The Assembly

by Janet Woods

  The lake that had almost swallowed her was iced over. She shuddered, then laughed when a duck came flying from the air and skidded along its length. It landed, squawking and flapping about as it tried to keep its balance.

  She could barely see Adam’s home through the mist. She pictured him sleeping and smiled. ‘Let him sleep.’

  ‘Shush,’ she murmured, when her horse whinnied and was answered by another horse in the stable. Turning her horse around she headed for the oak tree, and gazed up into the dark tangle of branches. The tree trunk didn’t seem as tall as when she’d been a child. But perhaps it was because she was taller herself.

  Now there was iron spikes hammered into the trunk to serve as steps.

  ‘Keep still now Ladybird.’ Bunching her skirt into a knot, she scrambled into a crouching position on her mare’s back and reached up for the main fork. Using the spikes and a handy branch, she pulled herself up.

  ‘Now . . . which branch were you on?’

  Beneath her, her horse gently whickered.

  She found it easily . . . a heart, with their initials carved on it. But what was this? She stared at it in dismay. It was so freshly carved that the little chips of wood were still scattered around it. She couldn’t remember there being a heart before. Adam had outwitted her!

  Beneath her, restless grunts and snickers came from her mare. ‘All right, I’m coming . . . just stand still.’

  Getting up was one thing, getting down another. Her skirt caught on a spike.

  A smile burst from her when she thought: Perhaps Adam really did love her. A little thrill of happiness flooded her.

  When she looked down, her horse was no longer there. She must have wandered off. She couldn’t see her through the mist. ‘Ladybird,’ she called softly, and was relieved to hear her fretting below her. Charlotte lowered herself but her feet swung in empty air. ‘Oh Lord,’ she whispered, and gave a whistle to her horse, knowing it was probably too late as her skirt ripped free.

  By some miracle her toes touched against a warm body. As her hands lost their grip she was caught, and steadied by a pair of arms around her. A horse gave a squeal of protest and danced a little jig under them.

  Adam’s blue eyes gazed into hers and he smiled. ‘Were you looking for something, Lottie?’

  ‘Adam . . . what are you doing here?’

  ‘I live here . . . and you haven’t answered my question.’

  ‘You know what I was looking for. That’s a new carving.’

  ‘Of course it is. The old one will be at the top of the tree by now. Not only wouldn’t you be able to climb up there, I didn’t want you to be disappointed.

  Don’t fob me off for much longer, my Lottie.’

  His glance went to her mouth. He smiled, then his mouth brushed enticingly against hers. She didn’t resist. She was rapidly coming to the conclusion it was a waste of time.

  ***

  They were in London. Charlotte, Josephine and her two cousins were exchanging gossip in Susannah’s bedroom, resting before the engagement ball.

  Neither of her cousins had mentioned being in love, though were bent on outdoing each other.

  Susannah exchanged a smug smile with Edith. ‘I believe Jeffery’s salary amounts to several thousand pounds per annum. We shall live in London for most of the year and attend all the assemblies.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ Charlotte asked, but Susannah didn’t hear her above the trilling voice of Edith as she stood to shake the creases from her scalloped yellow silk.

  ‘My fiancé is pleasing to look at. Simon is handsome, and so well connected. He’s a cousin, twice removed, of The Marquis of Bartley. No doubt we’ll entertain frequently after we are wed.’

  ‘No doubt,’ Charlotte said. ‘But does he care for you?’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous, Charlotte. Why would a man proposed marriage if he didn’t. You just have to offer them a little encouragement. Allow him to steal an occasional kiss in the shadows.’

  Josephine piped up. ‘If you won’t have Lord Denby I’m going to marry him when I grow up. He kissed me on the forehead and called me his poppet.’

  ‘You most certainly are not, Josephine. He’s too old for you, and he’s a rogue.’

  ‘You’re saying that because you mistakenly thought that his Italian contessa was his lover, when she was actually some elderly great-aunt who wanted to see him before she died. How exciting for him to have inherited an Italian Villa. Perhaps he will invite us to stay there. I have heard that the sea is peacock blue, and the sun shines all day long.’

