‘Ah! Here she is, in all her ghostly beauty.’ Reverend Sneddon, slick, black and obsequious, rose to greet her.
The only other person in the room, which Charlotte found surprising, was Mrs Buxted.
‘Good afternoon, Charlotte,’ said her aunt, smiling sweetly.
Charlotte’s sense of danger increased.
‘Good afternoon.’ Charlotte walked towards the small yellow and gold chair near the window.
‘Miss Wyncroft—you will be much more comfortable sharing this settee with me.’
She could hardly refuse, and reluctantly sat on one end of the sofa. Reverend Sneddon and Mrs Buxted seemed to be sharing an unspoken message. Charlotte intercepted their nods and gestures in some bewilderment.
‘Well...’ Mrs Buxted rose. ‘I must see what has happened to those refreshments.’
Mrs Buxted, instead of tugging the bell-pull, left the room. The door had barely closed behind her when Reverend Sneddon stood.
‘You will be wondering, I am sure, why your dear chaperon has left you alone in here with me—with a man. Be assured you have nothing to fear, for you are in the company of a rare creature—a true gentleman.’
He moved to the looking-glass, smoothed his hair and straightened his simple neckcloth.
‘I have often thought the word gentleman is too loosely applied, and that it should be reserved only for those who display the noble behaviour associated with the term instead of those who think it their birthright. For we receive the due reward of our deeds. Do you not agree, Miss Wyncroft?’
‘I am not sure society would agree with you, Reverend Sneddon. I have known many servants, infantrymen and tradesmen who are noble and gentlemanlike in their deeds, but unless their pedigree and their fortune stand up to scrutiny they are condemned to obscurity. For the term “gentleman” is used in a particular manner, and with a particular meaning.’
He sighed deeply. ‘I fear you are right, Miss Wyncroft. Your perspicacity can only be added to the long list of your virtues.’
Charlotte took this to mean he thought her insightful.
Suddenly agitated, he took a turn about the room, then whirled around—coat-tails flying—to address her dramatically. ‘Miss Wyncroft. We have only a few moments together before Mrs Buxted’s return, so I shall come to the point.’
Please do, she thought, wondering what this was about.
‘Yesterday I left with you my own copy of the Bible.’
Charlotte started, as she had not thought of it since. Surreptitiously she tried to check the side tables to see if it rested on any of them.
‘Afterwards I sought an audience with Mr Buxted—a most kindly, intellectual and selfless man.’
Charlotte frowned, hardly recognising this description, then reproached herself for having uncharitable thoughts.
‘The two actions—’ he raised his left hand, then his right, with precise movements ‘—were not unconnected.’ He brought his hands together.
What was this? A riddle?
‘I have been conscious—indeed, we all have—’ he indicated the empty room with a sweep of his right hand ‘—of the terrible bereavement you have suffered.’
Charlotte sat up straighter, bracing herself for his sympathy. As a clergyman, he would speak to her of Papa. She wished she could instead be with Reverend Welford, the English chaplain in Vienna, who was intelligent, sensitive and compassionate, and had ministered to all of the Army families through difficult times.
She wondered if the padre had been told of Papa’s death. When she felt a little better, she would write to him. And to others—their friends in Vienna, Juliana...
‘...difficult situation.’ Reverend Sneddon was still talking. ‘Your uncle has shared with me some of the details, and the thorny issue of your lack of a good dowry.’
Charlotte was suddenly listening. How dared Uncle Buxted share her private business with a near-stranger?
‘Now you are wondering, I see, why he should tell me such things.’
‘I confess I am, Reverend Sneddon. In fact I am surprised he would do so.’
‘Ah, you must forgive your uncle, for he has only your interests at heart. You see, I had a particular question to pose to him. And another—not unrelated—to pose to you. Or, in this case, to propose to you!’ He laughed lightly at his own witticism.
