An Inconvenient Trilogy (55 page)

Chapter 17

Charles was frustrated. He was not an unfeeling man and the arrival of Lord and Lady Halkyn meant that Laura would receive the support she deserved and which they all had been waiting for, but unfortunately for him, it meant more work. He did not mind that in principle, in fact it had been more like a holiday than work over the past few weeks, but more tasks to do in a day meant less time with Martha Fairfield, and that frustrated him.

He had planned to kiss her at every opportunity that presented itself, only with Lord and Lady Halkyn in the house, those opportunities were none existent. Martha spent her time between Lady Halkyn and Laura who was still confined and he spent his time with Lord Halkyn and Alfred. Only at the evening meal did they meet.

Martha looked more in control than ever. Charles could tell that she was more at ease now that there was no reason that she would find herself alone with him again. If he was a true gentleman he would leave her be and forget about her and what she meant to him, but in this matter he was not a gentleman, he was a man of business and he ached for Martha Fairfield.

Lord Halkyn had decided that Laura should stay in the area. That way, she would always have the support of Lord Dunham if she needed it. He had also decided in a name change.

“She should adopt Mrs Atkinson,” Lord Halkyn said to Alfred and Charles one morning. “It will help create a background for her, a young widow moving to the north, to escape her grief.”

“What about the staff here?” Alfred asked, not willing to examine why he did not like the term, Mrs attached to Laura’s name.

“They are loyal to the Dunham’s,” Lord Halkyn said, “that was proven time and again when Elizabeth stayed here. There will be no issue with them.”

“She will need a job,” Charles said, “But she will struggle with the child.”

“She has told Charlotte she has some money set aside and I will provide her with an income, she won’t need to work if she chooses not to,” Lord Halkyn said.

“It is not your responsibility to look after her,” Alfred said, a little defensively.

Lord Halkyn, looked assessingly at the young man before him. He had always considered Alfred older than himself, when he had dealt with him previously, but he looked a lot younger now. He no longer bent slightly as he moved, almost as if he was ashamed of his height. He had filled out and was a healthy colour, hardly recognisable as the thin, drawn officer, who had attended his residence all those months ago.

Lord Halkyn had some sympathy with the young man, but he was also a man who was not used to indulging others, not until he had met his wife, at least. “And if not mine, whose is it?” he asked, with the raise of an eyebrow. “She saved my wife from goodness knows what, and directed her to me, and I shall be grateful to her until my dying day. So, yes, I do feel some responsibility for her, unless of course, you want to take over the role.”

Alfred glowered at Lord Halkyn’s mocking tone, which only amused the aristocrat even further. “I cannot support her, as you damn well know.”

Lord Halkyn laughed, “Well you could, but you obviously aren’t prepared to, more fool you, so I shall continue with my plans.” Lord Halkyn turned to Charles. “Please find a small cottage near here that would be suitable. I shall leave it to you to secure it. No doubt once it is secured my wife and Miss Fairfield will want to take a part in its furnishing, so just keep me informed and send me the bills,” he said dismissively.

Lord Halkyn left the room and the two men stared at the door for a moment in silence.

“I thought Lord Dunham was straight to the point,” Charles said, ruefully, trying to break the atmosphere.

“If I didn’t know that he was a decent man, I
swear
I would have to kill him,” Alfred ground out.

“That’s what I’d have said too, and I realise that we say this all too often when dealing with the aristocracy, but it is only his way,” Charles soothed.

“Yes, the perfect excuse for bad behaviour,” Alfred responded. “Would you like me to accompany you on your search for a cottage?” he asked.

“No, thank you,” Charles replied. “I had already heard of one, I was told about it while we were deciding on where Mr Lawson would live, so I will visit it before doing anything more. If it is not suitable, then I would welcome your help.”

Alfred accepted what Charles had said and then left him, as it was time to visit Laura. Everyone knew what happened every afternoon, and accepted that it was a part of the complicated relationship that the two shared. Charles had some sympathy with the pair, but if anyone knew of his own inner turmoil they would surely wonder what on earth had happened at Home Farm since the visitors had arrived.

