by Vivi Holt
Charlotte had to admit that she looked rather pretty, even if she felt like a breathless china doll.
“We’ll just add a little powder to your face here … and a dash of color to your cheeks and lips. There you go.”
“Thank you, Mary. You can go now. I’ll be down directly.”
Mary left the room and Charlotte perched uncomfortably on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. Usually she loved to attend parties. There was always plenty of good food to eat and she was often able to sneak a small glass of wine. There were handsome beaus to dance and flirt with and girlfriends to chatter amongst.
But tonight would be different. Tonight was her engagement party. She would be hanging from the arm of the Duke of Notherington and meeting his family and friends, many for the first time. Undoubtedly, they would be watching her every move. Her corsets were so tight she would hardly be able to eat a bite, let alone sail around the dance floor. And even though some of her favorite dance partners would be attending the party, she might not get a chance to dance with them anyway, since she was about to become the Duke’s wife. If he wished to, he could keep her by his side for the entire evening. She shivered at the prospect.
Her mother walked into the room, resplendent in a sapphire colored silk gown, with a plunging neckline and full sleeves. Her hair was caught up into a chignon, with the sides pinned in long loops to frame her face.
“Charlotte, my darling girl. You look wonderful. Are you ready?”
“Yes Mother.”
Her mother came closer, and took Charlotte’s hands into her own, pulling her gently to her feet. She kissed her on the cheek, and smiled with shining eyes. “My dear, I wanted to take this opportunity to give you something. It belonged to Grand-mama — my dear mother. She gave it to me on the night of my engagement party, and so I give it to you now.”
She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a felt jewelry box. Opening it, she revealed her favorite emerald drop-pendant necklace. Charlotte gasped.
“Really Mother? But it’s your favorite.”
“It’s my favorite, because it was passed down to me by my mother. She wore it at her wedding, I wore it at mine, and you will wear it at yours.”
She lifted it from the casing, and draped it carefully around Charlotte’s neck. The gold felt cool against her skin, and the pendant heavy. She lay one hand over the gemstone, feeling its unique shape.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Mother. I shall cherish it always.” She turned to face the looking glass, and her eyes widened at what she saw. She almost didn’t recognize herself wearing such a jewel. She looked regal, stately — every bit the Duchess she was soon to become.
Her mother kissed her again. Then slipped the necklace back into the case. “I’ll have Mary clean it for you before the wedding. Now hurry along and come downstairs, my dear. Your guests will be arriving at any moment.”
With a swish of silken skirts, her mother was gone, leaving behind only the faint scent of lilacs.
Charlotte glanced at her reflection one last time and realized with dismay that even though she was dressed for the role she must play that evening, her face betrayed the sorrow she was feeling inside. She forced a smile across her features and studied the result carefully, making adjustments until she was satisfied. Then she hurried from the room and down the great staircase to the ballroom to prepare go greet her guests.
Chapter Eight
The Duke was an accomplished dancer. He tapped lightly around the dance floor in time to the music with skillful, if somewhat stiff, movements. Charlotte’s eyes were fixed on the walls as they spun by, her head tipped to the side, one hand held high in his, the other resting on his thin shoulder.
“I do hope you’re enjoying the evening, my dear,” he said.
Charlotte turned to look at him. He was only an inch or so taller than she was and had a pinched look to his features. A dark mustache dominated his pale face and his hair had been parted at the center and slicked down on each side. Small brown eyes regarded her carefully. “It has been a lovely party,” she replied with a nod of her head.
The dance floor was filled with couples waltzing to the music of a piano, a cello and two violins. The black-and-white-checked tiles that lined the dance floor made the room seem to spin around the dancers. Framing the outside of the dance floor, the other guests stood or sat about, watching the dance with interest while they gossiped in small cliques and ate the refined finger foods that the footmen served with a flourish on silver platters.
“I’ll wager you’re not used to such large parties out here in the country, but in London this would be considered a smallish affair.”
“Is that so? I must admit it has been years since I was in London. I am very much looking forward to spending more time there after we are married.”
“Oh, I don’t plan on settling in London, my dear. As you know, I have Notherington – I think that will be far more suitable for us.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I understand that Notherington is quite breathtaking. But surely you will not want to spend all your time in the country after so many years at court?”
The waltz came to an end and he offered her his arm. They walked together to the side of the room and sat on two high-backed chairs against the wall. He stifled a yawn before answering. “I’ve had enough of London for a lifetime. Now that we are to be married, I don’t care if I never set foot in the place again. We’ll be raising a family, and the country is the best place for that. Besides, what would you want with London? You’re used to living here at the manor.”
“I suppose I thought it might be exciting to spend some time at court, since I’ve never done it.” Charlotte worked hard to hide her disappointment. Since her betrothal to the Duke, she’d tried to fix her mind on the favorable things that might come from the union. One of those things was currently being stripped away before she’d even had a chance to experience it.
“Well, yes, London can be rather exciting. But of course, a married woman has no need for such things. You’ll be busy taking care of me and looking after our home and family.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the Duke the way that she did with her mother. “I suppose you have a fine stable. Perhaps I could bring Amber with me. She and I could find our own excitement traipsing around the countryside, I’m sure.”
