Trouble With The Earl Read online

  Presently the Earl’s glance settled on Charlotte, and when her eyes met his, he took advantage of the moment.

  “Would the Lady Charlotte do me the favor of accompanying me on a turn around the assembly room? I may not dance, of course, but propriety would not deny me a pleasant stroll in my bereavement.”

  Her mother could hardly contain her glee at the invitation and stepped very firmly on Charlotte’s toes under the table.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Charlotte answered as she put down her teacup, glared at her mother, then rose and walked to take his extended arm.

  Guy, looking up from his plate, suddenly lost his appetite.

  “My wife was clearly the gentlest of souls. Surely she is looking down at me from heaven today,” the Earl said, speaking softly as they walked slowly around the perimeter of the assembly room.

  “I am sure she will be much missed,” Charlotte replied.

  “My wife used to love coming to assemblies. Of course, she is in a far better place now but oh, if given the choice, she would have put off her fatal illness until next week in order to have gotten a glimpse of Netherfield’s new tenant.”

  “Perhaps she sees him anyway. From on high, I mean.”

  He smiled at her. Charlotte noted with satisfaction that all eyes were upon her during their promenade. She congratulated herself on being the first eligible woman to be singled out by him.

  But why not?, she thought to herself. She of all the young ladies in the room was the closest in rank; surely no would refuse him the consolation of her company. There were many young women who would love to exchange places with her; but she knew her own value, and the Earl saw it too.

  Charlotte made sure that she looked completely serene and at peace in the Earl’s company as they passed the open door to the refreshment room, where she was hoping Hugh, and especially Guy, would be watching her victory lap with the Earl.

  “Thank you for your time, I quite enjoyed our little promenade,” the Earl said as they completed their second circuit, having run out of conversation by the end of the first. He made a polite bow as he released her arm. Only when he left her company did Charlotte realize she had quite forgotten to breathe.

  “Oh Charlotte, what an honor to have drawn his attention,” Elizabeth Bennet exclaimed as she pounced on Charlotte. Elizabeth Bennet had two friends near Meryton named Charlotte, the Lady Charlotte Radcliffe and Charlotte Lucas, and she loved both equally, although privately she thought the Lady Charlotte Radcliffe a lot more fun than Charlotte Lucas. The two friends hooked arms. “What was he like?”

  “He has an easy air about him,” Charlotte announced as they paraded around happily.

  “You are too lucky,” Lizzie replied. “What do you think of Mr. Bingley and his party?”

  “I have only been introduced and did not dance with either Bingley or the other tall man—I forget his name. But from the little I saw, Mr. Bingley seems perfectly pleasant.”

  “He has shown favor to Jane tonight. My mother is delighted.”

  Charlotte did not understand a mother such as Mrs. Bennet who threw her daughters at complete strangers.

  “But Lizzie, doesn’t Bingley worry you? What if he falls in love with Jane, asks her to marry him, and then moves half way across the country with her? Won’t that be awful?”

  “I hope not! No, let’s not think of unhappy separations for the Bennet sisters. Mr. Bingley seems well mannered and good humored but the man with him appears too proud for his own good. In fact, he snubbed me outright by refusing to dance with me when it was pointed out that I was in need of a partner. Of course, I am beyond being touched by the rudeness of a stranger, but he hardly seems to be the kind of company that my Jane would subject herself to.” Lizzie then whispered, “Don’t look now, Charlotte, but that awful Mr. Darcy is heading right toward us. Quick, let’s turn here.”

  Lizzie jerked Charlotte with her, making a quick exit from the assembly room, circled around and entered through another doorway. In the distance, she could see that Mr. Darcy had safely regained his party and was no longer a threat to their promenade.

  “Who is the nice looking young man with your family that my sister Mary danced with?” Lizzie continued. “She says he is a poet!”

  “A poet? Oh dear goodness no. It is only Mr. Lancaster, Hugh’s old tutor. He’s nobody.”

  “My sister thought him quite extraordinary. She can talk of nothing else.”

