The next month couldn’t pass by fast enough.
Eight
The entire experience felt like an exercise in futility. Charlotte didn’t know why she bothered attending so many of these events, other than obedience to her mother’s wishes. At twenty, she should be able to make her own decisions. Yet here she stood, feeling more like wall décor than an invited attendee at the soiree. This made the fifth event this month, and while it helped time pass more quickly, it didn’t make her evenings any more enjoyable.
At least the orchestra was playing some of her favorite pieces. Between turns about the floor with her scarce dance card signers, she could listen to the soothing strains of the music.
“So is it just me, or do these events become more intolerable each passing year?”
Charlotte startled at the familiar voice of Margaret Howard, an old schoolmate who’d also suffered through six seasons of social affairs with no success.
“It isn’t just you,” Charlotte replied. “But I must say it’s nice to see someone else who abhors the repetitive carousel of introductions and attempted pairings that accompany these events.”
“Oh, I more than abhor them. I no longer attend them for those reasons.” Margaret waved her left hand in the air like royalty waving to her subjects. “Now it’s become a social expectation.”
Charlotte gasped. “Is that what I think it is? Are you wearing an engagement ring and a wedding band?” She took hold of Margaret’s hand and inspected the rings. Stunning. It was the only word that came to mind, but it fit. She looked up at the twinkling eyes of her friend. “When did this all occur, and how did I miss it? And your last name obviously isn’t Howard anymore. So how do I address you?”
Margaret placed her hand in the crook of Charlotte’s elbow and leaned in close. “Come with me, and I shall share the entire story.”
Her friend led her toward the double doors opposite them, and the two young women stepped out onto the veranda. Charlotte could hardly wait to hear what had happened.
“Are you going to share your fascinating story now?”
Margaret narrowed her gaze and crossed her arms. “Who told you it was fascinating?”
“Any story where you conclude one season without any offers and appear at the next with a ring on your hand must be fascinating.” Charlotte raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Do you deny it?”
The young woman laughed. “No. How could I?” She gestured toward the waist-high wall at the edge of the veranda. “Come, let’s stand over there. It affords a much better view.”
Charlotte regarded her friend carefully. First, she didn’t want to talk inside. Now she wanted to share her story but in a specific place on the veranda. Just what was Margaret going to tell her? And why all the secrecy? Not that Charlotte minded, of course. This was the first thing to pique her interest at one of these events all season.
“All right.” Charlotte rested her left forearm on the cool stone wall and draped her right hand over her wrist. “We are here. Now tell me before I perish from anticipation.” A bit dramatic, yes, but she felt like having a little fun.
“Well. . .” Margaret drew out the word with a grin. “I suppose I should start by saying it all happened unexpectedly. It isn’t merely the occurrence of the engagement as much as who made the offer for my hand.”
“You already have me intrigued. I should like to learn the identity of this mysterious gentleman before the evening comes to a close and the clock chimes twelve times.”
Her friend cast her a glance, one corner of her mouth turning upward in an impish grin. “You always were rather theatrical. Perhaps I should lengthen the anticipation by starting at the beginning and withhold his identity a while longer.”
Charlotte faced the gardens below them. White lights illuminated the flower beds and finely trimmed hedges. Even the fountains had been illuminated. It would be the perfect setting to walk with a suitor or potential intended. But since Charlotte didn’t have such a man, she could enjoy her friend’s story and pretend it was hers.
She shrugged, acting as if it didn’t matter either way. She wanted to tease Margaret as much as her friend taunted her. “If you do that, I shall simply walk away and learn the tale from someone else.”
Margaret folded her arms. “And just who would you find to divulge every detail to you?”
“I am certain I could find someone.”
“Yes, but would they be able to point out the gentleman in question as easily as I?” She extended one long, graceful arm out over the wall toward the gardens.
