Perfectly Flawed

by Shirley Marks

  If, indeed, any gentlemen had decided to return after hearing of Charlotte's wayward eye, it would be remarkable. Muriel fully expected Lord Irving to have spread the tale by this time.

  "I fear the situation could get out of hand again," continued Aunt Penny. "I cannot have another footrace tak ing place. Such things will surely cause a scandal!" She returned to the correspondence in her hands.

  "Allow me to fetch you some coffee, Aunt Penny," Charlotte said, rising from the table and proceeding to the sideboard.

  "Thank you." She handed the first missive to Muriel and simply said, "Eton." It was merely a remark, not a commentary on Muriel's ongoing dispute with the educational establishment. "Do you still petition the Head Master for acceptance?"

  Muriel did not wish to hear how futile her effort was. Glancing at the handwriting, she knew exactly who had penned this latest reply.

  "It is her dearest wish to further her studies, Aunt Penny," said Charlotte, placing a cup of coffee at Aunt Penny's customary place at the table and returning to her own seat. "I applaud her effort"

  Muriel placed the letter on the table, ignoring it for the time being. It was better left to be read in private.

  "A letter from Augusta!" Aunt Penny announced, handing it to Charlotte, who happily accepted it. "Will you read this for us?"

  Charlotte took her time opening her sister's letter, while remaining attentive to the undisclosed correspondences.

  "This is from His Grace." It was an answer to Aunt Penny's missive of the day before. She glanced at her nieces. They were all anxious to hear what the Duke had to say. "Thank goodness. Perhaps he will know what to do better than our day-to-day conjecture."

  "How could we possibly have made adequate arrangements?" Muriel complained. "It's not as if we had any warning they were about to descend upon us en masse."

  "Aunt Penny is doing the best she can, Moo." Charlotte defended their aunt unnecessarily. "We all are."

  "Please, let us not start bickering among ourselves, shall we?" Aunt Penny straightened the missive and began to read. "He writes, If Faraday Hall is expected to host the majority of the Season's population, regardless if we are pleased to do so or not, we must provide proper diversions."

  "I suppose we must continue to do what we can until he arrives," Charlotte said, sounding as cautious as Aunt Penny had.

  Aunt Penny scanned the end of the missive and then paraphrased his remaining thoughts. "His Grace will conclude his business and return home as soon as it is feasible. He expects to arrive sometime today, perhaps tomorrow at the latest." She passed the letter to Charlotte, to allow her to read her father's words for herself.

  The remaining correspondence was an invitation to a ball given by Lord and Lady Hopkins for their daughter Lady Margaret tomorrow evening at The Acorns.

  "A ball?" Charlotte could not have sounded more delighted at the news.

  "But had they not gone to London months ago?" Muriel was clearly confused by their change in circumstance. How could the Hopkins possible give a party here in the country? "Margaret was to attend the Season this year."

  "Apparently they have returned," Aunt Penny stated.

  "Obviously." Muriel resigned herself to her plighther presence would prove unavoidable.

  "Dust off your dancing slippers, Moo," Aunt Penny alerted her. "With the number of gentlemen who will no doubt attend, you will not have cause to sit out a single set."

  "We need not plan an activity for tomorrow since we shall all enjoy an evening of dancing." Charlotte's eyes sparkled with delight. "How wonderful for all of us!"

  "How wonderful, indeed," Muriel groaned, not pleased in the least.

  "I shall wear Mama's string of pearls," Charlotte said at once and then added, "No, it will not do. Perhaps my topaz cross?" She placed her hand at her throat as if envisioning her precious necklace.

  Muriel remained silent, merely moving her tolerant gaze away from her beloved sibling.

  The news brought a much-needed smile to Aunt Penny's lips. It must have pleased her that Charlotte would have a night where she could wholly enjoy herself, since she had been denied her Season.

  "I can wear one of my new gowns," Charlotte continued, oblivious to her sister's disinterest in her fashionable wardrobe. "The silver-shot lutestring-I think that should look very nice."

