“What an agreeable woman,” Clara said, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm.
I turned my gaze back to the house. There had been something different there; the house was loose and warm, not tight with indignation and insurmountable expectations, or cold with stares and harsh judgments. There was something genuine and comfortable about the afternoon that I couldn’t claim to have felt before. Mrs. Abbot was friendly and spoke without clipped tones of disdain. Her smile was contagious, and I found myself wanting to confide in her.
But I wasn’t ready to admit any of it to Clara.
“She was only trying to uncover a new topic of gossip,” I said, even though I had given up on that theory by now.
Clara gave me a sharp look but didn’t continue on the subject. She was silent for several moments as we walked. “You played the pianoforte beautifully,” she said finally. “It was different. I had never heard you play like that before. What happened?”
I searched for a snappy retort, but something about the event felt too special to belittle. A piece of myself was still in that house, embedded in the walls and the keys and glass. Something inside of me lifted at the thought. It scared me, yet I wanted to go back and release even more.
I wanted to glare at Clara, or call her question absurd, but I couldn’t. Instead I just shrugged one shoulder and squinted at the sun ahead, a dull, glowing circle behind thick, gray clouds. For once I didn’t bother to stop myself, knowing full well the wrinkles squinting could create.
“I don’t know.” I crossed my arms tightly and tried not to think about everything I had lost, because the pain of it could come back, and I didn’t have a pianoforte to unhinge it from my soul.
“It was truly lovely,” Clara’s voice pulled me away from my pensive thoughts.
My eyes shifted to her, but I said nothing.
“We should return tomorrow.”
I shook my head fast. “We don’t have time. I must meet Lord Trowbridge somehow, and that needs to be our only concern.”
“And finding work.”
Oh, yes. I grimaced. “We don’t need Mr. Wortham’s assistance any longer. In fact …” I lifted the basket containing the brooches and necklace I still held. “Let us go to the market and trade these for food and then find Mr. Wortham while carrying our purchases just to spite him.”
Clara’s brow furrowed. “How are we going to ever meet Lord Trowbridge without his help? And Mr. Wortham knows of a place we can work.”
An idea came to my mind slowly, but rounded out into something that quickened my pulse. My mouth tightened into a smirk. “We will not be forced to pay him with secrets. We will discover a secret of his own and threaten to spread it through the entire town.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “How do you plan to do that?”
My mind raced. It would be near impossible to find something so ruining as quickly as we needed. What secrets could James Wortham be hiding? There was an idea close to the surface, I just couldn’t quite grasp it. So Clara’s question was unanswered. At least for now.
Chapter 6
“With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.”
I spotted Mr. Wortham by the docks. I stood with Clara above the short cliffs, watching his exchange with another man. There were dozens of men, really, all hauling crates of fish and dipping nets and traps into the shallow water. Other boats floated several feet out in the ocean while deep voices crowded the air with words unfit for a lady’s ears. Roaring laughter met me as a group of men far to the left of Mr. Wortham drank out of amber-colored bottles and turned their dirty faces in our direction. I swallowed hard. I did not want to go down there, no matter my motives.
Clara gripped my arm and pulled. “Come then, Charlotte.” My feet moved without consulting me as I tore my arm from Clara’s grasp. We walked down the sandy pathway and I almost slipped on the steep decline. Twice. The rakish laughter grew in volume and Mr. Wortham cocked his head in their direction. Then his eyes met mine.
He looked mildly surprised that we would venture down here, but the expression settled into exasperation when he saw the basket of groceries I held proudly on my arm.
We came closer and he smirked. His black hair was mussed to put it kindly, but combined with a freshly shaved jaw and his eyes so closely matched to the sea, I had to take two breaths to assure myself that he was below my admiration. Handsomeness and all.
“Something tells me you didn’t work for that load.” He eyed our basket.