The following morning Charles set off the visit the cottage. It was only a few miles outside of the Home Farm Estate and so he took his time, enjoying the feeling of not being on the alert for Martha, every time he left a room, or rounded a corner.

The visit went well and he returned to the estate, taking the long way around. He almost groaned with frustration when he turned into one of the lanes and saw Martha walking ahead. He stopped his horse when he reached her and dismounted.

“Good morning Martha,” he said.

“Good morning, Charles,” Martha responded calmly enough, but her skin was flushed since the moment she had realised who was approaching her. “Did your journey prove fruitful?”

“Yes,” Charles acknowledged. “The cottage is perfectly fine for mother and baby.”

“Good, Laura will be relieved. I know she has suffered from feeling uncertain about her future, no matter how often I have tried to reassure her,” Martha said

“I suppose it is easier to say words, than to believe them,” came the obtuse response.

Martha flushed a little deeper, not sure whether it was a dig at her or not. “I’m sure,” she murmured, but really did not wish to get into a deep conversation.

Charles changed the subject. “Have you responded to your brother yet?” What he really was asking was if she had sent the money to her family.

“Yes,” came the quiet response.

Charles sighed, “Martha, I know he is your brother and you care for him, but he should not have asked you for such an amount.”

Martha paused before replying. She actually agreed with Charles, Thomas could not help the situation they were in as such, but to ask a spinster for her life savings was condemning her to a life of goodness knew what struggles. As always though, Martha defended her brother. “We are a family and when one is trouble we help each other out.”

Charles was stung a little at Martha’s tone, “Well for your sake, and I mean this sincerely Martha, I hope he is there for you when it is your turn.”

“Well I am sure that if he isn’t, you will be standing in the background gloating,” Martha snapped, always ready to imagine the worst in the man stood before her.

At her words, Charles stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. “I don’t think I realised until today just how much you really do dislike me,” he said, his face an astounded expression, as if he could not quite believe it.

“I don’t,” Martha said automatically, but there was no conviction in her words.

“Don’t treat me as a fool Martha,” Charles snapped. “Here I am, thinking that underneath the bluster, the criticism and the put downs, that you have some affection for me, but you don’t, do you? You really must think me a cad if you would even consider that I would gloat at someone else’s misfortunes.”

“I don’t think that!” Martha said quickly. “It is just that where I am concerned, I think you dislike me no matter what I say or do,” she babbled.

“Where you are concerned?” Charles asked in disbelief. “I asked you to marry me, I kissed you, twice! How in the world would you think that I disliked you from those actions?”

“All your interference when we were last here and then at Dunham House, how could I not think that you disliked me?” Martha responded. “Whatever I did, you offered some comment or other, always interfering, always undermining.”

“Interfering and undermining?” Charles spluttered. He looked at Martha, she looked mortified and uncomfortable. How had he managed to create this amount of animosity by his actions? He could not believe how wrong he had been. He sighed and shook his head. “I was foolish at the start of our acquaintance Martha and god help me, I have suffered for it since.”

“I don’t understand,” Martha said, frowning and biting her lip.

“I saw you as this perfect woman, totally in control and a completely confident woman and clearly above my station. I wanted to ruffle your feathers. Maybe it was childish of me, but I did it out of attraction, I suppose. The problem I didn’t foresee was your immediate dislike which developed because of my actions, and how that has remained firmly in place ever since. I have tried time and again to offer help and support and been rejected at every turn, but I still tried. I had no idea that your responses were genuine and that you can’t abide me,” Charles explained, finally being able to put into words what he had been feeling for months.

“I don’t dislike you,” Martha said quietly.

“Oh do me the honour of not treating me like an idiot as well,” Charles said, his voice rising. “I tried to make amends for my foolishness and I thought, just the once at Dunham House, that I had succeeded, that you did think something of me, but I was obviously wrong. All that is now left for me to say is that I am sorry, for everything I have done, for making such a hash of things and choosing the one woman who was incapable of forgiveness. I sincerely apologise Martha, and please be assured that I will never trouble you again.”

