“But you won’t forget that. I promise you won’t,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
I sighed, a shaky sound, and allowed myself a moment to feel, to love and be loved. I pressed my face into his shoulder, breathing the smell of him, trying to memorize it before it was too late. I knew what I was doing. I was making the right choice. It was the only choice I was capable of.
“Good-bye, James.” My voice cracked the moment my heart did.
I waited three seconds, then pushed myself away, crossing my arms over my chest again. I didn’t dare look at his face because of how close—how very close—I was to letting him win. Letting him change my mind.
The rattling of wheels called my attention, and I saw the carriage, the one meant to take me home, rolling down the road toward us. Before I could be weakened again, I turned and took hold of the handle of my trunk. My arms shook as I dragged it behind me, leaving a trail in the new snow as the coach parked in front of my little cottage. I bit back the tears that came and tried not to think about James standing there alone in the snow. But then my trunk lifted behind me.
I turned, surprised to see James carrying it. My hand fell away and something broke inside me.
He always was too kind.
His jaw was set, and his eyes flickered to me one more time as he helped the coachman strap it to the back of the carriage. He knew I had made my choice.
I stepped inside the carriage, where my maid sat, sent to accompany me. The door was still open, and I wanted to thank James, to apologize, to say anything, but nothing seemed to be enough. I just looked at him as he walked away, memorizing every detail, and altering the stooped shoulders to be strong, and the tears I had seen in his eyes to be ones of laughter. I didn’t want to remember him this way. I wished I hadn’t broken his heart.
I tore my gaze away from James and the carriage rolled forward. Don’t look back, I ordered myself. Don’t look back. But I panicked, disobedient, and sneaked one more glance at him. He just stood there, watching me leave until I couldn’t see him anymore and he couldn’t see me. He was gone. I had been holding my breath, and I let it out, slowly, a hitched sound that resembled a sob.
And as we barreled down the road toward home, I looked out the carriage window and watched the flakes of snow fall. And then I counted them.
Chapter 23
“Absence from those we love is self from self—a deadly banishment.”
I slept for most of the first day of the journey. The carriage hadn’t picked me up until the afternoon, and when I opened my eyes, the sky out the window was black. Moonlight danced off the shadows in the carriage, darkening one half of Anna’s face. She was sleeping. As I watched her, guilt flooded through me. I had treated her so terribly. She had done so much to assist me as my maid and all I had done was belittle her. Had I ever thanked her? Had I ever treated her with any measurement of kindness?
She stirred, and a shiver rolled over her. I looked down at my lap where two blankets lay. Anna had already traveled at least nine days to accompany me, and now she would endure the same trip again. Poor girl. Her forehead was creased as she slept, and her breath exhaled in mist from the cold. I lifted one of the blankets off my lap, shook it out, and stood, steadying myself with a hand on the roof of the carriage, and draped the warm fabric over her, tucking the corners under her chin. Then I sat down again and tucked my legs beneath me to stay warm without the weight of both blankets.
My head ached from the events of the day, and I could still feel where my tears had dried on my cheeks. I leaned my head against the window and the cold glass soothed the pain throbbing in my skull. I breathed out and closed my eyes. I hadn’t seen Clara again before I left. She had underestimated my ability to keep my wits with James begging me to stay. She had assumed he could stop me. She was wrong. Perhaps I could convince her to come visit Mama and me after she was married. The thought provided enough peace of mind for me to relax. But still my conscience whispered fears and questions to my mind, battling against the decision I had etched in stone.
I hadn’t noticed Anna open her eyes, and I wondered how long she had been watching me. My stomach dropped when I saw the look on her face. The only way I could describe it was cowering. Her eyes were wide as if she were afraid to blink, as if I would accuse her at any moment of stealing the blankets. It wrenched at my heart.
“I thought you looked cold,” I said, my voice raspy from hours of silence.
Her brow flinched in confusion as she watched me, still on guard.
“How is Mama?”
