Page 55 of The Twelve Days of Christmas

‘Oh, but I am most ashamed of myself, Charlotte. I should have been more attentive to you all, instead of letting the spirit of the season cloud my judgement.’

‘ Père …’

‘Truly, if I were your mother I should not wish to see or speak to me at all,’ he said, and his daughter gently shook her head.

‘You know that is not Maman ’s way.’

‘But mayhap it should be. I cannot fathom why she is not angrier with me.’

‘ Père , you are too hard on yourself. Besides, all has come well in the end, has it not?’

Fernand sighed. ‘Be that as it may, it does not excuse my being so blind. Did you know of Morley’s carryings-on?’

Charlotte hesitated. ‘I confess I scarce paid the matter much attention. I knew Louisa, Maria and Rosalie – especially Rosalie – were somewhat smitten with him. Such fancies she had! Only a few days ago she was convinced she was to marry him, all because she almost caught Juliette’s wedding bouquet, and became extremely defensive when I scolded her for it.

’ She shook her head despairingly. ‘Why, oh why, must all my sisters be obsessed with marriage?’

A smile tugged at the viscount’s lips. His dear girl, stubborn as a mule!

‘Perhaps, ma chère , your sisters do not have the strength of character you possess. But Charlotte – marriage need not be a prison. Not if the couple love one another.’

She scoffed. ‘You sound like Maman . Love is a myth, a fantasy.’

‘Is it, when I love her and she loves me?’

He felt a tug at his heart then, for no matter what Ambrosia thought of his mistake regarding the Duke of Morley, he did not doubt his wife’s affections, and at this remembrance Fernand’s spirits lifted a little. But Charlotte was frowning at her father’s words.

‘Your marriage, Père , is the exception not the rule.’

‘But that does not mean ours is the only one. Look at Juliette and Nicolas. Our newly married friends, the Reverend and Mrs Soppe!’ The frown between his daughter’s eyebrows grew deeper.

The viscount squeezed her fingers. ‘I would have you happy, Charlotte, and books – no matter how much knowledge they contain, no matter how many adventures you might find therein – are not a substitute for happiness.’

‘But a man is?’

Fernand (being a romantic at heart, and thus warming to the subject) smiled at his daughter.

‘ Non . But a marriage, a true marriage, is. Your sisters do not see matrimony as a prison, as you do. Maria considers matters in a more material sense, whilst Louisa wishes to be looked after and Rosalie adored. But you, Charlotte … You need only find a gentleman to match your spirit, your humour, your beliefs.’ Fernand squeezed her fingers.

‘You need a partner who would challenge you, someone who you can respect, and then the rest of it, well, the rest of it will all fall into place. Do you really wish to spend your life alone?’

Charlotte was not looking at him, had instead directed her pensive gaze back to the snow-covered lawns where, at that moment, the two Wakely swans were ambling by the window.

‘I wish for freedom, Père ,’ she murmured, watching the swans groom their feathers.

‘To be independent. For my life to have meaning. No man can give me that, especially not a husband. He would wish me to be docile and bear his children year upon year, and that is simply not for me. Why is that so very hard for you and Maman to understand?’

‘But ma chère ,’ he replied gently. ‘Why must you think in absolutes? What you wish for is not impossible. You merely think it is.’

Charlotte said nothing. Again, Fernand pressed her fingers and then, an idea forming in his mind, patted Charlotte’s hand as he released them.

‘Come now,’ he said, deliberately brisk – and his daughter’s eyes swung back to his – ‘let us speak no more of such matters. I shall send Marmery into the village with your order tomorrow. No point taking it today, when the snow prevents the post being collected. Is there anything you wish to add?’

‘No,’ she said faintly. ‘No, thank you.’

‘I do wonder, though,’ the viscount added as Charlotte rose from the chair, ‘at the price of the items you have listed here. A globe, a large one, will be costly. How much might little Faith need the subject of Geography, after all?’

‘ Père , of course she shall need Geography! She might wish to travel, after all, and—’

‘Still,’ Fernand continued, cutting her off, ‘I suppose it can always be donated to Lord Heysten, when work on the park has been completed to accommodate his new enterprise. I daresay he shall appreciate it, given the expense of such a restoration. The estate has long been neglected, after all.’

Charlotte’s brows knit in confusion.

‘Enterprise? What do you mean?’