‘I am afraid you are too clever for me, Reverend Sneddon, for I have not the least idea what you mean.’
‘Miss Wyncroft. Charlotte.’
Awkwardly he bent one knee in front of her. Her eyes widened.
‘May I hold your hand? Ah, I see I may not. Be not concerned, for your maidenly shyness serves to increase my ardour.’
Ardour? Dread flooded her.
‘Allow me to tell you of my sincere regard for you, which is long-standing in nature and was inspired by the happy chance that brought us both to Chadcombe at the same time.’
‘Reverend Sneddon! Please do not—’
‘But I must, Miss Wyncroft. I had not dared hope you would consider me, but now, with the unfortunate change in your circumstances—’
‘And is that another happy chance?’
‘Yes—no! I mean, it is unfortunate indeed that you have lost your father, but I believe I had no hope you would receive my addresses prior to this.’
‘Please, Reverend Sneddon, I beg you, do not speak.’
‘I have the highest regard for you, Miss Wyncroft, and I ask that you will do me the honour of becoming my wife.’
In shock, she could not immediately respond, and he took the opportunity to lift her hand and plant a wet kiss on it. She pulled her hand away immediately, wishing she could wipe it clean.
‘Reverend Sneddon, I thank you for the honour, but I must decline.’
‘Decline! But—why?’ He sat back on his heels, shocked.
‘I—I have no wish to marry.’
‘But you must see it would be an ideal solution. Otherwise what is your future, Miss Wyncroft? This way you will have security—a home.’
‘I do not wish anyone to offer me marriage out of charity.’
‘But I have already indicated how much I admire you, Miss Wyncroft. Indeed, I should be proud to have you as my wife.’
She shuddered. ‘I cannot consider it.’
He scrambled to his feet. ‘I have spoken too soon. Your father’s death is too recent.’
‘I do think it is too soon for me to consider making any decision which will have such a profound effect on my life. However—’
‘Then I will continue to hope.’
‘Please do not, Reverend Sneddon. I do not wish to give you the impression that my answer will be any different in future.’
‘Nevertheless, I have erred in speaking too soon. I see that now.’
There was a scratching on the door, then Aunt Buxted peeped her head around it. ‘Am I intruding?’
Her voice was playful. Charlotte closed her eyes in horror. Could this situation become any worse?
Aunt Buxted entered, beaming. ‘So, am I to wish you happy?’
‘Dear Miss Wyncroft is too distressed and her bereavement too recent for her to think clearly,’ said Reverend Sneddon, as though speaking of a child.
‘I see.’ Aunt Buxted’s voice hardened. ‘Well, I had thought it would be the very thing. These young girls do not know their duty, Reverend Sneddon.’
‘I dare say, Mrs Buxted. But we must make allowances for the loss of her father.’
‘It is the loss of her father that should make her see sense. Her chances of making a spectacular marriage were never large, and now—well...’
Charlotte cleared her throat. Reverend Sneddon and Mrs Buxted both regarded her in some surprise, as if they had genuinely forgotten she was present.
‘Er...where are my cousins?’
‘They are preparing to go out walking with Lord Shalford and Captain Fanton. You should both join them. Reverend Sneddon—I counsel you to spend some more time with Charlotte. I have no doubt she will eventually see the merits of this match.’
‘I do not wish to walk today, Aunt Buxted.’
‘There are many things in this life that we do not wish to do, Charlotte, and yet we must endure them. I insist you walk with the others.’
Her cold eyes pierced Charlotte. Conscious that she must not make an enemy of her aunt, Charlotte decided to allow her this small victory, for she was determined that in large matters—such as Reverend Sneddon’s proposal—she would be master of her own fate.
‘Very well, Aunt Buxted. Please excuse me while I prepare.’
‘Unfortunately, I will be unable to join you at this time,’ said Reverend Sneddon coolly, clearly still smarting from Charlotte’s rejection.
