Chapter 24
As Charlotte prepared for the afternoon of bridge, she found that she was rather looking forward to it. Ruth had made her look very well indeed in a pale green gown that made her bright chestnut hair stand out beautifully.
She had only been at Hawthorne Manor for a few days, and already Charlotte felt very much at home. She did not have any particular memories of her own mother, just an impression of softness and kindness.
And she had just that same impression from the moment she had met with her aunt again after so many years.
Gwendolyn Dearborn was a person to whom Charlotte could instantly warm, feeling almost as if she had known her all her life when, in truth, she had only seen her a few times before and only when she had been an infant.
But there was a presence about Gwendolyn that made her feel comfortable and safe. There was something about her Aunt Gwendolyn that was very motherly, and it went beyond the similarity of feeling, the reminders of her own mother.
Not only that, but Gwendolyn Dearborn was also a very interesting woman who seemed to have survived a trying marriage to a trying man, somehow successfully raising a son who, by all accounts, was a fine young man indeed.
Having heard him described by all as interesting and handsome, Charlotte could not help being pleased that he was away in Europe. Interesting and handsome were not welcome traits in a man as far as Charlotte Cunningham was concerned. They were very dangerous traits.
“How do you feel about your first social engagement here, Miss?” Ruth said as she untied two small, twisted pieces of rag from Charlotte’s hair and let two perfectly formed ringlets drop free.
“I must admit I am looking forward to it,” Charlotte said brightly. “And I really am very glad that I came. Although you were right all along; I was always going to come. I suppose I was just being a little pettish because my father had arranged it all without telling me.”
“I know he did, Miss, but I am sure that he did so out of kindness. He has been worried about you for some time; I can see it in his face.”
“And I wish he would not worry, Ruth, for there is nothing to worry about.” Charlotte could not bear the idea of her father worrying about her, but she had told him time and again that there was no cause for concern, and yet he would not have it.
“He worries because he can see with his own eyes what I know for certain. What I know because you have told me,” Ruth said firmly. “That you have no intention to settle into a happy life of any kind.”
“I do want a happy life, Ruth. Or at least I want a contented one; is that not the same thing?”
“No, it is not the same thing.”
“My dearest Ruth, I cannot count the number of times you and I have had the same conversation,” Charlotte said, and both women laughed. “And I really do appreciate your concern and your kindness more than I could say.”
“It is not just concern, Miss. It is sadness.”
“My goodness, I have made you sad?” Charlotte said and raised her hand to her chest. “But why?”
“I suppose it is because I cannot bear the idea you will not let yourself be happy. I understand why, or at least I did. But it seems so long ago now, does it not? Could you not open your heart to let somebody else in, somebody who will not disappoint you?”
“That is the problem, Ruth. How on earth am I to know in the beginning if the man I am speaking to will not disappoint me just the same? There is no way of telling, you see. There is no guarantee.”
“There are never any guarantees in life, Miss. Except perhaps one.”
“And that is?”
“If you do not allow happiness in, it will not come. That is guaranteed.”
“Yes, you are right,” Charlotte said and felt the full weight of her maid’s words. As always, Ruth had managed to alight upon some subject that Charlotte had already considered in secret. She had already mourned the loss of future happiness and had found it very hard.
“But even now I still cannot risk it. I still cannot forget how I felt back then, how hurt I was. Not to mention how very foolish I felt.”
“The time has come to let that go; otherwise, you really will end up marrying some dreadful man of sense whom you will never love. And when you have married him, whoever he is, it will be too late to change your mind.”
“But that is the whole point,” Charlotte said simply.
“I know you have thought about it back and forth, time and time again, but I wish you would consider it further. I wish you could imagine yourself, your future self, trapped forever with a man you cannot bear to be beside. Surely, in the end, you would come to despise one another, and that is no way to live. That is not the best use of the life you have been given, Miss.”
Charlotte did think about it, and it made her feel suddenly very low. She had spent the last three years trying to avoid the sort of feelings that had crushed her and made her feel stupid, unattractive, and insignificant. And even though she had concentrated now and again on the sort of feelings which had come before, the excitement, the hope, love, Charlotte knew that she had dwelt predominantly in the negativity of it all.
But it was that negativity that she could not shake, and she knew that it had changed her. She knew that she had lost the spark that had once been hers, the sharpness of wit and the confidence to deliver it in conversation, the zest for complicated and highly charged banter.
Just as Charlotte had been about to respond, there came a light tapping on her chamber door, and her aunt’s face appeared around it, seeming to float in isolation.
“Oh, I say, you do look beautiful,” Gwendolyn said and smiled brightly. “So beautiful, in fact, that I would say that you are ready.”
“Oh dear, is the driver waiting for us?”
“Fear not, Charlotte, he is a patient man.” Gwendolyn laughed, and Charlotte thought she liked her more and more.
She had a nice sense of humour, always confidently given, and always, always, graceful and kind.
Charlotte rose to her feet and looked to Ruth for confirmation that she was truly ready. When her maid nodded and smiled, Charlotte gripped her hands, kissed her cheek, and bid her farewell for the afternoon.
