“Forgive me, Lady Gillingham. After you and your sister left the dining room last night leaving the men to our brandy, I was bold enough to ask Lord Gillingham whether I might spend some time in Haverstone’s fine library.” He pointed to the book Charlotte was holding. “Miss Kendall and I were just discussing the poet Wordsworth.”
“How nice. Well, I am sure Charlotte has taken entirely too much of your time, so we shall leave you to your browsing, Mr. Morton. Good day.”
“Good day, Lady Gillingham, Miss Kendall.” He bowed.
Charlotte barely completed a curtsy before Dorothea pulled her swiftly from the room. Lucy lingered a moment, smiling shyly at Frederick, but hearing her mother’s call ran from the room.
Dorothea sent Lucy upstairs to the nursery and guided Charlotte to the morning room. Dorothea closed the door behind them and turned a concerned face to Charlotte.
“Do not waste your time with him, dear, despite his charmingmanners. I did not bring you all the way out here to attach yourself to a mere curate.”
“I was not…that is, I have no intention of forming an attachment with him, Dorothea,” Charlotte said. She looked down and realized she still held the book of sonnets. “It is just as he said, we were merely discussing poetry.”
Dorothea narrowed her eyes. “See to it that isallyou do.”
Chapter Eight
The mid-June weatherwas becoming ever more mild with green buds bursting on trees, and the scent of blossoms perfuming Haverstone’s gardens.
Charlotte felt quite settled into the daily routine. If she and Dorothea were not staying in to receive visitors, they made calls to some of the more prominent families around the county. Sometimes they went to visit a few of Haverstone’s more needy tenants, bringing baked goods, eggs, cornmeal, or preserved fruits to them.
“With planting still so new, my dear,” Dorothea had explained, “some families find these months are among the hungriest, if they were unable to put up enough food themselves to provide through the winter and into these first warm months. And should they not have chickens or ducks enough to keep them going, well, it can be difficult. I find a simple basket of some of the more necessary items can be quite beneficial until their own gardens start producing.”
With these few exceptions, Dorothea had kept her sister at home and out of the sight of eligible gentlemen until the new wardrobe she had ordered for her was complete. Charlotte now had six new dresses—four morning and visiting dresses and two elaborate gowns for formal dinners. The gown on order for the upcoming Haverstone ball was due to arrive soon, and while Charlotte felt her sister was being far too generous, when she brought it up, Dorothea simplyreplied that more might be ordered. It all depended upon how many summer assemblies might be held. Charlotte thought she would have been happy enough to just keep to the day-to-day routine at Haverstone and not attend any assemblies at all, but she knew it was not to be.
When there were no outings to be made and the weather was fine, Charlotte would ride one of Reginald’s horses around the countryside. Although not a terribly good horsewoman—she almost never went at a full gallop—she did enjoy being able to travel farther afield than she could on foot. Haverstone was such a large estate she felt she could only walk so far before knowing it was time to turn back. Dorothea did not approve of Charlotte missing the midday meal.
One morning, Charlotte had awoken early, just as the sun was coming up. Feeling unable to return to sleep, she decided to dress and go to the stables to ask that her favorite mare be saddled for a ride before breakfast. Soon, she was trotting across the fields on Nessie, moving toward the narrow road through the woods that divided the Haverstone and Brentwood estates. Slowing her horse to a walk, Charlotte breathed in the rich, earthy odors of new growth. Aside from an occasional bird call, it was quite still, and the silence of the forest felt like a comforting blanket as she rode along. She wondered how anyone could be happy living in London with all the noise, dust, and unnatural scents. Should she be successful and manage to avoid saying yes to any marriage proposal, Charlotte could imagine herself quite content shifting between Clayton House and Haverstone for the rest of her life.
As she came up to a blind corner, Charlotte heard the sound of a galloping horse but could not immediately discern whether the sound was coming from behind her or ahead of her. She pulled on the reins to stop the mare and glanced back, seeing nothing. She had just turned her attention forward when a large black stallion came rushing directly at her. Unable to move her own horse in time, Charlotte gripped thereins and heard herself scream as the stallion came so near to her, her own horse shied and reared back, throwing her from her saddle onto a patch of thick ferns next to the road.
Charlotte lay still, trying to catch her breath. Her mind raced as she took a quick inventory of her body. Then, she moved a bit and felt no sharp pain anywhere—that must be a good sign. She had not hit her head, either. It felt as though she had landed mostly on her right hip. Still a little reluctant to try to rise just yet, she heard a voice.
“Good Lord, Miss Kendall, what on earth are you doing riding about at such an hour?”
She shifted her gaze to see Mr. Robert Morton standing above her, hands on his hips, and a disapproving expression on his face. A surge of anger flooded her and she spoke before thinking.
“A most peculiar kind of apology, sir, from one who raced so fast headlong into an utterly blind corner.” My word, where were the gentleman’s manners?
“I did not anticipate anyone would be on the road so early.” He continued to stand immobile, staring at her.
Charlotte shifted an elbow and forced herself to sit up. Would a true gentleman not have knelt beside her and tried to assist her? Or at least asked whether she were injured? She glared at him.
“And yet, there I was,” she said through clenched teeth. “Which would be why one does not ride at such a pace through ablind corner. If this is your idea of good horsemanship, I would beg that you please advise me in the future as to your riding plans so that I may stay at home and avoid any risk to life and limb. To careen so recklessly on another man’s property is beyond belief.”
“In point of fact, Miss Kendall, at this spot you are currently on the Brentwood estate. Indeed, it would behooveyouto take more care when riding in unfamiliar territory.”
Charlotte’s mouth fell open. She shut it, checking the urge to point out again that he was riding too fast. It was now clear to her that hewould not be apologizing in any way. Nor would he offer his hand to assist her up, it seemed, so she finally pushed herself awkwardly to her feet, unable to keep from crying out as pain shot through her right hip. There would be a large bruise there soon, she felt certain. Her gasp at last brought about a slightly more sympathetic response.
“Miss Kendall, are you injured?”
“I hurt my right side when I fell. Or rather, when I wasthrownoff.”
“But nothing is broken?”
“It would appear not.”
“That is good. You should head back to Haverstone now. You will miss your breakfast.” He bowed curtly then turned to collect his horse, which stood a way down the road, munching on some tall grass.
