Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Let me be that I am
and seek not to alter me.”
When Clara returned home the following day, her smile was so wide I worried her face would become frozen that way. Lord Trowbridge had offered for her, and she had accepted, of course.
I was happy for her, and it took all my energy to cling to her excitement and joy when I found it impossible to feel any of my own. Clara’s cheeks were touched pink, and she looked simply radiant. I smiled as she relayed to me every detail.
“We are to be married in two months,” she said. “That will allow plenty of time for his aunts to travel here to help with the preparations. Did you know he has six aunts? I hear they are all delightful.”
She carried on with the details of her day while we sat together on the sofa. My head ached from the events of the previous day, and I found myself easily distracted.
I shook myself and cleared my throat to speak. “Mama will be pleased to hear it.”
Clara froze. “I’m not telling Mama.”
“Why not? You must! Don’t be ridiculous.”
She looked down at her lap, wringing her hands together. “Please don’t say a word.”
I scowled. “There must be a reason.”
Clara was suddenly defensive. “She will claim responsibility for the match. She will reap the benefits of our living, and after how she has treated me, treated us, our entire lives…well, I don’t think she deserves it.
” Her voice carried a hint of bitterness that surprised me.
She recognized the harshness of her words and tried to recover, eyes wide.
“I would just prefer that her opinion of me not be based upon the advantage of my marriage. Does that make sense?”
I sighed. “But she still expects me to marry him, and I can’t continue lying to her.”
“Then don’t.” Clara scowled. “Tell her you do not wish to marry for advantage.”
“But I do!” My voice was rising now.
“Whose advantage, Charlotte?”
Her words rang in my ears. “What?”
“Whose advantage would you marry for? Because not allowing yourself to love, clinging to these ridiculous ideas of a happy life…it’s ruining you.
Tell Mama the truth and don’t let her stop you.
Make new dreams for yourself, set new goals, let go of the things you left behind because they have certainly let you go.
Please, I beg of you, don’t become the person you once were. ”
I felt defeated, and a thousand questions rolled through my head at once.
Her eyes became gentle. “Make the most of your life here. Find James and tell him how you feel. You helped me and now it is my turn. If I must meddle, I will.”
For the first time, I truly considered it.
Living here in that tiny house of his, smiling and laughing, shopping in the village under a grey sky, eating fish and spending evenings playing whist with Clara and Lord Trowbridge while Sophia ran about in her pretty dresses and twine tiaras.
A fierce longing for that life came over me in waves.
But all the while I saw the edges of my imagination barred in steel.
There was more than this. How could I ever settle?
My eyes fell downward, and I noticed Clara shift in her seat. It was a subtle movement, but I saw a corner of a torn piece of parchment hidden beneath her skirts.
“What is that?” I pointed.
“What?”
I reached across her and pulled what appeared to be an opened letter out from beneath her. “This.” I frowned when I saw the wax seal—our seal. “This is from Mama? Why did you try to conceal it?”
Her face fell. “Please stay, Charlotte! I know you won’t want to, but please.”
Hardly listening to her, I unfolded the letter and read, heart pounding with anticipation.
My daughters,
It has been four long months, and I presume that if you haven’t been engaged by now to Lord Trowbridge, you never will.
Therefore, I took matters into my own hands.
Mr. Bentford, my dear cousin, has finally opened his eyes and my schemes have met success.
We are to be married! He offered for me not two days ago.
He is growing richer by the day with his business investments and is gaining respect among society.
I expect they should all overlook our past disgrace and accept us anew.
Our good fortune does not end there. Two young men have moved into town, Mr. Webb and Mr. Morely. They both have large estates in the country, and Mr. Webb will one day be a viscount. We invited them to dine with us and both were quite smitten by your portrait, Charlotte.
So, in light of these recent events, remaining in Craster will no longer be necessary. I have sent a coach and one maid to convey the two of you, along with Miss Bentford, home. It should arrive promptly on the seventh, should the weather hold. I look forward to your arrival and our reunion.
Mama
The air seemed to have been drawn out of the room, and silence hung heavy.