  ‘Perhaps he will move there and stay there. Besides, it was nothing to do with the Italian contessa.’

  Josephine grinned. ‘It wasn’t because Lottie made a fool over herself over that, but because the viscount was overcome by his passion for her last summer. He kissed Charlotte on the mouth and told her he’d wait for her forever.’

  Charlotte felt like boxing her Josephine’s ears when her cousins’ eyes filled with avid curiosity and they trilled almost in unison. ‘Adam Denby kissed you on the mouth? How thrilling and romantic.’

  ‘It was not thrilling or romantic at all, I assure you,’ she said, although she had to admit she was lying to herself. It could have been thrilling if she’d allowed her feelings to get the upper hand, which of course she hadn’t because she’d regarded Adam almost as a brother when they were growing up.

  ‘His breath tasted of brandy and he took a diabolical liberty. He deserved the slap it earned him.’

  ‘You slapped him?’ Edith said, her eyes now as round as dinner plates.

  ‘Across the face,’ Josephine said with great relish. ‘The boat turned over and she nearly drowned. Surely you’d heard. Charlotte was notorious for a while.’

  ‘I was not. Nothing was said between us. I had drunk to much punch and he became overbearing. It just blew over.’

  ‘Lord Danby didn’t want to embarrass Charlotte for hardly a word of the affair got out. My mamma said that the viscount’s regard for Charlotte is constant. He loves her, you see. My mamma said that she’s awfully mean to him, and will turn into a shrew if she’s not careful.’

  Josephine was in full flood. Sometimes she was as annoying a gossip as her mother was, Charlotte thought darkly.

  ‘Adam said if Lottie had been a man he would have challenged her to a duel for the insult. And Mrs Heatherington, who was in one of the punts and overheard everything, said she told Adam he was lower than a worm’s belly and he’d kissed too many other women in the past than was good for his reputation. She said she wouldn’t allow him to kiss her if her life depended on it, and if he wanted to duel she was quite capable of shooting him through the heart from forty paces, and with her eyes closed. And since he’d taught her how to shoot, he could be sure she wouldn’t miss.’

  Susannah clasped a hand dramatically to her bosom and turned pale, as if she was about to swoon into the billowing pink taffeta gown she wore. She swayed to the left and then to the right, and then backwards, where she subsided into a perfectly placed chair covered in blue damask. ‘What did Viscount Denby say to that?’

  Josephine grinned. ‘He laughed in that growly way he has, and he said she’d change her mind about him one day, and she said–’

  ‘Stop prattling, Josephine, do,’ Charlotte snapped. ‘You’re making most of this up, and you’re being a brat.’

  Josephine took no notice. ‘Charlotte told him he’d have to abduct her before she’d even consider marrying him. So he said he couldn’t recall asking her to accompany him to the altar, but if he did decide to wed her he wouldn’t take no for an answer and he might abduct her, at that.’ She sighed. ‘Adam’s so dashing and handsome. I do wish he’d steal a kiss from me.’

  Susannah became the voice of reason. ‘You’re too young to be kissed, Josephine, and you must not allow your head be turned by men such as Adam. He is conceited enough as it is, and his reputation as the Rogue of Hearts is founded on fact. When Charlotte attended his birthday ce
lebration he behaved abominably.’

  ‘Poor Charlotte,’ Edith twittered. ‘Even your large dowry cannot attract a suitor of good repute, or bad come to that, for it’s said that the viscount enjoys life too much to settle down. When Susannah and I become wives next year you will be left behind, a lonely spinster, and everyone will pity you.’

  Josephine leapt to her defence. ‘Lottie has had hundreds of offers of marriage, one from a Marquess, even. Though he was nearly eighty and died a week later, so he doesn’t really count. Then there was the squire . . . though he has become attached to Amanda Crawford since Lottie refused him, which proves he has a fickle heart. Charlotte could marry anyone she wanted if she put her mind to it, even Lord Denby. He told me he was just waiting for a sign of encouragement from her.’

