A young lady of her height was considered overly tall. She had topped her mother by several inches but next to Jack she had felt almost dainty. A shiver of excitement flicked through her and instinctively she covered her breasts with her hands. Without their support her weight transferred to her injured toes and agony replaced excitement. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor. The touch of the cold boards on her naked skin banished all thought of Lord Thurston. She got to her knees and pulled herself upright. This would not do! What if Beth or Harry had come in and found her cavorting in her closet, totally unclothed?
She snatched a chemise and pulled it down over her head. The ribbons and tiny buttons would have to wait until she could sit down. Next she selected a petticoat and draped it over her arm. She viewed the meagre row of gowns hanging on the rail. She chose a serviceable brown cotton dress, its high neck, long sleeves and lack of decoration, ideal for someone who did not wish to draw attention to her femininity. She ignored the pile of stockings neatly rolled on the shelf. She couldn’t put shoes or hosiery over her bandages
Twenty minutes later she was dressed. As her hair was hanging in a long braid down her back it didn’t require any further intervention on her part. She glanced into the speckled mirror to check if she had any stray spots of mud on her cheeks. Her eyes widened in horror. Good grief! She looked like a clown.
Her cheeks were mottled red-and-white where the nettles had stung and her scar was a livid line slashed across her forehead, the sutures showing black along it. Thoughtfully she ran her fingertips over her face. Perhaps now was a goodtime to attempt to make her way down to the library. Her appearance was so unimpressive the duke would no longer find her desirable. He had said he wished to speak to her and she was eager to know the whereabouts of Jenkins. She decided, however difficult it might be, she wouldn’t languish upstairs like an invalid.
Her stomach made a most unladylike noise and she giggled. It must be hours since she had broken her fast. Once she was downstairs she would make her way to the kitchen and find something to eat. Then she would send word to Lord Thurston that she was ready for her interview.
If she walked flatfooted, the weight on her heels, her toes didn’t hurt too much. She made slow progress and a further twenty minutes passed before she arrived in the gallery. She paused here to capture her breath and rest her feet. She flopped gratefully against the balustrade forgetting about the intricately carved animals that lurked to damage the unwary. The horn of a unicorn poked sharply into her abdomen.
Startled she reared back, lost her grip, and fell backwards, her arms flailing wildly. Her cry of distress echoed round the vaulted roof. Charlotte was shaken by her tumble but not seriously injured, the damage being mainly to her dignity. She sat up and looked for a smooth handhold to pull herself up. She could hear Jack taking the stairs three at a time. She barely had time to cover her legs before he appeared beside her.
‘My God! What the hell are you doing here? You should be resting in your room and not wandering unaided about the place.’
She hated being told something she already knew. ‘As you have told me several times, what I do is none of your concern, my lord.’ It was hard to be cold and disdainful when sitting on one’s bottom on the boards.
‘You, my dear, are impossible. A sore trial indeed!’ He reached down and slid his arms under her, lifting her smoothly.
‘Put me down, at once, my lord.’ She struggled but he just tightened his hold.
‘Keep still, you ninny, do you wish me to drop you down the stairs?’
‘I wish you to release me then the question of stairs will be irrelevant.’
He ignored her protests and carried her down. ‘I shall take you to the library.’
‘No, take me to the kitchen—if you please,’ she added hastily, as she felt him stiffen.
Again he ignored her and strode down the endless passages to the library. He was forced to put her on the floor in order to open the heavy oak door. How she wished she could pick up her skirts and run away. She didn’t like being held in his embrace, it made her pulse race.
The door swung open. ‘There, it is done.’ Without asking her leave he picked her up again and carried her in. He walked across the once blue and green carpet and deposited her on a convenient chair.
‘Thank you so much, my lord,’ she said caustically.
He reached out for the chair the butler had used earlier and, swinging it round, he straddled it. Then, folding his arms across the back, he stared at her. She bridled; she looked a fright, and it was rude to stare. She lowered her eyes, hiding her face from him.