I lifted my chin higher. “Might I inform you that we are the daughters of a baron. Of course we didn’t work for it.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his jaw. “The fish wasn’t sufficient? Hmm.” His face lit with mischief. “Employment doesn’t come easily around here. Nearly everyone is searching for work. And I can’t assume you found it without my help. So how, pray tell, did you come by such an abundance of food? Flirt outrageously with the costermonger, did you?” He narrowed his eyes at me, yet I still caught the trace of a knowing smile on his lips.
I gritted my teeth, understanding full well how unattractive such an expression was. “No. But how we came by this food is another secret I do not intend to share. I have come to tell you that I don’t need your assistance. And I certainly will not buy it from you.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. “Very well.”
I waited for more, but he was silent. “Very well?”
He nodded. “Might I remind you I was willing to offer my assistance without charge before you showed such ingratitude.” He turned toward the group of men still throwing whistles and jeering laughter in our direction. “Enough ogling and return to your business!”
The noises fell into slow grumblings. My mouth dropped open in shock and embarrassment.
“Now. I will be away for a fortnight, but if you change your mind by my return, you may find me around town.” He tipped his head and turned on his heel. Then he sauntered away, leaving Clara and me standing in the misty, salt-ridden air among all the strange men.
I stomped up the trail, stifling a cry of outrage. I didn’t care whether Clara followed me. I didn’t care that I had all this fresh food and that I didn’t have to eat fish tonight. I only cared that James Wortham had bested me once again. And I did not like that fact. Not in the slightest.
z
I was shivering in my bed when I awoke the next morning. My stomach wasn’t growling like it had been the day before, so I considered that an improvement. Without a way to meet Lord Trowbridge for at least a fortnight while Mr. Wortham was away, I decided to direct my attention to improving my appearance. I was already improving on my ability to dress myself, but I still owned only a few gowns, and two of them were already dirty. I shuddered at the thought of washing them. I would just make Clara do it. Luckily, Clara had also learned how to keep our food fresh, so it would likely last another three weeks along with the fish Mr. Wortham had left us, although that would have to be eaten sooner.
I sat at my quaint writing desk and thought about what Mama might be doing right now. She was probably dining on a breakfast of biscuits, ham, eggs, and fruit, with all her lovely things intact besides her impeccable reputation. Papa had ruined that for all of us. I didn’t pause to wonder about him. I hardly knew the man. I felt a renewed surge of betrayal directed at them both. Papa had sentenced us to this place, but Mama had sent us here alone. I couldn’t decide which betrayal stung more.
During the week that followed, I fought Clara on the matter of washing dishes and our clothes, and on who would prepare our meals. I won most of the battles, but somehow the victory felt more bitter than sweet, and I couldn’t understand why. There was one tub that we used for washing our dresses with washboards we found under the stairs. I also used it to bathe, but Clara was the only one who knew how to warm the water. After a few days, she refused to do it for me, but taught me the process. I felt like a maid, and it stung me to the core. I found solace in the fact that Mama should
be receiving our letter soon—the one requesting more money. But it would still be at least a fortnight before we received anything. So I just sighed and rubbed my underthings against the washboards until my hands were pruned and cracked.
We called on the Abbots near the end of the week, and they were happy to receive us again. When they inquired after our fictitious grandmother’s health, I felt a flutter of hesitation to continue my lie. I pushed the qualms aside and told them she was only slightly improved. When I sat down to the pianoforte again, my hands slid over the chipped, faded keys even easier than before, and I emptied more of my bottled emotions into a place I hoped could stop me from feeling them. But it wasn’t so. I realized as I played that day, that in the midst of the song was when I felt most poignantly the abandonment and lost dreams and despair. But I also found a joy in it, born from the freedom the notes afforded me.
And I didn’t care about the applause.
