Ten Guineas on Love

by Claire Thornton

  Charity looked at him doubtfully. She thought he seemed amused, but she couldn’t understand why and she wasn’t sure what to say next. She glanced ahead and then pointed towards some roof-tops just becoming visible over the brow of the hill.

  “Look, we’re nearly there,” she said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Well, you’ve met Jerry now. Are you going to give him the lease?” Charity asked as they rode back across the field to Hazelhurst.

  “Yes, I think so,” Jack replied. “I’d say you summed him up very accurately earlier.”

  “I’m so glad!” Charity exclaimed. “What a relief it will be to Mrs Burden. She’s very anxious about the changes Lord Ashbourne might want to make when he takes over. The Burdens have a twenty-oneyear lease, you know, but it has only four years left to run. Of course, I always intended to renew it, but now…Still, at least they won’t have to worry about Jerry any more.”

  “Yes, it’s a difficult time for everyone,” Jack said quietly, not that he had ever doubted it, but his conversation with Sam and Jerry Burden had confirmed it very forcefully.

  He and Charity had met the Burdens just outside their house and, after introducing them to each other, Charity had left the three men alone together while she went in to see Mrs Burden. It was only after the business part of their discussion had been concluded that Sam had invited Lord Riversleigh into the house.

  For Jack it had been an enlightening meeting in more ways than one. Not only had he come to the conclusion that Guthrie and Charity were right in their assessment of the younger Burden’s capabilities, but he had also learnt far more about Charity. He had always suspected that beneath her somewhat scatter-brained exterior she had a great deal of common sense, but he had not hitherto realised just how much she had had to do with management of Hazelhurst. Both Sam and Jerry clearly held her in great respect, not only because of who she was, but also because of her hard work and diligence in doing everything she could to improve the estate.

  Jack was no fool and, despite the fact that nothing had openly been said, he had guessed that Mr Mayfield had been an indifferent landlord. From various sources he had gained the impression that Charity’s father had been a man of grand visions and generous impulses, but that he had always lacked the stamina or patience to see his plans through to their completion. During his lifetime Mr Mayfield had probably never realised how much Charity had contributed to the smooth running of his affairs—and since his death she had dealt with everything.

  “You must find it very galling, having to give up Hazelhurst after all the work you’ve put into it,” Jack said quietly, putting his thoughts into words.

  Galling! It’s more than…” Charity broke off sharply, biting her lip in vexation. “Let’s race!” she exclaimed. “I haven’t had a good gallop for days. To the oak in the next field.” She touched her heel to the mare’s side as she spoke and suddenly the sleepy air left the grey horse. She sprang forward like a charger.

  Lord Riversleigh was taken by surprise and the bay skittered nervously sideways—then Jack had him under control and was urging him on.

  The grey mare was running like a steeplechaser, anxious for the first jump, and for a moment Jack thought she was bolting. Sudden fear for Charity filled him and he leant forward, urging the bay on in an effort to overtake her—but the grey mare hated to be passed, and when she heard the thunder of hoofs behind her she put back her ears and lengthened her stride.

  They were approaching a thick hawthorn hedge, not an impossible obstacle, but challenging, and from their outward journey Jack remembered that the drop on the other side was longer than on the take-off.

  He was still convinced that the mare had run away with Charity and he forced the bay on, intending to turn the grey before she took the jump. Then the horses were abreast and, as he glanced sideways at Charity, he saw that she had the mare under complete control. He felt a surge of anger at the alarm she had caused him; then he concentrated on the jump. Both horses thundered on towards the hedge—there was a heart-stopping silence as they took off at almost the same moment, and then they both landed safely.

  At that point Jack stopped worrying about Charity and turned his attention to winning the race. The bay was willing, and Jack a clever horseman, but the grey mare wouldn’t give up and both horses went past the oak tree together.

