You can start fresh. There is hope. There is no shame in embracing it."
The woman considered that silently, then nodded. "You are a good man, my lord. I have been praying for help for a long time. I think surely God must have sent you to me in answer to those prayers. I will be the best cook I can be."
"I am sure you will do fine," Charlie murmured, uncomfortable with her gratitude.
"Now, we had best go below before your Mr. Wickman comes looking for us."
Moving to the door, she held it open and ushered the threesome out and back downstairs. Radcliffe and Wickman were still on the front stoop. At Radcliffe's questioning glance, Charlie merely shook her head and followed Mrs.
Hartshair and her children into the carriage.
Radcliffe entered after Charlie, then sat to eye the woman and her two children seated on the opposite bench seat. He experienced a definite sense of dj vu, only the memory mixing with this reality was of Bessie seated fearfully on the bench. Sighing inwardly, he shook his head and sat silently for the duration of the ride home.
"It would seem we have guests. Stokes," Radcliffe announced, slapping his gloves and hat into the butler's waiting hand as the man gaped at the woman and children who trailed him into the house.
"Not exactly guests," Charlie corrected gently as she followed the family into the house and pushed the door closed.
"Oh?" Radcliffe arched one supercilious eyebrow at the lad. "Pray tell?"
"You are in need of a cook, as I recall. Unless you have already made arrangements?"
Radcliffe grimaced. "You know I have hardly had the opportunity for that."
Charlie breathed a small sigh of relief. She had not thought he had done so yet, but if he had, that would have been a complication indeed. "Well, now you need not bother. You need a cook. Mrs. Hartshair is a cook."
Radcliffe blinked at the simple announcement, then glanced toward the woman for verification. "You are a cook?"
"Aye." She swallowed nervously as her gaze slid around the luxurious foyer before she added unhappily, "Aye, I am a cook, but II'm a fair hand at buns and such, but the sort o' food I can cook is" She glanced at Charlie, who gave her an encouraging smile. Straightening slightly, the woman murmured, " 'Tis tasty, hearty food, my lord. But I know naught about fancies and pastries and the like."
'That will not be a problem," Charlie assured her quickly. "His Lordship never entertains. Besides, his last cook could not even boast tasty or hearty fare, and you shall learn anything necessary over time. Is that not right, Radcliffe?"
There was a moment of silence, just long enough to make Charlie glance at him in reprimand, at which he nodded solemnly. "Aye. 'Tis quite true. I am sure you will do very well." His gaze went to the weary and bedraggled children hanging onto their mother's skirts, and he murmured, "Your children look as if they are all in. Stokes will show you to your room."
"Thank you, my lord," the woman gasped, her face blossoming into near beauty with her relief. "Thankyou."
Nodding, Radcliffe glanced toward Stokes expectantly, frowning at the servant's stunned expression and the way he gazed, unmoving, upon the widow.
"Stokes?" he prompted, drawing the man's attention. "Show them to a room."
"Of course, my lord."
The servant had actually blushed slightly, Charlie noticed. Radcliffe grunted and turned to her. "In the library, Charles."
She grimaced at the autocratic tone, but paused to suggest to Stokes that he offer the Hartshairs some food before seeing them to bed. The three looked pale and thin to her. They could use some meat on their bones, and she doubted they had eaten that day. When the man assured her he would see to it, she turned resignedly and followed Radcliffe's trail to the library.
He was standing at the sideboard pouring himself a drink when she entered. A stiff drink, she could not help but notice as she settled in a seat before the desk to await the lecture she knew would come. She did not have long to wait.
"My home is not a refuge for runaways and waifs, Charles."
"Runaways?" Her eyes widened innocently as she watched him cross the room to take his seat at the desk. "I have brought no runaways here, my lord."
His brows drew together in displeasure. "You know what I mean, Charles."
"Aye, well," she sighed briefly, then shook her head. "Actually, no, I do not. I am hardly using your home as some sort of charity workshop, Radcliffe.
Beth needed amaid and I found her a maid. You needed a cook and I have found you a cook. The fact that both women were in untenable situations when I found them is merely coincidental."
