A Particular Circumstance (12 page)

He closed his eyes very tightly as he took another swig of his ale and Hugo waited a moment and then said quietly, ‘And what of the
Golden Maiden
?’

‘When the storm began to blow, Captain Woodford took every precaution. ’E reduced sail to barest minimum and hove to wi’ ’is anchor … but bein’ unladen, yer see, sir, she were ’igh in the water. ’E thought as we could get back to dry land safely, steerin’ along the channels between the sand banks. But all of a sudden, the wind blew so ’ard that the
Golden Maiden
strained on ’er anchor, ’er cable parted an’ she drifted rapidly at the mercy o’ wind an’ current….’

If Hugo was impatient with these details, he gave no sign, but waited while Ted had another gulp of his ale and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

‘She were blown out o’ the safe channels and into the
shallows
where the sands stretch out far from the shore. Then, there bein’ no point in everyone stayin’ on board, as the heavy seas smashed into ’is ship, the long boat was hoisted and ’e saw most of the passengers safely on board. He were still confident they could get to dry land even though the sands was covered in places by the tide which had started to sweep in….’

Ted gave a convulsive gulp at his drink and was silent.

‘And then?’

‘Captain Woodford told the coxswain to unload the
passengers
on to a big flat rock so as they could wade ashore and the long boat could go back for the others. He were concerned about some o’ they Dutch passengers, see. They was in a panic and he ’ad to restrain ’em from jumpin’ overboard….’

Hugo was patience itself. ‘So, how did the situation resolve itself?’

‘Well … the wind suddenly changed direction and blew with such force as no cable nor anchor could hold a ship agen’ it. The
Golden Maiden
was blown on to the dreaded sand
banks, to be ’eld fast an’ hammered by the towerin’ waves. I knows that those as were watchin’ could see poor survivors as ’ad taken to the riggin’, but then another great wave would come poundin’ in and when they looked agen, the riggin’ was empty….’

Hugo restrained himself and asked politely, ‘And Mr Westbury and his wife?’

‘Captain Woodford thought it best for everybody to wade ashore while the tide was ebbing. It seemed straightforward and they all set off, but the women grew tired and although the men tried to help them, the sea crept up and they was drowned, sir.’

‘And the survivors?’

Ted Rudkin paused, seemingly at a loss, then he said slowly, ‘Only myself and, yes, Mr Westbury and one other person made it to the shore and we was exhausted, sir. The
Golden Maiden
were battered to pieces.’

Hugo was thoughtful, then he said, ‘And who was the other person?’

Rudkin blinked rapidly and then looked away. Finally, he said slowly. ‘I know naught of him, sir. He’d been a
schoolmaster
, as I recall, quiet and steady an’ disappeared as soon as ’e reached Cromer.’

‘You recall Mr Westbury’s name. Do you recall the name of the quiet gentleman?’ Bunfield asked him.

Ted Rudkin looked shifty and then said, without looking at either of them, ‘No, sir.’

‘You have been more than helpful, Mr Rudkin, and here, this is for your trouble.’ Hugo laid the promised guineas on the table and with a last furtive look round, Rudkin pocketed them. With a muttered farewell, he slid out of the inn and disappeared rapidly.

Left alone, the two men looked at each other and grinned.

‘That Ted Rudkin ain’t no nodcock, sir,’ Bunfield offered. ‘It was a slow start, but he took the money fast enough.’

‘That is true,’ Hugo said. ‘But if nothing else, he has served
to confirm that the dead body is indeed that of my
grandfather
, though I cannot begin to guess how he came to be at Westbury Hall, or how he met his end. Come, Harry, if you have finished your drink, let us return to The Royal Oak. Find the landlady and tell her you and I will sup on a nice piece of topside, followed by the ham and white onion sauce. We shall be returning to Westbury Hall in the morning.’

Hugo reflected that he had at least learnt something of his grandfather’s fate and he knew the name of the third survivor, even if he had not discovered all the circumstances of Charles Westbury’s death. The next morning they travelled home and found the village of Felbrook buzzing with the planned betrothal of Ann West and Robert Thorpe. In fact, the preparations were advancing apace. Both Charlotte and Kitty had decided on new gowns and even Jane Grayson was persuaded to follow suit, although she laughingly protested that as she would be sitting with the old dowds, no one would notice how she looked.

‘Nonsense, Mama,’ Charlotte said firmly. ‘You are so pretty and have so many more qualities than the other ladies, you owe it to yourself to shine at Ann’s Party.’

