Under the Seductive Lady's Charm: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Henrietta Harding

  Charlotte frowned. She shook herself out of her revelry and opened her wardrobe with determination. She had to decide what clothing was worth taking with her. She had no idea what sort of clothing a lady’s maid and companion would need to have on hand.

  Being a lady’s maid was not a horrible fate and, in fact, could be seen as a very respectable position. It might even make her somewhat appealing for marriage, which Charlotte would not mind. She sighed and took dresses out of her wardrobe to lay on the bed.

  The only issue Charlotte had was that she did not have the skills of a lady’s maid. As much as she had tended to the Wilson children and helped around the home, she was still lacking in other areas she felt sure would haunt her. Charlotte learnt things from books because she did not have a mother or a governess to teach her.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and wiped away a tear. All the grief and loneliness came back in a wave that left her shaking from the exertion to not sob. She had no time to break down and cry.

  Charlotte drew in a breath and set about going through her dresses. She was still sorting when Mrs. Wilson came to check on her. “Are you certain that I cannot offer you some tea?”

  “I just wish to be done with this so I can sleep. I fear most of my dresses are not worth packing.” Charlotte waved her hand at her meagre pile of dresses.

  Mrs. Wilson came over and smiled. “They will do for a start and you can always get new dresses once you start earning your wage.”

  “I suppose so,” Charlotte whispered. There was no point in getting worked up over it. She would simply have to deal with this as she had everything else.

  Mrs. Wilson reminded her, “You have to sleep as well.”

  “I will very soon,” Charlotte assured her. “I just want to do most of this tonight. I hate leaving things until the last moment.”

  With a nod, Mrs. Wilson wished her a good night. “I shall see you in the morning.”

  “Goodnight.” Charlotte gave the woman a smile as she folded a dress and put it in her old suitcase. She had never really had occasion to use the suitcase, but it was well-worn from the time it had been her mother’s. She put the other dresses away that she was not taking with her and laid out one to wear in the morning.

  *

  It seemed to Charlotte that she had no more than closed her eyes before she had awakened to Dot crying. She sat up and rubbed her face. With a laugh, Charlotte realised that she had fallen asleep while packing.

  She sighed and got up to get ready. There was little she could do but carry on with her packing. She would have to forsake it soon enough to get food, but she wanted to have her bag ready.

  There was no telling when Amanda would see fit to send the carriage after her. She wondered if the girl would come herself or simply send someone to pick her up. Charlotte was not sure which she would prefer.

  She set aside her bag, at last satisfied that she had packed as well as she could. The dress she had decided to wear was simple of design but of a lovely light material that would keep her cool in the warming air. She liked the way the dark green looked against her skin and blonde hair.

  She looked at her reflection as she pinned her hat into place. “I look terrified,” Charlotte told her reflection. “That is only right as I am rather ill at ease about this whole thing.”

  She sighed and adjusted her hat slightly. Her big brown eyes watched her back as Charlotte pondered how the Easterly household would find her. She would simply have to make the best of it, no matter what.

  Charlotte made her way downstairs and found the vicar and his family still eating breakfast. “Good morning,” Mr. Wilson called to her.

  “Good morning, Mr. Wilson,” Charlotte replied respectfully. She admired anyone who dedicated their lives to what they believed in. Her father certainly had done so.

  Mr. Wilson told the children, “Miss Browne is leaving us today to live in a new place. Should we not thank her for all she has done for us?”

  The children all mumbled various forms of thank yous and Charlotte smiled. She was sure they had practised, even if it did not sound so. “And I will miss you,” Charlotte told them . She was surprised by how true those words actually felt.

  For years the children had been a torment for her but leaving them today made her sad. Dot waved chubby fingers and Charlotte could not help but wave back at the child. Mrs. Wilson beckoned her. “Come and eat while you can.”

  “Thank you, I am quite hungry after not eating last night,” Charlotte said. “I did not mean that to sound like a complaint. After all, it was my own doing.” She blushed and took the plate that Mrs. Wilson offered her.

  Mr. Wilson waved off Charlotte’s words. “We would never think you are a complainer. You are always there with a helping hand and not an ill word on your lips.”

  Charlotte felt a little guilty for leaving as she eyed Mrs. Wilson and her children. The woman would be alone, but that was the lot of womenfolk. Charlotte tried to remember that she had to think of herself and not just others.

  She had just finished her egg when there was a noise outside. “Oh dear, is that the carriage already? I have to fetch my trunk.”