She took a moment to recover from the shock of being spoken to, and cleared her throat. “She’s well.” Her eyes dropped away from mine.
“And how are you? Surely this journey has worn on you.” I tried to make my voice gentle.
Anna shifted and when she spoke it was a small, quaking sound. “I’m as well as I’m able, miss.”
I watched her, the sad slump of her shoulders in the dark, the weight of a thousand things I didn’t know about, and I hadn’t cared to know before. How had I treated such an innocent, weak girl with so much spite? It seemed incomprehensible to me at this moment. I needed to fix it. I couldn’t sit here any longer before I did.
“Will you please forgive me?” I asked. “Please, Anna, forgive me for my unkindness to you these last years, growing up, I was so terrible, I—” My head was shaking. “How could you forgive me? I cannot expect you to. But please know how awful I feel and that I am sincerely sorry.” I waited, feeling a switch of roles as I begged for her acceptance and sheepishly awaited her reply.
Anna’s face was difficult to read, but I saw no bitterness there. A long moment passed before she said, “Yes. I forgive you.” It had a stronger sound than her voice usually held.
I breathed a sigh of relief and felt lighter than I had all day. “Thank you,” I choked.
She was still looking at me as if I were a foreign creature, but then she nodded. One of her ghostly white hands peeked out from beneath the blankets and she pulled them off of herself. “Please take it back, miss.”
I stopped her. “No. You need it far more than me. See? I have a cloak and gloves. I am warm enough, I assure you.”
She hesitated, but finally wrapped herself up again. I couldn’t see her well in the dark, but after a short few minutes I heard the high whistle of a snore. And then I promised myself, there in the dark, that I would never speak an unkind word to her again. Never hurt her, never make her shrink. Returning to Canterbury would change nothing but my place of residence. I wouldn’t be the cruel person I was before. Never again.
We stopped at an inn called the Rose and Crown that night, and although it was dirty and surely haunted, I had never slept so soundly in my life. I had never been so tired.
The days passed in a blur of colors. Night was black, morning was gray, and afternoon was white. The snow fell lighter the farther we traveled south, and occasionally I’d spot a patch of green out the carriage window. Anna spoke more too. I learned that she hadn’t seen her family in five years. Her father had fallen ill when she was very young, and she was forced to move wherever necessary to find work as a lady’s maid. That was how she had been employed by my family. It was remarkable to me that I had never noticed the sheen of grief that covered her eyes and the way she carried a broken heart with such poise. I hoped one day I could be like her.
On the last day of the drive I began to sweat. My stomach fluttered. Would I even belong here anymore? I recognized the tall trees and the frosted hills and the larger houses. We were only a few short miles away now. My legs were stiff from the cold and the lack of use, so I stretched them, breathing out a jagged breath.
“Anna,” I whispered. “Anna.”
Her eyelids fluttered open.
“I am sorry to wake you, but we are almost home.” The word home tasted like a lie. We were set to arrive at the house of Mama’s fiancé, Mr. Bentford. My gaze drifted out the window. “It has been so long.”
Her yawn turned
into a smile. “It’s only been four months, miss.”
“But what will Mama think of … my hand?” I had spent one afternoon of the drive telling her the story of the entire incident.
Another wry grin. “It is but a keepsake—from your time away from her. A piece of artwork, that is.”
I smiled. I had learned that Anna was not nearly as timid as she appeared. “I worry she will hate it.”
Anna’s face grew solemn but she didn’t answer. Perhaps she thought it to be beyond her bounds to speak her mind in this instance. At any rate, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what she had to say.
The rest of the drive passed in silence, and I had almost drifted to sleep again when I noticed the carriage start to slow. My head bounced against my seat as we rumbled over the uneven drive of Bentford Manor. It was a stately looking house, with crisp corners and pristine windows. I sat up straight.
