“I knew that.”
I breathed deeply and rubbed my gloved hands over my skirt. “My sister and I were sent here on an errand.” I swallowed. “My father … he was familiar with all the gaming halls of London. He gambled away our entire fortune, leaving us in ruin. My mother secured a place for herself to live with one of her cousins, but sent us, her daughters, to a cottage on the tip of England, where no one would know of our disgrace.” I tried to keep my voice even, to shun the bitterness. “I had one assignment from her, and it was to secure a match of title and wealth who could save us. Your brother was her primary choice. But I have failed her. And I wish I had told you the truth sooner, but I knew it would only worsen your opinion of me.”
I didn’t dare look at James in the silence that followed.
“You’re fortune hunters,” I heard him say. I glanced at James’s face. His jaw was set and his eyes flashed. “I suspected it. But not from your sister.”
I quickly shook my head. “Clara never supported it! What you see between my sister and your brother is completely genuine. She truly cares for him. I have never been so sure of anything in my life. Please do not worry over your brother. He is ardently loved by Clara, I assure you.”
“But you would have tried.” His voice grew louder. “My brother could have very well lost his heart to you and been betrayed! How does your conscience allow that?”
My pride came to life again, provoked by his anger. My feet jerked beneath me and I stood. “And I would do it again! I will do it again! I do not intend to live in a dirty cottage for the remainder of my life! A woman must be intelligent and understand that a life of ease and comfort is the only happiness that can be afforded. My mother has taught me well.” I swallowed hard. “Even if love exists, I want no part of it. It is a destroyer of innocent hearts and hopes that scale too high. It is a hindrance of dreams and goals. It is an imitation of joy and entirely unnecessary.
“Forgive me if I want something more. Love will fade. Freedom and wealth in a marriage will serve me forever and well. Even if Clara manages to save our family from ruin, I will still meet the expectation my mother set for me a long time ago. I am determined to have the future I always wanted.” My words choked in my throat, and I shook with emotion. Crossing my arms over my chest, I finished in a softer voice, “One free of love, even if that means leaving behind a broken heart.”
I didn’t wait for James to speak or move or stand. I turned away and rushed to the door in this hidden room full of secrets I wished I had never shared. The door stood open and I stepped behind it. James didn’t follow me.
So I hurried down the dark stairway alone, hastily wiping away tears that dripped off the tip of my nose and streaked down my cheeks. James hated me. Now more than ever. But wasn’t this the life I had chosen? Was a life without love just a life of hate after all? It was frightening in the black stairway alone, and I wished for a strong, safe arm I would never have.
When I finally burst through the outside, I gulped the fresh air, calming my sobs and shaking shoulders. What had I done? I pressed one hand against my cheek and walked, stricken with uncertainty and regret. Why had I revealed so much to him? There was pain in honesty and doubt in secrets. Which was worse? James could never respect me. He could never see me again without being truly disgusted. And he could never love me. I knew which of those was the worst, and my chest clenched against fresh sobs. James could never love me.
I took a deep breath and scolded myself for caring. It was better that way, because I could never love him either. To love James was contrary to all I had ever dreamed of. No one would be left with a broken heart. I excused the thought—it was nonsense to lie to myself. My heart had already been broken. The only thing that remained for me to do was to fix it. I didn’t know how, but I was certain that weeks of distance from a certain set of green eyes would be the best medicine.
Chapter 17
“Pray you now, forget and forgive.”
Lucy Abbot had an affinity for hats. She did not wear them often, but kept an expansive collection in her room, planning to wear them to the first fancy party she was invited to. Of course, fancy parties were rare in Craster, but that didn’t stop Lucy from visiting the milliner’s shop twice weekly.
“Would you like to accompany me today, Charlotte? I would so enjoy your companionship.”
I looked at her over my sketchbook. I had not been drawing, but practicing each letter of the alphabet with my left hand. I had written my name several dozen times over the page, and each seemed to become uglier than the last.
The Abbots’ home had become a sanctuary. It had been five days since I had been out of doors besides the walk between our cottage and the Abbots’ house. I worried over seeing James, and couldn’t risk meeting him on the path toward the village.
“To the milliner’s?”
Lucy nodded, curls bouncing on her shoulders. “I have a hat with lace trim and exotic feathers in the process and have scheduled another fitting.”
I glanced out the window at the icy weather and dull skies. Despite it all, I did long for a break from the monotony I had adopted these last several days. In the mornings I baked breads and sweets for Clara and me and scrubbed the cottage until it was pristine. Mr. Watkins had told me it was acceptable for me to use my hand more freely, and although it hurt, motion was returning and my hand was becoming stronger.
It was strange, feeling the round lumps where my fingers had been severed and knowing they would never return. I still wore the glove when I was in the company of others, but at night when I was alone in my room, I studied the lines and puckers and wilting gashes. After I finished cleaning, I always came to the Abbots’. The memory of James playing with me on the pianoforte haunted this room, but gave it life and joy that I couldn’t part from. I was troubled day and night, feeling the keen loss of a dear friend. But I could not let James Wortham scare me away. If he hated me, then that was fine. But I certainly didn’t hate him.