This fine argument, one she was rather proud of, was blown to the four winds by a child's sudden squeal of"Puppies!" from the hallway, followed by a shout from Stokes and the scampering of little feet. Charlie could picture what was happening in the hall. Stokes had led the Hartshairs to the kitchens to feed them, unthinkingly opening the kitchen door, only to have the puppies make a grand escape. All no doubt to the children's glee. They were now surely chasing the little creatures about, attempting to recapture them. Charlie almost smiled at the pictures running through her head, but she managed to restrain herself when she caught the expression on Radcliffe's face.
"As I said," he muttered grimly, "you must stop collecting people and puppies."
"Of course, Radcliffe. You are right. I shall refrain from rescuing any more wayward strays," she murmured soberly.
Radcliffe sighed heavily. "I wish I believed that."
"Oh, you can. After all, there are no more positions in the house to fill, are there?"
"I did not have a position for the puppies," he pointed out.
"Aye, well he was going to kill them," she said helplessly, and Radcliffe dropped his head into his hands and began massaging his scalp, making her ask sympathetically, "Does your head ache? Mayhap you should take yourself off to bed."
"Aye." Standing wearily, he gestured for Charles to lead the way, then followed her to the door.
Charlie felt a sense of relief that the lecture was over until she opened the library door. The puppies were gone, apparently having been recaptured and taken away. However, Beth and Tomas Mowbray were in a clinch just inside the front door. Slamming the door, she whirled to face a wincing Radcliffe. "I just had a thought. Mayhap a nice massage would ease your ache. You just sit yourself down right over here and I shall see what I can do."
Charlie started to urge him toward the desk, but Radcliffe dug his heels in halfway across the room. "Thank you for the offer, Charles. However, I think you had it right the first time. Bed will cure what ails me."
"Oh, but" Charlie hurried after him as he started back across the room, throwing herself in front of the door when he would have opened it. "What about tomorrow?"
He stared at her blankly. "Tomorrow?" "Do we have any plans?"
He shifted impatiently. "We can discuss that at breakfast, Charles."
"But"
"I have a headache, Charles. Please get out of the way so that I can go lie down and be rid of it."
Shoulders drooping, Charlie stepped aside, opened the door, and followed him into the hall. The empty hall. Much to her relief, neither Beth nor Tomas Mowbray were anywhere in sight. She followed Radcliffe silently up the stairs, pausing at the topwhen he suddenly stopped. She glanced at him questioningly.
"I forgot all about Elizabeth." When she raised an eyebrow questioningly, he explained, "I left her at the ball with the Mowbrays. They promised to see her home. I suppose I had better check and see that she has returned and all is well."
"I shall do that," she volunteered quickly. "You go ahead and lie down."
When he hesitated, she hurried past him to "Elizabeth's" door and knocked briefly. The minute it started to open, she turned to offer Radcliffe a reassuring smile, then gasped as she was grabbed by her arm and tugged quickly inside the room.
"Charlie! You wouldn't believe what a wonderful time I had. It was marvelous! Fantastic!Amazing!" Pushing the door closed, Beth whirled Charlie around the room gleefully,then released her and collapsed backward on the bed with a huge sigh to hug herself. "What a stupendous night."
"So I saw," Charlie murmured dryly, seating herself on the bed beside her as the girl colored prettily.
"Was that you in the library?" she asked, her nose wrinkling. "I did wonder."
"Wonder? Are you mad? If Radcliffe had caught you at your antics"
"But he did not," she laughed and dropped back upon the bed, only to sit up abruptly again. "Did you pay off the blackmailer? Radcliffe did not find you, did he?"
"Nay. And aye," Charlie answered in order, then went on to explain the night's adventures, running through them quite briefly since it was obvious that her sister was not paying much attention. When she fell silent, Beth immediately began to regale her with her own evening, which seemed incredibly dull in comparison. She had danced with Tomas, talked with Lady Mowbray, danced with Tomas, discussed fashion with Lady So-and-So. Then she'd danced with Tomas again, and so her evening had seemed to have gone.
