The Betrothed (Cutter's Creek Book 7)

by Vivi Holt

  He smiled as he took in the beauty of their surroundings. Birds fluttered around, catching early morning insects in tiny beaks as they woke the countryside with their song. Sunshine peeked over the edge of a fluffy white cloud, thawing the frozen landscape. A cold wind hadn’t yet gotten up – it would bear down over the Lakes District after lunch, ushering in the cool of the evening. He watched as a kestrel hovered above him, its wings beating rapidly as it searched for any stray mice that might be sunning themselves on the open tundra.

  He felt movement at his shoulder and watched as Charlotte opened her eyes with a yawn. She bolted upright when she realized where her head was resting and wiped the corner of her mouth with one gloved hand. “Good morning,” she said, glancing around and attempting to straighten her hair.

  “Mornin’.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We’re about to pass through Lancaster.”

  “Oh. How long did I sleep?”

  “A few hours.”

  Before long, cottages sprung up around them as they rolled through the main thoroughfare of Lancaster. They clip-clopped over the Rune River, watching ducks and geese paddling beneath the bridge, Amber’s hoofbeats ringing out in the stillness of the quiet morning. Businesses opened their doors and locals watched them pass by with mild curiosity. Lancaster Castle peered down over them from atop a hill, its stone ramparts a testament to another era where height and thick walls meant security for those who sheltered there.

  Harry pulled Amber to a stop in front of a café and tied her to a railing. “Breakfast?” he asked, leaping from the wagon seat to the gravel below.

  “Yes, please,” said Camilla. She’d been woken by Harry’s sudden departure from the wagon and was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Charlotte nodded and climbed down with Camilla right behind her.

  The doors of the café were pushed open by a man who greeted them with a warm smile. “Good mornin’ to you. How can I help?”

  “Good mornin’ to you, as well. We’d love some breakfast.”

  “Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

  The three of them sat down at a table and waited in silence while their breakfast was cooked. Before long, the man brought three plates of steaming food to lay before them. They thanked him and dug in, each of them as famished as though it had been days since their last meal. The breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and a side of chips emitted a pleasant aroma that curled up to greet Harry, and his stomach growled with hunger. They ate quickly, savoring the hearty flavors.

  But Charlotte soon began to feel queasy. “Oh …”

  “What is it?” asked Camilla, biting into a crispy chip.

  “I’m not used to this much food for breakfast. Mary only lets me eat a small roll or croissant most mornings, with some hot chocolate. I’m afraid I’ve eaten a bit much. I was so hungry …”

  “Have you decided yet what you’re going to do?” interrupted Harry, attacking a piece of crispy bacon, his fingers covered with grease.

  Charlotte raised an eyebrow at him before responding, “I’m going to Birkenhead with you. Didn’t we establish that last night?”

  Harry stopped eating and stared at her with narrowed eyes. “Yes, but I thought you’d come to your senses in the light of day.”

  “Come to my senses? I was never out of my senses. Aren’t you running away, just the same as me?”

  “Yes, but we have good reason. You don’t want to leave your family behind and travel to the other side of the world where you’ll be nobody and nothin’ to no one, now do you?” He was trying to reason with her, but could see the color rising in her cheeks as he spoke.

  “I have just as good a reason as you do.”

  “Which is?”

  “None of your business. Just know that I am headed to America and I won’t be changing my mind about it.”

  “All right. Fine with me. I just thought you’d want to rethink it, given your situation.”

  “What is my situation, exactly?”

  “Well … you’re engaged to a duke, you live in a big mansion of a house with everythin’ you could ever want at your fingertips. It’s a life most people can only dream of. Why on Earth would a lady like you want to go to America all alone?”

  Camilla watched Charlotte with interest, both of them curious to understand why she was running and what she was running from.

  Charlotte blushed and dropped her eyes to her plate, wiping her fingers clean on a napkin which she then dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want to be married. I do love my family and I would be happy to stay there forever if they’d let me. But they insist I marry the Duke, and he insists I become someone I’m not. So there you have it. I want my freedom, and to get it I have to leave. I don’t know if you can understand that, and frankly I don’t care. We don’t have to be friends, and whether or not you come with me, I’m going to America.” She lifted her chin, a stubborn glint in her blue eyes.

  Harry’s face broke into a grin. “I guess we can understand that.” He glanced at Camilla.

  Camilla nodded and smiled. “Well, I for one am glad that you’re here with us. It’s awfully nice to have another woman along for the journey. We’ll have our work cut out for us keeping this one out of trouble.” She dipped her head in Harry’s direction, and Charlotte laughed.

  Harry watched her face light up as she and Camilla chattered together across their plates. He tried to stop himself, but he couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to hold Charlotte close in his arms and kiss her soft, full lips.

  He shook his head. The last thing he needed was someone like Charlotte to divert his attention. He and Camilla had a tough journey ahead of them and he needed to focus on getting them through it. Having Charlotte with them would be a distraction, and with her background she’d likely need a lot of assistance and pandering just to get through the day. Things which he didn’t want and could ill afford to do.