“I will come with you,” I said to Lucy before I could lose my resolve.
“Wonderful! I will retrieve my things and we will be off.” She bounced around the corner, eager and energetic and positively adorable. I thought of the times Lucy had swooned over James, speaking of his bravery and looks. I hoped she hadn’t set her heart on him.
I met Lucy at the door and we walked into the cold. I tugged my cloak around my narrowing shoulders. Since we had moved here, I had become thinner from the lack of grand meals and from the increased exercise. At home, I took a daily walk, but never too far, and I never cooked and cleaned. The curves of my figure had lessened significantly, and my dresses fit looser albeit more comfortably. I wondered what else my time here would rob from me.
“I can see my breath in front of my face.” Lucy’s voice broke my thoughts. “When I was little, my papa told me it was because I spent far too much time with him, breathing in the smoke from his pipe.” She giggled. “I believed it.”
“When will your father be home?” I asked. I knew he had been away for a business matter, and Mrs. Abbot expected his return soon.
“Just in time for the Christmastide. Can you believe it is only a fortnight away?” She squealed with excitement.
I scowled. My family had never given Christmas much observance. We were often invited to dinners but that was the most of it. Lucy seemed to notice my confusion, because she looked at me with wide eyes.
“Did my mother not tell you of the festivities? Each year we hold a dinner on Christmas Eve and decorate with all my favorite greenery. Everyone in the town is invited, and we give food and warm garments to all the beggars. Beef and mincemeat, coats, beautiful music and games, and the even bigger celebration comes on twelfth night.” She gasped dramatically and squeezed my arm. “Is that all so unfamiliar?”
I smiled weakly and nodded.
“You will enjoy every moment, I assure you. It is without question the most pleasant time of the year. There is little else in this place to ever look forwa
rd to,” she sighed, rolling her eyes subtly.
I threw her a puzzled look.
“Yes, I am not as enamoured by this town as the others in my family. I hope someday to leave.” She shrugged, then lifted her gaze to the dark sky, squinting against the dull glow of the cloud-covered sun. “But I do enjoy the holiday parties.”
A welcome feeling of excitement filled me. I had always loved parties. It would give me a reason to dress nicely and feel pretty for the first time in so long. I could keep my hand concealed in my stuffed glove and have a wonderful time. “Must I wait an entire fortnight?”
Lucy laughed just as we reached the milliner’s shop. She pulled the door open and a bell rang above us.
The entire time we were at the shop, I couldn’t stop thinking about Christmastide. Surely there would be enough people present for me to avoid James, and I could meet so many new people. I made a note in my mind to gather together all the jewelry and extra shawls I had to give the poor townspeople that came for charity during the Christmas Eve festivities. I hardly noticed when Lucy showed me the outrageous hat with the bright feathers. I didn’t remember the opinion I gave, but she seemed satisfied by it. When we thanked the shopkeeper and returned to the cold and softly falling snow, I tried to conjure up an image of my small selection of dresses and which one I would wear. I decided upon my berry-red gown with the silver trim before I even arrived home.
Lucy was speaking, I realized too late.
“Pardon me?”
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Wortham is quite taken with you, I believe.”
I choked on a breath. “That is absurd.” I wished she wouldn’t talk about him. “He is much too handsome for my liking. But you don’t seem to mind at all, do you?”
She stopped a giggle. “Of course not! But I could never have him, not when his heart is so obviously elsewhere.” She threw me a devious look.
I shook my head. “He hates me.”
“Do men gaze adoringly at women they hate? I will admit, I used to fancy Mr. Wortham, but the sight of you two is so positively perfect, I cannot possibly steal him from you.”
“It is not possible, Lucy. You must have imagined it.”
She threw her hand out in front of her. “I did not.”
“Well, even if he did not hate me then, he certainly does now. There is no question. And I don’t find him particularly agreeable either. He did save me, and for that I am grateful, but nothing stands between us besides an agreement to … tolerate one another.”
She smirked and flipped one of her dark curls over her shoulder. “Very well. But we shall see if he does not sweep you off your feet at the Christmastide. Many women have fallen ill for his charms during the magic of the holiday.”
I was sure I was already ill. It would not be difficult to fall full in love with him, and if Lucy was right, then I needed to stay away from the party. The excitement I had felt before faded away. I decided not to go.
I would stay home and clean and cook and find a safe place I belonged until I could leave this town. My berry-red dress would stay in my closet, and I would keep my heart as a result. I shut out my emotions and made my decision.
There were many things I had enjoyed about my old life, and one of those things had been parties. But at those parties I had been the one claiming hearts and turning heads. It was not wise to attend the Christmastide parties because, for once, I feared that my own heart would be claimed. It was too vulnerable.
“You are wrong, Lucy,” I said, forcing a smile.
She tipped her head close to mine, smiling deviously. “We shall see, won’t we? Rachel and I have wagered on it.”
I gasped, but couldn’t help but smile when she burst into laughter. “Oh, and what is Rachel’s bet against yours?”
She shrugged. “We both claim that you have already fallen for him.”
