The Flight of Swallows (6 page)

‘Pardon?’ her flushed face turned to him.

‘I wondered if you would be in the wood tomorrow. I would suggest a gallop but I know you don’t ride.’ And I intend to rectify that as soon as you are mine.

‘Well, I hadn’t planned to, but if . . .’

‘I have something for you . . . and your brothers, of course,’ he added hastily, for her face had clouded over as he spoke. Young ladies did not receive gifts from young single gentlemen unless it might be a posy or something equally innocuous.

‘Really!’ She smiled that wide and brilliant smile he was becoming familiar with.

‘Really. I shall be taking my dogs out about eleven. They like to have a good run and I usually manage an hour. I wish you had a horse, Miss Drummond. I should like to show you – and your brothers, of course – some of my land. I’m sure my tenants would—’ He stopped speaking in horror, for he had been about to say he was sure his tenants would love to meet her, knowing they would at once realise that this young woman was special to their landlord and what he would have in mind for someone special in his life.

‘Yes, Mr Armstrong? Would what?’ Charlotte was aware that her father was watching her and a dreadful fear dribbled through her veins. Dear God . . . oh, dear God, if only she could; but if she left where would she go and what would become of Henry, of William, John, James and Robbie?

‘Mrs Emmerson at Fuller’s Farm makes the best cowslip wine in the county and the best plum cake and she would be made up, as they say in the north, if you would sample them.’

‘Does she live far from Seven Cows Wood, Mr Armstrong?’ She took a spoonful of strawberry ice cream and placed it delicately in her mouth, licking the spoon like a child, savouring it for a moment and Brooke’s fascination spread through him and revealed itself on his rather sombre face. There was not a guest round the table who did not know what it meant. The only one who did not was Charlotte herself.

‘No.’ His voice was harsh and she looked at him in surprise. She rather liked this middle-aged gentleman who had been so polite and kind with her on each of the occasions they had met. He had berated her when she ran out in front of his horse that first time but since then he had been pleasant. Had she said something to offend him? But he sipped his champagne with composure, his grey eyes steady and uncompromising on her face.

‘Then perhaps we could walk there. Mrs Emmerson sounds nice and I love plum cake. So does Robbie.’

‘Of course, bring Robbie and any of your brothers who might care to come. We could . . . have a picnic. Mrs Emmerson would oblige, I’m sure.’

For a moment she looked delighted, then her gaze turned to her father who, though he could not hear what was being said, never took his eyes from them.

‘Well, we’ll see.’

Brooke Armstrong resolved to speak to Arthur Drummond before the week was out. Perhaps there might be another wedding in June!

4

They stood in a line in front of his desk in order of age, their young hearts pounding, their faces pale, for what had they done wrong now? They had spent a lovely morning with Mr Armstrong who had the most wonderful surprise for them in the shape of a puppy who he said they were to call Taddy, short for Tadpole since he was so small. That’s if they agreed, he had added hastily. He was a glossy shade with some of his mother’s ebony and a sprinkling of white which Brooke thought Jack Emmerson’s collie might have had something to do with. The children loved him. Taddy was now in the stable with the grooms and Charlotte was convinced that Father had got wind of him and that was what this was about.

She was wrong.

‘I have had Brooke Armstrong here just now and after discussing the matter with Elizabeth we have decided upon a course of action concerning not just Charlotte and her future but you boys as well.’

Uncomprehendingly they waited, their faces disclosing their bewilderment. What had kind Mr Armstrong got to do with
their
future? Charlotte had dined last night with Father and his friends in celebration of Father’s engagement to Miss Parker and Mr Armstrong had been there. Apparently he had visited Father this morning, either before or after they had met him and discussed something that was to affect them all but their young faces revealed their total lack of understanding.

‘Can you not guess, Charlotte?’ Father asked and when Charlie shook her head he smiled strangely. ‘Well, my dear, it seems you have made an impression on Brooke Armstrong which I suppose is no surprise since you are . . . quite pretty. He informed me this morning that he wishes to marry you and has asked my permission to speak to you. Of course, I said yes since it is a good match. He is keen for the wedding to take place as soon as possible so a date has been set for the weekend before Elizabeth and I pledge our vows.’ His voice was ironic, almost derisive and they were not to know of the conversation that had taken place between him and his bride-to-be when he had told her, laughingly, of Armstrong’s offer.

