Waltzing With The Earl

Charlotte bit back the retort which was on the tip of her tongue, instead asking mildly, ‘And do you not take pleasure in seeing a well-dressed lady?’

‘Of course. A beautiful lady is an ornament to be admired!’

An ornament! ‘And can we be more?’

He looked confused.

Amused, she gave him a sunny smile, and he blinked.

‘I enjoy dressing well, Lord Shalford—as I think you do, too.’ She swept her eyes over his tight-fitting buckskins, well-made coat and highly polished boots. ‘In order for we ladies to be well turned out, we do not rely on our tailor and our valet. We must consider, and design, and choose the best fabrics, dressmakers and milliners, and we also have to worry about how things will match. There is no little skill in it.’

He considered this. ‘So the enjoyment of shopping is a necessity?’

‘In a way. Many ladies enjoy it, but it cannot be described as the favourite pastime of all females, for it is certainly not my favourite. I had much rather be out like this, riding, than stuck in a haberdashery.’

He looked sceptical, but let it pass.

Captain Fanton, as if surprised by his brother’s garrulity, intervened. ‘You are certainly unusual, Miss Wyncroft. Tell me, is it because of your upbringing in military circles?’

Charlotte, pleased with her small victory over the Arrogant Earl, smiled at Harry. ‘I suppose so. I have been around military and diplomatic families my whole life. I was born in Portugal, and I have lived in many different places. It was, I think, a good childhood—though I don’t know anything else.’

‘And you speak Portuguese?’

‘Yes. I’m afraid I can speak French, German, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese. It is a terrible thing, I know, to be thought a bluestocking, when in reality I never learned any of them, I just...knew them.’

‘Perfectly understandable,’ said the Captain. ‘Fear not, I should not take you for a bluestocking. Why, bluestockings are dowdy!’

Charlotte laughed. ‘I must thank you both for including me in your invitation to Chadcombe—even if I may be seen as a bluestocking. I am looking forward to it. It is in Surrey, I believe?

‘Yes,’ said the Earl, ‘between Godalming and Guildford. There have been Fantons there for nearly four hundred years.’

‘Godalming—I stayed at a posting inn there on my way to London. I thought it a most pretty town. They are building a new town hall with a pepperpot roof.’

‘That’s it. It replaces the old market house, which has stood there since the Middle Ages.’

‘And is your house—er—medieval?’

The Earl’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now, Miss Wyncroft, I think you are trying to fence with me. Are you asking me the age of the house, or whether it is ancient, decrepit and devoid of modern conveniences?’

She laughed lightly. ‘Is it not the same thing?’

‘No, it is not—and you know it! To answer both your questions...the original medieval house is now used for stabling. My grandfather built the present house—and nearly went bankrupt doing so. It was his obsession.’ His eyes fired a challenge to hers. ‘It has modern water closets and a new closed oven.’

‘I shall simply die from excitement! A closed oven! Why, I have never seen such a thing!’

The Captain, observing their repartee with some amazement, said, ‘Miss Wyncroft, if I had known you were so interested in domestic devices I should have invited you to tour an oven-maker’s or some such thing.’

‘Oh, please don’t. I much prefer this ride in Green Park. Tell me, Captain, do you spend much time at Chadcombe?’

‘I am there when I can be. These few years, since our mother died and our father became ill, have been difficult. I have been away with my regiment for most of the past two years. Much of the burden has rested on Adam’s shoulders.’

His brother nodded, acknowledging the truth of the Captain’s words. ‘My father worked hard to restore our fortunes, and the stability of the estate, but was ill for the last years of his life and unable to give the necessary attention to the estate. My task is to make sure the place can thrive once again. There are many families—not just ours—who rely on it.’

‘I just wish you could relax and enjoy life once in a while, Adam.’

‘I am content, Harry. I do not need to.’

‘Agreed. But you might enjoy it.’

Charlotte felt a twinge of unexpected sympathy. Lord Shalford had put duty first. This she understood. Even if the man was horribly proud and judgemental. And arrogant.

The Captain turned to Charlotte again. ‘Miss Wyncroft, tell me—when you were with the Army, did you perhaps meet my friend Captain Jack Harris? We served with the Thirtieth, in the Peninsula.’

‘You mean Parson Jack?’

‘Lord, that soubriquet followed him everywhere! Such a prosy fellow, but with a good heart.’

‘In the Peninsula he was always in the company of Captain Burnett.’

