“Good morning, Mr Guthrie. Isn’t it a lovely day?”
“Aye, so it is, Miss Charity,” replied Mr Guthrie, the land agent for the Riversleigh estate. “Though I’m told all this melted snow has rendered the roads well nigh impassable halfway to London.”
“But the sky is blue, the sun is shining and I’ve found some snowdrops. Look!” Charity held the flowers up in the bright morning light for the land agent to see. “Who cares about a little mud?” she finished exultantly. It was true that earlier that morning she had been quite worried in case the mailcoach foundered. But out in the sunshine her doubts could not linger, and now she was convinced that it would not be long before Edward would be reading her letter.
It was only two days since Mr Canby had visited, but the weather had broken and Charity had been unable to stay indoors a moment longer. She had gone out into the garden and then, enticed by the crisp fresh air, she had walked down the drive to the gate. It had been while she was standing there that Mr Guthrie had passed by.
The land agent’s dour expression softened slightly as he looked down at Charity and the fragile blooms she held in her hand.
“I’ve always had a fondness for the brave wee flowers, growing in the snow,” he said, managing to give the impression that he was rather ashamed to admit to such a weakness; then he swung down stiffly from his horse.
“Does your leg hurt?” Charity asked, concerned to see how awkwardly the land agent was moving.
“No, no. Mebbe the cold weather aggravates it—but nothing to speak of,” he said impatiently, his Scottish accent more pronounced than usual.
“So don’t fuss, woman!” Charity finished for him.
Mr Guthrie looked at her disapprovingly. “You ought to mind that pert tongue of yours,” he said. “One day it will get you into trouble.”
“It already has—many times,” Charity agreed, undaunted by the grim expression on his weatherbeaten face. “Would you like some snowdrops?”
Without waiting for a reply, she stood on tiptoe and carefully inserted a small bunch of flowers into Mr Guthrie’s buttonhole.
“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “Is it true you must leave Hazelhurst?” he continued, his sharp eyes scanning her face intently as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You’re looking more cheerful than I had expected.”
“There, it’s amazing what a difference a buttonhole can make,” Charity said. “If you’d only smile a bit more often you’d look quite festive. Yes, it’s true. But I hadn’t expected the news to get out quite so soon.”
“You sent Charles to post a letter for you yesterday. I dare say the whole village knows by now,” said Mr Guthrie drily.
“So I did; I’d forgotten that,” Charity said ruefully. “Never mind, it was bound to come out sooner or later, and I dare say people will lose interest very quickly. I think your news is much more dramatic. It must have been a terrible shock to you, Lord Riversleigh and Mr Riversleigh being killed at the same time like that,” she added in her forthright manner.
“It was,” said the land agent grimly. “There’ll be great changes at Riversleigh now, I don’t doubt.”
“For the better, surely?” said Charity.
She had known Mr Guthrie for a long time and she was well aware that he had shared her dislike for his late master. In fact, she had often wondered why the land agent had remained at Riversleigh, and she had been sure he would be pleased with the unexpected course of events.
“I know Edward’s always dreaming of designing the perfect building,” she said, “but he must be an improvement on his grandfather!”
“Aye, but…”
“Miss Charity! Miss Charity! Mrs Wendle says, please can you come at once?” A maid came running down the drive towards them, stumbling over her gown in her haste.
Mr Guthrie’s mare shied back and tossed her head nervously, and the land agent seized her bridle and spoke soothingly to her while Charity turned to greet the girl.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Mrs Mayfield,” Ellen gasped. “She was trying to decide which furniture to take and she got upset! Please come quickly, miss!”
“Of course. Excuse me, Mr Guthrie.” Charity smiled briefly but warmly at the land agent, then she picked up her skirts and ran back to the house, with Ellen following behind her.
Mr Guthrie watched until she had disappeared, then he sighed and put his foot in the stirrup and dragged himself into the saddle. He had broken his right leg in a riding accident nearly fifteen years ago and it was aching more than usual today. I must be getting old, he thought; but he’d known Charity since she was a child, and he was going to miss her.
* * *
“Miss Charity!”
“I’m here, Charles. What is it?” Charity looked up as the footman picked his way towards her through the crowded and dusty attic.
It was nearly a week later and Charity had finally persuaded her mother that it would do her good to visit the Leydons, and now she was taking advantage of Mrs Mayfield’s absence to sort through the attic, trying to decide if there was anything up there worth taking with them.
“Lord Riversleigh is here to see you, miss!” Charles announced, and, even in the gloom, Charity thought she caught sight of a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.
