Charity Begins at Home

By Anne Gallagher

Lady Charity Curtiss had endured the taunts and ribbings from her family for years about the amiable and steady Mr. Timothy Cartwright, heir to the Earl of Montlake. However, he was not the man she wanted to marry.

One night at a ball, Charity found a dashing young duke who seemed interested in the game of cat-and-mouse she wanted to play. Unfortunately, the duke showed his claws, Charity was humiliated, but before she could escape, who should come to her rescue but the indefatigable Mr. Timothy Cartwright. All would have been well if his aunt had not caught them together and fainted.

Forced to marry the dreadful creature, Charity finds much to her surprise that Timothy Cartwright wants nothing to do with her. Whether by design or request, his employment takes him away from home more often than he stays. Charity is shunned within Society and without, as her scandalous marriage is all anyone still talks about.

Three months after the wedding, Timothy is sent on a mission to Spain. Trying to help a friend, Charity does the one thing he asked her not to do while he was away—cause another scandal.
Upon his return, Charity discovers the truth about her husband and the deal he made with her uncle and the marriage contract. Now she understood why he wanted nothing to do with her. Mr. Timothy Cartwright might not want another scandal, but Charity would give him one. She wanted a divorce.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Gallagher
• Release date: Jan 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005757465

Anne Gallagher

Anne Gallagher was a professional chef for more than twenty years. Now, she writes Regency Romance with heroines who are not afraid to speak their minds. Her heroes, on the other hand, do not realize when they've met their match. Sparks fly, sexual tension sizzles, but never spills out of the pan, so-to-speak. Anne believes you don't have to end up in the bedroom to have a good book.Currently, Anne lives in the Foothills of the Piedmont in North Carolina with her daughter, three dogs and a cat named Henry David Thoreau.

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CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME

Anne Gallagher

Shore Road Publishing

Bethania, NC 27010

U.S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2021 © Shore Road Publishing

All rights reserved

The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole in part, in any form by any print, electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any copyrighted materials in any form. To do so is a violation of the author’s rights.

Cover Design by Straw Hill Designs © 2016

Cover Portrait Anna Dolfus, Baronness de Bourgoing,

by Franz Xavier Winterhalter 1855

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Patience and Perseverance

Where to Find Anne

Charity Begins at Home

Prologue

March 1803

Stonebridge, England

Why must we go? Ten-year-old Lady Charity Curtiss sat on the old stump outside their home. Why can we not stay? I promise to be good.

Her eldest sister Faith said, Dearest, it does not matter if you are good. We must depart. Our cousin does not wish us to be here when he arrives.

I do not want to go to London, Charity said, and pouted, as if that would make her sister magically change her mind. Sometimes it worked. However, this time, it only made Faith sadder.

I do not wish to go to London either, but we have no choice, Faith said. Cousin Mercy has declared we have a home with her. Now, please, do be a good girl. Faith clucked like Mrs. Dougherty from the farm down the lane. Charity wondered if that was what happened to women when they got old—they clucked.

When are we leaving? Charity asked.

Any moment. We are waiting for Mr. Samuelson and his carriage to take us to London. Please stop swinging your feet. Faith sighed. You are bound to get dirty and we cannot have you such when we arrive at Dunbury Manor.

Why can I not be dirty when I arrive? Charity asked.

Faith flung her hands in the air. We are penniless orphans with no home. We do not have the luxury of being ourselves. We must be faultless if we are to survive in Society. Do you not understand?

Charity shook her head. No, I do not. We have a perfectly good home right here. Why can we not sell it and give the money to Perry so we can live here?

First, if we sold the house, then we could not live here. Second, it is not our house to sell, but Perry’s. Houses go from father to son, or in this case, to the heir, not to the daughter. And third, I have no wish to marry Perry in order to keep it. You would not wish me to marry Perry, would you?

Charity wrinkled her nose. No. I do not like him. He stinks like Bobby.

Faith smiled. Bobby was the shepherd’s dog. Well, I dare say, Perry does smell, but I believe it is perfume, rather than pond water.

Charity pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose again. Still, he stinks and I would not like you to marry him. She paused. Very well. I will go to London.

Thank you, Charity, Faith said, with a smile. Now, can I trust you to remain out here and not get in to trouble? I must help Hope and Mrs. Partridge with the trunks. If Mr. Samuelson comes, you will fetch me, yes?

Yes, Charity said. Charity loved her older sister and would do anything for her. Especially now since Mamma was never coming back. Charity did not like to think about that, and so looked around from her perch on the stump and found a crow to watch soaring high above the trees, until the clop of horses’ hooves up the drive drew her attention.

