Trouble With The Earl Page 9

  Instead, she dressed in her riding clothes and sent word to the stables: “Please bring Indigo around. I would like to ride this morning.”

  She hopped on the black mare and set off. Even Indigo was luckier than she was, she pouted—the horse could live out its days in Bennington Park before Charlotte could. She followed the riding trail as it wound through the familiar forest, past open fields and then up a small incline to a ridge overlooking the front of the estate. This was the view of Hertfordshire she never wanted to lose. Even the thought of settling close by did not soothe her unsettled mood that morning.

  Just then, barreling down the road toward Bennington Park, came the Earl of Buckland’s new phaeton, ruining what had previously been a very pleasant scene.

  Oh no, Charlotte said out loud.

  She could not go back home. She would rather ride straight out of Hertfordshire and keep going than risk another encounter with her future husband. Charlotte sighed with regret, noted the absence of logic in her thought process, and forced herself to admit the unadmittable: She did not want to marry the Earl.

  Drawing up a list of suitable suitors with her parents in the library had been a fun parlor game, a lark to pass the time on an otherwise empty afternoon. Marrying Buckland sounded good on paper, but after furthering his acquaintance she must conclude that the gates were the best part of Buckland House. Everything good began and ended there.

  As for the man himself, she had not factored in the degree to which her heart overcame her head. She had been quite adamant in front of Hugh and especially in front of Guy that only silly fools followed the heart’s promptings. Yet here she was, unable to follow only her mind and ignore her heart.

  Her heart found the Earl repulsive.

  She could not bear the sight of his ruddy complexion that she had decided was natural and not incurred by prolonged weeping. He smelled of tobacco and oiled hair and the combination made her recoil whenever he drew near. His hands felt like wet codfish and she did not desire him to touch her or look her in the eye or compliment her dress. She did not want him to kiss her hand or her lips, and she most definitely did not want him to ever, ever, look at her feet again, stockinged or not.

  Perhaps she had learnt a valuable lesson, and that was to allow one’s heart a small say in the choice. She could certainly see the difficulty of being thrown into close, daily contact with a man whom one regularly wished to avoid. Perhaps attractiveness in a mate did affect one’s future happiness, or rather did not hurt.

  Of course, she would never go so far as to form a connection with an attractive man, purely because of said attractiveness. The episode with Mr. Lancaster in the library was quite an awakening; before that, she did not realize that even she could lose her head momentarily if the setting was at all conventionally romantic and the man the least bit pleasing in looks, if prone to pontificating.

  Mr. Lancaster was a perfect example of how easily a woman could go astray. He possessed none of the qualities she was seeking in a mate—he did not live in Hertfordshire and he challenged her opinions repeatedly. Yet, if even she, who was absolutely committed to being rational about her choice, could feel her resolve melting away then no one was safe!

  Nevertheless, proximity alone was an insufficient foundation on which to build a connection.

  So, it was decided.

  She would not marry the Earl, after all. She had simply erred in imagining him suitable for herself and she did not intend to suffer for her entire life because of a momentary mistake. Her father would have to tell him as she found him too intimidating to speak freely with. The Earl would, of course, be horribly disappointed, but that could not be helped.

  “Well, that’s settled,” she announced to Indigo.

  Feeling much better, she followed the trail on the high ridge, back and forth, back and forth, waiting for the Earl to leave.

  Thank goodness this horrible marriage business with the Earl is over!

  If she was a different sort of girl, she would take off for the Continent and shop her cares away but she preferred, as always, to be home in Hertfordshire.

  At long last, the Earl emerged from the house and drove away. Charlotte immediately aimed Indigo in the direction of the stables. Alighting and handing him off to the stable boy, she practically floated into the house with relief. Luncheon had already begun.

  “Rabbit fricassee!” She spooned a large portion onto her plate.

  “Where were you? You missed the Earl. He was most disappointed not to have seen you,” the Lady Radcliffe exclaimed.

  “I was out on Indigo.”

  Her father was watching her expression for evidence of disappointment. He found none.

  “The Earl said he came to personally invite you to the next assembly ball. I, however, suspect he came purely to show off his new phaeton. I believe he had a desire to drive you out in it this morning, Charlotte. He means to ask you an important question. Perhaps this Saturday night.”

  The Lord and Lady Radcliffe exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

  “I will not attend.” Charlotte filled her mouth with a forkful.

  The Lord and Lady Radcliffe were momentarily stunned into silence. Charlotte ate happily.

  “I’m sorry, but the Earl would be highly disappointed were you to refuse his invitation,” the Lady Radcliffe stated.

  “And I would be highly disappointed to spend another evening with him. Really, he is a most wretched man.”

  The Lady Radcliffe scowled and made a shushing motion with her finger at her mouth. She most definitely did want the servants overhearing Charlotte abuse the Earl but it was too late.

  “Mind what you say, Charlotte!” her mother reprimanded her. “Don’t be impertinent!”

  “I have given my word to the Earl that we would be there. We would all be there,” the Lord Radcliffe said sternly.

  Charlotte put down her fork.

  “Can you not say that I am unwell?”

