Chapter 8
Charlotte stepped out of the hired carriage, glanced up at the nondescript townhouse, and rapped twice on the door with the brass knocker. When it swung open, she offered the butler a polite smile.
“Good morning. Miss Doherty is expecting me.”
He bowed. “Yes, my lady. Do come in.”
She followed him down a short corridor. Her nerves jangled the entire time, but she tried to keep her expression calm. Felicity had insisted this meeting happen at her home, and Charlotte understood why. No inquisitive mothers, no curious brothers. Just peace.
They arrived at a small sitting room where Felicity herself appeared in the doorway, hands clasped together. She dismissed the butler with a quiet word, then ushered Charlotte inside.
“I’m so relieved you’re here,” Felicity said, voice hushed. “I’ve been half afraid my invitation might have gone astray or that you’d be followed.”
Charlotte chuckled. “No one follows me, Felicity. I’m hardly interesting enough for that.”
“Nonsense,” Felicity murmured, pressing her lips together. “Shall we go through to the drawing room? I’ve already prepared tea, though everyone else is wandering about the house.”
Charlotte’s gaze darted around. “Thank you for letting us meet here. If we’d tried this at my mother’s house, I guarantee she’d hover in the next room with her ear pressed to the wall.”
Felicity offered a tiny shrug. “It’s no trouble. It’s just me and the servants. My guardian never writes back, so I’ve been… living here on my own, I suppose, waiting for instructions that never come.”
A crease formed between Charlotte’s brows. “That must be lonely.”
“It’s… quiet,” Felicity said softly. “Better than many young ladies’ situations, I’m sure. Anyway, come in. The others are eager to see you.”
Charlotte followed her into a parlor. The curtains were drawn back, letting a dim glow filter inside, revealing modest but well-kept furniture.
On a small upright piano near the corner, Genevieve was plunking out a tune, her brows knit in concentration.
She struck a wrong note, grimaced, and muttered to herself.
“Mother swears I’ll become more accomplished if I just practice more,” Genevieve said in greeting, turning on the bench when she sensed them enter. “I think her dream is that I’ll dazzle some earl with a waltz I can barely play.”
Felicity smiled. “It might help if you liked the instrument. There’s nothing wrong with your playing.”
“I like it well enough,” Genevieve said with a sigh, “but there’s so much else I’d rather do.”
Charlotte touched her shoulder. “Well, at least you can practice here in peace. Shall we find the others?”
Genevieve abandoned the piano stool. “Lead on. Adeline’s rummaging through the library, and Miranda’s lecturing your butler—sorry, I mean advising him—on how to arrange refreshments.”
Charlotte laughed under her breath. “He’ll survive. Miranda’s always kind, just… methodical.”
They made their way to a smaller sitting room at the back of the house. The instant they walked in, Adeline looked up from a half-open book, flashing a grin. Miranda was already sitting primly on a loveseat with her ankles crossed and shoulders back.
“I thought we’d never all gather,” Miranda said impatiently. “We have a lot to discuss.”
Adeline closed the book with a soft thud. “Charlotte, how are you? Any new developments?”
Charlotte settled into a chair, smoothing her skirts. “No, but I did learn more about the Duke’s house party. William told me it was all the dowager duchess’s idea, and poor Henry isn’t happy at all.”
“Oh?” Miranda gestured for her to go on.
Charlotte’s voice wavered slightly as she continued. “He didn’t even know about it until half the ton started congratulating him. His mother put him in a position where he couldn’t refuse. Everyone believes he’s hosting this gathering to find a suitable bride.”
Adeline let out a low whistle. “The dowager duchess is cunning, I’ll give her that.”
Miranda shook her head disapprovingly. “A typical ploy. Announce it to society so he has no choice but to follow through. Then flood his estate with eligible ladies—like fish in a pond, waiting to be hooked.”
Genevieve frowned. “But obviously you want to be among them, right, Charlotte?”
Charlotte’s cheeks colored. “I…. Yes. I can’t stand the thought of missing this opportunity.
If he spends days in the countryside with some other clever young woman, I might lose what small chance I have.
