When I finally stopped, I felt the silence thrum around me, as if it had its own sound. I felt empty. Whatever was left inside of me had been poured out, deposited somewhere it could no longer affect me. There would be no more crying tonight.
I darkened the room again and returned to my bedchamber. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but Anna was nowhere in sight. I didn’t bother to ring the bell, and fell asleep in my dress. Exhaustion had trumped routine tonight. It seemed routine would be trumped by a great many things to come.
Chapter 3
“Hell is empty
And all the devils are here.”
Catching a Husband: Charlotte’s list of requirements:
9. Always remember to smile, despite how you may feel.
10. Always display refinement, although you may not feel it.
These were the only two I could add to the list before my trunks were packed and my writing supplies were taken with them. Or rather, my trunk.
Mama had never been a woman to waste time. When there was a matter to be solved, she solved it. Mama had sought the confidential advice of her brother the day after we learned of our misfortune. Her brother dealt directly with the finances of the Duke of Rampton, and offered advice that she reluctantly took. All our possessions were to be sold—besides what we could fit in one traveling trunk. He had kindly offered to get them sold while we traveled, allowing sufficient funds for the trip and several months in our new home.
Now, two days later, we were preparing to journey to a mysterious coastal town. The thought made my stomach reel. I had never journeyed north past London. The South was where I had always lived. I didn’t like the thought of living in a place where I didn’t know what to expect. I hardly knew what I could expect from myself.
When I arrived on the main floor, I came face-to-face with Mama, Clara, and Papa. I wore my most comfortable dress while still remaining fashionable. The weeks to come would be dotted with atrocious inns and nonstop travel. I knew I would have to bid my farewell to Papa soon, but as I considered the thought, I realized how far we had grown apart.
I waited for feelings of sadness but they never came. Papa was going to be in greater poverty than we would be. Besides, falling from a position in the House of Lords was not easy to endure. But it was certainly deserved.
Clara embraced him quickly, her face firm, before moving outside to stand near the threshold. I approached him, and stopped a foot away.
“Good-bye, Papa.”
His eyes flicked over mine and he rubbed his jaw. Then he grunted.
He grunted.
And turned away toward his study, choosing the books he would soon lose over the daughter he had given life to. But before he could enter the study, he turned to me one more time. “Soyez bénis.”
I thought I saw a twinge of regret in his eyes.
“Soyez bénis,” he repeated, “on your journey.”
Be blessed.
As if the curse he had just given me could be reversed by two words.
I turned and joined Clara outside the door. I clenched my jaw against tears, suspecting that I was leaving this house forever. The thought suddenly filled me with panic. How would I manage sharing a maid with my mother and sister? How would I manage without so many rooms and sofas and instruments at my disposal? And no cook? We would surely starve. And what would happen when our money ran out? Only one distant connection had been found that might provide any support financially.
I was lost in my thoughts when Mama walked out to join us on the drive. There was something different about her face, she seemed … calm.
“Charlotte. Clara. There is another matter I have not yet discussed with you.” She cleared her throat and smoothed the front of her gown. It was one of her finest, and immediately my mind was filled with suspicion. She continued in a clear, strong voice—the one I recognized the most. “My cousin has offered me, and myself alone, residence in his country house here in Canterbury. I truly despise the arrangement, but …” she wiped a tear I wasn’t sure I saw, “it is for the best. The bulk of the disgrace will fall on me, so I cannot accompany you to Craster. The driver has my instructions. And Charlotte, you will keep me updated with your progress. I have intentionally chosen a dwelling near the home of the Earl of Trowbridge. Do not disappoint me.”
A thousand words bubbled inside me, but I couldn’t seem to push them past my teeth. All I could manage was, “You are staying?”
“It is the most advantageous arrangement for all of us.” She didn’t falter in her stance.
I felt betrayed, and my cheeks heated with the shame of it. “How will we manage? What if I don’t succeed?”
Mama shook her head hard. “You will.” She held out her arms to me but I stepped away, hot tears stinging my eyes. I had always found joy in flirting, showcasing my strengths, eliminating my shortcomings. But the idea of a comfortable living now felt so distant, I was strangled by it. I had no instructor by my side. Mama was staying here, coaxing her cousin into providing for her and sending her daughters to an unknown wasteland.
She moved her hands away nonchalantly, pushing back a stray curl. “The coach is waiting now, my dears. Remember me while you are away. Write often.”
And with that she was inside the house again, a fading image of emerald green and betrayal. I made a sound, a deep burst of anger and disbelief. Clara looked shocked. I turned my back to Eshersed Park, the only home I’d ever known, and moved toward the carriage, something deep and wild and new burning in my limbs as I walked. How could Mama do this to us? I supposed she had no choice in sending us away, but she was staying in the comfort of her home county, and among friends and family. Clara was to be my only companion besides our maid. I considered neither my friend.
Clara stepped into the carriage behind me and we sat on opposite sides. The seats were cold and the interior of the carriage smelled of rusted metal. Her face was blank, something I couldn’t read, and it bothered me.
