Chapter 27
Charlotte
Lawrie was clearly delighted to have his mother back and took every opportunity to tell her how wonderful it was to see her again, and how beautiful she looked.
For her part, Charlotte was still shocked by her son’s great age and tried hard not to look revolted every time she noticed his papery skin and liver spots.
She could, she thought, hardly be blamed for her reaction. After all, the last time she’d seen him he’d been a strong, healthy, handsome man of twenty-one. Seeing him so frail was a peculiar experience. He looked old enough to be her father. Maybe even her grandfather.
There was no mistaking his affection for her, though, which she had to confess was a rather humbling experience.
She hadn’t been the most doting of mothers, which was something she would only ever admit to herself, and even then, only in her darker moments.
She had never been the maternal type and had been far too busy with her own life and…
interests… to bother much with her son when he was a child.
From the way he looked at her and how he spoke to her, she could see now that their relationship could have been so much more, and for the first time felt a deep pang of regret.
The truth was, she’d been so obsessed with her marriage and the terrible ways in which Edward neglected her that she simply hadn’t had time to bother much with her child.
She had been so in love with her husband when they married, although if she was honest, the fact that he owned such a magnificent estate had been part of the attraction.
Even so, she’d married him believing they would be happy together, and that he’d be the adoring husband he’d claimed he would be.
In the event, it wasn’t long after they’d returned from their honeymoon that she’d realised she would always be second best and that the Harling Estate was, and would remain, his first love.
For someone like Charlotte, who craved attention and adoration, it was a bitter pill to swallow. It was probably a good thing that she’d had Lawrie early in the marriage, because if she’d waited a couple more years, she could never have been 100 per cent certain that he was actually a Davenport.
Charlotte felt little guilt about her numerous infidelities. It was, as far as she was concerned, all Edward’s fault. If he didn’t want his wife to stray then he should have paid her some attention, shouldn’t he?
If it wasn’t the buildings needing repairing, it was the villagers complaining about something.
And always there were the ghosts. If she’d known about them before she married Edward, she probably wouldn’t have set foot in Rowan Vale, let alone gone through with their wedding at All Souls. But she hadn’t known, because he’d waited until they were on their honeymoon to break it to her. Swine!
And now here she was, back in this place as a ghost herself. Of all the ironies! Frustrated didn’t begin to cover how she felt when she realised she wouldn’t ride horses, eat food, drink wine, change her clothes or even leave the estate ever again. She felt like a caged animal.
Her only consolation was tormenting that harridan Agnes and seeing Aubrey squirm with embarrassment when Charlotte flirted with him. Flirting was her only source of amusement.
She’d had a hilarious time batting her eyelashes at Walter Tasker, who’d nearly fallen downstairs in his eagerness to escape her after she’d accosted him in the schoolroom. And there was a shy, awkward man called Peter who got tongue-tied every time she so much as looked in his direction.
There were only two male adult ghosts in the village she hadn’t flirted with. One was a man called Isaac, who lived at The Quicken Tree Inn and had made it very clear that he’d been there during her most active years, and wasn’t impressed by her at all.
The other was a polite, deferential man called Percy Swain, who was so in awe of her that he practically tugged his forelock every time he saw her.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to break the spell she’d so clearly woven over him.
After all, she was Lady Davenport, and it was nice to have at least one person who remembered that fact and treated her accordingly.
She certainly wasn’t getting the respect she deserved from Callie Chase.
Oh, that woman!
Charlotte’s lips pursed and her eyebrows knitted together as she thought about this usurper to the Davenport crown.
She had teased Lawrie about how amused she was that Edward’s great dynasty had come to an end, because neither Lawrie’s son, William, nor his grandson, Brodie, could see or hear ghosts, but the truth was she was furious about it.
It was a stupid rule that if two generations of a family didn’t possess the gift the estate had to be sold to someone who did.
She had always thought so, although back when the Davenports’ future seemed assured, she’d been rather glad that the rule existed because, if it hadn’t, Edward’s family would never have owned the estate at all.