Charles mounted his horse and rode away, he had been a fool. The one woman he had to go and fall in love with and she would never, ever, consider him as a husband. What a damned mess.

Martha watched Charles ride away from her, rooted to the spot. He had said that he had been attracted to her from the start, she would never have imagined that his behaviour indicated that. Her head spun. He had liked her from the start?

Martha started to move towards the house. If Charles had liked her from the beginning, then that meant that his proposal was not so strange after all. She had condemned him for acting out of pity, when he must have been reacting on stronger feelings. Martha’s cheeks stung with the deep red that infused them as she walked. Never in her life had she been so mortified at her behaviour. She had insulted the man who had been consistent in his regard.

She understood the kisses, they were no longer to be considered as something that had occurred because he was plaguing her, but because they meant something. She reflected on her own behaviour and it did not bode well. She had been rude, dismissive and angry and all without justification. If she had not been so precious about her ranking, her importance in the family, she probably would have seen Charles’s actions for what they were.

She had responded to his kisses, and why? She had wanted them to happen, that was why, just as much as he had. Yes, they overwhelmed her, yes, the intensity frightened her, but she wanted them to happen. Just as in the same way that when she had seen him on his horse, her heart had started to pound, partly because she had expected him to stop and for a kiss to occur.

How arrogant she had been! How presumptuous, and how self-absorbed. The house came into sight, she could no longer hide the fact that most of the situation she was now in, losing the respect and affection of the one man who she cared for, was completely and utterly her own fault. She admitted to herself that she cared for him, how could she not? The acknowledgement could only add to her pain, it did not offer any comfort to her feelings.

After that first season, she had presumed that she would marry at some point, and look what had happened to bring her down to earth when she had been smug then. Her whole family had been almost ruined. She had accepted being a spinster, only allowing the longing for a husband and children to surface very occasionally and then be pushed down again, into the part of her heart that she rarely allowed out.

Then, after all this time, she had met a man, a handsome, charming man, who she was attracted to. If she could not openly acknowledge it, she could at least do so to herself after what had happened. She had been attracted to him from the start and his behaviour at the beginning had turned her against him. How foolish and childish had she acted, no better than a schoolroom miss.

Once again though, her smugness was being punished. Charles had withdrawn from her and would probably never speak to her again, never mind return to kiss her and ask her again to marry him. Her one chance of happiness and she had pushed at it until it was gone.

She returned to the house and sought the solace of her bed chamber, needing to gather herself a little before going to the drawing room. Martha looked at herself in the looking glass and groaned, she was not one for dramatic acts, but she was fairly sure that she would not be able to remain at Dunham House. She could not stay in the same employ as Charles, she would see him every day and it would be torture. If he found another woman to take as wife, she did not think she could bear to be reminded on a daily basis about what she had lost.

Yes, she would have to leave her beloved Elizabeth. Martha rested her head in her hands, she had destroyed everything in one sunny afternoon.

Chapter 18

Charles once again avoided Martha. He was beginning to act like a petulant child, but he honestly did not know what else to do. At least it was easier to avoid her with Lord and Lady Halkyn in the house. He could work alongside Lord Halkyn, or spend time at the cottage. He also started to arrange work on the cottage that Mr Lawson was to occupy, deciding that he needed to find a new steward, even if it meant that he employed someone for a short period. Little did they know it, but both parties were wishing for a return to Dunham House, but for different reasons.

Martha had decided that she needed to apologise to Charles, but there was no opportunity to do so. She could understand his reluctance to spend time with her, but it saddened her. She had completely lost him. Oh, he was polite enough when they were in the same company, but there was no longer that spark between them that Martha only realised had existed once it was gone.

She tried to busy herself, helping Laura whenever possible. Laura had ended her confinement and was looking forward to setting up home in the cottage. She had visited it on a number of occasions, a girl from the village was being employed to help with the baby, and then she would move with Laura to become a maid of all works. Laura had argued against such expense, but Lady Halkyn would hear none of it.

