Chapter 9
Nine
The finest crockery had been laid, cook had shouted louder than usual, and the servants scurried about the place with panicked expressions. Such events were rare at Honeyfield House.
It was also rare that Mr Glendenning and his wife had the squire and several important officials to dinner.
As the newly appointed excise officer, Mr Barton was to oversee a workforce of underlings throughout the district.
Charlotte had overheard talk of Mr Barton’s determination to rid Swain Cove and the surrounding district of the scourge of the smuggling trade, but before her trip to Pencarrow House, she’d paid little heed.
The last time smugglers had been caught in Swain Cove had been years ago.
And they’d been dealt with harshly. The villagers would not take such risks again.
But now Charlotte knew better.
Mr Barton was a dangerous man.
Oh, but she did not want to attend this dinner.
Each time she heard the clock chime down the hour, her heart seemed to flip over in her chest. Soon they would all be seated around the walnut tabletop, and Charlotte did not know where she was going to look.
At Mr Barton, knowing that he could apprehend any of them for their involvement in Swain Cove’s illegal activities?
Or at Hugh?
How could she bear seeing him when she knew she’d have to accept Mr Ravensby’s marriage offer the next morning?
Her heart did an even greater lurch at this thought as she secured an apron over her finest dress and went out into the vegetable garden to pick parsley for the cook.
On the other side of a raised bed of spinach, she rested against a retaining wall while she reined in her misery. For everyone’s sake, not least her own, she must keep up appearances.
“Charlotte?”
Charlotte swung round at the familiar voice.
Hugh was standing on the back step.
“Mrs Glendenning said I’d find you here.” He strode towards her while Charlotte stared at him with longing. He was dressed more finely than she’d seen him, in a light blue wool coat with gold and cream waistcoat, his long, lean legs encased in light breeches.
Already he looked as if he’d crossed out of her orbit, for this is how he’d dress amongst the finer people with whom he’d soon associate.
Self consciously she twisted the skirts of her old-fashioned best gown between her fingers, waiting for him to come to her so they were out of earshot of the house.
To her surprise, he put his hands on her shoulders when he reached her and tipped up her face as he uttered the single word: “Why?”
Charlotte closed her eyes, and felt the tears attach to her eyelashes when she opened them. “You saved my life, I’m sure of it, Hugh. And I regret nothing. But what choice do we have? As each day passed, I realised how much of a millstone round your neck I’d be.”
“Could we not have talked about it together first?”
She was surprised by the hurt in his voice. “Hugh, I forced you into a situation that was impossible. I see that now. Did we not both agree on that when we parted?”
He shook his head but said nothing as she went on.
“You and I began our journey when you had the world at your fingertips and a wonderful future within your grasp. I heard Mr and Mrs Glendenning talk of you and your abilities with pride and awe. A farmer’s son gaining a position at such a prestigious school with the certainty of progressing to an even greater place of learning.
Oxford, perhaps. Then I heard them speculating over how many years before you’d be able to take a wife, and it certainly wasn’t within the next few months, though I already knew that.
” She tried not to sound bitter. “They said that, given a few more years, your new place in society would enable you to choose a very different kind of wife. A lady. That’s what they said, and it’s true. ” She stared at the ground.
“But I don’t want anyone other than you.”
Charlotte raised her eyes to his and smiled.
“That’s music to my ears, Hugh. Truly it is, and I never thought I’d be speaking like this to you when it took me so many years to get the courage to talk to you at all, and then—” She blushed, remembering how rapidly their association had progressed from not speaking, to the intimacies that had occurred for which Hugh obviously felt it necessary to atone.
“So! You’re telling me you’re not prepared to wait?” A sudden thought seemed to take hold, and he asked suddenly, “You don’t have to get married in such a hurry, do you?”
“Lord, no! Do you think I’d marry Mr Ravensby if that were the case?” She dabbed at the dampness beneath her eyes.
He shook her gently. “I heard the rumour that he was to receive his response from you tomorrow, but Charlotte, but I couldn’t imagine that you’d accept! Not after—”
“But we can’t marry, Hugh. You said it before, only I was too—” She sighed.
“I behaved rashly, but now that common sense has returned, I see that any future between us is impossible.” When he did not answer, Charlotte whispered, “Tell me honestly, Hugh… If you and I married, you’d not be able to take up your position at Riverdale School, would you? ”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“And you can’t marry while the magistrate still employs you?”
It seemed he didn’t want to answer until finally he asked, “But you’d marry Mr Ravensby rather than wait?”
“Wait, Hugh? For how long? I’d not put you under an obligation to me when you are going to be elevated into society and have opportunities I would only prejudice.
I’m…” Her voice wobbled a little as she cupped his cheek with one hand.
“You are about to enter an exciting new world where you’ll be introduced to fine people who will offer you advantages you cannot imagine now.
I care for you too much to hold you back. ”
“Charlotte! There you are! Where’s the parsley?” It was cook, standing on the back step and shouting. “Hurry now, for the exciseman is here and he don’t look like someone who takes kindly to being kept waiting!”
