Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"I just don't know what to do, Harold," Jacob said, holding out his arm for his valet to attach the cufflinks to his shirt.

"It's a very strange business, my Lord; a false accusation against your honor, a false abduction, and a ransom note. Someone's playing games with you. But who could it be?" the valet asked.

Jacob held out his other arm, shaking his head and sighing. He did not know who could be responsible; was it the same person? Surely, the two incidents were connected. He had heard nothing from Charlotte, but it was hardly surprising. He assumed she was forbidden from writing to him, and now the messages he had sent to the north had returned without an answer to his question. No one could discover anything about the apparent abduction or who was behind it.

"I don't know, but well, the Earl of Chester, perhaps?" Jacob said.

He had been mulling the idea over in his mind for the past few days. The sight of Lord Baxter in the village square, and his obvious jealous over the betrothal. But then there was Olivia, too. Jacob had come to realize the extent of her jealousy towards Charlotte, and he had begun to wonder just how far she would go to prevent the marriage from happening.

"He drinks in the Talbot Arms, in the village, my Lord. I've seen him there on several occasions. Perhaps you might see what you can hear. He and a group of men drink in the snug behind the main bar," Harold said, and Jacob nodded.

"Yes, an excellent idea, Harold. Thank you," he said, and having finished dressing, Jacob refused dinner, and made his way to the village, where he found the Talbot Arms busy, and Lord Baxter and his friends drinking in the snug.

***

"A man without rank or title making a name for himself above that of an earl…twenty years ago, the idea would be laughed at. But we live in changing times, gentleman," Lord Baxter was saying.

He was talking loudly and making no attempt to conceal his views. Jacob was sitting close to the door leading from the taproom to the snug, and though the inn was noisy, he had been able to hear most of what Lord Baxter and his friends were saying.

It had astonished him to learn the contempt in which the earl held Charlotte's father. They were business partners, and yet it was clear there was no love lost between the two of them. Lord Baxter considered Thomas a means to an end and his own profit and success. It seemed he was willing to do whatever was necessary to secure his own fortune.

"But you're the one pulling the strings; the puppet master, aren't you?" one of Lord Baxter's companions replied, and Lord Baxter laughed.

"Well, no one ever got hanged for sending a letter, did they? And as for the importing of goods," Lord Baxter replied, and now he began to laugh.

Jacob's suspicions were confirmed. The earl was talking about the abduction and the letter of accusation against Charlotte. His anger was roused, but it would have been a mistake to enter the snug and confront the earl immediately. Jacob needed further evidence, and now he continued to listen, hoping to discover more.

"But your imports, surely you can't be bringing them here," one of Lord Baxter's companions replied.

"Don't be foolish. There's nothing to link them to me. There are imports and southern ports are filled with customs officials. But in the north, it's a different matter altogether. But never you mind where it comes from. It's all in hand. A toast to imports and exports," Lord Baxter said, and the sound of clinking glasses now came from the snug.

Jacob had not suspected the earl of smuggling, but that was surely what they were talking about, and there was every chance he was referring to Liverpool when he spoke of the north. Jacob had heard enough, but what to do about it? He had just finished his drink and was leaving the inn when, to his surprise, he caught sight of Thomas Davidson, the collar of his coat turned up, hurrying inside. Jacob wondered where he was going and who he was meeting.

If it's Lord Baxter, I wonder what they'll say to one another face to face, Jacob thought to himself.

Had the merchant not treated him and Charlotte so badly, Jacob might have shared with Thomas what he had overheard Lord Baxter say. But as it was, he kept the words to himself, biding his time in the hope of finding the right moment to make his move.

***

"Stay close to me, Miss Davidson. You're not to wander off," Wilma said, as she and Charlotte walked into the gardens at Burntop Heights.

Charlotte glared at her. Ever since her arrival, Wilma had treated Charlotte like a child. She was not allowed to do anything for herself; not trusted to be alone even for a few moments.

"I want to walk on the clifftop and look out to sea," Charlotte said, but Wilma shook her head.

"It's not safe, Miss Davidson. What if you fell?" Wilma replied, shaking her head.

But Charlotte had heard enough. She no longer cared if she fell off; not that she would. She was tired of rules, and of always being told what to do. She resented her parents for having sent her north, and she resented Wilma for the way she behaved towards her, constantly telling her what to do and treating her like a child.

Now, instead of doing what she was told, Charlotte ran. She ran so fast Wilma could not catch up with her through the garden gate and out onto the clifftop, relishing the sudden freedom she now felt, as the wind from the sea caught her hair.

I won't go back, Charlotte told herself, even as Wilma came panting after her.

