An Improper Situation (Sanborn-Malloy Historical Romance Series, Book One)

by Baily, Sydney Jane

  “Miss,” he said, with a slight bow.

  She stepped inside and turned to thank him, but the door was already clicking closed. She surveyed her surroundings and whistled, sounding as Reed had done when seeing her in her emerald green dress.

  To say it was grand would be an understatement. Unlike Thomas who had hurled himself into the middle of his large canopied bed, Charlotte was afraid to sit on the silk cover that had nary a wrinkle.

  Placing her best bonnet and her mantlet across the heart-shaped chair by one window and went out onto the private balcony that led off her bedroom through paned doors.

  She was glad to see she was at the rear of the house overlooking the small garden and the brick stables and carriage house. What a peaceful place it looked, though right now, there was no time to linger.

  She went inside and looked at herself in the mirror above the mahogany dresser. On it was an ivory-handled comb, which she used to tidy stray wisps of hair that had come down from her inelegant topknot.

  There was cool water in the chamber set’s pretty flowered pitcher, and she poured some into the large bowl residing on its own mahogany stand. After washing her face and hands, she patted her hair once more, this time with damp hands, and then went downstairs.

  Directed by Bridget, her aunt’s personal maid, Charlotte headed to the dining room; she could hear that the children were already there, regaling their grandmother with tales of the west. As she entered the room, with its enormous fireplace and huge crystal chandelier, she cringed to hear them talking about Reed and her dancing.

  “How interesting,” Alicia said, her eyes fixed on Charlotte who sat down next to Thomas at the highly polished table.

  Charlotte returned her gaze without flickering. If this was to be a test of wills, she would not bow, not even to her imperious aunt who was seated so regally at the head of the table. Lily sat opposite Charlotte on her grandmother’s left, and a young woman about sixteen years old was busy serving the food.

  “I’ve invited a new acquaintance of mine to tea tomorrow afternoon,” Alicia said.

  Charlotte smiled politely, wiping gravy off Thomas’s chin, while a serving girl filled her coffee cup. “Thank you, ah . . .”

  “Lacey, ma’am,” the girl responded, her thick Irish brogue sounding exotic to Charlotte’s ears.

  “Yes, I believe you’ve met her,” Alicia continued.

  It was the way she said her that gained all of Charlotte’s attention and clued her in as to whom the guest might be. Inwardly she groaned, but outwardly, she continued to fuss with Thomas, letting nothing show.

  Alicia looked peeved that she didn’t ask, but that didn’t stop her from saying in a triumphant voice, “Yes, a Mrs. Helen Belgrave, a congenial woman who recently came calling. I believe she is a friend of my late daughter’s lawyer.”

  “Yes, I believe so,” was all Charlotte said. So, the inquisition would start almost immediately, and Alicia was bringing in the star witness.

  Despite a sinking feeling, she managed to drink her coffee, eat a small piece of roast beef, and push a mincemeat tart around her plate; the children chattered incessantly about Spring City, the train ride, and every thought that popped into their heads.

  “The children should probably have a rest and then we can unpack,” Charlotte said, pushing out her chair.

  “Tomorrow, they’re going to show me their city. Isn’t that right, Lily?”

  The little girl agreed, though her grandmother looked as if she would make some protest. Charlotte leveled her gaze on her. After all, she was their legal guardian, at least for the time being. However she could be kind about it.

  “Would you care to accompany us?”

  “Oh no, dear. Nothing out there I haven’t seen before. We’ll find something else we can do together, perhaps a carriage ride or the opera. I do want to spend time with you, dear,” Alicia added, “and really get to know you.”

  And dig into my personal life as much as possible, Charlotte silently concluded, standing up and taking Thomas’s hand.

  “As for tomorrow’s sightseeing,” Alicia continued, “I must insist that you postpone it, at least for a day, my dear. We have much to do. First, we need to outfit you with a whole new set of clothing, appropriate for the city, posthaste by the look of it,” she added with a glance over Charlotte from head to foot.

