CHAPTER ONE
Kennet End, Newmarket, October 1817
Miss Verity Bowman, undoubtedly by design, was looking particularly fetching, framed in the window seat of the dower house wearing a demure black mourning gown. Only the cut of the material and the subtle sheen of the satin and perhaps the double row of tiny black buttons gave away the fact that it had come from one of the more exclusive establishments on Bond Street.
Charles Congreve, invited to sit down and be comfortable, appreciated the picture she presented, fully understood why her uncle had made her his heir, and desired nothing more than to strangle the pair of them. Sadly, there was little to be gained in strangling a man who had departed this earth just ten days since. In addition, the legal brotherhood tended to look askance at those of their members who took to throttling clients. Which, he was very much afraid, Verity was about to become.
Unaware of his less than affable thoughts, Verity smiled warmly as he took a seat. “Charles, how lovely, such an age since we have seen you. Mama and I are so glad it is you dealing with this sad business, though I do hope nothing very dreadful has happened to poor Mr Tweedie?”
Verity had happened to poor Mr Tweedie. Charles’s senior partner had taken one appalled look at the codicil appended to Admiral Harrington’s will (a document that had been perfectly sound in wind and limb when it had left his own chambers), made an astringent remark about amateur notaries in Newmarket who didn’t have the wit to know better, and announced himself to be at a delicate stage with several cases, too much so to travel into Suffolk to undertake the process of winding up the late admiral’s affairs. Not that there would be any, he’d added as an aside, the admiral being a very clean-living gentleman. Just the small weakness when it came to the turf. He was confident Charles would manage.
“Thank you,” Charles had replied, feeling anything but grateful. “You have recollected Miss Bowman is my mother’s goddaughter and a particular friend of my sister?”
Mr Tweedie had looked at him over the rim of his spectacles. “Naturally, I have remembered. A family attorney never forgets anything. Nor, as I am sure I do not need to remind you, does he allow personal considerations to influence his judgement. I repeat, I repose complete confidence in whatever decisions you might find yourself making. You had best leave directly after the funeral.”
So now Charles murmured his partner’s excuses about having a great deal of urgent work, was pressed to take tea and macaroons by mother and daughter, and his portmanteau was carried up to a guest bedroom just as if he was an invited visitor and not a common attorney. And all he could think of was how far Verity’s intelligent blue eyes were going to widen when he broke the terms of Admiral Harrington’s will to her. And then how far they would narrow. And how he had rarely, if ever, managed to get the upper hand of her in all their dealings together.
Ah well, there was nothing to be gained in shuffling around the matter. The sooner the business was concluded, the sooner he could be on his way. Charles cleared his throat and addressed Verity’s mother. “You will be glad to hear, Mrs Bowman, that we laid your brother to rest in sufficient style for his calling and with a large number of mourners in the funeral party, all of them decently and respectfully arrayed.”
“Thank you,” said Anne Bowman in a low voice. Like her daughter, she was wearing black. “It seems dreadfully wrong, losing James this suddenly, and doubly cruel, coming just as we were able to offer him a settled home whenever his interests brought him to Newmarket. Such a vital man, always.”
Vital was one word for it. Energetic, opinionated and meddlesome were others. A complete contrast to his sister, although Mrs Bowman did seem less crushed and faded than Charles remembered her from previous years.
He gave a professionally encouraging smile. “The admiral impressed me as a very industrious man. He must have been a fine officer to serve under. Many crew members from his past ships were at the funeral and they all said as much. He had, of necessity, a roving life until very recently, but he was fully sensible of your kindness in extending the invitation to reside here whenever his affairs permitted it. He has directed us to purchase a lifetime annuity for you, in order to increase the comfort your coming years. It will effectively double your income.”
Verity clasped her mother’s hand and turned a glowing face to Charles that momentarily robbed him of speech. “Oh, that is good news! How very thoughtful of my uncle. And it will be forever, Mama. The income will not be dependent on your remaining single, as Papa’s niggardly jointure is.”
Charles sipped his tea, arranging his phrasing. “As I understand it, the admiral was particularly concerned to make reparation for what he considered to be a lack of flexibility in the late Mr Bowman’s dispositions.”
Verity lifted her chin. “You mean Uncle James disapproved of the unfair way Papa left everything to John, cut Kitty and me out completely apart from my settlement that he could do nothing about, and allowed Mama a pittance and the right to reside in this dreary house, only if she remained a widow?”
As these had been almost word-for-word the admiral’s sentiments, Charles had to temper his reply. “Miss Bowman, you know it would be most improper for me to be drawn on such a topic.”
“I keep forgetting,” she said unrepentantly. “Poor Charles. Life must be very trying if you have to be discreet all the time.”