  In the distance, the groom trotted sedately on, heading for the gate. He was grinning to himself, thinking what a fright Miss Charity must have given his lordship—he couldn’t know that she was the best horsewoman in Sussex. Gregory was partial, of course, but then most people who worked for Charity were.

  Charity slowed the mare to a walk and leant forward, patting her neck.

  Jack drew alongside her, his first impulse to give vent to his anger at the alarm she had caused him. Then he remembered the expression on her face just before she’d set the grey mare running and changed his mind.

  “That is a remarkably deceptive animal, Miss Mayfield!” he exclaimed.

  Charity laughed; her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with excitement.

  “She looks as if she’s so tired that she’s in danger of tripping over her own feet, doesn’t she?” she said. “But she runs like an angel, and when she hears the huntsman’s horn she goes away like a demon. She was Papa’s horse and everyone told him he was a fool to buy her, but the first time he rode her she went at a jump so hard that she threw him and finished the hunt on her own, up with the leaders to the end. Then she came quietly back to the stable for her hot mash like a true veteran. Sir Humphrey was most impressed. He’s tried to buy her several times, but Papa wouldn’t sell. How did you know?”

  “Miss Mayfield?” The bay was fidgeting, excited by the race, and Jack soothed him.

  “Even Guthrie doesn’t really understand,” Charity continued, sitting easily as the mare stretched out her neck and shook her head. “He thinks it’s sad that we must lose our home—but that’s all. He told me the other day that he thinks it’s a good thing that I won’t have to worry about the estate any more—as if it ought to come as a relief to me! As if I ought to be glad to hand over everything I’ve worked for to someone else! Someone who won’t even care!”

  She turned her head away as she finished speaking, but the anguish in her voice was unmistakable, and painful to hear.

  “I knew how you felt, because I know how I’d feel if the same thing happened to me,” Jack said quietly.

  Her distress wrenched at his heart and he wanted to take her in his arms to comfort her; but he knew that, at that moment, her thoughts were far away from him, and he was reluctant to do, or say, anything which might upset her even more.

  For a second or two longer Charity continued to gaze away across the fields, then she turned and looked at him—and saw in his eyes that he really did understand. She felt the tears threaten and instinctively put up her hand to cover her eyes. Until that moment she’d received a great deal of sympathy—but no one had really understood how she felt. She’d never expected that they would.

  “Miss Mayfield?” Jack said gently.

  “Sometimes I feel so angry,” she said, without looking at him, and dashed the tears from her cheeks. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right to feel so angry.”

  “I’d be angry—very angry. There’s no reason to feel guilty. It’s a measure of how much you care,” Jack said.

  “Perhaps. But it’s not…Well, never mind, there’s no point in talking about it. Shall we go on, my lord?”

  “In a minute.” Jack leant forward and took hold of the grey mare’s bridle, drawing her to a halt. “What were you about to say?”

  “Nothing important.” Charity tried unsuccessfully to laugh. “I’m sure we should be going, my lord. You must have a great many things to do.”

  “Nothing that won’t wait.” Jack released the mare’s bridle, but he didn’t encourage the bay to walk on. “I’m not trying to force your confidence, but I’m usually considered a good listener—
and I’m not easily shocked.”

  “Do you think I’m going to say something shocking?” Charity tried to smile, but there wasn’t much humour in her expression.

  “No.” Jack’s voice was deeper than ever, slow and curiously reassuring.

  “I’m angry with Papa!” she bursts out, and felt a sudden, overwhelming relief that she’d finally told someone what she was really thinking. She knew that most of the neighbourhood were probably harbouring critical thoughts about her father, but until that moment she had never done anything but defend him. Even to herself she’d tried to make excuses for what he’d done.

  “I’m angry with Papa,” she said again, more temperately, “and then I’m angry with myself. Because I know what he was like. How can I be angry with him for being himself? And he’s not even here to defend himself.”

  “No. But he should be, shouldn’t he?” said Jack. “It wasn’t fair to leave you in such a fix.”

  Charity looked at him, shaken by how accurately he had guessed her feelings.

