by Pinki Parks
The time for ball to begin approached and Charlotte and Lady Carshaw awaited their summons from the footman. They were to be in position to greet his majesty at seven and thirty minutes O’clock, the King would enter, and they would curtesy and speak with him if spoken too. Only a select number of guests had been granted the privilege of meeting the monarch in this way, the rest would be in the ballroom awaiting his presence, and upon his arrival the ball would begin.
At 7 O’clock the footman knocked ceremoniously on the door and announced that they may proceed downstairs, which they duly did. At the foot of the stairs Maria was waiting for them and she wasted no time in lining Charlotte up next to herself. It was at that moment that the Duke of Hareburn arrived, he and Charlotte exchanging smiles as he was nervously placed in line too. As the half hour passed by the two made eye contact several times, a fact was noted by several of the young ladies present who had already commented behind their fans at the exquisite cut of Charlotte’s new dress.
The Duke of course had not failed to notice how beautiful she appeared that evening, more radiant than he had ever seen her before, he was so touched that she wore his grandmother’s necklace, his love for her growing by the minute. There was not another woman whom he had ever laid eyes on that had an effect upon him such as she had and here at this ball tonight it was Charlotte who was its Belle.
As the large clock in the hall way struck the half hour a trumpet blast sounded from outside and the sound of horses’ hooves signalled the arrival of the royal personage accompanied by several court dignitaries. Whilst his presence here was officially unofficial it did not stop the King from arriving with the pomp and ceremony which befits the royal person and as Maria Fitzherbert stood waiting to greet the man who, if circumstances had been different, would have been her husband, the trumpets sounded once again.
King George IV was a man of excessive tastes, a fact we have already noted, and Charlotte, having seen him from a distance earlier in the year knew what to expect. But in the months between their being in one another’s presence it appeared that the king had almost doubled in size. His clothes were almost bursting at the seams as he waddled up the steps and into the house, greeting Maria with a tender fondness.
‘His Majesty, King George IV,’ the footman announced as the King entered and those assembled gave the customary curtesy or bow. Having greeted Maria, the King paused next at Charlotte herself who felt a wave of terror go over her at the thought of addressing the reigning monarch.
‘What a terribly pretty dress my dear,’ the King said.
‘Oh, thank you sir, it’s fabulous isn’t it.’
‘Fabulous yes, and you look radiant in it too, tell me who was the designer,’
‘Oh a Mr. Dawlish sir,’ Charlotte said, ‘you can always trust gay men to have an eye for fashion.’
Realising what she had just said she felt herself turn scarlet, but the King only laughed.
‘I suppose tailors are happy in their own way.’
And with that he moved down the line.
Maria smiled at Charlotte as she followed the King down the line of honoured guests, he stopped at Cecil and she heard him enquiring after the estate before he moved on into the ballroom and the music began to play.
Charlotte had composed herself again and she found Cecil next to her asking if he might escort her in, she glanced at Lady Carshaw who gave her approval and the two-walked arm in arm into the ballroom where the King had taken his place on a large velvet covered chair reserved for the royal personage.
‘Shall we dance,’ Cecil said, ‘or rather, may I have this dance.’
‘You may,’ she said.
The dancing was exuberant, despite the warmth of the evening. The doors onto the terrace were wide open, and a warm breeze drifted in, once again bringing the scent of the garden into the room.
Charlotte and Cecil gave each other their favours for three further dances, indeed each had secretly decided that they would only dance with the other so that it was commented by several in attendance that a marriage proposal was imminent.
Maria Fitzherbert was a most congenial host, and the high society of Brighton took their fill of her hospitality, the King in particular enjoyed the ample punch provided, alongside the sweet treats and pastries ordered from the finest bakers in the city.
As the evening progressed Charlotte and Cecil took a break out on the terrace, the sounds of the merrymaking continuing behind them.
‘Oh, Cecil, what a wonderful evening, I never want it to end’ she said, ‘everything is just so perfect here.’
‘I can’t remember ever feeling so happy,’ Cecil said, ‘the affairs of state seem so far away, I never want it to end either. Oh, darling Charlotte, how I have looked forward to being with you once again.’
‘And I you,’ Charlotte said, ‘though I did not discover that you were to be present until my arrival here.’
‘I only found out a day or so ago myself that you would be here too,’ he said, laughing, ‘I think the lady of the house may have been the catalyst for our meeting.’
At that point the lady of the house herself appeared smiling and greeting others on the terrace. When she saw Charlotte and Cecil together she made her way over to them.
‘Well, how are you enjoying the evening?’ she said.
‘Everything is perfect,’ Charlotte said.
‘I hoped it would be, the King was most impressed by your attire, he was speaking of it once again to me just now.’
Charlotte blushed.
‘It is the most beautiful dress I have seen,’ Cecil said, ‘though the wearer is more beautiful.’
Charlotte blushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and Maria let out a laugh at seeing her in such a state.
The evening passed as it had proceeded, the dancing and merrymaking went on into the night, for Maria Fitzherbert was not one to stand on the usual social etiquettes, and it seemed that the high society of Brighton appreciated this opportunity for revelry away from prying eyes.
