by Olivia Kane
“The good book says it is not wise for man to be alone. I believe that my good wife has sent you to me to comfort me in my sadness, and make me see a brightness in my future that is hard to envision right now.”
“I am happy to do so,” Charlotte said. The words spilled out automatically, without knowing where they came from, or even meaning them. She smiled at him.
He smiled back.
She looked away.
They were silent for a while, then he spoke.
“The ladies will be wondering what we are doing sitting here for so long. I dare say curiosity will kill them if we don’t make our way back. Unfortunately, unless you allow me to carry you, I think the pretty shoes have to come off.”
Charlotte hesitated. It seemed quite intimate to remove her shoes in front of him. However, being carried was out of the question.
“Don’t be prudish,” he said, somewhat sharply, upon seeing her hesitation. “I am a grown man who was married and have buried my wife. I have seen more than stocking feet in my day.”
Charlotte felt her cheeks go red from the innuendo. She slipped the slippers off hurriedly at his command and exhaled with relief.
“New shoes from Paris usually need to be stretched. I know my dear late wife thought so too.”
He stood up and offered her his hand to help her up.
“I am unavoidably detained in London for the next week. I leave tomorrow, but I hope you will welcome me back upon my return so I can continue to be blessed by your company.”
“Of course,” Charlotte said automatically.
They made their way back to the party.
“My shoes were too tight,” Charlotte made her excuses. Her mother raised her eyebrow at her daughter. The Lady Radcliffe did not advocate premature familiarity as a way to ensnare a man; however Charlotte had managed to do it on her own quite nicely. She was never so proud of her daughter.
Charlotte, for her part, felt her spirits depleted and was most anxious to return home immediately. They said their goodbyes to the party, with promises to see each other soon.
There were still a few hours of daylight left and the light was good; perhaps she could start a new portrait of the Pomeranians. “That way the day would not be a total waste,” she whispered to herself.
Chapter Eight
“An invitation arrived today,” the Lord Radcliffe announced at the dinner table a few days later, waving a letter. “Guess who it is from!”
Charlotte’s heart sank. Not the Earl again. The last two days she had quite lost her appetite—her stomach felt sick every time she remembered his fish lips on her hand. And she could not make herself stop remembering it.
She was counting on him staying out of town for the present. Not that she was changing her mind about his suitability, she told herself. She just needed a break from being around him. He had a way of making her feel intimidated and invisible at the same time. Once she knew him better, she was sure these uncomfortable feelings would disappear, and she would miss him quite dreadfully whenever they were parted.
“Buckland!” the Lady Radcliffe said hopefully.
The Lord Radcliffe saw the anxiety on his daughter’s face and then watched it melt way in the next second as he told them: “No. It’s from Mr. Lancaster to visit him out at Ludlow Lodge. I have accepted for all of us, for tomorrow, weather permitting.”
Charlotte breathed a sigh of relief.
Oh thank goodness.
“That is good news, Pappa! I know how much you like him.”
“Indeed I do,” the Lord Radcliffe admitted.
The truth was she had been thinking of Guy entirely too often lately; but that was her own little secret. She could not separate her thoughts of marrying the Earl from her thoughts of the satisfaction she would derive from proving Guy wrong. When she considered her wedding day, it was Guy’s face she thought of first. She pictured him standing in the churchyard as she emerged, the wife of an Earl, with a look of admiration on his face. He would be thinking that she was wiser than all the other young women of her age, wiser than Guy himself. She would be the rare student who had surpassed her tutor in intelligence. The very thought of proving Guy wrong provided such a sweet sense of satisfaction that she simply could not keep herself from smiling.
The Lord Radcliffe was watching his daughter’s face with interest. Charlotte seemed to fall into a delighted daze every time Guy’s name was mentioned.
“Guy has not forgotten us!” the Lady Radcliffe exclaimed.
“Hugh will be so disappointed he was not here to accompany us,” the Lord Radcliffe noted. The Lady Radcliffe agreed.