  Charlotte probably hadn't the slightest notion of Muriel's dislike for parties. In Muriel's opinion, there were too many people to tolerate and it took too much effort to behave agreeably.

  Unfortunately, Aunt Penny was probably correct. There would be no sitting or standing at the edge of the dance floor with the number of young men who had recently arrived.

  There is nothing I detest more than dancing, thought Muriel.

  Muriel left the Breakfast Parlor and came upon Susan Wilbanks just entering the manor. She had finished removing her bonnet and cloak, leaving them in the care of a footman.

  "Please tell me we are to practice before our performance." Susan wrung her hands, either with worry or to simply limber her fingers before sitting at the keyboard.

  "Do not worry, Sukey," Muriel assured her friend. "You could play before a filled theater, for you are always perfection itself upon the pianoforte."

  "Always? When we play for only ourselves, yes." Susan concerned herself over nothing. "However, my fingers may fumble upon the first attempt at Vivaldi"

  "Char-Char wishes to rehearse as well." Muriel motioned for Susan to follow her up the stairs. "I expect we have less than three hours before our first guest appears."

  "Less than three hours?" Susan's excitement was palpable. "Let us collect Char-Char and begin at once!"

  "Gracious, Sukey, calm yourself." Muriel glared at her friend in a stern manner. "Lydia is dressing CharChar now and it will take me only a moment to don my frock. You can help me with my tapes."

  Upon seeing Susan's dress choice, Muriel changed into a dissimilar green sprig muslin to complement the Pomona green day gown Charlotte planned to wear.

  Some time later, Muriel and Susan met with Charlotte in the Music Room. They played each piece to their satisfaction. Aunt Penny suggested the girls move to the Citrus Parlor to relax before the gentlemen's arrival.

  Twenty minutes later Aunt Penny appeared at the doorway and announced, "It is time." Muriel detected some anxiety in her aunt's stance.

  They were about to entertain the gentlemen callers yet again. Aunt Penny did not wait for the girls to follow her but left once she had delivered her message.

  Charlotte and Susan stood and checked their appearance. They chatted and giggled among themselves before continuing to the Music Room. Muriel followed them down the corridor, paused at the Breakfast Parlor, and then decided to move to the window for a look down the drive.

  Coming up the drive, she saw Sir Nicholas in his highperched phaeton accompanied, by the looks of it, by about a half dozen gentlemen, all on horseback. Behind that first party, a second, more substantial pack followed, just making the turn from the road. Their afternoon's guests would arrive very soon.

  Instead of heading directly to the Music Room as Susan and Charlotte had, Muriel slipped down the corridor leading to the Grand Foyer to observe their company enter.

  "Good afternoon to you, Mrs. Parker." Sir Nicholas bowed from the waist. "I am only too happy to be of service once again."

  Near the front door, several of the family's liveried footmen did whatever Huxley could not, collecting the numerous hats, walking sticks, and coats of the arriving gentlemen.

  "Shall I direct the gentlemen to the Music Room?" Sir Nicholas suggested.

  "Thank you. If you would, please lead the way." Aunt Penny nodded to the baronet to proceed.

  Muriel thought she should move along before the men invaded the corridor where she now stood. With a sense of self-preservation, she continued down the corridor to the Music Room where Charlotte and Susan awaited. They quieted upon Muriel's entry, perhaps thinking she was one of the gentlemen.

&n
bsp; "They are on their way now. I'm glad to see some of them have decided to return-there are even a few gentlemen I have never seen before." Muriel continued to the wall behind the pianoforte where the other instruments were displayed. She had left her flute on the side table after their practice.

  "Why is it they all rushed off yesterday only to return today?" Susan wondered aloud.

  "I believe there was something they wished to discuss in private," Muriel offered. She wasn't yet ready to include their dear friend in the sisters' ruse.

  "Major Dunham!" Charlotte called out in welcome, alerting Susan and Muriel that they were no longer alone and should curtail their conversation regarding the guests. "Won't you please come in?"

