“Is arguing futile?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Then this is farewell?” she asked, unwilling to believe the words he spoke.
“I cannot change my past, my lady. It will always follow me and therefore would follow you.”
“I do not care!” she cried desperately, reaching for him as he began to step away.
With one final piercing look—or dare she say anguish? Or was she merely hoping his heartache mirrored her own?—he turned and left her for good.
Lady Charlotte had not lingered over her bath, and was back downstairs by the time Yardley and Davenport returned. David could not look her in the eyes for it was too painful, even though he doubted she had yet seen him standing near the hearth, trying to dry his sodden boots.
The look on her face tempted him to throw reason to the wind and carry her away to the islands. Almost. However, he had promised Yardley and he also knew himself to be unworthy. The best thing he could do was remove himself from her life.
“Oh dear, Charlotte. How are you feeling? Are you dry and warm? That was quite an ordeal you met with tonight.” Yardley stormed in and threw his arms around his sister.
She nodded in his embrace. “I am making shift, Brother. I thank God that Sir David arrived when he did. I do not know how much longer I could have held Prescott off.”
“You have my eternal thanks, Douglas,” Yardley said, turning and extending his hand.
David saw Lady Charlotte jerk when she realized he was still there. He had not expected her to leave her room that night after her harrowing ordeal. He was not certain his heart had yet settled to a normal pace.
“You almost died, Lottie.” Yardley pulled back and searched his sister’s eyes.
“Dying was never an option,” she retorted, no doubt to reassure her brother. David had seen her fear—and her strength.
“How did you know to shoot the yacht?” Yardley asked.
“Maybe it was just a lucky shot.”
“Was it?” Yardley and Charlotte exchanged bleak smiles.
“I overheard Dunn and Prescott discussing the ammunition you were looking for. They had hidden it on The Jolie, as you no doubt surmised,” Charlotte explained. “They spoke of bullet cartridges made with paper that were self-contained. You could stuff one of these cartridges down the barrel, put on a new percussion cap and it was ready to fire. They thought to make their fortune with this new discovery.”
“Indeed. It would completely transform warfare. It would take several steps out of the reloading process!”
“But why smuggle it to our enemies? Why would Prescott betray his country?” Yardley asked, disbelief and frustration displayed by his frown and his outstretched hands.
“I still cannot believe Prescott was a traitor. A man in uniform!” Davenport finally spoke.
“And one of our oldest friends,” Yardley added quietly. “How did you come to be there, Charlotte?”
“Well...” She began to explain with what David was certain was a guilty look on her face. “When I returned to the house, all was dark and there was not a soul to be found.”
Yardley’s gaze narrowed and centred upon his sister. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“So, I decided to look and see where everyone had disappeared to. I did not think you had given the servants the night off and where would they have gone?”
“This did not cause you to think that you should come and find me?” Yardley asked, his tone derogatory.
“The thought did cross my mind, yes, but I heard a crash on the other side of the library wall and I went to investigate.”
Yardley made a growling sound. “Is that when he caught you?”
“No, I actually went and changed into something warmer.” Her face flushed and she looked sheepish. “Then, I went around to the back of the house to look for the tunnel entrance. The door was open, so I went in and followed it to the entrance of the hidden store-room.”
“Charlotte! I cannot believe you would be so foolish!”
“I hoped to see something which would help clear Sir David’s name!” She defended herself with some vehemence.
He was touched more than he could ever express to her—more of a reason for him to leave now. Perhaps he could spare her feelings from becoming more involved.
“When did Prescott find you, then?” Yardley continued his inquisition.
“Not until I was out on the beach and had already overheard his conversation with Dunn. He said I knew too much to live.”
The Duke ran his hands through his hair. David did not think he had ever seen him so untidy.
“Fortunately, it is Prescott’s body locked in the ice house—not yours. Wyndham and Harris have arrived and have gone to deal with the unpleasant duties arising from this mess. I thought it best to recuse myself, in the circumstances.”
“Has someone been sent to arrest Howard? I suspect he can fill in the gaps, if he has not already heard the news and bolted,” David suggested.
“Captain Harris has ordered the navy men to search for Dunn. Wyndham went to find the Revenue Officer to help him apprehend Howard.”
“Unfortunately, Lord Wyndham will not be finding Officer Nibley.” David moved forward.
Everyone looked at him in stunned silence, clearly trying to determine if he meant what they thought he did.
David continued. “In fact, his death is how I realized I had been sent to the Gap run to be out of the way. Dunn was there at an early stage—I suppose to confirm with me that all of the guests had departed from Langborn.”
He cleared his throat. “It was low visibility—a perfect night for the trade—when I saw Dunn moving eastwards. Thinking it was odd, and being suspicious of the secret goods stashed here, I followed. I had been assigned as a look-out, so it was not obvious that I left.”