She fled, conscious that she had been running away a lot recently. This time, however, it was a strategic retreat. Papa, she was certain, would have approved.
Quickly donning a pair of stout kid boots and a dark pelisse, Charlotte was soon ready. Avoiding the drawing room, she waited for her cousins downstairs in the hall.
Faith arrived first, and spoke awkwardly to Charlotte. ‘Charlotte...yesterday, when Mama—I mean—I don’t think she should—I mean, I am sorry that—’
Charlotte hugged her. ‘Faith, you are a treasure. Do not say any more, for I know you cannot be disloyal to your family. I appreciate the sentiment, though.’
Relieved, Faith smiled tremulously.
At that moment the footman opened the door to admit the Fanton brothers. Charlotte played her part in the formal greetings, but avoided looking at Adam for too long. She could feel his gaze on her.
Both men turned as Henrietta sauntered down the stairs.
With a stunning smile, she gave her hand to the Earl to kiss. ‘I am so glad we are to walk out today, for I have heard such exciting things about the Regent’s gala.’
‘Indeed,’ said Adam politely. ‘We hear no expense is being spared in the preparations.’
‘We had thought to walk to Green Park, to see Mr Nash’s work on the fortress. You know he calls his design The Temple of Concord?’ said the Captain. ‘Then we may continue, if you wish, to the Chinese Bridge in Hyde Park, where they are building a pagoda.’
‘How exciting! I shall take your arm, Lord Shalford, if you will permit.’
With a glance towards Charlotte, he offered Henrietta his arm. Charlotte was relieved, for she had not yet fully recovered from Reverend Sneddon’s unexpected proposal. She needed time to think.
Like Aunt Buxted, Reverend Sneddon clearly saw Charlotte as little better than a charity case. It was lowering to think that just last week she had been the self-assured Miss Wyncroft, visiting Chadcombe as an equal to her cousins, and engaging in social events with all of the confidence of a typical young lady. Now what was she? Not quite a servant, but not an equal member of the family either.
Her mind was in turmoil.
They walked slowly to Green Park, where a large team of workers were continuing to toil on the transformation of the fortress. Carpenters, painters and labourers were working at an impressive pace, to ensure that the Temple would be ready for the celebrations.
The bole of a tall fir was being unloaded from a cart as they watched. A garrulous labourer informed them this was to be the main flagpole for the upper Temple. He also informed them—though begged them not to reveal it to another living soul—that Sir William Congreve had installed a fantastical mechanical device, designed to make the entire upper level rotate.
Henrietta seemed exceptionally excited by this, and spoke of her delight at the thought that she had information that was not common knowledge. She exclaimed over it all the way to the edge of Hyde Park, wondering how on earth an entire building could be made to rotate, and imagining how surprised people would be when they saw it.
The Earl took no part in the speculation, and seemed preoccupied. When they reached the narrow path that would take them through the copse towards the water he stopped and bent, seemingly to adjust his right boot. Assuming he would catch her up, Henrietta kept walking.
Faith was on the Captain’s right arm, and Charlotte had been walking with them. Feeling that she had the right to be escorted by the highest ranking available gentleman, Henrietta walked a little faster and slipped her hand into the crook of Harry’s left arm. Squeezed out, Charlotte could only follow Harry and her cousins.
Like a serving maid, she thought humourlessly.
They continued like that for a few moments, and then the Earl caught up with Charlotte. Speaking softly so as not to alert Henrietta to his return, he asked Charlotte how she did.
‘I am well, thank you.’ She paused. ‘I hope you know I am not normally a watering pot. I apologise for my behaviour yesterday, which you might think overdramatic.’
‘Not at all. You were severely provoked. I confess I was much affected myself.’
‘It is just because of Papa that I am finding things difficult when normally I should cope with them quite easily.’
‘I do not think anyone should have to cope with the cruelty that was shown to you yesterday. And I know what it is to lose a beloved father.’