Charlotte’s gaze followed her friend’s movement. She peered into the evening twilight. How did Margaret expect her to locate the man among the myriad of people out there? It wasn’t as if he wore a shingle advertising his identity. And he likely wouldn’t be dressed any differently—
Charlotte blinked several times as her gaze landed on a certain gentleman surrounded by a handful of others as if he were holding court. She recalled the way Margaret had waved her hand to show off her rings. No. That couldn’t be the man she meant. Charlotte never had the privilege or the pleasure of a formal introduction, but she just couldn’t believe he would be the one Margaret married.
A quick glance back at Margaret and Charlotte had her answer. The gleam in her friend’s eyes and the broad smile on her face confirmed it.
“How did you ever manage that?” Charlotte stood in amazement. To think while she was occupied with running a bookstore, her friend had married into royalty. Well, almost. “You, of all people. Married to a baron from England.” She shook her head. “This has to be the finest unveiling of the entire season.”
“I am pleased to see you approve.”
“How could I not?” As if she would ever begrudge anyone happiness, especially the kind that guaranteed her friend’s future.
A momentary pang of melancholy crossed Margaret’s face. “I have been the recipient of some rather malicious and vindictive remarks from a select few. But overall, the response and welcoming of my husband has been quite pleasant.”
“As well it should be. Don’t pay any attention to those who speak ill of you. They are merely jealous they weren’t the ones to attract the attention of a baron.” She reached out and clasped Margaret’s hands. “You, my dear, are now a baroness, and you have earned every bit of the honor and grace the title bestows.”
A shimmer of tears glistened in her friend’s eyes. “Thank you. That truly means a lot to me,” she said.
“You are quite welcome.” Charlotte released Margaret’s hands and turned back toward the double doors leading inside. She listened to the music floating on the air and tried to recall the order of the dances. “Now I believe I should make my way back to the ballroom so my next dance partner will be able to locate me.”
“Very well.” Margaret stepped forward and embraced Charlotte. “I do thank you for being supportive.”
Charlotte returned the hug then stepped back. “My pleasure. Be sure and come find me before you depart so I might have a proper introduction to the baron.” She winked. “And enjoy yourself this evening, Baroness,” she added, stressing the final word.
“I shall.”
How much fun it was to even say that word, let alone put it together with a young woman she’d known since the two of them were in pinafores and braids. She still couldn’t believe it. A glance over her shoulder as she reached the double doors confirmed it wasn’t a dream. As Charlotte watched, the baron joined Margaret on the terrace. If only she could be so fortunate.
Charlotte stepped into the ballroom and made her way around the perimeter. If she walked slowly, her next dance partner might have a better chance of locating her. She sidestepped one rather vigorous couple who danced in a wide arc from the rest; then she paused near one of the hallways leading into the rest of the manor. As she peered across the room, a low voice just beyond her right shoulder caught her ear.
“I cannot understand why Charlotte spends so much time attending these events a
nd dressing in her finest.” She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Amelia Devonshire. The mention of her name and the biting tone set Charlotte’s senses on high alert. “It hasn’t resulted in any success in previous seasons. Why would this year be any different?”
“It simply does not make sense,” another female voice added, only this one didn’t sound as petulant. “She is quite lovely, after all. I don’t understand why most gentlemen barely give her a passing glance.”
Charlotte wondered as well. It wasn’t as if she made herself unappealing. And she’d heard from many others, including her mother, about her pleasing appearance. Some even went so far as to tell her she would be the belle of the ball. But so far, that had never proven true. What about her repelled eligible gentlemen?
“My dear, do you not know?” Amelia asked. “Charlotte owns a bookshop. That puts her in with the working class.” Distaste dripped from her words. “We all know we are supposed to master the fine art of managing a household and learning our place in society. Working and owning a business does not fit with that plan.”
Charlotte wanted to walk away, but morbid curiosity kept her feet planted where she stood. If nothing else, she wanted to determine the identity of the other two ladies keeping company with Amelia. Perhaps she’d discover something important if she allowed their conversation to play out.