He spun his head to look at her with raised eyebrows. “I hope you don’t mean to tear about the place as you have done here? A Duchess doesn’t conduct herself in such a way. Of course, you could continue to ride on the odd occasion, but only in a demure and ladylike fashion. You will have a reputation to uphold, as well as a family to care for and a household to manage.” His tone was pleasant enough, but his eyes were steely and she could see that she wouldn’t be likely to manipulate him the way she had her parents.
Sorrow stabbed through her as she considered what her life was to become. The Duke was looking for a demure, sweet, impressionable young woman whom he could bend to his will. Someone who would serve him just as everyone else in his life did. “I’m afraid you’ll find I am a little bit wild in my own way. I don’t tend to conform to the mold,” she said, pulling her lips into a thin smile.
“Even the wildest creature can be tamed, my dear, given the right measure of discipline.”
She saw the resolve in his countenance, heard the chill in his voice, and her heart sank.
***
Charlotte sat in the midst of a group of chattering friends. The aroma of delicious food wafted from the plate on her lap, but she didn’t notice it. Preoccupied as she chewed, the beef Wellington seemed to stick in her throat. She’d spent the entire evening with a pasted-on smile as she mingled with friends, family and neighbors. But after the waltz with her fiancé and their brief exchange, she felt drained of energy, unable to continue with the charade.
“Are you all right, Charlotte?” asked Betty, shoving half a custard puff into her pink mouth. The powdered sugar from the top of the puff clu
ng to her lips and chin, and she dabbed at it with a napkin.
“I’m fine, thank you. I think I just need some air.” She jumped to her feet, handing her plate to Betty, then scampered from the dining room and into the spacious entrance. Her corset dug into her ribcage and she gasped for air. The room began to spin around her and she could feel her heart racing in her chest. She hurried outside, her mother’s voice in her head – a lady never makes a scene, Charlotte.
Sobs forced their way up from her belly and into her throat as she burst out into the frosty night air. Outside, the noise of the party dimmed, and she raised her head with eyes closed to drink in the quiet and draw great gulps of night air into her lungs. Only the occasional bawl of a cow or bleat of a sheep filled the stillness.
A passing owl hooted overhead and Charlotte opened her eyes to track its black silhouette across the sky as it glided by over the fields in search of prey. If only she had wings. She would spring into the air this instant and be on her way. They’d never find her. She’d soar higher and higher until she spied a haven of solitude where she could live the way she wished, without anyone imposing their will on her, in charge of her own destiny.
She clawed at her corset, but it was too tightly laced and she wouldn’t be able to remove it without Mary’s help. What she really needed was to get away, away from all of it – from these people, from the Duke, from this inevitable life that was barreling toward her down a long dark tunnel. But where could she go? She could take Amber and leave. No matter what her parents thought, no matter about the Duke, she could leave. But if she did that now, she’d have to face them all in the morning and nothing would be different. She’d still be on the same path she was on now.
What if she left for good and didn’t come back in the morning? She could scavenge around the house for some valuables – no doubt she’d be able to gather enough to live off for a short period of time and she could go somewhere far away. Somewhere they’d never find her, a place where she could start afresh, have a new life, a new destiny, one that was entirely her own. Yes, that’s what she’d do.
Charlotte slowed her breathing, as her eyes darted around. She could take the open wagon from the barn. No one but William the farmhand ever used it, and it would make her less conspicuous on the road. She hoped Amber would cooperate with pulling it – she hadn’t towed anything for years.
She crept back to the front door and pried it open. People milled around the entryway that led to the magnificent ballroom on one side and the dining room and parlor on the other. All three rooms were full of partygoers talking, eating, dancing and flirting.
She slipped inside and hurried through the dining room into the kitchen. She knew the silver cabinet would be open, since they were using most of the silver for the party tonight. She found a few small items that would be of some value: a cheese knife, several long spoons, a cream pitcher. She gathered them up, then realized with dismay that she’d never make it through the house carrying them without drawing attention to herself.
“Can I help you, Lady Charlotte?” asked Mary, coming up behind her and making her jump in fright.
“Oh, Mary – yes, you can. I’m looking for a bag, a satchel or some such. Do you have anything like that?”
“I do.” She walked further into the kitchen and retrieved a burlap sack, handing it to Charlotte. “Can I ask what you’re doing, m’Lady?”
Charlotte’s eyes shone, “I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?!”
“Yes. I’m escaping and making a new life for myself. I’m leaving and I won’t be coming back. Please don’t mention a word of this to anyone, Mary. I need time to get away and I just can’t bear to stay. They’re going to make me marry the Duke and I don’t love him. I just can’t do it, Mary. You can see that, can’t you?”
Mary’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “M’Lady, but what will you do? Where will you go?”
“I don’t know, but I’m taking some of the silver. Once I’ve had a chance to get away, you can mention you saw me with it, since I’d hate for any of the servants to take the blame.”
Mary’s eyebrows lowered into a frown of resolution and she hurried off, returning in a moment with some jewelry. “Here, take this. It’s your mother’s, but you’ll need it more than she. I was cleaning it for her.”
