Charles Read online

  “Mr. Edwards is not an approved charity,” her mother’s voice was stern.

  “Oh, I do not think of him as such.” Did she? “I mean, he is in need of some compassion at present, but in a week or so, he will be good as new and not in need of a thing.”

  “Well,” said Aunt Gwladys, “we cannot rescind the invitation, so we will have to do our part to see that Mr. Edwards has a pleasant evening.”

  “A properly pleasant evening.” Mrs. Barrett arched a brow at her daughter.

  Did her mother expect her to throw herself upon the gentleman? She opened her mouth to assure her mother that she would behave properly just as always but then closed it as the thought of throwing herself at a gentleman as handsome as Mr. Edwards did not cause her the revulsion it should — which was strange. She was not given to flights of fancy. She was not the sort of girl to be whiling away her time waiting for some gallant gentleman to come sweeping in and carry her away. She would marry some sensible and kind man who would happily allow her to continue her charitable activities and treat her with respect. Mr. Edwards was not such a gentleman. If he did swoop in to carry her away, she would likely find herself at his castle with twenty-five other lovely damsels. There. That was the shudder she should have felt all along.

  “I shall be as proper as always,” she finally said.

  Her mother did not look completely convinced.

  “He did look lonely and nearly refused to come,” said Constance.

  “Did he?” asked Henry.

  “Yes, very. Which is why I pressed him to join us. His eye looks better, but I could not help feeling dreadful just seeing it.”

  “You are too good.” Henry’s smile was returned.

  “I am, am I not?” Constance said with a laugh.

  “Very,” muttered her brother. “Edwards is a friend, but…” He grimaced. “At least, I do not have to worry about Connie.”

  “Trefor,” Aunt Gwladys scolded, “you never did have to worry about her. She did what was right even if her methods were a trifle unconventional.”

  “Meeting with a gentleman of Edwards’s reputation in an alcove is more than a trifle unconventional for a proper chit like Connie,” Trefor retorted.

  “I was not alone,” Constance protested.

  “Little good that did you,” Trefor muttered and then shrugged. “If a goat shows up among the sheep, you make the best of it, I guess.”

  “Goat?” Aunt Gwladys said with a laugh. “I think Mr. Edwards is more a wolf than a goat, which is why we will watch our sheep carefully.”

  “Well, Evelyn,” her mother stood, “I do think it is time for us to depart, so that we will have enough time to prepare for tonight’s festivities.”

  Her mother smiled and extended her hand to Evelyn, who obediently placed her hand in it. She knew that though her mother looked all that was serene and reconciled to the notion of Mr. Edward’s being included in their party, she was not. A smile, especially on the face of her mother, could hide many things. It was a required part of becoming a lady of standing, her mother had often told her, yet Evelyn struggled at times to look complacent when she was feeling the opposite. One day, she might be as well-practiced as her mother at such a skill.

  “Thank you for allowing Constance to visit Mrs. Verity’s with me today,” Evelyn said to Trefor. “We had a very enjoyable time, and I believe the children are better for our having been there.”

  “Will you be returning there?” Trefor asked as he stood and joined his sister on her way to see her friend to the door as she almost always did when Evelyn visited.

  “I should like to,” Constance replied, “and Mrs. Verity has invited us to return if you will allow it.”

  “I see no reason to oppose such a thing.” He gave a nod of his head to the Barretts as well as a word of parting and returned to the sitting room.

  “I am wearing my blue silk with that lovely turban hat that was delivered yesterday,” Evelyn said to Constance. “You must wear your new hat to match,” she added as she stepped out the door behind her mother.

  “I will,” Constance assured her with a laugh.

  Evelyn returned her friend’s wave and then hurried after her mother to the carriage.

  “It is one thing to invite someone to an event which we are hosting,” her mother began before Evelyn had even entered the vehicle, “but to invite them to someone else’s event is quite another.” Her look was excessively stern as Evelyn settled onto the bench across from her. “A very improper thing. It is fortunate for us that the Lintons and Mrs. Kendrick are such good friends. I am certain they will think nothing of your actions beyond that they were a bit unconventional. None of them will speak to anyone else about your impropriety, and for that, you should be most thankful. Why if it were anyone else, you could find yourself the subject of many fanciful tales!”

  Mrs. Barrett pulled her head back and looked to her right as if there were someone sitting next to her. “Did you hear that Mr. Edwards was in attendance at Covent Gardens with Miss Barrett.”

  She turned her head the opposite direction. “No, you don’t say.”

  Again, she looked to her right. “I hear she invited him. I dare say we will be either hearing of her escape to the country or his finally being snared.” She clucked her tongue. “Poor thing, she’ll not have a happy marriage with that one.”

  Her mother faced her, raised a brow, and nodded her head. It was an expression which signified that whatever her mother had just said was the absolute truth of what could, and likely would, happen. The austere look that she still wore after completion of speaking only emphasized how correct she thought she was.

  Evelyn knew better than to make any sort of response. It would not, at this moment, matter to her mother that the idea had first been presented to Constance, who had given a startled, half-hearted agreement before Evelyn had rapped on the ceiling to signal that the carriage should stop.