He paused, trying not to visualize the scene in his mind. “I heard a commotion as Nibley fell—they had moved his trail markers and he had fallen off the cliff—but he was still hanging on when I saw Dunn step on his fingers and kick him over the edge.”
Charlotte gasped.
“I had to make a choice,” he continued, looking into the dancing flames of the fire. “I realized then what was happening. There was little hope for Nibley and I feared what might happen to Lady Charlotte.” He looked away, afraid he had already revealed far too much.
Yardley nodded. “We need to send a messenger to the Home Office, and the King, immediately. This will need to be handled carefully, considering Prescott’s position.”
“I can take the message myself,” David offered. “I can answer any questions first-hand and hopefully put this chapter of my life to rest.”
He tried not to look, but he saw Lady Charlotte wince and turn away.
“I will be off at first light. I would like to bid my sister and niece farewell first, though.”
“I will write the letters while you gather your belongings. It will be daylight soon.”
David nodded as he turned to leave. Yes, this chapter was ending... but what next?
Chapter 16
I feel I am watching my life as a character in a play—as a mere puppet on a string. I can see what the ending will be, but I cannot stop the tragedy from occurring.—April 8
For Charlotte, the next few weeks flew by in a haze. At times, what had happened did not seem real, but for the pain in her heart. Wanting to put events behind her, she agreed to go to London for Letty’s sake. However, by the time she was planning to leave, the Season ended. If she could not have Sir David, she would try travelling to see if her broken heart could be mended by a new adventure.
The new Season was to begin with the Cavenray ball and Charlotte assumed that Sir David would be there—or would he? Perhaps he thought his presence would taint Letty’s come out. Before, Charlotte had always been able to put on a good face despite her spinster—and somewhat wallflower—presence in Society, but she did not know if she could present a façade any longer. Perhaps if Yardl
ey realized her misery, he would let her go.
There had not been one single word of news from Sir David, other than he had received his pardon. She was truly happy for him, as he seemed to have changed from his younger days. Would he stay in England? Would he take a lower-born wife? Was it simply her lineage which held him back from her or was it something else? She could not imagine taking anyone else for a husband, feeling as she did about him. It would be wrong.
Needing to get away from the house for a while, Charlotte put on her dark green velvet pelisse and poke bonnet trimmed with a matching green ribbon. It had become a daily occurrence to escape the confines of the loving, happy family which threatened to smother her. It was repugnant to be jealous of her brother and his joy, and yet she had to get away so she did not become bitter about it.
It felt like freedom once she crossed the street into Hyde Park, escaping what seemed to be confining that freedom. How was she to manage for the entire Season? She had lost all pleasure in life—unable even to read a novel since that fateful day in February. Melancholy was such an overwhelming, ugly, consuming emotion. She realized she was in its grip, but she did not know how to remove its grasping fingers.
Bright yellow daffodils exploded in their magnificence along the pathways of the park. Nurses herded their charges along while older children played and giggled with their innocent and easy delight in games. None of it brought her joy any more.
Walking the gravel path beside the water, with no direction in mind, disdainful geese and scampering squirrels barely registered on the periphery of her notice. She was lost in thought when she saw him. He did not notice her and she was able to watch him at her leisure. It was a guilty pleasure, and she drank in the sight of him like a drug. He no longer looked like a pirate, but as the gentleman he was born to be. He had shaved and wore his fashionable attire with inherent grace and style. It might have been easier had he remained looking like a ruffian. Swallowing his rejection, when he looked a part of her world, was much harder.
Unable to pull away her gaze, she knew he must have felt her stare. His eyes met hers and she could sense his hesitation. There was no one else in the vicinity, but he merely inclined his head then kept going. She watched him until he was out of sight before she lowered her head and allowed herself to cry without restraint. She would have to wait before returning to the house because she dare not allow them to see her shame.
How could she continue this charade? Surely, her brother would listen to her pleas? He himself had hidden away in the country when he had been faced with scandal. Not that hers was a scandal, but her pain and embarrassment were genuine and she did not think she could pretend to the ton for day after tedious day. She could go to their mother in Malta. Benedict could not find any fault in that, could he?
When her tears had dried, she slowly ambled back to the house in time for a fitting at the modiste with Letty. She wanted her friend to succeed and she would do her best to make sure that happened.
No one seemed to notice Charlotte was abnormally quiet, as most of the attention was on Letty and her success. Afterwards, Charlotte could not even remember what colour her gown was and she could not bring herself to care.
Following the fitting, they were invited to take tea with the Duchess of Cavenray. Maili was sure to cheer her up.
Letty walked over to greet Maili, and whispered something in her ear. Charlotte pretended not to notice. Letty turned.
“I think I will take tea with mother since she did not feel like coming down today. I hope you do not mind?” she asked Charlotte.
“No, of course not. Please give her my regards and best wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“Yes, of course. I will see you at dinner tomorrow?”
