An Unusual Bequest

by Mary Nichols

  He left them arguing about who had started with the most nuts and whether large ones counted for more than small ones, and made his way to his room. But he did not undress, and, after a few minutes, crept down again to listen outside the door. The panelling was thick and he could make out nothing more than an odd word or two. ‘Moon and tide’ figured more than once and he heard ‘tub carriers’ mentioned, which indicated a large cargo needing men to carry it inland from the spot where it was landed to its hiding place. He guessed they would recruit helpers from the village who would be prepared to take the risk. It left him with a dilemma. If he alerted Gerard Topham and his Coast Blockade, they would arrest everyone in the vicinity, not just the ring leaders and did he want that to happen? He returned to his room and went to bed to mull it over.

  Next morning after a good breakfast, he strolled over to The Crow’s Nest with no sense of urgency or haste, to be told by Betsy that her ladyship was taking a lesson and she would not thank her for interrupting it.

  ‘I have no wish to interrupt,’ he said, removing his hat. ‘I will sit on this chair until she comes out.’ And before she could protest, he lowered his tall frame into a small chair outside the room where she was teaching.

  ‘As you wish,’ she said, huffily. ‘I don’t know what the world’s coming to, that I don’t, when a gentleman don’t know when he’s not wanted.’ And she marched away towards the kitchen and the meat pie she was making for everyone’s dinner.

  Stacey could hear the murmur of Charlotte’s voice and the piping voices of the children as they answered her questions. It was evidently a geography lesson, for he heard her speaking about the early discoverers of America and how the country had once belonged to Britain but had fought for its independence, and about the goods that were imported and exported. He could not resist the temptation to put his eye to the keyhole.

  She was facing the door, dressed in her usual mourning attire. It was so plain it emphasised her curves, the trim waist, the full bosom, the shapely hips. He allowed himself to imagine her in a fashionable gown—deep cerise, he thought, or perhaps blue, the blue of a spring sky, or lemon. Yes, lemon, trimmed with the palest green and cream. The severe hairstyle she wore as a schoolmistress became, in his mind’s eye, a soft Grecian style, and the black lace cap a tiny bonnet, one of those that sat well back on her head and revealed her shapely brows, lovely eyes and long neck.

  ‘Can anyone tell me how long it takes to sail from America to Ipswich?’ she asked, using her finger to trace the route across the Atlantic on a globe on the table beside her.

  ‘Why, missus, it would depend on the wind and the tide, wouldn’t it?’ Danny White piped up.

  ‘Indeed it would,’ she said, ignoring the way he had addressed her. ‘But if both were favourable?’

  ‘Eight weeks, my lady,’ said another, though Stacey could not see him, could not see Julia either. ‘That’s what my pa says anyhow and he oughta know seein’s he be a seaman.’

  He saw Charlotte smile at the boy and it was as if the sun had come out after rain. If only she would smile at him like that! But she reserved it for her pupils; when she was with him, she was nearly always angry, or fighting back tears.

  He heard someone coming and reluctantly took his eye from the keyhole and sat up straight, smoothing the pile of his hat to give his hands something to do. A maid passed him with a pile of bed linen and climbed the stairs. Behind him the schoolroom door opened and the children tumbled out, to be followed by Charlotte and Julia, so deep in conversation they did not see him.

  ‘Perhaps we will be able to go out later,’ Charlotte was saying. ‘After the other children have gone home, and you shall tell me all about yourself.’

  ‘I thought Papa had told you everything.’

  ‘No, indeed not. And I want to hear it from you.’ She laughed lightly. ‘Papas do not know everything, you know. They are men, and often they do not understand what we ladies think and feel inside ourselves—’ She stopped abruptly when she saw Stacey rising from the chair to greet her. Her face was suffused with bright pink colour. ‘My lord. I did not know you were here.’

  ‘Evidently not,’ he said, pretending severity. ‘Or you would not be teaching my daughter to be unfilial.’