As Charlotte and Gwendolyn set off in the little carriage, she heartily wished that she could have taken Ruth with her. How close she felt to her maid, how much she thought of her as the finest friend she had in all the world. And how hard it seemed, harder by the day, to always be leaving her behind.
As the years had gone on, Charlotte had always felt it a little unfair that the larger part of Ruth’s time was spent in making sure that Charlotte was fit to go out and enjoy herself.
If only things could be different in the world; if only they could go out arm in arm and enjoy an afternoon of bridge together or any other sort of delightful social engagement.
“You are a little quiet, my dear,” Gwendolyn said as the carriage rumbled along. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I am perfectly alright, Aunt Gwendolyn,” Charlotte said and turned to give her aunt a bright smile of confirmation.
Charlotte hardly knew if Gwendolyn looked like her mother had done, but she rather suspected that she did. She had shining chestnut hair, just like Charlotte’s own, albeit a little faded and occasionally sprinkled with grey.
Gwendolyn’s skin was still very fine, despite the little wrinkles here and there, and Charlotte thought that all in all, she made a very handsome widow.
“Because if you are feeling at all nervous, you really need not. Lady Elton is a wonderful woman. She is advancing in years, but she has some very modern and interesting ideas. She is very sharp-eyed and intelligent, just like you, my dear. I think that the two of you will get along very well indeed.”
“Then I am looking forward to meeting her very much,” Charlotte said brightly.
“And she always has the most interesting people at her bridge afternoons. I have been attending myself for many years and have seen a wonderful array of people come and go.”
“Are there many who accept the standing invitation as you do, Aunt Gwendolyn?”
“Oh yes, there are a fair few. But it is true to say that there are always new faces to be seen, for news of her fine bridge afternoons travels far and wide. And I must say, she does put on a very good spread given that it is only an afternoon affair.” Gwendolyn’s eyes widened making Charlotte laugh. “Well, it is true to say that I rarely take a full dinner in the evening after I have visited Lady Elton.”
“No wonder her events are so well attended.” Charlotte smiled broadly.
When the carriage drew up, Charlotte looked out upon a very fine stone-built townhouse. It looked very smart indeed, more like something that a bright young person might live in rather than a widow of many years standing. Already she was finding Lady Elton something of a draw.
And meeting the woman herself in the entrance hall of a modernly appointed interior, Charlotte knew already that she liked her very much.
“I say, you are the image of your aunt,” Lady Elton said enthusiastically. “Such a pretty girl. And I believe you are a very smart young lady too, and smart is a thing to be clung onto. Smart does not fade as beauty does. It is one of the few things which gets better with age.” Lady Elton smiled broadly, her pale blue eyes wide and intelligent.
“I promise you already, Lady Elton, that I shall do my very best to cling onto my smartness,” Charlotte said and was pleased when the old lady threw her head back and laughed.
“I must say, I like you already, young lady.” Lady Elton took hold of Charlotte’s arm and led her towards the drawing room.
“What a very lovely room,” Charlotte said truthfully as she looked at the modern pale walls contrasting against bright, imaginative brocade-covered furniture. “In fact, it is a very lovely home altogether.”
“Thank you kindly, my dear. I do hope that you will be a regular guest whilst you are staying with your aunt.” She turned to look at Gwendolyn. “You will see to that, my dear Gwendolyn, will you not? Perhaps the three of us could take afternoon tea this week?”
Charlotte felt a warm glow and rather liked the idea of this bright and interesting lady taking an interest in her. She already knew that she would gladly sit down to afternoon tea and find herself most amused and diverted by such a woman.
“Oh yes, I would like that very much indeed,” Charlotte said enthusiastically as she looked around the room.
“Well, what a very fortuitous week I am having,” Lady Elton said as she led Charlotte and Gwendolyn further into the drawing room. “And such wonderful new faces for my bridge afternoon.”
“So, my dear niece is not the only newcomer this week, Lady Elton?” Gwendolyn said inquisitively.
“Oh no, I have another guest I was not expecting. But I must admit, it is all rather exciting.”
“But who is your other guest, my dear?” Gwendolyn said, and Charlotte almost laughed at her aunt’s insistence.
“You will not believe it, but the new Duke of Sandford.” Lady Elton’s tone had quietened to a whisper.
“Goodness me, but his father never attended the bridge, did he?” Gwendolyn said in gossipy tones.
“No, I am as surprised as anybody.”
As her aunt and Lady Elton continued to whisper to one another, Charlotte felt her mouth go dry. The new Duke of Sandford? His father had never attended the bridge?
But surely that could only mean that not only was James Harrington the new Duke of Sandford, but that he was somewhere in that large, modern drawing room.
As Charlotte looked all around her, fearful that she would see him and equally fearful that she would not, a man in the corner of the room turned slowly. Before he was fully facing her, Charlotte knew it was him.
He was, as always, the tallest man in the room, and his hair and clothing as immaculate as ever. When he had turned fully, Charlotte felt his eyes fix upon her own, and she held her breath.
After three long years, she was finally looking into the bright green eyes of James Harrington.