When Mrs. Abbot invited us the next day, I readily accepted, not only for the tea cakes and beautiful furnishings, but for the warm company and beautiful music I could create. We arrived at two o’clock as usual, and Mrs. Abbot greeted us as if we were old friends. Lucy and I had enjoyed a lengthy conversation about ribbons the day before, so she happily took a seat beside me. We all talked for hours, and I found myself smiling and even laughing in their company. When the topic turned to Rachel and her love for nearly every man in town, we teased her relentlessly, and I laughed until my stomach hurt at the look of lighthearted anger and embarrassment on her face.
In a jolt of sadness I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had really laughed. I had chuckled politely in social gatherings, but had it ever been genuine? Had I ever laughed purely out of enjoyment and fun rather than self-amusement or another’s distress? The thought served as a sharp reminder that life here in the North was changing me into something I had never been before. I needed to be careful. Mama would not approve of any of it.
So I pressed down my laughter each time I felt it bubbling to the surface. I pulled my lips closed over my teeth in a prim smile rather than an obnoxious one. By the end of the day I felt better, as if I were once again in control of something. But that something didn’t want to be controlled. Each day we ventured to the Abbots’ house and stayed for hours. I practiced on the pianoforte until my fingers ached, even as something inside of me was relieved of a deeper kind of pain. Mrs. Abbot had assured us that we were welcome at her home at any moment, and she didn’t press us to visit our cottage, which was a relief.
But I was feeling increasingly guilty about concealing the truth from her, and I didn’t know how much longer I could do it.
z
I was scraping up the last of my dinner when Clara spoke aloud my thoughts.
“Mr. Wortham returned today. I saw him briefly when I went to the market today.”
I pushed my plate away and sighed. “Did you speak to him?”
“No. I only saw him from a distance, coming off a boat. Have you decided how you plan to threaten the information out of him?” She smiled at her own words. I didn’t find them amusing at all.
“No, I have not.” I drummed my fingernails on the squat table. The man was manipulating us, and it was incredibly vexing.
“Have we received a letter from Mama?” Clara asked.
I had been watching the post for days and was disappointed every time, so I shook my head no.
We had been eating less than usual in an effort to make our food last until Mama sent the money, but despite our efforts we had just eaten the last of it. We would have to sell another one of our things, but eventually those would be gone too. It would still be another six weeks before our promised funds would arrive if Mama never received our letter. I prayed that she had. But still I knew that we couldn’t rely on that. We needed a way to earn wages, and Mr. Wortham claimed to know where we could find suitable employment.
Regardless of the shame of it, Clara and I had spent a morning in the village asking nearly every person we passed if they knew of a place to work. Each had either mumbled a quick, “no, miss” and hurried by, or ignored us entirely. It seemed Mr. Wortham was still our only hope.
My head had begun to ache, so I retired to my room early. There was too much uncertainty ahead to be comfortable, and I was overwhelmed with unanswered questions. The dreams I had never thought I’d lose were quickly burning away to invisible ashes. My eyes closed against the searing pain in my skull and I endured nightmares of gaunt faces, dark skies, and worst of all—deceitful, green-eyed fishermen.
Chapter 7
“A little more than kin and less than kind.”
I was pulled from sleep by the sound of rain slapping my window. With little sunlight to tell me the time, I left my room and checked to see if Clara was still in bed. Her room was empty.
Hurrying down the narrow stairs, I was careful to duck my head below a loose rafter in the ceiling. When I peeked my head in the sitting room, I found her sitting on the low sofa, head bent over a letter. She looked up when I approached and waved the letter in a lackluster show of enthusiasm. She appeared to be disappointed, but I didn’t dare ask. She extended the sheet to me. I took a deep breath and read.
My dear daughters,
I am indeed devastated that you must be among such uncivilized society. To rob you of your provisions was a most nefarious act and if I had been present, I should have stopped the man myself. My poor daughters! My heart aches for you, truly. Though I cannot condone that man’s actions, I must advise you to be careful, for such things cannot be so easily reversed. Unfortunately, I am in no place to provide you with additional funds until the end of next month.
