by Dayna Quince
Christopher
Charlotte raced to her room without seeing anyone. She didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t possible for word to spread faster than a galloping horse, at least she hoped not.
Whatever the case may be, she couldn’t stay to find out.
She pulled out paper and ink to write to her uncle and Mr. Frank. She kept both missives brief, promising to say more once she reached the safety of her uncle’s. She wasn’t very close to him. It was her aunt who took an interest in Charlotte and agreed to sponsor her first season, even allowing Rose to join them. But she had no reason to think he wouldn’t protect the daughter of his only brother, not after she told him everything that Lord Shelding was doing.
She waved the notes in each hand until she was confident the ink was dry. She folded them and sealed them with wax, putting them in her reticule to post at the inn. She dug her trunk out from under her bed and began stuffing it with her undergarments. She wouldn’t take much. She anticipated traveling alone, perhaps by mail coach to her uncle’s townhouse in London. She didn’t know if they were in residence or at the family estate in Surrey.
She changed into a clean dress, pausing to look in the mirror at the simple muslin sage green dress. She threw on her cloak, her stomach rumbling as she lifted her small trunk by the handle and peeked into the hall.
It was empty. She stepped out and headed to the back stair, unsure if it was her steps or her heart echoing in the empty hall. She made it down to the first floor before intercepting someone. Sarah turned a corner, and they came face to face.
Sarah took in Charlotte’s dress and trunk in one glance. “I came to fetch you. Lady Shelding summons you to her chamber.”
“What for?” Charlotte tried to slow her breathing and not look as panicked as she felt.
“I’m certain I don’t know.”
“Very well, I will be there in a moment.” Charlotte moved past her.
Sarah grabbed her free hand. “Don’t do this.”
Charlotte met her gaze. “I beg your pardon.”
“I’m not a bow street runner, but it’s very clear your running away.”
Charlotte stiffened. “Do you intend to stop me?”
“I don’t imagine how I could. I’ve already tried to get you to see reason.”
“Are you going to run to tell Lady Shelding I’m leaving or allow me to sneak away?”
Sarah dropped her hand. “I want no part of this. I delivered my message, and now I must sweep the rugs in the gallery.” Sarah continued up the stairs without looking back.
Charlotte was frozen with indecision. Every moment she waited put her at risk, but she also wanted to know why Lady Shelding wanted to see her. Did she know? Did she suspect? She set her trunk down, her hand already aching from the weight of it.
But what if running now only raised more suspicion? Perhaps Margery had no intention of telling her secret?
It was a gamble, another risk Charlotte had to consider taking. She hesitated a moment more and then decided. She tucked her trunk in the linen closet on the first floor and made her way to Lady Shelding’s room.
She knocked once and waited.
Lady Shelding opened the door. “Finally, I’ve waited a quarter hour longer than I should have. Have you seen Annette? I’ve rung for her three times, all to no avail.” Lady Shelding flitted about the room in agitation. Furs, dresses, and petticoats littered the floor.
“I’ve narrowed it down to five dresses, but you will need to try them on so I can see which will suit you best.”
“Dresses?” Charlotte furrowed her brow.
“For your wedding. Heavens, Charlotte, I had no idea you were so flighty.”
“The wedding.” Charlotte nodded, of course. “Isn’t it soon to pick a dress?”
“It’s never too soon. There isn’t enough time as it is to plan it the way my dear Edward deserves, but I will make do.”
Charlotte mentally kicked herself. She should have run, far and fast. She immediately started thinking of ways to escape Lady Shelding. A headache, a stomach ache—anything to get herself out of this room and back on track. It was already mid-afternoon, and daylight hours were dwindling. She would have to reach Pastor Franklin’s before dark and beg him for passage to the inn.
Charlotte was not familiar with the mail coach schedule, but she would soon find out if she could leave tonight or wait until tomorrow morning.
Lady Shelding held up a mauve gown with tiers of gold lace around the bodice and skirt. Charlotte shrunk back.
“No, you’re right. It’s too forward for a wedding gown. We need something angelic for our Miss Angelwood!” Lady Shelding crowed. She picked up a gauzy lavender dress with tucks in the skirt, artfully placed around the bodice and cap sleeves. In Charlotte’s honest opinion, it wasn’t terrible, but it also wasn’t something she would ever imagine Lady Shelding wearing. It looked like it suited a young girl, not a matron.
Lady Shelding held it up to Charlotte’s shoulders. “Ah, here we are. This will do marvelously. A bit outdated. I never found the time to wear it myself, but it suits your coloring nicely. Tucks are timeless, you know.”
Charlotte nodded in agreement. Then she winced and touched her temple. “Oh dear, I have a terrible headache coming on. I think I was out in the sun longer than I ought to be.”
“Just where have you been today?” Lady Shelding folded her arms and pinned Charlotte with her gaze.
“With Pastor Franklin, polishing headstones, as I do every day. ’Tis so unfortunate how some of them have come to such disrepair.”
“Oh, indeed.” Lady Shelding nodded.
“May I be excused? I’d like to rest before dinner in hopes this headache subsides.”
For a moment, Charlotte thought Lady Shelding would refuse. She was watching Charlotte more carefully than she usually did.
