Charlotte is charmed

Randy took a moment to tidy up before he stepped out onto the sand. He brushed the leaves and twigs from his thick mane of golden hair and tied it back neatly with a red ribbon. His shirt was made of fine linen with silver grommets for lacing and delicate embroidery on the sleeves. He bought it with the silver from his bonus when his ship docked at Portsmouth several months ago so he could impress his family with his success. It showed signs of wear, but thankfully had no holes or stains. His neckcloth though was a different matter, he knew the white material was badly stained from where the sweat from his neck collected and the edge of the garment was fraying from constant wear. He took the garment from his neck and folded it carefully hiding the stained edge before retying the cloth neatly around his neck and tucking the threadbare ends into his embroidered shirt.

The heavy leather belt with his cutlass and flintlock was removed and set carefully aside, and he tucked his shirt neatly into the waistband of his tailored trousers. The wool pants were also bought from Portsmouth's fine tailors and made of the finest quality cloth reflecting the money he had so carelessly spent. Standing silently he looked himself over critically.

His trousers were ripped and frayed near the hem from hard use and although his boots were recently polished, the soles were badly worn. He hadn't shaved this morning so a light stubble covered his chin but his hair was light coloured and he hoped the stubble would not look disreputable. Overall he decided, he looked more like a gentleman than a farmer, and certainly not a **** criminal.

Over the two years he spent on the whaler he learnt that the difference between officers and crew was more attitude than clothing. He had rapidly earned the respect of the first mate and by the time he returned to port he was an acting third officer. Randy was used to being obeyed instantly by the men under his command. It was this attitude that differentiated England’s elite from the working masses and he was sure that he could be at least as much of a gentleman as the fools he saw on the hunt earlier in the day.

Reaching into his satchel once more he took out a final touch. A small book of poems found among Mary’s things, he kept it with him hoping to find the gentleman to whom it belonged. No doubt he thought the mysterious ‘Jack’ who had so mislead his sister. But now the book would serve as the final piece of his disguise, none but the wealthy elite had time to mope around reading poetry.

One final look assured him that Charlotte was still standing uncertainly by the brook's edge before he stepped into view and gave a startled exclamation. Charlotte spun around with the grace of a dancer when she heard him, and he spoke immediately to reduce her fear.

“I’m so sorry my lady, I had not realized my reading spot was occupied.” Waving his book vaguely at the sand near her blue boots. “Allow me to retreat and leave you in peace.” Randy stepped back towards the road that led to the village.

“Wait” Charlotte commanded, and then realizing her tone had been too sharp she started again this time with a charming smile “I mean, please wait. Can you help me?” The man looked vaguely familiar, but Charlotte could not remember his name. She thought she would have because he was much better looking than most of the gentlemen who called on her father. The men were invited using the flimsiest of excuses to visit the Marlton estates and see his marriageable daughter. This stranger was over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and clear blue eyes surely his name would come to her.

“My silly horse has wandered into the brook.” She explained wishing she didn’t sound quite so much like a damsel in distress. Why couldn’t she have met this man while riding, or at a dance or even one of her father’s terribly dull dinners instead of standing stranded in her stoking feet asking demurely for his help.

“Yes, I see.” He answered her with a brilliant smile that made her knees buckle slightly. He stood at the edge of the sandy bank watching her with a boldness that made her blush. Was he really that obtuse? Charlotte was used to gentlemen who were annoying in their desire to serve her and yet this man seemed more interested in wandering away with his book than offering to do even a simple task like bringing her horse back to her.

“Could you get him for me?” She asked a little impatiently and when he raised his eyebrow expectantly she quickly added “Please? I would be in your debt.” He smiled again and stepped towards her closing the space between them with just a few steps.

“Since you put it that way, I would be happy to help.” Standing this close to her made him seem even larger than she first thought, she wished she could remember his name or who his family was. “Hold this for me.” He told her as he handed her his book. Charlotte took it without hesitation, a little surprised because she could not remember that last time she had been asked to hold anything, perhaps he did not realize who she was.

The tall gentleman did not even bother to remove his boots, but simply stepped into the water and walked calmly to her horse who actually turned and met him halfway across the brook. Charlotte found herself admiring the way his trousers hugged his buttocks as he strode confidently into the brook and looked down in embarrassment at the book in her hands. Shakespeare’s Sonnets – the book fell open in her hands and she saw that the book had been read many times, unlike most of the expensive volumes in her father’s library that had never once been opened.

Who was this strange gentleman? He was everything that the suitors who called on her were not and yet he seemed barely interested in her. Thinking back over the strange encounter she realised he had stepped forward to help her only after she told him she would be in his debt, perhaps he hoped for some reward.