Once this had been decided, the coming celebration at the Wests’ family mansion occupied all their thoughts.

Early on Wednesday morning, they were surprised by a knock on the front door, which heralded an unexpected visit from Hugo Westbury, who they’d thought to be still on a visit to Cromer. He was as handsome and well dressed as ever, but was looking worn rather than rested.

The three ladies were as usual chatting and laughing instead of concentrating on their needlework. Charlotte in particular was on the top doh as she gave a wicked imitation of the imagined scene when Ann West’s father formally announced her betrothal. Charlotte mimicked everyone – Ann West, the bluff young Robert Thorpe, Ann’s gentle, languid, die-away mama, even old Grandmama West, who approved of nothing and disapproved of everybody. Hugo 
Westbury caught them in a delightful little cameo, the three Grayson ladies, mother and daughters, as he was ushered into the drawing-room by Robert.

‘Mr Westbury, good morning.’ Jane Grayson pulled herself together quickly but the amusement still lingered in her pleasant smile as she offered her hand in greeting.

Both girls greeted him politely and Jane Grayson rang for Phoebe to bring some refreshments. ‘To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure, Mr Westbury?’

‘I have heard, that is … I understand … that you will be without a carriage on the occasion of Miss West’s betrothal party.’

‘Yes, that is true,’ Jane sighed. ‘My brother-in-law is not sure whether he will be returned from King’s Lynn and we have no carriage of our own. We scarce had occasion for anything so grand when my dear husband was alive. But I was thinking to purchase a barouche and meanwhile, we could perhaps hire a coach from Fletcher’s in King’s Lynn …’

‘I hope you will not do so, ma’am. I come to offer to convey you there in Sir Benjamin’s coach. I trust you have not yet made other arrangements for the occasion?’

‘No, not at all,’ Jane Grayson said faintly. ‘But I understood you were away from home, Mr Westbury.’

‘Well, I travelled to Cromer on family business,’ he said smoothly.

Charlotte, looking at his rather worn expression, said impulsively, ‘The journey seems to have tired you.’

He eyed her with some amusement, aware of her wicked pleasure in seeing him looking rather weary. ‘Why? Do I seem exhausted?’

‘Not exactly, but a few days away is supposed to be restful.’

‘A few days away,’ he observed languidly, ‘can be quite the opposite of restful. But I drove with all speed yesterday, knowing I am engaged to attend Miss West’s betrothal party on Friday and I understand that it will be the social occasion of the year.’

‘That is true, Mr Westbury, and we are all looking forward to it,’ Jane Grayson said, gently interrupting their
conversation
.

‘Capital. Then you will be willing to go in Sir Benjamin’s coach?’

‘We would be very glad to accept your kind offer, sir.’

Hugo Westbury smiled. He saw it as a small victory, that the Grayson family were to ride with him to the party. Charlotte Grayson was so challenging and she had continued to be so scornful of him since their very first meeting. He guessed that her proud nature made it difficult for her to accept any kindness or favours and it amused him that her mama had taken the decision out of her hands. He could tell by the way that she studiously kept her face averted that she too recognized this minor triumph. After all, he was not unaware of his attractiveness. He was used to women doing what he wanted. Why should Miss Charlotte Grayson be any different?

Besides, if Aurelia Casterton and various other eager young females and their mamas thought he was fixing his interest with Miss Grayson, it might serve to free him from their attentions.

Aloud, he said, ‘Then, if you agree, I shall come for you at six-thirty, as we are engaged to be there at seven.’

Kitty and Charlotte were silent. It was again their mother who answered for them. ‘That is very kind of you, Mr Westbury. We shall be pleased to accept.’

He bent over Mrs Grayson’s hand. ‘Until Friday, then,’ he said, and flashed her his charming smile. ‘Good day, ma’am. Miss Grayson. Miss Kitty.’

He spoke very pleasantly, but Charlotte’s grey eyes met his own so grimly that he involuntarily took a step backwards. ‘Till Friday, then,’ he repeated. He bowed and left.

Jane Grayson was the first to break the silence after his departure. ‘It is very civil of Mr Westbury to be so concerned as to offer us a ride in the carriage, is it not? Such a fortuitous
offer, my dears. Matthew is one of the few young gentlemen in the neighbourhood who has a professional occupation and I know he is out on business with Mr Brown on Friday.’

Charlotte turned towards her mother with a glare that would cause hell to freeze over. ‘Even if Uncle Bertram is not on hand to escort us to the party, Mr Brown has offered Matthew the use of his own carriage,’ she said tersely. ‘Mr Westbury’s offer is surplus to requirements.’

