Chapter 20
Charlotte glanced around at the people around her with a sinking sensation in her heart. She had never much liked the opera, not because of the art, but because of the people who attended it. They never came out to appreciate the music or the theatre; it was only to be seen in polite society, so people would not forget that they existed. They attended in their finest clothes, with their hair all styled to perfection, make-up covering every inch of their face, just so that other people would see them and know that they were wealthy.
It is all so pointless, she thought sadly. So, so pointless.
Charlotte did not have many clear memories of her mother because she was fairly young when she passed away, but she did have one. Her mother was dressed up in the most gorgeous, woven silk dress with beautiful intricate embroidery. It clung tightly to her hips and whooshed out to the floor like a waterfall, making Charlotte imagine that she was a princess. She could clearly recall trying to touch her hair because it was piled high on her mother’s head in a complicated looking style, decorated with sparkly jewels that Charlotte desperately wanted to touch.
“You cannot touch that.” Her mother had giggled gaily at her. “I need to look nice. I am going to the opera.”
Ever since then, Charlotte had built up an image in her mind of the opera being this wonderful place where amazing things happened. Her mother and father had both attended looking superb, and they were so pleased to go. They had giddiness to them as they left their home for the evening, leaving a wet nurse with Charlotte. She had grown up with a secret desire to go; there was always a part of her that desperately wanted to attend, so when Lord Jones suggested that they go one night, she leapt at the opportunity.
“Oh yes, please, that sounds utterly wonderful.”
She thought it would be a chance to enjoy something that her mother once had, that it would give her a bond that she had not yet experienced, but she was very, very wrong.
If she had realised that it would just be another night of spending time with her husband’s boring friends who thought it amusing to poke fun at her, she would not have bothered. She often liked to make excuses for not coming now, but tonight, she been unable to get out of it. Lord Jones was insistent. It was as if he suspected that something was up with her.
“What is wrong with you?” Lady Elsie Ward, an older lady with a pinched face, demanded. “Why are you not drinking your wine?”
Because I have already been forced to crush my baby bump into a corset just to come out tonight, Charlotte thought angrily. I do not wish to drink as well.
She had also spent a lot of her pregnancy feeling nauseous. It was as if she was unsteady on her feet, maybe like she was on a ship or something, and it was making her ill. Not quite ill enough to vomit, but almost at that stage.
“I do not feel like it,” she replied quietly. Around this group of people, she could not help becoming a much meeker version of herself.
“Why not?” Lady Ward sneered. “Are you pregnant?”
“That would certainly explain why she is looking much rounder these days,” Lord Ward joined in with a much too loud laugh. “Think of it, Old Lord Jones thought he was getting a young, beautiful wife, and now she is becoming something else. That will teach him.”
Maybe she was supposed to take such comments in jest, but it made Charlotte so angry. How dare these people take it upon themselves to say such things to her? These were upper-class people, polite society, supposedly. Maybe Mary had it right, maybe befriending the working class was so much better. She had always thought them uncouth and a little savage, but none of them had ever spoken to her in such a way.
“Excuse me,” she said coldly while pushing her chair back. “I think I need to get some fresh air.”
As she stalked off, a part of her thought that her husband might follow her, but unfortunately – or fortunately, she was not quite sure – he did not. He remained with his horrible friends, probably saying even more terrible things about her now that she was gone.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she felt sorrier for herself than she had ever done before. How was she supposed to carry on with this life when she was so unhappy? Why could she not be brave like Mary had become and plan to leave? Her sister was right. The house would sell soon enough, and she would have to make a decision.
As she glanced down at her dress, she saw a gown that was almost as fine as the one she saw on her mother that day, and she presumed that to an untrained eye maybe she would look like a princess too. Certainly to a child. She was just like her mother; she even looked a lot like her too, but she did not share her joy for life.
Why did she have to die when she had so much to live for? Charlotte held onto her belly, forgetting that she needed to keep it a secret. And why am I at risk of death when I might finally have something to live for myself?
The only thing she cared about at the moment was her baby. Her sister too, but her baby more so. The fear that she would not survive childbirth stuck with her. She could not seem to shake it off however hard she tried. She had continual night terrors about it, imagining herself lying in a pool of blood, unable to move as her baby screamed around her. It haunted her that she might lose out and never get to know the child that lay within her, the baby that she felt like she already knew. It did not matter that half of the child belonged to her husband; in her mind, he or she was only hers.
“So it is true?” A stern voice shook her from her thoughts and caused her to spin on her heels. “You are having a baby?”
Lord Jones did not look impressed. Maybe to someone who did not know him well, he seemed calm and collected as he finally learned that his wife was having a baby, but Charlotte recognised the fire behind his eyes well. She was in trouble, a lot of trouble.
“I ... I did not realise …” Charlotte tried to go with the tactic of playing dumb that she had decided on before, but Lord Jones shook his head vehemently; he was not about to fall for that. “I only just found out.”
He stepped closer and grabbed onto her wrist, squeezing just a little too tight. A small warning from the man she knew was very capable of doing so much worse. “I think you have known for a very long time,” he growled quietly. “What I do not know is why you kept it from me.”
