Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Isabella was tired of men," Charlotte wrote, smiling to herself at the thought of mirroring her heroine's thoughts on those of her own.

She felt Isabella to be a kindred spirit - a reflection of herself and her own hopes and dreams. Isabella's adventures were those Charlotte dearly longer for herself, and in making them her own, Charlotte felt a sense of freedom and possibility. Her mother was wrong - a woman could do all these things, and more, if she set her mind to it.

"Tired of men, and tired of their assumptions about her," Charlotte continued, scribbling quickly across the page, as she imagined Isabella standing on the edge of a great mountain, looking down at the glen below, with its shimmering loch and dense pine forests.

Her story was set hundreds of years ago in medieval Scotland and revolved around a clan, the McShees. The laird - Campbell McShee, master of Dunloch Castle - was a great warrior, a man who had fought many battles, and who could marry any woman he chose. But it would be Isabella, the lowly shepherdess, tending her flock on the mountainside, who would steal his heart…

"The loch shimmered, as though made of crystal, and the mountains towered high around her, eagles circling above their eyries…" Charlotte wrote, caught up in the world she had created, a world into which she could escape and forget her troubles, if only for a while.

But she was suddenly disturbed from her writing by the sound of the library door opening, and laying down her quill, she looked up, expecting to find her mother standing before her. But instead - and much to her annoyance - it was Lord Baxter who now closed the door behind him, turning to Charlotte with a smile.

"Your mother told me I'd find you here," he said.

It was the height of summer, and despite being late, it was still light outside, the evening sunlight coming through the library windows, illuminating the dust dancing in the air, and the ancient volumes lining the shelves. Charlotte did not think it appropriate for Lord Baxter to be there - for the two of them to be alone. But now he approached the table where she was sitting, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at what she was doing.

"I was just about to come back down," Charlotte said, attempting to fold up the first page of her novel, even as Lord Baxter snatched it from her hand.

"Isabella was tired of men…" he read out loud, and Charlotte blushed.

"It's nothing," she said, even as Lord Baxter laughed.

"Your father told me about this nonsense. You want to write a novel, apparently. How ridiculous, Charlotte. What on earth makes you think you have the talent or ability for such a task? This is just penny foolishness - to be read by silly women like you. Really, Charlotte. I'd have thought better of you," he said.

Charlotte's anger flared. How dare he speak to her like that? He had no right to judge her in such a way, or to pass judgement on what was her passion and ambition.

"And what do you mean by that? Am I supposed to simply forget any sense of ambition and do nothing with the life given to me?" Charlotte demanded.

Lord Baxter rolled his eyes.

"Oh, really, Charlotte. What nonsense. Women aren't expected to do such things. They're to marry and have children. Anything else hardly matters. Leave such things to men - and men who know better," he said.

But Charlotte shook her head. She had no intention of giving up her dreams, and if anything, Lord Baxter's criticism only made her more determined to fulfil them. She would write her novel, and it would be the best it could be - and no man was going to tell her differently.

"I don't care what you say. How dare you come barging in here, telling me what I can and can't do? Who are you to say such things to me? It's bad enough my parents do so," Charlotte replied, glaring at him as he shook his head, tossing the first page of the novel back onto the table in front of her.

The earl was a tall man, broad shouldered, and somewhat intimidating as he stood over her. But Charlotte was not about to back down. She was quivering with anger, and now that anger had burst forth against the arrogant man who stood before her.

"Because I'm the man you'll marry," he replied, glaring at her, his expression one of challenge, as though daring her to contradict him.

Charlotte faltered, not knowing what to say. Was it really true? Was this what her mother had spoken so cryptically of? Certainly, it did not come as a complete surprise, and yet the thought of it was abhorrent.

"I… no, I won't," Charlotte stammered, but the earl only laughed.

"I don't think you'll have much choice, Charlotte. And when we're married, I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. No more writing, no more filling your head with ideas you shouldn't be having. A woman's place is at her husband's side - to support him in all he does, and to make his opinions her own," he said, and with these words, he turned and left the library, leaving Charlotte speechless.

***

"Another cup of coffee, my Lord?" Mrs. McDonald asked, holding up a silver pot she had just picked up from the sideboard.

Jacob shook his head.