“As your uncle’s executor,” he said, hanging on to formality by a hair’s breadth, “I can tell you that to mitigate your own particular situation, he has left the remainder of his estate to you.” And blast the chit. Now he’d blurted it out without any preparation of what was to follow. He took refuge in the contents of his plate.
Verity’s eyes widened just as he’d prophesied. “Uncle James has left his money to me? To me, Charles?”
“After the annuity for your mother has been taken out, yes. He considered the senior branch of the Harrington family to have sufficient for their purposes.”
“Goodness, I don’t imagine that pleased them.”
Charles’s precarious gravity wavered. “I have attended more harmonious readings of the will.”
The late Admiral Harrington’s parents and older brother hadn’t quite seen the loss of his considerable prize money in the same light as he had. There had been remarkably high words spoken at the funeral. Charles needed another moment to recover his equilibrium, remembering the uncharacteristic grave delight with which his senior partner had read out the terms of the will. There was no love lost there, despite Tweedie & Tweedie having been the family’s legal advisers from time immemorial. “You are his niece,” he said.
“I am. And it is true that the merest mention of Grandmother Harrington and my eldest uncle were enough to drive Uncle James to the brandy decanter. I am simply so used to everything going to John, I forget he and Kitty are only Mama’s step-children and thus not related to the Harringtons at all. This is wonderful, Charles. May I be practical? How much will it bring in per annum?”
When had Verity acquired a smattering of Latin? He must ask Julia. “We will not know the exact figure until your uncle’s outstanding accounts are settled. I shall begin work on those as soon as I return to town. However, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not inform you that there are... conditions on your bequest.”
“Conditions?”
Under that bright scrutiny, Charles shifted in his seat. He glanced at his plate but the macaroons had been eaten and the tea drunk. He had neglected to take small bites, as Mr Tweedie always advised, should prevarication be required during an awkward conversation. Rather basely, he put this oversight down to Verity’s account too.
He cleared his throat. “Whilst deploring your situation in general, Admiral Harrington was concerned that a sudden acquisition of wealth might cause you to give yourself completely to frivolity. According to a frankly amateurish codicil that I assure you neither Mr Tweedie nor I knew anything about, he had seen some evidence for this belief on a visit he made here during the summer. To counteract any such tendency, you must prove you have spent six months in a wholly rational manner before anything more than pin money can be released to you.”
Verity gave a peal of laughter. “I am to read my Bible for half-an-hour every morning before breakfast, is that it?”
Despite himself, Charles smiled. “Would your uncle consider that rational?”
“He would not. He nearly came to blows with Reverend Milsom on his last visit because the silly man had chosen The Storm At Sea as his text for the sermon and tied in a great many unlikely occurrences, finishing off with the pouring of oil on troubled water, all of which my uncle as a naval man took exception to. What the vicar was really after was to tell John and Farmer Quigley they shouldn’t quarrel over the fishpond, but it was all for nothing as John was unwell so did not attend church. Even if he had, he would have had no idea that the sermon was in any way directed at him.”
“Miss Bowman, you are incorrigible.”
She flashed a smile at him. “Dearest Charles, do please stop calling me Miss Bowman. I keep thinking you have taken me in dislike.”
“I am here as your uncle’s man of business, Verity. I am soon to be your own. A little formality is in order.”
“Nonsense. One cannot be formal with a person one has known since the cradle. Tell me what I must do. How absurd of Uncle James to make such a condition. It must have been when here was here for the July meeting, do you not think, Mama? But if he will arrive when we are doing our best to make the most of the grimmest summer weather I can remember, what does he expect? We so rarely go out for our own amusement otherwise.”
“I believe he wished to ensure that you are not as empty-headed as you occasionally pretend,” said Charles drily.
Verity sighed. “It is the sad lot of women to be misunderstood by their menfolk. I have often remarked it.”
“Is that so? And yet you did nothing to countermand your uncle’s impression of your character?”
“If I had known that was what he wanted, I would have done,” said Verity, looking vexed. “But how was I to discover it? Your own excellent family may encourage conversation, Charles, but Papa preferred docility in his womenfolk. He did not approve of Mama and me discussing events taking place in the wider world. We were supposed to sit in silent admiration of his every word and take our opinions from him. One would think we had never learnt to read and were not competent to peruse a newspaper on our own.”
Charles winced. She had painted an accurate picture of many of the families who gave Mr Tweedie their patronage. He deplored the attitude but had never sought to change it for fear of losing their business. Now he comprehended how irksome such a practice must be for anyone dependent on the head of the household’s good humour. Perhaps he should not be so circumspect in the future.