I scoffed, turning my gaze to the snowflakes falling on my boots as we walked. “What is a proper wager without an opponent? You cannot both claim the same.”
“Oh, Charlotte. You provide enough opposition in the matter for both of us.”
My eyes flashed to her face, the tip of her nose pink from the cold. She didn’t seem to want to continue the conversation, and we were already approaching her house. So I let her words be brushed aside, at least for now.
Hours later, I returned to my cottage in silence, surprised to find a letter from Mama resting unopened on the kitchen table. After sitting down, I tore it open, scanning her words carefully.
My dear daughter,
Charlotte, I am pleased to hear you are indeed progressing toward a match with Lord Trowbridge. I always knew my investments in you would bring reward to our family. Please work to improve your penmanship, as your last letter demonstrated much too stiff curves and loops. It looked very much like the writing of a maid or of Clara. I expect an improvement upon your next letter. I wish very much to see your pretty face and what the lack of sunlight has done for your complexion. My cousin has been recovering from his grief, and his children also. The home has risen from the dull, dreary sadness and the vexing moans and sobbing. We still wear black, but I find the color quite becomes me.
In much happier news, my cousin has struck gold! He has made a business investment with an industrialist and is set to make thousands! Is that not delightful news? Please take comfort in knowing that your mother is happy. I look forward to our next correspondence.
Sincerely yours,
Mama
I set the letter down and put my forehead in my bent arm. Why had I lied to her in my last letter? I should have just told her that Lord Trowbridge was not interested in courting me.
Feeling too weak and unmotivated, I set her letter aside, making a note in my mind to answer later. Once things were settled between Clara and Lord Trowbridge we could write to Mama with the good news. She would be surprised but satisfied with the news and come here for the wedding. Then she would see how terrible it truly was, and take me home with her to Canterbury and I could forget this town and everyone in it. I could reclaim my old life, hiding my deformity and finding a husband even more well set up than Lord Trowbridge. Mama would care about me again. I would be happy.
With determination in my movements, I picked up her letter and walked upstairs to my room, tucking the letter inside a small drawer in my writing desk. I paused, seeing James’s love letter lying flat inside. My fingers hovered above it, but I stopped myself. No. I would never read it.
The rest of the day I deviated from my normal schedule, tidying the house for one short hour before settling on the sofa with a book I had found in Clara’s room. It was a romantic, adventurous tale, and I believed none of it. But even so, I ended up giddy and short of breath as I closed the final page. How many hours had passed? I could hardly believe it had been all day.
I heard the front door open suddenly, and Clara’s head of bronze hair came into view. Without thinking, I tossed the book aside, more forcefully than I intended. The book crashed against the far wall. I jerked my gaze to Clara, hoping she hadn’t noticed.
She gasped, eyes wide. “You were reading a novel? A romantic novel?”
“I—” my gaze flickered to the glass of water I had placed on the small tea table. “I—was using it as a … coaster.” I bit my lip, remembering the time James had teased me about using a book as a coaster when I had accused him of being illiterate.
“Oh, I see.” She cast me a knowing smile. “But was the coaster full of damsels in distress and handsome strangers coming to the rescue? Of romantic gestures and happy endings?”
I felt close to bursting and suddenly couldn’t contain it. I had thoroughly enjoyed the book. I sighed. “Yes.”
She sat down beside me and squealed. “You understand now why I love to read these stories.”
I hated to admit it, but I did. “Don’t be mistaken, Clara. I will not become some silly romantic because of it.”
“Of course not. I would never expect such a thing from you.” Another sm
ile.
A subject change was in order. “I trust you had a good day.”
Her smile faded slightly and her shoulders slumped. She hesitated. Her lip quivered almost imperceptibly.
I reached forward and put my hand on her arm with concern. “What is wrong?”
“Thomas has been … very distant these last several days. I—I don’t know what I have done.” Her voice was soft and full of hurt.
My heart dropped as I remembered my last conversation with James. I gasped. He must have told his brother about why we came here. James had turned Lord Trowbridge against Clara. It was the only plausible reason he would be avoiding her.
“You have done nothing,” I assured her. “It was James. I told him the truth about why we came here and he was very angry. I tried to assure him that you had true feelings for his brother but …” My mind spun. Clara could not be hurt again because of me. She deserved every happiness. “It is my fault. I should not have told him. What reason have I given him to believe me? Of course he took his concerns to Lord Trowbridge—Thomas as you call him.”
Clara sniffled a little. “I cannot lose him, Charlotte. I—I love him.”
“I know. I will speak to James about it as soon as I can, not to worry. We will see this straightened out.” Anger bubbled close to the surface of my skin. James was willingly destroying the happiness of his own brother! Didn’t he know that what was between Clara and Lord Trowbridge was real? How could he doubt it? Even as the ultimate doubter of love, I believed it.
Nervousness fluttered in my stomach at the thought of approaching James with the very topic we had argued over the last time we had met. But this was not about me. This was about the happiness of my sister.
First thing tomorrow I would find him and do something I never thought I would: I was going to defend love.
z
Never look at his face for more than seconds.
Never let him see how he affects you.
Lies and Letters Page 17