Charles had only been working at Hazelhurst for a few months, but he was already devoted to Charity and it had been he who had posted the letter for her. She had asked him not to tell anyone else she was writing to Lord Riversleigh and, as far as she was aware, he had not done so. But no doubt someone must have told him she had always been on very friendly terms with Edward Riversleigh. Never mind; if her plan succeeded he was welcome to share some of the credit.
“He’s in the library, miss,” said Charles as he followed Charity out of the attic. “That being the only room apart from Mrs Mayfield’s where a fire’s been lit.”
“Thank you, Charles,” Charity called over her shoulder. In her haste she was already halfway down the stairs and she didn’t pause in her headlong flight until she had burst impetuously through the library door.
“Edward! I’m so pleased you could…” She stopped short.
The tall man standing by the window was not Edward Riversleigh. Edward could never have appeared so casually elegant, nor could he have imposed his presence on a room so completely that his surroundings faded into insignificance. Yet the stranger had done nothing dramatic, he had simply turned at the sound of the opening door and looked at Charity; but, as her eyes met his, she was instantly aware that he possessed an aura of strength and sophistication which seemed quite out of place in the small, comfortably shabby library.
“I…I beg your pardon, sir,” she stammered, dazedly wondering how Charles could possibly have mistaken this man for the far from grand Edward. “I was expecting someone else. How…how do you do? May I help you?” she finished rather breathlessly.
“Thank you, you are very kind,” the gentleman replied, and even in her confusion Charity could not help noticing that his voice was deep and melodious. “But I am afraid it is I who should apologise to you.”
He came towards her as he spoke and as the light from the window fell on his face she could see that he had grey eyes, a firm chin and a decisive mouth.
He halted before her and bowed courteously over the hand she instinctively offered him.
“You…you should?” Charity said, still somewhat confused by his presence, and disconcertingly aware of the firm clasp of his fingers on hers.
“Certainly.” The gentleman straightened up and released her hand. His expression was grave, but there was a distant glint of amusement in his grey eyes as he looked at Charity, though she was far too bewildered to notice it.
“I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mayfield…Miss Charity Mayfield?” he said, his eyebrow lifting enquiringly as he spoke.
“Yes, but…”
“It’s always wise to make certain of these things, don’t you think?” he continued smoothly. “My name is Jack Riversleigh.”
“Jack Riversleigh?” Charity echoed, staring up at him blankly.
“Richard’s son,” he explained. “Richard was the late Lord Riversleigh’s second son.”
“Oh!” Charity gazed, open-mouthed, at her unexpected visitor, still so stunned that it was several minutes before she understood the significance of what he had said.
“You mean you come before Edward in the succession?” she said at last.”
“But I thought Richard died in disgrace years ago!” Charity burst out, losing some of her awe in her amazement at this remarkable turn of events.
Lord Riversleigh smiled.
“My father died in the most respectable of circumstances seventeen years ago,” he said. “I believe it was only the late Lord Riversleigh who held him in such aversion.”
“I’m sorry.” Charity blushed, painfully aware of what a poor impression she must be making. “I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that…it’s all rather surprising. Good grief!” she exclaimed suddenly. “You must have received my letter!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jack Riversleigh said gently. “It was that which prompted my visit today. I thought, in the circumstances, you would prefer to be appraised of your misapprehension in private.”
“Oh, how dreadful!” Charity put up her hands to her burning cheeks and closed her eyes, not really listening to what he was saying as she realised with horror that she had proposed marriage to a stranger!
“Come, I think you should sit down,” he said, and he guided her unresistingly to a chair. “You’ve had quite a shock.”
“No, no, I’m all right,” she said mechanically.
Her thoughts were in such a turmoil of confusion and embarrassment that she hardly knew what to say—or do—but almost instinctively she sought refuge in her role as hostess.
“I’m so sorry, I should have invited you to sit down, my lord,” she said with an attempt at polite formality, which she immediately spoiled by bursting out impetuously, “Oh, dear! You must have formed the most dreadful impression of me!”
“No.” Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, he laughed. “No, Miss Mayfield, dreadful is not the word I would have used. I apologise for startling you; I should have introduced myself less baldly.”
Charity looked at him doubtfully. Then she smiled hesitantly. Now that her first shock was receding she could see that the strength in his face was tempered by humour, and she began to feel slightly more at ease with him. She thought that perhaps it was his fine black coat which had made him seem so grand—and then realised almost immediately that he must be in mourning for his grandfather.
