“No–” he hesitated a moment longer than what was needed or polite. “No, not this time.”
She paused longer than she hoped she would. Saying it and letting it go so carelessly into the universe made it that much real. She had done a good job at drowning her feelings, but the thought of saying it aloud was enough to make her eyes burn. “I regret to say that I am,” she said.
“And I regret to hear that.” He cleared his throat again and busied himself by sorting papers on his desk. They were likely already organized as he was very persnickety about that sort of thing. It was a lot more likely that he just didn’t want to acknowledge that his sister was near tears. She had never been one to cry much and he, in turn, didn’t have any experience comforting her. “Lord Holdford came to visit yesterday.”
“I saw him,” Charlotte said.
“What did you speak of?” He asked.
Charlotte clenched her eyes shut, remembering how their conversation had gone that morning. He loved her and she loved him, and yet they still weren’t able to work it out. “Um,” she swallowed hard. “He said he would end the courtship. I was not sure if that was to be trusted.”
Benedict nodded. He stared down at the desk, unable to look his sister in the eyes. “He is a man of his word, then.”
Charlotte already knew as much, but hearing it made it hurt even more. She was not ready to lose him just yet which was a pity because he was long gone.
Benedict sighed. “I do not understand,” he admitted.
“What would you say if I told you that I did something stupid?”
“I do not think I would be surprised.”
“So then that is what happened,” she said. All of a sudden, the wall of emotion slapped into her with the force of a great wave. Tears flooded her eyes. “Oh my God,” she whispered, biting back a cry.
“Go on.”
“The courtship was a wager to begin with. In the beginning, neither of us actually cared for the other,” she admitted. “I promised I would not fall in love, and he promised he would not want to marry.”
Benedict fiddled with his quill pen, staring at the desk. Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking that this was likely her best chance at marriage and yet it still was a farse. He waited, sensing there was more to be said.
“I thought I could never fall in love with him. I thought I was…immune.” She clenched her eyes, biting back the tears. “I am stupid. I am stupid, and I am reckless, and I am unwilling to change my mind about marriage.”
“Why on earth would you do such a thing?”
She shook her head, tears burned her eyes but she didn’t cry. “I do not know,” she said. “He hoped to avoid the pity of his family and I had something to prove to myself and the world.”
“Charlotte.” Her brother’s voice was sharp and biting. Just the sound of it being hissed from between clenched teeth made Charlotte’s gut wrench. She had disappointed him and at this point that was about as bad as disappointing her father. “And him!” he shouted. “How boorish to make a wager, to make a mockery out of matrimony! No matter what happened or who said what, he is crass and undignified, and you are just as to blame.”
Charlotte’s breath was short and her hands trembled with shame. “Brother, you must—”
“If anyone should have known better, I would have fully expected it to be you.” The words left his mouth through gritted teeth. He threw his quill back on the desk in anger. “What is it, then? Do we leave London for the season? Even if no one knows what you have done, this broken courtship is still a stain on your virtue.”
“No man wanted me before and no man wants me now. What is the difference?”
“Charlotte,” he said sternly, his brown eyes darker than ever before. “I always held out hope for you even if you did not for yourself. Marriage is hardly the trap you see it as. With the right person, it can be freedom beyond anything you have ever imagined. But if this is your wish, then it is settled,” he hissed. “You are indeed correct. You will likely never marry.”
“I will not be judged by you.” Charlotte stood up. “I cannot believe that you have not done things just stupid as I.”
“Leave my office,” he mumbled.
Charlotte didn’t move. She stared back at her brother because she couldn’t tell if he was being serious at all. “Leave,” he pressed once more. She did. In the quiet of the hallway, she found herself unable to do much of anything but lean her head against the wall and just stare at the water hazing her vision. She was too sad to cry and too tired to fall asleep.
For a few hours, Charlotte tossed and turned on her mattress, refusing to do anything that might even vaguely remind her of him. The pianoforte was stained with him. Reading made her frustrated. Embroidery was just an opportunity to let her mind wander to all the times they shared. It seemed like the easiest thing to do was lay there and try not to imagine him sitting at his desk, completely unbothered by his decision.
By the time Charlotte returned downstairs, instead of the noise of bickering, laughing, and Timothy evading Mary Ann’s capture, the room was silent. Everyone sat with bated breath, unsure about whether Charlotte was delighted that she wouldn’t be married or absolutely gutted. The reality was much more difficult. Marriage suggested the prospect of children, a home to care for, society to entertain. It seemed so black and white. A life of solitude was much more freeing.
Everyone stared at Charlotte and seeing as it was her turn to break the trance, she smiled politely and took her seat at the table. “What smells so good?”
Benedict cleared his throat. “Roasted chicken, I believe.” The fact that he was so plainly pretending he had not scolded her hours earlier was embarrassing. He had probably not wanted to let the rest of the family know what had happened. Charlotte could have ruined their reputation had anyone found out that she had falsely entered a courtship with no intentions of marriage. It was no use to further make a spectacle out of themselves. If anyone wanted it to go away, it was Benedict.