She glanced at him gratefully. ‘It is not as though Papa died in his bed. Normally people have the ritual of the funeral, a chance to say goodbye. But this—’
‘Yes,’ he said, looking much struck. ‘When I lost my father, I was able to say my farewells, to be part of his funeral.’
‘I do not even know what exactly happened to Papa, or where he is buried.’
‘That is harsh indeed.’
* * *
Adam glanced ahead. Harry and the two Buxted ladies were a little way ahead now. This was hardly surprising, since he had deliberately slowed his pace to open up the gap.
Charlotte noticed it too. ‘Oh! We should hurry—we have fallen behind.’
‘Actually, I had hoped for an opportunity to speak to you.’
She looked at him quizzically. ‘Yes?’
This is it, he thought. Ask her to marry you.
Chapter Nineteen
He opened his mouth, took a breath, then stopped, trying to find the correct words. How could he express how he felt without scaring her? Propriety dictated that he should ask her father for permission to speak to her, and that had been his intent, but now, with the loss of Sir Edward, he had been forced to act. He simply could not stomach leaving her in the clutches of That Woman any longer than he had to.
Yet, she was recently bereaved. He could see the sorrow in her face, her movements, her air of distance from everyone around her. Now was not the time for a declaration of love that she might not be ready for.
He decided to persuade her of the good sense of his marriage proposal.
Charlotte waited expectantly, musing that today it seemed she was doomed to be in the company of inarticulate men.
‘Please do not look at me so, Miss Wyncroft, for I cannot think clearly.’
‘Look at you how?’ she asked, bewildered.
‘Like that. All perplexed and—and...’ His voice tailed off.
‘Lord Shalford, is there something you wish to say to me?’
‘Yes.’ He squared his shoulders and tried again. ‘When we were in the rose garden at Chadcombe, I kissed you. I enjoyed kissing you, and I think—I hope—you enjoyed it too.’
Her face flaming, she bowed her head. Why was he talking about that? Oh, when she thought of how forward she had been, and how hungrily she had kissed him that night, she was simply mortified.
‘Things have changed now.
The death of your father has left you in a difficult situation.’
What? What did that have to do with anything?
A terrible understanding dawned on her. First her Aunt, then Reverend Sneddon, now him! She was not wealthy, had no real protectors, and she was under the control of her selfish aunt—he felt sorry for her. She already knew that her lack of dowry prevented him from marrying her—even if he had wanted to, which she doubted. And, worse, she had kissed him like a courtesan.
She knew what he was going to say—he was going to offer her a carte blanche! Because he pitied her and he thought he could protect her that way. Well, she would not be any man’s mistress. She was Charlotte Wyncroft, daughter of Colonel Sir Edward Wyncroft, and she was a lady.
‘I have thought deeply about your situation, and of what I can do to help. I think you know I have a great regard for you. Therefore I would ask you, Charlotte, if you would consent to be my—’
‘Do not say it!’ The words exploded from her.
How dared he?
‘I—what?’ He looked astonished.
And how dared he be surprised at her reaction?
‘Do not speak. Do not say another word. I do not wish to hear what you have to say.’
‘But I—’
‘I wish to return to the others.’
She began walking quickly in the direction the Captain had taken with her cousins. Belatedly, he realised she was moving, and sprang to catch up with her.
Adam was mystified. Somehow he had erred. He had not thought his offer of marriage would be spurned so vehemently. His mind would not function—he felt only cold shock.
Once he had decided he could wait no longer and must ask her, he had agonised over every detail. How would he contrive some time alone with her? What words should he use?
In all his plans, all his imaginings, he had never expected a rejection so vigorous, so decided. He was conscious of her vulnerability, the fact that her grief was so fresh, but he had not wished to leave her under the control of that vixen of an aunt. After he had seen how she was being treated, his anger and frustration had made him determined to speak out.
Waltzing with the Earl Page 20