“Horse gone lame, my lady?”
Charlotte jumped and turned toward the deep voice behind her. “Oh! You startled me!”
“Beg pardon, miss. I was returning to my cottage when I noticed you here. I have a bit of experience with blood cattle, if you need help.”
Charlotte eyed the stranger. He looked like a ruffian but spoke almost like a gentleman. His eyes were downcast beneath his hat, and his bushy beard obscured his face.
“Who are you?”
“My name’s Douglas. I am the new gamekeeper, my lady.” He gave a slight doff of his hat but kept his eyes averted.
The new gamekeeper? Good heavens! Charlotte’s pulse began to beat frantically and a lump lodged in her throat. “I would appreciate your assistance,” she croaked. “My companion went to fetch the head groom.”
Sir David was already soothing Minerva by speaking in silky tones, and she was allowing him to examine her hock. It allowed Charlotte a moment to compose herself. She was not supposed to recognize the man, and perhaps she would not have if she had not eavesdropped. It was the first time she had seen him by day, and he was hiding himself. As she tried to discreetly take a closer look, he turned his back to her. Charlotte frowned.
Douglas began to walk Minerva slowly in the direction of the stables, watching her gait as she moved. The mare limped a little at first but began to move better as she went.
“Do you think it serious?” Charlotte dared to ask, refusing to be ignored.
“I think it merely a strain. She should come about with some rest. It will be some time before she can be ridden, though.”
“Of course,” she said, the disappointment evident in her voice—even to her own ears.
“I have heard the Wyndham stables are extensive. Mayhap the Duke can borrow another mount for you in the meantime.”
“I am certain Yardley will accommodate me. I was rediscovering the delights of daily exercise, and perhaps over-exerted her.” Charlotte blushed at her words. Never would she have been so forward with an unknown servant. She wanted to tell him she knew, but how would he react?
“No sense blaming yourself, my lady,” he muttered.
Charlotte wanted to scream. He refused to look at her and was treating her deferentially, as though he did not know her, as though he had not kissed the wits from her the last time she saw him. And now she was to pretend she knew him not at all, even when alone? It was not to be borne!
“Sir David.” There was no one else around to hear them, even if they could see.
She sensed him stiffen.
“Look at me and deny it.” The command in her voice surprised even her.
Stepping forward and lifting her chin to look into his eyes, she was unprepared for the ice-grey stare that met hers. Her pulse began an erratic hammering, and breathing became difficult. They were standing so close she could feel his breath on her face. His eyes fell to her lips and she sucked in a gasp. Minerva nickered her jealousy and nudged them.
“You are mistaken, my lady.” He turned away and began walking Minerva again.
“Impossible,” she called after him. He kept walking purposefully and she felt the urge to stamp her foot. What did she hope to accomplish by pressing the point? Clearly he did not wish to renew their acquaintance, and it hurt. She followed behind, losing confidence by the moment. Perhaps he did not like what he saw by the light of day.
When they reached the steward’s cottage, the path to the house separated from the path to the stables.
“We should part here. I will look after the mare. I cannot be seen near you.”
Charlotte nodded, stifling the urge to sob. “I understand,” she squeaked, though she did not—not at all.
He dropped the reins and pulled her behind a tree. His hands felt like a brand searing through her riding habit. She could recall those hands holding her before…
“This will not do, my lady. That night…was a mistake. As you can see, our stations are oceans apart. I need this position and if I am seen dallying with my betters I will lose more than my place.”
“Why must everyone try to shelter me from the truth as though I cannot comprehend it? I know there is something afoot—yet you would rather lie to my face.” Bold speaking, indeed. She could not believe she had just said such a thing.
He sighed deeply and searched her eyes. “I would like nothing better than to tell you this is a farce and that I could restore my good name and be worthy of you, Lady Charlotte. Sadly, that can never happen. The King did not pardon me, and I must work to earn it. As you see, this is not a game. I must remain Douglas the gamekeeper, and you must not acknowledge me other than you would another servant. It could mean life or death to me.”
How could she convince him she was trustworthy?
He must have read her thoughts. “Forget that night ever happened.”
“How can you ask such a thing of me?” Her eyes scanned his, begging for understanding.
He looked away and sighed deeply.
“I know about your past transgressions, Sir David. That is what they are—the past.”
“Do not do this, my lady,” he commanded in a low voice. “You are making this harder than it needs to be.”
She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.
“Just look at me! We cannot be together. There is no imaginable way that this will have a good outcome, so walk away and forget about me.” He turned and took Minerva’s reins.
“I am afraid I cannot,” she whispered to his back as she slowly followed.
They saw Letty and Simmons approaching in a cart, as if preparing for the worst. Letty tried to look aloof, but Charlotte saw the covert glance she cast her uncle’s way. Charlotte noticed the quick look of affection that passed between the two. Without so much as a nod of the head, he turned and walked away from her to speak with Simmons. He might as well have cut her heart out and stamped upon it, for it was refusing to beat, causing painful constrictions in her chest.
“Charlotte?” Letty asked. “Is something wrong? They will take good care of Minerva.”
