by Kira Stewart
“A little better, Mama. I am sure that I will be well enough to get out of bed tomorrow.”
Her mother smiled.
“I am so pleased to hear that, my dear, as your father has just received an invitation from Sir Harvey. He has invited us all to spend the weekend with him at his London residence. I was worried that you might not be well enough, but if you are feeling better, then I will ask your father to write immediately to accept the invitation. What do you say to that?”
It was the last thing that Charlotte wanted to hear, and her heart sank.
“Now, my dear, do not look like that. It is very kind of Sir Harvey to invite us, especially after the incident in the park. You never did fully explain what happened on the lake. Still, it does not matter. The man still seems keen, and that is all that matters. Now, come along and eat your broth. It will do you the world of good.”
Charlotte pulled a face.
“I am not feeling hungry, mother.”
“I hope you are not still brooding over the illusive C. R., Charlotte. Your father made enquiries at his club last night, and no one seemed to know anything about the man. There can be no good in a man who sends a girl presents, when she does not even know his full name. Nothing good could come from him, Charlotte, so you would do well to forget all about him, and think more about a man much more worthy.”
“You mean Sir Harvey?”
“Yes I do mean Sir Harvey. Most girls would be over the moon to receive such attentions as his. You should think yourself very grateful girl. Now, drink this soup and rest. You will need to look your best for the weekend. A change of scenery will be good for you. It will stop you brooding over this mysterious man.”
“But, mother …”
It was no use arguing. Mrs. Thompson’s mind was made up.
7.
The journey to London would take two days and involved an overnight stay at one of the coaching inns along the way. Sir Harvey could not travel with them, having gone ahead on business, but he made all of the arrangements for their travel and accommodation. He would send one of his own carriages for their convenience, and they would sleep overnight at the Hatchet Inn, near Newbury.
Mrs. Thompson bustled around, making all of the arrangements necessary for a weekend away in London. Poor Charlotte did not care what dresses she would wear, and did not care what Sir Harvey would think of her, yet her mother insisted fussing around the girl, making her try on her dresses to see which were the most becoming. When she could get away, she spent the time alone in her room, or hid in the library, and always she carried the little book of poems close to her heart. She longed for an excuse to take off into town, on the off chance she would bump into the mysterious Charles, but her mother kept her so well occupied, that she had little hope of being free before the visit.
The following day at breakfast, another invitation arrived. This time, it was addressed to Charlotte personally, but being suspicious of anyone other than Sir Harvey trying to contact her daughter, Mrs. Thompson plucked the envelope from where it had been placed, and proceeded to open it.
“Mama, that is addressed to me. You should not read it.”
With no idea of the sender, Charlotte worried, in case it might be from her handsome stranger. If it was, her mother was likely to throw it into the fire, before she had time to even read at it.
For a moment, all was tense, as Mrs. Thompson examined the handwriting on the front of the letter, before breaking the wax seal with a knife.
Pulling out a thin card, she read it carefully.
Charlotte watched her eyes looking for any sign of concern.
Eventually, a smile broke across her mother’s face.
“Why, Charlotte, dear, it is from Henrietta Langton. She has invited you to tea on Thursday afternoon, and will send her carriage for you. That is only tomorrow. Now, the Langton’s are the sort of people you should befriend, our kind of people, not strange men without a surname.”
Charlotte did not rise to her mother’s words, but instead, took the card from her hand and read it for herself.
It was the best news she could have received. The two girls seemed to have a lot in common and had hit it off straight away when they met at the Assembly Rooms. It also gave her a good excuse to leave the house without her mother wondering where she was or who she was with.
•••
Henrietta Langton was pleased to welcome her new friend into her home. Books had always been her passion, and she looked forward to discussing the latest fiction with Charlotte. The weather had started to change—nature had donned her autumnal cloak, bringing a sudden coolness to the air. As soon as Henrietta greeted the girl, she felt as though they were old friends.
“Welcome, my dear. I have been looking forward to your visit all week. Now, let us go into the Drawing Room and I will ring for tea.”
A splendid fire blazed in the sandstone fireplace, casting a warm glow over the afternoon shadows. Two overstuffed chairs had been pulled up towards the fire, and a small inlaid table was set between the two, and was set with cups and saucers.
After such a strange week, Charlotte found the room comforting, and sat and warmed herself by the fire.
A tall gentleman entered, carrying a silver tray laden with the tea things and a plate of dainty looking cakes, and set them by the fire.
“Is this not cozy? Now, Charlotte, I will pour the tea, whilst you tell me everything that has happened to you since we last met. How did you enjoy the dance?”
“The Ball was very good indeed, thank you, Henrietta.”
“Please, call me Henry. I much prefer it. Now, what about the young officer I saw you dancing with?”
Charlotte had quite forgotten about poor Edward Pierce.”
“I am afraid Mama does not approve of me dancing with officers, She has set her sights much higher for me!”
Henrietta laughed.
“I imagine that your mother wants only the best for you. Does she have anyone in mind?”
Pouring out the tea into the dainty china cups, the hostess settled in the chair next to her guest, eager to know more.