“Now Charlotte, when you see Mr. Lancaster’s farm try and say something nice about it. Not everyone is lucky enough to live in as fine a setting as Buckland House.”
“Oh Mamma, really! Mr. Lancaster will think it very strange if I start complimenting him out of the blue tomorrow. He will suspect that I have been told to do so.”
However, she would remember to drop the news that she was practically engaged to the Earl and that they would probably most definitely marry—perhaps in the spring after she got her wedding clothes—and watch his face fall. She was looking forward to that immensely.
They set off in the morning for the long carriage ride. Lady Radcliffe spent the entirety of the trip complaining about the condition of the roads. “This is the stuff of nightmares! Thank goodness you have the Earl so close by!”
“Yes, Mamma.”
The gates to Ludlow Lodge stood at the top of a lane lined with pine trees and dark evergreens. The carriage descended slowly as if passing through a tunnel with no glimpse of the sky above them. Charlotte felt as if she was travelling through a setting as wild and romantic as the Italian countryside described so vividly in her Udolpho.
Eventually their descent slowed and before them was a clearing with Ludlow Lodge set in the middle. The house itself was a half-timbered style from Tudor times; haphazardly added on to over the years. There was a wild, uncultivated look to its landscape, quite unlike the manicured gardens of Bennington Park, and of Buckland House, for that matter.
“Two thousand acres I am told. Guy never let on that it was all this!” The Lord Radcliffe exclaimed as they looked out the carriage window.
Guy was standing outside the front door, waiting for the carriage to pull up. Circling the entrance were a collection of spaniels, excited by their arrival.
“Welcome friends!” he greeted them. Charlotte thought Guy looked more like the lord of the manor and not a simple tutor anymore in this setting. His hair had grown and she thought him even more attractive than when they had last met. Dashing was the word she was looking for, although she would never indulge him by letting such a thought show on her face.
Upon seeing the inquisitive expression on her face inside the carriage, Guy was more convinced than ever that she belonged with him.
“What a beautiful farm this is Mr. Lancaster!” Charlotte said upon alighting from the carriage. Guy had been deceptively modest, she decided, for despite its aesthetic informality, the exterior of Ludlow Lodge had a romantic charm that captured her heart.
“Why thank you, Lady Charlotte. You are too kind. Let’s go inside, shall we?”
The interior of the Lodge did not disappoint. Dappled sunlight shone through its mullioned windows and the home smelled of polished wood and cut flowers.
“Mr. Lancaster, this is a real home!” Charlotte gasped upon entering.
“Did you think I lived in a barn?”
“Sometimes I wondered,” she said, grateful that Ludlow Lodge was so far away; otherwise her mother would be writing Guy’s name at the top of her abandoned list.
They exchanged pleasantries in a beautiful paneled great room, the golden spaniels settled at Guy’s feet, and then moved to dine in a bay of windows, seated on comfortable claw foot chairs upholstered in soft blue velvet. Guy’s man, Belmont, mirrored their own Hastings in politeness and in his command of the luncheon service. The comfort of the room
gave Charlotte flashbacks to the old days when they would have similar luncheons at her grandmother’s place, god rest her soul.
After they had eaten to their fullest, Guy led them out to the gardens for their daily constitutional. Charlotte and her mother followed a few steps behind, as Guy and the Lord Radcliffe fell naturally into conversation on the movement of trees and the building up of hills to improve the vistas. Neither Charlotte nor her mother had any advice to offer on the subject matter. This time, Charlotte walked in comfort and she applauded herself for wearing her oldest pair of shoes. It was only Mr. Lancaster; there was no need to impress.
The Lady Radcliffe was taken aback by the beautiful grounds of Guy’s inheritance and could not stop commenting on their beauty. “These gardens remind me of my childhood home,” she reminisced.