Good gracious, Letty thought she was upset about the horse. She nodded distractedly, unable to speak without blurting out something unconscionable. Letty continued chatting amiably, and Charlotte used her years of polite breeding to muddle through the walk back to the house. When they arrived, the house was at sixes and sevens with the arrival of the Duchess of Yardley and the children.
“Charlotte! There you are! Rosie was looking for you.”
“I will be certain to go to the nursery next,” Charlotte said with a smile, thinking of her youngest niece.
“She is taking her nap now. Nurse can bring her down after tea.”
“Benedict did not tell me you were bringing the children.”
“We did not know how long we would be here.” She smiled at the guests. “And we cannot abide being so far from them.”
“Yes, of course. Are you acquainted with Lady Brennan’s daughter, Miss Dickerson?”
“I have not had the pleasure.” Jolie smiled again.
“Your Grace, the Duchess of Yardley, may I present Miss Letitia Dickerson?”
Letty curtseyed deeply.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Dickerson.”
“Please call me Letty.” She also smiled warmly.
“Shall we have tea?” Jolie asked rhetorically as she pulled on the rope to summon the tray.
“How was your ride, ladies?” Lady Brennan asked from where she sat by the fire. “Come closer and warm yourselves.”
“It is incredibly beautiful here, Mama. You will have to allow me to take you to the cliffs, if we have a warm day.”
“That would be lovely.”
“Letty rode Dido today,” Charlotte remarked as she chafed her hands in front of the flames.
“What did you think of her?” Jolie asked as the butler set a large silver tray of tea, sandwiches and delicacies before her. “She is Yardley’s favourite mare.”
“I can see w
hy. She led me a merry dance up on the cliffs. So much so that I am afraid Minerva was injured chasing after us,” Letty replied.
“Oh dear, I hope she will be all right,” Lady Brennan said with a frown. Jolie waited for further explanation.
“It was my fault. I did not think to warn her of the ravine. I was attempting to catch her, but Dido took it beautifully, of course,” Charlotte added.
“And Minerva?” Jolie enquired.
“The gamekeeper happened upon us while Letty had gone for help. He thinks it only a strained hock.”
Three sets of eyes watched her closely. Without missing a beat, she decided to play devilish. “He certainly looks familiar.”
“All gamekeepers have the same look about them,” Jolie said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“If you say so,” Charlotte replied in her best aloof voice, while scheming about how to force them to confide in her.
David seethed with frustration as he walked back to the stables with Simmons and Minerva. He decided he would saddle Gulliver and go for a ride to clear his head. However, when he reached the stallion’s stall, he was not there.
“The Duke has him out in the paddock with Dido, sir,” one of the stable boys said when he saw David. He gave a nod of thanks to the boy before slamming his fist against the stall partition.
“Could this day get any worse?” he muttered to himself.
He had hoped to clear his head before speaking to Yardley. He was going to have to tell him of his conversation with Lady Charlotte. It was better the Duke should hear it from him than someone else. Steeling himself for a confrontation, he willed his temper to calm. For a few moments he stood outside the railed paddock, watching Gulliver court Dido. He had to chuckle. She was a spirited one, all right. Despite her long ride, she was out there prancing and playing coy with his stallion. He frowned. How he wished he could play the courtship dance with Lady Charlotte!
“You are a poor sop to be jealous of your horse,” he chided himself.
He had nearly come undone watching Charlotte’s face at his rejection. She deserved so much more than he could give her.
“Douglas,” Yardley greeted him as he noticed his presence and walked toward him.
“Your Grace.”
They watched the two horses as they performed the mating game, leading the grooms on a merry dance, Gulliver watching Dido with interest. The familiar smells, sights and sounds of horses, stables and paddocks surrounded David and suppressed the anger rising within. This is what he should be doing instead of masquerading as a smuggler.
“Dido is as particular as a diamond of the first stare being fired off in London,” Yardley chuckled.
He grunted agreement with the analogy. “She will not be able to resist Gulliver for long.”
“No. She is behaving in a far more cordial fashion towards him then she did my Hector.”
“Mm.” David replied distractedly.
“I cannot wait to see their offspring.” Yardley was still chattering away about horses. “Is something amiss, Douglas? You seem preoccupied.”
“Beg pardon. It is your sister.” He sighed.
Yardley’s gaze narrowed and his amiability was gone in a flash.
“I was out scouting for tunnels this morning, along the beach. When I came back over the cliff, I found your sister alone with her horse gone lame.”
Quickly on alert, Yardley began to head for the gate.
“Everything is taken care of, your Grace. ’Twas only a strained hock and Minerva is back in the stables. Lady Charlotte seemed unharmed, but I thought you should know she recognized me.”
Yardley let go a string of oaths.
“I apologize for breaking my word, but I could not leave her there until I knew she was unharmed.”
“No, of course not. I appreciate your assistance. What did she say to you?”
“She was quite put out when I tried to insist she was mistaken, and told her it would not do for her to be seen being friendly with the lower orders.”
“And she accepted that?” Yardley asked, wide-eyed.
