by Mary Nichols
‘I am sorry for that, truly I am,’ she said, near to tears because their reunion had not been all she had hoped for. ‘But I could not just do nothing.’
The refreshments arrived, tea and little almond cakes, meant to sustain them until dinner a little later in the day. When she had drunk her tea, Mary Hay stood up. ‘Edward, there is something I need to show you.’
He looked up startled, a cake halfway to his mouth. ‘What, now?’
‘Yes, this instant.’ She jerked her head towards the door.
‘Oh, very well.’ He got up and they left together.
Alex smiled. ‘Not very subtle, is she? But then Edward would not have taken the hint if she had been. There is something important I have to say to you.’
‘Oh.’ Her breath caught in her throat. He was going to propose again and this time she would not give him time to retract before she said yes.
He caught her hand in his. ‘You remember Lord Falsham saying he had had a letter from your father that gave his consent to the marriage.’
‘Yes, but I do not believe he did because Papa would have written to me, too, and it would not have made any difference if he had. I was ready to defy him.’
‘You were right not to believe it. Falsham did have a letter from London, but it was not from your father.’
‘Oh, who sent it then? And how do you know about it?’
‘Madeleine stole it and gave it to Davy.’
‘Madeleine! Why would she do that?’
‘Because the earl found out about her holding you prisoner and poisoning you. He obviously wanted you alive. He dismissed her and before she left she stole the letter.’
‘I see. So it was nothing to do with Papa?’
‘Yes, it was. I have it here.’ He took it from his pocket. ‘I will sit with you while you read it.’
She read it once, then again. ‘Oh, Alex,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘I am so sorry I was not there to comfort him and ease his going. What am I going to do without him?’
He put his arm about her shoulders and pulled her against him, letting her cry. ‘I am sorry, Charlotte. I wish I could have prevented it.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’ Her voice was muffled in his coat. ‘Martin Grosswaite murdered him just as surely as if he had taken a dagger to his heart. Oh, poor, poor Papa. I am so angry.’
‘Be angry if it helps. I am angry, too.’
‘With me?’
‘No, sweetheart, not with you.’ Above her head, he gave a wry smile. Henry and Charlotte were alike in one thing. Neither listened to good advice, but must dash off and take matters into their own hands. He had warned Gilpin not to go alone to hand over the ransom but he had been so anxious about his daughter, he could not wait, just as Charlotte could not wait with the nuns until he went for her. But that was part of the woman she was and he was immeasurably heartened to think she felt enough for him to sacrifice herself to that fiend, Falsham. He thanked God she had not succeeded.
‘I must go home as soon as possible,’ she said, as he handed her his handkerchief to wipe her face.
‘Of course. As soon as it can be arranged.’
‘Will you be coming, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘The earl won’t do anything to stop us, will he?’
‘He dare not defy his Majesty’s Minister Plenipotentiary to Portugal, especially when he has the wholehearted support of the Portuguese Chief Minister.’
‘No more Earl of Falsham?’
‘No. I doubt he dare show his face in England again.’
‘All the same, I shall not be easy until we are on our way.’
‘Be patient. Stay close to Mrs Hay. I have to go to my lodgings.’
‘You are not staying here?’
‘No, it would not be fitting. Edward must be seen to be following the letter of his arrangement with Count Oeires. But as soon as a ship arrives and passage has been booked, we will meet again on board.’
‘When will that be?’
‘Soon, I hope.’
Mrs Hay peeped round the door. ‘May I come in?’ She did not wait for a reply, but came in and sat down opposite them. ‘I see Alex has told you,’ she said, nodding at the letter screwed up in Charlotte’s hand.
‘Yes.’ Her voice was still watery. ‘I cannot quite believe it. Life without Papa will be hard. We were so close.’
‘But you do have Alex.’ She saw Alex shaking his head and fell silent.
‘Yes, Alex has been my rock. Without him I should not have survived all that has happened to me. One day I will find a way to thank him.’
‘Not today,’ he said quickly. ‘You are worn out and must rest.’
‘Alex is right,’ Mrs Hay said. ‘I will show you up to your room. Davy Locke has brought your clothes.’
‘What clothes?’ she asked. ‘I have none.’
‘We bought you some, Alex and I,’ she said. ‘If they are not to your liking, you must blame him.’
‘You are both so kind.’
‘Kind, be damned,’ Alex muttered and though Charlotte looked curiously at him, she did not comment.
‘I am worried about the business,’ she said. ‘There is no one to look after it with Papa gone. The workers will be lost and worried about their jobs. The sooner I can get back and take over, the better.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Mrs Hay soothed, taking Charlotte’s arm and leading her away. ‘Your father’s lawyers will have done everything that is necessary. Do not worry about it.’
Alex sat in contemplation. He could not have told her how much he loved her and wanted to marry her while she was grieving for her father. She was grateful to him for what he had done, which had been done out of love, not duty, but that appeared to be all it was. Gratitude. He did not want gratitude, he wanted her love. He had read the signs wrongly; her first concern, after her initial shock and grief over her father had abated a little, had been about the coachmaking business.