  ‘Not at all, my lord. It was merely woman-to-woman talk.’ Julia was giggling, but Charlotte’s pretty blush had suddenly become a flag of anger.

  ‘Oh, Papa, what are you doing here? Have you come to check on me already?’

  ‘No, merely keeping my promise not to abandon you.’

  ‘We are about to have dinner,’ Charlotte said. ‘I know half past one is nearer the hour for nuncheon than dinner, but I like to give the village children a good meal before sending them home and that is why we have it so early. Will you join us?’

  ‘You mean you sit down and eat with them?’ he asked in astonishment.

  ‘Yes. It is part of their education to learn table manners. It is not enough to tell them what is right and wrong, one must set an example. It is a philosophy I apply to most things. I included it in the prospectus, which I assume you have studied.’

  ‘I agree our daughters might benefit from such teaching, but surely it is not for peasants.’

  ‘They might not always be peasants. The more intelligent among them might aspire to higher things.’

  Julia was laughing and he turned to her in exasperation. ‘And what do you find so amusing, madam?’

  ‘You sitting down to table with children. Why, until we set out on this journey and we stopped at that inn for refreshment, I had never had a meal with you at all. I was never allowed into the dining room, was I?’

  ‘It is not the custom for children—’

  ‘If you do not wish to share the children’s meal, my lord,’ Charlotte put in quickly, before father and daughter could begin an altercation that would undoubtedly result in Julia being punished, ‘perhaps you could return after the little ones have gone home. The Reverend is coming later to give a Latin lesson to the older ones and I shall be free to talk to you. That is, if the object of your visit was to speak to me.’

  ‘Yes, I must.’ He smiled suddenly, deciding he might as well humour her, if only to restore himself to favour. ‘I shall be delighted to join you for dinner.’

  She turned from him and ushered the children into pairs, then turned back to him, smiling. ‘Shall we lead the way, my lord?’

  They trooped into the dining room and it was all he could do not to laugh at the exaggerated politeness of the boys as they held the chairs for the girls to be seated before taking their own places. Charlotte helped herself from the dishes Betsy offered her and, once everyone had been served, picked up her knife and fork. The children watched her and copied her, though some who were not used to so much food gobbled it up quickly, afraid it might be snatched from them. Charlotte did not admonish them. ‘They will slow down when they realise there will be more tomorrow and the day after that,’ she whispered to Stacey who was seated on her right and who had been gazing at the children in a kind of numbed incredulity that he was there at all. They were evidently overawed by this big, handsome man with his fine clothes and smooth white hands, for they dare not open their mouths.

  ‘Do you not think you could make a little polite conversation to put them at their ease?’ Charlotte suggested when the silence became prolonged.

  ‘Good heavens, what about?’ he asked.

  ‘The weather—some of their fathers are seafaring men and the weather is always of some concern, as it is to the farmers. Or you could tell them about your life in the army, though no gruesome details, please.’ She smiled at him and spoke aloud. ‘My lord, I believe you have travelled on the Continent, is it so very different from England?’

  To please her, he tried, but he was thankful when the meal ended and the village children were sent off home, leaving Julia, Lizzie and Fanny to return to the classroom to work on the Latin exercises set by the Reverend Fuller. At last he was alone with Charlotte.


  Chapter Eight

  Having exhausted his supply of small talk at the table, he was left with nothing to say except what was in his heart, but she had given him no encouragement. She treated him politely, as she would treat the father of one of her pupils, and he knew he had a long way to go before she was ready to hear an offer from him. Rank, breeding and wealth, all the things his parents set so much store by, meant nothing at all to her; she had not thought fit to tell him her own antecedents, as if it did not matter. Did it matter? Had it ever? ‘Shall we go for a walk along the cliffs?’ he asked her. ‘We may be private there.’

