An Inconvenient Trilogy (52 page)

That had been the day, when everything was over, that he had realised that he was in love with Martha Fairfield. It was also the day that he realised how foolish he had been and how hopeless his case was. He had decided to try and help her, but the reality was that no matter how he tried, Martha misinterpreted his actions and the tension remained.

Martha stirred herself. “You obviously have your own opinions on these letters,” she said a little stiffly, always wary that she would receive criticism from her comments. “But there doesn’t appear to be anyone who would be suitable.”

Charles smiled in encouragement, “That is what I thought, they are either applying for the job to gain a little experience and be off, or want it because they think it will be an easy role. I don’t want to encourage someone who will ultimately neglect the estate.”

“No, although Elizabeth will rarely visit now, this estate is very close to her heart, particularly because it was her first real home after her father’s death,” Martha agreed.

“I know, but that doesn’t make these letters any more appealing,” Charles said with a groan. “I suppose I need to widen the search, but that will take time.”

“Are you looking to return to Lord Dunham soon?” Martha asked, surprised of the feeling that she did not want him to leave.

“I shall write to him. He did not specify how long he expected me to stay here, but it would be unreasonable to presume I could stay here indefinitely. We both will be needed at home at some point.” He was careful not to sound as if he was making himself out to be more important.

“I know, Laura has said that she is to be confined in around six weeks, I wasn’t expecting to be away for so long,” Martha admitted.

“I suppose if I write and ask his Lordship for his advice, we can be guided by his response,” Charles said with a shrug.

They were interrupted by Smithson, bringing in the post. Charles sorted through it and handed Martha a letter. “One for you,” he said, leaning across to her.

Martha smiled, “It will be from Thomas, although he did write earlier in the week,” she responded. Her letters from her brother were as regular as the sun rose every morning, the brother and sister may be hundreds of miles apart, but they were as close as ever.

She opened the letter and began to read, while Charles continued to open the other letters. Charles felt, rather than heard the change in Martha, her posture went stiff and the colour drained from her face.

“Martha?” he asked quietly.

It took Martha a few seconds before she realised that Charles had spoken. She looked at him, but did not really see him, or the concern on his face. She stood on shaky legs and turned to the door. “Please excuse me Charles, I need to attend to something in my bed chamber.”

“Martha, is anything wrong? Can I help?” Charles asked, knowing full well that there was something very wrong.

“Oh no, no, just a letter,” Martha said quietly, not turning to meet his gaze. “Please excuse me.”

Chapter 13

Charles sat at the desk for some time, pondering about what to do. Martha had obviously received some news from home which had shaken her, but it was none of his business. He had offered to help and she had turned from him, he should just forget it and get on with his work, he argued with himself. He needed to send the letter to Lord Dunham after all.

He took out a piece of parchment and started to write. The introduction had barely been written, before he placed his quill on the ink stand and pushed back his chair with a sigh. She was upset, he could not leave her alone.

Martha heard the gentle knocking and knew who it was. She had sat at her dressing table with her money box set before her. It travelled everywhere with her, making her feel secure. Wherever she was, she had her retirement fund with her, no disaster would separate the two. Not until today, anyway.

She moved to the sofa placed at the bottom of the bed and sat on it, pretending to read the letter, but in her upset state, not realising that she still had some of the money grasped in her hand. The knock came again.

“Come in,” she said, but her voice seemed unlike her own, detached almost.

Charles opened the door and walked into her bed chamber. A unique occurrence and not one that either would want becoming known by any other member of staff. Once Charles had stepped into the room he closed the door firmly behind him.

“Forgive my intruding Martha, but you were upset,” he said walking across to her and sitting next to her without waiting for an invitation. “Something is amiss at your home? Are your family well?”

Martha looked at Charles, his brow was furrowed with nothing but concern, why would he be concerned when he did not like her? Her thoughts seemed to jumble as she tried to adjust herself to the change she was facing. “I…” she started, but then faltered.

Charles reached out and took her hand, then looked down in surprise at the money that she was gripping as if her life depended on it. He was certain that the money had not arrived in the letter, no money had fallen out when she had opened it. “Martha, tell me,” he urged.

“Thomas writes, my brother….,” she faltered again, before taking a steadying breath. “My youngest brother, has left his apprenticeship and joined a ship. He is currently somewhere between Liverpool and China. That is what Thomas thinks at any rate, he has made some enquiries at the dockside, but he cannot be totally sure. Young boys tend to look alike don’t they?” Martha looked down at her hands. How long had it been since she had seen her brother, the baby of the family? In her memory he was still a little boy who was so sweet and obliging, how could he do something so foolish?

Charles squeezed her hands gently. “Surely it is not too bad? He is still in employment, he may make some money on the journey.” Very often a portion of the ship’s goods would be given to the sailors who had contributed to a safe, successful voyage, if he was lucky the boy may come back with a reasonable bounty.

“I-it’s not that,” Martha responded, regretting that she had opened the letter in front of Charles. She could not hide the real cause of her distress.

“Go on,” Charles urged.

“The man who had agreed to the apprenticeship had not insisted on the payment up front, but is now demanding it, in addition to the money he has spent on my brother over the time he has been in his service. He is saying that it will cost him dearly because he has to start looking all over again for a replacement,” she said, hanging her head with embarrassment at the poor behaviour of one of her relations.

Charles was well aware of the money that families had to pay in order that an apprenticeship take place, it was common practice. “Your elder brother must have known that he would have to pay at some point in the future,” he said, still not understanding why Martha was so upset.

“Yes, but he has not got the money now. He says that although things are steady with the estate, what is left of it, mother has needed the apothecary many times recently and his reserves are depleted. He has no money to settle the account,” Martha said.