  “You are to stay away from that gentleman. Did I not make that clear to you already?”

  “Yes, Mother, you did. He is a rogue and not to be trusted. I must only speak to him in your presence and in a well-lit venue.”

  “Which you did not.”

  “I did not expect to meet him on the street, and Constance was speaking to him before I exited Mrs. Verity’s, so I really cannot be faulted for having to speak to him.” She pressed her lips together. She knew better than to attempt an argument when her mother was as cross as she was at present.

  “The fault lies in what you said to him. To invite a gentleman to the theatre on the street!”

  “It was after that,” Evelyn said softly. She had already begun the conversation that she knew she should not have started. There was no point in postponing the inevitable – even if speaking of it now meant doing so while her mother was in such a state as she was.

  “What was that, my dear?”

  Evelyn blew out a breath. “We had entered the carriage after very little conversation with Mr. Edwards, but then as we drove away, I began to think it would be a very noble thing to show him some kindness. Perhaps he is as he is because he does not know any different. He takes because no one offers. It could be true.”

  Her mother shook her head. “He takes because he can, and I prefer he not take anything from you, which is why you must not speak to him outside my presence.”

  “I cannot be with you always,” Evelyn protested. “There will be moments like today when I will come upon him, and you are not there.”

  “Then you will say your good days and walk away.” Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You were in the carriage when you decided to offer him a seat in the Linton’s box?”

  Evelyn nodded. “We were, so after presenting the idea to Connie and getting her agreement, we stopped. And I made the offer.”

  Her mother’s brows rose. “I imagine you stuck your head out the door as you do when you are calling to Griffin?”

  How she wished she did not have to reveal all of her actions to her mot
her, but she could not run the risk of something being said at the theatre by Mr. Edwards. Should she not be completely open with her mother now about all that had happened, the consequences of being discovered to have hidden some fact would be far worse than this discussion. She would likely be required to remain at home without visits for several days. As it was, she might find herself in such a situation, but it would be a shorter duration because she had been forthcoming. That is how it worked with her mother. Openness was rewarded by a reduction in punishment.

  “I did. I waved him forward, and then sat back inside as I spoke to him.”

  Her mother shook her head silently.

  “I shall not do it again.”

  “See that you do not.”

  The carriage fell into silence for several clip-clops of the horses’ hooves.

  “I will allow you to attend the theatre this evening,” her mother said, “but it is perhaps best if you stay home tomorrow. A time of reflection seems fitting.”

  “Of course.”

  “No callers,” her mother added with a raised brow.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “Mr. Marsh is on the verge of coming to the point. I can feel it. He is so kind, and his fortune is not small.” The smile she wore as she spoke was one that Evelyn cherished, for it was the smile of a mother who loved her child very dearly. “He would take such good care of you, and that is all that I want, you know, to know that my child will be happy and healthy and want for nothing – especially love.”

  “I know.” Evelyn had heard her mother and her father say such things many times over the years. She was fortunate to have parents who wished to see her well-matched but not at the expense of her happiness. Mr. Marsh was a good option for a husband. He was not handsome, and he could be a tiny bit dull. However, he was gentle and obliging, and she never found herself in the least bit uncomfortable with him. They seemed destined to be great friends if never anything more.

  “Mr. Edwards,” her mother shook her head and wore a sad expression, “he is a ship without a mast, my dear. Floating aimlessly from pleasure port to pleasure port. That is a dangerous journey and one that often ends in disaster for both the boat and its passengers.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  Mrs. Barrett reached across the carriage and patted her daughter’s knee. “He is handsome, I will give him that, and as of yet, he still holds a fortune. If Mr. Edwards were more like Mr. Marsh or even Mr. Linton or Mr. Crawford in his new iteration, I should not dissuade you from him. However, as it is, he is just not an acceptable choice, and I cannot condone even a friendship with him.”

  Evelyn nodded. “I was not considering him for anything more than the fact that the theatre might provide him with some entertainment.”

  “I am glad to hear it. You had me worried when you mentioned he might just be in want of improving. I know how you like to take on a good cause, but there is very little good about Mr. Edwards. I am relieved to know you still retain your senses.” She leaned back in her seat.

  Evelyn pulled the left corner of her lip between her teeth and chewed on it as she began to wonder if someone such as Mr. Edwards, who was reportedly so bad, could be improved to a standard that society would deem acceptable. It had happened with Mr. Crawford. She sighed and closed her eyes. She liked to help those in need, but Mr. Edwards? She peeked at her mother. That might be one project which would prove to be too challenging even for her.

  Chapter 3

  Charles breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the saloon on his way to the Linton’s box. It had been a challenge to squeeze past people without being noticed too much.

  “Edwards.” His long-time friend, Trefor Linton, drew up beside him. “You are not invisible no matter how you turn your collar or duck your head.” There was a hint of a laugh in his friend’s voice. “I have heard three young ladies tittering as you passed them.”

  “I imagine I look a fright to them.”