Charlotte gazed up into his eyes, trying to plead with him for mercy. She knew that it was pointless; once his temper got the better of him, there was nothing that she could do to stop him, but every single time she felt the need to try.
“I ... I am sorry,” she whispered. Half of her hoped that no one could see them because it was embarrassing; the other half hoped that someone was watching so that she could shake off the web of lies that surrounded her and her life. “I did not think.”
He moved his face closer to hers until she could feel his breath tickling her cheek. Somehow, that action was more intimidating than every single time he put his hands on her. It made her pulse race, her tongue thicken with fear, her brain buzz.
“We will talk about this when we get home,” he threatened. “Just you wait.”
With that, he dropped her as if she was nothing, and he walked back inside to be with his friends. He needed to sink a few more drinks if he was going to deal with his wife tonight. He had not realised how much trouble she was going to be when he agreed to marry her. Maybe if he had known, he would have turned Lord Roberts offer down ...
Charlotte found herself panting desperately, wishing that she could just take off. If there were anywhere else in the world that she could have gone, she would have run there at that moment. Instead, she would be forced to suffer a horrible night where her husband grew increasingly drunk and irritable, then she would have to go home to a house that she hated, to face the consequences of her actions.
It was safe to say that Charlotte did not have the best life.
***
Mary did not know what to do with herself as she waited in the dining room while the yelling went on around her. It was louder this time, much more terrifying, and it echoed through the entire house.
She had been able to tell that this was going to happen the moment her sister and Lord Jones walked through the door after their night at the theatre. The atmosphere was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife. Then, just to make it worse, Charlotte embraced her sister and whispered into her ear. “He knows about the baby. Please do not interfere tonight; you will only make it worse.”
So instead, because of her sister’s wish and Mary’s genuine fear that she would make it worse if she got involved, she waited for it all to be over.
Jennifer had been watching Mary for a while now, and as she stared at her, she realised that she was not like anyone she had known before. This Lady seemed kind, caring, and like she was very afraid for her sister. She wished that she could say something to make it alright; she searched her brain trying to find something that would make Lady Roberts feel better, but there was nothing. In all honesty, despite the fact that the house staff found her cold and standoffish, everyone was afraid for Lady Jones. No one knew where Lord Jones’ temper would eventually lead.
“Do you need anything?” she asked her instead, unable to keep the desperation from her tone. “I can fix you some tea, or ...”
Mary did not answer Jennifer. Instead, she took her hand and squeezed it as she searched for comfort. “I am going to save her, you know,” she hissed. Mary was not thinking straight; she did not consider for one second that Jennifer might betray her. “I am going to get her away from him.”
She was more determined than ever to make Charlotte leave when she did. According to a letter she recently received from Walter, there were people interested in the house so it seemed like a sale would be made soon, then both girls could go. They would have to hide; they would probably have to take on new names to ensure that Lord Jones never found them, but Mary did not mind that. Anything to get Charlotte away from him.
The pair stayed together, holding hands for what felt like forever. The shouting subsided at some point, but they still did not feel comfortable enough to let go of the reassurance they were trying to offer one another. It was not until everything fell into silence that Mary forced herself to tear away.
“I suppose we should both try to get some sleep now,” she said morosely. “Charlotte will not want to see me now until the morning.”
Jennifer nodded without speaking. She did not trust herself not to blurt out the truth. When things got really bad, people did not see Lady Jones for days. She remained in hiding until her bruises went away. Maybe the couple thought that was disguising what really went on, but everyone knew. There was just nothing that any of them could do about it.
“Goodnight,” she said quietly while bobbing into a curtsy.
“Yes, goodnight.”
Both of them knew they would not get any sleep, but they also did not want to get caught by a very enraged Lord Jones. His temper was usually only reserved for his wife, but the time might come when it was not. Nobody wanted to be on the receiving end of that.
***
Charlotte stared at the fresh red mark at the top of her leg, wondering what her father would think of her now. He was so keen for her to marry Lord Jones; he continually told her what an amazing idea it was. Would he still feel the same way now after he had hurt her yet again? And this time it was because she was carrying his child. He justified it by suggesting it was because she did not tell him, but Charlotte knew by now there did not need to be an excuse.
Mary will know for sure by now, she thought sadly. She will feel sorry for me; she might even blame me. She might not want me to leave with her now because I am such a risk.
Mary was not like that really; deep down, Charlotte knew that she would want to help her more, but she was stuck in a pit of feeling pathetic and useless. She felt that at least some of the blame needed to lie with her. As the acute pain in her thigh slowly moved into a dull ache, Charlotte tried to force the guilt away with it. She felt so awful for the life she had started to lead.
Her beautiful dress was torn, her make-up smudged from where she had been crying, and her hair that had been styled so nicely before was now a big mess. Charlotte looked on the outside as she felt on the inside.
I cannot live like this forever, she thought with a small burst of determination. Not just for me, but for my baby.
She had only ever seen her parents being happy; she did not know how it would have affected her if they were not. She could only imagine that it would have destroyed her if they were like her and Lord Jones. It was not fair. She needed to do the right thing and get out now before her child could see it. Yes, it would also be wrong to raise a baby without a father, but some people were forced to do it, just as she had grown up with no mother. That was certainly the lesser of two evils.
Or so she hoped.