The Duke's Challenge (11 page)

‘Good gracious, miss, you don’t have to ask. You are the mistress here;
Mrs Thomas will do as you tell her.’

‘It’s hard to
believe I shall be a duchess soon.’ She smiled. ‘It’s a great shame his grace
doesn’t have the wherewithal to maintain my improved status.’

‘The duke is a
resourceful man, I have no doubt he will provide for you all comfortably.’

‘I do hope so,
Annie. It would be delightful to have sufficient funds to purchase gowns and
bonnets whenever the whim took me.’

‘Shall I put
your hair up for you, Miss Carstairs? That dress is so pretty a braid does not
look right with it.’

She seated
herself in front of the scratched, half-moon table upon which the speckled
mirror rested. ‘Talking of the doctor reminds me - he is calling tomorrow to
take us to church in Upton Magna. I should like you to accompany us. The
service is at nine o’clock. You need to have the children downstairs and ready
by eight o’clock. Please make sure they have eaten before we depart.’

‘Yes, miss,
that will be grand. It’s far too long since I’ve attended a service and sung
the Lord’s praises.’

Reassured her
maid hadn’t thought the arrangement to be out of the ordinary, and had not
immediately suggested they apply to Jack for permission, Charlotte decided she
would not bother him with the information. She would tell him tomorrow if he
appeared and demanded to know where they were going.

Restoring her
hair to its normal place in a loose knot on top of her head had not hurt at
all. Her forehead felt uncomfortable but otherwise she was delighted with the
outcome. Her gown of pale green spotted muslin deserved that she look her best.

‘Excellent, thank you.
I hope Mary has such a
deft touch with my hair.’ She admired herself from every angle. The modestly
scooped neckline showed no more of her bosom than she was happy with; the
darker green silk sash exactly matched her eyes and complemented the dress
perfectly.

She wriggled
her toes, they were almost fully recovered and her dainty green slippers hardly
pinched at all.

‘Are you ready
yet, Lottie? We are almost dead from hunger,’ Beth called plaintively from the
window seat.

‘I am, darling.
What you think?’ Charlotte twirled, sending her diaphanous skirts floating out
in a soft green cloud.

‘You look like
princess, Lottie. Is that your best dress?’

‘Are we having
a party?’ Harry asked hopefully.

‘No, Harry. I
have nothing else to wear, apart from a morning gown which has seen better days
and my very best gown.’ She smiled. ‘Cousin Jack has promised we can go to
Ipswich on Monday or Tuesday and purchase fresh garments.’

‘All of us? Can
we have new clothes too?’ Beth asked eagerly.

‘Yes, you and Harry as well.’

Harry tugged at
Charlotte’s skirt. ‘Why are we having new clothes, Lottie?’

Charlotte
froze. She hadn’t told the children about her betrothal. The staff knew because
Jack’s shouted proposal had been heard quite clearly in the corridor even with
the door of the library shut. How could she have forgotten? It was mainly for
their sake she had agreed to his preposterous suggestion. There was no point in
prevaricating.

‘We all need
fresh garments because I am to marry Cousin Jack in three weeks’ time.’

This announcement was greeted by total silence, for once Beth had nothing
to say. Charlotte tried to explain. ‘We decided we are an ideal match. Thurston
need’s a mistress and we all need a home.’

Beth chewed her
lip thoughtfully. ‘But you hardly know him, Lottie, and if you ask me you don’t
even like him overmuch. You’re always shouting at each other, you know.’

Charlotte
didn’t need her sister to point out the obvious. ‘Marriages are arranged for
many reasons, Beth, and more often from expediency than anything else. I admit
Cousin Jack and I have had some lively exchanges, but that shows our life
together will not be dull.’ She squatted down, bringing herself to Harry’s
level. ‘What about you, Harry? Are you happy about this?’

‘I like Cousin
Jack, Lottie. And he said I can have my own puppy.’

‘That was good
of him.’ She stood up shaking out her skirts, relieved this section of the
first floor had been freshly scrubbed. ‘So, you are both content?’ They nodded
and Charlotte felt it was safe to resume their journey downstairs.

‘You will be a
duchess, Lottie; mama would have been pleased about that,’ Beth whispered as
they entered the breakfast parlour.

Charlotte’s
eyes pricked at the reminder of her beloved mother. ‘Yes, Beth, I am sure
you’re right.’

Their tardy
arrival had been observed and they had hardly arranged themselves comfortably
around the table when the wall-door opened and two parlour-maids entered
carrying trays. She wasn’t certain if she was disappointed Jack didn’t come to
join them for luncheon. Secretly she was eager to see his expression when he
saw her in her finery. Dressed as she was, further cleaning was impossible.