  Susannah gave an unbelieving sniff. ‘Don’t tell untruths, Josephine. I’ll wager my cameo brooch that Adam couldn’t be tempted to offer Charlotte marriage, however much encouragement was offered to him. His love for her is pure, more like a brother.’

  His kiss hadn’t been so very pure that it had stirred up all sorts of mischief in her. She didn’t see why Adam wouldn’t offer for her, when she’d received several offers of marriage in the past. She’d refused them all, of course, telling herself she’d prefer to wait for her true love, rather than a man who wanted her for her dowry, alone. As a result, her stepmother despaired of her, and true love was proving illusive.

  ***

  April came in, borne on soft patters of rain and covered in daffodils.

  Baron Featherby had shrugged at his wife’s attempts to overcome Charlotte’s reluctance to be courted. ‘Charlotte isn’t ready to become a wife yet. I don’t mind at all if she isn’t interested in marriage. Obviously, she has yet to meet the right man. The more you push her the less likely she is to comply with your wishes.’

  Charlotte’s stepmother was not to be put off by her husband’s attitude. This evening they were holding a ball for Charlotte’s twenty-first birthday. There were bound to be offers. If not the viscount, then there would be somebody else. When the girl was safely married she would start looking for an advantageous match for her daughter, Josephine, who was, after all, seventeen.

  All the eligible men in London had been invited to the ball, from the ages of twenty through to seventy. It was the last of the season’s festivities, after which they would return to the Dorset estate, where bachelors of good breeding were harder to find than hen’s teeth.

  However, she had the viscount in her sights as the most likely. It was obvious he was attracted to Charlotte, despite the talk about his bachelor ways. He made her own heart flutter on occasion, though she adored her own husband.

  Lord Denby was an eminently suitable match. He owned the neighboring estate, so Charlotte wouldn’t be deprived of the company of her family. He spent the summer in Dorset, leaving the running of the estate in the hands of his steward.

  Indeed, most of his year was spent in London, where he was engaged in the business of shipping, and enjoyed all that life had to offer, if gossip was to be believed. And gossip usually was.

  But then . . . Agnes smoothed her hands down over her stomach knowing the smile that gazed back at her from the mirror concealed its own secret. She had a little surprise of her own to share with her husband - one that would please him.

  But not now, while Lord Denby was deep in conversation with her husband in his study. She could swear that the pair was up to something.

  ***

  Charlotte had known the game was up the moment that Adam had kissed her under the oak tree. ‘Holding this ball will make me appear as though I’m desperate,’ she said. ‘Half the men on your list have already been turned down. I shan’t attend it.’

  ‘You most certainly will,’ her stepmother said. ‘If you don’t, your father will send you to live with your aunt Maude in Cornwall for a while.

  The thought made Charlotte shudder, for her aunt lived in an ancient house and was a rather grey and sad-looking. She had visited her on one or two occasions as a child. She recalled that the house was miles from anywhere. It was cold and damp, and smelt of mice and of the cats that preyed on them. Aunt Maude had been kind to her though, and Cornwall was pretty.

  She’d rather marry Adam than be banished to Cornwall. Despite her growing love for him she felt as though she was being pushed, and resented the fact. If only she could believe that he loved her.

  She donned her new gown of hyacinth blue silk, which had a prettily embroidered three-tiered skirt. The low neckline with its lace collar framed her pale shoulders. The maid had just put the finishing touches to her hair, its curling darkness drawn into a coronet of blue silk flowers. She wore the little highwayman around her neck.

  If she could entice Adam to propose she could then turn him down. It would serve him right, and it would serve Susannah right to forfeit her brooch, for being so mean. Ashamed of herself, she dismissed the notion from her mind. Susannah was fond of her brooch, which had been a gift from her grandmother - of course she wouldn’t accept it.

  Charlotte’s reputation for being difficult to please didn’t seem to put men off. On the contrary, they seemed to find her reticence a challenge. She did want to marry and have children, but mostly she wanted to love and be loved in return.