‘Yes. We three were best friends at school. Did you also meet Major Cooke?’

‘I did—many times. He is a particular friend of my father.’

She and Captain Fanton continued to converse easily as they progressed to Green Park, while Lord Shalford remained silent, watching them.

The Captain was keen to establish who Charlotte knew of his military friends, and to share impressions of places they had both visited. Charlotte laughingly fended off his questions, enjoying his relaxed manner and humorous tales. He reminded her so much of the young soldiers she had known in Vienna—they had been like younger brothers to her.

‘I remember one time, near Ciudad Rodrigo, when some of my men dressed a pig in full regimentals. Lord, such a to-do! But many are gone now.’ He fell momentarily silent.

‘Were you at Badajoz, then?’ she asked softly, remembering the difficult time during and after the siege.

‘Yes, we were all there. It didn’t end well.’ A shadow crossed his face. ‘But let us not dwell on it. Today the sun shines and we are out for a ride. Where can we let the horses have their heads?’

‘Well, this is the spot where I usually enjoy a canter—from here to the end of this meadow.’

‘Then let’s ride!’

The Captain spurred his horse and they all set off.

Cantering easily, the Captain moved slightly ahead. About halfway across the meadow he eased back, allowing Charlotte and the Earl to catch up. Joseph followed at an easier pace. The brothers were both good horsemen, and Charlotte was enjoying the thrill of the ride in their company. Charlotte and the Captain were now neck-and-neck, while the Earl eased back slightly. Somehow, Charlotte reached the end of the meadow first.

‘You let me win!’ she accused the Captain, as Lord Shalford reached them, two lengths behind. Joseph, on his Buxted hack, was last to catch up.

‘I? No!’ The Captain laughed.

‘I wish you hadn’t. I do like to win, but only when I play fair.’ She turned to the Earl, tilting her head to one side. ‘Don’t you think it’s terrible when someone lets you win?’

‘It depends,’ he said, giving her question serious consideration. ‘For example, just now I let both of you win.’

His eyes were definitely smiling. Charlotte noticed they crinkled up at the sides in a most interesting manner. She frowned—she didn’t want to find anything likeable about the Arrogant Earl.

‘Adam, you wretch,’ said the Captain. ‘You just won’t admit you couldn’t catch me.’

The men continued with their light-hearted banter as they all picked their way back through the grasses, evoking childhood contests lost and won, and Charlotte felt amused—and a little envious—as she listened.

‘How I should have loved to have a brother or sister, to tease and be teased like this!’ she said as they paused in their recollections. ‘Do you have any other brothers and sisters?’

‘We have a sister—Olivia,’ said Lord Shalford. ‘She is seventeen, and not yet out. She lives quietly at Chadcombe. That is one of the reasons why I have invited you all to stay. I believe she needs the company of women.’

‘My papa said the same to me, when we talked about my visit to London. I have no sisters, although my school friend Juliana is almost like a sister to me.’

‘Olivia has friends too, but I think—I hope—she will enjoy the company of other ladies. Ladies younger than my great-aunt, who is a most admirable lady, but...’ He hesitated.

‘She is not the best companion for a seventeen-year-old girl,’ finished the Captain.

Charlotte reminded herself of the other reasons the Earl had for inviting the Buxted family. This would be a test—to assess Henrietta as a possible bride. Her substantial dowry—and Monkton Park—would surely assist his restoration of the family’s estates.

The Earl clearly felt a strong sense of duty to his heritage. Marrying well was a logical step. Henrietta was the right age, of good family, and had a handsome dowry. It was a sensible match, Charlotte thought wistfully. An exceptionally sensible match.

* * *

Arriving back at the house after their ride, Charlotte was rather alarmed to find Henrietta waiting for her. Her cousin’s expression was grim.

‘A word with you, if you please!’ she said, turning on her heel and making for the drawing room.

Charlotte followed her up the wide staircase, feeling like a naughty child. She lifted her chin.

Aunt Buxted and Faith were already in the room. Faith looked uncomfortable, but she sent Charlotte a tremulous smile. Mrs Buxted, who was mending a petticoat, lifted her eyes briefly to acknowledge Charlotte, then returned to her work.

‘Good day,’ said Charlotte, generally. ‘Did you enjoy your shopping trip while I was riding?’

‘Charlotte!’ Henrietta’s voice was sharp. She stood before the door, tapping one small foot in an agitated way. ‘The servants have let slip that you were out riding with Lord Shalford and the Captain.’