  Muriel noticed how beautiful Charlotte appeared standing next to the handsome major in his regimentals. The pink blush on her cheeks, the blue of her eyes, the green of her dress and matching grosgrain ribbon tied in a bow, draped from her golden curls piled high on the back of her head, made her the visual embodiment of spring.

  The gentlemen continued to file in. Some stopped to speak with Susan, most moved directly to Charlotte, and all continued to behave themselves. No raised voices, heightened tempers, or pummeling fists.

  Without a doubt, a good number of them were strategizing how to secure the front-row seats. If Muriel was not mistaken, Sir Nicholas, who stood off to one side with two other gentlemen, might be laying odds on that very prospect. If her father were at home, the baronet would have found himself escorted from the premises and none too gently, for he had been reprimanded for wagering on several occasions.

  Muriel could not be certain what truly occupied him, but the hushed conversation and surreptitious glances made his conduct all the more suspect.

  Within twenty minutes, the guests were seated, quiet, and awaiting the start of the first musical piece. Muriel took her position, with flute in hand, behind Susan, who sat at the pianoforte. Off to one side, money passed hands from a small group of gentlemen to Sir Nicholas.

  Charlotte moved toward the harp, readying herself to play. She tugged at the fingers of her glove, and the gentlemen silenced, sitting alert. There was an audible intake of breath when she drew off her left glove.

  One might have thought they'd never seen a lady remove gloves before. A bare hand was not, in any way, risque. Yet the men behaved as if she had raised the hem of her skirts, allowing them to view her ankle.

  The performances were well received. Following the Mozart, Bach, and Vivaldi selections, Muriel and Susan moved aside. Charlotte sat at the pianoforte and began to play the final piece.

  After a three-measure introduction, she sang. Her clear, heart-melting, sweet soprano rose above the audience, just out of their reach. All the gentlemen bore similar smitten expressions with their eyes widened, quite transfixed with the angelic quality of her voice. They sat tall in their chairs, chins tilted up to catch the ethereal notes.

  When Muriel glanced beyond the last row, she saw him there, peering in from the rear of the room. Dressed in his traveling clothes, belcher scarf, brown jacket, buckskins, and hat in hand, he appeared much as a country gentlemen and not the usual dandified dress she'd expected.

  Sir Philip had not been expected, but there he stood. He looked upon Charlotte with adoration. His usual dour smirk dissolved to the same serene, love-struck expression as those of the other gentlemen. The emotion must have caught him by surprise, for he staggered back from the door frame and disappeared, withdrawing from sight.

  As much as his departure pleased her, Muriel was afraid she had witnessed something remarkable-the very moment Sir Philip fell in love with Charlotte.

  Philip pushed off the door frame and moved away from the Music Room. He could not yet force himself to pull his gaze from the sight of Lady Charlotte sitting at the keyboard of the pianoforte, no more than he could prevent himself from hearing the sweet notes. It was an image he'd not soon forget if ever-nor the unexpected feeling that came forth from the sound of her voice.

  He had come late, but not too late to experience the profound effect of her performance. It had captured the attention of the gentlemen who sat spellbound, captivated by Lady Charlotte's beauty and all her unexpected musical glory.

  The stirring of emotion within Philip was one he had never felt before. He did not wished to acknowledge its existence because he feared what it meant.

  It hadn't taken long. Less than a full measure? A few notes? Perhaps all it took was the rest between two notes. Those poor males trapped before her, in their seats, unable to move or escape from her presence.

  Philip had learned only hours ago a new facet of this glorious diamond that made her now quite irresistible to him. She was not all mere musical talent and unparalleled beauty.

  Farmer Gilbert had told Philip how he and his neighbors missed Lady Charlotte's visits. It had only been a few days since Bloxwich had been overrun by the London swells who had descended upon Faraday Hall. The Duke's middle daughter had more than enough to occupy her time, yet she managed, in her absence, to arrange for delivery of her food baskets to those in need.

  The young lady was truly in possession of a kind heart.

