Page 33 of The Twelve Days of Christmas

A look of disgust had appeared upon Charlotte Pépin’s handsome features, and suddenly Charles realised he did not wish her to think ill of him, wished ardently to tell her his business endeavours were not what she assumed them to be at all, but then her father cleared his throat.

‘Pray, Lord Heysten, continue.’

Charles turned his attention back to the viscount.

‘I wrote to Faith every week. Saw her whenever I could. Then, when my father died and the estate passed on to me, I was finally able to put my affairs in place and return to England. I planned to remove Faith from Mrs Doncaster’s entirely, but with Heysten being in such a state of disrepair …’

Due to Archibald Heysten’s debts, the estate had been severely neglected.

In truth, it was falling down about Charles’ shoulders; damp had invaded the plaster, the wainscoting was riddled with woodworm, the floorboards rotting, the wallpaper peeling away.

There was much work to be done to restore his inheritance and make it habitable once again.

‘So,’ said Viscount Pépin, clasping his hands upon the rosewood desk. ‘You decided to leave Faith in Mrs Doncaster’s care?’

‘Until,’ replied Charles, ‘such a time as I was able to provide for her properly. She was well taken care of in London. Her education was in hand, and I considered it the best place for her. But then, earlier this month, I received word she had disappeared. Now I must think of what is best for Faith. Heysten Park is not safe for a child.’

At this, Miss Pépin cleared her throat.

‘Wakely Hall is.’

Charles and her parents turned to stare.

‘Faith is clearly content here,’ Miss Pépin said. ‘She would be comfortable, and well cared for in our company. Close enough to Heysten Park that you, Lord Heysten, might see her every day if you truly wish it.’

The manner in which Miss Pépin said the word ‘truly’ rather grated, as if she did not believe his intentions sincere, but the viscount and viscountess had not marked it; they were too busy exchanging pointed glances in which a silent conversation had clearly taken place, and Viscount Pépin’s eyebrows now rose with a smile.

‘I think that a splendid idea, Charlotte! I declare, Lord Heysten,’ said he, ‘if you have no objection, Viscountess Pépin and I surely do not. The house will be quite empty without my dear Juliette. It would be nothing at all if Faith were to fill the void – she would be most welcome.’

Grateful, Charles inclined his head.

‘While this would solve some of my problems, I still must think of Faith’s education. Now that she has quit Mrs Doncaster’s—’

Again, Miss Pépin cut in.

‘ I could teach her just as well here, I’m sure.’

At this Charles looked at her in astonishment. Such a suggestion was, surely, impossible. Daughters of viscounts did not do such things, and it appeared her mother thought so too for she shook her head vehemently.

‘My dear,’ reproached Viscountess Pépin. ‘You are not a governess!’

‘There is nothing wrong with being a governess,’ came the arch reply, and again Charles marked the remarkable honeyed shine in her eyes that appeared to shew itself when deeply vexed. ‘I am exceedingly well read, as you know, and I would enjoy teaching Faith immensely.’

‘Charlotte—’

‘ Maman ,’ Miss Pépin said, in a tone that implied she was used to being undermined.

‘Pray, let me do something useful for once. I am not some doll to be kept confined. I have a mind, let me apply it! Père ,’ she added, turning to the viscount, ‘please. It can hardly do either one of us harm. There are no decent schools for girls about these parts, and what use was my having such a thorough education if I am not allowed to use it? I want for employment, and Faith is in need of schooling. It makes perfect sense.’

An affectionate smile was playing about Viscount Pépin’s lips.

‘Fernand,’ began his wife warningly, but the viscount took her hand and patted it.

‘My dear,’ said he to his daughter, ‘while I have no objection, it is to Lord Heysten you must implore, for the choice is entirely his.’ He looked to Charles.

‘Charlotte is the cleverest of my daughters and little Faith would not be at a disadvantage by any means. It would not be for ever, and we could certainly employ the help of Mrs Thorpe, who once was governess to all my daughters, if Charlotte found the task a struggle.’ (Here, Miss Pépin pursed her lips in affront.) ‘But why do you not take a day or two to consider?’

‘Thank you, viscount. And to you, Miss Pépin, for your offer. Certainly, I would at least – for the time being – consent to Faith’s staying here for the sake of necessity.’

‘It would be our pleasure.’

Weary again now, Charles stood.