‘Indeed I was. There is no secret about it. You heard the Captain arrange it yesterday. I confess I did not realise Lord Shalford would be there.’

Henrietta pursed her lips.

Charlotte removed her hat. There was a gilded mirror above the fireplace. She walked across and smoothed her hair, checking her reflection in the glass. Unfortunately, she had to stand on tiptoes in order to do so, which perhaps spoiled the impression of calm poise.

‘I had a most enjoyable time,’ she continued. ‘They are well-informed and pleasant gentlemen, I think.’ She turned to face the ladies. ‘You should come next time. You would enjoy the conversation, I believe.’

‘You went out riding with two men!’ Two spots of unbecoming colour had appeared on Henrietta’s cheeks and her breathing had quickened. ‘I do not know—nor do I wish to know—what customs prevail in Spain, or France, or any other heathen, uncivilised place, but in London you would do well to avoid seeming fast.’

Charlotte raised her eyebrows, but answered calmly. ‘My dear Henrietta, I appreciate your concern, but I was very properly accompanied by my groom, so I believe my reputation is intact.’

‘Your—your groom?’ Henrietta’s mouth opened, then closed again. ‘I—I see. I did not know...’

Her eyes darted around the room as she searched for something to say.

‘Hrmmph! Well, on this occasion—with your groom—you may have managed to stay on the right side of acceptable maidenly behaviour... But you know I am only trying to help you.’

She smiled weakly, but her eyes told a different story.

Charlotte moved away, placing her hat upon an ornate side table. Her hand shook a little. There was no point in arguing with Henrietta—much as she longed to do so.

‘The gentlemen were most disappointed you did not ride today.’

‘They were? What did he—they—say? Did he—they—mention me?’ Henrietta’s voice was small.

‘The Earl talked about his sister, Olivia. He hopes for female companionship for her, I think.’

Mrs Buxted, who had held her tongue during Henrietta’s outburst, spoke dispassionately to her elder daughter. ‘My love, you must befriend the sister. And you should have gone riding today. But there is no need to worry about competition from your cousin.’

Charlotte blinked. She knew—and did not mind—that Henrietta was the prettiest young lady in the household. Her golden hair and deep blue eyes captivated attention wherever they went. Strangers sometimes turned their heads in the street when Henrietta passed by. At present, though, her cousin’s beauty was somewhat marred by her petulant expression. And for Aunt Buxted to speak so plainly was, Charlotte thought, unnecessary—though hardly surprising.

‘I will certainly go next time.’ Mollified, Henrietta patted her side-curls, eyeing Charlotte’s fashionable habit. ‘I need a new habit from Milton’s, Mama. Can they make it up in a week?’

‘I’m sure they can, if I require it. We shall go tomorrow.’

‘Mama,’ said Faith tentatively, ‘you said I was to get a new habit, for my old one is now a little too small. Should I go with Henrietta?’

‘No, I do not want her distracting them. My habit must be perfect!’ said Henrietta.

‘But, Mama—’

‘Don’t listen to her, Mama. I missed the ride today and everything. I must have a perfect habit!’

‘I will take you another time, Faith.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Faith submitted, though her voice trembled a little.

Charlotte threw her a sympathetic look.

‘Did you arrange to ride with them again?’ Henrietta asked Charlotte sharply, oblivious to her sister’s disappointment.

‘Yes—next Tuesday morning. I said I hoped you would both also ride then.’

‘Well, at least you did something right.’ Henrietta was back at the glass, turning her head this way and that, preening slightly. ‘And we shall see them at Lady Cowper’s ball on Friday. Oh, but of course—you can’t come, Charlotte.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘What a pity you have not been presented at Court. You miss all the most exciting parties! It must be so dull—being limited to small gatherings. No routs, no balls, no Almack’s.’

‘Oh, it is perfectly fine.’ Charlotte smiled through gritted teeth. ‘I have much to amuse myself with. I shall probably write another letter to Papa.’

‘Yes, and so you should. One must know one’s duty.’

‘I do—though it is not duty that makes me wish to write to my father. We are good friends.’

‘Friends? With your father? How strange.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You know, Charlotte, you really should change. You smell of horse.’

‘Er...yes, thank you, Henrietta.’ Charlotte refrained from reminding her cousin that she had intercepted her and delayed her from changing. She picked up her hat again.

