Suddenly

by Candace Camp

  The hack stopped a block from her aunt’s house, and Charity walked the rest of the way. She slipped in the side door and made her way up to her room, thankful to meet neither of her parents on the way.

  Serena was in the bedroom they shared, seated by the window reading a book, and she looked up, relief flooding her face, when Charity entered. “There you are! Wherever have you been all morning? I was worried sick. I made excuses to Mama, of course, but I had no idea if I was doing right.”

  “You did wonderfully well,” Charity returned gaily. “I’ve been out walking. What else?”

  “This long? You woke me up slipping out of the room this morning. Why were you so furtive, if you were just going for a walk? And where could you have gone?”

  “Why, I went to Hyde Park, of course, and I’m afraid I did spend rather too much time there. I miss the country, and—” She broke off at her sister’s skeptical stare. “Oh, all right. You know me too well. I did go somewhere else, but I’m not going to tell you, not yet. First I want to make sure that it works out. I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

  “My hopes?” Serena questioned warily. She was a pretty young woman, with a pleasant expression and a sweet smile, but at the moment, her looks were marred by knit brows and a mouth thinned by suspicion. “Charity, exactly what were you doing? You had better tell me, you know. Have you gotten yourself into another scrape?”

  “Of course not!” Charity retorted indignantly. “I haven’t gotten into a scrape in…oh, ages.” She waved her hand airily.

  “Then what were you doing?” Serena persisted.

  Charity grimaced. She didn’t want to tell Serena what she had done. Serena would be thoroughly shocked. Charity knew that it would never occur to her sister to do something so scandalous as visit a bachelor in his home, nor would she have countenanced it in her sister, even if it would free her from a marriage she did not want. That was why Charity had been careful not to reveal her plan to Serena before she put it into action. Serena would have done everything she could to stop her from acting so impetuously—perhaps even reveal Charity’s plan to their parents. And now, even though the thing was done and Serena could not undo it, she would still scold her for doing something so outrageous.

  But Charity was not one to avoid trouble. So she sighed and straightened her shoulders and told Serena the truth. “I went to Lord Dure’s house and asked him not to marry you. I suggested that he marry me, instead.”

  Serena stared, too shocked by what Charity had said to even scold. “What?”

  Charity started to repeat what she had said, but Serena waved her hand. “No, no, I did not mean that. I heard you. I just could not believe you. Charity, did you actually go to that man’s home?”

  Charity nodded. “Yes.”

  Serena’s cheeks flooded with color, and she put her hands up to them, as if to cool them. “Oh, no…What will he think of you? Of me? Oh, Charity, how could you have done such a thing?”

  Charity gnawed uncertainly at her lower lip. “I thought it was for the best. Are you…terribly angry with me?”

  “But what did he say? What did he do? Was he furious with you?”

  “No. He was quite calm. Actually, I think he was rather entertained by me. He smiled and chuckled.”

  “Oh, no,” Serena groaned, closing her eyes. “He was laughing at us? Is he going to tell everyone? Will we be the laughingstock of London?”

  “No! Serena! Have you so little faith in me? He wouldn’t spread such rumors about the future Lady Dure.” She paused portentously. “He agreed to marry me instead of you.”

  Serena’s eyes popped open. “What? He actually agreed to such a madcap scheme?”

  “It wasn’t madcap!” Charity protested. “It was very reasonable, and he saw that. He said he had no wish to marry someone who didn’t want to marry him, and he agreed that he wanted to marry only for an heir, as you said, and that I would do as well as you.”

  “He said that?”

  “Well, not in so many words,” Charity admitted. “But he did agree to it. He told me that he would call on Papa this afternoon to ask for my hand.”

  “I cannot believe it.”

  Charity looked wounded. “You think no man would want to marry me, even one who was not marrying for love?”

  “No, of course not. There will be many men who would give anything to marry you,” Serena assured her warmly. “You are by far the prettiest of us, and you are so very kind and generous. But the earl of Dure! And after you had done something so improper, so scandalous! I cannot fathom it. Are you sure that he was not making a game of you? To repay you for your behavior?”

