Not Quite a Lady (25 page)

Darius hurried to the door and opened it. Then he said, making sure his voice carried the length of the corridor, “Upon consideration, Lady Charlotte, I prefer to keep the desk. I’ve developed a sentimental attachment to it.”

He needed another opportunity to talk to Lady Charlotte, but he wouldn’t find it at Beechwood this day. Now that Mrs. Endicott was installed as housekeeper, Lady Lithby rarely stayed past noon. They had a house party to prepare for, and though she made light of it, Darius was well aware that this was no ordinary house party. Lady Lithby must give it more than her usual attention. She and Lord Lithby were counting on this party to settle Lady Charlotte’s future.

The cream of Great Britain’s bachelordom would attend. Darius had not given this much thought until today. He had had Lady Charlotte more or less all to himself. The only rival he’d been aware of was Morrell, and since she seemed unaware he was a rival, Darius had given the colonel little more thought than he’d given the others. In any event, marriage was the last thing on Darius’s mind.

That was before.

Now there was a chance she would bear his child. If he’d impregnated her, she must marry him, like it or not.

If he had not, she must marry him anyway.

He was an intelligent man. He didn’t need days, weeks, months to comprehend the obvious: She was different, and he had feelings for her, strong feelings.

The challenge was to get her to marry him, and to make sure she liked the idea. The challenge was proving to her that marrying him would not be a mistake. He must give her time—and he could make good use of that time as well.

By the time the ladies’ carriage had arrived, he’d analyzed the problem and decided upon a course of action.

He accompanied them to the carriage. As he was about to close the door after them, he said, “I must call upon Lord Lithby soon.”

Lady Charlotte’s eyes widened.

“Goats,” Darius said. “I was thinking of getting goats, and I wanted his advice.”

“Then come to dinner this evening,” said Lady Lithby. “He’ll be more than happy to talk about goats instead of listening to us debating seating and sleeping arrangements. Mr. and Mrs. Badgely will be there, too. You would be doing him a kindness.”

Lithby Hall, that evening

Darius soon understood that Lady Lithby had uttered no more than the truth. Dinner that night was definitely a trial, and even Lord Lithby’s genial smile seemed forced. Mr. Badgely prosed on and on about one of the house party invitees—a naval officer who happened to have served with his nephew—and Mrs. Badgely was even more tiresome, offering endless unsought advice about the correct way to conduct a house party.

This, no doubt, was why Lord Lithby did not hurry back to join the ladies as he usually did. Instead, the men lingered over their port. Ordinarily, Darius preferred this phase of dinner. Male conversation, even drunken male conversation, was usually more stimulating than women’s talk. Tonight, though, he was impatient to join the women in the drawing room, and perhaps did not pay as close attention as he ought to Lord Lithby’s observations about goats.

Once there, though, Darius’s opportunity came, more quickly and easily than he’d expected.

“Let us have some music, Charlotte, please,” said Lady Lithby. “I’m sure the gentlemen have had quite enough of decorations and flower arrangements and whose feelings will be hurt by what.”

“Gladly, Stepmama,” said Lady Charlotte. “Mr. Carsington, perhaps you would help me choose something to soothe the gentlemen’s delicate nerves.”

“I should be delighted.” He joined her at the pianoforte.

“You stayed in the dining room for a long time,” she whispered as she began leafing through music. “Please do not tell me Mr. Badgely fell asleep over his port and you took the opportunity to speak about us to Papa.”

“You are overwrought, or you’d never imagine such a thing,” Darius said. “I’ve thought over what you told me. Your concerns are more than reasonable, and I’ve decided it would be best to let the mating party proceed as planned.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You have? It would?”

“For two reasons,” he said. “Firstly, by the end of the party, you will know for certain whether or not you are…” He glanced about, but the others seemed engrossed in their own conversations. “Breeding. Secondly—in the event you are not—and I have failed by then to persuade you that I shall suit you best, then I must accept defeat.”

She looked at him as though she was not at all sure what to make of him. “How neatly you’ve sorted it out.”

“We cannot both be emotional,” he said. “One of us must be calm and objective.”