  “He said the same about her,” Charlotte giggled, knowing Lizzie would tell Mary.

  It was at that moment that the music abruptly stopped, signaling the end of the assembly. Charlotte and Lizzie parted with promises to meet up soon, and the Radcliffe family waited at the doorway of the assembly hall for their carriage to pull up. The Earl was waiting too.

  He approached Charlotte and held her hand for two seconds too long and looked into Charlotte’s lovely eyes a bit too directly, causing Charlotte some embarrassment.

  “May I see you again, Lady Charlotte? I know my late wife would not want me to isolate myself in her absence. Perhaps your mother and you would call on me tomorrow afternoon at two pm?”

  Charlotte knew that a personal invitation from the Earl to a young, unmarried woman would raise eyebrows and incite speculation as to his motives. She was delighted at the prospect and could not refuse.

  “It would be a pleasure,” she said. The Earl lifted her hand and helped her into the carriage. Guy and Hugh stood by, watching, exchanging glances.

  “Good night Lord and Lady Radcliffe, Lord Radcliffe and Mr. Lancaster,” he said and closed the door behind them. Guy was impressed at his facility with names and well aware that his competition had staked a claim.

  “That was fast work, Charlotte,” Hugh said.

  Charlotte assumed a superior tone to her voice.

  “I do know what I am doing.”

  Guy found himself quite put out by the Earl’s invitation to Charlotte and said nothing the entire ride back. As they were alighting from the carriage in front of Bennington Park, he announced that he would be leaving for home early in the morning.

  “The stay has been splendid, my lord. Thank you for your gracious hospitality, as always.”

  “Won’t you at least stay for breakfast?” the Lord Radcliffe asked.

  “No, thank you. An early start will give me the better part of the day back at Ludlow Lodge; I am afraid I have quite a few affairs to put in order.” He hoped the Radcliffes would not suspect that he used his complicated finances as an excuse to avoid witnessing first hand Charlotte’s excitement regarding the Earl.

  “How long is the ride?” the Lady Radcliffe asked.

  “A little under two hours,” he said, looking straight at Charlotte.

  “Then we best let you say goodnight now,” Charlotte encouraged him.

  “Oh my, what a dreadfully long journey! We will have cook send up a portable breakfast,” the Lady Radcliffe said. The Lord Radcliffe instructed the footman to bring Guy’s carriage around at sunrise and the family retired to their quarters.

  Back up in her room, and before retiring for the night, Charlotte summoned her ladies’ maid.

  “I have one last task for you to complete tonight on your way back downstairs,” she said. Her lady listened carefully and left the room immediately. Charlotte climbed in bed, blowing out the candle and drawing the covers up to her chin. Through the window, she could see only black; a black as dark as the sea at night, she imagined. She had never actually seen the sea at night, although she felt as if she had, for she had certainly seen it very realistically depicted in paintings and could therefore imagine it very well.

  The sea had changed Guy’s life forever, she thought. She felt on the verge of a similar change in her life; as if her visit with the Earl tomorrow could be the first step toward the beginning of a beautiful future and the guarantee of a life spent entirely in Hertfordshire. She knew she had caught the Earl’s eye. It was an honor to be singled out, and to have Hugh and Gu
y witness it. They should both be feeling very foolish for the way they laughed at her.

  Guy woke and dressed before sunrise. Hastings had already gathered his belongings and the footmen had his carriage loaded and waiting for him just as the first hint of pink began to flood the night sky.

  “Your breakfast is inside the carriage. Have a good journey.”

  “Thank you, Hastings, thank you very much.”

  The driver pulled away and Guy looked backwards at the grand façade of Bennington Park for as long as he was able to before it disappeared behind a cluster of elm trees. He did not want to leave but he knew he had to get away and see whether his feelings for Charlotte passed or intensified once they were no longer so often thrown together. If his feelings persisted, then he had a formidable opponent for Charlotte’s heart in the Earl of Buckland.

  If he even could compete.