The viscount dipped his quill in the inkwell.

‘Oh,’ he replied, not a little sly, ‘I spoke with him about it the other day – his lordship asked my opinion in regards to turning Heysten Park into a charitable establishment for the poor and destitute. Indeed, he even applied for the advice of the Thorpes, since he considered including a finishing school in the plans.’

‘A finishing school,’ Charlotte echoed, to which Fernand – for he heard how this news affected her – hid a smile.

‘Y-e-s,’ he replied idly as he wrote out the relevant directions at the top of Charlotte’s list. ‘Something about giving those less fortunate an opportunity to learn new skills to aid them in finding suitable employment.’

His daughter stared.

‘But where would he and Faith live?’

‘There is a sizeable dowager’s cottage on the estate he thinks would suit them admirably, rather than residing at the main house.’

‘Oh,’ Charlotte said after a lengthy pause. ‘He … he did not say.’

Fernand, having composed himself, met her gaze once more, and was thrilled to see that his daughter appeared every bit as intrigued as he had hoped she might.

‘Did he not? Well, perhaps he wished to settle on his plans before revealing them. ’Tis an awful lot to manage on his own, and there will be much to deliberate.

Still, it is early days yet, so you need not fear – you shall have plenty of time in which to teach Faith everything you desire before she removes there to live with him. ’

‘Yes.’

Her reply was faint, but not so faint that her father could not hear the confusion under which she was now suffering … which was precisely what Fernand had hoped to achieve.

‘Now, my dear,’ he said, ‘I simply must finish writing this character for Mr Denby before I get ready for the evening. Would you mind very much if …?’

His daughter inclined her dark head. ‘Of course, Père . I shall …’ and here Charlotte trailed off, and in turn departed the viscount’s study, closing the door very quietly but firmly behind her.

Fernand chuckled. Lord Heysten – so he had suspected almost from the first moment he met the man – was a perfect match for his headstrong daughter.

Though the gentleman was nearer in age to Ambrosia than Charlotte, the fortune he had inherited from his father – together with the one he amassed by his own means (though unfortunate in its origins) – was more than ample, and his ambition to bestow his wealth on those less fortunate ampler still.

Now that the viscount had sown the seed he felt sure that, in time, his dear Charlotte might find it in herself to recognise that no other man than Charles Heysten could match her so perfectly in both temperament and manner of feeling.

She was, after all, a creature to be guided gently and never, ever forced.

Outside, the swans ambled out of sight. The snow continued to fall. The viscount’s chuckle ceased, and his expression fell into a frown.

If his meddling were successful, there would be another wedding in Merrywake by the time the first daffodil sprouted in spring.

Two daughters married – how delighted the viscountess would be!

Nonetheless that still left Maria, Louisa and Rosalie.

Ambrosia had professed two nights before that the Sharpe brothers would suit their daughters very well, and while they were not so dashing nor as rich as Sir Robert, they were decent, affable gentlemen.

A pity about their sister. But at least scandal had been averted, and so there could now be no impediment that prevented a union.

Fernand liked them, too, for Bertram, Humphrey and Tarquin Sharpe were men of his own ilk – no one, whether they be servant, shopkeeper or squire, was beneath or above their notice, a fact they made abundantly clear by their generous praise of Mrs Denby’s son who had assisted them on the roadside, and it was this train of thought that prompted the viscount to reach for the piece of paper he had set aside when Charlotte entered his study.

Indeed, Fernand thought as he set the nib of his quill to the page, though he had remarked to his wife some days afore that she had wedding bells ringing in her ears, he also wished to see his daughters settled.

Wakely Hall was a buzz of activity. The snow had stopped two hours before, and the scraper had succeeded (under the observation of Mr Moss) in clearing the driveway so that the guests staying at the Crown would experience no difficulty arriving in their carriages.

The guests already in residence chattered excitably at the prospect of a wonderful evening and marvelled at the abundant spread of food the servants had diligently been arranging upon the dining room table this past hour (some of which Miss Louisa Pépin and Mr Humphrey Sharpe had already pilfered when no one was looking).

The musicians came promptly at seven, and having set themselves up upon the raised platform at the far end of the ballroom could be heard tuning their instruments even from the viscount’s dressing room two floors up, where at that very moment his valet, Ralph Hornby, was brushing lint from his tail coat, and Mr Palamedes was circling their legs with loud contented purrs.