Part 1 Bath #2
Oh, how awkward this is! What must the duke think of me? And he is still laughing, presumably at me. As for him, well, I find him rather an annoying sort of person—and, I have to say, quite immature for someone in his twenties. Furthermore, I do not care what he thinks of me. No, not one jot.
“I think it is time for the children to begin their lessons,” Mr. Knightley said.
“Must George and Lydia really be cooped up inside the house this morning?” Edward asked. “After all, they are making such good progress with Miss Fairfax. I would love to go for a walk with them—with the whole family—for it is such a glorious day, one absolutely made for a stroll.”
“And sugar buns? Is it the sort of day made for sugar buns?” Lydia suggested.
“Well, I am not sure about that,” Mr. Knightley said gravely. Then he looked at his wife and winked.
“I think ’tis a wonderful idea,” Mrs. Knightley said, “and I look forward to strolling across the Crescent Fields with my beloved older son and all my family around me. ’Tis quite the most perfect thing I could do today.”
“In that case I will come with you, my dear,” Mr. Knightley said.
“I have some business in the city later but can easily put aside my plans for this morning. We shall all go out together, and in answer to Lydia, I do believe sugar buns could be consumed. Perhaps a trip to the tearoom in Milsom Street after our walk?”
The children greeted this idea with yelps of excitement.
“Keep those high spirits for out of doors from now on,” Mrs. Knightley cautioned, “or Papa may change his mind.” She stood up. “Now, we should all go and get ourselves ready. Children—come with me.”
Charlotte felt a little unsure; was she to be included in this outing? She did not want to assume anything—and yet was this not the time she was contracted to look after the children? ’Twas hard to know exactly what people expected of her, particularly in her first post as a governess.
Growing up, Charlotte had experienced nothing of governesses or grand society and wealthy households.
Her mama had died when she was very young and she had been brought up by her father, a vicar in a remote parish in the Lake District.
When he had died unexpectedly, earlier this year, there were no relatives willing or able to take her in—and no suitors came forward with offers of marriage either.
Or none that I would have accepted, anyway—my one proposal came from Papa’s seventy-year-old curate, and I know he only offered out of pity.
Thus it was that shortly after her father’s death, it had become clear to Charlotte that she must forge her own way in the world.
Seeking employment as a governess seemed a sensible decision, for though her tuition at the local village school had been basic, her father had been a man of learning, and he had taken a great interest in her education, encouraging her to read extensively from his large collection of books and discussing all manner of subjects with her.
Charlotte let out a small sigh; she still felt the loss of her dear papa most keenly.
Suddenly, she was conscious of Edward’s eyes upon her.
“And I absolutely insist that Miss Fairfax join us,” the duke said.
“Miss Fairfax, your expertise will be invaluable as we traverse the Crescent Fields on our nature ramble, for you will be able to identify all the trees by their leaves for the edification of the children—and myself, for I fancy I have forgotten most of what my governess taught me as a small boy.”
Charlotte thought she saw a fleeting shadow pass over Edward’s face when he mentioned being a young child, but it was quickly replaced by a good-humored grin, and she wondered if she had imagined it.
But one thing I am certain of—the duke seems to sense my uncertainty and discomfort and has stepped in to make it clear that I am to be part of the group and for that I am grateful. Was I too quick to judge him shallow? For not many men of his age are this thoughtful.
Or this handsome.
“I would be delighted to accompany you,” Charlotte said.
How quickly this man has me under his spell.
Edward clapped his hands together. “’Tis settled. What say you all? Shall we meet in the entrance hall in ten minutes? Yes? Good! And I promise you we are all going to have the most glorious morning.”
Charlotte hurried up to her tiny attic room on the very top floor of the house and changed into her walking boots. Then she stood in front of the full-length mirror and tried desperately to smooth her curls down into something resembling a hairstyle rather than a fiery hedgerow.
“Oh, Papa!” she moaned, and not for the first time, “why did I have to inherit your wild red locks rather than Mama’s silken blonde hair?”
She blinked a few times, brushed her eye lashes gently with her finger to make them curl neatly and pinched her cheeks. After that she put on her bonnet, tying the ribbons carefully, and donned her scarlet cloak. There! That would have to do.