“I thought so too, Mamma. Grandmother was very much on my mind while I sat in the dining room.” Charlotte said. Eventually the party completed one circuit around the property. Upon arriving back where they started, both Radcliffe parents claimed fatigue and sank onto a wrought iron bench in the shade.
“Oh Mr. Lancaster! Did our Charlotte tell you her happy news?” the Lady Radcliffe inquired.
“What happy news, Mamma?” Charlotte couldn’t think what her mother meant.
Her mother whispered again, “Your happy news!”
“No she has not! Pray tell,” Guy said in the midst of their exchange.
“Take a turn around the garden with Guy and tell him!” the Lord urged, beaming.
Charlotte inferred that they were referring to her budding romance with the Earl. She had quite forgotten all about him for the time being.
“Well, I suppose now I must hear it,” Guy complained as he and Charlotte began to walk. “But first, allow me the opportunity to guess your news as I believe I know what you are referring to”
Charlotte agreed. “Go on.”
“You somehow managed to beat the odds and are now the happy owner of a pair of pale pink stockings.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes and twisted her mouth to keep herself from laughing. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“What a funny thing you are Mr. Lancaster. No, I believe the news that my parents so eagerly wanted you to hear was the fact that I may soon have an offer of marriage from the Earl.”
Charlotte smiled and batted her eyes at Guy, watching his expression. He looked at Charlotte, crestfallen.
“Tell me you are joking.”
A small dark cloud moved across the sun, and the wind picked up. Charlotte grabbed the top of her bonnet. The trees swayed in the strong gusts.
“I am not. He is a most amiable man and I do believe that we are quite compatible.”
“The widower? What in heaven’s name is his hurry?”
Charlotte stumbled and Guy grabbed onto her arm to steady her and then swiftly let go. She noted again that his touch did nothing to inflame her passions. “You use the word hurry as if it is a crime.”
“It’s hasn’t been one month. And his wife was young and her death unexpected. It makes me question whether he felt anything for her at all if he is able to rebound from her loss so quickly.”
“Of course he felt for her. He is grief stricken.” Even as the words left her mouth, they sounded hollow.
“Take care that he does not feel as much for you as he did for her. Which I calculate must not be that much.”
“Oh you!” Charlotte sputtered. “Why should you care? You always have a great deal to say about every topic. Really Mr. Lancaster, you are exhausting.”
“Can’t I care for the future happiness of someone I have known since she was a little girl?”
“No.” Charlotte snapped.
Guy plodded along, his head cast downward. Charlotte walked by his side silently, fuming. Guy always had a knack for making her mad. For crumpets sake, he was entirely too wretched and too contrary!
“I declare I do not know more agreeable company than the good Earl’s.”
“But you know very little of men’s company, Lady Charlotte. Who do you have to compare his behavior to?”
“I can compare his to yours,” she retorted. “And unlike you, he has never stirred me to the point of argument.”
“Your parents are watching us. Do try to keep a pleasant tone.”
Charlotte assumed an artificial smile that she hoped sufficiently hid her irritation.
“Perhaps you should take a page from my book, Mr. Lancaster, and draw up your own list of suitable suitors. It may help you to organize your feelings on the matter and see first hand how the making of lists can solve almost any of life’s problems.”
He thought with guilt about Cecelia.
“Indeed if I were to draw up a list, it would be empty as I find lists to be a useless defense against the vagaries of life.”
“Oh look, we are almost back to mamma and pappa,” she said.
“Did you have a pleasant walk?” Lady Radcliffe asked the pair upon their return, staring at their animated expressions.
“Yes, splendid,” Guy lied.
“So delightful, I simply cannot endure another minute,” Charlotte exclaimed.
“I guess we best be heading back to Bennington,” her father declared, looking up at the darkening sky. “I think we have already seen the best part of our day. Thank you Guy, for the afternoon’s hospitality.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
Charlotte was annoyed that the announcement of her imminent engagement had not been anywhere near as satisfying as she imagined it would be. Mr. Lancaster really was the most frustrating of men, prone to behaving in the most unpredictable of ways. How dare he question the Earl’s feelings for his late wife! One would have to be blind to not notice the absolute heartbreak that man suffered.
