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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

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BOOK: Sons and Daughters
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Despite the fact that he had not once used the word ‘love’ when explaining his feelings for her, she could not lie to him. Her love for him, regardless of what he truly felt for her, would have to be enough. She loved him with every part of her being. If she were to refuse him now, she knew that there would never be another man whom she could love like she loved Miles. He’d said he was fond of her, he cared about her. He had become a good friend. It would have to be enough. She would put aside all foolish notions of a romantic, passionate lover. She knew that to be near him was all she ever wanted. All she would ever want.

‘Yes – you could,’ she whispered, but even now she had to be honest. ‘But – but could I make you happy?’

‘Of
course
you could. Oh my dear, we’ll build such a happy home for the boys and our children – if we’re blessed with any of our own; a daughter, perhaps, to make our family perfect.’

She didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or allow the tears that were so close to fall unchecked. She was filled with a strange mixture of emotions. She loved Miles so much that she was willing to devote the rest of her life to him, but she was still unsure just why he wanted to marry her.

Was it, she couldn’t help thinking, because he yearned for a daughter, just as, ironically, her father had craved a son? She could not, would not, ask him. She was honest enough to acknowledge that she might not like the answer.

‘So, Miss Charlotte Crawford, will you marry me?’

‘Yes, Mr Thornton, I will.’

Suddenly, he picked her up and swung her round. ‘You’ve made me the happiest man alive.’ Then, lowering her to the ground, he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her.

 
Forty-Nine
 

‘Come, let’s go and find the boys. We must tell them at once.’

‘No – wait. This is going too fast.’

He laughed down at her. ‘Not changing your mind already, are you?’

‘Of course not, but – but there’s so much to discuss. My father, Buckthorn Farm . . .’

‘My dear, Mary and Edward will continue to care for your father. You can ride over every day, if you wish, to see him – run the farm, whatever you want to do. But at night – ’ he touched her face with a gentle finger – ‘you will come home to me.’

‘But I should be here all the time, helping you. Running this house – being a dutiful wife.’

Now Miles threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘I don’t want a “dutiful” wife. I want a soulmate, a friend and’ – he kissed her again – ‘a lover.’

Now Charlotte blushed and dipped her head.

‘But you’re right,’ he went on. ‘I should speak to your father first – ask his permission.’

Now it was Charlotte who laughed. ‘His permission? I am twenty-seven. We don’t need his permission.’

‘No – but I’d like to ask him anyway. I want to see his face when he realizes that at long last his
daughter
is going to lead her own life.’

‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘D’you know, I’d quite like to see that myself.’

‘Then shall we go, hand in hand, like underage young lovers to seek his approval?’

Charlotte began to laugh and when Miles joined in, the sound carried out through the door and into the rest of the house. Hearing it, Georgie could contain his curiosity no longer and ran downstairs and into the study without pausing to knock, to find his father and Miss Charlotte in each other’s arms.

A wide grin spread across his face. ‘Are you two friends again, then?’ he asked innocently.

They turned to look at him, then at each other as Miles said softly, ‘You could say that, Georgie. We’re definitely friends again.’

‘Tell him,’ Charlotte whispered. ‘It’s only fair.’

‘Are you sure?’

When she nodded, he held out his hand to the boy, drawing him to them. ‘Georgie, how would you like Charlotte to be your new mama?’

He gaped up at them for a moment and then he gave a whoop of delight and capered about the room, ending up with his arms round Charlotte, his head pressed into her waist. ‘How wonderful! Oh, I must tell the others.’

‘No – Georgie, let me . . .’ Miles began, but the boy was gone, running from the room and shouting at the top of his voice. ‘Ben – Philip – Father’s going to marry Charlotte.’

‘Oh dear,’ Miles said.

‘ “Oh dear” indeed,’ Charlotte murmured. ‘I don’t think that’s the best way Philip should hear the news, do you?’

