The Flight of Swallows (36 page)

‘Ah, Charlotte, there you are.’ A silky voice from the doorway startled her, for she had not heard him enter and both she and Ellie turned their heads in that direction. Charlotte had given Ellie an ivory teething ring attached to a rattle to amuse her as they waited, but the child dropped it and her bottom lip quivered as she studied the unknown man in the doorway. It was as though, young as she was, she felt something pitiless in him, which Charlotte told herself was ridiculous, but Ellie’s eyes brimmed with tears and she turned her rosy face into Charlotte’s breast.

‘Not another cry-baby?’ her father sighed. ‘I seem to breed nothing but weaklings, but then—’

‘She is only five months old, Father, and doesn’t know you,’ Charlotte stated icily, determined to protect the lovely child in her arms.

‘Well, when she returns to her rightful place with her father she will soon learn control, though I must admit I was singularly unsuccessful with you and your brothers.’

Charlotte clutched Ellie to her with desperate arms. ‘You cannot mean to bring her back here, Father. She is—’

‘She is my daughter, Charlotte, but her future depends entirely on you. You have given her a good start but I can see you have been far too indulgent. In fact you have been a very naughty girl and you will remember that I am a great believer in punishment for naughty girls and boys!’

Dear sweet God, surely . . .
surely
he did not mean to . . .?

‘Please, Father, please, I beg you . . .’

‘Come along to my study, my dear, and we will discuss . . . No, leave the child. One of the maidservants will look after her while we . . . talk. I’ll ring the bell for Palmer to take her to the nursery.’

‘Let me keep her with me, Father. She knows me and will be afraid if we are parted. I am aware that she would be kind but I really would rather have her with me.’

‘She will have to become used to being without you one day, Charlotte, so why?’

‘Please don’t take her away from people she knows and who love her.’ She wanted to weep, to place Ellie on the sofa and get down on her knees and plead but her father merely smiled as he reached for the bell.

‘Palmer will see to the child while you come with me to my study.’

He stood directly before her, no more than two feet away and she could clearly see the huge bulge that filled the front of his breeches and his face, as he smiled at her, was suffused with colour. He was breathing rapidly. A terror so great, so overwhelming, a thought that was so absolutely preposterous ran through her veins like a burning stream of molten lava, for it was in the study that she and her brothers had suffered not only pain and fear, but a humiliation too terrible to contemplate. And hers had been, as a young girl, the worst of all. She could hardly bear the memory of it so that even the word ‘study’ brought it all back,
and her father’s present behaviour
!

‘Can we not talk here, Father?’ she appealed piteously. There was a knock at the door, which opened, and a parlour-maid slipped inside, bobbing a curtsey. They were all agog in the kitchen, for this was the first time Miss Charlotte had visited her father since her marriage. There was something funny going on, the girl was aware of that at once, but it was nothing to do with her, was it. Besides, they were all dying to get a scen at the babby who had been whisked away by Miss Charlotte when she was born and the poor little mite’s mam had died. Funny goings-on in this house there had been and still were by the look of it.

Miss Charlotte turned to her with what seemed to her to be despair. ‘Perhaps we could have some hot chocolate? Is that all right, Father?’ turning back to the master.

‘Of course, my dear. Now, Palmer, take the child.’

‘No, Father, please, she will be frightened.’

‘Take the child, Palmer,’ Arthur Drummond told the confused parlour-maid.

‘Where shall I tekk ’er, sir?’

‘Anywhere, girl. The kitchen will do and then fetch hot chocolate for my daughter. My elder daughter. To my study.’

Palmer moved uncertainly across the carpet and reached smilingly for the baby who cowered back from her, then turned and clung round Miss Charlotte’s neck like one of the baby monkeys she had seen clinging to its mother when she and her friend had gone on a day’s outing to the zoo.

Palmer was startled when Miss Charlotte slapped her hands away to prevent her taking the child. She turned to look enquiringly at the master.

‘Charlotte, allow Palmer to take the child to the kitchen where she will come to no harm. Otherwise I myself will take her to the nursery where I shall arrange for a nursemaid of my own choosing who will not be as . . . as tolerant as the girl who has charge of her at King’s Meadow. You really are making a spectacle of yourself, my dear. You have my word she will not be harmed . . .’ for by this time Charlotte, to Palmer’s astonishment, had begun to weep. ‘I feel more . . . more at ease in my study, Charlotte, rather than this drawing room which I always think of as a ladies’ room.’