She felt relieved to have discovered the reason for her unexpected lack of composure earlier, and instantly resolved never to be impressed by fine clothes again. Then, just as she was about to make a polite comment on the weather, or the state of the roads, or some other bland, innocuous topic—to indicate her own level of unconcern and sophistication—it suddenly dawned on her that he was finding the situation amusing, and she began to feel flustered all over again.
She raised startled and rather alarmed eyes to his—and then began to feel more comfortable as she realised that, although he was certainly amused, he was equally definitely not gloating over her discomfiture. She even thought she detected a gleam of sympathy in his expression.
She thought ruefully that he might well find it amusing to receive a proposal of marriage from a woman whose existence he had hitherto been completely unaware of and cursed herself for not having addressed the letter more precisely.
“Good,” he said when he saw she had recovered at least partially from her initial astonishment. “I was sure you would have too much presence of mind to be overset by my visit. I believe, in fairness to you, I ought to explain how this peculiar situation has arisen—if you’re interested?”
“Oh, yes!” said Charity, leaning forward eagerly and momentarily forgetting her embarrassment in her desire to find out just how it had come about that Riversleigh had been inherited by a complete stranger. “Oh, I beg your pardon.” She blushed again as she suddenly remembered all her mother’s lectures on decorum. In a belated attempt to make amends for her unmannerly interest she sat up straight and folded her hands demurely in her lap. “I mean, thank you, that would be very kind of you.”
Jack smiled. He had been slightly concerned by Charity’s earlier evident confusion, but now that she had regained much of her composure his amusement at the situation in which he found himself had revived, though he was careful not to show it too openly. He was also slightly surprised by the lack of interest she had so far shown in the fate of the man she had just proposed to. It did not seem to suggest that her heart was inextricably bound to Edward.
“Well, as I said before,” he began, “my father, Richard, was the late Lord Riversleigh’s second son, and Edward’s father was his third son. But my father left Riversleigh thirty years ago, and when he did so Lord Riversleigh declared that as far as he was concerned he now had only two sons—Richard was dead to him.”
“How inhuman!” Charity gasped, her eyes fixed on Jack’s face, her dark curls dancing with indignation. “I never liked him! He behaved most unkindly to Edward for no good reason at all. Was there any reason for him to dislike your papa? Oh, dear! I mean…I mean…” She floundered to a halt, uncomfortably aware that once again she had allowed her tongue to run away with her.
“No,” said Jack. “My father refused to be ruled by my grandfather, but he never behaved dishonourably.”
“I never suspected he did!” Charity exclaimed indignantly. “Lord Riversleigh disliked Edward for being conscientious in his studies—and if that isn’t a crackbrained attitude for a guardian to hold I don’t know what is!”
“Quite.” Jack’s lips twitched, but he maintained an admirable gravity. “Anyway, my father married my mother not long after he left Riversleigh and, no doubt much to Lord Riversleigh’s annoyance, I was one of the consequences.”
“Did he know you existed?” Charity asked curiously. The workings of the late Lord Riversleigh’s mind had always been a mystery to her; she had never understood how he could be so cruel to those who should be closest to him.
“Oh, yes,” Jack replied. “I met him once, after my father died. I made it my business to do so—I wanted to know what kind of man he was—but when he discovered who I was he refused to acknowledge me. It didn’t greatly concern me. I had no idea that I might eventually succeed him.”
“Nor had anyone else,” said Charity. “At least…Edward didn’t know, did he?”
“No,” Jack said. “I believe my grandfather gave orders that my father’s name was never to be mentioned again. Over the years people must have forgotten, and even those who did know wouldn’t have spoken of the matter.”
“Of course not,” said Charity. “He could be quite…Poor Edward; I wonder what he’ll do now.”
In her first amazement she had not considered how Edward must feel about the whole thing, but now she felt sad that once more he had been unlucky. She stood up and walked over to the window, looking out at the holly tree that stood up against the blue sky beyond.
“You mustn’t think I’m not pleased for you, my lord,” she said. “But it must have been rather hard on Edward. Not that he wanted the title, but even if he hadn’t accepted my propo—I mean, at the very least the revenues of the estate could probably have provided him with a trip to Rome…Where is he?”
She swung round to face Jack as she suddenly realised that, interesting though all this was, she still didn’t have the one piece of information which was essential for the success of her plans.
“I’m afraid he’s already on his way to Italy,” Jack said quietly, watching Charity’s face carefully as he spoke.
He suspected that this news would be a great disappointment to her and, though he was not above being amused by the situation, he was reluctant to give her tidings which he was afraid would cause her real distress.
