The Assembly

by Janet Woods

‘Dance the waltz with me, Charlotte. It will be your punishment for misunderstanding me.’

  ‘I do not believe it was a misunderstanding. You’re clever with words, and are not only manipulative, but provocative on the occasions when we meet.’

  ‘And you’re fast gaining the disposition of a shrew,’ he said almost casually. ‘I have better things to employ my mind than to plot ways of upsetting you, especially when I only have to look at you to earn myself a frown.’

  She gasped at that. ‘You cannot deny you kissed me last summer, nearly causing me to drown.’

  ‘Oh that,’ and his eyes became troubled. ‘I gave you cause to strike me, and that resulted in your near drowning. I would rather have drowned myself than cause such distress in you. But still I remember the kiss, which was less trivial than it was meant to be.’

  Her mouth was still alive with the memory of it? Oh, he was so casual and infuriating about such things! ‘It was not trivial to me, I assure you, though I preferred the kiss under the oak tree. It was more like the friendship we shared, and which I mourn now it’s gone.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it.’ He grinned and held out his arm to her. ‘Will you dance with me or not, my Lottie? The waltz is listed as the next dance on your card. See, the dance floor is empty because nobody is brave enough to be first. Shall we shock the guests and encourage speculation about us, for you’re becoming almost as notorious as I, even if for different reasons.’

  There was the spark of a challenge in his eyes now, one she couldn’t ignore. She smiled and nodded. ‘It might discourage prospective suitors from petitioning my father, at that.’

  There was a buzz of talk when he led her on to the empty floor. He nodded to the orchestra and the music began. He seemed to be an expert at this modern dance, with its sequences of graceful dips and turns. Charlotte had been practicing it with Josephine and found it easy to read Adam’s moves, though there were audible whispers from the older guests because of their bodily closeness. They danced well together, and were soon joined by other younger couples. Josephine was being whirled around in the arms of Charlotte’s father. There was a smattering of applause when it ended.

  Adam’s smile was a shade too personal. ‘You’ve been avoiding me all evening. Lottie.’

  ‘You flatter yourself, Adam. Why should I avoid you?’

  ‘I have asked myself that several times. Why should little Lottie, who I have always adored, avoid me?’

  ‘I’m no longer a child, Adam, and my name is Charlotte. Not Lottie. Only my papa and sister call me that.’

  ‘You will always be Lottie to me.’ He offered her his arm. ‘You look warm. May I escort you to the refreshment room for some lemonade?’

  About to refuse, she remembered Susannah’s wager and smiled. He appeared faintly bemused when she took his arm. A buzz of talk animated the room when he led her away. When he smiled his eyes crinkled at the corners in a manner familiar to her. His lips twisted with amusement. ‘They cannot believe you’ve shown some interest in a man, at last.’

  She slanted him a glance, said sweetly. ‘What makes them think I’m showing an interest in you when I’m merely being sociable?’

  His chuckle was filled with warmth. ‘You haven’t been sociable to me for months. Of late I have been puzzling over why, when we liked each other so much as children.’

  ‘And you have not discovered the reason, as yet?’

  ‘Be sure, I shall. Then I shall set about putting things right between us.’ When they reached the refreshment buffet he gazed at her with a challenging smile. ‘Would you prefer punch to lemonade?’

  ‘Lemonade,’ she said in haste, because she wasn’t going to risk the same mistake twice.

  ‘Ah yes . . . I recall, you never handled yourself very well when you’d been drinking punch. It gave you false courage.’ He took a glass of lemonade from a manservant and led her to a sofa in an alcove. Once seated, he handed it to her. ‘The first time you had just turned sixteen, and you behaved indiscreetly. It was rather embarrassing for me at the time, as I recall.’

  ‘Hah!’ she said, feeling the color drain from her cheeks. ‘You must be a monster to draw my attention to that night, especially since your own behavior left so much to be desired. You broke my heart.’ She placed her drink on a side table and turned away from him, stricken by the reminder that she’d made such a fool of herself by telling him she loved him.

  Why hadn’t she thought? Of course, it would have been embarrassing for him, too. She’d been a child confessing her love for a grown man, and he hadn’t known how to handle it.