  “No,” said Constance, making her presence behind Charles known. “They seem to be in awe of your noble deed.”

  Charles stopped and turned. “Are you certain?”

  “It seems,” said Henry, “that you have become more popular, not less, due to your current bruised façade.”

  “Indeed?” Charles’s brows rose. Had he known that he would be so welcomed in society, he might never have hidden himself away. There might be ladies who wished to admire him at a closer distance. He would have to take a short stroll later to test his theory. He nodded to two young ladies who were just entering a box but had stopped to look in his direction. His lips curled into a smile as they ducked their heads and giggled. “I shall have to thank you, Linton. It seems you have done me a service by attempting to end my life for no reason.”

  “You were in an alcove with my sister. That is reason enough and a good one at that.”

  “But I was not there for any nefarious reason,” Charles protested. “And it was not my idea to be there.”

  “Must we speak of it?” Constance asked.

  Linton nodded to his sister and then, clapping Charles on the shoulder, said, “You do realize if you wish to have those young ladies colouring with pleasure just at the sight of you, you will have to continue behaving nobly. What good deeds do you intend to do? Shall we seek out some scheme and put an end to it?”

  Charles rolled his eyes. “I do not need to be noble to make young ladies blush.”

  “Which is why you have bruises.”

  If there was one thing one could always count on from Trefor Linton, it was honesty – brutal, say it like it is, honesty. It was as if the gentleman had no ability to shroud the truth in softness, at least, he did not when it came to Charles and Henry. For years, Trefor had been lecturing them in various ways about their behaviour. However, it was not possible for every gentleman to be as honourable and upright as Trefor Linton.

  Most young gents made a few errors along the way. He smirked. Of course, he and Henry had done more than stumble a few times. In fact, their errors were not errors at all but planned meanders into debauchery – as Linton tended to call all improper behaviour, no matter how improper it was. A stolen kiss, singing bawdy songs as one stumbled home, losing more than one could afford to on a bet in the books at White’s, or finding more pleasure than a kiss in some secluded corner were all debauchery to Linton.

  And yet, Charles would not be parted from such a friend for his life. Despite the lectures, Trefor Linton accepted Charles as he was. Indeed, he was one of the few people who had ever seen Charles as more than he was. There were not many who had ever attempted to push him to be more, to do more, to find his purpose and grasp it. It was comforting to know that someone had such faith in him, even if that faith was currently misplaced since Charles had no present wish to be more than he was. He was quite happy carousing for another year or two. When he was closer to thirty, then he could consider becoming more…he shuddered…responsible.

  “You could become honourable and have your pick of the ladies,” Linton continued.

  “I nearly do as it is,” Charles returned.

  Linton shook his head. “Not in a satisfying fashion. Look at Henry. He’s completely happy now that he has put his reprobate self behind him.”

  “And you?” Charles queried. “You have never been reprobate a day in your life. Are you happy?”

  “Not so happy as I am,” Henry inserted.

  “I dare say he is not so happy as I am either,” said Charles.

  “I am as happy as I wish to be,” Linton inserted.

  “But not so happy as I would wish for him to be.” Aunt Gwladys had entered the box behind her nephew and with her friend Mrs. Barrett. “However, one day soon, he might follow his sister’s example and get married.”

  Charles chuckled as Trefor rolled his eyes but said nothing.

  “One day,” Constance assured her aunt.

  Linton glared at his sister and shook
his head.

  Charles tucked himself into a chair near the column furthest from the stage. From here he could see everything he wished to see without having to be seen by too many.

  “I am pleased to see you this evening,” said Miss Barrett as she took a seat next to Constance and directly behind him.

  “I believe it was the very thing to help me enter society again,” he said with a small bow of his head. “I thank you for the service you have provided.”

  There was a clucking from somewhere behind them, and turning, Charles saw Mrs. Barrett scowling at him.

  “Since she has done you this good deed, Mr. Edwards, you might return the favour by never mentioning it. Ever.”

  How Miss Barrett was as sweet as she was with a mother who was as frightening as Mrs. Barrett could be was one of the unexplained wonders of the world. “Of course. No dark corners and no mention of your daughter’s assistance.”

  “I am happy to know you remember my words from our meeting at Linton’s.”

  One would think that a statement about being happy would soften a person’s expression and perhaps even cause her to smile, but not so with Mrs. Barrett. Her brow rose, and her stern expression did not shift at all. Charles supposed that it was such sternness that had imparted itself to Miss Barrett as demonstrated by the young lady’s reply to his plight on the street. At least, Evelyn, he smiled as he thought her name, had had the decency to smile while refusing to care for the shame his bruises had at that time made him feel. Now, he did not view them as so bad, but earlier he had.

  He tipped his head as he turned to face the stage. If he could engage the heart of the daughter, that would be one thing, but if he could at the same time earn the acceptance of the mother, that would be a feat worth something. He tapped his finger on the side of his leg as he pondered how much he might be able to win for such a thing if he were to place the wager on the books at White’s.

  “Whatever you are pondering, stop,” said Linton as he took the seat next to Charles.