  “And you’ll need all sorts of accoutrements. At the end of the week, we’re going to a little party at the Tremont House and—”

  “A little party?” Charlotte repeated. The thought of being thrust so soon into Boston’s society drove clear out of her head any question about what accoutrements she could possibly need.

  “Well, I confess, it’s more of a ball. You do dance, don’t you? Of course you do,” she added pointedly, no doubt reminded that her niece had been dancing in a barn. Then more wistfully, she added, “My sister was an excellent dancer.”

  Alicia gave Charlotte a small smile. “It is a special occasion, having Regina’s oldest child finally come home after all these years. My friends are dying to meet you and this is a splendid opportunity.”

  Charlotte thought her aunt’s welcome would be only lukewarm, yet, she seemed to be rolling out a royal red carpet. And Charlotte could just see herself falling flat on that carpet—in front of all of Boston.

  “Aunt Alicia, I don’t think this is such a good idea. At least, not so soon.”

  “Balderdash,” the older lady clucked, then her green eyes narrowed, “unless you have some good reason for not wanting to go out in genteel society?”

  “Of course not,” Charlotte said through gritted teeth. “However, the new clothes. I can hardly afford such an expense.”

  “Nonsense. It is my gift to you for all the missed years. You won’t begrudge me the pleasure of doing this for my only sister’s child.”

  Charlotte could hardly fight her on that. Besides, Alicia was batting her eyelids beseechingly. She sighed. “I suppose a new gown—”

  “Good,” Alicia cut in. “Now get going, you three. Bridget will get you settled. Take your naps. Lacey, you may clear.” Having completed her orders, Alicia dismissed them all with a clap of her hands.

  With a child on either side of her, Charlotte climbed the stairs. From mistress of my own house to jumping at Alicia’s orders. And she was to be shown off at a party as though she was the latest spectacle from the mysterious Orient.

  Lily yawned and Charlotte squeezed her hand encouragingly as they started up the second set of stairs behind Bridget. Regardless of what Alicia put her through, Charlotte was certain in her heart that keeping the children was the right thing to do—whatever it took.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, Charlotte was awakened by Thomas, jumping right into the middle of her bed.

  Lily was tugging at the covers. “Come on, Aunt Charlotte, Thomas and I want to go out.”

  “Good gracious,” Charlotte exclaimed, looking at the mantle clock. “It’s already eight o’clock!” Her first morning in the city and she had overslept.

  “Just wait till you see the shops. Grandma says we’re going to as many as it takes.”

  “As many as it takes to what?” Charlotte asked, trying to wrestle Thomas into stillness.

  “To outfit you appropriately for Boston,” Lily said, doing a good impersonation of her grandmother. Charlotte grumbled inwardly. It was her day to be outfitted. I will go along with this, she promised herself, if only so as not to embarrass myself in front of Alicia’s acquaintances. Or Reed’s, she added, remembering how sleek Helen had looked at the Spring City dance.

  Freshly washed and dressed, Charlotte descended to the foyer. She could hear any number of carriages passing outside, as well as street vendors; she knew the milkman had already delivered because Lacey was letting Thomas carry a bottle.

  “Careful, Master Thomas. Don’t slop it.”

  Oh, my Lord, I’m in Boston. Charlotte wanted to throw the front door open and head out into the
heart of it. Why had she ever thought she’d be afraid? People were only people, no matter where they lived, and she had studied people from the confines of her study.

  She knew why artists went abroad and why farmers stayed put to plow their land. She knew why politicians made promises and broke them as easily. She knew why some investment bankers became rich while their investors went broke. And here was a wide swath of folks she’d written about—there were just more of them in one place than she’d ever dreamt.

  “Charlotte, what on earth are you doing? Close that door.”

  Charlotte had, indeed, opened the front door and stood looking out like a grinning fool. She closed it guiltily, glad that her aunt had been unable to see her face.

  “Good morning, Aunt. I was just checking the weather. What a day! And how glad I am to be here with you.”

  “Are you?” Alicia asked, coming forward, still in black, once again hair piled high—even higher, Charlotte noted, with an extra layer of ringlets. “I’m so happy to hear you say that, my dear. I feared you might be angry at me for asking you to come all this way.”

