Outrageous Fortune

by Freda Lightfoot

  ‘I’m sure Sir James didn’t mean to do any such thing,’ Charlotte felt obliged to point out, for she recognised the familiar signs of growing belligerence mounting in Dickon as he fancied himself belittled. But, pushing aside his plate with unnecessary force, he stood up, a stocky figure of sulking, almost childlike demeanour, not much more than head and shoulders taller than the still seated Sir James who stared up at him in cool disdain.

  A long awkward silence followed as the two stared at each other with growing antipathy. At length Charlotte could bear it no longer. ‘Do sit down, Dickon, and finish your meal. You’ve not touched your coffee.’

  Casting her scarcely a glance, Dickon stumped to the door. ‘Nor do I need it. I’ll have myself a jug of cider in the barn where I belong, I reckon. Fancy parlour ain’t for working men.’

  With this pointed remark Dickon left, and they listened motionless to the sound of his boots marking a distinct path along the flagged hall and out of the back door.

  ‘I’m not sure how it came about, but I beg your pardon for offending him, sir,’ offered Sir James mildly.

  Nathan, his attention having been momentarily diverted by the book he held in his hand, seemed unperturbed by the little scene. ‘Don’t let it trouble you, Sir James. Dickon is too oversensitive for his own good, I fear. It is long past time he grew out of it. You are probably right and I should have sold long since. I confess to the guilt of knowing I have little interest in the place.’ Nathan shrugged his shoulders and looked helplessly from one to the other of them. ‘But how would Dickon manage were I to do such a thing? His whole life has taken place under this roof and, though he lacks not courage and strength, he has no business acumen, nor, if you’ll forgive my saying so, Sir James, your own means to embark upon life as a gentleman. Therefore Caperley, for all its shortcomings, is not only his past, but present and future.’

  ‘Yes, I do see that.’ Sir James’s tone was thoughtful as his gaze slid once more to rest upon Charlotte. ‘Perhaps you should encourage him to seek a fine woman with the means to furnish the farm with fresh capital.’

  Nathan laughed good-naturedly. ‘I live in hope, but somehow I think it unlikely. He hates leaving the farm for any reason and, for all he is my very dear son, I cannot claim him to be the catch of the month.’

  James’s gaze was still fastened upon Charlotte and she felt herself flushing hotly beneath his scrutiny as he continued conversationally, ‘And what does your own future hold, Miss Forbes?’

  ‘Ah, now, Charlotte is a different story,’ offered Nathan, a new pride in his voice. ‘We are delighted to find that Charlotte is amply provided for.’

  ‘That is well for a woman,’ answered Sir James, bringing a flush of defensive pride to Charlotte’s heart.

  ‘So that some man in search of capital may seek me out?’ she demanded, as haughtily as she was able. ‘I’m sure I would very much prefer to remain poor.’

  ‘Poverty, my dear Miss Forbes, has a limited appeal. But it is remarkably easily found.’

  Nathan stepped towards his niece to pick up her tiny cold hand and press it warmly between his own. ‘I asked Sir James to remain so that we might have the benefit of his advice. He and I had a good long chat last night. I hope you do not mind, Charlotte.’

  She looked up into her uncle’s face and could say nothing. Of course she minded but knew with a sinking of her heart that to say as much would hurt Uncle Nathan immeasurably, for he only wanted the best for her.

  ‘Sir James has promised to speak with you before the celebrations begin. Lady Caraddon is unfortunately indisposed and reluctant to venture out in this inclement weather, but she has sent word for you to visit her. I beg you to hear it out with equanimity and favour her with a positive response. Now I shall leave you young people in peace.’ Collecting a second volume from a chair, Nathan hurried to the sanctity of his study and the delights of biography and literary travel.

  * * * *

  Charlotte, her appetite quite gone, gazed bleakly up at the inscrutable Sir James, noting how his broad shoulders more than filled the winged armchair in which he reclined so possessively, long legs stretched out before him in apparent ease. In that moment she very much longed to dislike him, but was far too fascinated by the man to do any such thing. Shrewdly she guessed that the ladies of Sir James’s acquaintance would be more likely to suffer the extremes of hate or undying love rather than anything so milk and water as simple dislike. She intended neither of these kindred emotions to touch her own heart where Sir James Caraddon was concerned, and waited with outward unconcern for him to begin.

