Heir to Rowanlea (4 page)

Her mother laughed, and stretched out a hand to caress her daughter’s dark curls.

“I had noticed,” she replied a trifle ruefully. “Yet have you not noticed men do not care to be contradicted? It does not do, my love, to show them too independent a spirit, for they like to think they order everything as it pleases them, and that we depend on them for our every comfort.”

“Huh!” was all the reply Charlotte vouchsafed to this. If she ever married, she would not be prepared to accept all her husband said, and be afraid to contradict him or argue when she knew he was in the wrong.

“They like to believe themselves the masters, and to be able to consider us weak creatures who would be utterly lost without their guidance,” Lady Weare went on musingly. “They are totally inconsistent, of course, for when it comes to running a household we are expected to be capable of making judgements and taking decisions without the slightest reference to them. Indeed, most men would be greatly offended to be consulted on matters such as employing another laundry maid, or ordering a dinner for their guests. Yet when it concerns other questions, of religion, or politics, or even choice of wines, we are held to be incapable of knowing or ever learning anything at all about the matter. Fortunately men are so satisfied with the state of affairs they never think to consider how we are really managing them!”

“What do you mean?” Charlotte asked, intrigued. “How can one persuade someone into doing something without them being aware of it?”

“To give you an example, when your father died eight years ago, I decided it would be too extravagant to continue living at Weare House, and keep up the London house too. After all, what point was there in a widow with two young children living in that great barracks of a place? I should do little entertaining, and time enough for James to begin to know his land when he was more able to take care of it. It seemed more sensible to save what I could and try to increase James’ inheritance, as well as providing a larger portion for you. Naturally it would have been different had your father lived, or had James been much older. Also, your Aunt Susan had died a year earlier, leaving Harry and Rosalie to be brought up by servants. It really was the most suitable plan if I lived with Henry and cared for all of you, while finding a tenant for Weare House, and selling the London one.”

“But that is exactly what you did,” Charlotte said, puzzled.

“Oh, yes, there are methods of obtaining our own way,” her mother replied with a smile. “Had I suggested that plan to Henry he would have found a dozen objections to the scheme, just because he had not thought of it for himself. So I told him I considered it my duty to continue living in the same state as before, after my year of mourning was over, and be completely independent. I even suggested,” she added with what sounded to Charlotte suspiciously like a giggle, “that I might feel it my duty to provide you and James with another father, and hinted one of your father’s friends, a bachelor Henry had never liked, would be suitable. He condemned me for a foolish woman who would waste her son’s substance, or at least that part of it which was not safely tied up in trust, and not know how to manage when dealing with the servants, and predicted I should be a prey to all the rogues in Sussex and London. The end of it was he told me I would be far better off selling the town house, coming to live with him, and being under his eye so that my foolish notions could be controlled. I thankfully fell in with his clever plan, praising him to the skies for having the wit to devise it. When I said I would feel it wrong to permit strangers to occupy Weare House, he knew of the very man who would be an ideal tenant, so you see, all turned out as I had wished.”

“I still cannot see why you had to employ such roundaboutation,” Charlotte declared, intrigued. “Surely any rational man would have been prepared to accept your reasons.”

“A rational man might, but I have found none who fit that description! They like to have their own way, and to believe they have thought of a plan first, so we have to ensure we guide them into thinking of the plan we want! Did you not notice how your uncle, this evening, when I suggested he would manage the business in France better than an agent, promptly changed his mind about going and determined to send someone else?”

“Yes, he did!” Charlotte exclaimed, much struck. “Was that what you intended?” she asked in awe.

“Of course. I do not want Henry, or Harry for that matter, posting all over France on an errand some clerk could have done better. Think how impatient they would have become when there were delays, and some petty official refused to see them, or directed them wrongly!”

“Do you think Cousin Frederick is still alive?” Charlotte asked, her thoughts diverted to this possibility.

“I cannot think so, for surely his mother or her relatives would have contrived to get in touch with us somehow if he had been. After all, there is plenty of illicit traffic with France through the free traders, and a message could have been sent if anyone had really tried.”