‘Shall we
stroll around the garden, children? I should dearly like to see the maze you
have spent so much time in recently.’

Twenty minutes
had elapsed before indoor slippers had been exchanged for stout
boots,
Beth had on her cloak, Harry his jacket and Charlotte
her pelisse and straw bonnet. The sun had gone in during their meal and black
clouds had started to roll in from the east. Their proximity to the North Sea
meant storms and cold winds were quite common at Thurston at this time of year.

*

They decided to
exit through a side door that led directly to the gardens. If they had used the
front door they would not have missed Jack who had decided to accompany them
and to put himself out to be charming.

When Annie had
been fetched and informed him his quarry had already left for her
constitutional, his face darkened. How could he persuade her that he wasn’t an
irascible, arrogant bastard if she flitted off on her own at every opportunity?
He was wondering if he should go after her when Meltham appeared at the library
door.

‘Your grace,
the reverend gentleman from Upton Magna is here to see you.’

‘Thank you;
show him to the library, I have urgent matters to discuss with him.’ His bid to
woo his lovely young bride would have to wait.

Chapter Eleven

Sunday morning was overcast; although the heavy rain had stopped the
morning cold and damp. Charlotte met the children and their nursemaid in the
hall at five minutes to eight.

‘Good morning,
you both look smart. Have you had some breakfast?’

‘Yes, Lottie,
we had porridge and sugar,’ Harry told her, ‘and I had two bowls full.’

‘They were not
large bowls, miss,’ Annie hastily reassured Charlotte. ‘It was at seven, so
they have had plenty of time to settle.’

Charlotte
smiled. ‘I’m delighted to hear it. It’s some distance to Upton Magna along
lanes that I’m certain will be sticky and unpleasant after all the rain we had
last night.’

Beth had been
keeping watch, her face pressed against the window pane. ‘Dr Andrews is coming,
Lottie. He has a closed carriage, so we shan’t get wet if it rains again.’

A footman
appeared from the shadows to open the door. Charlotte glanced nervously over
her shoulder, expecting an irate Jack to appear at any moment from his lair
demanding to know where they were going. Thankfully the door remained closed
and they were able to descend the front steps without incident.

She noticed the
doctor was resplendent in a bottle green topcoat, snowy cravat and black
waistcoat. Charlotte thought it improper to drop her gaze to his nether regions
but assumed he was wearing trousers and boots. Her outfit was the pale gold
cambric, with matching chip straw bonnet she had worn on her ill-fated arrival.
Annie had worked her usual magic and restored the gown; no one would know it
had ever been covered in blood.

‘Good morning, Miss Carstairs, children.
I hope I haven’t
kept you waiting?’ The young man bowed.

Charlotte
curtsied. ‘No, Doctor Andrews, you are in perfect time.’

He handed her
into the carriage and stood aside politely as Annie shepherded her charges
inside. When they were comfortable he jumped in and the footman folded up the
steps.

‘Is it far to
Upton Magna, sir?’ Beth enquired.

‘Not as far as
Ipswich, but considerably further than Thurston village,’ he answered, smiling,
well satisfied with his wit.

‘I expect it
will take more than the usual thirty minutes today, will it not, sir? The lanes
are so muddy this morning.’ Charlotte said, quietly supplying the information
Beth wanted before her sister forgot her manners and commented on the doctor’s
evasive and irritating answer.

The coach
rocked violently as it traversed a deeper puddle and Harry squealed with
delight. ‘This is fun, Lottie. I like it when it’s
bumpity
.’

Remembering the
two bowls of porridge, Charlotte sent up a quick prayer they would not all live
to regret his large appetite.

The jogging and
bouncing made chitchat all but impossible. They were too busy staying in their
seats. After twenty minutes the carriage ride became bearable as it reached the
outskirts of the village.

‘Look,
children, this is the pretty place we passed where the urchin waved to you’
Charlotte said.

Harry peered
hopefully from the window. ‘There’s no one here today; where’s everyone,
Lottie?’

Dr Andrews
replied for her. ‘The church is outside Upton Magna, in the grounds of Upton
Manor, the home of Sir Reginald and Lady Sinclair.’

Harry looked puzzled;
this did not answer his question at all. He turned back to Charlotte, ignoring
the doctor.
‘Lottie, where’s everyone gone?’

‘They have to walk
to church, Harry, so will have set off before us. I expect we shall see some of
them in the lane as we get near the church.’