“Do you realize we are likely to never return?” I said. “We could be away for years.” When she didn’t respond, my voice raised to a shout. “Our parents are to become strangers to us!”
She glanced at me wearily. “Have they ever been anything but?” Then her eyes filled with tears that she blinked away, and she turned back to the window.
I tried to ignore her comment, but it ate away at me from the inside. Mama had just as much affection for me as any loving mother would! She wanted the best for me, and nothing Clara said could change what I knew. So I closeted the unnecessary concern and focused on a new one.
“Where is our maid?” The carriage was rolling forward now, and Clara and I were the only occupants.
“She is not accompanying us.”
I gasped, panic hitting me forcefully. “What? That cannot be true.”
“I overheard Mama this morning. She is keeping Anna as her own lady’s maid to bring to her new residence; she has released the others.”
“But who will do my hair? Who will help us cook, clean, dress?” I stomped my foot against the floor of the coach. “How does Mama suppose I can catch a husband without a maid?”
Clara didn’t say anything. I pressed my head against my seat, forgetting the restraints of a proper lady. How had so much misfortune hit me this quickly? It was hard to believe. So much weight was on my shoulders I could hardly bear it. Questions scraped at my skull like wood carvings. Despite how little I knew, I needed to formulate a plan. I had weeks of travel ahead of me, so I was bound to gain some advantage over my situation. As we drove closer to the unknown, I sunk deeper into my despair and stayed there. It was a place I had never been before, and I found I didn’t like it. Not at all.
I never knew time could pass so slowly. A day felt like a week and a week felt like a month. We stopped at a different inn every night, and each was stuffy, disgusting, and full of weary, sweating travelers. After a few days, I accepted that I was one of them. Clara and I hardly spoke. We were both fully aware of our drop in s
tation and lack of propriety. We were traveling unchaperoned, completely alone. It was entirely improper of Mama to put us in such a situation, and I struggled to keep my composure.
By the ninth night, the coachman informed us that we would arrive in Craster the next afternoon. Northern England was like a stranger to me, and what I would find there was a constant, maddening weight on my mind. What would our new home be like? How was I to find a husband who was able and willing to save us from ruin?
These questions plagued my mind the next day too. For several hours now I had noticed a drastic change of scenery. The air was thicker, as if it were wearing a cloak of mist. We traveled close to the coast, and I saw the ocean in the distance; the line between sky and water blurred in a line of gray. Prickly, dying plants patched the scenery like ugly sores. I almost cried. Although I had been asleep longer than I had been awake for so many days, I leaned back and fell asleep again, dreaming of the life I could no longer have.
z
“Charlotte!” I awoke to Clara’s scratchy voice. “We’ve arrived.”
I sat up, desperate to stretch my legs. Rain blew on the windows of the carriage as if it were eager to enter and wet my hair and make me feel even more ugly. So this was Northumberland. We had arrived in the little town called Craster. My first impression of the town was not what I had expected. It was worse.
Shaking my legs to stop their tingling, I stood, unlatching the door and climbing out of the carriage without waiting for assistance. My eyes widened at the wild scene before me. Cold, wet winds hit my face, stole my breath, and lifted my skirts. I tightened the carriage blanket around me and gaped at the house ahead. It was so small. A cottage would be an appropriate name for the structure. Wet, gnarled vines created a net over the gray-stoned facade. There were only four windows, two on the lower level and two on the upper. A scream formed in my throat but I didn’t let it escape my mouth.
I could see the coast from here, where bright-roofed houses stood side by side, as if huddling together to stay warm in this wilderness. In a brief moment of optimism, I thanked fate for not finding me in a house like that. The ruins of a castle stood on a remote headland in the distance, blurred by the severe weather. I squinted through the rain at another lumbering building just up the road from our cottage. Its time-worn stone towered up and up, and was characterized by large cream pillars and many French windows. I assumed it was the home of Lord Trowbridge.
“On you go, miss. You’ll catch a cold.” It was the coachman, hefting my trunk over his shoulder.
I scowled at him. But I was freezing, so I trudged toward the house behind Clara with the coachman behind us. We threw the door open and walked inside. A musty smell filled my nose and I grimaced. Despite evening being hours away, everything was dim. Clara set herself to finding a source of light, and I walked around the corner, still feeling like a ghost, unable to absorb so much change.
The ceiling hung low and blank in the entryway, raised by pale green walls. The wooden floor creaked beneath my boots as I rounded the corner at the right. Here was a sitting room of sorts, with a settee, wooden chair, and stone fireplace. My heart sunk when I didn’t see a pianoforte. I peeked my head through the door at the back of the room and found a tiny kitchen along with a wooden tub and washboard. I shuddered. We would be washing our own clothing. There must have been a way I could force Clara to do it. After all, I was on the inescapable quest for a husband. There was no time to focus on anything else.
Strangely, a narrow staircase created a parallel to the kitchen, giving way to a second floor where I assumed the bedrooms were located. I walked carefully up the stairs, running my hands along the walls to keep from tripping and cursed whoever constructed this home for its lack of windows. It was so dark, and with winter coming, it would only become darker. When I reached the top of the stairs, I found a short hallway and only two rooms. Both were furnished with a bed, desk, and to my relief, a mirror.
