Sons and Daughters

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Is it true?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Miles said and Charlotte was overcome when Ben smiled, moved towards them to shake his father’s hand. Then, blushing a little, he kissed Charlotte on both cheeks. ‘I’m so pleased for both of you.’

  ‘You – you don’t mind?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Lord, no,’ Ben said. ‘I don’t know why he didn’t ask you months ago. We all love you—’

  ‘You speak for yourself,’ an angry voice interrupted and they all looked round to see Philip standing in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, his arms folded. ‘There’s no need to marry her now, Father. The old man’s made his will and everything will be mine when he dies – which can’t be long now. And there’ll be nothing she can do about it. I was there when he signed it. So, you don’t have to marry her, you see. My inheritance is quite safe now.’

  Miles took a step towards him. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ he raged. ‘And in front of Charlotte, too. I’ve asked her to marry me because I want to. I want her to be my wife. There’s no other reason. It has nothing to do with your blasted inheritance.’

  As he took in his father’s words, Philip’s twisted spitefully. ‘So,’ he snarled, ‘you wouldn’t agree to marry her to protect my inheritance, but now you’re going to put that all at risk. Don’t you see, Father – ’ suddenly, his tone was pleading, ‘if you have a child – a son – he’ll change his will again. He’ll want his grandson to inherit, now, won’t he?’

  ‘So? What if he did?’ He turned briefly to Charlotte to say, ‘Forgive me, my dear . . .’ Then back again to his son. ‘What’s so special about Buckthorn Farm? A few acres, a house, that’s all?’

  ‘But it’ll be mine.’ Philip thumped his own chest. ‘All mine. And something I won’t have to share.’ He swept out his arm towards his two brothers and then turned about and stalked away.

  Mildly, Ben, the quiet one of the brothers, said, ‘You know, he never was very good at sharing his toys.’

  ‘I suppose two out of three isn’t too bad,’ Miles said as he drove Charlotte to Buckthorn Farm. ‘But how do you think your father’s going to take the news?’

  ‘Goodness knows,’ she answered dryly. ‘Or anyone else, for that matter.’ She glanced at him. ‘There are going to be a lot of raised eyebrows, you know.’

  Miles chuckled. ‘How delightful!’ He took his hand from the steering wheel and reached across to grip hers. ‘But everyone will be so pleased for you, my dear. Everyone loves you.’

  She smiled weakly. Everyone except you, she thought.

  They entered by the front door of Buckthorn Farm and went straight to the sitting room.

  ‘Mr – Thornton,’ Osbert slurred. ‘How – nice. Fetch some tea, girl.’

  ‘That would be nice, Mr Crawford, but first I have something to ask you. I’d like to ask you for the hand of your daughter in marriage.’

  Slowly, Osbert raised his head, squinting up at the tall man standing in front of him. Charlotte found she was holding her breath. Not that his answer mattered. She was of age and she was going to marry Miles anyway, whatever her father said. She’d already decided that. Whatever Miles’s real feelings for her were, it didn’t matter. Not to her. She wanted to marry the man she loved, no matter what. No, the reason she was apprehensive was because she’d no wish to distress her father and bring on another stroke.

  ‘And you’ll give – me a – grandson?’

  Miles looked aghast for a second, but then he nodded. ‘If we’re blessed,’ he murmured. ‘A grandson – or a granddaughter.’

  ‘Huh!’ Osbert growled. ‘Don’t want any more girls in this family.’ He frowned now at Charlotte. ‘Aye, you can take her, and you’re welcome. And you, girl, do something useful for once. Give me a grandson.’

  As they left the room, Miles heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Well, that was easier than I thought. I’d assumed he’d be reluctant to let you go.’

  Charlotte laughed. ‘Let me go? He can’t wait to get rid of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t suggest Philip coming to live here with him.’ She bit back the words she’d been about to blurt out; that her father had once suggested that Philip should change his surname to ‘Crawford’.

  ‘They’d be welcome to each other.’

  ‘You don’t mean that?’

  ‘No – no, I don’t suppose I do. But, just sometimes, my eldest son irritates me almost beyond endurance.’