* * *
Charlotte lay in a fresh dimity nightdress in the most comfortable bed she had had since leaving home and sobbed her heart out. Alex had tried to comfort her, but nothing at that moment would ease the pain of her loss. Papa had been father and mother to her, bringing her up to be strong and independent, not to take wealth for granted and to think of those less fortunate. He had given her an education many a young man might envy, providing her with teachers to instruct her in riding, dancing and the appreciation of good music. He had taught her the intricacies and ethics of the coachmaking business, introducing her to book-keeping and accounting. Until the Earl of Falsham had sent Grosswaite to kidnap her, it had been her whole world. Love and marriage were something for the distant future, if at all.
Now what? Without her what would the lawyers have done? Shut Gilpin’s down? Put it up for sale? Had Joe Smithson kept it going until she could get back? And overriding all that was the ache in her heart from wanting Alex so much. He was angry with her and that wasn’t fair. She had only left the convent to try to help him, but had he taken that into consideration? No, he had not. If only he had spoken of love, of wanting and needing her for herself alone, she would have been able to bear her grief the better.
He was proud, he had told her so, too proud to accept her wealth perhaps. Was that what was holding him back? She would give it all away and live in poverty with him if that was what it took. But how could she do that when her wealth was tied up in a coachmaking business with over two hundred employees? She had a responsibility to them she could not shirk. Alex must be made to understand that.
* * *
Two days later a private yacht dropped anchor in Lisbon harbour. Lord Trentham came ashore and went straight to see Edward Hay where he asked him to send for Alex. All three were closeted in the library for some time before join
ing Mrs Hay and Charlotte in the drawing room.
‘Ladies, may I present Admiral Lord Trentham,’ Edward said. ‘My lord, this is my wife, Mary, and Miss Charlotte Gilpin.’
His lordship bowed to them both. Charlotte, bending knee and head in acknowledgement, was very aware of the tall form of Alex standing behind the Admiral. When she straightened up she saw him looking at her, but she could not read his expression. Was it sorrow? Was it tenderness? Or was he still dwelling on their differences?
‘His lordship has come in his own yacht to take you home, Charlotte,’ Edward said.
Charlotte’s face lit with pleasure. ‘Oh, that is good of you, my lord. But how did you know I was here and anxious to return?’
‘I have kept abreast of matters as far as it has been possible,’ his lordship said, as they all sat down. ‘Alex has reported to the Society for the Discovery and Apprehending of Criminals, as often as he was able. The first time was on the night you were taken, the second the day you arrived in Lisbon.’
‘Oh, are you one of the Piccadilly Gentleman?’
He smiled. ‘Not exactly one of them, but I sponsor them and smooth their path with the authorities when necessary. After Alex’s second letter, setting out what had happened and what he proposed to do about it, I decided he would need help and so I rearranged my appointments, had my yacht readied and set sail. And here I am.’
‘So everyone in London knew what was happening to me? Even my father?’
‘Miss Gilpin knows of the demise of her father,’ Edward put in.
‘Oh, I hoped it would not be necessary for her to know that. How did it come about?’
‘What do you mean not necessary for me to know?’ Charlotte cried out. ‘Of course I had to know.’
‘No, my dear. Mr Gilpin is not dead.’
‘Not dead?’ She could hardly take it in.
‘No, he has been exceedingly ill and we despaired of him for some time, but he is recovering slowly and the sight of you, well and unharmed, will no doubt accelerate that.’
‘But why did Lord Falsham’s letter say he was dead? I do not understand.’
‘Mr Gilpin’s illness, caused by his immersion in the Thames, was made worse by worry over you and what Lord Falsham would do to you. He had received a letter from his lordship, telling him that he proposed to marry you and he expected his whole-hearted support for the sake of your reputation. There was more about a dowry and the cancellation of his debts, but I won’t trouble you with that. I visited him at the time and it came to us that if Mr Gilpin were to die, you would be independent and Falsham would not be able to use him as a hold over you. At that time Mr Gilpin was very near to death and did not expect to survive, so, with his agreement, we had the lawyers send the letter. The wonderful thing is that as soon as it was posted your father rallied.’
‘Oh, thank God.’ She was shaking with nerves and could not quite take it in. She looked across the room at Alex, longing to be closer to him, to feel his arms about her, his warmth breath fanning her face, and his quiet gentle voice telling her all was well. If he said it, she might believe it.
‘You will be anxious to go home and see him for yourself,’ Lord Trentham said.
‘Yes, oh, yes. How soon can we go?’
‘Tomorrow, if wind and tide are favourable.’
‘And will Alex come, too?’
‘Of course.’ It was said with an understanding smile. ‘We cannot leave him behind, can we?’
* * *
They all went on board the yacht the following morning. It was not a large craft, but it was comfortable, or as comfortable as sea-going vessels ever were. A young English girl whose parents were sending her back to England to be educated had been hired as a maid, which Charlotte felt bound to accept, though she would much rather have had Alex helping her to dress and undress. The gowns he had chosen for her were exactly what she would have chosen herself, clean
colours and designs, easy to get in and out of. She took the first opportunity to thank him.