‘If you’ll permit, I beg my leave to return to Heysten Park. I’ve been travelling all night and have yet to sleep, and fear I shall fatigue if I stay much longer.’

Viscount Pépin inclined his head. ‘Of course. But please, will you not stay here with us for what is left of Christmastide? My conscience would not permit me to allow you to stay at Heysten Park if it is indeed in such a sorry state. No, once you have refreshed yourself return here. A hearty meal will be waiting for you, and pleasant company.’

‘My lord, I could not possibly impose upon your hospitality more than I have.’

‘Nonsense,’ intervened Viscountess Pépin. ‘You must stay with us here at Wakely. It makes sense, after all, since Faith will be with us too. But what of your cousins? Had you invited them as you said you might?’

‘I had invited them, my lady, but never fear – I have already arranged to have my cousins installed in the Crown Lodge.’

The viscountess appeared to hesitate, as if some thought troubled her, but then the lady’s face cleared and she said, ‘No, that will not do. They must come and stay at Wakely as well. Word can be left at the Crown that they should continue on their journey here.’

Such generosity was above and beyond what Charles could have expected, and immensely gratified he accepted with a bow.

‘Thank you. Thank you all. Would you be good enough to tell Faith what has been decided?’

‘Of course,’ replied Viscountess Pépin. ‘She is such a dear, sweet child.’

With one more word of thanks Charles bowed, first to her, then her husband, and lastly to Miss Charlotte Pépin, who merely watched him with eyes that – in that moment – were filled with abject dislike.

Some hours later, when the last beams of afternoon light had left the sky, turning it a rich shade of wintered navy, Charlotte sat on the windowseat in her bedroom contemplating that morning’s events and the man to whom those events were connected.

Lord Charles Heysten. A decidedly arrogant man who – despite his shew of bravado in ‘rescuing’ her this morning – had treated Charlotte as if she were a mere simpleton. Did he not tell her she was in need of handling? Did he not call her a fool of a woman?

Charlotte grimaced. Mayhap she had been foolish in her attempt to help the swan; she owned that she acted in the heat of the moment, but that did not mean she was without sense.

Why, she would act the same way again if it came to it.

Lord Charles Heysten had no right to judge her for her honourable actions.

In any case, his lordship could not be deemed an honourable man.

Oh yes, he might have arranged his sister’s care, but to offload her to an educational institute where he knew she would grow up without family or friends, well, such an act was abominable.

No wonder poor Faith had found herself in such a despicable situation – if he had just taken charge of the child as he should have from the start …

And what, precisely, prevented him from doing so?

I owned a plantation.

That the words were in the past tense barely registered with Charlotte.

That he had any part in the slave trade at all was, to her, the mark of a man who held the demands of his pocketbook above the demands of moral decency.

No indeed, Lord Charles Heysten was precisely the kind of man whom she had every reason to despise.

Charlotte looked down at the book open before her.

When we purchase the Negroes, we couple the sturdy Men together with Irons.

She sucked in her breath and turned her face to the window, whereupon a movement outside caught her eye.

On the snowy lawn below were the two swans, and Charlotte watched them in the dusk-light as they meandered between the yew trees.

The male appeared in no way compromised after his confinement in the ice – the cob flapped its great wings and stretched its long neck without issue.

Could a swan break a man’s arm? She supposed it might, but Lord Heysten’s words vexed her greatly:

I understood from my previous visits here that you were the clever one … If you had read Bewick’s History of Birds you would have known that.

Charlotte snapped her copy of Snelgrave shut and dropped it on the plush velvet of the windowseat.

Brutish man! But then she thought it would not do; though she did not seek his admiration Charlotte did seek his permission to teach his sister, and if Lord Heysten truly thought her a simpleton, who knew next to nothing about the capabilities of swans …

She rose and ventured downstairs to the library, where she searched the shelves for an author by the name of Bewick, and once she had found him proceeded to educate herself on, first, the nature of the Mute Swan, and then other birds which were detailed therein – the Red-Legged Partridge, the Turtle Dove, the Cock, Blackbird and Tame Goose – and it was thus occupied that Charlotte was unfavourably discovered.

‘Ah, Miss Pépin! There you are!’

These words – so simperingly delivered – were received with not one ounce of pleasure by their recipient, who shut her eyes briefly in despair.