Authors: Georgie Lee
“I’m not the Comte,” he growled.
“Aren’t you?” she challenged, hurt and shame driving her
on. “You lied to me. wooing me with books and fancy carriages all the while smug
in your deception.”
“I took no pride in it,” he snapped. “And I shouldn’t have
done it, but your stubbornness forced me to continue.”
“How dare you blame me, or was it your goal to humble me?”
“No, it was my goal to have you love me whether I was rich
or poor and to trust and believe in me no matter what. I see now you never
will.” He shifted closer, regret replacing the anger burning in his eyes. “I
only hope when you’re old and alone, your fortune is a greater comfort to you
than a loving husband. Good night.”
He bowed curtly then stormed from the hallway.
Charlotte stared at the empty space, her whole body
shaking. Tears stung her eyes and she tried to blink them back but they began
to stream down her cheeks.
Slumping down on a nearby chair, she tried to compose
herself but it was impossible. Edward had seemed so different from the Comte,
so genuine, gaining her trust and her heart and yet he’d lied. It seemed she was
doomed to love deceiving men. Despair overwhelmed her like it had the night her
parents had died.
The tears came faster and harder and she buried her face
in her hands.
“My dear, what’s wrong?” Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles
rushed toward her and she threw herself in her aunt’s arms.
“I want to go home.”
“My dear, tell us what’s happened,” Aunt Mary pleaded as
she rubbed Charlotte’s back.
“I’ll tell you at home. Please, can we go?”
“Of course. We’ll leave through the garden and no one will
see you.”
Aunt Mary helped Charlotte to her feet and guided her down
the hall to the French door at the back. The cool evening air stung Charlotte’s
wet cheeks like her loss did her heart. They were about to slip into the
shielding darkness of the garden when Lord Ashford appeared behind them.
“Mr. Stuart, may I have a word with you? I believe I have
some information which might help you.”
Charlotte hid her face in Aunt Mary’s shoulder, not
wanting the Earl or anyone to see her so distraught.
Uncle Charles seemed torn between leaving and listening to
Lord Ashford before he made his decision. “Of course.”
Uncle Charles motioned for Aunt Mary and Charlotte to
continue. Aunt Mary, with her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, hurried them
over the gravel path, watching for anyone who might be about. Thankfully, the
chill air kept Mrs. Greenville’s guests inside. They made their way past the
roses to the small iron gate on the other side without being seen. Slipping
along the back of the line of waiting carriages, they found the coach. Aunt
Mary waved John back into his seat and pulled open the door herself and hustled
Charlotte inside.
“Where’s Uncle Charles?” Charlotte sobbed, taking Aunt
Mary’s offered handkerchief and rubbing her cheeks. It did no good. There were
too many other tears for her to dry.
Aunt Mary peered anxiously out the window. “Here he comes
now.”
Uncle Charles stepped inside and knocked on the roof,
setting the carriage in motion.
“What did he say?” Aunt Mary asked.
“We’ll discuss the matter at
home,” he said and Aunt Mary nodded as she held Charlotte, whose tears seemed
unending.
*****
“Lord Ashford told me what happened between you and Lord
Woodcliff,” Uncle Charles ventured, when an hour after they’d arrived home,
Charlotte’s tears at last stopped. They sat together on the settee, Charlotte
resting her head on her aunt’s shoulder, wrung out from crying. “Seeing the
depth of your despair, I must apologize to you.”
“For what?” Charlotte twisted the damp handkerchief
between her hands.
“On the day of your betrothal, Lord Woodcliff told me of
his income, which I later verified with his father. He asked me to keep it a
secret until he saw fit to reveal it to you. I gave him my word but I see now I
shouldn’t have. I should have insisted he tell you immediately.”
She sat back, a new wave of tears threatening to overcome
her. “No, I should have trusted him, and you and loved him no matter what.”
When the Comte had betrayed her, all his deceit had become
clear, as though her eyes had been opened to a reality she’d chosen to ignore.
She thought of Edward and their time together over the last few weeks. He might
have lied about his wealth, but he’d never been dishonest in his love for her.
It’d always been as genuine as her love for him. Instead of accepting it and
him as a wife-to-be should, she’d allowed her fears to make her distrustful,
and she’d hurt him because of it.
“Lord Woodcliff loves you. If you give him the chance,
he’ll forgive you,” Aunt Mary suggested with a hope Charlotte wished she could
share. “After all, he’s as much to blame as you are for this and surely he knows
it.”
“It’s too late. I saw it in his eyes when he walked away.”
The embarrassment she’d suffered from his lie was nothing compared to the pain
she’d caused him.
“It’s not too late. Invite him here tomorrow morning and
don’t let him leave until you’ve sorted this out.”Aunt Mary smacked her fist
against her palm.
“I don’t know if I can,” Charlotte sighed more exhausted
than inspired by her aunt’s resolve.
“Of course you can, especially if you love him. You do
love him, don’t you?”
Charlotte tugged off the tearstained left glove and stared
into the fire dancing in the depths of the emerald ring. “I do.”
“Then fight for him like he fought for you. After all he
did to win you, I doubt he’ll give you up so easily. He simply needs a good
enough reason to come back, one which won’t compromise his pride too much.”
“Like an apology,” Uncle Charles added.
Charlotte traced the top of the square emerald with her
finger. Her aunt and uncle were right. Edward had spent weeks pursuing her,
refusing to give up. To think he would abandon it all over this
misunderstanding was difficult to believe. She loved him and she didn’t want to
lose him and she wouldn’t, even if it meant locking him in here until he
realized how much she loved and needed him, because she did. She needed his
laughter and strength, his support and patience and above all, his heart.
“You’ve never let anything defeat you before, don’t let
this be the first one,” Aunt Mary urged, her determination inspiring
Charlotte’s.
“You’re right, I can’t give up.”
Tomorrow, she’d apologize and
disprove everything he’d come to believe about the shallowness of her love.
*****
The next morning, Charlotte, exhausted but hopeful, rose
early to undo the damage from the night before. Her body protested the lack of
sleep as she threw open the curtains. The weak morning light barely illuminated
the room and the misty city beyond the window.
She laid out her writing implements on the dressing table,
struggling to maintain her courage and a clear mind as the blank paper taunted
her.
My dear Edward
, she wrote, then quickly crossed it
out.
My beloved, I wish to discuss the events of last night
,
she began, then crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside. She removed a fresh
leaf from the pile and started again, but the results were no better. By the
time she was finally satisfied, pieces of crumpled paper littered the floor and
the morning sunlight poured into the room. She sealed the envelope and rushed
downstairs to see to the letter’s immediate delivery.
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.”
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 Lord
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.
“Edward, I’m so sorry.” Her voice
wavered as she struggled to put into words everything in her heart. “You did
all you could to prove your love, but I couldn’t put aside my doubts or fears
to believe in you.”