“Look on it as help for Frederica,” Charlotte explained, as once again Laura had raised the issue of the maid. “She will want her Mama to help her, not to be spending all day cleaning the house.”

“But I won’t be working, Charlotte,” Laura said. “I will have plenty of time.”

“Grow flowers, sew, bake, or do anything that you enjoy,” Charlotte said with a smile. “You are not going to win this argument, it is the least we can do.”

“Thank you,” Laura responded, reaching over and hugging her friend. “I don’t care what the rules are on hugging a Lady, I will never stop! You really are being too kind.”

“I can’t take all the credit,” Charlotte acknowledged with a smile. “Stephen is the one making most of the suggestions, I just agree with everything!”

“A happy marriage then,” Laura teased.

“Oh, he doesn’t get his own way all the time,” Charlotte laughed. “He’s far too stubborn for there not to be some conflict.”

Laura smiled at her friend. “You are a very lucky girl, and I am happy for you Charlotte. I only knew Lord Halkyn a little before he met you, but you have brought out a nicer side to him.”

“I hope so,” Charlotte said, seriously. “I will never forget his laugh when I told him that you all said he was the kindest of the men that visited Baron Kersal’s. He was so mocking about that. The reality was that you spoke the truth, he just didn’t realise what you had all sensed.” Charlotte was perfectly at ease with the fact that Lord Halkyn had visited brothels before their marriage. Lord Halkyn doted on his wife and made it clear to all and sundry, which was even more of a surprise, as he had previously been the biggest critic of anyone who had openly shown affection for their spouse.

*

Laura climbed into the cart that Martha was about to drive to the cottage. “I think there mustn’t be anything left in Home Farm with the things that are packed in here,” Laura said with a shake of her head in wonder. Furniture and supplies had been bought and Lady Dunham, although many hundreds of miles away, had sent instructions about what items were to be sent to the cottage.

“I think there will be just enough room for you and Frederica to squeeze in, once everything is in place,” Martha smiled.

“I hope so,” Laura said excitedly. “I know my removal will mean you all will be deserting me, but I am looking forward to settling in.” She had almost accepted that Alfred would be leaving in the next few days. There was a tiny part of her that hoped he would stay with her, but her sensible side knew that he would return to London and continue his employment with Bow Street.

He would always be the love of her life, but she was pragmatic about the fact that they were not destined to be together. At least she would have Frederica, something that she would never regret, especially as every time she looked into her baby’s eyes, Alfred’s looked back at her. She would treasure her daughter and in her own way, treasure the man who had created her.

They had not yet had an opportunity to speak about the connection between Alfred and Frederica. Laura was choosing her time carefully, but she had the feeling that Alfred would never quite believe her, if she told him again that he was Frederica’s father, which saddened her and delayed her raising the subject. At the moment, it was just a fear that Alfred would not believe her, but once the words were said, there would be no going back.

They reached the cottage in good time and found Charles, speaking with a gardener, who was to clear the cottage garden and then the responsibility lay with Laura as to what it needed and for its general upkeep. Charles nodded his welcome, but did not stop in his task. Martha flushed a little, but put her head down and carried on with her own business. During the past few days she had not been able to look at Charles because of the shame she felt.

Charles popped his head in the cottage doorway and looked at Laura, “Is there anything you would like assistance with before I head back to Home Farm?” he asked pleasantly, but he did not look in Martha’s direction.

“No, thank you Charles, I think we have everything under control,” Laura responded with a smile. She was thoroughly enjoying seeing the house emerge into a home.

“Very well, I shall see you both on your return,” Charles said with a slight bow and left the ladies.

“He’s a nice man,” Laura said, as she continued to unpack.

Martha did not respond. She had been blind to how nice Charles actually was and would feel like a hypocrite if she started to sing his praises now.

The two women worked together all afternoon, until the house looked like it was ready to welcome its new occupants. Laura stood back surveying the room. The range filled one side of the wall, a dresser filling the shorter wall, now adorned with plates. The sink was situated under the window, overlooking the garden. A table filled the centre of the room, along with two comfortable chairs that were near the range, perfect for cosy evenings in front of the warmth.

