Part 3 Brancombe Abbey
Charlotte
“Oh, Miss Fairfax, you will love Edward’s home—and the stables!” George bounced up and down on his seat in the carriage as it started to wend along Brancombe Abbey’s drive.
“Yes,” Lydia said. “The abbey is a magical place, like a drawing in one of my books in the nursery.”
Charlotte stared out of the carriage window at magnolia trees in full bloom, her face stony. Why would she be interested in seeing where a low-life, selfish rake lived? She had no interest in the Duke of Somerset.
None whatsoever!
Why, he had behaved deceitfully towards the previous governess, and now he had behaved abominably towards the present one, namely herself. And—horrors!—he was engaged to Lady Arabella. How duplicitous could one man be?
As the carriage rounded the final curve, Brancombe Abbey in all its splendor stood before them, and Charlotte could not help but be impressed.
How handsome the magnificent building looked with its weathered stone walls and graceful arches hinting at the ecclesiastical history contained therein.
And how handsome Edward was as he stood on the drive to greet them, his face alight with joy.
But who could that be? A beautiful young woman stood beside Edward, her blonde curls shining in the spring sunshine and her azure eyes sparkling.
Mrs. Knightley picked up her reticule. “We are here at last! And there is dear Lady Arabella. She looks quite at home.”
Charlotte clenched her fists as she followed the family from the carriage. She inspected Lady Arabella close up and instantly revised her opinion of her appearance.
Her yellow hair looks tawdry and artificial. And were not her eyes too close together, giving her a mean-spirited look?
Edward greeted his family effusively ere addressing Charlotte. “’Tis a true delight to see you again, Miss Fairfax. I do hope George and Lydia have been behaving themselves.”
“We always behave ourselves!” George ran into the house, with his sister in hot pursuit.
“Miss Fairfax,” Edward continued, “pray allow me to introduce you to Lady Arabella.”
Charlotte curtsied in front of the loathsome woman who would undoubtedly become Edward’s wife in the near future. She was grinning in the most irritating way—like the cat that has not only got the cream but has taken possession of the entire dairy and perchance the farm as well.
“Miss Fairfax!” Lady Arabella grasped Charlotte’s hands. “’Tis very pleasant to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about you from Edward.”
Charlotte felt discomforted at the sham friendliness Lady Arabella was displaying and shook her head as she marched after the children.
What is one to make of the behavior of these peculiar, entitled aristocrats?
“Do not worry about the children,” Mrs. Knightley said to Charlotte as they entered the house. “One of the maids will attend to them; you may go to your chamber to settle yourself in.”
“Miss Fairfax!” Edward whispered as Charlotte walked past. “Might I beg a moment of your time?”
Charlotte turned her back on him, followed the servants through the green baize door and fled up the backstairs.
I am wise to the duke’s deceitful nature and will not be trifled with again!
Once she reached the very top floor, Charlotte wondered which tiny attic room had been reserved for her in this new abode.
She looked at the name plates on the doors but failed to find Miss Fairfax written anywhere.
Was this what things had come to? Was she a nobody, without even an attic room to retire to at night?
Perhaps she would be sleeping in the stables with the animals—or sharing with one of the maids.
At least the latter would mean she had someone to converse with.
The housekeeper of Brancombe Abbey appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Miss Fairfax?” Charlotte nodded. “There is not enough space for you on this floor as we have the Knightleys’ servants to accommodate as well as our own; consequently, His Grace suggested you might like a bedchamber overlooking the garden on the floor below. I hope this will be acceptable.”
Charlotte nodded again, feeling quite dumbfounded.
“Come—I will show you the way. Your luggage has already been taken there.”
Charlotte followed the housekeeper down one flight of the backstairs and then through a door hidden in the paneling that gave access to the main part of the house where the family had their bedchambers.
Soon Charlotte was standing in a prettily decorated room with a fine view of an expansive lawn, which blended seamlessly into the far landscape.
“Why, ’tis beautiful!” Charlotte blurted out.
“Yes, indeed,” the housekeeper said. “You must have impressed His Grace very much for him to allocate you this bedchamber. Well, I will leave you to unpack.”