“Italy? But how on earth…?”
“As you said, it was something he’d wanted to do for a long time,” Jack continued smoothly. “I believe when he had the opportunity the excitement drove all other thoughts from his head. I’m sure he’ll be writing to you soon.”
“You mean, someone’s going to help him in his efforts to become an architect?” Charity asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” she exclaimed, forgetting her own problems in her relief at Edward’s good fortune. “He’s worked so hard, and had so little support. He’ll enjoy that much more than being Lord Riversleigh!”
“I hope so,” said Jack, relieved at Charity’s reaction.
“He will,” Charity assured him. “Last time I saw him he insisted on reading me extracts from a book he’d just acquired about the ruins of some palace at Spal…Spally…”
“Spalatro,” Jack supplied. “I believe you mean the book by Robert Adam on The Ruins of the Palace of the Emperor Diocletian at Spalatro in Dalmatia.”
“That’s it!” said Charity. “How on earth did you know?”
“I’ve read it,” said Jack apologetically.
“Oh.” She looked at him blankly. “Are you an architect too, sir?”
“No, but I’ve always been interested in a variety of different crafts. It’s important not to have too narrow a viewpoint,” Jack said, and changed the subject abruptly. “At the risk of being impertinent, may I ask you a question, Miss Mayfield?”
“Of course. What is it?” Charity glanced at him apprehensively, suddenly reminded that he had read her letter and consequently knew far more about her than she might have wished.
“Are you very disappointed by the turn of events?” he asked. “As I’m sure you’ve realised, I’m afraid I read your letter. I must apologise for that—I don’t make a habit of reading other people’s correspondence, and I assure you I will treat what I read in confidence—but at first I didn’t quite know what to make of it.” He paused.
“No, I understand,” said Charity; she looked down at her hands, feeling very self-conscious.
“I hope so. When I realised you’d intended it for Edward I would have forwarded it to him unread, but it seemed as if you needed his assistance urgently because he was Lord Riversleigh, so I hoped that I might be able to help instead. I’m sorry that I can’t. But if you wish I’ll do everything in my power to get your message to him as soon as possible.”
“Thank you,” she said. “But it would be too late. Edward was my first choice, but I dare say I can manage without him. I shall just have to look about me again.”
“You mean, you’re going to ask someone else to marry you?” Jack had been leaning back negligently in his chair, but he sat up straight at this.
“No,” said Charity. “Unfortunately Edward is the only man I know who can be relied upon to be sensible about such things. Next time I must try and persuade them to propose to me.”
“Good God!” said Jack. For the first time during the interview he looked startled—he hadn’t expected this. “But what about Edward?”
“What about him?” Charity looked puzzled.
“Less than ten days ago you asked him to marry you!” Jack pointed out.
“Yes, but that was when I thought he was available. He’s no good to me in Italy!”
“No, I suppose not,” said Jack. He had relaxed again, his surprise giving way to amusement. “I gathered from your letter that you had very little time at your disposal, but I hope you will forgive me if I tell you that you seem to have a rather prosaic view of matrimony.”
“No, just practical,” Charity replied. “One should always be practical, don’t you think?”
“An admirable philosophy,” Jack agreed. “May I ask if you have anyone in particular in mind? I imagine the supply of eligible bachelors is fairly limited in this part of Sussex—though being an heiress must widen your choice.”
“You mean, you can’t imagine why anyone should want me without the sweetener of Uncle Jacob’s fortune?” Charity demanded, seizing on his last comment.
“No, of course not!” he replied quickly as he saw the flash in her dark eyes. “I was thinking aloud and what I said was very badly phrased. I only meant that for various reasons most heiresses have, or could have, a wider circle of acquaintances than many other ladies. More—perfectly unexceptional—doors are open to you. That must be useful if you’re looking for a husband.”
“Possibly,” said Charity cautiously. “Lord Riversleigh, may I ask a great favour of you? Until now, nobody apart from Mama and me—and our lawyer, of course—has known about Uncle Jacob’s fortune. I didn’t want them to. I still don’t.”
“Yes, I see,” said Jack slowly. “You mentioned something about that in your letter; I should have remembered. Don’t be alarmed; I’ll keep your secret.”
“Thank you.” She smiled with relief. “As you said, there aren’t a great many suitable men in the neighbourhood, but at least I know them, and I needn’t worry about their motives if one of them…” She paused, an arrested expression in her eyes. “Yes, yes, definitely,” she said after a moment as if she was speaking to herself—which she was. Then she suddenly recollected herself.