She might not like how much of her husband’s time it took up, or all the bother of having ghosts around, but she certainly liked the prestige of being the lady of Harling Hall, and – eventually – the freedom she had to do pretty much whatever she wanted since there was no one around to check on her or criticise her.
But now Callie Chase was the lady of the manor, and the owner of the entire Harling Estate. This mere chit of a girl who apparently came from a dubious background, to say the least, had not only got her claws into Rowan Vale and its surrounding land, but into Charlotte’s own great-grandson.
If Callie didn’t annoy her so much, Charlotte would have admired her.
She’d certainly played the game and won, thanks to some stupid rule and Brodie’s gullibility.
And the woman wasn’t even going to take the Davenport name!
Charlotte had never heard anything like it, and she didn’t care how many times Lawrie assured her that the estate was in very capable hands with Callie, she didn’t believe it for a second and was determined that the wedding wouldn’t go ahead.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to Brodie, dear boy,’ she said to Lawrie one evening, as they sat together in his sitting room, a fire blazing in the hearth to stave the November chill from his old bones. ‘He has to understand that this marriage he’s contemplating can’t possibly go ahead.’
‘Oh, Mother,’ Lawrie said wearily. ‘How many more times? Callie is a lovely girl and she and Brodie are deeply in love. Plus, they’re doing an amazing job of running this estate together. They’re happy. Why would I want to put a stop to that?’
‘She’s not good enough for him,’ Charlotte said crossly.
‘This Callie Chase person is a nonentity. You said yourself that she has no idea who her family is. Her grandmother was adopted, her mother died when she was young, and her father…’ She shuddered.
‘He sounds positively beastly. The girl was dragged up by various relatives, for goodness’ sake! ’
‘I only told you that so you’d have some sympathy for her,’ Lawrie protested. ‘Not so you could use it against her!’
‘Whether I have sympathy or not is irrelevant. We can’t have that sort of blood contaminating the Davenport line. Brodie needs to be with someone who has far more class than that.’
‘I’d have thought you’d have wanted him to marry Callie,’ Lawrie said knowingly. ‘It means a Davenport gets to stay at the estate after all.’
‘Yes, and she won’t even take his name when they’re married! It’s a disgrace, Lawrie. You must put an end to this.’
The door flew open and Imogen stood there, her eyes flashing with anger.
‘Stop talking about my mum like that,’ she said hotly. ‘You’re nothing but an old bag who’s stuck in the past. You know nothing about my mum, and you’ve got no right to say those things!’
Charlotte was outraged. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, you little guttersnipe! You deserve to be whipped. Why, if I wasn’t dead, I’d—’
‘But you are dead, aren’t you?’ Imogen yelled.
‘So just shut up or I’m going to get Amelia to come here and do one of those exorcisms. Me and Ash have been looking them up online.
It’s proper grim and you could end up who knows where.
And good riddance, if you ask me. All you’ve done is cause trouble ever since you got here. ’
Furious, Charlotte lashed out with her riding crop.
There was a cry of pain, and she stared in shock as the young girl held her fingers to her face and wiped away blood.
‘Mother!’ Lawrie had managed to get to his feet in his shock, and Imogen looked stunned.
Charlotte stared at the crop in her hands. How on earth had that happened? Cautiously, she reached out and poked at a vase on the mantelpiece with it. The vase moved slightly.
She was vaguely aware of Lawrie crying, ‘Immi, sweetheart, wait!’ and of Imogen running out of the room, but she was too excited by what she’d just seen to give it much thought.
If she’d had any breath, she’d have held it as she tentatively touched the vase with her fingers.
For the first time she could feel it. How?
Well, well, she thought gleefully. This changes everything, doesn’t it?
There was the sound of running footsteps and a furious looking Callie burst through the door with Imogen just behind her.
‘Is it true?’ she demanded, looking not at Charlotte but at Lawrie.
Clearly still in shock he nodded slowly.
‘You can make physical contact with us?’ Callie asked Charlotte, ashen faced.
‘It would seem so,’ she said smoothly.
Callie put her hands on her hips. ‘And you chose to lash out at my daughter with a riding crop?’