‘I should like
to walk. I don’t like this carriage anymore,’ Harry announced and, before Annie
or Charlotte could react, he turned the door handle and fell out.

Pandemonium
followed his abrupt disappearance. Beth screamed and Annie attempted to get up,
blocking both Charlotte’s and the doctor’s passage. The coachman on hearing the
noise reined back fiercely and the two horses plunged to a halt, throwing the
remaining occupants back onto the squabs.

Charlotte was
the first out, without waiting for the steps or the doctor’s assistance she
jumped from the carriage and ran back down the lane. Frantically she searched
the verge, the narrow road - there was no sign of a crumpled body or crying
child. Harry wasn’t there.

She halted, her
bonnet hanging down her back, her dress hem mired. ‘Harry, Harry, where are
you?’ She called but received no answer. Beth arrived beside her.

‘Where’s he gone,
Lottie? Why isn’t he here?’

‘I’ve no idea,
Beth’ she forced her mouth to smile. ‘But at least we can be sure he is unhurt
for if he had been injured by his fall he would still be lying in the lane,
would he not?’

Dr Andrews
appeared his face alight with amusement. ‘Miss Carstairs, I can see him, he is
unhurt. He is being ministered to by a cottager. He must have flown over the
hedge and landed in her garden.’

As he spoke, a
wicket gate all but hidden in the overgrown hedge, opened and an elderly lady appeared
with Harry holding her hand. ‘Here he is, madam; no harm done; apart from the
mud on his clothes he’s as good as new,’ the old lady said with a gummy smile.

Charlotte was
unsure whether to scold her little brother or embrace him. ‘Harry, what were
you thinking of? You could have been killed.’

Believing he
was safe from retribution, Harry stepped forward, saying earnestly, ‘I’m sorry,
Lottie, I never meant to fall out, it just happened.’

‘If you are
silly enough to open the carriage door when it is in motion, what else do you
expect?’

The little boy
grinned. ‘It was capital fun, Lottie; I flew over the hedge and landed in the
flowerbed.’

‘You are lucky
your sister is so forgiving, young man,’ Dr Andrews said sternly, erroneously
believing he should admonish her brother. ‘If you were my responsibility you
would be soundly beaten for your stupidity.’

Tears filled
Harry’s eyes and he hid his muddy face in Charlotte skirts, adding fingerprints
to the already ruined dress. She glared at the doctor. ‘Then it is a good
thing, sir, that my brother’s behaviour is none of your concern.’

Dr Andrews
realized his error and blushed. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss
Carstairs,
I did not mean to speak out of turn.’ He cleared his throat and brushed
invisible dust from his jacket. ‘Do you wish to continue to the church or would
you prefer to return home?’

‘I should like to go back to Thurston, if you please; but do not think of
accompanying us, Dr Andrews. There is no need for you to miss the service as
well. Your coachman will be back in ample time to collect you.’

He nodded his
expression formal. ‘If you are sure, then I shall do exactly that. The carriage
can turn on the green and I shall walk the remaining mile. Good day, Miss
Carstairs.’

She watched him
stride away. She sighed; he was a pleasant gentleman and she had not wished to
offend him but the children were her concern and no one else’s. He had no right
to interfere and to threaten to chastise Harry.

‘Come along,
children, we shall get back in the carriage and go home. Next week we shall
have our own gig to take us to church.’

‘You’ll like
that better, Harry, it has no sides so you can see out,’ Beth told him.

‘What if it’s
raining, Lottie, shall we get wet?’

‘No, darling,
we shall stay at home in the dry.’

*

Jack was not
pleased— in fact he was furious. He had risen early, with a clear head, ready
and eager to eat with Charlotte and the children. What did he discover? That
they had gone out, gone to church with the doctor, in a
closed
carriage.

Meltham had pointed
out the nursemaid had also accompanied them but that had not tempered his
annoyance. He should have been informed, asked, before they accepted the escort
of another man.

Charlotte was
his responsibility, his future wife, if she wanted to attend Sunday service it
was he who would take her, no one else. The fact he had not set foot inside a
church for years was immaterial.

The vicar,
yesterday, had agreed to bury Jenkins on Monday morning and to post the bans of
his forthcoming nuptials at the same time. Jack paced the study, his expression
thunderous. What he needed was his own church back in use; he needed to appoint
another incumbent. God knows how he was to do that! He stopped, and chuckled at
his absurdity. His speech was liberally peppered with blasphemy and he had
little time for churchgoing of any sort, but maybe the Almighty was taking a
hand, leading him back into the fold after a period in the wilderness.