‘Don’t look away, sweetheart, I cannot tell you how long it has been since a beautiful woman has looked at me without turning aside in revulsion.’
Her head shot up, surprise loosening her tongue. ‘What fustian you speak, my lord. You have a scarred face, that is all; your body is magnificent and undamaged. In my opinion it would be far worse if you had lost a limb.’
She saw his expression change and his jaw harden. She wished her words back. He stood up gently placing the chair to one side, his expression unreadable. Charlotte couldn’t move. Was he going to strike her for her insolence? Her stomach contracted and she closed her eyes, too frightened to watch his approach.
But he didn’t raise his hand but dropped to his knees beside her. He was so close his breath caressed her face. Then his fingers touched her cheek and she shuddered, but it wasn’t fear that shook her. Something she didn’t understand was happening. Her limbs were weak and her eyelids too heavy to lift. A delicious heat ran through her, pooling in a most unexpected place. Her hands left her lap and, without conscious thought, found their way to rest tentatively on his chest
‘Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me, please. I need to see your lovely green eyes. Need to know you don’t find me repulsive.’
She forced them open. His face was inches from her own. She sighed and the fingers of one hand reached out to gently trace the scar from the corner of his mouth up to his forehead. She felt him tremble under her touch and wondered at it.
With his thumbs he followed the outline of her lips, her cheeks, and her insides melted. Her lips parted and she buried her head in his thick dark hair, glad he hadn’t had it cut short as was the current fashion.
He bent his neck and his mouth brushed across hers, sending spirals of pleasure twisting down her spine. Then his tongue followed the same path and she tugged his hair, pulling him closer, unconsciously demanding he kissed her properly.
His lips crushed hers and she was transported to a place she had never dreamed of. Now she understood why poets wrote of physical love, why men and women risked their very lives for it. After several blissful minutes he unlocked her fingers, removing them from his hair and sprung to his feet. His voice, when he spoke, sounded husky - different.
‘My God, Charlotte, Miss Carstairs! What was I thinking? I have run mad.’ He turned his back on her giving her time to compose herself and to rearrange her ruffled clothing. When she was settled behind him, he folded himself on to a chair on the far side of the room.
‘My dear, I must apologise once again for my outrageous behaviour. You’re a green girl, not a society sophisticate, and I took shameless advantage of you.’
‘No, my lord, you did not. The… the embrace was reciprocated, I can assure you.’ She sounded too earnest, like a pleading schoolgirl caught out in a misdemeanour, but she didn’t wish him to believe he had offended her.
His rich laugh filled the space between them, removing the tension and awkwardness. ‘I rather think it’s time you call me by my given name, it is Jack, by the way. I am heartily sick of hearing your grace, my lord, and Lord Thurston tumble from your lips at every opportunity.’
‘The use of given name is only permissible between close relatives and siblings. It would be very forward of me to call you thus.’ She giggled. ‘However I have prepared to call you Cousin Jack, or perhaps Uncle Jack might be more appropriate?�
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‘Uncle! You had better not, you baggage! - I am eight and twenty, not in my dotage.’
She grinned. ‘Then Cousin Jack it shall be. And you may call me Cousin Charlotte, if you wish.’
‘I shall call you Charlotte. You may do as you please.’
She gave way – arguing with him was pointless - he was obviously a man used to having his own way. ‘What rank were you, Cousin Jack?’
‘Major; I was a major in the Hussars.’
‘My papa was a major also.’ She nodded. ‘But in the infantry. We travelled with him until my mama,’ she hesitated, and then ploughed on, far too late to worry about propriety. ‘Until my mama was expecting Harry, and we were forced to return to England.’
She frowned as she recalled the cramped dark house in Romford, their lack of horses, the shortage of money. ‘I much preferred it in Spain and Portugal in spite of the deprivations we encountered.’
‘You are a constant surprise, Charlotte; but the fact you followed the drum explains a lot You’re obviously not a young lady who allows convention to hold her back.’