  ‘Would you care for a stroll, Miss Forbes?’

  ‘My guests will begin to arrive shortly - I doubt I have the time,’ she said rather loftily, but Sir James only smiled.

  ‘A breath of fresh air before a party is always beneficial, wouldn’t you say? Though you must wrap up warmly, for there is a cold wind. It would not do for the birthday girl to catch a chill.’

  Charlotte glanced sharply up at him to check if he mocked her, but could see only polite consideration upon his face, though the grey eyes twinkled suspiciously brightly.

  Donning a bonnet, she wrapped a warm shawl over her simple dress and, feeling decidedly frumpish, Charlotte walked with Sir James out of the farm and along a rutted track which brought them to the cliff top. Far beneath them the sea was a rumpled mat of grey and white flecked wool. It looked cold and forbidding, yet its power and drama was undeniable. Charlotte loved the sea in all its moods, even now, when it skittishly tossed the small fishing boats, standing at anchor in the distant harbour, with uncaring ease. She had seen whole ships picked up and smashed to driftwood on the rocks in one indrawn breath of its mighty force. And she had seen that same coldness reflected in the grey eyes of the man who now walked beside her. But she had also seen those eyes sparkle like the morning sun forming bright pools of light upon the leaden waters. She found him like the sea itself, unfathomable, unpredictable and totally compelling.

  Charlotte was still desperately trying to find some way to break the silence when Sir James came bluntly to the point.

  ‘Is it not somewhat reckless of you to refuse so generous an inheritance?’

  Charlotte very nearly gasped in her astonishment. ‘I should like to know what business it is of yours, sir.’

  ‘I’d much rather it were none of my business at all, but your uncle and my grandmother seem bent on making it so. I assure you it is no wish of mine. I have better ways of using my time than dealing with overly dramatic young misses who should still be in the schoolroom.’

  It was too much. ‘With your fast London set, I suppose?’

  ‘They, at least, are ladies,’ Sir James coldly replied, ‘and are not to be found rolling in the hay with a ragamuffin.’

  Charlotte came abruptly to a halt to glower at him in open rage. ‘Will you never let a thing be? I have explained it is only the way Dickon. He means nothing by it.’

  ‘It looked most meaningful to me. However, you are right in saying that little is to be gained by going over old ground. Your uncle wishes me to advise you on how best to deal with your inheritance, yet, if I understand correctly, you seem bent on refusing it.’

  ‘I know my uncle means well, but sometimes he treats me too much as a child,’ Charlotte protested and was mortified to hear Sir James actually laugh out loud at that.

  ‘I wonder why that can be!’

  Charlotte pursed her lips on a biting response. She must remember that this was the grandson of an old friend of her uncle and it would not do to cause offence. ‘I thank you for your kind offer,’ she continued, as blithely as she might. ‘And should I ever require advice upon financial matters I shall keep it in mind.’

  ‘In the meantime I would do well to keep my nose out of your affairs, is that the nub of it?’

  Charlotte benefited him with her most winning smile and saw with pleasure how his eyes widened in surprise. ‘That is exactly it, in a nutshell, as they say.’
Feeling at last that she had the advantage, she continued more genuinely, ‘though I am sorry that your grandmother is not able to come to our small gathering. I should very much like to meet her. I’m surprised that I have not done so before. Truro is not many miles away to the east of us.’

  ‘Grandmother spends much of her time at her London house these days,’ Sir James explained. ‘She is no lover of the country and likes to have her friends call, and be taken out to the theatre, or, better still, the opera at least once a week. I cannot think where she finds the energy.’

  Charlotte clasped her hands together with spontaneous delight. ‘Oh, how lucky she is to be able to visit the theatre so frequently. I long to go, but Uncle will not allow me.’

  ‘I should think not indeed,’ replied Sir James with a curt laugh as if the very idea was ludicrous. ‘The theatre is no place for a respectable young lady unless she is very properly chaperoned.’

