“What is a ghost?” he asked. “Is it the shadow in the hall or the feeling that you are not alone? I have seen the curtains move when they shouldn’t and I have heard a voice that seemed to come from nowhere, but is that a ghost? I like to believe so, if only to make me feel less lonely.”
“I remain skeptical. As I said, I have not seen one.”
“Maybe one day you will learn, Charlotte, that seeing something is not what makes it real.” He whispered.
She crossed her arms, absentmindedly watching the figures on stage move about and offer their soliloquies. She knew his remark was pointed and perhaps even a touch scornful. Little did he know, she did believe in love. She hadn’t seen it, but she knew it was lurking in the dark. Just the way people could run from some imaginary specter and believe it to be real, she was running from the inevitability of her own feelings.
After some time, she saw his hand hanging awkwardly over the arm of his chair, and so she dropped hers, matching him. With a quick look out of the corner of her eyes, Charlotte made sure the butler was still fast asleep. After a few moments, William reached out. In the safety of the box, so far away from the prying eyes of others, their fingers traced the lines on the other’s palm. Arabella and Edward were none the wiser, watching the play as if it were the only interesting thing happening in the room.
William’s fingers danced across hers before he relaxed and let go. He pulled his hand back up to his seat. A moment stolen in public was still risky, even if they were discreet. Her skin burned with his touch.
They remained silent until the intermission before the fifth and final act of the play.
“Do you think Hamlet is even likable?” she asked.
“He is sort of…” William paused. “Morose. Sort of the way I thought made me more interesting when I was younger.”
“He is always complaining. It makes me nauseous,” she rolled her eyes. “Anddoubt thou the stars are on fire? My goodness, what nonsense. This isexactlymy issue with your sex, my lord. If only she had the upbringing to think for herself, then maybe she would not have ended up a bog witch.” She paused. “No offense.”
“And yet somehow, offense is still taken,” he said. “Although I do agree. If I have a daughter, I wish to teach her to be so headstrong that it will cause a proper headache for me. Only then will I know that she can hold her own in this world.”
“Hm.” Charlotte tried not to seem impressed, but it was very difficult. That was the exact kind of thing a woman wanted to hear. “I hate to say so, but that is terribly admirable.”
“I know,” he gloated, smiling a bit like he was proud of himself. Absolutely sickening.
The pair was startled by Arabella’s rise from her seat. “How can you say such things?” Her voice was thin when just moments ago, she was laughing beside him.
Lord Stanton drew back, obviously startled by her ire. “I did not–”
“Mean to?” she asked. “Of course, you meant to. You said it, did you not?”
The butler snorted, shooting up awake in his chair. It took him a few tries to rise from his chair. Arabella grabbed her sister’s arm and pulled her out of the chair. She shot her a look that asked for rescue, and so Charlotte was up, guiding her sister towards the door of the box. The butler hurried after them. William stood up. He went to say something, but he stopped short, staring at the two women and then back at his friend.
“We will be taking our leave early then. Thank you, Lord Holdford, for the invitation,” Arabella said, eager to avoid Lord Stanton.
As the two walked down the stairs and out to their carriage, Arabella pulled away and ran ahead. “Arabella!” Charlotte called. “What has he said?”
Her sister turned back on the drive, waiting for their carriage to pull around. Her eyes were glossy. “You were right. They are all the same, and I am much too inexperienced to compete.”
Charlotte reached her arms out and repeated herself. “What did he say?”
Arabella fell against her shoulder, groaning softly into the nook of her shoulder. “Why do you waste your time with Lord Holdford knowing full well that he could never love you the way you want?”
“I do not want,” she interjected quickly. “But…I will never know the way someone else feels, so if they say something, then I owe them the benefit of the doubt until they are able to prove me otherwise.” Charlotte’s voice was soft as if she were realizing a terrible truth all by herself. She scrunched her sister’s light brown hair.
Arabella pulled away, smiling through the tears like she almost found it funny how hurt she was. The coach pulled around. “Then prove me otherwise, he has. I really do not think I need to know anything else.” She turned quickly and stepped up onto the coach without accepting a guiding hand from the driver.
Charlotte waited, contemplating the turn of events from the ground before she accepted the driver’s hand and entered the carriage. Inside, Arabella stared out the window, a hand clamped over her mouth and a watery look in her eyes. After twenty minutes, she stirred. “We were talking about his travels, and he suggested that one day he hoped to bring me with him.”
“Oh!” Charlotte’s eyes lit up. That was deliciously forward.
“How improper can one be? I hardly know the man and he wants me to run away to a foreign land with him?” She paused. “You were right, Charlotte. Men only want an opportunity to ruin a woman before marriage. I will not fall for it.” She crossed her arms.
Charlotte stilled, placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Do you perhaps think he got carried away?” she asked.
“Carried away,” she repeated, as if it were a ridiculous suggestion. “If he were to get carried away, I would rather he make plans to wed me instead of hauling me away to some distant land like a lightskirt. He makes a fool of me. I would never.”
“Sometimes, when you feel impassioned, you may speak at the height of emotion. I doubt he was thinking of ruining you when he said it. Does it not sound tempting to explore the world with the one you love?”