  “No,” Charlotte said. Well, not anymore. “I may’ve done the same thing in your shoes.”

  The older lady tucked Charlotte’s arm under her own. “Come, have some breakfast. We have a busy, busy day.”

  Not long after, they were driving along the length of Boston Common in Alicia’s white open-air barouche; children played on the grass, people moved over the pond on paddleboats, and women pushed their babies in the fanciest perambulators Charlotte had ever seen, with fine lace hangings and painted sides.

  “We’ll go for the worst first and save the best for last,” Alicia said.

  “The worst?” Charlotte asked.

  “Oak Hall, my dear.” Alicia’s nose fairly wrinkled up as she said the words. “It isn’t in the nicest part of town, you know, but it is the largest clothing store for prêt-à-porter, and it’s just the place to start when you need everything.”

  Charlotte pulled her cloak around her more tightly, feeling for all the world as if she were wearing nothing more than rags.

  She saw the sign for North Street as their driver turned the corner, and then before them was a large wooden building with nine gaslight globes attached to its exterior, ten towering pinnacles, and a huge American flag. To Charlotte, it was nearly as impressive as Boston’s gold-domed State House.

  “Oh my,” she exclaimed as she alighted from the coach.

  “What is it, my dear?”

  “The aromas,” Charlotte replied, “so many of them.”

  She spun around, taking in the busy street around her, so different from the sophisticated atmosphere of Beacon Hill. Her aunt merely stared at her, as did the children.

  “Well, don’t you smell them?” she asked, looking at the three of them. “The leather and the . . . what is that? Linen? And tea and coffee, and somewhere—” She raised her head to catch the scent. “Why, we must be very close to the sea!”

  Her three relatives looked at each other, with varying degrees of smiles. “That’s the ship chandlers you can smell, too,” Alicia added, “rope and tar and salt air. But there’s no time for dawdling.”

  They were in and out of Oak Hall in less than two hours, with packages of every shape and size—all for Charlotte—containing several pairs of shoes, an assortment of bonnets and matching drawstring reticules, a blue-gray pelisse, several pairs of silk pantalets and cotton bloomers.

  “Onward to more exclusive shops,” Alicia ordered.

  They headed across town, back toward the Common where Thomas immediately spotted a confectionary shop. With a small bag of candy each, the children were fortified until lunchtime.

  Alicia talked nonstop about the various couturiers that she patronized, and soon they had arrived at the doorstep of the first.

  Before Charlotte knew it, she was in a dressing room with a shop girl who was pinning and fitting her with a linen Dolly Varden dress, its pink and mauve flowered overskirt—attached to the bodice and draped up elegantly behind her at the bustle—was left open from her waist down to show off the light pink underskirt.

  This outfit was approved by her aunt and then Charlotte was stripped down and redressed in a simple cream bodice and skirt.

  “This is a surprise,” she said turning to her aunt, thinking the simplicity was much more her style, when with a flourish, the shop girl presented her with a turquoise blue silk-satin jacket.

  “I’m not sure,” Charlotte protested but then stood back and looked in the mirror at the neat vertical pleats and fitted waist. She touched the deep aqua-colored glass buttons marching down the front. The long tight sleeves with their puffed shoulders and matching grosgrain ribbons and bows at the cuff showed exquisite workmanship. And the color set off her coppery hair to perfection.

  What could top this? she wondered. She found out in another minute, dressed in a jacket bodice and matching skirt in the softest chocolate brown satin. It was the latest fashion for daytime, and her aunt nodded approvingly. She was made to try on a similar ensemble in dove gray.

  “One more shop,” Alicia said.

  Charlotte blanched. “I think I have more than enough.”

  “For day time, perhaps, but now you need more formal wear, dear.”

  Alicia was greeted by Madame Merrianne, the owner, with a dazzling smile and a soft chair. Charlotte gaped at her collection: satin ball gowns, daringly cut, and gossamer silk Princess dresses hung on every available dressmaker’s dummy.

