by Kira Stewart
Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure!
O! let me suffer, being at your beck,
The imprison'd absence of your liberty;
And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check,
Without accusing you of injury.
Be where you list, your charter is so strong
That you yourself may privilege your time
To what you will; to you it doth belong
Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime.
I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well.
Charlotte read the letter twice, her eyes filling with tears. The emotions of the morning had taken their toll, and she was no longer in control of her feelings.
A solitary tear dropped onto the letter, spoiling the ink and formed a tiny dark rivulet that ran down the page.
“Charlotte, my dear.”
Henrietta has been watching her friend from a distance, had seen her read and then reread the letter, before she approached the girl. Fearing bad news, she sat down next to her.
“He is not coming?”
Without speaking, Charlotte passed the letter across to her friend, so she could read for herself.
“Well, my dear. He sounds sincere. He would have surely not sent a letter such as this, if his intentions had been otherwise. He even sends you a ring and poetry. I like this man already. Let me see the ring.”
Charlotte presented her hand with the pretty ring, now adorning the third finger on her left hand.
“Oh, Charlotte, how beautiful! Your Charles may be a mystery man, but he must hold you in very high affection indeed, to send you his mother’s ring.”
“But how can I wear it, Henry? My mother is sure to see it and then what will I say? And I do so want to wear it always. I’m sure it will bring us both luck.”
“That is simple, my dear. Just say that the ring is a present from me as a sign of our friendship. She can hardly argue about that. There is nothing strange about receiving a gift from a woman friend, and if she asks me, I will tell her it is the truth. A little white lie will not hurt in this instance.”
“Oh, Henrietta, I did not mean to cry, but I have been so very anxious. When the letter arrived, I was so sure that he had changed his mind. He is still a mystery to me. I wonder what the urgent business is all about. Perhaps it has something to do with the Duke of Norfolk?”
Her friend looked puzzled.
“What has the Duke of Norfolk to do with this?”
“Did I not tell you? When I met Charles at the Inn, he said he was working for the Duke. The Duke’s carriage had just arrived.”
“Then I will ask Thomas. He is bound to know somebody who knows the Duke. Until then, all you can do is wait, my dear. The letter is well-written and thoughtful, and I am sure the young man is sincere. Now, dry your eyes and let us have tea and cake to cheer ourselves. You look half starved, and it will do you good.”
•••
The letter did or say how long she was to wait, or how he would contact her again, but Charlotte stayed positive. He had asked her to believe in him, and she did so. She also trusted her friend’s judgment.
And so she waited. For the first week, she managed to stay positive. Every morning, she expected word from him and waited eagerly for the post to arrive. She visited the Reading Rooms on two occasions, just in case, examining the face of every man who walked through the doors. Each time, she was disappointed.
Yet, she read and reread his letter, kept safely inside her journal, and the little book of poetry was now well-thumbed, and always kept close to her heart. Once she told her mother that the ring was from her good friend, she wore it always, as a symbol of their promise to each other.
18.
On the eighth day of her waiting, a letter did arrive, whilst she was having breakfast. Not wanting her mother to see the letter, she quickly put it in her pocket to read in private, and excused her from the table.
“My dear, you have hardly touched your eggs. I am getting very worried about you. You are looking very pale and tired lately. Is everything all right?”
“I am just not hungry, mother. I think I will go and have a lie down, as I did not sleep well last night. I am sure I will feel much better after that.”
Almost running up the stairs, Charlotte headed for the privacy of her bedroom, pulling the note from her pocket as soon as she opened her door.
Her heart sank immediately. The writing was not that of Charles. It was from her friend, Henrietta.
The note was brief.
I have news. Call as soon as you can.
Henry.
Her mother was surprised when Charlotte appeared downstairs again.
“I think I need a little air, Mama. Do you think I can use the carriage and visit with Henrietta?”
Mrs. Thompson was unusually genial, and soon the girl was setting off to visit her friend.
Henrietta’s note had been brief, and whilst at first, she had been excited, she now had her doubts. The note had not stated whether the news was good or bad.
As soon as she saw her friend’s face, Charlotte knew it was not good news, as she was quickly ushered into the library.
“My dear, I am so glad you came. I have some news for you, but I am not sure what it means.”
“You must tell me everything you know, Henry.”
“Well, I said I would ask Thomas to enquire about the Duke of Norfolk. I knew he would know someone to ask. Anyway, Thomas has made discreet enquiries among his contacts to see if anyone called Charles Dewhurst works for the Duke.”
“Well?”
Henrietta hesitated for a moment.
“I am afraid that no one with that name works for the Duke.”
“But that means nothing. I already doubt that is his real name.”
“He also asked if anyone named Charles works for the Duke, and that also came back in the negative.”
Charlotte was silent. She had already run out of excuses for the man.
“But why, Henry? Why should he lie to me?”
