by Georgie Lee
The morning passed in a haze of worry as Charlotte waited for his response. She dressed as well as could be expected in her distracted state, lamenting the dark circles beneath her eyes. Too nervous to think of breakfast, she wandered through the house until Aunt Mary talked her into a quiet game of cards. But the sound of every passing carriage sent her scurrying to the window and she grew more and more agitated as the hours wore on. Finally, at half past noon, the butler approached with a small envelope addressed in Edward’s sturdy hand. Charlotte snatched up the letter and tore it open as Aunt Mary watched anxiously from across the card table.
“Well, what does it say?” she demanded.
“He’s not coming.” The despair from the night before overwhelmed her and hot tears sprang to her eyes.
“Why not?”
“He says we have nothing further to discuss and I may keep the ring as he has no more use for it.” Charlotte handed her aunt the letter and the older woman read it quickly.
“But he loves you, I know he loves you.”
Charlotte shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. “Not anymore.”
*****
Edward rode silently next to his father down Rotten Row, trying desperately to rid his mind of Charlotte. It’d taken all his willpower not to fly to her house the minute he’d received her request for an interview, but he’d resisted. If she was so determined to think the worst of him, then why should he work so hard to regain her love and trust? Surely there were easier women in the world to win.
“Look at all these peacocks strutting through the park. They deserve each other. You’re lucky to be marrying a girl like Miss Stuart and not one of these frilly chits,” George grumbled, and Edward knew he couldn’t put off telling his father what had happened.
“Miss Stuart and I have ended our engagement.”
“What?” George pulled his horse to a stop. “When?”
Edward halted his horse, unable to meet his father’s eyes. Instead he looked across the park at an elderly couple walking leisurely together, her arm linked in his, her head resting on his shoulder. “Last night at the auction.”
“Why?”
“I told her the truth about my finances and she accused me of being a liar and embarrassing her in society.”
“You’re a fool.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You heard me. Your dumb plan brought you here, so let me give you a new one.” Edward leaned back in the saddle as his father jabbed at him with his black riding crop. “You pay a call on her today, now and apologize. You take every criticism she gives you and throw a few of your own on the heap.”
“I’ll do no such thing. I’ve swallowed my pride enough for her and it’s gained me nothing. Even after everything I’ve done, she still doesn’t trust me.”
“Why should she? You lied to her, didn’t you?”
Edward picked at a small spot on the knee of his riding breeches. “It was hardly a lie.”
“It wasn’t exactly the truth now was it?”
“You’re becoming quite a nuisance in this matter.”
“I’m your father. I’m supposed to be a nuisance. Now, are you going to apologize or do I have to disown you?”
“Do as you like, I’m through with her. If she wants to be an ape leader, so be it.”
“Stubborn boy. See what it’s got you.” George kicked his horse and galloped off down the path.
Edward stayed behind, allowing his horse to amble slowly over the dirt. For a moment he imagined marching into the Stuarts’ drawing room, sweeping Charlotte into his arms and begging her to be his once again. But what was the point of such dramatics? He’d already apologized many times before and it’d gained him nothing.
Edward urged his horse into a trot and caught up to his father.
“I might try Brighton. See if the young ladies there have something to offer.”
“Your stepmother is from Brighton. Nothing good comes from Brighton.”
“Tunbridge Wells perhaps. It doesn’t matter so long as the view changes quickly.”
“It’s your view that needs changing. And the sooner you change it, the happier we’ll all be, especially you.”
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte gazed out the window of Lady Redding’s drawing room, taking in the moonlit patio and gardens just beyond the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Tonight the sashes were raised, allowing guests to wander freely between the drawing room and the garden and providing much needed air. Charlotte closed her eyes and breathed in the heady scent of the lavender bushes in the large urns just outside the windows. The fragrant air weighed heavily on her spirits, as did the sound of familiar male laughter drifting across the room. She glanced to where Edward sat chatting with the pretty but vapid Miss Smith in front of Lady Redding’s portrait.
“Do you see the brushstrokes?” he asked.
“They’re very pretty,” the ninny answered in an annoyingly high pitched voice.
“They’re after the style of Van Dyke,” Edward explained.
Miss Smith stared at him with a blank expression. “Who?”
Charlotte didn’t hear his response but closed her eyes, fighting back the encroaching tears. When at last she was sure she wasn’t going to cry in front of the assembled guests, she focused on Lady Redding’s new landscape acquired from the Widows and Orphans auction. The soft click of ladies’ shoes on the polished wood floor behind her caught her attention and she listened as Mrs. Greenville and Mrs. Knight passed by on a leisurely turn about the room.
“I thought they were engaged,” Mrs. Knight said to Mrs. Greenville in an audible whisper.
“Me too. I’m as perplexed as you.”
The ladies walked off and Charlotte wondered why she’d allowed Aunt Mary to convince her to attend instead of staying home and waiting for the Season to end. There was no point in sitting here so everyone could speculate on the sudden distance between her and Edward, or to torture herself with his indifference while knowing there was nothing she could do to change it.