“But I have known other young women who have married, and they also worked,” a third voice said. “Why should Charlotte be any different?”
“Are you referring to Genevieve Chatterton or Margaret Howard?” A dismissing huff punctuated Amelia’s words. “Or perhaps I should say Lady Margaret instead.” Sarcasm laced every word.
“Yes,” the second voice replied. “Margaret is a baroness now, and she spent a great deal of time working in her father’s factory in Wilmington.”
“Look at her tonight,” the third lady added. “She appears every bit the refined lady, befitting her title.”
“You can dress the part easily, but your garments cannot hide what lies underneath. And it’s only a matter of time before Margaret’s real identity shows itself.”
Amelia should heed her own words. Charlotte didn’t dare peer around the corner, but Amelia no doubt looked the part of the demure and charming lady. Yet hidden inside was a bitter soul. Charlotte might feel sorry for her if Amelia’s biting remarks hadn’t been directed at both Margaret and her. Perhaps Amelia was one of those people Margaret had mentioned moments ago. The ones who delivered malicious remarks.
“Still,” the third voice continued, “I cannot see Charlotte being considered less than worthy in any way. She has always seemed generous, kind, and almost amiable to a fault.”
“But she keeps her nose buried in her books and her bookshop,” the second countered. “And that is no way to meet a potential suitor.”
Charlotte almost smiled. If only they knew how much inaccuracy their estimations contained. Spending time in her bookshop had brought a very eligible bachelor into her life. Richard might not be an actual suitor, but he certainly possessed all the qualities of one.
“Lillian, I must disagree with you on that point. The bookshop is not deterring eligible gentlemen. Charlotte has a great deal to offer a potential beau. They merely have to spend a bit more time getting to know her first.”
Charlotte gasped. Bethany! Why was she associating with ladies of that sort? Her own sister was standing there, allowing the other three ladies to discredit her name? And she waited until now to defend Charlotte’s honor?
“You are only saying that because she is your sister,” Amelia replied. “Mark my words. Charlotte Pringle will likely never marry. She will become a spinster, sequestered among the musty, lonely confines of her bookshop with nary a prospect for a secure future.”
The room suddenly grew quite constricting. Charlotte had trouble catching her breath. Unbidden tears pooled in her eyes. She withdrew a handkerchief from her reticule and touched it to her nose. She had to get out of here. But the only exit necessitated walking directly past the hallway where those ladies stood. She could return to the veranda, but far too many people were already out there. She couldn’t stay here or the tears would surely fall. Someone was bound to take notice.
Throwing caution to the wind, she kept the handkerchief in front of her face and faked a sneeze. Then she ducked her head and made a dash for the main door leading toward the front of the manor.
“Charlotte!”
Her sister’s cry barely registered. She had to keep going, lest she lose her bravado and break down in front of an audience.
She rushed ahead, not taking time to look at the handful of people she passed on her way out.
“Charlotte, wait!”
Bethany’s voice sounded stronger. She must be rather determined to chase after her in such a way. And Charlotte didn’t want to think about the scene the two of them made.
Just as she made it to the front of the manor, a staff member opened the heavy oak door, allowing access over the final hurdle in her escape. She stepped onto the porch and inhaled a breath of fresh air. A moment later, a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Charlotte, I know you must have heard me,” Bethany said. “Why did you not stop and wait for me?”
Charlotte looked through a blurry haze at her sister’s concerned face. “Because I did not wish to make a scene in front of everyone in the ballroom.”
Bethany gave a soft smile. “And you did not consider that running from the room with me attempting to catch you would cause a stir among our peers?”
Charlotte sniffed. “I didn’t believe you’d come chasing after me.”
Her sister took her hands and led her to a bench on the far side of the porch. Once seated, she leveled a compassionate gaze at Charlotte. “I am truly sorry you had to overhear the cruel remarks Amelia made, and any bit of that conversation with Amelia, Clara, and Alice.”