“How much is he asking for from you?” Charles asked, realisation dawning on the request that the letter must contain.

“Two hundred pounds, or as near as I can give him,” Martha said with a sob, saying the words out loud, making the reality of the request sink in and reducing her ability to hold back her emotions.

“Two hundred pounds!” Charles gasped. “Where on earth does he think that you could get that sort of money from?” That would be years of wages, even if she had spent nothing in the interim.

A laugh escaped Martha’s lips, but it was a bitter one. “I had a legacy left me a few years ago and I saved half of it and I have been saving for my retirement since I started working. I had assured Thomas that I would not be a burden on him or on any of the others when I could no longer work. Thomas knows I have some money set aside.”

“How much have you saved?” Charles asked, his heart sinking.

“Almost a hundred and fifty pounds,” Martha acknowledged. “I am over thirty now, I was hoping that when the time came for me to leave Elizabeth I would not need to work for anyone else and could rent a cottage on the estate. Now it seems I will be working until my dying day. I will never save enough now. I would not have saved so much only for the legacy.” The last words were finished with a sob and the tears that she had been fighting, finally came.

Charles reacted as he had the last time he had seen her cry and enveloped her in his arms. He cursed her brother for asking her to give up her legacy and savings. How could he ask a single woman to give away the only security she had?

Charles held Martha close and let her cry. He understood she was crying for more than her brother running away to sea and he did not condemn her for it. An unmarried woman had limited opportunities, a poor and aging one had even less.

As her sobs subsided, he gently rubbed her back, trying in his own way to soothe her. Eventually she stopped crying, but Charles continued to hold her. His feeling had gone from wanting to comfort her to something else, he was enjoying holding Martha in his arms and appreciating the feeling it gave him, as if she fitted perfectly.

Martha pulled away slightly, her cheeks were pink from crying and the fact that she had been leaning on Charles’ chest, and although her cheek had been resting on his frock coat, she could still feel the movement of his body as he breathed. She had felt supported, comfort and security while being held, but it could not last, so she forced herself to move.

“I must send the money, there is no point in delaying,” she said, her practical nature coming to the fore.

“Lord and Lady Dunham are not going to cast you off,” Charles reassured her. “Look at the trouble they are taking for Mr Lawson.”

“You are right, but I just wanted not to have to rely on someone else when the time came. Do you understand what I mean?” Martha asked.

“Yes, I do, but there are people who care about you and will want to help,” Charles said, his arms had moved from her back to the top of her arms and he applied gentle pressure in reassurance. “Let me help.”

“You?” Martha asked in surprise, pulling further away. “Why would you want to help?”

Charles panicked a little at Martha’s movement. He was not ready to let her go just yet, he had no idea if he would ever hold her again. So he acted out of instinct rather than rational thought, and leaned in and kissed her.

Martha did not respond immediately, she was stunned, but Charles wrapped his arms around her once more and instead of resisting, as she should have done, she leant into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Charles had only needed a little encouragement to know that he had not made a mistake, Martha’s reaction was beyond what he had hoped for and he groaned and pulled her closer. He could tell that she was unused to being kissed, but his was gentle and encouraging, pushing her a little every time she responded to him.

Martha’s head was swimming. Only a few moments ago she had been crying, feeling desolate at her future, and now her heart was pounding as her mouth was being, teased and explored by Charles. She pulled at his hair, not caring if she was too rough and grasped his collar, dragging him closer, if it was possible. She became bolder when she realised that her actions caused him to moan and the kiss to increase in its intensity.

They stayed entwined until Charles leaned back further, he needed to feel her body against his. He pulled her across him as he lay back on the sofa, her skirts falling over his legs in a muslin curtain.

The action stirred Martha’s senses, she was lying across a man, like some sort of wanton woman, she pulled away from him. “No,” she said, hoarsely, breathing in large gasps of air to try and steady herself.

“Yes,” Charles responded, his voice gruff, pulling her back towards him.

Martha put her hands against his chest and pushed him away, “No, this is wrong,” she said firmly.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Charles said, sitting up, so he was closer to her. “Martha marry me, let me be the one to take care of you now and in the future. Marry me.”

Martha stilled and looked at Charles, he looked as flushed as she felt and was breathing as deeply and erratically. “What did you say?” she asked, but her eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Charles saw the change and once again panicked. “I asked you to marry me, it would solve everything, I could look after you, you wouldn’t need to worry about your future, I would take care of you,” the ever calm Charles babbled like an idiot.

“But we dislike each other,” Martha said, matter of fact.

Charles flopped back against the sofa, half in exasperation, half in defeat. “That wasn’t a show of dislike,” he said, referring to what had just happened.

“That was a heat of the moment lapse,” Martha said standing. “I think it would be best if you leave now and we forget what has happened here today.”

Charles stood, trying to keep his own emotions in place. He pulled down his waistcoat and frock coat and looked Martha fully in the face. “I meant every word and action that has happened today and I won’t be forgetting it in a hurry. I am presuming this is a refusal, but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

The door closed behind Charles before Martha could think of a suitable retort. She walked over to the desk and leaned on it for support, while she tried to calm her breathing. How had the day turned from being asked to give up her future and then offered an alternative, one that she had never allowed herself to dream of?

Married to Charles Anderton. Martha Anderton. The names suited one another. She shook herself, it was obviously said in the heat of the moment. He could never have seriously considered marriage to her, he disliked her, she disliked him. She closed her eyes in frustration, if she disliked him so much, why had she felt bereft once the feel of his lips on hers had faded? Why would the memory of that kiss haunt her every thought? She was a romantic fool and should know better.

Martha Fairfield looked at herself in the mirror and shook her head. She had come here to do a job and that is what she would do, the events of the morning would never be mentioned, or referred to, or thought of, again.