A Passionate Endeavor (16 page)

“It be his fine lordship, here, who
ordered
the tea and goodies,” she said in a disgusted tone
before flouncing away.

“What a charming idea,” Charlotte said in a
deflated voice. Where was James, anyway? She poured the
honey-colored liquid from the delicate teapot into the cup.

“But where is the tea strainer? This is
intolerable,” he said.

“Doro must have neglected it. It is not often
she is called on to prepare such a display,” Charlotte said,
looking over the vast array of confections and even sliced cold ham
with bread and butter. “You must forgive us. We live quite simply
here.”

“This will not do,” he said, rising from his
chair and looking for a bell cord.

“There is no cord, you must call out to her
from the hall,” she said, then added, “It would help considerably
if you tacked on the word ‘please’ to your request, Alexandre.”

“Impossible!” he muttered prior to performing
the necessary requirements for requesting the aforementioned
article.

Tea in hand, properly strained, with no less
than three lumps of precious sugar added, he tasted it and finally
formed a pleasant expression. He turned over the spoon on his
saucer.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte
noticed him examining the silversmith’s mark on the silverware.

“Harrumph,” he muttered, then caught her
glance. “Ah, Charlotte, my dear. I find you looking very well. Very
well, indeed in spite of your descent in the world. Rusticating has
proved beneficial to your health. We shall see if it does the same
for me,” he said, grimacing.

“It is pleasant to see you again. It has been
a long time; almost two decades, I believe. I thought never to see
you again, if the truth be known.” She could feel his slow perusal
of her form as she concentrated on breaking off a corner of her
scone.

“Charlotte,
mon chou
, how could you
say such a thing? I adore you,” he said languidly, while examining
his fingernails. “I could not survive without seeing my dearest
cousin as often as possible. Ah, but I have always said that a
man’s sensibilities run much deeper than a lady’s emotions, which
the fairer sex allows to run too close to the surface.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

He looked quite pleased that she had agreed
with him. “Of course I am right,” he said, assessing the paintings
on the wall. Charlotte felt like a piece of merchandise in a store
when his gaze returned to her. “Now, tell me, how is your family
faring? Surely, you can do much better than this little… hut? I
myself have a divine set of rooms off of St. James’s Street.”

“I cannot imagine what could have tempted you
away from London, Alexandre, to visit us here. You could have saved
yourself the trouble of a trip if you had visited us while we were
in London.”

“I was determined to see you,
cherie
.
I kept assuring myself we would run into one another at one of the
many soirees and routes, but you never cared enough to come,” he
said, with a practiced look of sadness in his expression.

It was lucky that many long years of waiting
for his call had thoroughly erased any of her doubts concerning the
true nature of his character. He was not to be trusted in any sense
of the word, but he was an amusing charmer. There was no need to
burst the illusion.

“I worry about the state of your heart. Were
you not just now dabbling with the heir to the Duke of Cavendish?
But, I must warn you,
cherie
, even a girl such as yourself,
who is beyond question, with every virtue intact, should take care
to obey the strictures of society. It would not do to be caught
unchaperoned with his lordship.” Then he smiled and arched one
eyebrow, “Unless, of course, you have a plan to secure him.”

He held up his hand when she was about to
burst into a denial. “No, no, I see that is not your style. But,
you know that your happiness is my only motivation. I would, of
course, release you from any sort of understanding we have.”

Charlotte could not hold back any longer.
“
Understanding
? I thought it was quite clear that the
‘understanding’ you refer to became a
misunderstanding
when
my family’s fortune was reduced to ash and worse,” she said with
some emotion. “Although it was my ‘understanding’ that your branch
of the family fared better— which made a connection with the now
less fortunate side,
id est
, ME less attractive.”

“Charlotte, Charlotte, my dearest, please no
Latin, it gives me the headache. You are in a royal tizzy—over
nothing, I assure you. I had intended to apologize. Ah, here I
shall get down on one knee, if I must,” he said, sliding off the
settee in as elegant a fashion as his tight clothes would allow. “I
see I must beg absolution from my sweet cousin, for I cannot live
another day knowing you do not care for me as I have always
cherished you,” he said with perfect, languid aristocratic charm.
His request had been performed quite expertly, except for the
moment he reached beyond her to help himself to another scone.

Charlotte laughed.

“Oh, my Charlotte, you are quite delightful
when you smile,” he said in amazement. “You look very much like
your mother, in fact. I must convince you to smile more often. It
will become my mission in life,” he said, licking the crumbs off
his fingers.

The squeak of the door announced a newcomer.
James, in all his newly made religious finery, entered. The picture
he presented made Charlotte want to burst into laughter. James
looked uncomfortable and embarrassed in unrelieved black.

“What in heavens are you doing pawing at my
sister?” James said in shocked tones. “Oh…is that you, Alexandre? I
didn’t recognize you.”

“
Bonjour
, James.” Alexandre rose to
his feet and bowed. “And I would have not recognized you dressed
like a… shall we say, a puffin?” It was the worst possible insult.
Everyone knew James was irritated enough by the role forced on him
by his father. “You shall be required to perform penance if you
continue to insult a man of the cloth, Cousin,” said James with a
scowl. “At least I don’t look like a
damned peacock
!” he
concluded, while eyeing the Frenchman’s waistcoat.

“A fine welcome I am receiving,” he said,
taking a minute snuffbox from his pocket. He leaned his head back
and breathed in a generous pinch before offering the enameled box
to James, who shook his head with repressed desire in his face.
“Perhaps you and your sister would prefer I not stay?” He waited a
moment as if expecting a flood of denials. “Ah, but I cannot
deprive your dear father of a visit. He wrote in such a kind manner
of his great desire to reclaim our past familial ties.”