Charity bounded from the stump, ran to the front door, and flung it open. Mr. Samuelson is here!

Upon their arrival to Dunbury Manor, Charity decided to explore the house while her sisters had tea with Cousin Mercy and Mrs. Partridge in the kitchen. It was a large house, divided into two parts by the grand staircase off the foyer. The family room to the left of the front door, the formal parlour for guests to the right of the front door. The dining room on the right, the library to the left, and another smaller room that her Uncle Harold had used for his study. She found a secret door that led to the second floor in front of a window that overlooked the long drive to the barns.

Charity had no shame in peeking into rooms that were not her own, considering they were to live there now, and explored the entire second floor, found another servants’ staircase and followed that downstairs. In the hall, she had no idea where to find the kitchen, and her sisters—the frolic of the adventure had lost its charm as the hallways became darker.

An old man suddenly appeared in the hall.

Chills ran up her spine. Charity screamed and ran in the opposite direction, calling for Faith and Hope.

Here we are, Faith said. She appeared at the end of the hall past the dining room. Charity, what are you screaming about? We could hear you all the way in the kitchen.

Charity propelled herself into Faith’s arms. There’s a man. Back there.

Yes, Faith said. And if you had stayed with us in the kitchen, you would know that is Mr. Gray, Grandfather Wade’s butler. He is very old now and does not remember things, as he should. You must be very kind to him when you see him. Sometimes he may be lost. Do you understand? Faith took Charity by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. You must not ever play tricks on Mr. Gray, Charity. Do you understand?

Yes, I understand, Charity said. Shall I go and fetch him? He was in the hall, just there. Charity pointed up the hall.

Mercy said, walking up behind them. No, I will. Please go into the kitchen with Faith, Charity. I must see to Mr. Gray. Mercy wore a worried expression.

Faith led Charity down the hall to a door, and when she opened it, led her to the kitchen. Hope and Mrs. Partridge sat at the large wooden table. A girl with brown hair stood in the corner.

Hope held out her hand. Come and sit down, Charity. You mustn’t get into mischief. Hope tugged Charity onto the bench and pulled her close. Now, have a cup of tea and be a good girl.

Hope poured out, and as she pushed the cup and saucer closer, Charity reached for the cream. Pulling back, she accidentally smacked the pitcher into the cup and the cup broke. Tea spilled everywhere, Charity fumbled to put the creamer down, and when she did, it spilled everywhere else.

Mrs. Partridge jumped up before the liquid found her lap. The girl in the corner ran over with flannel toweling. At that moment, Mercy arrived with the elderly gentleman from the hall.

What is it? What has happened? Mercy ran over to help.

It was my fault, Charity said. I am too clumsy by half. She was only trying to do what her sister asked and have a cup of tea, and she couldn’t even do that right.

It was an accident, Hope said, in her defense.

Yes, of course, Mercy said. She smiled as she picked up the broken pieces of cup. I am so glad you are here. I did not realize how lonely I was until this very moment.

Faith said, And we are ever so grateful that you have taken us in. Are we not, sisters?

Yes. Indeed, Hope said.

Faith and Hope looked at Charity.

Yes, of course, Charity said. Ever so grateful. She wanted to go home, only she didn’t have a home anymore.

Lying in her new bed that night, Charity made a vow that she would never feel that way, ever again. Everything in her life had turned upside down and there was no way to turn it back. She and her sisters were homeless, but for the grace of God and their cousin Mercy. Charity didn’t know what would happen to her family, but wherever life took them, she would never feel so helpless again. When she came of age, she would find the richest man she could marry. She would never have to depend on the charity of relatives again.

Chapter One

Dunbury Park

Weeley Heath, Essex

22 February 1810

Lady Charity Curtiss plied the needle through her hoop as she sat in front of the fireplace in the family room. Her cousin Mercy sat at the desk in the corner doing sums. Patience and her mother, Lady Simon, had gone to the village.

Mercy sighed. Again.

What is it that has you so perplexed? Charity asked.

Prudence’s estimation for the new rye field. I do not think she took the rocky soil into consideration. It has taken a month longer to clear than we anticipated, which means I do not think we shall be able to count on this crop for the harvest. She put her pen down and placed her palm on her forehead. My head aches. Would you like to go for a walk?

In this weather? Charity asked. The wind is blowing a gale.

Mercy looked out the window. It looks very fine out. Come with me. Please? Down to the pond and back.