‘Brace yourself, my dear,’ Miles said, taking her hand as they heard the clatter of footsteps coming down the stairs and heading across the hall towards the study.

Georgie arrived back in the room first, dragging Ben by the hand.

‘Is it true?’ Ben asked.

‘Yes,’ Miles said and Charlotte was overcome when Ben smiled, moved towards them to shake his father’s hand. Then, blushing a little, he kissed Charlotte on both cheeks. ‘I’m so pleased for both of you.’

‘You – you don’t mind?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Lord, no,’ Ben said. ‘I don’t know why he didn’t ask you months ago. We all love you—’

‘You speak for yourself,’ an angry voice interrupted and they all looked round to see Philip standing in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, his arms folded. ‘There’s no need to marry her now, Father. The old man’s made his will and everything will be mine when he dies – which can’t be long now. And there’ll be nothing she can do about it. I was there when he signed it. So, you don’t have to marry her, you see. My inheritance is quite safe now.’

Miles took a step towards him. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ he raged. ‘And in front of Charlotte, too. I’ve asked her to marry me because I want to. I
want
her to be my wife. There’s no other reason. It has nothing to do with your blasted inheritance.’

As he took in his father’s words, Philip’s twisted spitefully. ‘So,’ he snarled, ‘you wouldn’t agree to marry her to protect my inheritance, but now you’re going to put that all at risk. Don’t you see, Father – ’ suddenly, his tone was pleading, ‘if you have a child – a son – he’ll change his will again. He’ll want his
grandson
to inherit, now, won’t he?’

‘So? What if he did?’ He turned briefly to Charlotte to say, ‘Forgive me, my dear . . .’ Then back again to his son. ‘What’s so special about Buckthorn Farm? A few acres, a house, that’s all?’

‘But it’ll be mine.’ Philip thumped his own chest. ‘All mine. And something I won’t have to
share
.’ He swept out his arm towards his two brothers and then turned about and stalked away.

Mildly, Ben, the quiet one of the brothers, said, ‘You know, he never was very good at sharing his toys.’

‘I suppose two out of three isn’t too bad,’ Miles said as he drove Charlotte to Buckthorn Farm. ‘But how do you think your father’s going to take the news?’

‘Goodness knows,’ she answered dryly. ‘Or anyone else, for that matter.’ She glanced at him. ‘There are going to be a lot of raised eyebrows, you know.’

Miles chuckled. ‘How delightful!’ He took his hand from the steering wheel and reached across to grip hers. ‘But everyone will be so pleased for you, my dear. Everyone loves you.’

She smiled weakly. Everyone except you, she thought.

They entered by the front door of Buckthorn Farm and went straight to the sitting room.

‘Mr – Thornton,’ Osbert slurred. ‘How – nice. Fetch some tea, girl.’

‘That would be nice, Mr Crawford, but first I have something to ask you. I’d like to ask you for the hand of your daughter in marriage.’

Slowly, Osbert raised his head, squinting up at the tall man standing in front of him. Charlotte found she was holding her breath. Not that his answer mattered. She was of age and she was going to marry Miles anyway, whatever her father said. She’d already decided that. Whatever Miles’s real feelings for her were, it didn’t matter. Not to her. She wanted to marry the man
she
loved, no matter what. No, the reason she was apprehensive was because she’d no wish to distress her father and bring on another stroke.

‘And you’ll give – me a – grandson?’

Miles looked aghast for a second, but then he nodded. ‘If we’re blessed,’ he murmured. ‘A grandson – or a grand
daughter
.’

‘Huh!’ Osbert growled. ‘Don’t want any more girls in this family.’ He frowned now at Charlotte. ‘Aye, you can take her, and you’re welcome. And you, girl, do something useful for once. Give me a grandson.’

As they left the room, Miles heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Well, that was easier than I thought. I’d assumed he’d be reluctant to let you go.’

Charlotte laughed. ‘Let me go? He can’t wait to get rid of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t suggest Philip coming to live here with him.’ She bit back the words she’d been about to blurt out; that her father had once suggested that Philip should change his surname to ‘Crawford’.