  “I shall get it,” Mr. Wilson declared. “It would not do to have you carrying luggage about. Women’s cases are often quite heavy.”

  The man was gone before Charlotte could voice any protest. She had no doubt that the suitcase was, indeed, quite heavy. When the vicar returned, he sat the trunk down by the door with a sigh. “Quite heavy,” he said with humour.

  “Oh, I am sorry that you had to carry that,” Charlotte said.

  Mr. Wilson chuckled. “Think not of it. I may not be a young lad but I can still handle myself.” He swung open the door and greeted the carriage driver. “Are you here for our Miss Browne?”

  “Suppose I must be,” the driver called with amusement. “Miss Easterly said for me to come to fetch her lady’s maid from this address this morning.”

  Mr. Wilson nodded. “Very good. She shall be right out. Do you fancy anything to drink or eat?”

  “That is kind of you, Vicar,” the driver said. “I do not think Her Ladyship would take kindly to me being idle for so long.”

  Mr. Wilson turned and called, “Miss Browne, I do think this man is in a bit of a hurry.”

  Charlotte was already pulling on her shawl as she walked to the door. “On my way, Mr. Wilson.” She stepped out of the door and gave the driver a smile.

  “Good on you, Miss, for being punctual. Shall we be off then?” As the driver spoke, the footman leapt down and opened the door for Charlotte.

  Charlotte nodded. “I suppose we should.” She accepted the hand the footman offered her as she got into the carriage. She did not feel that distressed until she waved goodbye to the children and the carriage lurched forward.

  There was no turning back now. She was off to Berwick Manor, whether she wanted to be or not. She shifted on the seat and looked at the passing trees.

  There was nothing now but the future. The feeling of standing at the edge of a cliff came to Charlotte. She could fall or she could fly, and she did not know which was going to happen. But she hoped it was the latter.

  The ride was longer than she remembered from being a child travelling to the manor. When the carriage finally did stop, Charlotte’s limbs felt stiff from sitting. The footman opened the door. “Do you need help, Miss?”

  Charlotte shook her head but accepted his hand down all the same. As soon as she was on the ground, he quickly scooped up the stool and put it back in its place at the rear of the carriage. Charlotte took a faltering step toward the large house.

  Berwick Manor had never seemed so foreboding to her before. She remembered it as a magical place. But it stood cold and stark in the morning light. Charlotte drew in a breath as she stepped up onto the first step.

  Charlotte did not see the steps before her. She saw the steps from her childhood memories. She and Amanda raced up these stairs and through the door without a care for the doorman’
s stern warnings.

  They had raced along the hallways and earned chuckles from Amanda’s parents. Too far away were those memories. Her hand slid around the heavy, metal door-knocker. Its loud, echoing sound against the door brought Charlotte firmly out of her reverie.

  The doorman opened the door. Charlotte did not recognise the man, but why should she? They would not still have the same doorman surely. “Can I help you, Miss?”

  For a moment Charlotte really hoped the man might be able to help her. She sighed. “I am expected by Miss Easterly. She sent a carriage to fetch me this morning.” Did Amanda not warn the household of her arrival? It might seem preposterous, but Charlotte knew all too well how much Amanda loved surprises.

  She did not like the idea that this very much meant that Lord Easterly would be caught unaware by her arrival. She fidgeted with her gloves while the doorman gave her a considering look. “Just a moment, Miss.”

  Charlotte was not surprised that the door closed again. She half-expected the man to tell her to go away, and this was the more tender of the options that lay before. The man would be wary of letting in some girl without a chaperone, of course.

  She looked up at the sky. If Amanda had warned him, then the man would have ushered her inside. There was a ripple of thunder. “Please, spare me,” she whispered to the sky that was gathering clouds.

  Chapter 2

  Lord Graham Easterly, Earl of Atcham, stared at the paperwork in front of him. He barely saw it. His thoughts were far away in France.

  The sturdy oak desk that he leaned his elbows on was one his father had made more than two decades ago. Graham could remember its arrival from the craftsman’s workshop. It had taken several men to carry it to its current location.

  Graham frowned and wondered what his father would think of him if the man were alive today. Although the war had been over for some time, it still rang in his ears far more than Graham felt comfortable sharing. When he had heard that Vicar Browne’s son had perished at the Battle of Waterloo and would be left for the crows, Graham had felt compelled to send for his body.

  It was one kindness he could afford to pay to the Browne family. He had made sure to do it all discreetly so as not to ruffle any feathers of Miss Browne’s. He did not know the woman’s station at present, but he would rather not cause any woes.