  “Charlotte!” her mother exclaimed quite crossly. “This is the Earl we are talking about. Your Earl!

  “Please don’t call him that. I am afraid I have made a mistake by encouraging his interest. I have had a change of mind and I simply cannot continue seeing him. You will have to tell him for me, Pappa. Best to get it over with soon.“

  The Lord Radcliffe crumpled his napkin in his hand.

  “Am I correct in understanding that you wish to refuse the Earl?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened Charlotte? To what do you owe this change of heart?”

  “It is not a change of heart, Pappa, as much as the urging of my heart. I do not seek love, you know that, but there is an unpleasantness about the Earl that does not sit well with me.”

  “Well then, you must tell him the truth yourself. As soon as possible.”

  Charlotte feared such a conversation would not end well. Her heart continued its descent to a deep dark place within her.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if you told him for me, Pappa?”

  “Easier for you, yes, come now, Charlotte, you must not be timid where the Earl is concerned.”

  Charlotte sulked. “But I hardly know him. I cannot say such a thing to him.”

  The Lord Radcliffe raised his eyebrow. “If you cannot speak up then you will end up marrying him.”

  Charlotte put down her fork. The walls began to close in again. Her mother’s lips quivered and tears filled her eyes and she reached for her napkin and sunk her face into it, only lifting it up to ask: “If you will not have the Earl then who else on the list would you want?”

  “The list is stupid, Mamma. I can’t pick my future based on a map!” Charlotte snapped, and then blinking back her own tears said. “I’m sorry, Mamma. I do not want to be cross with you.”

  But it was too late. The Lady Radcliffe was already sobbing dramatically into her handkerchief at her daughter’s rebellion.

  Charlotte had never felt so hopeless.

  “The list is immaterial at this point, my d
ear, as we must first settle this trouble with the Earl,” her father said with a gentle tone to his voice. “Dear Charlotte, it is natural to have cold feet in your position. However, you must trust us to do what is best for you. You are having a little bit of a breakdown but we are not emotional about the match. These affairs usually end up settling in everyone’s favor, trust me.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes but could not escape the dread that washed over her when she pictured the Earl’s eyes taking her in, or his hand on her waist.

  “I am not hungry anymore.” She pushed her plate away. Her father was no help at all; she could not go against him. And just mentioning her desire to refuse the Earl had made her mother cry. “This is all a big mistake, Pappa,” she insisted. “It’s not my fault.”

  “Neither is it mine,” he insisted back. “The Earl does not play games and neither should you.”

  Well that was it. She needed at least a mustard’s seed worth of courage to stand up to the Earl and refuse him and she doubted she possessed it.

  If she couldn’t speak up then she would have to marry the Earl.

  She sighed and tried to talk herself into the idea again. Perhaps everything would be okay. Perhaps she would only have to be married to the Earl for a little while. She comforted herself with the thought that there were many different accidents and illnesses that could befall him. Until then, she would occupy herself by completely redecorating Buckland House. At least she had that to look forward to.

  “There, there, Charlotte. It is natural for young girls to feel confusion about their marriages at some point, but mark my words that feeling will go away once you have admitted it,” her father insisted. “I know I am right.”

  But the feeling did not go away. Her parents would not dissuade the Earl for her; her brother would only laugh at her misery and even Lizzie Bennet had too many family problems of her own to be of any help. Even Indigo had a better future.

  How she wished she could go back in time and bite her tongue before suggesting the Earl as a suitable suitor. This was a misery of her own making and there was not a single person in the whole of Hertfordshire who could help her out of her predicament. Charlotte sighed deeply. She felt that she did not have a single friend left in the whole entire world.

  Chapter Twelve

  Guy did not hop on a horse and ride the wind down to Bennington Park like a madman, although he wanted to. He took a day or two to collect his thoughts, writing out the case against the Earl, rehearsing in his mind the exact words he would say to expose his deceit and treachery. Then, when he knew he could not delay any longer, he set off toward Bennington Park He called in the late afternoon. The Lord Radcliffe received him right away, with delight.

  “Does Hugh know you are here?”

  “No, Lord Radcliffe. I actually came to see you.”

  “I will have Hastings find him anyway. Hastings! Hastings!”

  Hastings shuffled into the room. “Yes my Lord?”

  “Tell Hugh his friend is here!”

  “Thank you, my Lord,” he said, shuffling out.

  “Excuse the absence of the ladies, Guy. They are upstairs resting, for there is a ball tonight. Another ball,” he shook his head wearily. “I am quite tired of balls. But, now that you are here, the evening holds promise. You will, of course, join us. I insist.”

  “Thank you, Lord Radcliffe. However, I first wish to speak to you about some information I picked up in London of late regarding the Earl of Buckland.”

  “Oh?” The Lord Radcliffe settled onto his comfortable chaise lounge.

  “I would not speak of such details but I care deeply for your family and would be remiss if I did not at least confirm that you too were aware of some of the Earl’s dealings that might affect the Lady Charlotte’s future.”

  Guy was unconsciously shifting from foot to foot as he spoke.

  “Sit down, Mr. Radcliffe, please.”

  Guy sat down, briefly, and then stood up again and began to pace.