"What are you doing, Miss Davidson? You're not about to run off like this," Wilma exclaimed, but that moment of freedom had been enough to lift Charlotte's spirits, and now she turned to her minder and shook her head.

"I won't be told what to do. Not by you, or by anyone," she replied, as now she looked back out to sea, longing for the waves to take her to sweep her from the clifftop.

She held out her arms, the wind billowing her dress, even as Wilma grabbed hold of her.

"Enough of this nonsense, Miss Davidson. Come inside," she said,

But Charlotte had had her taste of freedom, and it was enough for now. Lowering her arms, she turned back. But as she did, she noticed something down on the beach below; a small boat, landing barrels on the sand.

"Look at that! I wonder who they are," Charlotte said, pointing down at the boat and the three men unloading from it.

"I don't know, Miss Davidson, and it hardly matters, does it? Now, come back inside. Your father's waiting to see you," Wilma said.

The news of Charlotte's father's arrival came as a surprise to her. She had not been expecting to see him, and as she and Wilma returned to the house, Charlotte wondered why he had come. They found Mr. Davidson waiting in the drawing room. He greeted Charlotte with a curt nod and indicated for her to sit.

"I trust some distance between you and the duke will have made you realize the folly of your behavior, Charlotte," he said.

Charlotte made no reply. If anything, the enforced distance between her and the duke had made her realize just how strong her feelings for him had grown. She missed him terribly and wanted only to see him again. But her mother had told her to stop being so foolish, and Wilma had reminded her it was not befitting behavior to pine after a man who had behaved so appallingly.

"I told you before, Father, and I'll say it again: nothing untoward occurred. In all things, Jacob behaved like a gentleman. And I'd defend him until my dying breath," she said.

Her father shook his head. He looked as though he was shouldering a great weight, a burden of responsibility. He glanced at Charlotte's mother, who nodded.

"Tell her, Thomas. She needs to know," she said, and Charlotte looked from one to the other curiously.

"What do I need to know?" she asked.

"That we've made a match for you, Charlotte. That's what I've come to inform you of. All this nonsense over the Earl of Swadlincote, and he was only interested in the money. That's all. Now, I don't want any arguments over this. Do you understand me?" Charlotte's father asked.

Charlotte suddenly felt nervous. She knew what her father was about to say, and the thought of it was too awful to comprehend.

"Not Lord Baxter…" she said, and her father glared at her.

"Yes, Lord Baxter. Charlotte, he's the right match for you. And he's come with me to make the final arrangements," he said, causing Charlotte to recoil in fear.

She had no intention of marrying Lord Baxter. The very thought of it filled her with horror.

"No, I won't marry him. I can't stand him, and besides, he's…" she began, about to reveal to her father her suspicions about what the Earl of Chester had been doing in her father's study.

But her father dismissed with an angry exclamation.

"Enough, Charlotte. I don't want to hear any more. Do you understand? You'll marry Lord Baxter, and that's the end of the matter. He's waiting for you in the garden. Go outside and speak to him," Charlotte's father said, and Charlotte had no choice but to do as she was told.

She would find no ally in her mother or Wilma. They were all against her. She stepped back out into the garden, fearing what she would find. Lord Baxter was sitting on a seat beneath one of the trees, and when he saw her, he rose to his feet and smiled.

"Ah, Charlotte, how good it is to see you," he said, coming to greet her by putting his arm around her.

Charlotte pulled away from him.

"I don't want to marry you," she said, looking up at him with a defiant expression on her face.

He narrowed his eyes, a smile playing across his lips.

"I don't think you have a choice, do you?" he said, and Charlotte pouted.

But he was right, of course. Charlotte had no choice but to marry him. It was that or face a scandal on her return home. She would be an object of ridicule, and if it really was Lord Baxter who had spread the rumor, it would only be worse for her if she refused.

"I… but… why are you doing this?" Charlotte asked, for she did not understand why Lord Baxter should be so intent on marrying her when it was so obvious she detested him.

He smiled and shook his head.

"Because I love you, Charlotte. Don't you realize that?" he asked, and now he pulled her into an embrace, even as she tried to pull away from him.

"Please… no, you're hurting me. Let me go," she exclaimed.

He was trying to kiss her, and now his grip on her grew tighter as she screamed.

"It's just a little fun, Charlotte. Where's your sense of adventure? We're to be married, aren't we? One kiss won't hurt," he said, glaring at her as she pushed him away.

"How dare you?" she cried, as now her parents and Wilma appeared from the door leading into the drawing room.

"What's going on? Charlotte?" her mother demanded, as tears rolled down Charlotte's cheeks.

"It doesn't matter. You wouldn't believe me anyway," Charlotte replied, and before any response could be made, she fled into the house, sobbing at the thought of what she had lost, and at the thought of what was to come.