Chapter 4 The Visit
Charlotte waited on horseback, nervously. She brought fer favorite horse, Zeus, a mighty plow-pulling beast with a big heart. She had breeches on under a voluminous outer skirt that concealed the fact that she was riding astride. It was her intention to appear lady-like but also ride Mr. Stringer back so they could sit close together. She blushed at her premeditated seduction.
In the local bookshop she had found a trove of novels that sparked her Romantic notions. She was reading Byron and Sand and Wollstonecraft. Her opinions on equality and sensuality were being formed and her discomfort with class politics and the treatment of women, considerable. Her mind slipped away.
The noise of hooves coming over the ridge put an end to her fantasy. She saw the broad back of Young Stringer sitting on the top of the coach reading a book.
"Mr. Stringer!" Charlotte slid off Zeus and was holding his reigns as she greeted her guest with a enthusiastic grin. Her hair was bound in a neat bun nestled at the nape of her neck but wisps had escaped and danced about her cheeks. She squinted from the blinding sun, as James dismounted and pulled off his bags.
"Miss Heywood! Well met." She caught the bashful flash of his dimple and noticed he looked different; bigger. She had seen boys from her village and even her second brother William, put on inches of height and some bulk over time. She had no idea how old Mr. Stringer was but imagined he was about 28 or 29. She would have to find a way to ask him.
He packed light. Charlotte took one of his bags and began tying it to the saddle.
"Here, Miss Heywood, allow me." James strong hands rose to join hers. He fixed the knot and once his bags were secured the pair strolled slowly through the fields to the farm, with a hungry and distracted horse in tow.
The air was crisp and smelled of manure. Not particularly unpleasant to James, just different from the salted sea air he was used to.
"Miss Heywood, do you not think we could address each other more familiar like? I don't fancy being called Mr. Stringer. My dad was Mr. Stringer. I am just James."
"Well, James." she smiled. "Only if you continue calling me Charlotte." She glanced up at him slyly and raised her eyebrows to see how he would react to her noticing he had addressed her as just Charlotte in the past. He reacted with faux surprise and a bashful blush.
"You caught me." he winked at her. Silence ensued. James coughed. "Will your parents want me to address you as Miss Heywood or Miss Charlotte?" he grasped for a topic.
"I imagine Miss Heywood...until they know you better, then Miss Charlotte. I will refer to you as Mr. James while you are here, if that suits you."
He tried not to look at her. "It does."
She noted James freshly shaved cheek and his familiar brown duster. He looked tired.
They walked past the neighbors land and through their pasture. Charlotte remembered a time when they were able to walk in solitude, comfortably along the beach but today if felt awkward.
"James?" When she spoke his name it lilted like a song.
"Yes, Charlotte?" They giggled. It felt good to acknowledge their intimacy.
"Do you mind if I ask you a rather personal question? You don't have to give me the answer if you are offended."
"Now, that's an intriguing opening. I'm sure I won't be offended, Miss."
"How old are you? If you tell me, I'll tell you."
"Excellent question. How old do you think I am?" He gave her a devilish grin.
"Hmmmm. Stop and let me look at you." He stopped and she faced him. Then she circled him slowly checking out every inch of his strapping body.
Her inspection was arousing so he shifted his weight to distract himself.
He had grown. He seemed taller. Definitely broader. Tighter or maybe just his clothes were tighter because he had grown?"
"28?" She asked shyly.
"I'm 24." He confessed.
"And you, Charlotte? Let me look at ya." She played along as he circled around her noticing her curves and the strength of her stance. "18?"
"I am turning 20 tomorrow."
"No wonder everyone was so interested in your opinion about marriage. You are an old maid!"
It was her turn to display mock shock and she playfully pushed him and ran away, accidentally dropping Zeus' reins. James chased her through the field bounding through the recently cut swaths until Charlotte tripped on her skirts and lost her balance. James' caught her as they fell and instinctively cradled the back of her head so she wouldn't hit it on the ground. She clung tightly around his neck, laughing.
He lowered his head and whispered huskily into her ear, nudging it with his nose. "Dunna tell your folks about that or they will force you to marry me." Their eyes locked, each wondering what the other was thinking. They blushed. His eyes quickly surveyed the scene in search of watchers and then rose quickly to brush himself off in preparation to meet her parents and settle himself down.