Life carries on here in the South. I am quite comfortable away from your disgraceful father and among my cousin and his agreeable family.
Clara, you must find employ in a discreet manner to provide for the following weeks. Charlotte, it is imperative that you make progress with Lord Trowbridge. I trust that you will win him over in a timely manner. Such a match would do much for our situation, and with him out-ranking your odious father, no one should mingle his disgrace with our family again. Do not disappoint me.
Sincerely yours,
Mama
I dropped the letter to my lap when I finished reading. Anger and fear coursed through my veins and filled my vision with hot tears. Mama was doing nothing to help us. I had been wrong to assume we were not entirely alone in this place. I hadn’t even met Lord Trowbridge! How was I to secure a match with him as quickly as she hoped? I reread the last line: Do not disappoint me. The words inscribed themselves on my mind and throbbed against my skull. There was no time to waste. I needed to meet with Mr. Wortham and take what I wanted no matter the cost.
Clara’s eyes were wide with anticipation as I looked up from the page and Mama’s immaculate penmanship. She must have seen the determination in my eyes, because we both stood and hurried up the stairs to get ready.
The morning was new and, rain or shine, today I was going to find a way to meet Lord Trowbridge.
z
The plan was actually quite simple. Although I had tried my hardest to avoid falling into Mr. Wortham’s trap, there was no way around it. I didn’t have the time to find a ruining secret about the man, and even if I did, it would require getting to know him and spending time with him, which was not something I intended to do. Ever. Or rather, after today.
It seemed that Mr. Wortham’s only problem was with me. He had shown no ill will toward Clara. I couldn’t imagine why. According to our plan, I was to approach him in the village, thank him for all he helped us with, and secure his pity if nothing else. If he still refused, then I would tell him what he wanted to know—leaving out any specific details of Papa’s situation.
I stood with my sister on the road before the fishing side of town. She helped me scan the coast for any sign of Mr. Wortham, but we couldn’t see him. Surely he had a home. He couldn’t live continuously out of doors. But the thought of him sitt
ing in a chair by a warm fire just did not seem fitting at all. The Abbots had mentioned that he lived nearby Lord Trowbridge. That meant he also lived close to me.
After walking the streets for nearly half an hour, we decided he must not be out, and I stopped a woman as she passed us. “Do you happen to know where a Mr. Wortham lives?”
She scowled, then raised an eyebrow, as if it was an obvious question I should have known the answer to. “Up the road that way,” she pointed in the direction of our house, “and take yer first right, he’s the second house ye see.” She gave me one last look of appraisal, then went on her way.
I handed my parasol to Clara and took a deep breath. “We will meet at our cottage again at noon. If I have secured a meeting with Lord Trowbridge, then you will accompany me. If my efforts meet with success, Mr. Wortham will be present to introduce us. But for now, I will go speak with Mr. Wortham alone. It is, in essence, a matter of business, so it can’t be considered wildly improper. Not that anyone lives within the bounds of propriety in this town,” I finished in a mumble.
“And I will be actively seeking work in town,” Clara said, nodding her head.
I affirmed her words with a nod of my own. “Yes.”
She gave me a little smile, the effort behind it evident. We were doing what needed to be done, but it felt strange and unusual, as if we were finally succumbing to the fact that we were not the same girls we once were. Those girls were evaporating into mist, breathed into the lungs of the unfamiliar people here, and transforming us into the same with each labored exhale.
Something else flashed in Clara’s eyes as she turned to go, her shoulders less straight than usual. I watched her back as she walked, trying to puzzle out the meaning of that look in her eyes. But the wind was too cold, and the miniscule droplets of rain had grown in size. Clara had my parasol and I didn’t want to ruin my hair, so I tightened my shawl around me and almost ran up the road toward Mr. Wortham’s house. I recalled the directions the woman had given me and took the first right. His was the second house.
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