Chapter Twenty #2
Already the square bustled with activity - merchants arranging their wares beneath colourful awnings, local gentry examining goods with somewhat pompous dignity, servants hurrying on errands for their masters.
The mingled scents of roasted chestnuts, evergreen boughs, and mulled wine created an atmosphere that would have delighted Charlotte in happier circumstances.
They wandered about the stalls for some time, knowing that Mr Harrison would need that time to spend with William, but, after what felt like an eternity, they made their way back towards the main shopping area.
“Lady Margaret, with her maid, awaits us,” Edmund murmured, gesturing subtly towards the milliner’s shop.
Indeed, William’s sister stood examining the ribbons displayed in the window, her dark hair and elegant bearing making her instantly recognisable despite the crowded square.
As they approached, Charlotte caught fragments of conversation from nearby groups that made her heart ache.
“...most peculiar situation at Alverton...” “...Sir Geoffrey claims the previous Duke...” “...such a shame about the new Duchess...”
Margaret turned at their approach, her expression calm and neutral, but doing nothing to mask the concern in her grey eyes - so like William’s that Charlotte felt the absence of her husband as a physical ache.
“My dear.” Margaret’s embrace held genuine warmth. “Such perfect weather for choosing Christmas ribbons, wouldn’t you say?”
The subtle emphasis on the word ‘perfect’ confirmed that their plans proceeded apace. Charlotte forced herself to respond with appropriate lightness, though her hands trembled slightly as she pretended to examine the displayed goods.
“Indeed, though I confess some anxiety about selecting appropriate gifts.” She pitched her voice to carry just far enough, noting how several nearby ladies turned subtly to listen. “One wishes to make a good impression during one’s first Christmas as Duchess.”
“Speaking of impressions,” Edmund interposed smoothly, “I believe that I see Sir Geoffrey by the bookseller’s shop. If you’ll excuse me, ladies...”
Charlotte watched her brother’s progress through the crowd, every nerve straining towards the confrontation to come.
The carefully wrapped packet in her reticule seemed to burn against her hip - proof of Caldwell’s duplicity that would end his threats once and for all, if only she found the courage to use it.
“Courage, my dear.” Margaret’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “William may not understand at first, but surely once he sees...”
“Once he sees that I’ve arranged this public spectacle?” Charlotte’s laugh held no humour. “That I’ve gone behind his back yet again, despite his explicit wishes?”
“That you love him enough to risk everything to protect him.” Margaret’s hand squeezed her arm briefly. “Even his good opinion of you.”
Before Charlotte could respond, a familiar voice cut through the general hubbub of the Fair. Sir Geoffrey Caldwell’s strongly projected tones carried clearly as he approached Edmund near the bookseller’s stall.
“Lord Parrington! What a pleasant surprise. I was just speaking with several gentlemen about certain interesting documents that have come to light regarding Alverton’s affairs...”
Charlotte’s fingers clenched around her reticule.
The moment approached - the careful plans she had laid with Edmund and Margaret were about to bear fruit…
or fail. Yet as she watched Caldwell’s smirking progress through the crowd, something changed within her.
Not fear now, but a curious calm born of absolute certainty.
She had acted from love, whatever the consequences.
William might never forgive her interference, might retreat forever behind his hardened walls, but she would not stand idle while Caldwell destroyed everything he had worked so hard to rebuild.
“Sir Geoffrey.” Her voice carried clearly across the square, drawing every eye.
The flurry of whispers ceased as she moved forward with measured grace, aware of Margaret’s supporting presence at her shoulder.
“How fortunate to encounter you here. I believe that we have certain matters to discuss regarding documents in your possession.”
For a full minute, the silence that followed her words was broken only by the sound of a concerted intake of shocked breath by every person in the market square.
Then the whispers began anew. Caldwell turned slowly, his normally confident manner shaken slightly as he faced Charlotte’s direct address.
Around them, the whispers hesitated again, and the market square grew unnaturally quiet, even the merchants stilling their usual calls as tension mounted in the frost-touched air.
“Your Grace.” He bowed with a precise formality which could not quite mask his unease. “Surely such matters might be better discussed in more... private circumstances?”