Shortly afterwards there was a firm knock on the door and a lady’s head appeared—with unattractive yellow curls and eyes that were far too close together.
“May I come in?” Lady Arabella did not wait for Charlotte’s answer. “I do feel we ought to be friends and hope you feel the same.”
“I cannot comprehend what you mean by these words.”
Arabella gave a tinkly laugh—the sort of sound that set one’s teeth on edge, remarkably similar to the sound of fingernails being dragged across a school slate.
“Oh, you must forgive me!” the obnoxious woman said. “There is much to explain. But first let me show you this.”
Lady Arabella flung the wardrobe door open, and Charlotte’s hand flew to her mouth when she saw a shimmering cornflower-blue silk gown, embellished around the bodice and hem with pink roses and pearls.
“’Tis one of mine, but I think it will fit you; when you wear it tonight at the ball, the color will complement your beautiful red tresses more than it ever did my flaxen curls.”
“But I am not going to the ball! Why would I? I am merely the governess.”
“Edward is determined you should join the guests at the ball, and he knows all about the gown. In fact, ’twas his idea.
” Lady Arabella opened a drawer of the dressing table and pulled out a mask decorated with silver spangles.
“None of the guests will recognize you, apart from me, of course; you will be free to dance the whole evening with Edward if you so choose. And here, I have silk dancing shoes for you and white kid gloves too.”
Merciful heavens, what on earth was going on? Charlotte’s head was spinning with questions.
Arabella frowned. “Have you not spoken to Edward?”
“No, I have been looking for my room upstairs—I thought I was to sleep in the attic again.”
And I turned my back on the duke most ungraciously when he was trying to talk to me in the entrance hall—oh, what have I done?
“Ah! Well, I have to tell you that contrary to popular opinion in some quarters of Edward’s family, Edward and I are not going to be wed—not to each other, at least. We both of us find our hearts incline to other people, and we fully intend to marry for love.”
Arabella laughed again and suddenly her voice did not seem so irritating. In fact, one might almost say it had a musical quality.
Charlotte took a step closer; what else had Lady Arabella to reveal?
“Edward has until recently been under the misapprehension that he should marry me because of some deathbed promise he made his papa when he was but seven years of age.”
“Seven?” Charlotte’s brows shot up. “It does not seem reasonable to have to keep a vow he could scarce understand at that age.”
“Exactly!”
“But what of you? Did your parents not hope you would marry Edward?”
“Well, Papa once told me he would look well upon Edward if he were to become his son-in-law, but he also said ’twas up to me to choose whom I wished to spend my life with. I know how lucky I am that my parents allow me such freedom in my choice of husband for ’tis not this way for so many.”
“Indeed. And Edward never discussed marriage with you?”
“No! Not until he wrote to me very recently and told me of his dilemma. I came straight over to Brancombe Abbey to reassure him I had no intention of marrying him, however much he might beg me to. Edward is a very dear friend and has been so since childhood, but there is no way I would want him as a husband.” Lady Arabella had a faraway look.
“Not when there is another that I truly love.”
How curious Charlotte found this conversation. Could she be dreaming?
“And with whom is Edward in love?” Charlotte felt emboldened to say.
“You mean you do not know?” Arabella took Charlotte’s hand. “Why, ’tis you, and has been since the moment you collided with him on the famous Gravel Walk in Bath.”
Tears welled up in Charlotte’s eyes and great heaving sobs erupted from deep within her bosom.
Arabella held her closely in her arms, patting her back rhythmically as one might comfort a small child.
When Charlotte was able to smile again, she noticed how pretty Arabella’s blonde hair was, not tawdry at all, and that her eyes were not too close together but perfectly set in her wise and amiable face.
But could it really be true that Edward loved Charlotte and her alone?
What about the previous governess? Was Edward not a rake?
Charlotte bit her lip. Doubts as to the veracity of the tale of the ill-treated governess now began to creep into her mind.
Charlotte—like Emma—had been wrong about so much. Dare she ask Arabella?