  ‘Well, as long as it’s only “almost”,’ she teased. ‘Now, let’s go and tell Mary.’

  The devoted Mary burst into noisy tears, but they were tears of joy. ‘Oh Miss Charlotte – Mr Thornton, sir. What wonderful news! Edward – Edward, d’you hear? Our little Charlotte’s going to be married.’

  Edward nodded and smiled and shook Miles’s hand. And there were tears in his eyes, too. ‘Tis the best news ever, miss.’

  ‘There’s just one thing – will you stay here with Father? I mean, if you’d rather not – ’ She paused and glanced up at Miles for support.

  ‘If you’d rather leave,’ he said, ‘then we’ll employ someone else to take care of him.’

  Husband and wife glanced at each other. ‘No, no,’ Edward said. ‘We know his little ways. We’ll stay.’

  ‘ “Better the devil you know”,’ Mary said and then added hurriedly, ‘begging your pardon, miss.’

  ‘I’ll see that you both get a rise in your wages,’ Charlotte promised. ‘You’ll be taking on more responsibility.’

  ‘That’d be very kind of you, miss. We’ll need to put a little by for our old age,’ Mary said.

  ‘You see,’ Edward said tentatively, ‘we’d always believed we’d have a home here with you, miss, when you inherited the farm. But since we know that Master Philip will one day be the new owner, well, our future’s a bit uncertain.’

  ‘I think I can speak for my future wife,’ Miles smiled, ‘as well as for myself when I tell you that you need have no fears on that score. We shall find a home for you somewhere on the Ravensfleet Estate, you can be sure of that. Though I hope that won’t be for many years yet.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ Mary, overcome with gratitude, kissed a startled Miles on both cheeks.

  As they left the house again, Miles murmured, ‘What good people they are.’

  ‘I don’t know what would have become of me if it hadn’t been for them.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘Then I have every reason to be grateful to them. And now, my dear, we have a wedding to plan.’

  Fifty

  Charlotte wrote to her mother and her aunt with the news. She didn’t want an estrangement between herself and her aunt, but she was now a little wary of her. She was careful what she said or wrote. Despite her outward display of affection, Euphemia had the same vengeful streak in her that her brother had. It was in their genes. Charlotte fervently hoped she hadn’t inherited that same flaw. She felt she must be more like her gentle mother, who’d run away from the cruelty. And yet Charlotte was now finding that there was a spark of defiance in her that surprised her. Until recently she’d never questioned her life, never compared it to the lives of others and found her own lacking. But now she did. She’d been treated abominably by her father and she owed him nothing. Yet her innate goodness demanded that she should still see that he was cared for and comfortable.

  She received an enthusiastic letter back from Euphemia:

  You must come and stay a few days with us. We’d love to have you. And we can go shopping in Lincoln for your wedding finery. Your uncle is insisting that he should pay for your dress and accessories. And your mother would so love to help you choose. Don’t deny her that little pleasure, Charlotte, I beg you . . .

  ‘Shall you go?’ Miles asked when she showed him the letter.

  ‘Yes, I think I will.’

  ‘I’m thinking of asking Felix to be my best man.’

  Charlotte looked at him in surprise. ‘I thought you would ask Philip.’

&n
bsp; ‘I did,’ Miles said shortly. ‘And he refused.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘In fact – I’m sorry to say it – he’s refusing to attend the wedding.’

  ‘Miles,’ Charlotte cried, ‘I don’t want to be the cause of trouble in your family.’

  ‘You’re not, my dear. If anything’s causing a rift it’s your father’s ridiculous actions. Philip’s getting above himself. At eighteen he sees himself as a future landowner.’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘Well, he will be. You can’t deny that.’

  ‘No – but it’s not good for a boy of his age to know it.’

  She was silent for a moment before she suggested, ‘What about Ben being your best man?’

  Miles stared at her for a moment. ‘I – I hadn’t thought of Ben. I’d considered him too young.’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘Your quiet son has more maturity than some young men twice his age. If you’d like one of your sons by your side, then I think you should ask Ben. Of course, Georgie . . .’ She broke off as they both began to smile at the mere thought of the boy. That was what Georgie did to people; he made them smile just thinking about him.