Lady Shelding sighed. “If you insist. I shall have to do all the preparations myself.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Charlotte rushed from the room. She paused outside the door, taking a steadying breath. She hurried to the closet and grabbed her bag, but just as she reached inside, multiple sets of footsteps pounded on the stairs. Charlotte shoved the door closed and stepped away from it. She could barely catch her breath. Edward entered the hall, followed by Annette.
Charlotte’s heart jumped to her throat. His eyes caught hers. They raked down her body, and Charlotte recoiled. He stalked toward her and grabbed her arm.
“Fetch my mother,” he said to Annette.
“Edward? What is it?”
He looked away as he tugged her down the hall, across the landing to Shelding’s study.
Charlotte dragged her feet. The door loomed like a guillotine winking in the sunlight with deadly intent. “You’re hurting me. Let me go at once.” Charlotte clawed at his hand, but his grip only tightened.
“Edward, please. Tell me what is wrong.”
He jerked her to face him before the door. He rapped twice, never taking his eyes from hers.
“We must resist each other so it will be special for both of us, isn’t that what you said, Charlotte? Anticipation is key.”
“Yes, I did.” Charlotte shivered. His voice sounded far away, and her ears felt thick inside.
Edward opened the door and shoved her through. Lord Shelding stood up from his desk, unfazed as Charlotte hurtled toward a wing chair and caught herself.
Edward pointed at her, his face contorted. “She was seen with your brewer this afternoon, leaving his room.”
Charlotte looked between them. Her mind racing, adrenaline and terror mixing inside her blood like a poison. “No. I went to fetch my old dresses. I’m wearing one right now.”
Edward’s chest heaved as he glared at her, his teeth bared. “You lying bitch.”
Charlotte put the chair between them. “It isn’t what you think.”
Lord Shelding sighed, somehow unfazed by his son’s crazed behavior. He went to the sideboard and poured himself a drin
k. Lady Shelding entered, looking confused.
“Annette said something has happened? Is everyone all right?” She examined the three occupants, her eyes widening as she took in her son’s distraught actions. His breaths sawed the air, and he stood with his feet wide, hands curled like claws at his sides.
“Edward has had the misfortune of realizing Miss Angelwood is a whore.”
Charlotte sucked in a breath. “I am not.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Lady Shelding brought a hand to her throat.
Charlotte moved to Lady Shelding, hoping to god the woman would keep things from escalating.
“I wasn’t with Pastor Franklin as I said. I went to Wildwood with a groom to fetch my old dresses. As you can see, I’m wearing one of them now.” She held out her skirts. “The maid Margery saw me leave one of the guest rooms.”
“You were with the brewer, that American dog.” Edward spat. “The maid saw you leave his room whilst he was still in it.”
Charlotte marshalled all her courage. She needed to stay calm. “She is wrong. Are you going to trust her word over mine? You think I would dally with a stranger? What purpose would that serve?”
Her cheek exploded in pain. Charlotte stumbled back, falling into another chair. Lady Shelding loomed over her. “You worthless whore. How dare you betray my son and soil this house with your presence. We took you in when you had nothing, out of the goodness of our hearts.” Lady Shelding raised her hand again. Charlotte put her hands up, but the blow never came.
“Enough,” Shelding bellowed.
Everyone looked to him. Charlotte cupped her cheek. The skin was hot and tingled as she probed it with her fingers. She was stunned. She’d never been struck before, and in her nightmares, it was always Lord Shelding that posed the greatest threat.
“What’s done is done. The wedding will still go forth.” Shelding tugged his waistcoat down.
Lady Shelding gasped. “You’d let our son be cuckolded by that grotesque American?”
“I won’t have her, not when she’s been soiled.” Edward spat.
“Edward, you will soon learn that all women are whores. The deal has been struck. Her land and the promise of the profits is the only thing keeping our coffers solvent. You will marry her.”
“No. I will not marry him.” Charlotte launched to her feet.
Shelding’s gaze turned to her. She expected to see something more there, but his eyes were stony. Two shining orbs of obsidian embedded in white. Cold, hard, unyielding in their cruelty.
“Edward. Take her and ensure that there will be a wedding,” he said.
Chapter 17
July 6th 1823
Dear Christine,
I know it won’t take much to convince you that I am capable of remarkable stupidity. Something happened to me today, and it made me think of you. Specifically, it made me think of how you changed after meeting Roark. I would have called you flighty and stupid. You took risks, even went so far as to put yourself in danger just to be with him. I’m thinking of the river incident as I write this. You knew that boat wasn’t sound, but you rowed it across the river anyhow, no doubt thinking your fervent love would keep you afloat long enough to reach the other side. Roark was there to save you, luckily, or I would have wrung both your necks. The more I write, the more certain I am that you will be burning with questions. I’m not going to tell you a damn thing, sister mine. But I will ask, what was it about Roark that made you risk all? I know you carry no regrets. You are now happily married to him, after all.
* * *
Your curious brother,
Christopher
Charlotte dodged Edward as he lunged for her, but Lady Shelding grabbed her shoulders. Edward took hold of her, sneering into her face. “Don’t worry, my angel. I will make it very romantic, perfect, and memorable.”