“I used to like him,” Charlotte said slowly. “I was only six when they went to France, but I can still remember the fun we all had at Rowanlea. I want cousin Frederick to be alive, and yet Harry would be such a good master for Rowanlea, and has, I am sure, come to look on it as his, despite Uncle Henry’s refusal even to admit the possibility.”

“Well, it will all soon be settled,” Lady Weare said briskly.

“Are all men the same?” Charlotte asked, intrigued with what her mother had been saying.

“Oh yes, your father was as persuadable as Henry, and I can even persuade your Uncle Robert, James’ other trustee, to invest his money where I want it, although he maintains females cannot handle money. Those investments have has been successful, too,” she added. “Even James, if I suggest he would hate riding on a dull day, seems to prefer that to taking out his boat, when all the time I have been fearful a storm was brewing. If I dared to show I was worried he might not be able to handle the boat in a rough sea, he would be only too anxious to prove me wrong.”

Charlotte laughed in agreement.

“You sound as though you can contrive to make them do whatever you want,” she remarked wistfully. “Do you manage me in the same way?”

Lady Weare ruffled her curls and sighed mockingly.

“You, my dear, are not a man! Sometimes I wish you were, for then you would be far easier to manage. I dare not suggest things to you, hoping you would do the opposite, for you would most certainly not. Let anyone put any crazy scheme into your head and like as not you’ll want to carry it out.”

“Then how do you manage me?” Charlotte asked, laughing.

“That I shall most certainly not tell you, my love, for I cannot lose all my influence over you by letting you into all my secrets!”

“It cannot always work,” Charlotte mused.

“No,” her mother agreed. “You have to be ahead of them, proposing some scheme you fear they will think of so as to prevent their approving it. Stopping them from doing something they are set upon already is far more difficult.” She picked up one of the journals lying on a small table. “But that is enough of that. Oh, my love, do you like this gown? I think Jane might make it up for you in that pale jonquil muslin we bought today. Miss Drover has rather a lot to do, and this would not take her long, and would be ideal for the musical evening Lady Charles invited us to when we met her in Bond Street.”

* * * *

On the following day when Charlotte was occupied with fittings for her new gowns, James was intent on his own pursuits. Yesterday he had accompanied his tutor, Mr Williams, to the Tower, where he consented to be amused by the wild beasts kept there. Unfortunately Mr Williams had seen fit to follow this with a proposal to visit the British Museum on the following morning, and James had rebelled. Still smarting from what he considered unjustified censure over the matter of the cricket ball, he escaped from the house early in the morning and found his way down to the docks, gazing in fascination as the busy scene, at first so tangled and incomprehensible to him, gradually became more orderly and took on meaning.

He watched the men loading the barges, and crept gradually nearer the wharf side, being careful to avoid those men who were carrying great loads, or dragging huge carts, after one of them swore at him in what seemed to be a foreign language but what he assumed was in fact cant for getting in the way. Longingly he gazed at the barge moored alongside a wharf nearby. He would love to see how it was ordered below the decks. An impossibly large amount of cargo had already been loaded onto it, and James thought there could not be room for a single crate more, let alone the crew. He edged cautiously nearer the gangplank, determined, if the opportunity arose when there was no one nearby, to slip across it and explore as much as he could before he was, as he cheerfully accepted he would be, caught and evicted from the boat.

At last the cargo seemed to be complete and the men drifted away, laughing and slapping one another on the back. They made for a tavern on the corner of the street, set well back from the wharf, and all but one went inside, leaving the solitary one to turn the corner and disappear from view. James glanced quickly round. There was no one else working in this area, and already seagulls had swept down upon the boat and the wharf, scavenging for what they could. He moved forward cautiously, nonchalantly glancing from side to side, sending a few of the gulls screeching indignantly into the air, and then, reaching the gangplank, turned and sped up it at top speed.

At the top he jumped down onto the deck, and breathed a sigh of satisfaction. It was short-lived. An enormous giant of a man appeared from a hole in the deck and with two strides had caught James by the arm.