“Well, there is a gentleman, Sir Harvey Lloyd. He seems to be paying me a great deal of attention, and of course, Mama is quite pleased about that.”
Henrietta frowned. “I believe Thomas is acquainted with him. Is he not rather old for you? He must be in his mid-sixties?”
“I have tried to tell my dear mama that, but she will not listen. When her mind is set upon something, it is hard to change. Papa, too, tells me it would be good for his business. They both tell me it would be a very good match indeed.”
“Well, from what I hear, he is a very good man. But what do you think of him, Charlotte?”
The girl bit her lip and tried not to cry.
“Oh Henry, I am sure that he is a very good man, as you say, but I do not care for him at all.”
Before she could say more, poor Charlotte began to cry, the tears falling thick and fast.
“I am sorry, Henry. It’s just that Mama is so insistent.”
“And you are sure of his intentions?”
“Oh quite. He took Mama and I out earlier in the week, and he spoke of his late wife, and how lonely he was. He asked me if I had ever thought of marrying.”
Henrietta laughed. “But that does not mean he wants to marry you, Charlotte. Perhaps your dear Mama is over-thinking things a little?”
“Perhaps. But now we are to spend the coming weekend with Sir Harvey, in London. I am afraid that he may propose.”
“Ah, then perhaps your mother is correct. A day’s outing is one thing, but a weekend in London is another. And you say you do not care for him at all?”
Charlotte shook her head sadly.
“I am sure he is a very nice man, very kind. Oh, but I had hoped I would love the man I would marry, Henry. What am I to do? It all seems so hopeless.”
Her tears began to fall again, and Henrietta stood and hurrying to her friend’s side, wrapped her
arms around the girl’s shoulders to comfort her.
“Oh, my dear, do not cry. We will think of something. I have been very happy in my marriage with dear Thomas, and I can only hope it can be the same for you. You must marry for love. I cannot imagine marrying anyone who I did not love. When you fall in love, you will understand.”
Unable to stop herself, Charlotte could feel herself start to blush, and it did not go unnoticed by her hostess.
“My dear, you are not telling me everything, I am sure of it. Are you in love? Is it the young officer you were dancing with?”
“Oh Henry, is it possible to love a man I have just met?”
Henrietta smiled.
“I think I always loved Thomas, you know. We were childhood friends. But yes, I do believe in love at first sight. Now, is it the young man I saw you dancing with?”
“Oh no, it is a very different man altogether, but I did meet him at the dance.”
“And what is his name?”
“Well, that is the thing. I only know that he is called Charles, and that his surname begins with the letter R.”
“My dear, I am intrigued. Now, do drink some tea and have some of this delicious cake. It will cheer you up, and then you can tell me some more.”
Charlotte told her new friend all about her trip with Sir Harvey, and the surprise encounter in the Reading Rooms.
“How very romantic indeed—a mystery man who sends you poetry. My dear, he sounds smitten. And by all accounts, he sounds like a gentleman, despite what your mother thinks. Lending you his cloak and then allowing you to have the latest novel. I wonder who he can be. Perhaps Thomas will know. I will ask him later.”
“I must admit, I feel quite different about Charles than I have ever felt about anyone before. Do you think that it could be love, Henry? I know very little about him.”
Henrietta smiled.
“If he makes your heart beat fast every time you think of him, and his face fills your dreams, then you are certainly in love, and I definitely believe that you do not have to know someone long to fall in love with them. Although, the man is a mystery and did not tell you his surname. Perhaps it is prudent to try and find out a little bit more about him?”
“But how can I do that?”
Helping herself to another piece of cake, Charlotte sighed.
“And what am I supposed to do this weekend, if Sir Harvey makes his advances. I have no experience in the ways of men, and I am not sure what I would say to dissuade him. I have already told him that I could never marry a man who I did not love, but yet he persists.”
“I must admit, it is a tricky situation, my dear, but surely not an impossible one. We need time to find out about your mysterious Mr. R! Try not to be alone with Sir Harvey, and then he will not have the opportunity to make his advances to you.”
“But that is impossible. Mama will always be looking for ways for us to be alone. That is how the subject of love and marriage came about in the first place, by Mama insisting that I went in the rowing boat with him, whilst she waited on the shore. It will be impossible.”
The girl looked as if she were about to cry again.
“Do not fret, my dear. If you find yourself in an impossible situation, tell him that you are too young to marry at present, and that you will think about it. Why, I know a girl who made a man wait two years for a decision, and then she refused him.”
“But what then?”
To be honest, Henrietta did not know the answer, but smiled confidently at the girl.
“Let us not think of that. It will give us time to find out more about your mystery man, and then we can make a plan. At least you are armed with a weapon, if you should need it this weekend, to keep Sir Harvey at bay.”
The two women laughed, and for the first time that afternoon, Charlotte smiled.
“You are right, Henry. At least I have a plan. Surely somebody somewhere must know something about Charles?”
Having quite calmed the girl’s nerves, the two continued with their tea, and then spent the rest of the afternoon in the extensive library. Charlotte was very pleased to be leaving with several new books to read.