The carriage came to a halt and I was too full of nerves and excitement to remain still any longer. Without waiting for the footmen, I jumped out of the carriage. My feet stung as I hit the ground. Anna stifled a giggle of disbelief from behind me as the footman intending to assist me stopped, showing an uncharacteristic display of surprise. I smiled and breathed in the southern air and used it to tuck away all my worries and wayward emotions. When I reached the front door, I saw the flash of an emerald gown and a narrow frame through the window. Mama.
Before I could reach out for the handle, the door swung open. Mama stood in the entry hall, a faltering smile on her lips. A great need for comfort overcame me and I didn’t hesitate, but rushed forward and threw my arms around her. My face buried in her bony shoulder. Her arms hung at her sides and she grew stiff with alarm.
“Charlotte! What are you doing?” Her voice was more shrill than I remembered.
My face burned with embarrassment and I stepped back, nearly tripping over my skirts. Mama wasn’t looking at me. She was running her hand gingerly over her sleeves. “I just had this gown made three days ago. You will soil it.”
“I—I’m sorry …”
Her eyes shot up to mine, piercing green and wide with shock. “What has happened to you?” Her gaze slid over my face, my hair, and she stepped around me like a cat circling an inadequate kill. “You have grown so thin! And your hair so dirty. Your cheeks have no color …” She gasped. “My poor girl. We shall change that straight away. Mr. Webb intends to meet you in one week! This is your grand opportunity, Charlotte.”
Self conscious under her gaze, I smoothed my hair away from my forehead. Her eyes sharpened in on my gloves.
“What are those shabby things?”
My heart pounded. “I use them to cover—to cover my hand.” I swallowed. “I did not want you to worry while I was away. I had a—well … I had an accident.”
She didn’t flinch. “An accident?”
“I will keep it covered. I assure you, no one will know.” Panic was creeping into my voice.
Mama watched me out of narrowed eyes as she stepped forward and pinched the tip of one gloved finger. She pulled, and the glove slid slowly off my hand. First she saw the scars, then the missing fingers. Clumps of torn curtains fell to the ground.
She jumped back, throwing the glove to the floor as if it were a deadly thing. Her face contorted in disbelief and revulsion. She covered her mouth and turned away, as if she expected to be nauseous, and squeezed her eyes shut. “How did this happen?” Her voice was a scratchy whisper.
“I was attempting to handle fishing equipment, and it … was a disaster.” I struggled to hold her gaze.
She was rubbing her head, facing the back wall, and peered at me from over her shoulder. “Why were you doing such a thing? I did not raise you to behave with such foolishness!”
“Yes, I was foolish. A man challenged me to it, and I accepted. He never thought I would, and he felt dreadful about it. But it is over, Mama. Nothing can be done to change the past.”
“A man? Surely he was an uneducated, dirty, impoverished scoundrel to do such a thing.” She turned around and her eyes flicked to my hand again. She grimaced.
“No,” I said in a firm voice, “it was my fault entirely. He did nothing wrong. He was a gentleman.” Speaking about James made a shard of grief stab me.
Mama shook her head forcefully, making the large pendant at her neck swing. “I should not have brought you here. No one will have you now.”
Her words hit me hard and panic began to flood through me. “No, Mama! I will keep my hand hidden!”
“For how long?” she snapped. “I will be ruined all over again if society should learn I am the mother of a—a deformed child.”
It was a blow to my chest, a deep, throbbing pain in my heart. How had I ever imagined she would understand and accept me this way? How had I been so naive and foolish? The silence hanging in the air burned me to my bones. Blinking back tears, I stooped to the floor and picked up my glove. “I will keep it hidden forever,” I said in a quick voice. “It will become the latest fashion to wear gloves at every social event. Watch and it will happen.” I slipped the glove over my hand again and Mama’s shoulders seemed to relax a little.
“But how will you write? How will you stitch and draw? And you cannot even play the pianoforte!” Her voice rang shrill in the air and when she looked at me, it was as if doing so was an arduous task.
