Sons and Daughters (40 page)

‘Come and see all my presents,’ Georgie greeted her excitedly, dragging her up the stairs to the playroom. ‘I’ve got a train set. A Hornby clockwork one. Ben’s setting it all up for me. It’s got enough track to run all the way round the room. And carriages and even little people.’ He flung open the door with a flourish. ‘Look!’

For the next hour Charlotte knelt on the floor, playing happily with the two boys. Philip poked his head round the door once, sneered at the childish games and disappeared – much to Charlotte’s relief.

At dinner, she was seated next to Felix, who kept them all entranced with his tales of the artistic world in the city. ‘I’m opening a gallery soon. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do.’ He smiled archly at Charlotte. ‘And whilst most of the paintings displayed will be my own,’ he laughed heartily, ‘that’s the whole idea, of course, I shall also be on the lookout for other artists, especially unknown ones whom I can nurture.’ He turned to Charlotte. ‘Now, my dear, can I persuade you to show me some of your work?’

Charlotte blushed and shook her head. ‘It’s only a – a hobby with me. I’m not very good.’ She hesitated, remembering her father’s cruel destruction of nearly all her work. ‘And besides, there aren’t many paintings to see.’

‘I’d like the chance to judge that for myself,’ Felix said softly as he touched her hand.

At the end of the table Miles cleared his throat. ‘Shall we adjourn to the drawing room, if everyone’s ready? And Georgie – I think it’s time you went to bed.’

The boy climbed down from his seat. ‘Please, may Charlotte read me a story?’

‘Well . . .’ Miles glanced at her, a question in his eyes. ‘If she doesn’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ She rose at once, glad to escape from Philip’s sneering face.

‘Now, don’t be away too long,’ Felix said, catching hold of her hand and raising it to his lips. ‘Don’t let that adorable little scamp monopolize you. There are others who want to enjoy your company, you know.’

To her relief when she returned downstairs, having tucked Georgie into his bed and kissed him ‘goodnight’, Philip had disappeared. Soon Ben excused himself and went to bed leaving only Miles, Felix and Charlotte in front of the blazing log fire. The rest of the evening was spent pleasantly enough, with Miles in the armchair beside the fire and Felix sitting beside her on the sofa. Charlotte couldn’t remember a time when she had enjoyed herself so much and when at last she said she really must go home, Felix rose and gallantly kissed her on both cheeks.

‘I hope we meet again very soon. I can’t stay for New Year this time, though Miles has asked me; I must get back. My gallery has its grand opening in two weeks’ time and there’s so much to do.’ His eyes sparkled suddenly. ‘Now, why don’t you come down to London for the opening? You could stay with me.’ He turned to Miles, but almost as an afterthought. ‘And you too, my dear friend.’

‘Well . . .’ Miles began hesitantly, but Charlotte said at once, ‘I’d love to, but I’m sorry, it’s really not possible. Though thank you for the kind invitation.’

Felix gave an exaggerated sigh and kissed her hand again.

‘I’ll see you to the motor,’ Miles said abruptly. ‘Brewster will drive you home.’

‘There’s no need,’ Charlotte protested. ‘I can easily—’

‘I wouldn’t dream of allowing you to walk anywhere so late at night and in the dark,’ he said stiffly as he opened the front door and ushered her down the steps to the waiting vehicle.

He held out his hand to help her climb in and then he closed the door. ‘Good night, Charlotte.’ He turned away abruptly and as the motor car drew away, Charlotte was left staring at his back as he ran lightly back up the steps and into the house.

‘Now,’ she murmured to herself, ‘what on earth has got into him?’

She wrinkled her forehead, trying to think whether she had said anything untoward, but for the life of her she couldn’t think that she had said or done anything which could have offended Miles.

On the morning after New Year’s Day 1928, Charlotte was surprised to see Miles ride into the yard at Buckthorn Farm, dismount, and stride to the back door.