After more discussion, Arabella convinced Charlotte of the truth—namely that the previous governess had been interested in Edward’s fortune, nothing else.
She had flung herself into his arms one evening when he was staying with the Knightleys in Bath, then said that she had been compromised and that marriage—or possibly a generous payment—would be the only honorable solution.
Luckily, Mrs. Knightley had witnessed the whole ridiculous pretense, and the scheming governess had been dismissed on the spot.
There was one further obstacle Charlotte could think of, which was that Mrs. Knightley did not take kindly to governesses being fortune hunters—and that was what she must think of Miss Fairfax, surely?
Charlotte pushed her shoulders back. She was the equal of any man or woman in the country—had not her papa taught her that men and women of all classes were equal in the sight of God?
Why should she not marry the Duke of Somerset?
“Thank you, Lady Arabella, for all you have done. I must away to eat my meal with the children; once they are settled in bed, I will attend the ball in disguise as you suggest. And I am most grateful for the loan of the gown.”
“The gown is yours to keep—and please call me by my Christian name only. Lady Arabella is too formal, do you not think? Far too aloof and grand, when in truth we are well on the way to becoming the best of friends.”
Edward
Edward looked across the crowded ballroom, turning his head this way and that to look for Charlotte. Confound all the masks! Their use had seemed sensible when first conceived, but ’twas hard to recognize even one’s own family when they had their faces partially concealed.
And the flickering candlelight from the chandeliers does not help, either.
Somewhere in the glittering crowd, he knew Lady Arabella was dancing with the man she had determined to marry, and he wished the young couple well from the bottom of his heart.
“Edward, my dear! How handsome you look.” Mrs. Knightley, resplendent in an amethyst silk gown decorated with beads and swags of embroidered flowers, stood before her son.
“Why, thank you, Mama. And you look supremely elegant, as always.”
Mrs. Knightley smiled. She and Edward had enjoyed a good heart to heart that afternoon; she had been upset to realize how unhappy he had been, and she had assured him that his father would have wanted Edward to marry the person he truly loved.
“I must apologize again, my dear son, for my part in all of this too. I think I just assumed that you and Arabella would marry, without realizing that ’twas not actually what either of you wanted. I still think you could have made a suitable match with her, but far better to aim for true love.”
“And you do not mind if my bride is not a member of the ton? And does not come from a titled family? At one time you were keen that I should not become too close to Charlotte, if you remember—you practically forbade me to play pianoforte duets with her. I thought that was because you considered her an inferior.”
“Oh no, ’twas for a different reason—I was still very upset after the previous governess had behaved so badly, and I think I was unfairly disposed to be wary of whomsoever became the next governess and to suspect that they too were motivated solely by money, that is all.
I very much regret the way I sometimes spoke to Miss Fairfax and hope that, in time, she can forgive me. ”
“Thank you, Mama. That has put my mind at rest.”
Mrs. Knightley put her hand on Edward’s arm.
“But in all honesty, how could you have thought I valued being part of the ton above all else? My marriage to your father, the Duke of Somerset, was a love match, and I adored him. When I was widowed, I thought my broken heart would never mend. But when I met Mr. Knightley, I was given a second chance at love, and the loss of my title the Duchess of Somerset was as nothing compared to the pride I felt at becoming Mrs. Knightley.”
“Yes, I see the veracity of that.” Edward tugged at his cravat as if it were far too tight. “But now all the obstacles seem to have been swept away, I confess I feel considerable anxiety, for what if Charlotte will not have me?”
But Mrs. Knightley was no longer listening; her attention, and that of everyone there, had been captured by the arrival of an entrancing young woman in a cornflower-blue silk gown on the other side of the room.
The goddess-like vision of loveliness was wearing a mask to attempt to hide her identity—but Edward would have recognized those wayward, flame-colored curls anywhere.
The band started to play, and the crowds parted as Edward and Charlotte walked towards each other, eyes ablaze with intense love.
Mrs. Knightley beamed with pleasure and nodded her wholehearted approval and apology to Charlotte. “Go on, Edward, my boy,” she whispered to her son. “Follow your heart!”