The Lord Radcliffe stood up only to be suddenly racked by a coughing fit. Guy immediately ran to his side to support him, but the Lord Radcliffe fell back onto the bench, his face red, his eyes watering. The hacking sound coming from his chest was all too familiar. Flashbacks to last winter’s near fatal illness caused Charlotte’s heart to almost stop in fear.
“Father, are you alright?” she cried, but the Lord Radcliffe was consumed by the cough. Small droplets of rain began to hit their sleeves and splatter onto the gravel path. Flurries of leaves whipped up into the air and the pleasantly warm breeze now had a chill to it.
“Let me help you inside,” Guy insisted as he single handedly hoisted the suddenly feeble Lord Radcliffe to his feet and bore his weight as they hastened toward the house.
The full force of the rain hit just as they crossed the threshold; pellets of water and then hail slamming hard onto the ground and rooftop. Inside, Belmont was stoking the library fire and the Lord Radcliffe was lowered carefully onto the settee, when a second round of coughing began. They all stood helpless, waiting for the attack to pass. When it did, the Lord Radcliffe was spent.
Guy drew the Lady Radcliffe to the side. “May I send for our local doctor?”
“Oh Mr. Lancaster, you are too kind,” the Lady Radcliffe cried. “My poor husband!”
“It is no problem. I will send my footman. And may I offer you accommodations for the night? By the time the doctor arrives it may be too late to head home and if the rain doesn’t stop soon, I am afraid your progress may be impeded by the risk of local flooding in the low areas.”
“But we have already been too much trouble for one day. The beautiful luncheon and now all this!” she protested but Guy would not relent and finally the Lady Radcliffe was persuaded.
“The journey is too long now for one day’s travel,” the Lady Radcliffe admitted. “Oh my poor, poor husband!”
Charlotte listened to her mother’s conversation with one ear. She, too, hated the idea of sending her father out in the weather. Despite her annoyance with him, she knew in her heart that Guy was all kindness and that her father would be more comfortable here than being jolted about in a carriage in such unpredictable weather.
“Mr. Lancaster has sent a footman for the doctor,” she said softly, kneeling down at his knee.
“I don’t need a doctor! It was just dust from the wind that went down my gullet!”
“It seems unwise to travel further without some confirmation that you are going to be better. And besides, the weather has not let up,” his wife said.
“Please do as Mr. Lancaster suggests, Father. There is no hurry to be home, you know that.”
“I hate to be a burden.”
“You are no inconvenience, “ Guy insisted as he reentered the room. “We have sent for the doctor and a fire is being laid upstairs in the west bedroom so you may rest and have some privacy for the examination. And a room for the Lady Charlotte will be prepared as well.”
Guy’s lady arrived with steaming tea for the Lord, and ginger stem biscuits for strength.
“Here eat up,” Guy instructed and the Lord Radcliffe, who believed a full stomach equaled excellent health, was able to rally at the sight of food. He sat there, dipping his biscuit into the hot tea and chewed vigorously. Charlotte positioned herself on a chair in his direct sight, afraid to take her eyes off of him.
“I am sure I am fine. It was most likely dander from the fall leaves that got roused up by the wind. I must have inhaled that,” the Lord explained.
“We shall see Father. Let the doctor determine whether that is true or not.”
“Some tea, my lady?” Guy’s lady inquired. Charlotte nodded. The tea was the perfect temperature and she felt its warmth spread inside her as she drank it down.
Chapter Nine
Soon the housekeeper announced that the room was ready and they all helped the Lord Radcliffe ascend the stairs. He insisted he could make it upstairs by himself the entire way.
Finally, he settled in and the Lady Radcliffe shoed Charlotte and Guy away.