  Her heart jumped before settling again to its usual beat. Wanting to be private did not mean what she wanted it to mean. He had never given any indication he loved her; she was not such a green girl as to imagine an endearment and a kiss meant anything to a man like Viscount Darton, who would not stoop to marry someone as lowly as a schoolteacher. If he could not accept her as the person she was, then she was better off without him. She must, she really must, convince herself of that or she would be lost. But she would go, hear what he had to say. ‘Very well. I will fetch my bonnet and cloak. The wind is still quite keen.’

  He waited in the hall while she ran lightly upstairs. Five minutes later she returned ready to go out and they set off along the cliff-top path in silence. It was an uncomfortable silence, but neither knew how to break it. He glanced at her when he thought her attention was elsewhere and noticed she looked weary, but that was hardly to be wondered at considering all the worry she had had, and not until today had he realised how tiring it was to look after a dozen young children; the short time he had spent with them had exhausted him. He would rather drill a regiment or charge the enemy.

  She turned and saw him studying her and hastily turned away again. ‘Did you go to the Manor?’ she asked him, looking straight ahead.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And was his lordship surprised to see you? Did he make you welcome?’

  ‘I believe he was surprised, but as to a welcome, I cannot be sure, but he invited me to stay. After all, I hold a few of his vouchers and he is anxious to win them back.’

  ‘I cannot understand what makes a man continue gambling even after everything is lost.’

  ‘I believe it is a compulsion, a feeling that one more card, one hand, one throw of the dice will set all to rights. When it does not, he must risk more in the hope his luck will change, and, on the rare occasions when it does, instead of stopping, the true gambler risks it all again.’

  ‘Is that how you feel about it?’

  ‘No, I have no need to make money in that fashion and I have never chanced more than I am prepared to lose.’ Was he gambling now? Was he gambling his happiness and peace of mind on being able to bring her round?

  ‘I collect you said we all gamble one way or another when we make a decision. I am afraid I did that when I agreed to take on The Crow’s Nest, even before I learned of my husband’s legacy. It gave me sleepless nights, I can tell you. I was never so relieved and grateful when I found I could afford it. I certainly would never dream of doing anything so rash again.’

  He smiled, wondering again what she would say if she knew where that legacy had really come from. ‘That proves you are not a true gambler, my lady.’

  ‘I have always thought Cecil was simply weak and easily led and without the other two we might have come to some accommodation.’

  ‘You may be right.’

  They walked on companionably. ‘How long do you intend to stay at the Manor?’

  ‘I do not know. It depends…’

  ‘On what, my lord?’ The wind was whipping her cloak about her legs and a wisp of hair escaped her bonnet and blew across her face. Unconsciously she pushed it back with one gloved finger. It was such a little gesture, but it wrenched at something deep inside him and made him ache to protect her and love her so long as he had breath in his body.

  ‘On you,’ he said softly.

  ‘Me?’ she asked, so startled she stopped and turned to face him. He was smiling, his brown eyes holding hers, so that she was obliged to look away. ‘Oh, I infer you mean how I perform as an instructress for your daughter.’

  He had not meant that at all, but he refrained from contradicting her. ‘Among other things. How does Julia?’

  ‘I have not had her with me long enough to make a judgement,’ she said carefully, resuming walking.

  ‘But you must have formed an impression. Do not be afraid to tell me the truth. You are her teacher and mentor and I would expect nothing but honesty from you.’

  ‘You would get nothing but honesty,’ she said sharply. ‘From what I have observed so far, Julia is an intelligent and vivacious young lady, but I can see that she would be headstrong if thwarted or if asked to do something she does not wish to do.’

  ‘It did not take you very long to discover that. What has she refused to do?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘Nothing very dreadful. She did not want to go to bed at the same time as Lizzie and Fanny, claiming she has always been allowed to stay up until she felt like retiring and she was old enough to know when she was tired enough to sleep.’

  ‘That is my father’s fault, I am afraid. He likes her company and he would keep her up, telling her tales of his battles. Miss Handy, her governess, is too afraid of the Earl to insist. How did you overcome the problem?’