‘Let him have her,’ Elizabeth had declared forcefully, then smiled flirtatiously to soften her words. Arthur Drummond did not love Elizabeth Parker and had she not been the only child of a wealthy and influential man it is doubtful he would even have glanced at her despite her attractiveness. He himself was often short of ‘brass’ as they said in Yorkshire, and it did no harm to add to it. He was keen to purchase a pack of hounds and hunters did not come cheaply. He hunted during the winter, took to salmon fishing in the spring and the grouse season in August kept him busy here on his own estate or on those of his many acquaintances, some up in Scotland. Elizabeth was no youngster and if she did not bear him a son he did not care since he already had five but he had noticed how she eyed Charlotte, nine years younger than herself, and to get rid of his daughter and ally himself to another prosperous county gentleman might be useful.

‘And the boys?’ Elizabeth had prompted, for Elizabeth Parker, who did not really know her fiancé at all, fancied having him all to herself without a ready-made family to interfere in her new life. Like Arthur, she was not in love but having reached the age of twenty-five without finding a husband to suit her she thought she had him in Arthur Drummond.

‘What about the boys?’ he asked lazily, not really caring, smiling inwardly at this woman who thought she could get the better of him.

‘Are . . . would they not be better at school? Surely one of the good public schools would prepare them for the future life of a gentleman. A governess is suitable for young boys but the older ones . . . er, Henry, is it and William would do far better among boys of their own age.’

‘And Robert, who is only six?’

‘Young boys from good families go away to school at the age of eight. It toughens them for what lies ahead. My father is governor at Woodlands in Northumberland and I’m sure that if he approached the board . . . after all the boy will soon be seven, you told me.’

‘True. What a minx you are, Elizabeth, or should I say a spider spinning away your fancy web.’

‘I prefer minx, my darling.’

‘Well, why don’t you come upstairs and prove it to me.’

The children stood before him, their faces expressionless as he explained to them that the boys were to go to school the day after he and Miss Parker were married. Both Charlotte and Mr Armstrong and he and Miss Parker would be away on their respective honeymoons and so Thomas and Miss Price would accompany them to their new school and then, probably at Christmas, they would come home to spend the holidays with him and their new mother.

His cold smile played over them but none of them spoke. It was doubtful that Robert even understood. He was aware that something stupendous was happening that concerned his brothers and sister, and himself, of course, but he could not quite get his mind round it. His hand crept into Charlie’s but his father saw it.

‘Let go of your sister’s hand, sir,’ he barked. ‘You are not a baby,’ and as though his words had unfrozen her heart and allowed the blood to race once more along her veins, Charlotte sprang into life.

‘I suppose this is her doing, is it? Our new mother. She doesn’t want us under her feet and so I am to be married off to the first man to ask for me and my brothers whisked off to school as far away as possible. Robert is too young and so is James and if you imagine I agree with all this you are mistaken. I will not marry Mr Armstrong and I will not allow my brothers to be sent away as though they had done something wrong. Mr Armstrong cannot be serious, Father. We barely know each other.’ She was beginning to breathe heavily now in her distress and fury. She leaned forward and placed both her hands on her father’s desk, thrusting her face into his so that for a second he reared back, but a snarl was beginning to shape about his mouth and his eyes were the icy colour of the lake frozen in winter. A dark, murky brown with what looked like glints of silver in them, a sign of his own rage.

‘That is enough, girl. You are to be married on the 23rd of June and Miss Parker and I will follow on the 30th. Your brothers will travel, by train of course, up to Newcastle upon Tyne on the Sunday following and then on to the coast at Whitburn where Woodlands is situated. They will be ready for a new term when it begins. That is my last word on the matter so if you will be good enough—’

‘Oh, no, it might be your last word but it is not mine,’ Charlotte shrieked and in the kitchen the servants stood rigidly to attention as though it were one of them who was receiving the lashing of the master’s tongue, even Watson. She was incensed and the boys, especially the older two, longed to take hold of her and restrain her, for surely she knew it would do no good. When had Father ever changed his mind, about anything, relented, given in, allowed any one of them to voice their point of view? They had always been afraid of him even when their mother had been alive and had done her best to interpose herself between his cold anger and the cowering children. But Charlie would not have it and Arthur Drummond found himself wishing just one of his sons had her spirit.