  His smile faded as he felt his heart rate increase just thinking about the way her head had leaned on his shoulder during the wagon ride. The sooner he and Camilla could part ways with Her Ladyship, the better.

  Chapter Twelve

  The hustle and bustle of Birkenhead made Charlotte feel immediately uncomfortable. In the distance she heard the shrill shriek of a whistle as it cut through the noise of horses and carts that hurried up and down the street beside them. Men, women and children strode or ran in every direction. Shouts filled the air and the aroma of dust, mold and manure mingled into an overwhelming fragrance. She huddled closer to Harry’s side and dipped her hat to shield her face from the glare of the sun and the stare of strangers. “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

  Harry shook his head. “No, I’m just followin’ the road until we come to a river. I imagine that will lead us right to the docks.”

  They’d spent the past three days traveling along various roads, lanes and thoroughfares, making their way to Liverpool and beyond it to Birkenhead and the steamer docks. They’d stayed at inns along the way, Harry and Charlotte playing the part of a newlywed couple traveling with his sister to see relatives in Liverpool.

  All three of them had shared a room, which was unfortunate from Charlotte’s perspective. But as Harry had pointed out, it couldn’t be helped. And anyway, it made Charlotte feel safer than she would have alone. Harry had been the perfect gentleman, sleeping on the floor on his side, facing away from the women, while they shared the bed.

  She wondered for the umpteenth time what she’d been thinking, running off by herself. Would she have made it this far without Harry and Camilla? Where would she have gone? Perhaps she’d have changed her mind and headed back home as soon as the sun rose had she been on her own. Right now, she’d have been explaining her sudden departure to the Duke, and no doubt it would put her firmly outside his good graces. He might even call off the engagement.

  She thought about the possibility for a moment. Should she go home? But as the thought settled in her mind, she knew
that even if the Duke did end their engagement, her parents wouldn’t give up the idea of her marrying well and would have her married off to the next duke or baron who glanced her way.

  They happened upon the river suddenly. It stood, flowing wide and fast between Liverpool and Birkenhead. From across the water they heard the whistle again, shrilly piercing through the air and joining the cacophony of noise around them.

  “There it is, do you see it?” Camilla straightened and lifted her arm to point ahead.

  Charlotte could see the outline of what looked like a steamer’s smokestack. The dark funnel jutted above a squat building on the horizon and smoke wafted from the top of it, billowing along on the wind before disappearing from view. “Yes, I see it,” she said, excitement buzzing inside her.

  They clattered across a large bridge built with timber boards joined end to end, wide enough for two wagons to pass each other in opposite directions and high enough to give passage to the small river boats that skimmed by below. “What are your plans – you know, when you get to America?” Charlotte asked, her hand shading her eyes as she studied the horizon.

  Harry’s eyes drifted to her, then back to the road again before he answered. “We have an uncle in the West. A little town called Cutter’s Creek, in Montana Territory. We’re going to stay in New York awhile until we save enough money, then we’re going to head across the country to join him. Hopefully he’ll be able to help us get established over there. What about you? Do you have family there?”

  Charlotte’s eyes fell. “No, I don’t know anyone there. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

  Harry and Camilla exchanged a concerned look. “Well, perhaps we should all stick together when we disembark – just until we’re settled,” said Camilla, patting Charlotte’s hand with her own.

  “That sounds fine,” Charlotte felt her spirits lift at the thought. “I would like that.”

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do with the horse?” asked Harry.

  “The horse? Oh, you mean Amber … well, I guess I thought I’d take her with me. I can’t go without Amber – she’s the only family I have left.”

  Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced at Camilla again.

  Before long they arrived at the port. A steamer floated in one of the berths, dwarfing the other vessels nearby. The smokestack, which they’d seen from a distance, loomed high above their heads, and passengers filed on board using a gangplank with looping rope railings to steady themselves.

  They stopped in front of the office and Harry climbed down, then helped the women from the wagon seat. He pulled the luggage from the back of the wagon and arranged it on the footpath in front of the office. Charlotte adjusted her hat and checked her purse for the cash she’d stowed there. She had plenty to get through the ocean journey without selling any of her valuables.

  Harry and Camilla picked up their rucksacks, and Charlotte grasped one end of her trunk and pulled it forward. She followed Harry and Camilla into the office and stood in line at the ticket counter, puffing hard from the exertion of moving the heavy trunk on her own. “Oh, I forgot to get my parasol from the back of the wagon! I’ll just be a moment,” she said. Harry nodded and Charlotte scurried back outside.

  The wagon wasn’t parked in front of the office where they’d left it only moments earlier. A buggy was parked there and an impatient couple were pushing past her toward the ticket counter. “Where is my wagon?” she asked.

  They didn’t respond, the man harrumphed and the woman sighed with aggravation. “Excuse me, please.”

  Charlotte stepped aside and searched the busy street for a sign of Amber and the wagon. They were nowhere to be seen. She ran back inside the office, a sob threatening to burst from her throat. “Harry, Camilla, please help – Amber is gone.”