Laura closed the door and locked it, putting the key in the apron that was protecting her dress. “I think it is ready to move into. The beds are arriving tomorrow and then it just our clothes and that is everything. I’ve never owned so many things in my life,” she said, feeling content and happy.

“It is a lovely cottage,” Martha said. “You need to bring some of the flowers from the estate to put in the garden and then it will be complete.”

“I will,” Laura said, climbing into the cart.

Martha took the reins and started back to the estate. The women talked about what Laura could do with the garden, as the horse made steady progress through the lanes.

Turning from the main route, onto the outside edge of the estate, the horse was frightened and Martha struggled to keep control. When it eventually came to a reluctant stop she climbed down to soothe the animal.

“What’s wrong with him?” Laura asked.

“No idea, but something spooked him, he’s fine now though, aren’t you boy?” Martha said stroking the horse’s nose.

Martha heard a sound behind her, but before she could turn, she was grabbed around the neck and pulled backwards away from the horse. She went very still as she felt something cold against her neck and had the stinging sensation of being cut.

“Afternoon ladies,” came a distinctly London voice.

Both women did not respond, each looking at the other in horror. “So sorry to have to interrupt your excursion, but I have unfinished business with one of you.”

Laura slowly stepped out of the cart, knowing immediately that she had been found. “Leave her alone,” she said. “It’s me you want, not her.”

“No!” Martha hissed at her friend. Martha had realised, like Laura, that someone or something had led him to Laura, but as long as he did not know which of them Laura was, there was a chance that she would be safe.

“Do I now?” the man asked. “That’s very obliging of you.”

Martha tried to twist her head a little towards him. “Spare us and you will be well rewarded by Lord Halkyn,” she said, trying to use the only thing she could think of that would save them. She prayed that someone would think of something that needed to be taken to the cottage and their paths would cross.

“Will I?” he asked, looking interestedly at Martha. “How much?”

“As much as it takes,” Martha said, trying to memorise every detail of his face, although it was partially covered to prevent identification. Martha knew that she had to try and recall it, if they did get out alive.

“And as soon as I approach the house, they would have me in chains and I would be swinging quicker than you could say how much. Do you take me for a fool?” he spat, holding the knife harder against Martha’s neck.

Martha could not swallow if she had wished, for fear that the knife would severe something vital and she would bleed to death on the roadside. “No!” she croaked, desperate to calm him down.

“Stop!” Laura shouted out, moving closer. “Your argument is with me, let her be.”

“Brave little thing aren’t you? No wonder you got away from me last time,” he said with an almost admiring tone.

“Are you the man that I saw on the wharf?” Laura asked, suddenly feeling resigned.

“I am,” came the clipped response.

“I didn’t recognise you, you were in the shadows then,” Laura said calmly, almost as if she was having an everyday conversation with a passer-by.

“You should have let me catch you then, it would have been over and done with in a second,” the man responded, as conversationally as Laura.

“I could not let you kill my child,” Laura said simply.

The man moved Martha over towards Laura, Martha mouthed ‘run’ to her friend, but Laura shook her head slightly. There was no running, there was no escape. She had been foolish to think that she could escape, when in reality the networks that existed could never been overcome by a lowly woman like herself.

She had achieved what she had set out to do, Frederica was safe and would be well cared for, she had done her duty. Yes, she wanted to live, wanted to with every fibre of her being, but she was not about to sacrifice Martha for an attempt at an escape. It was not as if she had anywhere to go to. She had no other connections than the ones who had offered support now, if they could not protect her, no one could.

When her assailant was within a few inches, he stopped. “No one usually gets away from me, you should be proud of yourself,” he said and then acted quickly. He threw Martha to one side, unbalancing her and sending her sprawling across the ground. At the same moment, he lunged at Laura and buried the knife deep into her stomach. It was a well aimed lunge, as the knife was inserted below Laura’s stays, which could have protected her if the knife had been inserted slightly higher.

He withdrew the knife and watched while Laura sank to her knees, all colour fading from her face. Only when she slumped to the floor did he take off at a run through the hedgerow.