Mr Barton was a large, burly, but handsome man with a coal black moustache, hair that was thinning, and an air of formidable determination.
“We’ll break this smuggling ring that has operated with impunity for so long,” he was declaring to the company assembled around the dinner table, with all the confidence of one who’d had no experience working in the local area.
He dabbed at his upper lip, and Charlotte ventured a glance at him as he chewed his beef.
“They’re a tight lot,” Sir Bligh replied. Charlotte could barely bring herself to look at him. A friend of the magistrate, Hugh’s employer, he’d been born into comfort and could have no idea of the trials that afflicted the general populace. “Don’t expect your job to be an easy one.”
“Everyone has their price, and there’s little inducement for riff-raff to become turncoats.
It won’t take me long to have this place empty of each and every one of the devils who rob the government of not just the duty they’re owed, but the goods that belong to honest traders.
” Mr Barton leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands across his belly.
Charlotte burned with shame as she caught Hugh’s eye. He sat across the table from her, beside Mr Barton, and perhaps the excise officer thought Charlotte had been glancing at him, for he grinned appreciatively at her as he put his napkin on the table.
“I hope we’re not frightening you with all this talk, Miss Stanbridge,” he said, “though I’m sure you’re even more frightened to go about your business, knowing you’re among such dangerous people.”
“Yes, it is very frightening, sir,” Charlotte murmured, eyes downcast. “I’m sure we’re very lucky to have someone like you to protect us.”
What else could Charlotte say?
She felt sick with fear at the power Mr Barton wielded, and sick with sorrow at the futility of any dreams of a future with Hugh.
Mr Glendenning pushed back his chair, concluding the dinner, and Mrs Glendenning clapped her hands, rising to say, “And now Catherine and Master Christopher will show us what they have learned in their dancing classes.”
Catherine, blushing a little, stepped into the centre of the floor with apparent reluctance, though Charlotte knew this was just for show. Anyone less like a blushing debutante than Catherine would be hard to imagine.
Master Christopher followed, looking awkward, as Mrs Glendenning seated herself at the pianoforte.
The rest of the gathering assembled in the adjoining room, and once again Charlotte found herself alone with Hugh.
“Charlotte, I can’t bear the idea of leaving you—”
“But you have no choice but to go to Riverdale. You said it yourself.”
“Why do you have to accept Mr Ravensby now? Is there something you’re not telling me? Should we rush through the banns–?”
“And live on what? No, Hugh, there is nothing requiring me to marry anyone, except the fact that I shall soon have nowhere to live other than in my aunt’s crowded cottage with no means to support her or my sister.
And how could you support all of us on a tutor’s wage?
” There, she’d put it into words as plainly as she could. The brutal truth.
Hugh, finally, seemed to accept it.
With a sigh, she said, “I shall tell Mr Ravensby in the morning that I accept his offer. It is for the best, Hugh. Truly. Besides, we knew one another for such a brief time.”
He kissed her hand with barely a glance over his shoulder to see they were unobserved. “Time is of no account. I discovered you, whom I will love above all others.”
“And I feel the same, Hugh. But we must be practical.”
His closeness was making her dizzy and his hands, hovering near hers as they bent their heads together, made her long to snatch them up and smother them with kisses.
The rest of the party had seated themselves in the chairs that had been pulled into position so that the pair of dancers could be seen to advantage.
Charlotte and Hugh stood behind. But soon they’d have to show the requisite respect and seat themselves to admire the accomplishments of their respective charges.
“This is an important moment for Catherine,” whispered Charlotte, indicating the scene with a nod.
“And excruciating for me,” said Hugh. “I’m losing you.
I don’t know if I can bear it. My darling Charlotte—” His voice broke as the music rose to a crescendo.
He gripped her fingertips briefly and touched them to his lips, whispering as he let her hands drop, “I cannot bear the idea of letting you go.”
Charlotte’s heart swelled at the sentiments that echoed her own. How could she bear to farewell him when she’d waited so long to finally speak her heart and to learn that what she felt was reciprocated?
The rest of the party was in front of them, a tight, proud grouping as they watched their clever offspring execute their steps.
Would they notice Charlotte and Hugh’s closeness?
Charlotte’s throat went dry as Mr Barton glanced over his shoulder, his expression warm, almost conspiratorial. If he harboured any suspicions regarding who among the present company might be involved in the smuggling ring, or about Charlotte and Hugh, it did not show in his grinning visage.
“Your Christopher is quite the young man now,” Charlotte remarked to Hugh. “I thought him such a boy when I last saw him. How times does—”
“Miss Stanbridge…?”
Charlotte jerked her head round at being addressed, fearing that her tone and manner had been too noticeably warm towards her beloved.
“What is it, Maisie?” She sent a nervous glance at the little maid who’d quietly entered the room and who she now saw was holding a sliver of paper, the back of which was smeared with dirt.
“Tom said I’m to give you this, miss, and to wait for your answer.”
Quickly, Charlotte scanned the brief two lines, her surprise at being addressed turning to horror.
“Hugh?” She felt faint as she passed the note to him. “Hugh, I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. “What must we do?”