceiling—coming from the yellow salon above—became louder.
‘Er...yes, it is becoming quite warm. It is exceedingly pleasant.’
‘After the harsh winter we deserve some mild weather, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, indeed, Lord Shalford.’
Sarah entered, bringing tea and pastries. Charlotte dismissed her, then politely offered the Earl refreshment. He thanked her, and they sipped their tea in silence.
Loud shrieks were now sounding through the open doorway, the ceiling, the very walls of Buxted House.
Charlotte raised her voice a little. ‘The warm weather will surely help your crops at Chadcombe.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Miss Wyncroft, how much do you know of farming?’
‘Nothing—oh, you wretch!’ She set her teacup down and collapsed into laughter, mirth finally overcoming her.
The Earl laughed with her as the noises above finally began to subside.
‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what on earth is happening upstairs?’
Not wanting to expose her cousin—though he must surely suspect Henrietta was the source of the demonic wails—Charlotte hesitated.
‘You should tell me, you know,’ he said. ‘I will find out somehow.’
Charlotte was saved from answering by the arrival of Mrs Buxted.
She bustled in, all energy and noise. ‘Dear me, Charlotte, why did you not tell me that we have a guest? You will really have to work harder at learning good manners, you know. I do apologise for keeping you waiting, Lord Shalford. Such a pity my daughters are unavailable at this precise moment.’
‘Indeed? Are your daughters out, Mrs Buxted?’
‘Er...well, they are at home, but they are...indisposed. Yes, indisposed.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You see, the second housemaid has the toothache, and has been weeping and wailing like the souls of the ungodly. You may have heard some of her carrying-on when you first arri
ved. But Mrs Walker has given her laudanum now, so she will sleep.’
‘I see. I sincerely pity anyone plagued with the toothache. A most intense sensation.’ He paused. ‘Do your daughters also have the toothache?’
From the red settee a sound suspiciously like a snort emerged from Charlotte.
‘No, no! For toothache is not catching. At least, I have never heard that it is. And I—and my poor dear children—have had a great many toothaches over the years.’
He waited.
‘You see, they are so sensitive—yes, both my daughters are so sensitive—that they cannot bear to see poor Sarah in pain, and they have become so distressed they would not be good company today.’
‘Sarah? Ah, it is your housemaid Sarah who has the toothache?’
Mrs Buxted confirmed it.
He sent a wicked smile to Charlotte, who raised a hand to her forehead. Why must Aunt Buxted have chosen Sarah?
‘You must be wishing me gone. I shall leave you.’
‘Oh, no! But, yes—well, it would be better for you to see the girls at another time.’
They all rose.
‘Miss Wyncroft—I do hope you will not also have the toothache, or become distressed like the other young ladies.’
Oh, he was a wretch!
‘Oh, but Charlotte was raised in the Army, Lord Shalford. You must know she has a heart of stone from all the terrible sights she has witnessed.’
Charlotte would not let this pass. ‘Indeed, Aunt, I am not hard-hearted, and I must suffer when I see anyone in genuine distress.’
Mrs Buxted ignored this. ‘I shall, of course, tell Henrietta—tell both girls—you called to see them and had to go away disappointed.’
‘Oh, please do not—for I am not at all disappointed.’
He made his bow to both ladies, and left.
Waltzing with the Earl Page 7