Jane thought how difficult and wayward Charlotte could be when she was in one of her prickly moods, but she merely said gently, ‘Well, Charlotte, Uncle Bertram has not said
definitely
whether he can or cannot convey us to Wycliffe House and dear Matthew might find it a struggle to return from his work and change for the evening before taking us up. I think it is easier for him to meet us at Wycliffe House, then it will be of no consequence if he is slightly late for the party.’

Charlotte said nothing, but took up her neglected
needlework
and continued to scowl. Jane was put in mind of the old nursemaid they’d had when the girls were little. Old Nanny Bull used to meet these scowling black looks by saying that Charlotte would stay like it if the wind changed. Jane smiled to herself as she thought of old Nanny Bull and, seeing the smile, Charlotte gathered up her sewing and flounced out of the room, completely destroying the atmosphere of playful fun that they’d enjoyed before Hugo’s visit.

Although she was outwardly calm, Jane groaned inwardly, hoping that Charlotte would have recovered her good humour before Friday.

True to his word, Hugo arrived on time and greeted the girls courteously, gently refusing Mrs Grayson’s offer of wine and instead exchanging pleasantries about the weather. Kitty was not quite ready, Nell having mislaid one of her evening gloves, and in spite of being silent, Charlotte was at least not looking as cross as she had done the last time they’d met. His cool gaze swept over her as they exchanged polite bows and he took in her exquisite bare shoulders, rising from the rounded neckline of her evening dress. She was dressed in a gown of palest
eau-de
-Nil
silk, simply styled almost to the point of plainness, yet which flattered her beautiful body to perfection. It was
decorated
very simply with Bruges lace at the hem and her satin dancing slippers had been dyed to match it exactly. Charlotte Grayson, he reflected, would be able to wear a cotton duster on her head and still look superb, but this evening, her
glorious
hair was fastened up in a Grecian style, with grey-green ribbons, matching her magnificent eyes exactly. He noticed that the front of her hair had been cut much shorter and encouraged into soft feathery curls, which framed her brow so enticingly that he looked away so as not to be thought staring. He had a sudden mental picture of her, angry and dishevelled, that day when they’d first met. Even with her muddy dress and a smudge on her pretty nose, she had looked wholly
beautiful
, he thought, and was obliged to smile to himself as he moved towards a seat near the window.

Charlotte noticed his attractive smile and she was
determined
not to react to him, but even she was startled at how handsome and charismatic he looked. She’d never seen him quite so grandly dressed before and the impact of his
splendid
appearance was obvious as he moved across the room. His black evening coat fitted perfectly over his pale brocade waistcoat, as though moulded to his muscular body. His shirt points were fashionably high without being ridiculously so and his cravat was a masterpiece of the sartorial art. His breeches and stockings seemed designed on purpose to show off his powerful thighs and Charlotte’s heart gave an
unaccountable
sudden lurch as he rose to greet Kitty, who was now quite ready. He escorted Jane to the waiting carriage and then returned and offered an arm to each of the girls. Kitty smiled sweetly up at him but Charlotte was determined to reject any of his overtures. She shot him a look that was almost angry as well as unfriendly as she took his proffered arm. Hugo could hardly hold back a smile as he walked them to the carriage. Plenty of women would be delighted to take his arm and be escorted to the betrothal party in such a smart carriage. Charlotte Grayson looked positively murderous. She was a very unusual lady, quite outside his experience of women, Hugo thought, but he had to admit to himself that she attracted him and the novelty of her outright rejection intrigued him. Between the fine cloth of his expensive evening coat and the exquisite fabric of Charlotte Grayson’s white evening glove, there was no real physical contact at all. Not like their visit to Mrs Baker’s cottage when her bare arm had brushed so softly and seductively against his cheek. At the vivid memory of that encounter, Hugo felt a sudden rush of heat which had nothing to do with the mildness of the summer weather. He handed both girls into the carriage and as Charlotte raised the hem of her gown slightly to negotiate the step, he was treated to the sight of a trim ankle and a gracefully arched foot encased in a satin slipper, and had a repeat of that unaccountable rush of warmth. Impatient with
himself, he cursed inwardly. Confound it. He was in control here, not the rebellious Charlotte Grayson. He settled himself opposite to her and the coachman folded up the steps and they were off.