  One would have thought such a thing achievable, but most men on her social level seemed more interested in obtaining a worthwhile dowry, whilst men like Adam Denby were charming womanizers who couldn’t be trusted. Adam was only charming on the surface, though, she thought, scowling into space. Underneath, he was the very devil. Hah! Her finger touched against her mouth and she wondered how she’d stood upright after that kiss he’d stolen from her under the oak tree. In fact, she would refuse to even dance with him tonight. And she would speak only to appear civil.

  She had not told her cousins everything. Some things were too embarrassing to even think about. But think about it she did.

  The angst she felt towards Adam went all the way back to their childhood. At the tender age of sixteen she’d been in love with him. She’d worshipped him and lived for the sight of him. She’d made a fool of herself by confessing her feelings.

  She’d expected him to fall on his knee and declare his love for her, which was something she’d dreamed of. Instead, he’d told her, quite curtly, that she was a child and much too young for him. The rest of the evening had been a nightmare for her, and she cried herself to sleep every night for the next six months, her heart shattered into little pieces.

  She turned to her step-sister, remembering how tenderhearted she’d been herself at that age, and fearing she’d been too harsh with her. Josephine was dressed in pale blue taffeta with a blue ribbon sash tied around her waist. She was being permitted to attend the ball until supper. ‘You look beautiful, my love. I’m sure mamma will allow you one or two dances if the partner is suitable. Do not drink the wine though, for at your age it will make you appear silly.’

  ‘Like it did you? Mamma has already lectured me on the perils of spirituous liquor, and using you as an example,’ Josephine said gloomily. ‘I must not talk too much, laugh too loudly, make rude faces behind the dowagers’ backs or catch the eyes of men.’ She giggled, ‘as if they throw their eyes about the room for sport. Oh yes, and I mustn’t tell vulgar jokes which make me appear pert, and neither must I fidget. Have I forgotten anything?’

  Charlotte laughed, and fingered the little highwayman around her neck. ‘Not that I can think of.’

  ‘Good, then let us go down, because I have only until supper and the music has already begun. Adam has promised me his very first dance. He said I’m a lady in training, so he’ll allow me to trample all over his feet without complaint.’

  ‘It is more likely he’ll trample all over yours,’ she growled. Or her sister’s heart.

  But Adam Denby danced like a dream, partnering Josephine in a lively eightsome. Josephine glowed with pride because she’d remembered the steps Charlotte had been teach
ing her for the past month. Adam kissed her sister’s hand before handing her back to her mamma, a proud smile on her face.

  Charlotte kept her eyes on Adam as she sauntered around the room, avoiding him and exchanging pleasantries with their guests. A head taller than the other men, he stood by a pillar with one of his friends, his glance moving lazily over the crush. She turned away to exchange a few word with a dowager, then spreading her fan across her face, slowly turned back.

  His smoky glance was on her and a smile touched his mouth when their glances collided. Feeling her face heat she drew in a sharp breath. Clad in an immaculate black cutaway jacket, stirrup trousers and a frilled shirt, and with his dark hair waving softly over his ears - Adam looked commandingly handsome. No wonder women gave him such languishing looks.

  Charlotte checked she was not being so foolish herself, though she was feeling a little panicked by his presence after her last encounter with him. She turned to move away from him, only to find his gaze on her from every angle.

  Did he have to make himself so obvious? She thought angrily, as people began to look in her direction and smile. They would imagine that Adam loved her.

  Finally, she could stand it no longer and made her way over to him. ‘Must you stare so?’

  ‘Was I staring?’

  ‘You know you were.’

  ‘I was thinking of how pretty and animated Josephine looks. She is a delightful child at the moment, but will break hearts in a couple of years.’

  Dismay clutched her. ‘Surely you’re not thinking of my sister in such terms.’

  ‘The freshest fruit is plucked from the vine early - or so the saying goes’

  ‘You’re insulting, My Lord.’

  He grinned widely. ‘If you’d allow me to complete the sentence, I was about to add - but I prefer the fruit when it’s ripened into sweetness.’

  ‘Oh!’