  ‘That is the puzzle of it,’ said Charlotte frowning. ‘One would think that Uncle Nat would be only too happy to take me to Bristol or even Bath, which is very famous, for he loves everything connected with literature and the arts. Yet always when I ask him he gives a categorical refusal and absolutely nothing will coerce him.’

  James smiled down at her perplexed face and thought how young and vulnerable she looked in her disappointment. ‘Not even one of your delectably captivating smiles, or the lilting beauty of your voice?’

  ‘Not even that,’ said Charlotte innocently, then, flushing bright red, glanced up into his smiling face. ‘Oh, I - I didn’t mean. . .’

  ‘I’m sure you didn’t.’ Sir James brushed the fingers of one large hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

  They continued on their way in silence for some moments before Charlotte asked softly, ‘Do you really think my voice has beauty or were you only funning me?’

  ‘I never make fun of a lady,’ Sir James assured her with abject seriousness. ‘Even one who has not yet learned all the ins and outs of the job.’

  Charlotte gave him a puzzled look and, seeing how his lips twitched at the corners, found her own doing the same in response till it bubbled forth in a delighted gurgle of laughter. ‘I don’t think I could ever be a lady,’ she told him quite seriously when her giggles had abated. ‘It simply is not me.’

  ‘What, then, is you?’

  They had reached a rickety wooden fence that cut off the end of the cliff path which led down to the shore, and here they paused to lean upon it and gaze out to sea. A fishing-boat was tacking slowly homeward, a fretful wind leaning into its red sail one moment and abandoning it completely the next. Charlotte watched it with half her interest as she considered her reply. How could she tell this stranger of her dream? She had told no one, not even Uncle Nat. Some dreams were reachable if you tried enough, said your prayers and worked hard. Others were too distant ever to be touched, even by the tips of her pleading fingers, and it was foolish to try.

  ‘Does your grandmother visit Drury Lane?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘No doubt.’ James looked down into Charlotte’s small face. It was a study of awe, suppressed longing and eager excitement, and somewhere deep inside he found himself moved by it.

  ‘Has she seen the great Sarah Siddons? I believe her Lady Macbeth is so wonderful she cannot get off the stage for curtain calls. Her audiences adore her, is that right?’ Charlotte’s jade green eyes sparkled with rapture. ‘Oh, I should love to see her. It must be so exciting to walk out upon a stage in front of hundreds of people and have them enjoy your acting so much that they cannot bear to part with you.’

  Unable to help himself, James Caraddon burst out laughing. ‘Is that what you are wanting, to be the new Sarah Siddons? What a child you are.’

  He saw at once the tactlessness of his words and wished he could bite them off unsaid. The warm flush fled from her face, leaving it white and stiff. The soft moist lips seemed to crumple and shrivel to nothing even as he watched. Then she was running from him, a tiny lone figure along the cliff path, her red shawl billowing out in the wind behind her as forlorn and vulnerable as the fishing vessel tossed on the heedless sea.

  Chapter Four

  Never had Charlotte been so humiliated in all her life. She did not stop running until she had reached the house, where she flew up the stairs past an open mouthed Molly and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her. Flinging herself back against the panel, she stamped one foot in furious anger upon the wooden floor. It was her own stupid fault. She should never have allowed herself to be lulled into thinking he was truly interested in her, that the smile in his eyes was anything but mockery.

  She had given away her dearest secret, known to no one but herself. How would she ever face Sir James Caraddon again? Not only had he caught her in a flagrant position of impropriety in a hay barn, but now he had learned that her dearest wish was to act upon a stage, to be a famous actress like Sarah Siddons. Charlotte cringed at her own naiveté. What a raw country fool she must have appeared. A foolish child with a head stuffed with impossible dreams. No wonder he had laughed at her. She should be thankful that Lady Caraddon was not, after all, coming this evening. Charlotte would feel even more of a laughing stock if she actually met her, which she vehemently hoped she never would.