I stared at the letter until my eyes went out of focus.
Mama was inviting me home. I read it again, just to be sure it was real.
There the words were, right in front of me, plain and certain.
My gaze shot to Clara. “Why would you hide this from me?” My heart thumped. “The seventh…that’s tomorrow.”
“Don’t go, Charlotte!” she cried. I hadn’t noticed the tear on her cheek.
I was quiet as my mind spun, trying to piece together the news I had just received. I had been so close to excusing the possibility of ever returning home, but now here it was, an invitation and a second chance. I would be a fool not to take it.
“I’m going.”
Her eyebrows tipped down and new tears wet her eyes. “Don’t make such a mistake! You are not thinking clearly. Please. Please stay!” She held my arm in an unrelenting grip, as if that alone could keep me here.
“No.” I was still in a daze, hardly believing what had just happened. A stroke of good fortune was as rare as a living flower in this dreary town.
“Charlotte, please! Don’t be so rash. Think of James!”
That made me stop, and it made my heart quake a little. But I set my jaw and made my decision. How could four short months be enough to reverse the beliefs I had upheld for years? I shook my head clear and tucked my heart away where I couldn’t find it. I pulled my arm away from Clara’s grasp.
“Please help me pack my trunk.”
She sobbed again. “No, Charlotte! Don’t do this.”
I looked away, standing up and walking to the staircase, numb and determined. This was what I wanted. My feet stomped on the wood, creating a rhythm for the chant in my head. This was what I wanted. Wasn’t it?
I could still hear Clara on the main floor—the soft whimpers and sniffling.
I stood in my doorway for a moment, wondering why she cared so much.
The thought of leaving had been so impossible, and the news that I could leave had been so sudden that I hadn’t stopped to consider how it would affect everyone here, including myself.
Clara could still be happy. She was marrying the man she loved, she would live in a beautiful home, and never work another day of her life.
She would have Thomas, Sophia, Mrs. Abbot, Rachel, and Lucy.
And I would have Mama, perhaps this Mr. Webb, and a beautiful home of my own.
As I considered this, I was struck with the realization of all the things I wouldn’t have. Clara, the Abbots, James. James. My heart pinched at the thought.
Trying to distract myself, I hurried to my trunk and began packing my things.
I froze.
My right hand was pale against the crimson gown I packed away.
Mama didn’t know about the injury. I had chosen not to tell her, but I had nearly forgotten about it myself.
Everyone here didn’t seem to notice it. But what would Mama think?
I tried to reassure myself, packing with renewed vigor.
All would be well. She had always cared about me.
Nothing could change that. And even if she did despise it, I could conceal it in my glove and find a suitable match, and then all would be well.
I tried my hardest to smile as I worked, but every time James crept into my thoughts, I found my smile wiped away.
Would I ever come back to this town after I left?
How could I if I knew James would be here?
I cursed fate for making him so poor, yet so easy to love.
My chest constricted with the ache of knowing I had already seen him for the last time.
He couldn’t know that I was leaving. I would leave without bidding him a proper farewell.
It would be easier that way for both of us.
When my trunk was full, I placed my thickest gloves on top of it.
The sky outside was dark, and my eyelids were growing heavy.
The emotions I felt now would pass. I would forget everything about the past four months and remember the way life was before I met James Wortham.
And if I was capable of forgetting him, then surely he could forget me.
His heart would heal and so would mine. Tomorrow I would leave Craster at last.
Clara was gone most of the following day. She had hardly spoken to me that morning. I waited by the front door with my trunk, trying not to think or feel, watching out the window as fat snowflakes spiraled in slow motion from the sky. As always, I counted them as they fell.
Miss Bentford wouldn’t be accompanying me back to Hampshire.
She seemed to have grown attached to this town just like Clara.
Just like me. Clara would live at Clearfield House until her wedding, and Miss Bentford would soon replace Clara’s position as governess for Sophia.
She had seemed happy with the arrangement, overjoyed even.
It confused me, considering the comfortable life she had led at Bentford Manor before.
Didn’t she miss the grand house? The ease? I certainly did.