‘Go to your room, Charlotte. We will discuss this when you are—’

‘No! I will discuss this now. I will not marry Mr Drummond and the boys will not go to school and you can tell your fiancée—’

With a swift movement her father stood up, stepped round the desk and before he had time to think, so great was his fury, he struck her across her cheek with the back of his hand. She fell across the small table on which the drinks tray stood and the whole lot crashed to the floor, including Charlotte. Robert and James were crying noisily and in the kitchen Kizzie had to be forcibly restrained by Mrs Banks and Mrs Welsh from bursting through the green baize door and down the hallway to the master’s study.

‘It will do no good, girl,’ Mrs Banks hissed in her ear. ‘Leave it be.’

‘Help your sister to her feet, Henry,’ his father told him coldly, ‘and then you will all go to your rooms and stay there until I send for you. As for you, Charlotte, you might as well know that at this moment Brooke Armstrong is at the rectory talking to the minister and Miss Hunter is in the process of making your wedding dress and garments for your wedding journey. You will believe me when I say you are to marry Brooke Armstrong or there will be dire consequences for you and your brothers. It is a good marriage, a suitable marriage for my daughter and I’m sure you will come to recognise it.’

And it will do me no harm, either. A liaison with a man of his consequence could be very useful to me. My marriage to the only child of a powerful man, a titled gentleman, and this girl, who is inclined to be defiant, wedded to one of the richest,
landed
men in the county, what could be more advantageous?

‘You will come to see I am right, my dear,’ he said silkily. ‘Now, go to your room and rest and you boys, go to your rooms. I will inform you of all the arrangements later.’

If Brooke had known what was happening at the Mount he would have been horrified. His intention had been to befriend Charlotte, to move slowly, to gain her trust, if not her love, not yet at any rate, and he had said so to Drummond, though not in so many words. And to do that he must see her, meet with her in the summer countryside, just the two of them, or with her brothers if she preferred, take the dogs, wander through the woods, talk, laugh, share opinions, get to know her and have her get to know him. Move at
her
pace, even if it meant postponing their wedding for months. He would not have her bullied, he had told Arthur Drummond. He did not add that he loved her and Drummond had not mentioned
love,
since it seemed to Brooke he would not even know the meaning of the word. He was
not
speaking to the minister as her father had told Charlotte. It was too soon for that. Charlotte would pick her own wedding date but in the meantime he began to make plans to invite her, with her maid, of course, since everything must be correct, above board, to visit what would be her new home. King’s Meadow. She must be allowed to choose and design her own bedroom – the bedroom he would share with her – smiling inwardly and with a shiver of anticipation, like any schoolboy in love for the first time, he thought ruefully. What an absurd situation to be in at his age, ready to moon over a girl fourteen years younger than he was, but did it matter?

After lunch he had Max saddled up and calling to Dottie and Floss and Ginger he galloped across his land, skirting fields rippling with growing corn, hay, wheat, waving to men working in the warm sunshine, parting small herds of grazing cattle, cows that rocked away in alarm at his approach, entering Seven Cows Wood where he had first met her. Flinging himself off Max’s back he threw himself down in the shade of a massive oak tree, leaving Max untethered. The dogs flopped down beside him, their tongues hanging out, breathing hard.

Should he have a dinner party to which he would invite her, with her father and his fiancée, naturally, and one or two couples who he knew would be kind with her? Without mentioning marriage he would let her see how he lived. He lay back drowsily looking up into the foliage of the tree, watching a caterpillar hatched from the eggs of the mottled umber moth as it devoured a leaf. His mind was at peace and his heart was full and he sighed with great contentment. He had started his courtship of Charlotte Drummond!