“But where is our music?” Mrs. Badgely called. “How difficult is it to choose?”

“I agree, Mr. Carsington,” Lady Charlotte said more audibly. “Beethoven is too…ferocious for a small after-dinner gathering. My talents are not up to him, at any rate. By the way, we shall have some fine musicians playing for the house party. From London.”

“I should keep a close watch on them if I were you, Lord Lithby,” said Mrs. Badgely. “With so many impressionable young ladies in the house.”

“I have tried to consider your father’s feelings as well,” Darius said under cover of Mrs. Badgely’s lecture about professional performers and their penchant for leading innocent young ladies astray. “It will please him to believe his scheme worked. Too, in this way, if we become engaged, it won’t seem suspiciously hasty. Furthermore, the house party will give me an opportunity to court you properly.”

“Does that not strike you as farcical?” she said.

“On the contrary, it strikes me as crucial,” he said. “I have gone about this backward—seducing first instead of wooing first. But I didn’t know, you see—”

“You can never go wrong with Handel,” Mrs. Badgely called out.

“I hate Handel,” Lady Charlotte said under her breath.

“I hate Handel,” Darius muttered at the same time.

They looked at each other, their lips tight to keep back the laughter.

“Thank you, Mrs. Badgely,” Lady Charlotte said. “An excellent suggestion.”

“She likes anything that sounds like church music,” she whispered. “She dozes the way she does in church. As soon as it’s over, she starts talking.”

Lady Charlotte played the Handel, and Mrs. Badgely behaved as predicted.

When it was over, the rector’s wife was once again loudly monopolizing the conversation.

“You are right,” Lady Charlotte murmured while she pretended to look for more music. “One of us must be sensible, and I cannot be. I am too…emotional. Thank you. It is most kind.”

He had not been nearly kind enough. There was so much he had to say. But he could not say it now, in between interruptions, in sight of everybody. He’d have to make another opportunity.

Sunday 7 July

“I cannot believe you are doing this,” Charlotte said.

“Nor can I,” Mr. Carsington said. “I cannot remember when I last darkened the door of a church. I have never understood the logic of religion.”

“Yet you came,” she said.

“We must talk privately,” he said. “This was the first opportunity.”

She and Lizzie had not gone to Beechwood yesterday because Saturday was the day Lizzie reserved for reviewing accounts with the housekeeper, approving menus for the coming week, and attending to her correspondence.

Charlotte had not expected to see Mr. Carsington until Monday. She’d spent two restless nights, debating whether she’d done the right thing in not simply saying yes.

But now, as he walked beside her, so calm and completely confident, she was sure she’d been right.

She’d cried herself to sleep on Friday night, thinking of his kindness, of the comfort and relief she’d felt after she’d confessed, and he simply held her in his arms.

She couldn’t repay that kindness at the expense of his pride and reputation.

If they married in haste, people would talk. He mightn’t mind, but she would, on his account. She couldn’t bear for anyone to think him a fortune hunter. She couldn’t bear for his father to suppose he’d taken the easy way out.

Now, though, it seemed he was determined to set tongues wagging.

Since the church was a short distance from Lithby Hall, Lord and Lady Lithby preferred to walk there, weather permitting. At present they walked home, far enough ahead of Charlotte and Mr. Carsington to be in sight while out of earshot.

“I hope you realize you’ve put ideas in Papa’s head,” she said. “I hope you realize the whole village will be talking of this. It is as good as a declaration to walk with a lady after church.”

“I know,” he said. “Though I haven’t spent a great deal of time among the fashionable set, I’m well aware of courtship practices. I’ve heard endlessly how they did it in my grandmother’s day, and how my parents courted, and this relative and that. I hear all the gossip.”

“Then why did you not wait for a less public opportunity?” she said.

“Because I
am
courting you,” he said. “I see no logical reason to make a secret of it. That was not my main reason for coming here today, however. You said yesterday that you would never forgive yourself. You said many harsh words about your behavior. It is a cruel burden to bear. I cannot feel what you do. I am not a woman. I’ve never borne a child. But because I am not, I have, I hope, something to offer that a woman cannot. Another viewpoint, perhaps. I do not know exactly what needs to be done, but I mean to try, in every way that I can, to help you find peace.” He looked away from her, to the couple ahead of them. Lizzie glanced back, smiling. “I mean to court you, yes,” he went on. “But in these coming days I am determined as well to find a way to ease your heart.”