Charlotte dabbed at her eyes and sniffled. “I simply don’t understand why they would say such things. What have I ever done to warrant their spite or bitterness?”
Her sister squeezed her hands. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Some ladies make it a practice to lash out at others to make themselves feel better. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard Amelia speak kindly of anyone.”
“And why were you there with them?” Her sister wasn’t known for gossiping, and those young women weren’t her friends.
“Believe me. It happened completely by accident.” Bethany’s eyes revealed nothing but sincerity. “I was speaking with Alice when Amelia and Clara approached. Since we stood at the end of the hallway, they had us pinned in the corner. . .literally.” A faint smile appeared on her lips. “I was pleased to see you run away when you did, as it gave me a reason to escape, as well.”
Charlotte should have known her sister wouldn’t align herself with the likes of Amelia. “But the cruel things they said about Margaret and me. They have no reason to hurl such insults.”
“No,” Bethany said, sympathy in her voice. “But that does not mean they will change their ways.”
Charlotte dabbed again at her eyes then blinked several times to clear her vision. “They accuse me of remaining sequestered in my bookshop. Why ever would I wish to leave the safety of those four walls when I end up encountering ladies like them?” Tucking her handkerchief back into her reticule, she called the faces of Richard and Grace to mind. “I’d much rather face unassuming individuals like Mr. Baxton and his niece Grace. They are so different from many who attend parties such as this one.”
“And perhaps that is why you have your bookshop, sister dear.” Bethany shifted on the bench and clasped Charlotte’s hands tighter. “You do not belong within these social circles to find a beau.”
A hollow laugh escaped from Charlotte. “Try persuading Mother of that.”
Bethany nodded her understanding. “We shall have to address Mother some other time.” A measured level of wisdom and concern filled Bethany’s eyes. “For the time being, yo
u need to remember God has a plan in all of this. Do not allow the words of those bitter women to upset you so. You have far more in your favor than they ever will. Focus on that, and the pain of their insults will fade into distant memory.”
Wasn’t she usually the one giving advice to Bethany and Anastasia? Yet here the two of them sat, the younger counseling the older. Charlotte pulled her hands free and embraced her sister. “Thank you.”
Bethany returned the hug. “You are quite welcome.” Leaning back, she again fixed an intent look upon her sister. “Now are we ready to return to the merriment? You cannot leave and allow those ladies to think they’ve achieved any measure of triumph at your expense.”
A restorative laugh bubbled up from inside. “You are absolutely right.”
Arm in arm, they went back inside and rejoined the revelry. But their conversation left Charlotte wondering one thing: Just when had her sister become so wise?
Nine
Charlotte forgot Richard had offered to send one of his carriages, and she asked her own driver to prepare the horses then returned to the front hall to wait with her sister. A minute later, a knock came to the door, and when their butler opened it, there stood one of the Baxton carriages, ready and waiting to take her and Anastasia to Ashbourne Hills. How thoughtful of Richard to remember.
They rode together in silence with Anastasia staring out the window. That suited Charlotte just fine. She could center her thoughts on Richard. It hadn’t been easy persuading Mother and Father to allow her to attend the party, but when she explained Anastasia was also invited, they had acquiesced. Perhaps they thought her sister would be more than willing to report back on all that transpired. Not that anything would. Far too many guests would be gathered for Charlotte to have any time alone with Richard. But she knew Mother and Father were just being concerned parents, looking out for her.
In no time, they’d traveled the almost nine miles to Richard’s neighborhood and stopped in front of his home. Charlotte accepted the assistance of the footman as she descended onto the sidewalk. She approached the impressive home that had once belonged to Richard’s brother. What had happened to the home Richard owned? Did he live there anymore, or did he sell it? She made a mental note to ask him another time.
Bound By Grace Page 9