“I will prove it to you, Mama. You’ll see. I will court Mr. Webb and hide my hand. We will not mention that I ever knew the pianoforte!” I felt like I was grasping at smoke in the air. Nothing I said to reason with her seemed to work.
“Have you considered how you will excuse yourself from performing at parties with people who knew you before? They will expect you to play for them.” She was fanning her face.
I froze. I hadn’t thought of that before. “We will—we will think of something. Perhaps I am resting my hands for a performance for the Prince Regent?”
She scoffed. “Who would believe such a thing?”
I bit my lip, mind racing.
As if searching for something she had forgotten, Mama’s eyes darted around the room. “Where is Clara?” she demanded.
My eyes rounded and the words came spilling out. “She stayed. She is marrying Lord Trowbridge.”
For a moment I thought Mama would faint. Her eyes flew open in surprise and she clutched her chest. Then a slow smile formed on her face, starting at her lips and creating a sly glint in her piercing green eyes. “I never would have thought it possible,” she whispered. “Clara. Clara a countess? Hah!” She paced the black and white tiles and I felt like I was shrinking before her. She turned to face me, a wild excitement in her eyes. “When society hears of this I shall be praised to no end. I managed to secure my plainest daughter a match with an earl!”
I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped myself. You did nothing. He loved her.
“Why was I not informed of this sooner?”
I swallowed. “It was recent news, the letter would not have reached you before I did.”
Mama seemed satisfied with my reply and continued her pacing. “How did she do it?”
“Pardon me?”
“How did she win him over you? Surely your hand deterred him from you, but Clara? How did she win him?”
I wasn’t sure I was hearing her correctly. Did I really speak that way before? I frowned. “It was not a contest, Mama. She didn’t wish to marry him. At least not before falling in love with him.”
She laughed, a high, grating sound. “She fell in love with him? Nonsense. She must have ensnared him.”
“She didn’t.”
“You truly believe she loves him? You have lost your head, Charlotte. What has happened to you?”
I scowled, head spinning. “I don’t—I don’t know. I am tired from the journey.”
She reached out and touched my cheek, her fingers cold as ice. “Despite recent events,” her gaze flashed to my hand, “I believe you may still make a fine match for me. Can you imagine? All three of
us so well married.” She chuckled. “I always knew Clara had potential. Learn from her and you will not disappoint me. In the coming week we will plump up these sunken cheeks of yours and have your gowns taken in.” She pinched a strand of my hair between two fingers and dropped it again on my shoulder. She cringed. “And we must do something with this hair.”
I nodded fast, willing to do anything to win her favor.
“And no one shall know of your deformity. Do you understand me?”
I nodded again.
Chapter 24
“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.”
Mr. Bentford was a quiet sort of man, prim and meek in Mama’s presence. He was like a strand of ribbon in her hands, effortlessly bent and twisted however she liked.
“Mr. Bentford, Charlotte and I have had three new gowns made. I do hope the bills will not be too much for you.” She fluttered her lashes from across the dining table.
His cheeks splotched a pink color. “Nothing is too much if it shall please you.”
Mama sat back and sipped from her goblet. Only I could recognize the sheen of victory in her eyes. My gaze traveled around the table to where his two daughters sat. They were younger than me by several years. Louisa was twelve and Eleanor was fourteen. Both girls had tightly curled pale hair and brown eyes, much like their father. They didn’t seem to notice the manipulation my mother was practicing, nor did they care. In the six days I had been here, I had only spoken to them once or twice, and they had acted as if it were the last thing in the world they wished to be doing. They were rather oblivious to their surroundings, but I had learned better.
My eyes traveled between Mama and Mr. Bentford, and I recognized a puppet pulled by invisible strings, entwined in her hands and her coy smile. While I had once aspired to such behavior, watching it now made me sick deep within my stomach.
I pushed away from the table, making my fork clatter against my plate. “Please excuse me. I wish to retire early.”
Lies and Letters Page 24