It took her a moment to answer, because the heart he spoke of was so full. “You’re a shockingly good man,” she said at last. She mustered a smile. “Perhaps I’d better say yes and have done with it. I’ve never had any trouble resisting men’s lures—at least not since that first time—but so much kindness is beyond me.”

“No, I want a hearty yes,” he said. “No questions, no doubts. I am determined to make you believe your life will be a desert—utterly unlivable without me.”

She laughed then, how could she help it?

She didn’t see her father look back then, and look to her stepmother, and exchange knowing smiles with her.

She didn’t see the villagers exchange knowing glances, either, and she didn’t hear the talk. She’d known tongues would wag, and she had an idea what they’d say.

She had no inkling of the danger.

She saw only the tall, powerful man beside her, and all she understood was the lightness of her heart as she walked beside him.

Sunday night

“He
what
?” Colonel Morrell said, his hand tightening on the whiskey glass.

“Walked with Lady Charlotte after church today,” said Kenning.

Colonel Morrell threw the glass into the grate. It shattered.

Kenning didn’t blink.

“Get me another,” his master said quietly.

The manservant did as ordered. “I couldn’t hardly believe it myself, sir, when I heard it,” he said. “Everyone was talking about it. There was wagers on it. People saying they’ll be calling the banns next Sunday, and the house party’ll end in a wedding, if it don’t start with one.”

All this time—nearly a year—of watching her, studying her, planning, so carefully planning how to win her trust. All this time, enduring his uncle’s sarcasm and criticism and nagging:
What’s taking so long? Keep dawdling and a bolder and cleverer fellow will snatch her out from under your nose. You’d better find a gal easier to please; you ain’t up to this one.

Now she’d as good as declared she’d marry Lord Hargate’s worthless Don Juan of a son.

She was not to be blamed. This sort of thing happened, unfortunately, all the time.

She’d taken leave of her senses, that was all.

Not for the first time.

But it was not her fault. She was a woman. Even she, remarkable as she was, had a woman’s weaknesses.

He was not angry with her.

She was in danger, grave danger.

Colonel Morrell would have to save her from herself.

Chapter 12

Monday 8 July

Darius stared at the paper in his hand. It was neatly ruled, the handwriting clear and square, the figures all too easy to read.

It was the list of expenses he’d told Tyler to provide.

“It would have been cheaper to send the boy to Eton,” Darius said.

Tyler twisted his cap in his hands. “The missus keeps the tally, sir,” he said. “Tells me the lad grows out of his clothes as fast as she can make them. The girls pass on their things from one to the next, so it don’t cost much more to dress six of ’em as one. But he been growing at a great rate, and he can’t wear the girls’ things now, can he? Not that he could wear any of their shoes anyway, what with his feet bigger even than my oldest gal’s. I wish you could see how he eats. Going to be a big one, my missus says.”

His missus had a good head for figures, apparently. She certainly had no trouble with large numbers.

The sum, Darius supposed, was not exorbitant. The trouble was, he didn’t know where he’d find ready money at present, as “the missus” demanded.

“What of the money Pip earns catching rats?” Darius said. “Purchase tells me the boy’s earned as much as ten pence in a day.”

“Yes, sir, but while he’s catching rats for you, I’m losing his help. Then I’ll have to train up a new boy, won’t I? And no telling how long it’ll take to find one. I been looking, but as you know, sir, the most of ’em’s worthless. Not to mention the missus must say aye or nay—on account the girls, you know. Don’t want no thieves and ruffians and such living in the house with my girls.”

Healthy and willing orphans were not thick on the ground, Darius knew. Still, he was sure the Tylers were making matters more expensive and complicated simply because they saw an opportunity to do so. Or the “missus,” did, at any rate.

“I shall speak to my man of business,” Darius said. While he was in Altrincham, he’d pay a visit to Mrs. Tyler as well.