Chapter 11 #2
“Should you be teaming up with the male camp, sister? For certainly, this week you have been the opposition of chatter and sharing!”
Arabella pretended to giggle, whilst internally regretting that she had driven the spotlight once again back to her.
“I confess, Charlotte. I cannot fool you!”
“Tell me,” Charlotte placed her warm, soft hand upon Arabella’s, which felt cold and trembled slightly.
“Only that I am worried about Lady Wellwood. Her health—of course—but we forget sometimes that she lost her husband in a brutal killing, lost her eldest son in a tragic accident as he fled, lost her dear nephew to heart failure, and now it seems Marcus is acting so strangely that she is unable to feel as close to him as she once did. I feel terribly sad for her.”
Charlotte looked across the lawn in contemplation, as though the litany of tragedy in Lady Wellwood’s life had not struck her in quite this way before.
“It is terribly sad,” Charlotte agreed. “But it is not the thing that is causing you such anguish.”
Arabella felt quite taken aback at the astuteness of Charlotte’s declaration.
Charlotte squeezed Arabella’s hand and smiled at her warmly.
“When you feel ready to confide in me, sister, I will be here to listen.”
Charlotte then stood and crossed the room, picking up her reading book and settling into her chair to begin reading.
Arabella felt so touched by her sister’s generous gesture that she had to blink back tears that pooled in her eyes.
How desperately she wanted to share the turbulent story that was playing out in her life.
How compelled she felt to express the conflicting emotions that had been activated by Alexander’s return.
Her sister had been there when Alexander ran—she too had reassured Arabella that he would send word for her to follow.
No less, she had assisted in packing an emergency bag in case his call had been urgent.
Charlotte would have supported her sister’s desertion and held the secret close to protect her.
Charlotte had been equally as shocked as Arabella to hear that Alexander had been killed before he could reach his destination. The sisters wept together, and Charlotte had held Arabella as she rocked and cried in grief and devastation.
Arabella held an absolute certainty that she could confide in Charlotte and entirely trust that her confidence would be safe. But she could not risk her little sister’s safety and would not.
She must carry this burden alone.
***
“Lord Thomas Carrington to visit Miss Charlotte Sinclair,” the maid announced from the doorway.
Charlotte jumped up from her armchair, and her book fell flatly onto the wooden parquet floor with a slap. Margaret awoke suddenly at her sound, from her comfortable rocking chair where she was resting.
“My apologies, Lady Wellwood!” Charlotte bleated, but Arabella could tell her voice was filled with more excitement than remorse.
“Shall I bring him through, Lady Sinclair?” the maid asked, still hovering.
“No—no! I shall meet him in the foyer. Sally, please request Gertrude to chaperone as we will be taking a walk,” Charlotte gabbled, betraying the fact that she mentally planned what their activity would be should Thomas visit today.
Arabella beamed as her sister’s cheeks flushed with vibrant enthusiasm. Charlotte turned to Arabella in haste.
“Oh, but do I look pretty?” Her dainty face collapsed in a frown of self-deprecation.
Arabella laughed. “Perpetually, Charlotte! And look—yellow is the most graceful colour on you.”
“Oh, thank you, Arabella!” Charlotte squeaked, clutching her hands together at her chest in glee.
“Have fun!” Arabella called after, as Charlotte disappeared through the door and off down the hallway.
Arabella looked over at Margaret, hoping they might talk secretly now that they were alone, but Margaret was either once again sleeping or, at the very least, pretending to sleep, which conveyed the message she did not wish to engage in conversation.
Arabella placed her embroidery on the small wooden table beside her and slowly strolled to the large floor-to-ceiling window. It was bordered by heavy green drapes and embellished with golden ropes and tassels.
Arabella absent-mindedly played with a silky tassel between her fingers and closed her eyes, enjoying the sunlight that filtered in through the window pane to caress her face. It certainly was a beautiful day for a walk.
She saw Charlotte and Thomas walking together on the adjacent gravel path, with Gertrude walking slightly behind as their chaperone. Charlotte’s face was alert and animated as they talked with one another.
Thomas seemed fixated on her, and Arabella almost rolled her eyes at her sister’s worry that he could be distracted and no longer interested in her—his affections were quite obviously firmly with Charlotte.
Arabella watched as Thomas offered Charlotte his arm, and with an expression of pure delight, Charlotte took his arm and they laughed together. I’m pleased that at least my little sister can enjoy uncomplicated happiness.
Whilst she wished it for herself also, she did not resent her sister’s indulgence; she was genuinely grateful for Charlotte’s simple contentedness. She knew at that moment that she had made the correct decision concerning not telling Charlotte about Alexander.
The morning room door swung open, waking Margaret for a second time, and Marcus paraded in. The abruptness of his entrance and the way in which his eyes scanned the room suggested to Arabella that he had expected to find the two of them huddled together, colluding.
She felt an odd burst of small triumph at having proven him wrong, as he could see Margaret napping in her chair and Arabella standing alone by the window. He looked momentarily disappointed not to have found them gossiping and seemed at a loss for what to say.
“Good day, son,” Margaret croaked from her chair.
“Good day, Mother, Miss Arabella.” Marcus nodded to them both in turn.
“Did you handle your urgent business?” Margaret enquired.
“What?” Marcus frowned with irritation. “Oh, yes, yes.” He batted his hand as though the business was quite inconsequential.
“What are you looking at there?” Marcus crossed the room towards Arabella and joined her companionably at the window.
“My sister and Lord Carrington …” Arabella replied fondly.
“They make quite the fine couple, don’t they?” Marcus said warmly, and Arabella returned his genuine smile. It was the first moment in many weeks where she had felt the presence of the kind Marcus she used to know and the brotherly support he had offered her in her times of need.
He leaned against the windowsill and began drumming his fingers against the wooden frame rhythmically as he watched the couple strolling in the sunshine down below. Charlotte turned and saw them at the window, smiling broadly and waving. Arabella and Marcus waved back, happily.
As Marcus lowered his hand, it came to rest at his temple, and he massaged the side of his head, squinting his eyes up.
“Are you feeling well, Lord Wellwood? You do not have a megrim, I hope?”
“I am very well, thank you, Miss Arabella!” Marcus smiled widely, and his voice echoed throughout the morning room.
Then he narrowed his eyes and leaned towards her. Peering at her intently, he whispered, “You’ve been very observant recently!”
His immediate switch in personality and the way his mood darkened made Arabella step back.
But she smiled tightly, pretending he had not made her feel threatened by his intimidation, suppressing the chill that ran down her spine.