“Good heavens! How remiss of me. I haven’t even offered you any refreshment. Would you like some tea, my lord? Or some wine?” she asked brightly.
“Thank you.” Jack watched her pull the bell, and then allowed her to steer the conversation on to more mundane matters until after Charles had arrived with the tray and then departed, desperate with curiosity to know more of what was happening in the library.
“Is it really essential that you be married?” Jack asked when they were alone again. “I’ve no wish to appear impertinent, but our acquaintance began in such an unusual way that I trust you won’t be offended if I seem a little outspoken.”
Charity looked at him suspiciously, but his expression was perfectly grave and it was impossible to accuse him of laughing at her.
“No, it’s not essential,” she said at last. “But, since you’ve read my letter, you know why I need a husband.”
“To retain your home,” he said. “I can understand why you would wish to do that.” He looked appreciatively round the library as he spoke. “It’s a fine old house. When was it built?”
“Just before the Civil War,” Charity replied. “There were Mayfields living here for at least a century before that, but the old house was in a sad state of decay by the beginning of Charles I’s reign, and Thomas Mayfield had this one built. That’s Thomas there.”
She pointed at a portrait hanging on the chimney breast. It was quite a dark, almost a gloomy picture, certainly not by the hand of a master. But somehow it seemed to capture something of the spirit of the man it depicted. He was not a handsome man, but he looked both amiable and sensible—and his gaze was as direct as Charity’s.
“Unfortunately he didn’t have long to enjoy the house,” Charity continued. “He died a few years later, fighting for the Royalist cause, but his baby son inherited it and it’s remained in the family ever since.”
She sighed, and some of the animation died out of her face. She loved her home, and now that she had recovered from her initial astonishment at Jack Riversleigh’s unexpected arrival she was feeling sadly deflated. She hadn’t realised until now how much she had been counting on Edward.
“I’m sorry,” said Jack. “Is there no other way to save it?”
“No.” Charity shook her head.
“I see. It did occur to me that you would have to leave your home anyway, if you were married. Doesn’t that rather defeat your purpose?” Jack asked delicately.
“Yes, I know,” Charity replied impatiently. “But Mama would be able to continue here, and the rest of the household. It’s been their home for so long…Oh, well,” she continued more briskly, “I shouldn’t be burdening you with our problems, my lord. At least…” She paused, a speculative expression in her eyes as they rested on his face.
“Are you married, sir?” she asked at last.
Jack blinked and then gave a shout of laughter. “No, Miss Mayfield, nor do I have any immediate plans to be. Thank you.”
“Are you sure?” said Charity. “After all, the same considerations apply to you as did to Edward. Riversleigh is still mortgaged; it will still be difficult for you to pull it out of debt.”
“Miss Mayfield, you don’t know me,” Jack said more soberly. “Don’t think I’m not flattered, but I hope you don’t intend to fling yourself at every man you meet until the end of February. That’s a sure way to come to grief—particularly if you intend to offer them a fortune at the same time!”
“No, of course not,” said Charity impatiently. “You may think I’m a hoyden, but I assure you I’m not entirely lacking in sense. If you had agreed to marry me you would have kept the bargain—wouldn’t you?”
“Do you think every man would?” Jack asked, without answering her question.
“No. But I shan’t ask one who won’t.”
“I hope you don’t,” he said quietly, and stood up. “I must be going; I have already stayed far too long. Thank you for your hospitality. I trust your schemes will meet with success.”
“So do I.” Charity held out her hand and felt a curious moment of regret as his lips lightly brushed her fingers.
“Who is your next target?” he asked. “You’ve decided already, haven’t you?”
She looked at him consideringly. “I don’t think I’ll tell you that,” she said at last. “You might warn him.”
He laughed. “You do me an injustice,” he said. “I look forward with interest to our next meeting. Your servant, Miss Mayfield.”
When he was gone the library seemed oddly empty without his presence to fill it. Charity sat in the window-seat and gazed with unfocused eyes at the holly tree. All her plans had been completely overturned and now she would have to begin again, with ten days already wasted.
She was only roused when she heard her mother’s voice in the hall and realised Mrs Mayfield had returned from the Leydons’. No doubt she had already heard that Lord Riversleigh had visited. Charity suddenly woke up to the fact that she was going to have to tell her mother that Edward wasn’t the new Lord Riversleigh, and to explain why Jack Riversleigh had come to call!
She gasped and quickly tried to think of an excuse. And by the time the door opened and Mrs Mayfield came into the library she was able to smile at her mother quite calmly, ready for any question.