Charlotte smiled and gave Mary a quick hug. “Thank you, Mary. Goodbye.” She hurried from the room, the sack over her shoulder, and climbed the servants’ stairs to the second floor. In her bedroom, she packed a small trunk with some extra clothing, toiletries, all of the money and valuables she could find and her favorite doll. She reached for her music box, stashed some extra cash inside it, and shoved it down beneath her clothing in the bottom of the trunk. Then she went to change out of her ball gown … and was once again stymied by the God-forsaken corset! And no Mary to help her – what could she do?
Inspiration struck. She reached into the sack and pulled out the cheese knife. It was difficult work, reaching behind her and trying to saw away at the laces, and once she nicked her shoulder blade by accident. But finally the laces broke, and she stripped off the offending garment, threw it into her wardrobe and gulped several deep, unrestrained breaths. Wherever she went, she decided at that moment, it would be someplace that didn’t require her to be cinched up like a roasting fowl!
Freed from her bonds, she shucked the rest of her finery and changed into her riding habit, pulling on her boots with a grunt. She paused for a moment to glance around the room one last time, making re she’d put everything away, then hurried back down the stairs and out the servants’ exit behind the house. The servants were all busy in the kitchen and entertaining the guests, so she didn’t come across anyone.
In the stable, she couldn’t find Amber. Every stall was packed full of the guests’ horses. Strange heads hung over ropes, nickering and snorting, anxious to get back to their own warm beds. They must have turned the manor horses out into the field for the evening. She stamped her foot in consternation. Now she’d have traipse through the field to find Amber and who knows if she’d get away before anyone discovered her missing. She felt tears stinging the back of her throat. I’m not going to cry now. This is my chance to get away, and nothing is going to stop me.
She found the wagon in the barn beside the stables and pulled it out into the yard by the tongue. It wasn’t a heavy wagon – Amber should be able to tow it easily on her own. Locating the traces and harness were easy as well, and she thanked God she’d spent so much of her youth in the barn and stables, watching the stable boys and the farmhands go about their work.
She ran to the field and let out a low whistle, hoping Amber would hear her and respond. She never knew with that horse – she could be so stubborn and willful at times, it was downright frustrating. But tonight, she was grateful to hear a soft response in the darkness, and Amber’s white blaze appeared in front of her as she walked to the gate where she stood.
“What a good girl you are,” exclaimed Charlotte, rubbing her nose and slipping a cube of sugar between her searching lips. She pushed the halter over Amber’s head and led her to the waiting wagon. Within minutes she’d removed Amber’s warm blanket and fitted her harness. She hooked the horse up to the wagon, then scurried back into the barn to retrieve the trunk and sack she’d left there. With a heave she lodged them carefully in the back of the wagon. Finally, she pushed two bales of hay in behind the trunk and a bucket for water, along with Amber’s bridle, saddle, saddle blanket and horse blanket.
She brushed her hands together and pushed a sweaty strand of hair from her eyes, then climbed onto the wagon seat and took up the reins. She clicked her tongue to Amber and slapped the reins gently against her back. The horse’s ears flicked back and forth, and she moved forward at a walk onto the gravel driveway.
As they passed the front of the manor, Charlotte turned on the wagon seat to stare at the building that had been home her entire life. She realized with a start that she’d not gotten a cha
nce to tell her parents goodbye, but she couldn’t go back now or she’d never get away. “Goodbye, Mother and Father,” she whispered into the still night.
She spun back around and slapped Amber again with the reins. The horse took off at a brisk trot, and they disappeared down the driveway and around a giant oak that marked the place where the driveway met the lane that would take her into Greyburn and beyond. “Goodbye, dear Beaufort Manor. I hope you to see you again.”
She fought back the tears that blurred her vision and pulled her riding coat more tightly around herself, fastening the top button with numbing hands. With a deep sigh, she pulled on some gloves she’d stashed in her pockets and lifted the lip of the scarf she’d wound around her neck to cover her mouth and ward off the cold that was creeping across the moor-covered hills of the fells and sweeping over the darkened lakes to prick and pull at her exposed skin.
The cry of a flock of surprised waterfowl echoed over the lonely marshlands to her left and she clucked her tongue to hurry Amber along the lane. The sliver of moon dipped behind a bloated cloud, and she shivered as the lane was thrown into complete blackness.
Where was she going? Where would she spend the night? If only she’d thought this through a little more before taking off into the darkness, all alone with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. The tears fell then and she didn’t try to stop them. Only the thought of the Duke kept her going, and she sobbed into her scarf as the moon peeked out from its hiding place to cast a silver glow over the windswept hinterland.
Chapter Nine
“You should’ve quit while you was ahead!” snarled Stan Goode, lurching toward Harry and knocking a pint of beer to the floor with a crash.
“Steady there, Stan. What’s going on now?” asked Harry with forced cheer.
“You’re a thief, that’s what’s going on. A lousy cheating thief!” He lunged for him again, this time overturning the table and all the playing cards, scattering them around the dimly-lit smoke-filled room.