"No, thank you, Mrs. McDonald, I… I've had enough, thank you. That was most acceptable dinner," Jacob replied.

The housekeeper smiled and nodded.

"I'm glad to hear it, my Lord. You seem… lost in your thoughts today," she said, and Jacob sighed.

It was the evening after his meeting with Thomas Davidson, and Mrs. McDonald was right - Jacob was lost in his thoughts. He had thought of little else but the merchant's offer since earlier that day. It was both extraordinary and the perfect solution to his troubles. But the prospect of marrying a woman he had never met - of spending his whole life with her - was…

"Something's happened, Mrs. McDonald," Jacob said, blurting out his words as the housekeeper looked at him in surprise.

"My Lord?" she said, putting down the coffeepot and nodding to the two footmen standing stiffly in the corner, both of whom now hurried out of the room.

Jacob was not given over to sudden outbursts, and certainly not in the presence of the servants. But Mrs. McDonald was different. She had been the housekeeper for many years. She was trusted, and her discretion could be assured. In truth, Jacob had no one else to turn to - he certainly could not confide his troubles to Olivia, and he had no intention of seeing his reputation damaged by revealing the extent of his problems to his peers in the aristocracy.

"Would you sit down, Mrs. McDonald? I want to talk to you about something," Jacob said, and the housekeeper nodded, taking a seat opposite him, and smiling.

"Your Lordship can tell me anything," she said, and Jacob took a deep breath.

"I haven't been entirely honest over the extent of my debts, Mrs. McDonald. In truth, I owe a great deal of money, and Mr. Haxby, the lawyer, fears for the very future of Downside," he said, shaking his head at the thought of the humiliation.

Mrs. McDonald nodded.

"I see, my Lord. I knew there were some difficulties, but… what are we to do about them?" she asked.

Jacob was grateful to her for emphasizing the word "we" - but he could not expect his housekeeper to bear the brunt of responsibility for a problem of his own creation.

"Yesterday, I went to see the merchant, Thomas Davidson - at Thrushcross Grange. Mr. Haxby suggested I call on him in the hope he might agree to a partnership in investment. He imports tea from the Orient - and with considerable success," Jacob replied.

The housekeeper nodded.

"Then your Lordship can make investments that are safe. It sounds like the perfect solution to our troubles," she said, but Jacob shook his head.

He knew the investments would only go so far. Mr. Haxby had explained everything - there was simply not enough money, and interest on his debts was accruing fast.

"I wish it was, Mrs. McDonald. But there simply isn't enough money to be made - not to clear the extent of my debts. I've been very foolish, you see. But Mr. Davidson did offer a solution," Jacob replied, and Mrs. McDonald looked at him expectantly.

"And what was it, my Lord?" she asked.

Jacob paused - to even say it out loud seemed ridiculous. It was ridiculous. And yet there was no other solution - not a viable one, at least.

"That I marry his daughter and receive her dowry," he said, shaking his head in disbelief at his own words.

To her credit, Mrs. McDonald did not appear shocked, though her eyebrows did rise slightly at Jacob's words.

"I see, my Lord," she replied, and Jacob sighed.

"But I don't, Mrs. McDonald. It all seems so… far-fetched. I don't understand why he would do it? Doesn't he care about his daughter's own choice in the matter?" Jacob asked.

It seemed incredible to think Thomas Davidson would sacrifice his daughter's happiness in this way - what would he gain from it? He had told Jacob of the difficulties he was finding in marrying off his daughter. She was not like other women, he had said - and if Jacob's encounter with her in the garden was an example of how she usually behaved, he could well believe it.

But to marry her to a complete stranger seemed a step beyond mere concern for her to make a match. Was there something else Jacob did not know about? Again, he thought of Olivia, fearing what would happen if she discovered even the question of what he was contemplating.

"I know a girl in service at Thrushcross Grange, my Lord. She's a cousin of a friend of mine from the village. She says the Davidsons are a good family - though Mrs. Davidson can be strict with the servants, at times. But she speaks very highly of Miss Davidson - the daughter.

She's a quiet, unassuming young woman, usually with her nose in a book. She doesn't have many acquaintances. I understand she spends most of her time in her father's library," Mrs. McDonald said.