His anger
slowly dissipated as he considered this astounding premise. The unexpected
arrival of Charlotte and her brother and sister had come at exactly the point
in his life when he needed a jolt, needed to be dragged out of the destructive
cycle his days had become.

She was nothing
short of a bloody miracle; he had never expected to feel a young woman melt in
his embrace again, thought his physical needs would, in future, have to be paid
for. But Charlotte responded to him, enjoyed his lovemaking, indeed he had been
the one to step back before things got out of control.

He nodded. The
lawyers were coming tomorrow; they would know how to find him a new vicar. In
the meantime he would expedite the cleaning and repair of the gig then
he
could drive them to church next
Sunday. For the first time since his injuries he was prepared to go out in
public, brave the stares of strangers; with Charlotte beside him he could do
anything.

If he started
to employ the disgruntled villagers on repairs to their own properties he was
fairly sure whoever was behind the attacks would disappear into the underworld.
It would not be somebody local but a radical hoping to stir up further trouble
as was happening elsewhere in East Anglia.

Happier than he
had been since Waterloo he went out to the barn to supervise the cleaning of
the gig. He was there when he heard the carriage approaching. It was scarcely
ten o’clock, it couldn’t be the church party returning but no one else would
call on a Sunday.

He grabbed his
jacket and strode through the stable yard to the front entrance. The carriage
was unknown to him but its occupants were not.

*

Harry spotted
him approaching the stables. ‘Lottie,
it’s
Cousin
Jack. He doesn’t look very pleased to see us.’

‘I expect he’s
concerned we have returned unexpectedly early, my love. Annie, take the
children in, quickly now.’

The maid needed
no further urging; she grasped a hand of each child and hurried away. Charlotte
smiled up at the coachman. ‘Thank you, Taylor; I should get back for Dr
Andrews, he won’t want to be kept waiting.’

The man touched
his hat with his whip handle, clicked to the matched bays, and the carriage
trundled off leaving Charlotte alone on the gravel to face Jack.

‘Good morning.
We were on our way to church at Upton Magna and Harry had a slight mishap and
we were obliged to come home again.’ She hoped he would be satisfied with this
explanation, assume it was a matter of damp britches that caused their early
return and not enquire further.

‘What sort of
mishap?’ He was not to be fobbed off so easily.

She was tempted
to lie, but knew Harry would discuss his misadventure with all and sundry. ‘He
inadvertently fell from the carriage and…’

‘He what?
Is he hurt? For God’s sake, Charlotte, what were
you thinking of to let such a thing happen?’

She bristled
with annoyance. ‘Harry was unhurt by his tumble, thank you for asking, my lord.
If you knew the slightest thing about small boys you would understand exactly
how such things can happen to the most conscientious carer.’ She picked up her
skirt, straightened her bonnet and, turning her back, marched off nose in the
air.

He was nonplussed
- nobody spoke to him the way Charlotte did -they would not dare. He surged
forward catching her in two strides.

‘A moment
please, Charlotte, this conversation is not over.’

She kept her
head straight, hiding her face inside the brim of her bonnet. She didn’t want
him to see how nervous she was. ‘I have had no breakfast, sir, and if you wish
to speak to me then you must do so after I’ve eaten. I shall join you in the
library later.’

Meltham, ever
vigilant, had the door open as they arrived and she sailed in, pausing just
long enough to issue her instructions. ‘Have coffee and scones sent to the
parlour please.’

‘Very well,
Miss Carstairs,’ the butler was obliged to hop out of the way, narrowly
avoiding being mowed down by Jack.

‘Charlotte,’
his voice was quiet but his tone demanded her attention. ‘I wish to speak to
you.
Now.
We shall repair to the library - we can be
private there.’

Charlotte
stopped dead, he almost cannoned into her. ‘I don’t wish to go to the library.
I wish to break my fast.’ She knew she sounded more like a child than a woman
grown.

Exasperated he
put a restraining arm on hers. ‘If I have your food sent to the library, will
you come with me?’

She
capitulated; she was in no position to argue. He was quite capable of picking her
up and transporting her bodily if she continued to obstruct his wishes.

‘Meltham, send
the tray to the library. And set a cup for me, I believe I’m in need of a
strong coffee to settle my nerves.’

Charlotte’s
head turned in surprise. Since when had he suffered from nerves? He was
leaning, relaxed, against the wooden panelling a faint smile flickering across
his lips.

Her mouth
curved in response. ‘Jack, you are a nincompoop.’ She tossed her head and her
bonnet slipped sideways. He reached over and gently untied the ribbons at her
neck, his fingertips brushing her cheek as he did so.