Her eyes flashed. ‘Are you impugning my honour, Lord Thurston? ‘
‘Don’t poker up, sweetheart, I was referring to your bravery and excellent seat on a horse.’
At the unfortunate mention of her seat she flushed crimson and to her chagrin he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Reluctantly she found herself joining in.
Meltham had to knock twice in order to make himself heard. ‘Come in, damn you,’ Jack shouted.
‘I apologize for disturbing you, your grace, but I have urgent need to speak to you in private.’
Jack was on his feet as he spoke. ‘What is it, man? What has happened? Speak freely - Miss Carstairs needs to know as well.’
‘It’s Jenkins, my lord. I was becoming anxious about his non-appearance and sent a groom to seek him out.’ The old man stopped, too overcome to continue.
‘Tell me, what’s happened to Jenkins?’ Jack inquired softly, his arm resting on the butler’s shaking shoulders.
‘He’s dead! Murdered most foully, your grace. Some wicked person has struck him down.’
Charlotte attempted to get to her feet, her face ashen. ‘The children! Jack, I must check on the children. They’ve been out on their own all morning.’ She attempted to step forward but the pain was too great, and with a soft cry, she sank back into her chair.
‘Meltham, are the children inside?’
The butler nodded as he blew his nose vigorously. ‘They are, your grace, they have been indoors this past hour helping Annie with her duties.’
Jack returned to her side and dropped down, taking her cold hands in his. ‘I must leave you here, my dear. Don’t try and walk. I shall send the children to talk to you. And also have a tray brought up from the kitchen.’
He strode out, talking quietly to the butler. It was hardly credible how much they had both changed over the space of a few days. She had grown up, discovered what it meant to be a woman and he had metamorphosed from a bad-tempered drunkard, to a formidable soldier, a man well able to take charge.
She shook her head in disbelief. How could Jenkins be dead? He had been here conversing with her in this very room but a few hours ago. Her eyes filled; he had had all his life ahead of him. Why would anyone wish to snuff that out? What evil was stalking this place? First the attack on herself; next the unseen watcher at the front of the hall and now poor Jenkins had been cruelly killed.
There were childish voices in the hall and Beth and Harry burst in, their faces tear-streaked. She held out her arms and they flung themselves in.
‘Oh Lottie, it’s terrible! Poor Mr Jenkins is dead,’ Beth sobbed, ‘and he was so nice to us. How could anyone do such a terrible thing?’
Charlotte stroked the girl’s hair. ‘I don’t know, Beth, but Cousin Jack will find out. He will bring the perpetrators to justice, never fear.’
Harry sat back, scrubbing his eyes with his fists. ‘Who’s Cousin Jack, Lottie? Is he coming to stay here too?’
‘No, darling, Cousin Jack is Lord Thurston. We have decided to dispense with formality. In future you must address him in the same way.’
This astounding news dried Beth’s tears. ‘But he’s not our cousin. We hardly know him, Lottie. In fact we have never even spoken to him. I believe he goes out of his way to avoid us.’
‘I’m sure that’s not so, Beth. I know he’s not a real cousin, but he did not wish me... us to call him Lord Thurston and it would be disrespectful to call him by his given name alone, so Cousin Jack it has to be.’
This interesting development pushed their distress aside. ‘Does this mean we’re staying here for ever, Lottie?’ Henry asked eagerly. ‘Then I should like a puppy and Beth would like a kitten.’
Pleased they were so easily distracted Charlotte nodded ‘I see no reason why not, but we also need two full-grown cats and terrier to catch the rats.’
‘And he told us that new staff are coming later today. Parlour maids, kitchen maids, extra footmen and also a housekeeper—is that true?’
‘It is Beth. Cousin Jack has agreed to allow me to organise the refurbishment and repair of the house. In a few weeks we should be living in clean and luxurious establishment.’
‘Not a pigsty!’ Harry added innocently.