  “How did you know?” she whispered.

  Jack smiled wryly. “It seemed like a natural reaction,” he said. “You’re too hard on yourself. How did he die?”

  “He was shot by a highwayman. By all accounts it was the most farcical situation. Typical of Papa.” Charity tried to laugh, but Jack knew she wasn’t far from tears. “He was on his way home when he came across a coach being held up by three highwaymen. Being Papa, he couldn’t ignore it, so he decided to intervene. Apparently he charged down on them, shouting like a madman and waving his pistol. I can almost see him doing it.” She smiled affectionately. She had happy as well as sad memories of her father.

  “He was trying to take them by surprise, of course,” she continued, “and he did. At first it looked as if everything was going to turn out all right—but one of the highwaymen couldn’t control his horse at all. They said afterwards that he’d never meant to fire, that his pistol had gone off by accident—but Papa was in the way.”

  “He must have been a brave man,” said Jack.

  “For getting shot!” Charity flashed, and there was hostility in the glance she threw at Jack. She was afraid he was mocking her.

  “No,” said Jack equably. “For trying to help. The odds were against him, were they not?”

  “Yes.” Charity looked down. “Poor Papa; somehow they always were. I think we should go back now, my lord.” She shortened her reins and chirruped to the mare.

  Jack brought the bay round and they began to walk slowly back to Hazelhurst.

  For a moment neither of them spoke; then, without looking at Jack, Charity said, “Thank you. I’m sure I shouldn’t have said some of the things I have, and I hope you will forget that I did, but…well, thank you.” She glanced at him briefly as she finished speaking, then looked away again.

  “I was honoured by your confidence,” Jack replied quietly, and he meant it. “As to the rest…my memory is at your disposal.”

  Charity looked at him gravely for a moment, then she smiled, as warmly and as openly as a daisy might unfurl its petals in the morning sun.

  Jack looked down at her, unable to take his eyes from her face. Ever since he had met her Charity had been trying to manipulate events in her favour—even now she was busy trying to inveigle Owen Leydon into marrying her—yet Jack could not remember ever having met such an honest woman. It was a quality he prized highly. He knew how difficult it could be to speak the truth, or to say what one really felt, without fear of ridicule or censure. A friend with whom one could be oneself, without pretence, was a friend worth knowing—and a woman with whom one could be oneself…

  Charity saw the warmth in his eyes and turned her head away. She felt embarrassed and vaguely uncomfortable, yet at the same time reassured. She could not remember ever having spoken so openly to anyone before and she felt very vulnerable, yet it never occurred to her that she couldn’t trust Jack with her secrets. She knew he could be relied on not to hurt or betray her; she didn’t even wonder how she knew. And he had helped her, not because he had offered trite words of sympathy, but because he had understood her mixed feelings towards her father. He had not been shocked or horrified, and that meant a great deal to her.

  On the other hand, she was afraid that he might pursue the subject, and she didn’t want that. She had already opened herself up far more than she had intended and she needed time to adjust, and to regain her equilibrium. She began, with a hint of awkwardness in her manner, to discuss his plans for Riversleigh, and felt a sudden surge of relief when he answered in kind. But it was only when she saw Owen in the distance that she finally lost her self-consciousness and was once more completely herself.

  “There’s Owen!” she exclaimed. “I quite forgot, he’s coming to see me today.”

  Yet, despite the fact that this was what she had wanted, she felt a tinge of regret as she realised that now she would have to cut short her conversation with Lord Riversleigh. Then she told herself severely that she had more important concerns to think about than her own pleasure. She had made her decision to save Hazelhurst and it was not Jack but Owen who was going to help her do it. She should be pleased to see Owen.

  “You’re back on speaking terms, then?” Jack said, a hint of amusement in his voice—he still didn’t take her matrimonial plans entirely seriously.

  “Of course we are!” Charity pulled herself together, chiding herself for having let her mind wander. “He came to see me yesterday evening just to apologise. I was very relieved; it saved a great deal of time.”