  Philip had learned from Gilbert how, this last spring, she had come into his home when his wife Stella took ill with the fever. She'd immediately sent for Stella's sister, and while it took nearly a week, Lady Charlotte had seen to his children's care. At times she looked after the tykes herself. Apparently, this had not been the first or only time she had taken it upon herself to come to the aid of a tenant.

  One would never guess she possessed such kindness that might only be rivaled by her social graces. Her qualities made her a woman he could truly love. On the other hand, there was no reason for her to look to Philip with fondness. It was clear that all these men seated before Charlotte vied for her interest.

  Philip turned from the sight of her sitting at the pianoforte and realized his opinion of her had not mattered. Love should not be a contest, and with so many others competing for her favor, Philip had little hope that mutual affection between them would ever become evident.

  After playing the final notes, Charlotte pulled her hands from the keyboard to a round of applause. The gentlemen were very kind. She felt a bit self-conscious singing before an audience, because she thought her voice sounded a bit thin and squeaky, but they seemed to enjoy it, or else they were prodigiously polite. But reassur ances from Muriel, Susan, and Aunt Penny had convinced her she was in error. One could not judge one's own voice. She moved from the pianoforte and curtsied.

  "Brava, Lady Charlotte!" several of the guests called out.

  "Encore!" cried several more.

  Charlotte smiled, pleased they had enjoyed her performance, and motioned for Susan and Muriel to join her at the head of the room. The three stood together with Charlotte in the center and bowed, concluding their performance.

  "Thank you, gentlemen," Aunt Penny interrupted, and the room fell into a hush. "If you all will be so good as to remove to the east lawn, we will be serving tea."

  There was a scuffle as the young men from the front row jostled for the chance to escort Charlotte.

  "Sir Edwin, Major Dunham ... there will be no violence," Charlotte reminded them. Her soft-spoken words quieted any disturbance.

  Both gentlemen before her touched the bruises healing on their faces. This had not been their first altercation, she'd vow.

  "Lord Henry, Mr. Emery, if you please." She met each of their gazes, confirming she had indeed chosen them for the honor of escorting her.

  "Mr. Emery," Lord Henry acknowledged, inclining his head.

  With equal respect, Mr. Emery returned the gesture. "Lord Henry," he returned.

  The two gentlemen proudly offered Charlotte their arms for her escort.

  Order and civility could be maintained, Charlotte reassured herself. The three of them led the company to the east lawn, where tables and chairs were clustered in threes and fours. The gentlemen would be seated, and it remained
for the ladies to circulate among them, spending several minutes socializing with each group.

  Susan approached Charlotte after nearly an hour had passed. "Char-Char, your hair ribbon is missing!"

  Charlotte reached to the back of her head to discover that her ribbon was indeed absent. "Oh dear, that was one of my favorites!"

  Lord Oscar leaped from his seat. "I shall find your ribbon for you, my lady."

  "I shall be the one to retrieve your hair ornament, Lady Charlotte," Mr. Hughes replied.

  "No, I shall be the one to find your ribbon!" Sir Wilfred shouted out.

  "Why do you not offer a reward for the one who finds it? Just as you had for the victor of the footrace?" some clever gentleman shouted from the right.

  It was a worthy suggestion, one Charlotte would not necessarily have thought of on her own. She glanced at her sister.

  With an impish smile and a nod of her head, Muriel urged her to consent.

  "Very well, gentlemen, if that is what you all truly wish." Charlotte glanced around, regarding them. This was not at all what she had planned for the afternoon.

  They shouted their approval. The gentlemen had taken to their feet, excited to begin the new quest.

  "I would like it returned, in any case." Charlotte would need to think up some suitable reward. "Whoever finds my green ribbon will be rewarded with-" She paused, considering what should be chosen for the prize. "I shall reveal a second secret, something of a personal nature, to the gentleman who returns my wayward ribbon."

  The men cheered and disbursed, running from her in all directions. Charlotte thought they might have feared a second revelation, a second horrifying bit about her, a second blemish to accompany her wayward eye.

  What type of imperfection would she possess? If Charlotte could not invent a believable blemish soon, she would need to consult Muriel, who would certainly have a suitable answer.