‘Callie,’ Lawrie said urgently, ‘Mother didn’t mean to hurt Imogen. She had no idea she could touch her or she would never have done that.’
‘Oh, wouldn’t she?’ Callie said grimly. She gave Charlotte a challenging look. ‘Well? Would you?’
Charlotte had been about to say that of course she wouldn’t. She might be many things, but she’d never actually hit a child before. She’d had servants for that sort of thing, after all. But the look in Callie’s eyes sparked a defiance in her.
‘Of course I would,’ she said haughtily. ‘The little brat was insulting me and threatening me.’
‘You were insulting my mum,’ cried Imogen. ‘You were telling Lawrie that he had to stop the wedding because Mum wasn’t good enough for Brodie.’
‘Children,’ said Charlotte icily, ‘should know better than to eavesdrop. In my day you’d have been horsewhipped for such a thing.’
‘She was,’ Callie reminded her, her eyes glinting with anger. ‘But I’m warning you now, you touch her again and that will be the last thing you ever do.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘And what are you going to do about it? Get the vicar to sprinkle me with water from the font? Pur-lease! Face it, you’re stuck with me, just as I’m stuck with you, so we’d better get used to it.
At least, until Brodie sees sense and you’re so heartbroken that you leave the estate for good, at which point things can go back to normal around here. ’
‘Mother,’ Lawrie said weakly, ‘we need Callie. The owner of the Hall must be able to see the ghosts.’
‘And,’ Charlotte said triumphantly, ‘I can! The Davenports are back. We don’t need the Chase family to rescue us any longer.
Brodie can find a suitable wife – one with good breeding – and they can produce multiple children, at least one of whom will possess the precious gift. Have no doubt of it, Lawrie darling.’
‘Right,’ Callie said, her fists clenched in anger. ‘That’s it. You’ve done nothing but cause trouble since you got here. It’s time you were on your way. I’m going to call Madam Mariska and her sister. One of them brought you here. They can send you back.’
‘You can’t do that,’ Charlotte said, a sudden doubt creeping into her mind. Could she? She knew Agnes was convinced that this Madam Mariska woman was to blame for her arrival in Rowan Vale. If that were true, could the same woman return her to wherever it was she’d come from?
Charlotte didn’t like that idea at all.
‘Callie, don’t say such things,’ Lawrie begged. ‘She’s my mother. I don’t want her to leave.’
Charlotte flashed a triumphant smile at Callie, but the wretched young woman clearly wasn’t going to be swayed by an old man’s pleas.
‘I’m sorry, Lawrie,’ she said, ‘but I think—’
Her words were cut off as Charlotte, her temper overpowering her reason, picked up the vase from the mantelpiece and hurled it in Callie’s direction.
She missed Callie, and the vase hit the edge of the door and fell to the floor, shattered.
There was a shocked silence.
Lawrie fell into his chair and Imogen hurried to his side to comfort him.
Callie swallowed in anger. ‘You’re a danger to us all,’ she said, her voice suddenly calm and controlled, which was even more alarming to Charlotte. ‘I’m calling Madam Mariska and you’re going back. One way or the other, you’re getting out of here and that’s that.’
She turned to Lawrie. ‘Are you okay?’
He nodded and she grabbed Imogen’s hand. ‘Come on, you’re not safe here around her. We’ve got to make a phone call.’
She pushed Imogen out of the door and turned back to Lawrie. ‘Sorry,’ she told him.
With one final look of loathing at Charlotte, she slammed the door behind her.
Charlotte sank onto the bed and looked at the broken pieces of china on the floor.
It didn’t occur to her to ask how Lawrie was feeling, even though he’d clearly had a shock and wasn’t in the best of health.
Instead, she sat in silence, her mind furiously trying to work out how she could stay in Rowan Vale.
Once the ghosts and Brodie found out what she’d done there’d be no one on her side. Even Mr Swain would probably desert her.
She only had Lawrie. Somehow, she’d have to persuade him to convince Brodie to rein in that dreadful fiancée of his and ensure that Charlotte remained at Harling Hall. If anyone should leave here it should be Callie Chase and her little brat.
Charlotte had quite made up her mind that she was going nowhere.