‘How did you know my size?’ she asked. They were standing together at the rail as the little ship sailed north towards the Bay of Biscay. Already the air was colder and she was glad of the warm petticoats and the long pelisse she had found in the portmanteau.
He was not called upon to do any sailing duties and so they had ample time to talk. ‘Do you need to ask that? I know every inch of you.’
She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘I suppose you do, but I don’t remember it.’
‘None of it?’ he queried, lifting one eyebrow.
‘Very little. I remember feeling safe while you held me, that nothing bad would happen to me while you were there.’
‘I should like you to feel like that all the time,’ he said. ‘For ever more, day by day, until death do us part.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Alex, what are you saying?’
‘I thought it was plain enough.’ He took both her hands in his own. ‘Charlotte, I am asking you to marry me. I cannot imagine my life without you in it. I love you.’
‘Oh, Alex, how I have longed for you to tell me that, but you always held back. I was in despair and thought you looked upon rescuing me as your duty to the Piccadilly Gentlemen.’
‘It started out that way, but it was not long before I realised it was not duty, but love.’
‘Sister Charity said duty and love are intertwined.’
‘Sister Charity is very wise.’
‘I am so glad I was able to go and see her before we left. I intend to make a large donation to the convent when I get home. I would give away all my wealth if it meant you would love me and want to marry me, except that it is tied up with Gilpin’s and I am not free to spend it.’
‘Can’t you forget the coachmaking business for a minute?’ He did not mean to speak sharply, but he could not help himself. Competing with a business was infinitely worse than competing with a jealous rival.
‘Alex, my father worked years of long hours to build the business up and he did it for me. I am his only child, son and daughter in one. How can I forget it?’
‘I understand that, sweetheart, and I did not mean you should dismiss it as unimportant, but can you stop being the son and concentrate on being the daughter for a moment. Your father is on the road to recovery, he has years ahead of him yet.’
‘But, according to Lord Trentham, he is still ill. How is he managing? Is Joe Smithson keeping it going so the men have enough work to do? They have families who need their support. If you have employees, Alex, you have a responsibility to them.’
‘Do you think I do not know that? I have an estate to run and I, too, employ labour. Running about solving crime is not my only occupation.’
‘I did not know that.’
‘I have been endeavouring to tell you, if you will only stop tormenting yourself over building coaches long enough to listen.’
‘I am listening,’ she said meekly.
‘Do you love me?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Why do you think I have been so tormented? There is nothing I want more than to marry you, but when I think of Papa, struggling along without me, I feel I cannot leave him. Do you not think you could work in the business with him, then we could work side by side?’
‘No, Charlotte.’ He spoke firmly so as to brook no argument. ‘Your father has reliable, skilled employees, he does not need a clumsy oaf like me pretending to help him and getting in the way.’
‘You are not a clumsy oaf. You are gentle and kind and I owe you my life, more than once, too.’
‘I don’t want your gratitude, Charlotte, I want much more than that. I want your love.’
‘You have it, always and for ever. But I cannot abandon my father when he needs me.’
‘Of course not. And I love you the more fo
r saying so. But you know he was expecting you to marry some day and so he must have accepted that you would leave him to live with your husband.’
‘Yes, a man with a title.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘I do not know if captain is a proper title, but it is good enough for me.’
‘You mean you will marry me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Charlotte!’ He pulled her to him and subjected her to a long and searching kiss which left her breathless and wanting more.
‘Alex, there are people about.’
‘I don’t care. What made you decide to accept?’
‘I realised if I didn’t climb down, I would lose you, and that I could not have borne. So, Captain Carstairs, you have yourself a bride.’
‘Thank heaven for that. I never thought proposing and being accepted would be such hard work. I suppose that was why I was so clumsy the first time, when I foolishly offered you a way out.’
‘Did you love me then?’
‘Oh, yes, and I did want to marry you, but you looked so shocked, I realised I had blundered. That’s why I said the marriage could be annulled. That wasn’t what I wanted at all.’
She laughed. ‘And I was hurt and disappointed that you wanted to be rid of me as soon as we were back in England.’
‘It is all behind us now. Shall I tell you about Foxlees?’
‘Foxlees, what is that?’
‘It is my estate in Norfolk. I recently inherited it. It was badly run down, but I am having it restored. It will be our marital home, if you like it.’
‘Do you mean you are not a poor sea captain on half-pay, making ends meet working for the Piccadilly Gentlemen’s Club?’
‘The Piccadilly Gentlemen are all just that: gentlemen. They do not work for pay, but to try to improve the society in which we live. I am a sea captain on half-pay, but that is not all I am. While I was serving in the late war I earned substantial prize money and when my father died I came into a considerable inheritance. And that has been added to with the demise of my uncle.’ He stepped back to watch her face. ‘You see before you the Marquis of Foxlees.’
She stared at him and then began to laugh. It was wonderful to see her and it made him smile. The sailors stopped their work to look at them and they began to smile, too, though they did not know the reason for it. She laughed so much her hat fell off into the sea and went bobbing away on the current. ‘Oh, Alex, you are funning me.’