  Cold fear knotted in Charity’s stomach. What if Serena was right? What if he had only been playing a joke with her? Charity had painful visions of Dure’s throwing Serena aside and laughing about Charity and her family through all the best salons of London. “No,” she breathed, “he would not. He is not so cruel, nor so proud.”

  “He seems to me to be a very proud man,” Serena retorted. “And I would think he could be quite cruel. He is a cold man.”

  The two sisters looked at each other. Charity lifted her chin. “No. I refuse to believe it. He was quite sincere. He had his doubts. He told me I was too young. But I convinced him in the end.”

  She thought of his kiss, seemingly his final test of her, and a blush tinged her cheeks. For the first time, she wondered if he had enjoyed it as much as she had, and if it had been that which had convinced him to marry her.

  Serena did not notice her sister’s embarrassment. She was staring blankly across the room, trying to absorb the news, fear and hope warring within her. “Can it really be?”

  “Yes! I believe what he told me. He would not have lied or played a game with me. I do not think he is that sort of man.” She paused, anxiety tightening her stomach, and added, “But it is possible that he might change his mind, once he thinks it over. Perhaps he will decide that what I did was too scandalous for a future Lady Dure, that I would not be a fit wife for him.”

  “I did not mean that you would not be a fit wife for him—or any man!” Serena said, immediately contrite. She went to her sister and took her by the shoulders, saying earnestly, “You are the dearest and sweetest of women. And any man should be proud to have you for a wife. I should not have said what I did to you. I spoke hastily and out of fear. I was simply overset with worry about where you had been, and then, when you said that you’d been to see him, well…I snapped at you. What you did was improper, of course, and I do wish you would think before you jump in next time. But if the Earl decides that you are not a proper enough wife for him, then he does not deserve you. And if he is not what you think, and chooses to spread scandalous gossip of us around town, then he deserves neither of us.”

  Charity smiled at her gentle sister’s pugnacious look, and gave her a quick hug. “I am afraid you look at me with a fond sister’s eye, but thank you, anyway. Let us not think about the worst. Let us simply hope that he will be exactly as I think him.” She hesitated, then went on tentatively, “Serena…have I done wrong? You are not upset with me, are you? You truly did not wish to marry the earl?”

  Serena stared at her, too astonished to speak for a moment. “No! Charity, how can you even ask such a thing? You know of my feelings for Reverend Woodson. How could I want to marry any other? You know I would never agree to it if it were not my filial duty.”

  “I know.” Charity frowned thoughtfully. “Serena, would you tell me the truth?”

  “Of course.” Serena looked affronted.

  “Has the reverend ever kissed you?”

  Serena’s rosy blush was answer enough, but Serena also nodded, looking down. “It was bad of us, I know, for we knew that my parents would never approve of the match, but once, when we were walking down by Lichfield Wash…”

  “And was it pleasurable?”

  “Charity! Such questions!” But Serena had to smile. “Yes, you baggage. It was pleasurable. I felt…uplifted.�
� Her eyes glowed, telling the truth of her words.

  Charity relaxed. “And did His Lordship ever kiss you?”

  “Lord Dure?” Serena looked amazed. “No, of course not. Why, we are barely acquaintances.”

  “But you were nigh on to betrothed to the man,” Charity pointed out. “Didn’t you wonder? Didn’t he try?”

  “Well, he kissed my hand several times, when he took his leave.”

  Charity rolled her eyes. “That is not when I mean.”

  “I know.” Serena shrugged. “He was always a gentleman.”

  Charity suspected that the way he had acted with her would not be classified as gentlemanly, but it had felt wonderful.

  The two sisters waited on pins and needles through the next few hours. Every time there was the sound of carriage wheels outside their window, they tensed, but none of the vehicles ever stopped for Lord Dure to disembark. Nor, hard as they strained their ears, could they hear the thud of the front door knocker up here on the third floor.