  “So you’re going ahead with your scheme?” Jack asked.

  “Well, of course!” She sounded surprised that he should have doubted it. “I never give up something once I’ve started! I wasn’t immediately sure how to proceed, but I had a brilliant idea last night, and now I’m afraid your ten guineas are in great jeopardy.”

  “Are they, indeed? And may I ask what your brilliant idea is?” Jack said. “Have you decided to tell him about your inheritance, after all?”

  “Certainly not,” said Charity firmly. “The money wouldn’t make any difference to Owen.”

  Even as she spoke she wondered if she was right, but she pushed the thought aside as unworthy of both Owen and herself.

  “It might even have the opposite effect,” she said. “He can be very stubborn. No, my idea was completely different, but I’m not sure I ought to tell you.” She looked at him doubtfully. “You might try to make me lose the bet.”

  “Miss Mayfield!” Jack said, outraged. “Are you suggesting I might cheat?” But even as he spoke he realised that that was precisely what he intended to do—though he wasn’t yet prepared to admit as much to his companion.

  For a moment Charity was taken aback—the haughty indignation in Jack’s voice was so real that she was suddenly reminded of how grand he had seemed on their first meeting—then she saw the twinkle in his eye and relaxed.

  “Please accept my apologies…” she began formally, then interrupted herself almost immediately. “Oh, good heavens! He’s almost upon us! You must know I asked him to give me his advice with all the arrangements I have to make. He was immensely flattered, and I have great hopes for our meeting this afternoon.”

  “And do you wish for his advice?” Jack asked mildly.

  “Of course not,” Charity replied. “But that’s not important. He’ll think I need his advice, and that’s what counts.”

  “You don’t think that’s rather a poor basis for a lifelong partnership?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t see why. As long as he leaves the management of everything to me, I dare say we’ll do splendidly,” Charity said firmly.

  “Poor fellow,” said Jack provocatively. “Perhaps I ought to warn him of the dreadful fate in store for him.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Charity exclaimed hotly. “It would be…it would be…”

  “Ungentlemanly?” Jack suggested helpfully as she cast around for a word strong enough to condemn such underhand c
onduct.

  “Worse than that,” she began darkly, but Owen was already within earshot and she had to turn her attention to him.

  Owen had sacrificed a day’s sport to ride over to help Charity. Consequently he felt rather aggrieved to find her jaunting about the countryside with a total stranger as if she hadn’t a care in the world. His manner was decidedly stiff as he greeted Charity and her escort and, when he found out who Jack was, he became quite hostile.

  “Lord Riversleigh, eh?” he said, looking at Jack suspiciously. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, my lord. Will you be staying in Sussex long?”

  “I’m not entirely sure,” Jack replied, amused rather than offended by Owen’s ungraciousness. He found it impossible to imagine Charity united in blissful wedlock with this hot-headed young man.

  “But I certainly have unfinished business that will keep me here until the end of the month,” he continued.

  “Unfinished business?”

  “A contract,” Jack explained, a slight chill in his polite voice, “the terms of which cannot be fulfilled until the end of February.”

  He heard Charity gasp as she realised he was talking about their wager, but he gave no indication of his amusement as he continued smoothly, “I won’t bore you with the details. Are you much interested in business, Mr Leydon?” He raised his eyebrows, a faint, and not altogether encouraging, smile on his lips.

  Owen looked into the cool grey eyes and suddenly felt rather hot. He knew that somehow he had been put at a disadvantage and he was afraid that his annoyance with the stranger had led him beyond the bounds of courtesy.

  “No, no, not at all,” he stammered. He was angry with himself, and angrier still with Jack, but most of all he was angry with Charity. He thought that he had been made to look a fool, and he was sure it was her fault.

  “We’ve been over to see the Burdens,” Charity explained. “Lord Riversleigh is going to lease Bellow’s farm to Jerry, and I went with him to show him the way.”