“She seemed to, but there was a look in her eye I could not be assured of. Do you think we should tell her the whole?”
“Are you mad? At least my mother is not here, but I have a feeling there might be a good deal of meddling going on should we do such a thing.”
David frowned.
“Just so. Leave Charlotte to me. I will make certain she does not interfere.”
David did not want her to interfere—he could not bear the distraction—but he felt she should be told more. He had a feeling she would be more complacent if her feathers had not been ruffled—and ruffled they were, in a most alluring fashion.
“Did you discover the tunnels?” Yardley asked, pulling him out of his distracting visions of Lady Charlotte in a taking.
“Oh, aye. The entrance was where you suspected. I followed it back to a fork with three pathways.”
“Three? Is that unusual?”
“Not particularly. I paced the first off to where I suspect is the Black Horse. The second ended at a crypt, and the third veered off to Langborn.”
Yardley’s brows lifted in surprise.
“Any idea where it leads?”
“None, but Jeffries, our butler, was brought up at Langborn. He will know.”
David nodded. “I expect a run tonight, so I plan to reconnoitre.”
“How can I help?”
“Might you discover where the tunnel leads? It looked less used than the others, so it may well be dormant.”
“And if it is not?”
“Then it gives me another foot in the door.”
Chapter 7
I suppose, when it is time to change, it is appropriate to mark the occasion with something physical. Who needs hair, anyway? It will grow back, will it not? Now I want to do more, but how?—5 Feb
Charlotte and Jolie sat in the carriage on their return from Wyndham. It was already past dark with only the moon to light their way. Snuggled beneath a warm blanket, with hot bricks at her feet, she did not envy the postilions braving the cold night. Still reeling from Sir David’s earlier rejection, followed by the wake for the Earl of Wyndham, Charlotte was near desolate and struggling to master it. The men left to attend the funeral and interment, but the ladies and their ‘delicate sensibilities’ stayed behind—except Elly, of course. She still thumbed her nose, though regally, at Society and their view of ladies as being porcelain dolls.
Charlotte envied Elly for being able to be herself. Would Charlotte ever have that freedom? Death was always a cause for reflection, and the Earl’s was no exception. It was his time, of course, and he had lived much longer than ever expected, but it still gave her pause. Coupled with Sir David’s refusal to so much as acknowledge her…she felt like doing something outrageous. Yet, duty had been so deeply ingrained in her upbringing that she struggled with how far she would go. But she must do something.
Would independence be enough? She also wanted to be herself—but how? Nothing so scandalous as to shame her family, but could she not do something for herself for once, rather than what Society expected? Society—what a monstrous weight upon her shoulders, to be sure.
Her beautiful sister-in-law, Jolie, was also a person Charlotte admired. Being a duchess, Jolie also enjoyed rather more than normal lenience with her eccentricities.
Besides uncommon beauty, both Elly and Jolie enjoyed doting husbands. Deep in thought, Charlotte wondered if there was any way at all for her to enjoy life as they did.
“What are you thinking, dear Charlotte?” her sister-in-law asked from the opposite seat.
“About the future,” she said vaguely.
“Yes, death has the tendency to make us reflect. Have you come to any conclusions?”
Charlotte sighed loudly. It was one thing to think things, but revealing her innermost source of inadequacy was another. Although, if anything had been on her mind lately, it was that she had nothing to lose.
/> “I want to learn to be myself,” she said quietly.
Jolie stared at her thoughtfully, as though trying to read her mind. Charlotte could see her face by the light of the moon as they jostled along.
“And who do you think yourself to be? Who is the Charlotte inside you?”
How could she explain? “That is a difficult question to answer—to put into words.”
“You need not answer all at once. Your brother and I will help however we may. You do know he only wants what is best for you?”
“Of course. However, he often has his mind made up beforehand on what that should be.”
Jolie chuckled. Even her laughs were beautiful.
“I have accepted that I will be independent,” Charlotte paused.
Jolie kept quiet, allowing her time to organize her thoughts. The sounds of the horses’ hooves clopping along the cliff path, with the waves hitting against the rocks, soothed her and she continued.
“I feel I need a change. I have been hiding for so long I think I have ceased caring about life happening around me, preferring to escape into a good story.”
“And now that has changed?”
“I want to do something bold, Jolie. I feel life is passing me by.”
“What do you wish to do? What do you dream about when you are alone?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.
“Therein lies the problem. I do not know. I do not allow myself to dream.”
“Sacre bleu!” Jolie whispered and Charlotte saw her shaking her head. “Your first Season I saw a glimpse of boldness. What happened? Was it cut short because of the situation with Lillian?”
Charlotte had thought Jolie unaware of how much that had affected her. Having been hesitant to have a Season to begin with, she had mustered up the courage to change her appearance and face the fashionable world. Nothing had then come of it because they had had to remove to the country quickly to avoid scandal after Benedict’s first wife had reappeared.
“Would you allow me to help you? Make it up to you?”
“There is nothing to make up, I am afraid. A monkey in silk is a monkey no less. Or should I say a pig?”
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