“I wish I knew. I have been wracking my brain, ever since Thomas told me. All I can think is that there must be a very good reason, Charlotte.”
As the girls sat pondering, there was a knock at the door and the face of Thomas Langton peered into the room.
“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I have just received some interesting news that relates to your conundrum. I have just heard from the Duke of Leicester that the old Duke of Norfolk has passed away in the last few days. Apparently, he had been ill for a while, but no one imagined how serious the illness was. A distant cousin of his is now the new Duke, and his investiture is taking place in London as we speak. It could be that your mysterious man Charles is connected to the new Duke.”
Charlotte felt like hugging Thomas, relieved that this could be the explanation she was looking for.
“Of course, that must be it. And the delay in London, the urgent business must be the investiture. I should have never doubted him.”
Henrietta smiled, relieved that her friend had renewed hope.
“There, my dear, a simple explanation I am sure. I said he would not have sent the letter if his intentions had not been honorable. Now, you must try and be patient and wait for him to contact you.”
Charlotte headed home with a happy heart. There were still questions to ask, but when Thomas had explained it, suddenly, all made sense—even the unexpected meeting at the Inn, and then again in London. It was fate, it had to be.
19.
Reaching home, she opened the door quietly and began to tiptoe across the hall in silence, so she would not be heard. It was later than she had intended, and the girl wanted time to be alone to reread her letters and think about Charles. As she reached the foot of the stairs, the Drawing Room door opened. It was her mother.
“Charlotte, you are late. Your father and I would like to speak to you for a moment.”
The tone of her mother’s voice ma
de her heart sink. Something was wrong.
Her father sat by the fire, reading, and as she entered, he looked up over his spectacles, but it was her mother who spoke.
“Charlotte. Have you really been to visit your friend today?”
The girl looked puzzled.
“Yes, mama, why do you ask?”
“You have been away almost three hours. Did you really meet up with Henrietta Langton?”
Her mother’s face was pale and a feeling of dread passed over the girl. What on earth had happened?
“Why yes, Mama. I am rather late back, but I had tea with Henrietta and her husband before I left. Then I came straight home. Why do you ask?”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed, as she looked at her daughter.
“I found these in your room.”
Crossing to the table, Mrs. Thompson picked up a small pile of papers and handed them to the girl. It was the book of poetry and letter from Charles.
For a moment, Charlotte stared at the paper in her hand, as if not really believing what she was seeing.
For a moment, she was in shock, and then her anger began to rise.
“Where did you get these from, mother?”
For a moment, Mrs. Thompson looked almost sheepish.
“You are my daughter, Charlotte, and I need to know what is going on.”
“You have been through my personal items, mother—through my journal.”
“A young girl shouldn’t have such secrets, Charlotte. Now, who is this man? Have you seen him this afternoon?”
The poor girl was almost in tears of rage.
“No, mama. I have told you. I was with Henrietta Langton. You can ask her if you like.”
“That may be so. But it does not explain who this man is, and why he is sending you poetry. And that ring you are wearing, why did you lie to me? It was not given to you by Henrietta Langton at all—it was from this man. What promises have you made to him, Charlotte? A man does not just send you a ring without having some sort of understanding. Is this the reason you have not shown any interest in Sir Harvey?”
Unable to hear anymore, Charlotte headed for the door.
“I need to know, Charlotte. Do not leave the room. Your father needs to know who this man is.”
Mr. Thompson looked up uneasily, but remained silent.
“If you will not tell us, then you cannot be trusted to go out alone, Charlotte, not without a chaperone, anyway. I will be accompanying you on all of your excursions, from now on.”
“But, Mama, that is not fair. I am almost eighteen years old.”
“And you are still the legal responsibility of your father and I, until you are twenty-one. You are not fit to be trusted to go out alone. Now, will you tell us who this man is?”
Charlotte remained silent.
“In that case, you will no longer be allowed out on your own, is that not right, Mr. Thompson.”
Snatching the papers from her mother’s hands, Charlotte pushed the letters inside her pelisse and quickly ran across the hallway and up the stairs to her room. It was so unfair. Now, even if Charles did contact her, she would not be able to see him. Her parents would never approve. She would have to make a plan with Henrietta. That was it, she would have to send letters by the way of her friend, and he could also send her letters by the same route. That’s how they would communicate. Perhaps she would elope with Charles? It seemed the only way forward.
Pulling the letters out from her pelisse, she folded them carefully with the poetry, and looked around for somewhere safe to hide them. She could not bear the thought of her mother reading his words again. She had found them once, and would probably find them again. There was only one thing for it—she would have to carry them around with her at all times.
•••
Unfortunately, her mother was true to her word and accompanied the girl for the next two days, wherever she went, and she was even unable to speak with her friend. Her plans for communicating with Charles, via her friend, were thwarted. Poor Charlotte was at her wits end, not knowing what to do. However, would she contact Charles, or he her? She worried that if he sent another note addressed to her at home, her mother would destroy it, before she even knew it had been sent, leaving poor Charles to think that she was no longer interested.