‘Father . . .’ Charlotte whispered piteously, eyeing the bulge in his breeches.

‘Come, come, my dear. Hand the child to Palmer. Oh, and I think we will dispense with the chocolate, Palmer. Miss Charlotte and I have something we must talk about and do not wish to be interrupted.’

Ellie Drummond was returned to her sister an hour later, none the worse for her visit to the kitchen for the servants had made a great fuss of her. They were surprised by Miss Charlotte though. She seemed frozen, one could almost call it
stunned
and she walked stiffly as if she were in pain. Her face was like chalk but had a round spot of livid red on each cheekbone. Her eyes had a strange look about them as though she did not really see any of them and she trembled like the leaves on the aspen tree that grew on the edge of the woodland.

‘She’s a bonny little thing, Miss Charlotte,’ Cook said pleasantly, then stepped back hastily as Miss Charlotte snatched the baby and clutched her to her chest.

‘Ista all right, Miss Charlotte?’ she asked kindly, for they all knew what a devil the master was but Miss Charlotte, without speaking, turned and ran,
ran,
mind you, through the kitchen door to the hallway and out of the front door giving Watson barely time to open it for her. She flung herself so fiercely down the steps that Todd put out a hand to steady her, almost lifting her and the distressed baby into the carriage. She sat, her face like a stone carving, and positively shouted to her coachman to take her home. Todd turned several times to look at her since she made no attempt to comfort the fretful child, which was not like her, and ignored his anxious concern which again was unlike her.

Brooke was hanging about in the hallway practising, he told Kizzie who was also hovering nearby, walking with his sticks, or rather
without
them, because he meant to be his old self again by summer. He was beginning to manage well now with his balance, though when Charlotte tore up the steps and into his arms he almost went head over heels.

She huddled into Brooke’s arms and he held her firmly, murmuring endearments, words of comfort. It was as though he divined what he imagined had been done and said to her, the dirt and filth and nastiness with which she had been tarnished and wished his own sweet, clean love to wash it all away. He knew Drummond’s perverse ways and what she and her brothers had suffered at his hands and though he wanted to saddle up Max and gallop over there and kill him, failing that, beat him to a bloody pulp, the sad fact was that he could do none of these things, not even saddle his own horse. He was only just learning to walk again and unless he preserved his strength and went at the pace the doctor advised the wound in his groin and thigh would never be completely healed. It was doing well.
He
was doing well. He could move about the estate in his wife’s little gig, visit his farms, chat to his tenants, keep an eye on his properties, but unless he obeyed the doctor’s orders he would never be as he was. He could only comfort his wife, love his wife, love the woman for whom he would gladly
give
his life.

‘You shan’t go again, my sweetheart. We will fight him through the courts and keep the child with us. He is not fit to . . .’

Charlotte shivered for several moments in his arms, the child wailing between them, then Kizzie was there, taking Ellie and shushing her as she made her way to the nursery.

It was then that the true strength and great heart of Charlotte Armstrong revealed themselves. She was a happy woman, or had been since she and Brooke had declared their love for one another. She was a kind woman, good-natured, easy to like, fun-loving and eager to please her household, but now her face was like that of a warrior queen, wrought in marble. Strong and resolute, older somehow than her eighteen years and it told her amazed husband that she was ready to fight. To fight the man who attacked them in the heart of her family. She had made a place for herself here at King’s Meadow. Her husband’s people, his servants and tenants admired and respected her, as she did them. She had a child, one her husband, whom she loved above all else, had given her, and another who needed her protection. Of her blood. Her half-sister. She had done her best as a child, a young girl and woman to protect her brothers and she had taken punishment that she had not deserved but this was the end of it. He would not beat her again. Her enemy! Her father! He would not savage her life as he intended doing. Today he had seen her weak and submissive, for she had thought this behaviour would protect her family, but what he had attempted today, and she could tell no one about it, except perhaps Kizzie, of the horror she had endured, had, instead of terrorising her, strengthened her, turned her into the woman she meant to be.

‘Darling, my dearest darling,’ she murmured against Brooke’s chest, ‘it is done now. We will be safe, for I shall not allow . . .’