‘Oh, I do try to be helpful to people when I can,’ said Henrietta, with a little flutter of her hand. ‘Mama says it is helpful to point out people’s flaws, so they may correct them.’

Mrs Buxted nodded approvingly. ‘You have learned well, Henrietta. It is not enough to be virtuous oneself. One must also help others where one can. Charlotte, you would do well to take Henrietta as your pattern card. She is a perfect example of a well-brought up noble lady.’

‘I shall certainly observe her closely, Aunt Buxted.’

Charlotte left the room quickly, her fists clenched and her heart beating hard. Oh, Henrietta and Aunt Buxted were infuriating!

Chapter Four

Dinner on Friday—the evening of Lady Cowper’s ball—was a trial. Aunt Buxted had invited the Fanton brothers, as well as her godson, Mr Foxley, to dine with them, though Henrietta had complained at length about Mr Foxley’s presence.

‘I know he is your godson, Mama, and his mother was your old school friend, but he is dull and clumsy and cannot make interesting conversation. And besides, he is only a second son, with no great fortune.’

‘Captain Fanton is a second son, but you like him well enough.’ The quiet Faith, for once, was inspired to challenge her sister.

Bravissima! thought Charlotte. Good for you, Faith.

‘Yes, though not as well as his brother. The Captain will do well for you, Faith, if you can secure him. Besides, he is a Fanton. Mr Foxley is a—a nobody.’

Mrs Buxted intervened. ‘Yes, my love, but he is a well-mannered gentleman, and since we have Charlotte we will need another gentleman to make up the numbers.’

Henrietta threw Charlotte a resentful look. ‘Perhaps Charlotte would prefer to eat something in her room. After all, she is not even going to the ball.’

Into the silence that followed Charlotte said quietly, ‘I would be quite happy to have a meal alone on Friday, ma’am. I should not wish to cause inconvenience.’

Mrs Buxted turned a page in her fashion journal.

‘Mama—’ Faith spoke up, distressed. ‘You cannot send Charlotte to her room. Why, she is a guest!’

‘I shall do no such thing, Faith. I know my duty to my guest.’ She thought for a moment, then looked at her elder daughter. ‘Henrietta, when you are mistress of Chadcombe there will be times when you will be forced to entertain unwanted guests, or have people to stay or to dine against your wishes. You will at all times conduct yourself with dignity, and do your duty to your husband and your name.’

‘My husband!’ breathed Henrietta. She considered this. ‘As you say, Mama, I will have many such trials to endure when I am a married lady—a countess. Charlotte may come to dinner.’

Charlotte—with great difficulty—said nothing. It was becoming daily more challenging to survive the barbs thrown at her. She knew that Henrietta would like nothing more than for her to retaliate, as this would expose Charlotte to Aunt Buxted’s wrath.

Behind Henrietta, Faith held her face in her hands, shaking her head. Charlotte, remembering something she needed from her room, excused herself and left. Really, it was becoming harder and harder to bite her tongue.

The invitations were delivered, the acceptances received, and the menu planned. They were to have turtle—a rare delicacy—as well as white soup, partridges with leeks, turbot, a ragout of veal and a selection of blancmanges, fruits and ices. Mrs Buxted spent hours with Cook, planning and organising the finer points, and the housekeeper organised a major cleaning of the dining room. The butler ensured the silver was polished and shining, and the footmen were perfectly presented and well drilled. The staff were well aware that this was a special dinner.

Charlotte, on whom the lack of society was beginning to tell, enjoyed the preparations for the evening. She was not able to go to the ball, but at least she could have her hair dressed and wear one of her evening gowns. Priddy teased and styled her hair so that her Grecian topknot was perfect and her glossy brown curls were perfectly arranged to frame her face. She wore a cornflower-blue gauze dress over a delicate white silk underdress, made for her in Vienna.

She checked herself in the mirror, and was content. Priddy was more than content.

‘You’ll outshine your cousins tonight, Miss Charlotte, upon my word!’

‘Of course I won’t, Priddy. They are angels of the highest order, according to their many admirers. Well, so Henrietta tells me.’

‘And you are an angel too, Miss Charlotte.’

‘But one with dark hair, Priddy. I am banished to the lower order of angels, whatever that may be.’ She had always accepted that she was pretty, but that other girls could be prettier. She would not allow Henrietta’s poison to change that.

