“You read it?”
“Well, it was addressed to Papa, and he’s dead, but Mama had obviously opened it, and I wondered if it would cast some light on where Hope might have gone,” Charlotte said, a trifle defensively. She looked at him imploringly. “Oh, Felix, I’ve been tormented by what she wrote but I can’t speak of it to Mama.”
A chill of foreboding settled upon Felix. “Why not?”
“In the letter, Hope tells Papa she’s in a terrible situation, and she begs him to go to London. She says she’ll wait for him at a particular address if he will only meet her there. She literally begs him. And there are what look like teardrops, and her handwriting is all shaky. I’ve never seen her write like that. She says in the letter she’ll promise to live quietly at home for the rest of her life and not to be the wild girl who Mama so deplores if he’ll only forgive her and let her come home. But, of course, Papa died, only Mama said no
thing at all about this letter, even though she must have read it before she told everyone about Hope writing to say she’d arrived safely in Leipzig.”
Felix stared. He did not interrupt. He didn’t, in fact, know what to say. When Charlotte continued to look at him, perplexed, he said quietly, “Go on.”
“Well, Mama kept pretending that Hope had gone to Germany. Why, she was the one who passed on to me the letter that Lady Hunt said came from Hope in Germany, which is when I spoke to you.”
Felix chewed his lip, his thoughts running all over the place. “Lady Hunt?” he muttered. “Why would she receive a letter and pass it on? What interest does Lady Hunt have in all this?”
“Surely you knew it was Lady Hunt who organised for Hope to go away?”
He shook his head.
Charlotte sighed. “Poor Mama was at the end of her tether with Hope. She said she was a hoyden and unmanageable, and I remember hearing Mama and Papa arguing about what to do with her. This was a little over two years ago. Then, Lady Hunt told Mama that she had the perfect position for Hope, as a governess to two children in Germany. Friends of Lady Hunt, in fact. So Mama told Hope that’s where she was sending her, as they didn’t have the money to launch Hope, and she might as well be a governess in Germany as here, for her prospects would be better, considering these friends of Lady Hunt were such an important family in their country.”
“Go on,” Felix prompted. “I presume Hope didn’t want to go.”
“She certainly didn’t. In fact, she refused, and there was the most terrific fight between Hope and Mama and Papa. Then I overheard Mama telling Papa that it was beyond anything, and the most marvellous opportunity, that Lady Hunt should position Hope so well and that she’d offered to sponsor me for my coming-out when the time came.” Hope worried at her lower lip, her expression troubled. “I was too young to realise that the two went hand in hand: that Hope’s marvellous opportunity relied on her being sent away, and that I, by contrast, was to be given a new wardrobe and invitations to most of London when I was of age to make my debut.”
The churning in Felix’s breast increased. “I’d say so,” he muttered. “But more to the point, what happened regarding Hope’s request for aid?”
Charlotte shook her head. “Mama has been silent on the topic, and, of course, I didn’t even know Hope requested help until I saw the letter last week.” She fanned herself rapidly as if to channel her nervous energy into some occupation, for her distress was obviously increasing through the telling of her story. “I’ve not known where to turn. When I asked Mama if she’d had news of Hope, she said Hope was doing marvellously in Germany and was likely to soon receive a very fine marriage offer. This was only last week!”
“So nothing was ever said by either of you about Hope’s letter?” A sudden thought occurred to Felix as he took in the lovely young woman before him, her looks so like her mother who’d been an acclaimed beauty in her day. “Has your mother tended to favour you over your sister?”
“I never thought of it when I was younger. Hope was always so fiery, and Mama was always slapping her, while I was always told I was the good girl, which made me rather smug.” She looked rueful. “But I do remember one day when I was alone with Papa in the drawing room after Mama had gone to lock Hope up in her bedroom again, that I asked why Hope and Mama were always fighting. I’ll never forget his answer. He looked at me sadly and said, more to himself, really, that it was hard for a beautiful woman to see the child she rears grow more beautiful as she herself ages, but intolerable for her to accept that her stepdaughter is garnering more interest than she.”
“Good Lord, I didn’t know your mother wasn’t Hope’s natural mother.”
“Hope’s mama died when she was born, and Papa married Mama when I was a year old. Hope’s always called her Mama, and although I know she must have been told that Mama wasn’t her real mother, I can’t ever remember any mention in the house of Hope’s real mama. I suppose that’s because Mama tends to be a little jealous.”
Felix nodded. “So your mama and Hope had their differences.”
“I’d never have said it was something I noticed, especially, but after I came upon Hope’s letter, I began to remember so many things that Hope had said were unfair when we were younger, though she seemed to have become resigned to it, later. Papa used to defend Hope when Mama flew into one of her furies and that used to make Mama even more furious.” Charlotte sighed. “Since reading that letter I’ve been so worried about Hope. I just wish I knew where she was and that I could be assured she was all right. And as happy as I am.” Her face brightened as Lord Hartley joined them, flanked by Lady Hunt and Annabelle.
Felix nodded at the easy-natured fellow whom he’d known since childhood. He was a decent chap, and he had no qualms he would treat Charlotte well. He also bore all the signs of a man in love which was good to see.
So did Annabelle, which gave him dreadful qualms of anxiety, for his mind was churning with the ramifications of what Charlotte had just told him. Gazing at Annabelle’s luminous face framed by golden hair, he knew he’d have to work hard to make himself love the girl within, though her temper was equable and she’d always appeared to him pleasant enough.
She’d had no shortage of admirers, either, and seemed the kind of social butterfly who knew just what to say. Annabelle had set her sights on him from early on; he knew that.
And the previous afternoon, furious after his midnight encounter with Hope, he’d attended Lady Hunt’s afternoon garden party, as arranged, and surprising no one more so than himself, agreed with Annabelle’s father, Sir Reginald, when the fellow had said that the time really had come to put the girl out of her misery, and that Felix should get over his foolish objections to becoming leg-shackled and marry the girl. For the next half an hour, he’d had to put up with Annabelle’s gushing as to how he’d made her the happiest bride-to-be in all England, and even before she’d stopped her prattling, he’d felt like the most trapped man in all England.
Still, he knew what was required of him, so when she clasped his forearm fondly, now, he returned the look as best he could before saying, as Mrs Merriweather joined their circle, “What a joyful occasion this is for everyone. My condolences, Mrs Merriweather, that your husband will not be around to witness Miss Charlotte’s happy day, but I wonder if Miss Hope will attend the wedding.”
Mrs Merriweather, a handsome woman of middle age, had been all amiable smiles. Now she looked momentarily discomposed before she glanced at Lady Hunt, who said smoothly, “Alas, Hope is unable to make the long journey from her situation in Leipzig. However, the news you clearly haven’t heard is that she, too, is in receipt of an offer that will make her just as happy as her sister.”
“Mama, you never told me!” gasped Charlotte, while Felix went suddenly cold.
Mrs Merriweather nodded. “I’d been meaning to, my dear, but the last few days have been all about you and your wonderful plans.”
“Mama, she’s my sister! Of course I’d want to know.” Charlotte looked distressed, and Felix asked, “Who is the gentleman in question?”