“I would not miss it,” Charlotte answered with sincerity. It was difficult enough to be accepted into Society for those born to it. Letty would need all the support they could give her, being a Duke’s natural child instead of his legitimate one.
When the door closed behind her friend, Maili came over to greet Charlotte. She took her hand and led her to a sofa. “Now please tell me what is happening. I have not seen you in weeks and I can see a great change in you. Letty said all of your gowns had to be taken up several inches.”
Charlotte watched her hands. She could not quite meet Maili’s direct gaze. Her friend had never been one to prevaricate—it was part of what she admired in her.
“It is true I have not been myself.”
“Are you having nightmares? Is it because of what that horrid man tried to do to you?”
“I have had a few,” she confessed, “but it is not the sole source of my melancholy.” She was afraid to go near the water or dip her head under the water, but she did not wish to divulge the details of that awful night.
“Pray tell, Charlotte. You know I want to help you.” Maili was searching her face for answers, and Charlotte feared her friend saw too much. However, if she could confide in anyone, it was the Duchess.
“It began at your wedding ball.”
“My ball?” Maili’s face showed utter consternation.
Charlotte gave a small, half-hearted laugh at her friend’s bewilderment.
“I was on the terrace by myself, as I was wont to do. Having the freedom to do so after so many years of the chains of chaperonage, I escape whenever I can.”
“Do go on.” Maili indicated with her hand while her face seemed to reserve judgement.
“A man approached me and we spoke for a while. It was as though he understood me.” She could hear the wistfulness in her tone.
“And?”
“And then he asked me to dance.”
“How romantic!” Maili clasped her hands to her chest.
“It was the best few minutes of my life,” Charlotte admitted.
Maili waited a few moments before begging, impatiently, “Well, who was this paragon of all romantic heroes?”
“He would not tell me. He said he was not a true gentleman and unworthy of my notice.”
“If he was at my ball, I can assure you he was a suitable partner.”
“Those were precisely my thoughts. However, when I began to question my brother and Jolie, as subtly as I could, I discovered it was Sir David Douglas.”
“Deuce? Yes of course! I had not even considered...”
“You were a touch preoccupied, my dear.”
Maili laughed. “I can see why he would be reticent at first, but now he has received his pardon, has retained the baronetcy, and is being lauded as a hero by the King. Whatever could be the reason now?”
“He still does not want me.” Charlotte began to lose her composure, overthrown by that ugly combination of tears and trying to breathe.
Maili took her in her arms. “My dear, who could not want you? If I were a man, you would be my first choice!”
A giggle burbled out of Charlotte.
“There, there, that is better. We shall contrive something.”
Charlotte leaned back and looked at her friend. She could see the wheels turning in her mind—those which seemed to become second nature to all wedded ladies the moment they said I do.
“No.” She shook her head to emphasize her word.
Maili reached for a news-sheet. “Have you seen what the papers say?”
“I do not care.” Charlotte had seen them...and had read every word twenty times.
“But he is a hero,” Maili pleaded. “How could he not think he would be accepted now? Before all this, Cavenray, Dannon, Craig, and even your brother, vouched for him before the King!”
“I am happy for him, truly, but I do not care about those things. If he did not want me before, I cannot see that that will have changed.”
“Oh, Charlotte. Please, we must try. I am certain it was his pride speaking. He would not think himself good enough for you, regardless of how matters now stand.”
“No. I have been humiliated enough. I will not throw myself at him again. He said goodbye, and I could see by his actions to
day—I came across him in the park—that he meant it.”
“If that is your wish, I will see you are not forced to be in his company at dinner. He must be there, as should you, for Letty’s sake. I can ensure, however, you will not be escorted by, or seated beside, him.”
“Thank you. It is all I could ask. I believe I will go and visit my mother in Malta for a while after the ball. Perhaps it will take the sharp edge from the pain.”
“Oh, I hope so, dear Charlotte. If that is what you think best.”
This was death by a thousand tiny paper cuts with vinegar poured on top. David would much prefer someone to impale him properly and get it over with. The anguish on Charlotte’s face mirrored the agony in his heart. It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, to walk away from her in the park yesterday. How much easier it would have been to go to her and beg her to run away with him—but that was the most selfish act he could have ever committed. She deserved a far better life and reputation then he could give her; regardless of what the news-sheets were saying. He would be old news on the morrow, while the old scandals would continue to surface like a wart or the pox.
Tonight’s ball would be pure torture yet again, for he knew she would be there. Once the ball was over, he would be free to leave. But he would never be free of her. He had already determined to go away for a time, in order to give her a chance to forget him and perhaps capture an appropriate suitor during the Season.
He really did not know where he would go, but he could not remain here and see her face every day. He suspected Davenport would soon ask for Letty’s hand and he would not leave before that happy day.
The guests would soon be arriving for dinner; even so, he was downstairs early. He strolled through the house, still awed by the magnificence of it. This was how a Duke’s daughter was raised and how she should continue to live.
Moon and Stars Page 14