Jacob was taken aback. This was not a description of the fiery young woman he had bumped into in the garden the previous day. His shirt - given to Harold to clean - still bore the marks of the ink, and Jacob knew any future encounter with Charlotte would have that first impression as its basis.

"I see… but… to marry her for the gain of her dowry. It's a remarkable offer. I simply don't know what to do. I can't be the earl who loses Downside. But that's what's going to happen if I don't do something to save it," Jacob said, shaking his head sadly.

He faced a stark choice, one he would have preferred not to face, even as he did not truly know how Olivia felt for him. He wanted to think he knew, and yet she had made little attempt to further any sense of romance between them. She treated him as a friend and nothing else, and despite having not made his own feelings clear, Jacob felt certain she must have an inkling of his feelings towards her.

"My Lord, you must do as you think best. No one else can decide for you. But… to marry is to make a lifelong commitment. It means far more than a dowry," Mrs. McDonald replied.

Jacob nodded. The housekeeper was right - it would be dishonourable to marry for anything other than love. Arranged marriages were common, of course. But Jacob had always shied away from the idea of them, not wanting to think of any woman coerced into something she might well resent for the rest of her life.

And would it be the same with Charlotte? Jacob would only be marrying her for her dowry, and it seemed wrong to do so - tantamount to a betrayal of everything he stood for, or hoped he stood for.

"I know that, Mrs. McDonald. And yet the merchant's offer is… tempting," Jacob replied.

At that moment, the dining-room door opened, and one of the footmen appeared.

"Lady Olivia Wright, my Lord," he said, and Jacob was taken by surprise.

He had not been expecting Olivia to call on him that evening - a welcome surprise, and yet one he would surely find difficult, too.

"Ah, how… delightful," Jacob replied, rising to his feet, and glancing at Mrs. McDonald, who smiled.

"Good luck, my Lord," she said, as Jacob took a deep breath.

Stepping out into the hallway, he found Olivia waiting for him with her maid. She was the prettiest of creatures - a woman possessed of true beauty, or so Jacob thought. With her long, willowy auburn hair and blue eyes, she was the very picture of attraction.

Jacob did not know when he had fallen in love with her - at first sight, perhaps - but his feelings for her had only grown stronger with the passing of years, and their childhood friendship had blossomed into what Jacob hoped was something more.

And yet Olivia had never pressed the possibility. They were often together, and yet it was as though a barrier existed between them, one Jacob did not know how to surmount.

"I hope you don't mind us calling on you like this. My mother's gone out for the evening, and I just couldn't bear being on my own. I wanted some company, especially on such a beautiful evening," Olivia said, smiling at Jacob, who smiled back at her.

"Not at all, I'm glad you came," he said, even as he feared what Olivia would say when she discovered the truth as to what he was contemplating.

She had no right, of course, to object. But that did not stop Jacob from feeling guilty at the contemplation of Thomas' offer. It was just so extraordinary, and Jacob simply did not know what to do…

"Shall we walk in the garden? It's far too nice to be inside. Lily can chaperone us. I want to talk to you about the ball and Hillgate. It's going to be a wonderful occasion. Perhaps we'll dance," Olivia said, glancing at the maid, who nodded.

"Yes… an excellent idea. I'd quite forgotten about the Hillgate ball. Let's step outside. It's a beautiful day. The gardens are really looking their best at the moment," Jacob said, and he led the way across the hallway to a door leading out into the garden at the back of the house.

Downside was possessed of extensive grounds, and the formal gardens were particularly fine. Olivia took his arm, and the two of them walked amid the sweet perfume of the roses and lavender, down a broad path lined with flower beds and box hedge. Jacob usually delighted in such occasions - the chance to converse with Olivia and spend time with her - and yet now, his mind was elsewhere.

He was thinking of Charlotte, and her father's offer - what a contrast it presented, what a choice. This sweet and gentle creature, with who Jacob was in love, yet whose own feelings had never been truly revealed. And a woman whose first impression of Jacob had been anger, and yet whose father now held power over him through the promise of debts paid.

"Are you all right?" Olivia asked as they walked arm in arm through the garden.

"Yes… I'm quite all right. I was just… thinking, that's all," Jacob replied, even as he felt the weight of a terrible choice bearing down on him.