‘Harry! That’s quite enough. Things are not as bad as that.’
‘But Betty and Annie said it is, so it must be, for they wouldn’t lie to me, would they?’
‘Beth, I said that’s enough on that subject. Now settle yourselves down and tell me what you’ve been doing all morning and I shall tell you how I come to have damaged feet.’
Up to this point neither child had noticed this interesting fact. Harry scrambled down and peered closely at her bandages. ‘You have no stockings or shoes on,’ he observed seriously.
‘No, Harry, I do not, my feet are too sore.’
The next hour was happily taken up by shared explanations and a light repast. Charlotte’s eyes turned repeatedly to the ormolu mantle clock. Why did Jack not return?
‘Beth, could you ring, I need Annie’s assistance.’
‘Can we help you, Lottie. We’re very sensible.’
‘Thank you, Harry, this is something I have to do for myself, and unfortunately I need Annie’s assistance first.’
Beth understood her oblique references. ‘I’ll take Harry upstairs. We can play ‘hide and go seek’ in the attics.’
‘Are you sure the floors are safe to run around on up there?’
‘Yes, Lottie, we asked Mr Meltham and he said we can play up there,’ Beth replied.
Harry jumped up. ‘Yes, please Beth, can we go now? Can I hide first?’
The children left, chattering happily and Annie arrived soon afterwards. As her maid assisted her to a chamber pot, she gave her some disturbing news. This was not good –
indeed matters were far worse than she could possibly have anticipated.
Chapter Seven
‘No money? None at all, Annie?’ Charlotte was almost too shocked to speak.
‘Well, as to that, I don’t rightly know, miss. It was Mr Meltham who overheard his grace’s comment.’
‘And lost no time telling everyone else, it would appear.’
Her maid shifted uncomfortably. ‘He was that upset, Miss Carstairs, what with poor Jenkins and everything, that he couldn’t help himself.’
‘What exactly did you overhear?’
Annie helped Charlotte back into her chair before answering. ‘Let me think. He came back into the kitchen white as a ghost, muttering to himself. Betty fetched him a drink of water…’
‘I do not need to know the details, just the substance, please Annie.’ Charlotte was beginning to lose patience.
‘He said, “The ships went down’’, that’s it - it was to do with ships. ‘‘The ships went down and Thurston’s fortune went with them.”’
‘So grandfather didn’t gamble away his money or
invest it unwisely; unforeseen circumstances have caused this neglect, not poor management. I’m glad about that.’ Charlotte blinked as her vision blurred and she rubbed her temples. ‘I fear I’m getting a megrim, Annie. I’ve been trying to ignore the pain building over my right eye, but it’s getting worse.’
‘I’m not surprised, miss; there have been too many shocks and upsets today.’ They both knew what was coming next. Charlotte did not get sick headaches often but when she did she was prostrate, sometimes for days. ‘Come; let me take you back to your chamber. I’ll get Betty to make you a tisane and bring it up immediately.’
‘But I need to know what the lawyers have said - to know just how bad things are.’
‘Whatever it is, miss. It will be the same when you are well again. The sooner you are resting quietly, in the dark, the better.’
*
Jack pulled himself a large brandy, downed it in one swallow then refilled his glass before sinking into his chair. He stared morosely at the flickering flames, sunk once again into despair. He had thought his life turned around and that he had finally come to terms with his injuries. He could move on with his life. Seeing a lovely girl with her eyes sparkling, her lips swollen from his kisses he had felt like a whole man again.
Then some bastards had ambushed the footman and smashed his head in. He thought he dealt with that efficiently, more like the old Major Griffin. He had sent one groom to bring back the militia who were stationed in Ipswich and sent the remaining footman and the second groom to recover the corpse.
In the midst of this drama the carriage containing Messrs Blower and Thomas, the lawyers, had arrived in answer to his summons. He gulped down his drink; the alcohol beginning to serve its purpose, dull the pain as it had these past two years.
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