At length Lady Carshaw went to her bed, and after the King’s departure the rest of the assembly began to break up.
‘I am terribly sad to be leaving you once again,’ Cecil said to Charlotte as the final dance concluded.
‘We shall see each other very soon I’m sure,’ she said.
‘I am certain that we will, your brother’s birthday approaches, I am sure an invitation to Langburn will be forthcoming,’ Cecil said, ‘there is something which I so wish to ask you, but the restraints of our class and position mean it must be done in the correct manner. I shall make my intentions known in a letter.’
Charlotte smiled at him, she guessed what it was he wished to ask, the idea of marrying someone here seemed somewhat extreme. Much of the time she had felt herself to be merely an observer, her relationships created as part of the experience here. It’s been nearly a year since she last saw Pheobe. She had become accustomed to her life in the regency. Her mannerisms, she had noticed, had changed quite a bit. She was no longer the woman she was in New York City, loud, sometime rude and sometime insensitive. That was Melissa. Charlotte, however, is reposed, gentle in her speech, makes conversation with calculated words to keep a pleasant air, and most of all, carefree in a sweet and charming manner, which Cecil so loved about her and which she has loved about herself. Without that chip on her shoulder, which always got her in trouble with the opposite sex, Charlotte was genuinely happier than she had even been. She no longer cared whether she would return to her modern life but rather looked forward to her life here, with Cecil, her loving family, and new-found friends.
At length he bid her goodnight, and she and Maria retired to their chambers, the ball having been a resounding success. Thar night Charlotte slept with the windows wide open, the warm summer breeze bellowed the sheer white curtains and flooded the room with a garden scent. It did not take her long to go to sleep, and her dreams were punctuated gently by images of all that she ha
d experienced.
The next morning the household once again rose late from its slumber, though with the curtains open Charlotte awoke early as the rising sun flooded the room. She and Lady Carshaw were to spend a few more days in Brighton with Maria before making the journey back to Langburn. She wrote several letters that morning, firstly to her sisters and then to her mother telling them of what a happy time she had had and how Cecil had been present at the ball. She wrote also to her brother confiding in him her love for his friend, and imploring his counsel in the matter.
The next few days passed like a dream, Maria and Charlotte took walks in the grounds and visited the pavilion, there was shopping to do and Lady Carshaw accompanied her on a visit to Mr. Dawlish’s shop to buy gifts for her sisters and mother. Charlotte felt certain that if she had been told she would remain in Brighton for the rest of her life then she would happily do so. The trappings of the 21st century seemed now so superficial, why take a selfie when you can simply appreciate the moment, why send an instant message when a letter expresses your thoughts and love with so much greater eloquence, why be part of a society which wants everything instantaneously when what truly matters is the here and now and the people you are surrounded by?
It was all this and more which Charlotte had learned during her time with her Regency friends, and as she and Lady Carshaw came to leave Brighton she was certain that she would carry them with her if ever she returned home, and if she never did then she would be perfectly happy here.
~
‘Maria, thank you for your hospitality,’ Lady Carshaw said as they came to leave.
‘Constance, it has been my pleasure in all things,’ Maria said, ‘and Charlotte I am so glad you were able to come.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Charlotte said, ‘for everything, for the invitation, the dress, for your company, for bringing Cecil here.’
‘You don’t have to thank me at all, just promise you will return again.’
‘That I will,’ Charlotte said as she embraced Maria before being helped into the carriage by the footman.
As they left Brighton the warm sea breeze was once again covering the town in a sweet scent, and Charlotte could not have felt happier than she did at that moment as they made their way home towards Langburn and the next adventure to come.
Chapter VII
The journey back to Langburn was uneventful, they spent a pleasant night once again at the Lion and Unicorn in St Mary Allington before arriving home in the mid afternoon of the next day.
Her mother and sisters were there to greet them having received Charlotte’s letters earlier that day.
‘Charlotte, darling,’ her mother said as they climbed out of the carriage, ‘it seems like you have been away an age.’
‘It feels a little like it too mother, I have so much to tell you.’
‘Come along inside, you too Constance, Lord Carshaw arrived earlier to collect you and is with the Duke now.’
‘You must have so many stories to tell,’ Ellen said, ‘what is Brighton like? I have always imagined it to be like Bath, but somehow more exciting.’
The explanations of the events on the south coast took up a good part of the next hour, and by the time the Duke and Lord Carshaw appeared in the salon a full account had been given of the weekend’s activities, including the unexpected presence of the Duke of Hareburn.
‘Well it sounds like you have had a wonderful time,’ Lord Carshaw said, ‘and I have heard only a few minutes of the account.’
‘You must have enjoyed seeing Cecil again,’ Freddie said to Charlotte as the party began to break up, and Lord and Lady Carshaw bid their farewells.
‘It was just wonderful,’ Charlotte said, ‘I couldn’t have been happier,’
‘Well I hope you’ll be happy to know he’s coming to my birthday in a few weeks’ time,’ the Duke said, ‘I’ve invited him for the weekend, I’m certain he’ll accept.’