‘A happy new year to you all,’ he said, removing his hat and ducking his head as he stepped into the kitchen. His gaze sought Charlotte. ‘Ah, I was wondering if you would come for a ride on the beach – that is, if you’re not too busy?’

‘You go, Miss Charlotte,’ Mary said at once before Charlotte had time to reply. ‘The fresh air will do you good.’ Mary turned to Miles. ‘Her father was troublesome in the night, sir. Restless and – demanding. She’s not had much sleep herself.’

‘Oh – well . . .’ Miles hesitated.

‘No – no – a gallop on the beach’ll blow all the cobwebs away. She can rest this afternoon.’

‘It seems your question’s been answered for me.’ Charlotte laughed. ‘Give me five minutes.’ She turned and ran from the room to change into her riding habit.

‘A cup of tea while you’re waiting, sir?’ Mary said.

They reached the beach and rode to the water’s edge where the receding tide had left the sand firm enough for them to urge their mounts into a gallop. When they slowed again they dismounted and walked side by side, leading their horses.

‘Charlotte – there’s something I want to say to you, but – but it’s difficult.’

‘Then the best way is just to say it outright.’ She smiled up at him, completely unaware of the bombshell that was about to fall.

‘Very well, then.’ He paused and seemed to be gathering his courage. ‘I would like to offer you my hand in marriage. I have been thinking about it for some time and—’

He got no further. Charlotte whirled round to face him, her temper roused by what she saw as an offer out of humiliating pity. ‘Offer me your hand in marriage? How dare you? Is this still to do with Philip and his inheritance? Are you afraid that I will somehow find a way to contest my father’s will when the time comes?’

He was staring at her, open-mouthed, shocked and – if she’d stopped for a moment to see – hurt.

‘Charlotte, how can you even think – ? Oh dear, I haven’t expressed myself very well. I—’

‘You most certainly have not,’ she snapped. She turned away from him and, gathering the reins in her hands, flung herself up on to her horse.

Looking down at him, she said sarcastically, ‘I thank you for the great honour you have bestowed upon me, but I regret I must decline your offer.’

She turned and rode away. When she realized that he was making no attempt to follow her, she allowed the tears to flow. Tears of frustration and humiliation, but, above all, heartbreak. More than anything else in the world, she wanted to marry Miles Thornton for now she knew she loved him with all her heart.

But not like that; not because he felt sorry for her or because he wanted to further safeguard his son’s inheritance. Even though Osbert had made a will in the boy’s favour, he was perfectly capable of making another that nullified the first. By marrying her, Miles would ensure that Buckthorn Farm came into the Thornton family one way or another. But Charlotte was not going to allow herself to be used.

Oh no, not like that.

It wasn’t until the following Sunday that she saw any of the Thornton family again. Since her father’s illness, Charlotte attended Matins with just Mary. Her father was not well enough to go to church and Edward stayed with him. Now she and Mary sat together in the front pew.

She heard the Thorntons, all four of them, enter the church and felt them take their places in the pew on the opposite side of the aisle. She heard Georgie whispering. Then, suddenly, he was squeezing into the pew beside her, his hand creeping into hers.

‘Father says will you come back to luncheon with me after Sunday school? He says to tell you he’s sorry and he wants to talk to you again.’

She glanced down to see the young boy looking up at her with such an appeal in his blue eyes that her heart melted. She might be angry with his father, but there was no reason to take it out on Georgie. Miles had certainly chosen his ambassador well. She could not refuse ‘her golden boy’.

‘What is Papa – I mean, Father’ – for a brief moment, George’s new-found ‘grown up’ status deserted him – ‘sorry about?’

She smiled down at him. ‘Oh, something and nothing. Grown-up silliness. Don’t you worry about it, darling.’

‘But will you come? He’s been grumpy all week. Ever since the day after New Year. Like “a bear with a sore head”, Ben says.’

Charlotte stifled the laughter that bubbled up inside her. ‘Yes,’ she managed to say as the vicar appeared from the vestry to begin the service. ‘I’ll come.’