  “Take your hat off,” the Lord encouraged him.

  Guy’s hand went up to his head on reflex.

  “Oh, I forgot I had not removed it. My apologies.”

  “Some brandy?”

  “No, thank you. Maybe later.”

  His prepared speech was harder to begin than Guy had anticipated. He thought he had all the words assembled in his mind but they refused to spring off his tongue. He tried to calm himself, to remember the carefully crafted case against the Earl, but instead he blurted out: “The Earl is in debt to the Duke of Rutland and is marrying the Lady Charlotte for her money. Plus, he killed a man yesterday in a duel, his lover’s husband, a Mr. Wilcox.”

  Guy stood there, anxiously, bracing himself for the Lord Radcliffe’s outrage. The Lord Radcliffe, however, did not react beyond a barely perceptible nod of his head. When Guy thought he could not stand the Lord’s silence for one second more, the Lord shifted in his chaise. “How interesting. Poor Wilcox—death by duel. No one wants that. Thank you, Guy, for the information.”

  Guy sighed in relief. “You are welcome, my Lord. I dare say my conscience has not rested since I first heard the news.”

  “I am sorry to hear of your distress. It is distressing news, I dare say. Now, won’t you please sit down while I take the liberty of boring you with a little story?”

  Guy nodded, finally sitting down.

  “When I was younger and recently married, I amassed a bit of a gambling debt myself. I was not too different in age than the Earl is now. I have since mended my ways, but my dear wife, the Lady Radcliffe, was happy to help me pay down my debt. She had a considerable dowry; perhaps you did not know that? Oh, she cried about it, back then, as she cries about everything. My point is such a debt is something that simply happens at least once in a peer’s life, I’ve noticed.” The Lord Radcliffe chuckled at the memory.

  Guy chuckled along, to appear polite, hoping to hide his brewing disbelief at the Lord Radcliffe’s nonchalance.

  “As for the duel,” the Lord Radcliffe leaned in and whispered to Guy. “Wilcox has a temper. I mean he had a temper. It was stupid of him, really, to suggest a duel. One should always know one’s opponent well. Everyone knows the Earl is an expert shot.”

  “Do you mean to say Wilcox brought on his own demise?”

  The Lord Radcliffe raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I would never challenge the Earl, of all people, to a duel. And neither should you.”

  Guy started at the statement.

  “I do not understand your meaning, my Lord.”

  The Lord Radcliffe smiled at Guy. He felt true affection for the young man. He was almost like a son to him.

  “I think you do. Now that is enough worrying on your end. It is good of you to think of us, but I have every confidence that the Earl will learn from his mistakes, much like I did, and make our Charlotte very happy in the long run.”

  “But he and Mrs. Wilcox ...”

  “Oh I am not worried about Mrs. Wilcox. These flirtations happen, Guy, amongst our class. And in the future don’t get yourself mired down in club gossip, for you will hear worse stories that you will not be able to fix. Now please stay for dinner and then we will all make our way to the ball together tonight. The Lady Radcliffe will be overjoyed at your presence as she always says having you around makes her feel young again, and I am in no mood for her tears tonight.”

  After a miserable performance he feared he would forever regret, Guy was too deflated to resist.

  “I dare say Charlotte will enjoy your company as well.” The Lord Radcliffe winked at Guy. “She quite lights up at the mention of your name, dear girl. There, there, have another brandy! Have two more!”

  Guy tried to hide his surprise at the Lord’s slip regarding Charlotte’s regard for him, so he hastily swallowed down another round and then another. He urged himself instead to think loving thoughts of Cecelia.

  The Lord Radcliffe grinned at the young man, whose motives were quite
transparent.

  “You will make a good husband one day, Guy.”

  Guy concentrated on examining the bottom of his drinks glass.

  Hugh came bounding into the room.

  “Hullo! I heard you were here. This is splendid timing as now I can take you with me to this horrid ball. And don’t say no, Guy. I know you’ve been at the club where you spent the whole day sleeping in a chair, so don’t try and tell me you are needed back home!”

  “But ...”

  “No arguing. First let’s go to the Meryton Arms for a few drinks and a bit of dinner. I’m going stir crazy in this house, what with Charlotte’s constant moping and no good company to shoot with. Don’t worry, Father, we’ll take a separate carriage and get to the ball when we get there.”

  As Guy never disagreed with Hugh, they set off immediately.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Meryton assembly rooms were aglow but Charlotte arrived feeling as if she was being led to her execution. The admiring glances of the attendees who watched the Earl of Buckland approach her and reserve three dances were but well-dressed witnesses to her imminent demise.

  “The dreaded three dances,” she thought to herself. “In the eyes of the assembly, I will be practically engaged by the end of the evening.” Everyone had heard the Earl; the fool practically shouted the request even though she was standing right in front of him. Word would be spreading quickly around the company as bad news always did. He might as well announce the banns on Sunday, she grumbled.

  “Charlotte, why the downcast face?” Lizzie Bennet inquired, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the dance room.

  “Oh Lizzie, do I look as unhappy as I feel?”

  “You look as if you are in mourning. You look worse than my sister Jane has since Mr. Bingley left Netherfield for good.”