Chapter Ten
Although Charlotte had seriously doubted her sore muscles and bruises would be gone by the night of the assembly, her sister’s insistence on applying arnica jelly on her hip each morning and night had done the trick.
Her largest bruise—now a greenish hue—would be covered by her gown and just the merest shadow of bruising could be seen on her arm.
Becca assisted Charlotte in putting on one of her new dinner dresses that Dorothea had chosen for that night.
Charlotte knew that her sister wanted to reserve the most sumptuous and elegant gown for the ball she had persuaded Reginald to host later in the summer.
Somewhat reluctantly, Charlotte allowed Becca to style her hair.
The maid pulled it flat on the sides, with a bun of curls at the back of the head, interwoven with a strand of pearls.
In the front, she fashioned waved curls, which framed Charlotte’s face nicely.
Becca had tried to add a single long curl down one side, but Charlotte overruled her, saying it would be bothersome, which made Becca give an annoyed sniff.
Although Charlotte still did not care that much for Becca’s attitude, she had to admit the young woman had a way with hair.
As she turned her head from side to side, studying her face in the mirror, she had to admit she looked very well indeed.
Charlotte had always given the minimal amount of effort with her hair, never being greatly interested in fashionable styles.
With an appreciative nod, she rose from the dressing table and Becca then fussed with the flounces and puffed sleeves of the cream silk gown with tiny hand-embroidered rosebuds on it until Charlotte finally had to order her to stop.
There was a knock at the door and Dorothea entered, already dressed and primped for the assembly. She was holding a small, velvet jewelry box and, as she moved closer, Charlotte could see the approving look in her sister’s eyes.
“Oh, you look quite lovely, my dear. Truly, you will not be in want for dancing partners. Let us hope your new shoes are comfortable for I predict you will be on the dance floor quite a bit this evening.” She turned to Becca.
“Thank you, Becca, that will be all for now. You’ve done a lovely job with her hair. ” The maid curtseyed and left the room.
Dorothea opened the jewelry box and pulled out a cross made of four sizeable, rectangular-cut rubies dangling from a shiny gold chain. She held it out to Charlotte. “I thought you might wish to wear this tonight—the color will go quite well with the roses on your dress, do you not think?”
“How beautiful—is it yours?” Charlotte sat at the dressing table again so Dorothea could fasten the clasp.
“Yes. But before that, it was our mother’s. Papa gave it to me at my wedding.” She gave a nervous laugh. “He probably has saved something else of hers to give to you when you marry, do not fear.”
Charlotte reached up and touched the cross, an odd sadness washing over her.
“I…I wish I had known her. I wish my coming into the world had not been the cause of her leaving it. I see the resentment in Papa’s eyes every time he glances at me.
” She dropped her gaze. “Well, perhaps I imagine it. But, how did you ever look at me with any satisfaction knowing I was the reason you lost your mother?”
“Now, now—none of that,” Dorothea said briskly. “I absolutely forbid you to be sad about an event you had no control over. I shall always miss my—our mother—but, at least, I have memories of her, while you have none.”
“True. I only know she was beautiful.” Charlotte smiled up at the reflection of her blonde, classic-featured sister standing behind her. “Like you. Instead, I am…dull looking. I confess, I do not share your optimism of my having many dances this evening.”
“You do not favor our mother in looks, but that is no reason to think yourself unlikely to make a match. Your features are dark like our father’s, and I could wish those few freckles away, but be assured that tonight, my dear, you cannot be thought anything but lovely.
Do not forget, you will have the first dance with Mr. Morton.
Make the most of it. Perhaps he will favor you more than once during the assembly, which would be a signal to all of his particular interest.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t that scare off any other potential suitors?
I do not think you should set such high expectations of Mr. Morton, Dorothea.
I certainly do not. His offer for the first dance is merely his way of apologizing for the riding incident, nothing more.
He has already met me at dinner and clearly was not so enraptured that he has come calling, after all.
” She stood and gave her sister a hug. “But, I shall do my best. Just, please—do not get your hopes up too high. With a dowry such as mine, I cannot hope to attract anyone as grand as Mr. Morton.”
Dorothea merely laughed and walked out of the room. “We shall see. The carriage is ready, my dear. Let us hurry.”