Why am I so concerned about my appearance this morning? As if I do not know…
Charlotte savored the sweet memory of when Edward had taken her hand and gently assisted her to stand up after her tumble on the Gravel Walk. Her pulse quickened once more.
His grasp was so firm! And his legs so shapely and muscular. Ah, me!
Unbidden, a sudden adorable vision came to stand beside her as she gazed at her own reflection—the duke with his dark curls and tender chocolate eyes, wearing a beautifully tailored jacket and closely fitting pantaloons. He linked his arm through hers and turned towards her.
What a sweet smile! What an intriguing gentleman the duke is, to be sure. Playful, almost childlike one minute, thoughtful and sensitive the next. Ah! I can almost feel the heat of his body as he stands next to me. Oh my!
Was this feeling of one’s very core being aflame with desire possibly the love at first sight Charlotte had read about in romance novels? The sort of love that simply could not be denied—and, like a mighty torrent, swept away all obstacles in its path?
Charlotte leant forward and gently kissed Edward’s phantom visage, then put a finger to her own lips in wonder.
Why, I believe I am already head over heels in love with the duke!
The voice of reason tried to break in upon her reverie, urging her to remember her station in life—but Charlotte squared her shoulders.
Although I am but a vicar’s daughter and governess, and the Duke of Somerset—Edward—is far above me in the eyes of the ton, I believe I am his equal in all that matters. Moreover, I am convinced that I have the right to carve out my own destiny—with whomsoever I choose.
On an impulse, Charlotte ran to her desk, dipped her pen into the inkwell and dashed off a fictional signature on a scrap of paper: Charlotte Somerset.
She blotted the excess ink and tidied her pen away, then took the tiny fragment and tucked it inside her bosom where it nestled out of sight—close to her wildly beating heart.
Edward
What an uncommonly pretty girl Charlotte Fairfax is, to be sure.
Edward cast another surreptitious look at the new governess as she stood on the pavement outside the Knightleys’ house in the Circus, holding George’s and Lydia’s hands.
“Where are we going on our walk?” George asked.
“What about going straight to the tearoom?” Lydia suggested.
Mrs. Knightley seemed amused. “I think we will promenade along the Royal Crescent first; there is no knowing whom we might encounter.”
“An excellent idea,” Mr. Knightley said, and they all set off with Edward walking between his mother and stepfather, and Charlotte following with the children.
“One never tires of the Crescent!” Edward’s face lit up as he surveyed the row of thirty houses in their gentle but elegant curve. “I should like to have a house here myself one day—sometime in the future when…” His voice tailed off.
“You mean when you are married,” Mrs. Knightley said as she patted her son’s arm.
“I think that is a delightful idea. Of course, ’tis always a pleasure to have you staying with us in the Circus when you can spare the time from your duties at Brancombe Abbey, but when you have a wife, and if you are blessed with a family, naturally you will require your own residence in Bath. ”
“And where better than the Royal Crescent,” Mr. Knightley said, “for you will still be very close to us when you visit the city.”
“Well, Mama thinks you are going to marry Lady Arabella,” George’s voice piped up from behind.
“Yes!” said Lydia. “I do hope I’m going to be a bridesmaid. When will the wedding be?”
Edward ran his fingers around the inside of his high, stiff collar.
“That’s enough of that impertinence, children,” Mr. Knightley said.
“You should not even be listening to the adults’ conversation, let alone adding your own peculiar thoughts, for you can scarce understand these matters.
And just remember that anyone who cannot behave will certainly not be coming on our spring visit to Lyme Regis next week.
And if you do not go to Lyme, how can you accompany us when we stay at Brancombe Park with Edward on the way back to Bath?
I believe you would be particularly disappointed to miss admiring his fine stable of horses. ”
The children were instantly silenced by the threat of their journey being denied them, and Edward was grateful that his stepfather had put an end to the topic of his marriage.
Edward had known since he was a small boy that he was expected to marry Lady Arabella, the daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Wynthorpe. Indeed, his papa in his last illness had extracted a solemn promise from the seven-year-old Edward.
“’Tis my dearest wish that the two families should unite in this way,” the former Duke of Somerset had said. “Do not let me down, Edward. You could have no more suitable wife than the daughter of our esteemed friends and neighbors, the Duke and Duchess of Wynthorpe.”