James snorted.

“Where is the good doctor?” Alexandre
asked.

“Attending the duke. His Grace is in very ill
health,” responded Charlotte.

“I must go there then to receive my
welcome.”

“No, Alexandre, I beg of you to wait here for
my father. It would not do to intrude on the sickroom of the duke
at present,” Charlotte said.

He smiled, exposing his wonderful bright
smile. “You are of course correct,
ma cherie
. I am a patient
man, and we have so much cousinly news to discuss between us.”

Charlotte sighed and looked toward James, who
rolled his eyes. It was going to be as difficult as she had
imagined. But, she thought with relief, her heart was fully mended.
She had worried that his visit would provoke a painful reoccurrence
of the sad days in London when Alexandre had refused to call on
her, destroying her last shred of hope for a husband. Oh, he was
charming and everything handsome and elegant to be sure, but his
wit could not overcome his deficit in character. The veil had been
removed from her eyes. And she was grateful.

A fortnight passed, and as Nicholas toured
the activity in the far corner of his property, he realized he had
been correct in his guess. That poppycock of a Frenchman had shown
every intention of settling in till Michaelmas, if not longer. It
was not surprising the alacrity with which Viscount Gaston had
inveigled himself into his family’s inner circle. The man was as
cunning as a snake charmer, his features handsome enough to deflect
questions about his actual station in life.

Within three days of his arrival, he had
become a great favorite with all the ladies at Wyndhurst. At least
he did provide welcome relief to Nicholas by distracting the
females of the household, his stepmother and Lady Susan being the
prime examples, from focusing their efforts on filling Nicholas’s
hours with frivolity and idleness.

Oh, the viscount was very accomplished in
those arts. To be fair, the man had filled the abbey’s walls with
more laughter than there had been for a very long time, given his
father’s illness. Nicholas should be grateful. But he did not like
the way
the frog
looked at the abbey’s inhabitants, or
rather, the way he looked at a particular resident of the cottage
beyond the downs. And the man had had the audacity to embarrass the
doctor by revealing Charlotte and her brother’s French ancestry—
something Nicholas knew the distinguished doctor had taken great
pains to hide.

As he rode past, Nicholas acknowledged the
shy nods and grins of the group of men he had hired to dig the
brewery’s ponds. The pits were growing bigger every day. Soon they
would be able to unleash the spring water held at bay by the strong
dam the men had also built.

The skeleton of the sluice house stood on the
small rise in front of him. Owen Roberts walked up as Nicholas’s
horse began to paw the ground.

“We’re on schedule, actually ahead of plan,
Lord Nick.”

“Thanks to your oversight, Owen.” Nicholas
knew from experience that praise always worked wonders with men,
contrary to the popular opinion of officers in most regiments,
where daily abuse reigned supreme.

“Begging your pardon, but it’s the men.
They’re a hardworking lot, desperate to keep their pride and put
more food on their tables,” Owen said, squinting toward the
men.

“I’m sorry Wyndhurst failed you, and
them.”

“But you won’t fail us,” Owen said, reaching
up to pat Nicholas’s hand. “I have no doubt at all about that.”

“Well, that makes one of us, at least,”
Nicholas responded with a self-deprecating laugh. “I am counting on
you to continue my plans and maintain the running of all this when
I leave.”

Owen scratched his head. “I still don’t
understand it. Why’re you leaving when your father is so sick? The
war is over.”

“I’ll explain it all before I leave,”
Nicholas said, skirting the subject. “Tell me, did you find the old
orchard I remember from my youth? Made myself sick many a day from
eating all those apples.…”

“.…
it requires uncommon steadiness of
reason to

resist the attraction of being called the
most

charming girl in the world
.”

—Northanger Abbey

THE sweet cacophony of birdsong filled
Charlotte’s bedroom. The vibrant symphony stopped long enough for a
thrush to mock the nightingale’s beautiful song. But it was the
comforting sound of the ringdove that beckoned Charlotte out of her
warm bed.

“Good morning, Miss Dove. I wish I could stay
here and listen to your song all day,” she said, fully opening the
sash. “But I must spend the day cooing at Father’s patients.”

A cool morning greeted her senses and brushed
the last of the dream cobwebs from her mind. If only she could fly
to the highest trees and do nothing but stretch her wings and chirp
all day. The thought of worms for breakfast dampened her zeal.

Breakfast… she must go down straight away to
intercede between the daily machinations of Doro and Alexandre.
Yesterday’s morning ritual had seen new heights, with voices at
such a level as would have blown off the roof of a lesser dwelling.
Before tearing herself away from her window reveries, she spied a
liveried footman’s approach. Perhaps she was needed at the abbey…
but he carried a large parcel of some sort.

Charlotte dressed with haste and descended
below stairs to find Doro flustered, package in hand. A French
curse describing the maid’s undergarments floated from the
direction of the small dining salon. Thank God Doro could not
understand French.

“This be for you, miss.” Doro shoved the
parcel into her hands and reentered the fray with the Frenchman.
Charlotte took the package to the front salon, curiosity adding a
quickness to her step.

She unwrapped the parcel with care, saving
the soft, fine paper for reuse. A bright ray of sunshine seemed to
emanate from the last piece of tissue. She sucked in her breath
when a beautiful dress was revealed in all its yellow glory. A
cornflower and burgundy braided ribbon decorated the middle of the
low neckline, while a hint of white lace provided some security for
a modest female. It was altogether the most beautiful gown
Charlotte had ever seen. She plucked out a card from the paper.