Regina tucked her head into a nod. “Yes, and it smells wonderful.”
The waiters placed plates before them of a small lemon vinaigrette salad. It was a bit tart but refreshing seeing as it had been getting warmer outside.
“Are we…” Arabella paused. “May I go with Charlotte to visit Aunt Chastity in the country?”
Benedict grimaced lightly. “Charlotte has decided she will not be going.” That was a lie. Benedict had decided as much, as if it were some kind of punishment for being as irresponsible and improper as she. It was just as well. Charlotte didn’t want to make herself look pathetic by running away nor was Aunt Chasity the sort to ease anyone’s misery. Maybe her incessant talking could be distracting enough, but trading in a heartbreak for a headache was useless.
“Oh,” Arabella mumbled, her mouth forming ano. She stared at Charlotte, unsure of what to make of her decision to stay. Everyone must have been painfully aware of how big of a deal it was to lose William. Charlotte had never had another suitor and she would likely never have one again. She wasn’t necessarily known for her feminine wiles.
Regina’s eyes lit up. “It is getting warmer. I thought we might take an afternoon to sit by the lake this weekend. We can play games as we used to when you were all younger.”
“What kind of games?” Mary Ann asked, pushing her salad around with her fork, as if looking for something. She spotted a walnut and quickly pushed it to the side of her plate, her mouth pulling back with disgust.
Regina sighed. “We used to play all kinds of games. Badminton. Sometimes we’d stare up at the clouds and make them into shapes. But this was when your husband was younger,” she smiled. “Much younger.”
“That sounds perfect,” Mary Ann nodded.
“What is the occasion, Mama?” Charlotte’s voice was challenging. Nothing stabbed quite as sharply as pity. It was detestable to feel so out of control of your own narrative. The thought was sickening.
“No occasion,” she lied. “It simply just feels like time to be a family the way we were when your father was still with us.”
Whether she knew it or not, she had said something that hurt Charlotte the most. Her father was her best friend. Maybe he would have known what to say right now. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to imagine what he’d say. He might tease her for the way she looked at William. He might tell her that love was special, that a love worth changing your beliefs over was a love that was worth it. Although he would have done anything for Charlotte, he was a romantic at heart. He too would have loved to see her married, even if it meant she would eventually leave their home.
Charlotte dropped her fork. It clattered against her dish. From her mouth emerged a strangled cry. Her eyes burned at the memory of her father. He would have sympathized with her while still treating her as an equal. Everyone had good intentions, but Benedict and Arabella were so similar to Regina. No one had ever been able to understand Charlotte perfectly once her father passed.
It was insulting, the way everyone acted like things needed to change for her to recover. It was just a man. It wasn’t as if she lost money, or creativity, or energy, or her hands. Those were the things that were important. William could not even hold a candle to her merits.
Everyone turned their heads, staring directly at the scene before them. Charlotte got up from her seat, and curtsied. “On second thought,” she began. “I feel rather sick, and my appetite is waning. I believe it would be best that I spend the rest of the evening in my room. I might think I am coming down with something.” Nobody really believed that she was sick, and it showed. Everyone looked a little sheepish as if collectively, they had each done something to drive Charlotte away despite their best intentions.
With another strangled smile, Charlotte hurried from the dining room. Her stockinged feet thudded against the staircase as she hurried along. Her chamber was right off the second-floor landing, so she retreated and locked her bedroom door. She drew the curtains closed and laid in her bed, back against the mattress, staring at strange shadows and tricks of the light morph weird shapes onto the ceiling.
Perhaps what stung the most was that everyone was right. It was a big deal, whether Charlotte liked it or not. William was a breath of fresh air. He was new, different, strong, funny, charming. If there truly was someone out there for Charlotte, it was him. He didn’t feel as stifling as she’d made him out to be. William brought the best out on her. He brought her to think, he gave her new ideas, and he helped her feel brave.
If there was a world in which they could carve out some happiness together, then she had squandered it. How could they be kissing passionately and worshiping each other at the garden party before suddenly sputtering out? It was her fault it had ended. She had decided she didn’t want to marry him, but now she was regretting her decision. Maybe se didn’t want to marry just anyone, but she could marry him.
Her closet door was open just a crack, and the black silhouette of her cape hung like a specter. Maybe it was time to be brave once more. William needed to know that Charlotte loved him. She couldn’t spend another sleepless night regretting her own words. If she was brave with him, then certainly she could be brave for him.
The clock ticked on, and as night fell and the family slowly retired to their chambers, Charlotte fixed her cloak around her shoulders and slowly tiptoed down the stairs, winching as the floorboards creaked beneath her. The front door wailed mournfully as she pushed it open. Quietly, she snuck out into the evening, looking like a perfect ghost haunting the roadway.
ChapterFourteen
Thud. Thud. Thud.
William rolled over in his bed, groaning. He rubbed his thudding forehead. On his nightstand was a half-finished bottle of brandy, leaving a ring of red on the hardwood.
He pushed himself out of bed and opened his bedroom door just a crack.
“Lord Holdford,” The butler bowed. The look of concern in his eyes showed that he knew it was far too late to be bothering him. Whatever it was must have been important.
“What awakens us?” William asked, scrubbing the sleep from his face.
“A lady has arrived for you,” he explained quietly, despite there being no one around to disapprove.
“Lady Charlotte Elkins?”
The butler opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shook his head. “I apologize. She denied me her name.”
“Charlotte…” William sighed, walking over to the edge of the bed and grabbing his trousers. He jumped into them and tucked his nightshirt in to them. It bloused out the top. “You may retire for the evening. This is something I must handle alone.”