She looked up at him with dark eyes seeing him for the first time. Everything about James had improved. She reached up her arms in an effort to invite him back but instead of joining her in the grass, he pulled her up. She held onto his upper arm for stability and leaned into him. He placed his hands dangerously on her waist. The look in her eye said, kiss me as she lifted her chin and closed her eyes. James anxiously released her, coughed and said in a loud voice. "Now, let's look for that horse!" as jogged off to the edge of the field.
As she looked for Zeus she thought over the idea of what a life with James would be like. He wasn't wealthy but he was on his way up the ladder with talent and ambition and she admired him greatly. She felt his strength and character. He was a paragon of purity with a good sense of humor, a kind disposition and strong protective arms. He stood up for his men and fought for what was right. But he was also able to forgive and persist.
The difference between their classes was of some significance. Could she picture herself living with him in the tiny apartment Tom Parker allowed him to use? No. His station was below her own. Her parents would like him but if he should ever apply for her hand, she knew they would refuse.
What was it about her condition in life that made her so grand a lady anyway, she scolded her thoughts. Her father had a robust and productive farm which had been inherited from his uncle when it was a larger estate. Mr. Heywood was the only heir of a family line that had been badly damaged by influenza a generation ago.
The large brick house was built by Charlottes Great, Great Grandfather Asa Heywood. It was enlarged in 1801 with a fieldstone addition, circular drive and two story carriage house. Maybe they might have been wealthier had her parents not brought so many mouths into the family to feed. Eleven siblings was more than most large families and she was the eldest, unmarried girl. She often felt like a disappointment to her mother. They depended on her making a good match and she doubted James Stringer was up to their expectation.
Her mind strayed to Sidney Parker. He would have been accepted into the family as an acceptable suitor even if he did have a bad reputation as a London carouser.
She doubted James had ever visited a brothel. When the madame of the "boarding house" in London had asked if she were going to make an honest man out of "their Mr. Parker" she nearly threw up. The idea that he had entered one of those horrid women intimately made her shudder in disgust. She knew so little of London life but it was obvious that Sidney had appetites to satisfy and anyone would do for him for a night.
Zeus had found a wheat field that had not been harvested yet and proceeded to enjoy himself without regret. James rushed to secure the dapple gray stallion who merely shnuffed at him and shook his mighty mane in annoyance. Charlotte struggled to walk through the wheat with her long skirt so she stopped, undid it and stepped through.
James saw what she was about to do and turned his back in shock. "Miss Charlotte Heywood! What are you doing?" She could hear his breath hitch.
"You can turn around. There is nothing of import to see." She laughed as she threw her skirt atop the saddle and pulled the horse back to path.
"Charlotte! Are you wearing breeches? and tall boots?"
"Yes, Sir, I am. I have been taking on a lot of the farming lately and I feel more comfortable riding and working in my brothers pants. I hope it is not too scandalous."
James's eyes flashed and his breath quickened. Her brother's breeches were just a wee too tight for her curvier figure. They hugged her hips and bottom and left little to the imagination. As they walked side by side he would glance at her legs surreptitiously. Charlotte could tell he was getting agitated.
"Is everything all right, James?"
"Charlotte, when you dress like that. It...it.."
"What is it? You can tell me."
"It makes me want to be...less than a gentleman." He shot her a sheepish side glance with bright red cheeks. .
"That sounds serious." She said with a giggle.
She stopped. "Do you not think I would play cricket better if I could wear breeches? Do you not think I would be a better wrangler and rider? Mr. Strin...James." she approached him slowly and began to twist his neckerchief and straighten his collar as she spoke. "I do not wear breeches to embarrass... or entice you." she licked her lips unconsciously but James heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it. "I wear them to work the farm. Can you curb your ungentlemanly thoughts?"
"I can." He lifted his chin to accept the challenge.
They swung up on the draft horse and rode back the rest of the way. James first and Charlotte with the pleasure of holding on to Mr. Stringers well muscled back. She was feeling a heaviness in her belly that tightened when we would turn his head to keep the conversation going. A sweaty curl at the nape of his neck enthralled her. She surreptitiously sniffed his leather duster and detected the scent of the sea.
She scooted closer to him so her inner thighs touched his hips and she put her head on his shoulder to quietly breath the warm directions into his ear. She heard a low growl from somewhere deep in his throat and saw his eyes close. He had never felt so woosy with a woman as he did with Charlotte Heywood.