Chapter 16
“Just as women's bodies are softer than men's, so their understanding is sharper.”
—Christine de Pizan
Charity’s head was throbbing by the time she returned to Atholl House.
She had stayed long enough to let Ravenscroft know her part of the plan was complete, and then left without another word.
Finally safe at home, Charity handed her wrap and gloves to Pritchard and asked him to bring a cup of tea to her sitting room.
“No, make that a glass of lemonade, instead, please,” she corrected herself before he strode off. “I will be in the bower.”
Though she had spent the afternoon outdoors, she found herself still very much in need of air. She paused on the back terrace and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping the stone ledge, not caring that it scraped her hands.
It was no use. Even without the words, she would never forget the vile words dripping from her mother’s mouth. Nor could she forget what Lark had said in reply. That Vanessa Cresswell had struck the first blow, stealing Marian’s suitor using the worst of manipulations.
Would Lady Cresswell ever accept any blame for the bad blood between the families? Charity was sickened by the whole thing.
No wonder her mother’s voice inside her head had been fading, a more loving one taking its place and soothing the broken edges of her soul. Do not surrender to such shadowy thoughts when the sun may yet rise, Sparkles.
Charity sucked in a breath, then another, holding out her arms until she could feel the warm rays of sunshine soaking into her skin. Then, she massaged her temples and let the weight of the fear that had plagued her since dawn slip from her shoulders.
When she could take a full breath, she opened her eyes and retreated to the place she loved most in the gardens. A simple iron bench like the one in her childhood home, nestled between rose-covered trellises, against a backdrop of thick hedge.
That was where Selina found her.
Charity slid over on the bench and patted the space beside her. Selina needed no further encouragement. For a moment, the pair sat in silence, listening to the birds.
At last Selina broke the quiet. “I expected to find you at the front door with your hat and gloves. Instead you are hiding out here as though hoping the world might pass you by. What ails you? Is it Lark? She will forgive you both, eventually. Though not without tormenting you first, I should think.”
“Believe it or not, Lark’s anger had entirely slipped my mind. It is something else.”
“Oh?” Selina said, but did not pry further. Selina would not, for she knew better than most the importance of keeping secrets and worries close to the vest.
Charity needed counsel. Not from Perry, though he would be a willing ear. But from a woman, someone who could make sense of what Lady Cresswell had done. Someone who would understand the pressure to marry well, at any cost.
Her dearest friend Grace had always been far too independent to give such a thing any thought. But Selina—Selina would know.
“My mother and father,” she trailed off, searching for the correct word. There was no way to pretty it up. “They accosted me today, while I was with Lark.”
Selina listened without a word as Charity related the incident, though her expression hinted at amusement more than sympathy.
When Charity finished, she tipped her head, lips curving faintly, and gave a single nod.
“I think I see. It is not gaining Lark’s forgiveness that troubles you—it’s facing the idea that perhaps your mother does not deserve yours. ”
Charity flinched. How neatly Selina’s sharp wits had cut to the very bloody centre of the matter.
Charity drew a slow breath. “If I refuse to forgive her, then what happens? Am I to cut my parents off as though they are nothing? The consequences of such an action are not small.” She faced a loss of social standing, not to mention the loss of her family.
Selina turned her head and watched. “May I speak plainly?’
“You have not been before now?” Charity’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.
“Plainer, then,” Selina said, drolly. When Charity gave leave, she went on, “You are right; there will be consequences. But somehow I think you are strong enough and clever enough to find ways to circumvent the worst of it. You have a more powerful social circle of your own, and none of it will cut you because they harbour any special love for the Cresswells.”
Charity turned to the rose-covered trellis and plucked a half-withered blossom.
Each soft petal faded from deep red to a cracked brown edge, dried and crumbling.
This was what her mother had become through hate.
Once a perfect bloom, now halfway to a dried out husk that barely hinted at its former glory.
“My thoughts are chasing their own tails. I keep thinking how failing to forgive her might keep alive the same quarrel that poisoned our families. But my mother had Perry sent to the front lines because of her hatred for Marian. She meant for him to die, for no fault of his own. How can I forgive such a thing?” Charity cried, pain scourging her.