‘They’d be welcome to each other.’

‘You don’t mean that?’

‘No – no, I don’t suppose I do. But, just sometimes, my eldest son irritates me almost beyond endurance.’

‘Well, as long as it’s only “almost”,’ she teased. ‘Now, let’s go and tell Mary.’

The devoted Mary burst into noisy tears, but they were tears of joy. ‘Oh Miss Charlotte – Mr Thornton, sir. What wonderful news! Edward – Edward, d’you hear? Our little Charlotte’s going to be married.’

Edward nodded and smiled and shook Miles’s hand. And there were tears in his eyes, too. ‘Tis the best news ever, miss.’

‘There’s just one thing – will you stay here with Father? I mean, if you’d rather not – ’ She paused and glanced up at Miles for support.

‘If you’d rather leave,’ he said, ‘then we’ll employ someone else to take care of him.’

Husband and wife glanced at each other. ‘No, no,’ Edward said. ‘We know his little ways. We’ll stay.’

‘ “Better the devil you know”,’ Mary said and then added hurriedly, ‘begging your pardon, miss.’

‘I’ll see that you both get a rise in your wages,’ Charlotte promised. ‘You’ll be taking on more responsibility.’

‘That’d be very kind of you, miss. We’ll need to put a little by for our old age,’ Mary said.

‘You see,’ Edward said tentatively, ‘we’d always believed we’d have a home here with you, miss, when you inherited the farm. But since we know that Master Philip will one day be the new owner, well, our future’s a bit uncertain.’

‘I think I can speak for my future wife,’ Miles smiled, ‘as well as for myself when I tell you that you need have no fears on that score. We shall find a home for you somewhere on the Ravensfleet Estate, you can be sure of that. Though I hope that won’t be for many years yet.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Mary, overcome with gratitude, kissed a startled Miles on both cheeks.

As they left the house again, Miles murmured, ‘What good people they are.’

‘I don’t know what would have become of me if it hadn’t been for them.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘Then I have every reason to be grateful to them. And now, my dear, we have a wedding to plan.’

 
Fifty
 

Charlotte wrote to her mother and her aunt with the news. She didn’t want an estrangement between herself and her aunt, but she was now a little wary of her. She was careful what she said or wrote. Despite her outward display of affection, Euphemia had the same vengeful streak in her that her brother had. It was in their genes. Charlotte fervently hoped she hadn’t inherited that same flaw. She felt she must be more like her gentle mother, who’d run away from the cruelty. And yet Charlotte was now finding that there was a spark of defiance in her that surprised her. Until recently she’d never questioned her life, never compared it to the lives of others and found her own lacking. But now she did. She’d been treated abominably by her father and she owed him nothing. Yet her innate goodness demanded that she should still see that he was cared for and comfortable.

She received an enthusiastic letter back from Euphemia:

You must come and stay a few days with us. We’d love to have you. And we can go shopping in Lincoln for your wedding finery. Your uncle is insisting that he should pay for your dress and accessories. And your mother would so love to help you choose. Don’t deny her that little pleasure, Charlotte, I beg you . . .

 

‘Shall you go?’ Miles asked when she showed him the letter.

‘Yes, I think I will.’

‘I’m thinking of asking Felix to be my best man.’

Charlotte looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you would ask Philip.’

‘I did,’ Miles said shortly. ‘And he refused.’

‘Ah.’

‘In fact – I’m sorry to say it – he’s refusing to attend the wedding.’

‘Miles,’ Charlotte cried, ‘I don’t want to be the cause of trouble in your family.’

‘You’re not, my dear. If anything’s causing a rift it’s your father’s ridiculous actions. Philip’s getting above himself. At eighteen he sees himself as a future landowner.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘Well, he will be. You can’t deny that.’

‘No – but it’s not good for a boy of his age to know it.’

BOOK: Sons and Daughters
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