  For a while, they passed their time by doing up Charity’s hair. Over the years the girls had become adept at doing each other’s hair, for they had not the money to spare for a personal maid. In a hurry this morning, Charity had taken the time only to catch her thick hair back in a soft roll. But now Serena pinned it up on her crown in a knot, letting a cluster of finger curls fall from it. It was a soft, bouncy style, well suited to her.

  Then Charity changed into a pale pink afternoon dress, which actually belonged to Serena. Looking in the mirror, Charity was well pleased with her image. She appeared older and prettier, she thought, less of a country mouse.

  After that, there was nothing to do but wait. Serena’s doubts filled Charity’s mind, and she fidgeted and paced and snapped irritably at Horatia and Belinda when they tumbled into the room in a boisterous game of tag. Belinda stuck out her tongue at Charity, and Charity retaliated by tossing a small pillow at her, and suddenly the four of them were romping about, like schoolgirls all, chasing and throwing pillows and tickling one another when caught. Finally Elspeth emerged from her small room. She, alone of the sisters, was given a room to herself, because her frequent insomnia was aggravated by having anyone sleeping in the room with her.

  “You have awakened me,” Elspeth told them in a whispery voice. “I had just gotten to sleep…I’ve been laid low by a headache today.”

  “Sorry, Ellie,” Charity responded, but her blue eyes danced in a less-than-penitent manner.

  It was then that one of their aunt’s maids hurried up the stairs and came to a breathless halt in front of the sisters.

  “Miss Charity, you’re wanted in the front drawing room. Right away, your father said.” Her eyes were wide, and sparkling with interest.

  Charity glanced at Serena, whose face had the same arrested expression that Charity was sure was on hers. Hope flooded her. Dure had come!

  She whirled and hurried down the stairs, holding her dress up above her ankles. She would not let herself think about any other possibility, such as Dure’s having sent word to their father of his daughter’s highly improper behavior this morning. Lifting her head, she sailed across the hall and into the drawing room. The two men inside the room turned at her entrance.

  Her face was flushed and her hair slightly mussed from the games she had been playing abovestairs with her younger siblings, and her eyes sparkled. Simon straightened unconsciously, his eyes sweeping over her, and he smiled. Lytton Emerson, on the other hand, simply gazed at her with the same slightly stunned expression that had been on his face for the past few minutes, ever since the earl of Dure had informed him that he wanted the hand of his third daughter in marriage, not that of his first.

  “Ah, Charity, there you are.” Lytton smiled, a little uneasily. Serena was a biddable girl, and would do as she was told. Charity he had some doubts about. It occurred to Mr. Emerson that she might refuse to marry a man she had never met, and then they would all be in severe trouble.

  “Hello, Papa.” Her eyes went inquiringly to Lord Dure, as she played the part of one who did not know the man.

  “Charity, this is Lord Dure. I…He…The fact is, His Lordship has been gracious enough to ask for your hand in marriage.”

  “Indeed?” Charity opened her eyes wider, in a creditable look of surprise, and turned to Dure. “But, Your Lordship, you do not know me. How could you wish to marry me?”

  Simon’s lips thinned as he suppressed a smile. His dark eyes, lit with amusement, met hers. “Ah, but I have seen you from afar, Miss Emerson, and my affections were immediately engaged.”

  “You are a man who makes up his mind quickly.” Charity dimpled, mischief lurking in her eyes.

  “Yes, I am.” Simon strode toward her. “I usually know what I want.” He stopped in front of her, too close for politeness, looming over her, and his dark eyes glinted down at her. “What is your answer, Miss Emerson?”

  Charity tilted back her head to look at him. “Why, yes, of course, my lord,” she replied demurely. “What other answer could there be?”

  “You have made me a very happy man,” he replied formally, and raised her hands to his lips. A thrill darted through Charity at the touch of his mouth on her flesh. It was a common enough gesture, with little meaning, but still, the brush of his lips, warm and velvety against her skin, made her shiver.