Charlotte studiously avoided his gaze and instead looked about her. Papa, in spite of his affluence, had abhorred all worldly wealth and show and it was some time since she’d been in such an elegantly appointed vehicle. The scent of the soft leather upholstery and the smell of oiled mahogany impressed her with their luxury and opulence. She felt like a princess on the verge of an exciting adventure and she was obliged to give a wry grin at the thought that the rather mundane conversation in the carriage did not at all reflect these feelings, in spite of the fact that this evening, Mr Hugo Westbury had all the appearance of the handsome prince in a fairy tale.

Her mother, meanwhile, was chatting seamlessly to Hugo and not even attempting to coax her daughters to join in the conversation. Both she and Hugo had noticed Charlotte’s half smile and both of them had chosen to disregard it.

‘And how are the funeral arrangements progressing?’ her mother asked in a gentle voice.

‘As well as can be expected, given the particular
circumstances
of my grandfather’s death,’ he answered sombrely.

He found he liked Jane Grayson. She was sympathetic but not maudlin in her interest and he wondered if his own mama would have been like her, had she lived. He wondered what the two women would have talked about if his dear mama had been going to the party with them. He still had some childhood memories of his mother’s beautiful face and elegant clothes, her soft voice and that American way she had of almost drawling her words.

Jane interrupted his reverie very gently.

‘Will there be many of the Westbury family able to attend?’

‘George, the other brother of Sir Benjamin, is also dead, but he has a grandson, Alfred Westbury, who has been informed
of the discovery of my grandfather’s remains. My American relatives would be hard pushed to attend, even if I were able to get in touch with them. Most of the mourners will be friends and business contacts of my Great-Uncle Benjamin.

Jane thought of the lonely little ten-year-old boy spending all his school holidays in Westbury Hall and sighed.

Aloud, she said comfortably, ‘I am sure there will be many of your neighbours and estate workers who will also wish to pay their respects.’

There was a silence after this and seeing the number of carriages lined up to discharge their passengers at the front door of Wycliffe House, Charlotte reluctantly admitted to herself that she was pleased that her mama had accepted Hugo’s offer. No one of any consequence would have arrived at the party in a hired vehicle. As it was, the fact that they were seen to be escorted by Mr Hugo Westbury, in Sir Benjamin’s carriage, must lend them some social distinction. She recognized grudgingly that it was good of him to be so thoughtful when his mind must be distracted by the funeral and other considerations.

She glanced at him from under her eyelashes, obliged to admit that she admired what she saw. It was unbelievable that she should be so conscious of his attractiveness, almost impossible to think that she should actually begin to like him… .

There were now only three carriages in front of them and Hugo said to her, ‘It is bound to be a sad crush, Miss Grayson, but may I be allowed to have the pleasure of a dance with you?’

Charlotte knew that her mama and sister were pretending not to hear what was being said and she felt herself colouring a little. Common courtesy decreed that she should accept, especially after the way he had considered their comfort and convenience.

She swallowed and said politely, ‘Yes, sir. I should be pleased to dance with you.’

Hugo smiled, trying to disguise the triumph that he felt. He would solicit the hand of the most beautiful woman there and dance with her in full view of all the hopeful young virgins and their ambitious mamas who were gathered at Ann West’s party. He now saw the conquest of Charlotte Grayson as something of a challenge. His own affections were not engaged, of course, but it would amuse him to see if he could make her fall in love with him. She might be stubborn and difficult but he knew she was not unaware of the impact that their arrival would have on the other guests. She would see it as a triumph that so notable a person as Sir Benjamin Westbury had put his opulent coach at their disposal, and not only that but had made his very eligible heir available as their escort. Without any undue conceit, he knew he was attractive to women and could make her fall for him. Perhaps this would settle Charlotte Grayson’s arrogant confidence once for all. By just becoming a fool in love she might learn some humility, he thought grimly.

He escorted the three Grayson ladies up the gracious
staircase
of Wycliffe House and they passed along the line of the West family, who were waiting to greet their guests, before proceeding to the reception room where liveried flunkeys circulated with wine and light refreshments. In no time at all, Hugo was surrounded by admirers, male as well as female, and the Grayson women were soon on the edge of this group, with only old faithfuls and the immature young friends of the prospective bridegroom to entertain them. Partly to escape the crush in the great hall and partly to secure an eligible
partner
, guests were now entering the ballroom, where there was a dais at one end for the musicians. The famous chandeliers of Wycliffe were ablaze with myriads of candles and there were small gilded chairs surrounding the dance floor.

‘For the old dowds,’ Jane said laughingly, as she excused herself from the girls and went to greet one of the elderly ladies from the church.