  ‘Lottie?’ he said softly, and turned her back to face him. ‘You need not be ashamed of what happened all those years ago. I was touched by your confession, but in my youth, I handled it clumsily.’

  ‘I was a child who’d had her feelings trampled on,’ she said. ‘You were my hero, Adam. But we shall talk of it no more.’

  ‘So that’s it,’ he said softly. ‘All these years you’ve despised me because of what happened then . . . and I thought it was because of that incident last summer. I’ve been waiting for you all this time, trying to think of some way to make amends, unaware that I rode roughshod over your most tender feelings when you were so young. I have never known what was amiss between us.’

  ‘Now you do. I believed myself in love with you Adam. I acted foolishly, as the young tend to. Quite rightly, you rebuked me at the time, but in front of your friends, who all laughed at me. It was horridly embarrassing. Now I feel I cannot trust you. I’m grateful you did not tell my father.’

  ‘But I did tell him.’

  Aghast, she stared at him.

  ‘I told him when I asked for your hand in marriage, shortly afterwards.’

  She felt her eyes widen even more.

  ‘He said young ladies often fall in love too soon, then live to regret it. He said I was immature in my ways, and so were you. He said we must wait to see if what we both felt for each other developed into something lasting, for he would not have you unhappy.’

  ‘Adam, I didn’t know,’ she murmured, her heart behaving very strangely. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck and claimed her mouth, in a kiss both loving and sensual. She didn’t resist, just gave into the very strange feelings coursing through her, wondering if she still loved him, despite the denials to herself? When she gazed into his eyes afterwards she knew she did. The expression in them was one of smoky intensity, like hot embers glowing beneath ashes.

  ‘Kiss me again,’ she said with a smile.

  Somebody began to clap. She turned to see Adam’s companion pull something from his waistcoat pocket. A sovereign spun through the air in an arc as he drawled. ‘You won our wager, then. Adam. You’ve thawed the ice-maiden. Has she a kiss to spare for me, as well?’

  There was a roaring in her ears as she stared at Adam, stricken by his betrayal of her once again. The music became a dim memory when she stood.

  ‘Lottie,’ he said quietly, ‘This isn’t what you think. The wager was made a long time ago.’

  ‘I loathe you. I never want to see you again,’ she said, and saw him flinched at the coldness of her tone. Standing, she walked unhurriedly from the refreshment room, past Adam’s grinning friend and over to where her father stood. Her face felt frozen, her senses were numb, except for a huge lump blocking the back of her throat.

  ‘I feel unwell and must retire, Papa. Please offer my apologies to the guests.’

  Her father’s gazed went past her to Adam. ‘I’ll send your stepmother up to you.’

  She passed Adam, shrugging off the restraining hand he placed on her arm, and without looking at him. The staircase seemed a mile long and her knees grew weaker with each step upwards.

  Her room was a welcome refuge. Sinking on to the bed she burrowed her face into the pillow, burst into tears and sobbed until she could sob no more. She looked up when the door opened.

  Her stepmother came in, her lips pursed. She was sparing with her sympathy. ‘You
only have yourself to blame, Charlotte. Still, no harm done. Your papa has talked to the viscount and - despite the wager, which I might add was made years ago and which Lord Denby had quite forgotten - he is convinced of his sincerity and has given him permission to pay court to you. Whatever you may think of the viscount, he will make you a good husband. Most girls would fall at his feet.’ She gave a sudden, gleeful smile. ‘A viscount, no less. Everyone will be invited to the wedding, of course.’

  ‘Pray do not bother on my account,’ Charlotte interjected coldly and, remembering the wager offered by Susannah, grasped upon it as a method to save her own embarrassment. ‘Adam has not asked me to wed him. If he does I shall refuse him. You see, I had a wager of my own with Susannah that I could entice Adam to ask for my hand and then reject him.’