Charity set down her hoop, needle, and threads. Until I grow cold. I do not wish to catch a chill. She rose from her spot on the sofa.

Nor I, Mercy said. However, I cannot stand being cooped up in the house one more moment. She walked toward the door and opened it.

I wish Uncle Henry would relent and allow me to visit Dorcas so I could attend at least one ball. Charity followed her cousin across the old bailey to the coat closet near the front door.

Mercy handed Charity her coat, and then took her own. Uncle Henry is still recovering from his illness. He does not wish to travel to London. Mercy put her coat on.

He looked perfectly fine to me this morning at breakfast. Charity slung her arms into her coat, and then grabbed a scarf that wasn’t hers and wound it around her throat. And has he not been out with the draft horses plowing snow? She placed her bonnet on her head and tugged the ribbons down under her chin before tying a bow. If he is ill, he should not be out of doors.

Mercy handed her a pair of knitted socks for her hands. Are you ready?

Charity took the socks and slipped them over her hands. I am now. She opened the front door and stopped. A small black carriage sat in the drive. Two black horses shook in their traces.

I wonder who that could be, Mercy said as she stepped outside. Mr. Webb, have you any notion?

Mr. Webb, one of the Marquess of Dunbury’s house guards shook his head. Afraid not, Lady Wade. Even if I did, you know that I could not tell you. He smiled. Enjoy your walk.

Charity huffed and took Mercy’s elbow, and pulled her down the drive.

What is the matter with you? Mercy asked, pulling away from Charity. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.

"That is the problem. We are not capable of doing anything on our own. We must always be with someone else. And even if we are not, the guards know where we are at all times. I am tired of living like a prisoner."

Charity, you must understand, Mercy said. Uncle Henry has many enemies. He is only trying to protect us. You remember what happened to Hope and poor Rebecca Taylor. He does not wish to have that happen again.

Charity stopped and stared at her cousin. Why? It was not as if he did anything to help Hope when she was kidnapped. Helmsway was the one who found her and rescued her. And we all took care of Mrs. Taylor.

Mercy sucked in a breath. "Uncle Henry was beside himself for days after Hope was taken. And if you remember, he was furious with Helmsway for keeping Hope from us. And Uncle Henry paid for all Mrs. Taylor’s doctor calls."

Still, that was Hope and Rebecca Taylor. Uncle Henry liked them. Charity set a brisk pace. He would not care if I were kidnapped or beaten.

Mercy ran to keep up. How can you say that? Uncle Henry loves us. Each one of us.

Charity whirled. He loves you. And Patience, and Hope. He never liked me or Faith or Prudence. Charity snorted. Who could really like Prudence anyway? She is so tart. She puckered her lips like a fish.

I do not know where you are finding these nonsensical ideas, but you must put them out of your head. Uncle Henry loves us and will do anything for us.

Then why did he not let me marry Helmsway when he had the chance? Then he would be free of me.

Mercy stopped. What is it? This is more than your usual fit of pique with Uncle Henry. Did something happen?

No, nothing happened. That is the problem. Nothing is happening. I am stuck out in the snowdrifts. I should be in London dancing and trying to find a husband. How can I find a man when there are none around?

Mr. Cartwright is around, Mercy said.

Charity growled. Ooohhhh! Do not say his name. If one more person tells me how Mr. Cartwright is in love with me, I will scream.

What is wrong with Mr. Cartwright? Mercy asked. He is perfectly amiable, and astute, and vastly interesting. Did you know he has been to America? And the West Indies? Why do you not like him?

It is not that I do not like him, Charity said, and then sighed. I like him very much indeed. As you say, he is amiable, and smart.

And handsome, Mercy added.

And handsome, Charity said. But he is not the man for me. I do not have feelings for him other than as a friend. And he wishes to be so much more. I’m afraid I cannot see him in any other light. She had tried, but there was something about the way he looked at her, which was unsettling. As if, he knew her deepest secrets.

He will be Montlake someday, Mercy said.

Charity pursed her lips. There is that, however, I could not marry a man merely for his title.

Mercy put her hands on her hips. I beg your pardon. From the moment you arrived to Dunbury Manor, you have maintained you will only marry for the money.

I have changed my mind since Prudence’s wedding. Charity turned and began walking back to the manor house.

You have? What happened? Mercy appeared quite astonished.

I saw how happy my sisters are, Charity said. I want what they have.

We all want what they have, dearest, Mercy said. "However, look at the torment each of your sisters had to go through to finally get what they wanted. I do not think you want the struggle."

No, Charity said. You are right. I do not wish for a tormented romance. Charity pushed at the air. Why does love have to be so hard? Why can we not just be given the perfect person and go on from there?