Verity continued. “You forget how comparatively little we have seen of Uncle James. It is only these last six months that he has been able to stay with us. He liked to talk of his travels, and of matters in town and around the rest of the world. Mama was so happy to have him here, after years of his not visiting due to not getting on with Papa, that I did not want to upset his mood by saying anything out of place. I should have followed my instincts. That is a sad reflection on modern manners, is it not? Let me refill your cup, Charles. Would you like a piece of this plum cake? It is very good. John and Selina have imported a French chef on purpose to be the sensation of the neighbourhood, so Mama and I had no difficulty in enticing Cook across the park to look after us here. Very fortunately, it was before Selina discovered M’sieur Gaston has trouble with the plain, everyday fare John prefers.”
Charles could not repress a chuckle. “You are a wicked young woman, Verity. I pity your eventual husband.”
“Envy him, you mean,” said Verity, supremely confident. “I shall arrange our domestic affairs so he will think it pure chance that he is so comfortable, rather than the result of the extreme manipulation a woman always has to do to ensure the smooth running of a household. If I marry at all, that is.” She put her head on one side. “Have we finished the examination yet? Do you believe me to be intelligent and not a flibbertigibbet?”
“Verity, dear,” protested Mrs Bowman.
“I always did,” said Charles. “But it is not what I believe that is important. The difficulty lies in proving you have spent six months in a rational manner. The senior Harrington branch will undoubtedly mount a challenge else.”
“I see. To whom am I to prove it?”
Charles felt himself colouring. “To me. As I am your uncle’s executor, you inherit me along with his fortune.”
Verity’s face melted into a wry, amused smile. “And you are far too honourable to hand it over with anything less than a commendation that would stand up in fifteen courts of law right up to a scrutiny by the Lord Chancellor himself. My poor Charles, how very shabby of Uncle James.”
Up until now, this had also been Charles’s feeling on the subject, but the tea and cake had mellowed him. “Not at all. I daresay it will not be so very onerous. I shall give the matter some thought. Mrs Bowman, will you excuse me? I have sat here long enough in all my dirt and should like to wash off the dust of the journey. Also, I must pen a note to my friend Prettyman at Fordham, apprising him of my intention to call tomorrow. There is a matter of an expiring lease to settle that Mr Tweedie has asked me to oversee while I am in the neighbourhood.”
“Oh, may I come with you?” said Verity at once. “We can use Mama’s carriage. I have not seen Jenny this fortnight at least.” She tapped his hand playfully. “And while we are there, I shall enquire in a most serious manner about the progress of their repairs to the Prior’s Ground. Is that rational enough for you?”
Charles hesitated. He had not foreseen this. “It is, and I can hardly bar you from making a call in your own equipage, but I will be discussing business, Verity.”
She smiled sunnily. “And Jenny and I shall be playing with the children while we search for meat in all the local gossip. I perfectly understand. You need not fear you will be expected to dance attendance on me.”
And there was the reward for his labours gone, reflected Charles glumly as he followed a footman up the stairs for his delayed wash. The worst of it was, he did not quite see how Verity had done it. He had intended a night’s stop here only, to acquaint Verity and her mother with the terms of Admiral Harrington’s will. That should have been ample time to advance them a sum if it was needed, get the papers signed and witnessed, come to an agreement on what constituted rational behaviour, not be drawn into any of Verity’s more far-fetched schemes, and then he would be away to Rooke Hall for a couple of days of relaxation with Adam Prettyman.
Prettyman was a comparatively new acquaintance, but the two men had straightaway recognised in each other a kindred spirit. Both were younger sons who had chosen to work for a living outside their natural milieu rather than grub on the family estate for little more than board and lodging. Both were active men, preferring a life of busyness to wasting hours in idle pursuits. True, Adam had solved his early restlessness in a rather extreme manner by becoming the actor-manager of a company of players, whereas Charles had settled for studying the law, with side excursions into protecting people’s rights in person where the law seemed inadequate, but essentially they were alike. They shared the difficulty of having feet in two worlds, of matching their persona to the current situation. With Adam’s retirement from the stage, Charles had aided his friend’s re-integration into society by introducing him to the fencing and boxing saloons he favoured in town. In return, Adam was one of the few people in whose presence Charles didn’t have to think about who he was, attorney or gentleman. Verity had been more correct than she knew when she’d made that light-hearted comment about the nature of his work being trying for him. Charles was as thick-skinned as any other man who’d spent his formative years at Eton, but at times the distinction between his two lives was damnable. He had been looking forward to two or three days at Rooke Hall where he could simply be himself.
Now he was committed to a morning visit only and back here to sleep a second night. It was, he told himself, the last time he would underestimate Verity Bowman. She might be the very picture of an empty-headed ninny when she chose but as she had reminded him earlier, he had known her since the cradle. Behind that amiable facade, Verity was as nimble-witted as a whole shipful of monkeys. He would do well to remember it. Starting, he rather thought, with dinner this evening.