Brooke held her away from him, looking down into her bright face, steadying himself against her, then, taking her arm, led her into the drawing room. He sat her down on the sofa and placed himself carefully beside her, cradling her in his arms after ringing the bell for Nellie. When she came trotting in, her face alight with anticipation, for they all knew where the mistress had been, he ordered coffee. There was a great fire roaring in the grate because though the day was mild he felt the cold, probably due to his lack of exercise, and after Nellie had gone, disappointed not to have anything to tell them in the kitchen, he and Charlotte sat quietly side by side, sipping their coffee, strangely at peace, calm, relaxed, unafraid, for though nothing had been said he knew Charlotte had won something today and would tell him when she was ready. He would defend her and the babies with his life but something told him she was able to defend herself with him beside her.

At last she spoke. ‘I will not go again,’ she said quietly, ‘and neither will Ellie. He is never to put a foot on our land and the men will be warned to throw him off if he does. I thought we might arm them but that would not do for they are not men to kill another man. Besides, it will humiliate him more to be handled by those he believes are beneath him. To be turned off like a common trespasser, a tinker or a beggar, would be a worse punishment than to be shot. We will not let him interfere with our lives but everyone, all the servants, the men and the women must be warned. Particularly Aisling and Rosie who must at all times have one of the men on hand when they are in the garden or about the grounds, as he is quite likely to attempt an abduction of Ellie. We must speak to your lawyer and find a way to put an end to his threats. Brooke, I would stand up in court and describe in detail what he did to me and my brothers, particularly to me, details that would shock the society in which he moves. It would alienate them, turn them against him if they knew what he would do to this child if he had her. And what he wanted to do to me today. He is out of his mind, a pervert.

‘We will talk to Wallace Chapman. He knows so much about the kind of men who abuse women and he might know of some way . . . Dear Lord,
anyone
 . . . I don’t care if it threatens to besmirch my character and cause a scandal that would rock the county but I will shout to the world of the evil this man has perpetrated. I am only sorry if it affects you, which it is bound to do. Oh, Brooke, we must remember poor little Maudie. He killed her as if he had choked the life out of her with his bare hands. I don’t know what I was thinking of, going there today with some idea of making a compromise when he is . . . Brooke, hold me, hold me . . .’ Which he did but at once she struggled to sit up. ‘And you might as well accept that I shall go back to my neglected plans for the girls in the Dower House and will not take—’

Brooke began to laugh, the sound of it echoing through the half-open door and down the hall to the kitchen where they all began to smile and bang about with their tasks since it seemed all was to be well at King’s Meadow.

‘It is a tigress I married, a lioness with a heart as strong as any man’s. My love, my sweet love, do you think after all you have brought into my life I would deny you your dream? By God, we’ll work together to make your endeavour a success. Anything I can do . . . I am not without influence . . .’

‘No, no, don’t you see, sweetheart, this is
mine.
Oh, Brooke, I am not denigrating what you are offering but I want to carry through this thing I began with such an innocent heart. I believed that I only had to make up my mind to it and it would succeed but it got away from me. Lucy and Ellie and, more importantly, you, came first and I neglected those in the Dower House and the plans I had made to give those girls a worthwhile life. God, will you listen to me? I sound like one of those ladies who do “good works” simply because they have nothing else in their lives. But I have you now, and Lucy and Ellie who are of a far greater importance. Even so, I can’t let them down. And they must be protected, for I fear my father will not stop with . . . with Maudie. He will get at me in any way he can.’

She burrowed her head into his shoulder, her hair brushing his chin and he held her more tightly since he feared for her. He was busy making plans of his own because though there were nine menservants employed at King’s Meadow he doubted whether his butler would be of much use if it came to facing up to Arthur Drummond, and the rest, the groom, stable lad, gardeners, all had work to do and could not be expected to patrol the grounds in defence of the womenfolk, his own beloved wife included. His mind was busy as he cradled Charlotte in the strength of his arms and cursed his own bloody carelessness in dealing with Jack Emmerson’s bull. Had it not been for that and his own present weakness none of this would be happening. He would not have allowed Charlotte to go alone to that beast’s house but having done so and guessing what had happened to her there, even now would be on his horse galloping to the Mount to
persuade
– smiling at his use of the word – Drummond to stay out of his and Charlotte’s life. In fact, by now, Drummond might be such a bloody mess he would never again have the strength to bother any female!