“Well, and what’s this? Come ter thieve?”

“Not at all,” James replied indignantly. “I just wanted to see the boat!”

“Wanted ter see the boat! A likely tale! Why don’t ye arsk, perlite like, when there’s folk abaht, ‘stead o’ sneakin’ on when ye think it’s unguarded? Ye must be a green un ter think we’d all go off an’ leave a valuable cargo!”

“I didn’t think they’d let me,” James blurted out.

“Too right they ‘oodn’t! Nah, does I ‘and ye over fer trespass, or thievin’, or both?”

“I haven’t stolen anything, and I’m not doing any harm to your wretched boat! You can’t hand me over!”

“Transportation, most like,” the giant continued, seeming oblivious of James. “Seven year, probably. Ye’d be almost full grown by the time ye came back. If ye came back. There’s a many die on them ships, an’ others when they get there, o’ fever, or bad treatment, an’ ye’re only a little un. They’d not make allowances fer that, mind, treat em all alike. Now ‘op it,” he continued without a change of tone, “an’ don’t let me see ye back agin, or I’ll fergit me kind ‘eart.”

He steered James to the gangplank, heaved him halfway along it with effortless ease, and gave him a push. James had to run to avoid stumbling, much to his disgust, for he did not want the fellow to think he was afraid. Reaching the wharf he walked away as slowly as he dared, whistling defiantly, and frowning at the laughter of the man which floated after him above the screams of the gulls.

Chapter 3

“Will I be going to Almack’s” Charlotte asked her mother as they sat in the morning room. She had heard so much about this club, which admitted ladies, unlike the other clubs Harry and his friends talked about.

“I will obtain vouchers for you, my love, but I suspect you will find it abominably flat.”

“Why? Doesn’t everyone go there?”

“I have heard very few of the eligible bachelors go. The only dances they permit are country dances and perhaps a Scottish reel. It is less important than it used to be, but I suppose it is something you ought at least to try.”

“Will Elizabeth be going?”

“I suspect, if there are no better invitations for Wednesday evenings, she will go there.”

Charlotte nodded in satisfaction. If Elizabeth went, no doubt Harry would too, and there might not be any other eligible young men there to distract Elizabeth’s attention. If she could discover whether Elizabeth meant to go on a particular evening, she could tell Harry.

“The dressmaker is coming later, so we must decide on the patterns we want for your gowns. Can you fetch me those journals I left in my boudoir? They have some delightful illustrations, and I am sure Miss Drover will be able to copy them for you.”

Charlotte did so, and they spent the next hour absorbed in the fashion plates, then another two with Miss Drover, deciding which materials would be best for the various patterns. Charlotte forced herself to keep still while Miss Drover took measurements, draped swathes of material about her, and then began to cut out the materials and pin the pieces together, asking Charlotte to slip them over her head so that she could have some notion of how the gowns would look when they were made up.

Charlotte was just disengaging herself from one of these when they heard a noise from downstairs, a deep bark and James’ voice adjuring the dog, she assumed it was a dog, but where he had acquired it she could not begin to understand, to keep quiet.

Moving incautiously to rid herself of this encumbrance and go to investigate, she pricked herself with one of the pins, and winced.

“Ouch. Now what is James up to?”

Free at last she went downstairs, hastening after her mother, who had gone before her, to see James, a huge white but filthy dog, and a strange gentleman in the hall.

* * * *

Moodily kicking a stone in front of him, resenting the way he had been ejected from the barge with such ease, James wandered in the direction of the Tower which loomed up a short distance away, and had almost reached it when his attention was drawn to a knot of boys much his own age, gathered about some object that was causing vigorous argument. James wandered over and found the cause of the dissension appeared to be a large, dirty white long-haired dog who sat in the middle of the group, looking at them with interest, and wagging a friendly tail.

“I tell yer, ‘e prigged a leg o’ lamb from me pa’s stall. I seen ‘im mesel’,” a scruffy urchin declared.