“As you discussed them so privately with every gentleman at the Assembly?” Charlotte’s voice held the control learned from her mother, and then months of observing William. “Or perhaps as privately as your intentional implications about my husband’s father’s supposed debts?”
Margaret moved to stand at her shoulder while Edmund approached from the other side, their quiet support lending her strength as Caldwell’s expression shifted from unease to calculation.
“I merely shared certain documents that came into my possession,” he said smoothly, though something in his tone suggested growing desperation. “If their contents prove... uncomfortable for Alverton’s reputation...”
“These documents?” Charlotte withdrew the carefully bundled papers from her reticule, noting how Caldwell’s face paled slightly. “Which Mr. Harrison has examined most particularly, comparing the signatures with those in Alverton’s records?”
“I…. ah…”
Sir Geoffrey’s voice trailed off.
A murmur rippled through their growing audience as Charlotte continued with a quiet authority that would have made William proud.
“Shall we discuss his findings regarding these supposed signatures, Sir Geoffrey? Or perhaps you might explain why the clerk, who has an acknowledged association with you, disappeared so hastily after my visit to Mr. Harrison’s office?”
“Your Grace.” Caldwell’s voice roughened as his control began to crack. “Surely you cannot mean to create such a scene? When certain other matters regarding your family’s circumstances...”
“You will not threaten my sister.” Edmund’s quiet interjection held steel beneath its careful civility.
“Nor will you continue spreading poison about Alverton’s affairs.
Not when we have proof of your forgeries, witnessed by both Mr. Harrison and several other men of business who remember the previous Duke’s hand most particularly. ”
Caldwell’s already precariously maintained dignity crumbled further as several elderly merchants stepped forward from the growing crowd. As they did, Edmund slipped away, going to make sure that Mr Harrison would arrive on the scene in time – and possibly William as well.
“Indeed, Your Grace,” said Mr Winters, the town’s respected bookseller, whose shop had served Alverton’s family for three generations.
“I handled many business matters with the previous Duke. If I might see these signatures...” He stepped forward and studied, for a moment, the documents that Charlotte held for him to see, then gestured to them as he went on.
“They bear little resemblance to his hand.”
The other merchants came closer, and also studied the papers, as Caldwell shifted on his feet, almost as if he wished to turn and run, then he appeared to force himself to rigid stillness. After a moment when the entire town seemed to hold its breath, another spoke.
“The spacing is all wrong,” said Mr. Whitworth, the silversmith whose beautiful work still graced Alverton’s dining table. “His Grace - the previous Duke, that is - always wrote with particular flourishes that I came to know well over our years of doing business with Alverton.”
Caldwell’s face had gone deathly pale, though he maintained his stance with desperate precision.
“Perhaps,” he suggested with an emphasis which could not quite mask his growing fear, “we might discuss these matters more privately? When certain financial arrangements regarding your own estates, Your Grace...”
“You mean the estates that you mortgaged three times over, even though you do not own them?” Charlotte’s quiet words drew another ripple of reaction from their audience.
“Yes, Sir Geoffrey, we know about those arrangements as well. Though perhaps you might explain to our neighbours why you sought so desperately to claim Alverton’s boundary lands?
What pressures drove you to forge these documents? ”
Something broke in Caldwell’s expression, revealing raw desperation beneath.
“You cannot understand,” he said roughly, his mask of civility and calm falling away entirely.
“When the bank threatened foreclosure, when everything my family had built over generations stood at risk...” He stopped abruptly as a familiar figure appeared through the drifting snow that still fell all around them.
William’s tall form seemed to part the crowd effortlessly, his measured stride carrying him directly towards their confrontation.
“Your Grace.” Caldwell’s voice emerged barely above a whisper as William approached.
“I... that is, certain matters have arisen...”
“So I observe.” William’s deep voice held his usual control, though Charlotte could see the tension in his stance as he stopped beside her.
His grey eyes took in the scene with measured attention - the gathered crowd, the damning documents, Caldwell’s obvious distress.
She wondered just how much he had seen and heard…
“William,” Charlotte began softly, suddenly uncertain how he would react to this public confrontation that she had orchestrated against his wishes. “I can explain...”