  “Gone – what do you mean? We only just left her.” Camilla’s eyes widened and she and Harry rushed after Charlotte, back onto the street. Harry ran down the road, in the direction of the town, but could find no sign of Charlotte’s horse or wagon.

  He strode back to Charlotte, his eyes filled with pity. “I’m sorry, Lady Charlotte. She’s gone. I couldn’t see any sign of her. I don’t know how she could have been taken so quickly, but there you have it.”

  Charlotte felt the tears weave their way down her cheeks. She cried silently as they made their way back inside and stood in line to purchase their tickets. Camilla held her arm all the while, patting it and sighing in consternation. “Never mind now, Lady Charlotte. She wouldn’t have liked traveling all that way on the ship, so maybe it’s for the best after all.”

  “Do you think so? I just don’t know what I’ll do without her. Oh, I never should have come, and now poor Amber will suffer because of my impulsiveness.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” said Harry. It was his turn at the counter, and he purchased tickets in third class for him and Camilla.

  “The lady’ll be in the women’s quarters and you’ll be in the men’s,” droned the cashier in a monotone. “You’re traveling aboard the SS Queenship. The ship embarks at fourteen hundred hours. Have a good trip.”

  Harry nodded and then his eyes widened. He spun around and grabbed Camilla and Charlotte by their arms, dipping his head.

  “What on Earth are you about?” hissed Charlotte, wrenching her arm free from his grasp.

  “Look over my shoulder.” He nodded vigorously back toward the ticket counter.

  Charlotte peered over his shoulder and saw a newspaper. It was pressed into a stand beside the counter. The Liverpool Daily Post had a large woodcut of a woman in a ball gown on the front page and a headline that read Missing from the Manor. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Oh dear,” said Camilla, “perhaps we ought to buy a copy to find out what’s happened?”

  Harry turned back to the cashier, who was becoming impatient with them. “I’ll have a copy of the Daily Post as well, if you please.” The cashier handed him the tabloid in exchange for a coin without so much as a glance at their faces.

  Charlotte stepped forward to purchase her ticket, buying passage in first class. Then the three of them hurried outside to read the article together:

  Lady Charlotte Beaufort was reported missing on Friday night. She had been in attendance at her engagement party to the Duke of Notherington at the time. No one was able to definitively say when she had disappeared, but the family has since reported the theft of several items of silver and jewelry from Beaufort Manor, as well as a horse and wagon. It is believed that Lady Charlotte may have been kidnapped against her will by the thief, and the police are appealing to the public for any information that might lead to her whereabouts.

  The Duke of Notherington said that he was distraught at the disappearance of his fiancée and he could not imagine why anyone would wish to do her harm on what should have been the happiest night of her life. He asks that whoever took her please return her, unharmed, to her home in Cambria.

  Lord and Lady Beaufort are offering a reward of one hundred pounds to anyone who can help them locate their beloved daughter. If you have information about Lady Charlotte’s disappearance, please contact Scotland Yard immediately. The Queen is most distressed at this report and has promised the full backing of the Crown in support of the Yard’s efforts to recover Lady Charlotte posthaste.

  Charlotte gaped at the article in horror. The Queen was getting involved? She hadn’t considered the idea that her parents would think she’d been kidnapped. She thought they’d quickly realize she just didn’t want to go ahead with the engagement and had run off. “Oh bother. Perhaps I should have left a note,” she said, rubbing her forehead with one gloved hand.

  “Might not have been a bad idea,” said Harry with a snort.

  “What should we do now?” asked Camilla.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting on that steamer,” said Harry, pointing to the ship idling in the harbor.

  “W
ell, so am I.” Charlotte straightened, with a look of determination on her face.

  “What about Scotland Yard?” asked Harry.

  “What about them? They won’t be on board, and if they are I’ll just tell them you’re my kidnapper.” She grinned at him with one eyebrow cocked.

  “You wouldn’t …”

  “Of course not, I’m just poking fun. I’ll tell them the truth and they’ll cart me away. But it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

  “Are you sure you still want to go?” asked Camilla, concern written across her dainty features.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want to marry the Duke, and you saw the article – he’s determined to marry me and my parents are determined to see me well married. No, there’s nothing for me here. I want a new start, and that’s just what I’ll get as soon as I step foot on that ship.”

  “Well, let’s go then,” said Harry with a grin. He picked up his and Camilla’s rucksacks and they set off toward the ship. Charlotte signaled to two porters to carry her trunk and followed behind them. She didn’t know what the future held, and that sent a thrill of excitement through her body. Not knowing was far better than knowing and despising one’s destiny, she thought as she strode toward the steamer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Charlotte sighed with frustration, and pulled at the strings on her corset again. She’d only ever dressed herself a few times - and that had been in her riding outfit when she was too impatient to wait for Mary or wanted to sneak out of the house. She didn’t bother with a corset at those times, but she wanted to wear one for her first dinner on board the SS Queenship.

  She sucked in a deep breath and pulled again, this time managing to tie the strings before she let her breathe out in a rush and lay back on the bed to recover. After a few moments, she stood again and reached for her petticoats, then her gown. She pulled it over her head, arms raised high. She struggled. Then stood still — she was stuck.