  ‘Georgie would do it like a shot, but I do think he is a little young at seven, don’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ she said fondly. ‘But he’d certainly liven up the proceedings as your best man.’

  ‘Mind you, I’d forget to be nervous if I had him to worry about.’

  ‘Nervous? You’re not going to be nervous, are you?’

  Miles laughed. ‘I don’t think so. I shall just worry you might have changed your mind and won’t turn up.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll not change my mind,’ she said firmly and then asked softly, ‘Will you?’

  ‘Never!’ he said and gently raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

  The wedding was fixed for the Saturday after Easter, so that Miles’s sons would be still at home for the holidays.

  Charlotte enjoyed a few days in Lincoln with her aunt and uncle and – more importantly – with her mother. Euphemia was nothing if not generous with Percy’s money but he only smiled benignly and admired all their purchases. Euphemia swept Charlotte and her mother into the city’s largest store, leading them from department to department and demanding the attention of the head saleswoman in each. Her aunt suggested the very latest fashion for the wedding dress, but Charlotte was adamant.

  ‘I don’t like the modern shorter dresses, Aunt. I’d like a traditional Edwardian style and a hat trimmed with yards of tulle rather than a veil.’

  Euphemia beamed. ‘Of course, my dear, you shall have exactly what you want. And have you decided on a bridesmaid?’

  ‘Ah, now, that caused me a bit of a problem. I don’t have any close friends of my own age.’ Euphemia and Alice glanced at each other, realizing what a lonely life Charlotte had led. ‘Mary and Peggy felt they were too old, so I’ve asked Lily to be my matron of honour.’ She smiled. ‘She was thrilled and our local dressmaker is making her a dress in pastel blue.’

  Euphemia gave an exaggerated sigh but, for once, said nothing.

  Once the wedding dress, hat, shoes, gloves and underwear had been bought, Euphemia led the way to the hairdresser. ‘And this time, my dear, I really think you should have your hair cut into a fashionable bob.’

  ‘No, Aunt.’ Once again, Charlotte gently stood up to her aunt. ‘I think my hairstyle should match the style of my dress. I’ve become quite adept at putting my hair up now, though I would like the hairdresser to show me a style befitting a bride.’

  ‘I agree,’ Alice put in quietly.

  This time Euphemia capitulated gracefully. ‘I’m no match for both of you.’

  But when the hairdresser had shown Charlotte how to put her long dark hair up in a profusion of curls and waves, even Euphemia had to admit that it suited her to perfection.

  ‘Darling, you look absolutely beautiful,’ Alice said with joyful tears. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to do it on your wedding day?’

  ‘I’ll get Peggy to help me. We can have a few practice sessions beforehand.’

  They returned home tired but elated. ‘I can’t thank you enough, Uncle . . .’ Charlotte began, but Percy waved her aside, smiling benevolently. ‘Think nothing of it, dear girl. It’s our pleasure. And to see you mother so happy too . . .’

  ‘Ah, now, that’s another thing,’ her aunt said. ‘We intend to come to your wedding, Charlotte. All of us.’

  ‘Euphemia, dear, I don’t think—’ Alice began, but her sister-in-law was adamant. ‘You have been denied access to your only child all these years, Alice. But you are going to be there on her wedding day.’

  ‘Everyone thinks she’s – she’s dead. Just like I did. I told you, there’s a grave in the churchyard with her name on the headstone.’

  ‘Well, we’re coming and, whatever happens, your father will deserve whatever’s coming to him.’

  ‘I would love to go,’ Alice said, and suddenly there was a surprising note of firmness in her tone, ‘but I will only go if I can be incognito. I will wear a hat with a veil and no one will know who I am. Now you’re to promise me, Euphemia.’

  Euphemia wriggled her shoulders but, for once, was obliged to say, ‘Oh very well, then.’