  ‘You wicked girl,’ her stepmother hissed. ‘You do not deserve to wed . . . indeed you do not. I shall inform your father of this outrage at once. I will insist that you be banished to Cornwall, and you shall leave tomorrow so I do not have to gaze on your ungrateful countenance again. To think a girl who I treated as my own would turn down marriage to a viscount. If your mother was still alive she would be ashamed of you.’ She flounced off, all of a huff and pother, locking the door behind her.

  The only person Charlotte saw between then and the next morning was her maid who came to dolefully pack her clothes in a trunk.

  Her father waited for her in the hall, his face calm. Not much flustered him. Charlotte gave him an appealing glance. ‘Can’t I, at least, say good-bye to Josephine?’

  ‘Your mamma will not relent, my dear. Better you go but it will not be for too long a time, I should imagine. We will be in Dorset for summer, and I’ll invite Maude to come and stay with us, probably permanently, because she must be lonely.’ He took her in his arms and hugged her tight. ‘Tell me, Charlotte . . . do you despise Adam Denby as much as you profess?’

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I have loved him for far too long to despise him. He has always been my hero,’ and a smile touched her mouth. ‘Remember the highwayman? That’s what Adam represented to me. But he’s changed.’

  ‘Ah, yes . . .’ he said, and his breath expelled in a long sigh of relief. ‘You have changed also, Lottie. You mustn’t be afraid of what you feel now. It’s part of growing up. I remember a time when you loved each other. But it was the wrong time. You were both too young, you in years, and he in mind-set.’

  ‘Now it is too late.’ She gazed sadly at the waiting carriage, at the coachman huddled in his warm, dark cloak. Neither was familiar to her. He must be taking her to the railway station, but it was rather early. ‘Cornwall is a long, way away,’ she said in a small voice, for her heart was breaking in two. ‘Do I have a companion for the journey?’

  ‘Your maid.’ Her papa gave her a small smile. ‘Do you trust to my judgement, Lottie?’

  ‘Of course, when have you ever been wrong about anything?’ He was being totally wrong now in sending her away, but she loved him too much to tell him so or show her distress.

  ‘Be assured, daughter. I believe I have made the arrangements I feel are best for your future. Listen to your heart, remember I love you and do not hate me for it.’

  One final hug and he walked her to the carriage, kissed her good-bye and went back up the stairs to the front door. He lifted a hand to wave at the driver, who set the carriage in motion as the door closed behind him.

  ***

  They had been on the road for half an hour. It was still early. Mist writhed up from the ground in floating layers, creeping about the trees and undergrowth like ghostly wraiths. Charlotte tapped on the roof. ‘How much longer will it take us to get to the station?’

  The driver’s reply was muffled.

  Charlotte’s maid was asleep in a corner when a pistol shot jerked her awake. The carriage was brought to a sudden halt and they both went flying to the floor.

  Someone roared, ‘Stand and deliver!’

  Scrambling upright, Charlotte stuck her head out of the window to see a masked man astride a horse. Her temper rising, she plucked off her shoe and waved it threateningly at him. ‘If you come any closer I’ll box your ears, you impudent devil.’

  The man threw back his head, laughed, and edged his horse forward. His eyes were pewter bright and alight with laughter. He was an imposing figure, well dressed. His pistols bore an intricate patterning of silver. Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. There was something very familiar about him. Her heart began to thump against her ribs when his horse gave a shrill whinny and reared up, its forelegs beating at the air.

  ‘Easy, Ebony.’

  She almost laughed. ‘State your business?’

  ‘A kiss for your life, Lottie,’ he said softly, his voice deep, caressing, and unmistakably Adam’s.

  ‘Get on with it and propose,’ the coachman said. ‘We look like a couple of fools playing at highwaymen in Hyde Park, and I’m freezing.’

  ‘What sort of highwayman are you to risk your life for so very little?’

  He chuckled at that. ‘I’m a rogue who will lay you over my knee and spank you if you refuse.

  ‘Then yes . . . I accept.’

  Her maid fainted to the floor when Charlotte pulled down Adam’s bandanna and leaned out of the carriage to kiss him. It was a kiss much too long for modesty, and only the impatient fidgets of his horse tore them apart.’

  ‘My dearest Lottie,’ he said tenderly. ‘This is more than I hoped for. I love you so much. Will you put me out of my misery and become my wife?’