  He was not naïve—he knew that for the upper classes marriage was transactional. He had made the mistake of elevating the Radcliffe family above the other members of their class, assuming they would have a different standard for Charlotte’s future. However, their opportunistic approach to the recent vacancy at Buckland House showed him quite clearly that, on this point, he had erred. He did not want to damage his long-standing relationship with the Radcliffes or with Hugh by inserting himself into their business; and the Lord Radcliffe definitely viewed Charlotte’s future as his business. He would have to tread carefully; moving closer to Charlotte would be a tricky business, of that he was sure.

  As the carriage rattled through the forest and onto the King’s Road, Guy examined the basket left for him by the kitchen staff. He unwrapped a cloth bundle to discover a loaf of warm apple bread, pork sausage and a square of cheese. A closed flask contained hot tea. He ate and drank it all.

  Returning the empty flask to the basket, he noticed he had overlooked another wrapped item. He picked up the small parcel, pulling off the string wrapped around its paper covering. He recognized the book immediately.

  “The Udolpho!”

  He shook his head in delight at Charlotte’s gesture. Tucked inside was a short note:

  Mr. Lancaster:

  I found this hiding behind the draperies in the drawing room. I cannot imagine how you managed to misplace it so. Please keep it, as I would be very unhappy knowing you began to enjoy a story that you were unable to finish.

  Lady Charlotte Radcliffe

  “That woman!” he laughed out loud, acknowledging inwardly that Charlotte had indeed gotten in the last volley between them.

  Grinning with joy he sat back, stretched his long legs out the best he could in the tight constraints of the carriage and began to read.

  Chapter Five

  The Earl of Buckland paced the room, glancing at the clock. Time moved damnably slow when he wanted something over and done with.

  “Have the carriage ready at five to go to St. James street,” he ordered his footman. He could barely stand the country any more. His wife’s passing had forced him back from London unwillingly, but he was finished with the dog and pony show of acting the grieving widower. One more performance that afternoon and he’d be back at his club that evening. The Duke of Rutland would not get the better of him that night, he thought of his gambling rival. He had to start winning back some of his losses or his debt would be unmanageable, so his accounts man insisted. Mrs. Wilcox would be there too. He much desired her tender caresses after the dullness of the past week.

  It was such an inconvenience to be widowed. Now he would need to find a replacement wife, and that would open him up to all manner of pretentious fawning and scheming by women desperate to snare him—and their mothers. He sighed. He would not suffer that indignity again. He had settled on the quiet and recently dead Katherine based solely on his mother’s approval.

  This time he would be smarter about the whole business and act with haste. The young chit from Bennington Park was a logical choice. Her father was wealthy but parochial. The family was known for their slavish devotion to the county and to have no interest in London life and that suited him fine; he most pointedly did not want a wife tagging along with him to London and ruining his fun. Plus, there was a rumored 24,000 pounds attached to her.

  On paper, she was perfect.

  When he met her at the assembly last night, he found her ornamental as well—he imagined she would not be a chore to bed. If she could both prop up his depleted coffers and produce an heir or two, something that his dead wife, Katherine, had failed to do, then she was a worthwhile investment—or at least worth the bother of acting the devoted suitor for the first two years or so. After that, she’d be locking her bedroom door at night , like they all did.

  He intended to act quickly. A couple of sons would stop his mother’s incessant pestering about succession and for that alone he would be eternally grateful to the young Radcliffe foal. Buckland House was a bloody albatross of a place, what with all the upkeep expenses and the staff that revolved constantly and the tenant farmers always demanding improvements. Sometimes he almost wished he were rid of it.

  According to his accounts man, his debts might be leading him in that direction anyway. Sooner, rather than later, was his warning.

  He saw the Radcliffe’s carriage pull up into the forecourt and downed a quick ounce of brandy for fortitude.

  On with the show, he muttered.

  “Lady Radcliffe, Lady Charlotte, welcome, welcome! Forgive me, but I am having a difficult time occupying my time this week and you are all kindness to take me out of myself.”