Because fighting for the same cause makes a couple stronger, Mercy said. "That is what love is about. The struggle should not be between you, but from both of you for you as a couple. You need to have the same goals, the same thoughts about children…"

Children? Charity asked. Who said anything about children?

Mercy smiled. Dearest, this is the whole purpose of marriage in our Society. To have children. Would you not like a husband who shows an interest in his offspring?

Charity shook her head. I have never thought about it. I did not know my father. I scarce saw him above twice a year.

I am sorry, Mercy said. My father was a good man and I loved him very much. Uncle Henry is very much like him.

Uncle Henry? Charity scoffed. He has done nothing but find fault with me and give me orders since the day he arrived home. He wants me gone and out from under his wig.

Is that truly what you think? Mercy asked.

Charity looked up. How could I not? The man has never said a kind word to me.

That is not true, Mercy said.

Yes, it is. Since the day he arrived home, Uncle Henry has spoken nothing but censure and condemnation to me. He does not address me unless it is for reproach. Charity stopped. A man in a black coat and hat appeared on the stoop. He stood watching them.

That is not true. Mercy stopped.

Charity took her attention from the man and swung her gaze to Mercy. Watch Uncle Henry at dinner tonight. You will see. Charity took off before tears overwhelmed her. It was a sore spot with her. Uncle Henry spoke with each of the girls at dinner—except her. She had never really noticed it until Prudence had married and gone to Haverhill on her honeymoon. With only three nieces remaining, his silence toward her was hard to miss.

After Charity noticed it, and after she thought about it, the only conclusion she could draw was that Uncle Henry did not like her. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she did not care. Her own father did not like her. Someday she would fine a man who did.

The man at the top of the stairs met Charity in front of the black carriage. Good day, Lady Curtiss, he said, and swept his hat off in a courtly bow.

Charity dropped to a curtsey.

Mercy walked by. Good morning, Mr. Cartwright.

Charity stumbled to get up. "Mr. Cartwright? She shot him a look of disgust, stormed past him, and up the stairs. Once in the house, she rounded on Mercy. You knew it was Mr. Cartwright? How? He is in disguise."

I cannot tell you, Mercy said. Perhaps it is his eyes. They are that spectacular shade of blue. Have you never noticed?

Mr. Cartwright’s fine eyes? Charity asked. No, I never have. She took off her coat.

Shame, Mercy said. She swung her coat from her shoulders and placed it in the closet. She took Charity’s coat, as well as the scarves and socks, hung those, and then struggled to close the door.

Here, Charity said. Let me. She lifted the latch and heaved up on the door, then closed it with a snick. There.

How did you do that? Mercy asked.

Just lift before closing, Charity said. Works every time. She walked down the hall, past Uncle Henry’s office, down to the rear of the house and the kitchen. Mrs. Partridge stirred something on the stove that held the aroma of love.

Oh, what are you cooking? Charity asked. It smells divine.

Just a pudding, Mrs. Partridge said. Have you finished with your pillow cover?

No, sadly. Charity sat at the long wooden table. Mercy wished to take a walk to clear her head. I accompanied her.

And how is she now? Mrs. Partridge asked. She placed an empty cup and saucer in front of Charity.

Very well, I presume. Charity clinked the china together.

Why are you so melancholy then? Mrs. Partridge placed a small hot teapot and a plate of biscuits on the table. Did you have an argument?

No. Charity peered into the teapot. It needed to steep a little more. Mr. Cartwright played a trick on me.

Mr. Cartwright? Mrs. Partridge placed a serviette with sugar, cream, and two spoons on the table. What kind of trick?

He made me think he was someone else. Charity poured cream and placed two cubes of sugar into her cup. She peered into the teapot and then replaced the lid.

Mrs. Partridge put a cup and saucer down, and then sat at the table. Ah, yes. His disguises. I presume what he does must be important. She poured cream into her cup.

I do not know why he bothers working for Uncle Henry, Charity said. He will be Montlake someday.

Mrs. Partridge clucked. Men do any number of foolish things when they are young. At least he is not a wastrel or a gambler. She poured tea into her cup, and then into Charity’s.

No, Charity said. As I said to Mercy, he is a very fine man by all accounts. He is just not the man for me.

More of a friend like, Mrs. Partridge said.

Exactly, Charity said.

A handsome, intelligent, mannered, moneyed, young, someday-to-be-an-Earl friend. Mrs. Partridge winked.

"Mrs. Partridge, I wish someone would understand. I do not like Timothy Cartwright in that way."

