Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
“My drops of tears I’ll turn to sparks of fire.”
Icursed my sister under my breath. How could she knowingly put me in this situation?
Even after all I had done to help her with Thomas?
My gaze darted to the door, but she was long gone, and the trail of ladies I could see in the corridor through the open door were all laughing and smiling.
My chest constricted with sudden fear, but I followed the group of ladies anyway.
We had been told to meet our partners in the ballroom where we would be given further instruction. It was warmer in there. My hands grew slick with sweat inside my gloves.
And then there he was, across the room, smiling that devilish smile, eyebrow lifting as he watched Clara find Lord Trowbridge and show him his name on the paper that used to be mine. Then James’s smile softened to one of relief as he watched them together, and my breath caught in my chest.
I feared I couldn’t do it. The slip of paper that bore his name was now crumpled into a ball in my hand.
My fist was clenched so tight I felt the sting of my fingernails against my palm.
All around me, the room was full of excitement and hearty laughter, faces drawn in shock over the good fortune—or misfortune—of their assigned partners.
James was standing alone, and I made my decision, or rather, my feet made the decision for me.
I was walking forward, more shy than I had ever been in my life.
More afraid. More raw and vulnerable and confused.
I watched the floor until I was in front of him. “I chose your name,” I said with a weak laugh. “Is that not amusing?”
I stared at James’s boots until the blasted man lifted my face to look at his, nudging my chin up with a bent finger. There was a half-smile on his lips and a question in his eyes. “How much did you pay Mrs. Abbot to secure me as your partner?”
“Only a hundred pounds.”
“Ah. A good bargain. I’d wager you planted a few facers too as you fought the other ladies for me.”
“One of them is nursing a nosebleed as we speak.” It was a wonder how these conversations came so easily, even when I really didn’t want to make him smile.
He laughed, deep in his throat. “As I suspected.”
“Actually, I did it for Clara,” I said, lifting my chin. “I chose your brother’s name first, and she offered a trade. I didn’t know it was your name she had picked. But I suppose we will endure the evening.”
I expected him to grin, make another joke, but instead something in his expression seemed to fall. He smiled anyway. “I’m surprised you would sacrifice your chance with a wealthy earl in exchange for an evening with me that is to be endured.”
I peeked at his face and realized all traces of humor were gone.
He looked hurt, and it tugged at my heartstrings.
“James—I won’t apologize for having ambitions.
But rest assured I have given up on pursuing your brother.
Obviously.” My voice was defensive, and I realized how terrible I sounded—how heartless.
He bristled, but after a moment his face washed over with calmness. He rubbed his forehead. “I know. Sometimes I find myself forgetting where I stand. Thank you for reminding me.”
I didn’t have a chance to ask what he meant before Mrs. Abbot was calling for our attention. “I welcome you all once again to our annual Twelfth Night celebration, and let us all thank Lord Trowbridge for hosting this evening.”
The room applauded.
“I see you have all found your partners,” Mrs. Abbot continued. A mumble of approval rolled through the room. “As the most anticipated event of the evening, we will begin, as always, with a waltz.”
Mrs. Abbot signaled the musicians. Blood rushed past my ears and heat tingled my face. I didn’t move, scowling in Mrs. Abbot’s direction, begging her to change that tradition. A waltz? Why couldn’t it be anything but a waltz?
“Come now, Charlotte. The other guests will think you’re unwell.”
I turned my scowl back to James. His face was careful, tentative, as he reached for my hand. “I’m the only one who knows what that frown of yours really means.” His other hand wrapped around my waist, gentle at first, then firmer, pulling me closer to him as the music began.
I tried to breathe, but it was suddenly difficult. I found my gaze trapped on the creases his smile marked beside his eyes. “And what does it mean?” I asked. I found it difficult to frown when his smile told me how much he enjoyed the sight.
“It means you adore me, remember?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“You don’t remember, or you don’t adore me?”
“Both.”
Although he was smiling, he looked far from laughter, and I knew why.
This topic of conversation was much less humorous than it once had been.
We turned to the song, and I found that I didn’t think once of the steps, the poise I had practiced for hours with my instructor, or the ridicule from Mama as she had watched me and told me my back was not straight enough.
I could think only of James, the warm strength of his hands, the way he didn’t care that my deformed hand lay in his, and how his eyes bored into mine, searching for answers that I didn’t have or dare to discover.
“Perhaps if I inquire after your feelings for me often enough, one day you’ll give me the answer I want to hear.” His voice was quiet. I might have imagined it, but his hand at my waist pressed me closer.
This wasn’t fair. The longer I looked at his face, the more I wondered how long my heart had been his, and how he had managed to manipulate it without my permission.
“I can’t give you that answer.”
His smile was gone, a broken look replacing it. “You can’t, or you won’t?”