Mr Foxley was first to arrive. He was a soberly dressed young gentleman, with a pleasant, open face and a shy smile, and Charlotte warmed to him immediately. Faith, who was looking beautiful in a dress of pale lavender crêpe dotted with clusters of pearl beads blushed and stammered a little when greeting him.

Henrietta and Mrs Buxted acknowledged him politely, if briefly, as their attention was focused on waiting for their remaining guests, while Mr Buxted also seemed distracted, checking the wines Biddle was to serve. Food and drink was of the highest importance to him, and he could talk for extended periods on port, sauces, and the best accompaniments to a squab pie.

Mr Foxley sat with Charlotte and Faith, conversing quietly and sensibly. He showed great interest in Charlotte’s life abroad, the war and the diplomatic efforts to support the coalition. He also knew just how to put Faith at ease, with gentle comments and enquiries. He was, Charlotte discovered, a scholar at heart, and he told them he liked nothing more than reading a good book in his library—or outside, if the weather permitted it.

Charlotte agreed. ‘I think there is nothing better than to sit in a beautiful place reading. In Vienna, I frequently sat in our garden, among the rose bushes, but my father always knew where to find me. Where do you like to read?’

‘My parents’ house in Kent has a small park—and a walled garden which is wonderful for trapping the sun’s rays even in springtime. They have had seats placed there, amid the greenery, and I confess I like nothing better than to sit there with a good text.’

‘It sounds pleasant,’ said Faith. ‘I love to sit in comfort in a beautiful setting, too.’

He smiled warmly at her. ‘I do admire beauty.’

Faith smiled shyly and looked down in some confusion, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

Biddle entered, announcing the arrival of the Earl and the Captain. Both were attired in full evening dress, and with their good looks and imposing figures presented an admirable picture. They were both in formal knee breeches, waistcoats and coats of dark superfine. The Earl, who nodded briefly to Charlotte as his eyes swept the room, wore a black coat over a snowy-white silk waistcoat, and his neckcloth was intricately tied in the style known as the Waterfall.

He clearly had an eye for fashion, thought Charlotte, despite his disdain for female shopping. His tailor, though, had the benefit of the Earl’s fine muscular figure to work with. No stays, laces or shoulder padding were needed for this gentleman. There would no doubt be a great deal of excitement at the ball later, when the two brothers made their entrance. She glanced at Henrietta, whose eyes were fixed with a cool hunger on Lord Shalford. Charlotte looked away. Her spoiled cousin and the Arrogant Earl deserved each other!

The gentlemen bowed and greeted their host and hostess, before acknowledging Mr Foxley and the young ladies. Charlotte curtseyed correctly, and murmured a polite greeting. Henrietta—looking ravishing in a white silk gown trimmed with ruffles and flounces—immediately claimed Lord Shalford, asking him about the ball, exclaiming about how much she was looking forward to it, and hoping it wouldn’t be too much of a squeeze.

The Earl, unperturbed, responded calmly, and requested her hand for the first dance—at which she simpered, giggled and accepted.

Mrs Buxted was all graciousness, welcoming them to what she described as ‘a little informal dinner’. She patted the Captain’s arm. ‘For we are all friends now, and you should feel at ease in our humble home.’

The seating arrangements had been carefully worked out. Henrietta was seated between Lord Shalford and Mr Foxley while, opposite, the Captain had Faith on one hand and Charlotte on the other.

‘It is important that you have the chance to talk to them during dinner, girls,’ Mrs Buxted had pronounced. ‘Faith, I have been focusing on Henrietta and the Earl, but I have noticed you are not trying hard enough to fix the Captain. You are a pretty girl, though not as beautiful as Henrietta, and with a little effort I am sure you can secure him. I will be most displeased if I see you sitting silently.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Faith had replied, trembling and twisting her handkerchief between her hands.

Conscious of her mother’s instructions, Faith was now making careful conversation with the Captain, who was seated on Charlotte’s left. Mr Buxted, on Charlotte’s right, was focused on his turbot and partridges.

‘Delightful! Wonderful seasoning!’ he muttered to himself, immersed in the enjoyment of his dinner.

This gave Charlotte the opportunity to observe her fellow diners. The Captain seemed relaxed and comfortable, but he was not having much success in drawing Faith out. She answered his queries politely enough, but there was no animation. If the Captain was bored, he hid it well. Faith, anxious to avoid her mother’s displeasure, was tongue-tied, so the conversation remained stilted. It was difficult to watch.