” The thought of Henry announcing his betrothal to someone else made her feel nauseous. How would she bear it?
Felicity reached over and patted Charlotte’s hand. “We understand; say no more. We just need to figure out how to ensure you’re invited.”
“I’m sure she will be, as William’s sister,” Miranda pointed out. “But we need all of us to be there so we can help Charlotte woo the duke.”
“Ideally, yes,” Charlotte agreed. “If I’m alone among strangers, I’ll be too self-conscious to attempt anything. But with you there, we can… well, create opportunities.”
Adeline snickered. “Create opportunities. That’s a polite way of saying we’ll meddle until he pays attention.”
Miranda cleared her throat. “Subtly meddle, please. We can’t be obvious, or Her Grace will sense something is wrong.”
They all fell silent at the thought of raising the dowager duchess’s wrath.
Then Genevieve tapped a finger on her chin. “How do we get ourselves invited, though? Charlotte’s easy—her family’s close with the Arundels. But what about the rest of us?”
“I have a plan,” Charlotte said, shoulders straightening.
“I’ll ask William to suggest to Mother that we be included.
That I will be too shy to bear it without my friends.
It’s the house party of the season, so Mother will want me to be there, and she’ll want to ensure I don’t embarrass her by hiding in the drawing room. She can’t stand the idea of gossip.”
Miranda looked thoughtful. “That might work. In the meantime, we need to consider how Charlotte should present herself while there.”
“I don’t know that it will make a difference how I present myself.” Charlotte slumped in her seat. “I’m sure he only dances with me at balls out of kindness.”
“But he cared enough to save you from Sir Roger,” Genevieve reminded her. “That’s something.”
“He cares about me as William’s sister. I want him to see me differently.” Charlotte’s voice was tinged with longing.
“But this could be leverage,” Miranda suggested. “Perhaps he could be persuaded to spend time with you in order to save you from the attentions of Sir Roger. But then, the more you spend time together, the more he will become attracted to you.”
Charlotte was unconvinced, but Felicity nodded. “Hence the new dresses you mentioned, Charlotte. Are you still planning to visit that new modiste, Madam Baptiste?”
“Yes. Mother has been raving about her, but thankfully Adeline’s coming with me. We want to keep it tasteful but step out of my usual style. Something that makes me feel confident.”
“Good,” Miranda stated. “Confidence is half the battle. Dress in a way that highlights your best features, and stand tall. If you act like you’re worthy of notice, he might start noticing.”
Charlotte gave her a weak grin. “I hope so. I’m no beauty, but maybe the right gown could help.”
Miranda shook her head. “You underrate yourself. Let’s not forget those big soft eyes and that perfect posture. Trust me; some gentle tailoring, maybe a color that flatters you, and the duke will think you’re radiant.”
Genevieve clapped her hands together. “I’m excited to see the transformation. I’ve heard Madam Baptiste has a knack for subtle drama.”
Felicity nodded again. “Subtle drama is exactly what Charlotte needs.”
Looking around at her friends’ encouraging expressions, Charlotte took a breath and stood, glancing at Adeline. “Shall we head to Madam Baptiste now, before she closes for the afternoon?”
Adeline agreed readily, smoothing her skirts. “Yes, let’s go. I’m curious to see her shop for myself.”
Felicity rose as well and walked them to the door with Genevieve and Miranda trailing behind.
“Keep me updated,” Felicity whispered. “The sooner we know you have your invitation, the calmer I’ll feel.”
Miranda adjusted her spectacles. “And do let us know if you want any assistance persuading William. I could offer logical arguments if it’d help.”
Charlotte smiled wryly. “Thank you, but I suspect William might respond better to sentiment. I’ll speak to him this evening.”
They parted with warm goodbyes and stepped into Adeline’s carriage.
The ride was swift, weaving through Mayfair’s streets until they halted in front of a small modiste’s shop.
The sign read: “Madam Baptiste, Designs for the Discerning.” A tasteful window display showcased a pale blue gown with delicate embroidery.
It was lovely, Charlotte thought; something that she could easily imagine herself wearing.
