Ninth Day of Christmas #2
Something was clearly agitating Charming. She fussed and paced and mumbled to herself, and ignored all their inquiries.
When Mrs. Wattlesbrook entered, instead of scolding them for lounging about, she zeroed in on Charming and frowned. With a more delicate tone than was usual from the proprietress, Mrs. Wattlesbrook asked, “Mrs. Charming, are you quite all right?”
Charming tilted her head. “I’m sure as sugar that’s the first time you have ever, ever asked me how I am.”
With a huff, Charming walked out of the morning room. Frowning, Mrs. Wattlesbrook followed her into the hall. Kestrel looked at Andrews. He nodded. So she sprinted to the doorway and pressed herself to the wall to eavesdrop.
Mrs. Wattlesbrook: “If I may be so bold, I put up with my own husband for far too long. There is no shame in wanting to believe the best of people. There is no shame in being afraid of change. There is no shame in trying to mend the disastrous shambles of a well-meant marriage. But it is not your only option.”
Charming: “What did Andrews tell you about me and Bobby?”
Mrs. Wattlesbrook: “Nothing whatsoever. But I can see how changed you are when your ex-husband is around. And if you seek to disentangle yourself, I rather think you have support. From all of us.”
Kestrel just had time to dash away from her eavesdropping post before Charming reentered, her thumb pointing behind her. “What’s gotten into Wattlesbrook? She’s suddenly . . . gushy.”
Kestrel wanted to assert agreement for everything Mrs. Wattlesbrook had said, but she felt an instinct to stay quiet and give Charming space to feel things through.
Charming wandered into the middle of the room looking bewildered and sat on a coffee table.
“I’ve done a lot of balls here, and they’re all great.
But none of them changed how I feel the day after.
I thought, a Christmas ball must be extra magical.
If only I could dance with someone who loves me at the Christmas ball, then I would feel different.
When Bobby showed up, I’d been hoping so hard, it felt serotoninous. ”
Kestrel nodded, assuming she meant serendipitous with a side of serotonin.
“But Bobby . . . he’s been . . .” Charming took a deep breath. “Andrews, tell me I’m not crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Andrews said quickly and confidently.
“Am I right that Bobby is acting squirrelly and maybe always has, and that there’s nothing wrong with me, even though around him I feel like there is, like I’m too big in every way and have to squash myself down and squish myself up to make room for him, because he’s more comfortable when I’m tiny and forgettable? ”
“Yes, yes all that is true.” Andrews knelt on the rug, held her hand, and gazed up at her. “You are so wise.”
“Charming, tell us what happened with Bobby yesterday.” Jerome’s tone was warm and inviting, no judgment in it.
She shrugged. “After the divorce, he kept the business and I got money, but taking that cash out of the business was rougher than a tumble. So he wanted me to run some numbers, see what I could liquidate to put back in our business.”
“It’s his business now.” Again Jerome spoke with calm confidence. “He’s telling you to put your money into his business.”
“I guess so. But he said—He made some good points. About how it’s my fault our—uh, his business is failing.
Also he wants to show off his new ‘fancy-pants digs’ to his friends.
He was going to call them as soon as the roads were clear.
” Charming frowned at the window. “You know, our business is his, but Pembrook Park is mine—mine and Wattlesbrook’s.
And he’s sorta acting like it’s his too. ”
Kestrel cheered her on silently. Come on, Charming. See it.
Charming sighed pitifully. “Sometimes he makes me feel like a billion dollars! But other times I’m a bug under his shoe. I expect relationships to be like that, I guess . . . But I didn’t expect Bobby to take over Austenland . . . And what if he treats all of you the way he treats me?”
Her brows lowered, her lips pursed, and a low growl came out of her throat. Slowly, she stood up, her hair hanging long over her face, her eyes dark, like a murderous little girl everyone thought was dead in a horror movie.
As if on cue, Bobby entered. “Goooooood mornin’, all! But a special good mornin’ to my good lady.”
Charming didn’t reply, still staring down at the floor, her shoulders stooped. Kestrel’s stomach dropped, afraid Charming would lose her nerve.
But then, she spoke softly. “You were so convinced you were the only one with business smarts. But you’ve come back to me, because I’ve got money and you want my money—and my brains—to fix the business.
Your business that you messed up. I wish I’d seen who you were thirty years ago, but I’m starting to see it now. ”
Bobby laughed. “What are you talking about? Bubba, you’re too pretty to—”
“Hush,” said Charming. “Don’t try to confuddle me with fancy words.”