  ‘Whose plan was this, yours or my papa’s?’ she demanded to know.

  ‘Josephine’s, though I’m sure I would have thought of it myself, as my plotting was running along the same lines.’

  ‘But my papa sanctioned it?’

  ‘He had no choice. When I told him I intended to abduct you it was only as a courtesy. He said he’d be equally courteous by warning me that if any harm came to you he would shoot me through the heart, and to hell with the consequences.’

  She smiled at that. ‘You do realize my reputation will now be in ruins.’

  ‘Not once we are wed. We could elope to Gretna Green.’

  ‘I have no choice, it seems.’

  ‘You have, my dearest. Only a few know of this. The carriage driver is my friend and your maid will say nothing, lest she wish to lose her employment. Besides Greta Green, the choices are these. You can continue on to Cornwall, in which case I will follow you and press my suit until you agree to marry me, even if I have to wait for the rest of my life. Or you can agree to marry me and be driven back home, where I’ll face the wrath of your parents with abject humbleness.’

  The coachman laughed. ‘This old nag we hired can only go around the block a couple of times more. Do get on with it.’

  ‘Shut up, Jeffrey,’ he said.

  ‘Never fear, Adam. My stepmother and my sister, will welcome you back with paroxysms of delight,’ Charlotte said darkly.

  ‘As I said, we could elope.’

  ‘And kill the horse? Besides, an elopement would be sure to bring my stepmother’s wrath down on your head, because she so loves a display. It would be well deserved thought.’

  His face adopted an endearingly anxious expression. ‘Am I mistaken in believing my feeling towards you are reciprocated?’

  She smiled. She had been stubborn and stupid. If there was a perfect time to confess it, it was now, and she wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to slip through her fingers again.

  ‘I’ve always loved you, Adam. Yes, I’ll wed you, but we will not elope. Although the thought of it is preferable to my stepmother’s grand plans she means well and only wants the best for me.

  ‘Then I feel flattered that she thought me good enough.’

  ‘You have a reputation to uphold as the Rogue of Hearts and honestly, I don’t want to be embroiled in another scandal.’

  ‘I love you, my Lottie.’

  He’d said it in a manner that left no doubt i
t was from the heart.

  ‘What better way to prove it than to wed the girl you’ve always loved in as grand a manner as possible?’

  ‘I’ll be the proudest man alive when that day comes,’ he murmured, and edging forward he drew her up on to his horse and kissed her.

  *****

  MAGPIE MAGIC

  A motif of lavender flowers decorated the envelope Claire slid from its hiding place. Autumn colored blooms of damp blighted its creamy surface.

  “To whom it may concern.”

  Intrigued, Claire held the envelope to her nose, inhaling the musty odor of old wallpaper paste.

  “What did you expect?’ she murmured, eyeing the faded poppies hanging in haphazard strips from the wall. “Opium perfume?”

  She pulled two sheets of matching paper from the inside. The handwriting was well formed and neat, the ink faded.

  “My name is Jessica Florence Webb. (neé Moffet) This house was built by my father, Captain Joseph Moffet.”

  Claire’s eyes widened, the coincidence heightening her initial instincts about the place, the sense of belonging she’d experienced as soon as she’d walked through the door.

  Her gaze wandered over the wild garden to where two winter bare Jacaranda trees framed a view of the harbor. They’d be exquisite in spring covered in their fragrant purple flowers.

  “What do you think?” Brad sounded dubious as he came up behind her.

  Folding the letter back into its creases Claire slipped it into her pocket, intending to read it later at her leisure.

  “I think we should buy it.”

  “It’s in terrible condition.”

  “What can you expect? It’s been tenanted for the past twenty years and the real estate agent said the owner didn’t carry out any maintenance other than was necessary.”

  Brad’s arms slid around her from behind and he kissed her ear. “Let’s look at something else. It’s probably riddled with termites.”

  “No, it’s not. The estate agent showed me the inspection certificate.”

  “The upstairs rooms are covered in graffiti.”

  She turned, her blue eyes teasing his dark ones. “Don’t tell me you were shocked.”