Charlotte took one last look in the mirror and pinched her cheeks to bring color to them. She truly did look more beautiful than she could ever recall. And although she did enjoy dancing, knowing this gathering was to help her snare a husband somewhat dampened her anticipation.
If only a desire to catch a husband were as easy for me to don as my new dress and shoes.
*
The assembly room was already crowded by the time the Gillinghams arrived.
The windows were full open to bring in fresh air, but the room still seemed warm and stuffy with all the participants.
The musicians were tuning up, and Charlotte knew it would likely become even more uncomfortable when the couples crowded onto the floor.
She checked her reticule for her fan, knowing she would need it.
Charlotte glanced around for a familiar face but saw few. She spied Mr. Morton, whose back was mostly turned to her as he spoke with his brother, Frederick, so he did not notice her. Frederick did catch her eye, however, and he smiled and nodded to her before returning to his conversation.
Such an amiable man. Perhaps he might ask me to dance; I am certain to enjoy it more than the one I promised to his older brother.
“Charlotte.”
Dorothea’s voice brought her back to the present. She stared blankly at a young man with bad teeth who was standing before her.
“Mr. Wincock has asked you for the second set, my dear,” Dorothea continued in a syrupy voice. “You are not engaged for it, I believe…?”
“Oh. No. No, I am not, sir. I thank you for the offer.” She curtseyed, hoping his breath was not as horrid as his teeth. He bowed and departed.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“Mr. Charles Wincock. He is two and thirty and an only son. His father owns a pretty piece of land south of Brentwood. It is not large, but he stands to inherit the entire estate one day—it is worth perhaps one thousand or so.”
“So, I should be rude and step on his toes to discourage him?” Charlotte asked, with a grin.
“Oh, hush, dear, someone may hear you,” Dorothea whispered. “He is a pleasant enough gentleman. You may certainly be as polite to him as needs be, although I would not encourage him greatly. There are men here of far greater consequence, to be sure.”
“Such as—” Charlotte began.
“Mr. Morton,” interrupted her sister brightly. “How well you look. Charlotte has been bubbling over with excitement all day over your offer of the first set.”
Charlotte could not stop herself and shot her sister a look of utter disbelief. Realizing her bad manners, she felt her color rise. She took a deep breath, curtseyed, and wished Mr. Morton a good evening, giving him just the briefest of eye contact.
“I believe our set is about to begin, Miss Kendall,” he said with a smile. Charlotte could not perceive whether he had noticed her reaction to Dorothea’s lie. She hoped not. Plastering on a smile, she took his arm, and the two moved to take their places with the other dancers.
“You appear recovered from your riding mishap, Miss Kendall. Are you indeed well?” Robert said as the music started and they took hands.
“Entirely.” Charlotte could think of no other reply to give. The two danced in silence a while, before he tried again.
“I do apologize once again for the unfortunate incident.”
Charlotte eyed him critically but tried to keep her voice sweet. “Your apology would go further could I but know the reason behind the ‘unfortunate incident,’ sir. What was so urgent that caused you to ride in such a reckless manner?”
He seemed to pause longer than necessary before replying, “Estate matters, Miss Kendall.”
“But what precisely, sir? Was a prize mare in labor? Or perhaps one of your tenants was dangerously ill?”
He smiled tightly. “Do you know—I cannot precisely recall, now that you ask. I have had so much to deal with since my father died and I took over the estate—it seems there has been one crisis after another for me to deal with. They have all muddled together in my mind, I am afraid.”
“I thought that was what gentlemen had stewards for,” Charlotte replied. Was he trying to play on her feelings by bringing up his late father? Or was he being sincere? Why did she find it so difficult to assess his character?
Robert gave a short laugh. “Indeed, you are correct, and I have a very fine one. But, I am trying to learn all I can and make as many decisions as I may myself. I am certain my father would have wished it. Again, I beg your forgiveness for my careless behavior.”
Charlotte was about to ask why his father had not taught him more about Brentwood while he was still alive but bit back her words.
What did she care about how much the late Mr. Morton shared with her present dance partner?
She just longed for this ordeal to be over.
Still, she knew she should be more polite. She summoned up a genuine smile.