Bobby looked around the room, grinning like a politician. “Listen, I’ve known her since she was the chubby cheerleader nobody else would date, but I loved her anyway. Nobody ever loved her like I did—”
“Enough, sir,” interrupted Jerome.
Charming finally looked up from the carpet to meet his gaze. “Get out, Bobby.”
Bobby stared at Charming, his face began to turn a hot pink, and then he started toward her.
But Jerome and Andrew positioned themselves in front of her, and Bobby stopped cold.
He was older than both men but built like an aging linebacker.
Kestrel’s hands were in tight fists, and she wished for a fork.
She walked around the men to stand beside Charming, offering comfort with her presence.
“Sir,” Jerome said, softly and yet somehow powerfully, “she has friends here. A lot of friends. She has earned them. You have none. You have earned none. You were only permitted on these grounds as her guest. You are no longer her guest, so you must leave.”
“Now,” said Andrews, bobbing back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Bobby’s face was going from pink to red. He roared in anger and flailed his arms, all that built-up energy having nowhere to go. Then he noticed Kestrel, and his expression changed to manic glee.
“That whore begged me to screw her in the library!”
Jerome swore under his breath. Andrews made a small whine. Kestrel wished for the carpet to swallow her up.
Charming looked stricken. “What are you talking about?”
“That little skank there!” Bobby pointed at Kestrel. “She tried to lure me into the library to act out her sexual fantasies. What an excellent group of friends you made yourself here, Bubba!” He laughed.
“Kestrel?” said Charming.
Kestrel glared at Bobby and said firmly, “Her name is not Bubba.”
Jerome took a couple steps forward. Bobby’s fists tightened.
And then Edwin arrived. He stood in the opposite doorway, his quick eyes assessing the situation, channeling a whole bunch of silver-fox energy.
“Edwin, Bobby was just leaving,” said Jerome.
With a third man present, Bobby put up his hands in surrender and started to back away.
“You lot are pathetic. Playing dress-up and flouncing around like a bunch of vaudeville castoffs who’ve got no audience but yourselves. What’s the matter with you?”
“Bless your heart,” Charming said in her thickest American Southern accent. “We’ll keep you in our prayers.”
Bobby turned and left, slamming the front door behind him. Kestrel felt the entire room exhale.
“I’ll make sure he actually goes,” said Edwin.
“Yes, I’ll help,” said Jerome, following after Edwin.
“I’ll grab his things from Charming’s room so he won’t have an excuse to return.” Andrews was already on his way out and called over his shoulder, “Kes, you’ll stay with Charming?”
“Uh-huh.” Kestrel’s legs shook with the effort not to run away, but she stayed. They were alone. Kestrel could hear Charming’s shaky breaths.
“So, that was a lot,” said Kestrel. “Um, how are you feeling?” Charming looked at Kestrel. Her look was an accusation.
“Charming, it was a ploy,” Kestrel tried to quickly explain. “A failed ploy. We thought if we could show you—”
“Show me how easily you could seduce my ex?” Charming said through gritted teeth. “Yeah, I figured, and, Kestrel, that’s a rotten thing to do to a friend.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Kestrel. Her thoughts screamed at her, Run away, get away . . .
Mrs. Wattlesbrook moseyed into the morning room, humming to herself, entirely unaware of the tension.
“Miss Chen is still not up? Well, she’s missing a gorgeous day. My, my. A simply gorgeous day.”
Mrs. Wattlesbrook wandered over to the window and looked out, smiling. Kestrel stood still, her legs cold, all her attention on Charming.
“Christmas. It is special, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Wattlesbrook.
“I mean to say, there is something quietly sublime about this time of year, beyond the festivities and parties. There is a certain . . . je ne sais quoi. But I do feel it this year, even in the . . . as you say, Mrs. Charming—even in the slow parts.”
“Actually I’m Miss Charming.”
Mrs. Wattlesbrook turned to her with a raised eyebrow.
“Is that so? Congratulations.” Her gaze whipped to the doorway, where Gussie was just entering, and her posture somehow became even straighter.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Chen! And right on time. Come with me to the conservatory. You too, Miss Spinster. It is time to create centerpieces for our Twelfth Night feast.”
Kestrel’s heart was pounding, though in a totally different way than it had been that morning in bed. Now her muscles were screaming at her to flee. But Gussie took her arm and smiled at her with a hopeful, new-friend openness.
“Shall we, Kestrel?”
Kestrel cast a sorrowful glance back at Charming but let Gussie lead her into the glass-paned room luxuriant with potted plants. The maids had set up a table with supplies and offered aprons to protect their gowns.