An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 17.2. Anxieties And Foolish Hopes

   The day of the picnic dawned fair but not overly warm. Charlotte dressed in a cloud-blue woolen walking dress with a fringed paisley shawl and soft leather half boots. Beneath her beribboned straw bonnet, her eyes were reflective. Both her anxieties and foolish hopes had been awakened when she'd realized that the picnic would be held not far from the abandoned mill house where Benedic went when he was desperate to escape his confinement. Of course, he would not make a public appearance at a picnic. She had little chance of seeing him today.

   Even so, she hoped for a sign of as she and her family rode through the oaks and beeches that formed a leafy canopy of branches overhead. The hedges burst with clusters of wild white roses. At last the parish church and thatched cottages fell behind, and the pleasant sounds of birdsong competed with the clatter of carriage wheels and conversation. For the first time Charlotte realized that she was missing London less and less, that her own unruly nature had begun to take root in this unlikely setting.

   "Charlotte," her aunt called back meaningfully as they rode over a sturdy footbridge toward the millhouse, "keep an eye out, won't you?"

   She turned her head. "An—"

   Her aunt gave her a dark smile. An eye out for a certain irksome ghost was obviously what she meant. As if Charlotte were not already obsessed with searching for the smallest sign that Benedic was still alive. Hadn't he mentioned that there were tunnels, honeycombs of underground passages in this area, hidden vaults where smugglers had stashed their loot?

   A jolt of excitement chased up her spine. Was it possible that he was lurking in the depths of the very earth beneath her? What a thought, to imagine herself riding right over his hiding place. It was intriguing to picture him in some underground labyrinth plotting to bring his enemy to justice. Charlotte and the entire Brumidge family's enemy, if it was true that Sir Edward had been involved in Bernard's death. The idea conjured up images of Benedic in dark and strangely seductive terms. Of Hades and Persephone, and their underworld love affair. How frightening to think that the Britain from subterranean burrows. She was suddenly glad of the sacrifices her brothers had made to protect the country from invasion.

   Yet on such a mild day, with the peaceful setting disturbed only by frivolous chatter and the distant tatting of a spotted woodpecker, Charlotte could almost convince herself that none of it was real. Her personal dilemma might have been something she'd dreamed. Could any man be so wholly evil as Sir Edward? Could a man betray his country, commit murder, and calmly go on with his life? She knew the answer in her heart.

   Evil occured every day, but she was young, and her instincts ran to thoughts of life not to death or sadness. She had lost both her parents and her brother. She did not want to dwell on such unsettling things during a picnic.

   The picnic goers, who included most of Chistlebury's gentry, completed in a boisterous one-legged race and an ugly-face contest. Despite her worries, Charlotte managed to enjoy herself, and to her surprise she even began to relax as she, James, and a circle of young people drank spiced ale in silver cups and toasted one another with outrageous compliments.

   And then she noticed Uncle Humprey look up with a sharp frown as a distinguished-looking horseman crossed the footbridge to the grassy clearing behind the mill pond. Sir Edward had arrived with a manservant who retreated into the background with the horses.

   The tall and darkly elegant Edward looked enough like Benedic from a distance that Charlotte's heart twisted in wistful longing. Older, more restrained, such an unpleasant reminder of pain and loss that she felt as though a cold shadow were moving over her.

   "Have I missed the fun?" he called out. Without waiting for a reply, he strode to the trestle table where she sat with Paulina, another young woman, James, his brother Colton, and James's elderly aunt.

   "We're just going off on a treasure hunt for Miss Rodkin's glove," James said with a friendly smile. "Would you like to join us?"

   Sir Edward laughed, his black brows lifting. "Compared to the rascals I have chased down in my career, it is indeed tempting to enjoy such a frivolous pursuit. What does this missing glove look like?"

   "It's butter-yellow leather with tiny pearl buttons," Paulina answered.

   Sir Edward glanced down at Charlotte, his smoky eyes uncertain. "Is there a prize for finding this lost treasure?"

   Colton held up his hand. "A bottle of my aunt's famous blackberry wine."

   "And Miss Rodkin's eternal appreciation," James added with a grin, motioning to the laughing young lady at the table behind them.

   There was an hour time-limit set on the hunt, and the afternoon had turned cool as the sun lowered behind the trees. Charlotte and James had partnered off, but separated when he had an impulse to go off to the pond's edge and search among the reeds and cattails for the treasure.

   "I'm not ruining my shoes and stockings for Gretel's glove," Charlotte called after him with a slight shiver. Her shawl was too thin for the damp chill.

   "We could drink the blackberry wine together, Charlotte," he said, a simple showing in his cheek.

   "Not if you drown, James."

   "I'm not going to drown."

   Charlotte frowned. She had no intention of venturing into either the cold murky water or the overgrown woods to hunt for a silly glove. Somewhere in the stand of long sessile oaks she heard Paulina giggle, and the carefree joy of the sound brought a smile to her face. At least one of them was still enjoying the afternoon, and Charlotte might have, too, if there hadn't been such a cloud of dark worry hanging over her head. She missed Benedic, could not be completely at ease without knowing where he was or what he was doing.

   She watched James wading between the straggly reeds for a few minutes before she turned, her patience at it's limit.

   The mill tower stood behind her, abandoned and compelling.

   "The perfect place to hide a treasure," she thought aloud.