  She wondered how Serena could have experienced even this brief touch of his mouth on the back of her hand and not felt some excitement. Suddenly she was very glad that Serena had not, and even more glad that Dure had never kissed Serena on the mouth.

  Charity was shocked to feel jealousy rear its ugly head within her. She had enjoyed her popularity at the assemblies she had attended, for she had pride aplenty. But never had she felt envy or jealousy when one of her squires danced or flirted with another young woman. But she realized that she had no desire to share anything of this man with anyone, including her favorite sister. She supposed it was because he would be her husband.

  “I must take my leave now,” Simon went on. “I shall see you again soon. Will you be attending Lady Rotterham’s ball tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t know,” Charity replied blankly.

  “Of course,” her father said genially, cutting in. “We shall be there.”

  “Good. Then I look forward to seeing you.” Dure nodded to Charity, then her father, and strode from the room.

  When they heard the front door close behind him, Lytton turned to his daughter, eyebrows shooting up. “Did you understand this?”

  At that moment Charity’s mother swept into the room, her face wreathed in smiles. Caroline Emerson’s jaw dropped ludicrously when she saw Charity standing there with Lytton. “Charity! But where is Serena? What has happened? I know I heard Dure’s voice in here.”

  “You did.” Lytton turned his bewildered face toward his wife. “He was just here asking to marry Charity.”

  It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then Caroline gasped, “Charity! What do you mean?” She rounded on her daughter. “What have you done! How could you have done this to your own sister?”

  “What are you talking about?” Lytton asked, confused.

  “I have done nothing to her, except save her from a marriage she despised,” Charity retorted hotly. She loved her mother, but Caroline was a proud woman of rigid beliefs, and they had quarreled often—and sometimes bitterly.

  “Despised! How could Serena despise such a marriage?” Caroline asked in honest astonishment. “Dure is an earl. She would be a countess!”

  “Serena has no interest in being a countess.”

  “What nonsense! You are merely trying to excuse this trick you have played on her.”

  “I played no trick. Serena knows, and she approves of what I did.”

  “What did you do?” Lytton asked, still bewildered. “I don’t understand. What is going on?”

  “Oh, Lytton. It’s obvious—Charity has somehow contrived to steal Lord Dure away from Serena.”

&
nbsp; “I did not steal him! I simply asked Lord Dure to marry me instead of Serena, because Serena did not want to marry him.”

  “But when—How—” Lytton sputtered. “You have never even met His Lordship.”

  “Lytton, do be quiet,” Caroline snapped. “She has met him somehow. How else could she have managed to arrange this charade?” She swung back to her daughter. “But how can you say that Serena did not want to marry him? She said nothing of this to me.”

  “How could she? She knew how important it was to you and Papa, to the whole family, that she marry someone wealthy. She was going to do her duty, as she always does. But she dreaded it. You would know that, if you had heard her crying in her bed at night, as I have.”

  “But how could she be unhappy?” Lytton asked, puzzled and worried. “She would have been a countess. Dure is not old, or ugly, or mad. His family is excellent, and he has money and land. She could have had anything she wanted.”

  “Except the man she loves,” Charity pointed out.

  At that pronouncement her parents erupted into bellows and squawks and torrent of questions. Caroline collapsed upon the nearest chair, fanning her face and threatening to swoon.

  “What the devil is going on here?” an imperious old voice demanded, and Aunt Ermintrude hobbled into the room, leaning on her cane.

  She was actually Charity’s great-aunt, her father’s aunt, and she had not aged gracefully. Rather, she had fought it tooth and nail. The necklines of her gowns were disgracefully low, revealing a great deal of wrinkled skin, and she dyed her hair an improbable shade of red. Charity’s mother called her a relic from an age when people had few morals; Caroline deplored the bluntness of the woman’s speech. For her part, Aunt Ermintrude disliked Caroline with equal vigor. However, she did take an interest in Charity and her sisters, and it was for their sake that she had invited the Emerson family to visit her for the season and bring out Serena and Elspeth.

  She cast an irritated look around the room. “It sounds like a menagerie in here!”