  ‘I told her that if she was old enough to know when she was tired, she would also know that a long journey, new and strange surroundings and meeting new people was about the most tiring thing on earth, and did she not agree.’

  ‘And did she?’

  Charlotte laughed. ‘She was dead on her feet, but she flung her head in the air and said she would go to bed, but she did not expect to sleep and would read if I would allow her a light. She took Sir Walter Scott’s novel Waverley to bed with her, but when I went to her room to say goodnight to her only five minutes later, she was fast asleep and the book not even opened.’

  ‘And today?’

  ‘She has performed all the tasks I set her.’

  ‘Without complaint?’

  ‘Why should she complain when she wants so very much to please you? She thinks that if she pleases me and I pass on a good report, you will be pleased with her and allow her to go home.’

  ‘Did she tell you that?’

  ‘No, of course she did not, but it is not difficult to deduce. All little girls love praise.’ She paused, laughing a little. ‘Even little boys. Sometimes quite big boys too. Did you not strive to please your father, so that you might bask in his praise?’

  ‘Touché,’ he said.

  They had reached the path that led down to the beach and he stopped to look about him, wondering which path the free-traders might use—probably the one through the pine woods, he decided, that would give more cover, although it was not the most direct one to the Manor. ‘Shall we venture down? There is something I want to look at.’

  He took her arm to guide her down the path, ready to steady her if she should slip, and that small gesture was nearly her undoing. She had managed to keep a tight hold on her emotions until then, mainly by being professional and talking about Julia and the school, but she did not know how she would manage if he spoke to her on a more personal level. Not that he had given any indication that he meant to and paradoxically that disappointed her.

  She wanted to know how he had felt about leaving her to her fate and going to his sick daughter. It wasn’t that she blamed him for that, it was the only thing he could have done and as he had written to her to explain, even if she had not received the letter, she had no cause for complaint, but it would have been good to know that he had had a little qualm about it and that he had thought about her since. But all he seemed concerned with was settling his daughter into school and returning to his life of drinking and gambling.

  As soon as they reached the beach, she moved away from him so that his hand dropped to his side. She felt its loss keenly, but steeled
herself to continue speaking normally. ‘Did you learn anything about the smuggling while you were at the Manor, my lord?’

  ‘Very little, they were careful to say nothing in front of me, but I did overhear a little. I think the contraband will arrive in the next three days, moon, wind and tide being favourable.’ He looked out over the sea. There were several ships on the horizon, their sails driving them on a brisk south-westerly. Was one of them the contraband ship? He had no way of knowing.

  ‘What are you going to do? Have them arrested?’

  ‘I do not know yet. There is more to consider than catching three free-traders. One of them is your brother-in-law and the scandal would reflect on everyone at the Manor, including you and your school.’

  ‘But I have left.’

  ‘Yes, but it could be said that The Crow’s Nest is an ideal spot for a lookout and that you took it on purpose to help them.’

  ‘No one who knows me would believe that and I am astonished that you could even think it.’

  ‘I did not say that was what I believed, did I? Do not be so swift to take offence, my lady. I am only pointing out what the world might say. And I collect you told me Sir Roland proposed using you to make Cecil conform, though whether that weighs with him or not, I do not know.’

  ‘I think he is a little afraid of them.’

  ‘Yes, I believe he is, which is one of the reasons I must do nothing to put you or the children in danger.’

  ‘Danger, surely not? Why would they want to trouble themselves with us?’ She did her best to sound convincing, but was not at all sure she had succeeded.

  ‘I sincerely hope they do not, but I beg you, please keep away from the beach and cliffs and make sure the children do not wander down there. They are desperate men.’

  ‘What, those three?’ She managed a light laugh, but a shudder passed through her. Sir Roland had not been specific, but the threat had been there. ‘They are all wind and no substance.’