She dashed a wayward tear from her face and took some deep breaths.
Selina took the dying blossom from her hand and set it aside. Then, with great gentleness, she folded Charity’s hands in hers.
“Forgiveness is no duty, my dear. It is a luxury. No one has the right to claim it from you. You alone may bestow it, or withhold it.” She tightened her grip on Charity’s fingers until Charity’s eyes lifted to meet hers.
“And if you choose never to part with it, well, no one worth a farthing will think the worse of you.”
“I might think worse of myself. Perry is tormented by the thought that sometimes when he acts, he is no better than his mother. After today, I finally understand that fear. What if refusing to forgive her makes me… unworthy?”
“That you are asking the question makes you worthy of it, Your Grace.”
Charity made a choking nose.
“If life were simple, we should all manage virtue without effort,” Selina said, gaze drifting outward.
“Marian Fitzroy’s villainy is gaudy and obvious.
Your mother, though—she chose the weapons society so cheerfully permits.
By law and custom, she is blameless. So tell me, do you mean to accept that fiction? ”
Before Charity could form an answer, Selina cut her off with a wave of her hand.
“Forget about your parents for a moment. Think about the future. About yourself, Perry, and the riotous brood you no doubt will one day have. How will you keep them from wearing the blame for their grandmothers’ sins?
How do you and Perry cut yourselves loose from the bloodied chains those women forged? ”
The thought of a child of hers having to endure any of the suffering she and Perry had turned her stomach.
The motherly need to protect her children, though not yet born, rose up fiercely.
How strange, that one could love the idea of something that did not yet exist. Perry felt the same, she was sure of it.
That was the way love from a parent should be. And not only did Marian Fitzroy threaten that, her own mother did too. If Vanessa Cresswell could not let go and move on, well, there would be a price to pay.
Suddenly, the answer to her question became clear. She alone had the power to protect herself, Perry, and the family that would come next.
Charity’s spirits did not exactly lighten, but her friend’s gentle words banished some of the dark clouds filling her thoughts. She blinked to clear away the moisture in her eyes, and then pulled her hands free and stood.
“The Queen must be back from Hyde Park by now. We should go.”
Selina smiled. “My carriage is out front. Come along, and I will tell you what else I pried loose today. With any luck, we will leave Buckingham House with you restored to the Queen’s favour this very afternoon.”
They made good time to Buckingham House and arrived to find an unmarked carriage waiting near the gates. The Queen’s aide-de-camp came rushing outside, his hands flapping while a footman helped Charity and Selina descend the carriage steps.
“I cannot imagine how you got here so quickly, but thank goodness you did,” he murmured, wringing his hands. “I only sent the messengers off a few minutes ago.”
“We did not get any message,” said Charity. “What has happened? Is something wrong with Her Majesty?”
“Other than Lady Fitzroy sitting inside her home?” he squawked, pointing at the other carriage. “She showed up here not five minutes ago and demanded to see the Queen. She said, and I quote, ‘the Queen’s Diamond kidnapped my daughter from Hyde Park.’”
Charity and Selina exchanged concerned glances. They had feared that word might reach the Queen, but neither expected Lady Fitzroy to come in person with a message guaranteed to catch her attention.
But they should have expected it. Lady Fitzroy’s arrival had undercut any advantage. They had been counting on telling the Queen first.
“We will explain it to her,” Charity said, trying to soothe the man’s nerves.
“Explain? You mean there is truth to Lady Fitzroy’s accusations? You acted without first consulting the Queen? You will be lucky if she does not consign you to the Tower!”
Charity froze, the truth of his words, and the implications that followed, punching her in the gut. The Queen hated being the last to know. “We may as well order our coffins now,” she whispered, turning to Selina in search of help.
Selina’s eyes flickered, her nimble mind already at work, and she brought her thumb to her lip. “Courage, Duchess. I have an idea. Besides, we did not even know that Lady Fitzroy or Lady Lark would be there. Let us hope she appreciates our reasoning for being cautious, if not for the delay.”