  Still, he had not managed to make it to the funeral. He had not known that Charles’ family would choose to have it during the day while he was otherwise engaged. He felt remiss for not making the time.

  “I should really go pay my respects to his family,” Graham mumbled to the portrait of his father that hung on the wall to his right. His father’s painting stared back at him with his stern gaze. Graham sighed at the man’s visage. “Same as always, Father.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Your Lordship,” a female voice called through the door. “A guest has arrived, Your Lordship.”

  Graham frowned. He stood up and went to the door. He yanked it open with irritation. “What is all this about a guest?”

  The maid started at Graham’s sudden appearance. She begged his forgiveness as she took a step back. “She just arrived, and the doorman said I should come to fetch you.”

  The words she said struck Graham. Someone had arrived at their home? If Tanner had sent the maid after him then he must have good reason. Graham left the maid with an incline of his head and went to see what the situation actually was for himself.

  Graham had no sooner made it to the entrance hall than Amanda whisked by him all satin skirts and giggles. “That will be Charlotte>”

  “What is this about, Amanda? I just had a maid come to fetch me from my study.” Graham made no effort to keep the irritation out of his voice as he addressed his sister.

  Amanda’s chin went up a bit as she squared her shoulders defiantly. “I am allowed to hire my own staff, Graham.”

  Tanner opened the door and Amanda swiftly pulled a rather uncomfortable looking Miss Charlotte Browne through the doorway and presented her with glee to Graham. “Charlotte is going to be my maid, Brother!”

  Graham stared at Amanda trying to put the words she said together in some way that made sense, yet he failed. He was left watching as Amanda announced, “I shall fetch Mrs. Sullivan at once!”

  After his sister had swished out of the room, Graham turned to Miss Browne. This was not the young woman he recalled. This was a graceful and delicate creature who eyed him with a mix of trepidation and embarrassment. He spoke gently so as to not startle her further. “I feel as though I should apologise for my sister.”

  Miss Browne pushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Her warm brown eyes watched him with a curiosity that made him want to go closer. But he held his ground. “She is trying to be kind. She just has her own way about it.”

  Graham chuckled and shook his head. “My sister definitely has her own way about most everything. What is this about you being her maid?”

  Miss Browne’s shoulders lifted and colour filled her cheeks in the most wonderful way. “She offered me a position within her household and I have accepted. It really is as simple as that. I do hope that does not offend you.”

  “Your presence does not offend me.” Graham put the situation together in his mind. Miss Browne had always been a clever girl. If she had chosen to accept Amanda’s offer then her situation must have been dire. “I am so sorry that I did not check in on you over the years. I should have out of respect for your father. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Miss Browne smiled at him with astonishment that wounded Graham. Was it so surprising that he had apologised? “There is no apology necessary, Lord Easterly. You were away fighting for England against Napoleon, as was my brother. You could not have known my plight.”

  Graham started to speak but Miss Browne spoke again. “Thank you for bringing my brother’s body home.”

  Miss Browne had always had a good head on her shoulders and Graham was not shocked that she had put it together that the only man who had means and reason to do so would have been him. His sister might have also said something, but he was fairly certain that Amanda only listened to him when she heard her name or money mentioned.

  “It was the least I could do,” Graham told her quietly. She seemed to be watching him and the look in her eyes made him all too aware that this was not the slip of a girl he had once known. Miss Browne had filled out into a beautiful woman, whose gentle manner filled Graham with protectiveness. “Are you certain that this is what you want?”

  Miss Browne’s mouth opened then closed. Graham wondered what she had been about to say but he saw her square her shoulders. “You are kind, but I have accepted the position and I will make good on my words.”

  “I never meant that you might not.” Graham tried to think of what to say.

  Miss Browne stood silently for a moment before she said, “I read in the local paper that you are to be given title for your service. That sounds very exciting.”

  “It really is not,” Graham assured her, now feeling uncomfortable. He would just prefer that everyone ignored his time in the war. But they all seemed determined to laud it over him as if it were some sort of mantle of worth.

  He would have said something more but Amanda ushered in Mrs. Sullivan, who looked very irritated to be handled so. Amanda waved her hand at Miss Browne. “This is Charlotte. She is going to be my lady’s maid.”

  Mrs. Sullivan was a dour woman with the countenance of someone who had tasted something most vile. She often looked upon the lower staff with something akin to disdain or, at best, a diligent tolerance.