Charlotte looked about her. Andrew Preston was chatting
to a group of ladies who seemed to be hanging on his every word. People were grouping and regrouping as they greeted each other. The musicians now began to strike up and the first country dance was announced. Hugo Westbury was squiring a hopeful young female on to the dance floor and she noticed that Uncle Bertram had arrived, looking extremely elegant in his formal evening clothes. She watched curiously as, not looking to either right or left, he made a beeline for Miss Aurelia Casterton and bent over her hand, obviously
requesting
the pleasure of a dance. Not letting the grass grow under his feet, Charlotte thought. So far, neither Matthew, Lavinia nor Adam had arrived, and one of the prospective
bridegroom’s
friends asked Kitty to dance and she smilingly
acquiesced
, so Charlotte was left alone. She watched the dancers and saw that as Aurelia’s dance with Uncle Bertram ended, Aurelia immediately accepted Hugo Westbury in the next one. Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Hugo. He had such a distinguished air of almost careless grace as he danced with Ann West’s best friend, and she was angry with herself for feeling a little envious of Aurelia, who was obviously enjoying being his partner. She saw the flash of his white teeth as he smiled politely at the rather stodgy young woman, who looked as if she were too dazzled to answer him. She noticed the glossy sheen of his dark hair, highlighted by the brightness of the chandeliers, and the confidence with which he moved to the measures of the dance. Charlotte was more than a little envious, she acknowledged to herself; she was suddenly, fiercely and quite irrationally jealous of the young woman whom he had chosen to partner. She watched as the dance ended and Hugo escorted Aurelia from the floor, then she deliberately looked away from them and
concentrated
instead on the intricate design of flowers and songbirds on her fan.

‘Good evening. May I have the pleasure of the next dance?’

It was Matthew’s calm and quiet voice and Charlotte smiled up at him, pleased to see him.

‘Better late than never,’ he said. ‘Adam and my dear aunt are still paying their respects to the happy couple, so we may take to the floor without them.’

She put her hand on his and allowed him to lead her into a cotillion. She looked up at him and thought that he seemed somewhat strained.

‘Ann’s parents have put on a wonderful party for her, have they not?’

‘Yes. Quite so,’ Matthew answered, seemingly
uninterested
. ‘Where is Kitty this evening?’

‘Oh, dancing with various young friends of Robert Thorpe,’ she said, somewhat surprised at his question. ‘No doubt we shall see her at the supper interval.’

‘I hope so,’ he said. Then he exclaimed, ‘Oh, is that Kitty now, standing up with that absurd Andrew Preston?’

‘I am sure I have no idea who Kitty is standing up with,’ she said with some asperity. What was the matter with him, she wondered?

Matthew’s hand tightened on hers and she looked at him crossly.

‘What is it, Charlotte?’ he asked quietly. ‘You are usually such good friends with your sister.’

She began to feel as though this situation was unreal. She was almost dizzy with conflicting emotions as though a chasm had unexpectedly opened at her feet. One half of her knew that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to dance with the charismatic Hugo Westbury and instead was being partnered by the rather dull Matthew King. Quite irrationally, she longed suddenly to provoke Matthew, to shake him out of his calm acceptance of their prolonged courtship and to anger him as much as he angered her with his persistent attentions to her younger sister. ‘If you are so concerned, why not seek Kitty out
yourself
?’ she said tightly. ‘I am sure she would appreciate it.’

Matthew’s gentle expression hardened. ‘Can it be that you are jealous of Kitty, Charlotte?’ he challenged her. ‘I thought
you were the best of friends.’

Charlotte was appalled at herself. She didn’t know what to say and they were both silent for a few minutes. It was a silence which seemed full of the tension of what they had said, but also of what they had not said, until Matthew drew a deep breath and broke the silence by saying with an
undertone
of anger in his deep voice, ‘To please you, I suppose I must not pay any attention to your sister, but at the same time, I must remain oblivious to the attentions you are
receiving
from Hugo Westbury.’

‘That is unfair, Matthew. He has no interest in me
whatsoever
.’

‘You are mistaken!’

They had both kept their voices quiet during this exchange, but now Charlotte’s anger welled up inside her and her voice rose without her even being aware of it. She was somewhat disconcerted to realize that the music had now stopped and people were looking askance at her. She could tell that the normally mild-mannered Matthew was furious. Wordlessly, he escorted her to the edge of the dance floor. She could feel his anger and tension as she rested her hand on his arm and she herself felt hurt and frustrated by their sharp and painful exchange. She had no opportunity to mend the rift between them because Hugo Westbury was now approaching with Aurelia Casterton on his arm.