Stepping inside, Charlotte heard the hum of hushed conversations and the rustle of fabrics.
Bolts of cloth stood in tidy rows, and a couple of mannequins were positioned in the corner wearing half-finished dresses.
Behind a polished wooden counter, a young woman with dark hair arranged in a sleek twist was conferring with an assistant.
She noticed Charlotte and Adeline at once, smiling as she approached. “Good afternoon. I’m Madam Baptiste. How may I be of service?”
Charlotte exchanged a glance with Adeline before speaking. “I was told you create gowns that are… fashionable. I need something tasteful but distinct; something to stand out without appearing garish.”
Madam Baptiste’s eyes sparkled. “You’ve come to the right place. May I have your name, my lady?”
“Charlotte Fitzgerald,” she said, suddenly aware of the slight trembling in her fingers. She had never taken much interest in her dresses before, allowing Lady Fitzgerald to take care of their designs. “This is my friend, Miss Claremont.”
Adeline dipped her head in greeting. “I’m only here for hand-holding and perhaps to order a small piece myself if I’m tempted.”
Madam Baptiste gestured them toward a space where a riot of colored fabrics were neatly stacked.
“I pride myself on balance: a classic silhouette, unexpected flourishes. Would you like to see some new shipments?” She produced a bolt of soft gray silk, then a second of a pale dusty blue.
“Both these tones flatter fair complexions. I also have deeper colors if you wish to make more of a statement.”
Charlotte studied the fabrics, running fingertips over the sheen. “I’m thinking something refined, so no gaudy prints, no heavy ruffles. But a detail or two that sets it apart. Maybe a sash or some delicate embroidery?”
“Precisely,” the modiste said. “And do you prefer the Empire waist, or shall we gently lower it for a more modern line?”
A flicker of apprehension crossed Charlotte’s face. “I’ve always worn Empire waists, but I’m willing to try something new if it isn’t too daring.”
Adeline put in, “We want her to feel confident—like she’s stepping just beyond what’s comfortable for her, but not diving off a cliff.”
Madam Baptiste nodded sagely. “Then a small shift. A graceful slope, a well-fitted bodice. We can incorporate subtle embroidery along the neckline and maybe a ribbon accent at the waist.”
Charlotte pointed to the dusty-blue silk. “That color is lovely. Perhaps something in that for an evening gown. And maybe the gray for a day dress, with a hint of silver thread? Just a slight sparkle,” she added quickly, feeling incredibly daring.
Madam Baptiste’s lips curved in delight. “Excellent choices. Let’s take your measurements. Then we’ll finalize the design.”
She led Charlotte behind a curtain, where a mirror stood. While Madam Baptiste measured waist, bust, and length, Charlotte asked quiet questions about possible finishing touches. The modiste sketched a few ideas on a small sketchbook, showing her how the final design might look.
Now and then, Adeline peeked around the curtain to offer her opinion. “A darker sash here,” or “Perhaps more elegant sleeves.”
When they’d finished, excitement fluttered in Charlotte’s stomach. She pictured herself in that gorgeous dusty blue, hopefully catching Henry’s eye. Maybe it would help him see her not as William’s sister, but as a woman with her own quiet style. Even a potential bride.
After negotiating the timeline—Madam Baptiste promised to expedite things for a small further cost—Charlotte and Adeline thanked her warmly and departed. They climbed back into the carriage, both flushed with the satisfaction of progress.
Adeline let her head fall against the seat. “That was almost too easy. She’s incredible, and you’re going to look amazing.”
Charlotte offered a weak laugh. “Let’s hope so. I must say I’m actually looking forward to this party a little now.” She stared out the window, seeing not the passersby but her own daydreams.
A short silence followed, broken only by the steady clatter of the carriage wheels. Then Adeline said, “So… when do you plan to talk to William?”
“Probably tonight,” Charlotte replied. “He hates dinnertime conversations, and I don’t want Mother to question me, so maybe after. I’ll catch him in the library or his study.”
“Fingers crossed,” Adeline said, her eyes bright. “This could be an excellent opportunity for all of us.”
Yes, it could well be. She only hoped she didn’t botch it all up.