This news caused great excitement in Charlotte, a fact she was unable to hide, embracing her brother where he stood.
‘He has spoken with me too about another matter, of which I am sure you can guess, and which I know from your letter is playing on your own mind’ Freddie continued, ‘it falls to me to give my consent to his question, and I do indeed give that consent, mother may be harder to win over but I am sure she will come around. He intends to ask for your hand that very weekend. His letter had arrived this morning and mother is currently reading it in the boudoir.’
Whilst Charlotte had known this to be the case, being confronted with the reality caused her heart to skip a beat, and suffice to say the thought was foremost on her mind until the arrival of Freddie’s birthday weekend several weeks later.
~
It was now July, and preparations for the Duke’s celebratory dinner were reaching their final stages, that evening he would host a grand affair for the high society of the district along with many invited guests. The Duke of Hareburn would be amongst them, and he was due to arrive at Langburn that afternoon, remaining there until Monday morning.
Charlotte knew that he intended to ask for her hand in marriage, though the exact details were still a mystery. She had decided to wear the dress bought for her by Maria Fitzherbert and at that moment she and her sisters, in whom she had confided the proposal, were preparing themselves for the evening’s celebrations.
~
“My dearest Charlotte, from the time I have known you, you have always been that blossoming rose that commanded my attention, even amongst a room filled with people. My love for you extends beyond any dowry, although I am aware that the Marquess of Collingdale would be a better choice given his fortune and should you deny my love over him, I shall die of heartbreak. But I do have your mother’s approval…I guess what I am saying Charlotte, is that I love you. I have loved you for many years. My heart stops just at the mention of your name. I cannot go on another moment without you beside me everyday. Would you do me the honour of taking my hand in marriage?’ Charlotte took a breath, looked into Cecil’s eyes without any reservations she said, ‘Yes! Yes, Cecil, I will marry you!’ Cecil stood up and embraced Charlotte smiling from ear to ear. ‘Oh, joyous day! I am the luckiest man alive! Then it is set. We shall marry as soon as possible.’ Charlotte had no reservations about that either. ‘That would be wonderful, my love.’
Preparations for the wedding took the Langburn house by a storm. With only two weeks to prepare, at the couple’s insistence, the staff and her mother were busy readying the dresses, letters, and flowers among other things, the many details to make the day absolutely perfect. Her mother had insisted in having the wedding at Langburn upon her approval of the couple’s union, as Charlotte would soon be moving to Hareburn. ‘Charlotte, it is the day of your wedding and you are still not in your dressed. I shall have your sister help you.’ ‘Thank you, mother.’ Charlotte said with excitement and kissed her mother on the cheek. She wore a permanent smile since she woke that morning. ‘Come upstairs at once. We can’t have the bride be late for her own wedding.’ They made their way of the curved staircase to the bedrooms, where her mother left her with her sisters with strict instructions to be ready by 2:00 PM. The guests had already started to arrive.
~
They had commandeered one of the upper rooms, normally reserved for guests, to act as a boudoir in which all three could prepare themselves and make ready for the great event. The room also had a view over the front of the house and was therefore a suitable vantage point to watch for the arriving guests, something the two elder sisters considered essential.
‘What’s in this cupboard?’ Charlotte asked, as her sisters fussed around her with the dress.
‘Oh, it’s just all the stuff mother bought when she went through her painting phase,’ Ellen replied, ‘do come along Charlotte, we’ve got to get things ready, look the dress is all laid out, why it’s so beautiful, I shall hope to wear something this beautiful on my wedding day.’
‘I just want to take a look,’ Charlotte said, her curiosity at her mother’s painting prowess, or lack thereof, getting the better of her.
‘Yes, see if that awful painting of the Carshaw’s spaniels is in there,’ Isabella said, ‘the smallest one looked more like a piglet. But then do come and get ready, we all need to look your best this afternoon, after all, you only marry once.’
‘I will,’ Charlotte said, ‘just let me look.’
Opening the cupboard Charlotte found that it was indeed full of half finished canvasses, the outline of a dog, or a smudged watercolour image of the estate looking up forlornly at her. But towards the back of the cupboard were other, more impressive, works, stacked together in ornate gold frames. Charlotte moved further inside the cupboard as the sounds of her sisters’ fussing continued from outside.
As she moved further into the cupboard, letting go of the handle on the door it slammed shut leaving her in the semi-darkness. Startled she turned, but the cupboard now seemed bigger. She couldn’t hear her sisters’ voices from outside, and calling to them she felt her way back towards the door which, with some difficulty, she found, turning the handle and pushing it forward.
‘What the hell?’ Phoebe said, as Charlotte emerged from what was now the storage cupboard of the restoration studio and appeared before her. ‘Where the hell have you been girl? I got doughnuts from McClusky’s.’ and pausing ‘what’s with the dress? I looked all over for you when I got back, we guessed you’d taken a half day, did it not occur to you to tell someone? Anything could have happened to you.’