That is a shame for he is very much smitten with you.

Charity rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Not you too.

"Charity, it would not be the worst thing if you looked in his direction. Love does not always find you when you want it. Sometimes you need to take it when it is right in front of you. Otherwise, it might slip away and you will never have it again."

Why is finding love so hard? Charity asked.

True love is not for the faint of heart, dearest. But once you find it, never let it go.

Well, how am I supposed to find it if I am stuck out here in the nether reaches of the universe? Charity picked up a biscuit and bit into it.

I do not know, dearest, Mrs. Partridge said. But sometimes we must endure the everyday life God has given us, before we are worthy of the life he wants us to have.

Yes, but how long is that going to take? Charity moaned. I want to know now. Disgusted with herself and the conversation, she rose and said, I am going upstairs, Mrs. Partridge.

Very well. Mrs. Partridge remained at the table and sipped her tea.

That evening at supper, Charity sat in her usual place. She spoke to whoever spoke to her, but did not initiate any conversation. When dinner was served, she ate with her usual manners in place. She was a lady after all. Until she deliberately used her spoon to eat her potatoes.

Charity, Uncle Henry said from his end of the table. Do not be vulgar. Please eat your potatoes with your fork. He returned to his conversation with Viscount Simon.

Charity stared up the table at Mercy, who also used a spoon to eat her potatoes. Charity returned her spoon to the table and finished her meal in silence. When supper ended, and everyone filed into the family parlour, Charity walked straight past the doors, up the hall, and up the stairs.

Charity paced in her bedchamber for several minutes, but no one seemed to notice her disappearance, and if they did, did not care that she was gone. Charity sank into the chair by the window. She could see the weathervane on top of the barn. She really should spend more time with the puppies. Perhaps they would cheer her up.

There was a soft knock on the door. Charity, may I come in? Lady Catherine asked.

Of course, Lady Catherine. Charity rose and waited.

Lady Catherine stepped into the room. Are you feeling all right? You were so quiet at dinner, and then you left. I do not mean to pry, but it is unusual for you to be downcast.

I am as you see me, Charity said.

Would you like to talk about it? Lady Catherine asked.

Talk about what?

Talk about whatever is troubling you, Lade Catherine said.

Charity didn’t dare tell Lady Catherine her trouble lay with Uncle Henry. I have no troubles.

Good, then we can depart tomorrow. Lady Catherine made to step out of the room.

Depart? Where? Charity couldn’t contain her excitement. Could it be?

Your uncle has decided to return to London for the remainder of the Season. His health has improved and he needs to return to Whitehall before the summer. Shall I send Brenda to help you pack?

No, I know exactly what I will take. Charity could not believe her wish had come true. Back to London. On the morrow! She could not wait to see Penny and Dorcas. It was a shame Arabella remained in America. How long are we staying?

Several weeks, I think, Lady Catherine said. Although, Mercy may return to the Park to oversee the planting with Mr. Cooper.

Charity smiled. Long enough for her to find a husband.

Arriving at Dunbury Manor late the following day, Charity wrote a quick note to Penny and Dorcas relating she was in Town and left them on the silver tray by the front door for Lake to take care of in the morning. She went to bed wondering which gown she should wear to which ball.

In the morning, Charity found her note to Penny remained in the tray. Wondering why Lake would have left it, she turned and found herself face to face with her uncle.

Good morning, Charity, Uncle Henry said. How do you do?

Very well, Uncle. And you? Charity barely remembered to close her mouth she was so stunned.

What do you have there? he asked.

A note for my friend Penny. I left it for Lake last night, but it is still here.

Your friend Penny is no longer in residence at Olmstead Hall. She has departed London with Lady Olivia.

Oh, Charity said, and turned to go.

Have you other friends? her uncle asked. You know. To go about with? I understand that Arabella Leighton is also no longer in Town.

Charity wondered why he cared. Yes, Uncle, I have other friends, and if not, I believe Mercy and Patience will still speak to me.

Yes, of course, Uncle Henry said.

Charity made to go. She had to get away from him, before he found a fault.

What are your plans for the day? he asked.

I am waiting for Lady Catherine’s direction, Charity said. She sidled past him.

Of course, Uncle Henry said. Have a pleasant day. I look forward to dancing with you at the ball later this evening. He nodded and then walked down the hall toward his library.

Charity could not believe what had just transpired. But that would mean Mercy spoke to Uncle Henry about her feelings. And now Uncle Henry was doing his best to be nice to her. Unfortunately, it was not because he wanted to be