*****
Mary and Charles sat across the room, keenly aware of Charlotte’s suffering.
“Perhaps we should leave? People are beginning to talk,” Charles suggested.
“No, we mustn’t leave. Lord Woodcliff is as miserable as Charlotte.” Mary nodded in Lord Woodcliff’s direction.
Charles observed the Viscount for a moment then turned to Mary. “He’s far too cheerful to be unhappy.”
“No he’s not. See how he laughs too much and too loudly.”
Charles watched again as Lord Woodcliff laughed at another of Miss Smith’s remarks. Much to Charles’ surprise, it suddenly sounded hollow and forced and he noticed the way the Viscount’s eyes wandered around the room instead of focusing on his attractive companion.
“You may be right.”
“I’ve caught him many times observing Charlotte. I believe if we wait, things may play out to her advantage. She’ll find a way to apologize and he’ll see how much she loves him and they’ll both put this silly tiff behind them.”
Charles had his doubts but decided to trust his wife’s opinion. “We’ll stay then and wait for an opportunity.”
“As the Season is quickly drawing to a close, I don’t intend to wait for opportunity, I’ll create it myself.”
Mary rose with purpose and Charles watched his wife cross the room to Lady Redding who stood on the outskirts of a circle of guests listening to a man of letters offer his opinion on poetry. Mary whispered a few words to Lady Redding who nodded with excitement. Mary hurried back to Charles and sat down beside him.
“What did you do?”
“I created an opportunity.”
*****
Charlotte, determined to appear as carefree as Edward, perused the refreshment table, smiling a little too widely as she tossed off greetings to the other guests. The effort of looking happy exhausted her. She was about to join Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles and ask if they could go home when Lo
rd Hatteston appeared beside her.
“Miss Stuart, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Have you tried the cake? It’s quite good.”
“No, I don’t have much of an appetite tonight.” She tried to back away, but he kept talking.
“Spirited girl like you should enjoy such excellent food.”
“I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well at the moment.”
“Must be catching, Edward isn’t feeling well either. Hasn’t eaten all day. Thinks a trip to Brighton might cure him. I don’t think it will. What do you think?”
“I can’t say.” She studied the man, wondering at his friendliness and if he knew the engagement was over. Edward must have told him, yet he spoke to her as if nothing was wrong.
“I’ve advised him against it but he seems determined. Always been very stubborn. I think you could convince him to stay.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe I can.”
He leaned in a little closer, his eyes, Edward’s eyes, very serious at last. “Yes, you can. Besides, I’m expecting a grandson by next spring.”
He winked at her then made his way back to Lady Redding’s group.
She watched him go, stunned, then stole a peek at Edward, searching for some sign the Earl was right about his son being unhappy too. Edward caught her eye and held it a moment. A small spark of hope flickered inside her but the glance was fleeting. He turned back to Miss Smith, offering the lady his arm as he guided her to another of Lady Redding’s paintings. He was determined to forget her, it was evident, even from across the room, no matter what his father said. He would go to Brighton and she to Salisbury and they’d probably never see one another again.
“You’re very quiet this evening,” Elizabeth observed, coming to stand beside her.
“I don’t have a great deal to talk about,” Charlotte replied as Elizabeth guided her to a nearby bench and they sat down.
“Henry told me what happened.”
“And very soon, everyone else will know, especially when he announces his engagement to Miss Smith,” she waved her hand at the nauseating couple.
“Her? He wouldn’t want her.”
“Why not, she’ll probably love him without question.” Unlike me.
“She hasn’t enough sense to question anything and I’m sure Lord Woodcliff isn’t gullible enough to be taken in by her shallow charms.”
“Even if he doesn’t pursue her, he must be relieved to be free of me and all my doubts.”
“He isn’t, no more than you are. You two have been so happy together, you can’t allow it to end like this. Tell him you love him and you’re sorry for being so addle-patted.”
“I already tried but he wouldn’t see me.”
“Then make him see you. Make him listen.”
“No, things between us are quite settled. I’m afraid yours is the only wedding we’ll celebrate this Season.” The tears were heavy in her voice as she looked out the window, attempting to hide her pain.
“I refuse to allow you to accept this.” Elizabeth rose, towering over Charlotte with a force of spirit she’d never witnessed before. “I won’t see you so unhappy, not after you’ve done so much for me. You’ve been a great friend and I hope to do half as much for you by insisting you march straight to Lord Woodcliff and apologize.”
Charlotte twisted the emerald ring on her finger. He’d refused to call on her this morning, but he was here now and she could force him to listen. It’d be worth making a spectacle of herself in front of everyone to hear her name on his voice, feel his arms around her and bask in the loving smile she’d come to cherish. If she did nothing she would lose him, but if she tried to apologize, attempted to make him see past the mistake she’d made to the love they’d built over the last few weeks, she might win him back.
“Can it be done?” she asked, unsure if she could cross the gulf between them and needing Elizabeth’s encouragement.
“It can.”