  And after this evening she would make certain that she never saw Lady Caraddon’s grandson again either. For some reason, hard to fathom in the circumstances, this afforded Charlotte less pleasure than she’d expected, and when Alice came up later to help her dress that good lady was surprised to find Charlotte sitting bolt upright at her dressing-table, having made no preparations for the evening ahead, not even so much as taking off her outer garments.

  ‘Why, what is this? Mr and Mrs Tregorna are downstairs already, arrived early they have, and with a lovely plum cake for you, if I’m not mistaken, and here you are, not even washed.’ Alice clicked her tongue in disapproval, at once starting to pull off the damp red shawl and unlace the dress. ‘You’re shivering, lovely. Master will have to entertain your guests alone for a while; a hot tub is what you need. I’ve plenty of hot water on the stove. Then we’ll dress you up proper pretty in the new dress I’ve made for you.’

  ‘Oh, Alice, you shouldn’t have.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t 1? ‘Tis my present to you. Who has the better right, I’d like to know?’

  Less than an hour later, Charlotte stood before her looking glass a new person, entranced by what she saw. She had bathed and washed her hair and Alice had brushed it dry before the bedroom fire.

  ‘We’ll put no powder on it this night,’ Alice had firmly declared. ‘Twould be wicked to hide the lovely colour of it, and a mite too formal for a simple birthday party. But, Molly, see you do Miss Charlotte’s hair well.’

  Molly beamed, for she loved to dress Charlotte’s hair; it was such a rich glowing colour and so full of life and bounce, unlike her own lank brown locks. Keeping it fairly flat on top, Molly drew the main body of the hair to one side, making sure she allowed some fullness about the face. She then curled the remainder into long ringlets which hung softly over one shoulder.

  ‘Course you should wear a corset if you were a proper lady,’ mourned Alice. ‘But your waist is so narrow it won’t matter none.’

  Charlotte giggled. ‘And at least I’ll be able to eat your delicious food.’

  Alice tied on the small bustle pad and Charlotte stepped into a fine lawn petticoat in palest green, deeply flounced at the hem and stopping short of her ankles to reveal matching stockings and leaf green kid shoes with delicately pointed toes and pink bows. Over this, and with great care, Alice and Molly lowered a cream over-dress dotted with roses of pink gauze stitched on individually. The deep square neckline, elbow sleeves and swept back hem were softly ruffled at the edges and, when the ribbon tapes were tied to loop up the skirt to reveal the petticoat beneath, and every fold carefully arranged, Alice stepped back to survey her handiwork with glowing pride.

  ‘There, quite perfect, thoug
h I say it as shouldn’t. Queen Charlotte herself couldn’t look more handsome for all her silks and satins.’

  ‘It is the most beautiful dress I ever saw.’ Charlotte’s eyes shone with delight. ‘You are the cleverest person on earth, Alice, and the sweetest to make it for me.’

  Alice flushed with pleasure and Molly simply breathed, `Oh, ain’t it pretty?’ over and over until, laughing, they were forced to hush her.

  ‘I’d kiss you for luck but I’m afeared to spoil the picture,’ murmured Alice, a sudden catch in her throat. ‘Off with you, Molly. Our job be done here. Get down to the kitchen and check those capons. I’ll be down directly. And, Miss Charlotte, hold your head high, for thereby follows the rest of you.’

  And with this excellent piece of advice, Charlotte progressed down the wide polished staircase to the main parlour.

  * * * *

  The birthday supper was a great success and the capons, game pies, fat roast goose with blackcurrant sauce and other delicacies soon vanished to be followed by a half dozen other courses from cheese curd tarts to the much revered cinnamon cake. There were numerous friends and neighbours present: the Tregornas, the Carters, old Mrs Lovelace from Talready, the Holborn family and several young men each vying for Charlotte’s attention.

  Uncle Nathan bobbed up and down jovially, filling and refilling wine glasses; a rosy-cheeked Molly scurried back and forth with various culinary delights from Alice’s seemingly bottomless store, till everyone declared themselves utterly replete and unable to eat another morsel. At which point the ladies took themselves off to make small repairs before settling in the best parlour for a gossip over the coffee cups, leaving the gentlemen in peace with their cigars and brandy.