  The Earl’s reserved nature from the other night seemed to melt away in the comfort of his own home, Charlotte noted, alighting from her carriage onto the gravel covered ground.

  How close to home Buckland House was!

  He led the women into the entry hall. The décor was too fussy for his taste but women seemed to like it. His late wife had certainly spent enough on its re-decoration while he was always in London. They had not yet had a chance to entertain and show it off to the county before she left the earth.

  “How elegant!” the Lady Radcliffe exclaimed, taking in the wide staircase polished to perfection, the thick white moldings on the high ceilings, the black and white marble floors. She had heard that Buckland House was magnificent. Charlotte would look so lovely ensconced here.

  Why it could be a second home to herself as well, the Lady Radcliffe plotted.

  Charlotte was immediately taken aback by the grandeur of the place. Bennington Park was a large home, but lived in, a country house with good bones and plenty of decrepit old furniture to park oneself on, both inside and out. In contrast, Buckland House looked and felt like a museum; built for grandeur only and overrun with horrid porcelain figurines. The carpets looked entirely too precious in comparison to those at Bennington; her Pomeranians were prone to dragging in dead mice and proudly laying them on the rug before her feet with pride and she could not picture that happening in Buckland House.

  “Ah, let’s sit in the drawing room,” Buckland said, leading them into a large room with lemon colored walls and lime and orange upholstery. “Modeled after the rooms at Brighton Palace,” he announced.

  “How very, very lovely,” Charlotte lied.

  “My poor dear wife so loved this room. She would conduct all of her business from a table pulled up to the settee. I always knew where to find her,” he said.

  “The running of an estate is a full-time job, as we well know,” the Lady Radcliffe agreed. “Managing household staff is quite tricky, but if you are able to find loyal people then you are lucky indeed. Loyalty is the number one attribute to look for in servants.”

  “We are in agreement. Those of us who can most afford to abuse our staffs must be the most diligent not to. In the end, it is well worth the effort, wouldn’t you agree, my lady?” Despite his boredom with country folk, the Earl was a master at polite discourse, too intelligent for his own good, always able to walk the line between his two lives expertly, without a den
t to his country reputation. His London reputation, he knew, was quite the opposite.

  After a half an hour of meandering discussion that touched on the rising price of sugar, the rebuilding of the local lumber mill, and the retelling with excruciating detail of the marsh draining project at Bennington Park, he was ready to shoot someone.

  Instead, he rose and suggested that, if they were so interested, he would be happy to escort them on a tour of the gardens. Charlotte was more than happy to get out of the drawing room. The Earl’s lingering glances made her feel quite undressed; fresh air would do her good.

  As they walked the manicured garden paths, the Earl did not take her arm, Charlotte observed, most likely in deference to her mother’s presence. He pointed out the beds where the autumn flowers still bloomed and the vast amounts of ground cover.

  “My wife paid particular interest to ivy. What do you think of ivy, Lady Charlotte?”

  Charlotte had no opinion on ivy, or on the garden itself, other than that it would be a pretty spot to paint.

  “I confess I am not well versed with the varieties of plant life. Horticultural names seem to come in one ear and fly out the other. However, I do think this garden would make a lovely watercolor.”

  “My wife was mad for ivy.”

  Charlotte smiled back. The Earl was really quite constant and tender in his reminisces about his dead wife. What a special relationship they must have had, and how tragic for it to have ended abruptly. He must miss her terribly, she mused.

  Before they left, the Earl apologized for his busy schedule.

  “I am wanted in London tomorrow morning and leave tonight. Thank you for visiting a lonely man. Lady Charlotte, I hope to have the honor of your company again upon my return. I feel we are quite compatible, don’t you agree?”

  Charlotte assured him that she would be most happy to return. She felt the Earl was purposely putting her on notice that he would be furthering a connection with her. No man would say such things in front of her mother if he did not have the proper intentions. The realization that the Earl of Buckland might be her future spouse elicited nothing but a sense of satisfaction and relief from Charlotte that her future could be so easily settled.