I thought of my hopes and dreams. Of Mama’s approval, blue skies, air that did not smell like fish, and society’s praise. My jaw set firm against the tears behind my eyes and I said, “Both.”
He was silent then, and it was James that looked away from me, with him keeping his secrets and me keeping mine. The dance wasn’t over, so we followed the steps of the haunting music. We danced in silence, and it was all I could do not to give him that answer he wanted.
“Was that really necessary?”
Clara planted a hand on her hip when she walked through our door a little after midnight. I sat slumped on the sofa, unblinking and quiet.
“You would pretend to be ill just to be driven home early. Just to escape Mr. Wortham?” Her gaze didn’t waver. “Miss Bentford was having such a delightful evening. As was I.”
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. My selfish ways had crept back in, but it had indeed been necessary.
She walked over and pushed my legs off the sofa so she could sit beside me. “You are such a hypocrite.”
Her bluntness surprised me.
“How do you put forth so much effort to ensure my happiness but do nothing for the sake of your own? You have been an advocate of love these last weeks, Charlotte, yet you deny yourself any part of it. Why?”
I didn’t feel like speaking. I hardly felt like doing anything but squeezing my eyes shut and falling asleep, if only to stop the tears.
But as soon as I shut my eyes against Clara, my throat tightened in a knot and tears fell from the corners of my eyes anyway.
I breathed a shaky breath and stayed silent.
I sensed Clara’s disposition change, and her voice fell to a gentle tone.
“You could have such a joyful life here. It really is beautiful if you look hard enough. The people are so lovely and kind, and the Abbots have treated us so well. I will be here, I hope. I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but I will likely be living just down the road.
There is no place else for you to go. So choose to be happy here because that might very well be your only option.
And you and James…Charlotte, you must know that you are loved.
I love you, the Abbots love you, he loves you. ”
My eyes snapped open. “He doesn’t love me.” I stood, swaying on my feet at the sudden movement.
“Charlotte—”
“No.” I put my hand up to stop her words and walked toward the stairs. She didn’t follow me.
Still wearing my red gown and satin gloves, I almost tripped up the narrow stairs.
When I reached the top, I turned toward my room.
All I was aware of was my breathing, the hitched sound as I fought against the onslaught of emotion that roiled through me.
I pushed through the door and to my desk.
After pulling my gloves off, I pressed my palms against it and leaned forward, trying to calm myself and discover why I was feeling the way I was.
What if Clara was right? What if I could be happy?
I looked up at my reflection in the mirror above the desk.
My eyes were rimmed in red and my lips were pressed tight.
What if I was forced to stay here forever?
The thought struck me with fear. How could I be comfortable knowing all the things I was missing, and all the things I could never have again?
I refused to settle, to not achieve what all those years of instructing had intended me to achieve.
I replaced the bars around my heart stronger, more unwavering than before.
But then my gaze wandered to the drawer of my writing desk, and my heart weakened all over again. I was too curious now.
I pulled the drawer open and withdrew James’s love letter with a shaking hand. And then I unfolded it. As my eyes first met the paper, I realized that I had never really seen James’s writing before. Every line, curve, and shape seemed to suit him perfectly.
I made one more attempt to stop myself from reading it, but I was too weak, and every part of me longed for some piece of his heart to hold. I swallowed hard and let my eyes drift over the page, reading the words that weren’t mine.
My love,
I wish I possessed the courage to speak these things aloud to you, yet I find I do not.
You have stolen my heart, though I believe you never meant to do so.
Your friendship has been a comfort to me in ways I did not know I required.
In these past months, it has eased an ache I long believed must simply be endured.
For that, and for you, I am more grateful than I can rightly express.
Tears fell down my cheeks. James had been such a friend to me. Was it love I felt for him, or simply a need for his friendship? Perhaps I could try to excuse it for the latter. It would make me feel much better about my decision. I took a deep breath and continued reading.
You will forever be in my heart, whatever comes of this confession. I love you. If you should feel any portion of what I feel, I beg you to let me know. A single word would be enough. I will wait upon it with more hope than I ought to admit.
Until then, I remain yours, and I shall be waiting, always, for you.
James
I ached everywhere, and pain burned through me for James’s sake, for his broken heart. I clutched my throat, where a tight lump had formed. It wasn’t fair. None of it. It wasn’t fair that this woman had been so cruel and it wasn’t fair that James had been so hurt.
It wasn’t fair that I understood that woman’s decision to desert him all too well.
Squinting through my tears, as well as my poorly functioning hand would allow, I tore the letter in half again and again, until it was a pile of disjointed words on the desk.
Then I stood from the chair, legs shaking, and plodded in a daze to my bed.
My brain was tired of thinking and my heart was tired of feeling.
As I faded off to sleep, I imagined a life where I stayed in the North forever, and where I smiled on the worst of days, all because James held my hand.
It was ridiculous, and I tried to stop imagining it, but again, I was too tired.