She sighed inwardly. Of course, she should have refused the invitation, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight the overwhelming desire to be with him.

Luncheon at the manor was difficult. Charlotte wished that the ebullient Felix was still there to lighten the tension and take command of the stilted conversation. Even Georgie seemed unusually quiet. Philip excused himself from the table as soon as he could and as the meal came to an end, Miles said, ‘Ben, will you amuse Georgie for a while? I want to talk to Charlotte.’

‘But, Father—’ Georgie began to protest, but Miles held up his hand to silence the boy. Then he rose and led the way to his study, Charlotte following in his wake, her heart thumping.

As the door closed, they both began to speak at once.

‘Miles – I’m sorry—’

‘Charlotte – I’m such a fool—’

She was standing on the hearthrug and he came to her and took her trembling hands in his. He looked down into her upturned face and said softly, ‘Charlotte, I have grown fond of you. Very fond. Will you please – please consider becoming my wife?’

She gasped aloud – searching his face for any sign that this was all an act. She wanted to believe him, yearned to believe him, but could she really trust him? She was so afraid of being hurt. Was her heart – which so longed to be loved by him – ruling her head? She fought for her reason to win. She half turned away from him so that they were both facing the portrait of his wife above the mantelpiece. She allowed her hands to stay resting in his, revelling in the strength and the warmth of his touch, as she looked up at the beautiful face of the woman in the painting.

‘How – how can you say you want to marry me after loving someone as lovely as Louisa?’

She heard him sigh. ‘You want me to be truthful?’

Turning to meet his gaze, she whispered, ‘Always.’

Heavily, he said, ‘I don’t know.’ Swiftly, he added, ‘Oh, that sounds awful, insulting almost.’

‘But it’s the truth,’ she said flatly. ‘And it’s the truth I want.’

He squeezed her hands. ‘I know. And I understand, too, how difficult it must be for you to believe me. You’ve been held down for so long, belittled constantly by your father. Never allowed to – to meet anyone, so how are you to know when a man makes a declaration – ’ he laughed wryly, ‘and certainly such a clumsy one as I made the other day, that it’s the truth? In addition to which Louisa’s memory is still revered in this house. There are pictures of her everywhere. Philip remembers her well and will never entertain the idea of anyone taking her place. Ben has vague recollections of her and he’s no doubt swayed by his elder brother. As for Georgie, well, of all of us, he’s the only one who has no recollection of her. But he has been raised to know her.’

‘And he carries the burden of thinking he caused her death.’

‘I hope not. I’ve fought hard to explain that to him. No child should carry such guilt.’

‘So – why?’

‘I miss you when you’re not here. I’ve gone down to the beach every morning, hoping to meet you – accidentally.’

She began to laugh, resting her head briefly against his shoulder.

‘What?’ he asked. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘I have, too.’

‘Have you? Have you really?’ Now it was he who was uncertain, unable to believe what he hoped might be true. That she felt something for him too. He turned her to face him once more, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders.

‘It’s not the same feeling I had for Louisa, it’s only fair to tell you that.’

Charlotte felt a coldness creep through her. But Miles was continuing, trying to be utterly honest with her so that there should be no secrets between them, no misunderstanding and, most of all, no misapprehension.

‘You bring love and warmth and fun into the house when you’re here. Georgie adores you and Ben, too, has started to talk about you and ask when you’re to visit again.’

‘And Philip?’ she asked softly. ‘How would Philip react to such news?’

Miles shrugged. ‘Who’s to know what my eldest son will do next? He’s soon to go to university. He won’t be here very much. And besides, it’s my happiness and the two younger boys I’m thinking about. We’re good friends, too, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, we are,’ she said wistfully, ‘but is that a strong enough basis for marriage? One day the younger boys will be gone as well. What then?’

‘It’s not just for them. I get lonely. I want – and need – someone to share the rest of
my
life with. I care deeply about you, Charlotte. I want to look after you and make you happy. Do you think I could do that?’