Before Charlotte could move, Lady Redding clapped her hands to draw the room’s attention.
“Everyone, Mr. Williams, our esteemed poet, has posed a question. He says a lady’s vanity doesn’t allow her to admit fault and it’s the purview of the man to do so. I say he’s wrong. What do you say my dear guests? Do you think a woman can admit fault or do you agree with Mr. Williams and believe a woman is incapable of such an admission?” she posed, sending a wave of excited chatter through the room.
“I say a lady shouldn’t have to apologize,” Lord Ashford happily announced and several of the ladies nodded in agreement.
“I agree,” Mrs. Greenville laughed and the other matrons merrily applauded.
“I say let the gentleman apologize. It makes for a happy home,” George said between mouthfuls of pastry, staring at Edward who scowled at his father.
Seeing her opportunity, Charlotte stood to address the question. “Lady Redding, I think a lady’s vanity may prohibit her from admitting fault, especially if she is well known for her pride and stubborn nature.”
Curious whispers filled the room at this remark and for a moment, Charlotte regretted being so bold but this was no time to be shy. If she didn’t catch Edward’s attention tonight, she might never have another chance.
“Then you agree with Mr. Williams?” Lady Redding pressed.
“No, for when a lady realizes vanity and conceit may cost her the treasure of her heart, her very happiness, she must instantly put such vices aside.”
She focused on Edward, determined he understand, and listen. Miss Smith said something, trying to draw him into conversation but he ignored her, his attention fixed on Charlotte. His expression remained guarded and the hope within her began to waver. He no longer wanted her and not even this would change it.
Around them, guests discussed among themselves the merit of Charlotte’s statement.
Lady Treadwell moved to speak but it was Edward who responded first.
“Can a lady put aside such tendencies and admit fault even when both she and the gentleman are to blame for the conflict?”
Edward’s eyes held an optimism Charlotte couldn’t mistake and her breath caught in her throat. He did still love her. She could win him back, all was not lost. She gathered up her courage and answered with all her heart. “Yes, especially when she realizes how wrong she was not to believe in him or love him without reservation. It’s the only way to make everything right and to secure happiness and love.”
The room erupted in excited chatter at her admission.
“Gentlemen, ladies, silence please,” Lady Redding commanded. “Miss Stuart, do you say this from experience?”
“I do, because once I allowed fear instead of love to guide me. I didn’t trust my heart, or love without reservation or doubt. I didn’t listen to the good counsel of friends and family and in doing so, I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, someone I deeply love.”
“And you Lord Woodcliff?” Lady Redding prodded. “Can a man admit when he is wrong?”
He stared down at the floor, drawing his lips tight. The rustle of silk and the pop of coals in the fireplace filled the silence as everyone, especially Charlotte waited for his answer.
At last, he raised his eyes to hers. “He can, especially when he demands unconditional faith from a woman then keeps things from her. There was a lady I should have been honest with and I wasn’t, and it caused her pain and embarrassment. I thought I was making her prove her love, instead I was being selfish, demanding loyalty from her instead of earning it. I was as much to blame as she was for the rift which followed.”
The room broke into a wild debate as husbands challenged wives and wives challenged husbands and everyone speculated on what they’d just heard.
Charlotte didn’t care what they said, or thought, ignoring everything around her as she continued to study Edward, waiting for some sign, some indication all was well between them. Instead of rushing to her as she’d imagined, he excused himself from Miss Smith’s company and walked out into Lady Redding’s
garden.
*****
Across the room, Charles and Mary watched as Charlotte followed Edward outside.
“My dear, you created quite an opportunity,” Charles said, kissing the back of his wife’s hand.
“Come with me.” She pulled him to the window with a view of the stone terrace and the garden spreading out below.
“What are we doing?” Charles asked.
“Making sure my opportunity worked.”
The moon hung bright in the sky, casting its subtle tones over the well-trimmed topiaries and marble statues. It illuminated Edward as he wandered to the fountain in the center of the garden. A moment later, Charlotte appeared on the terrace, pausing to search for him before making for the path between the shrubs.
“Won’t their being alone out there create a scandal?” Charles teased.
Mary touched her fan to her chin, quite pleased with herself. “I think we can take the risk, just this once.”
*****
The gravel path shimmered in the pale light as Charlotte followed it deeper into the garden. She searched every shadow and break in the hedges for him, hoping he was here, afraid he’d escaped from her and into the London night through some hidden gate.
“Edward?” she questioned the darkness then listened for a reply but all she heard was the gentle splash of a nearby fountain.
She continued down the path, the sound of tinkling water growing louder until she turned a corner and entered a small clearing. In the center stood a large, marble fountain of a man and woman intertwined in a loving embrace.
“Edward?” she called again.
“Here I am.” He entered the clearing from the far side, the silver moonlight turning his dark jacket gray.
She approached him, the soft soles of her slippers whispering across the stone walkway. They stood close together, facing one another in front of the fountain as the crickets resumed their nightly song. An errant bead of water landed on her arm and she wiped it away.