  While Charlotte and Lily looked wonderingly at a gown covered in peacock feathers of the brightest hues, Alicia consulted with Madame Merrianne, who then ushered Charlotte into a fitting room. She liked everything she put on, and soon her aunt had chosen two of the loveliest creations—one in black satin and one in a warm amber organdie that complimented Charlotte’s hair.

  When Charlotte put on the last gown, she smiled at the image of herself in the mirror. The indigo satin, shot through with golden threads, clung all the way down over her slim hips. Turning sideways, she gave a wiggle and watched the folds of fabric hooked to the shapely bustle sway suggestively. It was different, with no bows and little adornment.

  She thought this one the best and judging by the nod of her aunt and the “ooh” from Lily as she walked out into the shop, they did, too.

  At last, they were done. She was deeply in her aunt’s debt, but so be it. Imagining Reed’s face when he saw her looking every inch as stylish as Helen Belgrave made it quite worthwhile.

  *****

  Home on Chestnut Street, Charlotte watched Gerald and the driver staggering under the load of her parcels. Bridget’s eyes were gleaming and Charlotte knew the serving girl couldn’t wait to see the new attire.

  “We’ll get all this put away,” Charlotte said, gesturing for Bridget to come with her.

  Alicia paused on her way to the kitchen to order pound cake and lemon puffs from the cook. “You will come down for tea.”

  It was not a question.

  “Before then, I expect.” Charlotte had not forgotten the dreaded tea with Helen, not for a moment all day, but she was determined not to allow her anxiety to run amok. Letting Bridget try on her new bonnet, they were soon laughing and wondering aloud at how all the new clothes were ever going to fit in the wardrobe and chest of drawers.

  Bridget heard the bell before Charlotte did.

  “That’ll be your company, miss,” she said, with the same Irish cadence as Lacey.

  “Not my company,” Charlotte muttered, putting down the new reticule with pink and mauve beading. She thought she knew what it felt like to be a lamb going to slaughter. Except worse, because she knew what awaited her.

  She took a look at herself in her mirror.

  “Oh, you look fine, miss.”

  “I should have taken the time to change into something new,” Charlotte said, smoothing down her tan skirt and matching bodice. “Never mind now. Thank you for all your help, Bridget.”


  The girl fairly turned pink with pleasure and ran out ahead of Charlotte.

  Going down the stairs a bit more slowly than Bridget, she could tell that Thomas and Lily had come in from the garden and beat her to the parlor.

  “The princess,” she heard Thomas exclaim and quickened her steps. Too late. She entered the doorway in time to see him bound onto the sofa where Helen Belgrave sat, stylishly draped in a figure-fitting, burgundy silk gown.

  “Stop that,” Helen cried, an expression of horror marring her attractive features as he touched the sleeve of her dress with muddied fingers, fresh from digging up some treasure. Charlotte caught the frown that crossed her aunt’s face. Evidently, they were both realizing that Helen Belgrave did not care for children.

  Helen managed to rearrange her features into a neutral mask, however, as Lily stepped forward and took her brother by the hand, hauling him off the sofa.

  “Children,” Charlotte called them to her, sincerely hoping she hadn’t had Helen’s horrified look on her own face when Reed first presented Thomas and Lily. “Say good day to Mr. Malloy’s friend and then go get washed up. I’m sure cook will have a treat for you in the kitchen.”

  They barely mumbled to Helen before they ran down the passage.

  “So energetic,” Helen said, taking the cup of tea that Alicia offered.

  “Mm,” Charlotte smiled and helped herself to a lemon puff. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “I must say,” Alicia added, “that I only had my Ann to raise, and she was rather less enthusiastic than Thomas, but I do love having my family in the house again.”

  Her smile, to Charlotte, seemed completely genuine and she couldn’t help but feel warmed. “That reminds me,” Alicia continued, “I’ve contracted the children’s former governess that Ann used. You can tell them that they’ll see Miss Hunnewell by the end of the week.”

  Charlotte would certainly ask them if they wanted to see Miss Hunnewell, but she intended to examine the woman and her lessons carefully, for she would brook no ill-tempered, closed-minded governess for Lily and Thomas.