Compared to her own night, Beth's evening seemed terribly tame. Her mind had begun to wander when she caught her sister's last words.
"So, you may be Elizabeth during the day. But I should like to be me in the evening again at the Wulcotts' ball. You do not mind, do you?"
Charlie sat still for a moment, her heart seeming to have dropped into her stomach somewhere. Then she shook her head and rose wearily. "Nay, of course not."
"Oh, thank you, Charlie. I knew you would not let me down."
Nodding, she moved to the connecting door and started out of the room, then turned back. "I suppose you should sleep in "Charles's" room tonight, then."
"Oh, aye." Bouncing off the bed, Beth moved cheerfully across the room, kissing her sister's cheek affectionately before closing the door behind her with a cheery "Good night."
Charlie stared at that door for several moments, feeling vaguely cheated.
She had to find a husband, too. Her own need for one was even more pressing than Beth's, really. After all, while Seguin may not be every girl's dream come true, at least he was not dangerous like Carland. And there was the source of her upset, she realized glumly. They were supposed to be taking turns here at being the girl. Both of them were supposed to have their chance at finding a husband.
Yet it seemed that Charlie was spending most of her time playing Charles.
And most of her time was spent in the company of Radcliffe. She would never find a husband that way. Straightening her shoulders grimly, she marched into "Charles's" room, startling Beth as she started to crawl under the bed covers.
"Charlie. What is it? Is something wrong?"
"I am afraid I disagree with your playing Elizabeth tomorrow night. To date, the Hardings' ball is the only event at which I have been the sister and allowed to hunt up a husband, and then Mowbray and Radcliffe clung to me like limpets the whole time. If we are to take turns at this as you suggested, then take turns we shall. Tomorrow evening is my turn to be a girl and look for a husband. If you wish, I shall be Charles during the day tomorrow, but in the evening, I will be Elizabeth."
Beth opened her mouth to complain at the switch, thenpaused, shame covering her expression. "I am sorry," she said at last. "You are absolutely right. 'Tis your turn. Besides, your need for a husband is more pressing than mine, and I do already at least have my eye on someone. Of course, you must be Elizabeth tomorrow night. And during the day, too," she added firmly. "I shall even endeavor to keep Tom and Radcliffe away from you tomorrow evening so that yon might find someone you are interested in without their interference."
Charlie's shoulders sagged suddenly in relief and weariness.
"Charlie," Beth murmured when she started to turn away.
"Aye?" .
"This was a good thing, I think." She stared at her blankly.
"What?"
"All of this." She waved vaguely around the room, then explained, "Having to escape, meeting up with Radcliffe, ending up in London, fending for ourselves Well, with a little help from Radcliffe, of course."
Charlie shook her head. "I do not think I understand"
"It is changing us. I have always been terribly shy. You know that. But here I am learning to deal with social situations better. And you, you have never really stood up for yourself or what you want, yet twice now you have done it here."
Charlie blinked at that. "What on earth do you mean, I have never stood up for myself before? Iam forever standing up for myself, rebelling and such. My God, Beth, you make me sound like a coward."
"Nay. Never a coward. You have a great deal of courage. You have always been a grand champion for others. But only for others. You never stand up for what you want." Seeing the bewilderment on her face, Beth explained, "The dresses, for instance. For years you have put up with my choices, never complaining once, let alone demanding"
Charlie waved that away impatiently. "Dresses. What did they matter in the country? Besides, you were going through all the fittings, you had every right to choose."
"But I did not mind the fittings, and while I was doing those, you were doing something else. Something I disliked doing, like mucking out the stables."
"Well, after Uncle Henry let go all of his staff, 'Old' Ben had a rough time keeping up with things. He needed help."
"Aye. I know. But I detested working in the stables. You did not mind it so much, so you did it while I went for the fittings. 'Twas an equal trade and you should have had a say in what gowns you wore as much as me. You never said a word. Until now. Just as with everything else you let me have my way.
Until now, you would have let me attend the ball as Elizabeth. In fact, your first instinct was to let me, but then you stood up for yourself and said it was your turn."