“No.” She tried to squirm out of his hold. He grabbed one arm and a chunk of her hair and dragged her from the room.
“No!” Charlotte screamed. “You can’t do this.” Despite her fighting, he was strong, much stronger than she thought. He tried to take her up the stairs, but she fought every step, using them to plant her feet. He changed direction, heading to the drawing room. The parquet floor was too slick; she couldn’t find traction to slow them down. Concerned faces appeared around her, but no one moved to help her. Annette smirked from her position on the stairs. Dules and Mrs. Gorse disappeared behind a door as they passed.
“Please help me!” Charlotte cried. She couldn’t believe that no one here would lift a finger as Edward dragged her to the drawing room. She grabbed the jamb as Edward hauled her across the threshold, her scalp screaming. She thought she heard someone running, but then her grip on the jamb slipped, and Edward kicked the door shut.
“No one will help you. You deserve this. You deceived me.” He hauled her to the sofa and threw her down.
Charlotte bounced against the cushions, dazed. He caught her and steadied her, then rent the front of her dress in two. She fought his hands off as he groped her chest, kneeling over her.
“Get off me, you wretch.”
“You were supposed to be mine. He won’t want you after he hears what I’ve done.”
“I never wanted to be yours. You disgust me. Your father manipulated my father to get me to marry you, all because my dowry is the land. All he wants is the land.”
Edward stopped. He held her down by her shoulders. Charlotte stopped too, hoping he finely saw reason.
His eyes bore down into hers. “All I wanted was you. And now I will have you, tainted though you are. I suppose in time I will forgive you as long as you—”
Charlotte shoved at his chest. He toppled backward onto the sofa, but he was still sitting on her legs.
“Edward…” Charlotte sat up on her elbows. A small part of her felt guilty that he did seem to care for her, even though he expressed it in a terrible fashion. “Don’t you see we’ve both been manipulated? Did you really want me, or did your father tell you to want me? He only wants us to marry because he’s using my land. What he is doing is illegal. Don’t do this, Edward. If you loved me, you wouldn’t force me.”
His face twisted. “I don’t love you.”
That was news to Charlotte. “You don’t?”
“Love is an emotion for children. I mean to possess you. You are the most beautiful woman in Faversham. It is your destiny to belong to me.” He lunged over her, knocking the air from her lungs. He pinned her wrists at her shoulders and pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue lapping at her lips. She locked her teeth together.
“Unhand her!”
Edward was yanked off her. Charlotte gulped in air. She sat up, expecting to see Thorn miraculously coming to her rescue.
But it was not Thorn.
James, Sarah, Annette, and Kitty stood around Edward.
“How dare you, I’ll have your job for this.” Edward snarled at James.
Sarah flung her arms around James. “Please, my lord. It won’t happen again. We will go back to our duties.”
James shrugged her off. “You can take my job. I’ll not stand by while you defile Miss Angelwood. There isn’t a kinder soul in this godforsaken house.”
“James, don’t.” Sarah pleaded.
“Dules! Remove this garbage. Call the constable! He’ll hang for touching me.” Edward staggered to his feet.
Charlotte saw the rest of the household staff crowding the door to the drawing room. She held her bodice together and stood.
Edward’s attention snapped back to her. “Don’t move. I’m not through with you.”
“You’ll not touch her, you filthy devil.” Kitty, sweet young Kitty darted in front of Charlotte, glaring daggers at Edward. “You’ll have to go through me.”
Edward tossed her aside like fluff and raised his hand to strike her.
Charlotte moved before thinking, grabbing his arm. He spun to face her, and before she knew it, her fist connected with his nose. He stumbled back, clutching his face, b
lood dripping between his fingers. Charlotte stood frozen. She’d struck him, without even thinking. She’d struck him, exactly as Thorn had shown her. “Edward…I…”
“Stay away from me!” He screeched, his eyes as wide as saucers. “You hit me, you bitch! You’re no lady. You’re trash. You and that American dog deserve each other.”
Annette came to his side. “Oh darling, shall I fetch the doctor?”
“Get my father and call the constable. Both wretches will hang.” He included James in his seething glare.
Charlotte backed away. “Come, James, we must leave.” Charlotte took his elbow and dragged him away. Sarah sobbed as they passed but made no move to stop them. Kitty hurried after them.
“I’m coming with you.”
“I’m afraid there is not time to grab personal effects.” Charlotte thought of her trunk in the closet.
The cluster of staff in the hall parted, their eyes saying much more than they would ever dare to voice. Charlotte led her two allies out the front door and out across the drive, cutting through the gardens to the heath. They ran until they reached the cover of the woods.
All three stopped to catch their breath. Kitty looked frightened, but her cheeks were full of color. James was quiet as he paced beside a tree, his expression stony.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said to both. “I didn’t mean to have others dragged down with me.”
“As I said to that deranged bugger, I’m not going to stand by.”
“Nor I.” Kitty nodded.
“My uncle will find positions for both of you.” She had no right to make promises on her uncle’s behalf, but once he heard what they’d done for her, standing up for her, surely he would see their worth.