“And you must come to see me again, when you return from London. You can tell me all about it, and hopefully, I will have news on your romantic stranger.”
The two girls embraced, before Charlotte set off in the carriage home.
Henrietta waved until the carriage was out of sight, a slight frown appearing on her brow, as she thought about the mystery man, and wondered why he had not told the girl his surname. He was obviously trying to hide something, but what on earth could that be?
8.
The weather had turned fine again, as the Thompsons set off in the coach for London. Although it was only a short weekend trip, Mrs. Thompson had managed to pack several large trunks to cover all eventualities.
“You never know what might happen in London, Charlotte, and we need to be prepared for everything,” her mother had explained.
The girl kept quiet. She did not care what her mother was planning in her head. She, too, had her own little plan and would stick with it.
The Hatchet Inn was pleasant and very comfortable. Sir Harvey had spared no expense in the arrangements, and a good dinner of roast beef and apple pie was awaiting them in the small, but private, dining room upon their arrival. Charlotte’s room was quite splendid, and in the very middle, stood a great wooden four-poster bed, piled so high with mattresses, that she had to climb on top of it to get into it. The bed was comfortable, but she slept little. The horns sounding outside, announcing the comings and goings of the coaches, the hooves of the horses as they clattered on the cobblestones, and the chatter of the people outside, all kept her awake.
It was midnight and she had still not slept a wink. She could hear the distant bells of a church chiming away the hours, between the sounds of her father’s contented snores.
Jumping down from the bed, she pulled on her dressing gown and opened the curtains at the window. The courtyard was full of noise. A coach had just arrived, and the horses were being unsaddled and led across the cobblestones into the stables for a well-earned rest.
Outside was lit and almost as bright as daylight, despite the waning of the moon—now only a sliver of silver hanging high in the sky, a crescent moon. The lanterns on the coaches, and those carried by the men attending to the horses, lit the night air. One man was singing gently as he worked, his soft lilting Irish voice drifting into the night sky.
I know a valley fair, Eileen Aroon
I know a cottage there, Eileen Aroon
Far in the valley shade I know a tender maid
Flow’r of the hazel glade, Eileen Aroon
Who in the song so sweet, Eileen Aroon
Who in the dance so fleet, Eileen Aroon
Dear are her charms to me, dearer her laughter free
Dearest her constancy, Eileen Aroon
Were she no longer true, Eileen Aroon
What would her lover do, Eileen Aroon
Fly with a broken chain, far o’er the sounding main
Never to love again, Eileen Aroon
Youth will in time decay, Eileen Aroon
Beauty must fade away, Eileen Aroon
Castles are sacked in war, chieftains are scattered far
Truth is a fixed star, Eileen Aroon
The plaintive love song filled her heart, as she listened to the words, her eyes filling with tears. She wondered where Charles could be and if he, too, was thinking about her. The moon shining down above her was also watching over him. He was out there somewhere, near or far, she could not say, but he was out there somewhere. But if only she knew where. What if she never saw him again?
Her thoughts turned gloomy and her heart started to fill with dread at the thought of her visit with Sir Harvey. What if he did ask her to marry him, and she said the wrong thing and ended up engaged to the man? Then there would be no hope for the dashing Charles. Suddenly, she felt suffocated—her parents a
nd Sir Harvey crowding in on her, until she could hardly breathe. The girl needed some fresh air, and a walk outside would do her good. Her mother and father would not approve, but they were asleep, and need never know.
Dressing quickly, she put on a dark cloak over her outdoor clothes, in a hope that she would not be seen in the shadows. Silently, she slipped from her room and down the wooden staircase that led into the bar and out into the open courtyard. The noise and bustle had died down a little by the time she stepped into the cool night air. The horses had been stabled and the occupants of the carriages were settling down for the evening. The air cooled her head and she breathed deeply, forgetting for a moment, the feeling of suffocation. For a moment, she wished she were a man and in charge of her own destiny. Leaning on the stone wall of the Inn, she closed her eyes, enjoying the fleeting feeling of freedom.
Within a moment, she heard the now familiar sound of a horn being blown in the distance, heralding the arrival of another carriage. Not wanting to be seen, Charlotte tucked herself away into the shadows.
“Hey there!”
The coach driver shouted out the familiar call, as he approached the Inn. The stable hands and manager were waiting by the doorway to carry out their respective roles. As the coach drew close, Charlotte could see it was a very fine town coach indeed. Four white horses pulled the handsome carriage, and an elaborate gold crest was painted on either side. The occupant must be very important indeed.
Charlotte watched, as the coachman jumped down and quickly opened the door of the coach.
“Your Grace, you are most welcome.”
The owner of the Inn bowed low, as a tall man stepped from his carriage and into the night air. For a moment, he was in the shadows and all Charlotte could see was his boots and a very long cloak with a tall collar that reached up beyond his ears and covered most of his face. One of the stable hands approached him, carrying a lamp to light the short way to the Inn door, and for a moment, the girl drew back farther into the shadows, in case she might be seen.