When I looked at my reflection, I cringed. My hair was still in the spinster knot Clara had styled it in. It was the only way she knew. My face was dull and my dress was dirty.
I don’t know how long I stood there, studying my reflection and the room around me, but my daze was broken when I saw Clara walk into the room in the corner of the mirror. She was holding two lamps. I watched as she set them both on the writing desk, filling the room with a sense of warmth that didn’t reach me. I turned around and walked toward the bed where I sat down, and she joined me.
“What are we to do?” I choked. “Look at me! How can I win Lord Trowbridge looking like this?”
She tucked her legs underneath her. “I will practice making your hair look better. And you will just have to wear the dresses you have.” She paused, as if deciding whether she should say something else. “But Charlotte … you cannot try too hard. I don’t care what Mama says. Any sensible man of wealth can sort out the fortune hunters.”
I shrugged. “Then we shall hope he is a simpleton.” I hated the fact that my pursuit of a husband was no longer directly related to me. Now Clara was involved and Mama cared more than ever. How could I please them all? And why should I?
Clara didn’t smile at my comment. Instead she looked sad. “How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Consent to marry a simple man if he is wealthy or high class. Do you even care if he is agreeable? If he is kind?”
I rolled my eyes, annoyed. “Once we are married I will avoid his company as often as possible.”
“But do you care if he is handsome?” she asked.
“How he looks is of little concern to me. People will not question my attachment to him. They will know that I was wise in my decision, no matter how unsightly he may be. Besides, I would prefer that he not outshine me in his appearance.”
I thought she would be finished with the questions, but she pressed on. “Well then … what other attributes do you find attractive?”
Leaning back on my hands, I temporarily forgot our situation. My smile grew. “A large house, preferably with a memorable name. I do adore Grecian furnishings. Also his circle of acquaintances must be large, and—”
“No,” she interrupted, “that is not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” I asked through gritted teeth.
She leaned toward me, a dreaming look in her blue eyes. “He must be kind, brave, and true. He must have a knowledge of literature and poetry and care for it. He’ll have a tender heart, and care for others more than himself. But above all, he’ll care for me.” Her smile grew to a ridiculous size. “He’ll love me.”
I pushed myself off the bed and gave her a disparaging look. “Oh, my, you are such a romantic! Do you think men sit around their port speaking of such things? No. They don’t love. They only desire. They care for nothing more than how we look, so we must care for nothing more than what they possess. Who they know. Where they live. It is the only fair way. The heart must remain an uninvited third party.”
Her lips turned down in a pout and her brow furrowed. I had won the conversation it seemed. She stood and stretched her back. “We are each entitled to our opinion, I suppose. At least the task ahead of you will be easier because of your opinion. Love can make even the best laid plan go awry.” She walked across the room to her traveling trunk and opened it, beginning to unpack her things. “I am finally seeing the benefits of being the plainer daughter,” she mumbled.
I hurried over to where she was unpacking and planted my hands on my hips. “You plan to use this room? I was here first. I am older, so the larger room belongs to me.”
She looked up at where I stood. Her eyes were weary, succumbing to my hard ones. “Why must you always have your way?” She shook her head. “Why must you only care for yourself?” I opened my mouth to speak, but Clara just hugged her trunk in front of her and walked to the room down the hall.
I was surprised by her reaction. Something inside of me wished for an argument. The past days had been so dull, I needed a reason t
o raise my voice and claim the upper hand.
I shut the door behind her and grimaced at the layer of dust on the wall behind it. My composure hung by a thread, but I clung to it still. Things could not possibly become worse than they already were. My fortune would turn. Despite what was written in my stars, I was going to force the hand of fate. I was going to find a husband in this misty town—one that could save the future I had planned long ago.
Too anxious to sleep, I picked away at my mess of hair. I needed to learn to style it on my own. It had always been a crowning feature of mine, and it was imperative that I showcased it in its best light.
After nearly an hour, I threw the brush at the wall in frustration. Several spiders emerged from a crack near where my brush hit, skittering across the floor toward me. Shrieking, I climbed on top of my bed. I brought my knees to my chest and buried my face into my skirts. Then I cried because there was nothing I could do to stop what was coming. And there was no way to stop the spiders. And there was no way I could achieve what Mama expected of me. Securing a fortuitous match had always been a dream of mine, but now it was an obligation.
And there was no such thing as an obligatory dream.
Chapter 4
“I would challenge you to a battle of wits,
But I see you are unarmed.”
The morning light penetrated my eyelids despite its dimness. I groaned awake and sat up. I was still dressed from yesterday, wearing the most casual gown I owned. That needed to change.
I hurried over to my trunk with weak legs. Mama had only allowed us each to keep six dresses, and thankfully, I had kept my most flattering day dress—robin’s egg blue with cream ribbon trim around the sleeves, neckline, and waist. Now came the difficult part.
Lies and Letters Page 3