It was only on the third day, when Sir Harvey sent his carriage for her, that she was allowed to go out on her own.
“At least this time, I know where you shall be. You will not come to any harm with Sir Harvey.”
20.
Reluctantly, Charlotte set off. Her heart was not in the visit, but at least it would mean that she would be away from her mother for a while.
As soon as Sir Harvey saw the young girl, he knew that something was wrong. She had lost weight and her normally pale face was much paler. The brightness had gone from her eyes, and there was a general sadness to her demeanor.
“My dear, whatever is the matter?”
Ushering her quickly into the library, he placed her on the leather sofa set before a huge fire, and rang for tea.
“A piece of my cook’s delicious chocolate cake will revive you, my dear. Now, do tell me what the matter is.”
Sir Harvey was the last person on earth Charlotte had thought she could tell her story to, but there was no one else.
Her tears fell thick and fast.
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, the man patted her paternally on the shoulders.
“There, there, my dear, whatever it is, I am sure it is not that bad. I will help wherever I can.”
“Oh, Sir Harvey, you are so very kind, but I am afraid there is nothing you can do.”
Wiping her eyes, she tried to smile.
“If you do not tell me what is wrong, then how do you know I cannot help? Now, let me make a guess. It is about a certain young man?”
“But how did you know?”
The old man smiled gently.
“I have been around for many years, and I think I can tell a broken heart when I see one. Now, tell me all about this rival of mine.”
The girl told her story, right from the beginning.
“So, you see it will be impossible for Charles to contact me, now that mother and father forbid it. I am not allowed out on my own, unless it is to see you. I was hoping to use my friend, Henrietta Langton, as an intermediary, but my mother will insist on visiting with me. Oh, Sir Harvey, I do not know what to do. It is an impossible situation.”
Stroking his chin, Sir Harvey walked over to the window and rubbed at his beard.
“Nothing is impossible, my dear. Now, you must not give up hope. Not all is lost. Leave it with me, and I will see what I can do. It sounds as though your parents are fully against this man. Why is that?”
“Oh sir, they do not really know him, only that he is a poor soldier. I am sure if he were a wealthy man, like you, then they would approve. It is not fair.”
“The world is not fair, my dear. But you say you love this man, even without money? How would you live?”
“Well sir, when I am twenty-one, I will have my inheritance. I am nearly eighteen, so that is only three years away, and it is not so very long a time to wait.”
Charlotte tried to be brave at the thought of three years, but very soon, the tears started falling again.
“But what if he won’t wait that long?”
“Now, now, dry your eyes, my dear. I am sure that something can be done. Now, mop up your tears and leave it to me. I shall think about this over the next few days, and by next week, I am certain to have a plan and send for you. Now, do stop crying and read to me for a while.”
The old gentleman had been very kind, although Charlotte thought there was very little that could be done, but at least it gave her hope.
•••
The whole of the next week she waited and fretted. She refused to go out accompanied by her mother, and instead, sat at the window, watching for any sign of Charles, or perhaps even the delivery of a letter, but nothing came.
His letters remained next to her heart and she prayed that all would come well in the end.
Just over a week later, a card arrived, addressed to her. After inspection by her mother, it was passed on to her, as the invitation was from Sir Harvey requesting another visit.
She could hardly wait for his carriage to arrive, and stood eagerly at the Drawing Room window.
Her mother clucked around her, pleased at the interest her daughter was finally showing in the man. She had been right to intervene in the other matter, and had been proved right in the end.
“I can accompany you today if you like, my dear. I am very fond of Sir Harvey, and it would be good to see him again.”
“Oh no, mama, that will not be necessary. Besides, all of the arrangements will have been made for tea, and he will not be expecting an extra one. Perhaps you can visit with me next time?”
Luckily, her mother agreed.
“Yes, you are right, my dear. It would be quite an imposition on the man after all the kindness he has shown to you. But be sure to mention that I will visit with you next time.”
21.
A maid servant met her at the door and showed her through into the library. A huge fire was burning, as usual, by the large leather sofa, but this time, Sir Harvey sat at his desk in the far corner, and beckoned her to join him.
He looked serious, as he watched her sit, looking at her over half rimmed spectacles.
“My dear, I will call for tea immediately. I expect you are ready for refreshment after your journey here?”
His voice sounded a little hesitant, and Charlotte could instantly tell that something was wrong.
“I have been waiting all week, sir, to hear your news. Perhaps we can discuss our business, and then have tea?”
With a sigh, the man stood and walked over to the window. For a few seconds, he remained quite still, looking out into the open, as if fixed on an object outside, before turning back into the room. Taking off his spectacles, he walked back to his desk.
“I have been thinking about your little problem all week, my dear. At first, I thought it would be simple, matters of the heart are usually sorted one way or the other, and usually for the better.”