  ‘Miles, I don’t know what to do. It could cause my father another serious stroke. If my mother turns up the whole village will know of his deception. I fully intend to put matters right about the gravestone once he’s – he’s gone. It won’t matter then. It can’t hurt him, but for her to come back now . . .’

  Miles chewed his lip thoughtfully. ‘It is a bit of a dilemma. But you say your mother’s going to wear a veil. Will anyone recognize her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Charlotte wailed. Her joy in her wedding day was already being spoiled.

  Miles put his arms round her. ‘Have you told your mother and aunt about the gravestone?’

  She nodded and told him of Euphemia’s response.

  ‘Your aunt’s certainly vicious towards your father, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes – it goes back to their youth. Her father was against her marrying Percy and I think my father fuelled the quarrel. My grandfather evidently cast her off when she defied him. But my father’s as bad – worse, if anything, than she is. He – he calls her the most dreadful names.’ Colour rose in her cheeks as she recalled the distressing scenes she’d witnessed between her father and his sister.

  ‘Do you want your mother to be at your wedding?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes. She’s the innocent in all this. She’s gentle and doesn’t want to cause trouble. It’s Aunt Euphemia who’s so vitriolic against my father.’

  He put his arms round her and she leaned against his shoulder, revelling in his strength and his support. No longer was she so alone. She’d always had Mary and Edward, of course, and they’d been wonderful, but they’d never been able to help her with important decisions. Even if she’d asked their advice, they’d always said primly, ‘It’s not our place to say, Miss Charlotte.’

  But now she had Miles.

  ‘Why don’t you sound your father out on his plans for the day? Is he to give you away?’

  She raised her head to look up at him. ‘I don’t know. I’d never really thought about it. I’d just presumed he would.’

  ‘Talk to him.’

  ‘I will.’

  Charlotte was trembling as she stood before Osbert.

  ‘Father – you will give me away on my wedding day, won’t you?’

  He frowned. ‘It depends,’ he growled.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On how you’re going to be dressed. If you’re going to deck yourself out like some trollop, then I have no intention of being disgraced. I shall not be there.’

  Charlotte lifted her chin defiantly. ‘I’ve already bought my wedding dress.’

  He glowered at her. ‘And I suppose she went with you? Helped you choose?’

  ‘If you mean my aunt, then yes. She did.’


  He glared at her, and she could read the question in his eyes. Did he guess that her mother had been there too? But the words remained unspoken.

  ‘So,’ she said at last. ‘What am I to do? Do you wish me to show you what I shall be wearing and then you can make up your mind?’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘You’re getting very uppity, miss. Just because Thornton’s come to his senses and decided to protect his son’s inheritance, there’s no need to forget your duty to your father.’

  ‘I won’t. I’ll always make sure you’re cared for. I promise you that.’ Then, boldly she added, ‘Philip’s afraid that if I do have a child – a boy – you will change your will.’

  Osbert’s eyes gleamed. ‘I might. We’ll have to see about that, won’t we?’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘So – he doesn’t want you to have a son – and I do. What about Thornton? Does he want another boy?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Charlotte threw back over her shoulder as she left the room with, for probably the first time in the whole of her life, the last word. ‘He wants a daughter.’

  Fifty-One

  ‘You are not wearing that!’

  Her father thumped his stick on the floor with his good hand. Then he lunged out at the dress she was holding up for his inspection, trying to hook it out of her grasp and throw it towards the fire. Charlotte stepped backwards just in time.

  ‘You hussy – you whore! Just like your – your aunt.’

  For a moment she thought he’d been going to say ‘mother’. With an outward calm she was not feeling inside, she said, ‘This is the dress I shall be wearing on my wedding day, Father. So – do I take it that you will not be attending?’

  He glared at her. ‘You dishonour me. You bring shame to my name.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ she said with a quiet dignity. ‘But very soon I’ll no longer bear the name of Crawford, will I?’

  He glared at her and was silent for several moments whilst she waited, her heart pounding nervously. Then he raised his head and said slowly, ‘But I’ll be there. I won’t let folks say I didn’t do my duty. But you’ll make a laughing stock of yourself.’